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slaybestieslay946 · 3 months

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Everything About You - Luke Castellan

Summary: You've been Luke Castellan's closest friend ever since he arrived at camp, but unbeknownst to you, he's been desperately crushing on you this whole time. And of course, the feelings are reciprocated. In hopes of getting over you, he agrees to give it a go with someone else. Will he realise how you feel before its too late?

Pairing: Luke Castellan x Ares!Reader

Warning: Swearing

Word Count: 4.9k

a/n: uh sorry for shitting on that demeter girl sm, there needed to be some conflict somewhere

also please forgive me for this fic being crazy self-indulgent and therefore not up to par with my usual writing, i needed to express the obsession i have w this man otherwise I'd go INSANE

MASTERLIST

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You thought you knew everything about Luke Castellan.

After 5 years of being best friends, how could you not? You knew about the big things in his life, his damaged mother, the strained relationship with his father. You understood his anger towards the gods, the way it fuelled him to be better, work harder.

You knew about the little things too. He liked green olives, not black ones. He always stuck his leg out from under the duvet when sleeping. He sucked at tightening his armour, always convincing you to do it for him.

You could recognise each and every one of his tells. He always cracked his knuckles before sparring. He scratched the back of his neck when he was nervous.

But the one thing you didn’t know about him was the way he felt about you. You, who was normally so observant, was entirely oblivious to the gentle touches and soft looks he threw your way. And that, more than anything, was driving him crazy.

“You gotta tell her how you feel man.” Chris said to him, noticing the way his gaze would constantly stray to the Ares table. Your table.

Luke scoffed, “Yeah, right. I’d rather die…”

“Yeah, well it’s driving me nuts. All this pining. It’s-”

“Pathetic? Tell me about it.” He responded, not taking his eyes off you.

“Well, yeah. It’s pathetic. At this point, either confess your undying love, or move on.”

Luke could safely say that neither of those options sounded particularly appealing.

“There’s that new girl, y’know the one in Demeter?” Chris continued.

“What about her?”

“She’s pretty cute, don’t you think?”

Luke tore his gaze away from you to look at the girl Chris was on about. She was pretty, sure, with pale blond hair and flushed cheeks. He recognised her as one of the girls that would always sit in the fields and entertain the kids with her flower magic. But still, she couldn’t hold a candle to you.

“Yeah, she’s fine I guess.” Luke responded, noncommittal.

“See, told you so! Look, how about I set you guys up-”

“No thanks.”

“Ugh, you're no fun. Fine, just talk to the Demeter girl at the campfire tomorrow.”

Luke opened his mouth again to refuse, but Chris cut him off.

“And if you do, I’ll stop bugging you about it. Promise.”

Luke looked at his pleading face, and knew that there would be no shutting him up until he agreed.

“Fine. I’ll talk to her.”

The next morning, Luke woke up earlier than normal, so he figured he might as well get some extra training in before capture the flag in the afternoon.

He climbed out of bed as quietly as possible, not wanting to disturb his many, sleeping, half-siblings, and grabbed his sword, stepping out of the cabin into the fresh morning air. He jogged down towards the amphitheatre, and was confused for a moment when he could hear movement inside the small arena.

Then, as he walked closer to the entrance, he realised it was you, slashing dummies left right and centre. And, gods, the sight took his breath away.

The early morning sun shone on your face, highlighting your sharp features. You moved like a dancer, and the sword in your hand was merely an extension of your body. Yes, they called him the best swordsman in the last 300 years, but his technique couldn’t compare to the grace of the favourite daughter of Ares.

He watched you for a few more minutes, standing just in the entrance to the amphitheatre, until he realised it might be a little creepy to stand there and watch you, so he decided to make himself known.

“What are you doing up so early?” He called out, striding forwards towards you.

You quickly spun around, a shocked expression on your face that softened into a fond smile when you realised it was just Luke who had snuck up on you.

“Oh, y’know, just preparing to beat your ass later on.”

“Aw, really? Hate to break it to you, but you don’t stand a chance.”

“Wanna test that, soldier?” You smirked, gesturing to the sword in this hand.

Luke laughed, stabbing the sword into the sandy floor and cracking his knuckles, meanwhile you took up an offensive stance.

And, as soon as he picked up his sword, you were on him, ruthlessly slashing through the air, and he barely had enough time to block the blow before you sliced through his face. He returned your strikes with equal vigour, moving with the precision and technique that he was so famous for.

With the way the pair of you fought, anyone would think you hated one another, trading blow for violent blow, both of you refusing to hold back.

Of course, it was the complete opposite, but that had never stopped the pair of you from sparring so aggressively.

The session went on for close to half an hour, neither of you wanting to surrender to the other. Eventually you were bested, as Luke sent your sword flying from your hand, holding his own up to your throat.

You held your hands up in defeat, rolling your eyes at him, before moving to sit down at the edge of the arena.

“I’m still gonna win in capture the flag today.” You remarked, your voice strained from physical exercise, but jovial nonetheless.

“As talented as you are,” He responded, sitting down next to you, “You're not gonna be able to beat Annie’s new strategy.”

“And what might that be?” You said, shuffling closer to the boy.

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” He teased.

You pretended to sulk at that, turning your body away from him in the process. Luke frowned, pulling your arm to turn you to face him again.

“Don’t be sad. Even if I told you you still wouldn’t win.”

“Whatever. Asshole.” You mumbled.

“What did you call me?” He asked, accusatory, and you quickly made your escape, running out of the amphitheatre to avoid his wrath.

But, of course, he managed to catch up with you easily, slinging an arm around your shoulders as you walked.

Somehow, you both telepathically communicated a need for breakfast, and your feet naturally led you both to the pavilion.

“I’ll see you later on, yeah?” You asked, detaching yourself from him to look him in the eyes.

“Mhm. Can’t wait to kick your ass.”

You laughed, cocking your head at him, “Why are you thinking about my ass Castellan? Bit weird.”

And then you were striding away towards Clarisse, leaving the Hermes cabin counsellor frozen, a faint blush covering his face.

Maybe Chris was right. His addiction to you was getting slightly out of hand.

“That boy is so obsessed with you.” Clarisse muttered, her voice derisive as you sat down opposite her.

“Who? Luke?”

“Who else?”

“Nah, no way.” You responded, chuckling as you grabbed a slice of toast from the centre of the table.

Clarisse rolled her eyes. How oblivious could you be?

“Whatever. As long as your little romance doesn’t get in the way this afternoon.”

“No chance. Besides, there is no romance. Gods, you’re just as bad as Silena!” You laughed, slightly sheepishly.

“Rude. But still, she’s right about these things like 90% of the time.”

Silena had been trying to get you to admit that you liked Luke for months, but each time she brought it up you would staunchly deny it. Of course, you were lying through your teeth, but it’s not like you could just admit something like that. It would open up a whole can of worms that you didn’t need.

“Yeah, well this is the 10% then.” You shrugged, taking another bite of your toast.

“You’re impossible.”

“Aw, don’t be like that. You know I’m your favourite sibling.”

“You were my favourite. I don’t know anymore.”

“Bitch.”

When Ares and Hermes were on opposing teams, suddenly capture the flag became even more serious.

Ares, of course, was the warrior cabin. Their father was the god of war, making them the most feared in combat. And, most of Camp half-blood was scared shitless of you and Clarisse.

Then there was Hermes, and their automatic alliance with Athena. That meant they had Luke, the camp's star swordsman, and Annabeth and her siblings, who always came up with the best strategies.

It was safe to say that when they weren’t competing against each other, it was painfully boring.

You only had about half an hour before the game started, so after you had secured your armour and recovered your sword from the amphitheatre, you decided to seek out Annabeth, both because you enjoyed her company, and because she may spill something about her new strategy.

“Hey, Annabeth!” You called out, and the young girl spun around to give you a little smile.

“Hey. What’s up?”

“Nothing. Just wanted to see how things are going over here, y’know, scope out the competition.”

“I’m not gonna tell you our strategy.” She deadpanned.

“Damnit. Oh well. What’ve you been up to, I feel like I haven’t seen you in ages.”

It was true, you hadn’t spoken to Annabeth for a few days, nor had you even seen her.

“She’s been too busy stalking the new kid.” Luke’s voice interjected and he stepped out of seemingly nowhere to pat the girl's head.

“Shut up! No I haven’t.” She sulked, pushing him off of her.

“Wait, which new kid is this? Percy?” You asked.

You’d seen Luke show the boy around camp. You’d been briefly introduced, but you hadn’t spoken to him all that much. The only other thing you knew about him was that Clarisse had a bit of an issue with him. Well, she had an issue with a lot of people, so that wasn’t exactly new.

“Yep. Can you believe it? My little sister has a crush!” Luke exclaimed, holding a hand to his chest.

Annabeth then gave him a small shove, before something clearly occurred to her, and she gave him that look that meant she had something on him. And whatever the blackmail was, it worked as he immediately held his hands up in surrender.

“Sorry, sorry! You could never like a boy, I know that!”

Annabeth didn’t respond, simply glaring at him whilst you laughed. Sometimes, she really was intimidating. Despite being only 12 years old, she had a stare harsher than medusa.

“Anyway. You need to get going, otherwise you're definitely gonna lose.” Luke said, pushing you away by your breastplate.

“Fine.” You said, and were about to walk away when you noticed his own armour, as usual, wasn't done up properly.

You walked back towards him, sighing, and grabbed the straps on either side of his body, pulling them taut, doing the same for the guards on his forearms.

“You seriously need to learn how to do these yourself, soldier. One day, I might not be here to do them for you.”

“That’s not true. You’ll always be with me.” He whispered, more hopeful than certain about his statement.

You just rolled your eyes, grabbing his helmet out of his hands to push it on his head.

“There. Can’t have someone hurting your pretty face, can we?”

“Uh-”

“Bye, have fun losing!” You laughed, and then you were walking away, once again leaving a malfunctioning Luke in your wake.

“And you say I have a crush.” Annabeth snorted.

“Shut up.”

Pretty much as soon as you made it back to your team, the conch sounded, and Clarisse shouted at you to ‘get your ass over here’.

She then quickly outlined her plan to you as you both made your way deeper into the woods, the rest of your team splitting off at different points as you went.

You two, as well as a few others, were to be on the offensive, searching for the flag, meanwhile the rest of your team were either guarding the flag, or serving as distractions. It was a pretty typical strategy, but it had every chance of working, as long as you two were able to work out roughly where the other team's flag was.

“Well, I’m pretty sure it won’t be at Zeus’ fist this time, that’s where Annabeth put it last time, and apparently she has a new strategy.”

“She could be lying to you?”

“Yeah, I guess. But it’s a place to start.” Clarisse reluctantly agreed, and the two of you moved further into the woods.

Along the way you came across a few of the blue team on border patrol, and the pair of you quickly disarmed them, you with your sword, and Clarisse with her electric staff.

You made your way down to the south edge of the woods, and it appeared that the number of blue troops were decreasing. Normally you would take that as meaning the flag wasn’t this way, but knowing Annabeth that could be some kind of purposeful bluff, so you kept going, until eventually you reached a dead end and had to choose a different direction.

“Ugh, the others better be closer than us I swear. I’m not losing again.” Your sibling said, batting aside a tree branch with her crackling staff.

“Yeah. I’m sick of having to listen to Castellan gloat.” You sighed, although the noise was more fond than anything else.

Clarisse rolled her eyes at your inability to keep him out of a conversation.

Then, there was a sudden noise of people crashing through the trees. You both raised your weapons, ready to defend yourselves, when you realised that they wore red helmets and were in fact, your siblings.

“Oi, Clarisse, we heard some of them talking that they’ve got the flag down at the creek! And that brat Jackson’s guarding it!”

You noticed the way Clarisse’s eyes filled with anger (and a little bloodlust).

“You keep going,” She said, “I’ll check it out with them.” She then patted you on the back and spun around, sprinting off into the woods.

“DUMBASS! IT’S PROBABLY A TRAP!” You yelled, cupping your free hand to your mouth, but either she didn’t hear you, or she didn’t care, because she gave no response.

You sighed, unable to believe how gullible your sister could be sometimes. But, you had nothing better to do than keep searching for the flag, so you kept walking, slashing through the undergrowth with your sword as you went.

Eventually you felt like you had covered the entire forest, and at a certain point you weren’t entirely sure if you were still in enemy territory or not.

That was until Luke Castellan burst into the clearing holding your flag.

“Fancy seeing you here.” He smirked.

“Asshole.” You snapped, immediately leaping at him, sword in hand, just as you had during sparring that morning. God he loved your temper.

You then began to battle one another with even more zeal than earlier, your slashes quicker and your blows harder as you moved. It was strange the way you two sparred, it was like as soon as you were in combat you forgot that he was your closest friend and that you would die for him in a heartbeat. Instead all you could think about was winning.

He was so annoyingly graceful as he moved, each swish of his sword perfectly calculated to hit at a certain spot, each block and parry almost perfectly executed.

Of course, your anger at his flawless technique was only further intensified when you realised that one: he didn’t have a shield, and two: he was holding his sword in his non-dominant hand, with the flag in his dominant one.

You ground your teeth at that. How could you expect to ever beat him if he held his own so easily? Whenever you watched Luke Castellan fight, you couldn’t help but wonder how he was a son of Hermes, and not a son of Athena or Ares.

And, as always, he defeated you eventually.

He threw a blow at you that you couldn’t quite block, and the force of it sent you toppling backwards, and landing on your ass. He quickly lunged down too, pinning you to the floor and holding his sword to your throat, so close that it almost broke skin.

“Do you surrender?” He asked, grinning smugly down at you, and you couldn’t help but notice just how close his face was to yours.

“Never.” You spat, furrowing your eyebrows at him.

He sighed fondly, before moving upwards to press a quick kiss to your forehead and saying, “You’re so cute, y’know that?”

Now it was your turn to be left malfunctioning, your face bright red with astonishment as he leapt off of you, and ran away into the forest, leaving you behind, on the floor, and completely and utterly frozen.

And then you came back to your senses, pushing yourself off the floor and chasing after him.

“LUKE CASTELLAN, YOU MOTHERFUCKER!” You screamed, sprinting through the woods as fast as you could, but you knew there was nothing you could do to catch up, and you could faintly hear him laughing as those stupid long legs carried him over into friendly territory.

It appeared that a lot had happened during that game of capture the flag.

Luke had gotten your flag, and was about to go over and taunt Clarisse about it, but he immediately saw that she was even angrier than usual, and seemed genuinely upset.

He quickly went over to ask Annabeth what was going on, watching as you ran over to console her.

“Percy broke her staff.” She said, pointing to the shattered piece of wood in Clarisse’s right hand.

Luke winced. He knew how precious the girl was about that staff; it was the only token she had from her father. He was surprised Percy was even still breathing right now.

“Wait, where is Percy?” Luke asked.

“With Chiron. He got claimed.”

“What? By who-?”

“Posiedon.”

The boy’s jaw dropped.

“You’re joking. No fucking way.”

“Tell me about it. He could be the one, Luke.” The younger girl said, her voice quiet and hopeful.

“Hm. He could be. Don’t get your hopes up too high though, yeah?”

Annabeth sighed, but nodded nonetheless.

Luke then gave her a quick pat on the shoulder, before beginning to walk away, intending to get a shower in before dinner, but Annabeth quickly stopped him in his tracks.

“Where are you going? It’s dinner, silly!”

“What, no it’s not-”

“Yes, it is. Campfire tonight, remember? Early dinner? C’mon, you’ve only been here for what, five years?”

Luke groaned, and suddenly all the adrenaline from Percy being claimed, and from winning capture the flag melted away, as he remembered the deal he had made with Chris the night before.

He traipsed behind the daughter of Athena on the way to the dining pavilion, suddenly dreading the rest of the evening.

As the pair entered the building, a cheer went up from the Hermes and Athena table, a few of their respective siblings rushing over to give them pats on the back and congratulations for their efforts.

Luke laughed along with them, eventually being dragged away from his sister to his own table.

Then dinner began, and it was as loud and raucous as usual, maybe even more so coming off the back of a capture the flag victory. But Luke was unusually quiet, pushing his food around his plate and taking the odd sullen bite. He could feel Chris’ eyes on him, probably pissed off he was sulking again, but he didn’t really care.

He could also feel another gaze on him, and he looked up, expecting it to be you, giving him a feeble glare or mouthing some stupid insult. But instead it was the girl from the Demeter table, twisting a lock of hair around her finger and smiling sweetly at him.

The boy felt slightly disappointed, but masked it with a grin of his own, winking at the girl before returning to his food.

He felt that strange sinking feeling in his stomach as he continued to eat, but decided to push it away. What choice did he have? It’s not like you’d ever reciprocate his feelings, so maybe Chris was right and he should give someone else a chance. Besides, how bad could it be?

As it turned out, it could be really bad.

Ok, maybe that was an overstatement. Really boring was probably more accurate.

As soon as they got to the campfire, Chris disappeared, but not before practically shoving Luke down beside the girl from Demeter, who let out a high-pitched giggle as he fell into her slightly.

And gods he wished he hadn’t agreed to his friends stupid plan. Because he then had to spend the rest of the evening being obnoxiously flirted with. And sure, she was nice, and quite pretty, but not in the way that mattered.

She didn’t take his breath away like you did. He couldn’t imagine searching for her face in a crowd. The whole thing was just dull.

And her laughter was grating. Really grating. There was no way she thought he was that funny, especially when he was giving mostly one word responses.

They had nothing in common. She liked lounging about in fields, playing games and making flower crowns, whereas Luke couldn’t think of anything worse. He’d much rather spend an afternoon sparring, or at archery, or even swimming in the lake.

All the things you liked to do.

He tried to push the thought to the back of his mind. He shouldn’t be thinking about you, not whilst another girl was clamouring for his attention. It was cruel. But he couldn’t help himself.

And eventually he gave in, switching off from the conversation and settling for observing you through the flames.

Your hair was down right now, like it only ever was at dinners and in the early morning. You lounged back comfortably on the benches, smiling lazily and joking around with Clarisse and Silena. Your face was lit up by the flickering flames, complimenting you so well, like they just wanted to be near you, close to you. He couldn’t blame them.

And then your eyes met his across the fire, and he thought his heart was about to combust with the way you smiled at him. He recognised that smile. It was the one you reserved just for him.

At that moment he steeled his resolve to reject this Demeter girl, grab on to you and never let go.

But as he was about to do just that, he felt a slender hand wrap around his bicep, and he turned to the blonde girl next to him. And without any warning, she reached up and kissed him, snaking her arms up and around his neck.

He pulled away after a second, shock written all over his face. He quickly whipped around, looking to see if you saw that, praying that you hadn’t.

But you had. And you seemed just as shocked as he was, except there was something else in your eyes. Hurt.

Why were you hurt?

As you walked away from the campfire, you couldn’t help but ask yourself the same question. Why were you so hurt?

You had known for years that your pathetic crush on Luke would never amount to anything. He was just way out of your league. Perfect in every way.

He was so smart, and kind, and funny, and well-liked, and you just couldn’t compete with that. You were rough, and mean, and cruel, and angry. Why would he love someone like you?

Of course, you hadn’t seen the daughter of Demeter coming. But maybe you should’ve. She was everything Luke should want in a girl, gentle, sweet, feminine. Someone fit to be a girlfriend.

And let's face it. You were much more skilled in matters of the sword than matters of the heart.

You had always known this day would come. Eventually you’d have to let go of your best friend and come to terms with the fact that you weren’t the most important person in his life anymore (besides Annabeth).

So why were you so devastated?

You reasoned that it had to be the shock. Yes, it was surprising, that’s why you were reacting like this, running away from the campfire like a child, foolishly hoping that he would come running after him, when of course he wouldn’t. He’d stay with his new girlfriend.

“Hey!”

You whipped around, shocked to see the very boy you were just pining after running up to you.

“What?” You asked, snapping at him slightly, and immediately regretting it as he took on the look of a kicked puppy.

“Why’d you run away from the campfire?”

“Just needed some air.”

“You sure? I mean you look kinda-”

“I’m fine! Just fine! Now you can go back to your little girlfriend and leave me alone!” You burst out, waving your hands around manically.

He looked shocked by your sudden shouting, probably because you had only genuinely been angry with him about three times in your whole friendship.

“Sorry. Just give me a minute, ok?” You said, your voice shuddering slightly. God it was pathetic, getting so worked up over a boy? You wanted to crawl into a hole and die. You then turned around and began to walk away, but didn’t get far before a hand grabbed yours pulling you back.

“She’s not my girlfriend.” He said firmly.

“What?”

“She’s not my girlfriend. I don’t even really know her name.”

He then apparently realised how that sounded, because he quickly amended his statement.

“Not like that. What I’m trying to say is that I don’t like her like that. She just kinda grabbed me.”

You stammered slightly, trying to regain composure. Right now you looked like a jealous loser, and while that is what you were, you didn’t want him to see you like that.

“Ok cool. I don’t care, y’know. Kiss whoever you want, man, not my problem!” You laughed although it was painfully strained.

“Again, not what I’m trying to say.” He said, scratching the back of his neck. Nervous.

“So what are you-”

“I’m trying to say I’m in love with you!” He rushed out, holding you by the shoulders and staring directly into your eyes to try and get his point across.

“What?” You whispered, once again not able to believe your ears.

“I said I’m in love with you,” He repeated, slower this time, his voice more even, “I’ve been in love with you for so long, you have no idea. I was only talking to that girl ‘cause I thought I’d never have a chance with you. But then I realised that I don’t want some other girl. I only want you.”

