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bosbas · 7 days

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Chapter 10: even my daddy just loves him

series masterlist previous part || next part

pairing: colin bridgerton x enemy!fem!reader WC: 3.5k words

Warnings: period-typical gender roles, small part of the dialogue in French, period- and class-typical views about the economy, idiots in love being idiots in love, heavy on the idiots, heavy on the in love

Summary: It took precisely two days in England for you to utterly despise Colin Bridgerton. It took him approximately twelve hours after that to hate you right back. But he doesn't care that you're the only person in the ton who doesn't like him. You're set to marry someone else anyway, right?

A/N: the first TTPD chapter title :,) also no interaction between reader and colin in this one IM SORRY it'll come soon i promise

June 23, 1816 – In the wake of yesterday's lackluster ball, one can't help but lament the dreary fashion choices on display, particularly the Featheringtons' blinding ensembles in shades of yellow. Sadly, the absence of Lady Y/N Montclair was acutely felt, as her impeccable gowns and Parisian flair were sorely missed. However, tonight at the Ashbury ball proves a wonderful opportunity for her to dazzle us with her sense of style.

“Well, don't you look gorgeous tonight,” gushed Eloise upon seeing you, kissing your cheeks in greeting.

Your heart soared, delighted that your best friend had taken to your French customs so easily.

“I didn’t particularly have a choice after Whistledown’s column today,” you joked, smoothing out your skirts.

Of course, it was flattering to have the ton’s most trusted source speak about you in such a positive manner, but at times it did build a fair amount of undue pressure. Though you supposed you preferred feeling pressure to dress well over pressure to marry someone as you had with Lord Barlow.

“Either way, you look stunning. I’ve caught more than a few gentlemen staring at you already. You’d think they would have been able to pick up their jaws off the floor by now,” Eloise teased, linking arms with you, and leading you toward the far end of the ballroom.

You politely covered your laugh with your hand, shaking your head as you assessed who was present at the ball today. More accurately, you were assessing whether Colin Bridgerton was present.

It had been two weeks since you’d even seen him, and you were exerting more mental energy than you cared to admit pretending that you were unbothered. You supposed you couldn’t blame him. You were the one who had asked him not to speak with you anymore, and he’d listened to you better than you could have hoped.

Secretly, you’d been hoping he would still have shown up and tried to talk to you. It was an absurd desire, you knew, but you couldn’t help it. Apart from balls like these where all you did was speak with Eloise, you had to admit that arguing with Colin was the most fun you’d had in England, and perhaps everywhere else, too.

You hated him, you reminded yourself. And he hated you, too. Worse, actually. He had no respect for you. Or any woman in general. Which only brought you back to the shameful burning at the top of your ears every time you searched for him in a crowd.

But you were only human. And there were times when you couldn’t help but give in to your self-sabotaging. “Is the rest of your family in attendance tonight?” you asked Eloise, trying to seem casual and uninterested.

“Anthony and Kate are,” she responded brightly. “Benedict was able to weasel his way out of this one, I’m afraid. But it’s all for the better. He was being quite irritating at dinner last night.”

You turned to her, eyebrows raised. “I assumed you’d stay home if Benedict stayed home, too. I thought you hated these things.”

“Oh, not at all! Now that you aren’t being swarmed by suitors at every moment and I have you somewhat to myself, the balls are far more enjoyable.”

Shaking your head at her fondly, you laughed in disbelief. She was truly the only reason you hadn’t gone completely mad these past two weeks.

Lady Whistledown, whoever she was, had proven to be quite perceptive. As she had reported, you effectively had laid your parents’ dreams of marrying you off to an Englishman to rest. You’d only told Pen and Eloise about your disillusionment, but you supposed it was rather obvious to everyone else given that you barely danced with anyone anymore.

You looked through the crowd once again searching for the face you knew would not be there, and you felt your gut twist, but you couldn’t quite tell if it was in relief or disappointment.

“And what about Colin?” you asked, internally cringing at not being able to help yourself. “Has he left the country again?”

Eloise looked at you carefully, noting your barely hidden grimace and shifting eyes. She would’ve laughed at how obviously painful the question was for you if she didn’t completely understand what was happening. Eloise still had no idea why you hated Colin in the first place, but she could tell that it was tearing you up inside anyway.

“No, he’s still at home, believe it or not. He just doesn’t particularly enjoy these kinds of events anymore, I suppose. It must be the ambitious mamas wanting to auction him off to their daughters,” Eloise finally responded, trying to keep her tone light.

Although that wasn’t the whole truth, Eloise couldn’t just come out and tell you that her brother was completely in love with you and that you had broken his heart enough that he had no desire to come to ton events anymore. It would have been unusually cruel for her to do so.

Besides, she could tell you had been feeling the same way. The only difference was that your parents were not as forgiving as Violet Bridgerton, and you had to come to most balls whether you wanted to or not.

“Oh, that’s a shame, I guess,” you said, not particularly knowing how to respond. In a pathetic attempt to make it seem like you truly were unbothered, you added, “It’s rather nice when he isn’t here, though, isn’t it?”

Eloise stared at you suspiciously. Though she always thought it easier to stay away from your conflict with Colin, the curiosity was killing her. And she could only go so long before she went insane trying to figure it out.

“Why do the two of you hate each other so much, anyway?” she asked, hoping her disinterested tone would make you more likely to open up.

No one seemed to know why you hated Colin. You weren’t particularly forthcoming with the information, but Eloise could sense that it wasn’t something trivial. Having grown to know you fairly well over your time in England, Eloise was still perplexed by this specific detail.

Next to Eloise, you were tactfully avoiding eye contact and staring intently at the floor in front of you. You couldn’t tell her. You simply couldn’t. It wasn’t that you were worried about your reputation. You knew Eloise well enough to know that she wouldn’t spread rumors that would sully your image.

But if you told her the truth, she’d be heartbroken. If someone were to tell you that they hated one of your brothers for the same reason you hated Colin, you would crumble. You were incredibly close with them, and knowing that they thought of women that way would crush you. And you couldn’t bring yourself to do the same to Eloise.

Luckily, some man you’d never spoken to before asked you for a dance right at that moment. He had barely finished speaking before you placed your hand on his elbow and rushed him to the ballroom. Dancing with someone was far easier than having to figure out what you were going to say to Eloise.

Eloise stared silently as you were whisked away to dance. She let out a small laugh in disbelief, amazed that her question had been what finally propelled you to start dancing at balls again.

But her work tonight was not done. Shaking her head, Eloise looked around the ballroom, looking for your brother. Unsurprisingly, he was by the refreshments.

“Hello, Louis,” greeted the Bridgerton. “I believe you might have some information that would be of interest to me.”

“I do?” asked Louis, confused.

Eloise nodded over to where you were dancing and smiling politely and turned back to your brother with an expectant look.

“Oh,” said Louis, catching onto what your friend was saying. “I don’t, unfortunately.”

“Are you serious?” she responded, exasperated. “She would rather dance with that…man than tell me why she hates Colin!”

Louis shot her a sympathetic look. “She won’t tell me either. But she’s never been this upset over someone, so I wager it must have been something serious.”

“Colin doesn’t even know! And he only hates her because she hated him first! It’s terribly unreasonable.”

Having overheard the conversation about you and Colin from a few paces away, Carlos quickly joined Eloise and Louis with a knowing smile. He considered himself to be somewhat of an expert when it came to matters of the heart, having found a true love match after falling completely head over heels for your sister.

“Yes, but Colin is completely in love with Y/N,” he said. “So, I suppose he doesn’t hate her that much.”

“We know,” responded Eloise dejectedly. “That’s why I need to know why she hates him.”

“Excuse me, we? We know?” scoffed Louis. “I most certainly did not know this. What do you mean Colin loves Y/N? I should think that I would know if someone was in love with my little sister.”

Eloise looked at him, unimpressed. “I fear you only have yourself to blame, then. Colin came to every single event on the social calendar until your sister told him to stop talking to her, and he hasn’t come to another one since. Why exactly did you think that was?”

“I don’t know! I suppose I thought… I don’t know what I thought! But it doesn’t matter. He does not love her, Eloise. I know because Y/N is the exact same with Colin as he is with her.”

This time Carlos looked at Louis in disbelief. “Yes, Louis. Precisely,” he spoke slowly, nodding to make sure your brother understood.

Louis furrowed his eyebrows, eyes widening as he came to grips with the realization. “What do you mean? Does this mean that…”

“Yes,” confirmed Carlos. “Y/N loves him too.”

“What? How did I miss this?”

---

Colin was standing in Anthony’s study, arms crossed tightly over his chest as he glared at his eldest brother.

“I won’t go,” he said defiantly.

“You will, and you will be the perfect gentleman while you’re there.”

“Why do I even need to be there? It’s not like I know what I’m doing when I hunt, anyway,” Colin huffed, uncrossing his arms and fiddling with a quill on Anthony’s desk.

Watching his brother, Anthony sighed, exasperated. “Because it would be impossibly rude not to go. And the Bridgertons, especially Colin Bridgerton, if I recall correctly, are never impossibly rude.”

Colin groaned. “It’s one hunt without me! Please-”

“Y/N won’t be there if that’s what you’re worried about. She and Eloise went to the modiste and won’t be back until later.”

“But what if-”

“She won’t be there,” assured Anthony firmly. He had an inkling about why the Montclairs had suddenly invited the Bridgerton brothers on a hunting outing, and he was not about to let Colin ruin what were most likely some very well-laid-out plans.

Colin blinked and licked his lips, still considering whether being rude to your family was worth the risk of running into you. Resigned, he sighed and turned away from his brother.

“Very well. But this is the only time I’m doing it. I’m not particularly eager to have a run-in with the woman who wishes I didn’t even exist.”

Not seeing you for two weeks had proven to be an extraordinarily difficult challenge. But it was better than having to look at your face and know that he would never be in your good graces. You wanted nothing to do with him, and it was more than he could take.

Even though Colin had relatively successfully convinced himself that the only reason he was upset at your rejection was because he wanted to maintain his status as the best-liked member of the ton, he’d still barely been able to get out of bed since he’d last seen you. His heart ached too much when he thought of seeing you at any events. Yet it also ached when he thought of not seeing you. So he was confined to his chambers night after night, pacing as he thought of you laughing with someone else while he sat in agony at home.

“Oh, don’t be so dramatic. She can’t hate you that much,” said Anthony, rolling his eyes as he patted his brother on the back, leading him out of his study.

“You’d be surprised,” muttered Colin lowly.

---

“Frères, il nous faut causer,” announced Louis upon entering the mudroom (Brothers, we need to talk).

Seeing Edward preparing for the afternoon’s upcoming hunt alongside Philippe and Jacques, Louis cleared his throat and tried again.

“Brothers, we must have a chat. And Edward too, I suppose.”

Philippe and Jacques looked up at their younger brother in surprise.

“A chat about what, pray tell,” asked Jacques, fiddling with his hunting boots as he placed them on his feet.

“It has come to my attention that our dearest sister Y/N might be in love with Colin Bridgerton. I thought it best to discuss the matter between us before we go out and hunt with him.”

Philippe shot his youngest brother an amused look. “Well, yes, Louis. That’s why we’re having this hunting trip.”

Louis’ face contorted into an expression that was a funny mixture of disbelief and annoyance. He most certainly did not like to be the only one out of his siblings who didn’t know something. “How does everyone know this except for me? Am I truly that clueless?”

Laughing, Jacques clapped his younger brother on the back. “I suppose it’s a certain sensibility that comes once you’re married, Louis. Don’t feel too badly about it.”

“A sensibility that comes from your wife telling you that the man is obviously in love with Y/N, is what you mean, Jacques,” Philippe quipped, looking even more amused.

“I would’ve been able to tell!” argued Jacques. “If Chiara hadn’t told me within five minutes, I could’ve figured it out. Probably. In a few days. Who cares! We still have an advantage over Louis because we’re married, and our wives are more attuned to those things than we are.”

“Carlos was the one who told me, actually,” commented Edward. “Charlotte would have been the one to do it, but she thought it was so obvious that it wasn’t worth mentioning. I doubt I would have been able to tell on my own, anyway.”

Louis laughed, not feeling so bad about how oblivious he was anymore. “I suppose you’re right. But I still want to be included in the scheming! How is our little hunting trip going to help Colin and Y/N come to their senses?”

Philippe sighed deeply, and Louis got the impression that he had aged about ten years in the making of this plan. “Y/N has been spectacularly miserable these past couple of weeks. That is certainly no secret. And as much as it is not in my nature to meddle in her affairs, I don’t take any joy in seeing her like this.”

Jacques nodded in agreement. “Especially after what Nigel Berbrooke said to her, we think it would be nice for her to get a love match. Something that has been made much easier by the fact that she is already in love, even if she doesn’t know it.”

Although it had been two weeks since you’d told the rest of your siblings what Mr. Berbooke had said, Louis still felt a surge of anger rise in him when he remembered his words. “He’s worse than Barlow, that one.”

“I was at Eton with Berbrooke, and I assure you it was torture,” agreed Edward, crinkling his nose as he recalled his younger years alongside Nigel.

Sending his brother-in-law a sympathetic look, Louis continued, “That still doesn’t solve the main problem. Even if Y/N does love Colin, she still absolutely hates him. Despises him, actually.”

“Actually, the main problem is that Father wants his daughters to marry a title and a fortune. No offense, Edward.”

But Edward, ever agreeable, waved Philippe’s apology away. “Not at all. It was an advantageous match for me, too. I’m just lucky we grew to love each other. But I do recall your father being quite insistent that she marry nobility.”

“Precisely,” agreed Jacques. “I’ll wager that Y/N will realize she loves Colin quicker than Father will come around to the idea of her marrying for love.”

Louis hummed thoughtfully. “But what if it goes wrong? What if Father hates Colin, and this hunting trip only makes it more difficult for him and Y/N?”

“Not a chance.”

“Absolutely not.”

“That won’t happen.”

Louis just stared at the three men in front of him, looking entirely unconvinced. “How can all three of you be so sure?”

“Because it’s Colin Bridgerton!” said Edward. “Everybody likes Colin. He’s the ton favorite.”

“Y/N doesn’t like him,” argued Louis, still unsure about how effective the plan would be.

“But she loves him, so that’s different,” said Philippe, smiling brightly. “Don’t worry, Louis. Father will surely like him and it’ll be a step in the right direction. Now, are you ready? I believe the Bridgertons should be arriving shortly.”

---

All in all, Colin was having a lovely time this afternoon. As Anthony had assured, you were at the modiste when he arrived at your home, and he was barely there long enough to spend time looking for any trace of you. It was just as well because he feared what would have happened if he did find anything that reminded you of him.

Hunting, and specifically shooting, was not Colin’s greatest strength. As a result, he’d been mostly hanging toward the back of the group, chatting pleasantly with Edward, who didn’t seem to be very enthusiastic about hunting either.

That is until your father started talking about his travels. Truly, Colin’s biggest weakness was the opportunity to talk about his time abroad. That and you, he thought longingly.

Colin jogged to catch up to your father, Anthony, and Jacques so he could join the conversation.

“You and Chiara are settled in Tuscany, then?” asked your father.

Jacques laughed. “More than settled, I think. Hello, Colin! Lovely afternoon out, isn’t it?”

“Quite,” Colin agreed. “You would think it would make me a better shot, but I think this just proves I’m completely hopeless.”

Lord Montclair laughed, and Jacques felt an internal sense of pride as he saw their plan progressing.

“My sons tell me you’ve traveled a lot,” said your father, turning his gaze to the younger Bridgerton. “Have your travels taken you to the Persian Gulf, perchance? I am contemplating investing in pearl diving there.”

“Indeed, I have,” confirmed Colin. “However, if you seek pearls, might I suggest Ceylon instead? I visited last year and witnessed firsthand the expanding pearl industry.”

“Really?” said Lord Montclair, immediately immersed in the conversation. “But wouldn’t the Persian Gulf offer the most promising returns?”

