#i really wanted to do the rest of the background but couldn’t bring myself to do it

[sofasoap]

At the barbers

Pairing: John Price x F!Medic! Reader (call sign : Chameleon)

Summary: Part of @glitterypirateduck's John Price "O, Captain! Challenge" prompt used : 92: Giving Price a haircut and/or shave

Warning: T-M rating.

A/N: as mention previously in my Little secret series, Reader is from immigrant/non-Caucasian background. I know nothing about military. Thank you @mini-metal for giving me few suggestions and few ideas! *hugs*

Part of the Memory in a Fragrance series Part of Little secret series

Master list

“Love.”

“Hmmm?” 

“Would you mind giving me a hand here please?” John struggled as he tried to lift his injured arm to trim his beard. 

You sighed. “I am only good with surgical knives and scissors.” You took the trimmer off his hand and gently pushed his arm down. “Why not go to a barber?” 

“.... I am not quite comfortable with someone holding a blade to my neck.” 

“And you are comfortable with ME doing it?” you cocked an eyebrow. 

He hummed. “That’s because you are my wife. I trust you with all my life.” he pressed a kiss into your forehead. Wrapping his good arm around you as you sink into his embrace. 

“Well I am flattered by the great Captain Price trusting me with a knife to his throat.” you giggled, “But I really wouldn’t trust myself to trim my own dead ends off, let alone take a risk of destroying your luscious mutton chop.” You could almost feel him rolling his eyes as he mumbled something incoherent.

“How about one of the boys helping you?”

“I don’t trust them either.” he rumbled. “I trust them with my life.. But I wouldn’t trust them NOT destroying my beard. I already heard them plotting to shave my beard off in my sleep a few times.” 

You couldn't help but laugh. “ Well… We gotta think of something. Can’t let you leave your hair and beard go until your arms heal….” 

The strong leathery, lavender and cedarwood, faint hint of cigar smell hits you as soon as the two of you walk into the shop. The old radio playing some jazz music in the background, the old barber sitting on the wooden stool, reading the newspaper. It brings you distant memories. One of those rare happier moments when you were younger…. 

John finally agreed after a bit of coaxing from you to get his hair and beard done by the professional instead of you trying your luck. 

“I will go with you, how about that? And maybe I can learn a few tricks and tips from the professional?” you suggested. 

The barber waved to your husband to sit down on the chair after you explained to him what needs to be done. He was more than happy to teach you how to help John to maintain his pride and joy. 

Price couldn’t hold back his smile as he saw how focused and concentrated you are, pouting and wrinkling your nose as you listened to the barber explaining each step and how to use the tools. It helps to distract him from some strangers working so closely to him with sharp apparatus. The barber even handed over the scissors a few times for you to try out. 

“Stop moving, you are laughing too much.” you mumbled as you tried to trim the extra long strains around the edge of his jaw. “I don’t think you want me to accidentally take a chunk out of your beard, and have the boys laugh at you at work.” “I could always shave all my beard off.” “Oh so you changed your mind? You're definitely going to give them a heart attack and give me a heart break if you do that. So…  Never.” you laughed as you handed the scissors back to the barber. 

“You get to see Lieutenant John Price?” 

“As much as you were a handsome young man back then,I would rather keep that memory in the photos.” You pointed out as you sat back down, letting the professional get back to work. 

You observe your husband’s side profile with a faint smile on your face as the barber finishes off the rest of the trimming and hair cut. Even after years of marriage, you still have a hard time believing, this handsome man is your husband. 

The moment you set your eyes on him, you didn’t think you had much of a chance. The ranks, the personality, the background…. Everything. 

But he chose you. 

“I choose you? I should be thankful you chose me, my love.” he whispered into your ear one night after you confessed your insecurity. Nuzzling his face into your neck. “For bearing my temper…my imperfections.” 

“What do you think?” he looked at your eyes through the mirror as the barber dust the rest of the beard and hair off his shoulder, seeking for approval. 

Moving yourself to stand in front of him, you gently lay your hand on his face, tilting it to the left, and to the right, and finally, giving him a kiss on the lip, enjoying the smell of the aftershave.

“Handsome. And the best mutton chop I have ever seen.”

“You sound like you have seen quite a few in your life.” he chuckled as thank and paid the barber for his service.

“Maybe, maybe not.” you teased him as you wrap your arm around him. “But it’s definitely the mutton chop that always gives me a good time.” you could see his cheek redden under the beard. “Now, it’s not so scary is it? Having someone else to trim your beard for you.” 

“If you come with me again next time.” he squeezed your hand fondly.

“Gladly.”

“Oh what, you mean we missed out a chance of trying to shave his beard off?” “And You will get your mohawk shaved off too if you do that, MacTavish.” 

Thank you @glitterypirateduck for hosting another wonderful event!!!! *hug*

Tag list: @a-small-writer-in-a-big-world

@homicidal-slvt @mini-metal

@okayyadriana @deadbranch @cumikering @siilvan

@random-thot-generator @random0lover @devcica @nrdmssgs @glitterypirateduck @mmyrrhh

@mistydeyes, @groguspicklejar @roosterr

@gamergirlbonestaskforce141riot, @writeforfandoms @whydoilikewhump @tapioca-marzipan @alypink, @liyanahelena, @phoenixhalliwell

#ocaptainchallenge #call of duty #john price #captain john price #captain price #john price x reader #john price x f!reader #john price x you #sofasoap writes

[julilovesyou444]

hotel room ~ tom kaulitz

background- you drank too much and ended up not feeling great. you asked bill if you could go back to his room and he said sure and handed you a key card. you went back to the hotel but couldn’t quite remember what room number he said. you scanned a couple rooms until one of them finally opened. someone comes into the room, but it isn’t who you are expecting.

warnings - mentions of drinking, just fluff ♡

english isnt my first language, I learned at 10 so please go easy on me lol

~

I stumbled down the hallway, holding my heels in my hand. my head was throbbing and I felt so sick. I had one too many at the bar. thankfully, my bestfriend gave me the key to his hotel room so I could go rest. if I hadn’t stopped drinking, I probably would’ve thrown up on someone’s shoes.

yuck.

I got to the few doors I had narrowed it down to a few doors. bill had told me which room it was, but to be honest, I could barely hear him over the loud music. he had two keycards in his hand and he didn’t seem like he knew which was which. I walked up to the first door and put the card against the little sensor on the door. red light. fuck.

next door. red light. fuck again. I knew if I kept scanning the card on random doors it would eventually deactivate. I held my breath as I scanned it against another door.

green light! my luck was finally turning around. I pushed through the door and let it shut behind me. I dropped my heels and sighed as I made my way to the bathroom. I slipped off my tight dress that was pressing way too hard on my stomach. I looked at myself in the mirror. My makeup was smudged and my hair was messy. I walked back into the room and looked around for a suit case. I found a duffel bag beside the bed. My vision was blurry, I could barely see what I was looking through. After looking for a minute or two, I found pajama pants and a random white tee shirt. It didn’t really look like something Bill would wear, but I didn’t think too much of it. I also thought Bill wouldn’t mind if I took a pair of his pajamas, seeing as he borrowed my clothes all the time. I went back into the bathroom, washed my face, let my hair down, and used the mouth wash that was on the counter. I obviously wasn’t going to use his toothbrush, but I wanted my teeth to at least be a little clean. I grabbed my clothes and put them in a small pile on the floor before flopping onto the bed. I got under the sheets. I noticed that the bed didn’t really smell how Bill’s normally did. I was too tired to care. I fell asleep within minutes.

~

“shh, c’mon.”, a girl giggled.

“okay, okay, I’m coming.”, a guy responded. The hotel door shut.

“Um… who is that in your bed?”

“Oh shit. Bill gave her the wrong fucking key.”

“What do you mean?”

“Fuck, nothing, you just need to leave.”

“What?? Why?”

“We can’t do anything tonight, sorry.”

“Just kick her out?!? Do you even know her?”

“Hey, i said get the fuck out, so leave!”, he whisper yelled.

“Whatever, so fucking weird.”

The hotel door shut again.

My eyes were still closed and I was still partially asleep, but I had heard part of the encounter. I lifted my head out of the pillow it had been resting on, eyes still shut and brows furrowed.

“Bill? Should I leave? You can bring her back. Im sorry, Bill.”, i sleepily and drunkenly rambled. I heard footsteps quickly make their way over to me. A soft hand gently pushed my face back down onto the pillow and shushed me.

“No, no, it’s okay. Just go back to sleep, it’s okay.”, he comforted me.

“Okay, im sorry Bill. I just felt so bad. I also borrowed your pajamas, i dont think I’ve ever seen this pair before, they’re comfy.”, i sleepily mumbled as his hand caressed my cheek.

“it’s okay, you can go back to sleep.”

“can you sleep with me? I don’t want to sleep alone tonight.”

there was no answer for a minute. I didn’t take much notice as I had my eyes closed and was on the brink of falling back asleep.

“okay.”

I listened as I heard him change into different clothes and brush his teeth. I felt the bed shift under his weight as he laid down next to me.

my eyes fluttered open for a split second, and I could somewhat tell that he was on top of the covers.

“you can get under the covers.”, I murmured.

it took a second, but he got under the covers next to me. I could feel his warmth, it was comforting.

I turned over and scooted myself closer to him, my head next to his chest. I wrapped my arm around him. Bill and I had been friends forever, and we were rather affectionate, in a purely platonic way.

“Goodnight.”, i whispered as i went to pet his hair. I immediately took my hand back and opened my eyes narrowly. I looked up and realized the man next to me was not in-fact Bill. It was Tom. I put the dots together. Bill gave me the key for Tom’s room on accident. I was wearing Tom’s clothes. I accidentally had Tom miss out on a fuck, one of the many things he was notorious for. I was surprised he wasn’t mad at me for ruining his night.

“Tom?”, i asked groggily. My arm still draped over him, but I was no longer touching his hair. His expression was soft, almost worried. His eyes searched mine for any discomfort.

“Is this okay?”, he asked quietly. I thought for a moment. I was always good friends with Tom, but there was always a sort of tension between us. Something that kept us from being able to do things like hug or stuff like that. We used to do it all the time when we were younger, but now? Never. Usually, I would barely touch Tom. We joked around and talked all the time. He probably knew me just as well as Bill knew me. I didn’t expect him to kick out his date for my sick-ass, though. This was new for me. But I liked it. I liked being this close to him, it felt nice.

I nodded.

“Are you okay?”, i asked, mainly referring to the fact I was right up on him. A very small smiled formed on his face as he nodded his head, gazing down at me.

I mumbled an okay before snuggling my head into his chest. I wondered why he was letting me do this. This wasn’t us. I wasn’t complaining, just a little confused. I took a breath in and immediately recognized that the smell from the bed was Tom’s smell. I just never got too close to him so I didn’t know. He snaked his hand around my waist and pulled me a little closer. I breathed in quickly, surprised by his little maneuver. His hand made slow circles on the small of my back.

“Are you feeling any better?”, he whispered. I didn’t even know that he knew I had left because I felt sick, let alone care.

“I am now.”, i replied, muffled into his shirt.

“Good.”

I couldn’t help but smile. He continued to rub my back until I fell asleep in his arms.

~

I sat up quicker than I ever had before. I gasped for air and opened my eyes. I started to catch my breath. I felt Tom sit up next to me, his hand on my back.

“Are you okay?? Are you sick again?”, he asked, concerned.

“No…no… bad dream… I had a really bad fucking dream.”, i said in between breaths. I held my face in my hands, feeling more embarrassed than ever. First I showed up in his room, ruined his one-night stand, and now i woke him up because of my stupid nightmare.

“I’m so sorry. I ruined your night, I should leave.”, i mumbled. I wanted to leave so he couldn’t see my face. I was so upset at myself. I began to overthink every single thing that had happened.

“What? No. Don’t go. Its way too late. How do you think you ruined my night?”, he moved himself closer to me. I felt embarrassed having to explain to him, but it didn’t seem like there was much of another choice.

“I came into your room, I made your date leave, I mean I stole your fucking pajamas, I probably forced you into sleeping next to me, we literally never touch so why now, and I just woke you up. I feel so stupid, I’m sorry.”, I apologized again. Maybe it was the alcohol that was making me so emotional.

“No, no, no. Its okay, i wasn’t that into her anyways. You can keep the pajamas, i dont really care. And I wanted to sleep with you, I wanted to touch you. I do want to touch you, I just get… shit, how do I say this? Fuck it, i get nervous, okay? It has nothing to do with me not wanting to touch you, trust me, i do. And Bill has told me about your nightmares before, it’s okay. Its not your fault. You are just still drunk and overthinking things. I want you here, so just lay back down. It’ll be okay.”, Tom responded, very lightly pushing me to lay back down. I resisted at first but very quickly gave into his warm touch. I was instantly reassured by his words, even though part of me still remained unsure. I turned onto my side, away from him. He positioned himself right behind me, practically spooning me. He started to run his fingers through my hair. It was quiet for a couple minutes, just peaceful. I felt okay.

“do you still like this?”, Tom whispered.

“Hm?”

“Dont you remember? When we were kids and you would sleepover, most of the time you couldn’t fall asleep, so I would play with your hair until you did.”

“Oh, I hadn’t remembered until you reminded me. To be fair, you’re a rockstar now. You have different priorities, like the band and girls. I’ve read the articles and seen the pictures. We don’t hangout too much anymore.”, i laughed a tiny bit into the pillow. He kept stroking my hair, but he didn’t say anything. It made me nervous. Did I cross a line or something?

“You’re right. My life has changed. A lot. But I’m still me, and you’re still you. We are still the kids we used to be, even though I may not seem like it because of the way everyone views me. As long as that’s true, you’ll always be in my life, same with Bill’s.”

“Why are you so sweet, Tom? I kind of thought you weren’t based on your whole “womanizer” persona.”

“That’s how everyone sees me, so I figure why not live up to their expectations. It’s different with you. You actually know me for me. Not the me from the tabloids”

He pushed his arm underneath me and pulled me back, flush to him. His other hand, still playing with my hair. I felt so relaxed, but somehow still a little nervous, being this close to him.

“It’s late, you should go back to sleep. You’re okay, you aren’t going to have anymore nightmares or anything. I’m right here. If you need anything, you can wake up and tell me, i wont be upset.”

“Thank you.”

“You don’t have to thank me.”

“Goodnight, Tom.”

“Goodnight.”, he quietly replied.

I felt myself completely ease into his hold, and melt into his touch as he pushed his fingers through my hair, just like he did when we were kids. I was glad that I knew this version of him. His genuine, sweet, self. I knew things would probably go back to the way they were in the morning, so I savored everything second that I got to be with him. I forgot about my embarrassment and let myself fall asleep in his arms.

I wished we could stay like that forever.

~

a/n ~ first thing I’m writing on tumblr!! not rlly sure how this all works but if you read I hope you enjoyed !! more to come <3

#tom kaulitz #tokio hotel #tom kaulitz fanfic #tom kaulitz fluff #tokio hotel fanfic #tokio hotel fluff #bill kaulitz #tom kaulitz x reader #tom kaulitz x y/n #tom kaulitz angst #tokio hotel x reader #bill kaulitz x reader #georg listing #gustav schäfer #bill kaulitz fanfic

[lightlycareless]

I was on Twitter/X and saw someone mention why Naoya is popular among Japanese fans and a big reason apparently is that he speaks in a cutesy dialect that’s only used by girls. And that it’s the kind of way of speaking where girls can insult you and it’s hard to be offended. And now I can only imagine Y/N reacting to this grown man insulting her in this cute dialect 🤭

Heya anon!!!

Yessssss! I quite recently saw a Tiktok talking about that and thought it was really unexpected, but cute at the same time? Ironic for sure too… guess it explains how he got so popular since even the author has called him a total jerk 😂

Unfortunately, I don’t know much about Kansai dialect, nor think there’s an equivalent to it in English, so I’m guiding myself with how it was translated in the manga, and perhaps my delusions too 😏 in order to write the following.

warnings: none.

The first time you notice his peculiar way of speaking would be when you met him many, many years ago, in jujutsu high. Everything about him was highly enthralling, from his appearance to his background, but when he opened his mouth…

Your curiosity ramped up to even higher levels, longing to know everything about him, as well as see the extent of his “cutesy” talk.

And boy, does it not disappoint.

It would happen unexpectedly one day. Let’s say that after a bunch boring classes you eventually grew very hungry and tired. So, after deciding you were long overdue for a break (and because you hadn’t prepared anything beforehand) you head over to the cafeteria to get something to eat and rest.

… a big mistake, because soon after you finish eating, you begin to feel sick, stomach twisting and churning, to the point you don’t think yourself capable of continuing with the rest of your classes.

Naoya is amongst the few that (vividly) notices your extended absence, and while he will never admit it out loud, he was worried that something bad happened to you, thus, he roamed across the school grounds in hopes of finding you.

When he does, you’re sitting by one of the benches, tightly holding onto your stomach as you debate whether to die there or die on the way to the infirmary.

“What’s wrong with you?” Naoya bluntly asks.

“I…. I think I ate something spoiled.” You whimper, barely able to look him in the eye.

“Does your tummy hurt or something?”

“Yes, it’s awful, it’s like I’m being—my what?” you blink—did you hear that right?

“Your tummy.” He repeats, oblivious to your reaction, far more preoccupied with your health. “Does it hurt?”

“My… tummy…?” A smile begins to part your lips, and suddenly, your pain is all but forgotten. “Did you say tummy??”

“I… I did….?” Naoya says, flustered and unsure whether this is something good or not to admit.

He soon finds the answer.

“How adorable!!” you gush, and by now, Naoya is red as a tomato—because he clearly doesn’t want to be seen as adorable by his crush!

“I said stomach!! I meant to say stomach!!” He rushes to defend himself, but it’s too late now, he’s already admitted to the crime.

“Noooo, you said tummy!!” you continue to jest. “My thummy wurts vewy, vewy, bad Naoya-kun…”

“Ugh, you can die out here for all I care…”

“No, wait Naoya!” you gasp, quickly standing up and reaching for me. “Can you at least accompany me to the infirmary? I’ll forget about this, I swear!”

Of course, you don’t let this go so easily, in fact, when the two start dating you continue teasing him about it—but you just couldn’t help it!! It just comes to him so naturally, you had to bring it up anytime you could, you know?

“Why are you upset? Did daddy get mad at you again?” you ask.

“Yes! That old man can’t keep himself out of my—wait, no—don’t call him daddy!” Naoya stammers, you giggle. He’s not ignorant to the times he’s condescendingly referred to Naobito with a that “nickname”, yet it didn’t mean he’d like to hear you calling him that as well!

“Why? Do you prefer I’d call you daddy?”

His breath hitches, something igniting inside him.

“…Not here.”

“Ok” you smile. “I won’t call you daddy, then, daddy. Wouldn’t want you to get angry at me.”

“… keep instigating me, princess, and I won’t reward you later tonight.”

I think the more you delve into this aspect of his, the more you find it adorable, to the point where you find his words a bit less serious; however, you’d eventually grow accustomed to it, and maybe even adopted some mannerisms of your own 🤭

I know you were referring to Naoya insulting Y/N but honestly I have no idea how it would be... I'm as dry as dry can get when it comes to it :'( but I still hope you were able to enjoy this small scenario! Gotta say, watching him say daddy in the manga was unexpected, but got me thinking what other things he'd say in that way, you know?

ironically, I think he might be the best when talking to children because of that—when he's not being his tsundere/rude self.

Anyways, thank you so much for sending in this ask!! I can't wait to hear how his voice sounds when it's finally animated, I hope they're able to keep his dialect and see what the fuss is all about 🤭😂

Take care, and hope to see you soon!! ❤️❤️

#ask #naoya zenin #naoya zen'in #naoya x reader #naoya zenin x reader #naoya zenin x you #jjk naoya #naoya zen'in x reader #jjk x reader #jjk fluff #jjk x you #prompt series: jujutsu kaisen

[oleander-nin]

A/N, not important: Ahahaha, friendly reminder I'm really bad at action/fight scenes. I didn't mean to make it so short, it just... Idk, it's getting hard. Sorry, I just really didn't want it to be the cliché kiss on cheek you missed type story... Oh well. My writing's getting worse, and I'm sorry. I only have two more of the special to do, and then I'm home free. Uh, requests will probably be closed for a long time. Hate. I can't do it anymore. Any criticism is welcome, constructive or not. This is supposed to be a gender neutral reader, so if I screwed up somewhere, please tell me.

-Ollie

Tw: chasing, knives, getting attacked, mention of minor wounds

Words: 886

Prompt(s) requested: 18(A soft kiss) & 9("You missed.")

Summary: Donnie comes to your rescue

My footsteps thud against the ground as I run, my breathing erratic. I push past the people on the sidewalk, strangers shouting behind me. I ignore them all and keep my vision set on the ground in front of me. I glance up, scanning the rooftops around me. One head. Then eight. Twelve. 

I curse, running faster. The foot ninja continue to follow me, their black costumes a stark contrast to the twilight background of the sky. I turn down an alley, skidding across the ground. My calves burned and my lungs ached. I glance up again, my eyes meeting one of the ninjas.

I keep running.

Stupid foot clan with their stupid vendetta against the turtles. I couldn’t help but feel a bit bitter it was me they were going after, I had only just started training. 

I grit my teeth as I stumble over a crack in the sidewalk, my arms flailing as I attempt to gain my balance. I turn to keep myself steady, my eyes widening as a chain flies by my head. I freeze for a second. That could have killed me. My mind kicks on high alert as another pair of raid footsteps sounds behind me, and I dash off once more.

I bring my wrist to my mouth, clicking on the communicator Donatello gave me. "Hey, not to rush you love, but they are now trying to KILL ME!"

I dodge a thrown knife as I hear the communicator buzz for a moment before Donnie's voice sounds through. "Keep running. I'm almost there, I promise. Please, I'll be there as soon as I can."

"Donnie! I don't mean to rush you, but faster!" I shout into the mic. I glance up, barely dodging the wall in front of me. I veer to the side, panting. I slip into another open alley in an attempt to lose them, muttering curses under my breath. Another chain flies by my head and wraps around the dumpster handle it attached to on impact. I look up at the rooftops, laughing despite my situation.

“Hah, you missed!” I continue to gloat to myself for another moment as I run. Maybe I wasn’t too bad at this after all. The world stops for a moment as I feel a hard surface wrap around my legs, bringing me to the floor. I use my arms to brace my fall, skinning my palms, legs, and arms as I crash. My chest hits the floor, all air escaping my lungs as I sit there for a moment. My mind spun and my eyes water from the impact.

Everything around me is spinning as I try to regain awareness. Footsteps and sounds of fighting sound around me and the world slowly moves back into clarity. I blink, trying to stand up but fall back down when I can’t move my legs. I turn over, scanning the chain wrapped around my lower body before scrambling to get it off, not paying attention to my surroundings.

A loud thud sounds in front of me and I look up, my jaw hanging. One of the foot ninjas was laying face down on the pavement in front of me, having just fallen off the roof above. Donnie soon jumps down as well, landing on the soldier before they pop, paper confetti floating through the air. Donnie looks down at the ground for a moment, a look of small surprise on his face. “Huh, didn’t realize that one was paper.” 

I slide the rest of the chain off, standing up as Donnie walks forward, his Bō staff retired to its holder on his battle shell. Donnie pulls me into a tight hug, his muscles tense as he holds me against his plastron. “I apologize for not arriving sooner, I came as fast as I could.”

I sigh, leaning into Donnie. “You came at just the right time, thank you.”

Donnie holds me against him for a moment, rocking us back and forth. I let him, just leaning onto him as I try to calm my racing heart. The adrenaline slowly drains from my body as I relax, Donnie’s hold making me feel safe. His muscles were still tense, his own paranoia and worry yet to subside. It was understandable. One second later and I would’ve been caught.

“You got hurt.”

I look up at Donnie before glancing down, the skin of my arms and legs raw from my crash down to the concrete. They didn’t hurt much now, but they would definitely be bruised later. It wasn’t too bad considering how everything could have gone. “I’m fine, Dee. It’s just a few scrapes.”

Donnie shakes his head, tsking his tongue at me. “Absolutely not. I’m taking you back to the lair to get you patched up. I’m not leaving you like this.”

I look down at my injuries again, shrugging. It would make Donnie feel better, plus, letting him play doctor was funny. I was a bit worried about tracking through the sewers with semi-open wounds, but it would be fine. Probably. “Sure. That sounds good.”

Donnie kisses my temple before gently grabbing my wrist, leading me towards the nearest sewer opening. I trail behind, listening contently as he babbles on about different inventions and such. Despite everything, today was turning out pretty fine.

#rottmnt #rise of the tmnt #tmnt #teenage mutant ninja turtles #rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles #rottmnt donnie #donatello x reader #donatello #tmnt donatello #donatello hamato #donnie #donnie x reader #rise donnie #rise #donnie rottmnt #donatello rottmnt #donatello x y/n #rottmnt x reader

[emilyssky]

Chapter 10: Choices and Mistakes

PAIRING: Lee Know! X fem!reader

GENRE(S): college au, smut, angst

WARNINGS: Mentions of violence and abuse, depression, self-harm, eating disorders etc.. mentions of blood, swearing, smoking, smut [ dirty talk, oral; giving and receiving, choking, spanking, praising, degradation, pet names, sometimes Minho is a dick :)

SUMMARY: "Do you remember what you told me the first time we met?"

 "What?"

"You said; Always leave people a little better than you found them" he looked at the floor with a small smile for a few seconds and then his eyes found mine.

"You really annoyed me when we first met. I envied your optimism and excitement for life. But each time I saw you, I felt a certain thrill. You made me angry, you made me laugh., you made me feel everything. Something about you made me feel a little more alive each time. I know I fucked up and I know I'm an asshole but I'm also brutally in love with you."  

I used to think that I couldn't hate myself more, yet in this moment I absolutely despise me. I can't even begin to count the times I've regretted the words that had come out of my mouth, but this one's definitely one of my top 5. I overstepped, I went too far. Yet I can't bring myself to do anything about it. I didn't follow him, my legs froze in place and half an hour later I'm still here, sitting on the floor near the door, where he left me. As if not moving will make him come back. I know when I have fucked up and I'm pretty sure that he's not the type of person that will sit and listen to my stupid apology. Still, I toy with my phone, my thumb playing with the call button. My chest feels surprisingly heavy and I don't really know why. Another silent tear slides down my cheek, my face numb at this point. Everything feels numb, so numb and hazy that the loud knocks on the door are like background noise to my ears. I keep my head facing the kitchen and my knees to my chest but the sound of keys fumbling together snaps me out of my haze. The door opens just as my head turns to the right, and my eyes stop at Chan's face. Drops of sweat are falling down the sides of his face, his lips slightly open with big exhales of air coming out of them, and his eyes holding an almost fanatic look. It was enough to bring me back to reality, and I broke out in a sob. He falls to his knees immediately and pulls me to his chest. The tears come down my face uncontrollably, dumping his shirt.

"Shhhh," He pats my head. " hey, hey I'm here."

But I cry harder and I bury my face deeper into his neck, hoping for the heaviness in my chest to be gone.

                                       . * .♥︎ * ･ ｡ﾟ. ♥︎* ･ ｡ﾟ. * ･♥︎ ｡ﾟ. * ･ ♥︎｡ﾟ

"Thanks." I wrap my hand around the hot cup of tea, the burning sensation that spreads across my fingers feels comforting in a way. Chan takes a seat next to me on the couch. I don't know how long we stayed on the floor, I lost touch with everything and simply cried.

He rests his elbows on his knees, sighing. "Y/n, what's wrong?"

I bring the cup to my lips thinking of all the possible ways I could answer this question.  "Nothing."

"Don't give me that." He shakes his head. " Don't give me that shit. Speak." His tone turns serious. "I wanna know what the hell is going on with you, with Jackson, with Minho, with everything."

"So you know." I drop my eyes to the cup. "Is that why you came?"

"No, I didn't know actually. When he called I wasn't in the room. Hyunjin told Minho and Minho told me just an hour ago." His face holds a disappointed expression.

So Minho must've called him after he left. Is this his way of getting back at me? Telling Chan? Great fucking move.

"You all wanted to go to the club." I shrug, giving him the best response I can think of.

"So?" His eyebrows come together. "If you or Hyunjin had told me that the only way to get in was through that asshole I would've figured out something else for us to do."

"Yeah but- "

"No," he scoffs. " no, 'cause this wasn't about the club and you know it. This was about you."

I close my eyes, running my free hand through my hair. I hate how well he knows me.

"You wanted to see him." He narrows his eyes.

"Fine. Yes, I did." I admit out loud. "I wanted to have one last talk with him and be completely done with this relationship cause it's been fucking with my head for a year now."

"Why?"  He says frustrated. "He cheated, he was an ass, I get it, but it's been a year."

I look at him dead in the eyes. " You don't know how our relationship was." I'm careful with my words, dragging them out slowly.

He pauses. " What do you mean? Is there something I need to know?"

Yes. So much.

"Just unnecessary details. Emotional manipulation. horrible behavior, no respect. Nothing new. Nothing you need to know." I avoid the question. "But it still was a lot 'cause I did love him."

He shakes his head like my words are making him physically sick. "So you went over there for what?"

Here we go again. Same conversation.

"Closure, I guess?" I blink several times, trying to answer truthfully.

"And you got what you wanted?" I can hear the irony in his tone.

"I didn't know he was gonna react like that." I sigh.

He rolls his eyes. "He fucked you up and after a year without him, you went back for closure?" He lets out a sharp laugh. "And you excepted anything good to come out of that?"

