#likely to happen to men and women of color. they deserve love and support and real effective change. and white women shouldn't have to

[string-cheese-cake]

Nobody asked but white supremacy is the reason why white women are obsessed with true crime.

So when chattel slavery was becoming cemented in the United States and other European areas, the idea of biological race and racial hierarchy emerged to justify the generational enslavement of Africans and the genocide of indigenous people. Africans and other non-whites were labeled as less developed, more susceptible to their "primal urges" and committing sex crimes and therefore needed to be controlled by white men. Specifically to protect white women.

White supremacy is typically framed as necessary to 'protect' (read: control) white women, the mothers of the next generation of whites. They must be protected from "sexually voracious black men" (read: miscegenation and mixed race children). So white supremacy operates on the myth that white women are constantly under threat of sexual violence and must be protected by white men.

That myth becomes baked into the public consciousness, many unaware of the origin or even that the idea is there. It even becomes less racially based, but there is still a common belief that white women are inherently vulnerable to violent crime. Especially among white women. To be fair, it's difficult to not internalize an idea that you are not exactly aware of but is still seeped in every interaction and bit of advice. Don't wander off, don't talk to strangers, don't go out alone or late at night, cover your body, hold your keys between your fingers, take self defense, watch your drink, don't be under the influence. Your body is soft and valuable and delicate and you must protect it.

This idea of vulnerability is reinforced in the news media, which chooses to focus on stories which fit this particular narrative of white women's vulnerability. Missing white women syndrome. This subconscious belief has saturated society. White women develop an outsized fear of death by violent crime. So what do they do? They embrace it. They eat up stories of families like theirs and the deaths of women like them.

It's been suggested that experiencing that fear of violence in the controlled environment true crime provides can be cathartic, somewhat like watching a horror film. There is also a sense of justice and closure felt when the perpetrator of that crime is punished.

In conclusion; White women love true crime because it's a coping mechanism for their deeply embedded fear of violence which was established and is upheld by white supremacy.

#statistically white women are the least likely to be victims of violent crime. they can be and all victims need support but white women are #just not as vulnerable as society makes them out to be. and it becomes the standard of behavior and treatment for women of all races #women don't need control and protection they need empowerment and for men to treat them like goddamn human beings. #i kno im using binary language but u tell me how to better word this. the binary is fake tho. all the little stranger danger things got to #me. walk away from the street don't walk too close to unknown men I'm not afraid of my community!!! no one should be!!!! #we should not fear each other. i understand that violence and assault are real things that happen to people all the time but it's much more #likely to happen to men and women of color. they deserve love and support and real effective change. and white women shouldn't have to #be afraid and feel vulnerable. we need legitimate efforts to address and prevent random violence #not fearmongering and the offloading of responsibility onto potential victims. anyway thank you for coming to my ted talk #why am i talking #maybe I'll use this one day #i wrote this at 2am don't @me. i am right tho. i also like me some ethically filmed #true crime content. it needs to be tasteful though. and people need to be normal about it.

[throughmylens7]

Debunking The Myth: Why Yoruba Women are Equally Beautiful as Igbo Women

by Asake (throughmylens7)

Yoruba Women Are seen as Cheap

Yoruba women are known for their loyalty, humility, and their willingness to support their man even in tough times. They are often seen as the ideal "lover girl" in Nigeria. However, this view of Yoruba women comes with a negative connotation of being cheap, easy to get and lacking self-respect. The Yoruba culture is one that strongly encourages self-sufficiency, intelligence, and independence in women. Yoruba women are taught to be hardworking and to earn their own income to support their families. They are also taught to be loving, caring, and understanding towards their partners. These qualities make them great partners to build a life with. However, these same qualities are also seen as masculine, which is not the norm for African women. Yoruba women's willingness to support their men, even in tough times, is often taken for granted. Many men perceive this as being cheap and easy to get. This perception has made Yoruba women targets for nasty jokes and disrespectful behavior. They are seen as being too easy to get and not worthy of respect. This has led to many Yoruba women settling for less than they deserve in relationships .They are often "used as starter pack wives" because of their willingness to ''rough it in the mud" with broke men.

Yoruba Women are Primarily Dark skinned

Have you ever heard the saying, "You are too fine to be Yoruba"' or "You are too classy, cant believe you are Yoruba.'' Any woman that is well behaved and happens to be brown-skinned or fair is automatically labelled as Igbo?" It's a common phenomenon that has been around for decades, but no one seems to know where it originated from. This labeling can be frustrating and even offensive to some Yoruba women who are constantly mistaken for being from a different tribe simply because they beautiful and modest almost like it is crime to be Yoruba and pretty. The question is, why does this happen? Is it just a harmless misconception or something more insidious?

The topic of beauty standards in Nigeria has long been a point of contention, with various ethnic groups having their own unique standards that they adhere to. However, one thing that cannot be denied is the perpetuation of negative stereotypes and defamatory remarks directed towards Yoruba women. While there are many factors that contribute to this, one of the biggest advocators of this defamation are Yoruba men themselves. It is not uncommon to hear Yoruba men praise and associate undeniable beauty to women of other ethnic groups at the demise of their own women. This has led to a worrying trend of Yoruba women feeling inferior and excluded from the mainstream beauty standards.This has also made observers stigmatise yoruba women for the fact that their own men seem to lack appreciation for them.

Dark-skinned women in Nigeria face colorism and discrimination. The beauty standards in Nigeria often favor light-skinned women, leaving dark-skinned women feeling inferior and unappreciated. Dark-skinned women are often told that they are not beautiful enough and that they need to lighten their skin to be more attractive. This is one of the main reasons why Yoruba women are seen as undesirable. The media in Nigeria plays a role in perpetuating colorism and discrimination against dark-skinned women. The media often portrays light-skinned women as more attractive and desirable, leaving dark-skinned women feeling invisible and unappreciated. Dark-skinned women in Nigeria are beautiful, and they deserve to be celebrated. Yoruba women are strong, confident, and resilient women who have overcome the challenges of colorism and discrimination. They are role models for young girls who are struggling with their self-esteem and need positive representation in the media. Contrary to this,  dark-skinned  women  from other ethnic groups are still appreciated and seen as beauty icons an example  being the one and only  Genevieve Nnaji a beautiful  dark skinned Nollywood  actress from the Igbo ethnic group. This is mainly due to the fact that , the Igbo ethnic group in Nigeria are known  to uplift  and positively promote the women of their ethnicity, regardless of the color of their skin or how they look.

Are Yoruba Men Enablers?

In today's world, where diversity in beauty is celebrated, it's shocking to see some Yoruba men struggling with accepting anything other than their own culture. For them, anything different or foreign is seen as exotic and more beautiful. It's a sad reality that has been forced upon women who identify as Yoruba, making them feel like they have to conform to a certain standard of beauty. It quite embarrassing to see statements like "Yoruba men are made for Igbo women" or ''Igbo women belong to us" with onlookers asking "Who are Yoruba women made for?" Statements like this are quite worrisome, it seems to me that men who utter such words simply do not see the women in their families as attractive. The notion that lighter skin is more attractive has been ingrained in the culture and the brains of some Yoruba men, making it incredibly difficult for some Yoruba women who are dark skinned to feel confident and beautiful in their own skin. This pervasive belief has led to a disturbing trend of skin bleaching, with some women going to dangerous lengths to achieve a lighter complexion.

In Nigeria, men have often viewed independence and self-sufficiency in women as a threat. However, women from other ethnicities, such as Igbo women are quite different to Yoruba women who are willing to tolerate disrespect and compromise for their broke partners. Igbo women prioritize their independence and are not afraid to demand respect from their partners. The men are required to to pay high dowries just to marry an Igbo woman, this makes most of these women highly sought after, and seen as expensive , a prize and a rare being to possess. This has also created the perception that Igbo women make better wives etc. But in reality Yoruba women are not bought but earned, the Yorubas simply do not believe in selling out their daughters in the form of dowry collection at the time of marriage. Nevertheless it's time we recognize the strength of all women, regardless of their ethnicity.

Yoruba Women Deserve Better

Yoruba women deserve better than the negative stereotype that characterizes them as being cheap and easy to get. They are hardworking, intelligent, and independent women who deserve respect and appreciation. Yoruba women are not perfect, but they are not cheap either. They are women who are ready to build a life with their partners, support their families, and contribute positively to their communities.

Yoruba men need to do better by appreciating and celebrating their women, and calling out stereotype propagators. They need to stop associating undeniable beauty with women from other ethnicities, but instead, acknowledge the beauty of their own women. Yoruba men need to stop taking their women for granted and start treating them with the respect they deserve. Yoruba women are strong, independent, and self-sufficient women who are worthy of respect and admiration. In my opinion Yoruba women need to be more assertive and stand up for themselves. They need to demand respect from their partners and not settle for less than they deserve. These women need to be confident in their own skin, regardless of their skin color. They need to be proud of their heritage and culture and not let anyone make them feel inferior. The Nigerian society also needs to stop perpetuating the negative stereotype of Yoruba women as being cheap and easy to get. The media needs to portray Yoruba women in a positive light, highlighting their achievements, and celebrating their contributions to society. Yoruba women need to be seen as role models and not as objects to be objectified and taken for granted.

In conclusion, Yoruba women are not cheap, dirty or ugly. They are women who continue to make waves all around the world regardless of the hate and false perception placed against them.

{BASED ON MY OUTLOOK}

#yoruba #igbo culture #nigeria #colorism #africa

[shaunreeduwm]

Multicultural Americ Blog #3

The Shade Room is a famous media company founded in 2014 by Angelica Nwandu. It focuses on top news stories involving celebrities, sports, pop culture, love, education, fashion, entertainment, and local news from around the nation about and on African Americans. You can view content from The Shade Room on multiple social media sites, including Instagram, Facebook, TikTok, Twitter, and Youtube. It relates to our topics and screenings because The Shade Room gives us in-depth information on our community that will not be heard or seen on a city's local news channel. Is our news not shown on local news channels because it to urban? Is it leading to showing success in the community?

When reviewing Race vs. Visual Technology PowerPoint, I couldn't help but re-read words from Hank Willis Thomas Crossroads, 2006. "So much of white America cannot see the shapes made out so clearly by most of black America...they are blind to how black folks often experience law enforcement." Also, Raise Up, 2013. "Stereotyping a race as drug addicts, criminals, and gang members and so might deserve to get shot." "White criminals are given the benefit of the doubt, and an attempt is made to understand or justify while criminals of color do not have the luxury of "presumed innocent." Whenever I turn on the local news, we are portrayed as drug dealers, gang bangers, a menace to society, and most of all, criminals, as Thomas mentioned. The Shade Room releases stories on Black excellence—for example, the educational achievement of young Black men receiving full-ride scholarships to college. Young black children creating small businesses and the success it has. New inventions from the African American youth. Were is that news seen on our local news stations? It's not, so we revert to social media platforms like The Shade Room, Black News, and blkculture_.

If you want to keep knowledge away from a black person, put it in a book. I have heard this rhetoric so many times in my life. But it has moved on to a different platform, one more current. If you want to keep valuable knowledge away from a black person, keep it out of mainstream media. African Americans have surpassed the stereotype that we don't like or know how to read. Now that we are becoming educated and intelligent about investments and living. The system must find a new way to isolate the African African American community from gaining success. So the next best thing is not to mention it all, harp on their downfall, neglect their achievements, and continue to condition them negatively through posting negative impacts from our community across news platforms nationwide. That's what the media platform has come to. We turn to other social media platforms to stay aware of what's happening in our community. If we can't be accepted and have the same advances as other races, you create your own. This is supposed to be America, where everyone's treated equally. How can one who helped build this country be so looked down on. African Americans have to find loopholes to gain acceptance in a country they practically made.

[linernotesandseasons]

I want to talk about abortion rights in America. A leaked draft says the Supreme Court intends to overturn Roe v. Wade (the 1973 decision that granted women rights to abortions & bodily autonomy) and give states the right to make abortions illegal again. While the majority of Americans (59%) believe that abortions should be legal, this decision would give old white men power in 2022 to pass laws governing the bodies of birthing people (women, trans, non-binary, & intersex people). • I was raised in a evangelical Christian household and was anti-abortion until college. Many of my friends & family still are. I have since changed my mind thanks to hundreds of hard conversations & observations w/friends/coworkers/family/artists & activists I respect, etc… If you are unsure of how you feel, we should all be able to talk about it, even if it is a hard topic!Abortion is life & death to so many. Someone you know & love has had an abortion. Someone you know & love has had their life drastically altered by the decision one way or the other. Child bearing persons 100% deserve the right to make an informed, intentional decision to have or not have a child, and have their bodily rights protected by law. • It is clear to me that the current abortion debate is centered around upholding the history of our patriarchal, sexist, racist, & Christian nation. If you know the god of the bible like I have, this is not his will. Making abortion illegal will ruin the lives of countless birthing persons (the higher percentage will be people of color and other “least of these”) and people WILL DIE. Imagine a law requiring you to give away your blood or organs to someone, even if it meant death or a life changed forever for you? • So, what can we do? I’m gonna repost some stories with resources but #1… TALK ABOUT IT! Get involved in the community! Protest! Engage in local politics! Start to care! Donate to abortion funds (especially in the South & Midwest where abortion will be illegal soon) and support independent clinics where the majority of safe abortions are performed. This is happening NOW, in OUR courts. • Stand up for human rights. Fight to make our country safer for all people. (at Greensboro, North Carolina) https://www.instagram.com/p/CdJk8pClZSH/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

#1

[yougotthatbilly]

take care (m)

→ member: johnny seo

→ genre: assistant!johnny | smut

→ word count: 15.9k (not surprised atp)

→ playlist: body talk x majid jordan, warm x majid jordan, BoRdErSz x zayn, moment x victoria monét

→ warnings: slowburn, indecisiveness, v  self-indulgent; unprofessional relations, big dick!johnny (ofc; don’t expect anything else), soft dom!johnny, begging (johnny’s a tease), subspace, oral; face-fucking, (and if you squint, ass eating), unprotected sex, squirting, praising, overstimulation, etc. 

↳ summary: your assistant just wants to take care of you

The heavy rain outside mocks you. You were supposed to be at your favorite bar across the street, but here you are sitting at your desk, staring out your window. And that’s how Johnny finds you after being granted entrance into your office.

Your arm is propped up on the arm of your seat, cheek in hand, lips pouted. Johnny does his best not to smile at the thought of you looking adorable as not to piss you off. He just sets your cup of tea down on the coaster on the corner of your desk. 

“How was the meeting?” he asks, taking a seat on the other side of your desk. 

You slowly spin to face him, looking at him with annoyed eyes as you take a sip of your tea. It’s the perfect temperature—a temperature Johnny took almost a month to perfect— and sweetness, and it instantly makes you feel a little better.

“Don’t worry,” you sigh. “Jiyoung didn’t get fired.” You have a three-strike policy; this incident is the second strike.

“Jaehyun,” Johnny corrects, grinning.

You tilt your head at his correction. “I care?”

Johnny just shakes his head, knowing you’re being petty because Jaehyun got his dates wrong and uploaded a post on a few new products a week earlier than the scheduled date, resulting in having to speed things up a little. It didn’t cause a major problem because you’re typically prepared for the worst case scenario, but you don’t like feeling rushed and when things don’t go as planned, so you were pissed. 

“What’s his punishment?”

“That’s between me and him,” you tell Johnny before taking another sip. Your lip curls in disgust at the suggestive look your assistant gives you. “Okay, let’s not be gross. He’s a child.”

“I didn’t know 23 was considered a child,” Johnny teases, mostly because the man of the hour has had a crush on you for the last year he’s been working for you and he’s been trying to get Johnny to talk him up to you. 

“I didn’t know you wanted to get fired in his place,” you say with a tight smile. Johnny decides to switch the subject.

“Mind me asking why you looked so sad when I walked in?”

You sigh once more, slouching in your seat.

“I wanted to go to the bar…” You point to the window beside you. Johnny follows your finger and watches the storm that hasn’t let up since it started half an hour ago. “That’s not happening anytime soon.”

You’ve either been in your office working nonstop or sleeping for the last week or so and you can feel a burnout creeping up. You were going to walk to the bar to get the fresh air you needed, enjoy a drink and your favorite wings because you deserve it—especially after the headache Jaehyun caused the moment you stepped foot into your office this morning—and indulge yourself. Now look at you, hardly munching on the fruit slices Johnny gave you this morning and almost finished with your tea.

“I’m sorry things aren’t going the way you planned today.” Johnny pouts. “On the bright side, you don’t have anything else on your schedule so if you wanted to go home within the next hour, you wouldn’t fall behind.”

“I’ll probably just take a nap on the futon once I’m done looking over the new plan again.” You shrug. 

Johnny wants to roll his eyes, but he catches himself. He’s sure you’ve already gone over it at least five times. There’s nothing he can do about it, though, so lifts himself out of his seat. “I’ll leave you to it. Just give me a call if something comes up or you change your mind.”

To both of your surprise, you actually head out and get yourself a candle you’d ran out of a week ago on the way home to treat yourself to a much needed bath filled with bubbles and essential oils. The scent of the candle reminds you of your assistant because it’s the scent he got you for your birthday, and it’s become your favorite. 

You send a picture of the candle at the end of your tub to Johnny, thanking him again for putting you onto greatness, as he worded it before when you first smelled it in front of him and your eyes practically rolled back. 

[18:14] John Suh: Are you actually relaxing???

You suck your teeth at his response, but you can’t blame him. He’s the only one that knows just how much you put in to get to the position you’re in, while you’re positive a lot of others just think it was handed to you by your mother instead of the school and endless hours work you went through and continue to go through. It’s very rare you give yourself the time to truly sit back and relax aside from when you’re on vacation. And even then, work never really stops. It just gets placed on the back burner for a little.

[18:16] you: Hush.

[18:17] John Suh: I’m just glad you’re taking care of yourself. Your dark circles have been snitching on you.

[18:17] you: Wow. You really wanna get fired today, huh?

[18:18] John Suh: Dark circles or not, you know you’re still beautiful. Now stop texting me and enjoy your bath!

When you find yourself smiling at your phone, you know you should do exactly what he says. Johnny’s always been a complimenter, though his usual kindness goes along the lines of telling you that you look nice. You’re no stranger to this specific compliment, you get it all the time on Instagram from your business partners and supporters. So why does this time settle differently within you?

[18:21] you: Nice save. 

You need a video of one of your popular social media influencer ambassadors using and reviewing your newest skincare products tomorrow—due to Jaehyun’s mix-up—but that’s not happening. She didn’t record it before going on vacation and didn’t think to bring the products with her on her trip. While it isn’t her fault times have moved around, you’re annoyed she didn’t bring the products with her when she’s supposed to be using them every day because she’s one of your main advocates for your products being oily skin-friendly. You have the videos of the other models with their specific skin types, and this is your missing piece. 

The weather is nice today, so you take a much-needed break from electronics and go to the roof of the building. Your peace is quickly interrupted by the body of a six-foot male in front of you, standing in the way of the sunlight you were basking in.

“I know you hate him right now,” Johnny begins, skipping over greetings to get to the point of his disruption. “But Jaehyun has oily skin, he’s been using the products you gave him for like three weeks, he really likes them, and he has a good following on Instagram.”

You take the phone handed to you begrudgingly and look at Jaehyun’s page. Thirteen thousand followers and quality pictures. You’re not blind, Jaehyun is conventionally attractive and looks like a model in the photos and boomerangs. Something is missing, though. “Eh.”

“‘Eh?’” Johnny parrots, confused. He doesn’t know a better last-minute model for you than Jaehyun.

“Something’s missing,” you explain with a shrug. You absentmindedly tap the profile icon at the bottom of the screen and Johnny’s Instagram profile pops up. The two of you follow each other, so it’s not like you’ve never seen his pictures, but it’s been a while since you actually paid attention to detail. He has eighteen thousand followers and apparently uploads his pictures following a color theme. There are pictures of himself, random people, and nature in a strategic flow. When you select a video to watch, you’re sold on the lighting, exposure, and the way he captured the woman’s features. “Sit.”

Johnny does so without any questions. You gently grab his jaw and study his face closely. His skin is supple and dewy, the sun highlighting his cheekbones and the bridge of his nose. Not that his skin was bad before he started using your products, but the texture and scarring have minimized quite a bit. Johnny doesn’t have the typical, bland model face your competitors love so much, especially with the slight stubble he’s got above his top lip and on his chin. 

“What’s your skin type, John?” 

“Oily,” he sighs, knowing what’s coming next. He was doing his job as your assistant, trying to make your life easier, but now he wishes he would’ve left this task to the social media department and stayed out of it. 

You thought so. “Will you do this for me instead?”

“Do I look like an influencer to you?” 

“Yes. I’ll double your next check and everything,” you promise him. “You actually have a personality and everything you post is quality. Women will love the eye candy and all types of men will take you seriously because you don’t have that annoying pristine, perfect look to you like Jaeyoung does.”

Johnny is here to fulfill your needs, so he knows you asking is really just you being polite. He doesn’t have much of a choice, especially with the lack of time you have. He is enjoying the warmth of your hand and the fact you referred to him as ‘eye candy,’ too. And who is he to say no to extra money?

“I’ll have it recorded and edited by midnight,” Johnny smiles, giving you the hope you need. 

“Ugh, you’re the best,” you sigh in relief, shaking his face side to side affectionately before letting him go to stand up. You feel much better now. “Send it directly to me.” 

Johnny stands up with you and leads the way, opening the door for you. “Yes, ma’am.”

Always true to his word, Johnny emails you two links at a quarter-till, with a message attached: 

Good evening, 

I edited two videos for you, one short enough for a regular post on the company’s page and the other that could be used for my IGTV for my followers. I hope these meet your expectations, but if there’s anything you need me to fix or redo, let me know and I’ll get right to it. 

Sincerely, 

John Suh

You get comfortable in your bed with your iPad and tap the first link. You make sure the brightness and volume are high enough to get the full effect, then press play. The quality of the film makes you assume he used a professional camera instead of his phone, and he gets a point for that. 

“Hey,” Johnny starts with an awkwardly endearing smile. “I know this is a little different than what I usually post, but I got scouted by the skincare goddess herself to be an ambassador for Surreal’s new line of skincare, Ethereal.”

You grin at the nickname and note that with him being in the bathroom, there’s no echo in his audio, and that gives him another point.

“I’ve been using the four of the five products I’m about to introduce to you everyday for around a month and before I do my skincare routine for you, I’ll show you what my skin looked like before I started using these products with dates so you don’t think I’m just trying to sell you on them just because she’s been writing my checks for the last year,” Johnny chuckles, then the screen shows a selfie Johnny took with the date of a month ago from today, some hyperpigmentation and small bumps dotting his cheek and jaw. 

Another point for including before and afters. You knew he’d meet your expectations without you having to say much.  

“I’ll get up close and personal at the end so you can really see the results,” Johnny winks into the camera, causing you to blink. 

You knew he’d have personality and that was one of the main reasons he was a great idea, and while in hindsight his actions are predictable, you shake your head. The fact that he’s actually charming makes you scoff, but you’re sure that the damn wink only worked on you right now because it’s almost midnight and you should be asleep right now. You won’t act like he hasn’t always been nice on the eyes, but he’s Johnny. 

You can’t deny that you do thoroughly enjoy the Johnny presented to you through the screen, though. 

“The first product is an oil-based cleanser because the SPF in this collection is oil-based as well,” Johnny explains, then proceeds to show the jar and small spatula that comes with it before he scooped some out, capturing the texture of the product well. 

And that’s how the rest of the video plays out, the unusually deep, gentle tone of Johnny’s voice explaining how well each product works for his oily and acne-prone skin, lulling you into a relaxed state against your headboard. He keeps things short and simple, the video just barely passing three minutes and as promised, his face comes a lot closer to the screen, showing the faded scarring and smooth texture of what used to be his problem areas. Johnny ends the video with a sweet smile and says goodbye. The shorter video is edited to where he’s hardly talking, mostly just demoing your products, just the way you like things to be on the company’s page.

You did great, John. Thanks again for doing this last minute. You can come in at 10 am tomorrow since I had you working overtime today. Rest well. 

Johnny is at your desk with your morning cup of tea at eight in the morning, a bright smile on his face as he tells you good morning. 

You glare at him. “Why are you here?”

“Because it’s my job?” Johnny says, pretending like he doesn’t know what you’re referring to. You can read him well, though. You take the mug out of his hand before gesturing for him to take a seat in front of you. 

“You’re either being hard-headed as usual, or you’re anxious about your video being uploaded. Which is it?” 

And that wipes the bright smile off of his face. 

“I slept three hours last night,” he confesses. “I’m not used to this kind of exposure.”

You take a couple of sips of your tea and quietly observe him, thinking. 

“Would you prefer we didn’t post it, then?”

Your assistant looks at you as if you didn’t just speak one of the languages he’s fluent in. You just blink at him and continue drinking your beverage, waiting for him to either say yes or no in case you need to make other plans, again.

“You’d do that for me?” he finally says after a while of staring at you like you’re crazy. 

“Why wouldn’t I?” you ask slowly. “You’ve proven how far you’d go for me and I appreciate it, but I care about you as a person and anxiety is a bitch, so I wouldn’t want you to be panicking over Jaejoon’s mistake.”

The corner of Johnny’s lift curls at your continued pettiness, and maybe his heart does a thing at the fact that you care that much about him. It’s obvious to everyone that he is the closest to you out of all of your employees; being your assistant means you let your guard down a little with him. Along with the more serious side of your personality everyone else gets (especially recently), he sees your soft side. You’re not an overly strict boss, but Johnny gets to see you smile more and pout (he’d lose his job if he admitted to you how endearing your pout is to him). But even with the closer relationship the two of you have, Johnny would’ve never expected you to choose his stage fright over your baby; your company.

“I couldn’t ask you to do that,” Johnny declines with a shake of his head. “I’ll be okay, I promise. Thank you for considering my feelings, though.”

You shrug, not about to press him on the issue. “Alright. I need you to post the IGTV at 2 pm and tag our page in an appropriate caption. I’d suggest you turn your notifications off for a while because as soon as you post it, it’s getting posted to our story then I’m sure you’re gonna get flooded with DM’s.”

“Flooded?’” Johnny asks, head tilted. “I mean, all I’ll have to do is copy and paste the same message answering any questions they might have about the products. Easy.”

You’re the one to look at him like he’s stupid this time. You set your mug down, lean back in your swivel chair, and clasp your hands over your stomach. “You can’t be that dense.”

“‘Dense?’” he asks.

“Are you a parrot?” you tsk. “But yes, dense. You know good and well most of the messages will have nothing to do with my products and everything to do with you.”

Johnny has the audacity to still be confused after your explanation. 

“John, you realize you’re a good-looking guy with a likable personality, right?” 

It’s not that he doesn’t know that. Johnny’s always been a pretty confident guy, with both his looks and personality. His confusion doesn’t stem from being blind or too humble. It’s the fact you of all people are telling him this right now. 

“You think so?” he prompts, just to see how many compliments he can get out of you. This is a rare occasion.

“When you’re not being annoyingly happy-go-lucky and chill out, yes.” You reply. And now he’s pouting. That’s what he gets.

“I thought my cheerfulness brought joy to your days,” Johnny says with a dramatic hand on his heart, offended.

“What brings me joy is everything running smoothly and everyone doing their job,” you correct. He isn’t wrong, but you decide not to stroke his ego any more than you already have. And you’ve already said too much. “With that being said, you do everything I ask of you, and that brings me so much joy. You’re the perfect assistant, so don’t cry.”

“Is this your way of telling me to calm down?”

Your iPad buzzes against the wood of your desk and when you peek at it, you see it’s an email from Jaehyun with the subject: Today’s upload schedule.

“This is my way of telling you to get to work, honey.”

Johnny often finds himself slowly backing out of your office with his hands up in surrender, and he wouldn’t have it any other way. He loves the distinct differences between the two of you. He figures it’s why you work so well together and why he’s held this job position for over a year in comparison to the two assistants before him that both got fired before the six-month mark. Johnny’s also positive that you love his excessively positive nature (as Jaehyun has described Johnny’s personality before) somewhere deep down and that he brightens your day after dealing with idiots like Jaehyun. 