“It certainly would right now, but trust me, Ceylon holds vast untapped potential.” Colin was in his element. This was practically all he did, and he was glad it was proving useful, and interesting, for once. “The industry there is on the precipice of greatness. In five years' time, mark my words, it shall surpass all others. I've even noted down a particular lagoon in my journals that I think will be particularly successful, based on what the locals have said.”

Impressed, Lord Montclair arched an eyebrow in interest. “You have my attention, Colin. Shall we meet next week to explore this further? A partnership between us could prove quite lucrative.”

Colin’s eyes widened, momentarily taken aback by your father’s offer. “Absolutely, my Lord. It would be my pleasure.”

“Please, call me Philippe,” he replied, clapping Colin on the back.

Turning to Jacques, your father spoke softly, “Je suppose qu'un titre n'est pas tout” (I suppose a title isn’t everything).

—

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kaisarionn · 5 months

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💐 i love your energy it’s so good and it’s just what this dying app needs! Can I plz plz plz request the ghouletts (kinda platonic idk just friendly way) with a ghoulette reader (if you don’t do that normal fem reader is fine) and they are having “problems” with their period ever since they were summoned onto earth. And they NEED to see a doctor but they are scared and uncomfortable bc yk, period talk with doctor is EH. But they comfort them and all that shit. Sorry I just think there is no reason to hide problems with periods if you have them, pray for me

A/n: I agree with this! I’ve had some issues with period problems to the point that I needed a doctor and medicine, it’s the worst. Luckily I’m doing better and I hope you are too! Thank you for the request!

Word count: 783. Angst with comfort. Fem!ghoulette reader. (Tw for mention of periods, though nothing graphic) (I couldn’t find an image with more than two ghoulettes)

Cuddle puddle 🩵

You had been dealing with it by yourself for a while, being far too embarrassed to bring it up to anyone, especially since you were new, but you couldn’t hide it for long due to how badly it affected you.

For one week a month you were practically inconsolable and would hardly leave your room and the ghoulettes immediately noticed this.

They tried to talk to you, but you always go nervous and avoided the topic altogether, until today. Your period was hitting you particularly hard and the ghoulettes were determined to take care of you, which leads to now.

There was a soft knock at the door, but you were in too much pain to get up, luckily the door was unlocked since you rushed to your bed after trying to get some food. Sunshine opens the door and all four ghoulettes come in with various looks of concern upon seeing you curled up on your bed, you looked way worse than they had imagined. “W-what are you all doing here?” You look at them a little embarrassed, not wanting anyone around while you felt so horrible.

It was already hard trying to keep it together long enough to get food without crying, but now you had four ghoulettes in your room while you looked and felt like a mess. “Honey..” Cirrus says softly, shutting the door behind them and coming to sit down in the bed next to you. “Why are you all curled up?” Sunshine sits on the floor next to you, cumulus sits in a nearby chair with Aurora in her lap since there wasn’t much furniture to sit on.

“I feel sick..” You mumble, trying not to tear up from how bad you feel, which was getting harder and harder. “Well we brought you some stuff!” Sunshine nearly yells, but tamps down her enthusiasm when she remembers how bad you feel. “Yeah, we got you food, medicine, a personal heating pad.” Aurora giggles softly, pointing to Sunshine who the ghoulettes often curled up with when they were cold.

“We can leave if you want, we just want to make sure you’re okay first.” Cumulus adds on, holding up an actual heating pad incase you do want them to leave. You start to sniffle softly, a combination of happy tears from feeling so cared for, and overwhelmed tears since your cramps were killing you. “T-thank you..” The ghoulettes take this as their cue to curl around you to comfort and take care of you. Sunshine pulls you into her arms and placing her hand on your pelvis, warming them up to ease your pain.

The others get comfortable around you however they can, wanting to practically cocoon you with their bodies. “Now what’s wrong?” Cirrus knows it’s your period, they all do as they’ve had similar experiences, but she’s trying to get to the bottom of the issue.

“E-ever since I was summoned here my period has been all messed up and nothing helps like it used to!” You bury your face into a pillow, trying to hide your tears. Cumulus gently rubs your back, trying to soothe you as best they can. “Aw sugar.. why haven’t you gone to the doctor? I’m sure they can help.”

You lightly shake your head at the mention of doctors, and they can tell you seem a bit nervous about it. “I don’t like them.. a-and this stuff is so embarrassing..” Aurora scoots around a little bit, trying to get a bit closer to you. “I know doctors are scary, but we can go with you! Cirrus takes me to my appointments, she makes them less scary.”

Cirrus smiles and gently brushes your hair out of your face. “I would be happy to take you, we all would. Doctors don’t have to be scary dear.. and this shouldn’t be embarrassing. We all have to deal with this.” Cumulus grabs out the jar of cookie dough she brought you, offering it out, which you promptly took with a smile. “We’ll always help you out sugar.”

Sunshine opens the jar for you with a soft smile, before going back to kneading at your stomach. “Yeah! Always.” You giggle softly and take a bite of cookie dough with a smile. “You girls are the best.”

#the band ghost #ghost the band #ghost bc #x reader #x y/n #x ghoulette #x aurora ghoulette #x sunshine ghoulette #x cirrus ghoulette #x ghoulette reader #hurt/comfort #light angst #happy ending #period cramps #tw periods

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marsgod · 2 years

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Hello again! I’m the person who requested ‘Reader Overblots’ and I’m here to request something that is also blot-related.

May I request Riddle, Azul and Jamil who severely injured their S/O during their overblot and only find out about it after accidentally bumping into their injury either in class or on one of their dates :DD

Love your writing! I hope you’re having a good day or night!!

omg… i love this a lot<3

Also!! Tysm!! I’m having a lovely day so far, and to you as well~!

*＊✿❀【Ｈｕｒｔ　Ｄｕｒｉｎｇ　Ｔｈｅｉｒ　Ｏｖｅｒｂｌｏｔ】❀✿＊*

| Info you need! v

Riddle, Azul, + Jamil finding out they hurt their s/o during their Overblot!

Warnings; Reader Injury,

i’m trying to practice writing scenes so just skip to the “keep reading” thing after if you don’t want to read it:)

Your love and yourself are walking around, being tasked with getting some more ingredients for an upcoming party.

You nodded along to his quiet ranting, something about food, you couldn’t bring yourself to remember more than little snippets of what he was saying.

It’s been a week since his overblot, but your foot hasn’t felt any better, on account of you wanting to be there for your boyfriend and not “Taking it easy”. You had managed to escape the worst case “Maximum Damage”, but not without a close call or two, where you ended up scraping your hands and with a sprained ankle after launching yourself out of the way and tripping over your feet over one of this attacks.

“-And then they had the audacity to tell me, “It’s the same thing.” Can you believe that?” They, who was in front of you, turned around to get your input, only to stop confusedly, “Are you okay, [Name]? You look like you’re going to keel over.”

Having saw you were limping before, having brushed it off with a reminder to put your foot up when you told him that it was from Mr. Vargas’s training.

There was, in fact, no Vargas Training, only neglect for your own health.

Anyways, after you do actually keel over on the ground, He rushes to your side in a mix of panic and confusion. He ends up cast a levitation spell on you and leads you to the Infirmary but your hand to keep you near.

Once there, and explaining that they didn’t tell him what was wrong besides previous training with Mr. Vargas.

Later, after going to sit in the waiting room, is told that you needed to rest for the day and that he was dismissed if he wasn’t injured himself.

AZUL is clearly worried, he keeps smiling but it’s clearly saying “God please help me, if you even sound a bit angry even if its not at me then I’m going to have a nervous breakdown and I’m sorry-“

…Yeah, He’s still got sum issues, this is before he finds out “Oh shit this is actually my fault”

When he does find out though! he’s muttering apologies and bringing small peace offerings (cut up fruit and chocolate) even if you say that he doesn’t need to bring them to you.

He apologizes but is also confused on why the hell you went a fucking week on your injured leg, and thinks that you didn’t tell him cause you didn’t trust him which makes him feel worse

After learning you just wanted to be with him through his “recovery period”… Yeah, good luck w that because he keeps you in bed for however long your recovery period lasts so ha

JAMIL isn’t clearly worried, he practiced his rbf for years you ain’t seeing anything “clearly”

He asks the basic questions If you’re okay, do you need anything, what happened-

Oh? It was from his overblot incident from a week ago?… and, you thought you could power through it because you wanted to be with him?

He stares at you, unblinking, in silence until he finally opens his mouth and calls you dumb

and that he loves you, but god you’re so dumb

He feels bad ofc, and apologizes for it but also why would you do that? and keep it a secret?

Jamil won’t be able to keep you company a lot… Is what Jamil and you both think until Kalim learns you’re injured and floods your house with flowers and claims they’re going to stay with you to be at your beck and call.

Jamil is partially okay with it, but also “Kalim please they need to actually rest.”

Anyways, Kalim is the one that.. supports you and gets whatever Jamil tells him to and Jamil actually does the cooking, etc.

Amazing, house husband<333

RIDDLE feels so horrible and won’t leave you’re side, and is also more irritable than normal because he’s mad that he believed such a foolish lie

He doesn’t know exactly what to do but he does buy some if those herbal tea’s for you to drink and sorta relax with

After learning it was, indeed, his fault, he does also feel horrible but has a hard time with it so he just puts his head on your should and apologizes

Trey helps check up on you, and cooks because Riddle will badger you if you try to get up

the type to tie you in a bunch of blankets before he leaves to ensure nothing happens

Riddle won’t leave his dorm, but if he’s not in actual classes (with no other tasks) then he’s at your dorm, helping you with whatever until you tell him you’re okay or you fall asleep.

Riddle, at some point, probably fall asleep while in your bed but you don’t have the heart to wake him up (plus he’s a fucking heater) and yeah<333

#there was an attempt #{..no identity found..}#twst x reader #jamil viper #jamil x reader #riddle x reader #riddle rosehearts #azul x reader #azul ashengrotto #gn! reader

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parentingtheoryandpractice · 5 months

Text

Violet's birth story

So, fair warning—this is going to be a drawn out, high context version of what ultimately could be a very short birth story. And if you want to really understand the progression of how I have related to labor and birth over the years, I’ll link my previous four birth stories below.

Lydia’s birth story

Zeke’s Birth Story

Maya’s birth story (and reflections on previous births)

Alexander’s birth story

This pregnancy was not an easy one for me. Will and I decided to have our (almost certainly) final baby closer to our next youngest than we have ever spaced before, since we were pretty eager as a family unit to move to a different life phase that was less pregnancy, baby, and toddler focused, in large part because we wanted to have a different type of focus and energy for our older kids while they were still kids. We knew it would be more work in the short term, and I would be leaning on Will a lot for a while, which has proven true.

We also moved while I was pregnant, which I overall very much stand by as a decision, but that was pretty brutal. We tried to time it so that we’d be moving when I was in the second trimester, since that seemed like it would at least be easier than the alternatives, and that almost/mostly worked out, but of course the timeline got pushed back some.

And then the second trimester was also a bit less of a smooth period than I had expected, since I had three episodes of nerve pain that meant I was pretty out of commission for a few days, which was itself inconvenient, but also led to a bunch of uncertainty on my part, since I didn’t know what was going on, or that it was only going to be three times. (All that could be a full-length post of its own, which I may try to write up at some point. As far as I can tell, not only did it all fully resolve, but maybe my body map and body mechanics are actually improved relative to my previous baseline, and I am better at something like Focusing in a body way, thanks to my friend James who explained to me how to do that.)

That said, compared to how things can go, I would still call my pregnancy pretty uncomplicated. I thought I had some blood sugar issues (which could again be its own whole post), but I got a cgm, tried some other blood sugar monitors, paused my Vitamin C since it turns out that can make glucose monitors read a little higher, and my eventual conclusion there was that my first blood sugar monitor was reading too high. I did somewhat limit my carb intake, but after an initial period of lots of tracking decided (in consultation with my midwife and the doctor she works with) to treat it as non-clinical, and I stopped taking measurements.

I also had some iron-deficiency anemia, as I have had every pregnancy, and taking a bunch of iron pills didn’t seem to be working at first, but just as I scheduled some appointments to pursue an iron infusion, my numbers came back up.

And for most of this pregnancy, especially as I was approaching the end, I had a lot of anxiety about birth. With that too, there’s a lot I could say, but I think the high bit is that, while I didn’t anticipate any bad concrete outcomes—I never seriously worried that the baby wouldn’t be born healthy, or that I would be physically at risk—I did have a visceral sense that it wasn’t going to “be okay”, and that the experience would be a bad one for me. And “bad” not just in a fleeting sense, but in a way that would leave my mental structures worse off than they were before.

I never found a concise way to verbalize exactly what I was worried about, but I’m very grateful for all the people (especially Will, Kenzi, Anna, Steph, and James) who listened to me talk at length in repetitive inarticulate ways about what my issue was. And for all the people who wrote up and published their birth stories, since (as has been my habit), I read a ton of them in the weeks leading up to my birth. And at the end of the day, I think the anxiety eventually worked as intended. I processed enough and set the right sort of intentions that it was pretty much gone. I remember a conversation with Anna right around my due date where I expressed that I figured birth would be unpleasant, but in an accepting way, and my desire to keep talking about it was largely gone.

Some of the more legible takeaways I had from all my birth processing were:

-I was pretty willing to let go of some things I had previously been (mostly implicitly) aiming for in service of having an easier birth.

-One such thing was accurately tracking what the experience was like for me. (So… I expect my written recollections to involve mostly the right amount of error bars anyway, but that’s part of the epistemic status of all of this.)

-Another one, somewhat to my surprise, was caring about the timeline. Talking it through, it became clear to me that I had few to no concerns about having a long labor per se, as long as the intense and overwhelming part wasn’t long. (My understanding of Kenzi’s later summary of this, which I liked quite a bit, was to think of early labor as for positioning, not dilating, and that moving to dilating before the position was good often wasn’t desirable.)

-Related to that, one of my conclusions was that during my labor with Xander in particular, after having gained a more explicit model of how my muscles worked during labor over the course of my previous labors, I was expending a lot of wasted effort trying to make things go faster, and my guess was that it didn’t speed things up and probably did lead to it feeling harder. So my plan was to not do that.

-I can’t remember if this was explicit, but I think another constraint I let go of was having other people be able to track much of what was going on for me in realtime during labor, which iirc I’ve written about mattering to me in the past.

-And, somewhat presciently (spoilers), partly since I found a great collection of unassisted birth stories to read, I made my peace with the idea of a delivery that was fast enough that the midwife wouldn’t make it, and talked Will about that some too.

-I also tried to consider which of the painful sensations it would be helpful for me to be especially aware of during labor, and which I could essentially safely tune out. My conclusion there was that anything that was telling me how to move my body seemed important, and that it was probably good to be pretty aware of any potential tissue damage from tearing during the pushing stage, but that microtears that were happening because of muscle exertion, and general muscle fatigue type sensations probably weren’t that actionable or important to pay attention to.

The one concrete and mundane-feeling anxiety that remained was that we would all get sick. We had all been sick multiple times recently, and then Xander had gotten sick shortly before my due date, and right around when I did give birth, Zeke was also just getting sick, which was not a surprise to us given all of our sick friends and his recent exposure.

But I am very grateful to report that (per my questionably effective request to my immune system) I didn’t get either of those sicknesses!

For a while, I had been saying that I didn’t want to make any plans at all for Thanksgiving, since it was two days after my due date, but as that week got closer, my sense was that I wasn’t having a baby anytime soon. And my midwife’s sense was similar. She said the thing she mostly goes off for her brith timing predictions is amniotic fluid levels, and that mine were high for someone who was going to give birth soon. So we decided to host Thanksgiving after all (with a backup plan in place for if I was in labor or if I had a baby by then).

And indeed, my due date came and went, Thanksgiving happened, and I continued to have the impression that I wasn’t very close to having the baby. It wasn’t that I was never experiencing contractions, but I’d been having intermittent regular contractions (which I suppose ought to be called Braxton Hicks, but I don’t tend to experience them as painless…) for months, and the ones I was having didn’t feel different. My energy was pretty good, and I started talking more walks. And I stopped taking my iron pills, since it takes a few weeks to make red blood cells from iron anyway, and I wanted to give my digestive system a break.