You took in a sharp intake of breath, scanning his face for any sign of insincerity.

“You’re being serious?” You asked.

“Deadly serious.” He responded immediately, smiling sheepishly.

You paused for a minute, before whispering, “I love you too.”

Only then did he finally make his move, holding you gently by the face and bending down to kiss you.

And it was like a piece of the puzzle finally clicked into place. It was painfully cliche, and it felt like you were in some dumb rom com, but kissing him really was like fireworks going off all over your body.

He clearly felt the same way, holding you by the back of the head and pulling you in further, closer, like he didn’t want to be apart from him ever again.

Eventually you both pulled away for air, and he looked at you with a smile of pure joy, until the shock of the whole situation hit him.

“Wait, so you really mean it?”

“I mean, I did just let you kiss me, didn’t I?”

“Good point. Sorry, I’m just a little surprised.”

“Fair enough. I mean, I had no idea you felt the same way.” You laughed, all the previous tension ebbing from your body.

“What, really?” He asked, seeming genuinely surprised.

“Yes, really! How was I supposed to know? Besides, I didn’t think I was really your type.”

At that his eyes practically bulged out of his head in shock, more so than any other time that night.

“Not my type? You’re entirely my type! Not like it matters anyway when you're the most perfect girl I’ve ever met in my life.”

You frowned, “Now you're just lying to me, Luke.”

“No I’m not. You're everything I’ve ever wanted. The only girl I’ve ever wanted.” He said firmly.

You looked at him, still slightly doubtful, but he was determined to fix that.

So he kissed you again, and suddenly all your doubts were swept away in his strong embrace as he kissed you like it was the last thing he ever wanted to do.

“Believe me now?”

“Yeah. And, I guess you’re pretty great too.”

He looked at you teasingly, daring you to elaborate, and for once you decided to stroke his ego.

“Fine. You're the most handsome, funny, charming man I’ve ever met in my life.”

That clearly satisfied him, because a wide grin wriggled its way across his face that you couldn’t help but mirror, because you both knew you meant every word.

“So does this mean you’ll give me a chance?”

“Yes. I’d give you a hundred chances.”

#percy jackson #percy jackon and the olympians #luke castellan x reader #x reader #fluff #romance #minor angst #fanfic #writing #luke castellan #jealousy

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cameronspecial · 5 months

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Her Protector And His Hubris

Pairing: Bodyguard!Drew Starkey x Reader

Warnings: Being Stalked, SMUT, Mother's Death, Mentions of Attempted School Shooting, and Getting Shot.

Pronouns: She/Her

Word Count: 11.4K

Summary: Drew's job is to protect her, but he falls for the brilliance of his client and this turns into a whirlwind romance. What can go wrong?

A/N: Damn, this is so long. Also, this is inspired by the Twisted series by Ana Huang, specifically Twisted Games. I hope you enjoy it!

Masterlist

The sounds of glassware clinking and small talk fill Drew’s ears as he surveys the restaurant. The dim lighting makes him anxious because it impedes his ability to notice any threats. At least, it’s better than when she goes to those ridiculous house parties. Those were not only a safety risk, but irritating to the thirty-year-old man. Her laughter draws his eyes back to her. Ugh, she’s laughing at something he said. Drew doesn’t know what Y/N sees in Sean. This is her third date with him and Drew can easily see that they wouldn’t make it far in the relationship. Sean doesn’t give a tip when they go out to eat. Volunteering in any capacity would be beneath him. And she seemed oblivious to the way he would ogle at her breasts. Drew’s fist tightens as he observes Sean reach over and take Y/N’s hand. Sean brings it up to his lips, kissing up her wrist to her elbow. Drew wants to take Sean’s hands and crush his fingers for the way he touches Y/N. Sean’s touch is consensual with the girl, yet it isn’t welcomed by her bodyguard. Drew knows he shouldn’t be feeling this way about her as her protector. It’s not his place.

Drew is supposed to be a professional. He’s a bodyguard for heaven's sake; one wrong move and she could be in danger. But what is it about the way her eyes sparkle when she eats those incredibly expensive macarons? What is it about the way her hips move in a teasing manner as she walks ahead of him? What is it about the way her nails glide across the table that makes him wish they are scratching down his back? What is it about her that drives him crazy? Y/N Y/L/N has been his client for a year now and it hasn’t been easy. Not because there are constant threats against her, but because she makes him want to throw away any sense of duty to the job and ravage her. At first, he thought it was just his primal sexual needs that attracted him to her. However, over the year of getting to know her, he realizes he genuinely loves and admires her.

He began working for Magnus Y/L/N after one of Magnus’s competitors threatened the CEO’s daughter. Magnus didn’t waste any time in hiring Drew to protect Y/N. Drew thought that Y/N was going to be like all his other clients. Spoiled. Rude. Self-centred. Greedy. She was none, but one of those things. Being spoiled by her father her whole life engraving the trait into the twenty-three-year-old woman. She was spoiled in the sense she could get whatever she wanted, not in the sense that she would demand the riches of the world. He was pleasantly surprised to find she would always use please and thank you with everyone, even those far below her social class. She would volunteer to read to children at the library purely because she enjoyed the company of the kids. She would not hesitate to help her friends out with money for rent if they needed it. So far, Magnus’s rival has yet to act on his threat; nevertheless, Drew would be there to protect her if he does. It is not only his career; it is his life purpose because he has fallen in love with the young socialite he is tasked to protect. He would lay down his life for her.

The bubbles of jealousy in Drew’s stomach start to subside when he sees Y/N’s face fall at something Sean said. Irritation replaces her smile and Drew feels satisfied with this turn of events. He can see she just wants to get away from the man ahead of her and Drew wants nothing more but to take her back home. Y/N calls over the waiter asking for the bill. Drew knows she will pay for the cheque. She is all for taking turns with paying for dates. Sean never pays though and she is too nice to point it out. It’s not like Sean can’t afford it. He works at the most prestigious corporate law firm, which happens to be his father’s. Drew isn’t going to complain if it’s the reason why Y/N no longer wants to be around the man.

As the waiter approaches the table with the chequebook, Drew heads over to the table, ready to escort Y/N out of the restaurant. She pays for the bill, standing up with a glare at Sean. “I wish I could’ve seen what a pig you were before I went on two more dates with you,” she snarls at him. Drew helps her put her coat on and hovers his hands over her lower back to guide her toward the front door. Sean scoffs, “Whatever. You wouldn’t have been that good of a lay anyways.” Y/N doesn’t so much as look over her shoulder at the childish man. She refuses to let him get to her. Drew’s hand turns into a fist and he leans closer to her. “Do you want me to take care of him?” She shakes her head, “No, it’s fine. He doesn’t deserve any more of my brain space. He’s a pig.” The only thing that could stew Drew’s anger is the need to comfort Y/N. They walk towards her car and Drew holds the passenger’s side door open for her. She whispers a thank you as she slips into the seat. “Home?” he asks once he gets behind the wheel. She nods, letting her attention be drawn out the window. His lip tightens at her upset look, “I’m sorry he was a jerk. He doesn’t deserve you.” She keeps the silence going, only returning with a hum in thanks.

When they get back to Y/N’s penthouse, Drew opens the door for her and does a quick visual sweep of the living room to make sure nothing is amiss. He is satisfied with her safety and holds her hands as she takes off her heels. She walks to her bathroom to get rid of her makeup and change into more comfortable clothes, while Drew heads to the kitchen to take out the dulce de leche ice cream from the freezer. He finds her waiting on the couch in sweatpants, an old t-shirt and a claw clip in her hair. She holds out her hand for the ice cream and he hands it to her, joining her on the couch to view whatever show she chooses.

He isn’t surprised to hear the familiar jingle of Bob’s Burgers’ theme song. She has been re-watching the show recently on Disney+. This tradition has been a part of their daily schedule since she made him crack nine months ago. During the first three months of his employment, he would listen to her beg him to join her nightly unwindings. Drew refused, stating it was unprofessional of him to do so. He gave in after three months when he saw she had a hard day and she needed some comfort from someone. She had been late for work because the car wouldn’t start. Her lunch, which she had packed and was looking forward to, was dropped on the floor after an idiot bumped into her. And to top it off, she got into an argument with her father about a charity she wanted to support. Drew knew she needed someone in her corner, so he didn’t even wait for her to ask to sit down beside her on the couch with a pint of ice cream he knew she loved.

They spend the night in comfortable silence, laughing at the Belcher family’s hilarious hijinks. He can speak up and ask her what Sean had said, but he knows all she needs right now is something to get it off of her mind and Drew would give her that. He would do anything for her.

———

Drew hates it when Y/N goes to parties. They are loud, crowded and dark. It makes his job ten times harder. Add the fact that he has to deal with a drunk client and he dreads the times when she announces she is going out for a party. Y/N doesn’t normally get drunk. She rarely drinks more than two drinks at any event because she hates the creeping headache that happens even as she drinks her first one. However, tonight, Drew can see she just needs to let go of everything just for a night. He stays close behind her, towering over everyone in the party, which gives him an advantage in terms of her protection. His eyes are caught by a commotion in the room. It looks like a fight is breaking out in the other corner and Drew wants to get Y/N out of here before it can escalate to harm her. In the split second, he turns away from her, Y/N has managed to get up on the table behind him and is now dancing without her shirt on.

The party people’s cheers draw Drew’s attention back to his charge. His eyes widen at her drunk dance and he tries to ignore the aching strain in his pants. The swell of her breasts is on full display thanks to her lack of a shirt; her skin pressing against the lacey bra that she wearing. He looks around the room to see the arousal of the other men in the room and all he wants to do is punch every single person eyeing her. He needs to get her down from there; if not for her safety, then because he doesn’t want to get in trouble for causing a scene at the party. How is he going to get her down from there safely? “Y/N, Precious. Please, come down from there,” he pleads, holding his hand out for her to take so she can get down. He can hear the boos of the drunk boys around them. He shakes off his annoyance at them and looks back toward her. Her arms cross, “No, I like it up here.” She turns her back to him, continuing her dance for the crowd.

Drew sighs, knowing that was probably the answer he was going to get. If he pulls her down by the arm, he risks dislocating her shoulder or her falling and hitting her head. So he only has one choice. He hops up on the table and sweeps her off her feet. Now carrying her bridal style, Drew gets off of the table and walks toward the front door. The men in the room yell at him for stopping her show; he couldn't care less. He looks as she comes down from the excitement of the party and relaxes in his arms. His heart flutters when she lets out a soft breath, resting her head against his chest with her eyes falling closed. As he heads to the carl, Drew knows Y/N Y/L/N is going to spell out trouble for him.

———

It’s been one week since her drunk performance and everything has been calm in her life. Y/N remembered what had happened the next morning, instantly mortified by her behaviour and thankful Drew was there to stop her from causing even more of a commotion. The party was filled with children of the country’s richest and most powerful people, so she doubted she would be in any scandal tabloids, yet just the thought that she had behaved like that embarrassed her. Y/N knows she shouldn’t look at her bodyguard the way she does. He is there to protect her and he always maintains his work composure, but she can’t help it. He understands her like the back of his hand and can provide her comfort like no one else by doing little things. His contract stipulates he is supposed to cook her breakfast in the morning and he goes one step further by making her favourites. Her father wanted her to have sustenance in the morning because he knew she was one to skip the first meal of her day, so Drew could’ve just made her eggs or microwaved oatmeal, but he didn’t. The breakfast she receives is picture-perfect and tastes just as good.

She gets out of the car, thanking Drew for holding the door open for her. They head to the apartment building’s elevator and wait in silence as they reach her penthouse floor. The note taped to the door is Drew’s first indicator that something is amidst. His hand finds the gun at his side and this pulls Y/N away from her phone. “What’s wrong?” she questions, looking around the room for something she has missed. Her eyes spot the white paper standing out against the dark wood of the floor. He heads ahead of her, checking over his shoulder that there are no threats in the small hallway. No one should have access to this floor. It requires her fingerprint and keycard in the elevator to enter. All mail is vetted before passing on in her mail room and any building updates are left there as well. So there is no regular reason why the paper should be on there.

As their feet reach in front of the door, she is finally able to read the words scattered across it. I saw your little dance, last week, doll. You really should be more careful with showing people what is mine. A picture of the scene in question is printed below. She lets out a terrified gasp, covering her mouth with her hand.

Violated. She feels violated by what she has just read. She may have been okay with the idea of feeling shirtless in front of everyone at the party in her own intoxicated state, but having someone speak about her in that way feels is a violation. Couple that with the fact the speaker had the guts to put the thought on her door and it is an invasion of her privacy. The picture is the cherry on top of the unsettling cake. The person, who dared threaten her, must be someone in her inner circle. Why else would they be at the party? How else could they have gotten into her heavily guarded apartment building?

Drew can see the panic and fear in her eyes. He turns her away from the door, pulling out his phone to call for backup. She can hear him ordering the police to be called and his security company’s tech analysts come down to sweep the whole building. Her mind goes numb with what to do as more and more people arrive to assess the situation. She can only stand there and watch as everyone who comes tears her home apart, looking for anything out of place. When her bedroom needs to be searched, Drew takes the responsibility of looking through it with her cautious eye on him from the doorway. He makes sure to put everything back exactly how he finds it, taking especially care with the notebooks he knows are her journals. He finishes with her room and invites her to sit on her bed while they wait for the rest of the house to be checked. The all-clear is given around eight o’clock and everyone leaves the apartment in search of clues somewhere else, leaving behind a small army of extra security to guard her house. With a new active threat, Drew’s presence alone isn’t enough to keep her safe.

Until they know more about the situation, Drew thought it would be safer to remain in her apartment, where he knew every inch of the building and the security measures in place already. There have been no indications the person, who made the threat, had made it into the actual apartment. Not sure if her cook is the one putting her at risk, Drew takes dinner into his own hands. He isn’t much of a cook, but he finds pasta and a jar of sauce in the pantry. He gets to work, making a note to search up how to make some of her favourite dinner meals like he did when he first got the job and had to make her breakfast.

He finishes the meal and places it in front of Y/N, who sits waiting at the dining room table with a blank stare and her knees to her chest. He sits to her right and pushes the plate toward her to snap her out of her thoughts. “I know it’s scary to be here right now, but we’ve checked the whole house and there is no sign the intruder came into the house. It’s safe. I’m here and I promise I won’t let anyone or anything hurt you,” he whispers. The last part is mostly a silent vow to himself. Her eyes glance upward at him, “I’m not hungry.” The only thing she manages to get out. The unreasonable side of her is telling her the intruder had somehow touched her food. Drew sighs, “Precious, you have to eat something. You haven’t eaten anything since breakfast this morning. I let not eating lunch slide, but I really need you to eat dinner. Do you want me to make you something else?” The care in his voice causes her to pull the plate closer to her; she can feel his eyes on her as she brings the fork to her food and then her mouth. He gives her a smile before digging into his own food.

She follows him into the kitchen after dinner and watches him do the dishes. He doesn’t let her help out, so she leans against the counter. Once he is done with the chore, she heads to her bedroom and listens as his footsteps stay close to hers. She starts going through her nighttime routine, getting her pyjamas and heading to the master bathroom to change. She can feel his eyes on her the whole time and she is comforted by the fact that he is still taking care of her. He should probably leave her alone. They’ve checked the whole apartment. No one is there and his room is down the hall, so an invader would have to go past his room first without his notice to get to her and that is impossible. He doesn’t want to leave though; he wants to make sure she is okay.

The door to the bathroom creaks open and she walks out in light pink sweatpants and an old white t-shirt. He knows she is getting ready to go to sleep. He is about to leave the room when her voice calls out. “Can you stay please?” He turns back to her with knitted brows. She points to her bed, “Can you stay with me in my room?” “Y/N, I don’t think that’s wise,” he advises, leaning against her door frame. She steps closer to him, “Please, I’m scared to be alone. I don’t think I’ll get any sleep if I am.” This hits a nerve in him. Drew is always caring for her well-being. Telling her to eat. Reminding her to go to sleep. Little things like that. Drew lets out a loud breath, nodding his head. “Let me just go change my clothes and I’ll be back,” he notifies her. He leaves her room and she settles herself into her bed. For tonight, she has to stay in this house, but tomorrow, they’ll be able to get their barrings and maybe find somewhere else to stay. Her skin crawls at the idea someone thinks she is their property and they went through so much trouble to let her know.

He returns in a Western Carolina University t-shirt and gray sweatpants. The sweatpants may be a little baggy on him, yet it doesn’t leave anything to her imagination and she feels her thighs clench together. She shouldn’t be imagining how good it would feel to be stretched out by him. He’s her bodyguard. He must have a partner of some kind. A girlfriend. A boyfriend. A spouse. He’s too good-looking and sweet not to. She may have been living with him for a year now, but she knows nothing about him. He doesn’t really talk about his personal life. She’s only been able to pick up a few things about him over the year. His favourite book is East of Eden; she’s seen him read it about three times since he moved in. When he misses home, he goes to the grocery store to buy the ingredients for his mom’s chicken casserole. And now, she knows him or someone he knows went to Western Carolina University.

He sees her on the bed and his footsteps bring him near her. She swears it’s like there are rocks in his feet because his steps are heavy and slow. He hesitates as he pulls the sheets back and causes the bed to dip as he lies down. The covers are pulled against his chest when Y/N turns to him to place her head on his chest. He doesn’t say anything. They can both feel they need this physical contact to be soothed. He doesn’t want to admit it, but he is a little shaken up by the whole ordeal like Y/N. What would have happened if they had been home? What would have happened if they got home earlier and had run into the intruder? It doesn’t sit right in him as he listens to her breaths fall shallow and sleep comes over her. Drew is not lucky enough to fall into the same state as her. His insomnia and need to protect her will keep him up for most of the night.

———

Drew is surprised when he wakes up from a five-hour sleep. Normally, he sleeps no more than two hours a night and that is if he is lucky to get any sleep at all. Something about having her in his arms while he lies in bed must bring peace to his insomnia. He looks at her with a sleepy smile. His eyes fall on the clock and he should probably get up to make breakfast so they can get their day started. He needs to come up with a new protection plan and assess if she is still safe in her apartment. His limbs untangle from hers; he does his best to not wake her up as he gets out of bed. He’ll get hot while cooking, so he slips off his shirt and leaves it on his bed before going to the kitchen. He pulls the door closed but not completely, leaving a little sliver open for him to be able to come to check in on her.

She wakes to an empty bed and she wishes it isn’t. Panic fills her, thinking something has happened to Drew. The sounds of pans hitting each other fill her in on where he is. Her heart swells at the thought that he is still making her breakfast after last night’s scare. She is about to leave the warmth of her bed when her eyes fall on something on her bed. The gray shirt once on Drew’s chest now rests on her blankets. He was so gracious to her last night and took care of her. He didn’t have to stay with her the whole night; he could’ve sneaked out of her room as soon as she fell asleep, but he didn’t. Solely the thought of him brews something between her legs that needs to be fixed before she goes down to eat. She should have enough time while he is cooking.

Her hand reaches out for the shirt to bring it to her nose. The smell of his Versace cologne and the smoke from the cigarettes he sneaks fill her senses. He has been hiding that he smokes ever since he found out she isn’t a fan of the tobacco-filled sticks. She shouldn’t like the smell of the cigarettes, but she can’t help that it reminds her of him. The shirt falls to the side of her head; she uses her hands to pull down her pants and underwear, leaving her shirt on for some warmth. One hand goes up underneath her shirt and the other goes up to her mouth. She puts her fingers in her mouth before bringing it down to her weeping pussy. A wet finger plunges into her hole, causing her to cry out in pleasure. She had failed to see her bedroom door was not completely closed.

Drew stops his movement as soon as he hears her scream. He shuts the stove off, moving the pan off of the hot burner. He runs upstairs to her room. He stops just short of the doorframe when he hears her pants. It is obvious what she is doing by how breathy they are. It’s wrong to keep listening, but he hopes he can get a hint as to who she fantasizes about while she satisfies herself. It takes every bit of self-restraint he has not to pull his penis out of his pants and jerk himself off to the sweet sounds coming out of her mouth. “Drew.” His name falls off of her lips; this has to be a dream. There is no way the woman he loves, his client, is masturbating to the thought of him. He peeks his head through the door and suddenly his dick starts pressing against the fabric of his pants. While her hands are placed on her vagina and breast, her face is to the side, burying itself into a gray piece of fabric. He recognizes it as the shirt he left here before he went downstairs to make their breakfast. What he is about to do is inappropriate; nevertheless, he needs to be the one drawing those sounds from her.

“You made me think you were in danger, Precious. Instead, I find you touching what should be mine,” he snarls, taking a step into the room. The use of the word mine should cause turmoil in her stomach; however, she knows he isn’t using it in the same sense as the note. Drew uses mine to mean an exchange. Whereas, the note made her a possession of her writer and that doesn’t sit well with her. If Y/N gives Drew a piece of herself, then he will give her one right back. She would be an object to whoever wrote the note. He stalks closer to the bed, getting a better look at her soaked pussy. She feels the bed drop under the weight of his upper body; he stays kneeling at the foot of the bed. His hand wraps around her ankle and she yips as he pulls her closer to him.