When your assistant is out of sight, you grab your iPad, respond to Jaehyun’s email, and find yourself rewatching today’s scheduled video. Maybe more than once. 

The video is up at 2 pm sharp and Johnny does as advised, turning his Instagram notifications off immediately. He even goes as far as taking his phone off of vibrate so he isn’t aware of any other notifications until he decides to look at his phone again. He’s got things to organize anyway, so the work he has to do takes his mind off of any anxiety within him. 

That is until you appear at the doorway of his office an hour later. This is a rare occurrence, so Johnny can’t be blamed for staring at you, and in the process, he appreciates the very fitted pantsuit you’re wearing. You took off the blazer sometime in between when Johnny left your office hours ago and now, and he thinks that the blush pink blouse compliments your complexion and red lips very well. But of course it does. Everything you wear compliments everything about you perfectly. 

Just one of the many observations Johnny has made in the past year.

“How do you feel?” you ask him. Your voice is always so calm and collected, even when you’re ripping someone to shreds because of idiocy. Johnny admittedly admires that about you.

“I’ve done everything under the sun to avoid my phone,” Johnny confesses with a weak laugh.

You nod. “Well, just know that I’ve had multiple companies and modeling agencies ask why I’ve been hiding you. So don’t be surprised if you have job opportunities waiting for you.” 

“Wow… this means I can finally quit,” Johnny hardly whispers with a victorious fist pump.

“I wish the hell you would,” you deadpan, breaking Johnny’s act and causing him to laugh loudly at the lack of expression paired with your response. “You’re mine unless there’s a tragic accident, God forbid, or you’re moving up in the ranks.”

“Promise?” 

“Promise,” you confirm, sending him a wink before turning on your heel and strutting back to your own office. Johnny licks his lips at the sight of the natural sway of your hips before shaking his head and getting back to working on the excel sheet staring at him.

“How is it that you all have the skills and training for the very simple tasks I ask you to complete, yet lack common sense and proper work ethic?” 

Everyone in the room, excluding Johnny, just looks up at you from their seats, pitiful expressions on their faces. Their eyes follow you as you slowly walk to the other side of the room. You’re trying to stay calm and be professional, so pacing around the room is your best bet. 

To Johnny, you look like you’re on a runway in slow motion, modeling the slim-fitting pencil skirt and red bottoms you’re adorning. Though still attentive to every word coming out of your mouth, Johnny lets himself get lost in each step you take because he’s not the one getting chewed out. 

Mark, one of the newest additions to the marketing department, leans into Johnny’s side to whisper into his ear. “How have you managed to not fuck up and be on the receiving end of her talks yet?”

You don’t hear anything, but you see whispering happening, and now is not the time for side conversations. Johnny doesn’t even have the chance to turn to Mark or tell him to shut up until the end of the meeting before you’re speaking again.

“Mark Lee,” you call as you make your way towards him, causing him to sit up straight. “Is there something you’d like to say?”

“No, ma’am,” he responds nervously. Johnny internally shakes his head at Mark not being able to think quickly and lie. “My apologies.”

“Is there anything anyone wants to say or am I just a narcissist who loves talking to hear my lovely voice? Should I sing?” you ask, standing next to Johnny at the end of the conference table, hand on your hip. “Y’all want a performance?”

Johnny bites the inside of his cheek to refrain from laughing. Your sarcasm only intensifies the unsettled looks on everyone’s face and they all side-eye Jungwoo, their savior from the last time they got chewed out as a whole. Jungwoo raises his hand before saying, “There’s nothing we can say to excuse our actions—or lack thereof, but we will get right on it and do our jobs correctly this time. You won’t have to repeat yourself again.”

Johnny is impressed at how quickly your features soften. The ready-to-fire-someone look melts away as you nod at Jungwoo’s promise. You do have a bit of a soft spot for the latter, though, so it makes sense. 

“I’ll take your word for it. You’re dismissed,” you announce, waving everyone off. 

The room is empty, save for you and your assistant, in mere seconds. 

“You’re going to give them nightmares,” Johnny chuckles, gathering your belongings before opening the door for you to exit the conference room. He laughs once more at your responding yawn.

“How? That was me on my best behavior,” you retort, your heels clicking loudly as you walk to the elevator. “And what was Lee whispering about?”

“Your employees are just amazed that I’ve kept you satisfied for so long.”

You walk into the elevator once the doors slide open and lean against the mirrored wall, arms crossed. Your eyes are squinted as you give Johnny a once over. He has done everything right since he completed his training. “You think you can keep me satisfied?” 

There’s a challenging tone in your voice that causes Johnny to lick his lips. “I’d never disappoint you.”

Your response is a nod of your head paired with a drawn-out hum, and then you walk out of the elevator to your office once you hit your floor, walking ahead of Johnny without another word. You laugh at yourself when you replay the short conversation in your mind at the feeling you got in your gut at his response. And then you’re scoffing because, once again, it’s Johnny.

Johnny… Over six feet, amicable, charming, handsome as all hell Johnny. The scene of him licking his lips and saying those four words in that promising, deep voice in the elevator flashes through your mind once you’re seated at your desk. Your fingernail taps against the wood as you roll your lips together, stuck in your head. The ironic conclusion you come to before getting back to work is that you’re working way too much and just lacking male attention because there’s no other plausible reason for your goofy-ass assistant to have been on your mind so much for the last couple of days. 

“Really?” Johnny asks when he walks in and sees you slumped over your desk.

Your eyes flutter open at his voice.

“I was just resting my eyes” you yawn, waving him off. 

“What work is there possibly left for you to do at this point?” The products go on the market tomorrow, meaning all the work that had to be done in preparation for the launch was completed before everyone left today (the marketing department got their shit together quickly because they know about your policy and how unforgiving you are when the deadline is right around the corner). The only thing left for your marketing team to do tomorrow is look over everything once more and then you’re free to sit back and wait for customers to buy the new products and idly watch over social media if you really wanted to. It frustrates Johnny that you always find something extra to do. 

“I was doing some last minute, um”— another yawn —“touches on the-”

“Well, that’s enough,” Johnny interrupts your explanation, walking around to your side of the desk and plucking the pen out of your hand.

 You just nod and lean back in your ridiculously big swivel chair, blinking up at him slowly, because he’s right. There’s literally nothing else for you to do and you have the most full coverage concealer under your eyes; you need to rest. 

“Am I driving you home tonight?” He asks as he packs your belongings into the massive purse on the box by your feet then places it on your desk so he doesn’t have to bend back down to retrieve it.

“Yeah, I don’t feel like moving,” you mumble, thankful you spent so much money on the chair you’re oh-so comfortable in. 

Johnny puts his hands out for you to grab, and once you do so, he pulls you up. You groan and lean forward into him to catch your balance after not being on your feet for many hours, but then Johnny’s hand on firm on the middle of your lower back, and the pressure makes you stay. He’s just helping you steady yourself, a position you’ve been in once or twice before because you like to push your limits (says both your therapist and your assistant), but he smells good and he’s warm; his presence is comforting. It always has been, which is why he’s made the perfect assistant for you. 

“Are you okay?” he asks, looking down at the top of your head that simply nods in response.

“Think I pushed my limit,” you admit, much to your assistant’s surprise. It’s not that you’re prideful, but you don’t exactly like showing weakness, especially in front of your employees.

Though tempted to just let you rest your head on his chest because he doesn’t mind the proximity at all and knows you’re somehow comfortable, Johnny makes sure you’re standing steadily by yourself so he can drape your coat over your shoulders. He grabs your purse and wraps an arm around your waist then guides you out of your office, all the way to the parking garage, saying goodbye to the confused cleaning staff on his way out. 

He presses the button on the handle of the passenger side’s door to unlock it, opens the door, then fits you inside of his car. Johnny leans over your body to buckle your seat belt, and when he’s back away, he catches you looking at him with a look he can’t quite decipher. 

“What’s up?”

You shake your head and blink slowly. “I just really appreciate you, John.”

Johnny just nods to save face and closes the door before making his way to the driver’s seat. He’s not quite sure how to feel or respond to the soft-spoken, sleepy side of you since it’s been months since the one other time you’ve been in a similar situation, and he wasn’t as smitten as he is now. 

You’re fighting your sleep because even though you trust Johnny, you want to be as aware during this trip to your house. It’s a hard feat, though. His car is big and comfortable and the hum of the engine is trying to lull you into a deep sleep. 

Johnny looks over at you after getting on the main road and notices your internal fight. 

“You can fall asleep, you know.”

“You might take my organs.” 

“I would’ve done that a long time ago if I wanted to,” Johnny humors you. His response brings a small smile to your face, and that keeps a smile on his own. 

“You have a really pretty smile, John.”

“Thank you,” Johnny says, figuring it’s just your exhaustion talking. 

“I’m almost jealous of how pretty your lips are,” you sigh, mouth not filtering your thoughts at this point of exhaustion (you’ve gotten 10 hours of sleep in the last week, but no one, especially not Johnny, needs to know that). You don’t care enough to try to “correct” yourself because the pretty curl of his lips gets even deeper.

“Really?” Johnny asks, trying his luck again because he’s sure tonight isn’t like the other day in your office. “You think my lips are pretty?”

You hum and cuddle into his seat even more. After staring at his profile a while longer, you tell him, “I think you’re pretty.”

That makes him laugh again, taken aback at the string of compliments coming out of your mouth towards him of all people. It’s not that you’re mean or don’t applaud him for his great work, but this is a very different side of you that he’s seeing. He likes it.

“That’s a first, but I’ll take it,” he says, taking a moment to look at you again before focusing on the road again. “Thank you.”

“Are you used to hearing ‘handsome?’ ‘Fine?’ ‘Sexy?’” You notice how Johnny’s brows lift. “Too far?”

He shakes his head. “No, you’re good. I like you when you’re nice.”

“You like me regardless,” you say with a sassy scoff, pretending to flip your hair even though it’s slicked back in a low bun, the same as every workday.

Johnny nods slowly, contemplating if he should humor you or just laugh you off. It literally takes him 0.5 seconds to go with the former option because he’s been waiting for the day the two of you step out of professional talk and get into something more personal, specifically between the two of you. “You got me there. I mean, what isn’t there to like?”

Your eyes squint as you analyze him and process his words. There’s a subtle but still very noticeable shift in the air after his question, and while you’re sure it’s your fault for letting your exhaustion let you feel comfortable enough to open your mouth and start spewing out nice things to your assistant, his response is enough to keep it up. It also doesn't help that this is a far more intimate setting than work. 

“Be careful, you keep saying things like that and I’ll think you have a crush on me,” you tease him, chuckling at the snort he responds with. 

Before Johnny snitches on himself, he flips the script. “Says the one staring at my lips long enough to deem them ‘pretty’ and calling me pretty, of all things.” 

“Well,” you start as your gaze goes right back to his mouth at the mention of it. “It would be unprofessional of me to tell you that I think you’re fine as hell, so,” you shrug.

You and Johnny have always had a bit of banter between the two of you, and while this topic isn’t something that’s been covered before, it’s hard to really care when you feel comfortable enough to cross that line right now. If he hadn’t been playing along, you wouldn’t have said anything more than the simple compliment from earlier, but with the reciprocity, the logical voice within gets pushed away. Exhaustion isn’t much of an excuse at this point because that high from tiredness has passed. 

The timing of the traffic light turning red is a little too perfect. Johnny takes the opportunity to look at you again, and something lights up in his chest when he catches how your eyes travel up from his mouth to look into his own eyes at his attention. 

“It would be unprofessional,” he agrees with another nod of his head. “But I can’t say the feeling isn’t mutual.”

You hum and nod. “Good to know.”

“You must not be sleeping well for you to be throwing out compliments like that.” Johnny leans onto the middle counsel.

“I’m not saying anything I haven’t thought of for a while.” You tell him after a beat, choosing to reply honestly since you’re already here. Johnny quirks a brow to prompt you to elaborate, and you do so, mirroring his position and propping your chin in your hand. His face is a lot closer now, but you keep your eyes on his own orbs to avoid losing focus. “I hired you because of your experience and skill set, but I knew it wouldn’t hurt to have some eye-candy around me. Pretty privilege and all,” you wave a nonchalant hand. “You were perfect until you opened your mouth.”

“You can never be nice to me for long, can you?” he snorts.

“You’re perfect tonight, though,” you add on, specifically for the quirk of Johnny’s mouth that comes from the praise. Yeah, you failed the challenge. 

“How so?” Johnny questions, quickly checking to see if the light has changed yet. It hasn’t, and for once in his life he’s grateful for a long light. He feels good about where this conversation could possibly get him after a year of silently admiring you, so good that he not-so-subtly gets even closer, definitely in your bubble, but nothing too crazy.

“You’re calm and collected and taking care of me,” you admit. The silent deep breath you take to calm yourself grants you access to the scent of Johnny’s cologne again, and your mind is so close to deciding that logic is unnecessary. A tiny voice in the back of your mind has been trying to get your attention and steer you in the opposite direction of the one you’ve decided to take, with how you tilt your head up to get just a little closer to him.

“You like being taken care of?”

“I love it,” you confess, and Johnny takes the chance to tuck a stray hair behind your ear as he hums, content with your response. Definitely an excuse to test the waters and see how far he can go and how willing you are to really cross this line. You turn your face into his hand so he cups your jaw, but then there’s a horn sounding behind you because the light is green, and Johnny begrudgingly has to pay attention to the road. You blink, the trance you found yourself in with him so close but so far away dissipating, the situation becoming a lot more real now that he’s out of your space. You slump back into your seat and look out of the window, that voice becoming louder and grounding you as you take another deep breath. “But allowing myself to be vulnerable with someone like that? Yikes.”

He knows your defense mechanism is trying to kick in, but he’s not having it.

“Aside from me?” 

You hum. “Not quite…” 

You set yourself up. From that moment in the elevator to now, you’ve been digging your own grave, and Johnny has done nothing but assist you, encourage you to dig deeper. You’re not sleepy anymore, there’s no more foggy brain from earlier when he found you asleep in the office. Just desire you’ve done a grand job of ignoring up until the last few days. But unfortunately, you have to remind yourself you’ve been ignoring it for a reason.

Your assistant almost doesn’t say anything because he loves his job and you clearly switched the direction of the conversation for a reason, but so much (yet so little) has already been said during your time in the car and you’ve already said enough to get the gears in his head turning. 

“So you mean a different type of care?”Johnny asks. He pulls into your driveway and parks. He wants to get back to the space the two of you were at when stopped at that light, but you’re already unbuckling your seat belt and grabbing your purse, signifying that the moment is long gone. That doesn’t stop him from trying, though. “Do you need me to walk you in?”

“I think I’ve got it now, thanks.” You need to get inside and get some sleep. Are you running right now? Of course. You’re a responsible person and the most responsible thing for you to do as the woman that signs his paychecks, is to get the fuck away from him before he persuades you, because you both know it’s possible.

“Let me rephrase that:” he licks his pretty lips and your fist balls up around your purse’s straps. “Do you want me to walk you in? I know you didn’t need me to do most of what I’ve done tonight, but you let me because you wanted me to.” His ability to read you so well is both a blessing and a curse. “Now would you like for me to continue taking care of you tonight or not?” 

You do. You absolutely do. You’re tempted to say yes in the case you don’t end up alone tonight, but you know it’s not a good idea. And you’re sure the atmosphere of this car ride will disappear by the time you wake up. At least that’s what you tell yourself because you know, ethics.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” you tell Johnny, opening the door and stepping out. “Thanks for the ride. Drive safe.”

Johnny watches you walk up to your door, unlock it, then disappear into your house. He lets out a deep sigh before backing out of your driveway and driving home.

Tea, fruit slices, and avocado toast are set down in front of you the moment you walk behind your desk. 

“Good morning,” Johnny greets you calmly. “Your eleven o’clock meeting has been pushed back thirty minutes, so I’d suggest using the opportunity to get out of the building and get some fresh air. You know, get away from electronics and people to recharge.”

That’s exactly what you’ll do. You’re going to be monitoring the Instagram engagement and website sales for a while, even though you pay people to be on top of numbers, so a break will definitely be needed. 

“I love your brain, you know that?” you ask, looking up at him once your jacket and bag are off of your body, meeting his eye. The corner of Johnny’s mouth twitches. 

“I told you I’d never disappoint you.”

“And I’m holding you to that.” You ignore the fact that there’s definitely another meaning behind his words. You can’t say the tension that last night’s conversation produced has gone away completely, but it’s weak enough for you to ignore it and stick to the amicable atmosphere the two of you have built for the last year plus.

“Would it be alright if I accompanied you during your walk?” Johnny prompts after a moment of him just standing there, pursing his lips together to refrain himself from grinning at you. “There’s something I’d like to run by you because I trust your opinion as my boss and my friend.”

“We’re friends?” you joke, settling into your seat.

“Last time I checked,” he responds, unfazed. “We could be even closer if you let yourself be vulnerable with me.” 

And there it is.

“John,” you say after a brief pause. He’s got his hands in his pockets, face mostly void of emotion. Johnny doesn’t want things to go back to normal, and he’s decided to let you know in the most subtle, yet obvious way. Why ignore the feeling when it’s clearly mutual? 

“Yes, boss?”

“You can leave now.”

The grin on the male’s face falters. He examines you to see just how serious you are, and he knows this isn’t one of your playful banter moments. He tries to call your name, either to ease the situation and tell you it was just a bad joke or to apologize, but you just remove your attention from him and get on your iPad. 

And when he’s out of the room, the door closed behind him, you let out a frustrated sigh. Up until you fell asleep, if you weren’t thinking about your launch, you were thinking about him. If you weren’t thinking about the numbers from your last launch and the possibility of exceeding them, you were thinking of the way you felt and the words he said while you were in that intimate bubble before the horn honked at him. You had to take a couple melatonin gummies to shut your mind up and knock out. The sleep was amazing, the best you’d had in a while, but then when you were conscious again, Johnny was back.

You could have done without stepping into uncharted territory last night. To him, it may not seem as deep as you’re making it out to be, but there’s too much on the line for you. Your professionalism. Your pride. Your job, quite possibly. His job. You could pay him off if you decided to fire him, but you don’t want to deal with bribes making you feel like a shitty person. You don’t want a new assistant. You want Johnny.

At that very last thought, you pick up the phone and call Jaehyun to have him run the plan by you one more time. He thinks it’s because of his fuck up from before, and you just let him think that. 

Thankfully, Johnny is out of your way until later in the night. He didn’t try to accompany you on your walk, but he has no choice but to be here at the company outing taking place to celebrate your products selling out within 4 hours. 

All shots are on you, so your employees are taking advantage of this, recording  as everyone clinks their shot glasses together and downs the painful alcohol down. You’re two shots in and you mentally note that three is your limit for tonight. Maybe four. You’re already a bit of a lightweight, and there’s no way in hell you’re going to make a fool of yourself in front of your employees. Regardless, you’re having a pretty good time. As a gift, your best friend rented out the bar, so it’s empty save for your large group, and Joohyun’s presence is a godsend. She’s being friendly enough to your employees and for the most part she hasn’t left your side, being the comfort she doesn’t realize you need. 

“Congrats again, babe,” she says excitedly to you, pushing another shot in front of you as she scoots into the seat next to you. “Can we take that vacation in Bora Bora now that you’re free and even richer?” Her teasing smile makes you crack one of your own and sigh.

“You know that trip is for August. Be patient, Bae.”

She rolls her eyes but her expression doesn’t falter. Her gaze wanders a bit as she sips from her mixed drink and then she’s looking at you expectantly. You raise a brow to prompt her.

“How is it that all of your employees are hot as fuck?” she asks bluntly. “Even the women.”

You take a glance around like you don’t remember what everyone looks like. “I mean, I guess.”

“Especially a certain assistant.”

“Go for it,” you tell her, nodding in his direction. The said male is at the bar ordering something with his arm draped over Jaehyun’s shoulders, the two of them laughing about whatever the latter just said. 

“You know that’s not why I said that,” Joohyun scoffs, swatting at your arm. You may have mentioned to her a while ago that your assistant is very nice on the eyes and you sometimes enjoy watching him as he does his job. “Plus, Jaehyun’s more my type.”

You shrug. “I’m sure they’d be down for a threesome.”

Your best friend hits you once again. “What’s with your mood? You’re not acting like someone who just sold out in only a few hours.” 

Before she decided to bring a certain assistant up, you were doing pretty well. You’d been able to not look at him for too long or even have to speak to him much aside from a greeting and his congratulations before he was by Jaehyun’s side and Joohyun was by yours. But now, with him being mentioned, your eyes are having a hard time pulling away from his figure. His tie is loosened and the top few buttons of his shirt are undone. His sleeves are rolled up right under his elbows and show off the tattoo on his arm. 

You rip your eyes off of him and down your shot. Yeah, you’re thinking four.

Joohyun’s incredulous laugh brings your attention back to her. “You didn’t.”

“What?”

She leans into your side to whisper, “You’re in a mood because of Johnny?”

You side-eye her because you don’t like how quickly she read you, and her smile grows wide. 

“Oh, my—you slept with Johnny?!” she continues to whisper-yell.

“No,” you hiss. “I did not. But I could have and that’s the issue.”

“Not seeing the issue?” She’s always been the little devil on your left shoulder. “The only reason I brought him up is because I’ve noticed how often you have his attention when you’re not even in the same area. And I know the difference between a look of concern and a look of want. He’s got a good ratio of both going on.”

“Okay, Miss Couple’s Therapist,” you mutter. “You ever heard of conflict of interest?”

And that shuts her up. Only for a few seconds, though.

“All I’m saying is I know you’ve thought about it… and you’re probably thinking about it now,” she giggles, making it hard for you to keep glaring at her. “I’m just trying to help you understand that it wouldn’t be a bad thing if there is a mutual understanding between the two of you on what flies and what cannot and shall not happen regarding the matter. You’re both consenting adults and it’s obvious he’d be on his knees for you with the snap of a finger.”

You decide against telling her about last night’s situation nor do you let her know you’re considering her words. That you’ve been considering the whole thing for days. 

You change the subject instead, asking her about how her latest trip overseas went.

It lasts for only so long when Johnny and Jaehyun make their way over to your table. 

They greet the two of you and you give a nod, choosing now to be the perfect time to check your notifications, while Joohyun says, “Hey guys.”

“Why are you checking your phone when you should be enjoying your time?” Johnny asks right by your ear, his voice lacking excitement but instead low enough to almost make your thumb falter as you scroll. “Get off your phone and celebrate, please?”

You make the mistake of looking up. He’s too close to your face to use the music playing through the speakers in the bar as an excuse. His eyes don’t have their usual playful glint in them. They look down at you with a purpose, and you’re kind of embarrassed at how fast you comply with his request. You drop the device into your purse and zip it up for extra measures.

“Thank you,” he smiles. “I got this for you two, by the way.”

Johnny slides a plate of your favorite wings on the table.

“Aw thank you, Johnny,” Joohyun coos, shooting you an annoyingly smug glance. “Are you gonna sit with us?”

“Is that okay with you, boss?” Jaehyun asks after sharing a look with his friend.

“Have at it,” you smile tightly, gesturing to the seats across from you. While they make themselves comfortable, you steal your best friend’s shot and actively ignore the way she looks at you from the corner of her eye.

Joohyun and Jaehyun fall into conversation easily after she compliments the watch he’s wearing. You nibble on some celery, actively ignoring how Johnny’s still too close. He subtly squeezes your knee to get your attention, and when he’s got it, he tilts his head in the direction of the bar. 

“I drank enough,” you tell him with a shake of your head.

“It’s not about a drink. I would like to speak to you alone, please,” Johnny explains in a whisper. A tiny voice in your mind says hell no because of what Joohyun has put in your head, but the rational voice reminds you that he is your assistant and you can’t avoid him forever. 

You tell your best friend that you’re gonna get a drink and that you’ll be back, and when she notices Johnny getting up with you she nods with a whisper of a smirk on her lips all without breaking the conversation she’s having. 

“What’s up?” you ask once seated on a barstool, at least a few seats away from everyone else.

“I’m sorry about earlier. I was trying to make light of the situation and I took it too far. As for last night, it was wrong of me to make a proposition like, so I want to apologize for that, as well.”

You nod as he speaks, letting his words process in your brain. 

“I spoke out of line last night and gave you an opening, so that part was on me. I apologize and I hope we can move forward from it. Thank you for your apology.” You try to get up and make your way back to your table quickly, but Johnny gently grabs your hand until he knows you’ll stay in your seat. 

For a moment he wanted to just apologize so you can stop being distant with him and he can stop purposely avoiding you for your space, but your response rubs him the wrong way and now he doesn’t really want to drop it. He wants to talk about it because the topic clearly came up for a reason last night and he’s tired of denying how he feels towards you, especially now that he knows he’s not alone after a while of thinking there was no way in hell his little crush would even get him this far. 

“Can you not shut me out right now?”

You really don’t like his ability to see through you.

“I accepted your apology and gave you the one you deserved... how am I shutting you out?” you bullshit him anyway.

“I’m not gonna pretend that what happened last night didn’t happen. I can’t,” Johnny tells you honestly. “Can I speak to you as a friend instead of your employee for a moment?”

“I guess,” you shrug.

“As your friend, what I say cannot be held against me as your assistant.”

“Whatever, John. Go ahead.” 

“I want you,” he confesses, and there’s really no going back from here. “I am very attracted to you and when you spoke about wanting to be vulnerable and taken care of last night it only made me want you more. And if there’s anyone you can let your guard down with and that will take great care of you, it’s me, and you know this.”

All you can do is stare at him for a while. If you hadn’t had that conversation with Joohyun a while ago you would not still be in this seat, letting him know you’re truly considering his proposition. The dip in your gut at his confession confirms your feelings, but your brain and your body conflict. 

Can you separate business from pleasure in this instance? 

If you allow your desires to become reality and it’s nothing like what you imagined, you’d never be able to look at him the same, no matter how good he is at his job. You’d either have to fire him or become so distant he’d want to quit. Would a bribe really have to be offered for the well-being of your precious company? The thought alone rubs you the wrong way.

But if you’re being honest with yourself, you just know it wouldn’t be a bad experience because it’s Johnny. He’s calculated and good at anything that gets thrown at him. You truly believe him when he says he’d never disappoint you. But how will you go about seeing him five days a week without seeing him in a different light? You’re professional but there would definitely be a change in your dynamic.

“I adore you as my assistant, John,” you finally speak up after too long. “And I do consider you a friend. I just don’t want to compromise our relationship over lust.”

“It’s not just lust, though,” Johnny states. “I’m not in love with you or anything but I care about you and want to take care of you the way we both know you need and deserve.”

He’s saying all of the right things and it’s almost as if the universe is rubbing him in your face. Your control is slipping and you don’t like it. You would love to be taken care of. You crave it. Running a business right before the age of thirty comes with so much stress and bullshit and you haven’t been taken care of in years, at least not properly. You’re content with being single because you give yourself everything you need and you love having your own space, but it does get lonely sometimes. And you can’t do everything yourself, at least not to the extent you need. Your eyes scan down from his face to his hands and your resolve gets a little weaker. 

“I’m not going to push you, okay? I just had to let you know that I’m here to help you in many more ways than in the office and that if anything were to ever happen, my lips are sealed. I’d even sign a damn contract if that meant I could have you for just one whole day.”

“A whole day?” you ask before you can stop your curiosity from being known. 

“I can’t elaborate on that. I can talk to you as a friend all I want but I know that too much detail can fuck up my job if you’re not down and I’m perfectly content with my job right now.”

He’s so vague, yet he’s said just the right amount. It’s easy to imagine what exactly could be in store if you release your inhibitions and just agree, but it’s not that easy. And Johnny understands that.

“Just think about it, alright?” He requests, and you nod slowly. “What drink would you like?”

“I’ve already had four shots—”

“No one said it had to be alcoholic,” Johnny laughs. 