And then Saturday night, I felt something happen with my bag of waters. I’m still not totally sure what it was, and I didn’t find the ph strip my midwife had given me in the middle of the night to check whether it was for sure amniotic fluid (all the plausible alternatives are acidic instead of basic), but I think it must have been. That said, it wasn’t a huge amount—I’ve always had my bag of waters break near the end of labor before, and I know it was nowhere near that amount of fluid. Maybe more like a cup’s worth, most of it all at once, and then with a little more leaking out after that throughout the night. My midwife’s guess when I texted her about it was that it was only my forewaters, which wasn’t a term I had known until she mentioned it. In any case, her conclusion was that it didn’t sound like a “frank rupture”.

But I do think it kicked off something, and at that point at least I no longer had the subjective sense that the labor didn’t feel close!

At 9:46am I told my midwife there was “not much happening in terms of contractions since I got up”, and whenever Will got up I told him about the same thing, but he took over with the kids anyway, and I proceeded to spend most of the day resting, relaxing, working on a jigsaw puzzle, hanging out in the bath, and intermittently experiencing contractions that felt “real” enough, but weren’t in any sort of consistent pattern. For example, I’d have a few in a row that were about 7 min apart, and very noticeable but not at all overwhelming, but then I’d change positions and go 20min without feeling much of anything. This went on for most of the day, and I made sure to keep eating and drinking, and resting, though I am pretty sure I didn’t end up sleeping at all.

A little after midnight, I sent a message to our friends that were going to take Xander if we needed that during labor saying “I think Will has already given you an update, but I think I’m in early labor? […] I think there’s some chance things speed up and it’s tonight, but also easily could slow down and then speed up again at some point tomorrow. I think given what I’ve been feeling labor will not totally stop until I’ve given birth though”.

At that point I’d been timing my contractions for about an hour, and they were pretty variable. Most of them around a minute, but some shorter or longer, and a few that were under five minutes together but a bunch that were longer too.

By then, I had been back in the bathtub for a while, after being in and out all day, and I think it was around then that Will set up shop in there with a backjack and joined me. I mostly had my eyes closed, and I remember not noticing that he had come in, in part because I had put Fauré’s Après un Rêve on repeat—which I think was the only time during labor I had music on. I think I picked that song because my midwife had mentioned a few times that the way she thinks of labor is (my words not hers), was kind of like that I had to go to a journey to a different dimension to go get my baby. At some point a few keep earlier I’d made a playlist of some music I’d felt somewhat inspired by (this song was on it), and I’d been enjoying music a lot in the past few weeks, but once I realized Will was there, that seemed both better than music and like I was no longer inclined to have the music on.

And some more about my headspace around then… Until around that point in labor, I hadn’t been very focused on labor between contractions, and had been watching little bits of reality TV on my phone, but after about midnight that changed. I got the idea a couple of labors ago, I think from The Pink Kit, that it was good to use coping strategies even during early labor so that reaching for them became more automatic when I needed them more later on, which I was doing, but this time (for the first time, I think) I basically found it helpful to use my coping techniques between contractions too, starting around midnight (which, having discussed it afterwards with my midwife, is what we decided to call the start of my active labor).

My main coping techniques were deep breathing (in part because I figured oxygenating my muscles was going to make everything work better and hurt less), trying to tune in to exactly how my body wanted to be positioned (leaning on the sort of body type focusing I had practiced during my episodes of nerve pain), and reciting words to myself m. The main words I was relying on almost the whole time, as I have in the past, were The Litany Against Fear, but I’d decided when I was making the music playlist to also include this Irish blessing, which I first heard of because the head of school I attended used to say it to graduating seniors. It had more of a gentle, relaxed vibe—more about things being easier for me instead of me coping with something hard—and I wanted that to be in the mix.

Overall, it became increasingly clear to me as I was laboring that I was aiming for as little sympathetic nervous system activation as possible, and with that goal in mind, a bunch of my cognition seemed pretty counterproductive, in much the way that meditators I have known often talk about it. Basically all of my thought about the future seemed notably tinged with anxiety, in a way where I wanted to let go of them. And the same was true of a bunch of my self-referential thoughts, even about what was happening right then. Same with analysis. I had some pleasant hypnogogic type thoughts about the different patterns from the jigsaw puzzle I had been working on earlier that day, and some other ones about the reality show I had been watching between contractions earlier. I also remembered something Steph had told me about seeing each contraction as a spiritual journey, and I tried to learn into that way of relating to it some, which seemed good too.

I also started doing a pulling down type thing on the side of the bathtub that felt right, and I think I was mostly squatting at that point. The house we moved into recently has a wonderfully massive bathtub, and while I had also borrowed our midwife’s birth tub, in large part because I found the birth tub I used for Xander’s birth really helpful (it was bigger, softer, had lovely handles), I hadn’t asked Will to blow it up. The place to blow it up would have been the bedroom, but Xander was asleep in there. And while we did have friends who would watch him, not only did him sleeping as much as possible seem even better, those friends (and also a bunch of our backup options) were all sick, so I was somewhat invested in him sleeping through the whole birth if possible.

And partly to that end, partly because it felt right overall, unlike with my other births, I was pretty much not vocalizing at all. If that had seemed like it was making labor harder to cope with, I think I would have made whatever noises seemed good to make, but the way I was relating to it was more that noises would have been wasted effort, so it worked out.

The main thing my more logistical brain was still doing at that point was trying to track where labor was enough to figure out when to call the midwife. I had texted her a log of my contractions around midnight, but since she hadn’t responded to that I (correctly) assumed she was asleep and I’d have to call to reach her. So I got out of the bath, had a contraction or two on the birth ball (that I had ordered at the last minute), and called her at 1:25. I told her the contractions seemed to be about five minutes apart at that point. She asked how long they had been like that and I said I wasn’t sure. Then she asked if they had a clear peak, and I said they did. She said didn’t I think she should come since she was an hour away, and I remember saying something about how I wanted to defer to her about that. She told me she was coming, and to tell Will to make up the bed with the waterproof liner and extra sheet and fill the birth tub. I knew I wasn’t going to ask Will to do either of those things just then, but I was in a pretty internal place, it didn’t seem worth saying that out loud.

I got right back in the bath after that, and at that point my conclusions was that there was nothing more to plan, and I could more fully relax into wherever labor wanted me to do. I think Will had mostly been with me pretty continuously for a while, but at some point I think he left to go pack a bag for Xander in case he needed to go to our friends’ house. At a different point, I remember telling him not to go anywhere. I don’t remember whether he was even thinking of going anywhere at that point, but I think I must have had an intuition that things were getting close.

Almost everything from here is increasingly hazy in my memory, but I do remember things getting more intense, though still not exactly overwhelming—more like reaching the edge of it during the peak of the contractions. I also felt some nausea, though not enough that I was close to throwing up, and did have a “hmm could this be transition” type of thought in response to the nausea that I didn’t focus on much.

I was intermittently checking my cervix, as I had been all day, and I felt pretty dilated by then—definitely active labor—but I couldn’t have quantified it. I could feel the head very distinctly though! I’m still not sure when the rest of my waters broke. I think there was one moment where I thought it might have happened, and since that was the only one I registered I assume it did happen then, but since I was in the bath it wasn’t an obvious dramatic thing.

But at some point I do remember feeling a different sort of pain, more like a potential tissue damage type, and one where I was inclined to vocalize. I picked up the washcloth in front of me and bit down on it, which felt right, and around then it became obvious that the baby was moving downwards. I can’t quite remember what if anything I managed to communicate to Will, and I’ll have to find out from him exactly when he realized what about what was going on, but from there things happened very quickly.

I couldn’t have said how long between that first pushing sensation and when I could clearly tell that the head was coming out, but it wasn’t long. I did try to pause a little with the head somewhat out, and not rush that part, so as to prevent tearing, but I think the pause was maybe on the order of seconds.

And by then I’m pretty sure the midwife was on speakerphone. I think what happened was that she had called on her own for an update, but maybe Will had called her? Maybe even I had asked him to call, though I don’t remember doing that, and I don’t think I did. In any case, having her there on speaker was exactly what I wanted, so I was very happy about that part, and also in a quite nonverbal place. I remember her asking some question about what was going on with the head, and me thinking “well, right now it’s not out, but I can distinctly feel her ear”, but it was totally beyond me to actually say that part out loud. I did have in mind what she had reminded me, which was to make sure the baby’s head stayed under water until she was all the way out, since once the baby is exposed to the air and likely starts breathing, at that point it’s not safe for her head to go under the water again.

Once her head was fully out, I may or may not have said anything, but I was very much remembering Xander’s birth, where it seemed to take forever to then push the rest of his body out. (It didn’t actually take long at all with him—but I do think I didn’t do it until I waited at minute or two until the next contraction.) This was faster though—basically once her head was out there was a brief pause, and then I kept pushing and her body was too, which was a massive relief. A massive relief, but then I also wanted to make sure she was breathing as she was supposed to. She seemed to me like she was breathing right away, but also like she was pretty much asleep, so I didn’t feel totally sure. I did some amount of rubbing her, blowing on her face, and talking to the midwife. Before too long I remember her producing at least one cry, and me asking if that meant she was for sure breathing now. I remember our midwife saying that if her muscle tone was good, that was what I should pay attention to. And it did seem like her muscles were working fine, and I remember noticing her hands opening and closing, but also in general newborns are so floppy at first!

In any case, I would say that I pretty quickly felt settled about her breathing, in part because the midwife didn’t seem concerned at all based on what we were saying. And the part after that is also somewhat of a blur, though I think I was already in a quite different and clearer headspace than I had been during labor, and was communicating with Will in a more straightforward way. He was getting me towels, and I was mostly keeping Violet out of the water so she didn’t get cold, but I wasn’t quite ready to move out of the bath yet. I also didn’t want to drain the water yet, since I figured it might be good to let the midwife’s look and see how much blood I had lost. I think I had Will take a picture of that. (I could tell by looking myself that it wasn’t much though, so I didn’t feel worried about postpartum hemorrhage.) Violet also pooped some meconium around then, but it wasn’t too messy—it was mostly on the towel I think. Though later there was a bunch of it on the floor of the bath, and I’m not sure if that was the same poop, or whether it came in stages.

I had been trying to get Violet to latch ever since she came out, but it took a while for her to do that. She was pretty sleepy! But at some point before the midwives arrived, she did end up latching, which seemed to me like a good sign that I could probably get the placenta out soon.

I also asked Will to bring me the large metal bowl we had set aside for the placenta, since I felt some urgency about getting it out. And I think it was around then that Will left to go let the dogs out and the midwives in. I think since he had already taken the picture, I did drain the tub a bunch, and once there wasn’t much water left I decided to try pushing the placenta out. I used some gentle traction on the cord, since in the past I had had midwives tell me it was okay to do that, and tried seeing if i could push on purpose, and I felt it move! That part was definitely easier and more straightforward than I had remembered it being with my past two labors, which was neat. But then it got a little stuck once it seemed like it was out, and I was pretty sure that was just the bag of waters, but not sure enough to want to pull on it. Once the midwives came, a few minutes later, they confirmed that the placenta looked complete, that was just the bag of waters, and it was totally safe to pull the rest of it out, which I did.

And that was the birth! We put the time down as 2:20, and the midwives arrived around 20 minutes after that, shortly after I had pushed my placenta out too. We took around another two hours to do a bunch of post birth stuff, like getting the baby’s blood type from the placenta (negative, so I didn’t do a rhogam shot), checking me for tears (just a very small one that didn’t require stitches), weighing and measuring the baby (I thought she looked like she was about eight and a half pounds, and she came it at 8 lbs 6oz after she had pooped, and 20inches, which the midwife said was maybe a bit of an underestimate), and assorted other logistics, like me getting out of the bath, putting on a postpartum pad and some clothes, me taking some ibuprofen per my plan so the afterpains wouldn’t hurt so much, me peeing, oiling up the baby before putting a diaper on her so the next meconium poop wouldn’t get stuck on her as much, etc. The midwives also went though a chart with me that shows typical development and gestational age, and while my placenta was a little calcified, as is typical for an almost 41 week baby, some of Violet’s markers were closer to 39 weeks. So maybe that’s why she took her time coming out.

(As an aside, given Violet’s actual stats, which seemed fine and similar to all my other babies, I feel good in hindsight about the way I related to my blood sugars during late pregnancy. Her head was also a little bigger than her chest circumference, so that wasn't an issue either.)

Once the midwives left, we got Lydia and Zeke to meet the baby, Will managed to take Xander into his office to sleep with him there, and I had the bed for me and Violet. I didn’t sleep much that night, but I was very happy :-).

Will and I are overall almost certain Violet will be our last baby, and I feel extremely grateful to have gone out on such a positive note with birth—this one was my clear favorite, though I also remember Maya’s birth quite fondly, and I believe I learned things and took away important insights from each of my births. Overall, before I had this last birth I would have said, as a summary, that overall I didn’t really like birth, and now I don’t think I can say that anymore. It’s probably worth anyone reading this taking that with a grain of salt, since I did explicitly let go of my desire to remember things in a precise way, but I think it captures something very real and quite important to me anyway.

And aside from being a very cool experience, I like to think that this time I learned something that I can take with me about anxiety. Both from how helpful I think my pre-birth anxiety ultimately was in guiding my processing in productive ways, and from how helpful it was to relax and fully let go of even subtly anxious thoughts during labor itself.

I used to be sort of baffled by some of the birth stories I would read or hear from people I knew by how easy they seemed, even though Maya’s birth had some aspects in common with them, but now that I had this last experience, I no longer do, and the range of labor experiences that seem intuitively plausible to me has expanded. I also remember after my first birth talking to the instructor of the birth class Will and I had taken somewhat incredulously about this video she had shown us of a Russian woman giving birth in a bathtub very peacefully, since it seemed so different not just from my experience, but from the experiences of pretty much everyone in the class. And the instructor had said, somewhat apologetically, “well, it was probably her fifth baby”. So now maybe I’ve come full circle by having a very peaceful labor with my fifth baby too.

A cool thing about this birth that feels like a bonus to me is that because I think I succeeded at my plan to not expend a lot of wasted effort, partly due to my intentions, but maybe even more because it was my fifth time, and my body had a more targeted sense of which muscles were involved and not involved, my body felt way less sore than it ever had before postpartum. I’m writing this a little less than a week later, and while it is still my model that rest and recovery is important, I feel remarkably good physically.

I was lamenting to a friend how it seemed sort of wasteful that I finally figured out how to do this birth thing just as I was never going to do it again, and she said that wasn’t this sort of the tragedy of life—we accumulate all this knowledge that’s ultimately pretty hard to transfer, and it’s very cool but also feels a bit like a waste.

If I have one regret from this birth, it’s that I don’t have any video footage of it. I would love to have more of a concrete record, and I really wish I could show Violet a video of her birth one day, but at least I’ve written this up while it was pretty fresh in my mind.

And if you got all the way here, thanks for reading a very long and drawn out story of a short birth! I’m very grateful for how it all played out.

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thestarlightforge · 2 months

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“Threads”

3/3/24

I have said a lot of farewells here recently—the end of a rehearsal process—and it got me thinking: About goodbyes, loss, isolation, grief, and connection. In the past, I’ve had mostly gut-wrenching experiences with “post-show depression”—to me, these periods have felt more like reminders of deep, old abandonment wounds than the expected, smaller sadness of moving from one show to another. At first, I felt that this time—the specter of losing everyone. But then, to my surprise, I felt another, more resilient feeling peeking out of the shadows: The Threads.

Which led me to this. ❤️❤️❤️

******

It’s kind of lovely, once you get past the point in your life where you feel like all endings are forever. If you’ve had periods of isolation, been abandoned, or lived through any sort of serious trauma, it’s hard to get there (and hard to stay there, once you have). But there are people out there, far away, who love you. They see something funny, and it makes them think of you the way things make you think of them.