I pinch the bridge of my nose. " I can't do this for a second time, honestly."

His face twitches with confusion. "What do you mean?"

"Your friend had some strong opinions about my love life as well and listen," I put the cup on the coffee table and turn to him. " I appreciate the concern, truly. But I'm not a child. I can make my own decisions without having people scolding me for it."

His eyes move around the room like he's thinking. "Minho? He came here?"

I wanna be honest with him. "Yes."

"Are you guys like...?" He's almost scared to ask.

"No." I laugh. "Nothing has even happened."

"Then why-"

"I don't know Chan. I don't know why he's acting like he cares when he doesn't." My chest begins to fill with frustration once again.

He studies my face carefully. "Do you care about him?"

That's a question I've been avoiding asking myself as well. I know I'm not in a position to let myself get hurt again but at the same time, I know me. And I can't deny the fact that he's been on my mind since the day I saw him again.

I look away from him. "Do you not want me to care about him?"

"I don't want you to get hurt." He answers instead.

I take a breath and turn to look at him. "Is he gonna hurt me?" I search his eyes for the truth, silently praying for him to say no.

He pulls me to his chest and plants a kiss at the top of my head. "You care." He says in an almost sad tone.

"Yeah," I sniff, tears building in my eyes once again. "yeah I do."

                                . * .♥︎ * ･ ｡ﾟ. ♥︎* ･ ｡ﾟ. * ･♥︎ ｡ﾟ. * ･ ♥︎｡ﾟ

We arrived at the frat half an hour before the party started to help the boys set up everything. The 'farewell' party is a big deal around campus and is always one of the biggest parties. The guys are super happy that they're the ones hosting it this year and they want everything to be perfect.  Everyone started arriving a little after 10 and it took less than an hour for the house to be full of college students.

"Another one!" Kai shouts, pouring us another shot.

"I can't, I already feel like I'm gonna throw up." I giggle. We had 6 shots straight.

"Come on! " Felix lifts his shot glass up. "To the farewell party! " He yells and everyone around us lifts their drinks, the whole house starts cheering and we drown our 7th shot.

"I'm gonna be wasted by the end of the night, just watch." I comment, reaching for some water, feeling the alcohol burning my throat.

Kai lets out a laugh. "You're fun when you're drunk though."

"I've had my moments, yes." I've been blacked out drunk in this house more times than I can count and in frat houses in general cause one of the perks of hanging out with frat boys is going to parties literally every weekend.  "I've never seen you drunk though."  I point at his chest with my finger. I feel the alcohol slowly starting to kick in, the heat overtaking my face and my anxiety being replaced with confidence.

"I don't drink that much." He looks down at me with a half smile.

"Maybe today's the day." I shrug. "You know, to let loose and have fun." I push at his side with my shoulder.

"Fun?" His smile widens. "Like what?"

"Like drinking and dancing and singing your heart out." I move my hands around the room, stating the obvious.

"I don't dance." He shakes his head.

I lift my eyebrows. "What do you mean you don't dance?"

"I just don't."

I drink the rest of my water and reach for his hand. "Let's go."

                                    . * .♥︎ * ･ ｡ﾟ. ♥︎* ･ ｡ﾟ. * ･♥︎ ｡ﾟ. * ･ ♥︎｡ﾟ

The room is getting hot yet I continued to move my body to the music. I've let the alcohol take over most parts of my brain except the ones that search for Minho. I find myself searching the crowd or looking at the entrance of the house so many times that it's actually embarrassing but at some point, I saw their group arrive. He entered the frat and squeezed his way through the sweated bodies with Jisung right behind him, their hands intertwined, rolling his eyes a few times at the girls that would drunkenly bump into him and I'd be lying if I said that the way he showed absolutely no interest towards any female whatsoever, didn't bring a small smile on my face. But I forced my legs to stay rooted when in reality all I wanted to do was go to him, pull him away from everyone and simply talk. I just wanna talk to him. I quickly lost sight of him, like always at parties but tonight I promised myself that I wouldn't let him ruin my night nor I would let my mind think too much about where he is. Instead, I throw myself on the dance floor alongside Kai and Hyunjin, and Emma and Seungmin quickly joined us. It's one of the very few times that Emma is actually drunk. She's dancing and twerking and grinding against Seungmin like crazy. Kai cleans up well, considering that he's dancing amongst dancers and his confidence grows quickly, with each passing minute that we're dancing. There are so many people that it's hard to not be squished into each other's bodies but none really cares. Every single person in this room is completely lost in their own word. Drunk and careless, dancing and making out, tonight is the night that everyone is going crazy. At some point, Kai's hands find my hips from behind. His touch is soft, hesitant almost but I continue to dance against him, not really thinking anything of it cause I'm so used to dancing with Hyunjin and Felix. The songs change from slow to fast and we move together, closer and closer until our bodies are completely pressed against each other. His hands move around, exploring up and down, his grip tightening at certain movements or places and I find myself unconsciously pushing my ass against him more and more, my mind clearly not catching up with my actions. I close my eyes and throw my head back, swinging my hips as the music guides them. His face drops to my neck, his hot breath leaving a tingling sensation on my skin and I turn my face slightly, careful not to bump into his but I regret opening my eyes the minute I do. Cause even though there are almost 100 people in this house my eyes find his in a second, already looking at me. Time froze, everything and everyone going still, fading away and I hold my breath when my eyes fall on the girl in front of him that has her arms around his neck and her face so close to him, almost as close as mine was the last time I saw him. My eyes are completely frozen on the image in front of me, yet I keep moving my body, trying to appear unphased but my stomach turns in the worst way possible. He held my eyes in a captivating way and I couldn't look away. I watch as he wraps his hands around her waist, letting her move against him in a way that awakens a burning feeling deep inside me. I tightened my jaw, my teeth coming together, trying desperately to strip my face from any sign that what I'm seeing is bothering me to a dangerous point, and kept my hips moving against Kai even more. His lips touched my neck and Minho's eyes caught the movement, leaving mine for a split second. He pulled the girl closer, his grip on her hips tightening. If the music wasn't so loud I'm pretty sure I would be able to hear how fast my heart is beating right now. Kai's hands move around my body, his lips leaving kisses on my neck as he keeps pressing his hips to my ass but all I can focus on is how Minho's doing the exact same thing. To another girl. It shouldn't bother me, I know it shouldn't. But it does. My body begins to slow down, my head buzzing and my eyes are completely glued to them. I begin to get aware of how hot it's in here and how many people are around. My stomach tightens, and the feeling of disgust showers me from head to toe when she tilts her head upwards and he leans in closer, not breaking our eye contact. I feel myself getting actually sick, all the alcohol rushing up and I pull away from Kai. I bring a hand to my mouth, pushing through everyone and running up the stairs as fast as I can. I hear my name being yelled as I reach the top of the stairs where the music isn't as loud and I feel someone behind me as I push the bathroom door open with my body. I drop to my knees and begin to vomit in the toilet. I feel my hair being pulled back and a person, dropping to their knees behind me.

"It's fine, it's fine I got you." I recognize Hyunjin's voice. He holds my hair back with one hand while the other rubs circles on my back as I keep vomiting all the alcohol that I consumed within the last hours.

I take a breath, resting my head on the side of the toilet. Hyunjin reaches for some toilet paper and cleans my mouth. "Well, it's been a while since we did that." He jokes.

"I'm gonna kill him." I mumble.

Hyunjin lifts himself up and throws the paper away. He reaches down, his hands coming around my waist to slowly lift me to my feet. "Who?"

"I like him." I whine, holding on to his shirt, trying to find my balance.

He shakes his head confused. "Who?" he repeats.

I bring my finger to my lips. "Shh, I can't tell you. It's a secret."

He rolls his eyes. "Come on, let's go back to the party," He opens the door. " and no more drinking for you."

I pout but I let him drag me by the hand down the stairs and into the kitchen. He fills up a cup with water and hands it to me. "Drink this and wait here, I'll go get Chan so he can drive you back home." I nod, drinking the water slowly. I wanna get out of here right this second, 'cause if I don't then, knowing myself, I'll probably do something stupid. I shake my head, trying to get the image of him with that girl out of my mind, but it's all I can see. In all honesty, I didn't think that it would hurt me to see him with another person as much as it did cause at the end of the day, he's not mine and I'm not his. He's probably fucking around, sleeping with a different girl every day as far as I know. I can't blame him for anything really cause it's completely my fault. it's weird how much I've attached myself to the idea of him even though in reality, I don't even know him. I feel like I do, but I don't. And it looks like I never will. It seems like a losing game already and we haven't even kissed. This needs to stop.

I walk a little further out of the kitchen, just wanting to check, but there's no sign of him. I move towards the dance floor, squeezing my way through. I ignore the growing embarrassment inside me as I search the house for any sign of him or her. I bump into bodies and bodies, pushing my way through each hallway and living area. I make a full circle of the bottom floor and reach the stairs. I shake my head at the way I'm feeling right now cause I know I shouldn't feel this way, I'm not allowed to. I swallow my pride and walk back to the kitchen. I need to get out of here. I take a seat on one of the stools and open my phone to text Chan that I wanna leave. I know that he'll probably not answer but I decide to wait a few minutes anyway.

"What's wrong?" I flinch forward, his breath hits my ear sending chills down my spine. I turn a bit to the left, my face only a few centimeters away from his. He stands behind me, his hands resting on each side of the counter, trapping me. Jackson's lips curve into a small smile. "Are you not enjoying yourself?"

I lower my gaze and turn to face forward. I can't deal with this right now, I just wanna go home. I check my phone to see if Chan has answered me, choosing to ignore him, at which he scoffs and moves to stand in front of me, with his hands resting on the counter.

I narrow my eyes at him, my eyebrow frowning. " What are you doing here?"

"Watching you." His smile grows. "You look stunning by the way."

I roll my eyes at his pathetic attempt. " Leave me alone." I look back down at my phone, at my still unanswered message to Chan. Where is everyone? I rest my fingers on my temple trying to make my head spin less and focus more. God, I feel like I'm gonna throw up again.

"You wanna go?" He nods to my phone.

"I'm not going anywhere with you. I rather crawl back home."

He smiles. "Okay, how about I get Mark to take you home? I know that there's no way you're getting in a car with me but you don't look well and I wanna make sure you get home safe since your boyfriend is too busy fucking someone else and your friends too drunk to do it."

Even in my drunken state, I can tell that he's trying to play nice just so that he can manipulate me, I know I shouldn't trust a single thing that comes out of his mouth and I don't. But I really need to go home. I don't wanna see Minho come down the stairs, knowing what he was doing this whole time. I drank too much and my emotions are taking over me completely. Mark is probably his only friend that I don't hate. He's actually decent and had been nice to me throughout our relationship.

"Okay." I say, my tone dropping so low, sounding almost defeated. I know that I'll probably regret this later and god help me if anyone finds out.

"Come on."  He offers me his hand. I stare at it briefly before getting up and walking past him.

He catches up with me quickly. "Mark!" He screams over the loud music and Mark's head snaps in our direction from his position on the couch. Jackson yells for him to come over and he gets off the couch immediately, walking towards us.  "Can you take her home? She's not feeling well."

Mark looks between us, his eyes staying on me a little longer. " Yeah, sure." He turns back to him.

"Text me when you get home?" Jackson asks me.

I scoff a laugh. " No"

Mark gives Jackson a pat on the shoulder. " I'll text you when I drop her off."

I turn to follow Mark towards the exit of the house when I feel a grip on my elbow, spinning me back around.

"Where are you going?" Minho's eyes, wilder than I've ever seen them, move from Mark to Jackson and then back to me. His hair is a bit messier and his face, flushed. I'm definitely gonna be sick again.

"Leaving." I sharply pull my elbow out of his grip and watch as his eyes move from side to side, his body pausing at my sudden actions.

"We're taking her home." Jackson's voice drips with pride, a smirk playing on his lips.

Minho's gaze doesn't move from my face, frozen, completely, and utterly focused but his tongue runs over his bottom teeth, poking the inside of his cheeks.

"I'll take you home, come on." He reaches for me but I quickly move away.

"We got her." Jackson chuckles and pats Minho's back. Minhos's face hardens, eyes going darker than I thought possible, and body visibly stiffening. My eyes immediately drop to his left hand that clenches and unclenches and back to Jackson's smug expression.

Minho shakes his shoulder with force causing Jackson's hand to drop. His eyes don't move an inch from my face as he forces the words through his clenched teeth. "Y/n." His features twitch with anger. " You are coming with me."

"Dude- " Jackson goes to touch his shoulder again but in a split second Minho loses all the chill he was trying to keep and his right comes up to Jackson's chest pushing him backwards, making him lose his balance at the sudden force. I inch forward quickly to go between them, not wanting to cause a scene or draw any attention to us but Mark moves faster.

"Okay," He steps between them just as Jackson was about to reach forward for Minho. "That's something we're not gonna do okay?" He places one hand on Jackson's chest and one on Minho's.

"Maybe I didn't make myself clear last time mate, so let me say it once more." Minho tries to push past Mark's hand, but I grab his forearm, trying to keep him back somehow. "Stay the fuck away from her or help me god, I'll make sure you can never walk again." He spits.

Anger overtakes Jackson's face. "I'll do whatever the fuck I want with her 'cause last time I checked she is not your bitch."

Minho's eyes flashed with rage and his body shook slightly under my grip. "Call her a bitch one more time, I fucking dare you."

"Hey!" I yell stepping in front of him. " I am right here." I look between them. His eyes flicker to me, his chest rising and falling. "Stop acting like fucking children. None of you has the right to talk about me like I'm a fucking object you're passing around to each other." My chest burns with anger. The audacity both of these men have, god.

I force all the words that I wanna say directly to Minho, down my throat."I don't wanna go anywhere with you," I turn to him. "or you." I turn to Jackson. "Please leave me alone."

I turn to look at Mark. "Can you please take me home?" I think he notices the way I'm begging him with my eyes and the obvious desperation in my voice cause he gives me a silent nod before moving hesitantly from between them. I send Minho one last glare, before turning my back to them and following Mark. Neither of them, says anything or does anything to stop us, they don't even move.

I send a quick text to Chan, telling him that a friend is taking me home so he won't worry. and also informing the group chat that I left. The minute I get inside the car everything goes quiet. I give Mark my address and silence takes over us as I lay my head on the window and zoned out completely.

                                       . * .♥︎ * ･ ｡ﾟ. ♥︎* ･ ｡ﾟ. * ･♥︎ ｡ﾟ. * ･ ♥︎｡ﾟ

It hasn't been long since I got home. I got into the shower right away, washing myself from head to toe, rubbing my skin and hair repeatedly, hoping that it'll somehow wash off all the events from the last few days. I don't know how long I stay under the water, I didn't notice the temperature dropping until my body started shivering. I took my makeup off and changed into a pair of sweats and a t-shirt, not bothering to do anything for my wet hair, and walked straight into our dark, empty living room. Hopefully, Emma won't be coming home tonight and I'll have the place to myself.

I've been sitting on the couch for a few minutes now, the tv is turned off, the lights are low and I simply stare at the wall. I can still feel the alcohol tingling in my system but if I'm being honest the minute I saw his arms around her, I sobered up completely, and as the image resurfaces in my mind I can't fight it anymore. My legs move to the fridge and I grab the bottle of red wine and fall back to the couch, not bothering to grab a glass cause I know that I'll probably finish the whole bottle. I think I realized that I had a drinking problem a little after I broke up with Jackson but if I'm being honest it actually started way before that. I began getting drunk by the time I was 15, cause turning to drugs and alcohol was the easiest way to feel completely numb. It was Chan that noticed that it was getting serious. I wasn't getting wasted only at parties anymore, I would come drunk to classes at 9 in the morning and I would drink vodka out of a Sprite bottle during lunch. It was hard to stop cause it brought me so much comfort but the one thing I wanted most in the world was to succeed as a dancer. I've been doing a lot better but it's moments like these that my mouth just craves it. I'm trying to block the thoughts from my head but it's getting difficult. I don't wanna think anymore, I'm tired of thinking and living in my head. My phone rings once again but I ignore it. I don't wanna speak or see or hear anyone, I just wanna disappear, I wanna leave everything and start over.  I feel so incredibly tired of what my life has become, that I crave change. I like to think that this is about Minho or Jackson or anyone else but in reality, it's about me. It's about not knowing who I truly am, it's about never really dealing with any of my problems growing up and simply carrying them inside me up until now. it's about hiding and faking everything. It's about not knowing what I wanna do with my future and not fighting for my dreams cause deep inside me I've already given up. I didn't even though that I would make it this far, yet somehow I'm still here. Barely.

Half of the bottle is gone, and I slowly feel myself falling back into the familiar place of comfort and numbness. The thoughts run through my head like a train, a fast train, heavy with baggage and unwanted memories. My mind is unable to focus on each one individually, instead, they blend in together to create a blur of emotions. Everything becomes so hazy and I start to kind of detach from what's going on, so much that the banging on the door doesn't reach my ears. Somehow I can't hear the yelling, I can't hear anything except my own thoughts as I grab the freshly rolled blunt from the coffee table and put it between my lips. I toy with the lighter, trying to keep myself from lighting it.

"Y/n!" I hear my name and my head snaps to the door which is somehow open, and Minho stands in the doorway, breathing hard. Bruises cover the right side of his face, and his bottom lip is a bit bloody.

"You've got to be fucking kidding me." I let out a laugh. "This must be a joke."

He takes a single step inside the apartment, still out of breath and I'm on my feet instantly. "No." I sharply say. He freezes. "You don't get to do that. No." I shake my head in denial, my vision getting blurry.

His whole expression shifts, it's like witnessing a mask falling. He closes his eyes, running his hands over his face. He looks relieved, still out of breath while I can bearly hold myself up. My chest fills with a ball of emotions that I can't explain.

"How did you even get in here?" I stare at him in disbelief.

"I called you a million times." His voice comes out breathy yet strong.

"And I ignored you every single one. Clearly, you didn't get the message." I feel myself getting angrier by the second. "How the fuck did you get a key to my apartment?" I feel completely and absolutely violated right now and I want him gone. I wanna be alone.

"Well, you weren't picking up your fucking phone and I got worried, so I took your key from Chan." He yells suddenly mad as well.

"You're insane you know that?" I take a few steps towards him, my anger leading the way. "Who the fuck gave you the right? Who do you think you are, huh?" I spit with all the venom I can master, cause the truth is that my heart is aching at the sight. I wanna throw myself at him and stay in his arms even if I don't even know what they feel like around me. Even though the comfort of his body is foreign to me, I somehow crave it.

The shift in his eyes tells me that my words did hurt him but he still says nothing. He stands like a statue in front of me and the more I take him in the more painful the sight is as I realize all the little injuries on his face.

I fight the urge to ask him what happened, not wanting to appear even more pathetic than I probably look now. Instead, I fire at him again. "What do you want? You hate me, and then you don't hate me. You want me, and then you don't want me. You pretend to care and then you don't. You show up at my door playing the fucking hero every time and then you go and fuck a random girl at a party right in front of me like-" I break into a pathetic, frustrated laugh. "What do you want with me? To play? To mess with my fucking head? To simply annoy the shit out of me?" I look him dead in the eyes. "Whatever the hell it is that you want I don't care. Get out." I yell, pointing at the door. "Get the hell away from me, stop forcing yourself into my life." My own voice rings in my ears, filling up the empty apartment. My chest begins to hurt and tears start falling down my cheeks before I have time to suck them back in. "I wanna be alone."

He shakes his head.

"Leave." My voice rips out of my throat.

He shakes his head again, coming closer to me. With each step, more panic rushes inside me. I try to move away from him, to take a step back, keeping my hands up in front of me. Trying to somehow protect myself from him cause I know that I shouldn't, I don't wanna give in to him, cause If I let him too close, it's over.

I try to move fast but he moves faster and wraps his arms around my body, locking me to his. "I'm not leaving alone." He whispers.

I fight. I try to push at his chest, to push him away from me but it only makes his grip tighten, and suddenly tears shower my face with absolutely no sound. I just shake.

"I wanna be alone." I sob.

"No baby you don't." He squeezes me, resting his chin on the top of my head, as I stand there, soaking his shirt, while he holds me and I find myself wanting to stay like this for as long as I can, for as long as he lets me. And I do, we stay like this, in each other’s arms for I don't know how long but for my own sake I find the strength to pull away and he lets me.

I stay close to him, his arms keeping a loose grip on my waist. I get to study his face up close and this time I can't stop myself from touching the bruise on his right cheek, that's slowly turning into a deeper shade of red. His eyes close as I trace my finger over it and it feels almost like an accomplishment, like finally petting the wild, stray dog that would not let you touch him for weeks. My body feels on edge, careful not to make the wrong move.

"What happened?" My hoarse.

He smiles a little, his whole face suddenly relaxed. "Don't worry, he looks a lot worst."

His words make my stomach drop and I close my eyes, exhaling. "Please tell me you didn't."

His smile grows. "Fuck yeah, I did."

I push at his chest, my hands immediately coming up to my face in panic. "Oh my god, Minho you did not." I can't believe him. "Oh, my god."

He pulls my hands away from my face, with an expression full of pride. "What he pulled tonight, having his best friend giving you a ride, was the last straw. He made sure all of your friends were occupied, he made sure I was occupied so that he can get into your head. Did you really think that I would let that go?" He quirked up an eyebrow.

"You didn't have to beat him up. What are you?" I argue. As much as his actions warm my chest, Minho has no idea what Jackson is capable of. I tried my best to keep him out of it and he went and got himself involved in the worst way possible.

"Stop letting him control you." He drops his chin, looking at me through his thick, long lashes. "You let him do that for way too long. It doesn't have to be this way. I know you're scared but you're not alone. " His eyes soften. "You can have so many people on your side, protecting you."

"I don't wanna be protected. I don't wanna get anyone involved. Jackson is a very powerful person." My tone turns serious, the consequences of Minho's actions already weighing down on me. "Not only he can expose me and what we had to everyone, but he can also make sure I don't get anywhere. His dad controls everything."

That seems to get his attention cause his eyebrows come together. "What do you mean?"

"His dad is the owner of team Wang, and best friends with our counselor. His company has been working with our university for years. He knows and controls everything. He can make you or break you in the industry." I explain.

"Shit." His hands come to his mouth. "I wish I cared." He breaks into a smirk and I roll my eyes, trying to keep myself from smiling at his reaction.

A moment of silence passes before I speak again. "Did you fuck her?" I avoid his eyes.

"No."

"So what then?" I shrug awkwardly. 

"She tried to suck my dick." He shrugs, saying it almost like a question.

I shallower hard, lifting my chin upwards as well, trying my best to seem unphased. "Oh."

"What is it?" He inches closer. "Are you jealous, angel?" He drawled out, looking amused.

"No." I immediately say.

"Good." His fingers come up to my chin, tilting my head upwards. His eye fall to my lips for a split second. "How much have you had to drink?" He asks.

I give him a questioning look. "Not enough, why?"

Something sparks in his eyes and his lips tug into a smile that I've never seen on him before. Small, yet dangerous. "Wanna disappear for a little while?"

#lee know #lee know x reader #lee know series #lee know smut #lee know skz #lee minho #lee know fanfic #lee minho fanfic #skz #skz smut #stray kids x reader #stray kids #stray kids fanfic #kpop #kpop smut #kpop fanfic #kpop series

[evil-feather]

Uhm Perekoo wip that I made like idk 5 years ago?? Uhm I originally wrote this with an OC of mine (because at this point I didn't know Isabel yet...or she hadn't even existed? Idk), so if some things are out of character huh🤷🏼‍♀️ and also keep in mind that this was written by a 16 year old Fay so the phrasing might be... questionable

Szenario:

Okay so I know it sounds pretty weird and it’s probably something that the Ymbrynes would never do that because it would be too dangerous to bring their kids all to the same place and leave their loop for one day plus every Ymbryne has to rest her loop at different times during one day but anyways.

What if the Ymbrynes would do some kind of “festival” every 50 years to mourn the dead but also celebrate the new Ymbrynes who finished their education.

All Ymbrynes are coming and they are taking their kids with them. It’s a day of celebration and making new friends with people from other loops.

Miss Aideen Noa Redkite is my own character. I did a character sheet thingy for her here on Tumblr ages ago but for now, the only information that you need is the obvious one, that she is an Ymbryne.

-----

When they arrived, the room was filled with loud talking and laughter. Music was playing softly in the background.

Right before entering the big hall, Miss Peregrine turned to her children with a stern expression.

“Before we go in, I expect from all of you to behave and be polite. I don’t want any complaints later; did I make myself clear?”

Everyone nodded quickly because they didn’t want to wait any longer. It was their first Ymbryne festival after all and they were very nervous and excited to see it.

“Good, then you can go and have fun,” she said and stepped out of the way.

Alma looked after them when they entered the hall and began to disappear in the crowd of other children and Ymbrynes.

She already felt bad for letting them out of her sign in a room that was mostly filled with strangers and she had to remind herself that there were so many Ymbrynes around and no potential danger.

A female voice pulled her out of her thoughts:

“So are you ready?”

She hadn't even noticed that while all of her kids had flocked inside, Isabel was still hadn't left her side.

But the older woman didn't really wait for an answer and just walked past her to enter the big hall. When she looked back at her Alma nodded slowly and followed her.

It seems that the majority had already arrived but however she couldn’t spot Miss Wren nor Miss Redkite.

She followed Isabel who had started to go through the crowd while she was always looking back to Alma, to make sure that she could follow her.

Isabel stopped when they reached a small table on the other side of the hall.

“Is it okay here? I thought it isn’t completely in the centre of everyone’s attention, but you can still see the stage. I mean if you want to go somewhere else then we can go there too, if you even want my company. I can also leave you alone if you want some space…,” Miss Cuckoo began to stutter, something that was rather untypical for her.

“Izzy,” Miss Peregrine interrupted her, and she looked up to meet Alma’s eyes. To her relief, Alma was smiling at her.

“It is a good place, thank you. Oh, and I quite enjoy your company and you should know that by now."

That made the other woman smile too.

“Okay, good. Do you want something to drink or anything else?” she asked.

Alma looked at her, narrowing her eyes slightly.

“Well, I doubt that they have tea here.”

Isabel shrugged and disappeared in the crowd again, leaving Alma to stand at the table alone.

Alma sighed, looking at the place where the older woman just stood some seconds ago.

Something was different with her, but she couldn’t quite figure out what it was.

Maybe it was the fact that she hadn't been at the festival since she was a little kid but on the other hand, it hadn’t bothered her much to be at the festival back then so why should it now?

Her thoughts drifted away so that she didn’t notice an excited redhead who was making her way to the table. She was smiling brightly as the red curls framing her face jumped up and down with every step.

“Heyyy!”the said redhead exclaimed, when she had reached Miss Peregrine.

“Good evening Aideen,” she replied but she seemed to be somewhere in her thoughts.

“Are you alright?” Miss Redkite asked. The excitement that had been in her eyes some seconds ago had turned into worry.

It was when Alma finally looked up and wanted to answer her question when a third woman arrived at the table. Alma's face lit up a bit when she saw the older women and the other ymbrynes eyes seemed to glisten as well.

“Alma, Aideen it is wonderful to see you two here,” the older woman greeted them.

“I’m glad to see you here too, Esmerelda,” Miss Peregrine greeted her, and Miss Redkite nodded in agreement.

“I do hope that you two and your children will have a nice evening today. It is your first Ymbryne festival for years after all.”

“I’m sure it will be lovely, yes,” Aideen replied, and Miss Peregrine was happy that she didn’t have to answer the question.

She had never been a big fan of parties and festivals, but she didn’t want to ruin the fun for the others either.

“Oh, I see Isabel is here too!” Miss Avocet said and smiled into the direction of the silver haired Ymbryne. She was just coming back with two cups in her hands.

“Esmerelda, how lovely to finally see you again!”Isabel smiled, putting the cups down on the table.

“Well then, I’ll leave you three alone again. I just wanted to come and greet you,” Miss Avocet said and with these words, she left to greet the Ymbryne that just arrived.

“Yeah well, I think I will leave you too...and get something to drink,” Aideen said and waved shortly, “see you two around.”

Miss Cuckoo looked after them, then her confused gaze wandered to Alma.

“Uhm…did everyone just leave because of me or?” Alma just raised an eyebrow and shrugged.

“Maybe they are jealous that they didn’t get something to drink.”

Isabel rolled her eyes.

“Sure, that’s going to be it...oh, and by the way they did have tea!”she said and held one of the cups out to Alma.

“Really?” she said, surprised,” thank you!”

For a moment they stood there in silence sipping their drinks but only until a little boy caught their attention.

He was standing maybe 5 meters away from them and looked curious up to them until Isabel waved him.

“Hey, don’t worry, we don’t bite,” she laughed slightly because the boy seemed a little scared now that he got caught staring.

But the Ymbrynes words somehow seemed to calm him down and slowly he took some steps forward to their table.

“I know who you are,” the little boy finally said while pointing at Miss Peregrine.

The raven-haired woman raised an eyebrow and tried not to instruct him that polite people did not point at others.

“Yes?” she simply answered.

“Yeah! You are Miss Peregrine, right? Known to be the youngest Ymbryne?” the boy said excitedly.

“I guess that is me, yes,” she then replied after a short while, ”and may I know your name?”

“My name is Ian Franklin.”

“Delighted to meet you,” Alma said and shook his small hand.

The boy's gaze wandered to the other Ymbryne who had stood there without saying a word.

But Ian didn’t bother to ask for for name because his curious mind has already switched to the next topic.

“Are you two married?” he asked, looking from Miss Cuckoo to Miss Peregrine.