“Hello?” Johnny’s morning voice grumbles. 

“Okay.”

It’s quiet on the other end of the line for a while as Johnny wakes up and decodes your single word. When he understands, his smile can be heard through his next words.

“Would you prefer I go to you or you come here?”

“I’ll go to you.”

“How does noon sound?”

“Good,” you nod, even though he can’t see the movement.

“Alright. There’s a couple of questions I have before you come over, though,” he tells you, his voice suddenly a lot more serious than it was before.

“Okay, go ahead,” you sigh, curling into a ball on your sofa. 

“Do you trust me?”

“I do.” Of course you trust him. Johnny smiles at how quick your answer. “You know that.”

“Trusting me with your work and trusting me with your mind and body are completely different things,” he tells you matter-of-factly. “But yes, I did know. I just needed to ask.”

“I clearly trust you enough to be hours away from going to your place without thinking you’re gonna exploit or blackmail me.”

“And I appreciate it. As I said, I’ll sign a contract if you’re still in your head about it.” At the dismissive response you give him, he continues with his questions. “We’re not gonna be weird about this before, during, and especially after everything, right?”

“No, I won’t be weird,” you chuckle, knowing his ‘we’ translates to ‘you.’ “It would’ve took me way longer to give you an answer if I was still gonna be weird or standoffish.”

“What made you change your mind so quickly?”

You blink at the tree on the other side of your window blankly. It took less than a day to give him a response, and while he may have popped up in your dream last night, Joohyun was right. You want him and he’s not shy about letting you know how much he wants you in return, so why play this game of tiptoeing and faux unclarity?

“You’re asking too many questions now,” you deadpan. “I’ll see you later.”

The last thing you hear before you hang up is Johnny laughing quietly to himself, sounding endeared.

You’ve always been punctual, so when you knock on his door, it’s twelve on the dot. And Johnny was expecting this, with it only taking him a couple of seconds to unlock and open the door for you. 

“Hey,” he greets you with a smile and you immediately take in his appearance, having never been around Johnny in anything but formal wear. You take in how he looks in the comfort of his own home, his brown hair is parted down the middle in comparison to how he always has it pushed back, and his fitted white tee shirt and joggers are a stark difference from the button-downs and slacks he usually adorns around you. He looks good either way, you note. 

“Hey.” 

You walk past him into his home and take your shoes off, and while pleasantries are exchanged, it’s Johnny’s turn to give you elevator eyes. The grey color of your athletic wear draws attention to the curve of your ass and hips. Your hair isn’t in its signature style, but out and flowing about freely. When you turn back around to face him he notices you don’t have your typical red lipstick on, just a clear sheen covering your lips. He didn’t think you could look any better, but here he is, being proven wrong. 

You’re guided down a hallway and into his room, and the first thing you notice is a cute stuffed animal on his dresser. One you remember buying him for his birthday because that was his only request, seeing that it was limited edition.

“I still can’t believe you wanted this of all things,” you laugh fondly, picking it up and examining it.

“You gave me a budget and this fit in it,” Johnny shrugs, coming up behind you. His chest molds into your back naturally, causing you to look up from the plushie and up at him through the mirror in front of you. “There was no way in hell I was coming out of pocket for that myself when you were willing to spend big bucks on me.”

You relax into his chest, the vibration against your back a very pleasant feeling. “Touché.”

The last few days of building sexual frustration did nothing to prepare you for the suffocating blanket of tension that envelopes you once Johnny lifts your head up to the side and presses one of the gentlest kisses to your lips. Followed by another chaste one, and another until you find yourself chasing his lips.

“Feel free to bite into it when it becomes too much for you,” Johnny graciously offers in a whisper that tickles your lips.

You scoff, amused by his confidence. 

“I’m a grown ass woman,” you remind him. “I promise you there’s nothing I couldn’t handle.”

“And I’m gonna hold you to that.” He nods, using your own words against you. You’re turned around by his hands on your hips until you’re facing him. A moment of silent eye contact translate to him challenging you before his pretty, soft lips slowly slide in time with yours. 

The longer he kisses you, the more your body melts into his. You find yourself being pulled forward, him walking backwards. The kiss interrupted when he sits down at the foot of his bed, but then you’re pulled onto his lap, straddling him to resume it. A hand on the side of his face prompts him to deepen the kiss, and your mouth instantly opens when you feel his tongue brush against your bottom lip, the wet muscle minty when it touches your own and you curl yours around it to get an even better taste. 

Your hands find his hair as his own grip your ass, pulling a muffled whimper out of you. And then you’re flipped onto your back, legs falling apart to give Johnny freedom to stand. He swiftly takes his shirt off and then he’s interrupted by your palms glide up his abdomen. You’ve never felt small around practically anyone in your adult years, but with how he hovers over you, you feel tiny. You know he and Jaehyun have been going to the gym frequently, but at this angle, you can really appreciate just how big and broad he is.

Originally, you figured you’d give him the reign to do whatever he wanted and you’d bask in being a pillow princess for once in your life, but in the position you’ve found yourself in, with his print in your face, you drag your hands back south and tug his waistband down. 

Johnny just watches you silently until he understands you’re doing more than just assisting him with stripping. Your hand grabs hold of his semi (your mouth waters at how hung he is and you briefly wonder how you never noticed before), his sweatpants forgotten halfway down his thighs. The way your eyes have tunnel vision and you lick your lips tells him your plan. “You wanna suck my dick?” he asks anyway, making sure he accessed this correctly. 

Your eyes fly up to meet his gaze. “Yeah. You want me to?”

“You think I’d ever say no to you?”

His response goes straight in between your legs, so you focus your attention back on his dick, which has grown some during the time of your small interaction, and you might be a little more excited about this than you initially thought you’d be. 

You let spit fall from your mouth onto his tip, then spread it down with your hand. You flick your wrist up and down a few times and lean forward, licking a broad stripe up his shaft. At the deep exhale he releases, you glance up at him through your lashes, and the sight of him with his jaw tightened in anticipation makes you want to give him so much more, so you suck the tip into your mouth. 

Fingers move your hair behind your ear for you and if you still had any inhibitions at this point, they’re lost now. Your head bobs back and forth slowly as you continue to look him in his eyes; it’s hard to look anywhere else when you’ve never been looked at so intensely in this position. You gather spit on the tip of your tongue and spread it across his head, circling the wet muscle around it until he hums and you need to feel the weight of him back inside. 

“Tap my leg, okay?”

You furrow your brows at his words, but your silent question is answered when there’s a hand on the back of your head and the tip of his dick hits the back of your throat lightly as if in warning before his hips pull back then he’s back in your throat. Your hands come up to his thighs as he sets a slow pace to fuck your face, and when his head falls back the moment he realizes he can go as far as he wants, you close your eyes and prepare for the onslaught you know you’re about to take.

Johnny’s hips instantly pick up speed and roughness, and while he’s still in control of himself, he loses a bit of sanity. After a year of silent pining and thinking this would never happen, he’s fucking his boss's face, and of course, of fucking course you don’t have a gag reflex. 

You stick your tongue out flat to lick at the bottom of his shaft as he does the rest of the work and the feeling of spit bubbling out the sides of your mouth and making its way down your chin digs your fingers into his skin since you can’t clench your thighs together. Your hair is gathered for extra leverage, and the pull of your scalp is such a delicious feeling you moan helplessly just when your nose comes in contact with trimmed hairs. 

“Shit,” he hisses, picking his head back up to watch as he slows back down but thrusts in rougher. You clearly enjoy being used like this, spit traveling down your chin to the point of landing on your jacket and darkening the material. You’re a mess in the best possible way, and this is an image that will haunt his memory for a very long time. 

More of his resolve crumbles at the feeling of your hands curling around to his butt to press him even closer into you, even further down your throat. You haven’t even been touched, barely kissed, but you’re lightheaded and extremely aroused. While he contemplates if he should cum down your throat or wait until he’s buried in your pussy, you’re silently hoping he lets you taste him soon. 

Johnny drags his dick out of your mouth at an extremely slow pace, and how you wrap your lips around him and open your hooded, darkened eyes to look at him again shoots a shiver of pleasure up his spine. 

“Never would’ve thought,” he says around an amused exhale.

“Hm?” you prompt, releasing him with a loud pop. 

“Nothing.” He shakes his head. He grips his dick with his free hand and taps the tip on your awaiting tongue, amused and extremely turned on. Smearing fluids over your tongue and lips, he softly demands: “Play with your pussy for me.”

The smile you give him is a concoction of wicked and endearing. He releases your hair as you manage to wiggle out of your leggings. You soaked through your lace and leggings, you both notice, and Johnny stops you with a disapproving hum when you make a move to remove your panties as well. You squint, he laughs and shakes his head. 

“Over your panties.” You roll your eyes but listen nonetheless, slipping your hand in between your thighs. The material is extremely wet to the touch, and the slickness helps with making the friction pleasurable when your fingertips find your clit and begin rubbing circles. “Slowly.”

Johnny finds your huff of frustration adorable.

The tip of his dick taps your mouth again to gain your attention. You suck spit up to the front of your mouth, then your mouth is stretched wide once again, hand back in your hair. 

Having your throat fucked with the additional pleasure on your clit, even with the slow pace you’re forced to go at, has you practically whining, the sound going in and out as he goes in and out your mouth. That vibration only spurs Johnny to grip your locks tighter and thrust in deeper to feel as much as your mouth and throat offer. 

“You were made for this, huh?” 

“Mhm,” you affirm, eyes rolling back at the way he pulls your hair to tip your head back and get a different, much better angle. 

Johnny honestly didn’t expect you to submit so easily to him. The visual of your face all messy, eyes hardly opened to look into his eyes and hair out of place while touching yourself sparks that feeling in his lower abdomen.

 “You want me to cum in your mouth?” You hum again and even with a mouth full of dick you manage to smile. You’re getting what you wanted. “Don’t swallow it until I tell you to.”

It takes a few more strokes for Johnny to fulfill your wish. The moment his head falls back again you use your free hand to caress his balls, and that does it. He leaves the tip in so that his cum pools onto your tongue and strokes every drop out. The groan he lets out causes you to unintentionally swipe at your clit faster, but he’s distracted anyway.

“Let me see,” Johnny says after collecting himself and stepping back. You straighten your head so none slides down your throat and open your mouth wider for his inspection. He smiles in approval, wishing he could take a picture of the sight before him. “Swallow.”

You lick your lips and wipe away all the spit that traveled outside of your mouth with the sleeve of your jacket after doing so.

Johnny completely removes his pants before he leans down to kiss you again. His tongue languidly licks against the seam of your mouth for an entrance that you grant instantly. While it curls around your own and he gets a taste of himself, Johnny’s hand guides you to bend one leg and he caresses your outer thigh.

“Good?” Johnny asks for extra measure, lips just barely dragging across your cheek to press opened mouth kisses on your jaw. Your head automatically tilts to the opposite side to give him more real estate. You hum, your mouth a bit preoccupied with how your teeth have trapped your bottom lip. 

Your breath stutters at the gentle scrape of his teeth along the length of your neck after he unzips the high neck of your top to expose more skin. Whichever scent you chose to put on today has Johnny latched onto your neck for a while, kissing, licking, nibbling the skin to the point of your breath coming out a lot louder than before and the seat on your underwear getting uncomfortably wetter. You’re throbbing at this point and not being touched enough, so you claw at his sides and call his name quietly.

Johnny eventually spreads your legs more and maneuvers himself in between them. Both of your legs bend at the knee to accommodate his large build in the middle of them, and the hand that isn’t keeping himself propped up by your head kneads your hip. 

“You know how long I’ve been wanting to get you like this?”

“How long?” you prompt, voice hardly above a whisper.

“Since the day you gave me a tour of the building,” he admits and slowly rises until he’s up on his knees. 

“That’s a long time,” you respond lamely, hardly caring when your pussy is practically screaming at you to be touched. He raises a brow, and when he looks back up at your face, your lip is back in between your teeth. 

If he doesn’t touch you soon you might explode.

“I’ve wanted this for a while, too,” you decide to confess, hoping it gets you somewhere. And it does. It’s almost like you’re rewarded for it by Johnny walking back on his knees until he’s far enough to settle on his stomach, face barely inches away from the apex of your thighs. He subconsciously licks his lips at the smell of you. He’s been wanting to taste you for so long now, but he refrains himself because he sees how you’re affected by the lack of attention to your heat. He promised he’d take care of you and that’s exactly what he’s going to do. But not before breaking you. 

“Wish you would’ve told me sooner,” he eventually tells you after having you hold your breath for way too long.

“You know I couldn’t.” The way Johnny looks at you, attentive to every word that comes out of your mouth while he smoothly scoops your legs over his shoulders to wrap his arms around your thighs, makes you continue speaking. “Seems like everything fell into place, though.”

Johnny nods, rests his head on one of your thighs, and looks up at you, brown eyes still watching your mouth intently, as he unhooks one of his arms to push your right leg further to the side. His fingers are soon on your center, gliding up and down your slit, bumping into your clit with each pass. 

“I guess it did.”

Before you can reply, he adds more pressure behind his touch, and your hips just barely lift to get even more. The smile you get in return is attractive as all hell but annoying. He knows exactly what he’s doing to you or he’s just really enjoying himself. Either way, you’re getting more impatient by the second, if the way your hips rise to grind your core against his fingers again says anything. 

“Stay still for me, okay?” You almost pout because you need more, but you promised to give him total control of the situation and you’ve done well thus far, so you press your ass back into his comforter. “There you go.”

Your pussy clenches around nothing.

The light pressure on your clit is soon gone and then the zipper of your jacket gets dragged down all the way. “Take this off for me.”

Sitting up, you do as told. You toss it where your leggings had been dropped and now you’re presented in front of the awe-struck brunet in just your matching set of underwear. You figured you’d wear something nice under your clothes, both for Johnny’s pleasure and for your confidence, and with how Johnny’s eyes settle on the way your breasts are trying to burst out of your snug lacy bra, you know you chose well.

A hand slides up your torso to grab one of your breasts and squeeze it. Somewhere in the midst of him fondling your chest and pressing teasing, yet promising kisses on your inner thighs your eyes drift shut again as you bask in the pleasure. One of your own hands comes up from your side to slide under the cup of your unoccupied tit and pull at your nipple. 

The tip of Johnny’s tongue drags dangerously close to your annoying-still-clothed heat and your patience is shot. 

“John…”

“Yes?” 

“I need more.”

He has the audacity to hum and give your clit a kitten lick. “Do you?”

You huff, stuck between just pushing his face into your pussy or doing what he asks of you, but you promised, so you suck in a breath and give him what he wants.

“John,” you say again, almost whining. 

He doesn’t say anything, just continues to look at you expectantly. And when too much time goes by, it somehow hits you what he wants from you and you groan quietly to yourself.

“Please.”

“That was very convincing,” Johnny snorts. His nose glides across the inside of your thigh like he’s got all the time in the world. It tickles in the best way, but it’s nothing but teasing and you’ve been stimulated enough that if you go more than a couple of seconds more without his mouth giving you direct pleasure, you’ll go insane. So with a great amount of willpower, you try again.

“Johnny,” you whine, giving him your best pout. Addressing him so informally feels foreign, but the way his eyes light up encourages you to keep going.“Please?”

And of course a big smile takes up half of his face and you mentally prepare yourself for what’s next to come. He peels your panties off, both of you watching the line of slick that stretches then breaks in the process, and when you spread your legs even more for him, his mouth salivates. 

Johnny makes sure you’re looking into his eyes as his tongue licks a wide stripe from your entrance to your clit. He wants to be smug at the gasp you let out, but the taste of you shuts his ego up quickly. 

You squeak when you’re suddenly flipped onto your stomach and your ass is lifted up into the air. With yet another broad lick to coat his taste buds with your essence, Johnny buries his face in your pussy. He uses the tip of his tongue to collect the puddle of wetness you’ve produced and smears it over your clit, soon digging  inside to directly stimulate the bundle of nerves. 

Johnny’s lips close around your clit and he sucks on it softly. As the moments pass he gradually sucks harder to the point of you not being able to fight the way your eyes flutter shut and hips push back. He’s nice about the movement, just grabbing your hips to keep you still, soon caressing and kneading. 

“Mm, that feels good,” you compliment. At that very moment, Johnny decides to roll his tongue in up and down motions and apply more pressure behind his hands. “Fuck, that feels so good.”

He prompts you with a hum of his own. 

With how your moans start to get louder and your breath gets quicker and harder, not to mention the tingles you feel building in intensity, you know you’re already close. It’s a beautiful yet frustrating feeling because you don’t want this to end so soon after waiting so long. But you also want him inside of you so bad now.

Johnny comes back up to circle your entrance, and then he goes even higher.

“Are you— fuck,” you groan deeply. 

Your hands grip the pillow your face is buried in and your eyes have found the back of your head again. Johnny just hums at the way you react, the octave of your voice as you let out your sounds of pleasure go straight to his dick. His tongue licks filthily up and down, not leaving an inch untouched nor missing a drop of your juice. His fingers rub your entrance until he slides one in. One becomes two after a few pumps, then his thumb presses into your clit and your back is arched almost uncomfortably.

“Johnny,” you whine again, breath hiccuped. 

“Yes?” he prompts, lifting his head and looking up to see your face peaking around your body, smushed into his pillow still. 

“I wanna cum,” you tell him. It feels too good now. “Fuck, I need to come, Johnny.”

“Then cum for me.” His voice is so gentle yet commanding as his digits speed up. He tongues the skin between your holes sloppily and you try to curl into yourself, your mouth wide opened with no sound coming out of it, your walls clenching madly around the fingers inside of you, and your grip on the cushion is borderline painful.

Johnny helps you ride out your orgasm for as long as possible until your body begins shuddering due to oversensitivity. He gradually slows down to a stop, then removes himself from your body to let you breathe correctly. While he sucks on his fingers, he uses his clean hands to soothingly rub your back, waiting for you to calm back down. 

You’re a bit dazed during the transition of more kissing that leads you on top of him, straddling him once again. You vaguely remember the caresses on your waist or the pinch of his fingers playing with your nipples, but the feeling of your bare pussy dragging against his dick is very memorable because it sparks a desperate need within you to sit on it. 

Johnny’s hands on your hips move you to continue the friction, moving you back and forth on his dick easily. Foreheads connected as you catch your breath from the kiss you just broke away from, the two of you watch silently as his head reappears and disappears behind your lips, turning you both on until he’s fully hard again and you can’t handle him not being inside of you anymore.

You lift up on your knees to align his tip with your entrance. A silent look is exchanged where you ask and he nods once. He lets you take your time, enjoying the feeling of his tip directly rubbing against your sopping entrance.

Your labored breaths at the sensation bring his attention to your chest, and his mouth wraps around a nipple without a thought. By now, you deem his dick wet enough to press his head in your hole and press your hips down. The moment he slides in your head falls back because the stretch burns in the best way. It feels like time doesn’t exist as you work your way down his length, inch by inch. Your hips naturally find a slow rhythm as you lift and drop them to take in more until he slides in and out easily. 

When your features no longer show discomfort, Johnny begins moving with you. Every time he lifts his hips up a little to meet your thrusts his body slumps down the headboard. His hands are loose on your waist as you move your body up and down and he’s got the perfect view of his dick going in and out of your core while you’re controlling the pace and intensity. The muscles in your thighs start to burn, so you slow down to a stop and carefully slide your way down until your clit comes in contact with his pubic bone, resulting in your eyes rolling back, hips grinding on their own accord. 

“How the fuck do you feel this good?” Johnny groans deeply, hands gripping your ass to assist your movements.

His compliment, his hungry, intense gaze as they take you in from your eyes—which mirror his own—down to the trail of slick you’ve left behind on his tamed curls from the swivel of your hips, and the way his cock rubs against your g-spot send you over the edge within moments. Johnny soothingly rubs a cheek with one hand while the other caresses your arched spine, keeping his hips still to let you ride your orgasm out on your own. 

You slump into him, head on his shoulder, panting against his neck. A sigh of content slips out when Johnny hugs you tightly against his broad chest right before asking, “You alright?”

“Great,” you reply breathlessly. 

Johnny smiles at the positive response. He lifts his hips experimentally and gauges your reaction, which is a satisfied hum. 

“You want more?” he asks, hands moving to your hips to carefully grind against him. How could you say no? “Hands and knees, baby.”

You begin climbing off to the side of him then he follows your lead and lifts himself up so you can settle on your knees and bend until your face slides onto his pillow. Your hands grab the sides of it in anticipation. 

A deep groan sounds from behind you, so you crane your neck and see the way he stares down at how he can see everything you have to offer him at this moment. One hand goes to his dick while the other massages one of your cheeks. He runs the swollen tip of his dick along your slit, collecting what’s oozed out. You close your eyes and relax the side of your face into the cushion beneath it and take a breath, preparing yourself for the stretch and intensity this angle never fails to bring.

He slowly starts to breach your entrance. There’s a pause, then you hear him spit down before more of him slips inside of you inch by inch with each roll of his hips. He keeps his movements shallow for a while and your walls reaccept him easily. A particular thrust sends him deep inside of you, his tip just barely kissing your cervix. Your body’s first instinct is to run away from it. His hands on your hips stop you from fleeing, holding you still and rubbing the skin there to ease you. 

“I won’t go too deep,” he tells you, hips still as he kisses up your spine and makes you dizzy by the tenderness of it all. “I’m not gonna hurt you.”

You nod at his promises and take another steadying breath, then the pleasurable friction is back. You’d believe anything he told you with that intoxicating voice of his. 

A loud, embarrassing squelch comes out of your core when he’s sheathed inside that makes you bury your face into the pillow. There’s one last kiss at the top of your spine before the body heat from his chest is gone and he’s back upright. He finds his rhythm easily, and hands return to your backside, fingers digging into the flesh, no doubt leaving behind white imprints. He uses his grip as leverage to fuck down into you at a different angle that allows him to speed up and rip an unrestrained moan from your throat. 

“You okay?”

You nod violently and sob, “Yes! Oh, my god, yes.”

Content, Johnny hums and you just know he’s grinning down at you by the sound of his voice when he asks: “Feels good?”

“So good,” you whine, unable to close your mouth or stop noises from coming out of it. You begin dropping your hips down to meet his thrusts, the loud smacks of skin against skin echoing and bouncing off of the walls of his room. “Fuck it feels so good, Johnny.”

“I know, baby” he groans. “And this pussy feels so fucking good—shit.”

The two of you get lost in the rhythm you’ve created and no more words are exchanged for a while, just the sound of groans that comes deep from Johnny’s throat and whines and pants that make you drool all while drying your throat out. The room has gotten increasingly hotter and your bodies now shine with a thin, sticky sheen that makes the back of your thighs stick to the front of his own every time he fucks back into you. Your sensitive nipples rub harshly against the sheets, stimulating you even further to the point of another sob ripping out of your throat and your walls fluttering around his girth. 

“I’m gonna cum,” you whimper. Your divulgence prompts him to reach his arm under you to graze his fingertips over your engorged clit and then you’re repeating your words over and over again until your actions meet your words and you’re cumming all over him. Your essence drips down the insides of your thighs and his balls and his thrusts create wetter, louder noises. A swivel of your hips causes his dick to pop out and suddenly your body is vibrating. 

“There you go, baby,” Johnny praises you, sliding back into you and precisely hitting that spot within you a few more times until your pussy clenches again and he pulls out again, letting more wetness spray the sheets under you. 

“Look at you,” he continues with a deep chuckle. “Making such a big mess.”

You don’t know if he really meant for you to look but your curiosity gets the best of you and you lift your head and look in between your legs. There’s a dark puddle on his sheets and another whine leaves your body, your head falling back into the pillow. 

“Can you handle more?” Johnny asks you softly, slapping the top of your asscheek with his dick. 

You need more. You don’t know what the hell Johnny has done to you and your body but you feel empty and not satisfied enough. Your core is raw at this point but you want nothing more than to feel the velvety skin of his thick, long dick sliding in and out of you and hitting every spot in you that makes your body convulse again. 

“Please,” you beg, wagging your hips to emphasize your needs. “Please, Johnny.”

“I’ve got you begging now?” He sounds so turned on yet taken aback, another dark laugh vibrating your body at the nod of your head and movement of your body. If you were in your right mind, you would be ashamed of your behavior and submission to your assistant, but you’re not. And who cares when you’ve never felt this way before and crave to feel even more?

“I need it,” you confess without shame. “Need you back inside of me.”

Johnny doesn’t need any more convincing to be back, deep within you and instantly satisfying you again. Your breath stutters and it’s not easy to speak in coherent sentences, but that doesn’t stop you from trying to voice your pleasure and appreciation to the brunet whose self-control only continues to dissolve the faster he slams into you and the higher your voice gets.

Both of your breath patterns get quicker, loud, more erratic, signaling the approach of his first release and your third? Fourth? You can’t keep up with it when your brain has turned into mush and you can barely remember your own name, only his own registering in your brain. His name rolls off of your tongue like a mantra, driving him insane behind you. 

“Where do you want me to cum?” he pants. It takes you too long to swallow in an attempt to lubricate your throat and answer him, Johnny humming in question impatiently. 

“My back,” you manage to squeak out. You’re impressed with the amount of control he has, the slamming of his hips into your ass somehow speeding up and getting rougher. Johnny lacks the control and precision from before, and the way his tip kisses your cervix rips a yell out of you, eyes watering as you hold on for dear life. He releases a drawn out groan from deep within, and not too long later you feel ropes of cum land on your lower back and ass.

Your body is shaking. Tears leak out of your eyes, your breath is hard to catch, and quiet cries come out. You’re gently flipped over and pulled into strong arms, quickly finding comfort in the chest you settle into. 

“You’re okay, baby,” Johnny’s soft voice says to you, but you can’t open your eyes or your mouth to acknowledge him. You’re confused about why you’re reacting to this, but you don’t dislike it. Especially when you have Johnny to soothe you and help you calm down. “Are you hurting anywhere?” 

You shake your head and finally try to respond, but it takes a couple of coughs and harsh swallows of spit to do so. “No. I feel good. Everywhere.”

Your speech is choppy, unlike your usual way of speaking, but stringing words into sentences that flow well is too much work right now. Johnny doesn’t mind; he loves that he had that effect on you after you’ve had him under your spell for so long. He loves the fact he successfully kept his promise to you and now you’re boneless in his arms. 

He reaches for the glass of water on his nightstand and hands it to you. “Are you ready for a bath?”

“Can I fall asleep in the bath?” you ask, wiping your face tiredly.

“Sure,” Johnny says softly before setting you down on the dry part of the bed. “I’ll come get you once it’s ready.”

That’s how the rest of the day plays out, you getting taken care of in multiple ways. Your favorite method is with his tongue and fingers as he made out with your pussy for what felt like hours in lieu of an apology for going so hard. And maybe Johnny purposely falls asleep next to you after you’re bathed, fed, and exhausted from coming, curled up into his side in the new sheets because he wants you to stay a little longer. There’s no way in hell he’ll ever get to see this side of you again after today.

“Good morning,” Johnny greets you. It’s eight in the morning the following Monday, and he’s got your avocado toast and fruit in his hands as he walks up to your desk.

You're rummaging through your bag looking for the bobby pins you threw inside of it this morning in your rush to get to work on time because believe it or not, you overslept. You give up in favor of looking up to greet him back, but your voice decides not to come out when your eyes lock with his. There hadn’t been any contact since you woke up in the middle of the night and he walked you to his door with a lingering kiss that quite literally took your breath away to close out the short chapter of your relationship you’d just created. You were still tired, but you definitely were not supposed to sleep over, so it was nothing. 

But now, seeing the same eyes that stared into your own while you came and cried his name multiple times, all you can do is blink. And then he licks his pretty lips. You knew this would happen. You’re not mad at it, though. How could you be when you’d never experienced someone like him before? In hindsight, there was no possible way to go back to normal after the intimacy, tenderness, and raw attraction you shared that day. No possible way to never want another taste. 

“You okay?” he asks unsurely, setting your plates down. 