You spend enough time in a place of scarcity, and every goodbye starts to feel like a little death. But most goodbyes are, in fact, more “see you later.” And even when they aren’t—if you’ve survived, lead with love and are a little bit lucky, there is a community of people that carries around warmth, for you.

The fog can make it difficult to recognize—the stress, mental illness, health issues, blood family struggles, systemic oppression, and high speeds and demands of survival under late capitalism. But think of all the people you hold fondly. Even if by sorry accident, by entropy in this short life, you don’t actually see them all again—you don’t think badly of them, do you? You don’t conceive of (most of) them as closed doors?

It’s hard when the losses have been permanent—when tragedy has struck or folks have severed the connection. When you still think well of them, but they are truly gone from your world. When you can still feel dangling strings, or worse—their mystery.

But, for the most part, we are connected by these threads of our own making. They don’t just go out from us. They weave us into a tapestry of warmth, understanding, and memories. You made someone smile tonight because they know that you, wherever you are, would understand what they’re going through. Without a spoken word, two minds were linked across time and space.

And this is why they say “love wins.” And this is why they say “it gets better.” And this is why they say “we need community.” And this—yes, as silly as it sounds—is why, so many roleplaying games call magic “the weave.”

Because the thought of someone you haven’t talked to in some time—in an hour, weeks or years—filled you up inside. Because the same thing happened to someone else, with you. Because we learn to understand the world through our connections with others. Because we are tiny, giant, chaotic balls of light, and our existence is made up of colliding and changing and learning to know one another. Because, as the late and great Terry Pratchett said, “It doesn’t stop being magic just because you know how it works.” Because something like magic can be found in laughing out of nowhere, and knowing that was a pulse of someone’s light, traveling across a thread that binds you both.

If you’re frantic, or in the fog—close your eyes. Breathe deep, if you can. Take in your sensations. Imagine the story of another, right now. And feel the threads.

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annieintheaair · 4 months

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It’s 7am. I’ve been awake since 3am, tossing and turning, listening to ocean sounds, hoping to calm me and put me back to sleep. No luck.

Around 5am, after laying in bed for two hours not sleeping, a purple orb appeared in my bedroom. Of course, I had to google it. What did it all mean? Well, I read about it here. To say I’ve been freaking out is an understatement. I lost all hope of falling back asleep after that. How appropriate that hours after writing here about feeling alone, a purple orb would show up to remind me that I’m not alone. What other messages did they come to share? Was it a message about forgiveness? Healing? I’m not entirely sure but I tried my best not to be scared and try to understand that it was supposed to be a comfort.

Last night I conquered one of my biggest fears— driving in the rain. It was a monsoon outside. I swear the rain came down even harder just as I was about to leave my house. I almost accepted the late cancel fee just so I wouldn’t have to drive. I prayed the entire way. It was so hard to see with the rain just pouring buckets. It reminded me of the night back in June when I drove through the rain and flooded and totaled my dream car. I still have PTSD from that day.

I wish I could say that the drive to yoga was worth it but instead I spent the whole class losing my balance, completely unfocused, and trying not to throw up. I almost walked out 15 minutes into class because I wasn’t sure if I could make it. By the end of class, as I’m usually dreading it coming to an end, not wanting to get up from shavasana, instead I was trying to resist the urge to check my watch to see when it would be over. I couldn’t wait to get home.

All day yesterday, I tried to put shows and movies on. Two days in a row, I can’t even tell you what I tried to watch because my attention was completely gone. Instead, I clocked more hours yesterday at my part-time job than I’ve ever clocked there before. I spent my entire day pouring myself into emails, helping customers, trying to do damage control to solve all of their problems, and preparing a report for the meeting that I have to lead every Tuesday.

By 3pm yesterday, I still hadn’t eaten a single thing. My stomach hurt and I was hungry but felt like eating anything would make me feel worse. Instead, I poured myself a mug of beef broth and sipped on it while I worked.

I wish I could rewind time; turn the clock back; find a time machine. I don’t even need to go back that far, just a few days so I could redo everything, make different decisions, and fix my mistakes. Maybe I’d be sleeping better, eating, and not feeling so sick. Maybe I wouldn’t be thinking about the Home Chef order that will probably go to waste this week because I can’t eat it.

Dogs always know when you’re sad. When I woke up at 3am, both of my dogs were cuddled up close next to me. I reached over to pet them and they both gave me kisses. We seriously do not deserve dogs.

At this point, going back to sleep probably won’t happen. Maybe I can get myself asleep for an afternoon nap later before work but I’m not counting on it. Coffee would be nice today if I could actually drink it.

Oh, 2024, I’m already disappointed.

xoxo

Annie

*After I wrote this, I actually did end up falling asleep for a short period of time. I had a weird but comforting dream. For a while, I felt like I could still feel Dan around after he passed but then it felt like he went away once he knew I was okay and moving on. After seeing the purple orb this morning, in my dream, which felt so real, he showed up. No words were spoken. He walked up to me and gave me a hug as I cried. It felt like the ultimate goodbye. When the dream continued on without him, I felt a weird sense of comfort, like it was all suddenly ok.*

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a-m-y-c-h-e-n · 1 year

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Finishing Soft > Finishing Strong

It has been quite the year. God has taught me so much about himself, and Ephesians 3:20 comes to mind a lot- God is one who is able to do immeasurably more than I can ask or imagine. I came into this year feeling really overwhelmed (trying to be strong and balance a lot of work with a lot of emotions but miserably falling short) and didn't even know what to ask from God for the new year. So expectations weren't high, but looking back on the work He's done, I know that even if I came in with mile-high expectations, what God gave me was far greater.

January was when seeds were planted- for the first time, I felt a desperate need for emotional support. The stress of traveling in a new place during peak-COVID with multiple trip interruptions was too overwhelming, and I saw the value of having someone around who holds you up when you can't do it yourself, and this highly independent lifestyle of mine may need to change.

June was when the heart transformation began, kick-started by the Learning to Let Go sermon series at church. Right from the start, I felt the urge to re-examine my attitude towards my dad, and subsequently dating, and every week felt like another push to probe deeper and self-confront sub-optimal behavioral patterns I've noticed in my life. Some reflections and key takeaways from the sermon series:

1. Jesus gives new meaning to the cycles of dying and rising. The Paschal mystery can be applied to metaphorical deaths in our lives, and death never has the final word. After death comes resurrection, grieving, letting go, and finally, new life.

2. The biggest "death" in my life has been my relationship with my father. Death was the middle/high school years where I witnessed borderline unfaithfulness in my parents' marriage and was harassed on the phone by a mystery pervert for a full year. The damage was reinforced by years of hearing my dad constantly raise his voice at my mom over matters of no importance. I always downplayed this because others go through far worse things-- actual divorces in the family, rape and sexual abuse. But all the "small" happenings did lead to something serious for me- a twisted view of marriage, making that and relationships things from which I distanced myself.

I think a good metaphor for this is being someone who finds themselves deep in a pit, looking around and seeing nothing but walls and wondering...what happened? There was no bulldozing (except maybe a bit at the beginning) and I never noticed myself descending into a pit, but the continual yelling over the years added up, like one shovelful of dirt at a time that gradually deepened the pit.

Also experienced a love deficit- my dad didn't say he didn't love me or rejected me, but also he never said he loved me. Missing the sense of security and protection from a father was like a perceived rejection and led to an unnatural desire to protect myself and a reluctance to take risks.

This repeated thought pattern led to decisions to "always be OK" and values of self-protection and lifestyle of living behind walls and eventually bondage to this fear of rejection if I come out from the walls I've come to know as home.

3. Next comes resurrection- coming to know Christ, understanding that the perfection I expected from my dad only comes from God, that we are all sinners who need to forgive one another, that there is hope when losses are redeemed and even turned into good. I accepted and believed all these things, but never truly felt them in my heart.

4. Grieving is what I have been stuck in for nearly 15 years. I knew something was amiss, but never directly addressed the issue. Freedom class at church back in 2016 brought a lot of awareness and was the first real step I took, but my years of young adulthood were mostly spent prioritizing fun adventures with friends, working, and growing in independence. I'm grateful that these other parts of life went extremely well- except for a few periods when I was down about certain boys, most of the time was spent happily exploring new cities, trying local brunch spots and foreign delicacies, and finding joy in new hobbies like running, cycling, and snowboarding. I made half-hearted efforts to patch the relationship with my dad, but efforts to be kind/patient/loving etc often fell short.

5. Letting go requires:

Faith. Saying 'yes' to God requires letting go of me-in-control, trusting in God and His plan rather than what we see directly in front of us, our own expectations of outcomes and expectations of God

Biblical example: Jairus wanted healing for his daughter but contrary to expectations, she died. But God brought her back from the dead and he got his daughter back and witnessed resurrection instead. God disillusions us at the right time so our trust is in Him and not our own perceptions of God and things God "should" do for us.

Focus on knowns (elements of God's character we've personally experienced in the past) instead of unknowns (all that could go wrong). God doesn't want us to know the future but to be saturated with his presence today.

What I see is all the things that could go wrong and a repeated cycle of hurting and breaking. Human nature prevents me from seeing much farther than that. Need to let faith in God be bigger than my fears

Discernment between fear that warns and fear that possesses. Counter memorials of fear with memorials of God's goodness.

Repent of the sin of agreeing with fear

2 Tim 1:7- For God gave us a spirit not of fear but of power and love and self-control

6. New life came at the end of July, when dad just so happened to fly into town the day I was moving. He originally had a layover but that morning, his flight changed to a direct flight and he was able to arrive in the afternoon. I told him to just rest at the hotel and I’d meet him for dinner as originally planned, but instead of doing that or asking to sightsee, he insisted on helping me move. Having his support on a day when I was so emotionally distressed and in need meant the world, and it was the first time I felt like I could accept his love again. To see how he sacrifices, puts aside his own injuries for the sake of helping me move was so moving (ha ha). Two days later, the government approved my green card, putting an end to over a decade of waiting, tears, and endless inconveniences around school/job/risking deportation. Never have I had blessings just drop in my lap and see things go my way so effortlessly, and I am so glad God brought me onto a "mountaintop" to teach me about his character- how much He sees and cares about the pain I carry, how powerfully He redeems in his perfect timing. 3 things I experienced:

Repentance: realizing the log in my own eye for holding things against my dad for so long. Yes, he did sin, but I've sinned too in holding onto unforgiveness for so long and it's ultimately on me to let go.

Redemption: I feel like I experience this every day. Two of my biggest blockers to healing (my hardened heart + lack of a green card) were resolved within days of each other. I felt seen by God- I knew that all the furious, frustrated prayers I lifted up in the past were heard, and this was His plan all along to tie it together in a crucial moment like this. Letting go felt like something I could never do myself, but these signs from God reassured me that He is behind all of this and helps me to do what I can never do on my own (just like how Jesus came to die for our sins and restore our relationship with God, something we never could've accomplished ourselves). I'm constantly reminded of God's love, goodness, presence and power.

Resurrection: the final step in the process was in October, when I visited home and got to celebrate dad's 65th birthday in person. My heart was different this time around- I actually wanted to keep the conversation going in the car and asked about his life, I wanted to do something special with him on his birthday (went fishing together where I caught my first fish!), and I wanted to love him the way I love everyone else around me (baking him a cake!). At long last, I felt lightness as I found myself finally able to put aside the anger, hate and resentment I've carried all these years and instead can receive God's blessings in a relationship with my dad. It's been so healing to share with friends as well, who affirm the growth and new 'softness' in me and encourage me to continue stepping out in faith (need to push myself every day to not retreat back into the old life).

Here I am in November, having had the most emotional year of my life. It hasn't been easy, but the hope that God is working and drawing me into more of His light and grace has kept me going. I'm excited to continue claiming His promises and victories, to move on from my winter season into a blossoming spring and eventually/hopefully bear much fruit when I reach summer. Currently in a season of reframing my past and learning to see past wounds that held me back are soooo small in the context of how big and great God is. Two of my favorite verses that I continue to hold onto:

John 10:10 The thief comes only to steal and kill and destroy; I have come that they may have life, and have it to the full

Deuteronomy 31:8 The Lord himself goes before you and will be with you; he will never leave you nor forsake you. Do not be afraid; do not be discouraged.

Looking to next year, I want to remind myself any steps I take forward into dating is bravery and progress, and I have to show myself grace. Also, I am tired of holding back! And this is the year for my choices to reflect my hopes and not my fears! I have nothing to lose! This is a learning opportunity to grow in a severely under-developed area of my life! Need to continue praying for humility and courage to stay the course, but I’m happy I can finally move onward rooted in love and hope instead of fear and doubt.

With each new year in the past, I've always made goals to be "stronger." Physically, I wanted to run and bike more miles. Spiritually, I wanted to grow in my knowledge of the Word and memorize verses. Professionally, I wanted to get promoted and keep on climbing the corporate ladder. It was always growth, growth, growth. I prided myself on strength, independence, and my ability to navigate the world on my own. And while this is great, I am realizing there are other ways to live. I liked to be strong so I can brace for impact, feel protected by my own strength and the walls I've built. But today, I learned about cats falling from high buildings (lol) and how they're able to survive because they can relax in the air and turn themselves around to land on their feet. I don't always have to be hardened and strong to keep moving forward, I can be soft and miraculously absorb the impact and continue on my way.

#cats

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searidings · 3 years

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Lena definitely just lets Jess walk into her office without knocking and that has definitely led to her walking in on Lena in Supergirl’s arms

Jessica Hoang’s job pays well.

Like, really well. Like, buy-your-mother-a-new-Valentino-purse-every-Christmas well. Surprise-your-boyfriend-with-a-trip-to-the-Bahamas well. Rub-your-success-in-your-high-school-nemeses’-face-at-the-reunion-but-like-in-a-classy-way well.

And it’s not that it’s exactly unreasonable. Being Lena Luthor’s assistant is no cake walk. Jess has been shot at. She’s been almost blown up on more than one occasion. She’s worked all the hours god sends and then some. Hell, she’s got the chief detective of NCPD’s major crimes unit on speed dial.

She has, at various times and with varying degrees of success, played the roles of bodyguard, nutritionist, nurse, therapist, and drinking buddy. She’s seen Lena in every shade and hue of human emotion; coaxed her through crisis after crisis with warm words and a kind smile and never once let her miss a meeting.

So, Jess doesn’t really mind accepting the generous salary. Has even made peace with the borderline obscene bonuses Lena likes to toss her way around Christmas, or her birthday, or any time Jess introduces her to a new kale recipe.

She’s not arrogant, but she’s not prone to under-selling herself either. She knows Lena values her, knows she’s integral to keeping L-Corp’s CEO afloat and thus, to the running of the whole operation. And more than that, she knows her own worth. Takes pride in the work she does.

So she’ll take the paycheck, and the late nights and the missed meals and all the other things that come part and parcel with employment in National City’s most conspicuous company.

And if those other things come to include a front row ticket to the tragicomedy of her boss’ relationship with a certain blonde reporter, so be it. She’s not about to quit, after all. Once she’d gotten a taste of sleeping on Egyptian cotton bed sheets, there was no going back.

It started with the unrestricted office access.

Actually, it started when Lena allergic-to-the-press Luthor first asked her to put in a call to the biggest news outlet in town to request a private meeting with one of their junior reporters, but Jess lets that one slide.

(She’s got her own hunk of a man to go home to every night, yet even she’s not immune to Miss Danvers’ button down and slacks combo, to her earnest blue eyes and eager charm. Lena can’t be blamed for falling under that spell, nor for the hypnotic allure of the muscles straining beneath those demure cardigans. She’s only human, after all.)

But adding Kara Danvers to the list of people to be waved straight into her boss’ office with no checks – or rather, creating said list, which to this day consists of precisely one name – was what really sealed the deal. It was portentous in every sense of the word, a harbinger of what was to come.

Since that fateful day, Jess has seen more of Lena and Kara’s relationship than she’s sure any of the three of them would ideally prefer.

At first, it was the interviews. They’d been fishy enough in themselves; sure, Lena Luthor is objectively interesting. But three separate articles in the span of two weeks? No one’s that interesting.