He takes a chance to glimpse up at her face, which is staring down at him with want. She gives him a minuscule nod and tries pushing his head toward her aching heat. His neck resists her force, chuckling at her actions. “Aren’t you eager, Precious?” he teases, smothering his head between her legs. He laps at her folds like a man who hasn’t drank water in years. Her hands grip the sheets beneath her, creating waves in them. Drew’s eyes narrow at her hands and he brings them to his hair. Her nails graze his scalp as she throws her head back with a moan. He pauses for a second, wanting to appreciate the look of bliss on her face and the symphony coming out of her mouth. His mouth continues to work against her, making her feel incredible in ways no man has before. “Drew, please. Keep going,” she begs. Her fingers bring his head closer to her, clenching around his tongue. He pulls back with a smirk, “You like this, huh? Do you like being eaten out by your bodyguard?” Her head bobs, wrapping her legs around his head. She grinds her hip into his face.

His tongue darts into her vagina bringing her to her climax. “Hmmm. I love the sounds you are making for me, Precious. It’s my favourite sound in the world,” he mumbles, cleaning her up. He stands up and admires her body twisting to the side in contentment. She sits up, eyeing the way his pants aren’t hiding anything at all. She scoots to the edge of her bed and brings him in between her spread-opened legs. Her hands meet the skin of his bare chest. She points a finger against him, tracing down the middle line of his abs. She reaches his lower abdomen and slips her hand inside of his pants. “Now, it’s my turn to hear the pretty noises you can make,” she instructs in a sultry voice.

Her hands shove him back a little, so she has enough space to sink to her knees. She grips his dick with her hand, rubbing up and down. It drags out the most amazing groan out of him. She can the wetness pool in between her thighs again. He spots the way her legs come together and it makes him even harder. “Precious, this feels so good,” he pants out. She needs something to loosen the friction, which means she opens her mouth and brings his length into it. She sucks at the tip. Her tongue swirls around the head of his dick, tasting his precum. “You taste amazing,” she praises before shoving herself further down his cock. He hits the back of her throat and she stays there for a second until she needs to pull back for air. She lets the air into her lungs before taking him into her mouth. Her head moves on his shaft and she continues to repeat the routine for a few minutes. He starts to feel a tug at the pit of his stomach, causing him to twitch in her mouth. His hips start to move back to meet her in the middle and unleash the tightening in his belly. She eagerly swallows everything he gives her.

He pries her head off of him, gazing at the way a string of his cum connects his tip to her lips. “Get on the bed,” he orders. She climbs onto the bed and looks at him through her eyelashes. Her lustful stare hardens him again. She removes her shirt while he takes care of his pants. He dives into bed beside her and twists them both to their sides so her back is pressed against his chest. Mimicking the positions of her hands when he caught her, his fingers play with two of her buds. She can feel his hot breath on the back of her neck as he twirls her nipples to arouse her. He is satisfied by the dampness between her legs and grabs his dick instead to guide it into her pussy.

His thrust brings her hand to his bicep over her shoulder and she digs her nails into the skin. The slight pain it brings is worth it if it tells him how well he is doing to make her feel good. “You are clinging to my cock so beautifully. I think I might cum right now, but lucky for you, I have better stamina than that,” he groans, continuing the bring his hips against her ass. His hand on her breast goes to her hip to help keep her in place. He finds her G-spot, making her curl in on herself a little. His back follows her shift forward and his lips find her neck. She feels his teeth squeeze her skin between them, throwing her head back to give him more access. The grip on her hip is so strong that she is sure there will be a bruise later on. Eventually, she starts needing more out of his pace, so she propels backward to meet him. With both of them now working together, a knot starts to build in her lower abdomen. “Drew, I’m about to come,” she cries out, tensing her hand around his bicep. As her walls start to clutch around him, her face falls forward and he can no longer see her face. He focuses on aiding her in her climax.

The hold she has on his penis hinders his ability to drive forward, yet it doesn’t stop him from hitting the spot inside of her that helps uncoil the formed tangle. He works her through her high, yanking himself out once she is loose enough. She rotates onto her back and smiles at the sight of him. He shifts to be hovering over her on his elbows. His lips connect to hers, separating so they are barely touching, “That orgasm was for you, but do you think you can have another one? This one is for me. I want to see your face while I unravel you.” He places his stiff dick between her legs and looks at her for permission to continue. She feels a little sensitive, except she wants to give him another release like he just gave her. Her skull jerks up and down.

He grins down at her, kissing her as he enters her again. Her slick from her recent orgasm helps him do it with ease. She lets out a whimper because of her delicate state; head dropping to the pillow. In this second round, he is much slower, wanting to take his time with her. There is no guarantee he will ever get to be in this position again, no matter how much he prays to be. He brings her into her arms and buries his head into her neck, leaving prints along it with his mouth. The feeling of her wrapped around him tugs a moan out of him. It encourages him to persist, wanting to be in her vice once more. Another petit mort constructs within him. He desires to hold off a little longer; this must last longer. He can think of one way to be in this intimate moment forever. “I love you,” he rushes out. She looks away with disbelief in her eyes, “You don’t have to say that just because we are having sex.” He freezes, pulling back to see her eyes. His hand cups her cheek; his thumb ghosts her lips. “I’m not saying it because we are having sex. I’m saying it during sex,” he clarifies, searching to see if she understands. Her shoulder shrugs, “What’s the difference?”

“The difference is it means I truly mean the words. I’ve felt it for a long time. There was never a right time to say it,” he spells out. “I love how you ask the cook to buy me uncrustables and leave them in the freezer. I love how you always bring water to your drunk friends on a night out. I love how the universe gave you everything and you still give everyone all you have.” Her heart must’ve beaten out of her chest and jumped into his mouth to his chest because he had her heart entirely. “I love you too,” she confesses, the truth in her eyes. The joy he feels at her words combined with the gripping of her vagina brings him to an early climax. Thick ropes of semen come out of him as he presses forward with his hips again to ride it out.

She follows soon after, pressing his body against hers by wrapping a leg around his hip. Their heaves overcome the room, a reminder of the line they crossed and never want to reverse. He slips out of her, now soft after the exercise they just went through. His body collapses to her side, exhaustion taking over him. She nudges her skull upon his arm, letting him sling it around her shoulder. “Can you carry me to the bathroom, Drew? Please,” she inquiries. He looks down at her with a grin, “Of course, Precious.” His feet plant on the floor, rising to the side of the bed. She gazes at his naked glory ahead of her. He kisses her forehead and assists her in sitting up. Her arms and legs enclose around him, bringing them chest to chest. His hands support the bottom of her thighs as he walks to her adjoining bathroom. He flips the light on and opens the toilet lid to allow her to sit on it. Before removing her from the toilet, she hears water dripping from the shower head. Steam fills the room and he transports her to the shower. Since she doesn’t like baths, she went all with the design of her shower. A room-size stall. Waterfall showerhead. Side jets. A little alcove to sit on. The whole nine yards.

He sets her down on the seat, going to get the shampoo. He returns and starts working the soap into her hair. “Did you really mean it?” she mutters, barely louder than the water. His arms wrap around her shoulders, “Every single word.”

———

They didn’t have a label for what their relationship had blossomed into and they didn’t feel they needed one. She is his and he is hers; that’s what matters. It’s been a month since the stalker incident and there hasn’t been another. Y/N thought she would need a break every so often from seeing the man she loves every single second of the day, except it isn’t the case. It’s Drew’s monthly day off and she craves his company more than anything. He didn’t want to leave her side either, especially with the stalker at large, but it would’ve been suspicious if he had stayed. What they have between them is meant only for their knowledge. Throughout the day, they both found themselves peeking at the clock for a sense of how long until they could be together again. Y/N’s knees would bounce at her desk at work and Drew would wander the streets of New York City, buying anything that made him think of her. As he walks through the front door of her apartment, it’s a real struggle for him to hide his grin from James. James Notting works for the same security agency as Drew and replaces Drew on his days off. James spots his counterpart and his eyebrows connect. Drew is back earlier than normal.

“You can go now. I’m back on duty,” Drew informs, placing the shopping bags on the table. James shakes his head, “Are you sure? You still have two hours left.” “Yeah, I ran out of things to do,” he states.

“Cool. Thanks.”

“Where is she?”

“The kitchen.”

As if on queue, the sound of a pan dropping on the floor reverberates around the apartment. “I’m okay.” They hear her yell from the other room. Drew looks at James in confusion. They both know she can’t cook. “Don’t ask me. She’s been in the kitchen for about an hour and ordered me not to enter,” James explains, grabbing his stuff to leave. Drew locks the door after James exists and enters the kitchen to figure out what his precious is doing. “Precious, what are you up to?” he interrogates. Y/N jumps at the sound of his voice, hiding something behind her back. “What are you doing back home so early?” He chuckles and steps toward her, caging her against the counter and between his arms. Neither of them answers the other’s question. She grins up at him and kisses him quickly as a distraction. His tall stature makes her attempts futile. He glances over her shoulder to see slightly burnt roasted potatoes on a pan. The scent of herbed chicken hits his nose and he scans for the source, finding it on the counter beside them. “Are you trying to make dinner?” Her attention shies away from him, which he returns with a finger under her chin. He can feel the warmth growing on her cheeks.

“Yes, but it didn’t go as well as I thought it would. I thought it would be easier. You don’t have to eat it.”

“Non-sense. It looks delicious.”

Excitement blooms in her and she gets serving dishes out of the pantry. He helps her set the table in warm silence. Everything is in place and they seat themselves at the table. She happily serves him food, waiting for him to take a bite. The first thing he tastes as the potatoes make contact with his tongue is a bitter undertone that overpowers everything. He resists the urge to crumple his face like paper. Her eyes are trained on him, anticipating the review of her cooking. He can’t dim the hope in her eyes, so he has no choice but to lie. She put so much effort into this dinner for them. “This tastes wonderful, Precious. I didn’t know I was protecting such a good cook this whole time. You should help me make breakfast,” he applauds. “Here, let me serve you some so you can try.” He selects the unburnt potatoes and cuts her the chicken thigh before handing her back the plate. It’s not like the meal is horrible, the potatoes are just a little burnt and Drew wants to keep the secret to himself.

She thanks him in a whisper. She digs into her meal and he can see she is enjoying it. He lets out a small satisfied sigh and gets back to eating. Y/N is a slow eater, so it’s not a surprise Drew finishes eating first. His head rests on his chin and he resorts to gawking at her. She can feel his stare on her.

“Why are you staring at me like that?”

“Like what?”

“Like I’m the most beautiful girl in the world.”

“Because you are. And I would kill anyone who would dare to hurt you. Your heart belongs to me.”

“And yours belongs to me,” she repeats, leaning over to give him a kiss. She doesn’t have to worry about being safe. As long as Drew is around, she has nothing to worry about.

———

The weekend means they can spend all day in her apartment. Her work week was left behind for forty-eight heavenly hours of the two of them together. While cuddling on her couch with the TV on, he realized they hadn’t checked the mail since Friday, so he went down to get it. He listens to the whine of the metal door opening as he reaches in to take the mail out. He looks through the different envelopes and finds one with his name written across the front. The writing is vaguely familiar. His hand tears open the paper and pulls out the letter. You don’t deserve her. She is mine. Under the writing is a picture of his longing glances at her. It is clear to anyone the feelings held within him. He folds the paper and puts it into his pocket. He should probably send it to the lab for analysis, but it would bring suspicion to his relationship with Y/N. He doesn’t need anyone’s help. He could keep her safe by himself; nothing would happen to her with him by her side. Plus, this is more of a threat to him and he isn’t scared by some loser's threats.

He enters the apartment to find the couch now empty. He can hear the shower running and his mouth turns into a curve. She has been putting off showering while he is around because it always ends up with them having sex. He decides to give her a break and rests on the couch. Something on the coffee table piques his interest.

It’s a thick rectangle wrapped in purple paper and pulled together by a red ribbon. There is no note that he can see. He rips open the gift and finds a special edition of East of Eden. It’s a stunning hardcover copy with golden sprayed edges. He thumbs through the pages and lands on the title page. She had written on it. I hope you like this special edition of the book. It’s just a little gift to show my appreciation for everything you do for me. I love you so much. -Y/N <3. His heart is touched by her actions and tears form in his eyes. The distant sound of water hitting the shower tiles is replaced by her footsteps approaching her living room. Her hair is being held up by a green towel and a white one is wrapped around her breasts to cover her. “You’re back! And you found my gift. Do you like it?” she inquires, joining him on the couch again. He brings her onto his lap; his hand resting on her bare thigh. “I did find it and I love it. Thank you, Precious.” His lips kiss her neck and his hand makes his way to the front of her body. “After I’m done thanking you for the gift, I’m also going to have to punish you for taking a shower without me,” he growls against her skin, plunging into her now-drenched hole.

———

Drew sits across from her at the cocktail bar, enjoying the way she laughs at the stupid joke he made. It is inappropriate for him to be sitting with her in public. No one is around to object to it though. The patrons of the dive bar could care less about who the couple are to each other. This isn’t the type of establishment Y/N could often be found at, except she has a point to prove.

They had been trying to figure out what to eat for dinner when Drew made a teasing remark. “What should we get for dinner? We can order Fortunas, Petite Coquette, or… Why are you looking at me like that?” she grumbled. He shrugged, “Everything you eat is so fancy. Have you ever eaten food that you don’t eat with a fork and knife?” She gently slaps his biceps. “I eat sushi,” she argued. His brows raised, “You use chopsticks for those. Let me reword my questions. Do you ever use your hands to eat something?” “Yes! I use my hands to eat oysters,” she pointed out, continuing to scroll through their food options. “You are still proving my point, Precious,” he teased. Y/N got up from the dining room table and headed to her room. “Where are you going?” “I’m going to get ready. You should too. I’m going to prove you wrong,” she told him.

This is how they find themselves in a dive bar in Brooklyn. The waitress arrives with their food and places it in between them. They both thank her as she walks off. Drew studies the wings on the plate and his eyes fall on her again. “Are you really going to eat those with your hands?” She flicks her head up and down, reaching over to grab a wing. He delights in the way the sauce smears across her fingers. She bites into the meat, humming at the taste. “See, I’m using my fingers,” she demonstrates. Her stained hands are held up to his face. He takes it into his hold and licks a little bit of sauce off of it, “Hmm, you did. You picked a good sauce. I like it.” He picks up his own wing to devour. “How are your siblings?” she asks. He gives her a surprised look, “You remember I have siblings?” “Of course, it’s one of the only things I know about you. I just realized we know so little about each other,” she notes, wiping her hands with a napkin.

“My siblings are good. One of my sisters just had a baby girl. What else do you want to know?”

“Aww, I love babies. You’ll have to tell me more about the baby later. As for what else I want to know… hmmm… When we first had sex, you were wearing a Western North Carolina t-shirt. Did you go to school there?”

“I did. I double majored in English, and Screen and Television.”

“Really? I can see why you did English because you are always reading when we are home, but Screen and Television? If you majored in those, then why become a bodyguard?”

His shoulders shrug and his vision drops to the food. “Yes, screen and television. I’ve always wanted to be an actor, but once I graduated, I realized it wasn’t practical. So I enlisted right after I graduated and after six years in the service, I decided not to renew my contract. It got too much for me,” he recounts. She can see how his tone has mellowed out and she reaches across the table to hold his hand. “It must have been a hard few years. Thank you for protecting our country. In a way, we can technically say you were protecting me that whole time too. How did you get into the security business?” His thumb circles the skin on the back of her hand, “You’re welcome. And I guess you could say I was made to protect you. After I left the army, it just made sense to become a bodyguard. The skills I learnt in the army transferred over quite nicely.” “Makes sense. You are very good at your job. I always feel very secure when you are around. How long have you been a bodyguard?” she continues the conversation. “I’m coming up on two years on Sunday, actually. I did one year as protection detail for a bunch of different clients and the almost one year I have with you.” She takes this information in and files it away for when they get home.

The waitress returns with another plate of wings and this time, there are carrots and celery on the side. Y/N’s face scrunches at the sight of the celery. “Yuck, you can eat all of the celery. I don’t like it,” she imitates like a child. She picks up a green stick and waves it at his mouth. He tilts his head to the side, “How can you not like celery? Have you tried it?” Her head shifts from side to side, “No, but my mom didn’t like it.” The conversation pauses at the mention of Katrina Y/L/N. Drew knows the story of Y/N’s mother.

Katrina Y/L/N was a guidance counsellor for a public high school in an underdeveloped part of New York. She didn’t work for the money. She worked to truly make a difference in the lives of children who needed her. Unfortunately, it was what brought her life to an end. One of her students had been expelled and he had returned to the school for his revenge on everyone, who he blamed for his expulsion. Katrina had been able to stop him before anyone could get hurt, except when the police arrived, they didn’t know. One wrong misinterpretation resulted in Katrina falling to the floor and she was bleeding to death. Y/N’s father wanted to sue the police department for all it was worth and obliterate the officer, who had accidentally shot his wife. Y/N talked Magnus down from his vengeance. They had all the money they needed and nothing could bring Katrina back. Katrina had chosen to save the young boy from the bullet and twelve-year-old Y/N had a much better idea of how she could honour her mother. With her father’s help, she designed outfits for a fashion show. Tickets were charged to some of the biggest names in the business and all proceeds went to an organization that helped renovate public schools.

Drew had learnt all of this when he was doing research on Y/N after getting his job. He remembers going through the pictures of Y/N waiting outside of the school for her mom to come back. He remembers the pain on her face when the coroner wheeled her mother out on a gurney. He wished he could’ve been there to keep Katrina safe for Y/N, but nineteen-year-old him wouldn’t have had any idea what to do.

“Well, you aren’t your mother. So you should try it,” he suggests, wanting to ease her discomfort from the thought of her mom. She considers his order and takes a bite out of the stringy vegetable. Her face shows her discomfort at the taste in her mouth. Drew chortles at her expression, taking the stalk out of her hand. “Okay, so maybe celery isn’t your thing. At least, you have me to eat all the mean celery,” he jokes and finishes the rest of the disliked marshland plant. Y/N’s lips don’t rise at his joke, “My mom always used to say I would make an amazing fashion designer one day. She would let me style her outfits for different events with my dad. Could you imagine? Eight-year-old me going through my mom’s closet and picking out whatever I wanted her to wear. I look back at some of her old event pictures and think she really must have loved me to have worn some of the things I chose.” He smiles at the imagery of the girl he loves playing dress up with her mom. “She did love you. You know that right?” he confirms. The corner of her mouth softly raises, “I know. She told me it every second she could. I just wish I could know if she is proud of me. She may have said I would be a good fashion designer, but I want to know if she is proud of my choice to actually pursue it. I’m not doing anything noble like her.”

He can sense the comfort she needs from him and he gets up to head behind her chair. His arms wrap around her shoulder, pulling her into an embrace. His lips meet the skin of her cheek and then the shell of her ear. “She would be so proud of you. Precious, what you are doing is noble. You took what you love and you used it to give back to the community. That is noble,” he reassures. He can feel her breath hitch at such physical touch from him in public. They’ve never been this close to each other in proximity to other people and she is thanking the fact no one in this bar would care about the daughter of a big CEO. Her arms reach out behind her to bring him in closer, “Thank you. You made me feel better. Do you think I can talk to you more about my mom? My dad rarely likes to talk about her.”

“I will always be here to talk about your mom if you want, Precious.”

———

All week Y/N would return home from work and immediately shut herself in her home office, ordering Drew to stay out of the room. He doesn’t know what she is up to. Maybe she just needs some space from him. He starts suspecting that isn’t the logic behind her motives once she demands Drew stay in his bedroom until she comes to get him. He hasn’t stayed more than ten minutes in what used to be his old room following them getting together. Her room has practically become his. He could cheat and look at the security cameras in her living room, but he doesn’t want to spoil whatever surprise she has for him. The sound of the front door opening causes nerves to grow in him, except he trusts she wouldn’t do anything to put herself in danger. He busies himself with reading the copy of The Son by Philipp Meyer Y/N bought him.

About an hour later, a quiet knock on the door captures his attention. “You can come out now,” she announces and opens the door for him. The open door reveals her wearing the pink sundress he loves so much on her. She beckons him to follow with a massive grin. Their feet slap against the hardwood floor and as they round into the living room, he finds a space full of people. He examines the faces of everyone. He recognizes every single one. Her father. James and their co-workers. His friends. Some of his army buddies. And lastly, his family. Hung across the fireplace is a banner that says Happy Two Years As A Bodyguard, Drew! Everyone cheers at his arrival and he searches for Y/N for answers. She sees his face, “It’s a party to celebrate two years of being a bodyguard.” He wants to hug her, except it would be inappropriate in the opinion of the party guests. To them, Drew and Y/N are just a bodyguard and his clients. The only argument as to why Y/N throws a party for him is her personality. She loves commemorating other people’s accomplishments.

“This is fantastic, Y/N. Thank you,” he acknowledges, wishing he could give her a kiss. She casts her sights downward and swings her arms behind her back, “It was nothing. I had fun planning it and making the decorations. It kept me busy.” Drew starts to examine the decorations with a newfound appreciation upon learning she crafted them by hand. “You did all of these. Y/N, these are incredible,” he acclaims. He is impressed by her craftiness.

He recognizes the smell of his mom’s chicken casserole and his stomach grumbles for a taste. The swarming of his loved ones to congratulate him stops him from being able to do it. Drew is catching up with an old army friend when Y/N presents him with a plate of his favourite foods. “Sorry to interrupt. Drew hasn’t eaten all day. I want to make sure he does at some point today,” she explicates in advance of her walking away to chat with Magnus. His world starts to spin on its own axis. One where she is the axis at the center of his earth. Her effort to concern herself with his well-being and to plan a party for him shows her adoration for him. He couldn’t ask for a better girlfriend and he thinks it is time to officially label who they are to each other. Not to the world. Merely for them to know what they mean to each other.