And here it comes.

“Johnny,” you say lowly, setting your bag down. The quirk in his brow and the corner of his mouth lets you know he’s onto you. And that just makes things easier for you. “Lock the door.”

yikesssssss

#johnny seo scenarios #johnny seo scenario #johnny seo smut #nct scenarios #nct scenario #nct smut #lets not talk abt the ending i needed to end this monster

[writingtoforgetreality]

New World Order - TFATWS Rewrite Chapter One (Bucky Barnes x Reader)

[Marvel-Masterlist], [TFATWS Rewrite-Masterlist]

Next Chapter

Summary: You were an Avenger. That was how the world viewed you. Nobody else knew about your past & it was for the better. After all, you had Sam. You had Bucky. That had to be enough. At least for now.

Words: 6,214

Warnings: language, sarcasm, expect some sort of slow burn, there are hints already, this is a Bucky fic, which means that it'll focus on his scenes more, spoilers for TFATWS, (Y/E/C) = your eye color

If you like my work & wanna support me: a coffee would be highly appreciated ❤

You were no superhero. At least, you would never say you were one. Your past was filled with actions you regretted. None of it was your fault. It was not your decision to be the child of the leader of a HYDRA base. It was not your decision to grow up like a warrior. Fighting. Killing.

Your father was the bad guy. You knew that now. As a child, you did not see through his facade. How could you? He was your dad. Someone who was supposed to love you endlessly. Those years had shaped you. Into the person you were today.

Deep down, you wished there was a way to make you forget. Forget about your past. Forget about the pain. Forget about it all. Hell, you were a laboratory experiment. Those powers did not come from nowhere. No. They came from tons of needles, pumping a toxic serum into you veins. You should not even be alive anymore. Not by what now flowed through your body. Apparently, it was for your own good. That was how your dad put it. Absolute bullshit. Growing up isolated from the world, being trained to fight, to kill, daily. Your own good my ass. If it did one thing, then it ruined your damn life.

But at least you had powers, right? Blue flames you could control. Those blue flames that were hotter than anything else in this world. It took an awful lot of time to fully have control. Truthfully, you hated that part of you with every fiber of your being. It had been the cause of one too many deaths. You had been the cause. But weakness was not in your nature. If you did not show strength you would be a disappointment. Something you really did not want to be.

Bucky was the reason you got out of this life. He was the one to rescue you out of this hell hole. He was the one to show you an entirely different part of this world. And for that, you could never thank him enough. If it were not for Bucky, you would have gone insane ages ago. Who knew if you were still here today?

The Avengers were aware of your past. Of you being a part of HYDRA back in the days. Yet, you had never elaborated this any further. If there was one thing you were good at, it was keeping things to yourself. No need to burden others with your struggles. And you did struggle. Every single day. Because your mind was filled with memories. Memories you had tried to burn. Memories you wanted to erase. Memories of you being the bad guy. Just like your dad had been.

Your life changed when you were introduced to the Avengers. They did not trust you. Not right away. But during the fight with Thanos, the one after the Blip, you proved yourself to be worthy of their trust. Especially Steve. He had been there for you. When everyone else failed to believe in you. He was gone now. And it hurt like hell. Giving up was never an option. And the universe did not plan on giving you a break anytime soon. For now, you had to bury your feelings as deep as possible. Your focus should solely be on the new threats of this world. Threats, that seemed to increase daily.

“Bucky is an asshole.” you were on the phone with Sam & the fact that the super soldier had been ignoring him for a while did not leave a good feeling inside his chest.

“What a revelation.” sarcastic comments were part of your life. It was your way of coping with everything. Frankly, it worked. More or less. “Give him some time.”

“More time? No.” sighing loudly. “I have other things to focus on.” he was referring to the mission he was about to perform.

“You sure you’ll be fine on your own?” it was not like you did not believe in his abilities. Just, life had not been the same ever since billions of people came back.

“When have I ever not been?” you could think of a few times but Sam ended the call before you even had the chance to answer. Typical.

Luckily, Sam usually told you about his missions. And you were proud of him. You really were. The situation you found yourself in? With Bucky & him? Well, it was everything but good. Bucky called you. You called Sam. Sam called you. You called Bucky. A circle you kept alive. And it sucked to be their only way of communication. For now, though, both of them were too stubborn to change anything about it.

“Enjoying the Tunisian sun I hope?” whenever Sam went on a mission, you had him call you after it. Simply because he knew you worried.

“You know it.” in the far background you could hear him working on something.

“Is everyone alright? That trainee of yours? What’s his name again?”

“Torres.” he sighed, frustrated by your question. You had asked him about a million times & apparently, you still had no clue. Truth was, you just liked messing with him. “Redwing is hurt.”

“Naaaw, poor baby.” giggling slightly. That man cared more for a piece of tech than he should.

“Shut up.” okay, better not mess with Wilson if it came to Redwing. Got it.

“When are you coming back?” your voice turned serious again. Having him gone for so long did not stick right with you. Obviously, you knew he was doing it for the greater good. But still. “I swear to all the Gods, if you say when we’re done here…” mumbling quietly but loud enough for him to hear.

“When we’re finished here.” a chuckle could be heard from his side. By the way it sounded, you assumed Torres was laughing as well. Rolling your eyes at his antics. He could be such a child sometimes.

“Oh, fuck off, Wilson.”

“Hey, language!” Sam had fun. Yeah, you were the one cracking jokes all of the time but he could deliver, too.

“Okay, you know what? Bye. Text me when you’re back.” now, it was you who did not give him enough time to respond. After all, he would have clapped back with another snarky remark & you were not in the mood for it. At all.

“Steve represented the best in all of us. Courageous, righteous, hopeful. And he mastered posing stoically.” everyone chuckled at Sam’s description. Of him. Steve. Rhodey was standing right next to you. In that suit of his. The one that made him look way more approachable than you. No need for people to approach you. They did not know who you were before. And they sure as hell did not need to. It would turn things complicated. Humans did not like complicated. You did not like it. “The world has been forever changed. A few months ago, billions of people reappeared after five years away, sending the world into turmoil. We need new heroes. Ones suited for the times we’re in. Symbols are nothing without the women & men that give them meaning. And this thing…” he paused briefly, let out a short chuckle. The shield. “I don’t know if there’s ever been a greater symbol. But it’s more about the man who propped it up, & he’s gone. So, today we honor Steve’s legacy. But also, we look to the future. So, thank you, Captain America. But this belongs to you.” the crowd erupted into cheers. Applause was filling the room & you felt out of place. What was he doing? When Sam asked you to join him here today, he left out the fact that he wanted to give away the shield. The shield Steve had trusted him enough to own. And the people surrounding you? They…celebrated him for it? This entire speech was proof enough that Wilson was worthy of this job. So why the hell did he make that decision? Watching the shield being put into the showcase, you could hardly hold in the tears that formed at the corners of your (Y/E/C) eyes. Rhodey nudged you, sensing that something was wrong. Head hanging low, you ignored him, walking out of the room as fast as possible. If you stayed here any longer, Sam would have bruises for sure. Bruises caused by you. You would not risk that. Though, he kind of deserved it.

“Where’s (Y/N)?” Sam asked Rhodey when he finished with the press. You had told him you would wait here for him. There was no sign of you.

“Left a while ago.”

“What do you mean “Left a while ago.”? Did she say where she was heading?” why did you decide to leave? Had anything happened while he held his speech? All Rhodey could do was shrug. An explanation was not given by you. And he knew better than to ask.

“Take a walk?” Rhodey suggested, completely unaware to your weird behavior. The two of you were not that close. So he did not know you like Sam did. You were an adult, after all. If you wanted to go somewhere without asking someone first, then you were allowed to do that.

Disappointment was flooding through your body. Friends told each other stuff like that, right? So why did he keep it a secret that he planned on giving away the shield. With that action, he broke Steve’s trust & you were livid. If only Steve were here right now. You missed him. So much. Next time Sam met you, you could not promise anything. Because anger was all you felt. Anger & disappointment. Grief. But that one you could keep to yourself. At least for the time being. Shit. Bucky. One hundred percent did he watch Sam giving away the shield. Oh, he would be filled with hatred. Compared to that, you were only a small threat. Bucky was the one Wilson should keep an eye on. Well, he had been trying to get a hold of him. So far, without luck.

A gunshot blasting woke Bucky up from another night invaded by nightmares. His changed hair did not put his demons at bay. His look was different but there were some things he could never get rid of. His past. The past he dreaded as much as you did. Probably what you two had in common. Being part of HYDRA & all. His breathing was irregular & there was no way in hell he could go back to sleep. It was in the middle of the night & he hated himself for relying on someone else. But he would go insane if he did not call another person right now. If he did not call you. The only one who seemed to understand what he was going through. The only one who never judged him because of his nightmares. The only one who made him feel like he was a good person. Not the killer he once had been. When HYDRA controlled him. Back, when he was called “The Winter Soldier”. Would he ever move on from that? Grabbing his old phone, he did not overthink too long & dialed your number. One, he knew by heart. Because he had called you so many times. It stuck in his head.

“Buck? Is everything alright?” concern was present in your voice. Usually, when you got a call in the middle of the night, it was him. And you were fine with it. If he trusted you enough to help him with his demons, than you were more than happy to come to his aid. No matter the time.

“I-I…it’s just, ugh, I-“ still shaken up from his nightmare, you did not need him to finish his sentence. You had been in this exact situation so many times. You knew what he needed. Your presence. Your voice. Your comfort. You.

“I’ll be there in a few.” assuring him, you were already grabbing the stuff you needed & walked out of your apartment. Only one destination in mind. Him. “Do you need me to stay on the phone?” it was a simple question. A stupid one, too. Usually, he would not say a word until you were with him. But it felt right to ask him what he wanted you to do. Needed you to do. When he did not answer for a few moments, you guessed he only nodded, not realizing that you could not see his motions. Yet, he did not hang up. Neither did you. Your breathing was enough for him. At least until you were in his apartment.

Knocking softly, as to not wake his neighbors, the door opened almost immediately after. Squeaking ever so slightly. Taking in his appearance, you could tell that it had been a bad nightmare. No, not a nightmare. A memory. You knew that because it was the reason you woke up most nights as well. If it were not for him feeling miserable, you would have drooled by the sight of him. No shirt. Hair sticking around so beautifully. Eyes you could lose yourself in. But it was not the right timing. Besides, Bucky & you were just friends. That was it. Just friends. Though, you would lie if you said that you did not feel butterflies whenever he shot you one of his charming smiles. Whenever his body brushed against yours on accident. Yes, he did have that effect on you. Hell, that was not what he needed right now. Your feelings could be dealt with later on. Bucky was all who mattered now. There was no conversation. No words exchanged. It was enough for him if you were with him. A sign that he was not alone. That he still had you. Even after everything. Even after calling you, night after night, disturbing your own rest. Not that you got much to begin with but he did not need to know that. It had always been a mystery to him. Why you stuck around still. Though you had assured him thousands of times that you were in this for good. If he needed you, you were only one call away. And he appreciated you for it. More than he would ever like to admit. Friends. You were friends.

“So, Mr. Barnes, are you still having nightmares?” another session with Dr. Raynor. Another dreaded session. It was stupid to Bucky. But there was no way out of this. He had to. Seconds of silence went by before she spoke up again. “James, I asked you a question. Are you still having nightmares?” what kind of question was that? A stupid one. That was for sure.

“No.” simple, short. Sufficient. Not for his doctor, though.

“We’ve been doing this long enough that I can tell when you’re lying. Well, you seem a little off today. Did something happen recently?”

“No.” what an answer to move this session forward. Clearly, he was not in the mood to talk today. Not even you were able to get his mind off of things. Though, you definitely made his night easier.

“You’re a civilian now. With your history, the government needs to know that you’re not gonna…” her hand motioned stabbing. Awful action but who were you to judge? Bucky nodded with that look on his face that showed how completely done he was with this situation. Yet, she kept going. “It’s a condition of your pardon. So, tell me about your most recent nightmare.”

“I didn’t have a nightmare.” well, it was worth a try. After taking a deep breath, she grabbed the pencil, ready to start writing into that notebook of hers again. “Oh, come on. Really? You’re gonna do the notebook thing? Why? It’s passive aggressive.” looked like the two of them were going back to the roots.

“You don’t talk. I write.” Bucky sighed at that. He knew he would not get out of this.

“Okay. Okay. I crossed a name off the list of my amends yesterday. Don’t worry. I used all your three rules. Senator Atwood. She was a HYDRA pawn for years. Helped her get into office when I was the Winter Soldier. And after HYDRA disbanded, she continued to abuse the power I gave her.”

“So, rule number one, you can’t do anything illegal.”

“All I did was give some intel to the aide to convict her. And I wasn’t involved in anything else.”

“Rule number two?”

“What was rule number two?” his gaze drifting off, showing he thought about it deeply. How ironic.

“Nobody gets hurt. It’s a big one.”

“Then why isn’t it rule number one?” he did have a point there. No room left for arguing about that. “I didn’t hurt anybody. I promise.”

“And what about rule number three?” Bucky’s mouth opened, yet, nothing came out. “The whole point of making amends is to fulfil rule number three.”

“You know, you’re a cynic, Doc. Of course, I completed rule number three. I am James Bucky Barnes & you’re part of my efforts to make amends.” words followed by that smile of his. That smile everyone could tell was fake. Almost creepy. But efforts, right? It was all about the efforts.

“So, you did it all right, but it didn’t help with the nightmares.”

“Well, like I said, I didn’t have any.” Bucky Barnes, everyone. Still trying to fool his doctor.

“Look, one day, you’re gonna have to open up & understand that some people really do want to help you & that they can be trusted. People like (Y/N).” the mention of your name made his eyes snap up.

“I trust more people than her.” it sounded more like he tried to convince himself more than anyone else.

“Yeah? Give me your phone.” an order. Grabbing it out of his pocket to hand it over. A short look was enough. “You don’t have ten phone numbers on this thing. Oh, & you’ve been ignoring the texts from Sam. Look, you gotta nurture friendships. I am the only person you have called all week. That is so sad…Oh, that’s not right. You called (Y/N) last night. Anything you wanna tell me about that?” closing the flip phone, she threw it over to Bucky which he caught with ease.

“What? Do I need to justify calling a friend?” chuckling & shaking his head slightly, he brushed his hands over his thighs.

“If you call that friend at 3 am, then yes. Because you should sleep at that time. Except if you had a nightmare which you claimed that you didn’t.”

“We just talked. That’s all.” he thought that brushing it off as if it were nothing was enough to get her to shut up. Hell, he had brought you up during his sessions way too many times. After all, he still wanted the situation between you guys to be subtle.

“You’re alone.”

“A minute ago, you said I had (Y/N).” he tried arguing but his attempts failed.

“You’re a hundred years old. You have no history, no family…” right, pouring salt in the wounds. That usually worked.

“Are you lashing out at me, Doc? Because that’s really unprofessional, you know? When did that start? Yelling at your clients?” she seemed to have enough & again went for the little book next to her. “Oh, the notebook. That’s great.” sighing deeply, he braced himself to take her more seriously. “All right, give me a break. I’m trying, okay? This isn’t…This is new for me. I didn’t have a moment to deal with anything, you know? I had a little…calm in Wakanda. And other than that, I just went from one fight to another for 90 years.”

“So, now that you’ve stopped fighting, what do you want?” he had an answer in mind right away. Never ever would he say it out loud. It took him a second to reply. Because what he was about to say came in union with his first thought.

“Peace.”

“That is utter bullshit.” what a nice way to bad talk his answer. Maybe she was expecting something else from him. Maybe she knew the answer just as much as he did. The real answer.

“You’re a terrible shrink.”

“I was an excellent soldier, so I saw a lot of dead bodies, & I know how that can shut you down. And if you are alone…”

“Which I’m not because I have (Y/N).”

“…that is the quietest, most personal hell. And, James, it is very hard to escape. Look, I know that you have been through a lot, but you’ve got your mind back, you are being pardoned. I mean, these are good things. You’re free.”

“To do what?”

Wednesday. Bucky usually went to Izzy. Today, he asked you to join him & Yori. Why he wanted you there with them? No clue. But it was not often he asked you to go somewhere with him so you agreed on meeting them there.

“Take a look.” Yori was a cute, old man. Reading his newspaper like a good citizen. Bucky had yet to give you an explanation as to why you were here right now. But for now, you just sat next to him, quietly observing your surroundings. “Nobody made it past 90 this week.” it was funny, to see Bucky trying his hardest to sound interested. Like he understood.

“So young. Such a shame.” his words made you scoff. Apparently, once you hit the 100 mark, you turn into a sarcastic piece. If you were not one before. If you ever made it to 100? Only the Gods knew what would come after that. Most people called you a sarcastic asshole now. Could that be topped?

“You guys didn’t order the usual, huh? Feeling a little adventurous?” the woman behind the counter directed her words at the three of you.

“Um, actually, I’ve never been here before, so…” you chuckled to avoid the awkwardness that would sure as hell build if you kept quiet now.

“You should ask her out.” Yori leaned over to Bucky & you almost choked on your food at his words. Bucky asking her out? Her? Yeah, she was beautiful & all. But her? Really? Seemed like that Yori dude did not know Bucky as well as he claimed to. You, on the other hand, were aware that nothing good would come out if it. Besides, they would not even make a nice couple. Shit, were you jealous? Oh no. Glancing over at the man next to you, his face showed just how much he despised this idea. At least something.

“Mm-mmm…” shaking his head frantically, he shot you a quick look but before his eyes locked onto yours, your gaze fell down to your plate. Slightly embarrassed. Scared that, if he looked at you, he would notice something behind your look. Something more. Something, that you wanted to keep hidden. For everyone’s sake.

“He would like to take you out on a date.” oh fuck off, Yori. You had nothing against this man but he was pushing your buttons. Could he not see that Bucky was incredibly uncomfortable with the idea of going on a date? With her? “Maybe to bingo or a night of pinochle.” hiding your laugh behind one of your hands, you could not believe that he was serious. Bucky & bingo? Well, it was for old people so you guessed it fit quite well. Not with her, though. Oh no, you really were jealous.

“I’m really sorry about him.” Bucky apologized for his friend’s behavior. Yes, you were sorry for him, too.

“Why are you sorry?” of course, now the woman was flirting with him. It got better & better. Taking a deep breath, you tried to keep your emotions at bay. You could not lash out in the middle of this restaurant, after all. Even though you were this close to doing just that. Deep breaths, you got this. “I’m game.” sure she was.

“Wow.” really? Bucky was impressed? By this? Oh come on, why would he settle for less when he could have so, so much more. But it was not your decision. He was not yours. You did not own him. Neither did you make the decisions for him.

“Tomorrow night, then?” Yori leaned over the counter.

“Tomorrow night’s great.” she replied with a bright smile.

“Hey, I just remembered something.” you spoke up all of a sudden. Bucky’s eyes met yours now & he saw that you were uncomfortable. Though, he could not pinpoint why. “Um, I-I need to go. See you, Buck. Bye guys.” sprinting out of the restaurant, you hoped nobody would follow you. Not in the mood to deal with anyone right now. All you wanted was to be alone right now. Your mind the only one keeping you company. But your mind was not really the kindest to you. Not in this particular moment. So what? Bucky had a date. You knew that would happen sooner or later. He was a good looking man. More importantly, you just wanted him to be happy. Genuinely happy.

Fucking great. Who could you talk to? You still were not done being mad at Sam. And now you were mad at Bucky for something he did not even do. He sort of did. He could have said no. If he really did not want to, he could have said no. Bucky was enough of a man to speak his mind, you knew that. Maybe he did want to go on a date with her. What was her name again? Not that you cared too much. But still. Blinking away the tears that had formed at the corners of your eyes, you kept on walking. Without a real destination. You were stupid. Friends. Why could you not accept this? Usually, you would call Steve in such a situation. Or even Tony. But it was too late now. They were not here anymore. You had to deal with that sooner or later. Whether you liked it or not. Contemplating calling Sam, you eyed your phone carefully. One more button. But nope. The anger was bigger than the need to talk to someone. Stubborn you. Wilson could make you feel better. But you would most likely end up yelling at him. And you knew you would regret your words later on. So might as well stay silent for the time being. Until you calmed down enough.

It was 10 pm. Date time for Bucky. That same restaurant. Being the gentleman that we was, he even brought her flowers. Like it used to be back in the 40s.

“Well, if that’s not the most adorably old-fashioned thing anyone’s ever done.” Bucky felt lost. In her company. “Grab a seat, I’ll be done in a few.”

“Okay.” he could up & leave. It would not be too late. All he knew was that it felt wrong.

“So, have you dated much since half the fish in the sea came back?”

“Not really. I, um…tried the whole online dating thing. (Y/N), the girl who was here with me yesterday, she set up a profile for me because I didn’t understand a single thing.” laughing at the memory, he thought back to when he called you to ask you for a favor. How you laughed at him for wanting to try this whole bullshit. “It’s pretty crazy. A lot of weird pictures.”

“What kind of weird?”

“I mean, tiger photos? Half the time I don’t even know what I’m looking at. It’s…It’s a lot. When I showed (Y/N), she simply said that this was what I signed up for.”

“You sound like my dad.” definitely something a man did not want to hear while on a date. On the other hand, he did not even want this to be a date. “Wait. How old are you?

“A hundred & six.” only he could make it sound so casually. Like it was the most normal thing on this planet. Both laughed at his words. Simply because it was so absurd.

“What’s up with your big gloves?” a sensitive topic she just touched.

“I, um, have, uh…poor circulation.” sure thing.

“Hmm…Hey, what is it about this (Y/N) girl & you?” his eyes widened at her question. What was she getting at?

“She’s my friend. Why?” his dumbfounded expression made her chuckle.

“A friend, huh?”

“Um, yeah.”

“You sure about that?” an eyebrow raised. A questioning stare was sent his way.

“Why does everyone think I don’t have friends?” throwing his head back in frustration, he let out a long sigh.

“It’s not that.” she stopped briefly, thinking about her next words carefully. “Just, you guys seem pretty close.”

“Well, we’ve known each other for years.” he reasoned, gesturing with his hands to bring his point across.

“Yeah? And the looks you’re shooting each other when the other one’s not looking?”

“What are you talking about?”

“You two aren’t really subtle about this, you know?” she wiped the counter & did not even look at Bucky. He, on the other hand, started sweating.

“Subtle about what?”

“Oh, come on. Who are you kidding? I don’t even know why you’re here right now.”

“Because Yori set you & me up on a date.”

“And why did you agree?” she crossed her arms over her chest, waiting for an explanation from the man in front of her.

“I-I don’t know.” he responded truthfully. Because he thought it to be polite? Because Yori was the one who suggested it? Honestly, he was not sure.

“That’s what I thought. Look, you’re a nice guy & all but…just, listen to your heart from time to time. It’s late. You should head out. See you.” she turned around & walked further into the restaurant. Leaving Bucky alone with his thoughts. It was clear what she intended. Did not mean that it made this entire situation any easier. Bucky left without another word. Fresh air would help him think straight.

Your phone rang & you sighed when you checked who decided to annoy you. Bucky. Of course. But wait. Should he not be on his date right now? Did something go wrong? Not that you wanted it to but if you were entirely honest, you would not be mad about it either.

“Hi Buck. What’s up?”

“I need your help with something.” there was no hesitation in his voice. Just him being straight forward.

“Please don’t tell me you need help on how to get the girl.” it was your way to lighten the mood. You did that because you could tell that he was incredibly serious. Usually, this was never a good sign.

“Can I send you an address? Can you meet me there as soon as possible?” his voice was low, deep.

“Um, sure thing. But just to set things clear…I won’t join in on your fun, Buck. That’s between you & her.” again, sarcasm was your way of coping with emotions. Though, it was not the right time to use it right now. His next words were proof enough. You should not mess with him. Not in this moment.

“Can you be serious for a second?” he raised his voice a little. It was not much but it was enough to leave you confused. Bucky was not the person to yell at you. Especially not like this.

“I’m sorry…Um, yeah, tell me where & I’ll get there as fast as I can.” gulping down, you waited for him to give you more information.

Arriving at an unfamiliar building, you could make out Bucky’s form in front of it. Why would he want to meet you here? Where was his date?

“Buck?” your voice barely above a whisper. The night sky only illuminated by the moon that shone brightly. Providing just a tiny bit of light. Enough, to let you notice your surroundings.

“Thanks for coming.” you could tell that he was stressed, tough, you were not sure why.

“Is everything alright? Because I swear, if that woman did anyth-“

“No, she didn’t. Promise.” his warm smile was encouraging enough. It was clear that he was not lying to you. “Just…didn’t work out. But that’s not why you’re here.”

“Okay?”

“My last nightmare. Do you remember?” nodding for him to continue. “How I killed that innocent man?”

“It wasn’t you, Buck. You were being controlled.” touching his shoulder softly, squeezing it to reassure him.

“Whatever…That guy, it was Yori’s son. I want to, need to, apologize. Even though the apology comes way too late.” you nodded at him, your eyes meeting his briefly. Now you knew why he called you. He did not want to do this alone. No. He wanted you by his side. To support him through it. Entering the building together, Bucky led you to the apartment Yori lived in. His hand raised to knock on the door. Surprisingly, he did not waste any time. He wanted to get this over with. Understandingly so. No words were exchanged. You being here, with him, that was more than enough.

“Hey, what are you doing here?” Yori opened the door, his face showed confusion by the appearance of you two. “How was the date?” you could not help but roll your eyes at the old man in front of you. Looking at Bucky, you were worried when you saw him having an internal conversation with himself. Mouth opening & closing again. No words coming out. Risking a look inside the apartment, you noticed a small picture frame with who you assumed to be his son. The one Bucky killed. No. The one the Winter Soldier killed.

“It was…It was good.” Bucky mumbled.

“Bullshit.” you followed after. None of them heard you, though. Luckily.

“Forgot I owed you for lunch.” Bucky handed him money. If you were not mistaken, this was not a form of apologizing. He had a hard time, though, that much was obvious. Afterwards, Bucky turned around & walked away without another word. Which left you alone with a confused looking Yori.

“I’m sorry for the disturbance, sir. Have a good night.” plastering on the sweetest smile you could offer, you followed Bucky outside. Jogging to keep up with the super soldier.

Back outside, you saw Bucky holding his little notebook in his hands. You knew about it. Because you were the only person he talked to when it came to his therapy sessions. A look over his shoulder could tell that his eyes were trained on the name being circled. His body was tense. That was not what he planned.

“It’s okay, Bucky.” your hand stroked over his lower back in a comforting way. Your forehead rested against his shoulder, hoping, that it would ease him a little. You could feel him calm down at your touch. “Give yourself some time.” you mumbled quietly, knowing he could hear you clearly due to the calm night. You just hoped that he would not beat himself up too much. Not more than he already did.

You were back in your own apartment. Still no words from Sam. But that was nothing new. Sometimes, he would go radio silent for a few days but after that, he would always check in with you. Maybe he figured that you were mad at him. For giving away the shield & all. And he probably was busy with work. The work he did with Torres. If he needed your help, he would call you for sure. Your TV got your attention again. Something told you to watch closely. So you did.

“Unrest, in the wake of recent events, has left us vulnerable. Every day Americans feel it. While we love heroes who put their lives on the line to defend Earth, we also need a hero to defend this country. We need a real person who embodies America’s greatest values. We need someone to inspire us again, someone who can be a symbol for all of us. So, on behalf of the Department of Defense & our Commander-in-Chief, it is with great honor that we announce here today that the United States of America has a new hero. Join me in welcoming your new Captain America.” the crowd cheered loudly & someone walked through the door. You could not believe what was happening. Please, this had to be a bad dream. When would you wake up form this hell? A man, wearing his suit, holding his shield, greeted the people. Looking at your hands, you could see small, blue sparks forming at the tips of your fingers. That only ever happened when you had no control over your emotions. Right now, you were everything but in control. Of course he had to wink at the camera like the sick person he was.

“Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me…” breathing out lowly, you put your head into your hands, completely ignoring the sparks there. You did not feel them anyway. If you ever met this son of a bitch it would not end well for him. And the next time you would meet Wilson? Fingers crossed he could deal with your angry & disappointed self. Because you were seething.

~to be continued~

Next Chapter

Published (04/02/2021) by Cathy

Tags: @taina-eny​, @tanyaherondale​, @cool-ultra-nerd​, @toribentleyva, @buckyandlokirunmylife​, @annadier​, @howlongtillidie​, @mizz-kraziii, @theetherealbloom​, @millenniumloki​, @marvelbros-oneshots​, @ajbwasnthere, @bilesxbilinskixlahey​, @mystictimetravelcolor​, @dbrees256​, @sxpxrnxturxl, @dreamydreamerwriting​, @dolllstyles​, @angelicastiel​, @prettysbliss, @infinitelyforgotten​, @sweetserendipity65​, @lilystilinskicullen​, @partypoisonsblog, @btdsprayberry, @sarai-ibn-la-ahad​, @deamus-liv​, @simplybarnes​, @sethcohenluvr (let me know if you wanna be tagged <3)

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky fanfic #bucky x you #bucky barnes #the falcon and the winter solider spoilers #the falcon and the winter soldier #winter solider fanfiction #winter solider imagine #winter solider x reader #the winter soldier #sebastian stan #sam wilson #falcon #the falcon #reader insert #reader imagine #imagine #fanfic #fanfiction #marvel #marvel cinematic universe #marvel x reader #marvel imagine #MCU #Avengers #avengers imagine #captain america #writing #writers #series rewrite

[rwood2477]

This is from a Trooper assigned to work the Trump rally last night in Newport News.

***Offensive Content - For Some***

I attended the President’s rally in Newport News, yesterday. Not like I wanted to though, I was deployed there in my official capacity. Got the word late Thursday night, and answered the call.

I’m exceptionally thankful for this experience because I got to see oil and water, SIDE BY SIDE. Literally a few feet apart. I’m now even more absolutely certain that I support the correct side. I’d like to tell anyone that wants to hear it, what I saw.

The first half of the assignment I was overwhelmed by the community support! While moving to our staging point, the citizens were phenomenal in their vocal support of us. American flags/blue line flags/Trump flags were waiving, people were thanking us, praying for us, letting us know how much the “silent majority” supports us and how they will be heard on Election Day. Contrary to what the media and the left would report, I saw THOUSANDS of beautiful, patriotic blacks, Asians, Latinos, whites, and everything in between, being respectful and conducting themselves with the utmost decency. They said they loved us and were praying for us. You would have thought that this event was a parade to honor the police. I cannot lie to you, I teared up more than once. You can listen to the media garbage if you like, but something real is happening just like it did 4 years ago.

Not long after the sun set, BLM showed up. I do not support this Marxist organization, but I do have to protect their free speech. I stood in the two feet between them and the passing rally participants. I am absolutely convinced of a demonic influence in the group. I (we) have absorbed a lot over the last 3-4 months, but last night was exceptionally evil. I listened to BLM tell us that our mothers should have aborted us, they called us bastards, pigs, racists, bacon, etc, etc. I even saw a guy dressed like satan trying to stare a hole through me. Once they realized we were not phased by their garbage, they turned it on the rally participants. Respectful and peaceful men, women and children of all shapes, sizes and colors, were then getting the vitriol that had been hurled at the police. I expect this garbage because I wear a badge and I am the symbol of what they hate. But these innocent people did not deserve any of it. Even amongst the most vile comments being shouted at them, most of which I will not repeat, many rally participants did not hesitate to continue thanking us and praying for our safety. When BLM could not get anyone to “bite their hooks,” They moved to the city streets. We spent the rest of the night keeping them from impeding traffic.

I lost track of how many times someone threatened to “beat my ass,” but I recall how quickly a particular male (I won’t say “man,” because he was clearly a coward, and not worthy of being referred to as a man) shut his mouth and backed up when I promptly stepped over the line that he indicated would result in my ass-beating. 50-60 humans with their cell phones, megaphones and whinny voices, and not one honorable man or woman among them. Just foul-mouthed garbage, yelling factually incorrect media lies, all night. At the end they were indicating that they were not tired and could go all night. It was near midnight when they almost immediately dispersed. I guess they were actually tired and hungry, and needed to get back to their parent’s basement. I know this group does not represent the entirety of the left, but I believe the Democratic Party has been high-jacked by evil, and they are turning our young people into useful idiots.

The blue line, each of us clad in nearly 60lbs of gear matched them step for step, and held the line until the cowards dispersed. I serve with some truly amazing and honorable people!

Keep America Great!!!

#kag #democratsareevil #democratshateamerica

[upcycleability]

Stop Asian Hate!

The Past and Present Exclusion, Hatred, Sexualization, and Dehumanization of Asian-Americans

Bigotry against Asian-Americans is something that has existed for centuries. Long before the Chinese Exclusion Act of 1882, and long after the Japanese Internment Camps of 1942. Before people put signs in their neighborhood saying “J*ps keep moving, this is a white man’s neighborhood“ and will sadly keep happening long after this virus ends.

Dr. Seuss is well known for having dozens of anti-asian stereotypes written into his children’s books, and even made comics for years about how much he detested the Japanese as war propaganda. This history and these images are still defended fervently by many white people on the Right. They feel the removal of these books and the anti-Asian characatures are a “cancelling“ too far.

But historical facts and mockery is not the only issues that Asian-Americans deal with. They are still dealing with massive amounts of bigotry to this very day. In fact, the amount of hate they have been receiving is on the rise.

Since the onset of Covid-19, there has been a 150% spike in hate crimes against people of Asian ancestry. Slurs, mockery, and hate has been thrown towards Asian-Americans, even those who are not from China. This is because white people tend to have a hard time telling Asians apart, so they lump them all under the same umbrella and are racist against all Asian-Americans.

Recently, a white man who I refuse to name went into 3 massage parlers, which are usually run by mostly Asian women, and shot 9 people, killing 8 of them.

People are trying to defend his actions by claiming that what he did was not racism. These people are wrong. The actions of this sociopathic murderer is steeped in the obvious stench of anti-asian sentiments and mysogyny.

Image via Stop AAPI Hate

Of the 8 people who died, 6 of them were Asian women. Asian women that he viewed as “a temptation“ for his “lust“ and ergo deserved to be murdered. What do women wear in these massage parlors? These spas? Well... scrubs.

Scrubs.

He couldn’t handle his “sex addiction“ around women wearing what the typical nurse wears.

This is because Asian women are automatically seen as sexual and are inherently fetishized by American culture. So much so that for a lot of (generally white) guys, simply existing as an Asian woman is sexual. According to Chin Lu via The Bold Italic:

“I cannot comprehend what makes men choose to say things like ‘Unlike white women, [Asian] women remember what it’s like to be a woman: to be docile and submissive and respectful to a man.’ This is how they woo the ladies they’re presumably fond of?”

An article on Huffington Post mentions the same sentiment: Asian women often have to deal with a lot of oversexualization their entire lives.

This needs to stop.

We as white people need to change our behavior, and to change the society that we live in. Below are links to two articles showing a list of books that everyone to read to educate ourselves. Nobody should have to do so to treat Asian-Americans and Pacific Islanders as human beings.

https://www.texasbookfestival.org/recommended-reading-about-racism-against-asian-americans/

https://bookriot.com/nonfiction-books-about-racism-toward-asian-americans/

We are all struggling through this world together in one way or another. At least 99% iof us are. There is no reason why we cannot work together to end bigotry, classism, ableism, and the like.

While imputting hasgtags into this site, this popped up. This is part of the problem. Asian women are not sexual objects. Objectifying women, and especially women of color is part of the reason women keep getting harmed, abused, and killed. @support​ @staff​ let’s change this mindset in the hashtags.

One way to help is by shopping at small Asian-owned businesses either around your town or online. Finding eco-friendly and sustainable shops can also be a plus.

Here is an etsy shop by an artist that I follow on Instagram named Kaitoonist, who makes lovely stickers and post cards:

https://www.etsy.com/shop/EverwillenPress

Every little bit helps, and always do your best to be an awesome person, and to be an awesome activist.

Also, if I said anything harmful or inaccurate in this post, or worded something wrong, etc, please message me and let me know so that I can correct it.

#stopasianhate #stop asian hate #StopAAPIHate #Stop AAPI Hate #Asian Rights #human rights #climate justice #climate crisis #civil rights #asian representation #support asian writers #support asian artists #Support Asian Small Businesses #asian lives matter

[padawanlost]

I have a couple of questions about Karen Miller/Traviss (are they the same person?) who wrote the Clone Wars novels. Are they still considered canon? Also, I heard that Karen Traviss was abused online or something, was that over her Star Wars novels? Really, I mean that just takes toxicity to a new level.

This is a hot topic but one that desperately needs to be explored because to this day people are still spreading misinformation about that happen as a way to ‘defend’ their points. So, here we go:

Karen Miller and Karen Traviss are not the same person.

Karen miller wrote novels like  The Clone Wars: Wild Space and the Clone Wars Gambit series.

Karen Travis wrote novels like The Clone Wars movie novelization and the Republic Command Series.

Both, in my opinion, are very talented writers but both also suffered thanks to sexiest and overzealous fans. There are many reason why they became ‘infamous’ but the main reason is their political stance. They both had a lot of sympathy for the clones and the enslaves citizens of the GFFA, and both were not shy about calling out the Jedi Order and the Senate for their inaction. Of course, jedi stans hated them. To add insult to injury, Karen Traviss was the writer who ‘killed’ Mara Jade (btw, this wasn’t her idea but she’s still hated for it).

Karen Miller ‘crimes’:

Her biggest ‘offense’ was being mistaken by Karen Traviss (more on that later). Beyond that all she did was write Anidala and portraying Anakin and Obi-wan as good but flawed people. This is the kind of stuff she wrote:

“Coruscant was out there. Padmé was out there. There was a heart in his chest, beating, but it was only an echo. She was his true heart. She was his home.”  - Karen Miller’s Clone Wars Gambit: Siege

“He saw himself a candle. He saw himself behind a wall. Brick by brick he tried to raise it. Brick by brick, it was destroyed. Every death was a hammer blow. Every loss a chisel. The Sith were a wily foe, they knew where and when to strike. They were drawn to weak places, to old griefs and unhealed wounds.” - Karen Miller. The Clone Wars: Wild Space

To weep for a fallen comrade was to display unseemly attachment. A Jedi did not become attached to people, to things, to places, to any world or its inhabitants. A Jedi’s strength was fed by serenity. By distance. By loving impersonally. Karen Miller. The Clone Wars: Wild Space

Nothing particularly edgy or offensive. Imo, she’s one the best prequel writes in the game.

Karen Traviss ‘crimes’:

Beyond killing Mara Jade, she’s known for being critical of the Jedi and Republic and advocating for clone wars. She supported the highly offensive and controversial idea that clones were human being who deserved the freedom. She also believed that love (romantic or platonic), family and friends were not inherently evil and that Order made mistake by banning them.

Karen Trraviss is also know for writing so much of what we know of Mandalorian culture and she struck a nerve that too.

She wrote things like:

“The only thing [the clones] all had in common was their appearance—although they were starting to age differently, she could see that now—and what the Republic had done to them. Apart from that, they were individuals with the full range of virtues and habits of random humankind, and she now felt completely at home with them. If she had a side in this war, this was the one she chose: the disenfranchised, unreasonably loyal, heartbreakingly stoic ranks of manufactured men who deserved better.”  Star Wars - Republic Commando: True Colors by Karen Traviss

Serenity, my backside. Passion. Passion and anger and love. That’s what this galaxy needs, not serenity. Passion for change. Anger at this brutality. Love-buckets of it, for everyone, love between child and parent, between spouses, between brothers and sisters, between friends. We need more attachment, not less. Attachment can stop us from tearing ourselves apart. The Clone Wars: No Prisoners by Karen Traviss

He wanted to ask her why only a handful of Jedi objected to a slave army, and why they could claim to believe in the sanctity of all life and yet treat some life as being exempt from that respect. [REPUBLIC COMMANDO: TRUE COLORS BY KAREN TRAVISS[

Fandom (over)reaction:

Because of her ‘polemic’ takes, she started getting a lot of hate from the fandom. She used to interact with the fandom and her reward was to get constant death and rape threats. Some fans threatened her with ‘corrective rape’ to change her mind about the Jedi Order and other topics. Apparently, she responded by calling these fans ‘talifans’.

And the fans used that reaction to further vilify her. she was accused of hating the Jedi Order, of favoring Mandalore over them, getting the size of the clone army wrong, of ruining the OT by killing Mara Jade and now, of attacking fans. She was basically bullied out of the franchise.

However, her depictions of Clones and Mandalorians as heroes, while portraying the Jedi as petty or villainous, frustrated some fans, who felt that her stories and characters were counter to Star Wars. These fans wrote negative reviews of her books, and created a petition to George Lucas to stop Traviss from writing further Star Wars books. Traviss also received rape and death threats. Traviss wrote about these experiences on her blog, attacking the fans who created the petition, and likening them to Muslim extremists by calling them "Talifans." Traviss ultimately retired from Star Wars writing due to the threats she received.  [x]

It got to point where she had to write an open letter to the fandom explaining she DIDN’T hate the Jedi Order, she just didn’t believe things like war crimes and slavery should be so easily overlooked.

“No sane human can hate someone who doesn’t actually exist. From a writer’s perspective, the more super-powers characters acquire, the harder it is to develop logical story arcs and true human drama…but I don’t have any real feelings about fictional characters that stay with me once I step out of character-point-of-view-writing mode and get on with my life […] My real problem, then, is not with fictional Jedi, but with the people who refuse to believe they can do wrong. – Karen traviss [x]

If you want to know more about this, check this out :)

Now, back to Karen Miller

A few years ago, a popular sw tumblr tried to discredit Traviss writing by spreading the info that  she was a sexualizing Ahsoka with Bail so people started hating her for that too. Thing is, Karen Miller was the one accused of doing that but here is the deal:

Neither Karens ever wrote Ahsoka interacting with Bail Orgarna. What actually happened was that someone wrote a fic about Bail sexualizing Ahsoka on fanfiction.net, someone read it and decided the writing style was similar to Karen Miller’s so OF COURSE it must be Karen Miller who wrote the fanfic. Thanks to that genius level of deductive work, over the time people started saying that Karen Traviss wrote about Bail wanting to fuck Ahsoka as extra proof that SHE IS EVIL and should not be taken seriously.

Conclusion

Regardless of what you feel about someone writing, it’s NEVER okay to send them rape or death threats. Never! unfortunately, some hardcore jedi stans still spread the ‘karen traviss was attacking us’ without explaining exactly transpired between her and the fandom. According to their narrative, she was the *only* one in the wrong. That’s why there’s so much misinformation about her and what truly happened online.

My take on this ‘controversy’ is very simple: stop sending rape and death threats to women. I don’t care if you agree with her or not. The moment you believe a women *deserve* to be rape or killed, or support those who do, you lose any more ground you might think have. The situation becomes even more dire if it’s done to protect FICTIONAL CHARACTERS. 🤦‍♀️ I swear...this fandom....

#ask #englishlady #sw meta #sw fandom #karen traviss #txt #karen miller #meta: fandom

[piofiorefood]

Can I ask for some headcanons about how would the men act around Lily being drunk in their presence?

(long post ahead)

Headcanons about Piofiore guys reacting to drunken Lili

Dante

-It’s not often that Dante sees Lili drunk. After all, she holds her liquor even better than him. So any time the man happens to be around a drunk Lili, he is somewhat excited. He enjoys seeing this hidden part of his lover.

-Drunk lily is flush and talkative, spilling everything on her heart without her usual veil of politeness. Dante likes that. Until, of course, the topic becomes himself and how much he works.

-Any time not spent with Lili is a crime! Or so Lili’s heart feels.

-In the rare moments when Lili is so drunk that she can’t hold herself on her feet, Dante wants to be stern with her. He wraps his arms around her dainty little waist to support her and orders her to bed. But Lily doesn’t listen. Even his frown doesn’t faze her.

-She stays flush against Dante, whispering sweet words of how happy she is to be around him. Gone is the mild-mannered timid girl of the Church. The liquor took care of that.

-And Dante just feels a little guilty. Part of him enjoys seeing this side of needy Lili, desiring after him so much. She practically throws herself at him to do whatever he wants. But his good side can’t act on it. As much as he desires this wreck of a drunk woman in his bed, he doesn’t want to take advantage of her. Lest Lily would get upset at him later.

-So Dante resigns to his fate as the caretaker of his brat that night, making sure to snatch the bottle out of Lili’s hands.

Nicola

-Nicola had no idea what he did to deserve such an opportunity. Someone loves him up there for sure. He smirks and chuckles, refilling Lili’s wine glass...

-His eyes are twinkling with mischief, wanting to see how much drunker he could get his lover.

-For a woman that lived most of her life in Church, she could hold her liquor far too well. What sort of debaucheries were going on in the quiet nun-run Church… Nicola wondered.

-“I like you so much!” Lili would voice again and again, merrily wrapping her arms around Nicola for support. Nicola couldn’t help himself. How could he NOT toy with her like that?

-So Nicola would hum feigning a deep thought, nudging his head from side to side, wondering loudly if Lili’s words were indeed true. Seeing the shock, heat, and frown on Lili’s pretty face, Nicola could only laugh and apologize.

-But Nicola regretted nothing. And he wouldn’t miss the chance to raise a new reaction of his poor drunken lover.

Yang

-“And then…?” Yang smirked and brought the small sake cup to Liliana’s lips. “What would you do…?”

-There was something so alluring in getting his women drunk, on his terms. Yang loved toying with her like that. With Lili on his lap, he had free reign over her body.

-"How bold of you. But tonight I'll allow it. "

-Yang had a high tolerance to alcohol. But he had been mildly impressed by how much his petite woman could drink before any color showed on her cheeks. A good trait indeed.

-When drunk around Yang, Lily would get careless. If during the usual day she learned to tiptoe around his moods, when intoxicated, that mission was fully above her powers.

-But Yang would give her some slack. With so much alcohol in her small body, he didn’t mind her brain becoming mere decoration. She was entertaining either way for that time.

-Yang would no doubt take advantage of Lili in her state. Toy with her raw emotions, fuck her out of her mind. See how differently she reacted under his touches compared to their normal playtime. Anything that Yang desired, Lili would have to obey. Drunk or not, that was always the rule.

-A drunk Lili was a bold Lili. Yang would be captivated by her shenanigans, and without a doubt would not miss the chance to taunt and embarrass Lili with her actions in her following sober days.

Orlok

-Without a doubt, Orlok would panic inside to be around a drunk Lili. The mere notion of seeing the ever virtuous women in such a state would bring shock and uneasiness to Orlok’s mind.

-It is a given that his mission would be to protect Lili in case anything bad happens to her. So it would only be natural for him to stay close, keep a watch on that silly drunk.

-“Why do did you drink so much…?” The boy would whisper curiously as he helped support the women he had feelings for.

-“Don’t worry. I will take care of you.”

-“Are you all right…?

-“ Hold onto me.”

-Liliana would feel bad for her mistake but…being so close to Orlok wasn’t bad either.

-In moments like those Orlok wouldn’t be able to relax. His concerns would only center around getting Lili safely in bed.

-On the other hand, Lili’s concern would only center around being as close as possible to Orlok. She wouldn’t miss the chance to hug him tightly, or hold his hand in hers, or even kiss him with boldness.

-Orlok’s cheeks would redden and silently agree that alcohol was indeed one of the most powerful weapons of the devil.

Gilbert

-It was incredibly rare for Gilbert to see Liliana drunk. But when it occurred, he couldn’t help himself but turn the event into a merry affair.

-He would drink with his lover and laugh at her endearing mannerism, fully enjoying the newfound boldness of Liliana.

-“I really like this side of you! You should speak like that more often!” Gil would praise her left and right, making the girl blush even harder.

-But Gilbert would make sure that Lili doesn’t drink too much. He would let the girl stay either by his side or on his lap, to make sure he can properly keep an eye on her.

-As much as he likes seeing her drunk behavior, Gil wouldn’t want to force himself on her. No matter how much Lili tortured him by rubbing herself on his lap or arm, he would abstain.

-His revenge would come soon too, the very next day when he would merrily relate all the little mischiefs that Liliana did in his presence.

-----

Welp, that ended up being longer than I expected haha. Wanted to keep it somewhat short but had ideas for each boi. Hope you enjoyed itt! <3 I had fun writing it.

#piofiore #yang #dante falzone #nicola francesca #gilbert redford #orlok #writing #drunk shenanigans #piofiore no banshou #piofiore fated memories

[masterthespianduchovny]

As much as I understand the need for queer representation, queer shipping around mlm ships tend to be misogynistic as fuck. Doubly so if one of the male characters has a canon female love interest. They have to shit on her and "punish" her for interfering with a ship that isn't canon and was never going to be canon.

And that's important to note because, within the last few years, fans of these ships frame these relationships as barriers to their preferred ship or they get mad that there isn't an open ended to pretend these two characters ended up together.

As if this is somehow the fault of the female characters and not the writers. Most importantly, it overlooks the fact that, more times than not, these character sexualities were considered and there is a vague outline of where they might end up. It's unfortunate that queerness isn't often considered, actually very little, but it's not okay to engage in misogynistic rhetoric all because your mlm ship didn't happen.

From my own personal experience, a prime example is Steggy.

Steve is framed as straight. Maybe there's a chance that his bi--idk. But the MCU has always positioned him as being into women with the subtext that he'll end up with a woman. Yet, because he ended up with Peggy, she's constantly attacked and doesn't "deserve" him because she didn't know him as long as Bucky. She's been called all sorts of derogatory things, slandered, criticized for random bullshit, etc. Reduced to just her reproductive parts, having ageist remarks leveled at her, and so forth.

Most of this didn't exist before Endgame, but after Endgame, the attacks are non stop. People are triggered whenever she comes her. All because Cap chose her over someone he wasn't even interested in. All because fans shipped him and Bucky together and the MCU didn't bend to their will.

Another example: Darvey. Harvey and Donna from Suits.

No one has to like a character, but usually, the way certain fans rip into Donna usually ends up with it being a Marvey shipper. They'll contort truth, ignore details, and color her in the worst possible light to prove how she's bad for Harvey, yet ignore all of Harvey's bullshit to prove how he and Mike are MFEO.

Let's be clear: I don't fucking care if people ship non canon ships or think two other characters, whether or not they're the same gender, are better together. However, When you're being misogynistic and sexist to upload your OTP, you can rightly fuck off. It's so easy to ship what you like without bringing that bullshit into it.

Tragically, many of these critics are women who have massive internalized misogyny, but believe they are being progressive, inclusive, and ship without prejudice. If you're tearing women down to uplift any ship, even if it's queer, that's not progressive and feeds into the patriarchy.

It's okay to prefer something else, it's not okay to feed into a pre-existing, harmful, and sexist narrative.

And it's really bothersome because these same people call themselves trying to validate the LBGTQ community, many of these shippers are straight (which this opinion is based on various discourses and criticisms of how gay characters are written in these stories and dialogue surrounding them) and ironically end up invalidating Bi, Pan, and NB people.

Some of these ships are due to these characters being hot, which is fine.

Other times it's due to chemistry, which is also fine.

But as another person argued years ago, one of the reasons why mlm shipping is so popular and prevalent is because male dynamics are actually fleshed out and explored meaningfully. This leads to wanting to ship characters who have real relationships, conflicts, and history with each other no matter how small or large.

However, the issue comes in for some because it's not canon. These meaningful relationships aren't romantic and many women tend to want some romance included, which isn't a bad thing. But when you know the romance will never happen, it's easy to get upset about that. And they know people who ship canon pairings have that over them, which is infuriating.

Which is understandable.

Regardless, diminishing, trivializing, and insulting women is not okay, esp when some of these women have the relationships with men that are usually reserved for male dynamics.

Donna and Harvey have a long, complicated relationship that is based on a professional dynamic, friendship, and romantic yearning. This was established in the first season and didn't come out of nowhere, yet people either ignore that, play it as one sided, go on and on about why they couldn't be just friends (they never were), and hilariously, refer to it as fan service.

Peggy and Steve develop a friendship of sorts, are supportive of one another, genuinely are in love with each other, and have worked alongside each other is criticized because Peggy didn't know Steve as long as Bucky. Appalling things are said about her.

Thing is: these aren't the only fandoms that do this. Trust and believe, whenever there is a major male pairing, if any woman is canonically paired with ether one of them, she's being attacked and called gross things. That's not okay even in the name of representation. If you genuinely hate this female character because of who she is and not because of her gender, I get that. However, a lot of it is gender based and it's quite obvious when reading these criticisms.

Wanting better and more representation doesn't excuse or justify shitty behavior.

Lastly, people factor in compulsive heterosexuality regarding their criticisms of various straight pairings. That's a validate take, however, we need to be honest about our issues with certain pairings rather than piling on undeserved hate towards female characters, and then have nuanced conversations about what this means in context to that specific series.

No. You're not going to have these conversations with show runners, writers, and actors. I get this. But some of you need to stop harassing others and acting like assholes because they don't support your pairing (which they don't have to). If you believe Steve is bisexual, then stop fucking harassing people who ship him with Peggy. If deep, meaningful relationships are important, then stop undermining them to push a ship. And stop turning women into fucking mascots in your fanfic and fan art to prop up your ship--that shit is so dehumanizing. Often times, when these shippers don't hate the women, they only exist to say, "when will these two silly kids get together?" OR "I'mg lad you two silly kids finally got together."

Turning a woman into a mascot isn't any better than harming her or killing her to fuel a man's story--even if the man is gay.

Ironically, I'm less likely to see this from wlw ships or ships that has more queer support and than het support.

Quite interesting.

#steggy #peggy carter #steve rogers #captain america #misogyny #sexism #fandom bullshit #darvey #donna paulsen #harvey specter #suits #shipping

[anomia-sama]

Akutagawa x Reader | Dark Chocolate

Pairing: Ryuunosuke Akutagawa x Reader

Warnings: Gender neutral reader (they/them), probably uncorrect english, curses, verbal aggression. 

Notes: Nobody asked for it, this Headcanon is just my way to wish you a happy St. Valentine’s Day, full of love, warmth and affection; even if you’re single, you deserve to celebrate love. Love for yourself, love for you significant others, love for your life! I hope you’ll enjoy it.

Small reminder: In Japanese tradition, only women give chocolates to men, but I wanted to write a more inclusive Headcanon, so I used Gender Neutral pronouns. There’s a huge difference between Honmei Choco and Giri Choco. The so-called Honmei choco (known as the "true feeling chocolate") is given by women to men whom they have romantic feelings for, like husbands, boyfriends or desired partners. It is a qualitatively better chocolate, and it’s generally quite expensive, but sometimes it can be home-made. The so-called Giri choco (known as "obligation chocolate") is given by women to male co-workers or friends, as a customary gift. It’s cheaper and less refined, but it’s a very apreciated symbol of respect and friendship.

◈ ━━━━━━━━  Headcanon ━━━━━━━━ ◈

Akutagawa is totally clueless about St. Valentine’s day. Seriously, he knows nothing about it! He has no idea of the cultural meanings of February 14th and he doesn’t know much about traditional gifts linked to this celebration.

First of all, he never had time to devote to such a nonsensical feast. And then, he never cared about useless things like romance and love. They’re like profanities to him. 

So, when he sees you offer him an elegant and refined dark red box full of assorted chocolate, he’s a bit confused. Like…what the hell are you doing, exactly? His deep and grey eyes sharpen in a frown, his cheek muscles unconsciously contract, but even in his confusion he looks so cute and adorable at your eyes.

He quietly stares at the box for almost five minutes, exploring every single detail of it, careful not to touch it. It’s a big and rectangular pack, he notices, closed with a thin ribbon, and he doesn’t imagine what it could contain.

It takes a while before Ryuunosuke finds the courage to look at you in the eyes and ask for clarifications. 