Isabel's smile dropped and Alma's eyes widened.

“No, no we are just old friends”, the younger woman managed to get out, clearly uncomfortable with the question.

But Ian didn’t seem to notice because he just shrugged.

“Okayy, well you two seem like you are.”

“Well, sorry to disappoint,” Isabel said with a slightly forced smile.

She didn’t quite know if she should be happy about the assumption of the boy or embarrassed, but what she knew is that this situation got very awkward and she just hoped that this wouldn’t mean that the conversations between Alma and her were about to be this awkward the whole evening.

----

Uhm yeah, have this I guess?😂😭 I will never finish this but huh🤷🏼‍♀️

It just heavily reminded me of the last story that you posted @peculiar-lesbian :)

#mphfpc #miss peregrines home for peculiar children #alma peregrine #miss peregrine #ymbryne #miss p #ymbrynes #wlw #bird wifeys #miss cuckoo #isabel cuckoo #perekoo #perekoo fanfiction #fanfiction #mphfpc fanfiction

[ltbarnes]

Anachronism Valentine’s Day Special

Summary: Your Bigfoot and Captain plan Valentine’s Day for the first time, cooped up into your shared home while everyone is free from work for the first time in forever. Winter delves into arts and crafts, and Steve wants to cook breakfast, but nothing really goes according to plan.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x fem!reader x Steve Rogers

Word count: 3.3k

Warnings: blood, minor injury, the beginnings of smut, reader’s boys being so sweet, Bucky being the worst sous-chef, a little bit of Stucky, self-deprecation

A/N: this was supposed to be a drabble! a sweet little thing for valentine’s day!! but no!!! as normally i couldn’t pace myself so here you have almost a full chapter. also, if you haven’t read the rest of the series i really recommend doing so if you find this very confusing. before i check out i order you to treat yourself tomorrow with something you love, no matter if you celebrate with loved ones or alone. happy valentine’s day <3

Series Masterlist

Main Masterlist

•  •  •  •  •  •  •  •  •  •  •  •  •  •  •  •  •  •  •  •  •  •  • 

The alarm clock of the morning is the stinging pain of a paper cutting into your skin, slicing across your cheek until a thin stream of blood trickles down and smears onto your pillow.

All you can do is furrow your brows in confusion while blinking your eyes open, wincing while sitting up in the bed. There's blood on your finger as you swipe it across your face. What the hell?

It doesn't take long to find the source of your wound—a messily cut paper heart falls down from your pillow as you move. You know it's Winter's solely by the uneven shape of it. Steve would never be caught slacking when it comes to anything artsy, as you have learned many times over by now. He pouted for several hours on Christmas morning when a splatter of paint had ended up on the card he had written you.

Despite your bleeding cut, you find yourself giggling. It's cheesy and a little cliché, but the thought of Winter learning (or relearning, in reality) about Valentine's Day from some stupid movie brings such joy to your heart. Maybe Steve told him about it, or Sam. You hope it's not the latter. God knows what your big bear has gotten up to in that case.

It’s not something you have talked about with your boyfriends at all. Since you’ve never made a big thing about it before them you assumed it would be the same now. It just happened to coincide with a few days off for all of you. A calm day in was the plan you had set up in your head. Maybe cook something a little nicer for dinner, but that’s all.

The floor is equally cold as the temperature outside the comforter as the soles of your feet touch the hardwood, drawing goosebumps on your skin with each brush of air against your exposed arms. As small clouds of fog form with each of your breaths, you know Steve must have turned down the heat again. Damn him and his super soldier warmth. He is the most compassionate person there is, but also annoyingly forgetful of the fact that not everyone in this house burn up during the night.

Your whole body shudders while wrapping your arms around yourself. The sweater you usually steal from Winter lies discarded on the couch in the living room, you think, much to your dismay. Instead of taking out one of your own, you pad out of your bedroom with your teeth on the verge of chattering.

Soft sounds of a vintage jazz ballad stream from the kitchen, harmonizing with the clangs of pots and pans and sizzling.

"No. No! C'mon," Steve whines. "I just showed you what to use. Buck, honestly—"

Your chuckles are barely heard in the background of the small argument as you step inside the kitchen with a smile on your face. They don't even notice you, which is so extremely rare that you barely dare to breathe. Instead Steve sighs, taking away the wooden spoon Winter holds in his hand and replaces it with a spatula.

"Stir gently. Try to stop the eggs from sticking to the pan. It's supposed to be smooth and creamy, you know, like she wants them?"

"So bossy. Bunny likes all eggs. Doesn't matter much, Stevie," Winter answers with a pout, aggressively stabbing the pan with the spatula. Steve only shakes his head in answer while throwing his hands up in the air.

"I don't know why I bother," he mumbles under his breath. "Go find the necklace we bought her instead. I'm banning you from the kitchen."

In the same second, the blonde turns around to see you leaning against the doorway. His face falls, seeing the surprise breakfast now lacks the element of surprise. You can also see the confusion in his expression, because you've never managed to sneak up on either of them.

"Goddamn it," Steve sighs. "You were supposed to be sleeping!"

Winter turns around. He seems much less upset than the man next to him—instead his eyes rake over your newly woken figure.

"Good morning to you too. And it's a little late for that by now, don't you think?" You take a few steps forward, fuzzy socks gliding over the floor, while taking in the sweet smell of food. The ruined surprise does nothing to darken your mood—your men are making you Valentine’s Day breakfast. There's nothing more you can wish for.

The lighthearted atmosphere soon turns gloomy though, and you almost forget why until Winter grunts. He blows out a quick puff of air through his nose while striding up to you in two large steps, hand laid on your shoulder while the other tilts your face upwards.

"Hurt," he states, brushing the pad of his thumb over the bleeding cut. "What happened?"

You smile, rolling your eyes. "It's just a small cut."

"What. Happened?" he demands once again.

Winter is really protective of you. He has been since the start, but sometimes he's the cause of some discomfort because of his unnatural strength. Accidents are bound to happen, like the time he accidentally elbowed you in the nose while trying to punch Steve, or when he unknowingly pushed you off the bed in his sleep. He gets so upset each time he's the reason for them, and sometimes spends days doting on you until his guilt fades away. You don't want to ruin the mood by making him feel that way on Valentine's, of all days.

"Winter," you say, raising your eyebrows like you do each time you really want him to listen to your words. "I want you to know that this is not your fault before I explain, okay? No need to blame yourself."

"What's going on?" Steve asks, looking up from the pan for just a second.

"I accidentally cut myself on the paper heart Winter left on my pillow while I was sleeping. An accident." Your hands come up to Winter's shoulders, rubbing gently over the t-shirt.

His eyes instantly close, head tilting down in shame. Fuck.

"Hey, hey. What did I just tell you?" you say. "No blaming yourself."

"So stupid," Winter mutters. "Should never have—"

"No. I loved the heart. It was really, really sweet, and I loved it. I love you." Leaning up on your tiptoes, you press a small kiss to the corner of his mouth. "Thank you, honey."

He only shakes his head in answer, despite the blush creeping up on his cheeks. Honestly, that might be the sweetest man alive. Who even cuts out hearts from red paper and leaves them on their partner's pillow anymore?

While he ponders over the situation, the flush reaching his ears too, Steve stands with his arms wrapped over his chest, a content smile on his face as he watches the two of you interact. As you gain eye contact with him over Winter's shoulder, you can't help but return the smile.

"Do I get one too, huh?" Steve says, unfurling his arms to lean back onto the counter. "What is it that you say? Kiss the cook?"

"Geez, lay it off with the flirting, Rogers," you answer while stepping aside, moving towards your blonde superhuman.

Three pecks are pressed to his pink lips as he wraps his arms around you, pulling you in by your waist with a squeak of surprise from your lips. The sweetest giggle escapes in the process, alluring enough to make him forget about the eggs he was so meticulous about just a minute ago.

"Happy Valentine's Day, my loves," you whisper, leaning into his chest while turning your head slightly to the side so you can see Winter as well. Both of them will hear you despite your whisper, no matter how quiet you are.

"Happy Valentine's Day. Now go back. This was supposed to be a breakfast-in-bed situation," Steve says playfully, pinching your side before nudging you in the direction of the doorway.

"But I'm already up," you whine. "I'm hungry. I don't want to go."

Mr. Captain America has the nerve to raise his eyebrow on you, nodding in the direction he wants you to go. He turns his back away, focuses on the overwhelming amount of food he's preparing.

A huff of protest is all that sounds from you. Enough of an answer for him, it seems, because he's already figured out you won't go back to bed voluntarily.

"Buck, take our girl back to the bedroom, will you?" Steve says without even facing the two of you. You can almost hear the smirk on his face.

Instantly a look of dread falls upon your face, one of betrayal, as you turn towards Winter with a gasp. He's already smiling in mischief. Fuck this.

"No. No." You point an accusing finger his way. "Don't you dare."

Cautious steps are taken backwards while the giant stalks closer with each second, broad shoulders becoming more threatening while your neck cranes upwards to see his little smirk.

"Winter, no, no—"

His strong arms lift you up from the floor, maneuvering you over his shoulder until you're swaying upside down like so many times before. It's been a while though—Steve has this weird theory that it's unhealthy for you to be upside down as much as you were before when Winter wanted to carry you everywhere. And while it did make you overtly dizzy and slightly nauseous sometimes, you kind of miss it.

"This is kidnapping!" you yell to the best of your abilities. "Righteous Captain America, my ass! Outlaw!"

"Have fun, dear!" Steve's voice can be heard shouting from the kitchen, undoubtedly a chuckle of amusement on his lips. Fucker.

Winter's husky laughter rumbles as he walks towards the bedroom, vibrating through your body as it swings back and forth. He barely even reacts as you pinch his buttock. At least you got to touch it.

It's instantly cold when you enter the confines of your bedroom once more, so much that a full body shiver manages to wrack your limbs even while hanging over your boyfriend's shoulder.

"It's so cold, Winter," you whine. "Your poor girlfriend is going to freeze to death in here."

What you expected in answer was to be laid down on your shared bed. Instead even colder bathroom counter meets the back of your legs. Winter leaves his hands on your shoulders as you blink to rid yourself of the blur, fluttering your lashes until you can look at him clearly.

The previously playful smile has scooled itself into a concerned frown, blue eyes running over the cut along your cheek. You sigh. He can't let small things like these go.

"I am sorry. Did not mean to hurt," he says, looking into your eyes as if he's afraid you won't understand the size of his sorrow if he isn't. You open your mouth to protest once more, but he manages to interrupt before you can even form the first syllable. "No. Accept apology. No arguing."

"Of course I accept your apology. I just don't think it's necessary," you answer, lifting your hand while he leans into your palm. Thumb runs over his stubble, tracing the line of his jaw. "It wasn't even your fault. You couldn't know that a piece of paper would cut me while I was sleeping. And I'm entirely fine."

He gives you a single nod in defeat. Winter has at least partly learnt when to concede in arguments during the past year. Still stubborn as shit, but so are you. It's not fun when either of you refuse to talk to each other for hours on end because of some stupid fight.

Instead Winter reaches for the alcohol and cotton standing pushed into the corner of the counter, usually reserved for the blonde super soldier in the house for when he gets home from missions. For wounds much deeper than yours, in reality.

"Clean?" he asks, holding them up in front of you.

"Is that really necessary?"

"Yes. Stop doing that, uh—what it’s called?" He furrows his brows. "Making things small. Always do that."

"Minimizing?" you ask.

"Minimizing. Stop doing that and let me clean. Need you to be good. Valentine's Day."

With a soft giggle you concede, leaning back against the mirror behind you. Tough argument to argue against.

•  •  •  •  •  •  •  •  •  •  •  •  •  •  •  •  •  •  •  •  •  •  • 

"More."

Winter holds up another forkful of pasta against your mouth, trying to prod at your lips while you poorly hold in laughter.

"No. No, I'm so full," you say, pushing his hand away.

An overextended, but content, sigh sounds from your lips as you sink further down the chair, cuddling against the soft fabric of Winter's sweater. You're wearing a nice dress underneath it all, but at the end of the day these two don't care that much about what you're wearing. Comfort is always valued higher in this household.

"I think that might be the best meal I've had since ma's apple pie," Steve says, giving that same sigh while leaning back against his chair.

You chuckle, shaking your head. "That's not true, but thank you."

"So good, bunny. Always so good," Winter chimes in, fingers fiddling with your hair. Never not touching you, that one. "Kiss."

He leans forward, hand coming up to cup your cheek, puckering his lips. You can't help but laugh at him, joining in on Steve's warm chuckle, even while pressing your lips to his. Quick, affectionate pecks that radiate so much love your cheeks almost hurt from the giddy grinning.

You think you might be the luckiest woman in the world. Even if double the amount of love one normally gets is more than enough, these two men grant you five times as much. This is love enough to last three lifetimes.

“You look so beautiful,” Steve says, elbows now leaning on the table and gazing lovingly at your figure.

His eyes are focused on the necklace dangling over your collarbones, the one they went all the way to the big city to pick out. It’s a simple fir tree, a real delicate one, mostly because of the ones surrounding this house. The trees which signify the start of your relationship. And also because your love is supposed to be evergreen, but Steve barely managed to get that out through his embarrassment. You think it’s the sweetest thing ever.

“You flatter me too much,” you answer him, leaning your head on Winter’s shoulder. His right hand comes to intertwine with your left, fingers rubbing over the back of your hand.

“I could never. I know you love it.”

A more mature answer than poking your tongue out is not possible in this moment, it seems like. But Steve finds it endearing and words are soon forgotten all together as the candles flicker and silence falls upon the room. A comfortable one, safe as Winter’s hold on you and Steve’s loving gaze.

“I really love the necklace,” you whisper, fingers fiddling with the pendant. “I feel silly now for only making you guys dinner, it’s just that I didn’t think we would make a thing out of—“

Soft kisses to your neck cut off your apologetic rambling, silencing you with tongue running over your exposed skin and replacing it with a quiet moan.

Steve rises from his seat, closing the one-step gap to grasp your chin. He tilts your face upwards until you can meet his eyes, which craves you craning your neck completely. Tall bastard.

“We have talked about this, sweetheart. You remember that?” He raises an eyebrow, thumb pulling on your lower lip. All you can do is nod mindlessly as if you’re in a trance. “What you do is enough. This is already more than we can ask for. It’s not nothing. Right, Buck?”

The brunette running his lips over your skin, nuzzling into your neck, hums in agreement. Never much one for words, really. You understand the sentiment either way.

A particularly loud whine escapes your lips as Winter nibbles just underneath your ear, sending a full-body shiver through your limbs. Steve grins, running his thumb along your cheek.

“You’ve been so good to us. Think it’s time for us to repay you. ‘S only fair.”

You nod shamelessly, eyes halfway closed in pleasure. Before them, you never knew how much a tongue against your skin could bring such a reaction from you. You definitely know now.

“I want everything off, Bucky,” Steve orders. And in contrast to the beginning of your relationship, you know the demand is not only directed towards you anymore.

Fabric is discarded, thrown across the kitchen floor. The previous chill has disappeared and feverish heat instead adorn your cheeks. Lustful eyes rake over your body, yours over chiseled muscle covered by softness and metal, over the tight shirt straining against Steve’s chest.

As your hands come up to the back of your neck, clasping around the thin chain to remove the risk of hair tangling and expensive gifts being destroyed during the first night, rough fingers come to stop you.

“No,” Winter says. “Keep it.”

Your arms lower to your sides, back leaning against Winter’s chest and your breasts brushing against Steve’s clothed one. Cold metal splays across your stomach, pulling you into him as closely as humanly possible. It’s when Steve’s thumb brushes over your nipple that you concede entirely to their power.

“How did I get so goddamn lucky, huh?” Steve suddenly exclaims, interrupting the lustful silence that laid thick over the room.

And when he lifts his hand up, fingers splaying out over Winter’s cheek to pull him closer, you almost moan. Seeing their lips meet like this is still new. But if you allow yourself to predict the future, you don’t think that it’s something you will ever tire of.

“My sweet boy,” Steve says. You feel Winter shiver behind you, even as his hands steady himself on your shoulders.

Only a few seconds pass before Steve leans down to capture your lips, carrying the taste of Winter with him. His tongue soon pushes inside your mouth, slowly, giving no thought to asserting his dominance when it’s so clearly already there.

“And my sweet girl,” he whispers, muffled by your kiss.

Soft, pink lips divert from your mouth, trails down your neck until he reaches your collarbone. Hips are grabbed by two sets of hands, wrestling between each other for space. You think there is just enough space for both of them. Your body is the perfect size for their hands to trail over, for their arms to capture, for their cocks to claim.

"Steve not as good, no? I make you feel better,” Winter suddenly says, drawing a shocked chuckle from your lips. Steve does not share the same amusement.

"What did you say?" Steve raises his eyebrows, a competitive fire igniting in his eyes. But all Winter does is grin, because he knows what he just did.

He loves this—teasing, starting competitions even though he knows no one can lose and neither of them will win. The only real winner will always be you.

It shows clearly when Steve’s arms sneak under your thighs, hoisting you up into his hold with your legs wrapped around his waist. The bedroom is the new destination and Winter trails after with that smug smirk of his adorning his wonderful face.

You are perfect for your two sweet boys. Two needy ones, competitive, and sometimes on the verge of demanding. This day is a lot like every other. It seems like your men don’t really need a special day to show you how special you are.

You are the luckiest woman in the world.

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TAG: @cjand10 @enchantedbarnes @imyourbratzdoll @mattmurdussydestroya @wintasssoldier @inlovewithchrisevans

#marvel fanfiction #marvel fic #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes angst #bucky barnes fluff #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers fluff #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes smut #anachronism

[yelenasdiary]

Friendly Advice || Drabble

Summary: Natasha turns too Wanda for help. 

|Angst| 1.1K |Set from Wanda’s POV |

Hold On Masterlist.

Vision was on his way out the door with the boys to take them to school when Natasha pulled up in her black BMW. Given it was 7:30 in the morning and the defeated look on her face, I knew a fresh pot of coffee was in order. 

“I’m sorry to show up so early but – “

“Don’t stress, it’s been a busy morning around here, but some company is always nice” I gave Natasha a soft smile as we waited for coffee. I’ve promised to reframe from entering the minds of those who I care about, but I can’t help but hear Natasha’s thoughts loud and clear. “Do you want to talk about it?” I offered as I grabbed two clean mugs. 

“I stuffed up Wands…she left me” she chocked on her words as she watched the streaming coffee pour into the dark blue mugs. “She actually packed my things” she adds. I slide a mug carefully over to her. 

“Have you guys spoken?” I asked. I knew a little background of the issue, but I wasn’t aware that Natasha wasn’t living at the family home. 

“Not since she gave me divorce papers” 

“She had them done up already?”

“Yeah…while I was on a mission” 

“Nat, I’m so sorry. I didn’t know she was even thinking that. I just thought you guys would work it out” I spoke as I took a seat next to Nat at the kitchen island, turned slightly to face her. “I thought the same, Wands… I knew she was upset when I left but I didn’t think she was truly serious about leaving me” Nat looked to me with glassy eyes, “How did you do it?” she asks.

“Do what?” I frowned slightly.

“Leave the job. How did you get all this and not worry about the world? I thought I could do it…when I first saw Riley, I promised I’d retire but I just couldn’t bring myself to do it”

I sipped my coffee has Natasha explained. “Honestly, I didn’t find it all that hard” I replied, “I never wanted that, not truly. This right here though, what I have with my boys and Vis, that’s what I truly wanted” I added. 

Natasha seemed slightly offended by my choice of words, “I’m not saying you don’t truly want that for yourself Nat, but you’ve struggled with allowing yourself happiness. You have for longer than I’ve known you. You’ve been so caught up on making the world a better place and clearing the wrongs you were made to do that you’ve push the idea of happiness so far away it’s almost non-existent.” I explained, clearing her frowned look. “Remember how long it took you to really let Y/n in the first time?”

She nodded lightly, “She was so patient with me, she always has been…maybe I just got too comfortable with that” she replied with her hands wrapped around the mug. “I used to do these missions to make people see I wasn’t some cold heart trained assassin, then I did it a little more for Y/n and now I just” she paused to wipe the tears she’s tried holding back on, “I couldn’t look at my children and worry about them, I need to protect them. Wands, you’ve seen the things we deal with, you know the potential dangers the world has to offer, what space can do… I can’t look at Riley and Sophie and not worry about those dangers” she adds before looking into my eyes once more. 

My friend, my teammate was so desperate for things to be different, all I could do is offer my advice and hoped it opened a different train of thought for her. “Nat, you don’t have to save the world anymore. You’ve done more than anybody else to prove yourself. You never had to prove yourself and yet you have, maybe it’s finally time you took a step back and gave yourself the rest you’ve more than earnt”

“Is that what you told yourself?” she questioned.

“No” I shook my head, “After Thanos and the blip, I lost 5 years old my life, Nat. I missed Vis coming back, he was alone, I was gone and suddenly I was back, things were different. The world changed and I didn’t even see it. I knew then that I didn’t want to do anymore. Vis, he wasn’t as quick to make that decision but here we are. We have two beautiful boys and a peaceful life. Tony knows that I’ll be there if he needs but he also knows that my family is more important to me, now more than ever” I explained, a soft smile crept to my lips just thinking about my current life. 

But still, Natasha didn’t show that my words were making much of a difference to her thoughts. She looked down at her untouched coffee, her eyes searching for anything, a sign that maybe this was just a dream.

 “There’s more danger to Riley and Sophie when you’re not there than there is when you are there. When you go on these missions you risk that open door for anything. Not just people targeting them to get to you but sickness and other common problems. Anything any happen, Nat. Sophie could choke on a toy or food and be rushed to hospital. Riley could fall from climbing a tree or worse. The Avengers are fine, there’s a reason why Tony is making the things he does, there’s a reason why you and the others are training up new members. You can’t do this forever Nat and that’s okay” 

We sat in silence for a while. I saw Nat was processing our conversation while we both sipped our coffees. “You came here for help, and you can take my advice however you like but if you want Y/n back and a life with the four of you together, you’ve got to either lower the workload or retire” 

Natasha looked at me once again, finally I saw my words were making a difference. “I haven’t signed the divorce papers…she expects me to have them back to her later this week. I’m not ready to give up on her, on us, the kids, I can’t” she speaks. 

“Then you know what you have to do, Nat. It’s time to rest, it’s time to live the life you’ve dreamt about, it’s time to allow yourself to drown in that happiness you guard so strongly. If you don’t do it now, you’ll lose her for good and you’ll go back to your old ways and as your friend, I’m not going to sit back and allow that” 

Natasha nodded as I spoke, “I’m not going to talk to Tony. You’re right, Wands.” A smile softly formed on her lips, “it’s time” she whispered more so to herself. 

Taglist: @agalsmaraudersobsession | @thatonebrazilian | @an-evergreen-rose | @ygtft-chen | @pewpughpew | @reginassweetheart | @mrsromanoff | @shanmik | @katherineromanova |  

#natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff #wanda maximoff #wandanat #marvel #black widow #the avengers #fanfiction

[bhxrdy]

timeless | chapter two

author’s note: back with Finan for part two! For those who read the 1st part, hopefully you will enjoy this one as well :) Masterlist is here for the interested! Lots of love and stay safe 💕

      The soft percussions of the indie music whispering in the background had joined them in their quest for answers.

The weather was nice enough as Autumn gently rolled in across the country, changing its colours to warmer tones.

Months had dropped since they saw each other again, since Finan had brutally cornered Becca in her office - a day he still thought over in regret. Today, the scene was replaying itself in his head, his thoughts escaping the written words in the book he was holding as his eyes drifted towards her. She sat across the table, on the other end from him, the pile of notes, research papers and books separating them within the spacious library back in her family home.

Her neck had cleared the day of, but he couldn’t help himself but think about how things would have been entirely different had he not stopped.

“You’re staring.” Her voice had pulled him back to reality; she hadn’t looked up to him as she could see from the corner of her eyes his gaze.

He stumbled, trying to find his footing. “S-sorry.”

She dropped what she was doing and tilted her head to him. “I told you to stop thinking about it. I’m fine. The bruises are long gone.” She was gentle with her statement, wanting to reassure him that his guilt should be no more.

He looked away from her, gulping down the lump in his throat as he remained silent. His display of regret had left an ache in her heart.

She let go of the pen she was holding and stretched herself as she leaned against the back of her chair. She toyed with her necklace while using her voice to break the silence. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“There is nothing to say.” Defeated, both in posture and sound.

She bit down her bottom lip as she let go of her crystal, placing her arms back on the table. “When you look at me… Do you still see her?”

He caught her eyes, staring at them through her round glasses as his answer came out without hesitation. “No.”

She hid the small smile that graced her features as she dropped her head and pushed her hair to rest on her right shoulder. She leaned back out again, bringing her knees against her chest. “Do you think it was her doing? That she knew you were coming for me so she played with your head?”

He frowned, the thought never once crossing his mind. “Is that even possible?”

“Do you really have to ask?” He chuckled at her words, watching her as she met him with a light smirk crossing the corner of her lips.

“Aye, I guess. It’s just- It felt so real, like she was standing right in front of me, and I just couldn’t control myself.” He took a moment, his thoughts racing at the emotions that had overtook him that day. “It was as if something came over me and I lost control.”

She exhaled quietly, her fingers fidgeting with her necklace again.

“Would it help if I told you, you don’t have to worry about that anymore?” He frowned, confused at her words. She pursued, presenting him her meaning. “I cast a little spell, just something to help you see me for, well, me… She won’t be able to interfere anymore.”

A weight had lifted off his shoulders. He never thought he’d find comfort with a witch - not after what he had been through in his years as a warrior.

He smiled, relaxation swarming through his muscles, bringing him a sense of ease as tension drifted away.

He took his shot, not able to resist the shyness that was subtly covering her gaze to him.

“You are easier on the eyes than she was.”

Heat creeped to her cheeks at his remark. She quickly looked away, not able to meet his browns. Her sight landed on her pen; she picked it up and threw it at him playfully, making him laugh.

“We got work to do, Irishman!”

The romantic night they had spent together when they first met was never brought up, but it never meant it hadn’t been hanging over their heads. Like a bright chandelier, intricately designed to engulf both bodies under her light, it left them in wonder with the longing stares, the flirtatious words and the innocent touches, or the purposeful ones - anything to stay close without having to admit to anything.

Unfortunately, as the chemistry between them remained silent, it had left nature to deviate from its course, pushing them to remain connected as roots formed around them with trust slowly growing.

She liked his company, finding herself completely enthralled by his presence. There was a silver lining to his curse, she thought. As horrible as it was, they never would have met had he remained in his time. She kept it to herself though, not knowing for certain if he felt the same about their encounter.

It hadn’t stopped her from helping him, having driven out to her ancestral home to search through her family’s archives in the hopes of finding answers.

     She went back to her notes, hoping Finan couldn’t see how flustered his comment had left her.

He was watching her again, the rays of the sun having shone through the windows and casting its warmth across the table, reaching her figure.

She was focused while he tried to do the same but sill couldn’t keep his mind straight.

He would glance at her a few times, taking in the way she looked from the frown on her face to how hunched over she was from scribbling on her notepad. To the way her hair had fallen over her shoulders before she grabbed them and tied them within a bun, already having loose strands falling, and then down to the way she was biting the top of her pen, her fingers crossing over the papers of the books she held.

She cut the silent moment, catching him off guard.

“I realized I never asked…” She tilted her head to him as she spoke up, catching his stare once again. In return, it had left her words hanging in the air, unfinished. “What?”

There was warmth in his eyes as it traveled down the pit of his stomach; he could watch her forever. “Nothing.” He cleared his throat, pulling himself back to reality. “What did you want to ask?”

She was stumbling over her words as her heart raced against her chest. While trying to look away, her eyes jumped from him to the book that laid in front of her. “H-How does the curse work? Do you just appear out of thin air, or are you reborn every single time?

“Neither. It’s a sleeping spell.” He toyed with the rings he still wore after all these years, watching the jewelry pieces roll around his skin. “She puts me to sleep, and then I wake up every hundred years, and start over.”

Her face scrunched, she pushed her glasses back up, the metal frames tickling her skin as the smooth narrow rims settled back starting at the bridge of her nose. “It doesn’t make sense…”

He got up front his seat, suddenly feeling the need to stretch his legs; she wasn’t startled, sensing budding agitation growing inside him.

“Ya telling me- Darling, nothing of this makes sense to me. I still don’t understand how all of this is real.”

She remained still, watching the way he was standing with arms across his chest, looking away from her. “Finan.” The sound of his name meshed with her voice had calmed him, quieting down his worries. “Deep down, you must have known that magic is real, no?” He shook his head with no words leaving him. “So you’re telling me, that from all the battles you’ve ever fought, all the wars, the bloodshed- not once you ever requested the ally of a witch to turn these moments in your favour?”

“There is no honour in cheating.”

She playfully rolled her eyes at his answer. “Right, right…” She heard a soft chuckle escaping him while his hands were kept busy with a piece of parchment he had found.

He rolled it open just as the calmness he had felt, disappeared. She noticed the grimace on his face and left her seat to join him. “Finan?”

“I forgot you two are related.” He spoke with anguish, the sentiment melting in his words.

She took in a deep breath and exhaled slowly, the revelation still striking her hard. “Y-yea…” She followed his line of sight to see her family tree, dating back all the way to Thora, her ancestral aunt.

She saw the posture change in him; his past had latched on, the shadows following him around with his every step.

Instinctively, she reached for him, squeezing his hand to bring him back to her. He let out a shaky breath as she leaned her head against his shoulder.