———

The guests left a few hours ago after helping with the clean-up, leaving Y/N and Drew to relax on her couch. The words on the page aren’t being processed with Y/N’s head on his lap. She flips through the pages of her magazine. He perceives the way she halts between articles to write down some notes. His digits drag through her hair in admiration. This moment is perfect to legitimize their relationship. “So,” he begins to fixate her view of him. She drops the magazine to her chest. “I was thinking that maybe I could start calling you my girlfriend. Obviously, I won’t be telling other people, but I just think it could be something for us. To prove our devotion to each other.” She beams at him and sits up. Her lips smack on his. “I would be happy to be your girlfriend,” she confides to him. The pressure in his heart diminishes and beats at a steady pace. He feels like the world is in his hands because she quite literally is.

———

Drew acknowledges it isn’t logical to keep Y/N from the outside world. She can’t stay in the comfort of their home forever. Besides, he treasures the way her hair is a wave in the wind and her eyes are stars in the sunlight. Freshly cut grass nauseates him and he fights through the feeling to keep doing his job. She wishes he could sit with her during her picnic, yet she comprehends his need to stay vigilant. The wine glass in her hand meets her lips and she gulps down the aromatic alcohol. She takes a bite of the brie from the charcuterie board. The breeze from the wind almost carries her magazine into the air. He has to hold in his enjoyment of her chasing after the booklet. She approaches him, finally catching it in front of him. She straightens up with a sense of accomplishment; however, her expression plunges alongside her widening eyes.

He can’t ask her what is wrong. Her body shoots around him so their backs are facing each other and then he hears it. The one piercing crack that is so familiar to him. His certainty of what the sound was is confirmed when more booms don’t follow. It’s not fireworks. Her body stumbles into his as he wrenches in her direction. She collapses in his arms.

It shocks her that she couldn’t really feel anything at first. The pressure on her shoulder reminds her of when she got her ears pierced. The bullet breaks through her skin like the puncture of a needle. The next thing she feels is nothing, probably because of the adrenaline going through her body. A crimson stain flowers on her shirt, resembling a rose. As it spreads, the numbness switches to a burn. She starts to think she is being felted into a small wool animal. The whip of another gunshot causes panic to grow in her. What if Drew was hurt? The voices around her start to blur together, becoming one big mush of noise to her. Her eyelids droop like an unsupported bridge, slinging between open and closed until she is kept in a state of unconsciousness. Is this how her mom felt that day, eleven years ago? Is this the day she gets to be reunited with her mother again?

———

Their environment should’ve been under constant scrutiny from him. He shouldn’t have let himself be distracted by her. If he hadn’t, she wouldn’t be in surgery right now. She wouldn’t have had to save him from that bullet. His hands and shirt are covered with her blood thanks to the disconnect of her right axillary artery. He doesn’t want to chance missing an update from the doctor if he gets cleaned up. The doctors are uncertain about her fate, but they are doing everything they can to help her. He wishes he could say the same about himself.

Drew is aware of his appearance because of the hush that comes over the room. Hospitals are already quiet, but this is different. The silence has a hollowness to it. “Where is my daughter?” Magnus roars as he storms toward Drew. Drew's hunched posture adjusts at the entrance of his boss. He rises to his feet, trying to hide his tears. “She’s in surgery,” he manages to croak out. Magnus’ heart tumbles into his belly, “What do you mean she is in surgery? What happened?” “W- She was having a picnic, sir,” he stutters out. “She was standing in front of me and then all of a sudden she saw something that caused her to put herself behind me. She took the bullet for me.” Magnus’ eyes narrow and his eyebrows form a v, “You were supposed to be her protector. That’s what I hired you for. So how come I’m finding out that my daughter is in a life-or-death situation because of you?”

“It’s my fault, sir. I was distracted and my guard was down. This is all my fault.”

“Of course, it is! I hope you know that you are fired immediately. You failed to keep my daughter safe. Now, tell me you at least caught the asshole, who hurt her.”

“I understand your decision, sir. And I managed to fire a shot to incapacity the assailant. He is in police custody.”

Magnus nods in satisfaction, “At least, you can do that right. Do you know who he is? Do you think he was hired by Demitri to hurt her?” “I do know, who he is. No, I don’t think Demitri hired him. I think he is connected to the note Y/N received a few months ago. I’ve identified him as Sean Cox. Y/N and he went on a few dates. She ended it after the third date and he said crass things to her,” Drew relays to Magnus. Magnus snaps his fingers and his own bodyguard rushes to his side. “I want you to find out everything you can about this Sean Cox guy. Now!” he orders, returning his anger back to Drew. “I want you out of her apartment by the end of the week. You are dismissed.”

———

The doctors were able to stabilize her in surgery and she’s been in a coma for a week. James has been updating Drew on her condition now that his co-worker is her full-time bodyguard. Per his contract with the company, he gets to take a full month off in between contracts that require him to live with the client and if the month is going to be anything like this week, Drew is going to fall apart. His insomnia keeps him awake to ruminate on the possible ways he could’ve saved her. And he keeps coming back to one conclusion. If he wasn’t smitten with her, then she would’ve been unharmed. Not only because he wouldn’t have been preoccupied by her vision, but because Sean wouldn’t have grown jealous enough to want to hurt Drew. His thoughts are interrupted by the ringing of his phone.

James’ name flashes across the screen and Drew scrabbles to pick it up. “Is she okay?” he worries through the phone. James stops him before he can rant, “She’s fine. She is awake. She actually woke up from the coma two hours ago. I haven’t called yet because I figured you didn’t want to come while Magnus was here. She’s been asking for you.” “She’s awake? I’ll be there soon,” he states, hanging up his phone and getting out of bed.

———

Drew greets James with his head as he walks through the doors of Y/N’s hospital room. He finds an exhausted-looking Y/N, lying in the bed. A smile paints across her face as soon as he sees her and he is pained by the notion as to why she is here. “Hi,” she rasps out. He joins her at her side, “Hey, how are you feeling?” “As good as you’d expect after being shot. The doctors say I should make a full recovery,” she retells. “I was thinking since my dad knows about us now, that once I’m discharged, we can go on a trip somewhere. Maybe Bali or Italy.” He wants nothing more than to agree. To tell her that he’ll go anywhere with her. Apart from the fact that he came here for another purpose. He doesn’t return her grin and she hunts for it. She yarns for him to return the excitement. “Drew, what’s wrong?” she interrogates, reaching out for a hand he can’t bring himself to give. He knows it will be too hard to let go of.

“Your dad fired me.”

“I know. I’m not dating you because you work for my dad. I’m dating you because I love you.”

“I was fired because I couldn’t protect you.”

“Drew, it wasn’t your fault. Sean was the one with the gun. He was the one who fired it.”

The chair scrapes against the floor and Drew rushes to the window. His hands slamming against the sill startles her. “You don’t get it,” he yells. “I can’t be with you. You almost died because of me!” Y/N wants to rush to his side, except the stabbing pain in her shoulder stops her. Drew hears her wince and hurries to her side. “What are you saying, Drew? Are you breaking up with me?” she cries, tears pooling in her eyes. He steps away from her, back facing her. He can’t do what he needs to do if she is looking at him. “Yes.” No more words can escape his mouth; he needs to keep his composure.

“But my heart is yours,” she sobs, trying to hold his hand. Drew needs to get away from her, “Well, you can have it back. I don’t want it anymore.” He hates being cruel, yet it’s the only way this will go faster. “Drew, please. It’s not your fault. Please,” she argues.

Drew doesn’t have anything left to say and he doesn’t want to force her to be in his presence anymore, so he leaves her behind even though it kills him. It kills him to listen to her weep and not do anything about it. He craves to bring her into his hold and kiss her tears away. She may not believe this is all his fault but it is. It was his flaw that sent her to the hospital. His fatal flaw was thinking he was the only protector she needed. It was his hubris.

Taglist: @loves0phelia, @f4ll-for-you, @mellillasstuff, @jjsmarijuana

#drew starkey #drew starkey x reader #drew starkey smut #drew starkey imagine #drew starkey fanfiction #drew starkey one shot #drew starkey fic #bodyguard!drew #bodyguard!drew starkey #rafe cameron #rafe cameron x reader #outer banks #rafe cameron imagine #rafe cameron x y/n

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satoruhour · 7 months

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🪻ugh your drabble about sore reader reminded of this one hc I think of so much that it’s embarrassing. Imagine gojo getting on sorcerer!reader’s nerves to the point that she and utahime almost have an anti-gojo hate club, and one time while bantering with him she jokes about his size or how he’s so self centred he probably can’t even make a woman cum.

Satoru only says “wanna see what I’m all about?” and safe to say she gets dicked down like there’s no tomorrow. Throughout the night he also makes fun of her for being all talk in the beginning but cumming so easily, makes her beg for it, will never let her live it down. Next day Utahime’s real pissed she lost her club’s vice chairperson.

My kitty isn’t even purring atp she’s meowing loud and crystal clear. Satoru who’s smug and a big tease in bed is so unbelievably sexy to me

a/n: discussions of incompetent dick game LMAO, oral f! receiving, fingering, p -> v sex, unprotected sex, creampies, multiple rounds

OHHHH MY GOD YOURE SO RIGHT ACTUALLY HYACINTH ANON sorry i took so long to get to this sobs. yes yesyes id like to think sorcerer was with them before but left the scene like nanami and never truly kept in touch with the students at tokyo high. id also like to think this happens before the actual series starts (ages 24 - 25) bc gojo might still be honing his technique and theres still that playful banter at that age. god and they have a school reunion and he does some annoying crap dude.... utahime is DEFINITELY debriefing with you after that whole thing. shes by your side the whole night recalling on the stupid shit gojo did as a hs kid, when he collapsed that mansion without putting up the veil. you had to calm her down LMFAO

but at the reunion there was alcohol and you both get hiiiiigh and all things get 18+ almost immediately, talking about how gojo def cant find the clit and he fingers women wrongly and cant make any use of his dick thats probs small 😭😭😭 which is like ... you also have an inkling that he might not be that small because he is .... 2 metres tall but ya never know with how cocky gojo is. and that inkling is gone instantly when u hear him talk cause his voice is so ANNOYING and dripping with cockiness. he also has that certain lilt in his voice that you realise he uses only with you, overly teasing and silky smooth and u hate how you notice that

gojo is fucked up as well, u know he doesnt hold his liqour well but hes sober enough to ask “wanna see what im all about?” and you especially hate how you look around to see where hime is at and when u just catch a glimpse of her heading into the bathroom, youre nodding slowly and you do nooooot know what youre getting urself into !

needless to say, gojo is already getting u so hot and bothered just from a simple kiss. he warped you two back to your apartment (bc he rather die than get found out by megs and tsumiki), which he has been to before !!!!! gods even the tension back then was so palpable but gojo was in a vulnerable place with geto and everything and didnt want to do anything that would hurt his heart more. you two make out for A WHILLLEEEE and if ure wondering if hes alr so good at kissing, what else is he good at ....?

youre proven wrong time and time again when gojo goes striaght for your clit, rubbing slow circles and he has u begging for more, more something just mere rubs. gojo has the gall to lick a stripe up your soaked panties and sucks a little at your clit and god he is LOVING the way all your previous insults about him fall short of your lips and doesnt have the same punch: “still doesnt prove your dick’s b-big—” gojo lips your panties to the side and eats you out. he eats. you. out. to prove a point but also he falls in love with your pussy, slobbering all over it and shit. “didnt tell my your pussy was so good, baby.” “cat got your tongue? do i live up to your standards?”

you realise hes cocky for a reason and that his tongue game is fucking insane. the same goes for his fingers, locking eyes when he first inserts his digits in and your moan is like heaven to gojo bc he likes nothing more than to prove people wrong. and this is the best way to do it !!!! “cum on my tongue, sweetness.” oh YOU DO !!! YOU DOOOOOO

and then you think gojos done with making his statement. nah. youre so fucked out just from oral and hes smirking down at you, bringing your hands to his crotch.

“what?”

“wan’ you to open my pants yourself.”

“so it’s small?”

gojo scoffs with a smile, he already finds himself addicted to you and your taste. “no. just curious to see your surprised face.”

it gets him off every time (even after dating. and cmon dont tell me you WONT be his gf or at least his fwb after this?) you react like that, mouth open and eyes never leaving his exposed cock that he could probably slam it inside.

wee woo and once he starts to fuck you ooohhhhhhggggghhh eveyrthing you say is INCOHERENT. you try to string words together, insults and name calling here and there but it’s always interrupted by moans and whines. “you’re so— mmhfuck— insanely anno— satoru!” its words and words but none of them make sense. youre drunk on his cock. he fucks you in every position imaginable and the first time he wants to pull out bc he isnt an asshole, you're trapping him between your legs and begging him to cum inside, inside, inside WOOOOWWW HE GOES INSANE.

“i’m on the pill, s-satoru! wan’ your cum inside, please, please—”

“you’re driving me fucking c—crazy. i will, i will.”

anyway yeah you guys go multiple rounds and youre rendered speechless at every turn, surprised at yourself that even when youre spent youre sinking down on his cock and riding him yourself right after you both came. everythings sticky and gross and gojos still sensitive but hes hooked on your pussy and lets you do whatever <33

the next morning u wake up caged in his arms and hes saying something annoying again. “wanna make this a regular thing?” and you attempt to reject him, pushing him away and getting up from your bed but youre sore everrywherreeee and he swoops in just as youre about to fall. “dick too good, huh?” you roll your eyes and just let yourself be pampered by him. you spend that next day just making out and being close to each other and u wonder what to tell utahime LMFOAAOAOA

you end up getting a few missed calls after gojo had sent a selfie of you both, blanket covering your naked bodies after doing the obvious and he just chucks ur phone to the side and continues to kiss you LMAOAOAOAO. oh sigh thats such a nice scenario maybe ill write it properly one day

hello hello!

#🪻 anon #asks #gojo smut #gojo x reader #gojo satoru smut #gojo x you #satoru gojo x reader

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undergoing-mitosis · 28 days

Text

i've been listening to sofia isella's entire discography today cause im insane and it's crazy how well some of the songs fit with death note characters. or maybe im just too i deep in and im slowly losing my mind. anyhow

Death Note Characters as SOFIA ISELLA Songs

Light: I Looked The Future in the Eyes, It's Mine. a song about being high on the power trip of believing the near future is yours for the taking hello???????? 'they ask us, "how's it feel to be god's favourite?" we say, "we don't know, we've never known different."'

L: Cacao and Cocaine. more specifically fanon L. more specifically lawlight L. plus L feeling unfufilled if his life isn't riddled with the danger of detective work. 'would you like your heart to get attacked? would that feel better than boredom in another beige and bland cul de sac?'

Mello: Hot Gum. a slutty song with fire imagery and religious metaphors. need i say more? 'i watch us burn and fall, the heat is ten feet tall... and the flicker flames weave in through my teeth.'

Matt: Rainbow Rocket Ride. literally the mellodramattic song we've all been waiting for. with video game metaphors n references??? could something be more perfect? 'i found my joy with a runaway boy, and the cosmos is so big it won't notice we went missing'

a few more under the cut:

these next ones im less sure about but i still think they fit the vibes of the character:

Near: All of Human Knowledge Made Us Dumb. technically this is a song about the internet rotting our brains, but the general vibes of disconnection from reality and numbness, and everything making more sense in fiction and theory than reality is very near-coded in my opinion. i have always headcanoned near as a hikikomori, though less because he just doesn't want to go out and more because he physically can't function in the world. high support needs autism who???? 'and i can know every answer that's ever been known, but when everyone's together everyone's alone'

Misa: Everybody Supports Women. again a bit of a stretch, im not completely sold on it. but there are moments that make me go ugh yes. it feels like the toxicity of the idol industry along with, well, everyone around her going against misa, or at least that's how it feels to her. i think it encapsulates the isolation of her character and how people don't see her suffering cause she has a pretty face perfectly. misa is such a tragic and ultimately lonely character who lost everything she has ever loved. and she does not get enough comfort and sympathy for that."she's probably self-centred, we hate her and she's nothing, if everybody leaves her then she had it coming"

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cherrygorilla · 24 days

Text

Ice Pop 🍃

Aaaah, Happy Birthday, Danelle! I hope you're having a wonderful day! I honestly didn't think I'd be able to get anything done to celebrate this year with how busy I've been, and I felt terrible, but luckily being at home for the last week has given me some time on a night to whip a little something up. It's not the best, or the most exciting, but hopefully it can somewhat make up for my months of radiosilence, and bring you a little joy today. 🥰

Now, this can pretty much be considered a standalone AU one-shot, but it was supposed to be a section in the third part of ASDO - yes, I know I haven't even finished the second part yet, I'm working on it lol - however, due to changes in timelines and things, it's not going to be able to work like this anymore. Still, I wanted my idea for two certain characters meeting for the first time to have some sort of a home, even if it is no longer canon. And who knows? Maybe it'll help for their appearances in other stories haha. But yeah, if you're wondering about the context of the rehearsal it's centred around - that's what it's for 😂

Anyway, enough of my rambling! I hope you enjoy it, and I hope you have a great day however you end up celebrating! You're the best internet friend a girl could ask for, so you deserve it! Happy birthday, Danelle!! 🥳

"Ugh, she just gets prettier every time I see her."

As rubber sneaker soles met blistering asphalt, Vivien couldn't help but giggle. Swinging the door of the sky blue convertible shut, she turned to face Carrie, affectionately rolling her eyes as she saw where her gaze, and flattery was aimed. Proudly plastered across the side of Sound Stage 4 was a colossal banner advertising the newest season of Find Your Voice, decorated with the gigantic heads of eight of its core cast members. And off to the left hand side, beaming down the camera lens over the top of an advanced geometry textbook, was the very same blonde as the one standing there admiring it.

"And Miles wonders why he can't get Royce to stop calling you vain," Vivien sarcastically teased.

Reluctantly tearing her gaze from the studio's prime position billboard, Carrie settled the younger brunette with a contented smirk. "I don't care; it's true," she said, holding back a giggle of her own as she swung her car door shut. "And besides, a little self-love's healthy."

"A little?" Vivien snorted with a raised eyebrow.

Carrie didn't have a comeback for that one, instead just laughing along with the teenager as she locked up her Mustang and rounded the car to join her. Bidding the oversized version of herself a final goodbye with a proud grin and a mock salute, as a way of thanking her for her contributions to their show's ever-growing ratings, Carrie began leading Vivien out of the studio parking lot.

Jogging a few paces to match the blonde's brisk walking pace, Vivien soon returned to scanning her surroundings like she'd just set foot in Munchkinland after a tornado. By now she had thought she was somewhat familiar with the movie world her extended family lived in, or at least the portion by the beach where they all resided. But exploring the downtown area brought that same giddy novelty of her first visit flooding back to her. It was like the whole city had a filter over it, turning up the saturation of the colours in the brickwork or shop signs, and bringing out their warmth to match the sunrays kissing the freckles up and down her arms.

Once she'd finally regained control of her childlike wonder, and had stopped gawping at the buildings lining the street they were strolling down as though they were exhibits at a science museum, her attention returned to the same question that had been plaguing her since Carrie had ushered her into the passenger seat of her car. "You know, you still haven't actually told me where we're going."

"I'm taking you to the venue."

Despite her nonchalant tone, Carrie's revelation made Vivien's breath catch in her throat. "Already?"

"Well yeah," Carrie replied, seemingly confused by the panicked squeak in the girl's voice. "I thought you'd want to get some practice in first."

Melting into a smile with a relieved sigh, Vivien let her shoulders relax and her feet be guided by the clunky, patterned platform boots parading her down Sycamore Close. Acting as a rather effective tour guide, Carrie gave her a walking tour of her and Miles' weekday stomping ground - she pointed out the mechanic shop where he worked, where their favourite sandwich shop was, which place did the best coffee, which place did the worst coffee - she even pointed out the laundrette Miles almost flooded after an unfortunate lunch-break run-in with a meatball sub, and threw in the anecdote that went along with it for good measure. There was the florist shop, the record store, the pharmacy - the whole street looked like it could have been plucked straight out of a movie set. And, in a way, Vivien supposed it had been. But as they rounded another corner, the pastel awnings and inviting smells disappeared.

It was far from a dump; palm trees still sporadically lined the road, and storefronts held haphazard displays of their products to entice the sparse crowds of customers. But the trashbags sitting at the curbside, and the uneven sidewalk slabs, made this part of town feel a little less polished than the rest. Just as Vivien finished reading the intricate chalkboard sign hanging outside a local bookstore though, and she turned back to follow Carrie's lead, a cloud of smoke obscured her view of the path ahead.

Thankfully, the haze had dispersed by the time the girls approached, but the stench of weed that replaced it made Vivien's nostrils itch. Scrunching up her nose, she slightly quickened her pace, hoping to get to a bakery down the street that could drown out the smell before her eyes started watering. But in the seconds that followed, she didn't know what surprised her more: the fact that Carrie was acknowledged by the stoner responsible for the smoke show, or the fact that she actually stopped to talk to him.

"Heyyyy, Carrie-oke! What the hell are you doing here so early?"

"We're down a drummer, so we need an emergency rehearsal with our stand-in," Carrie replied, a hint of amusement colouring her tone - whether that was due to the circumstances, or the fact that she sensed Vivien's utter confusion was a mystery to the brunette though.