“What is it?”

Poor boy. It’s not his fault, he’s just a bit (a lot, actually) ignorant about certain things. 

He notices your bizarre and inexplicable look, that makes his gaze sharpen more and more by the second. His irises linger on your red cheeks, he can see how desperately you try to avoid eye contact and that makes him a little suspicious. Your entire body is shaking, it’s really a weird behavior…

“It’s a…gift. A Valentine’s gift, actually.” You try to explain, with trembling voice.

“A… what?”

Your heart beats so fast, in this moment. You don’t understand if the young man appreciates it or not, he just stands there, right in front of you, with a stern look and crossed arms. An unconquerable stronghold that turns your heart in dust every single time you’re in the same room. 

You don’t even know when you started being so attracted to him, nor when attraction became love. You really thought offer him Honmei Choco was the most natural way to express your feelings and confess to him. But…

“Chocolate, Akutagawa-san. Just chocolate.” You murmur, now embarrassed and quite in panic. You really don’t understand if he’s rejecting you or not.

Being in love with him is a daily challenge. Akutagawa is unpredictable, fierce, a broken soul… and, well, he totally lacks in social skills. You know it, you always knew it, but that doesn’t cushion the blow when it arrives.

“Are you trying to poison me or what?”

Oh god. Is he allergic or something? Does he hate chocolate? What did you do wrong?

Your eyes widen and you finally meet his gaze. He seems angry.

The truth is Akutagawa is not used to kindness. He doesn’t know what it means to receive a gift and something like pure and selfless love, so he just thinks the worst option is the most credible.

“N-No, Akutagawa-san, I could never…” 

“So is this because you failed your last mission? You really think you could corrupt me?”

His voice raises in a rough expression of anger, he makes you feel so small and defenseless. Ryuunosuke totally misunderstands your intentions, but you know you don’t deserve such a treatment, even if you love him and even if he’s your superior.

You put the box on his desk, firmly (because you’re upset, and you got the right to) but gently not to ruin it.

 “I don’t want to disrespect you, Akutagawa-san, you know, or at least you should know, how much I admire you. Think what you want about this gift, I let it here. Now excuse me, I have work to do.”

You get out of his office with fast pace, your eyes shining with tears you proudly don’t cry. 

At the door, you almost bump into Chuuya; the redhead was right there with a raised fist, ready to knock, but you barely notice him. You have rush to walk away.

“...The fuck happened?” He whsipers, following your silhouette with his eyes before enter Akutagawa’s office.

Obviously, the Port Mafia rabid dog has a terrible pout drawn on his face. He’s even more confused than he was before and now he even feels inexplicably weird. His chest is so heavy he’s not sure he can normally breath, his hands are closed in fists.

“Akutagawa.” Chuuya says. 

 “Chuuya-san.” The ravenette murmurs in response, looking at him and trying to mentally come back to his work. He has no time to think about these strange feelings, okay? He has no time to investigate why the hell he suddenly feels so bad.

“Here is a message from the Boss. He wants you to… wohoh! What do we have here?” The redhaired executive notices the box on Akutagawa’s desk and a sly smirk appears on his lips. He looks like knowing a thing or two.

“A box.” Akutagawa answers laconically. What kind of problem do they all have with boxes, today?!

“This is not just a box, man.” Chuuya seems quite intrigued and he delicately opens the box, peeking inside it. His ocean’s eyes widen a little and the older man whistles in appreciation. “My, my…”

“What?”  

“This is the most fucking expensive chocolate in town. The logo is unmistakable, it comes from a famous and refined bakery.” He explains, grinning while he crosses his arms. “From whom is it? I didn’t know you were such a successful Don Juan. No offense.”

Wait, a successful WHAT?!

Akutagawa’s pale cheeks are suddenly touched by a peach colored shade of pink but there’s something in his eyes that suggests Chuuya he not fully understand the situation. The two of them looks at each other for a while, the one with a perturbed expression, the other trying not to laugh. 

It’s Nakahara that breaks the silence: “Seriously, man. It’s St. Valentine’s Day, if you recieve such an expensive gift today, well... you know what it means, don’t you?” 

But, against Chuuya’s expectation, Ryuunosuke perseveres in his silence. The black-coated man starts feeling uncomfortable, realizing he truly has no idea of what the other executive is talking about and rapidly avoids his inquisitive gaze. Akutagawa is clueless, okay, but he’s not stupid at all. He perfectly understands he’s not perfect (someone in his past never missed a chance to remember it to him) and he can recognize his lacks.

Chuuya, on the other hand, he’s quite more understanding than other Port Mafia members, especially when it comes to emotions and feelings. No, obviously he’s not a softie, he just understands a little more human beings and their emotive nature, so when he sees how confused Akutagawa is he sighs in exasperation.

“Man, if someone gives you expensive chocolate on St. Valentine’s Day, it’s because they have feelings for you. They like you that way. It’s a way to confess and, trust me, this is clearly the chocolate box I would only give to someone I fell fucking hard for.” 

First reaction: shock!* 

To our poor Ryuunosuke it’s like receiving a punch right in the stomach. His cloudy eyes widen in surprise and he’s quite sure his not-so-stoned heart lost a beat or two. So… is this the true meaning of your gift? You were trying to confess to him? You wanted to make him feel your affection? You wanted him to feel…loved?

He hisses a curse and slowly hides his face behind his left hand. Shit. He yelled at you. He accused you, just because he never thought he deserves love and affection. 

“So? Whose heart did you broke?” Chuuya jokes, hearing Ryuunosuke swearing.

"Y/n L/n. I asked them if they were trying to corrupt me or poison me.” He admits with a gloomy and yet shocked tone. 

In his defense, he had no idea you could have feelings for him. Let’s be honest: he never cared about certain things, but he’s not blind nor deaf. You are good looking, understanding, kind, diligent, resourceful, supportive. He is...well, he’s a demon. How could he even imagine someone like you falling in love with someone like him?

Chuuya sighs again. 

“You rejected Y/n. Good fucking job, man, only an idiot like shitty Dazai could do something so stupid, you really are his worthy heir.” He says sarcastically. “They gave me chocolate too. But not such an expensive one, so I can assume their feelings are stronger then we can even imagine. Maybe you’re still in time to fix the situation. If you’re interested, of course. Are you?” 

His final question sounds definetly like an insinuation and a provocation at the same time. Akutagawa narrows his feral gaze in Chuuya’s direction, meeting his allusive smirk. 

He doesn’t say a single word. But he knows the answer. 

Later that night, you come back from your daily mission. A successful mission, you want to specify, just to prove yourself (and someone else) you don’t need to corrupt your superior, because you’re the best in your job. Failure can occur, of course, but it’s a true rarity for you. 

You just endend report to the Boss himself when you see a familiar shape standing in the corridor, next to one of the polychrome windows. 

Your steps hesitate, you’re still upset and embarassed so you’re not in the right mood to face Akutagawa again, but just a second later you see he’s holding your chocolate box. 

You just stop your walk, a couple of meters separate you from the man and despite distance you can see how nervous he is. 

“Dark chocolate.” He suddenly says. “Dark chocolate is my favourite. But I didn’t know it before tasting one of each kind in this box.”

He avoids your gaze and his words kinda hurt you. He never tasted different kind of chocolate before today?

“The box is still full. I...I thought, maybe... sharing such a good chocolate with you would be a good idea.” 

“It would be nice.” You say softly. “Dark chocolate is my favourite too.” 

Your voice is trembling again. You didn’t like at all the way he treated you some hours ago, but you can see in his gesture how hard he’s trying to remediate.

“I have to apologize.” He suddenly says, and your e/c eyes widens with emotion and surprise. You perfectly know how hard is to say sorry, for a man like him, but he did it. He really did it.

“No matter what you say, I have to.” He continues. “I just... had no idea. I’m not used to all of this, and probably I’m not wort-”

“Please, don’t say that.” You firmly interrupt him and he finally looks at you. 

“That’s not true. I made you the gift you deserve. And I...”

Now or never, Y/n. Now or never. 

“ ...If you let me, I will give you the love you deserve, too.” 

Ryuunosuke needs some time to process what you said. He stays there, his eyes in yours, incredulous. Now he feels even more guilty about the way he treated you. 

How is it possible? Even after that, you still have feelings for him? Even if he yelled at you, even if he’s nothing more than a cruel and merciless rabid dog?

The silence between the two of you is dense and heavy, but not as much as your breath. He doesn’t say a word, again, and you have no idea of what to do. You did your best, today, and more. 

But, you know, Akutagawa is not a word man. He doesn’t know well how to verbally express his feelings, he’s instinctive, a man of action.

“Can I kiss you, Y/n?” 

Honestly, he thinks it’s kinda weird to ask something like that. But Chuuya always says consent is important and Ryuunosuke is a quiet learner. He doesn’t want to desrespect you, ever again. 

You are so surprised to hear this question, and yet so happy, your eyes are filled with tears. So...does he accept your feelings? And even return them? 

You slowly nod in affirmation, walking at his direction, and just a second later you wrap your arms around his body in a strong hug he tries to return properly. He’s a bit tense and awkward, but he holds you very tight. 

And then he does it. 

He presses his lips against yours, not gently, not softly, but with the quiet and passionate desperation of someone always yerned for love.

Yes, Akutagawa is totally clueless about love, St. Valentine’s Day, affection, human feelings. Totally clueless.

But he will learn, with you by his side. He will. 

* Sorry, only Italian readers will fully understand this, but I had to.

#bsd #bsd x reader #bsd x y/n #bsd x you #bungou stray dogs #bungo stray dogs #bungou stray dogs x reader #bungou stray dogs x you #bungou stray dogs x y/n #bsd akutagawa #bsd chuuya #chuuya saves the situation #chuuya to the rescue #bungou stray dogs akutagawa #akutagawa ryunosuke #bsd ryunosuke #akutagawa ryuunosuke #akutagawa x reader #akutagawa x you #akutagawa x y/n

[1ddotdhq]

◟̽◞̽ Tues 24 Nov ‘20 🐠

Grammy Nominations and Live Shows OH MY!!

LOUIS’ BACK!!! And I don’t mean “oh he liked something on Instagram” or “oh he tweeted about a RHCP concert”, I mean he’s going to be doing a VEEPS LIVESHOW! And so we solve the mystery of the Spotify vids (they were a stage!): a few hours before the announcement, he tweeted, “Hope you’re all doing alright. Exciting stuff coming up!!”, and then left the masses to wonder what could possibly be happening and when. Three anxious hours later: “So excited to announce that I’m getting my band and crew back together to put on a special show for you all that will be streamed December 12 [!!!adkhfkadhfjj!!!] and will be available for 28 hours after. The show will support 5 important causes very close to my heart”. The causes Louis Tomlinson Live From London will support are FareShare (they redistribute food to communities in need), CrewNation (the LiveNation COVID crew fund), StageHand (similar to CrewNation, but UK based), Bluebell Wood Children’s Hospice, and paying Louis' own touring crew! The tickets go on sale TOMORROW. If you can't afford one, Luke Massie (founder and CEO of Vibe Tickets) is giving funds away on twitter to fans who want to watch the show! “I’ll do my best to help as many of you as I can see him and his amazing crew perform,” he said. Louis has said that there is no cap on the ticket sales, so I’m taking him at his word and hoping that Veeps is prepared for what's about to happen (they're REALLY not lol.)

And that’s not all!! The press release for the show promised “songs from… ‘Walls”...alongside a few surprises” (I - could it - new music????), as well as “an exclusive range of new merchandise” that comes out tomorrow! The merch proceeds will go to the charities listed above. And! The Telegraph published an interview! Louis promises AN UPCOMING NEW ALBUM (“I had basically penciled down a plan before corona took over our lives”). He says again that he wants to move into the KMM style rock sound, “I think there were some songs where I took slightly more risk and owned what I love, saying, this is who I want to be..there is a certain energy in [KMM], in its delivery, in its attitude, that I want to recreate. People are struggling at the moment so I want to create a raucous, exciting atmosphere in my live show, not a somber, thoughtful one.” He says that he wants this next album to be more optimistic, because that is who he is, but new songwriting is HARD during a pandemic: for him (like for all of us), his days have fallen into a routine, and so he has no ‘new experiences’ to draw from. And, once again, Louis brings up John Frusciante and how he “fucking wishes” he could chat with him. Louis - drop your RHCP stan account PLEASE! We also learned that fans were RIGHT in speculating that he’s been in LA recently (though likely not for the reason the Telegraph wants us to think). About his travels, Louis says, “[The spot he goes to] is remote and kind of weird, and I’m going to go there for three days and write. I don’t know why I’m so drawn to it... it’s got some very interesting (peculiar?) locals who live there...it feels like you’re going back in time when you’re there.” ANY COMMENT, @/visiteroda??? And, in a rare look ahead, Louis reveals that he wants to manage an all-women’s rock band playing instruments (hey, friend, you know where women could play instruments? YOUR OWN BAND, MY DUDE! Just a suggestion). He said that his process with Syco had become “challenging and frustrating” because the kinds of artists he wants to develop aren’t “ready-made” - he sees a lot of artists that were “rough and ready” but labels want to see “something that works straight away”. But with Syco dust in the wind he can get back to it: HELL YEAH! The band he’s currently got his eyes on is Fickle Friends (an indie Brighton all-female rock band); he says this is the kind of band he wants to manage, “because there’s no one in that space. And I know eventually if I don’t do it, someone else will!”. Guys, I say this a lot, but really, Louis is about to make some WAVES in that space and I can’t WAIT to see it play. But first the concert, please!

AND!!!!!! Harry has been NOMINATED FOR THREE FUCKING GRAMMYS!! GUYS, HE MADE IT! The categories he is up for are: Best Music Video (Adore You - the TASTE), Best Pop Solo Performance (Watermelon Sugar), and BEST POP VOCAL ALBUM! I know that we’re always like, Grammys mean nothing, and how can we feel otherwise 1D was never nominated, but this is a MILESTONE in his career, and I am so happy to see his work getting the recognition it deserves! There were no nominations for him in the general field this year (artist or record of the year) BUT just you WAIT. Everything that Harry does makes me think that he is gearing up for a very long and successful career and I am. Very Happy for him. And so is everyone else! Harry’s friends, family, colleagues, and labels have all been quick to congratulate him on his well deserved recognition. In other Harry news, we got some stills from an Austrailian movie called “Holding the Man” which bear remarkable similarities to the Golden music video. (Were Harry's Vans really in there as a tribute to the film or did that part just work out very well for him??) The movie and the song don’t have anything in common thematically except being gay, but it really looks like a visual homage to this film (or, my personal theory, a fix-it fic to give it a happy ending!). And! Harry was papped on the DWD set with Florence Pugh again today, in a suit and an opulent background - it’s hard to make out Harry’s face, but I think we can guess that it's beaming in pride, as it should be.

GQ Spain did a piece on Liam’s Hugo capsule, praising it for being “the utilitarian style” (“the star trend of 2020”). They’re very nice about it, and seem to be genuinely interested and like the color scheme of the clothes: “the monocolor look...is an irrefutable argument in men’s clothing”. They also praise the collection for being an example that “you don’t need to spend hours in front of a mirror to dress like the best dressed men on the planet”. All of these were meant to be compliments, I SWEAR! Niall was around on Twitter yesterday, reminiscing about the time when some fans asked Justin Beiber to take pictures of them with Niall, it's true Niall that IS hilarious and also good psychic timing: that's EXACTLY how relevant Justin Beiber should be (yes I AM bitter the Weeknd was ROBBED). He also congratulated Shawn Mendes for his documentary, “So proud of this boy. He’s smashed it and always so humble. Well done to everyone involved.X”. I have not seen this documentary but if there are any more “Camila Cabello orders bananas at sushi restaurants moments” PLEASE let me know!

#louis tomlinson #Harry styles #Liam Payne #niall horan #woah WHAT A DAY OH MY GOD #okay well i loved This thank you #also Louis wanting to expand tje Brit rock scene to include more women is uh #badass and I love him #anyways! #song of the day! #apple pie by Lizzy McAlpine

[thefairyletters]

Ships and their wingmen

Part 2

Read -> Part 1

Because we can't be the only one who ship them. Or those who don't.

.

MinaSaku

In time-travel AU, Sakura will possibly the only one who will not ship it, if only because that will change the future. But casting that aside, Team Minato will do everything in their power to make sure the two adults soon sire a pink-haired, blue-eyed kid or blond-haired, green-eyed kid, or any combination of those colors for that matter.

Kushina will be conflicted whether to pursue Minato and fight her best friend/soul-sister (because Sakura is Kushina in pink hair) or allow Sakura get Minato and keep their relationships as it is. If she chooses latter, she will give up on Minato, simp on Hokage hat instead, and becomes the best damn Hokage Konoha has ever seen. If not, she puts up a good fight, insert-a-lot-of-angst, a heartfelt moment between Sakura and Kushina later simps on Hokage's hat, and becomes the best damn Hokage Konoha has ever seen. Either way, Kushina sooner or later supports MinaSaku, because she doesn't get Minato then only Sakura gets to have him.

Like Ino and Sakura, Inoichi and Sakura become fast friends, even if it starts with Inoichi flirting and Sakura hitting him squarely on his jaw, and the man is excessively protective of his pink-haired friend. He will probably root for KushiMina just so to protect Sakura's chastity. He will give up soon and will make sure no one gets in the way of his OTP.

If it takes place in canon, let's say somehow Minato selectively gets to be revived for extended periodof time for some reason. Or he time-travels to post-war time and finds himself thrown into a loop. Both, in which, MinaSaku is a very slow burn that even Naruto notices the strange air between his dad and his teammate, and everyone comes to conclusion exactly where Naruto had gotten his denseness from. Kakashi ships MinaSaku because it's his father-no-2 and favourite student together, as weird as it sounds. Naruto doesn't ship, at all, because that would make Sakura his step-mother. Most angst in this MinaSaku will be caused by one Naruto Uzumaki. Ino simps for this ship just because Minato is hot, is loosely Sakura's type and she, being a good friend, completely supports her best friend bedding a heartbreaker like Minato.

Tsunade ships because he is a good man.

Konoha council ships because Namikaze genes need to be retained in the village one way or another.

.

HashiSaku

For starters, Tobirama doesn't ship, at all. Hashirama was already very prone to get distracted even without Sakura in the picture, but now with someone of Sakura's colors by his side, it was as if Tobirama got prematurely promoted as the head of Senju clan AND Hokage. Tobirama doesn't appreciate it at all. He subtly tries to get Sakura killed, to ship her overseas without Hashirama noticing, and convince her to marry someone who wasn't tan-skinned, longhaired and a Senju to boot. When all failed, he tries to seduce her himself as a last-ditch effort to help her move on from Hashirama. He only manages to gain a black-eye and a harsh rejection on top of it. Then, it look a while, but he figured she would be a good leader and a competent backup if Hashirama remains distracted in all his future meetings.

Mito is a proud, powerful woman, and she desires strength in things that catches her attention. So when she found Sakura, she wanted her for herself but instead found herself in competition with Hashirama of all people. Regardless to say, they hate each other.

Madara sees Sakura as the second and the last brain cell of the Senju clan, next to Tobirama. He supports HashiSaku if only so his best friend can learn a thing or two about how to use his bright but otherwise inactive brain cell. He is always ready to adopt her into his clan should Senju throw her out, courtesy of Tobirama.

Izuna likes Sakura and if she likes Hashirama, then he will support it. Easy as that.

.

MitoSaku

Madara doesn't care because his best friend is married to not one but two beautiful but powerful beasts of women. Hashirama has no room for complaints.

Hashirama is a third wheel in his own marriage.

Tobirama doesn't know if he ships it or not because his brother is married to a woman who is in love with another woman and that woman insists that they all remain together for the better of future.

Izuna ships, to say at least.

.

TobiSaku

Hashirama is the biggest fan of TobiSaku. He grins his annoying grin in a way that makes everyone present in the room with him blush in embarrassment. He dubbed Sakura as his sister-in-law the moment he saw his brother with her.

Madara doesn't think someone like Tobirama deserves Sakura, but thinks someone like Sakura can persuade Tobirama to chill. It's better for Senju clan in a long run, so he supports their relationship.

Mito simps hard for this ship because she wants Sakura as her sister-in-law. Half of the TobiSaku moments happened because of HashiMito's meddling.

Izuna flirts with Sakura at every chance he could, if only to rile Tobirama. He might like Sakura as a bit more than a friend, but he also finds TobiSaku relationship precious in a passive-agressive way so he doesn't mostly get in their way because they make up to about 65% of his daily entertainment quota which he doesn't wish to lose.

.

MadaSaku

If there's one person who is a die-hard fan of this ship then it's one Izuna Uchiha. He enjoys teasing his older brother at every chance he gets, ruthlessly and sadistically. He enjoys the way his brother softens at the very mention of Sakura and he thinks that is the most precious thing he's seen his older brother do for anyone who's not him. Sakura gets along with Izuna so well that he often thinks she knows him better than he knows himself, and for that he cherishes Sakura as one of his family. His love for MadaSaku stretches so far that he would kill anyone who dares to get in between two of his most important people.

Tobirama ships them because he thinks Sakura will help Madara lose some of the madness inherent in Uchiha clan. It is because of Sakura that Tobirama becomes less wary of Uchihas and warms up to them.

Hashirama jumps at Madara and Sakura everytime they come for a visit, much to his wife's embarassment. Sakura is considered one of the Senju clan, and with her marrying into Uchiha clan, strengthens Senju-Uchiha alliance. Hashirama, like Izuna, is very happy to see Madara at peace and wishes the best for the couple. Like Izuna, he teases Madara mercilessly everytime Madara does something even slightly uncharacteristic of him. Sakura isn't teased often only because her becoming flustered results only in bodily harm.

Mito approves of the pair, if only because it gets her husband's attention away from Madara and his clan. She respects Sakura and knows the Uchiha clan will thrive with her as their matriarch.

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IzuSaku

Madara doesn't ship it at first because his brother is easily charmed by beautiful women and she looked a little too much like a Uzushio woman. Mito and Madara aren't in the best of the terms, regardless of the alliance. He suspected it to be trap when he saw his brother smile a little too gently, his eye softening a little too much than he was accustomed to seeing. He didn't ship IzuSaku at all because he loves his brother first and foremost. Sakura and he started off in bad terms but he soon discerns her good intentions and her honest reciprocal of feelings for Izuna, so he gives them his blessings and promises his protection.

Tobirama doesn't believe it until he sees it. He thinks she is too good for someone like Izuna, but seeing Izuna happy and content with Sakura, he comes to an understanding that this arrangement does save a lot of women from falling his prey.

Hashirama doesn't hold a particular opinion on Izuna but knows his notorious reputation and thus fears for Sakura's heart. He doesn't get in their way but tries to make sure Sakura is safe. When he is assured Izuna is courting her with intention of marriage, he gives them his blessings as well because Sakura is part of his family.

Mito doesn't understand why Sakura chose someone like Izuna given his reputation, and how Izuna really fell hard for the woman like Sakura.

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SaiSaku

Sai doesn't have lot of friends to support him, but luckily for him, Sakura has.

It is Ino who digs their relationship. Ino who helps Sai learn a thing or two about women. Ino who helps him learn new ways to impress Sakura (failed everytime). Sai and Ino became close friends the more she stayed around as his part-time trainer/babysitter everytime Sakura is away on a mission/hospital (because Sakura doesn't trust Sai alone without her for long). It is through Ino that they ultimately got together in the end.

Naruto, as if on a clock, becomes sceptical if she didn't see Sasuke in Sai, but that idea goes out of the window everytime Sai opens his pretty mouth. He supports Sai and Sakura because he could. As much as Sai pisses him off, he is still one of his good friends that he treasure, but one he would never admit to about his feelings.

Sasuke never thought his position in Team 7 would be threatened, much less by an ANBU/Root member, and he most definitely didn't think it will be that member who will ultimately date Sakura. As much as he knew the world wouldn't have stopped moving when he left, he also didn't expect new faces to join his team and take what had been promised his. Sakura punches him square on his face when he vocalises his thoughts. Regardless to say, he isn't happy with this arrangement.

Yamato is most pleased to see Sai flourishing as a person instead of a killing machine they were made into. He thinks Sakura is scary and will keep Sai on his toes, but also that she will be patient and guide him on the right path. They couldn't be more different, but he knew they understand each other like no one else.

Yamato and Naruto becomes the best men in SaiSaku wedding, and no sightings of Sasuke is observed anywhere.

.

ShiSaku

Surprisingly, Shisui gets green signal from all the members of team 7. When asked, he is told many reasons ranging from – "You're the only decent Uchiha" to "You're not emotionally dead.", which ultimately means he is approved because he is everything Sakura expects in a man, and that age is hardly a reason of disapproval from them if it is not a problem for Sakura.

Naruto sometimes – particularly on days when Shisui steals their female teammate to spend time with him – think if Shisui had not brainwashed Sakura into giving in to his vile intentions, because that's exactly what his Sharingan is specialized to do, but when Sakura hears a word about this, she always punches him hard enough to make him reconsider his words. Sasuke and Kakashi are smart enough to keep their opinions about her love life to themselves.

If Itachi thought Shisui was annoying when he was not in love, he thinks Shisui is downright nuts when he is in love. Sakura is all he ever talks about, and while Itachi is pleased to see his cousin and Sakura, who's a good friend to him, so happy in love, there's a line that need not be crossed. He is thankful that both make a lovely couple together who can make Uchiha clan a happy place with their shared positivity. But. But, Shisui is also a jealous idiot and those two words never make a good combination. Itachi blesses the couple for all happiness in the world, but he is just not the person they should come to looking for relationship advice whenever one of them (always Shisui) screws up.

You'd think since Shisui is not part of the main house and having no living family of his own, there'll be no family drama surrounding him and his love life, but you're dead wrong. Once Mikoto and Fugaku hear a word about ShiSaku being canon, they call Shisui in, gives him the earful of the lifetime, demands of him to propose marriage to her, and proceed to prepare for the big wedding. Sakura accepts but that's hardly a point, because next thing Shisui knows is getting adopted into the main house. There goes his freedom.

.

KibaSaku

Tsume loves Sakura. She wants to adopt Sakura. Inuzuka clan loves Sakura. KibaSaku is real, so what happens? Tsume threatens to disown Kiba unless he proposes to Sakura and make her one of the pack soon. According to Tsume, Kiba has finally chosen "the one who will make up for his lack-of-thereof brain and strength".

When the word gets out about his entanglement with Sakura, Team 8 is pleased – especially Hinata and Shino. Kurenai looks at him like she doesn't believes him. Shino repeats Tsume's sentiments on the matter. Hinata only smiles in a way that screams 'finally!'.

Team 7 is not happy that their precious teammate is getting it on with someone who smells like dog.

Kurenai who is like a mother to both Sakura and Kiba is happy to help them get started with parenting. It got too awkward to further ask Tsume who only said to "break the bed and let nature play its role". Kurenai will take turns with rest of the Team 8 and Team 7 to babysit many kids that KibaSaku will sire because they are wild. Tsume is proud though.

Tsunade blesses the couple and knows she will enjoy spoiling her many grandchildren rotten. Shizune is only happy for her sister-figure, even if she is a bit worried for the children.

Ino smirks at Sakura like a sly cat, every time they meet, all the way until her friend is happily married. Kiba is a catch, even if he smells like a dog. And they both know it.

.

GaaSaku

Baki cries in joy when GaaSaku reveals their relationship public. He had thought Gaara was a lost cause when it comes to romance. His son-figure made him proud that day.

Temari threatens Sakura if she breaks "her-precious-bean's-fragile-heart", she will see through that her body gets never found in the sand. When it became clear that Sakura was serious about Gaara, Temari crushes the other woman to her chest and cries over how lucky she was to have Gaara as her husband (because there's no way her precious bean, Gaara, is undeserving of someone).

Kankuro breaks down crying, thankful that his little brother Gaara was not asexual and that he only had high expectations of himself because there was no way Sakura wasn't the best bride for Gaara. A match made in heaven, he said. It doesn't help that Kankuro and Sakura are best friends who often conspire ways to make Gaara blush prettily like he does, much to Gaara's chagrin.