After the interviews, it was the lunch dates. The first time she’d interrupted one of those she’d almost fallen over her own feet in shock. The sight of Lena Luthor – the same Lena Luthor that Jess had, on more than one occasion, needed to actively bribe into ingesting anything other than espresso and scotch in a fourteen hour workday – licking burger grease off her fingers and happy as a clam, had thrown her off for the whole rest of the day.

(Lena had long since instructed Jess to just stick her head into her office without knocking if she needed her. “Things can go to hell far too quickly around here to waste time with buzzers and intercoms,” she’d said with a self-deprecating smile.

If only Jess had known then what she knows now, she might have put up more of a fight on that front.)

The lunch dates had gotten longer, and more frequent, and decidedly more intimate. A year after the reporter’s first appearance at L-Corp it had become commonplace for Jess to walk into her boss’ office to find the two of them slanted close together on the couch, Lena’s heels discarded, her stockinged feet tucked beneath the blonde’s thigh.

Then, Kara started showing up at 7pm to drag Lena away from her desk at a reasonable hour. Started dropping by on her way to Catco before work too, fumbling coffees and pastries in her blushing grip.

(She always brought a latte for Jess along with Lena’s regular order. Of all the developments, that was certainly one of the most welcome.)

She got to know Kara, as the years went on. Was pleased to discover that she truly was as delightful as she seemed. And it was nice to finally have an ally in her ongoing battle to regulate her boss’ shockingly unhealthy work habits. She and Kara could tag-team their efforts, trading off caffeine duty and playing bad cop to get Lena to leave the office before midnight. It meant that Jess had finally, occasionally, gotten a day off.

It didn’t escape her notice that Kara was always there on the bad days. She showed up like clockwork after every ruthless smear campaign against L-Corp, every stock market plummet, every assassination attempt. She would enter the office to find Lena crying and she would leave with the dark haired woman tucked securely against her side, if not smiling then at least calm. At least hopeful.

And Kara was there on the good days, too. The mergers and the product launches and the prototype successes; she celebrated every one of Lena’s triumphs as if they were her own. And Lena, Lena lit up when Kara was around. Bloomed like a rare flower beneath the megawatt glare of Kara’s sunshine devotion.

Her boss never said so in so many words, nor did Jess ever walk in on anything directly incriminating. But it was clear to anyone with eyes exactly what was happening between the two women, exactly where it would lead.

And then one day, Kara wasn’t there anymore.

The effect was as obvious as it was immediate.

Lena started coming in early and staying late, if she left the office at all. She barely ate. Her face was pale and drawn, and Jess would often enter her office to find her boss’ eyes red-rimmed.

It became glaringly, painfully obvious that without Kara dropping by at all hours of the day and night, no one was coming to visit Lena.

Her boss became closed-off and withdrawn, more so even than when Jess had first started at L-Corp. Gone were their weekly gossip sessions about the crotchety old men Lena couldn’t yet oust from the company’s board. Gone was her boss’ openness about her own life or her interest in Jess’, her frequent requests for photos of her cats or updates on the master’s in computer science she was studying for in the evenings evaporating into thin air.

Lena did not want to talk about it. Jess was informed of this emphatically and repeatedly whenever she would tentatively reach out, and slowly she stopped trying.

The closest they ever came to acknowledging the elephant in the room was the night of L-Corp’s annual fundraiser at the Luthor Children’s Hospital. Once the gala was over, Jess had run back to the office to drop off the donation paperwork in the company safe only to notice a faint light beneath Lena’s office door.

She’d entered to find Lena hunched on the floor of her private bathroom, heels kicked off and hair falling out of its intricate updo, mascara streaking her cheeks as she sobbed into her hands. Jess hadn’t hesitated for even a second before sinking down beside her.

Wrapping a secure arm around her boss’ shoulders and smoothing the flyaway hairs from her flushed face, she’d tried her best to convey the support and reassurance that Lena had so consistently shown to her. But the young woman had brushed off her platitudes even as the tears had continued to fall.

“It’s not okay,” she’d hiccupped against Jess’ shoulder, the scotch evident on her breath. “She’s gone. I won’t ever get her back.”

And that’s all she would say on the matter. Eventually, the tears had dried up and the exhaustion had set in and Jess had chaperoned her all the way back to her apartment and into bed.

Lena had shown up for work the next day in a pair of oversize aviators, clinging to her triple shot extra-large americano like a lifeline. She’d dropped a latte on Jess’ desk with a rueful smile, and that had been that. They never talked about it again.

That whole dark period only cemented the strong protective streak Jess had been cultivating over her boss ever since the very first attempt on her life.

It’s just that Lena is strong, and smart as hell and unfailingly kind and utterly undeserving of the punishment the world keeps foisting on her for her family’s sins. And worse, she’s not prepared to fight back. She just accepts it, internalises the hatred and the burden and the blame and Jess cannot, will not watch it happen. So sue her if she’s a little hyper-vigilant, a little possessive.

And so when Kara Danvers had shown up again one unassuming Tuesday, Jess intercepted her trajectory at Lena’s office door with narrowed eyes and a suspicious glare.

It must have been effective – she’d learned from stone cold boardroom killer Lena Luthor, after all – because the reporter shrank back a little beneath the force of her stare. Kara cleared her throat nervously and Jess had been a split second from launching into a what are your intentions with my girl speech ripped straight from a bad 1980s teen movie when the door opened behind her and Lena appeared.

“It’s fine, Jess,” her boss murmured and she had, reluctantly, stepped aside to let the blonde pass. Not before fixing Kara Danvers with one last pointed glare, though. If Lena wasn’t going to protect herself then Jess would just have to do it for her.

But there was no shouting, no screaming, no audible arguments. And when the blonde left a half hour later and Jess stuck her head through the office door to very unsubtly check on Lena’s wellbeing, there was no trace of red-rimmed eyes or tear stains. Lena simply offered up a small smile, a soft smile and once again, that appeared to be that.

Slowly, Kara Danvers became a regular fixture in L-Corp again, alongside the fancy espresso machines in every break room and the ever-present whiff of soldered metal.

Jess remained wary, a fact which did not seem to go unnoticed by the reporter. In fact, Kara redoubled her efforts to win her over, including new pastries and other sweet treats with the lattes she still regularly delivered.

“I can’t be bought, you know,” Jess had said once, taking the offered apricot Danish anyway. Her loyalty wasn’t up for auction, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t capitalise on the spoils of a bidding war.

Kara had only smiled sadly. “I know. I’m glad.” At Jess’ inquisitive stare she’d just shaken her head, reaching up to adjust her glasses. “I’m glad she has you.”

Jess had hmphed rather ungracefully, licking a stray flake of pastry from the end of her finger. She may have broken her boss’ heart, but no one could deny that Kara Danvers had great taste in desserts.

“I’m not looking for her forgiveness. Or yours,” Kara had continued, so surprising that Jess had inhaled a healthy gulp of latte directly into her lung. The reporter had waited until she’d finished spluttering before she continued. “I don’t deserve it. But for what it’s worth, she has me, too. Again, I mean. For as long as she wants me.”

Jess had narrowed her eyes, searching for any trace of insincerity in that earnest, handsome face. Finding none, her feelings toward the reporter had at last settled somewhere in the ballpark of grudging respect.

And there they’ve remained. She still watches the blonde carefully, still keeps a wary eye out for any sign that things may crumble into dust again. But Kara is true to her word. She shows up, she keeps showing up, and she sticks around.

And slowly, achingly slowly, the light comes back to Lena’s eyes.

It’s just another regular unassuming Tuesday when everything shifts again.

Kara Danvers hasn’t yet shown up for lunch and her boss’ conference call was scheduled to have ended a half hour ago, and this stack of expense reports desperately needs Lena’s signature so Jess doesn’t bother knocking as she shoulders open the office door.

A lesser assistant might have shrieked. They’d definitely have dropped the gargantuan stack of reports all over the floor. But Jessica Hoang was trained by Lena Luthor herself. She’s got dignity and composure for days.

Even so, it takes every ounce of poise she can muster not to let out so much as a squeak at the sight of her boss hovering a solid five feet above the floor of her office, enveloped tightly in the arms of a fully kitted and caped Supergirl.

It’s an unavoidably intimate embrace. Lena’s stockinged feet perch lightly on the toes of the hero’s red boots, her arms wrapped snug around the Kryptonian’s neck. Their foreheads are pressed together and they’re just gazing into one another’s eyes, Supergirl’s arms slung low around Lena’s waist as she drifts them in lazy mid-air circles.

For one horrible, stomach-churning moment Jess is faced with the mind-boggling possibility that her boss is, for all intents and purposes, cheating on her reporter gal pal with the city’s superpowered sweetheart.

But equanimity isn’t the only talent she’s picked up from Lena. Her problem solving skills aren’t bad either, or so her boyfriend is fond of grumbling when she steals the Sunday crossword out from under his nose.

Jess uses the split second before they react to her presence to appraise the scene with a critical eye.

At this proximity, there’s something decidedly familiar about those blue eyes and flowing golden locks. But the real clincher doesn’t end up coming from Supergirl at all. It’s the softness in her boss’ expression, the gentle slant of her features and the unguarded love in her eyes in the brief moment before she registers the interruption that really seals the deal.

Jess has, after all, seen Lena in every shade and hue of human emotion. The list of people her boss would look at like that, much like the list of people with unrestricted access to her office, consists of precisely one name.

Two heads snap towards her in perfect tandem, two jaws hitting the floor in quick succession. Lena gasps and shoves herself away from Supergirl like the woman has suddenly become radioactive, apparently forgetting that she’s not currently abiding by the laws of terrestrial gravity and almost plummeting five feet to the ground.

She’s saved by the hero’s lightning fast reflexes, strong arms snapping out to catch her around the waist and pulling their bodies snugly back together into an embrace somehow even more intimate than the original.

Jess smirks. Lena’s cheeks are redder than she’s ever seen them as Supergirl floats them both gently back to the ground. “This isn’t— we were just— she’s not—” Lena tries half-heartedly as the superhero shuffles her feet at her side, blushing like a chastised schoolgirl.

Jess bites the inside of her cheek, calling upon every last shred of her professionalism to keep from laughing. “Your two o’clock is here,” she says gently, gracing her boss with a genuine smile. Jess may be proud of her own bullish protectiveness in front of others, but she’s a simple girl at heart. If Lena’s happy, she’s happy.

Both women are still staring at her slack-jawed. It appears no response is forthcoming any time soon.

Jess decides to put them out of their misery. “Just buzz when you want me to send him in, Miss Luthor. Miss Danvers,” she nods in acknowledgment as she ducks quickly back out of the room. Not quick enough, though, to miss the choked sounds of shock from behind her, nor the heated stage-whisper of how does she know, Lena? that follows her out of the door.

Jess shakes her head. And she doesn’t even have superhearing.

Lena Luthor has many strengths but subtlety, apparently, is not one of them.

That’s the conclusion Jess has no choice but to land on as she stares down at her phone. The extra 10k that has materialised in her bank account without warning or explanation could hardly be more obvious if it had come with the payee reference hush money right there in black and white.

Well. If Jess hadn’t been sure before, she certainly is now.

She shakes her head fondly. As if she would ever sell out her boss on anything, much less on what is very clearly a matter of the heart.

After all these years working together, she knows Lena trusts her. But she can also picture clear as day the scene that must have transpired in the office behind her just moments ago. Lena and Kara, panicking about being discovered. Lena falling back into her Luthor conditioning, deciding to clean up the mess by throwing money at it. The instant regret as she realises she’s just confirmed that there is in fact something to be covered up.

For a certified genius, her boss sure can be dense.

Jess chuckles. Taps out of her banking app and pulls up her messages. Your super secret’s safe with me she types, grinning. I’ve never told a soul that you were drunk as a skunk at the annual board meeting three years ago, and that was without a single dollar in bribes. Why would this be any different?

Hitting send, she swears she actually hears the sigh of relief her boss lets out despite the three inches of solid oak door separating them. She shakes her head again, biting her lip.

I’m happy for you, Lena she sends, warm affection swelling in her chest. Smiles when her screen lights up a moment later with a single red heart.

She locks her phone and squares her shoulders. Skims a critical eye over the weekly schedule she already knows by heart. Ushers in Lena’s two o’clock at her boss’ signal and settles back at her desk. Pulls up a new browser tab and searches up the cost of last-minute flights to the Maldives.

Just because Lena’s hush money was unnecessary, that doesn’t mean it can’t be put to good use.

#not me writing an entire one shot from the pov of a character who's had 12 seconds screen time max #alternate title: jess the secretary finds out kara danvers is supergirl #and honestly she's over it #supercorp #minific #lena luthor #kara danvers #jess the secretary #also on ao3 if that's your jam!#dings dot txt

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wh6res · 3 years

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three's a crowd | nomin

synopsis. picking favorites is impossible when you like neither of them.

warning. read at your own risk. abuse, bullying, poly relationship, yandere themes, manipulation, nonconsensual touching, noncon, degradation, smut threesome oop

disclaimer. i do not condone whatever tf i wrote in this nor does it reflect my beliefs or values or morals and such. it is all pure fiction and i also dont think jaemin or jeno would act like this in real life.

note. this was meant to be a new year's gift lmao i obviously got a lil carried away 👀 anyway a late happy new year to you all! we survived 2020, let's start living in 2021, yeah? lmao if covid lets us grr mwah!

the relationship you had with the two of them was a weird one, bordering on taboo, but it wasn't as if you willfully chose to be who they wanted you to be and it took jaemin's unwanted pining and jeno's intimidating demeanor for you to fall right into their arms.

it was a joint effort on their part, you couldn't've possibly stood a chance.

"this many?" the cashier asked. "are you sure?"

stepping back and studying the whole situation, you figured you only had your addiction to caffeine and procrastination to blame. it was a chain reaction you didn't even know will lead up to your inevitable doom.

if you hadn't been slacking off during your first semester of junior year college, you wouldn't be forced to overwork yourself trying to catch up to the looming deadlines, but to be able to 'work yourself to the bone' you need your boost of energy… and that was when you met one of them.

"uhm," you scratch the back of your head sheepishly as you eye the six glass bottles of iced coffee. sure, it looks bad and you kinda appreciate the look of concern the cashier throws your way but it was none of his business.

"yes. now could you, like, you know… hurry up? i'm in a little bit of a time crunch right now."

screw it. although you hardly snap like that with other people on a daily basis, it'll be a whole different conversation if you were under a significant amount of stress and today, unfortunately, is one of those days.

now can he just fucking stop asking questions and give you your six bottles of death drink to keep your fucking brain going so you can pass an eight-page essay tomorrow? thank you very much!

the guy snickered, the beeping sound of a barcode being read sounding a thousand times more annoying than it usually sounds as he keeps his hand busy by punching your items out.

you fail to notice how he studies you through the gaps of his lashes, finding you interesting rather than threatening as you stood before him with your messy hair and oversized hoodie.

"haven't seen you around university grounds 'till today," he tries striking another conversation with you. "you new? i'm jaemin."

this was your first mistake, you shouldn't have been so… downright rude when you met him. if you were granted the miracle of meeting him a 2nd time, you would've acted more nice, throwing yourself at his feet even to blend in with the rest of his fangirls you didn't even know about at the time. you would've done anything to make sure he never gives you a second glance, to never pique his interest.

jaemin is the pep squad captain. flying over colored blue mats and doing tumblings in the air with no ounce of fear. he was the best in his team, that much was evident when your friend dragged you into watching a pep rally practice. his landings were clean, balanced, and executed to the best he can at all times.

no wonder he was popular, his talent is outstanding and his looks are a bonus. his killer combo of a smile and wink after pulling off a tough flip is enough to send them squealing in their seats.

he spotted you that day and since then, he snuck the quickest glances at the bench during practices. recognizing you as the coffee girl he met during his convenience store shift. jaemin tries not to let his disappointment show too much when he doesn't see you, but of course, a pair of cold calculating eyes could see right through him.