He then reached for her, a silent signal telling her he was okay; it was all in the lingering stare, the way dejection had coloured his browns while she wanted to wash it away with solace, to give calm the storm that was brewing in his chest.

She leaned into him again, meeting his cheek as her nose brushed against his covered jawline, her eyes closed.

He breathed her in, the smell of her having embraced him and blocking out the restlessness that was trying to find a way back inside him.

They stayed this way for a moment; the ticking of the clock having disappeared from the sound of the earth.

He couldn’t bare to part ways with her; the way her body held his, how she fit so well in his arms, how their hands would always find each other the way gravity pulls its force together. She grounded him and he never wanted to let go.

The lump in his throat was threatening release; she felt it when he pressured their hands together, the sensation pulling her slightly away from him. His eyes glimmered from tears he was desperate to hold on to.

Still without uttering a word, she placed a hand on his chest and warmth, subtle as it was, was spreading through his body, resting his racing heart. She had hoped it would help lull the pain he felt; it did, just enough to have the sight behind her distract him.

“What’s this?”

He reached for a thick manuscript, the cover having caught his eyes as a large sigil was planted over it.

She turned her head to see what he was looking at. She recognized the family crest, the witches symbol carved in with pride. “It’s our grimoire.” She looked down at it, opening the book to its first page. “It’s supposed to be containing the spells that the witches in our family have created and casted.” She sifted through the pages until her eyes caught a glance of one of the spells, one she never thought she would find.

She was lost in the page, entranced in the magic it was emanating.

The curse stood below her, written in another language. She gave her focus to it while Finan had distanced himself, looking through the other works that decorated her family’s library.

He didn’t make much of what the spines were presenting until he landed on a peculiar looking book. He pulled it out of its shelf and turned it to face the cover.

He frowned as he read the title.

“Why do you have this?”

She glanced up at him, noticing what he was holding. “They’re chronicles.” He walked back to her, placing the book on the table. She retraced the title of the cover before opening it. “My family has been tasked to keep records of our history- the true history of the country.” From the desk, she lifted her head to him. “We’re time keepers.”

He scoffed, reciting her last words in a mocking tone, his accent thick. “Time keepers?”

She mimicked his tone as she gasped, inciting a cackle from his throat. “I did not come up with the name, alright? You can thank my great-great-great-great grand-father, or whoever for that esteemed honour.” She hit his arm in a light manner, making him smile as her laughter died out.

From her gaze, his eyes fell back to the open pages. Reading the words that were etched across the paper, he frowned. “This doesn’t make sense.”

“What doesn’t?”

“The king said there would be no mention of Uhtred anywhere in his chronicles, so why are we in them?”

She peered over to where he was, seeing Finan’s name written down; she knew of his past from his words. It was different seeing it permanently marked on paper. She traced his name with her fingertips as she spoke. “The king might have written his own versions of events, but our family have been keeping tabs on what’s been happening as far as the written word could carry us.” She tilted her head to him, her letters drudging some kind of contentment. “It’s not the first time stuff like this was omitted, so my ancestors thought it was only fair to write down the truth as it was witnessed.”

“So your family knows of him, of us?”

“Considering his castle still stands, he is known.” She leaned against the table, her body now facing Finan. “I do remember some of the stories my grandad used to tell me when I was a child. About how England came to be, the sacrifices, the battles, of the one that was called the king maker.” The last of it made him smile, remembering these stories as they were happening in front of him. “I just always thought they were that, you know, stories, just exaggerated aspect of history… I guess I was wrong.”

He had remained silent, reading the words as memories flashed back into his mind. She watched him, her voice having shut down as she finished spelling out a distant memory. “You okay?”

He met her gaze, his hands letting go of the book. “Yea. It’s just- It’s still feels like all this happened yesterday. As if I was back there and all this, here, is just a dream.”

“One hell of a dream you’re having there, Finan.” She teased him, inciting a reciprocated flare; his lips curved into a smirk, the teasing reaching his eyes.

“What can I say?” He reached her at an arms length, his voice low, rumbled and husky. “With a beautiful woman like yourself by my side, can you blame me?”

Her cheeks coloured pink at his words, gifting him with a bashful smile as she tried to shake the flutters in her chest. She bit down the inside of her lip looking away from his stare. He couldn’t wipe off the grin off his face; he loved the way she would turn timid, too shy to take a flirtatious compliment.

He still had his eyes on her as she adjusted her glasses, her head now facing down the grimoire wide open.

She let out a breath, a deep sigh that would turn around the light atmosphere that was wrapped around them.

“I found the spell Thora used on you.” Her words brought hope, a gentle breeze dancing inside him.

Without a response, she proceeded. “It was written in a dead language, so it might take me a while to translate. So if you want… If you need to take a break, get some fresh air.” She still hadn’t turned to face him, her fingers tracing patterns across the open pages. He quietly watched her, sensing how careful she had become at him, almost tiptoeing.

Then a thought crossed her mind, something he had mentioned when they first met. “I-If you want to take a horse and get some air-”

She considered he might have wanted space, that physically facing the curse that had ruined him would be too hard. Instead, he had reached out for her, placing his hand on her shoulder. “I’m alright.”  

It caught her off guard, not having expected such a gentle approach. She turned her head to him, concern covering her features. “You sure?”

“Yes, love. I’ll stay.” There was a tenderness in his voice, matching the upward curves of his lips. Worry was still painting her face, and so he approached her, tucking a fallen hair strand behind her ear, tickling her skin.

His touch relaxed her, her eyes never wavering away from his, enraptured by his colours.

She let go of the spell book, turning her body to him. “Okay.” He noticed a glint in her eyes, a little spark to indicate the thought going through her mind. “Then, can you please go into the kitchen and get me something to eat, because I’m famished!” He laughed at her comment, his booming voice resonating within the walls of her library. “Of course- I’ll be back.”

She giggled at his reaction as she watched him leave before she took a seat back at the table.

She started skimming over the words the chronicle provided until she started to feel a tingle across her fingertips, a weird sensation that rendered them almost numb.

She furrowed her brows, the further she read - something was off. She reached for the family grimoire, placing it side-by-side to the other book.

She got lost in a trance, not realizing Finan had come back, as he delicately placed whatever snacks he had found on the table. Only when she felt a warm presence next to her did she turned to him to find him sitting close to her, sharing the same space.

A reflex reaction, she grinned. “You’re very agile, indeed.” Her remark was spoken almost in a whisper, which avoided the echo in the room. He teased. “Extremely agile.” She chuckled, shaking her head amused. Though she was laughing, the look in her eyes did not match; a subtle expression he noticed.

“You alright? It looks like something is bothering you.”

Her smile faded, her features heavily wearing the concern emanating from her eyes. She sighed, glancing back at the research in front of her before shifting her head back to him. “Mhmm, yea- actually, no. Something is not right.”

He frowned. “What do you mean?”

She let out a breath as she gathered her words. She adjusted herself in her seat, turning her body to him. “Thora was… ruthless with her magic, sadistic even.” She stretched out her arm, reaching for the history book to press her palm against the new texts she was looking into. “These stories, they involve her somehow. I-I can feel it right in the ink- there is so much energy.” She pulled her hand back out, the tingling sensation having come back. She held her hand against her chest, trying to rub the uncomfortable sensation away while applying pressure between her palm and dorsal side. “She used her magic to alter outcomes of battles and succession lines, almost as if she was curving around the natural course of things.” Her stare remained focused on the book, almost hypnotized by its presence; she could barely look away. “I don’t know why, but it’s all there, written- pulsing like they have a life of their own, a heartbeat.”

Shivers traveled her body, apprehension crawling on her skin.

Finan watched her carefully, noticing the goosebumps that decorated her arms.

He remained silent, knowing she had more to say, though he grew anxious about her posture; she seemed closed off though her eyes held an almost magnetic look towards the chronicle.

“Her magic… It’s chaotic. And not fully her own.”

He grimaced, confused. “She’s had help?”

“Not from another witch. I think-” Exasperated, a heavy breath left her lungs. “This feels celestial. She’s had a partner to help her with whatever chaotic mess she conjured.” She then turned to Finan; meeting the hues of the Irishman had erased the discomfort she had felt in her hands. As it dissipated, her muscles tensed, feeling the heaviness on her shoulders.

“I mean even what she used on you- it’s one hell of a spell.”

“Thank you, captain obvious.”

His comment made her chuckle as she rolled her eyes, bringing a light veil to cover the uneasiness that reached the pit of her stomach. He smiled at her action and leaned forward, reaching for the spell book as he changed subject. “What does it say?”

“I’m still deciphering the details, but-” She sighed; he sensed defeat rumbling inside her. “I can’t do this alone. I’m not strong enough to break it.” Something flashed in his eyes, a sense of broken hope. “I’ll need the help of the coven if we’re to succeed.”

“Do we need to involve anyone else?” His question was met with a troubled look; she looked at him, taking it in.

She wanted to reassure him, even though she felt it herself. “The power she conjured is too strong for one witch to handle. Even though magic still exists, it’s not like before… This is power of the Old, it is ancestral now making it powerful. It will require a lot of us to channel it. We might even need help from our line, our ancestors.”

Tension had risen between them. She reached for his hand, clasping it between hers as he met her eyes. Though conviction was built in her grasp, he could tell something else was bothering her. He squeezed her hold, silently telling her to go on. “Finan… If she knew you were coming for me, then she knows what we’re trying to do, which means she’ll do anything to stop it, to stop me.” Her mind went to the warning that had been written above where the spell was, as an introduction. They were words of caution against the Irishman, something she omitted to tell him.

“Becca.” He brought is other hand to her, calming down the shaken feeling inside her, the waves halting and calming her down. “Are ya sure you are up for this? Because if it’s too dangerous then-”

“I want to do this.” She was clear in her words, convincing herself as well as him she was ready.

“She’s going to come for you.”

“I know.” He was worried, the tone of his voice carrying itself to her. “But I have this.” She reached for her pendant, towards the small purple crystal that hung around her neck. “It should be able to protect us.”

“Your necklace?”

“It’s an amulet.” He stared at the jewelry, the stone delicately colouring her skin. “How do you think the bruises were gone so fast?” He looked up to her, a soft smile covering her lips - a gesture he met.

A short breath escaped her lips. She glanced over the piles of papers and books that covered the table, a sense of tiredness covering her. Her eyes then followed the trail of light that the sun was offering. She then turned back to Finan, an idea breaking out with a smile on her face.

“I can use a break.” She got up from her seat as he simply tilted his head up to her, curiosity picking at him. “Want to stroll around modern day Bamburgh?”

He chuckled, standing up as well, with his fingers instinctively caressing her cheek ever so gently; it was an innocent touch. She leaned a little bit into it, wanting to feel his skin against hers.

Her reaction pulled him closer to her, closing in the distance until he was standing at half her arm’s length.

He spoke softly, noting in the sudden light in her eyes. “Alright.”

A grin escaped her as she put her glasses away. She held out her hand for him to take as she was strutting out of the library, aiming for the main entrance. He followed her without hesitation, loving how her fingers had naturally slipped through his.

Once they reached the door, she picked up her jacket, watching Finan do the same while he looked to be pondering on something. Words that formed in his thoughts had left him, remaining astonished at their location. “I still can’t believe your ancestral home is Bebbanburg.”

A giggle rolled across her tongue, shrugging playfully. “Well, I guess my family knew Bamburg is part of a handful of places that can withstand the wits and charms of handsome Irishmen.”

She leaned towards him, pecking his lips in a quick kiss before she ran out the door. He was left in slight shock at her gesture, the sensation still burning his lips.

     She was lost within a sea of thick fog, surrounded by tombs, dying trees and darkness.

She didn’t know where she was and could not find another soul to help her.

She wandered, careful with her steps, when she started hearing voices, whispers, calling for her and scaring her into a fright.

She looked around but was alone.

Or maybe not.

The thickness of the mist had almost rendered her blind.

She tried to create some light flurries; it was a simple spell that would provide guidance within her newfound space.

However, she felt restrained. It was as if her magic was blocked. She held her pendant in a tight grasp, reciting the incantation again and again.

Still, nothing happened.

She tried shaking the fear away, thinking maybe she wasn’t pronouncing the chanting in the correct manner; for some reason, the thought of how it should be done was escaping her. It was there, right at the tip of her tongue but still, somehow, remained obscure.

She kept moving, following the worn out and broken cobblestone path as headstones, and small mausoleum were standing on each side of her, filling her environment.

The burial ground had become a maze; it was endless, no indication of an exit in sight.

Her steps had taken over, her eyes shifting from a grave to the next as the eerie silence enveloped her in complete dread. The taunting whispers were coming and going, in from one ear and out of the next.

She caught a glimpse of a weird looking tombstone. It looked fresher than the rest; only when she gazed upon the lettering did she see her name across it. Her breath was stuck in her throat at her sight. Hands shaking, she reached out, caressing the spelling as a chill ran down her spine.

Her name was still whispered through the air, an unrecognizable voice reaching out to her, right by her ear.

Becca turned around at the ticklish feeling only to find an unknown woman standing in front of her.

She sported long fiery red hair, braided and messy. Her eyes, enhanced by the ash gracing her face, were as black as the abyss and glared straight to the young woman, right through her soul.

The stare froze the young witch in her stance, not able to turn away.

The stranger wore a wool-linen like dress, painted in a dark green tone, as a snake was etched around her waist to her shoulder.

Becca’s gaze then landed on the runes the woman wore; it bore the sign of mischief and chaos worn proudly on her chest.

Sucking in a breath, the young one immediately recognized the one standing in front of her.

“T-Thora?”

The witch did not answer as she simply stared at her descendant. She approached her niece, touring around her while eyeing her silently.

Bex’s heart was ready to give out, the tremors impossible to keep calm; her heart was dying for an escape.

Next thing she knew, she flew against her tomb, cracking the stone as she fell to the ground. She hissed in pain, the impact having created a paralyzing sensation across her body. Heavy breaths grew from her lungs, now recognizing where she had been this whole time.  

The City of the Dead was not what she was expecting it to look like.

She woke up in the ancestral plane for unrested witches, for those who couldn’t reach peace.

It was purgatory.

From the ground, Becca was pulled back up as a force gripped at her throat.

She met the dead witch eye-to-eye. The glare was deadly and hypnotic; she was growing less defensive and all too willing to give up.

From the red hair, all she could then see what Finan’s body towering over her as he strangled her.

“He should’ve finished you.” At Thora’s voice, vile as it was, Becca managed to let a sob out, her body falling into shock.

“Too much of a coward I guess! Even after all these years, he has not changed.”

It was the witch’s voice she could hear - it was venomous and bitter, the screech of it grating the young woman’s ears. But the words were spoken through Finan’s mouth.

Once again, Becca was let go as a yell - a plea for help - managed to come out of her. Her throat was freed, though she was pushed once more against the cracked stone, her back taking another hit.

“You will not succeed in breaking my curse, little witch.”

Thora’s physique re-appeared; she stood close to her niece, her dying breath mixing with the woman’s frightened pants. “I have your ancestors by my side, the gods by my side. You will sooner die than with this battle.”

Her head impacted the stone again, giving it another crack as she grew dizzy.

Arms were then reaching out from behind her. They grabbed onto her, forcing her into a violent struggle for freedom before they pulled her into complete darkness as Thora had let her go. Her red hair was the last thing Becca saw before succumbing to complete pitch black darkness, with the sound of her guttural screaming echoing into the void.

     She was violently shaken out of her slumber, the aftertaste of her vision shaking her to her core.

She grabbed onto her chest, frantic breaths leaving her lungs as she settled back into reality. Her amulet was softly glowing on her skin; adverting her eyes towards the pendant, she knew her nightmare was more than just that - she had walked amongst the dead, her body having resided in bed while her essence traveled to ghost land.

Not able to fall back asleep, or even rest, she left her room and wandered around the home; the tall hallways hovering over her in the middle of the night, were all too similar to the tombs that had surrounded her.

She let her feet take the lead, finding herself in the lighted living room; the fireplace still breathed, its flames casting a glow across the room.  

She was lost in her thoughts, her eyes dazed by the dancing lights. She didn’t hear Finan come in, having woken up from her unsettled slumber. He stood at the entrance, stopping in his steps as his gaze found her standing still.

The night sky was bright, with the moon melting its glow into the fire; the colours had covered her body, from her loose hair to the oversized cardigan she wore over her sleepwear.

She was a sight, he thought.

He approached her. The creek of the floorboard caught her attention, her body suddenly turning to meet him; she was still jumpy from her nightmare, not able to relax the rapid pace of her heartbeat.

He frowned. “Are you alright?”

She was catching her breath, relieved to see it was only Finan. “Y-yea, just- couldn’t sleep.” She held on to her lie, not wanting to let him know.

Not yet.

“I didn’t mean to wake you.”

He offered her a reassuring smile. “That’s alright.” He closed in the distance between them until he stood in front of the fire as well. He watched her, cautiously, noting the way she seemed lost as her eyes remained with the flames. “Bex… Are ya sure you’re okay?”

“Mhmm.”

Her mumble wasn’t convincing, but he didn’t push it. He would let her come to him if she was ever ready.

They remained quiet for a moment, letting the trickle of the fireplace fill the sound around them. He tried to find something to say, anything to bring her back to him; she looked completely absent, closed off even. She was hugging herself, her left arm wrapped around her stomach while her right hand fidgeted with the glowing crystal on her neck, the golden lace shimmering against the fire.

She broke the settled silence, still without looking back at him. “Have you ever thought about the after life?” Her inquiry came in softly, almost a murmur.

He was caught off guard by the line of questioning, even though the answer was right there.

“All the time.”

She bit the inside of her lip, forcing herself to keep her thoughts deep inside her. But they revolted, forcing her body to crumble under their weight.

“There are angry spirits roaming over there.” The heaviness of her words remained with her despite having been freed from the confines of her chest. She turned her head to him, catching his gaze. “She is angry with me.”

He took a step towards her, concerned etched across his face. “You saw her?”

She could only nod, the remnants of her nightmare still crawling across her skin.

He sighed, thinking it might already be the end. “Is this your way of saying you won’t help me anymore?”

“Not at all.” From the fire, she fully faced him, providing him with hope the best she could. “I still want to find a way to free you, Finn.”

A loving smile graced his lips at the nickname she had given him, his heart doing a light somersault in his chest.

She left her necklace and grabbed onto her cardigan, wrapping it tighter against herself. “I-I’m just scared, that’s all.”

“Would it help if I told ya I’m afraid as well?” They’ve known each other for months now and the thought of him scared of what would ensue never crossed her mind.

He took a seat on the couch that faced the fireplace, leaning forward as his elbows met his knees, his hands covering his beard in silent prayer.

She watched him move, sensing he had more to say. She joined him as she took her place next to him, placing her knees against her chest.

He exhaled gently, not meeting her curious gaze as he still faced the fire. “As much as I’ve thought of what it would be like, I have no clue what will become of me once I die for good. Is heaven even real? Or maybe my brothers were right and Valhalla is real? Am I going to find peace or am I going to wander around and just live an existence on the other side?”

She leaned against the back of the sofa, taking in his words. His statement struck her with sorrow. She remained still in her seat, her eyes darted to the fire before looking back at him. “Peace has to be real.” He met her, listening. “What is the point of dying if there is no way to move on? Might as well live forever and avoid death altogether.”

He chuckled, slightly bitter. “Maybe that is why I’m still here, love. Maybe peace is not for me.” He had leaned back, having reached the couch as well against his back while slightly slouched, his head meeting the dark ceiling.

“You can’t believe that.” Her tone was drenched in sadness, grief-stricken. It left her unable to look at him, almost ready to jump off her seat.

She shut her eyes, trying to hold onto the smallest sliver of hope that hid somewhere in the dark.

The old witch was resonating in her mind, the voice booming in every corner, unable to turn it off; she had wandered into it, feeling the dread of the words she had left imprinted on her body.

She couldn’t shut it off.

Only when she felt warmth to her cheek did she finally open her eyes again.

Finan had reached out for her, his fingers stroking her tears tainted skin; she hadn’t realized she had been crying. Not even the soft sniffle from her nose could have provided her with the give away.

The touch had quieted down her mind to utter silence.

It had erased the painful image in her head, reversing it instead with the comfort he brought her.

The witch’s trickery was slowly vanishing, leaving her with only her reality to rely on as she succumbed to the man’s caress.

She grew overwhelmed. Thinking about the last few months had taken a toll she did not realize was clinging to her. It had become a shadow traipsing around her, though she welcomed it - until she could succeed, she let the ghost remain close to her.

To grant his soul eternal peace and break this forsaken curse was all she could wish for.

She leaned into his touch as her hands grabbed onto his shirt. She pulled him in gently until her forehead was pressed against his, their noses brushed up together.

He felt her breath against his lips; the heaviness of the flow filling him with heartache.

Her lips then pressed against his.

The contact gave him a head rush; it was soft at first, careful even. It was an attempt, awaiting a reaction.

And even though the gesture was the same as earlier today, the sentiment behind it was different. It was stronger, desperate.

She was about to break away when he stopped her, finding her lips again as he pulled her back in, meeting her in mimicked desperation for closeness. Hesitation had turned into volition, desire binding them together.

He deepened the kiss, her body shifting to him as she sat on his lap; his need for her seeped through, swelling her heart.

She still gripped onto his shirt, her knuckles almost turning white as she felt his fingers stroking the skin of her neck up to her jaw. She sighed into his lips at the sensation, a heatwave rushing through every inch of her body.

It had been a while, but he never forgot the way she felt against him. Never forgetting how she ached for his touch, how her lips - so soft, so warm - would clung to him for more. How her body, flushed against his, would send sparks pulsing through his veins.

The embrace was passionate, heat exuding from their wandering hands. Their shared breath echoed within the walls of the room, inciting melted rhythm from the beating of their hearts; she could feel it, as her hand rested against his chest, the muscle was raging in its confined space, in unison with her own.

She held on to him as if she was afraid he would simply slip through her fingers and disappear.

As if she was to let go, he would simply vanish.

She couldn’t let that happen; the simple thought of losing Finan created an excruciated pain in the pit of her stomach, leaving her void of air.

Tears had stumbled once again down her pink-coloured cheeks, catching his attention.

They reluctantly parted, not fully apart as she settled against him, her fingers not letting go of his shirt yet. His arms trailed down to her waist, the pressure of his hold bringing her faint comfort.

He gazed back at her, the darkness of his hues covered with worry.

“Are ya sure you still want to do this?” He brought back the subject, not able to shake how unwell she looked to him.

She wiped her tears away with the sleeves of her sweater while nodding, a sniffle escaping her nose. She then tucked her hair behind her ears as she tilted her head to him before lifting her hands to caress his cheeks, her fingers stroking his beard.

She already missed the feel of him pressed against her; she found his lips again, sharing with him soft kisses, shaded in budding innocence.

She then softly spoke, her words low between their entangled breaths.

“There is a coven gathering in about a week. I’ll make an appearance and try to recruit witches to help us.”

As she spoke, she felt his hands reaching for hers as he gently stroke her skin. She looked down at the gesture, as it rested on their lap, a small smile appearing as solace attempted to drape her; the longer she stared at their intertwined hold, her darkened thoughts were reappearing, struggling to keep her sane.

“Finan…” She lifted her head back up to him to see he had never looked away, still in awe of her.

It almost broke her.

“She is going to haunt me, possibly drive me mad.” She kissed him once again, first on their hold, then on his lips. “If that ever happens, if she ever intervenes and ruins it- promise me you’ll run and cut ties with me.”

“No.” he answered back with severity, shocking her. “She’s done enough damage. She doesn’t frighten me. I’m not running away from a ghost.”

“Finn-”

“Bex, don’t.” He squeezed her hands, wanting to reassure her; he would not abandon her. “I’m not leaving you behind to deal with her on your own.” He leaned against her, kissing her ever so softly before placing his forehead against hers. “She’s after me. Let her come.”

She could feel her heart breaking at the thought, the nightmare quietly bringing her down. She was touched by the sentiment, though she had hoped it would never come to this.

Simply imagining it had become a little too much to push away. She broke their embrace, getting back up on her feet as the loss of him struck her cold.

He followed her, standing behind as she faced the fire - the flames were slowly dwindling down to embers.

She felt his touch on her shoulder, making her turn around.

She wrapped her arms around his waist as he held her, keeping her close to his chest as he stroke her hair with his arm hugging her shoulders.

She quietly winced at the contact, her back freshly sore from the altercation she received earlier that night.

It had only been months, but she could see herself falling for him; her heart swelled at the thought but the cracks remained.

As for Finan, his love for her made his fear creep into the back of his mind, drowning him at sea. Every bone in his body knew he could fall for her and it terrified him.

Thora was after him.

Even after a thousand years, after endless of lifetimes lived, she still haunted him.

And now she was after one of her own, intent on destroying any piece of happiness in his life.

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

xoxo

taglist: @fangirlninja67​ @gemini-mama​

#the last kingdom #finan #finan x oc #tlk fanfic #finan fanfic #finan the agile #the last kingdom fanfic #tlk #mark rowley #finan fic #Photo by Ksenia Yakovleva on Unsplash #tlk fic #the last kingdom fic

[sweetsmollthings]

So I saw the shrinking twister idea by @tfnonsense and I couldn’t help but want to write something for it. I’ve seen shrinking games as a concept before, but it’s always tricky to balance the game aspect with the story aspect, particularly since most of the time people go with board games, which have like…dice rolls and cards that dictate the effects, which you tend to want to be different every time so you end up describing every turn, and everybody has to reach the end, amongst other issues…but twister gets around a lot of that because the effect is constant so you don’t have to describe every turn because nobody is missing anything if you do a time skip. And since the game is about elimination, losers can just go off and do other things while the rest of the players continue in the background. It’s a very elegant solution. Though, it’s still hard to really maintain the balance……..

Anyways, sorry for rambling, here’s the story, hope it's enjoyable...

“Shrinking Twister?”

Marge continued brandishing the box proudly, seemingly ignorant of the three doubtful looks sent her way. “It’s great. Saw it at a frat party, but I didn’t get to play—too many people. So I figure, why not get it myself and play it with you guys?”

The box cover was pretty standard, depicting a few figures in various positions on the game mat; the only difference was that the figures were also in various sizes. Jennifer peered at it from behind her glasses. “‘The classic game that ties you up in knots—with a shrinking twist!’ Cute.”

Lana twirled the end of her ponytail around her finger, frowning. “How does that even work?”

Marge blinked, then looked at the box herself. “I dunno.”

“You go back to normal afterwards, right?” Katie asked.

“Of course!” Marge scoffed, easing the box open. “It’s just a game, guys. You grow back like an hour after it’s over. Anyways,” she continued, taking out a clunky device, “we need to input our names and height into the spinner.”

The “spinner” reminded Katie of a Speak and Spell with the old-style LCD screen and the touch keyboard; the major difference being, of course, the round spinner in the center, and a large, gaudy button in the corner that excitedly encouraged you to Spin!!!

As Marge finished typing her information and handed it to Katie, Jennifer started skimming the rule booklet. “Ah. So once you spin, you shrink one percent of your height for every second it takes to complete your move.”

“This is unfair,” Lana grumbled as she accepted the spinner next.

“Whaddya mean?”

“Katie’s so much taller than me! She has more reach, and even if she goes slow, she still has so many inches to spare—meanwhile, I’ll be a speck before you know it!” Despite her griping, she also began to type.

“I’m not that tall,” Katie mumbled.

“And we’re working off percentages, not inches per second,” Jennifer pointed out.

“Yup!” Marge pulled out the mat and laid it on the floor. Besides the normal rows of dots, it also had much smaller ones crowding around the circumference of each dot. “Since Katie’s six feet, she’ll be losing 0.72 inches every second. You’re five foot two, so you’re shrinking 0.62 inches. Right now, you’ve got a ten-inch difference. After twenty seconds, Katie would have lost 14.4 inches, bringing her down to 57.6, and you’ll have lost 12.4, so 49.6, making the difference eight inches instead of ten, which is a decrease of—“

“Okay okay, enough with the math,” Lana sighed, passing the spinner to Jennifer, who quietly typed her information in. “So I’m guessing standard rules, except you shrink?”

Marge shook her head. “Actually, instead of everybody going at once, we all take turns to spin. Otherwise the game can’t differentiate between who’s already put their foot down and who hasn’t.” Taking the spinner from Jennifer, she pulled out a wire from it that Katie hadn’t noticed before and plugged it into the mat. Then she held up the spinner and pointed to the display at the top. “It’s got all our names up here and the percentage height we have left. When we punched in our information just now, it…well I dunno exactly how it does it, but it like, recorded our bodies so it knows which ones to shrink? But it’s not smart enough to tell the players apart, so it just bases it on whose turn it is.” She set the spinner carefully on the floor, then paused in thought. “Oh, by the way, you can’t use the smaller dots until you’re small enough that your entire hand can fit in them.”

When Marge made the first spin (“Left foot, blue!”), Katie stared intently at her—out of the corner of her eye, she saw Lana and Jennifer leaning forward too—but Marge didn’t seem terribly different as she stepped onto the mat. It was a little disappointing; but then again, one percent wasn’t really much of a difference.

Katie pressed the button, and as soon as the spinner landed…

“Oh—!” she gasped, unconsciously stiffening as a strange sensation ran up her spine, as though some sort of ethereal hand was trailing—

“Katie!” Marge snapped.

Katie shook her head. “Huh?”

“You may want to keep an eye on the time,” Jennifer told her with a wry smirk.