Tsunade stans GaaSaku and is aware of the political advantage in their marriage to back up their relationship. Temari marrying into Konoha and Sakura into Sand, is a fair exchange.

Konoha council begs to differ.

Naruto wants to feel betrayed but doesn't because Gaara deserves the love he will get from Sakura, and he knows him and knows her. That doesn't help him from sending threatening letters, dripping on rabbit's blood, to Gaara who isn't alarmed at all and patiently writes back about his feelings concerning his female teammate. Naruto cries like a baby on their wedding because Kazehime is such a fitting title for his precious Sakura-chan.

Sasuke never sees it coming. He is betrayed, but not because Sakura moved on but because it is Gaara she moved on to. He takes personal offence to it, confronts personally about it to her in Suna and Sakura isn't impressed. If Sakura gives him a beating that leaves him in Suna hospital for a week, that's not on Sakura.

Kakashi cannot care less whom his old genin team fucks and marries but he admits he is a bit impressed that Sakura marries Gaara of all people.

.

ShikaSaku

Team 10 is ecstatic when Shikamaru and Sakura makes their relationship public. Ino is on cloud nine when she hears Sakura gets to be official part of Ino-Shika-Cho. She breaks into Sakura's apartment to crush her best friend in a hug that might as well suffocate her to death but a girl gotta express her joy one way or another. She demands Shikamaru to invite Sakura for all future clan get-togethers so Sakura will feel comfortable in future.

Choji is happy for his best friend. He secretly meets with Yoshino to prepare for the big day. He exclusively invites Sakura for all Akimichi parties when he hears about her passion for cooking, even if she's bad at it. It's safe to say Sakura became part of Ino-Shika-Cho even before her marriage to Shikamaru.

When Sasuke hears about it, he corners Shikamaru and inquires about all the intentions Shikamaru has towards his teammate. He might not like Sakura like she once wished to be liked by him, but she was still part of his family that is Team 7 and he cares enough to make sure she doesn't get heart broken the way she had with him. When he gets right answers, he drops his arm against his throat, draws back his kusanagi and walks away like nothing was amiss.

When Naruto hears about it, he pokes fun at Shikamaru for his taste in women – first Temari, now his teammate. To onlookers, it would look like two friends playfully teasing each other, but if you look closely, you'd notice the red of Naruto's eyes, how the grip on Shikamaru's fingers were tad too tight and the way Shikamaru looked like he would rather be anywhere but there. After a measured shake and few more teasing jabs, Naruto returned to his goofy self.

When Kakashi hears about it and comes across him, Shikamaru doesn't let the older man get a word in. With Kakashi, it might as well be chidori to heart so Shikamaru rushed to firmly asserted his very pure, no vile, feelings for his sole female student. By the time he is finished with his monologue, Kakashi has left.

Tsunade is neutral when the news gets to her. As simple as Shikamaru was, he was also not the most committed person so she decides to test Shikamaru before she gave him her blessings.

Temari flips the table when the word reaches Suna. She immediately leaves the village to make sure Shikamaru was truly serious, this time, about her friend. Gaara follows after her because he is still pissed at the certain man for breaking his sister's heart. Kankuro passes the hat to Baki for the meantime and leaves after his siblings to beat certain someone if this is just another ugly fling for him. Also, because he isn't going to miss on a good show.

If some ink tigers pop out of nowhere and attempt on Shikamaru's life or some carnivorous plants tries to taste the meat on his nether region, he doesn't speak of the incidents to anyone, let alone Sakura. It is only after Sakura is pronounced a Nara that the attempts on his life cease.

.

.

.

The part 2 y'all wanted.

I think I nearly covered all the popular pairings. There's still ShinoSaku, YamaSaku, DeiSaku, KisaSaku, KarinSaku, LeeSaku, HidaSaku and ChoSaku, AsuSaku and IndraSaku though. Maybe next time.

#Kushina for Hokage #Inoichi is male!Ino therefore flirting is crucial #Kakashi and Rin worships the ground Sakura walks on #we all know the only way MinaSaku is happening is time-travel #cant blame naruto for not shipping minasaku #you wouldnt appreciate your father being chosen over you by your first love either #ino is us #hashirama is a poor political leader but Sakura is not #Mito is bisexual babe who simps hard for women who can lift what many powerful men couldnt #i cant help but make uchiha fam love sakura #tobirama is in denial and therefore the passive agressive love between tobisaku #izuna is a worldclass womaniser but sakura loves him anyway. just because he looks like sasuke doesnt mean he is even remotely like him #sai is precious. who sai will go to when sakura is busy? ino ofc #shisui is carefree uchiha who enjoys his freedom. he was at least until uchiha main family heard about his relationship with sakura #multisaku #hashisaku #madasaku #izusaku #shisaku #minasaku #mitosaku #shikasaku #gaasaku #notice how shikamaru gets the short end of the stick and is threatened again and again by all people who is not team 10? #he may be smart but he is also sexist has comittment issues and finds relationships drag. i made him lowkey womanizer which i think he is #kibasaku #he who smells like dog but is too hot to be casted aside #saisaku #everyone loves her #sakura haruno

[master-sass-blast]

Children of the Gods: Part Three, Chapter Two.

I had to input every single italic you see in this fic by hand because Tumblr doesn’t hold text format when I paste it innnnnn. *pained smile*

Please give this chapter some love, because that was fucking painful to do.

Summary: The aftermath of capturing Allison proves messy -both in dealing with the teen's evident trauma, and in all the skeletons in various closets that get unleashed soon after.

Pairing(s): Piotr Rasputin x Reader, Nathan Summers x Wade Wilson, Frank Castle x Karen Page, and Alexandra Rasputin x Nikolai Rasputin.

Rating: M for gun violence, depictions of death and injuries, depictions of emotional trauma, and gratuitous use of the word “fuck.”

Word count: 8.9k.

Set after “Children of the Gods: Part Three, Chapter One.”

Taglist: @marvel-is-perfection, @chromecutie, @super-darkcloudstudent, @girl-obsessed-with-things, @leo-writer, @emma-frxst, @sadstone-s

“What the hell were you thinking!”

“Ooh, careful there, Doohan,” Wade snarks, head rolling to indicate he’s rolling his eyes. “Get any more agitated and you’ll be saying all the no-no words.”

Scott scowls at Wade. “Stuff it, Wilson.”

“Every damn night, laser pointer.”

A mixture of grimaces, sighs, and groans go up through the crowd.

You’re all gathered in the medical wing of Xavier’s –the X-Force and nearly all of the X-Men. Allison’s off being examined by Dr. McCoy and Alyssa –to make sure she’s stable enough to be taken out of the handcuffs and the suppression band—and Frank and Karen are sequestered in a separate room until it's clear how everything's going to shake out.

Because, naturally, there’s been a wrench thrown in the situation.

Or maybe the whole damn toolbox, you mentally amend as Wade and Scott resume arguing.

“We cannot harbor a mob criminal here—”

“She’s thirteen, Summers!” Wade snaps. The eyes on his mask narrow into slits. “She’s not a criminal –and her parents’ choice don’t automatically make her guilty!”

“Murder, illegal theft and possession of firearms, assault, stalking, kidnapping,” Scott starts listing, ticking off each of Allison’s misdeeds on his fingers.

“She lost her family,” Nathan interjects, voice going to gravel. “Where the fuck were all of you when she needed support? Isn’t that what you’re supposed to do?”

The room goes silent. Many of the X-Men members look away or hang their heads slightly.

“We had no way of knowing that Allison was a mutant,” Ororo speaks up. “Without the proper information, we can’t help. It’s unfortunate, yes, but out of our control all the same.”

“But you know now,” Wade argues. “You knew with Russell. You knew with all the kids at Essex house. You turned your back on him and those kids, just like you’re turning your back on Allison now.” He scoffs, disgusted. “Same shit, different day. You’re all a bunch of cowardly cocksuckers.”

“We do have limits,” Professor Xavier speaks up from his chair. “Russell and the other members of Essex house were considered wards of the state. Legally, that meant Essex house had custody of them until they turned eighteen. We wrote petitions. We did as much as we could to bring attention to the issue. Unfortunately, it got swept under the rug or stonewalled by anti-mutant members of the legal system. As for Allison…” He sighs. “Taking in wards with criminal connections put the school at risk. Not just for fear of retaliation –as would certainly be a risk with Miss Ricci’s connections to the mafia—but also our funding and licensing. As an orphaned mutant, she is certainly deserving of our help—” he pauses to glare sternly at Scott and a few of the more stubborn, self-righteous members present “—but we have to consider the needs of our other residents and students, too.”

“I think we’re overlooking that Allison is here right now,” Jean pipes up. “Whether or not she stays with us is one thing, but we need to decide what to do for at least the next forty-eight hours.”

“She stays here,” you say automatically. “As far as we know, she has no other guardians, potentially even nowhere to go. I don’t think it’s gonna kill us to give her a bed and some food to eat.”

“Absolutely not,” Scott fires back –and, behind him, Angel and Iceman nod. “She’s far too aggressive to possibly put the students at risk.”

“She’s agitated and traumatized,” you reason, “but that doesn’t mean she’s going to lash out at people left and right.”

“Doesn’t she have a guardian of sorts?” Neena pipes up. “Artemis? Has anyone gotten ahold of them?”

“We reached out with the number Miss Ricci gave us,” Xavier explains. “The call picked up, but there wasn’t any verbal response for the duration of the call.”

Well, that bodes well. “What about her attorney?” you ask. “If we can’t keep her here, wouldn’t her attorney be able to arrange some sort of safe place for her to stay.”

“Thus far, we haven’t been able to reach her attorney.”

And that bodes even worse. You fight the urge to sigh or roll your eyes, and instead mentally curse monkey wrenches and whoever thought to invent the damn things.

“For the time being, I’ve contacted some of our external resources” –the glance Xavier shoots at both you and Piotr tells you that it’s your uncle and Alexandra—“to help with matters until the dust settles. They should be arriving soon, so—”

There’s a loud crash from down the hall, the sound of glass shattering, and an angry screech that sounds suspiciously like, “Fuck you, Castle!”

You give into the urge to sigh before booking it towards the sound of chaos and rage. Great. Now it’s an entire toolshed.

***

Subduing Allison this time, at least, is easier for several reasons.

First, she’s still wearing the repression cuff on her wrist. Without her powers –without a way to pop in and out of this existence, specifically—she’s much easier to catch.

Second, she’s tired. It’s not just the bags under her eyes or the sweat glistening at her furrowed brow. She’s stumbling unevenly, panting as she tries to exact her revenge.

Third, Illyana happens to show up at the exact same time with your uncle and Alexandra (and Nikolai as well, though he has less involvement in the “subduing process”).

Alex reacts fastest. She hooks one strong arm around Allison’s waist, then scoops her away from Karen and a hangdog-looking Frank. “Alright, that’s enough.”

Allison, however, doesn’t seem to agree. (Though whether it’s due to general teenage contrariness or trauma-induced rage, the jury’s still out.

…Actually, it’s probably both.)

“You don’t even get it, Castle!” Allison snaps with a manic grin, eyes wide and haunted. “You killed a good man. My dad was getting out! He was going to testify against them—”

Alex clamps a hand over the teen’s mouth, making her cut herself off with a garbled grunt. “I said enough.”

Allison thrashes in the older woman’s iron-clad grasp –to no avail, unsurprisingly. Her face scrunches up, then her jaw starts flexing. There’s a moment where her expression goes slack when Alex doesn’t react, then her nose scrunches up again and her jaw starts working harder.

Alex sighs, then starts carrying Allison back down the hall (she’s astonishingly unfazed by been chomped down on). “Come on. Let’s get you calmed down, malen’kiy.”

At the other end of the hall, Neena pokes her head into the fray. “Someone who calls herself Artemis is at the front door.”

Professor Xavier nods, then says, “Please escort her back to Miss Ricci’s room,” before wheeling after Alex and Artemis.

You look between Neena and the Professor –then, in the interest of going where you’re actually allowed to be (and not being bored out of your mind because you’ll be literally shut out of the room), you head towards the foyer.

…

“Do you think Frank was set up to stop the trial?”

Your uncle shrugs; the two of you have taken up a spot at the back of the room, where you can watch things unfold and gossip like the two old ladies you are in spirit. “It’s possible. It’s also possible that it was retribution for Allison being a mutant. The Ricci syndicate is notoriously… intolerant.”

You grimace. You certainly understand just how far people will go against their own flesh and blood for intolerance’s sake. “Blood and water.”

Your uncle nods, expression equally sour. “You fucking said it, punk.”

There’s not much point in hashing it out any further –both from the standpoint of “forbidden knowledge” and digging up old trauma—so you settle back into watching Artemis go through the mandatory security check.

She’s tall, with broad shoulders. Her hair’s dark, just starting to streak with silver at the temples, and her eyes are deep, intense, borderline black color. Her nose is slightly crooked –comes with the territory in this walk of life—and she’s dressed in black motorcycle wear and combat boots.

She honestly looks so fucking familiar.

You frown, brows pinching together as you try and place her face in your memory. Failing your own abilities at recollection, you lean over and whisper, “Is she one of your team members? I swear I’ve seen her before.”

“Uh –no,” your uncle replies (and it’s too fast and shaky, but you’re too caught up in figuring out whom the fuck you’re looking at to notice). “I mean –everyone has a doppelganger, right?”

“I guess.” You squint at Artemis, as though physically narrowing your eyes will help your brain puzzle things out—

And then Alex strides into the foyer –wiping the hand that Allison bit, and if you look close enough you’re pretty sure you can still see a few bloody teeth marks—and the cloud of confusion lifts from your mind.

“Oh!” you gasp quietly. “That’s why she looks familiar! She looks like Alex.” You look from the Rasputin matriarch, to the other black-leather clad woman, then back again. “She looks… a lot like Alex, actually.” You laugh softly –coincidence is a hell of a thing—then keep rambling when your uncle doesn’t say anything. “Two women who love the color black and carry enough weapons on their person to stock an army. You’d think the universe broke the mold with Alex, huh?”

Your uncle shifts from foot to foot next to you, but says nothing.

“You really weren’t kidding about the whole ‘doppelganger’ thing, huh.” You cock your head to one side, then frown as another epiphany starts growing in your mind. “Actually… she kind of looks like you, too.”

Your uncle makes a quiet, pained choking noise. “Punk—”

“Yeah, she’s got more of your build…”

“Punk.”

“And her lower lip has that weird lopsided curve like yours—”

“Punk—”

You peer closer at Artemis’s face. “Actually, her nose looks like you took yours and Alex’s and mashed them together—”

“Punk.”

You finally look up at him and take in the pale, wide-eyed, tight-lipped expression on his face. “What?” When he doesn’t say anything, you look at Artemis, then Alex, and then back at him—

Oh God.

Oh God.

Holy fucking shit.

You stare up at your uncle, agape. “Wait a second –you and—”

“Okay, shut the fuck up!” he hisses, panicked, before dragging you out of the foyer and into the nearest hallway.

“You and Alex had a baby,” you blurt –albeit in a voice no louder than a harsh whisper. “Artemis is your and her lovechild!”

He winces, then holds up his hands. “I can explain—”

“I don’t think you can!” you hiss. “Why didn’t you tell me that I have a cousin who happens to be my husband’s half fucking sister! Oh God, does Piotr know? Do any of the Rasputins know?”

“I…” He trails off, then cringes. He rubs the back of his neck. “I’m not sure, actually.”

You stare up at him, dumbfounded. “You’re not sure. How are you not sure? Nick knows who you are –what, you think Alex just kept a whole child from his knowledge—”

“I mean, he probably knows that there was a baby at one point—”

“The baby is in this fucking house!” you snap in a quiet growl, arms flailing wildly. “She’s a full grown adult who probably pays taxes and has a 401k going! Why wouldn’t Alex tell her husband—”

“Look,” your uncle interjects, cutting you off. “As far as Alex knows… she thinks she’s… dead?”

You gape. Then, as quietly as you can manage (given the circumstances), you exclaim, “What the fuck!”

“Keep your voice down!” your uncle hisses, gesturing wildly in panic. He looks over his shoulder, then when he’s certain no one overheard you, he sighs and looks back to you. “Look, it’s a long story—”

“I’m sure it fucking is!” You cross your arms over your chest when he winces. “How is it that you know your secret lovechild is alive, but Alex doesn’t? What, did she just abandon her?”

“No, no—”

“Didn’t think so. So what the fuck happened?”

He sighs, shoulder slumping, and runs one hand through his already disheveled hair. “Look –long story short, the people who ‘made’ Alex took the baby—”

“Artemis. Her daughter. Your daughter.”

He purses his lips, but concedes with a nod. “They took her away after she was born and told Alex she was dead –and that’s actually what prompted her to get out, but that’s another story for another day—”

“Okay, hang on a second.” You squeeze your eyes shut and hold up one hand. “Alex thinks her baby is dead –probably one of the most traumatic things in her whole life. You’ve known that she’s alive…” You open your eyes again and fix your uncle with a stern stare. “Okay, how long have you known for?”

He grimaces and shifts uncomfortably. “…well, the US took her, but she didn’t present early, so they turned her loose into the foster system because she didn’t have potential as an ‘asset’—”

“How fucking long?”

He ducks his head, carefully avoiding your gaze. “…tracked her down when she was ten.”

Your eyes widen –and then you slug him in the shoulder. “You fucking colossal asshole!”

He panics again, motioning for you to keep it down while checking over his shoulder. “Shut the fuck up!”

“No! Not only have you lied to Alex for decades—”

“She never asked—”

“A lie by omission is still a fucking lie!” you snap in a gravelly whisper. “So, not only did you lie to her, but you also abandoned your daughter to the mercies of the US foster care system!”

“My life wasn’t safe to keep a kid around!” he hisses back at you. “I couldn’t take care of you, and I couldn’t take care of her! If anything, it was safer for her if the government thought I didn’t know she was alive!”

You sigh, pinch the bridge of your nose, and wave dismissively with your other hand. “Okay –fine. That still doesn’t justify the whole lying thing, but whatever. Does Artemis know that you and Alex are her parents?”

“…Yes. She tracked me down when she was in her twenties and I told her the truth.”

“Well, it sounds like determination runs in the family,” you mutter. “But at least you two have kept in touch…” You look up, see your uncle’s grimace, and sigh. “You didn’t keep in touch with her.”

He shoves his hands in his jacket pockets. “I didn’t know how to handle it.”

“Pretty sure ‘not like that’ is a good answer.” You sigh again, then shrug and put your hands on your hips. “Well, you’ve probably solved your own problem. She’ll probably just tell Alex who she is just to spite you, assuming she got the ‘petty vengeance’ gene too.”

Your uncle’s eyebrows spike to his hairline, and his expression goes through the five stages of grief in a matter of seconds. “She –she can’t—”

“She can and she probably will.”

He hunches over, crouching, and grips the back of his head. “Shitfuckshitfuckshitfuckshitfuck—”

“Myshka?”

You and your uncle both jump, then whirl in unison and give your husband your best convincing, “we’re totally not talking about long lost, hidden family members and other poor life choices” smiles that you can each manage.

(Consider that you don’t look like you just shit your pants, you win.)

Piotr’s forehead wrinkles with concern. “What… is everything alright?”

“Just fine, baby,” you assure him, subtly kicking your uncle so he relaxes. “Just talking about what happens next.”

Piotr nods after a moment, likely picking up on that whatever’s going on right now isn’t life or death and that you’ll fill him in later. “I actually came to find you,” he says, gesturing to your uncle. “Professor Xavier still cannot reach Allison’s lawyer. He has asked for your assistance.”

“Right. Absolutely. On it,” your uncle says with a none-too-convincing smile. He shoots your husband a pair of finger guns, then books it out of the hall and towards the medical wing of the mansion.

Piotr stares after him, then shoots you a confused frown. “Is he okay?”

You shrug. “He’s doing about his usual.” You decide to further sidestep the issue by ambling over to him and giving him a gentle hug. “How are you?” Are doing okay?”

Piotr wraps his arms around you and kisses the top of your head. “I am fine now. Just a little sore.”

“Me too.” You nuzzle your cheek against his burly chest. “We really should invest in that hot tub we keep talking about getting. It’d be great for post-mission recovery.”

“Hot tubs are expensive, myshka,” he chuckles.

“Yes, but we’re not getting any younger. It’d be a good investment in taking care of our bodies.” You tilt your head back and grin up at him. “I thought you were all about that life.”

He sighs and shakes his head, feigning exasperation, but his amused smile is a dead giveaway. “Whatever shall I do with you, myshka?”

You grin wider. “You could kiss me.”

Piotr grins back, then dips his head and presses his lips against yours—

Mikhail appears next to you out of thin air. “Ah. Gross. Big meeting is happening. All hands on deck.”

Piotr rolls his eyes when his elder brother teleports away once more, then looks back down at you and strokes your cheek with his thumb. “Sorry about that.”

“It’s fine, baby.” You unwind your arms from his massive trunk of a torso, then slide your fingers between his as the two of you walk towards the medical wing.

…

“—I am telling you, Charles, not being able to reach this kid’s lawyer is a bad fucking sign.”

You and Piotr walk into a conference room to find your uncle and Professor Xavier locked in a heated argument.

Wade, Nate, and Neena are leaning against the table to watch, occasionally leaning over to whisper bits of commentary to each other (or, in Wade’s case, speak at normal volume).

In the corner of the room, where a couple of armchairs are positioned, Nikolai sits with his two other children; they’re speaking in hushed Russian, but none of them seem too concerned about everything else going on.

“As I previously stated,” Xavier says, words clipped, “we cannot release Miss Ricci without speaking first to her attorney. The X-Men operate as a special law enforcement service, and failure to comply with criminal and civil statutes will have enormous consequences for the Institute—”

“There’s going to be a bunch of fucking ‘enormous consequences’ for the Institute,” your uncle interrupts, growling through clenched teeth, “if you don’t evacuate this building right fucking now! Fuck’s sake, Charles –you hired me as a security advisor; just listen to me.”

Piotr frowns and curls one hand over your shoulder. “What is happening?”

“What’s happening,” a new, strong, feminine voice interjects from the hall, “is that we’re leaving.” Artemis shoulders past your husband –a feat not easily achieved by many—with Allison in tow, then holds up the teen’s arm that has the repression cuff still attached. She glares at Xavier (and God, she really looks like Alex when she does that), then spits out through gritted, bared teeth, “Get this fucking thing off my kid.”

There’s a longsuffering sigh in the hall, and then Alex steps into the doorway. “She has that cuff on for her own safety –as I already told you—”

Artemis whirls, face contorted by a vicious scowl, and snaps, “I didn’t fucking ask for you input!”

(Boy, if that doesn’t just scream ‘repressed trauma and mommy issues.’)

Your uncle looks like he’s about to pass out again, but Alex seems remarkably nonplussed. She merely raises one eyebrow at Artemis, as if to say ‘that’s all you got?’

There’s no way she knows, you think as you watch the two stare each other down. Not with how much she cares about her kids. There’s no fucking way—

“Actually, we’ve got bigger problems,” your uncle pipes up, voice quavering slightly before he clears his throat. “We can’t reach your kid’s shark.”

“They have other clients,” Artemis retorts, upper lip curling in a derisive sneer. Her dark eyes smolder with barely constrained hatred as she tosses a withering glance in his direction (daddy issues, too, this chick won the whole lottery). “Or maybe they got stuck in traffic.”

Your uncle narrows his eyes at that (and now the two of them look so much alike, overcome by ire as they are). “You cannot possibly be that fucking stupid.”

Artemis sucks a breath through her teeth, eyes widening with rage and hurt. “You fucking dick—”

In the corner of the room, Illyana bolts upright before going stock still. Then, she gasps and reaches out towards her mother. “Mama!”

(The way Artemis’s face mars with a pained grimace makes your heart ache.)

Alex tenses, eyes glowing gold as she starts scanning the horizon (presumably checking for heat signatures). “Gde?”

The room goes quiet –and then you hear it.

The sound of engines rumbling –multiple engines—and car wheels crunching against gravel. Doors thumping open and shut, followed by footsteps. Hushed voices.

You scamper over to the nearest window and float up, just enough to see several men clad in black and Kevlar and carrying rifles stalking towards the front door and around the sides of the house in groups. “Guys with guns. Lots of them.”

“Then get down!” Nate hisses before yanking you back from the window.

“Lights out,” Alex orders before hitting the switch herself. “Get everyone to a reinforced room.”

“There’s a safe room at the end of the hall,” Xavier says before wheeling himself towards the door.

Allison clings to Artemis’s sleeve, much like a baby koala. “What’s going on? What’s going to happen?”

“Go with the Professor,” Artemis says. She quickly –but gently—frees her arm, then clasps the teen’s face with both hands. “Look at me. Listen to the Professor, and stay put until I come get you. Okay?”

Allison’s forehead puckers, and her lower lip starts trembling. “But—”

“Is alright,” Nikolai interjects with a kind, reassuring smile. He gently ushers Allison towards the door, then down the hall before she can protest further.

A few doors down, Karen pokes her head out of the room where she and Frank have holed up. She frowns as she takes in the chaos. “What’s going on?”

“Mafia men with guns!” Wade chirps as he half-skips, half-jogs towards the mansion’s entryway. “Tell your boy to suit up!”

“There’s a safe room at the end of the hall,” Neena adds as she runs after Wade.

Frank squeezes around Karen and kisses her temple before falling in line behind the two assassins.

You step to the side so Karen can run past you, then turn and press a hasty kiss against Piotr’s cheek. “Love you.”

He kisses your cheek in return, equally as brief. “Ya tozhe tebya lyublyu.”

And then the two of you run towards the danger bearing down on your home.

***

In all the firefights you’ve been in, there’s always this moment of silence. A calm before the storm. A moment where everything goes still, while both sides wait for the other to make a move.

You duck behind a wall as the mafia gunmen continue hammering away at the front door, tucking yourself in a shadow. Your stomach tenses, breathing going quick and hard as your mind starts putting a plan together. Don’t want to risk collapsing part of the house by doing a pressure vacuum. Best option is to probably knock them to the ground so the others can jump them.

The door rattles. The wooden portal splits on one side, sending jagged splinters poking out into the air.

You slow your breathing, forcing yourself into a calm, focused state. Wait for them to get past the entryway so you can hit as many of them as possible.

In the back of the house, near the kitchen, you hear glass shatter.

They’re in. You clench your fists at your sides, watching as the front door slowly gives way. Three… two… one…

The door breaks open, swinging inwards as the first gunmen step into the foyer—

And then the door snaps off its hinges and slams into the men, taking them out like bowling pins.

Strike, a small, inane part of your brain giggles.

Shouts go up through the house. You can hear the sounds of rushed footsteps, shattering glass, and what sounds like people being bodyslammed through tables (and, given the type of people fighting for your side, it just might be that). Gunfire pierces the air –and is accompanied by the telltale, metallic plinks of the bullets ricocheting off your husband’s armor.

Angry screams emanate from the front step. Men barge in, firing down the hall, towards some unseen target (likely Alex or Nate, given the door trick).

You wait until as many men are piled into the foyer as possible, then send down a downdraft that blows out the windows on either side of the door.

The gunmen tumble to the floor, swearing in a mixture of English and Italian.

Nate, Wade, and Neena swoop in. They descend upon the mafia men like a pack of wolves, breaking bones, dislocating joints, and cracking skulls as they disarm –and, in some cases “un-alive”—the gunmen.

“It’s raining men!” Wade sings as he runs one of his katanas through the gut of one assailant. “Hallelujah! It’s raining men!” He ramps off a nearby wall, then t-bags another man before stabbing him through the temple. “Amen!”

You crouch, tracking the movement of the scuffle. You tense when you see a couple of the men jump Nathan, then charge towards the railing and dive over when a few more try to break past to run down the hallway. You flip in the air, land in the hallway ahead of them, and unleash a blast of wind right in their faces.