"You lost another one? What happened? She didn't-"

"Yeah, Amber dumped him… Again."

"Fucking hell," the guy snorted, taking a quick drag on his joint and blowing the smoke out of the corner of his mouth, away from the girls, which Vivien appreciated. There was something about his entertained grin that drew her interest - or maybe it was that mischievous twinkle she spotted in his dark, albeit bleary chocolate brown eyes as he lifted his round sunglasses onto the top of his head. Either way, her intrigue towards the young man was making the weed smell more and more tolerable with each passing second. "Two drummers in four months? Is she trying to set a record or something?" he cheekily continued.

"I don't know," Carrie sighed with an eyeroll at her friend's expense. "But she definitely made the right call with that last guy; he was a total deadweight."

"Was that the coupon guy?" he checked. And once Carrie nodded her confirmation: "Oh yeah, he was a fucking moron. She can do so much better."

"Exactly," Carrie replied, throwing her head back with a hearty laugh at the brunet's earnest response. "But, yet again, her commendable level of self-respect has left us without a drummer less than eight hours before doors open. Hence the emergency rehearsal."

The deeply pensive expression, pulling the guy's eyebrows together, had Vivien biting the inside of her cheek to stop herself from giggling, especially when he revealed what he'd been thinking so hard about.

"Hence…" he mumbled, through a mouthful of the BLT sandwich he'd picked up from the plate balancing precariously on the windowsill beside him. "Gnarly adverb... Respect."

Carrie just shook her head with another amused grin. "That stuff's hittin' good this morning, huh?"

"Oh yeah," he chuckled with a contented nod of approval. "You want a hit?"

Whilst the offer itself wasn't too much of a surprise to Vivien, the length of time Carrie appeared to consider it for certainly was. For a moment, she even thought she saw the blonde's arm twitch, as though instinctively moving to accept, before she caught herself and shook her head. "No, I can't-"

"Oh come on, just a little one."

Again, Carrie almost appeared convinced, before her better judgement won out. "No, I- Look, maybe later," she eventually compromised, taking a step towards the propped open, painted brown door beside them to prevent any attempts at further complaints from the stoner. "I already told you, I'm not here to just hang out. We've got to rehearse."

"We? What are you talking about? Who's-?" But as Vivien followed Carrie's lead, inching towards the doorway, she looked up to find that set of bleary brown eyes fixed on her for the first time that conversation - any traces of an end to his question completely falling out of his head the second he spotted her.

Now that she'd actually been acknowledged by the guy, Vivien took the opportunity to fully take in his appearance: fascinated by the fact that such a creature even knew Carrie, let alone spoke to her like a friend. His dark, taupe hair fell in half-hearted curls by his shoulders - more in limp waves than anything, which were pushed away from his face by the arms of the scratched, round sunglasses balanced atop his head. His scrawny frame was hidden by a baggy denim jacket that looked as though it was about four sizes too big for him, with the sleeves pushed up to his elbows, and a shirt beneath patterned so intensely she couldn't look at it for long without seeing spots in her vision. Old, flared, brown trousers; scuffed, but clearly well-loved, maroon boots; and a jumbled collection of leather bracelets, fabric wristbands, and peace sign pendants completed the look - a look she could only think to dub: dishevelled bohemian. If he'd have been on the cover of a history book about the hippie movement she wouldn't have batted an eyelid. And yet here he was, standing right in front of her, looking at her as though she'd just been beamed down from a spaceship.

Apparently her very existence was all it took to stun him into silence; his brain clearly needed all the energy it could get to process what he was seeing. She could practically hear its cogs spinning on overdrive as he searched her face for some recognisable quality. And just when they were starting to sound like her old laptop loading up The Sims, he tore his gaze from her and fixed it back on Carrie.

"…Who the fuck is that?"

The genuine confusion riddling his expression amused Vivien to no end, having to catch herself before a giggle escaped her lips as Carrie, evidently more familiar with his antics, simply replied: "It's Viv."

But the explanation made absolutely no difference in that empty, freckled head. The guy still looked as lost as ever.

"It's Vivien," Carrie tried again. But when she was met with a further, if not slightly more irritated, blank stare, she let out a frustrated scoff and turned so that she was fully facing the airheaded brunet again. "Vivien O'Brian-"

"You say that like you expect me to know who she is," he cut in with an incredulous scoff of his own.

"You do know."

"Then who the fuck is it?"

"Vivien," Carrie fired back with great exasperation - the kind that could only come from years of friendly, pent-up frustration. "She ice skates. She reads books. Miles talks about her like once a fucking week!"

Ethan's eyes lit up like a Roman candle. "Yoooo, where is Miles?" he asked, all inquiries about the brunette forgotten in an instant at the very mention of that all-important name.

But his eager grin was met with a look of disapproving disbelief. "I don't know," Carrie snapped, left floundering for an answer thanks to the stoner's inability to hold a properly structured conversation. "At work, I assume."

He looked about as satisfied with Carrie's answer as she had with his question though, tipping his head up to the sky and letting out a frustrated groan that would have given a sulking six-year-old a run for his money. "You seriously didn't bring him with you?" he checked, quirking an eyebrow at her out of the corner of his vision - clearly hoping this was just some dorky prank set-up.

"No, I don't think he gets off 'til 5," Carrie flatly fired back.

"Ughhhhh." There went that stroppy groan of frustration again. "That's fucking forever away. What am I supposed to do 'til then?"

"You could help us set up for our rehearsal," Carrie suggested with a smirk. "You know, like any respectable entertainment coordinator would."

He just rolled his eyes. "It's gonna be so boring without him though," he whined, scuffing his boot along the sidewalk as he dejectedly kicked a pebble against the side of the building.

Now it was Carrie's turn to roll her eyes as she let out an incredulous scoff. "Need I remind you, we were friends way before Miles came into the picture?"

The stoner levelled her gaze for a beat before a knowing smile tugged his lips into that same mischievous grin from before. "Yeah, but from that point on, nothing else really mattered, did it? Let's be real," he chuckled. Despite the ribbing, and obvious penchant for a certain mechanic, there was a glint in his blood-shot eyes that revealed his fondness for the blonde after all though.

And the feeling was clearly mutual since she was still willing to continue the conversation - she couldn't even successfully stifle her smile back as she shook her head and muttered a quick: "You're such an idiot."

The brunet made no attempt to argue - in fact he let out an amused snort of agreement as he reached for the rest of his half-eaten BLT.

Seizing the opportunity to take control of the conversation again, Carrie attempted to steer it back on track with an exaggerated, "Anyway." Tugging her guest closer, and dramatically gesturing to her, she continued, "That Vivien we talk about all the time: this is her."

The guy nodded thoughtfully. "Vivien…" he mumbled through a mouthful of bread - still playing that oh-so challenging game of connect-the-dots.

"Yes, Vivien," Carrie confirmed, as though encouraging a kindergartener. "She stayed with Miles and his brothers last April."

"Mmm," he nodded, finally showing some evidence of understanding. "She's dating that other mechanic guy - the one Miles lived with for-"

"No," Carrie cut in sharply over Vivien's incredulous laughter. "That's Mick and Butchy."

"Well how the fuck am I supposed to-?"

"Viv's dating Royce," Carrie explained, cutting off his complaint before he could derail the conversation any further.

"She's dating Royce?" he questioned, half-mumbling to himself as he fought through the disbelief the new information carried. His eyebrows scrunched in incredulity, his lips curled into a sort of confused grimace-

But then it finally clicked - the force almost popping his eyes out of his head in the process.

If the sudden change in the stoner's expression hadn't already set Vivien off to laugh harder, the sharp gasp that followed, and sent what remained of his mouthful of sandwich flying into the back of his throat, certainly did.

"Holy shit!" he eventually managed to choke out between the hacking coughs to help dislodge the piece of bread. "That was actually real?" he went on to ask once he'd caught his breath again, staring at Carrie with tear-stained eyes and a look of utter stupefaction. But she just nodded and chuckled as she handed him a bottle of water from her purse. "I thought Miles just made that up so I'd stop thinking his brother was a lame-ass," he continued, pausing to gulp down the offered water and rid himself of any remaining evidence of his mini choking fit. Holding the water bottle out to its original owner with a heavy, contemplative sigh, he levelled her gaze and lowered his voice to ask a dubious: "You're definitely sure it's real then?"

"You do know you can talk to her yourself, right?" Carrie checked, raising her eyebrow as she took back the bottle and gestured to Vivien yet again.

The guy paused, mouth slightly agape, as the realisation steadily dawned on him. Shifting his gaze to the brunette, he instead posed the question to her. "...You're actually dating Miles' brother?"

"I am indeed," she replied, smirking through poorly stifled giggles at the caricature of a guy's reactions.

"And they're definitely not paying you to say this?"

"I wish I was getting paid," Vivien snorted. "Easiest buck I'd ever make."

A thoughtful nod followed, as though impressed by the girl's honesty. And then came another bite of that BLT as he mulled over the revelation a little more. "Well, shit," he eventually settled on, with an amused smirk of his own. "Good for him… And you, I guess," he added, with a vague nod in Vivien's direction.

And then there was silence. It seemed as though he felt his role in the conversation was over now if the way he engrossed himself in inspecting the limp piece of lettuce sticking out the side of his sandwich was anything to go by. But Carrie had other ideas.

"Is that it?"

"Is what it?"

"That's all you have to say?" she raised an eyebrow and pressed.

"Well what else do you want me to do?"

But Carrie's disgruntled eye roll told Vivien she wasn't about to spell it out for him. "You have the social skills of a fucking garden snail," she muttered, before turning to the younger brunette with an almost apologetic shake of her head. "Well, since he's not gonna introduce himself - Viv, this Ethan. I had other, cooler friends I wanted you to meet first but, unfortunately fate had other plans."

Ethan still frowned despite her teasing tone. "I know you don't mean that, Cole," he protested, to which Carrie just smirked and rolled her eyes again.

Vivien felt like she was constantly on the brink of laughter watching the pair interact, caught between genuine amusement and utter disbelief. "So you two are like legitimately friends then?" she asked, feeling the need to check since her brain still didn't feel ready to process what her eyes were telling her.

Matching mischievous grins graced their faces as Ethan nodded and Carrie stifled another chuckle. "Don't look so surprised," she added after clocking the girl's reaction.

"No, I just-" Vivien floundered, struggling to articulate everything her brain was trying to process into a proper sentence. But after several failed attempts, she let her straight-to-the-point inner voice take over talking duties, with a spluttered laugh to join it. "How the hell did it happen?"

"What do you mean?"

"Well I just- I thought I had an idea of what your friends would be like…" Vivien trailed off, again at a loss for words.

"And this isn't it?" Carrie asked with mock-surprise as she jerked her thumb in Ethan's direction, just as he took another hit of his joint.

"...Well, we call you Barbie for a reason," Vivien teased. "I just didn't expect Little Miss Perfect to hang out with…"

"Someone who looks like they crawled out of Fraggle Rock?" Carrie offered with a smirk that quickly set the girl off to laugh.

Luckily, Ethan started laughing along with them - but not for the same reasons. "Yooo, they call you Barbie?"

"That's what you took from that?" Carrie checked in disgruntled disbelief.

"That's so fucking good," he mumbled as another amused grin settled on his lips.

But Carrie just rolled her eyes and turned her attention back to Vivien. "I swear you kids think I'm some sort of saint," she chuckled before teasingly adding, "You're not the only one who can have cool, weird friends, you know?"

"I never said I was," Vivien argued through a laugh. "I just don't know where you two could have ever crossed paths. Where did you guys meet?"

"He works on the sound for Find Your Voice and a couple of other shows on the lot. So I've known him ever since I booked the part," Carrie explained whilst Ethan worked on finishing what was left of his BLT. "He was just another part of the crew at first, but, because I talk to anyone and everyone all the time-"

"'Cause she loves the sound of her own voice," Ethan cut in through a mouthful of bacon, cheekily licking mayo off his thumb.

Carrie silenced him with a withering stare - but his lingering smirk told Vivien that he wasn't phased in the slightest. Still, Carrie was able to finish the rest of her explanation uninterrupted. "-I started to talk to him between takes, you know, since he was always there with the boom mic. And then one thing led to another, and before I knew it, he was sacking off lunch with the other tech guys to come and raid my dressing room for cookies."

"Oh come on," Ethan frowned at the light ribbing. "Don't pretend you wouldn't do the same for your mom's snickerdoodles."

"You ate crumbs out of a trash can."

"And I'd do it again," Ethan shot back with an earnestness that just made his and Carrie's sibling-like bickering even more entertaining. "You can't talk anyway; you ate that piece of pizza Miles spat out into a napkin the other week."

Ethan's accusatory frown, paired with Vivien's grimace just made Carrie's attempts at a justification even harder to come by. "Listen, I was not…" she began, eyes darting to the brunette on her left as she tried to phrase this in a way that wouldn't tarnish her reputation any further. "...of sound mind that evening. Plus, he's my boyfriend - I've tasted worse than saliva."

As if the first part of the confession hadn't shocked her enough, Vivien jerked her head back in reaction to that last line. "Eww, Carrie!"

Ethan's loud bark of laughter was a completely different response though. "Hey, I never said there was anything wrong with it," he eventually chuckled. "I'd have probably eaten it if you didn't."

"And I bet you'd have loved it too, you freak," Carrie fired back with a smirk despite her nose wrinkling in disgust.

Ethan's proud grin was all the evidence she needed to know she was right.

Once Vivien had recovered from her future sister-in-law's nausea-inducing revelation, she was able to continue with her inquiries about the scruffy stoner she'd become so fascinated with. "Wait so you know Miles too?"

"Know him?!" Ethan squawked.

His reaction sent Carrie's eyes to the heavens as she tipped her head back in despair. "Don't get him started, Viv," she wearily warned.

But Ethan didn't even give the brunette the chance to question any further, seizing the opportunity to talk about the mechanic with both hands, and a lovestruck smile. "Miles is my soulmate; my cosmic chaperone - we're spiritually bound by the very threads of our existence."

The edges of Vivien's smirk twitched, dying to let the guffaws it was holding back free as she raised an eyebrow. "That close, huh?"

Ethan gave the girl a solemn nod. "He's the ketchup to my mustard."

"Well shit," Vivien deadpanned, matching the guy's energy perfectly. "You can't get closer than that."

Shaking her head at the pair, and the situation in general, Carrie went on to explain: "The second I brought Miles on set it was game over. He asked Ethan some dumb question about a song on the radio and he's been following him around like a bad smell ever since."

Both physically and metaphorically.

"It was Money by the Rolling Stones, and we still say it's our song to this day, thank you very much," Ethan cagily retorted, as protective as ever over his friendship with Miles, before adding a slightly more in character: "That guitar line is gnarly."

"'Our song'?" Vivien questioned with a snort. "Are you guys gonna use it for your wedding or something?"

But the teasing remark bounced off Ethan like a rubber bullet as he mulled over the proposal with a mellow grin. "I could dig it."

Again Carrie just fondly shook her head, at both Ethan's response and Vivien's reaction. "Believe me, Viv," she went on to say. "They'd need no encouragement. I mean, you'll see it for yourself later, but they're inseparable when you get them together. Like, think of the biggest bromance you know, then times it by four…and you might be getting close."

"They're really that close?" Vivien chuckled in disbelief.

Carrie nodded intently. "They're like fucking limpets."

"I can't believe Miles has been hiding the fact he's got a best friend from me for all these years," Vivien said with cheeky incredulity. "I'm never letting him live this down. I didn't think losers like him were capable of having best friends."

"Well believe it, because he's not going anywhere," Carrie snorted. "Believe me; I've tried."

"Protest all you want, 'oke. You and I both know you'd be lost without me," Ethan said, slinging his now free arm around Carrie's shoulder and pulling her towards him, before affectionately squidging her cheeks together in a way that immediately had her trying to squirm out of his grip.

"I'd have one hell of a mopey boyfriend, that's for sure," Carrie compromised with an affectionate roll of her eyes as she finally somewhat relaxed into the awkward embrace. "And a pretty boring social life."

"Exactly!" Ethan said, that same mischievous grin from earlier making its fateful return. "Who else would you have to go and play midnight mini golf with? And who'd you get to play ice tag with you on set?"

"Isn't it called 'freeze' tag?" Vivien teasingly questioned. "And why are you adults playing freeze tag at work?"

"Uh, we're 22, we're not dinosaurs," Carrie retorted. "And it's not 'freeze tag', it's 'ice tag': a Carrie and Ethan original."

"Well if it's not freeze tag then what is it?" Vivien laughed.

"Duuude, it's so fun!" Ethan enthused. "You've gotta sneak to one of the craft services ice buckets, grab a couple cubes, then pick your victims. If you get one down the back of their shirt - or pants - without them noticing 'til it's already down there, and without it melting, you get a point - and they then have to be the next one to go get the ice."

"The camera guys hate it," Carrie laughed. "But it makes long filming days so much more fun. We've got like half the cast and crew playing now."

"Yeah, the scoreboard in her dressing room's insane," Ethan added.

"So you've built an entire friendship around a game about ice cubes?" Vivien questioned with an amused quirk of her eyebrow.

"Pfft, no, we hang out all the time!" Ethan said.

"Yeah, believe it or not, Miles and I do voluntarily hang out with him when we're not running around after you guys," Carrie chuckled.

"To do what?" Vivien snorted.

"All sorts. We've had a few good movie nights lately 'cause we found out Ethan's got like the weirdest taste in movies ever; he's seen shit like 'Attack of the Crab Monsters', but not The Wizard of Oz."

"Well I have now, but it was fucking weird, man," came Ethan's review. "The scarecrow guy's face looked like it was melting off." Directing his next point at Vivien in particular, he departed his first bout of wisdom on her. "Not one to watch high, dudette, trust me."

"Noted," Vivien acknowledged.

"So yeah, we've had a couple of rogue movie nights if Ethan's been in charge of securing the projector reels," Carrie continued. "But other than that it's just like general, everyday stuff. At least for us, anyway. We don't really get much chance to properly plan stuff out - it kind of just happens. Like the other day, after work, Amber started trying to teach us all how to do one of her crazy yoga routines - we'd never have suggested that until we did it, but it was some of the most fun I've had in weeks."

"Yooo, I was so fucking good at it. I might get her to show me some more stuff next week; I really felt like I was tapping into something powerful with it."

"Oh it was powerful alright," Carrie acknowledged with a giggle. "Miles couldn't believe it - I haven't seen him laugh that hard since he watched you take 20 minutes to make that packet ramen."

"Look, I just have other skill sets to most people," Ethan retorted with a resigned sigh. But a fleeting memory soon had his confidence racing back. "You've gotta admit I was a key player in helping you wreck Eric's car though."

Vivien's jaw dropped to her purple sneakers. "I'm sorry, you did what now?"

The guilt was written all over Carrie's pretty little face. Knowing she had no leg to stand on if she attempted to deny it, thanks to Ethan's unending honesty, she caved with a sigh. "Ok, yeah, so we may have totaled Eric's sports car-"

"Fuck, it was so fun!" Ethan exclaimed. "Me, Amber, and Carrie went to town on that thing. And Julie-"

"Anyway," Carried quickly cut in, trying to change the topic of conversation.

But the disbelief glittering in Vivien's emerald eyes wasn't about to let her get off the hook so easily. "Oh no, I'm not going anywhere until I hear this story," she grinned eagerly.

Letting out a defeated huff, Carrie compromised. "Alright, fine, I'll tell you later. But not a word of it gets back to Miles, ok? Because he has no idea we were the ones responsible for that - and we need to keep it that way."

"Oh come on, why can't I hear it now?" Vivien asked, sticking Carrie with her classic puppy dog eyes for extra, black-mail-y effect.

But unlike her other half, Carrie wasn't so easily won over by the pleading. "Because we need to go practice," she fired back. "We've wasted enough time talking to this bozo already."

"It's not been a waste," Ethan indignantly replied. "I've had a great time."

"So have I," Vivien agreed with a chuckle.

"And I'm very pleased for you both, but that doesn't change the fact that we need to rehearse. So hurry up and unlock the function room for us, tech boy," Carrie bossily snapped back despite her affectionate eye roll.

"You see how she speaks to me?" Ethan snarkily muttered to Vivien as though behind the blonde's back.

"I thought he was the sound guy for your TV show, what does that have to do with us rehearsing here?" Vivien asked, scanning the outside of the building for some sort of clue as to what the place even was.

"He is, but he's also the entertainment co-ordinator here, which means he's in charge of all the live music equipment, and the emcee for the night," Carrie explained as he stamped out the end of his joint with the toe of his boot. "So we're stuck with him all day, I'm afraid."

"I'm also your number one competition, so you'd better be fucking good," he retorted with another mischievous grin. "'Cause you've yet to beat us once."

"You've got a band too?" Vivien asked.

"Yeah - me, Miles, Donny, Rizzo and Desky. Don't let Carrie brainwash you about her bogus trio though, 'cause she can talk all she wants, but she knows she only put it together 'cause she was jealous of ours."

"You're so full of shit," Carrie retorted.

"Oh yeah? Then how come you've lost the crowd favourite vote to us every single time?" he cockily shot back. And when, for once, she didn't have a snapback at the ready: "That's what I thought. Fucking. Poser."

"Brag all you want, but we're gonna make you eat those words tonight now that we've got Viv on our side," Carrie coolly replied, sparing the brunette a smug smile.

"Oh shit, yeah," Ethan said, his competitiveness vanishing once he remembered the reason for his new friend's visit. "You're filling in as their drummer, right?"