“What?” Katie blinked, then realized with a start that the world around her was noticeably edging ever upwards. “Agh!!” she yelped, practically lunging for a red dot. The sensation ceased once her hand touched it.

“Damn, I really wanted to measure myself against her,” Lana said with a laugh, crouching next to Katie. “You just stood there for like, three seconds.”

“C’mon, stop wasting time!” Marge complained, shooing Lana towards the spinner.

“You were really looking forward to this, huh?”

When Jennifer joined everyone else on the mat, she commented, “It’s a little crowded.”

“Pretty sure that’ll change,” Lana drawled as everybody continued cycling through the turn order quietly while they conversed.

“Well, the rate is still slow, so not for a while—‘scuse me, scootch that spinner over here.”

“In that case, stop being so quick.”

“You’re one to talk, you’re flinging your feet around like bullets.”

“I gotta keep what size I can!”

Katie squeezed an arm past someone’s leg to start the spinner, but right before it stopped, the leg suddenly leaned in front of it. “Lana!” Katie wailed, trying to see around the leg and ignore the tingling that spread through her body. The arrow had slowed down at the right foot section, but what color was it?! She aimed at a yellow dot and groaned in aggravation when her appendages still slid against the mat as they contracted. “That’s cheating!”

“All’s fair,” Lana replied smugly, finally moving her leg back.

Katie course-corrected to blue. “Funny way to love someone.”

“I was talking about war!”

Marge, the only other one bent low like Katie so far, rolled her eyes. “You don’t have to take games so seriously all the time.”

“That’s what losers say.”

“So,” Jennifer cut in, joining Marge and Katie on the floor. Her glasses were askew from having to squeeze between Lana’s legs. She tried to straighten them, but they continued to slide off her nose. “What are we going to do when none of us can spin the spinner?”

Silence.

“I can spin for you guys if both your hands get full,” Lana said from above. “It’s not gonna shrink me if I’m the one spinning, right?”

“No, like I said, it’s based on turn order.” Marge scrunched her face in thought. “Maybe one of us will get eliminated before it comes to that?”

“Or someone could forfeit for the good of the game,” Jennifer suggested.

“That’s dumb,” Lana scoffed.

Katie squinted up at Lana. “How have you not spun any of your hands yet, anyways?”

“Skill.”

“You better not be cheating.”

“It’s a digital spinner?? How the hell can I cheat???”

“I dunno, maybe you—mmfph?!?!” Katie mmfph’ed as Marge pressed her pudgy stomach up against her face.

“Sorry,” Marge grunted, not sounding particularly sorry. “Just trying to reach the spinner.”

They were starting to reach sizes where the shrinking was visibly noticeable, even in the few seconds that it took to end their turns. Katie stared as Marge seemed to sink towards the floor. In their contorted positions, it was difficult to gauge how their new sizes compared to each other, but Marge’s hand was nearby and Katie was pretty sure that if she set hers over it, it would completely disappear from view. The thought filled her with a strange sense of wonder.

Jennifer squirmed somewhere behind Katie’s shoulder with a strained groan. “Alright, looks like I’m handless now.” There was a sudden clattering sound. “…Can someone get my glasses off the mat, please?”

“No prob,” Marge said, this time swinging her arm so her loose sleeve whapped Katie’s ear.

Actually, was Marge’s sleeve supposed to be that loose?

“Hey, Marge?” said Katie, suddenly aware of how her sweatpants seemed to sag more than usual. “Quick question. Do our clothes shrink with us…?”

“No,” Marge replied in a tone that suggested Katie was being obtuse.

“Huh,” Lana said. “No wonder I’ve been having to re-tie my hair.

Katie stared at the ceiling for a few seconds. “Alright. I’m done,” she declared, letting herself fall to the floor so she could crawl out of the tangle of bodies.

“Boooooo, wimp,” Lana jeered.

Katie tried not to blush as she pulled her sweatpants taut. “You realize I can see your underwear, right?”

It was true. Although Lana’s jeans were still standing by virtue of its stiffer material, the waist gaped open around her, allowing anybody to just look into it. Lana, her stance wide, just shrugged. “We’ve changed in locker rooms together.”

“Hey,” Marge called out, craning her neck up at Katie. “Since you’re free, tell us how we’re doing?”

Katie tried to roll her sleeves up and crouched by the spinner. Her own name was now crossed out (seemed like the game could tell when someone had left the mat). “I’m at 69 percent,” she announced.

“Nice,” said Lana with a grin.

“And?” Jennifer prompted.

“Umm…Marge is at 76, Lana’s at 80, and Jennifer’s at 78.”

“Haha, damn, Katie! You suck at this!”

Katie rolled her eyes, standing up again. “Well, if someone hadn’t—“

Lana stared at Katie oddly. “What? Why’re you looking at me like…” She blinked. Then, grinned widely. “Well, well, well.”

Katie tried to say something as they stood facing each other, eye-to-eye(!), but inconveniently, she seemed to have forgotten the concept of language. She could only watch in silence, heart pounding in her ears, as Lana rested a hand on the top of her head, slowly comparing their heights.

“Damn, still a tiny bit shorter,” Lana said, though the glee in her voice didn’t vanish. “But I bet if I was actually standing straight…”

Both of them looked down at Lana’s legs. How tall would she be if they weren’t spread across the mat? Would she be level with Katie? Or perhaps…actually be looking down—

“Oh my god stop flirting!!” Marge shouted at them from below. “My arms are getting tired!”

Lana reached down to pick up the spinner, maintaining eye contact the whole time, and stood back up. “Hmm. If we’re lucky, maybe we’ll find out,” she said, pressing the button.

They looked at the result. Lana’s smile instantly dropped. “Aw nuts,” she groused, handing the spinner to Katie and bending down to join the rest of the group on their hands.

Katie fumbled with the spinner—it had been clunky to begin with and it was even clunkier now that she was smaller—and set it back on the floor near Lana’s free hand. “I-I’m getting some water,” she said, walking quickly away, only to stumble over the bottom of her pants. She hiked them back up, ignoring Lana’s cackle, and continued a bit slower.

In the kitchen, out of sight, she was able to calm down. Okay, not all the way down, but at least she could think coherently. Enough for her current situation to really sink in.

Her head was just barely over the kitchen counter. She could still reach the upper cabinets, but it was a bit of a stretch to grab a cup. And the cup itself felt so unwieldy that she held it with both hands, afraid she would drop it otherwise. (At least the water dispenser on the fridge wasn’t too hard to deal with.)

She had basically lost a third of her height. “That’s like, two feet,” Katie mumbled to herself in a daze. She was shorter than anybody she knew. Shorter than any adult she knew, anyways. She brought the cup to her lips and winced when she accidentally knocked it against her teeth, then tried again more carefully as she wandered around.

It was just too bizarre. After years of generally being the tallest in any room, here she was, dwarfed by everyday objects. Hell, her own clothes were threatening to fall off her. (Really getting annoying, having to pull up her sleeves every few seconds.) But it was fascinating, to measure herself against a chair, to grab a drawer handle and feel how it filled her hand, to hold a spoon and find that it could cover half of her face. Even when she heard a yelp, followed closely by a thump (which was then closely followed by Lana whooping), she couldn’t help but stay here, steadily comparing herself to a world that used to be so familiar.

Eventually, she ran out of things to do, and so she headed back to the living room.

Marge was sitting on the floor, the spinner taking up her lap. On the mat, Lana and Jennifer were still duking it out. And once again, Katie was thrown for a loop.

Everybody had gotten smaller, which was to be expected. Katie just hadn’t been prepared for what that would look like.

Marge looked up at her and waved as she approached. “Welcome back! I was worried you got lost.”

Katie stared. “…What percentage are you at…?”

In response, Marge held up eight fingers.

Katie frowned. “You are not eight percent.”

“Huh? No, you’re reading it wrong. I’m trying to say 53.”

“Ohhh.” Katie sat down next to her, feeling much too aware of the fact that Marge’s head was below her shoulders. While Katie was simply struggling with her shirt, Marge was swimming in it, the ends draping easily over her legs. And on the mat, Lana and Jennifer seemed on the verge of drowning in theirs. They hadn’t gotten smaller than their shirts quite yet, but they were getting there. As Katie watched them, she couldn’t shake the feeling that she was sitting on the bleachers, above an arena housing the strangest wrestling match ever. (How was it possible to feel so big and so small at the same time?)

“Lana. Can you please get your hair out of my face?”

“It’s in my face too. Deal with it.”

“It’s getting in my mouth. Do you really want me coating your hair with my saliva?”

“Look, at this point, I can’t tie it up even if I wanted to, so I guess you’ll have to live with my hair in your mouth. And I’ll have to live with your mouth on my hair.”

“Pffbbbph, ppfffeh, bleagh,” Jennifer replied.

“They’re both reaching the halfway point,” Marge informed Katie, beaming. “Right now, Lana’s at 51 and Jennifer’s at 52.”

Katie squinted. For whatever reason, despite her percentage advantage, Jennifer looked smaller than Lana. But maybe she wasn’t seeing things right.

“Marge, spin it already!” Lana cried out, her arms shaking. She was in a slightly unfortunate position; one foot was still on a normal-sized dot, and given her current size, her other foot had to reach quite far to clear its radius. She was also currently arched over Jennifer’s back, and that was clearly forcing her to distribute her weight oddly.

“Right, okay,” Marge said, cheerfully enjoying her role as the announcer. “Oooh, left foot yellow!”

“Oh god finally,” Lana sighed out, moving her foot away from the normal-sized dot.

Katie leaned down to Marge. “Do you want to sit on the couch instead? Hardwood isn’t exactly comfortable.”

“Oh man, that would be great. But I’ll probably need your help,” Marge said, getting to her feet, somehow still able to heft the spinner with her.

Katie hopped onto the couch, then reached down to pull Marge up as well. Without thinking about it, she plopped Marge onto her lap. Which…maybe she should have asked first, but it didn’t seem like Marge objected. Katie scootched away from the edge, hugging Marge close. (It was like hugging a large teddy bear.)

“Both of them are below 50 percent,” Marge said excitedly. “They sure are tenacious. You think one of them might break 40? Right hand, red!”

“That would be fun,” Katie said, imagining what it would be like to be twice as tall as someone.

“G-give it up already,” Lana gritted out. “You’re not gonna be able to reach other spots at this rate.”

“You’re the one who sounds like you’ve reached your limit,” Jennifer countered, sounding quite bold despite the blatant size disparity. If Lana collapsed, then Jennifer was quite possibly in danger of getting smothered. Katie set Marge to the side and slowly dropped to the floor again, watching them warily.

“Left hand, red!”

Lana reached for a red dot, sinking lower and lower until she couldn’t help but rest her body on top of Jennifer’s. As it became clear that her first choice wasn’t getting any closer, Lana groaned and glanced around for another option, when all of a sudden, Jennifer bucked upwards, bouncing against Lana and causing her to lose her balance and sprawl onto the mat with a squawk.

“Jennifer wins!” Marge cheered, applauding from the couch.

Lana sat up, clutching her shirt around her. “No! She totally cheated!”

“You’re one to talk,” Katie said, crouching next to her, casting quite a (relatively) wide shadow. Lana stared up at her, eyes wide. “Hey Marge, what’s the final score?”

“Lana’s at 42, Jennifer made it to 45!”

"Hmm, so not quite half my height," Katie mused, clasping her hands on either side of Lana, feeling a flutter in her chest upon seeing how her hands spanned a significant part of Lana's chest.

"Actually," Marge called out, "in terms of absolute values instead of relative, she might as well be half your height!"

Katie could feel Lana's heart thumping under her thumb. "Is that so?"

Lana smiled nervously. "So, I know I was teasing you before, but—waugh!!"

Lifting Lana up was so remarkably easy that Katie couldn't help but feel a thrill rush through her lungs. And strangely enough, though Lana was the one flailing in her oversized shirt, it was Katie who ended up blushing with embarrassment. Which just made her feel even more embarrassed, because what sort of person would feel—

"Um, Katie? You probably don't wanna be holding her right now," said Marge.

"Huh?" was all Katie managed before, quite suddenly, the floor seemed to disappear out from under her.

The fall was short at least, but she ended up a bit tangled in her own shirt. Somewhere in front of her, Lana also thudded against the floor with an "oof." Katie scrambled around a bit before she managed to claw her way out. "What the heck happened—"

Ah.

Katie unconsciously retreated a bit into her shirt, finding that the world, Lana included, had gotten much bigger. Lana, recovering from her own fall, caught sight of her and pointed. "Ha!!"

"I shrunk again?!"

"Of course," Marge said. It seemed that she had gotten tired of shouting from the couch, as she had begun carefully climbing down. She also had some sort of cloth wrapped around her in place of clothes—looked like she was prepared. "I mean, it doesn't make sense if the loser ends up being the biggest and the winner the smallest. When the game ends, everybody's heights get redistributed. Which means right now, Katie, you're at 42 percent. I'm at 45, Lana's at 53, and Jennifer..."

A long shadow drifted over them, dropping towel-sized tissues. "You may want to have these."

As it turned out, 69 percent of Jennifer was quite large, even when sitting down. Katie jumped to her feet, hastily wrapping a tissue around herself, and she still found her eye level hovering around Jennifer's chin. As Katie continued to gape, Jennifer waved. "Anybody know where my glasses are?"

"Over here!" Marge jogged towards the discarded glasses and flagged her down. With a graceful ease that didn't belong to someone so big, Jennifer reached over and set them on the nearby coffee table.

"Excuse me," Jennifer said, shifting her legs (oh god, she's going to stand up). "I'm going to get something real quick." And with that, she pushed herself to her feet (oh god, she stood up), tugging her shirt down demurely, and headed somewhere else in the house.

"Wait!" Marge shouted, running after her futilely. "No! Hang on! We should all be together for the next part!"

Katie's heart had just about calmed when something suddenly dropped on her head. "Well, lookie here," Lana's voice drawled. From above.

She could already feel her heart start up again before she even turned her head, and yup, that was Lana's arm leaning on her, and yup, Lana was definitely taller.

This time, Katie wasn't so speechless (no height difference was going to be more shocking than Jennifer's). But for some godforsaken reason, the only thing she could think to say was, "How's the weather up there?" Her voice even had the indecency to crack.

Lana blinked at her, then laughed. "Pretty good, I think. Y'know, you're cute like this. Being short suits you."

"Shut up," Katie mumbled, shoving Lana's arm.

"You're so easy to tease. It's too bad you aren't any smaller. I'd have loved to pick you up."

Amazingly, Katie's heart didn't explode. "This is small enough, thank you very much," she retorted, just in time for Marge to trudge back from her failed mission to cajole Jennifer back.

"Oh," Marge said. "Well. Bad news on that front."

Katie's stomach dropped as she looked down at Marge. "...What does that mean...?"

"Sooooo there's another thing that happens after this, which is, Jennifer's gonna grow back to full size," Marge explained, rocking on her feet. "Then, the percentage difference that she grew is gonna, sorta, kinda affect our sizes as well."

"What."

"Oooh, you don't say."

"She's growing 31 percent. Second place gets to grow half of that—15.5 percent—third place shrinks 15.5 percent, and then last place—"

"I'm shrinking an extra 31 percent?!" Katie screeched as Lana doubled over, howling with laughter. And at that moment, as if waiting for the perfect timing, the floor fell out from under Katie the second time that day.

She landed in her now blanket-sized tissue (maybe slightly larger? tarp-sized?), feeling like the punchline of a cosmic joke. From another room, she heard a rather loud bang of something else falling.

"You okay, Jennifer?!" Marge called out.

"Yes, sorry! Give me a moment!"

Before Katie could properly wrap herself up, she found herself whisked off the floor, haphazardly bundled in a tissue burrito. She kicked the air, watching as she was lifted up and up and up, until she was turned around and finally came face-to-face with Lana. Or, more like body-to-face.

"Now this is cute."

What had once been a reasonable height difference (if an unreasonable height) was now just ridiculous. Katie clung to Lana's thumb, feeling her face go red. Lana's mouth (bigger than her head) frowned, and she felt the grip around her loosen a bit. "I'm not holding you too tight, am I?"

"Nope," Katie squeaked, and shielded her face as Lana's low chuckle gusted over her.

"Ah, hang on, I should probably replace my tissue," Lana said, reaching behind her for her shirt. Instead of getting put back down, Katie found herself along for the ride, brushing against dark fabric before reemerging in the light. Lana tugged at her drooping collar, pursing her lips. "Well...good enough, I guess."

"Hey!" Marge called up. "Lemme see her too!"

"Sure," Lana said with an easy grin, setting Katie back down on her feet. As she stumbled, Marge caught her with hands as broad as her shoulders.

"Wow, this is surreal," Marge commented. Katie, standing right around her thighs, silently agreed. "Honestly, I didn't expect anybody to get this small. This...isn't too much for you, is it...?"

"A bit late to ask me," Katie said, with only a minor amount of hysteria.

Marge gave her a sheepish shrug, then looked back towards the hallway. "Now seriously, what the heck is Jennifer doing?"

"Jennifer is getting decent," came the response. And a second later, Jennifer reappeared, ducking back into the living room. Not wearing her clothes, though. For whatever reason, she had tied some sheets around her bust and waist. "Sorry Marge. I had to borrow some things," she added, approaching them, and oh my god.

"Jesus Christ," Lana said, taking a few steps back. Marge froze, clutching Katie's shoulders. Which was useful, because without that, Katie was sure that she would fall over from Jennifer's steps alone.

They continued to stare for a while as Jennifer sat down. Jennifer stared back, fidgeting.

"So, is it just 'cause I'm shrunk," Lana said, "or is Jennifer...bigger than she should be?"

"Isn't it just because we're shrunk?" Katie asked, squinting as she tried comparing everything relative to everything else. (The only result she got was, 'everything sure is big.')

"Katie," Marge said, "her head was almost touching the ceiling just now."

"Oh," said Katie, not really able to say anything to that.

"I may have done something a bit silly," Jennifer told them in a measured tone.

Marge sighed. "...Did you put in a different height?"

Jennifer's eyes darted to the side. "Yes."

"Wait, you can do that???" Lana's head whirled between Jennifer and Marge.

"I thought you were shrinking a bit too fast," Marge muttered, rubbing her temples. "What did you put in?"

"Eight feet," Jennifer said matter-of-factly.

"Why?"

Jennifer shrugged. "I was curious what would happen. Where's Katie? I can't wear my glasses."

"Over here!" Katie shouted, hiking up her ridiculously large tissue-toga and walking over. Jennifer squinted down at her and lowered a hand. Katie hopped onto it, dizzily noting that it easily fit her whole body.

"Oh wow," Jennifer said, her mouth twitching into a small smile. "This is interesting."

With another sigh, Marge approached as well, trying to hoist herself onto Jennifer's knee, only to get scooped up in Jennifer's other arm. "You do realize that you're stuck at that size now?"

"Mm. I just have to play another game and put in my right height."

"Ooh!" Lana said excitedly, running up and vaulting into Jennifer's lap. "If we're doing this again, I'm gonna give myself four more inches!"

Katie shifted in her seat, feeling the fingers under her twitch reflexively. "Maybe I'll take off two inches."

"Starting to enjoy the short life?" Lana called up, and it was probably a good thing she couldn't see her blush from down there.

"In any case," Jennifer said, "we have about an hour until then...what shall we do?"

#g/t writing #shrinking #shrinking twister #i am. not great at math. #so sorry if something here is off #extremely indulgent. i love girls. i love shrinking. i love. flustered shrinking girls... #ah..........save me shrinking twister...

[rachelandfinn]

🧜‍♀️ one yes 🧜‍♀️

a gLee fanfic about love at first sound

Maria in West Side Story was one of the three roles she needed to play before she died, and she never really had any stipulations as to how she ended up playing those roles, did she? ghost singer!rachel AU.

fandom: gLee characters: rachel berry, finn hudson, tina kurt mercedes sam blaine frida ryder in supporting roles ship: finchel, finn/frida (temporary), klaine (background) genre: romance themes: may possibly be funny?, fluff, slice of life-ish, canon-typical finn falling in love with rachel’s voice first and the rest of her second, rachel-centric, alternating povs, mistaken identities, first meetings, pre-relationship, getting together word count: 14.4k rating: T+

read it on ffnet, ao3, wattpad, or below!

~~~

A/N: This fic was inspired by my research into West Side Story. I never much liked the movie, but there’s no denying its iconic status; with such status comes intrigue. Natalie Wood may have played Maria on screen, but she certainly didn’t sing for her. Wouldn’t Rachel know that?

I came up with this idea in 2018, wrote a little bit of it in 2019, and didn’t pick it up again until April this year. (Why am I publishing it so late? Because I am a sucky beta, even to myself.) I’m happy to finally finish and share it! It was originally almost entirely in Finn’s pov, but Rachel is such an attention hog. I think the story is stronger for it in any case; and hey, now I’ve developed a voice for Rachel! I love the idea that she constantly has song lyrics in her head or that she supplies background music to her own life events.

~~~

Rachel saw how her best friend/agent’s face fell as she walked towards the outdoor seating of the trendy Amsterdam Ave cafe where Tina was waiting for her. She was planning on hiding the fact her latest audition failed for as long as possible, but if Tina could tell just from one look at her… No wonder she couldn’t book a role.

“I don’t want to talk about it,” Rachel said in lieu of a greeting.

The thing she liked about Tina was that she was effortlessly supportive. It did not occur to a person like Tina Cohen-Chang to press a topic immediately after the other person said ‘I don’t want to talk about it.’

The thing she didn’t like about Tina was that she did not let something go either. It’s what made her a fantastic agent and an even better best friend, but Rachel won’t let herself think that until after her customary three-day-long post-failure funk.

“I know you have your heart set on the stage, but how about the screen instead? Word on the street is that they’re trying to cast a modern remake of West Side Story. That could be perfect for you, Rachel!” Tina encouraged in that sweet voice of hers, mindful enough of Rachel’s mood to at least wait until after the check had been paid to bring up the idea.

Rachel took a breath, ready to wholeheartedly refute, but on second thought: Maria in West Side Story was one of the three roles she needed to play before she died. It might not have been under the bright lights of Broadway, but she never really had any stipulations as to how she ended up playing those roles, did she?

“Why do I have the feeling you’ve already signed me up for an audition time?” she asked with put-upon acrimony.

Tina smiled as she handed over a business card with a DTL written on the back in her neat, curlicue handwriting.

That was how Rachel found herself with swallowed pride and dry tongue, watching with anxious eyes as her competition got called in to audition while waiting for her turn in the dingy hallway of some random office building just off of Columbus Circle.

(All my life is just despair…)

“Rachel Berry?” someone called out at last.

“That's me!” Rachel gave herself a second to breathe before going up to the audition room. She offered a grin to the overworked assistant before stepping in.

A panel of people talked amongst themselves at the far end of the room, and they looked unimpressed with her as soon as she walked in. Unfortunately, that was something to which she was accustomed.

“Hello,” she began bravely anyway as she stepped onto the marked spot in front of their table. “My name is Rachel Berry, and I will be auditioning for the role of Maria.” They nodded politely and asked her to begin.

Rachel’s strategy was to always begin with her song, and she never auditioned with a song her character actually sang. Instead, she chose songs that could reasonably have been in her character’s playlist. It gave her more flexibility to show off her range while demonstrating she understood the character’s heart. That latter point was important because for all of the singing and dancing and breath control lessons her fathers paid for her in her youth, not one of those ever included an acting class. (She was working on it!)

The former was important because Rachel was playing a long con. Regardless of how an audition ended, they might think of her again for future works if she impressed them enough. She had to believe they’d remember her voice if she sang a song where she sounded best.

For once, it seemed to work. After her sixteen bars of My Man were up, one of them asked “Do you know Tonight?”

What kind of aspiring Maria would she be if she didn’t? She turned to the pianist. “A flat, please.”

They even asked her to read for them afterward—a huge deal. In most auditions, she didn’t even get that far; and even if she did, they settled for hearing her monologue instead of the character’s own words. The fact that she got a chance to actually act as Maria in front of them? Something like optimism dared to bloom in her chest.

She was bid adieu with an ‘Expect to hear from us in two weeks.’

Still, she refused to get her hopes up. All she told Tina at brunch the next morning was that she actually managed to finish the audition. (That didn’t always happen.) Even when she did end up hearing from them two weeks later (that didn’t always happen either), she reminded herself of all the times she wished the director would tell just her ‘no’ in person.

“We like your sound,” the director said on the phone, “but not your look.”

“Pardon me?” It always came down to her looks, to her immense chagrin.

“Here's what we propose,” he said as though she didn’t speak at all. “How about you come in and dub over the singing voice of the actress we cast? She’s actually Hispanic—you know how being PC is important for PR these days—but she just doesn’t have the voice you do.”

Well of course she didn’t, but the compliment didn’t hold any weight compared to everything else he said. “Dub over the singing voice? What, like a ghost singer?”

“Don’t sound so shocked, kid. Natalie Wood didn’t do her own singing in the 1961 film either. So, what do you say?” he asked as though he hadn’t revealed the steadfast foundations of Rachel’s entire personality were actually built on sand.

Her first instinct told her to reject the offer on principle. Rachel Berry did not ghost sing. It was all of her or none at all.

(What’s the difference if I say…)

… But this was the closest she’s ever been to a successful audition, a voice that sounded suspiciously like Tina's said in her head. The gradually cheaper and less-vegan food items in her fridge were a testament to that, and she found herself asking for some time to think about it.

“We don’t normally do this, but we really like your sound… How’s about you let us know by the end of the week? If we don’t hear from you then, we’ll move on to our second choice.”

Rachel agreed, and Tina did not appreciate it. “Rachel!” the agent exclaimed when Rachel told her the news the next morning. “This is the closest you’ve ever been to a successful audition!”

“That’s exactly what I thought you’d say,” Rachel muttered to herself.

(I’ll go away…)

“Rachel,” Tina admonished. “You’re always complaining about how you can’t get a break. Here it is! In fact, I'd call it your big break. It doesn’t matter how many no’s you hear…”

“... All I need is one yes,” Rachel finished despondently, very familiar with Tina's pep talk. She received them often.

Tina smiled as though she already successfully convinced Rachel. The only thing Rachel was convinced about was that Tina must be delusional if she thought Rachel was going to take this job.

That night, she called the director back, thinking she was the truly delusional one. “I’ll do it.”

(When I know I’ll come back on my knees one day…)

~~~

Once the movie’s production team emailed Rachel the contract, she and Tina made a wine night out of signing and faxing it back. Her studio apartment in Washington Heights was barely big enough for her; but having two extra people inside it, happily celebrating her milestone success, made the space feel filled with love instead of overly cramped. Their mutual friend Mercedes may have shown up just for the wine, but she actually ended up being the most lucid and helpful.

“Am I drunk, or does this say Rachel won’t get credit for her work?”

“WHAT?!” “Where???”

Mercedes pointed out a clause in the contract that Rachel and Tina stopped poring over ages ago in favour of painting each other’s toenails. They awkwardly crawled over to where Mercedes was sitting on the floor even as she read aloud, “By signing this contract, bla bla bla, the TALENT agrees to waive their right to nominal album accreditation. ‘Talent’ is in all caps. Why do contracts do that?”

“Tina!” Rachel despaired, looking over to her friend demanding some sort of explanation and ignoring Mercedes’ drunken ramblings. The theme song to Jaws was ringing in her ears.

Tina took the copy from Mercedes’ grasp and looked over it for a moment. “You’d also be paid 75 dollars an hour on top of the industry standard 0.3% of album royalties. Rachel, most session musicians only make 30.”

Being treated like a session musician was such a far cry from the top billing status she dreamed of, even when she agreed to this lip-sync farce in the first place.

“Tina, we can’t let this happen. I need the credit, on both the album and the movie! How can I put this on my resume if they don’t credit me?! I’d be laughed out of every audition room I ever enter if I have a stupid ‘(uncredited)’ qualifier next to West Side Story, and then I’ll never be able to become a Broadway actress, and then—”

“—I’ll call them tomorrow,” Tina assured, if only to stop her friend and client from devolving into a full-blown Rachel Berry Meltdown™, which wouldn’t have been helped by four glasses of wine.

In the end, she and the management team agreed to movie credits in exchange for giving up album royalties, contrary to Tina’s advice. Rachel was perfectly fine with this trade-off. Nowadays, being anonymous was worse than being poor.

~~~

A few weeks later, Rachel had the opportunity to go to the filming site, which she took because she clearly loved to torture herself. (She wasn’t just talking about the ghost singing business either. Why else would she willingly suffer through the MTA’s weekend schedule and make two transfers just to end up in Long Island City?)

The Broadway stage may have been her ultimate dream, but a sound stage was nothing to scoff at either. After security at Silvercup Studios let her through, she easily wandered through the single-floor until she found the sets for Anita’s apartment and the bridal shop. They were back-to-back on a big, raised platform that spanned the width of the studio, connected by a single door in the shared wall. Through the magic of editing, no one would ever be able to glimpse into the yonder set if a character had to make an exit through that door. Rachel made her way around the setup, letting herself imagine what it would have been like to work here and mourn the lost opportunity.

Just when it began to hurt just a bit too much and she thought should continue nursing her wounds back home, she heard someone rehearsing lines she’s known by heart since she was 7 years old.

“‘One month have I been in this country.’ No… ‘One month have I been in this country!’ Yeah, let’s do that. ‘One month have I been in this country! Do I ever even touch excitement?’”

Following the voice led Rachel to a corner of the studio the farthest from the entrance. She found a round-faced girl seated on heavy-duty storage boxes, a sheaf of papers in hand and outfitted in a springy, floral dress. She looked to be a few years younger than Rachel and so obviously slimmer, the kind of genetic thin that no amount of healthy eating and cardio can achieve.