The mafia men fly out through the front door. They sail over half the front drive, then bounce off the gravel surface and roll several times before coming to a stop.

You let out a harsh breath, then dart down the hall towards the kitchen when you hear glass shattering and the sound of Frank bellowing angrily.

The kitchen and rec room are a mess. Glass shards from shattered windows coat the floor, glittering before being crushed underfoot. Doors are cracked from having people slammed into them. The rec room couch is overturned –and is sagging suspiciously on one side, hinting at a cracked frame. The entertainment system is shattered, with smoking bullet holes littering the TV, speakers, and media systems.

Frank has one of the guys pinned down over the sink. He’s snarling as he uses the lip of the sink to choke the guy out. There’s blood smeared his lips and chins, trailing back up to his chin.

Another gunman stalks in through the dining room, gun trained on Frank’s head.

You whip a blast of air at the second man, sending him sailing into the wall so hard the drywall cracks.

He drops to the ground, unconscious.

There’s some terrified shrieking –and then a gunman is punted up and out of the basement stairwell. He sails through the kitchen window headfirst, crumpling in a heap in the hedges outside.

Your husband storms up the staircase, teeth bared in an angry snarl. The waning daylight glints off his metal exterior, almost making him look like some sort of avenging angel. He stops short when he sees you, though; his irate expression vanishes, replaced by concern. “Ty v poryadke?”

You manage a smile and flash him a thumbs up—

And then a truck with a Gatling gun strapped to the roof rolls up to the back door.

“Get down!” Frank hollers before tackling you to the ground behind the kitchen island.

The room explodes into chaos. Bullets plow into the walls, sending up spurts of drywall dust in their wake. Wooden doorframes and floorboards crack, unleashing cascades of splinters in every direction. Glass shatters, raining down upon everything in its reach.

Frank positions himself over you, shielding you as fragmented bullets rain down upon your both. He cups your head with his hands, doing his best to protect you from the hellfire.

Over the din, you can just make out a loud, angry bellow –and then the sound of bullets hitting metal. Heavy, deliberate stomps make the floor shake.

The gunfire cuts off. A shriek pierces the air just before you hear what sounds like a car being tossed into a tree.

(As you’ll discover later, that’s precisely what you heard.)

Frank lifts his head, then carefully rolls off you. He crouches next to you and holds out a hand. “You okay?”

“Yeah.” Your ears are ringing, and you’re pretty sure you’ve got glass shards and splinters in your hair, but you’ve been worse. You take his hand, flinching when you hear the sound of more gunfire outside.

Frank peers over the lip of the island. “Reinforcements. At least five more cars headed our way.”

You suck in a breath. “Piotr—”

“Is holding his own for now,” Frank says.

“I’m gonna help him,” you rasp out. “Make sure everyone in the house that’s not on our side… stays down. And that we’ve still got all our people.”

Frank nods, then runs off towards the foyer.

You catch your breath, then creep towards the back door (better safe than sorry). You flatten yourself against the wall next to the doorway, then peer around the broken frame.

Piotr’s facing off against the new influx of cars. He’s got one hand on the hood of one Range Rover, arm extended out like he’s fending off a five-year-old. With his other hand, he flips another SUV over, causing the thing to land on its roof and putting the vehicle squarely out of commission.

Your stomach sinks when five more Range Rovers tear across the lawn, leaving deep, muddy tracks in their wake –and are followed by three more trucks with Gatling guns attached to the roofs. You sprint out the door, take a flying leap over Piotr, then send out a shockwave of air when you land on the ground.

A few of the cars fly backwards, rolling across the lawn like tumbleweeds. A majority of them, however, manage to stay upright or bump into each other and recover.

Your eyes widen when one of the Gatling gun operators aims directly at you. Shit.

Piotr leaps in front of you, whirling so his back is to the gun. He curls his body over yours, shielding you as gunfire rains down on you both.

You grit your teeth, grunting. You can feel the impact of the gunfire resonating through your husband’s metal body. Worry clutches at your heart when Piotr lets out sharp, ragged groans; he’s largely invulnerable in his armor, not to mention his sense of touch is severely dulled, but you know that with shit like this he’s still feeling some sort of pain –and there’s nothing you can do. You’re both pinned down, and as powerful as your shockwaves are, they’re not enough to stop or even skew the trajectory of a bullet—

Blue light washes over both of you. The sound of the gunfire wanes, replaced by warbling, pinging noises instead.

You peer around Piotr’s side to see Illyana standing between the two of you and the oncoming cars. She has her arms outstretched, palms facing the onslaught of adversaries. A shimmering, sky blue shield with various magical incantations floating through it surrounds all of you, stretching into the sky for at least forty feet.

Illyana grunts. She’s being shoved backwards from the force of impact from the bullets. Her feet are digging into the ground, leaving ruts as she tries to hold her stance. “We need new plan!”

“How about ‘stay alive?’” Piotr shouts back as he digs shrapnel out of the grooves on his arms.

Wade, Neena, Nate, and Frank come barreling out the back door, faces streaked with soot and blood. They dive for the ground, covering the backs of their heads and necks with their hands—

An explosion goes off inside the mansion. The shockwave shatters windows on both the first and second floor, blowing out window frames and trim.

Piotr covers your body with his once more. He cups your head with his hand, shielding you from the falling debris and the worst of the shockwave.

You cough and hack as smoke billows out the broken windows and doors. You do your best to make a vortex to suck the smoke away and send it up into the air. Your lungs burn, and your ears are ringing like a bell from all the gunfire and the explosion—

Four more gunmen emerge from the smoke pouring out the back door.

You snarl, then whip blasts of air at them, slamming them into the exterior walls of the house.

One of them goes down, while the other three are merely stunned.

Mikhail comes barreling out next. He lets out a guttural battle cry, then sucker punches one of the men in the back of the head before aiming a blast of rust colored energy at another’s gut.

The man screams as he sails into the air, arcing over the tree line and disappearing somewhere in the canopies.

The third man aims his gun at Mikhail –then staggers and drops to the ground when a beam of golden energy sears through his chest.

Alex storms out of the smoke with Artemis and your uncle trailing close behind her. She glares down the remaining gunmen and cars, teeth bared in a vicious snarl. Blood is flecked across her face and spattered over her leather jacket. “House is clear!”

“Yeah, except now we’re about to be cleared out!” Wade hollers back. “As in, ‘all sales final, no returns, no exchanges!’”

“If we could make plan,” Illyana screams, voice strained with the effort of holding the shield, “would be very great!”

You look over to Alex –and see her eyes widen. You whirl towards the gunmen just in time to see one of them aim a rocket launcher at all of you. “Oh, for the love of—”

The first hit is technically deflected by Illyana’s shield, insomuch that the projectile and the shield both shatter the moment they meet. The force of the magic breaking sends out a shockwave of blue energy that flies backwards into all of you, knocking those who managed to get up back off their feet and stunning the rest of you.

You groan, head reeling. Your vision clears slowly, casting double images when you move too quickly. Shit.

You can make out Piotr, just next to you. He’s lying face down on the lawn, grunting and moving in slow, clumsy movements. He turns his head, brow furrowing when he sees you, and reaches out towards you.

You extend your hand to grab his –but he’s just out of your reach, no matter how far you strain. Your body feels heavy with fatigue and pain; everything inside you is screaming to get up, to fight, to keep moving because death is knocking right on your door, and you’ll be damned if this is how you go out—

Alex recovers first –no surprise there. She shoves herself to her feet, seething and growling like a feral beast. She hurls a blast of energy at one of the cars –and, from the sounds of the carnage, makes a direct hit. She storms towards the sea of mafia men like an avenging angel, hell bound on vengeance and blood.

Audible gasps go up from the amassed assassins.

You lift your head to see several of the gunmen backing away from the mansion and crossing themselves with shaking hands. You chalk it up to Alex being Alex, and make to drop your head back against the ground once more—

And then you see Allison standing in the ruined doorway.

She’s glaring down the gunmen with a viciousness that doesn’t suit the youthful roundness of her face. Her brows are knit together, and her mouth is twisted into an ugly scowl. Her eyes are glowing a brilliant shade of blue and give off little wisps of azure colored smoke. Her skin and hair are smoking as well, creating an aura around her body. Blood drips down from her nose and onto her shirt –which is stained with ash and soot. There are burn marks and indents on her wrists from where the repression cuff and the handcuffs used to be, respectively, but the restraints themselves are gone.

The ground begins to shake. Two patches of cerulean light appear underneath the grass, growing larger until they form swirling vortexes of magical energy. The ground begins to crumble at the edges of the portals, eroding away and growing wider until they make gaping tunnels that channel so deeply into the earth there’s no telling how far they truly go.

You recoil when the smell of sulfur and smoke blenches forth from the tunnels. Shit, did she hit a gas line? Fucking dammit, like this day can get any worse—

Echoing, blood-chilling howls emanate from the tunnels.

Your eyes widen –and then your heart starts working overtime when you see two, then four massive hellhounds (like the ones Allison summoned at the mall) crawl out of the tunnels.

Shrieks of terror sound from the gunmen. Several take off running, while others try to shoot the beasts.

The hounds snap and snarl at the gunmen, then charge at the group. Two of them go off after the runners, while the other two start lunging after the assassins like they’re rabbits.

You stare at the chaos in disbelief –and then a set of strong hands grab you underneath the arms.

“Get up.” You uncle tugs you to your feet, keeping you steady when you stumble. “You can’t be in the flow of traffic for this.”

Behind you, Allison is panting like she’s run a marathon. The aura of blue smoke is growing around her, trailing into the air and floating over the ground. Veins of light spread across her face and arms, glowing the same shade of vibrant blue as her eyes. Her breathing grows louder and more ragged, until she’s growling and shaking with each exhale— and then she screams.

Much like the first confrontation in the cemetery, all those months ago, the scream unleashes a shockwave of blue energy. This time, though, the shockwave is far from a decoy for escape. It washes over you, the X-Force, your uncle, the other Rasputins, Frank, and Artemis harmlessly enough –then slams into the mafia forces and vehicles like the wall of a hurricane.

Alex charges after the shockwave, carefully trailing behind it. She waits until it clears the first line of gunmen, then slams her fist into the face of the man closest to her. She blocks his attempt to strike her, then twists his arm –dislocating the shoulder, which makes him shriek in pain. Then, she wrenches his rifle away from him. She shoots him once in the center of his forehead, then turns the firearm on his fellow men and keeps firing.

Mikhail and Artemis go after the one surviving Gatling gun. Mikhail teleports onto the truck bed; he sweeps the back of one man’s jacket over his head, effectively blinding him, then kicks the other man present in the balls before shoving him over the side of the truck.

Artemis, on the other hand, stops a few feet away from the truck. She uses her telekinesis to rip the Gatling gun off its mount, then yanks the driver out through the windscreen –headfirst, no less—and dumps him on the lawn.

He doesn’t get back up.

“Come on,” your uncle says, pointing towards the further reaches of the property, where some of the gunmen are still trying to outrun the hellhounds. “Let’s give the dogs a helping hand.”

The two of you reach out, creating a wind current that slices through the air and slams into the stragglers.

The men careen into nearby hedges –and the hellhounds have it from there.

The familiar sonic blast of Nathan’s gun rips through the air. The shot slams into the last remaining SUV, rendering the vehicle to little more than glass shards and mangled metal.

The back lawn and gardens fall silent, save for the sounds of groans of pain and the hellhounds chewing on various gunmen.

Mikhail takes a fall off the back of the truck bed. He flops onto the ruined grass below, limbs splaying like a rag doll’s. “Alright. Is time for nap. Wake me… never.”

Illyana scoffs from where she’s sat next to a smoldering bush. She picks up a nearby stone, then chucks it at her eldest brother’s head (and hits her target, no less). “There is still clean up. Bezdel'nik.”

Mikhail flips her off, then groans as he rubs the bridge of his nose.

“She’s right,” Alex lectures her eldest as she picks her way through the carnage. She nudges one body with the toe of her combat boot, then shoots him through the temple when he groans.

“Mama!” Piotr gapes at her, expression scandalized. He sputters, looking between her and the body at her feet.

“Chto? Vy khotite yego zhivym? Chtoby on mog dolozhit' svoim khozyayevam? Chtoby on mog obrushit' adskiy ogon' na etu shkolu i vsekh, kogo vy lyubite? No –no.” She holds up her index finger and stares sternly at Piotr when he tries to argue. “You do not leave enemies on your six o’clock, medvezhonok. First rule of survival.”

Piotr swallows hard, then says softly, “X-Men do not kill.”

Alex shrugs. “And I am not an X-Man.”

“We’ll handle it,” Nathan says. He holds his hand out for Alex’s rifle, nodding when she hands it to him after a moment’s hesitation.

(Wade and Frank are already working their way through the sea of dead and wounded. Frank’s traversing the chaos methodically, sticking to minimal shots to kill the survivors, while Wade’s alternating between singing “Dancing Queen” and getting post-mortem revenge.

“You shot my dick off inside!” Wade gasps as he peers down at a –slightly chewed on—corpse. “Extra bullets for you!” He then shoots the dead body several times before resuming his pitchy serenade.)

“What now?” Allison asks, staring out at the carnage with a slightly shocked expression.

“‘What now?’” Artemis repeats, laughing incredulously. She stomps towards Allison, pulling a pack of tissues out of her inner jacket pocket. “What the hell are you even doing out here? You were supposed to stay in the safe room—”

“They had cameras in there,” Allison says with a roll of her eyes, as if that justifies her decision to join the fracas. “You guys were getting your asses kicked.”

“We would’ve handled it.”

“Yeah, except you weren’t,” Allison fires back. She scrunches up her face when Artemis starts wiping the blood off her face, but otherwise takes the mothering without any complaint.

“It’s not your responsibility to deal with this shit,” Artemis says, voice and expression softening for a moment. She cleans up Allison’s face –then scowls. “And where the fuck are your cuffs? How did you even get out of them?”

Allison shrugs. “I used my powers to short the repression cuff out and ash it off.”

Illyana’s, Alex’s, and your uncle’s heads all snap around to stare at Allison.

“Are you kidding me?” Artemis hisses through clenched teeth. “You could’ve fucking killed yourself!”

“Or caused magical paradox that ripped hole in space-time continuum,” Illyana snaps.

“Ruptured blood vessels in your brain and caused an aneurysm, made the cuff deliver a lethal electrical shock, turned your magic against your own body and rendered yourself to ash,” your uncle continues, ticking off items on his fingers.

“Well, I didn’t do any of that!” Allison snarls, glaring at the others while Artemis keeps cleaning up her face. “And I made sure you losers won the fight –so fuck off!”

“Get her something to eat and drink,” Alex says. “Her blood sugar is bound to be low after pulling a stunt like that.”

Artemis glares at Alex and opens her mouth to respond—

Across the yard, Wade lets out a pained shriek. “My balls are not fetch toys! Bad Fido! Bad!”

Your eyes widen as you watch one of the hellhounds swing Wade around by his legs. You bite down on your lip, holding in a shock-induced laugh.

“Where’s this mutt’s off-switch –hey, hey! No!” Wade wriggles in the hellhound’s mouth, panicking as another beast bounds towards him. “My spine is not a tug toy! Can someone get rid of Fido and Rufus before they rip me in half!”

Allison snorts –then, before anyone can stop her, holds out her hand and flicks her wrist.

All four hellhounds melt back into the ground, disappearing to the depths of hell from whence they came.

Artemis swears under her breath, then catches the teen when she stumbles. She moves frantically, grabbing more tissues as blood starts pouring out of Allison’s nose once more. “You fucking idiot. Why the fuck did you do that? When are you going to fucking learn that you’re not invincible—”

Allison lets out a sharp, hoarse laugh –then passes out.

…

The wreckage inside the mansion is heartbreaking.

You stare at the ruined furniture, the scorched walls, the splintered doors, the ruined rec room and kitchen, and you have to wonder what was the fucking point?

Part of you understands that the mafia came prepared for war; they were going up against powerful mutants, so –naturally—they would want to be prepared. Having the strongest, most powerful weapons available increased their chances of success. Logically –from a strictly tactical standpoint—it makes sense.

Glass crunches under your shoes. You stare down at a litany of fallen picture frames, heart wrenching as you stare at the ruined pictures of graduates, students, and workers inside. We’re just a school. We work with kids. What was the point of trying to wipe us out?

Piotr ambles up behind you. He puts his arms around your shoulders and kisses the top of your head. “Cleaners and repairmen will be here in less than one hour.”

You feel numb. You place your hand on his arm. “That’s good.”

“We have back ups of pictures,” he murmurs. He kisses your cheek. “Insurance to cover replacing damaged items. We will be fine.”

“I know.” You sigh, leaning back against your husband’s chest. “We’re just a school. What… what was the point? Why try to wipe us out?”

“I do not know.” Piotr kisses your other cheek, hugging you reassuringly. “Perhaps they believed we knew information about ‘family business.’ Or that we were protecting Allison for some reason.”

“She’s just a kid,” you argue, voice breaking as your grief and exhaustion wells up and threatens to overtake you. “She’s only thirteen…”

Piotr says nothing, merely holds you closer.

You sigh—

And then a door slams. Hurried stomps echo down the hall. There’s creaking as a door opens again, followed by more footsteps and exasperated shouts.

Allison storms past you and Piotr, heading towards the kitchen. Her jaw is set, fists clenched at her sides.

You and Piotr look at each other –then follow after her, if only to be sure that nothing else is going to explode today.

She slams her hands down on the island counter –and, on the opposite side, Frank and Karen both flinch and stare at her warily.

Allison glares at Frank, jaw working convulsively. Her shoulders heave with each breath she takes. Her eyes shine with unshed tears, making the bags underneath seem darker and deeper by comparison. She trembles, expression flickering wildly between grief, white hot rage, and the neutral mask she’s trying so desperately to hold. She sucks in a breath that sounds more like a pained sob, then stares Frank down and spits out through gritted teeth, “You leave my people alone, I leave yours alone. Deal?”

Frank sighs. He nods, expression heavy with grief and eyes shining with remorse. “Yeah, kid. You got a deal.”

Allison clenches the edge of the island so hard her hands go white. She lets out a strangled, angry laugh as the tears finally start to fall. She ducks her head briefly, then glares back up at Frank. “I fucking hate you.”

Frank grimaces, but nods and says, “I know kid. It’s okay. And for what it’s worth, I’m sorry.”

“That ain’t worth shit.”

“I know… believe me, I know.”

Artemis –who’d previously been watching at the kitchen threshold—steps forward and puts her arm around Allison’s shoulders. “Come on, sweetheart. Let’s go.”

Allison clenches her teeth together, but still lets out a choked sob. She presses her lips together, looking around the room to try and regain her composure, to stop the flow of tears. She manages a deep breath, then takes one last look at Frank and snarls, “If I have to see your fucking face again, I’m ripping out your guts,” before storming out of the room.

Frank, to his credit, doesn’t respond (though you suspect he feels too guilty to even consider arguing). He merely hangs his head, expression that of a kicked dog.

Karen leans against him. She interlocks her fingers with his, murmuring in his ear (likely about how it isn’t his fault, and while it looks like that may technically be the case, you’re glad you don’t have to walk the spider’s silk of a line those facts lie upon).

What a shitshow.

Piotr puts an arm around your shoulders and gently leads you out of the kitchen. “Come on, myshka. Let’s go find spot to rest.”

…

Frank and Karen leave shortly after “making the deal” with Allison.

Allison and Artemis hang back for a bit to talk to Xavier. You don’t get all the gorey details but from what you can tell, it’s essentially an offer to help train Allison’s powers so she doesn’t hurt herself rolled in with a warning to keep her nose clean, stay on the straight and narrow, etcetera etcetera.

The sun’s just starting its descent from the sky before the two of them walk out of the meeting room.

Allison is wearing Artemis’s jacket and looks downright haggard.

Artemis has her arm around the teen and is gently guiding her while she talks to Xavier (though, perhaps the term “talk” is too generous, considering most of her responses are nods or terse, one-to-two word replies).

The rest of the Rasputin family, you, Piotr, and your uncle are all gathered in the foyer to make sure Allison and Artemis leave without too much trouble (or causing more trouble themselves).

Your uncle is sweating bullets and looks like he just shit his pants; he’s glancing between Alex and their daughter so fast it’s a miracle he hasn’t given himself a headache yet.

Now or never, you think, watching him with pursed lips. Tell your secrets before they’re told for you.

Alex kneels down next to Allison. “Are you okay?”

Allison’s gaze doesn’t leave the floor. “The fuck do you think?”

She quirks her mouth to the side. “Not all that good.” Alex ducks her head lower, trying to catch Allison’s gaze. “You remember what we talked about?”

Allison’s eyes narrow. She moves her gaze away from Alex. “Go to hell. I know what I know.”

“Sometimes… it’s better to not,” Alex says. She stares at Allison for a moment longer, then pats her shoulder before standing and walking away.

Artemis stares after Alex, expression morphing rapidly between fury and shock. She sputters for a moment before snapping, “What –that’s all you have to fucking say?”

Alex pauses, turning slightly so she can see Artemis. She raises one eyebrow, otherwise looking unbothered. “Is there something else I should be saying?”

“You don’t have anything to say to me?” Artemis presses, crossing her arms over her chest. “Nothing at all?”

“Is there something you want me to say to you?” Alex fires back, smirking slightly.

Artemis stares at Alex for a long, hard moment. She shakes her head, eyes welling up with tears, then turns her glare onto your uncle. “You really didn’t fucking tell her.”

“What?” Alex’s expression sobers, going wary as she looks between your uncle and Artemis. “What didn’t you—”

“This really isn’t the time or place—” Your uncle tries.

And here it goes.

“I’ve gotta do all the work, then,” Artemis snarls with a vicious smile. “Yeah, I guess that makes sense, considering I’m not your favorite,” she tacks on with an angry glare towards you. She storms towards Alex, one hand outstretched, with a cruel, angry smile stretched across her face. “Hey, mom. How’s it going?”

Alex’s eyes widen. She stares at Artemis, eyes tracking over the younger woman’s face. “What…”

“You fucking heard me.”

Illyana, Piotr, and Mikhail look at each other, then at Alex, then at Nikolai. They explode into confused Russian, gesturing between their parents, Artemis, and your uncle—

Realization dawns in Alex’s dark eyes. Her expression trembles, tears welling up in her eyes as she stares at Artemis’s face.

And then she uses her telekinesis to yank your uncle over and decks him.

#sass writes #piotr rasputin x reader #colossus x reader #nathan summers x wade wilson #frank castle x karen page #alexandra rasputin x nikolai rasputin #love me some soap opera style drama #and frankly so does marvel #and honestly if marvel can have whatever tf infinity war and endgame were i can have this #probably shouldn't have built alex's whole backstory and have it be outside the scope of this series bUT OH WELL #deadpool fanfiction #x men fanfiction

[livingasaghost]

the foxes during pride let's GO

disclaimer: i know everybody has their own headcanons for what all the foxes' sexualities are so do not come at me if i give your character a different sexuality than you think they deserve! (except aaron that bitch is straight)

so obviously the foxes are Not Straight™️ (except aaron fuck that guy) which means the foxes during pride are just.....chaotic af....but also, it took them a while to figure out how not straight they are

they all decide they're going to the pride parade bc none of them have ever been and since they have so many Gays they need to support them and now that they're all friends it'll be way more fun

kevin does NOT want to go and argues about it for three days before andrew shuts him up

nicky is so excited that he asks erik to fly in just so they can go together

neil still doesn't really know a lot about pride since he didn't even realize he "qualified" since he "only likes andrew"

one night he shares his fears with renee because she seems like the only person on the team who understands his sexuality aside from andrew and she says that he seems like he's on the ace spectrum and that he definitely belongs in the community

neil spends the rest of the night on his computer looking up demisexuality and asexuality and a whole list of terms he never knew existed

the next day he shows andrew, happy to finally have a language to explain himself, and andrew just nods

as neil keeps talking and explaining romantic attraction, andrew starts to think that maybe he belongs a little on the aro spectrum...but he doesn't say anything. just keeps thinking.

eventually neil speaks up at one of the team's hangouts and shares that he's demisexual and he may also be questioning his gender

this sparks a huge conversation where everybody starts Questioning™️ and soon it's 2am and matt is sharing that he might actually be pansexual?

allison waves everybody off because "of course i'm not straight i never have been you guys just haven't noticed"

nicky gets very put out that so much of his team is Not Straight and they all acted like he was the odd man out for being gay

then allison decides to stir the pot a little more "actually, i've always had a crush on renee but i know that'll never happen"

which leaves renee and the entire team speechless

renee: "...i always though YOU were the one that was never gonna happen"

nicky: "WAIT? RENEE AND ALLISON LIKE EACH OTHER?"

matt: "andrew just won like $300"

nobody really knows what to do next, so allison and renee just kind of look at each other and the two of them silently agree to talk about it all later

nicky: "okay well y'all better spill the tea when you hook up because i want all the details"

dan shoves him off the couch

as the night wears on, kevin stays conspicuously quiet, and it isn't until almost everyone goes to bed that neil finally convinces him to open up

kevin: "the reason i told you that you shouldn't be homosexual is because.....i used to have a crush on jean"

even though neil doesn't really understand, he admits that jean does have a beautiful face and it's really really attractive when he speaks french

neil shares a little bit more about demisexuality and kevin wonders if maybe he falls on that spectrum somewhere...if maybe it wouldn't be the worst thing in the world if he wasn't entirely straight

after their Big Night of Sharing, dan talks with allison because "how did you know you actually liked girls?"

and the more allison starts to talk, the more dan realizes that all those girls she thought were pretty growing up.....weren't just women she admired

but she stills likes matt and she still finds some men attractive and she starts to realize that maybe she falls on the bisexual spectrum....or maybe just queer, she isn't sure yet

one day after practice wymack goes off on some tangent and eventually nicky spills that they're all going to the pride parade

wymack: all of you?

nicky, totally serious: okay, well, not aaron bc he's homophobic and he's also the token straight teammate

aaron: i am not homophobic

matt: i'm pretty sure you are

wymack almost asks about why they all want to go to pride because he's sure most of them are queer, but it's above his pay grade so he just tells them to have fun

almost everybody decides to dress up for the parade — kevin obviously refuses — and andrew surprises everyone by wearing armbands that are rainbow colored

neil tells andrew he doesn't care about dressing up but andrew buys him a rainbow shirt anyway

and then while they're getting ready allison insists on drawing a little demi flag on neil's cheek right over his scar and it makes neil feel like he finally belongs somewhere

nicky obviously goes all out and wears an outfit that matches eriks: short shorts, rainbow flag cape, rainbow socks, etc. he even wears heart-shaped pink sunglasses

the girls spend a few hours doing their make-up and they even convince matt to put glitter in his hair

renee gets a few disposable cameras for the occasion and spends the entire day taking cheesy photos of (and with) everyone to remember everything

halfway through the day neil looks over and sees allison and renee holding hands

at one point kevin gets recognized and people start asking him about his sexuality, wondering if he's just an ally and kevin almost bolts....but then he glances at neil, who's standing close to andrew...and he looks at nicky and erik....and then he notices allison and renee together.....and something in him just kind of snaps

kevin: "actually, yeah, i'm here because i'm bi. i'm bisexual."

the whole team just stares at him, most of them wearing proud smiles, and when the fans leave (inevitably about to share this news with the internet) they all gather into a group hug — even andrew — and congratulate kevin

and even though kevin keeps telling them to "GET OFF!" he's also secretly glad that he finally has people to accept him and love him no matter who he loves

andrew doesn't say anything the entire day, looking entirely unimpressed by the crowds and the parade, so neil pulls him aside at one point

neil doesn't expect him to say anything, just wants to give him space to breathe, but then andrew speaks up

andrew: i never thought it could be like this

neil: like what?

andrew: colorful

#aftg #aftg headcanon #this is so stupid and bad but IDC #it BROUGHT ME IMMENSE JOY #and i feel like people won't agree with me on some of the choices i make in this but I DO NOT CARE #aftg pride #pride #aftg hc #aftg shitpost