"Yeah," Vivien confirmed, trying to hide the fact that her stomach did a backflip at the very thought. "At least that's the plan."

"Gnarly," he acknowledged with an impressed nod. "Where'd you learn to play?"

"My brother Riven taught me back when we were kids."

"Nice, you ever done any shows before or-?"

"Hello? What part of, 'we need to go practice', do you not understand?" Carrie cut in with a pointed glare in the stoner's direction.

"Uh, we're having a conversation here," Ethan countered, totally oblivious to her frustration.

"We actually have a band of our own with two of our friends that we've played a couple of shows for, yeah," Vivien carried on with a giggle at Carrie's expense.

"Oh really? No way!" Ethan exclaimed, seeming genuinely excited by the prospect.

"Yeah, and we write all our own songs."

"Seriously? That's so-"

"Guys!" Carrie tried again - one more stall away from stamping her platform go-go boot on the ground and throwing a toddler-style fit. "Come onnnn."

But yet again, Ethan wasn't bothered in the slightest by her rising irritation. In fact, he was rather irritated himself by her impatience. "Carrie - can't you see I'm talking to my new friend here? She has great knowledge to bestow, and I have much to learn - so quit interrupting; we're having bonding time. You're being rude."

"You can't pull the 'friend' card on me with Viv; she's like my little sister-" Carrie tried, but her indignant protests were drowned out by more of Ethan's senseless rambles.

"So, we'll circle back to the band thing later; I need to do some mental collage-work first, 'cause your canvas is feelin' a little blank, dudette," he began, leaning back against the brick wall and closing his eyes, as though to better visualise the 'memory version' of the brunette before him. Pressing a couple of fingers to his forehead, in an attempt to strengthen their cerebral connection, he continued, "We'll lay down some basics first. Quick-fire: name, birthday, last bone you broke."

Vivien had to bite back a laugh before responding: "Vivien O'Brian, August 22nd, and it was my wrist when I was 10."

Ethan's eyes peeled open, shining with intrigue. "No way, you've actually broken a bone?"

"Why are you so surprised? You asked," Vivien chuckled.

"'Cause most of these losers I ask don't do anything exciting enough to risk bodily harm," he snorted back, with a smug glance in Carrie's direction, relishing the steam that was practically rising from the top of her head. "How'd you break it then?"

"My skating partner dropped me," Vivien said, luckily able to look back on the memory with a more optimistic view than the other participant.

"'Skating partner'?" Ethan mused.

"Yeah, we're figure skaters - my friend Riven and I; the one who taught me to how to play the drums," she explained, catching on quickly that the more context clues she offered, the sooner they'd get to the point.

"What, like roller skating?"

"No, ice skating," Vivien clarified with a giggle.

Ethan's eyes glazed over in understanding. "Ohhh, right. Like ice hockey."

"No, not like ice hockey," Carrie cut in with an exasperated sigh, trying to break it down as simply as she could. "Figure skating. It's like ice dancing. Think the winter olympics - lots of twirling - little dresses-"

"Ohhh, no way! You do all those crazy jumps and shit?" Ethan exclaimed - finally catching on.

"Yeah," Vivien acknowledged. "At least three times a week, usually."

"At the olympics?" he asked, genuine amazement coating every word.

"No, we're not at olympic level," she chuckled, deciding to forgo the explanation that the olympics, at most, happen 3 times a decade. "Not yet, anyway. Our coach is working us towards it though, so who knows? Maybe one day."

"Holy fuck, we're talking to a future olympian, Carrie," Ethan enthused, bumping the blonde's arm in an attempt to share the excitement with her. But when she just rolled her eyes, yet failed to hold back her smile, he continued. "Do you do other competitions and stuff though? Or do you just like practising and doing it for fun?"

"No, we compete. I've got like a whole shelf of trophies in my room," Vivien said, poorly stifling a laugh as Ethan's eyes grew wider still. "We're the reigning national champs for our age bracket."

"Woahhhh, far out, man," he breathed. "That's awesome!" Thumping Carrie's arm again, this time a touch harder to coincide with his growing excitement, he gave her another aside, "Yo, Carrie, we're talking to like a legit celebrity here."

Vivien didn't know what she ended up laughing harder at, Ethan's genuine awe at her achievements, or Carrie's deadpan look of resignation. Those blue eyes of hers looked like they could have melted steel.

Snorting out a laugh of his own at the blonde's expression, he turned back to Vivien with a smirk. "That never gets old," he grinned, evidently well-versed in teasing Carrie about her level of fame. "Anyway, enough about her; she gets more than enough attention. What other cool, hidden talents are you hiding under those glasses?"

"I don't know, I don't think anything else really counts as a talent," Vivien downplayed. "I've taken a few archery lessons, I like going and exploring abandoned buildings-"

"Woah, woah, woah, 'abandoned buildings'?" Ethan questioned - bloodshot eyes once again sparking to life. "What the hell? You're so cool. She's so cool," he said, turning to see if Carrie was sharing in his bewilderment too. "How the fuck did you end up dating Miles' lame-ass little brother? No offence, but like-"

"Ethan," Carrie scolded.

"No, come on, not in like a mean way; he sounds great - I'd protect him with my life - but like, all I ever hear from Miles is that he fucking reads nerdy library books," he attempted to justify.

"Well I like reading too, you know," Vivien countered with a teasing smirk.

"Yeah, but you still seem to have a life," Ethan retorted, with all the social graces of an ox. The hearty laugh Vivien let out in response soon had him back to grinning like an idiot though. "Yo, why's Miles kept us apart for so long? You're awesome - we've got such a good energy going here," he chuckled.

"Yeah, why has Miles kept us apart?" Vivien agreed, looking to Carrie for some sort of explanation.

Begrudgingly rejoining the conversation, she explained with a teasing smirk at the stoner's expense. "Because you're a terrible influence - I speak from experience. He's gonna kill me when he finds out I've introduced you two without his supervision." But then she turned her attention to the younger brunette. "And because the second you see them both together, his cover as the somewhat responsible adult looking after you kids is gonna be blown out the water."

"Oh come on, how bad can he be?" Vivien laughed.

"It's not bad, necessarily - it's just that when they're together, and you're not around, all responsibilities go out the window, and the 22 years of pent-up stupidity are unleashed," Carrie explained with a laugh of her own.

Grinning mischievously, Vivien said, "In that case, I can't wait for his shift to end."

"Yeah, which is gonna be soon if we don't hurry up and get our asses inside," Carrie said, shooting Ethan with another pointed look.

"Huh? D'you hear something, Viv?" Ethan asked his new protege, intentionally blanking the steadily seething blonde.

"Ethan, come onnnn, please," Carrie pleaded, bouncing on the balls of her feet like an impatient child. "You can continue this while we're setting up."

"Weather's pretty nice this morning, huh? Not too humid, not-"

"Fine, I'll just have to kick the door down," Carrie resigned, hiding her smirk behind his back. "I hope no one's left their guitar lying around where it could get damaged if-"

Whirling around with a look of pure horror, Ethan muttered a sombre, almost warning, "Don't even joke about that; you know she's my baby."

"You play the guitar?" Vivien questioned.

"'Play's putting it lightly; I think I can noddle away on that thing better than I can talk," Ethan snorted.

"Like that's hard," Carrie teasingly retorted before continuing. "As much stick as I've given him this morning, he is really good on that guitar," she went on to acknowledge with a genuine smile. "Riven, Miles, and Butchy can talk all they want, but they're not a patch on this guy - I think if he wasn't so mentally stunted he'd be considered some sort of prodigy or something."

"You know, you can just give me a genuine compliment," he said, frowning slightly at her friendly jab.

"I know… I'll start when you start," she retorted with a smirk he soon reciprocated, before shaking his head and letting out another snort of laughter.

"Ok, we'll stick with this; we've got a nice thing going here, why ruin it?"

Grinning at the pair of old friends, and the way Carrie squeezed him into a hug from the side, Vivien's ever-active brain started formulating a new idea - one that would hopefully get her in the good books of both cartoon-cliches come-to-life. "Well, if you're this good on the guitar I've obviously gotta hear it for myself," she prompted, drawing the brunet's attention back to her.

"Shoot, of course, I'd love to play something with you - you know any-?" Ethan began to gush, shoving Carrie away from his side in favour of chattering away to the brunette again.

"Don't we need to get into the function room first though?" she asked, sparing a quick glance at a suddenly very excited Carrie.

"Oh shit, yeah. You shoulda just said, Viv. I'll go unlock it for us," Ethan chuckled as though the concept was entirely new - sending Carrie's eyes to the heavens again.

But the blonde's groan of frustration was drowned out by Vivien's optimistic giggle, as she teasingly mumbled under her breath, "See? That wasn't so hard."

"You two are really gonna make me regret introducing you both, huh?" she said with a weary chuckle of her own as Ethan disappeared into the building.

"On the contrary; I think we're gonna have more fun than ever," Vivien laughed back. "I need to see more of this 'wild' side he brings out of you. First I find out you're bi. Now I find out you smoke weed and could go down for criminal damages to your ex's car with that…thing. I feel like I barely even knew you before."

Carrie just chuckled to herself at the teenager's amazement. "I did try to tell you I was more than just Miles' girlfriend."

"What else are you hiding now? Surely there can't be more," Vivien demanded. "Are you gonna introduce me to your secret three-year-old or something?"

"Eww, no," she laughed. "Just be patient, you'll find out when you're ready," she smirked with a confident mystique Vivien could only have dreamed of. "I've gotta keep at least some of the mystery alive."

Before Vivien could press the older girl for any further clues though, a bedraggled head of shoulder-length brown hair appeared in the dark doorway. "Come on, Ice Pop. It's all unlocked."

Vivien looked from Ethan to Carrie and back again, perplexed. "Ice Pop?"

"Yeah, Ice Pop," Ethan simply confirmed, with a dopey grin.

"Nicknames are kind of his thing," Carrie explained, her voice barely above a whisper as she leaned in to inform the brunette. "It's just how his little pea-brain works. And once he's settled on one for you, you're kind of stuck with it - unfortunately," she added, thinking back to the months of convincing it took to get him to stop calling her 'Coleslaw'.

"Why 'Ice Pop'?" Vivien questioned - as amused, and fascinated, by the guy's thought process as ever.

"'Cause you ice skate," he explained as though it was obvious. "And you're wearing purple - you've actually just got like a purple vibe."

"What does purple have to do with ice pops though?" she asked.

"Well the purple ones are my favourite, and you're my favourite ice skater, so…" he replied, miming the fusion of ideas with his hands for added effect. "Ice Pop."

Poorly holding back her flattered, yet still slightly amused grin, Vivien tried to protest. "You've never even seen me skate."

"Minor details," he dismissed with a wave of his hand. "You're the only one I know by name though - so, you don't have a lot of competition. But that still makes you my favourite."

All the skating talk was lost on Carrie, but there was something about the conversation that caught her attention: "The purple one's are your favourite? They taste like ass."

"Probably why they're my favourite," he snorted as Carrie just wrinkled her nose. Not wanting to delay the imminent jam session any longer, he quickly turned back to Vivien though, managing to catch her attention between her hearty laughs. "What do you say then? You like it?"

"Yeah, I like it," she grinned, warmth spreading throughout her chest as she watched the stoner's eyes glow with appreciation.

"Sweet," he breathed, holding her gaze for a beat before beckoning her towards the wooden archway in the brickwork. "Come on then, Ice Pop. Welcome to The Grapefruit."

Following a nod of approval from Carrie, who promptly trailed behind her, Vivien let Ethan lead her through a bead curtain and into a dimly lit, oak-panelled hallway. The floor almost immediately dropped into a stairwell, lined with black and white photos of musicians, and prints of various fruits in the same assorted shades of orange, yellow, and green from the beads at the entrance.

As they descended, Vivien, as talkative as ever, especially now that she was more at ease around the guy, decided to start probing Ethan for more details. "So if I'm Ice Pop, and Carrie's Carrie-oke - does Miles have a nickname?"

"Nah, you can't improve upon perfection," Ethan sighed, grabbing the railings of the staircase and launching himself down the last four steps. "I do have a 'government name' I call him though when he needs me to talk some sense into him," he continued after landing with a thud in front of a two-way corridor.

"Which is?" Vivien prompted as they turned to the left and reached another door.

"Miles per Gallon, Miles per Hour, Miles from Anywhere - there's a couple variations," he replied as he pulled a bunch of keys from his back pocket and started working on the lock. "Just depends on my mood."

"Oh my god, I can't wait for him to get here," Vivien giggled. She didn't know what she was laughing harder at: Ethan's nicknames for her honorary big brother, or what she imagined his face would look like when he realised she now knew about them.

"Well, in the meantime, make yourself comfy. 'Cause it sounds like you're gonna be here a while," Ethan chuckled as he pushed the door open and stepped aside to let her enter first. "Behold: your performance space for the evening."

As Vivien stepped into the room, that same surreal feeling she got the first time she set foot in the Wet Side Story world flooded through her - it felt like a dream, like everything would disappear in a puff of smoke if she touched it. But as her sneakers met scuffed, wooden floorboards, she stayed very much in one piece - as did everything else around her. The wood-panelled walls continued into what she now understood was an underground bar - but, despite the lack of sunlight, it was far from dingy. The overhead lights bathed everything in a soft, golden light, which complimented the room's colour scheme perfectly. The same shades of rust orange, mustard yellow, and olive green from the beaded curtain at the entrance clung to the upholstery and decorations - and yet brighter pops of colour, in line with the bar's citrussy namesake, made the whole room come to life. The earthy tones, mismatched furniture and clashing patterns made it feel so quintessentially 60s, but that just made Vivien love it even more - even if it did smell vaguely like stale beer.

"Hold up, how old is she? D'you think I'm allowed to have let her in here if she's not 21?" Ethan asked Carrie as the pair followed Vivien into the function room.

"It's not like you're gonna serve her any alcohol, she's just here to perform," Carrie said, brushing off his concern with ease. "And besides, if she wants anything she can just sneak some of mine," she added with a mischievous grin the stoner quickly shared.

"Yeah, what am I even saying? Since when did I start giving a shit about following the rules?" he snorted, pocketing his keys and crashing onto the nearest, faded leather couch.

"Alright then, Viv," Carrie continued, stepping up behind the teenager, who was still gazing around the room in wonder. And yet it wasn't until the blonde put her hands on her shoulders and steered her towards the centre of the room that she even noticed the sprawling stage - complete with mic stands, a dusty piano, several guitar amps and that all-important drum-kit. "You ready to take her for a spin?"

Vivien's first instinct told her 'absolutely not', but there was something about the warmth in Carrie's hopeful smile, and Ethan's earnest encouragements, still fresh in her mind, that gave her pause. Maybe she could do this after all; they certainly seemed to think she could. And she wasn't going to get over this stage fright without trying, so she might as well give it a go with a supportive audience - a rather unconventional, supportive audience; but one that, given her newfound fondness of the pair, and their apparent abundance of love for her in return, one that she wouldn't have traded for anything.

#p.s. there might be another surprise later that coincides with this 👀#probably not as exciting - but definitely necessary by now lmao #Vivien #Carrie #Ethan

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heinzpilsner · 1 month

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Okaaay, I'm still alive, and this is the almost-last part of my 'Overanalyzing beach Maiko' series. Hooray.

(Ugh, this "little psychological exercise" transformed into some kind of gigantic fire-breathing monster eventually. Good news is that soon I can move on to analyzing something much more pleasant. ... Probably.)

Anyway, let's finish this beast, shall we?

In the last part, great detective Azula found out that the culprit responsible for the imaginary flagrant oppression of Mai's self-expression was Mai's mother, and now it's time for Mai to react.

Mai: "You want me to express myself? Leave me alone!!"

Well, that was... a little bit too overdramatic.

I suspect the writer's implied message here was something like: "Look, if Mai reacted like this to Azula's words, it means that what Azula said is bound to be truth!"

But while possible thoughts in the writer's head are as good as all others, let me be a judge of what I see with my own eyes.

And apart from Mai's forced yelling (as if she expresses her real annoyance, but in an exaggerated way which doesn't come natural to her) and her desire to close the topic... I have no idea what it was about. The exact reasons behind her reaction could be numerous.

Maybe she just got fed up with all this "you can't express yourself" bullshit. I mean, when you express yourself all the time, but everyone around for some reason keeps saying you don't, it really can become pretty vexing, lol.

Zuko: "I like it when you express yourself."

Here we go again. I must to admit though, given Zuko's psychological cluelesness, in the light of the bullshit information he just received it was a nice gesture of support*.

But... Is it actually truth?

(*Quite an egocentrical one nonetheless. I wonder what in Mai's behavior made Zuko think she'll appreciate any of his opinions at this point. I guess he took Mai's story as a food for "she behaves like she doesn't care about me just because of her childhood trauma" rationalization, and this encouraged him.)

What exactly Zuko likes about Mai's "self-expression", anyway? Is forced out-of-character yelling his kink or something?

(... In russian dub they actually translated his line as "I like you like this much more!", lol. It made it so much worse.)

Either he's being very hopeful and patient in his "she can change" delusions, or his tastes turned out to be quite peculiar.

But okay, it's not my place to judge.

Mai: "Don't touch me! I'm still mad at you."

Okay, now her anger looks more natural. Congratulations, Zuko. Although you don't seem so happy about her self-expression this time.

Zuko: "My life hasn't been that easy either, Mai." Mai: "Whatever!"

Directed by Robert B. Weide

Mai: "That doesn't excuse the way you've been acting."

Weeell... technically, it's truth (depending on how you define "excuse" and which actions and life events we are talking about exactly), but...

Firstly - you don't need to excuse person's behavior to try and understand the reasons behind it. And secondly...

How would you know it, Mai?

Last time Zuko tried to talk with you about his life you just yawned at him and told him to stop worrying.

And just now, you denied him a chance to explain himself and shut him down again (right after he listened to your sob story and expressed readiness to support you about your imaginary childhood trauma, by the way).

Of course, Mai didn't ask for Zuko's support in the first place. And I'm not gonna say that his behavior in this scene was perfect, because it clearly wasn't.

Mai doesn't owe Zuko understanding, or anything, really. She isn't obligated to care about what happened to him or to be more considerate about his life tragedy. And yes, people say all sorts of stupid things when they are angry.

But... ugh. Do I really need to spell it out?

Good news is what while Mai is definitely an unlikable self-centred brat, she's still not a heartless monster.

Apparently, it just sincerely didn't occur to her without a direct reminder that when your father deliberately burns half of your face off and banishes you out of the country with an impossible mission, the state of your psyche may be a little bit imperfect after your return home.

Well, that's just one of those things what egocentrism does even to smart people, I guess.

Anyway, when Mai was finally forced to listen about what happened between Zuko and Ozai from his own mouth, she couldn't just close her eyes and dismiss it like she did previously.

(By the way, I wonder if Zuko would ever mention it if not for Ty Lee "skin" blunder. ... And now I wonder whether it really was a blunder or a deliberate manipulation. /paranoid noises/)

Congratulations, boy - your life story is so disturbing it managed to burst even angry Mai's egocentrical bubble. A truly remarkable accomplishment, if you ask me.

But I guess it's never too late to open your eyes and notice other people's pain. Even if for a little while. Even if it's just one specific person you're physically attracted to.

Mai: "Who are you angry at, Zuko?"

Yep, she finally got interested!

Something definitely shifted in her head.

(This whole scene is so overdramatic it makes me cringe though. I wonder if there is a ghost of an Ember Island's actor on the beach as well. They are friends with the ghost of the amateur psychoanalyst, actually. The actor pretends to be different people, and the psychoanalyst dissects all their imaginary childhood traumas, and they have a great fun together in their beach after-life. Aww.)

Zuko: "I'm angry at myself! Because I'm confused. Because I'm not sure I know the difference between right and wrong anymore." Mai: "I know one thing I care about. I care about you".

Well guys, remember: if your girlfriend just broke up with you because of your unexplainable anger problems, just yell at some fire, say "I'm angry at myself and I can't tell what is right and what is wrong", and it immediately brings her back to you!

(Okay, maybe you'll also have to remind her that you're a victim of child abuse for it to work)

Seriously though, I can't say now what Mai's change of attitude doesn't make any sense (like I did previously). In between "Mai acts like she doesn't care" and "Mai acts like she cares" situations there was a noticeable factor - Zuko talking about his scar and his relationship with Ozai. I guess all he said after this didn't really make much difference for Mai - her empathy already woke up from its coma and said to her what this boy needs some care.

So, Mai declares she still wants Zuko despite everything, and they are back to shoving tongues into each other's mouths. Hooray?..

The only problem is... All the other problems what are still here, goddamit!

Perhaps Zuko will try and stop to lash out at other people in the near future (especially physically), but his anger problems are not gonna cure themselves magically just because the source of his anger is more clear to him now.

(Also, the massive complex of problems connected to Zuko's jealousy behavior was simply forgotten as if it meant nothing.

The fact that his general personality settings - such as locus of control and feeling of personal boundaries, for starters, - really could use some improvement was totally ignored as well.)

He is still in the middle of the inner crisis, and he's not going to discuss it with this 'new caring version of Mai' in more details (until she suddenly finds herself alone with his "by the way, I betrayed my country" break-up letter).

What Zuko learned about Mai's "childhood trauma" can help him to become more tolerant to her natural temperament, but since he's delusional about the true situation (in my opinion) and tends to use it as food for rationalization, it can have some problematic consequences.