Having a big mouth must be a more forgivable sin than a big nose.

Rachel continued to listen to her rehearse her lines. Her voice was deeper with a slight urban accent, and Rachel could guess why the production team was going through the lengths they were. Maria needed to sound like lightness and innocence, and this girl must not be able to affect those qualities when she sang. 

Rachel had been standing still for so long, sizing up the wench that stole her chance for fame, and got caught.

“Oh, is it my turn at hair and makeup?” the girl asked, hopping off of the crate once she noticed Rachel and scrambling to grab the things she left scattered at her feet.

“No! No,” Rachel hurried to stop her, stalling to give herself time to figure out what to say. “Hi, my name is Rachel Berry. I’m just… touring the set for the day,” she fibbed.

Just as her brain was conjuring up her backstory—she’s an apprentice to a woman named Ida who worked in risk management—the girl’s eyes lit up in recognition. Her friendly smile froze a little, but she still shook Rachel’s hand. “Rachel! Hi, yeah, the music director mentioned you. I didn’t think we’d get to meet, much more so soon! I’m Frida, Frida Romero.”

She didn’t expect that Frida had even heard of her, but her surprise was quickly overtaken by the sadistic pleasure that came from ascertaining that this Frida Romero girl wasn’t pleased to meet the person who’ll be dubbing over her singing voice. Her lips curled into a satisfied smirk; but before she could challenge Frida into an impromptu singing showdown to the tune of Anything You Can Do (I Can Do Better), a rude and impatient voice called out to them.

“Pinoy Pacman, Kelley wanted you in the hair and make-up trailer, like, ten minutes ago—wait a minute, did you bring a friend onto set?! The director told me yesterday I couldn’t bring my girlfriend onto set yet, but you’re allowed to have Manhands here visit from wherever your hobbit hole hometown is? This is homophobic!”

Rachel instinctively and self-consciously looked down at her hands as Frida sighed with barely concealed annoyance. “Santana, this isn’t a friend. Rachel works on the movie,” she corrects the newcomer.

Santana’s ire seemed to evaporate on the spot, but her generally disagreeable disposition did not follow. “Oh, good. I’m pretty sure my rider said I needed freshly baked breadsticks in my trailer at all times, and I haven’t even seen dollar-store animal crackers in there since filming started. Go do something about that, will you?”

Rachel opened her mouth, ready to vehemently dispel the offensive notion that she was hired help, but Santana was already sauntering somewhere else.

“That was Anita.”

Rachel whirled on Frida. “That was Anita?!” If Rachel were cast in the film, that was the person she was supposed to consider her best friend, her greatest source of comfort, the closest thing she had to family in this brand new country?! For a split second, Rachel felt vindicated that Frida was the one who had to work with such a disagreeable person. It was almost enough to make her feel grateful she didn’t get the part.

Almost.

Frida only sighed in response as she gathered her things so she could continue to get ready for shooting. “Well, I better go. It was nice to meet you, Rachel. Hope you have fun on set today,” she said, giving a small wave before departing, not stopping to hear whether Rachel would respond.

Once Frida was out of sight, Rachel looked around at the sound stage one last time and took active note of the fact that as exciting as it would have been to work here, there simply was nothing in her chest stirring the way there was when she imagined standing on a stage before a crowd.

It was definitely time to go home.

~~~

Rachel didn’t hear about the movie in an official capacity again until principal photography was close to wrapping up a few months later. Now that Frida was done filming her singing scenes, Rachel was called in for soundtrack recording.

She resolved not to let her frustration with her circumstances prevent her from learning as much as she could from the experience. Recording for the soundtrack would put her in an actual, professional recording studio. Broadway casts recorded in those all of the time!

The pep in her step as she commuted to Hell’s Kitchen lasted into the building, up the elevator, and through the studio space where the music director met her. They talked shop for the first hour, asking if Rachel had ever sung in a studio before and working with her to set up a recording schedule for the next week. Apparently the producers elected to dub over Tony’s voice as well, so the MD wanted to record them together to help with the mixing process.

“He’s coming in today; you’ll get a chance to meet him. The name’s Blaine Anderson, and he makes for a really good Tony,” the music director commented.

Strangely, hearing about another ghost singer made Rachel feel relieved. She didn’t realise it before then, but she felt rather stranded the past few weeks, like no one could understand just how hard it was for her to take this job. But this Blaine person? He might get it.

Before going into the recording booth, the MD explained how they wanted to spend the rest of the day. “I’m not the kind of person that knows what I want without hearing it first, so all I’m gonna ask you to do today is sing and try your best to match Frida’s videography. I’ll give you more direction after I hear what I’m working with.”

Rachel would love to leave the studio today without giving the MD any reason to correct her singing, but she reminded herself of her intention to learn. Even if she disagreed with anything, she would take it with grace and perform as requested.

Easier said than done.

Rachel has had the West Side Story soundtrack memorised since she was 7. As she grew up, she had a very specific idea of how she would perform Maria’s duets once she was able to realise her childhood dream. It would perfectly blend the intentions of the original score and the movie version most people would be familiar with while showing off her own technical prowess. It would be epic, powerful, EGOT-worthy.

Frida clearly had no such designs.

The music director asked Rachel to sing along to Frida’s video once through without stopping just so that they both could see how much is different between the two performances—and Frida had sung it all wrong.

She took her breaths at the worst moments. Her face portrayed longing when she should have sounded hopeful. Why was she trying to belt there!?

Rachel hadn’t been so frustrated at participating in a performance since her high school show choir director tried to win Regionals with a performance of Sing! from A Chorus Line led by the tone-deaf dancer kid and his girlfriend.

(It’s a terrifying thing…)

If all of Frida’s takes were like this, Rachel would be in the studio a lot longer than the producers probably anticipated. A quick glance out of the soundbooth showed her the MD was having similar thoughts.

After an hour, they took a break so that Rachel could drink water and sit down for a bit. She went out to the main receiving area of the studio to sit on the couches there instead of the ones behind the mixing station of her recording booth, thinking it would do her some good to minimise the amount of time spent in the room that would be her personal torture chamber for the foreseeable future. She made a mental note to wear her sneakers next time she came in so that all the standing around would be easier on her back.

Then, a neatly-dressed man on the shorter side exited the elevators by the reception desk. He took a seat a few cushions away from Rachel on the couch, and Rachel’s sixth sense was tingling.

She shifted closer and asked, “Excuse me, are you Blaine Anderson?”

Blaine snapped his head up in shock from where he was perusing his phone, confirming Rachel’s suspicion before he offered an eager hand in greeting and a, “Yes! Hi… Have we met?”

“I’m Rachel Berry. I’m singing for Maria.”

She meant to sound confident and excited, but the way the politeness on Blaine’s face instantaneously smoothed into sympathy left Rachel feeling like she needed to cry.

“It’s a little unfair, isn’t it?” he asked. No clarification needed.

He understood it too.

“It’s more than a little unfair,” she admitted, throat closing up in reflex as she tried to blink away the pressure behind her eyes.

He put a comforting hand on her shoulder and gave a wan smile, which she returned with appreciation.

It helped, to have someone to commiserate with.

~~~

Rachel attended the premiere. Of course she did. Even though it was not her name on all of the promotional materials, even though she didn’t get to walk the red carpet, even though no one would care to know who she was, she intended to revel in the fact that this night was hers as much as it was everyone else’s. More importantly, whatever success this movie saw would be hers as much as everyone else’s, too.

Who knew how long it would be until the night she first performed on a Broadway stage or got invited to the Tony’s? (Not long, she hoped.) Until then, this was the biggest night of her life, and she intended to treat it as such. She invited Tina as her plus-one; and together they agonised for weeks over what to wear and how to do their hair, they practised their smiles in the mirror, they role-played how they would react if they got to meet any of their celebrity crushes or Broadway idols.

Closer to the date, the nightmares began.

Some were of her being turned away at the door because her name wasn’t on the list, and she’d scream her voice hoarse as she demanded to be let in and be recognised, and her voice never recovered so she was forced to live out the rest of her life mute and miserable. Other ones featured attendants booing as soon as her voice pumped through the speakers instead of Frida’s, and somehow all of them knew a) that it was her and b) where she sat in the theatre, and they all threw their drinks and food and playbills at her with basketball-star-level accuracy. One time, Rachel even dreamed she was a teenaged mermaid that traded her voice for legs so that she could attempt to romance a handsome land-dweller, and the sea witch that brokered the deal had stolen her voice and tried to move in on her guy and also looked a lot like Frida.

The actual night, of course, was not as eventful.

She wasn’t shuffled in through a back door like she thought she might have been as a low-ranked member of the crew. Instead, she and Tina got to walk right through the main doors; they just had to circumvent the glitz and excitement of the red carpet, which started at Columbus Avenue, half-circled the fountain in Josie Robertson Plaza, and led to the Metropolitan Opera House.

They arrived a cool thirty minutes before the movie was set to begin, giving them enough time to take selfies within the Opera House’s iconic atrium and order drinks and snacks to enjoy while they watched.

As the movie progressed, Rachel scooted further and further to the edge of her seat. There was still a chance for the second-most common of her nightmares to come true.

On screen, Tony snuck onto Maria’s fireplace in that adorably rogue way of his, and they flirted as they reaffirmed their star-crossed love for each other, and then…

Only you. You’re the only thing I see, forever…

The cheering shocked her with its immediacy. The crowd quieted down just as quickly, and Tina held her hand tight, and she was crying. She kept crying for the entire duration of the song, and she was brave enough to let out a little hiccup when the applause and whistles and shouts of encouragement filled the theatre during the final note.

They loved her.

The stress melted out of her along with her tears, and only a giddy happiness was left to fill her body. She looked over at Tina and couldn’t help the relieved laughter at the sight of twin streaks of wet flowing down her friend’s own cheeks. She squeezed Tina’s hand, grateful for her best friend’s presence and her agent’s guidance. From the way she squeezed back, Rachel could tell Tina could tell.

When the movie ended, there was more raucous applause, but there was just as much activity as well. Many of the people around them began leaving for home or for the reception party in the opera house’s atrium, the hall buzzing with conversation and praise.

The two of them eagerly waited in their seats for the credits to roll through. Her name may not have been on any of the promotion materials, her name may not have been the one called out on the red carpet, but her name would be forever immortalised in the credits. It was the only public validation she’d get, and she couldn’t wait.

Ravhel took her phone out of her purse, excited to take a picture of the screen, and she could see Tina do the same by her side. They both figured that her name would appear in the musicians’ section, but then those names came and went without comment. A quick glance to her left showed that Tina was just as confused as she was, but she couldn’t afford to get distracted. Her name should appear any second now.

And finally, it did. Alphabetised by first name in the fucking Special Thanks To section.

…

Patty Simcox

Rachel Berry

Tyrone Griffiths

…

She stood up from her seat, chest and eyes burning with indignation.

“Rachel!” Tina called out after her as she stormed out of her row. “Rachel, where are you going?” Tina hurried after her, getting close enough to reach out for Rachel’s arm, but Rachel shrugged her off immediately.

“Home!” Her voice broke on the shouted syllable. “I’m going home, Tina. No one cares that I’m here or about what I did. They made that very, very clear.” Rachel gestured pathetically to the screen while sniffling and trying to stymie her tears. She was crying so much tonight. “My name is all the way at the end with the miscellaneous help. Like, who the hell is Patty Simcox?!”

Rachel’s cries were getting the attention of the venue staff and the handful of others that remained for the credits, so Tina rushed them out the closest exit and into the hallway where she remembered the bathroom being.

“It was a mistake to come here,” Rachel wailed as she let Tina drag her along.

Once safely sequestered away in the bathroom, Tina shook her friend by the shoulders. “Rachel Barbra Berry, were we in the same movie theatre just now? Didn’t you hear that applause when Tonight started? They loved you.”

Of course she did, as fleeting as the applause was, but did that matter? Rachel only shrugged in response.

“No, seriously, listen to me. They loved you. The applause at the beginning and end of the film? That was for everyone else: Frida, the guy who played Tony, the movie people who agreed to fund a remake. But the cheering for Tonight? That was for you and you alone, Rachel. Couldn’t you tell? They started freaking out as soon as the song started! The entire audience was just waiting to hear Maria sing, and it was your voice that played through the speakers. That applause was for you. They care, Rachel; they just don’t know it yet.”

She was still in Tina’s hold, but her mind went back to just an hour ago. She remembered the joy that came with being celebrated, but she remembered relief, too. Whatever fears Rachel had about not being enough dissipated with the first clap of hands. She struggled to hold onto that feeling while the disappointment threatened to crush her spirit.

“When?” she murmured.

Tina’s grasp on her shoulders softened. “Huh?”

Rachel pulled her attention from middle distance and looked into Tina’s eyes. “When will they know that they care?”

Tina smiled at her, equal parts confident and comforting. “You’ll get a chance to tell them. You’ll say it at every audition; you’ll tell your future coworkers during a break in rehearsals; and when you finally get nominated for leading a Broadway show, you’ll tell everyone at Radio City Music Hall, too. I’m sure of it.”

Rachel huffed out air in something approximating a laugh. “That sounded good. How long have you been practising that?” she asked with a congested accent.

Tina reached behind her to get a paper towel for Rachel to blow her nose into. “A few days, admittedly. I had some variations prepared, just in case.”

Rachel nodded distractedly, embarrassment starting to flood in now that she was coming back into awareness of herself. “Can you help me clean myself up? It’ll be hard enough going back out there having just made a spectacle of myself without also looking like an extra from Rocky Horror.”

Tina beamed at her. “So, we’re staying?” she asked as she spilled the contents of her clutch onto the bathroom counter to get the emergency make-up stashed away there. Beside her, Rachel did the same.

“It would be a waste of perfectly free champagne if we didn’t,” she said with a grateful smile.

~~~

“What do you mean you’re not going to the premiere?!” Kurt screeched into his ear.

Finn annoyedly shifted the phone to his other shoulder, scrubbing the remnants of oil off his hands as he made his way out of the autogarage where he worked. He signaled to his roommate and coworker that he was taking five, and Sam waved him off.

“Exactly what you just said: I’m not going. What’s the point?”

“I go through all that effort to get you work on this movie, and this is how you thank me? By abandoning me on the biggest night of my career thus far?!”

“Kurt, you did costuming on the movie! That’s a big deal, and I would never try to pretend it’s not… But all I did was play the drums for a little extra cash because their orchestra guy picked the wrong week to go on vacation. It was nice of them to invite me just because I helped out, but this was just another job to me. If you really don’t want to go alone… it can’t be that hard to find a date.”

“This is not an I-need-an-emergency-plus-one-to-my-ex’s-wedding situation, Finn! I will not rely on Grindr to find me a date for West Side Story’s world premiere!!!”

“I’m pretty sure I’m working that night anyway.”

“I can’t believe you would think that I wouldn’t have already checked your work schedule with Sam before I called you.” Dammit, Sam.

“We don’t even get to walk the red carpet! I don’t understand why I have to go just because you’re going.”

“Finn Hudson, if you don’t go with me, I’m telling Carole that you’ve been dating someone and that that’s why you haven’t gone back home to visit yet this year.”

Finn reactively broke out into a sweat. His mother was not a demanding woman, which made it all the harder to deny her the two things she’s ever asked for: a steady girlfriend and a visit home, neither of which have interested him lately. “That’s not even remotely true! You wouldn’t.”

“Do not try me.”

“Fine. Fine! I’ll go to the stupid premiere, god.”

Kurt cheered on the other end, and Finn wished they were still living together so that he could sneak a red sock into the washing machine next time Kurt tried to wash his white clothes.

“If you check your email, you will see that I’ve already sent you a list of links so that you can buy an appropriate outfit for the evening. Do not order anything in a colour that was not linked to you, or I will make you regret it. Have a good day at work, big brother!” Kurt ended the call in that cheeky way he’d been doing since high school even though his birthday was three months before Finn’s.

And that was how Finn found himself in one of the plush, leather-upholstered seats of the Metropolitan Opera House at Lincoln Center watching the remake of a movie of a Broadway show he didn’t even like. Why would anyone base a musical on Shakespeare’s worst play?

He didn’t even bother fighting sleep once the overture stopped playing and the movie began in earnest. He’d seen the 1961 movie; he knew how it went. Sometime later, in his hazy consciousness, he recognised that Tony managed to stalk Maria home, and they were fighting against their ill-advised lust for each other, and then…

Only you. You’re the only thing I see, forever…

Finn’s eyes shot awake, and it wasn’t because of the sudden cheers from the audience.

In my eyes, in my world, and in everything I do... Nothing else but you, ever.

Whoever played Maria knows how to sing. This movie just got a lot more interesting.

If there was yet another thing he could begrudge West Side Story, it was that Maria didn’t get her own solo. Everytime she sang, her voice would inevitably be cut off by someone else’s. If these production people were thinking with their brains at all, they would have created a whole new song for Maria as soon as they heard the actress’ voice. That’s what he would have done.

Finally, the film ended in its tragic way, but Finn didn’t join everyone else in their tears or their excitement for the after-party. His butt remained seated, and his eyes tracked on the screen, desperately waiting for the credits to roll.

The first two names that appeared in the stylised credit sequence were Ryder Lynn and Frida Romero, and he had a good feeling that Ryder wasn’t the one who played Maria.

Frida Romero.

He sank back in his seat and turned the name over in his head, tuning out Kurt’s blubbering about how fantastic the movie was and how pretty the costumes looked on screen and how proud he is of everyone.

As far as celebrity crushes went, it could honestly be worse. At least she wasn’t playing in an animated movie when he heard her sing. A sudden obsession with West Side Story’s soundtrack would be much easier to explain.

It wasn’t until a girl and her friend started making a ruckus a few rows ahead of him that Kurt and Finn decided it was time to join everyone else at the afterparty, exchanging weirded out looks as they left the theatre.

The lobby wasn’t as decked out as Finn expected it to be, but perhaps one of the benefits of holding a film premiere at such a historic and famous venue was that the event organisers didn’t have to try too hard to decorate the space. The location was the decoration.

Waitstaff kept hors d'oeuvres and drinks in a constant flow, but Finn couldn’t wait to get out of there and get a real meal. Forget balsamic-drizzled caprese on a stick and flutes of too-bitter champagne; he wanted a medium rare burger and a light beer.

His dinner would have to wait, unfortunately. He was Kurt’s ride back to Queens, but Kurt had wandered off fifteen minutes ago when he saw some coworkers from costuming. With no chance that Kurt would pick up if Finn called, he resigned himself to biding his time in an out-of-the-way alcove on the less-crowded third floor until Kurt decided they could go home.

It would be a lot worse if he didn’t have something to look forward to.

The grand staircase in the atrium that allowed patrons who weren’t rich enough to afford first-floor seating was made up of two curved staircases that met at a platform midway between the ground floor and the second floor. From that platform, a single, shorter staircase connected to the above level.

Though the view from the midway platform was limited, anyone anywhere in the multi-leveled lobby had an unobstructed view of the platform itself, which made it the perfect location for speeches, toasts, and planned performances of duet medleys from a film everyone in attendance had just finished watching.

He could definitely stand to wait a bit if it meant getting to hear Frida’s voice live.

He bided his time with some rounds of Angry Birds until feedback echoed through the antechamber. It was time.

Frida Romero and Ryder Lynn walked up to the midway platform on opposite staircases, a move that was obviously staged but nevertheless dramatically and visually impactful. Once in front of the microphones on the landing, the two bowed before the gathered crowd and began singing.

The eager smile on Finn’s face froze a bit, but he recovered quickly. Frida sounded pretty different from what she sounded like on the film, but he reasoned it was because she was singing live and because the atrium was still buzzing with conversation. It wasn’t as completely quiet as it should have been out of respect for what he confidently would say was the greatest voice of their generation.

The duet ended to earnest applause, and Finn tried not to be too disappointed. He decided to look for Kurt instead. Surely, he was done gushing about sequins or gossipping about red carpet looks or whatever it was people who worked in fashion talked about when they were together.

The third floor was a bust, so he descended to the second floor to continue this search. As he walked through the crowd, Finn reached out for a champagne flute from a passing waiter, but someone else’s hand touched the stem at the same time.

“Shit!” “Oh my god!” the two parties cried out as both hands abruptly let go of the glass, letting it break and spill sticky, fizzy drink on the marble flooring.

“I’m so sorry! Can I help you clean it up?” the other person asked, and holy shit that was Frida Romero.

The waiter had on their best customer service smile, but the annoyance was clear in their voice when they asked the two of them to step back and allow someone to clean up the spill. Finn didn’t need to be told twice, so he gently took Frida’s arm by the elbow and encouraged her to back up and away from the scene of the crime along with him.

“We’d better do as they ask,” he recommended gently as he tried to shield her from the attention of nosy passers-by. He brought them to the quieter hallway where the elevator banks were before he remembered himself and let the poor girl go. He whirled to face her, apology at the ready, but then he noticed she barely reached his shoulders even in heels. He was so doomed.

“Ah, sorry,” he said while nervously rubbing at his neck. “I didn’t mean to manhandle you there. I was just focused on getting us away from the waiter who looked ready to stab us in the eye with shards of champagne glass.”

Frida chuckled a little, and Finn couldn’t help but smile at the sound. “No, it’s okay,” she assured. “Honestly, I was having a bit of an out-of-body experience all night. The last few minutes were really helping me come back to myself.”

Finn furrowed his eyebrows. “Did something go wrong?”

“No! Nothing’s wrong!” Frida denied vehemently. “This is a dream come true, honestly! … It’s just all happening so fast. In the span of two minutes, I met Vanessa Hudgens, Annaleigh Ashford, and Rita Moreno. I didn’t get to even process one famous person before meeting the next. I only get this night once, and I wanted to savour it, but… Ugh. Oh my god, sorry. I should not be telling you this stuff. Not only do I sound totally out-of-touch, but this is so not your problem.”

“Hey, it’s okay,” Finn hurried to assure her. “You definitely sound like you need a breather. Do you want me to get you some water or something? I promise not to drop the glass this time.”

Frida huffed out a laugh. “That’s nice of you, but no thanks. I should really be getting back out there…”

“Oh, yeah, of course. I totally get it. You’re the main attraction.”

To his surprise, Frida snorted. “Am I, really?”

“Uh, yeah. I heard you sing tonight… Not Tonight the song, I meant this evening… But obviously you performed Tonight tonight, you’re in the show… What I’m trying to say here is I think you’re really talented.”

Back in high school, Finn’s relationships wouldn’t last long because he had serious foot-in-mouth syndrome. He thought he got over that in the years since then, but apparently all it took was one pretty girl to reinfect him.

Said pretty girl faced him with an appraising gaze, but her fingers were nervously playing with the straps of her purse. “You really think so?”

Finn nodded emphatically, hoping she could tell he was being earnest. “And I’m not the only one. They chose you to headline the movie, didn’t they?”

Frida didn’t look wholly convinced, but the air around her changed. She twisted her mouth into a sarcastic smile, and the serious tone of the conversation shifted. “That they did. Not doing too bad for a Hoosier, huh?”

Finn brightened. “You’re from Indiana? I’m from Ohio!”

“No way? And we met here, in New York City?”

“I know, right?” Finn was going to launch into how much he missed the county fair back home, which just happened this past weekend and was fresh on his mind still, but he was interrupted.

“Frida, there you are! We’ve been looking all over for you. I know they told us we wouldn’t have to do interviews at the party, but the director owed somebody a favour, I guess? I don’t know, but we’re needed down on the main level.”

“Gotcha. Thanks, Ryder. Give me a second? I’ll be right there.”

Before he left, Ryder Lynn gave Finn a judgemental look that he couldn’t help but return. To his satisfaction, Finn had a few good inches and maybe twenty pounds on the guy. (Not that he actually planned on fighting him for Frida's affections, but he was just pointing out that he could if he needed to.)

“So, uh, I gotta go.” Frida gestured needlessly to where Ryder had just been standing. Finn smiled as he stamped down his disappointment. He was lucky enough to have monopolised so much of her time, and he knew it. “Totally. It was nice meeting you, Frida.”

She tilted her head at him. “I never caught your name.”

“Ah, right. Finn Hudson. I actually played percussion in the orchestra for the soundtrack; that’s how I got invited.”

“‘Finn Hudson,’” she repeated. “Ugh, I’m never gonna remember that. Write it down for me?”

She fished in her purse for her phone and handed it over. He didn’t think much of her request, but then he looked down to see an open contact form on her phone. He snapped his focus back up and was greeted with a decidedly flirtatious gaze. He smirked at her, a look he knew made him particularly attractive, and input his information.

“See you later,” he said as he handed her phone back.

Frida left with a wave and a wink. “Sooner than you think.”

~~~

As much as she had hoped for the opposite, Rachel’s life didn’t get a whole lot better after the movie came out.

It was, as expected, a smashing success. Everyone thought it was high-time for a West Side Story remake, and the numbers showed. $67 million on opening weekend alone; #1 movie in America for three weeks in a row; 8.7 on Metacritic and 84% on Rotten Tomatoes.

Overheard conversations on the subway featured plans to watch the movie that weekend; the high school down the block began advertising West Side Story as their spring musical; Frida and whoever played Tony got invited to be presenters at the Tonys. The Tonys!

And there Rachel was, sitting in her shoebox Washington Heights apartment with the radio unplugged and blinds drawn, watching only pre-recorded TV shows or movies on DVD. It was the only way to avoid hearing a peep of the commercials or avoid catching a glimpse of the billboard on the apartment complex a few blocks down from hers.

It was all so unfair.

Tina told her that this movie could be the cause of her big break. As it currently stood, it looked more like the cause of her big breakdown.

She had been ignoring any and all attempts of contact from her friends. Mercedes’ offers to go to brunch were ignored; Tina’s emails containing her recommendations to Rachel for potential casting calls were unopened. Her precious iPod mini was stored in her safe along with her birth certificate and passport so that she wouldn’t accidentally hear the 1961 soundtrack on shuffle.

It was an exhausting and depressive lifestyle that she maintained steadfastly for weeks… then she got her first paycheck.

“Rachel?” Tina answered the phone in bewilderment.

“Tina, call Mercedes right now. We’re going out.”

“What!?”

“Yep, and I’m buying us a round!”

“Hold on. I don’t hear from you in almost a month, and you just invite me out on a weeknight out of the blue? I feel like I deserve more of an explanation.”

“I got my first paycheck from West Side Story, Tina, and there is a comma in the number.”

“... We’ll meet you at Ellie’s in an hour.”

As melodramatic as the musical theatre community was known to be, they also knew how to take a joke. Ellie’s Starlite Dinner was one such joke. A flagrant rip-off of the famous diner with the singing waiters just off of Time Square, Ellie’s was a karaoke bar that stripped the original concept of everything except the main draw: singing on furniture.

They had a limited menu but a fully-stocked bar. Guests sat in diner booths to enjoy that evening’s entertainment, and performers only had to stand up on their own tables or chairs when it was their turn to sing. It was a genius idea that allowed them to fit more seating into the space. Singers had to sign a waiver absolving the establishment of responsibility if they drunkenly fell and had to pay a whopping $15 per song, but any given night was still a lively and fully-booked affair.

Rachel desperately wanted to sing, a feeling that had abandoned her for a while. The first thing she, Tina, and Mercedes did once they met up was join the line for the request DJ. Unfortunately, they were informed of the 100 minute wait time and decided to simply sit back and vibe for the evening.

It was a good time nevertheless. She was in such a good mood that when she stood up to fetch another round, she didn’t even mind when a tall, slim man around her age knocked into her and spilled his  cocktail on her dress.

“I’m sorry for bumping into you, but I’m not sorry for your outfit. Please tell me you’re dressed like that because you lost a bet,” he said in lieu of an introduction.

“I like it! It has pockets!” Rachel defended over the noise of someone trying to sing both parts of My Boo.

The man tutted as he shook his head. “The things women will suffer through for pockets.”

“Rachel?” someone’s surprised voice cut in.

“Blaine!” Rachel squealed when she recognized him, pulling him in for a sloppy hug and forgetting to care about her dress.

“You two know each other?” Slim Jim questioned with a raised eyebrow.

“Remember how I told you I’m the voice of Tony? You’re looking at the voice of Maria.”

“Small world,” Blaine’s companion commented with a considering frown. There was something weird in his voice, but Rachel was not sober enough to figure out what or even remember such a minute detail come morning.

By the time Rachel came back from the bathroom, bladder empty and dress halfway-salvaged, Tina and Mercedes had invited the two men to share their booth for the evening. They learned the new party was Blaine’s boyfriend, Kurt. They were casually-yet-enthusiastically talking on a dating app and decided to take it seriously when they learned they both worked on the same movie. (“Almost like fate!” Blaine commented, prompting collective aw’s from the girls.)

The five became fast friends that night, and Rachel considered it a good omen. First the paycheck, then new friends? What was gonna happen next, another successful audition?

The next morning, Tina emailed her with a new casting opportunity happening that day, another movie-musical adaptation, and Rachel felt like the universe was trying to tell her something.

She drank her tea, did her scales, and corralled her headshot and resume from where they were hidden underneath take-out menus and weeks-old coupon flyers addressed to ‘Current Resident’ before heading out the door.

Rachel’s good mood lasted until she walked into the audition room, where she was hit with the familiar and unwelcome feeling that it would end before it began.

“Hello,” she began bravely anyway as she stepped onto the marked spot in front of the panel of directors. “My name is Rachel Berry, and I will be auditioning for the role of Anastasia.”