"i saw that," his boyfriend said, hand darting forward to hold jaemin's gym bag for him. "you kept looking at the crowd. do you want to see her that much?"

"but she reminds me so much of you, jeno!" he retorts, pouting at the slight grumpy tone the other boy used. "i can't help it. she doesn't seem to give a fuck around me so she's quite interesting. maybe she can even be a great addition to our relationship!"

"well," jeno replies after a beat of silence, plastering a small smirk on his face before slinging an arm around jaemin's shoulder.

"convince me?"

you don't like jaemin's attention. not in the slightest. and it seems that was enough reason for the reign of terror his little fanclub has subjected you too.

it wasn't the petty elementary forms of bullying like pulling at your hair or calling you names. they pale in comparison to the other things they do to you—beating you up, messing with your homework, "accidentally" dumping their food trays on you.

and you weren't stupid.

you knew exactly who was behind it, knew how jaemin spectates the whole thing from afar so that he can swoop in at the end to play your knight in shining armor.

"oh, you poor thing. do you need help?"

the first time you accepted his "help" you ended up in a supply closet near the gym during your free period, cornered and weak as your cries for help drowns under the squeaking of shoes and the booming sounds of rubber balls hitting the floor.

if it weren't for jeno appearing out of thin air and prying the boy off of you, you would've been painted blue and red from the death grip he had on your wrist, neck, and waist.

you can still remember feeling the soreness of your scalp from when he pulled your hair too hard. remembered feeling his teeth gnawing at your lips as if he wanted to tear them off.

that time hadn't been the first time you saw jeno. you've shared a few classes with him and it strikes you how polar opposites they are with one another.

while jaemin likes to bask in his professor and classmates' recognition by confidently reciting his answers, jeno would rather keep to himself. liked sitting at the last row, near the window, so he'd be the first to go once the professor ends their lecture. while jaemin loved the attention of his fangirls, jeno preferred solitude. while jaemin is impulsive and wild, jeno liked to think things through.

it was within these reasons that you decided to do what you did. but your judgement of character has never been more wrong.

you approached jeno one day in the library, tried to make yourself appear as stoic and confident as possible. but your constant slouching and averting eyes was a dead giveaway.

you came to talk to him about what jaemin has been doing, hoping there's one person left in this entire school that isn't under the cheer captain's trance. the one reasonable person that has already saved you once and (hopefully) is willing enough to save you again. the only one that probably has a certain level of control over jaemin, if the supply closet incident is anything to go by.

but you've overestimated lee jeno.

"you should've just given jaemin what he wanted."

"but—but aren't you two lovers? isn't it bothering you?"

you try baiting him, only for an uncomfortable shiver to start crawling down your spine when he chuckled humorlessly, pushing his school materials to the side while pinning you with an unreadable stare.

how can a person make someone feel so small just by a gaze alone? it was nothing like you've felt with jaemin. this is way worse.

"the only thing that's bothering me is why you're not ours yet."

you feel cold fingers creeping their way under your shirt, going higher and higher until it brushes against your bra. and when your eyes meet, the look on his face was unmistakable—what are you going to do about it, huh?

you stood up in lightning speed, the chair you've been sitting on scraping loudly against the floor.

you've never ran out as fast as you did.

and jeno swears it'll be the last.

you tried everything in your power to ignore them for the next following weeks but it soon became useless when the two boys took it upon themselves to give you your space.

although judging by the pinpricks you feel on your back, and the constant weight of a stare you feel on your shoulders, you knew they weren't done with you yet. far from it. and for some reason, you just knew they wanted to lull you into a false sense of security first before striking again.

and while they continued to ogle at you from afar like a hawk circling its prey in a desert, you took it upon yourself to return the favor. not because you were the slightest bit interested in those creeps but maybe, just maybe, if you look hard enough you'll find a way out, a weakness.

but what you realized made your insides churn in great discomfort—although it may seem that jeno holds the reins in the relationship since his reserved nature fits the role, it's actually the other way around.

jaemin might appear too self-centered, too focused on himself to give a fuck about his surroundings but in actuality, he has quite a knack for reading people. even more so than jeno. and it was scary how he used it to his advantage, and paired up with his devoted fangirls? it was hell on earth.

you found it alarming how the two seem to magically appear wherever you are.

although you weren't in the least bit surprised. for some reason, you can't take your eyes away when jaemin's devotees flock around him (and jeno) in a circle.

it almost reminds you of a shoal of piranhas, waiting for their meal to drop into the water before ripping it to shreds with their teeth. only their "meal" isn't actual flesh but the carefully crafted words jaemin says that drive them into a sick frenzy.

one that has them doing everything in their power to satisfy him like the loyal dogs they are.

so this was how he got them to bully you?

"oh, that? don't worry! yangyang just ran into me during cheer rehearsal. no biggie. my cheek stung a little bit, though…" is what he said but really he's telling them "scruff him up a bit for me, why don't ya?"

"of course, i can't be the best all the time. haechan is just too good, maybe even better than me…" is what he said but really he's telling them "can you remind him where his place should be?"

all the while jeno did nothing to hold him back.

no matter how wrong jaemin is, how much of an asshole he is, jeno will stick by his side through and through. so as much as jaemin is a puppeteer that gets a kick for controlling people, jeno is as much at fault for looking the other way.

because in jeno's perspective, why the fuck would he do shit when he can just get off from the entertainment that comes with jaemin's sweet little mind games?

we lost :(

you had been busy sorting through paperwork for one of your professors in the faculty when your friend texted you the results of the intercollegiate cheer dance competition. a frown paints your face, heart feeling heavy at the bad news.

in all honesty, you still supported the pep squad—you just hated the captain and his boyfriend. they've been practicing non-stop for this and prior to the weeks of the competition, jeno looked a lot more tense and jaemin less smiley than usual. you swore you even saw the latter snap at one of his fangirls.

not to mention, they paid less attention to you, too, and it was the best three weeks of your life.

tension starts rising in your shoulders, fingers absentmindedly running through the edge of the papers you had been sorting until you became immersed with your thoughts.

jaemin must be in the worst mood yet.

and jeno too, probably. if anything, that guy gets triggered the most when something bad happens to jaemin or when he catches snippets of people talking shit about his oh so "perfect" boyfriend.

jeno is a lot scarier when jaemin is in one of his mood swings, you noticed. he steps up in the relationship to offer comfort to the other boy and for outsiders? it isn't a great experience to go through—being on the receiving end of jeno's ice cold stare is a position you don't want to find yourself in after that time in the library.

he is still as much a threat to your peaceful life like his lover.

you snap out of it when the blinding headlights of a vehicle seep through the closed blinds. you hear the gentle hum of an engine switching off as the headlights vanished as quick as they had appeared. that must be the cheer squad's bus.

as you look around the empty faculty room, something in your gut tells you to ditch file sorting duty for professor kim tonight and fucking get the hell out of campus grounds as quick as you can.

after haphazardly throwing the unsorted papers back into the cabinet, you groan aloud when the keys to the office drop out of your skirt’s pocket.

the indoor gym where the cheering squad practices is right across the hallway. you sure as hell don't want to bump into jaemin. or jeno, too, if he had decided to ride along the cheer squad's bus on the way home.

you kept looking for the keys underneath the cubicles, cursing aloud when you heard the telltale squeaks of shoes rubbing against linoleum. you almost hit your head against a table when you quickly got back up your feet, darting forward to shut the lights for the faculty room.

they can't know you're here. alone. and if it meant sitting in the dark for a few hours 'till they leave, meant going back home a little later than usual is what you have to do then so be it.

you try not to react so violently when the door you're leaning on jolts when someone from outside slams their back against it.

"it's not like we didn't do our best, right guys? i don't have regrets. it might sound fucking cheesy and although i'm sad myself, atleast we did what we can."

it's jaemin. his voice clear as day.

you try peaking, craning your neck up from your place on the floor. only to see the back of his head leaning against the glass section of the door. someone else joins in on the conversation, followed by coach park himself, and you slowly tune out whatever they're saying as you stealthily start scanning the faculty room.

you curse under your breath. is there no other exit other than this door? jesus christ! even classrooms in this university had two doors—

"what are you doing here?"

the switch flickers on, basking the once dark room with light. only when you hear an echo of your name being called, did you snap out of it and quickly picked yourself up from the floor.

"i said, what are you doing here?"

their coach asks, drilling the question as he looks at you skeptically with his arms crossed. you try not to look at the people behind him.

particularly, not at his cheer captain standing on his right.

particularly, not at jeno, who stands out like a sore thumb with his blue hair, a protective arm snaked around jaemin’s shoulders.

this isn't your lucky day, too, you guess.

"i was…" you cursed yourself for stuttering. "i was, uhm, i was file sorting for prof—professor kim, sir."

coach park looked like he didn't believe you as he narrowed his eyes in scrutiny. your nerves are going haywire and you can feel the sharp pins of their stare with how close they are.

you kept juggling your weight with the balls of your feet, hands fisting and unfisting behind your back. you want to leave. you have to leave.

"file sorting… in the dark?" he asked incredulously.

fuck this.

"uhm, you can ask professor kim himself tomorrow, coach. for now, uh, i'll be going now. i'm sorry you guys lost…"

originally, the exit is on the right side, at the end of the hallway. but no, you are not going to pass by those two while on your way out so you ducked behind a random student standing on the coach's left instead and practically ran away from the scene.

everyone had been too busy. too busy looking at your retreating form to even notice jaemin and jeno exchanging glances, too busy to notice the latter untangling himself from their captain to slip away unnoticed, his hurried steps filled with a burning purpose.

you didn't know why you ran, but you did. your shoes practically booming against the floor as you sped away through darkened hallways. you're sweating profusely, heart hammering in your chest. you can worry about professor kim tomorrow but right now you just had to—

"why are you in such a rush, pet?"

crashing into jeno felt like crashing into a wall. if it hadn't been for his arm quickly wrapping around your waist, then you would've landed on your butt before him.

with the small distance between the two of you, jeno could see as clear as day through your eyes.

jaemin was right.

it was addicting to stare into them.

especially when he can see every single one of your thoughts flying through your pretty little head. but hey, it wasn't their fault you were so easy to read.

jeno barely conceals the wicked smirk on his lips when your hands come up to his chest, trying to push him away but to no avail.

he can see your eyes shifting from shock, to confusion, until it finally settles on fear—to which it's slowly becoming a favorite emotion of his to see on your face.

"you know, jaemin is in a really shitty mood right now. and we were wondering, maybe you can cheer us up?"

no. this can't be happening.

"jeno, please." your dilated eyes and disheveled hair made his blood run south. "let me go. you don't want me. you don't need a third party in your relationship."

you yelp when he lets you go, literally shoving you against a wall—which you found out is actually a door, as it swings open as soon as your body crashes against it.

with jeno looming unforgivingly before you in his full height, the tears stung extra hard but you won't let them fall.

if he wanted to bask in the image of your weakness then it'll be something you'll deprive from him for as long as you can.

"i don't need a stupid bitch like you to tell me what i feel." he scoffs. "don't fucking kid yourself, you little whore—i don't want you. i'm not jaemin."

the echo of the classroom door shutting closed surged through you like a wake up call.

this is really happening.

you've always led a decent life, had done nothing too questionable and you've always thought maybe life will spare you if you lived quietly enough. but the feel of jeno's freezing hands crawling against your skin felt like life itself had spat at you in the eye and left you to rot in a ditch.

"i've always liked how you wore skirts," he comments. playing with the ruffled hem of the soft fabric as he purposely grazed his knuckles against your supple thighs. "gives me easy access, don't you agree?"

you scream when he flips your skirt up to reveal the innocent pink of your cotton panties. it was as if a switch had flipped inside of you and the will to fight started coursing through your veins.

"stop! jeno! i don't want this!"

his brows furrow, grunting as he struggles to push the waistline of your skirt up higher with how much you're thrashing underneath him. you buck your hips, tried curling in on yourself, anything to prolong what he wants to do to you.

with your legs trapped underneath his, you blindly reach forward, relying on your upper body instead to push and scratch whatever your palms and nails reached.

you continue screaming like a banshee until he shoved two fingers into your wet cavern.

"stop fighting me," he sounded strained, as if he's holding himself back. you feel him fisting the fabric of your skirt and you fear he's simply going to rip it apart.

you tried responding to him, only the sound had been muffled, gurgled by the flat of his fingers pushing down against your tongue mercilessly. when you reach forward to push him away, your hands land on the apple of his cheeks, nails digging through skin.

until it slips and—

you lie rigid when red scratch marks in the size of your fingernails slowly appear on jeno's skin, his head turned to the side as he paused. your actions slowly start sinking in to him as he shuts his eyes and bit his lip 'till it looked like it was about to bleed.

oh no.

"jeno—"

the slap he planted on your cheek left your ears ringing. all those hard earned muscles of his put to good use—if the tears hadn't fallen for the last few minutes, then it definitely started falling now.

the hit had been so strong, a few of your hair flew astray, the buzzing feeling of your skin tempting you to reach a hand up to soothe your abused cheek.

until jeno let out a low growl and your hand immediately drops limp against your body, afraid of whatever else he can do to you other than a slap.

"that's more like it," he whispers under his breath. you let out the tiniest of whimpers when his hand darts forward to fist your hair. "do you know what happens to bad girls? they fucking get busted up. do you understand me?"

his patience is nonexistent.

jeno slams your head against the floor when you don't answer because you thought his question had been rhetorical. it felt like your skull had been split in two as you wail in pain.

"are you fucking deaf—i asked you a fucking question!"

the hand that cups your jaw is painful as he squeezed your cheek with his blunt nails. your hand shoots up to wrap around his wrist, silently pleading for him to let up as you sobbed out loud. you started nodding as best as you can despite his firm grip on your face.

your reply was nothing short of pathetic. with lips forcefully pursed and the steady stream of your tears and snot rolling down your face, your response is gargled and hardly incoherent and jeno seemed to thoroughly enjoy your anguish if the condescending curl on his lips is anything to go by.

"look at you," he whispers, his face coming close to yours as he holds you down. there was something in the way jeno stared so intently that it made your skin crawl.

"i think you're prettiest when ruined like this."

with his nose touching yours, he felt too close, bordering on intimate as you felt his hand creep back up your thighs, trailing up with feather-like touches that made goosebumps appear on your skin.

you tried wiggling your legs underneath him but one sharp look from jeno is enough to make you stop.

the hand holding your face moves. coming down from gripping your face to encircling his hand around your neck.

"do you like it when i touch you? freaky bitch."

his hands trail further up, up, up until you felt him slotting a finger underneath your panties.

jeno didn't like how frozen you were underneath him as he pulls at the hem before letting go. the elastic snapping back against your skin.

the action evokes a strong feeling through the young male, promising to have you writhing and screaming and begging because by the end of all this, you'll be so needy and frustrated that you will have no choice but to give in to what your body wanted.

"jeno, didn't i tell you to play nice?"

someone stands by the door, the minimal light from the hallway creating a silhouette with his form but you knew who he was. that deep voice, with the same annoying flippant tone, is a dead giveaway.

you didn't know why you even hoped in the beginning. as if there'll be someone who can save you from these two.

you thought the flash of hurt in your eyes was quick to disappear but jeno noticed it quicker.

in a span of seconds, he pulled you up from your position from the ground and tugged you towards his lap. you haven't even gotten the time to settle on your new position when he already smashed his lips against yours.

it was messy. too much saliva. too much teeth. no tenderness to it at all.

the fabric of his jeans felt rough, not to mention the ice cold belt buckle made you severely uncomfortable as it seeps through the thin fabric of your skirt.

when you attempt to hover over his lap, jeno grunts as he snakes an arm around your waist, pulling you back down without your lips breaking away from each other. you didn't know why he let out a whine, but you understood the moment you fully sat down on his lap and you felt a tent on his jeans hitting your clothed entrance perfectly.

in a normal circumstance, you would've found everything hot and might've actually gotten off from it but not when it's him who’s doing this to you and you didn’t consent to any of this.

you start squirming again. palms lying flat against jeno's chest as you attempt to push him away and jaemin sees this as the opportune moment to slot himself behind you, caging you in between them.