And while brief awakening of Mai's empathy towards Zuko was an important improvement, her general egocentrism and lack of interests in life are not gonna be cured just by the "power of love". There's clearly some serious personal growth for her to do, and this beach psychoanalysis session did nothing to give her a clue of how to approach it efficiently.

Well, this all doesn't matter, apparently, because now Mai cares about Zuko enough to try and save him from being boiled alive on her eyes in the later episodes.

(Still not enough to deny herself a pleasure of purposefully taking his break-up letter with her on their meeting in prison to throw it on his head)

And I guess this is the result of their beach interactions.

Yay, power of love!

Pheeeew.

I guess it's over. There are still a couple of things to add in the epilogue post though.

Honestly, by the end of this series I just feel exhausted. Maiko is a very problematic ship, especially for an endgame, but this was obvious without any dissection.

There were a couple of discoveries I find quite curious, but for such a big complex material it wasn't nearly enough. And I feel like my psychological competence clearly could use some improvement.

Anyway, thanks for your attention. I hope my messy analysis gave at least a little bit of food for your own toughts.

As usual, I ignore all my notifications.

P.S.: In the end, when I think about it... Perhaps I don't like Mai because I actually see in her an exaggerated reflection of my own problems. What a twist. Perhaps I should try and be less judgemental about her in the future?

... Naaah. Where is a fun in it?

R.I.P., all the victims of Crocus City Hall attack. It actually happened in my neighborhood. Feels weird.

#atla #zuko #mai atla #anti maiko

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none-shall-caricature-me · 9 months

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Goody - two - shoes discourse has reached the VTSOM fandom. Ugh.

Just finished Vincent : The Secret of Myers, SPOILERS and opinions on its fan discourse below - ISTG if another person says ‘Vincent should've seen that bad end coming because he was going TOO much down a dark, vengeful, murderous path and EMOTIONALLY - DRIVEN REVENGE BAD 11!!!’ I’ll go berserk. Bruh, ALL THE CHARACTERS in this game are morally grey (less so for Draco, it seems). Vincent is brutally murdering the core members, and people’s issue with that is that he’s apparently also killing those sidepiece employees who were very selfish but not fully evil, just like he used to be. Now, regardless of whether or not he’s killing the less shady workers too (I personally think it’s not clarified so far, though sparing other pawns like him would make his revenge ethically sound), get out of your asses for once and see how convincing ‘BUT I WOULD NEVER SINK SO LOW IF I WERE HIM, I’D STEW IN MISERY OVER MY TORTURE LIKE A GOOD VICTIM INSTEAD OF GOING ON A BLOODY RAMPAGE TO TAKE BACK SOME SEMBLANCE OF CONTROL OVER MY SHITTY LIFE’ sounds.

Dude, first of all, once you’re self - centred and socially desperate enough join a cutthroat MNC as their top dirty - dealing lawyer -- and then get fucked over horribly despite reluctantly licking the company’s boots -- you’re also self - centered enough to seek vengeance at all costs. And barring the whole corrupt lawyer thing, being self - centered isn’t necessarily bad. An ordinary person wouldn’t have the means to take on Myer Corp. and that’s why most ‘normal’ folks would just give up on revenge, willingly (if they’re of the insane ‘I will suffer in silence and simply expect to get over the horrible destruction of my self like a good girl’ variety) or unwillingly. But Vincent has the genius, the insider info and the wealth to fuck over Myer Corp.’s experimenters - SO WHY WOULDN’T HE ?

Yes, his ostensible targeting of a probably memory - wiped Vanora is not at all a good move - in fact it was mostly quite dumb and could’ve been averted since altering memories can definitely change a person’s goals, loyalties, personality and philosophy (Vanora at the game’s start, before Vincent intentionally reminded her of her past, was harmless). But Myer Corp sent her to kill him, and maybe he was paranoid that she could be a sleeper agent, BUT most importantly his terrible experiences have understandably fucked him up psychologically and he’s NOT thinking straight at all. Therefore Vanora and those he killed may be brainwashed company pawns just like him, following callous orders for self - preservation or profit, but it’s hardly easy to empathise with that when you’re stewing in your own hell. That’s something smoothly said but rarely done, and very few of you morality hecklers would be saintly enough to pull it off if you were in his place.

Do you seriously think that ANYBODY is such a dumb baby lamb that they’ll simply get over their life being ruined, having to eat humans to live, suffering long agony; perk up, fix a smile on their face, and try to live out the rest of their life like they’re fucking Jesus Christ a - okay with being crucified ? No, and whether they were a bad enough person to be called hypocritical for their obsession (like Vincent probably is) DOESN’T MATTER. Because the alternative is fucking unrealistic and oppressive (like Madoka Magica’s bird - brained ‘happier ending’ where the puella magi swallow their pain and straight up have to die so that their pain won’t make them lash out in the only way they can).

Point is, Vincent’s mad fixation on gorily wiping out Myers IS, as far as we know, NOT good, yes. But given his realistically morally grey personality, his trauma and his circumstances, it makes sense. Similarly, his attempt to kill Vanora after HIMSELF ensuring she’d remember her past and calling her loyal to Myers at heart was SUPER DUMB and horrible - but it makes sense given the above. The world is full of Vincent Edgeworth, Self - Preserving Ex - Corrupt Lawyers. Unconditionally loving, naive, selfless Dracos are rare.

And tbh, I personally find a fucked - up Vincent very interesting, realistic and poignant. I don’t care that he’s problematic because he’s super well - written.

#vincent the secret of myers #vtsom #vtsom vincent #not bsd

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obstinatecondolement · 9 months

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I need to stop watching this one YouTuber, because every time she makes a video I just get infuriated by the claims she makes and the air of authority with which she makes them. In this particular instance, I'm highly dubious of the claim that adult women calling themselves "girls" is a new thing and that it's always and only driven by a lack of confidence in their own adulthood and/or a fear of ageing.

Like... I remember being a tiny, highly literal autistic child in the 90s and getting Very Annoyed with my mother for saying she was meeting "the girls" (her adult woman friends) or when she'd tell me to give "the girl" at the checkout her loyalty card while she loaded the trolley, because to me a girl was only ever a child and the casual inaccuracy was as infuriating as people calling fully five year old children "babies" (my mother ran a business from home selling baby slings and had been involved in a non-profit centred around breastfeeding and an advocacy/educational group for people who wanted to have home births for most of my childhood, so I knew from babies and someone who was old enough to go to school was no baby in my eyes). This wasn't a high minded objection about women being infantilised or anything, I just hated when people said The Wrong Thing because it confused me and I already was confused enough as it was, lol.

But yeah, it definitely doesn't seem to be a 2010s invention to call women girls in this way and that it's necessarily indicative of a lack of self belief or a Peter Pan syndrome thing? Also, not to be getting too far out of my lane, but it seems to be really... white to me to be like "women have never called themselves girls before and this is a thing we need to be very worried about now that they are suddenly doing it for the very first time!" Like. Girl is AAVE and has been for some time, as far as I can tell. Granted I am a white non-American non-linguist, but I've been exposed to American media for my entire life, and this does not seem remotely new to me. And I also feel like adult women calling themselves and their female peers "girl" is something that's been really normal for a long time in a lot of other cultures beyond Black American culture and my culture tbh, but I don't have citations or anything, so this is mostly just My Opinion based on vibes and impressions.

Ugh. Anyway. I feel like video essayists sometimes just... are wrong. Actually. And I have very strong feelings about people being wrong, lol.

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transandor · 2 years

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beepa99 said: Hey I finally had time to get some warden Jordan ideas written out. It’s not at all proofread or properly thought out but wanted to throw it your way since it was your art that inspired it 💜

AAAAAAA THIS IS SO GOOD..... i'm putting it all under a read more but i LOVE this whole thing so so much actually. just. UGH. crunch. i love this for him

The champions of order and chaos found it strange at first. Seeing the bannors taken down, buisnesses and homes abandoned and watching as followers of the goddess hid in shadows lest they be captured. No one belived it at first and rightfully so, killing a god was impossible. No one had seen Ianite's champion for months, and now that undevoted were being chased out of every town known to man tensions were growing and war was brewing. When the champion returns changed beond regognition, he no longer has peace in mind. Instead he seeks justice for the wrongs done to him, his people and his goddess.

Having apeared out of nowhere in a dianitee town at the age of 18 jordan quickly made a name for himself and shocked everyone when he entered the duel under the name of a divine no one had heard before and weilding ancient magic (tradition is winner is made champion marking the turning of tides in the war between mianite and dianite)

Jordan is the most powerfull of the champions, having been givin his enchantments just after birth he is well versed in the end's magic and has kept the peace between the waring gods since wining the champions duel

Ianitees known for their prowes in magic of all kinds have intergated themselves into all walks of life and have begun building a small town much to the chargen of the two neighbouring citties that had preiously used the land for battle

Dianite and Mianite are unable to get the upperhand over eachother with their sister in the way and settle to temporarily work together to take her out so they can continue fighting

The gods persuade their champions to keep jordan ocupied while they kill Ianite and perminantly seal off the end, trapping hundreds of ianitees inside.

Mianite and Dianite return to the overworld only for their champions to call for their aid, when they arrive something is wrong with jordan

They had been so preocupied with their war plans no one had stopped to consider what would happen when a divine encantment was broken

The rest of ianites followers dont truely believe she's gone until their own magic fades

The remainder of ianites magic is pushed into jordan holding up the enchantment for as long as possible giving him draconic features in the process, but the energy has a finite reserve and slowly begins to fade. The horns, wings and scales flake and fall away into dust before the pact begins draining his magic to compinsate for the lack of divine energy, and jordan knows he's finally alone

boi has a breakdown and runs

Meanwhile ianitees left behind are forced to pick a side or be marked an undevoted and hunted in both mianite and dianite territories, roumers spread of a group that escaped to rebuild accross the seas

But as both sides prepare for war there is little hope in securing a boat that hasnt already been drafted into battle

In his self-imposed exile jordan is mining when he stumbles into the deepdark, curiosity and exhaustion getting the better of his judgement he follows it down to an ancient city where he finds the first end portal

He walkes the empty ruins undisturbed, reminded of when he first found the ruins of the ancient ianitees when their end portal had first been opened.

By the time he reaches the centre of the city hes on the verge of collapse and finally agrees with the voice in the back of his mind that he should just laydown and close his eyes, that he had worked tirelessly as a champion and should rest and know he will be safe here in this strange void like darkness that clings to the city walls.

Ianite had told jordan about the darkness before, one of two primordial beings that began long before the gods were created. But he was still surprised to see them in his dream, at least he thought it was a dream

The darkness was amused when there was a body laying at the foot of their temple.

They offer Jordan a solution, to stop the decay and hurt. A way to mend the broken enchantments and replace ianite in the divine pact seeing as their magic was linked to that of the end portals and the void

Jordan agrees and almost instantly the moss and vines that cover the city cover him too. Winding over the enchantment tatoos and melding into his skin. When jordan wakes up he's higher in the cave, back where he first found the entrance to the deepdark still exhausted but no longer hurting

Over the next few days Jordan gets to know his new patron, regaining strength and feeling his new powers settle into his bones

With his encantments now linked with a primordial and his own strength and magic back, jordan hads more power than he knows what to do with

The darkness advises he does what he does best proctect the end relm and carry out the justice that ianite and her followers deserve

Perhaps it was time to back go home and pay everyone a visit

#submission #answering #crunches this rlly good #chews it up even

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justafoxhound · 2 years

Text

WIP whenever

Tagged by @dirty-bosmer

Really struggling with any writing atm so here's some of the conversation I wrote today. It's super IP so idk what might change, but I liked Burke being kinda difficult haha.

_________________

“May I have your attention, if it’s not too much trouble?” A treacly voice interrupted her pleasant daydream. She frowned, for something was familiar. She looked up and frowned even harder.

“I’m sorry… Can I help you.” She said it rather than asked, straining to hide the apprehension that gripped her stomach. Maybe she was wrong. Maybe this wasn’t the man from the club with business concerning Moriarty. It was dark and she only spoke with him for a minute.

“You know you can,” the man replied, leaning on the counter with a smirk.

That could mean anything, she thought. Maybe he was just a local weirdo. Plenty of those. Talia pushed away on her chair and ruffled a few papers at the other end of the desk. “You can return and check out books on the self service machine over there. I can help with anything related to your account, using the computers or printing.” Maybe if she just didn’t believe it was him, it wouldn’t be.

“The scanner isn’t working. I didn’t want to just drop these in in case they went overdue.” He slid over a pile of books to the centre of the desk.

Talia looked at them but didn’t move. “Oh. That’s okay, you can leave them with me. Have a nice day now.”

But the man didn’t budge. In fact, he produced another pile of books. “I would also like to check these out, if you would be so kind.”

“You can- Oh.”

“Indeed.”

Talia stifled a sigh. “The scanner's not working.”

She wheeled over, keeping her gaze on the books, speaking robotically. “I need to scan your card first.”

He rifled through his pockets before lamenting he didn’t seem to have one.

Obviously. “If you have an account I can log them through the system, otherwise you need to set one up. There’s a form over there.” She waved vaguely away from her and hoped he would just give up and leave instead. “Sir?”

She looked up but he was leafing through one of the books. “Have you ever read any of these?”

“Maybe. Sir-”

He flipped the book around so she could see the cover. Sherlock Holmes: An Anthology. “The villain is very clever isn’t he? What’s his name…? Hmm… Oh, yes- Moriarty.”

Talia’s stomach dropped. She pushed the book back. “What do you want.” She hissed the words low and slow. It was kind of dead today but she didn't want anyone overhearing.

“Just wondering your thoughts on this… character,” he replied, matching her volume.

“I’m not much of a reader.”

“Really? And here you are in a library. Interesting.”

“Yeah, well, my dad thought it would be a good job to keep me out of trouble. I guess he was wrong.”

“Trouble? Who said anything about trouble?”

She rolled her eyes behind closed lids. “Could you get to the point? I have work to do.”

“My dear girl, calm down. So hostile. I did try to talk to you in a more social setting, if you remember.”

“Don’t call me- Hostile? Ugh, yes, I do remember. Look, I don’t know who you are and I- I don’t care. And I don’t believe you want these books so… I must ask you to leave.”

He actually had the gall to shush her. “Keep your voice down, this is a library.”

Oh, she could keep her voice down. That didn’t mean she had to be polite. She hissed at him like an angry snake was working at the desk.

To her annoyance, he just smiled. “I see why he likes you.”

#wip game #mr burke #oc: talia #possible enemies to [tbc]#accidental creep

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siewmai · 1 year

Note

001: this way up ofc // 002: kate and lisa :D

this way up

favourite character: shona even though she is spineless least favourite character: it used to be vish but after s2 it might actually be richard 5 favourite ships (canon or non-canon): charsho, charaine, braine, S1 raine, aine/alina character I find most attractive: charlotte character I would marry: charlotte character I would be best friends with: brad, maybe? he's the most grounded, he's funny, he likes drinking, he'd make me exercise and keep me in check a random thought: i literally have random thoughts about twu every single day lmao but i guess the latest random one is my headcanon that shona's contact in charlotte's phone goes from 'Shona O'Keefe' to 'Shona :)' to 'sexy yoda' to 'Shona' an unpopular opinion: WHERE DO I BEGIN? we'll be here all fucking day. my biggest one is probably that freddie is hot (chris geere my love) and that he is a good character and that cutting him out in s2 was a disastrous decision. i stand by my belief that the MAIN reason why shona and vish's relationship in s2 feels so stupid and meaningless is because freddie is no longer involved in the plot. aine and freddie's relationship in s1 directly parallels shona and vish's, and aisling completely shit the bed on giving either relationship the development or conclusion it deserves my canon OTP: charsho forever, charsho deniers drop dead my non-canon OTP: braine most badass character: charlotte for giving it to shona and telling her what's what most epic villain: aisling bea for the s2 fuckery vish in s1 for being a genuinely compelling and complex interesting character, this passive-aggressive, manipulative, self-centred Nice Guy character; aasif absolutely ate pairing I am not a fan of: vish and shona for obvious reasons. also s2 raine because what did the pod people do with richard? character I feel the writers screwed up: RICHARD AND VISH. i mean WHERE DO I START. i already did a long ass tumblr post on how mad i was over richard in s2. "i can't stop her talking" be fucking for real favourite friendship: aine and etienne character I most identify with: s1 shona. forever worried about the people she loved, stressed and harried, quick to anger, ambitious, snarky, protective, gay character I wish I could be: chien. she's a hilarious little asian spitfire, like is that not the dream?!

kate x lisa

when i started shipping them: properly after watching mw in cinemas in august 2020 my thoughts: i have been obsessed with them for two years what else is there to say?! i blame sharon and kst what makes me happy about them: they're so cute together. their relationship is just... in canon... enemies to friends... the endless potential... what makes me sad about them: they are not canon and never will be. also a movie ship and for a movie that will never get a sequel so i only have 2 hours of canon content of them things done in fanfic that annoys me: there is not enough fanfic of them to be annoyed by anything, but maybe making kate anything but a lesbian. things i look for in a fanfic: there is not enough fanfic of them to be picky!!! my wishlist: at this point i just need kst and sharon to be dating pls who I’d be comfortable them ending up with, if not each other: nobody lmao they're endgame i mean... ugh... knife to my throat... ruby and lisa, sarah and kate my happily ever after for them: settling down in a quiet neighbourhood, domestic happy peaceful life with frankie

#answered ask games #this way up #military wives

0 notes

idy-ll-ique · 2 years

Text

temperamental

pairing: ceo!bucky barnes x f!reader

genre: angst, fluff, smut

warnings: tiny bit of smut at the end

requested: yes by my bestie @roguese7en

Rude ceo au ! Where the character yells at the reader for "not doing their job properly" so r goes to the bathroom to let out some steam (cry) and character accidentally walks in (maybe they're talking on the phone and walk in the wrong gender toilet ) and reader is like .. this is the ladies toilet but with red , puffy eyes and hoarse voice and c is like oh sry but internally (oh shit they're crying. I made them cry ) . Then they all go home but he apologizes the next day (or comes to r house and apologizes )

word count: ~5.2k

summary: bucky's journey from being a rude, self-centred, egoistic and arrogant CEO to the softest soul, all thanks to y/n

author's note: hiya peeps! sorry babe i changed the plot a little bit but it's only because i loved writing it,,,, enjoy!

masterlist

---

"Is he here yet?"

Y/N glanced at her coworker with a small smile. "He's not, why are you asking? Can't wait for him to arrive?" She laughed when her friend, Lauren, hit her on the arm. "Having feelings for that guy? I bet no woman does! Yes, he's handsome but isn't he a bit… temperamental? Which woman is going to tolerate him?" Y/N pursed her lips and nodded.

Lauren was right. Their boss, James Barnes was indeed a handsome man but no eligible woman in the company had a crush on him. None of them. All because of the fact that James, or Bucky as he went by, had really bad anger issues. He lost his cool at the smallest of things, even going so far as to threaten an intern when she got his coffee order slightly wrong.

Working under him was like constantly being around a grenade that had been unpinned, but which refused to explode. It could explode at any moment. All of a sudden, the two ladies heard the elevator doors opening and immediately looked away from each other, watching Bucky's feet as he walked by them without a word. He was also very rude.

When the door to his office slammed shut, Y/N let out the breath she was holding. "I just… ugh, forget it," she muttered and looked down at her file. She had to submit some reports to Bucky that day, and now that he was finally here… "I'll be right back," Y/N whispered to Lauren and stood up with her file in her hand, walking towards Bucky's office.

She knocked on the door, waiting as Bucky's gruff voice called out, "Come in." Slowly opening the door, she poked her head into the room, taking a quick scan before fully opening the door, walking in. "Good morning, Mr Barnes," she greeted him as cheerfully as she possibly could, "These are the reports you asked me to prepare yesterday."

Bucky didn't even look up from his phone, so Y/N silently kept the file on his table and turned to leave. "Just where do you think you're going?" Bucky growled behind her and she froze. He'd never spoken to her that way before. She swiftly whirled around and started apologizing. "I just— you didn't even look up when I came in so I assumed—"

"There you go, making it seem like it was my fault," he scoffed, staring at her for a minute before finally picking the file up, skimming through it. Y/N squirmed on the spot, shuffling her feet as she waited for Bucky to ask her to leave. But as he went through the file, he suddenly paused. "What is this?" he whispered and Y/N's breath hitched. Oh, I fucked up.

"Wh-what, exactly—"

Bucky abruptly stood up and slammed the file on the desk. Y/N jumped at his aggressive behaviour, involuntarily taking a step back. "There are so many typos on this page," he hissed, "How is anyone supposed to understand what you have written? Is this what you've joined the company for? To do half-assed work? What is wrong with you?!"

Y/N stared at him, shocked. The thing is, she'd just broken up with her ex-boyfriend the previous night, and stayed awake the entire night, finishing the report. "Well? Cat got your tongue?" Bucky snorted and Y/N blinked back tears. After a painful breakup, she didn't want to face her boss' wrath as well. "S-Sorry, sir, I— I promise I will fix it right away—"

Bucky held up his hand. "I'll ask someone else to do it. Don't want you messing up any further. Now leave." Taking in a deep breath, Y/N nodded and turned around, leaving his office. Instead of going to her desk, she turned towards the bathroom and went there, closing the door behind her, letting her tears fall free as she stood in front of the mirror.

She didn't care that her make-up was getting ruined. How dare that man talk to her in that tone of a voice? It was just one page, the rest of her report was fine! And even if it wasn't, he did not have the right to be so demeaning to her. The heartbreak from her break-up, the shattering words of her boss… everything hit her all at once. A loud sob left her lips and she sank to the floor, covering her face.