Someone moved their wrist in a gesture she understood to mean ‘You can begin now,’ so she started with It’s All Coming Back to Me Now for her first—and likely last—song, based on the fact that the panel of directors barely glanced at her even while she sang.

Her final note echoed a bit when she concluded, then one director raised his head to look at her. She reminded herself of all the times she wished the director would tell just her ‘no’ in person.

“Were you really the voice of Maria in the West Side Story movie?”

“Pardon me?” she asked, surprised to hear more than one syllable coming out of his mouth.

He gestured to her resume in front of him, and his peers furrowed their brows and began reviewing their own copies in earnest. At least someone here bothered to read her resume. “It says here you provided the singing voice for Maria in the West Side Story remake. Is that true?”

Finally understanding the question, she smirked. “Tonight, A flat please,” she directed to the pianist in lieu of a response.

She still got rejected at the end of the audition, but it felt different this time. She could see in their faces that they’d take note of her, that they’d remember her voice. It wasn’t the answer she wanted, but it would be a lie to say this audition wasn’t a success either.

Like Tina said, all it took was one yes.

~~~

“Hey, Huddy, going out for lunch?” Sam asked as Finn exited the locker room, having changed out of his work overalls and into not-smelly, not-oily attire.

“Yeah, I have plans with Frida. Tell the boss I’m taking a long lunch for me?” Finn said as he walked into the customer bathroom. He left the door open so his voice could carry while he checked his reflection in the mirror.

Finn could hear Sam pull himself out from under the 2017 Ford Focus that a customer was scheduled to pick up later today. “So things are getting better then?”

Finn sighed.

He and Frida started dating less than a week after the West Side Story premiere. In those first few weeks, it felt really good to have someone else around who understood why he loved living in New York City but would always miss home just a little bit. Frida still had all of the small-town charm with none of the small-mindedness, and she loved to poke fun at the fact that she did end up dating the high school quarterback, albeit not the one from her own high school. “If only the cheer team could see me now,” she would say.

It was nice, really… for the times they were able to be together.

The movie just got more and more famous as their relationship went on. Frida ended up being so busy that if he wanted to see her lately, he’d have to watch an interview where she’d flirt with the Ryder guy for the course of the video.

Not to say that he’d actively ruin her momentum just to get to spend some time with her—he’s not selfish enough to ask that of her—but he’s an actions guy, man. The fact that there’s not really anything he can do to achieve his desired goal, more time with Frida, left him undeniably frustrated. The emotion unfortunately coloured more of what little time he did get with her than he’d like, so they’ve been a little strained lately.

On top of that, there’s the thing he kept holding himself back from bringing up: she didn’t sound anything like her singing voice. He sorta figured it was like when British people lost their accents when they sang; but even when she sings live, why didn’t she sound the way she did in the movie? He could tell the audio wasn’t touched-up at all, so what was the disconnect?

He wasn’t going to ask her any of that, of course. They’ve only hit the three month mark just last week. It was still kinda early for confrontations like that according to the unwritten dating playbook he’s been following since college.

“They are,” he lied with a small smile, meeting Sam’s eyes through the mirror before grabbing his stuff from his locker.

He plugged his earphones in, left the autogarage, and took the subway from Pelham Parkway to Central Park North. When he got to the non-chain, fast-food restaurant (his request since he’d already spend most of his lunch break commuting) and noticed she hadn’t arrived yet, he sent off a quick text and waited outside.

Before long, Frida was waving a hand in his face to catch his attention without startling him too much. “Hey, whatcha listening to?” she greeted with a smile.

He pulled his iPod out of his pocket and turned the screen towards her. “I’ll be honest: One Hand, One Heart isn’t my favourite, but you sound too good not to have it in my library.” He swooped down to peck her on the cheek, a plausibly deniable expression of endearment in case there were any paparazzi around. They walked into the restaurant and waited in line.

“How long have you been practising that?”

“Practising what?” he asked distractedly as he perused the snacks shelf behind the cashier. He wondered if they had Sour Patch Kids.

“You know, the whole ‘pulling up my girlfriend’s movie’s soundtrack on my iPod so that when she asks me what I’m listening to, I look supportive’ trick.”

He tore his attention back towards Frida in alarm. “Oh my god, no! It’s not a trick. I legitimately listen to the West Side Story soundtrack all the time. Ask Sam!”

She froze in what he thought was embarrassment. “You do?”

He chewed on his bottom lip for a second. He had to make her believe him, so now was as good of a time as any to admit, “I never told you this before, but when I attended the premiere, when I first heard you sing, that’s the moment I… well, I started falling for you.”

Frida didn’t blush or even smile. Actually, she looked pretty stricken, so he backpedaled. “Ah, that might seem like a lot, and it might have been too soon to say that. It’s not any less true, but don’t worry there’s no pressure here. And not in the way guys usually mean you-have-like-a-week-to-say-it-back-or-else-I’m-dumping-you when they say ‘no pressure,’ haha,” he babbled.

The smile she tried to give him was as strained as her impassive face, and he wished more than anything that he could redo the last five minutes of his life.

Blessedly their turn to order came next, which gave them a chance to break the awkward atmosphere. After they collected their drinks and picked a place to sit and wait for their food, Frida finally looked at him.

Her face looked serious, determined, resigned. For a split second, he even thought she might break up with him, and he knew the first emotion he felt wouldn’t have been heartbreak.

“Finn, that isn’t me singing on the soundtrack.”

His heart may not have broken, but his world sure did shatter.

~~~

Sam smacked him upside the head as they walked home from work. “So you broke up with Hollywood's sweetheart because she can’t sing? Are you actually the dumbest person alive?”

Sam raised his hand intending to hit him again, and Finn tried to fend him off. “No. I never thought that; it wasn’t like that! Besides, she broke up with me! Stop hitting me, oh my god.”

When he was sure Sam would keep his hands to himself, he continued, “I wasn’t gonna let that ruin what we had, honestly, but… like, what did we have? I approached her under a misunderstanding, she liked me because I was the first person who ‘understood’ that about her… Too much about our first impressions was wrong.”

“You were three months into the relationship. First impressions shouldn’t even matter at this point!” Sam argued.

“Come on, man. You knew we were already on the rocks. It’s not really a surprise we didn’t last after that came to light.”

Sam didn’t have a way to respond to that, so Finn let them lapse into silence. A choice snippet of the conversation from earlier in the day played in his mind.

(“When you said I sounded great that night, you weren’t talking about mine and Ryder’s duet, huh?” It didn’t sound like a question, but he answered it anyway.

“No,” he said with a shake of his head. There was no point in lying.

“I thought you were talking about the duet.” Frida sniffed, and he could see the rims of her eyes were getting pink, but there were no tears yet. He’d only ever seen her cry on screen. “Right up until we performed, there were so. many. people telling me how great I sounded in the movie. No one had—” She swallowed. “—No one said it again, not afterwards, not until you did… I should have known. I think… I think I did know, but I wanted to believe.”

He had kept quiet while she vented, not knowing what to say so choosing to say nothing at all, but here his words came easily. “I meant what I said that night. You’re really talented. I still think so.”

“More talented than the girl who was actually singing?”

There was no point in lying, but there was no point in being mean either. “They chose you to headline the movie, didn’t they?” he said instead.

Frida shut her eyes and breathed deep. When she looked up at him again, he knew it was goodbye. “That they did. Not doing too bad for a Hoosier, huh?”)

Sam’s sudden question startled him out of the memory. “So, what? You stay celibate until you find your Ariel?”

“... What?” Was Sam talking all this time, and Finn just happened to tune in at the most out-of-context part?

“You know, like in The Little Mermaid? Frida was Vanessa a.k.a. Ursula who stole Ariel’s voice to—don’t give me that look, you know I have a little sister!”

He couldn’t be sure Sam did this on purpose, but it felt good to laugh right now. “Did you just compare my ex to a sea witch from a Disney movie?”

Sam slugged him in the shoulder good-naturedly. “Whatever. So, what are you gonna do now?”

Finn just shrugged. “There’s nothing to do. I go back to how it was before. Meeting Frida was a fun and unexpected surprise, but it’s not like I was actively looking for a girlfriend or anything. I wasn’t lonely or anything, and I don’t feel lonely now either.”

When they made it back to their East Tremont apartment, the conversation naturally dropped. Finn grabbed them some beers, Sam turned the tv on, and they settled in to watch the Braves play the Nationals even though neither of them were big on baseball.

At the next commercial break, Sam said, “If it were me, I'd be begging for Frida back.”

Finn took a sip from his beer. “Hey, she’s single now, and you’re both from Indiana. Worth a shot.”

~~~

As soon as Rachel walked out of the building, the call was already going through. She impatiently paced to the closest Starbucks as she waited for the other end of the line to pick up.

Finally, “Rachel?”

She didn’t waste a second. “Tina, I got it!”

A gasp. “No way?!”

“Yes, way!” Even after walking two long city blocks, she still had the energy to dance a celebratory shimmy on the street. There was no need for embarrassment in New York; Rachel hardly counted as the most memorable sight any of the passers-by would see that day.

“Oh my god!? Rachel?!?! I am so happy for you! I told you! All you needed was one yes!”

Rachel couldn’t help the laughter that bubbled out of her.

(Hearts leap in a giddy whirl…)

“As always, you were right,” Rachel teased, but she abandoned that quickly. “Oh my god, I’m so happy, too; I’m so excited! I don’t even know what to say right now!!”

“When do you start?”

Rachel struggled to sort her emotions out enough to access her recent memories. “I’m gonna get an email today with the words and the information, then I’m meeting the director tomorrow. Oh my god, should you be coming with me to that?”

“I can if you want me to!” Tina probably meant to sound supportive; but even as preoccupied as Rachel right now, she could tell Tina was excited to do more as an agent than direct Rachel to auditions that turned out to be duds. “That’s kinda fast; that’s so exciting!”

Rachel was gonna give her the biggest hug ever the next time she saw Tina. “Thank you! Thank you, thank you. Not just for coming with me tomorrow, but for everything. I really needed someone like you in my corner.”

“Of course, Rachel! I absolutely live for the moment one of my clients gets some good professional news. Wanna go out tonight to celebrate? You get Mercedes; I’ll ask Kurt and Blaine?”

As if she needed the reminder Tina was the best friend on top of being the best agent. “Oh my god, yes! Ellie’s at 8?”

“Sounds good to me!”

“Yes! Yay!” Rachel just needed to scream, so she did. “Ahhh!! I still can’t believe I got it!”

“It was a matter of time, Rachel.” Tina said it so matter-of-factly; Rachel loved this girl. But then, “… Uh, by the way. What is it that you got?”

~~~

“Thanks, but no thanks.” Finn held back a sigh. He wondered why he let Kurt talk him into weekly phone calls even though they live in the same city and see each other a totally respectable amount of times.

“Finn! Come on, it’ll be fun,” Kurt nagged in his ear.

“Sure, maybe, but who goes to karaoke on a weeknight? I have a session tomorrow.” Not a lie this time. The studio that normally booked him for session drumming was recording a demo for someone who won a sponsored singing contest from one of the radio stations. He’d be listening to this singer cover songs for hours tomorrow; he didn’t need to pay to go to karaoke tonight for the same experience.

“Sure, at ten. Honestly, I'm surprised to hear excuses like that from McKinley High’s biggest advocate of the boot and rally methodology.”

Finn allowed himself to smile at the memories of the Friday football game tailgates that turned into weekend-long house parties. “Listen, I'm really just not interested,” he maintained.

Kurt got quiet on the other end, and Finn wondered if maybe this was his chance to hang up. Then, “Is this about Frida?”

Finn groaned.

“Finn, it’s been two weeks already… Are you sure you don’t want to talk about it? Maybe if you finally tell me what happened—you know, if you lean on me, your brother—I can help you get over her!”

Finn wasn’t avoiding talking about it necessarily, but he never brought it up either because he really didn’t think it was a big deal. The relationship was relatively short, Finn held no lingering resentment, and it was a clean break. Besides, Frida was famous. If anyone were winning the post-break up game, it was her.

He sighed. “Kurt, I am only telling you the story so that you believe me when I say: there is nothing to get over.”

He gave Kurt the same spiel he told Sam. If Kurt became as indignant over the break-up as his roommate had been… well, it wasn’t like he could reach through the phone and smack Finn. When he wrapped up, he was expecting some platitudes, maybe an admonishment. Instead, Kurt said, “Finn. I promise you, you want to go to karaoke tonight.”

Finn was poised to reject again, but something about the serious way Kurt said it, like he knew something Finn didn’t, made Finn agree against his better judgement.

~~~

Whoever this guy is, he must be cute, Rachel thought to herself while she watched Tina and Mercedes giggle and text.

She and Mercedes had arrived at Ellie’s before everyone else did and paid for several songs at once. Since they were buying in bulk, their slots would be spread out throughout the next 60 minutes, and they would just have to be surprised when it was their turn. Songs and drinks ordered, they claimed a booth and made small talk about Mercedes’ most recent personal styling client and the karaokers while they waited. It was the early crowd, so the energy was balanced by people going up to sing who were sober enough to actually think they’re good and people in the booths who were sober enough to recognise the singers were just okay.

In the middle of someone’s performance of Call Me Maybe, Tina texted Mercedes saying Kurt would be bringing his brother along, and then Mercedes became buried in her phone.

Luckily Tina arrived not long after. To their credit, they really tried their best to pay attention to her; but they were way more preoccupied with texting Kurt to find out more about his brother. It didn’t take a genius to figure out they were looking forward to meeting him, and she'd be lying if she said she wasn't curious. She even considered asking to join the group chat they had going just so she could be in the loop too, but Kurt wasn’t really her type even if he weren’t gay. She didn’t want to get anyone’s hopes up in case the family resemblance was strong.

"How much longer until they get here?" Rachel asked just to break up the routine.

Mercedes' phone lit up before Tina's did, and they giggled again. "They just got off the subway!”

“Since you’re going to see him soon anyway, how about you put your phones away and buy me a drink? We are here to celebrate my new gig tonight.”

“If you’re the one with the job, shouldn’t you be the one paying?” Mercedes teased.

“Tina gets a cut, too!”

“Way to throw me under the bus.”

“I’ll buy a drink for whoever wants to duet Dog Days Are Over with me,” Mercedes offered.

“Me!” Tina shouted before Rachel could, and she slapped her hand on the table in complaint. “But my dog days are the ones that are over!”

Tina laughed as she handed Mercedes her credit card. “Don’t worry, Florence. Mercedes will open a tab under my name, and I’ll get your drinks.”

“Not if I get them first! What are we having?” a new voice piped up from behind Rachel.

“Blaine!” Tina cheered, flying out of her seat to give him a hug.

Rachel turned in her seat to face with her Meeting New People Smile #2 at the ready…

… Which dropped as soon as she caught sight of the newcomer accompanying Kurt and Blaine. He was tall—taller than Kurt—with his hair gelled up in a way that showed he cared enough to style it but without trying too hard to be neat. His hands were in his vest pockets, and one corner of his lips was quirked up in a boyish smile.

(I took no time with the fall…)

“Ladies, meet my brother, Finn,” Kurt introduced, and Rachel knew she was doomed.

She should have asked the join the group chat when she had the chance.

~~~

Finn had the feeling that tonight was supposed to be a set-up, and he still wasn’t interested, but Kurt had sounded so serious earlier. As in, he seriously thought that one of the girls he’d meet tonight would be perfect for Finn.

On the subway ride over, he told himself he was just curious. Surely in the decade since they’ve become brothers, Kurt would know his type by now, right? But as he settled into the booth with the people he’d be spending the rest of his evening with, he really wondered what the hell Kurt was thinking.

Sure, the Asian girl had a sweet smile, and the Black girl ended up being hilarious, but the last one…

Whenever someone wasn’t talking to her, she was staring at him like she was auditioning for the lead role in Swimfan, and she had been ever since she first saw him. If he’s being honest with himself, her body was smokin’ (if you're not into boobs), but the intensity of her aura was enough to cancel that out. Besides, he’s very into boobs.

He spent the near-term doing his best to interact with the other two normal-seeming girls, but they kept finding ways to loop in the last girl—ugh, he wished he weren’t so weirded out that he missed Kurt’s introductions—into the conversation.

He knew he shouldn’t have come tonight.

“Next on the mic, give it up for Booth #5 with Take Me or Leave Me!”

“That’s us!” the Asian girl cheered while Swimfan accepted the microphones from the staff.

“Just like high school?” she offered to the Black girl, and they climbed onto the benches with matching smirks, obviously remembering some inside joke Finn didn’t care to get introduced to.

For a split second, he was genuinely confused at the song choice—if Finn was remembering Kurt’s movie-musical lessons correctly, wasn’t this originally sung between a lesbian couple in a fight?—but then he felt relief. He wouldn’t be expected to participate in conversation for the next three-ish minutes. He excused himself to get another beer, seeing that the bar was crowded enough that it could easily be prolonged to six or seven.

The song’s opening piano played, and then he stopped mid-step.

Every single day, I walk down the street…

Just like the first time, just like it did every time he pressed play on his iPod, a singer’s voice made his heart twinge. Sure, this girl was just dueting with her friend, exaggeratedly playing the role of Maureen, singing with a playful overtone to her voice… But there was an undeniable joy of performing underlining her stage presence. She sang the way playing the drums made him feel.

What were the odds that there were two people out there who had this effect on him? And one of them was barely 10 meters away.

The duo finished, but he was still in so much shock that he didn’t notice their other friend had joined him near the bar. "So what do you think?"

Finn didn’t know what part of his emotions he could verbalise first, so he blurted out the only coherent thought he had. "She sounds like Maria."

Tina smirked, not that Finn noticed because he was still staring at a certain happy occupant of Booth #5. "I would hope so. She is Maria.”

He snapped his head to look at her so hard his neck cracked. "What."

~~~

Finn hadn’t stopped looking at her since he came back from the bar, and she was glad for the constantly shifting, multicoloured lights at Ellie’s to help hide how flustered she was. Despite her status as an eligible bachelorette, she’d never had someone return her interest in him before. Not like this, and definitely not this quickly.

“If you're not going to talk to him, I'm going to make you talk to him.” So Tina had noticed, too.

She snuck a glance across the booth and saw that the ‘him’ in question was engrossed in conversation with Blaine, so she felt confident she could respond to Tina without getting caught. “I’m talking to him! Earlier I asked him to pass me my purse so I could get the next songs.”

“Rachel!” And yeah, she knew that wouldn’t count, too.

“What do I even say, Tina?”

“Better figure it out soon because I have a fashion emergency!!” She raised her voice during the second half of her statement so that she could be heard above the noise of the other patrons and the person on stage butchering Girls Just Wanna Have Fun.

“Did somebody say ‘fashion emergency’? Mercedes, we need a girl’s room, stat,” Kurt announced melodramatically.

Mercedes grabbed Tina, who grinned at Rachel with something approximating evil in her eyes. “I got her! Let’s go,” Mercedes directed.

The threesome hurried off in the opposite direction of the bathroom. For his part, Blaine didn’t have a shtick, or maybe he didn’t think it was worth it. He just shook his head and said, “Sorry, Rachel,” with a shrug before making himself scarce.

Rachel turned around in her seat to gape at her quickly-retreating so-called friends. “I can’t believe they have the gall to abandon me when we’re supposed to be out tonight celebrating me!” she exclaimed aloud.

“What are we celebrating?” Finn asked from her side.

Rachel whirled in her seat to find that Finn moved to her side of the booth just to talk to her, and she didn’t fight the warmth that spread in her chest. He was direct but not in a demanding way, and she liked it a lot. “I landed a commercial today. I'll be singing a jingle for a second hand car chain up in Westchester.” Pride, understated but evident, coloured her voice.

“No way! That’s so awesome. Congrats… Rachel, right?”

“Yes! Rachel Berry, nice to meet you. And you’re Kurt's brother, Finn Hummel.”

Finn grinned. “Actually, Finn Hudson. We’ve been step brothers since high school, but we’re as good as blood-related by this point.”

Rachel perked up, her earlier annoyance completely forgotten in favour of a conversation with a cute boy and being semi-right. A blood-related sibling of Kurt would not have caught her attention, as she suspected. “That makes sense! I was wondering why you two didn’t look alike, but I wasn’t going to ask.”

“Nah, we’re used to it. Plus, we’ve definitely taken advantage of that before. The mall back home used to host a tonne of sweepstakes, but they always limited one entry per household. What we’d do is just use our actual address but add different apartment numbers to it so that we wouldn’t get caught. No one ever checks! Between our different last names and the fact we barely look alike, we doubled our chances at, like, at least a hundred sweepstakes.”

“Did you end up winning anything?” Rachel asked amusedly.

Finn puffed out his chest with pride. “We won a one-hundred dollar Visa gift card once, and I’ve been chasing that high ever since.”

“A hundred dollars can get you far when you’re in high school,” she agreed with a teasing grin.

“Hey, I wouldn’t say no to a hundred dollars right now either.”

Rachel snorted. “No kidding. I think I spent a hundred just booking our songs for tonight.”

“Passing the mic back to Booth #5, here’s You’re the One That I Want!” the MC conveniently announced.

Finn looked over at her with a smirk. “Ready to get your money’s worth?”

“You sing?” Rachel asked, bewildered and delighted, as she accepted the microphones from the staff. In response, Finn merely plucked one of the mics from her hand and stood up.

I got chills! They’re multiplying…

He didn’t miss a beat. He didn’t even glance at the tv screens positioned on the walls so that patrons could read the lyrics no matter which direction they turned. Instead, his focus was directed downwards, entirely on her. From her vantage point, he looked like a rock star who came to the edge of the stage to interact with the audience, and she was definitely a fan.

He raised his eyebrows at her as his verse drew to a close, and she rose to the challenge.

You better step up! she sang as she hopped up onto the bench. Even with the boost, she was only a few inches taller than him.

Rachel loved performing. She knew it was what she was meant to do ever since her dads took her to watch Annie on Broadway when she was four. When she sang in front of a crowd, it was exhilarating, like Elphaba finding out she might meet The Wizard one day.

Though never once did it feel like this: raw, unfiltered, connective, and yes, electrifying. His voice was untrained, but it suited him. He could clearly do so much more than carry a tune in a bucket, and his power and confidence went a long way in making up for the rest.

His smirk made her smile wider. Was she imagining things, or were they flirting? Sure, there was the teasing push and pull of the lyrics, and then there was the way she caught Finn’s gaze at her hips when she danced. It felt like the end of Act 1 to a show written exactly for her. Maybe it was the song, maybe it was the atmosphere, maybe it was just Finn.

You’re the one that I want!

The song ended to resounding cheers; but for once, the applause of the crowd meant nothing, not when Finn looked at her like he was doing. It seemed like it should be so familiar. She took a step, unsure what she was walking towards but bolstered by the fact Finn did the same…

And the moment was broken.

“Oh my god, we leave you alone for five minutes and come back to the two of you going at it like teenagers at Rydell High?”

The staff took back the microphones; the next song started up; and with one last glance to Finn, she let herself get swept up in their friends’ return.

Despite their obvious scheme to give the two of them some quality time, no one let them have a chance to talk alone again for the rest of the evening. It was almost frustrating, but she was still having the night of her life.

Besides, she had a commercial to sing for tomorrow! Anything else is really just a cherry on top.

It wasn’t until after eleven that they finally left Ellie’s in search of some food. They rowdily descended upon the closest Duane Reade for snacks and sandwiches before exiting back out to the mild Manhattan night, laughing and walking and chewing. The entire night kind of felt like something she could have done in high school (like, if she had more friends and if she actually allowed herself to drink before she graduated), but this was so much more fun anyway.

During a natural lull in conversation, Finn announced, “Ah, I should head back now. I have a long commute to the Bronx and a gig in the morning,” with a check to his phone’s clock.

“Noooo!” Blaine whined, drunkenly koala-ing onto Finn’s arm in protest.

“Stay out a little longer and take a cab!” Tina suggested from Finn’s other arm.

Rachel watched with amusement as Finn gently extricated himself from their grasps, and their eyes met. Her smile turned shy as she averted her gaze… just to catch Tina’s.

She smirked, and Rachel knew she was either going to hate or love whatever came out of that girl’s mouth next.

“Well, we can’t let you go home alone. Girl code, you understand,” Tina explained very seriously. “Rachel, you’re heading uptown, too, aren’t you? You can go together!”

Even as her gut reaction was to decline as politely as possible, Rachel reminded herself that a chance to talk alone with Finn was what she’d been wanting all night. Tina was literally pushing Finn and her together, and all she had to do was agree.

She peered up at Finn and basfully offered, “I can take the 1, 2, or 3.”

He smiled at her, a thin, genuine curve that softened his sharp face into something boyish, and that was it. She was officially in love with Finn Hudson. “I live on the 2.”

They bade the rest of their party goodbye and walked in mutual silence to the subway station, but her anxious heart wouldn’t let her stay quiet for long.

“So, you said you had a gig in the morning? What do you do?”

Finn’s movements took on a noticeable energy from the new topic, and she congratulated herself for choosing so well. “I play the drums! Well, actually, I work in an autogarage full time, but the hours are flexible enough to let me pick up some session work whenever a studio needs a drummer.”

He was musically inclined! She should have known. An image flashed through her mind of a sweaty Finn Hudson with his t-shirt sleeves rolled up to his shoulders, rhythmically beating on the drums in a soundproofed room. “That’s amazing! How long have you been playing?”

“Forever, really. My mom got me a kit when I was, like, seven just so that I’d have something to do at home while she was at work. It was cheaper than a babysitter: if the neighbours could hear me playing—and they could,” he interjected with a sardonic smile, “I obviously wasn’t in any harm.”

She wanted to ask more about his time growing up—based on the stories he told, she had an inkling he and Kurt were also Midwestern, and her sixth sense was never wrong about things like this—but Finn spoke up again. “Actually, uh, I worked on the West Side Story soundtrack.”

She almost tripped. “You did!?” What were the odds?

Finn nodded, and she finally noticed his excitement was more akin to anxiousness. “And, you know, because I worked on the movie, I was able to go to the premiere a few months back, at the Metropolitan Opera House. I wasn’t going to originally, but, of course, Kurt forced me. I, uh… I actually fell asleep,” he admitted.

She wanted to laugh, to be offended, to react at all; but there was something to his voice, like he was walking off a plank towards certain doom. It was only because they had stopped that she could recognise she was holding her breath.

He turned in his spot and faced her straight on, steeling himself to confess whatever it was this conversation was leading to. Rachel offhandedly noticed that she had yet to see Finn’s eyes clearly tonight, always tinted as they were by the party lights of Ellie’s or the penumbra of a nearby streetlamp. They should have spent more time in the clinical lighting of the Duane Reade.

“And then I heard you sing.”

She inhaled sharply.

“I don’t know how to say this, but you touched something in me. Right here.”

Perhaps because of the seriousness of the previous moment, it took Rachel all that she had not to laugh at the poor, earnest, embarrassed boy who put his hand on the left side of his chest. Without really thinking about it, she stepped forward and reached for his wrist. “Your heart’s on the other side of your chest,” she corrected, gentle and amused.

“Oh.” Is this her type? Boys who didn’t pass biology? “It’s beating really hard.”

The longer her hand stayed on his against his chest, the more his words sunk in. “How did you know it was me?” she asked, voice no louder than a distant radio and eyes trained on their hands.

“Tina told me,” he admitted, and she should have known that too. This whole saga from beginning to end had Tina written all over it.

He adjusted his hand to hold hers, and that’s when she raised her attention upwards. “But I heard it myself tonight, when you sang with Mercedes. I would know that voice anywhere, and now I know it’s you.”

He was looking at her again, the same way he did in the bar after their duet. She felt brave enough now, and less inebriated too, to recognise what it was. “Do you want to kiss me?”

Finn seemed to freeze, and she berated herself for being so stupid. She’d always been too much, too fast. Sure, he seemed interested in her tonight; and yeah, they had amazing musical chemistry; but that didn’t necessarily mean anything. What if he didn’t want it to mean anything? He’d try to let her down gently, which would of course just make her fall for him more, before offering to set her up with his friend who would probably be just as handsome but lacking that certain je ne sais quois that made Finn so attractive to her. But Rachel would be too embarrassed to say no, so she’d end up dating his friend, which meant spending more time with Finn but not with Finn, and that would hurt too much. No, she should not date Finn’s friend, even if he offered to set him up with her. There are other guys, Rachel Berry, she told herself, willing herself to cut this shame spiral short. She would find someone else to get over her crush on Finn; she promised herself. Just like Tina always said: It didn’t matter how many no's she heard, all she needed was one—

“Yes.”

~~~

A/N (10.22.2022): Sheeeeeesh, I haven’t written prose in past tense in a long time. It was a good challenge!

I know, I know. We Finchel fans love the “You can kiss me if you want to.” / “I want to.” exchange. A classic! I hope you can forgive me for giving it a facelift for the purposes of this fanfic though, haha. By the way, do we actually know where Sam transferred from aside from ‘some all-boys school’??? For the purposes of this fanfic (Part 2), he’s from Indiana lol.

Thanks for reading; hope you guys enjoyed!

#glee #glee fanfiction #finchel #finn hudson #rachel berry #rach*

[happybird16]

Okay so how about matching you with Erwin? Yes, I think so.

You're both hard working and understand if the other is deeply engaged and give them time to finish the task. Weather it's writing/paperwork or working an 8 hour day plus overtime for missions and things. You might miss each other but no one gets worked up about it and knows you come home to each other (eventually :) )

Whatever you're feeling, or whatever you want, or don't want, he is so respectable it is unbelievable. He's not afraid to check in and makes sure he understands what it is you want and is dedicated to making sure you feel safe with him in every way.