“i want my turn,” he hisses and without an ounce of hesitation, jeno stops to do what he's told.

jaemin doesn't waste any second to grab your face, awkwardly craning your neck up to meet his lips in the same feverish kiss.

while jeno had been all teeth and aggression, practically forcing you to open your mouth and kiss him back, jaemin on the other hand is more soft, more romantic, you daresay. he seemed to like taking his sweet time by clutching your face, kissing you like he actually meant it.

he pulls away slightly, resting his forehead against yours as he murmurs something incoherent under his breath and then he's kissing you again.

you think you heard something along the lines of, "finally."

you've been too distracted by jaemin to notice jeno's nimble fingers quickly fumbling with the buttons of your blouse. it was only when you feel the sensation of his tongue laving against the swell of your breast did you turn away from jaemin, jerking backward in surprise.

"no—!"

your scream is cut off by a hand cupping your mouth. jaemin pulls your back towards his chest, molding your body against his as jeno licked and suckled all he wanted, thankful to have the other boy there to not worry about restraining you and keeping you quiet while he has his fun.

"ah, ah, ah," jaemin teases, going hard over the pleading and teary look you sent his way. it looked pathetic, he wasn't going to lie, but it doesn't mean he didn't love it. "just keep still and appreciate jeno's efforts to take care of you, alright baby?"

you don't like how he talked as if this was all a mutual thing, how he talked slowly like you were some toddler who didn't understand anything.

it's cruel how jaemin giggled and basked in your vulnerable state as he kept his eyes pinned on you while undoing the zipper of your skirt. your muffled cries of his name only serving to egg him on.

the way he stared was similar to jeno, too intently and intrusive, like he wants to burn your image of despair in the back of his head.

you whined involuntarily when jeno got bored of all the licking and thus decided to start biting and nipping at your chest instead. he was hypnotised by how responsive you were, how every little bite and nibble made you shudder.

it was a shame that jaemin had to cover your mouth. he didn't get to hear your pretty mewls but it wasn't as if he'd let the night end without hearing them loud and clear.

jaemin is fast in undressing you, feeling slightly betrayed by how quick your skirt and blouse fell under his hands.

you know what he wants, what he's going to do, and the tears fall harder when you can't dodge away from him. forced to endure and accept whatever they give you.

"you act like you don't like it but look how fucking wet you are," you bit your lip hard when jaemin starts circling the pads of his fingers against your clit, fascinated by how more juices streamed down your thighs.

"jeno, do you see this? fuck."

you can only blink in defeat, staring off to the side as you force down any noise bubbling up your throat, forcing yourself to think of anything else other than what's happening right now.

you try not to think about how they managed to tear all of your clothes off while they're left completely dressed. tried not to think about the fingers lazily drawing up and down your slit to collect your essence.

if they're doing this as a way to further humiliate you, it's working.

"slut," jeno mocked, a wicked curl on his lips when he wraps his fingers around your throat. the moment he dives down to claim your lips again is the same time jaemin pushes two fingers inside you.

"look at how wet you are because of me," jaemin whispers hot against your ear and you feel a sick churn in your stomach when you feel his smile against your skin.

he purposely drives his fingers in and out quicker, settjng a brutal pace, wanting you to hear the lewd squelching sounds. "hear that? do you hear that, darling? that's because of me—"

"don't go talking big now, jaem," jeno retorts, pulling away from your lips to start nibbling on the back of your ear. "i was here first. did you see how she fucking reacted when i sucked on her tits?"

you're quick to catch how jeno particularly loved degrading you. but how he talks about you as if you're literally not in front of him naked made you hit a new all-time low.

you felt… filthy.

his hands find purchase on your butt—only because jaemin has already claimed the front. for now.

you close your eyes tight when he painfully squeezes the flesh of your ass. you swear, his blunt nails will paint your skin black and blue.

"i'm the favorite!"

as someone who's part of a varsity team, you already knew a competitive nature runs through jaemin's veins. but never had you thought jeno would share the same sentiment. once again they prove that they're cut from the same cloth.

all of a sudden it wasn't all about claiming you as theirs anymore rather it was all about who can make you moan the loudest, who can make you cum the most, who can make you feel the dirtiest you can be.

you're absolutely terrified for the hours to come.

thankfully, they have yet to ask for your verbal opinion or validation. they let your body do all the talking—every repressed shudder and sharp gasp is enough.

but it's game over once they pop the million dollar question.

"who do you like best?"

you don't want to find out the consequences if you actually answered their question because you didn't know what could be worse.

jaemin's manipulation or jeno's aggression?

but it was all normal. trial and error is inevitable in order to build and mold you into the ideal lover for the both of them.

because adding someone new to the mix has never been easy—after all, three's a crowd.

#nct imagines #yandere nct #yandere kpop #nct smut #nct scenarios #yandere jaemin #yandere jeno #jaemin imagines #jeno imagines #jaemin scenarios #jeno scenarios #jaemin smut #jeno smut

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growup-thatbeautiful · 3 years

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Clone Wars Character on TikTok

Anakin- Poor Anakin, man does not have a that many creative ideas, but his life and ideas are strange enough that he gets a lot of followers easily. He’s also almost constantly videoing things too, so he’s able to get real time. There are so so many videos showing the reactions that Obi-Wan has because of his dumbass plans.

Everyone, literally everyone, thought he was an f-boy until he made a post, super confused, saying that he has a wife?? That he loves so much? So, coincidentally, the next videos he posts are him and his wife, who doesn’t show her face but there’s a poll going on about who it is. Most people have figured it, though, because some of his videos are him just listening to Mrs. Skywalker rant about people in the Senate when she comes home to him.

He also tries to convince everyone that he’s the best husband in the world by videoing himself cooking her dinner, which he always burns. In those videos, Obi-Wan and Ahsoka, staples on Anakin’s account, are heard in the background giving him absolutely terrible advice on how to fix it. They usually end up with burnt pans and a whole bunch of frantic clips of Obi-Wan trying to turn off the oven, “My dear, your time is up.” And Anakin in the background “Force, that’s not going to kriffing work, Master. I’m coming in with the water gun.” (No one questions why there’s a water gun.) Ahsoka is just….chilling in the background. She’s just as clueless as the rest of them, but it’s funnier to watch them almost burn down Padame’s kitchen before she tries to step in and make things worse.

Ahsoka-Her feed is a more controlled chaos than Anakin’s, but chaos nonetheless. She does a lot of dance challenges with Fives, and is sometimes able to rope in Anakin, who tries really hard but is terrible at it, and Rex, who doesn’t actually dance and just stands there staring at the camera. There was one time she got Obi-Wan to do it with her, and he absolutely crushed it. All that grace has to help him somewhere else, right? Because she does dance videos, though, sometimes she get inappropriate comments or duets, which Rex, Obi-Wan, Plo, Fives, and Anakin all duet or make a video about explaining that she’s a minor and how unacceptable this is. Well, that’s what every but Rex does. Rex won’t let anyone, anyone, talk to his little sister like that, so he makes a super menacing video of him cleaning his guns.

Needless to say, she does a lot of videos with Rex. They do a lot of random videos of their conversations and pointless arguments. They also do so a lot of competitions with each other, rather it’s staring contests or sparring matches. Their sparring match videos are actually super popular, and they get more and more intense and complicated as they go on. There are never any weapons involved, but they get to show off combat skills and have huge fights across the ship or compound. Their usually filmed by a hysterical Anakin or Fives. Obi-Wan has made his disapproval clear, but there’s a video on Ahsoka’s account of him betting on the outcome.

Obi-Wan- Mostly on Cottagecore TikTok and posts aesthetic videos of him meditating, making fancy, pretty tea drinks, or any other mundane thing he does. He also posts self-defense videos to teach people how to protect themselves, and gives tips of how to use the force and how to help meditate. I think he posts once a week, but posts a bunch at one time because he’ll have one day of silence where he can get stuff for himself done. Basically, his account is to comfort people, to help people, in perfect Obi-Wan fashion.

He also posts encouraging videos to cheer people up when they need it. Cute messages like “Today’s going to be a good day” with that award winning Negotiator smile that get galaxy wide comments and duets. Sometimes the messages border on him illegally sharing decisions that the Senate’s made, like when he announced on his feed that a certain Planet should get ready to party because a certain vote had gone a certain way.

Sometimes, though, he posts videos of Ahsoka, Anakin, or Cody doing incredibly stupid things. It’s become a series, he shows the person do or say the stupidest things, and then he zooms in on someone else’s face. The most common duo is Anakin and Rex, but sometimes there’s Waxer and Cody, once or twice, Obi-Wan and Cody.

Rex- He doesn’t post a lot, and when he does he’s usually not really in them. People only know him specifically because he’s in so many of Ahsoka’s videos. His are mostly “the stuff I have to deal with videos” showing petty fights between some of the 501st or some animal that a soldier decided they wanted to sneak into the ship. That, of course, lead to a blowup on his account, so he started posting lots of content with his brothers. Ahsoka has the notion that he’s doing it to help the way people see Clones, but he does seem to enjoy it a lot.

He, like Obi-Wan, posts hand to hand combat training video to help people in the galaxy, put his training to more use. He makes sure to show how to hold your first in a punch, how to safely clean a blaster, how to take a punch. Some of his posts are to teach people about clones and mando’a traditions. But he’s not all serious. He likes making videos of him and his brothers when they go out to do things for fun or they go out to 79’s.

This one might be a bit far fetched, but I think he would also post videos of him and Ahsoka doing mundane things together, repainting their armour, making bracelets or some stuff on the floors of the bunks during hyperspace. It’s calmer than what Ahsoka posts, and purposely so.

Fives-Oh man. Fives’ account is a wreck. Half of the videos are him running away from something he’s done and the other half are him running into things that he shouldn’t about to be doing. Shakily filmed, someone (usually himself) screaming in the background, you can hear him panting and out of breath. A lot of the times Anakin is with him or chasing after him, and as you can almost always hear Rex cursing and yelling at them to stop, especially if they haven’t done the thing yet because that means they have a plan. When Fives has a plan it ends up being worse than when he makes it up on the spot.

He also posts videos of him giving people in the streets compliments, because he’s sweet like that. He usually gets pretty funny reactions most of the time, and the few times they’re bad reactions he simply flips the camera and grimaces, then, of course, starts laughing because he’s not going to let one person put him down.

He also has a series of him painting the Bi flag all over the ship and waiting to see people’s reactions. The cutest was that one time Ahsoka walked past and ran her fingers along it softly and smiling. Also notable was the time Obi-Wan caught him midway through and just pretended he didn’t see him. All of those are posted with the persons permission, of course.

Aayla and Bly- They share an account where they do ALL of the couple-y stuff. Any couples challenge that they’re asked to do, they do. It’s hard to do the challenges like “You could’ve been nicer to me today” because they’re both on it all the time and have definitely heard of it, but they make do with all kinds of others. Aayla and Bly are definitely one of those couples that adopts all the kids that follow their account, and they’re ready to fight anyone who says anything bad the Clones or the Jedi.

There’s also a large amount of videos that some of the 327th takes of them cuddling together, training together, polishing weapons together. Basically, their account is them being cute and the rest of the 327th either being incredibly supportive of them or gagging at all the PDA. They start a trend where they go up in front of random people around the ship and start making out to get the reaction. Some examples of the best reactions are franticly running outside of the room, slapping Bly across the back of the head, and wild cheering.

Cody: You’re kidding, right? He does not have time to do the TikTok, nor does he understand TikTok at all. He is in most of Obi-Wan’s videos, and he’s sometimes in Rex’s too. Most of the time he’s telling all of them not to do whatever they’re about to do, or he’s sitting on the floor and crying with Rex.

Anakin actually started making videos called “When you see your dad and your other dad be romantic.” Where it’s just him finding Obi-Wan and Cody doing cute things in random places, followed by Anakin or Ahsoka making faces at the camera.

Plo- Parent side of TikTok for sure. His account features so many, so many, videos of him doing fun things with the 104th. He may seem like an extremely serious man, but put him with all of his kids and has almost no impulse control. They ask to stop at that restaurant they saw on the way to their mission, and he makes it happen. Everyone pretends not to notice because they wouldn’t dare go against him.

This account is also mostly run by everyone in the 104th because A. Plo doesn’t have a password and B. That’s how they get a bunch of footage. The phone is passed around throughout the day, but all of the content focuses on the Plo’s Bros relationships. Anything that he does, from giving a shiny a thumbs up when he comes up with a new plan, to teaching some of the older clones who are a little overworked how to take deep breaths. All the followers also a learn the Plo is absolutely terrible at any kind of card games, which is shown when they post video after video of the bets he looses.

Next for Star Wars I’ll be doing Bad Batch, then, because this got so long, I’ll do one with some more characters! Sorry it’s so long, this ran away from me a bit.

Some clone wars beautiful mutuals @radbatch (Who is the absolute best person to talk to about Ahsoka ever period end of story) of course and @maiseey (Who is now my my mutual? How?)

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keepingupwithpotters · 3 years

Note

“Don’t look at me like that.” “Like what?” “Like you still love me.”

This is slightly longer than usual and it doesn't even have a happy ending, oops? I presume you knew what you were doing when you sent me an angsty prompt ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

And a happy birthday to @mppmaraudergirl !!! Hope you'll enjoy this unrequited pining dumpster fire queen :) I only wish it was set in 6th year to complete the set 🔥🗑❤️‍🔥

The dim light from the embers was trying to illuminate the Heads’ Office as he feasted his eyes on her. He thought about rekindling the fire to see her more clearly. Would she believe him if he said he was cold in April?

Just the fact they needed more light to see —her face in his case and the parchment in front of her for Lily’s— was enough proof that they’d been here for hours now, paying the price for not doing this in the last two weeks.

He tried not to think about why they were unable to do so, the first weeks of April a black blur in his mind he’d rather not visit.

Lily’s silhouette was a good distraction from his unwanted thoughts, he turned his focus back to it. He was just about to suggest adding more logs to the fireplace, weather be damned, when he realized Lily had been talking to him for a while now.

“—tried putting her with Bones last month but he said he will land himself in the hospital wing on patrol days if we ever pair them again, so we need a new partner for her.”

“How about Selwyn?”

“No, she's a half-blood, we can’t risk it.

“Fenwick?”

Lily looked thoughtful for a moment. “Fenwick could work.”

Happy that he had thwarted the danger, he went back to his favorite pastime.

“You know, this would finish a lot faster if you were helping me instead of gawking at me from afar.”

“I’m sorry, am I disturbing you?”

“You’re disturbing my concentration, Potter. Either close your eyes or come here.”

Never one to reject an offer like this, he hurried beside her. She had another thing coming if she actually expected this to stop him from drinking her in though. He could see the shadows of her eyelashes now.

“I can help you with that performance anxiety, Evans. I heard imagining me naked should do the trick.” He swallowed the words not that you’d have any problem with it back, afraid even this was pushing the limits.

“Thank you for that mental image.”

They were still pretending nothing had happened then. Fine by him.

She did look a little flustered though, he just hoped it wasn’t in anger. He decided not to risk it anymore, taking advantage of his new proximity to the redheaded witch to follow the freckles on her cheeks. Even he couldn’t fuck this up if he never opened his mouth, could he?

Guess not.

“C’mon Potter, work with me here.”

He’d be worried if he couldn’t hear the smile in her voice. “I am. I came over here, didn’t I?”

“Yeah, to go over the patrol schedule with me,” the smile spread from her voice to her lips now, “not to continue your ogling beside my face now.”

He relented after that; still deathly afraid he could offend her unexpectedly. They went through the rest of the pairs slowly, easy laughter filling the air after a while. Lily was tapping the quill against her cheek, pondering about who to give Abbot as a partner, when he slipped up again.

It wasn’t his fault that the light hit her eyes just the right way when she was pursing her lips deep in thought. He was only human after all.

Still sprawled on her seat, it was proof of just how relaxed she was when she only laughed upon noticing, “Don’t look at me like that.”

A smart James, a James who wasn’t drunk on Lily’s laugh, would’ve never said what he said next.