Inside his office, Bucky was going over Y/N's report once more when he suddenly felt the overwhelming urge to go pee. Getting up, he walked out of his office and towards the bathrooms. In a hurry, he didn't realize where he was headed and accidentally opened the door to the women's restrooms. There, his eyes landed on Y/N's shaking figure.

He froze. She was sitting on the floor, knees brought to her chest as she hugged herself, her sniffles making him realise that she was crying. She was crying because of him. He stood there for a minute, before snapping out of his thoughts and closing the door, going to the correct restroom this time. When the door slammed shut, Y/N looked up.

Clearing her throat, she stood up and straightened out her clothes, somehow fixing her face before walking out of the restroom, her head hanging low. By the time she was done Bucky was back in his office, standing near the glass walls as he thought about Y/N. Was it like this with all his employees? Was he making them all miserable?

He felt a pang in his heart and sighed, rubbing his eyes before returning to his desk. Now he knew why everyone became quiet when he entered the room, why they never even looked at his face while talking to him, why everyone would stop laughing in his presence, why no one seemed happy when he was around.

"What the hell am I doing?"

---

Ding.

The smile on Y/N's face instantly vanished when she heard the elevator. Turning to the book in front of her, she secretly watched as Bucky walked by her desk. But all of a sudden, he paused. Right in front of her. Not daring to look up, Y/N kept her eyes on the book in front of her, holding her breath in. She then heard something being put on the desk and Bucky kept walking.

When he was finally gone, Y/N looked up and saw all her friends, the other employees, staring at her in shock. Then, she finally noticed the cup of coffee and a bouquet of flowers resting on her desk and gasped out loud, picking the bouquet up first. "Y/N, what is going on?" Lauren blinked at her. "I don't know, I… did Mr Barnes keep this here?!"

"Of course he did, dumbass! Is there a card or something attached to the bouquet? Any explanation for this?" Y/N thoroughly checked it. "Nope, no card." She kept the flowers away and picked up the coffee, suddenly noticing the words written on the cup. "I'm sorry about yesterday. Please forgive me," she whispered to herself and blinked a couple times in shock.

He was apologizing? The man whose pride and ego reached the heights of Burj Khalifa was apologizing? This had to be a fever dream. Shaking her head, she opened the cup and took a sip, a small smile blooming on her face. How did he know this was her favorite coffee?

Bucky, who was nervously watching from afar, hidden from view, grinned widely at the smile. She accepted it! She accepted his apology! Clearing his throat, he whirled around and ran back to his office with a skip in his step.

A few minutes later, there was a knock on the door. "Come in," he called out and Lauren entered the room holding a file. "Sir, the report you asked me to rectify yesterday," she said firmly, placing the file on his desk. "Thank you," he nodded and picked the file up, completely ignoring the shocked look that Lauren gave him. She walked out and returned to her desk, paralyzed.

"What happened?" Y/N laughed seeing her friend. "He said thank you," Lauren mumbled, "He actually said thank you." Even Y/N paused, both the ladies staring at each other. "First he gives you flowers and coffee, next he says thank you and speaks politely— what the hell happened between you two yesterday?" Y/N gasped and shook her head.

"He fucking yelled at me yesterday! What— that guy hates me, it's not what you think! He thinks I'm incompetent and lazy and… and stupid and he made it very clear yesterday! You know what—" Y/N grabbed the bouquet and tossed it into the trash can between both desks. "—Fuck him. He's rude and arrogant and egoistic and… and a bum!" Lauren nodded slowly as Y/N leaned back with a huff.

Unfortunately for both of them, Bucky was, again, watching them and heard every single thing Y/N said. And when she tossed the bouquet into the garbage can, actual tears formed in his eyes but he blinked them away, because he knew he deserved every word she said. He was rude. He was arrogant. He was egoistic. And a bum.

But seeing his precious bouquet in the trash still made his heart hurt. Returning to his office, he slammed the door shut and locked it, picking up a bottle of whiskey from a shelf.

He stayed in his office the whole day, downing around 2 bottles of his strongest whiskey in the meanwhile.

---

Precisely at 5:30 in the evening, his whole body buzzing from the booze he’d had, Bucky left his office. It was dark outside, everyone was already gone; he switched on one of the lights- the one above Y/N’s desk. Walking towards it, he bent over and picked up the fallen bouquet, straightening it as he gazed at it.

“Why won’t you accept my apology, Y/N?” he whispered to himself, a lone teardrop sliding down his cheek when he remembered how viciously she’d thrown the bouquet away. At least she drank the coffee, though… As he stood there, crying to himself, drunk out of his mind, he suddenly heard a gasp a few feet away. “Mr Barnes?”

He whirled around. “Y/N? What are you doing here?” he stammered, rushing to cover up his tears. “I- I came back for the bouquet…” she confessed truthfully, shuffling her feet. Y/N had never seen the man like this; so vulnerable and open. She’d just thrown the bouquet away to convince Lauren there was nothing going with her and Bucky.

She was planning on coming back later. “But… but you threw it away. Why?” Bucky sniffled. Y/N tentatively walked forward, holding her hands out. Bucky placed the bouquet on them.

“Because Lauren assumed something was going on between us. You’ve never been so generous with other employees, you know,” she explained and Bucky blinked a few times before nodding. But the nodding made stars appear in front of his eyes; he swayed forward and fell right into Y/N, who squeaked but held him up.

“Mr Barnes, are you drunk?!” Only then did she notice the strong smell of whiskey coming from his body. He babbled out some nonsense. Y/N sighed and kept the bouquet on her desk, this time properly wrapping her arms around the much taller man.

“Should I take you home?” she offered and Bucky mumbled out a ‘yes’ in her shoulder. He grabbed the bouquet as she turned to leave, both of them somehow managing to get to the elevator without tumbling down.

Upon reaching the parking lot, Y/N got him into the passenger seat of his car, getting into the driver’s seat herself. Bucky dozed off in the next second, and Y/N only shook her head before starting the car and getting out of the parking lot of the building. Thankfully the built-in GPS in his car had his address in it.

His place was 20 minutes away. Her hand automatically went to the radio, but stopped last minute when she saw Bucky asleep. The radio would disturb him; it was better to suffer in silence for the day. Then she chuckled; how pathetic was this man? All this just because she threw his present away?

But why did he give her a present in the first place? He said it was because he felt bad about yelling at her the day before. Was he finally becoming soft? Maybe he found a woman who was bringing out the soft side in him. Yeah, that was probably it.

When she finally reached his place, Y/N was rendered speechless. This man lived in a fucking mansion! The gates opened and Y/N drove in, stopping right in front of the main door. Oh, there were stairs… She got out of the car and went to Bucky’s side, opening the door before shaking him awake.

“Mr Barnes, we’re home,” she whispered and Bucky sat up, rubbing his eyes. “For you, milady, thanks for dropping me home,” he smiled goofily, handing her the bouquet once again. She laughed and accepted it, pressing a quick kiss to his cheek. “You are a gentleman.” Bucky squealed loudly as he covered his cheek.

Y/N burst out laughing at his pathetic behaviour. “Bucky?!” she heard and turned to see a blond haired man along with a dark-skinned man walking out of the mansion. “He’s drunk,” she informed both men as they got Bucky out of the car.

While the blond-haired man worked on getting Bucky inside, the dark-skinned man turned to her. “I’m Sam Wilson, and that was Steve Rogers. We’re Bucky’s friends. How do you know him?�� He glanced at the bouquet in her arms.

“Oh, I’m Y/N! I work for Mr Barnes, I’m his employee. It was nice meeting you, sir, I should really head back now.” Sam smiled knowingly. “It was nice meeting you, Miss Y/N, please allow me to drop you home.” He gestured to the car. Y/N got in and Sam drove out through the main gates.

“Did he give you the bouquet?”

“Yeah, it was so random! He kinda yelled at me the day before and him yelling at us is actually very common but when he gave me the bouquet I was shocked because he has never given any of us a gift before and he said it was because he made me cry y-” She suddenly paused and chuckled nervously. “I mean, he felt bad about yelling at me.”

Sam spoke nothing.

---

“Ugh, my fucking head- ow! Ow! Sam, what the-”

Bucky had just walked into the kitchen, head still hurting from the day before when Sam attacked him, hitting him repeatedly with a rolled up newspaper. Steve simply watched, taking a sip of his tea. “Stop! Steve, tell him!” After 10 minutes, Sam threw the newspaper on the dining table. “What the actual fucking hell is wrong with you?”

“Get me some aspirin, asshole,” Bucky mumbled, slumping down on his chair as Sam fetched him the medicine and a glass of water. “You have an employee who is the embodiment of sunshine, works hard, is good at her job, who looked after you when you were hammered out of your mind yesterday and you made her cry?”

Even Steve was intrigued now. Bucky did not say anything, continuing to stare at the table in front of him. “Well? Aren’t you going to say something?” Sam huffed. “I apologized,” Bucky muttered and Steve’s jaw dropped. “The girl who dropped him off?” he asked and Sam nodded. “Why would you make her cry?!” Steve yelled at Bucky.

Bucky winced and covered his ears. “I told you I apologized.” Sam scoffed. “You wrote it on a damn coffee cup, man. It’s disposable just like your fucking apology. You should’ve said it face-to-face like a man. And why are you so strict with your employees in the first place? You know they’re what make your company successful, right?”

Bucky kept silent. “I’m trying to improve,” he said a few minutes later, “Honest. Seeing her cry, I just- I promise I’ll work on it.”

As Bucky continued staring at the glass of water in his hand, Steve and Sam looked at each other. Steve raised a questioning eyebrow, Sam nodded and both of them smirked.

After all, it was very obvious.

---

"Good morning, Lauren! Ooh, what's this? Thanks for the coffee, babe," Y/N smiled as she kept her bag away, sitting on her chair. There was a cup of coffee on her desk, and she assumed Lauren had bought it for her. "Coffee? Oh, this is not from me, it was here when I came in too!" Both women stared at the cup in confusion. Lauren leaned towards Y/N. "Do you think it's poisoned?" she whispered.

Y/N's eyes widened. "Probably Mr Barnes trying to poison me for fucking up the report 2 days ago. I'm not drinking this," she huffed and picked the cup up, going to the bathroom to pour the coffee down the drain. After doing that, she threw the cup away as well and finally got back to her daily work.

During lunch break, Y/N and Lauren, along with the others went to the cafeteria to have some food. While the floor was clear, Bucky walked out of his office with another cup of steaming hot coffee, placing it on Y/N's desk again. I promise it's not poisoned. JBB x

"No because he's so funny and for what?" Y/N laughed when Lauren wheezed, both of them returning to their desks after the break. But as soon as Y/N sat down, she noticed the cup. "Hey, what the hell? Somebody is actually trying to kill—" She picked it up but froze when she saw the writing on it. JBB? James… James Buchanan Barnes? Bucky? Why would he get her coffee again?

She opened the cup and took a sip. Turns out, it actually wasn't poisoned. So she wasted a good cup of coffee for nothing in the morning?! "Man," she groaned and quickly finished drinking the coffee, throwing the disposable cup away before, again, getting back to her work.

The day couldn't end soon enough. As she was packing up to leave, Bucky walked past her without a glance. "Mr Barnes!" she blurted out and he paused, but didn't turn around. Lauren looked at Y/N with wide eyes but Y/N nodded confidently and Lauren raised both arms in surrender, leaving. The floor was soon clear. "What happened, Miss Y/N?"

"I, uh… thanks for both the coffees, I'm sorry I threw one away." He finally turned around and Y/N almost swooned at the gorgeous smile on his face. Wait, what?! No! This guy was… was— "No worries, Miss Y/N. It's actually a good thing you threw it away, never consume something when you don't know who gave it to you." She nodded demurely.

Both of them simply stood there, gazing at each other until Y/N cleared her throat. "I, uh, goodbye sir, I'll see you tomorrow." She swiftly walked past him, head downcast, her cheeks heating up. Why was she gazing at him like that?! Bucky, when she was out of earshot, jumped high and pumped his fist in the air, a huge smile on his face. Progress!

With a grin on his face, he went to the parking lot but stopped in his tracks when he saw Y/N there, frowning at her car. "Is everything okay, Miss Y/N?" he called out and startled, she whirled around to face him. "Oh, um, a flat tire… it's okay, I'll walk, my home is not that far—" Bucky scoffed. "Nonsense! I'll drop you home." He nodded towards his own car.

Y/N blinked a few times at him. "Our houses are in the opposite direction, Mr Barnes, please, I'll go. I promise I'll be okay—" She suddenly cleared her throat and whispered under her breath, "Not that you care anyway." But Bucky had sharp ears. He ignored the comment for the time being and gave her a smile.

"If you say so. Have a safe trip home."

She awkwardly stood there as Bucky got into his car, waiting for him to leave first. When he was gone, she groaned and covered her face, shaking her head. Why did she not want to be in a car with him? Well, since he was finally acting like a decent human thanks to his girlfriend, she didn't want to do anything that would ruin it.

Her dropping him off when he was drunk was understandable, but both of them in the same car, sober? What if his girlfriend wrongly assumed things, what if Y/N got in between their relationship? What if they broke up? Bucky would return to his monstrous ways and she definitely did not want that to happen.

Dejected, Y/N stepped out of the parking lot as well. "Well, it's gonna be a long walk home, Y/N, brace yourself."

---

3 months passed. Bucky was much more open and polite now, even laughing loudly among rooms full of people which he never did before. He said "thank you", "please", and "sorry" a lot more as well, and everyone was really happy with this change. Whoever Bucky was dating was doing a fantastic job.

Y/N was confused, though, because for 3 months, everyday, Bucky bought her coffee. Every single day, he didn't even miss one day. Why was he buying her a gift everyday? Did he feel that bad about yelling at her all those months ago? "Good morning, everyone!" Snapping out of her thoughts, Y/N looked up. Bucky was walking towards her desk, a bright smile on his face.

This guy is the definition of weird.

"Good morning, Mr Barnes!" Lauren replied excitedly, smirking when Bucky placed the cup of coffee he was holding on Y/N's desk. "Good morning, sir," she mumbled. "Actually, Miss Y/N, can I see you in my office for a bit?" She chuckled nervously. "I don't know, can you?" she joked, freezing involuntarily. Oh shit, what if he got mad?!

To her surprise, he burst out laughing. "I get it! May I see you in my office?" She glanced at Lauren and nodded, getting up to follow Bucky to his office. Once in, she shuffled her feet, wrapping her arms around herself as she waited for him to speak. "I actually have a favour to ask of you," he began and she nodded. "Go ahead." He gave her a smile.

"I've just received a huge bundle of paperwork that I need to complete by tomorrow and it is definitely not a one person job so I was wondering if you'd come to my place with me tonight so we can finish working on it." Y/N paused. "I, uh— why don't you… why don't you ask Peter or— or Victor to come help?" she blurted out.

"But I asked you, though. And why did you take men's names? Do you really think I'll take advantage of you or something?" She instantly shook her head. "No, I'm just… what will your girlfriend think…" Bucky's brows furrowed. "Girlfriend? I don't have one, what are you talking about?" Y/N bit her lip to keep her jaw from dropping. So the attitude change… was it all him?

"Oh, nothing, I'll— I'll be happy to help you finish your work," she mumbled and Bucky smiled again. "Great! You may leave now, thank you." She awkwardly gave a bow and left the room, groaning loudly. "What happened, what happened?" Lauren asked immediately.

"He asked me to come over to his place to finish some paperwork or something, and turns out, he doesn't have a girlfriend! What is happening?" To Y/N's surprise, Lauren started smirking. "Aha, I knew it! Mr Barnes has the fattest crush on you, dum-dum! Why do you think he's being so nice all of a sudden? Why is he getting you coffee every morning?"

Y/N's jaw dropped; because in those 3 months, she'd started catching feelings for him, too. How could she not? He got her free coffee everyday, and now that his personality had seen a major change, what could be so bad about dating him? "Are you being serious? Him, having feelings for me? In what world?" she scoffed, letting out a nervous laugh.

Lauren only shook her head.

---

"Here goes nothing…" Y/N tugged on the sweatshirt she was wearing, before ringing the bell to Bucky's mansion. Since she had to basically stay there the whole night to finish paperwork with him, she opted to wear the most comfortable clothes she owned: sweatpants and a sweatshirt. A few seconds passed and the door swung open to reveal Bucky standing there, also in sweatpants and a sweatshirt.

"Y/N! Come in, come in." She gave him a smile and walked in behind him, looking around. "So, are Steve and Sam not home?" she commented and Bucky waved in dismissal. "They don't live here, you know. Sure, they spend a lot of time but I'm the only one who actually stays here." Y/N snorted at his words. "If my friend had a mansion I'd never leave too."

Bucky laughed along. They walked up the stairs and into a room, which turned out to be Bucky's home office. It was a very spacious and luxurious room, with a desk, two chairs, shelves of books, a couch, two armchairs, a teapoy… "Wow," Y/N whispered, "I don't understand why you don't just work from home because look at this place!"

Bucky was grinning from ear-to-ear. "Let's get to work," he replied cheerfully instead, pulling out a chair for Y/N. They sat face to face at the desk and Bucky handed her a file, which she quickly went through. "Do you want to listen to music? Because I do." Y/N waved in dismissal and soon, soft tunes started playing from the radio kept on the desk.

The atmosphere was calming; the smell of the air freshener, the dim lights, the soft songs on the radio, just the two of them in the room… Y/N almost yawned out loud but caught herself, shaking her head. No, you can't sleep, there's work to be done! She cleared her throat, making Bucky look up. "Is everything okay?" Y/N looked up as well. "Yeah, why?"

"Nothing, you cleared your throat so I thought…" Her cheeks heated up and she swiftly shook her head. Both of them got back to work again. A while passed. This time, Y/N yawned loudly and bashfully covered her mouth, wide eyed. Bucky only laughed. "Hey, it's past midnight, you can yawn if you want, you know. But we really need to finish the work today."

Once more, silence stretched on between the two. 1 am, 2 am… finally, at 3 am, Bucky turned his attention to Y/N. They were almost finished with the work. But, to his surprise, he found her with her head on the table, her pen rolled away from her fingers, fast asleep. Her cheek was smushed against the table. Bucky smiled softly and continued working without disturbing her.

15 minutes later, the work was finally over and Bucky stood up, stretching first before walking over to Y/N. He gently ran a hand over her head, smoothing out her hair. "Time to go to bed, sweetheart." With that, he bent forward and picked her up from the chair, carrying her bridal style towards one of the guest bedrooms. On their way there, Y/N woke up.

"Mr— Mr Barnes?" He hummed. Y/N gasped and covered her face in shame, burying her face in his shoulder. "Did I fall asleep? I'm so sorry!" Bucky couldn't bite back his grin. Unknowingly, he pulled her closer and pressed a soft kiss to her forehead. "It's okay, I got the work done. Thanks for your help." But Y/N's mind was someplace else. The kiss.

He kissed her on the head. So effortlessly. She had to say though… She liked it. Could Lauren be right? Y/N kept her mouth shut. Upon reaching the guest bedroom, Bucky put her down on the bed but before he could leave, Y/N grabbed the front of his sweatshirt. "U-Uh, can I… can I please do something?" she whispered and Bucky, confused, nodded. To his absolutely pleasant surprise, Y/N pulled him in for a proper kiss.

He responded eagerly, climbing on top of her as they continued kissing. "You like me?" he panted once they pulled away. "I… yeah. Yes I do. I never thought you'd feel the same…" He scoffed. "Not feel the same? Honey, look at you! Look at what you've done! If it wasn't for you, I'd never have gotten over my issues, would never have gotten a girlfriend."

"Wait so… your changed behaviour… is all thanks to me?" Y/N stammered. Bucky chuckled and cupped her cheek before nodding. "I really, really like you, Y/N. At first I just felt bad about making you cry but as the days passed, my feelings grew. You are absolutely magical." He pressed another kiss to her head. Y/N giggled. "You are magical too!"

Bucky smiled widely. "Alright, now off to bed with you, doll, you're struggling to keep your eyes open," he spoke firmly when he noticed her biting back a yawn. "Are you gonna stay here?" He stared at her for a few seconds before nodding. "Yes. Close your eyes." She did as he told her to, but cheekily opened her eyes when she heard his clothes ruffle.

He was taking off his sweatshirt. Glancing behind him, Bucky only smirked at the way she was peeking at him. "Ha!" Y/N squealed and covered her eyes when he abruptly turned around, his chest and abs on full display. "M-Mr Barnes… what are you doing?" she whispered when he climbed on top of her again, shirtless, and pulled her hands away.

"Well, you weren't too shy just 2 minutes ago now were you?" he teased and her cheeks heated up as she furiously shook her head. Bucky connected their lips again, cupping her cheeks with both hands, hungrily devouring her. A soft moan left Y/N's lips when she felt him hardening on top of her. "Don't do that," Bucky rasped, "You're tired. I won't be able to control myself."

"Mr Barnes…"

"Shit," he cursed, "Y/N, come on doll, you are practically in a war with sleep, let it win. I promise, some other time." He got off her and lay down next to her, only to pull her close to him. But by the time he was comfortably settled, Y/N had already fallen asleep. "Good girl," he smiled to himself, "God, you're so divine."

---

a/n: thanks for reading! i know this is longer than my usual fics but i really hope it was worth the read, leave a like if you enjoyed!

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