He's an old fashion romantic, so, do you like dancing? I could see him wanting to try dance classes with you (you're gonna have to help all those other ladies keep their hands to themselves lol) or something like a painting or pottery class. Some of the things you made are in the house, one special painting in his office.

Going for 10 mile bike rides together is something you both enjoy. He makes sure to bring extra water bottles to keep you both hydrated and brings a snack baggie to give you some energy while you take a rest in the shade. Always lets you shower first when you get back to cool off.

Also, is the sexiest cat dad?! That is your child! The three of you are in so many pictures together and one is the background on his phone. Speaks to the cat like it's a person. You probably have recorded these conversations because it is not only adorable but funny. Kitty seeks out dads lap when you're on the couch. Erwin might be sneaking him people food... :D

I honestly do think I’d get along with Erwin pretty well! He’s so giant I’m sure we’d look funny next to each other!

God Eliza your descriptions of everything is just 🥹🥹

I’m the type of person to always be doing something. I have to. It’s hard for me to every just sit and relax. I’ll take any overtime that’s offered, even if my feet hurt and my back aches. I have this huge thing where I feel like I’m constantly letting people down if I don’t say yes to staying and helping. The longest I’ve done is a 16 hour day.

I’m not sure if Erwin would work along side me or try to force me to sit down for once. Maybe even teach me to say no and just go home. Probably both.

I’m a socially anxious mess so it’d be nice to have someone so socially sure. I have no doubt he’d be good at making phone calls and dealing with anyone who bothers me. He’d be kind about it, but really assertive.

I can dance! I had to take gym classes in college and one of them was ballroom dancing! I think Erwin would love to waltz, and get even sillier and more creative with it if he’s been drinking.

I am absolutely terrible at pacing myself on my bike rides. I go for it all in one shot. The most I’ve done is 28 miles and I couldn’t really walk after. People yell at me for not taking snack breaks or trying to pace myself at all. I bet Erwin would be a good cyclist, but he’d be even better at gauging my limits and stopping me.

I’m not really that creative but I do love working with my hands. I bet he’d come up with all sorts of cute date ideas! Btw I 100% speak to Manny like he’s a person lol.

Since I’ve been writing for Erwin a bit I do suddenly like him a whole bunch more. Thanks for matching us 💕💕

Match me with any character

#moots.eliza #asks #match me game

[scentedsstuff]

The Love Con

By Seressia Glass

Rating: 1/5⭐️

DNF at 60%

I wanted to give the romance genre a try, I really did, but somehow I came out of this perhaps even more sure that romance isn't the genre for me, and possibly never will be.

*Quick disclaimer/heads up: This book does have spicy/steamy scenes

Quick Plot Summary:

The Love Con finds our main character Kenya as a contestant on the reality cosplay competition show ‘Cosplay or No Way.’

She’s made it to the finals and is one challenge away from not only establishing herself in this industry but also proving to her parents that this was the right choice for her, that she could do this.

The next challenge is unlike the rest, it’s a duo challenge. When faced with the reality of the challenge Kenya names her long time best friend Cameron as her partner, which is no shock to Cam, the real surprise comes when Kenya announces on live TV that Cam just so happens to be both her best friend and boyfriend to the shock of both everyone they know as well as Cam himself.

What follows is a story which dives into the more technical side of cosplay, the pressures of both societal and familial expectations, the micro-aggressions faced by a woman who is both black and plus sized as well as the complications of falling in love with your best friend.

Thoughts:

I can see how this might appeal to fans of the romance genre, especially those looking for more modern and diverse stories. It’s packed with romance, romantic tropes, pop culture references and all the cheesiness to go along with it, but me personally, I couldn’t get into any of it.

However, not all was lost so let’s start with what I did like about the book:

1) The Dual POV.

If you’ve got dual POV in a book that is immediately one thing I like about the book already. I enjoy getting to see a situation from both perspectives and in this case it’s getting to see how their relationship develops.

2) The exploration of what it’s like to want to pursue an artistic career especially when you're family aren't as supportive

I get this, I understand the feeling of not wanting to voice your interest in more artistic fields especially when your parents only see value in anything but that. I appreciated getting to see this explored in the book, especially through the main character.

3) The way the interracial romance was handled

I like the way the author handled the fact that this was an interracial romance. By this I mean that it was acknowledged that it was such but then the story goes on because it is first and foremost just A ROMANCE regardless of who is involved, which as a black girl I love to see. I’ve found in a few books that the race aspect is heavily focused on at times and that can get annoying. If it’s in a book set in a time where this aspect of the relationship would greatly affect it, I can understand that but nowadays I think we can have romances that focus solely on the romance that just so happen to involve two people from different backgrounds.

Now for the things I didn’t like:

1) It reads as very YA and not in a good way.

These two were supposedly adults but it all read as very YA. I cringed a lot at the dialogue between them which I don’t think helps as the two romantic leads. Once anything resembling dirty talk was introduced, I WAS OUT.

2) The pacing of the romance

This book utilises both the friend's to lovers trope and the fake dating trope which in this case meant a lot of miscommunication. I get it, there has to be some drama and the characters can't just immediately resolve it (which I can appreciate) but it was getting well past halfway in the book and these two were still lost, heck, I WAS LOST! The pacing was just too slow when it came to the romance which is supposed to be the main event here.

Besides that I couldn’t bring myself to really care about the romance/relationship in the first place. I read hoping that with each page I would grow to like the characters more and be invested in their stories but instead I felt mostly indifferent. As a result of this, other events and situations in the book regarding the main characters failed to matter as much. This included the whole situation regarding Kenya and her parents (even though I can understand where she’s coming from), the relationship drama etc.

The reality cosplay competition itself took a bit of a back seat for a while before being brought back but by then any interest for the book had slowly dwindled.

So, suffice to say, I took a chance on a romance book and things just didn’t work out.

#the love con #seressia glass #book thoughts #book review #bookish things #books #bookish #romance #romance books #romance book #book blog #booklr #book reviews #bookblr #bookworm #thoughts #adult booklr #romance novels #contemporary romance #friends to lovers #fake dating #fake dating trope #friends to lovers trope

[pzycho391]

So.. I’m gonna type this down in hopes it’s gonna make me feel a bit better. 

This will contain mentions of animal death, grieving and the paranormal and spiritual stuff. Do not continue if you’re not into that.

I have pretty much always believed in ghosts and other otherworldly beings.(no gods). So, I was completely wrecked after having to make the decision to have Poker put down. I was so detached I barely even cried the first few days, other than during the vet visit. After that, I was basically in bed the rest of the day, trying to comprehend the fact that my dog, who’s been with me since he was nine weeks old, and who was with me for almost twelve years.. was no longer around. This has so far been the only time I wanted to be haunted.

The first night following Pokers death, I woke up about 4 am. And I swear I could hear him standing outside my door. Wanting to be let in. He had a special type of squeaking he’d do. And I could not bring myself to open the door. I was just looking at my ceiling, pretending to not hear it until it stopped. I don’t know how long that took. I regretted that immediately. I started questioning if maybe his ghost really was outside and now by not opening the door, I made him believe he wasn’t welcome anymore. But I couldn’t bare to open the door, I knew I wouldn’t see anything out there and it would be more heartbreaking.

A few night after that, I had a dream about him. There was no real background in this dream, or at least I didn’t notice. I was standing around, and Poker showed up. He was looking tired, drowsy, even sick. Like he did before I had to make this decision. I started to cry, I wanted to hug him but he looked like he was in so much pain. I started to apologize to him. I apologized for being a bad owner, for not noticing his heart failure early enough, for not taking proper care of him, for not knowing what I should have done. Because that’s how I felt at the time. That I didn’t know, that I didn’t see. After that, he was still just looking sickly and suffering, he didn’t really acknowledge me. So I was just crying more, feeling like my apologies wasn’t enough. I cupped my face in my hands and started screaming “I’m sorry!” over and over until I fell to my knees. The moment my legs hit the ground, I woke up. And I felt like shit. I spent several days believing that he was mad at me, like I had let him down.

A few more days after that dream, maybe a week later. I had another one. So again, no noticeable background. The difference was tho, that this time he looked healthy, younger and happy. And he was excited to see me. He was wagging his tail so much he was shaking his entire body. And of course, I was happy to see him too. So just like the last dream, I started to cry. But it was happy tears this time. I was just telling him over and over how much I miss him and how he’s the best. Bästaste Snutten. Which I did call him sometimes while he was alive. After some time of petting and kissing. We departed, I think he started to leave first. That doesn’t matter tho. I woke up after after that.

And I felt relieved. I felt forgiven. Like I hadn’t been such a terrible owner I had made myself up to be. I felt like he wasn’t mad at me, which I believed from the first dream.

A small detail about the dreams, in the first one, he was below me. Like in real life, I had to look down to look at him. In the second one, he was above me, like we were meeting in a staircase. Or more like he was on the next floor and I was in the staircase, because he wasn’t standing in an angle.

And still to this day I choose to believe that those dreams were paranormal, that it was in fact his spirit visiting me. Maybe he just needed a few days on the other side to recover from his ailments.

And I hope that we will reunite some day, that he’ll reincarnate and we’ll be together again.

#poker #dream journal #paranormal #ghostly visits

[awn-moo]

<[VIDEO ID - PART FOUR OF ???]>

Vic and Ingo are sitting on old station benches, facing each other.

“So, how often do you get to go down in these tunnels? Or get reports of trespassers?” Vic asks, crossing his right leg over the left.

“It’s a rare sight for me to be down here. At the beginning of working for the station, Emmet and I would sneak away down here during lunch breaks. Now, this occasion is the first time I’ve been since then. As for the reports? Quite often. Security catches a lot of people trying to get in. Emmet and I also catch them on security footage. Despite the safety warnings, people still decide to chug along.” Vic nods as Ingo speaks.

“Well, I am thankful for this opportunity we have to be down here. I almost always ask to enter places like this with security. Mostly because I don’t want to get fined for trespassing, but also because I know that safety risk. When Curt told me you and Emmet okayed this adventure, I was so excited. Truthfully, I had expected a no, so hearing a yes drove me into a planning spiral. I uh, I didn’t sleep because I was planning so hard.” Vic sheepishly laughs at that last part, raising a hand to lightly rub the back of his neck.

“Really? I didn’t think exploring took a lot of planning.”

“Oh! Yeah, it takes quite a lot of it. You have to be aware of any pokemon that will potentially be there, safety risks and precautions, what attire is most suitable, what to bring, how many people do you have to watch for, and just, a lot of technical stuff. I know security checked my bag upon arrival, as it’s packed pretty tight. But I’ve got first aid, simple antidotes and potions, backup camera batteries, extra mics, respirators in case of black mold, gloves, and even shoe protectors.” Ingo nods as Vic speaks. In the background, Flit and Luxa can be seen resting next to each other on a bench.

"You are well equipped. How long have you been running along these tracks?" Ingo asks, crossing his legs. Vic hums and leans back.

"Ah, I think it started when I explored Sea Mauville during my Hoenn challenge. So I think around 12 years? So I've got plenty of mistakes under my belt," Vic laughs, "But yeah, after doing it for so long, you start to take planning very seriously. My first actual video of doing this a couple weeks back was rough. I didn't plan and it was my first time recording one of these. I also kind of freaked myself out beforehand." Vic then looks towards the camera. 

"Don't smoke a dangerous amount of weed before going exploring. Be sober, but then again, don't go exploring without taking a buddy along. The most dangerous thing you can do is explore alone." He then turns back towards Ingo, who's laughing softly.

"Good advice. Safety checks are verrrrrry important." Vic smiles and nods.

"Shall we keep going?" Vic asks as he slowly gets up. He stretches a few times as Ingo hums in agreement. 

A voiceover plays as the scene changes. The camera pans slowly across the empty station. Benches with moss are scattered throughout, all in rows facing each other, while a few are missing. Most of the lights are out, with only the few working ones barely illuminating the space. The soft purple glow from Flit illuminates the darker areas as she hovers just out of frame.

“After the small sit-down conversation in the old station, we explored the area for a while. Now, to keep things short, I can’t show off everything we encountered. But after this exploration, we headed back. I couldn’t sense any pokemon within these walls, it just felt so still and silent in there. Being with Ingo and our pokemon helped lift the heaviness. Maybe I’ll try to come back and explore more, but for now, may I see you all again at a later date.”

The voiceover fades away as soft music slowly takes its place. The camera pans to an old ticket booth that sits tucked away in the dark. The next shot shows the inside, as papers sit across the desk alongside an older looking keyboard. There are some low-light vines draping across the ceiling. There are a few more shots of the benches, the flickering lights, and the vast emptiness of the area. At the end as the screen fades to black, a polaroid photo appears. It’s of Vic, Ingo, and their Chandelure. At the bottom is written, “RIP In Peace Curtis Caughner. You didn’t have a Chandelure so you died. So sad ;<”

<[END VIDEO ID]>

#pokeblogging #pokemon irl #pkmn irl #vics urbex adventure #Urbex Adventures #long post

[bloodorangesoup]

Ice Cream and Bad TV | B.B.

Request: Late night thoughts : The only porn bucky watches are the ones that come on tv at like 2 or 3 in the mornings. Imagine cuddling up with him on his living room floor, aimlessly clicking around until you stumble upon the channel & he gets flustered & shy about it & you fuck him while porn plays in the background. Like I think it’s so romantic🥺🥺 riding him while the soft glow of the tv illuminates his face. His moans & grunting blending in with the actors 😫😫

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Word Count: 3.6k (this was supposed to be a drabble but I cannot for the life of me control myself)

Warnings: NSFW 18+ | cuddle fucking, unprotected sex(pretend ur on birth control for a sec)(still wrap it b4 your tap it), flustered Bucky, porn talk, the tiniest bit of sub!Bucky for like half a second, fluffy smut, you get the gist

My Masterlist

Notes: I did this in one sitting so sorry if it’s repetitive or has any mistakes. I think I have a major soft sport for flustered Bucky. I also had to think of a realistic name for a TV porn channel so bear with me. This is my first time writing smut in non-headcanon form so let me know how I did! Happy reading!

It was 2am on a Thursday night when your phone rang with your boyfriend's caller I.D. This wasn't the first time that Bucky had called you for this instance, it became a routine for you to talk him down after a nightmare and you prepared to do so when you picked up. Usually the first thing you would hear was his heavy breaths, the anxious buzz in his body making him fumble his words as he tried to focus on talking to you, so you were surprised to be met with still breathing and his typical deep, steady voice.

"Doll? You there?"

"Yeah, Buck, I'm here," you replied with a yawn, trying to sound as awake as possible. Bucky could hear the airiness of your voice and let out a sigh.

"Sorry, baby, I woke you up."

"You say that every time, I don't mind waking up for you. Besides, I don't have work tomorrow so I don't exactly need my beauty rest."

There was a pause. You could still hear static from the other side of the call but Bucky didn't say a word.

"Buck? You okay?" As if you snapped him out of a daydream, his hurried words rushed through the phone.

"Yeah yeah, sorry. I'm kind of out of it right now, I had another bad dream."

"Do you wanna talk about it?" You had expected his usual answer of yes, then you would listen to his thoughts and comfort him through the horrific reality that were his nightmares.

"You said you don't have work tomorrow? Do you think you could come over right now? Actually never mind, I don't know what I'm saying, it's 2am." You could practically see Bucky shaking his head as he took back his question.

"I'll be there in twenty, James. You better have some blankets and pillows ready for me because we're taking over your couch."

Bucky let out a breath over the line, "See you soon, y/n, love you."

"Love you more," you said quickly before hanging up, not letting him get in the last 'I love you.'

~

Forty minutes later you found yourself on Bucky's lap on his living room floor. You two had abandoned the idea of the couch and chose to make a small fort with the couch as your scaffolding. There was a surprising amount of pillows and blankets surrounding the two of you, you had no idea Bucky even owned them all.

He sat with his back against the couch, your legs laid over his and your arms were around his neck, bringing his head down to your chest. He talked about his nightmare, sparing you the gruesome details, and once he was done he closed his eyes and leaned further into your chest, breathing in your scent. You gave the crown of his head a kiss and rested your head atop his. Comfortable silence washed over the two of you before you spoke up.

“You know what always makes me feel better?” you asked, lifting your head just enough to look down at him.

“What?” he mumbled into your chest. A soft smile graced your face at his cuteness.

“Ice cream and bad TV!” you announced excitedly before wiggling out of his grasp.

You did a little jog to his kitchen and reached down into the freezer to grab a small pint of ice cream you knew Bucky always kept stashed for you whenever you came around. Picking up two spoons and turning off all the lights in the apartment on your way, you quickly made your way back into the living room, lifting Bucky’s arms to situate yourself back into your position on his lap. You popped the lid of the small tub and handed it to Bucky along with a spoon. With your hands now free, you felt around in the dark for the remote and turned on the TV.

Waiting for the TV to completely turn on, you ate a spoonful of ice cream. You hummed at the taste of the cold sweetness coating your tongue. You gasped as you opened your eyes, finding Bucky scooping out some ice cream and lowering it to your mouth.

“Oh wait, let me make this cuter!” you squealed with your eyes wide.

Copying Bucky’s actions, you took a spoonful and lifted it to his lips, the both of you opening wide and feeding each other. You giggled at the cliché moment and Bucky couldn’t help but let out a chuckle at how adorable you were.

You turned back to the TV, lifting the remote in your hands to change the channel to anything but the news that was already playing on the screen. As you flipped through sports recaps, music channels, infomercials, and movies that were already almost over, you sighed.

“Ugh, there’s nothing good on. Maybe if I start from the end of the list there’ll be better stuff,” you huffed.

Before Bucky could register what you said you had already typed in the biggest number you could enter and began flipping down through channels. Surfing through the empty screens, you landed on one called HotNet and suddenly the screen was completely taken over by a pair of boobs which then cut to a woman on her back and a man on top of her, rutting into her at a slow pace, while her moans echoed throughout the apartment. You quickly shuffled with the remote, trying to turn the volume down from it’s loud setting, spooked at the loud, obscene noise coming from the speaker.

“Oh my gosh, I wasn’t expecting that,” you laughed into Bucky’s chest, “God, I hope your neighbors didn’t hear that.”

Bucky stared at the screen with wide eyes, hoping you would change the channel before noticing that the channel was in the On Demand section. You gasped through your laugh, collecting yourself before turning back to the TV and shaking your head.

“Jeez, I didn’t even know they still had porn like this on public television.” You looked back down at the remote, clicking the Guide button. Bucky’s heart stopped as the description took over the screen, the video still playing in the top right corner. In bold letters the words On Demand titled the card. Even worse, the bottom of the screen displayed a small box containing the information,

$19.99

purchased with debit card xxxx-9758

You furrowed your brows in confusion, realization slowly softening them, before a mischievous smirk took over your face. You lifted your head to look at Bucky, his face looked down at your lap, refusing to meet your eyes. You tapped the bottom of his chin with the remote, lifting his head to meet your gaze.

“Did you order TV porn, Jamie?” He could hear the teasing tone in your voice, and you only ever used that nickname when joking around, yet Bucky still felt extremely embarrassed. He felt as if he just got walked in on while touching himself. It didn’t help that it was you that saw it, he wanted to crawl in a hole and never look back.

“Ah, you’re blushing,” you squealed as you took his cheeks in your hands, “oh come on, it’s not that embarrassing Bucky.”

“Ugh, can we please pretend you didn’t just see that,” Bucky groaned, closing his eyes to escape your stare. He set down the ice cream next to him and lifted his forearm over his eyes.

You let out a breathy laugh, grabbing his shoulders to stabilize yourself and pushing up to swing your leg under you to the other side of his lap, you straddled him.

“Hey, it’s really not that bad. I mean we’ve had sex before Buck, I think you’d rather have me find this than Sam or someone else.” He let out another groan and lowered his head to lean against your neck.

“Angel, please don’t talk about Sam while you’re on top of me and there’s porn playing on the TV.”

You laughed and ran your hands down his arms, letting one of your hands run up behind his neck and weaving your fingers into his hair. You gripped the back of his head and gently tugged him back up to face you.

“Why,” you sang, deciding to have some fun with him in his flustered state, “is this turning you on?” you whispered the last part.

Before he could respond you leaned down and kissed him. You didn’t bother to start off slow as you usually would, Bucky could taste the hunger from every parting of your lips. His hands gripped your waist, you rocked your weight forwards to rub against him. Bucky’s head clouded, his senses felt overloaded in the best way possible, your movements mixed with the sounds of the moaning coming from the TV were getting him hot. You pulled back before getting too carried away, a smile on your swollen lips.

“So, baby, tell me about it.” You said. It was Bucky’s turn to furrow his brows and he cocked his head to the side in question, mind still foggy from the feeling of you grinding on him.

“What kind of porn do you watch?” you clarified, looking at him like you just asked what his favorite color was.

“Uhm, you want to know about that stuff?” Bucky looked at you with caution, feeling out if he should listen to you or not.

“Well, yeah. I mean I don’t know how it was back then, but most people nowadays watch porn. It’s not super taboo to talk about it,” you explained. You weren’t going to force him to talk about it if he really didn’t want to, but your desire to hear what Bucky was into was strong.

He hesitated for a moment, looking in your eyes and seeing curiosity clouded with lust. He cleared his throat.

“Well, pretty much this stuff,” he gestured with his hand to the TV before putting it back on your waist, “there’s this girl on there, she kinda looks like you, so I buy the videos with her.” He closed his eyes and internally groaned at his words, he didn’t mean to come off so perverted. God, you had already found his porn, the last thing he needed was for you to be thinking he was a creep.

“Y’know that’s actually kinda sweet,” you giggled, “what do you like about those videos?”

Feeling a bit more comfortable knowing you weren’t grossed out, Bucky continued.

“I like the ones where it’s dark and slow. It’s usually quiet and there’s candles and stuff,” he explained shyly. Of all the surprises that came with dating Bucky, you had to admit finding out he was into romantic porn was one of the biggest ones.

Bucky cleared his throat again before questioning you, “Do you watch porn?” He felt almost wrong asking that. He knew that women in this age were more sexually liberated, but the words still felt sticky in his mouth.

“Oh, yeah, of course I do.” Bucky seemed surprised at how casually you answered. He raised his eyebrows, silently asking you to go on.

“Well specifically, I actually really like the videos that are like this,” you said, your head looking down at you straddling him, he followed your gaze, taking in how nice you felt on his lap. You leaned forward, bracing your hands on his chest. Your faces were so close your noses were almost touching. You could feel his rapid heart beat under your palm and the quick rise and fall of his chest. “Do you ever watch the ones that look like this, Bucky?” He looked up at you and nodded with wide eyes, his pupils were blown and his mouth was open like he was searching for the words to respond.

You grasped his jaw in your hand, your thumb on his chin, and looked him in the eyes. You wanted nothing more than to jump his bones, but with the newfound knowledge you had, you took your time with your actions. Within the last five minutes, Bucky had revealed to you not only that he liked soft, romantic porn, but that he also watched a specific actress because she looks like you. The one goal in your head was to fulfill his fantasy the best you could at the moment.

With his head still in your hand, you held your eye contact as you let your knees move out, grinding yourself against his growing erection. He let out an involuntary whimper. That was the last straw. You pulled his face to yours, joining him in a hard, yet loving kiss. Your arms wrapped around his neck, pushing your chest against his, trying to get as close as possible.

Bucky’s dick was painfully hard. He couldn’t focus on anything but the feeling of you on top of him. His body felt like it was on fire, he was insatiably horny and couldn’t control the way his hips bucked up to grind with you. He felt like a horny teenager the way his mind was filled only with images of you naked, imagining you like that on top of him like you were now.

You slipped your tongue past his lips, keeping your pace slow as you glided it across and bit at his lower lip. A moan made its way out of your mouth and into his as you felt him buck up against you.

You slid your hands down his chest, fumbling with the hem of his shirt before his arms raised, giving you access to peel it off him, throwing it up on the couch. Bucky kissed down your neck, licking over the shell of your ear, and sucking at the center of your throat. He reached down and slipped his hands under your shirt, sliding up and down your waist before gliding up and lifting your shirt over your head, discarding it with his.

Bucky wasted no time reaching around you and unclipping your bra and dragging it down your shoulders. He cupped your breasts, squeezing them with his large hands before bringing you into another tender kiss. Despite your frantic movements, there was a spark of passion cracking through the air, the both of you desperate to feel each other closer.

You broke the kiss, breathing heavily and resting your forehead against his.

“I wanna make love to you, y/n, please, let me make love to you,” he groaned with a slight whine in his voice. He sounded like he was about to crack.

“Please, Bucky.”

You leaned back on your hands and lifted your hips, giving Bucky the room to pull down your shorts and panties in a few swift tugs. He quickly got up on his knees and pulled down his sweats and boxers, sitting back down and tugging them off his legs. You reached your arms forward, Bucky grabbing a hold of your wrists and pulling you back to straddle him again. You gasped at the feeling of his cock under your bare pussy, your wetness from all the grinding and kissing making you slide over him.

You leaned forwards, capturing his lips between yours and raising yourself up on your knees. Reaching under yourself, you gripped his cock, wet with your arousal, and lined him up with your cunt. Bucky gripped your hips as you sank down on him, using every ounce of self control to stop himself from rutting up into you. You stayed like that for a second, adjusting to the way he filled you. Seeing the remote lying on the floor, you grabbed it and slightly turned up the volume, only enough so that you and Bucky could hear the actress in the video being ravished by her co-star.

Bracing your hands on his shoulders, you began to slowly move up and down over him, riding him just as you had told him you liked to watch. His hands moved up from your waist, squeezing your tits, pinching your nipples in between his fingers. You let out a hiss as he rolled them between his fore finger and his thumb, tugging on and rubbing his thumbs over them. He reached around to grab your ass, squeezing and rubbing your cheeks and you used him to pleasure yourself.

You were a moaning mess over him and he wasn’t much different. The room was filled with the sounds of the porn playing on the TV mixed with the sounds of your own cries of pleasure. If the neighbors hadn’t been woken up by the TV, they sure were by you two.

Bucky sat back on his knees, his hands slid down to your thighs, moving your legs from under them and wrapping your legs around his back. His arms worked their way back up to wrap around your waist, bringing you ever so close. The new angle pushed him even deeper up into you. He buried his head in the crook of your neck, giving you access to all the sweet, desperate sounds falling from his lips.

You were now pushing up with your feet behind him, rolling your hips over his. The new technique made your clit rub over his pelvis, the sensation making you throw your head back and let out a deep moan. He took the opportunity to continue kissing your neck, going lower with every lick and bite. He sucked at your collarbone, leaving a deep purple mark in its place.

Suddenly, he was using his arms to lift you up, not pulling out of you, and laying you down on the blanket-covered floor. You instinctively locked your ankles together, pulling him closer as he thrusted into you. Bucky had his metal arm holding himself up while his flesh one squeezed your breasts, feeling them move with his thrusts. He lowered his head to your chest and licked one of your nipples, grazing his teeth over it before taking it in between his lips and sucking. Your hands flew to the back of his head, singing praises as you wove your fingers into his hair. He continued to alternate between your breasts, leaving love bites around them and sucking on their sensitive peaks.

You could feel your body buzz with anticipation, you were so close. The moans escaping your mouth were lewd and uncontrolled. Bucky wrapped his flesh hand around your waist, lifting your chest flush against his.

You snaked your arms around his neck, pulling yourself up to kiss him. Nothing felt better than making love with Bucky felt. This was definitely not the first time you two had been intimate, but none of those previous times had ever been like this. You could feel the passion flowing through his body into yours. You looked up at his form over you, how beautiful he looked with the light of the TV screen glistening against the beads of sweat on his forehead. There was absolutely nothing in the world compared to having him, in all his beauty, to yourself like this.

Bucky’s heart was exploding in his chest. What had started out as an embarrassing, nightmare-fueled night had turned into the most intimate experience he ever had in his life. Love was already established in your relationship, but Bucky had never truly made love to you. He looked down in awe at your disheveled state, at the way your hair was sticking to your forehead, at the way the only light in the room gave you an angelic glow. He wanted nothing more than to give himself completely to you, to make you come all over him.

He leaned his forehead against yours, pushing his face forward once every few seconds to kiss you. He was close, and he wanted you to come with him. He leaned into you even more, his cheek pressed against yours, his lips next to your ear.

“I love you so much, y/n, God, you feel so good. I love you, I love you,” Bucky’s voice was deep and strained, his words being emphasized by each push into your wet pussy. You let out another loud moan.

“I love you, James,” you whined as he hit your sweet spot, “I love you so much.”

Bucky’s hand wedged itself in between the two of you, his fingers finding your clit and gently rubbing it. You were completely overwhelmed, this is what it felt like to make love to someone. Your body began to shake and your breathing became erratic. Bucky thrusted harder, working to push you over the edge.

“I want you to come in me, Bucky,” you gasped as his thrusts got faster and lost their rhythm.

Your mouth turned open in a silent scream as you came. Bucky felt your walls clench around him, squeezing the life out of him. He let out a shaky groan as he fell over the edge. His eyes shut tight and his body tensed as he spilled into you.

Wrapping his metal arm around your back and securing your body to his, he rolled on his flesh shoulder onto his back. You went limp against him, laying your head on his chest, listening to his heart beat slow down. He was still buried within you, connected to you. Letting your eyelids fall shut, you savored the feeling of being full of him and his love.

You lifted your head to kiss his jaw.

“I’m glad you called me, Bucky. I love you.”

“I am too, doll. I love you more.”

#bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x f!reader #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes fluffy smut #bucky barnes one shot #bucky barnes