“Like what?”

But he was far from that smart James now, the knowledge of what he probably looked like slipping through his foggy mind.

Her laughter hadn’t died fully yet when she said, “Like you still love me.”

Ah… Well, he brought that onto himself.

That was the hardest part about being friends with her probably. But it was okay, he had done worse things for Lily Evans than pretending he didn’t love her.

“You serenade your heart out to a girl one time…”

He didn’t bring up the other time the very same words were breathed tenderly in the dark. He wasn’t sure what was allowed yet, their newfound friendship still so fragile, so delicate.

When he realized he couldn’t have her in his life anymore unless he buried his feelings, that’s what he did, the opposite choice looking so unbearable that he hadn’t wasted a second thinking about it. So what if he sometimes felt like a tight fist was mangling his heart? He was listening to her laugh now, wasn’t he?

And he remembered what it was like, in that brief period, where he didn’t even have that in his life. Prefect meetings left abruptly, conversations ending quickly when he entered the room, gaze solely directed to people who could never appreciate them the way he would… He had been starved for her eyes, her voice, her touch. He thought he didn’t have her before, but there was never a time he didn’t have Lily Evans so completely than that damn week.

Which is why he fixed it, really, she left him no other choice. He promised her friendship, swore his feelings for her were gone, vowed to never try anything again. And as a reward, he got her back.

He kept all his promises so far, their past not-relationship (never a relationship) a taboo neither of them touched… until now. Once again Lily was steering the wheel and he was helpless but to follow her lead wherever she took him. Control had never been in his hands, and he was back to looking at her to figure out how he would be hurt next.

He wondered if this was a test when Lily looked satisfied with his answer. Was there a wrong answer to give here? Did he pass?

Lily stretched in her seat unaware of his musings, his wound still too fresh, he kept his eyes away from her this time. “I think we’re almost done here. Look it over one last time and we should be good to go.”

He took the parchment over from her distractedly, giving the schedule a lazy once-over when something caught his eye.

“You’ve put me with Remus.”

Her face stayed impassive but he could see she was fidgeting with her quill. “Uh, yes. Does that work for you?”

Suspicion arousing because of her skittish behavior, he turned his eyes to the schedule to locate her name.

There.

Lily Evans & Dirk Cresswell

“I thought you hated patrolling with Cresswell, isn’t that what you said before?”

She was unable to hide her apprehension now, her face flaming up rapidly before his eyes. “Not–not exactly.” She averted her eyes. “He asked to patrol with me at the last Slug meeting, said his current partner was causing some problems.”

He tried to relax his jaw, knowing it’d make everything worse for him if he proved her discomfort right.

“The schedule looks perfect, Evans. I think we can wrap it up for the night.”

Her relief choked up the room. “Yeah, let’s just close up the office and leave this bloody room at last.”

“Actually, you know what, why don’t you leave closing up to me?” He continued without paying attention to her halfhearted protests, “No, no, you earned it. Let me deal with the aftermath, it’s the least I can do.”

She gave him a relieved smile. “Thanks, Potter.” She was already halfway to the door when she said her goodnights.

He didn’t get up from his armchair right away, eyes stuck on the door she just left.

Pretending he didn’t love her may not be the worst thing he’d done for Lily Evans, but it was surely turning out to be the worst one for himself.

#jily #jily fic #jily canon #james potter #lily evans #james x lily #jily fanfiction #senem writes #i am not as the youngsters say letting the girls breathe

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formenis · 3 years

Text

Lesson

Anon asked: “ Can you do a scenario where L hasn't sleep in a while and it got to the point where even the Task Force is worried about him so Watari calls L's secret S/O and she comes barging into HQ and starts yelling at L that he is getting sleep or she is drugging him so he will sleep and L just follows behind her like a love-sick puppy“

A/N: please everyone, let’s give L so much love! Our best detective needs some rest sometimes.

And consider English is not my first language so I’m sorry about all the mistakes you’ll find. I’m trying to improve.

pairing: L x fem!reader

warning: nope

requested: yes

Y/A = your alias

Once Watari said: «L has no internal clockwork or any concept of time. After 102 hours of staying awake, he slept for almost 17 hours» and for him it was not enough.

If you think it's strange, well you don't know L. He goes to the toilette by himself with open doors and slightly changed sitting position. Since he likes clearness, he bathes frequently. But he never washes himself; he just sits in Watari's special "human washer" which includes drying functions.

L is rather picky with regards to clothing, there are always ten or so identical sets of clothes prepared for him. But he cannot put them on by himself…no, rather, he never feels like doing it (Watari has to say something like "banzai" to tell L to lift his arms). Most of the time, he is in his room, sitting motionlessly in that position.

But Y/N L/N knows it very well. She is L's girlfriend for a long time and she is used to L's particular (and almost non-existent) routine. That's her patience and kind personality that caught L's attention. It all started when Y/N went at the Wammy's House for a job interview. They were searching for a new teacher and Y/N satisfied all the prerequisites. During her probationary period all children fell in love with their new teacher, so patient and gentle even with the most spiteful kid.

When Roger Ruvie, the Wammy's House manager when Watari was not there, sent his observations about this new candidate, L agreed in hiring her. And when he met her in person he was hypnotised by her. The children were right, she was special: Y/N became the mother, the sister, the aunt and the friend those children didn’t have. This captured the attention and the interest of the greatest detective in the world.

It didn’t take long for both Y/N and L to fall for each other: the young teacher was attracted by his intellect and by his gaze, so deep and mysterious; on the other hand, L was mesmerized by her personality and by her smirk she had whenever she was right about something. But the thing that convinced L that Y/N was the right one for him was when she beat him at chess.

«Checkmate»

At first, L didn’t pay attention to what she said but when he observed the chessboard he couldn’t hide his surprise. «Miss L/N…you won»

«That's what I said»

But back to the present. Y/N was at the Wammy's House checking the homework of her little students when Roger entered her classroom.

«Miss L/N, there's a call for you»

«Ah yes, thank you Roger» Y/N answers at the phone placed on her desk. «Hello?»

«Miss L/N, it's Watari» the old and warm voice of Quillsh Wammy (as known as Watari) echoed through the receiver.

«Good afternoon Watari, I was correcting some homework. Do you need something?»

«It's about L»

Since the beginning of the Kira case, L moved to Japan. He changed hotel every week until Watari finished the new HQ and for the task-force was compulsory not to use any electronic devices when they were with him. This meant L couldn’t call his beloved Y/N that often and he started to miss her.

In order to solve as fast as he could the Kira case, he dived in the work for entire days and nights. Sugar cubes and coffee were his meals and he almost refused to sleep. He focused his mind and all his being to the case.

At first, the task-force wasn’t that concerned since they realised L had particular habits. But week after week, month after month, the situation got worse. His eyebags became darker and heavier, his skin became more white than his shirt and in general he looked really sickly.

«Uhm Ryuzaki? Did you sleep last night?» Soichiro Yagami asked him, there was worry on his face.

«When the Kira case will be solved I'll sleep» L replied rather tiredly despite his monotone voice didn’t express it. But Watari, who was with them serving ice-cream to everyone, noticed it immediately. He couldn’t bear such sight, he had to do something so he made a decision: if nobody could convince L to rest, then Miss Y/N L/N will.

«That's why I need you here, Miss L/N»

«He didn’t sleep for how much, Watari?! Are you serious?»

«Unfortunately yes. He dedicated every part of his being to the case. And by "every part" I mean literally every part of him»

«I can't believe it. I'm coming there, Watari»

«Very well, Miss L/N»

♰ TIME SKIP ♰

When Y/N arrives in Japan she was truly amazes by that country, so full of life, lights and culture. She can't believe it's the same country where Kira is killing. However, at the moment she can only think about L. She is so worried about him and about his well-being: he can be so odious and stubborn about his work that he would gladly renounce to his health if it meant to solve a case.

Y/N is boiling from rage, L went too far. If he falls ill how can he solve the case? Despite the anger she feels, she is excited too: it's been months since she saw or heard L. She misses him so much…but at the same time she wants to scold him.

«He is more hard-headed than the children at the Wammy's!» Y/N mutters at Watari, who is driving the car. With an excuse, he left the HQ to go at the airport to pick Y/N up and now they were coming back.

«Yes, I know. It's the reason I called you…you are the only one who can convince Ryuzaki»

During the way towards the HQ, Watari informs her about the Kira case, the task-force and all L's suspects. At the same time Y/N warns him about all the new prodigies at the orphanage. The old man smiles kindly when he sees, through rear-view mirror, how Y/N's eyes shine when she started to talk about her students.

After an hour, the two of them arrives at this famous HQ: twenty-three floors aboveground and two floors belowground; Watari said there is a helipad on the roof of the building but the structure is designed so that the helipad and the two helicopters on it cannot be seen by those looking at the building from the exterior.

«Miss L/N, please use the back stairs. I deactivated the cameras so you can reach the monitoring room without being watched by Ryuzaki»

«Alright Watari, thanks»

Y/N did as instruct by him and takes the back stairs in order to reach the elevator. In her mind, Y/N is preparing the discourse to do at L: it doesn't matter if his colleagues are with him, he has to come to terms with her and starting to have a regular and healthy routine.

In the monitoring room nobody has any idea that the greatest detective's girlfriend is there in the same building as them. Actually they don’t know that L has a girlfriend either. So when the task-force see a young woman spread open the main door of the monitoring room they are quite shocked.

«Who is she?» Matsuda looked up from the papers in his hands. Shortly after that, all the other men looked up as well.

«L!»

That voice distracted L from his dossiers and through the reflection on his laptop he recognises Y/N. His lips become a thin line, a sudden rush of thoughts and emotions hits L at the same time. Why is she there? Something bad happened at the Wammy's House? Is it because he cuts ties with everyone during the investigations? Confusion, concern, worry, alarm…fear yet happiness, because he can see her after long time. L is overwhelmed.

«Everyone, please meet Miss Y/A, Ryuzaki's significant other» Watari introduces her at the task-force and each member gasped in shock.

«L! Watari told me you refused to eat properly, to sleep properly…to live properly!»

Ryuzaki spins his swivel chair towards her so Y/N has the chance to look better at him: hollow face, paler skin colour, dark and heavy eyebags. «Y/A, please, I'm not one of your student»

L is somehow relieved that Y/N was there because of him and not because something terrible happened to her or to the children at the orphanage. So he half-sighs in relief when she started to complain about is health.

«Well, you seem like one in this moment! I cannot bear seeing you like this, you know how much important health is for everyone. The lack of sleep or an unregulated diet will affect your mind and your efficiency will decrease! And how can you catch Kira if you're tired?»

Ah, how much L misses those cute "telling-offs". It is clearly Y/N's professional deformation: she worries about people and strangers as much as she does with the children at the Wammy's. So when she finishes her discourse, L couldn’t hide a wide smile.

«I guess you're right, Y/A» L pretended to be sorry but the truth is that he loves seeing that part of Y/N's personality.

«Of course I am! Now let's start from the sleeping part!» she walks closer to him and grabs the wrist. Then she drags him out of the monitoring room leading towards the bedroom. In L's eyes, admiration and love can be seen while Y/N continues with her discourse about a new healthy routine he has to start.

Right before entering the bedroom L stops and hugs Y/N from behind, his arms are around her chest now. «Y/N…you have no idea how much I missed you»

She smiles, removing her teacher mask for a moment, and looks at him. «I missed you too, cutie pie»

L rubs slightly his cheeks against hers in a cute act of affection. Having her in his arm is such a relief for him, L can sense a strong wave of tiredness on his shoulders. «Will you rest with me?»

«Of course~» Y/N caresses his dark hair, something she really misses doing. «I'll stay with you from now on»

#death note #death note headcanons #death note scenario #l x reader #l lawliet #watari #reader insert #female reader #x you #x y/n

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amarriageoftrueminds · 3 years

Note

Now now, we all know how Bucky's been in love with Steve (and known about his feelings) his whole life, but what about Steve? I've always swayed towards the theory 'Steve's been in love with Bucky his whole life as well, he only realised after Bucky fell from the train', but what if Steve's known he's in love with Bucky since their Brooklyn days? That would shed an entirely different light on his interactions with Miss Nazis Hirer and the whole 'right partner' talk

Going by canon, I think there must've been either: a declaration of mutual feelings, or; the first foray into a sexual relationship in their late teens, because one of Bucky's trigger words was 'seventeen', and Steve said he felt like a 16 year old again when he heard Bucky's name.

What's interesting is, at that time, and especially in that place*, there wasn't the idea that gay sex acts made you gay, because there were loads of 'straight' men around (eg. sailors.) going with other men just for sex. This was pre pill, pre sex-before-marriage for most, especially for Catholics like Steve.

So it might be that Bucky and Steve were doing the do with each other looong before either of them came to the realisation that they were also, coincidentally, in love.

I agree that Bucky, simply because he's exposed to dating women more than Steve is, has more of an opportunity to Realise before Steve. He'd have the benefit of being able to contrast his experience of feelings with Steve, with his experience of feelings for others, leading him to a lightbulb moment.

And he'd cover this up (and keep up the pretense of believing both he and Steve are really straight) by going out with girls in the meantime; in a period-appropriate gentlemanly way, not bedding them. Also to protect him and Steve from any potentially dangerous accusations.

I don't see Steve as not knowing precisely that he is in love with Bucky; I think he knew before the events of CATFA started, and it was a big part of his motivation for wanting to go to war.

But I do think it hadn't occurred to Steve that he might only be attracted to Bucky / men until after he got serum -- because, before then, his health would've been a limiting factor.

Before then, I can see him thinking 'well it's no wonder I have no libido like Bucky does around women, I'm just too unwell!' and not connecting the dots.

This would explain why he seems so panicked when sexual situations arise with women, after the serum; because he's realising 'oh shit! actually, I don't even like this when I have Perfect Health!' and hastily trying to backpedal himself out of an unwanted situation.

My HC is both of them thinking they're the only male-attracted one in the relationship and they're just engaging in sex acts together for convenience' sake but the other one's only going to keep doing it until he can get a girl.

So when Steve shows up all heterosexual-passing, looking like he can get any girl he wants, Bucky looks devastated because he thinks that signals the end of his physical (in his head unrequited romantic) relationship with Steve.

(But then between Peggy showing up and he and Steve going to the Continent together with the Howlies, Bucky mysteriously seems to perk up!)

By which point Steve, with his strong moral instincts and anti-Fascism, has come to the conclusion that if he's a physically perfect man, and he's still in love with and attracted to Bucky, then there must by definition be nothing wrong with feeling physically attracted to Bucky.

IDK if it makes it better or worse to imagine that they finally confessed to each other before the fall?

Maybe it'd be nice if they saved that for Post-WS, especially since Bucky might be then in even more doubt as to Steve's feelings for him. It's a common choice in fic for a reason!

There are two ways to read the 'right partner' talk Steve has with Peggy.

One is:

Steve's a straight man acting like an incel and attempting to pull pick-up artist tricks on Peggy which don't work, because she's not interested in him, and so doesn't take the bait (we only don't notice he's being a creep because Cevans and HA play it as benign, and because the writers, being themselves douchebags, don't realise what they've written; and probably wouldn't care even if they did.)

Two is: (particularly egregious if you flip the genders and imagine a woman saying this to a man)

Steve going out of his way to make it clear that he doesn't want to date, isn't interested in dating right now, while there's a war on, and finds women terrifying.

And yet as soon as he's fuckable, Peggy pulls a 180 and starts claiming she always liked him as he was, despite the fact that her actions directly disprove this; she didn’t ask him out when she had the chance and the encouragement.

Naturally, her arrogance leads her to the immediate assumption that if Steve is waiting for The One, then she must be the One to whom he was referring.

The fact that his wording either means he’s already found the One and is waiting for them, OR that he hasn’t met them yet, both exclude her from the running (since he’s known her a week) is... immaterial. She never asks if he has his eye on someone, does she? Would Steve being already married stop her?

(You don’t say ‘I don’t want to date because I’m waiting for the One’ to the person who IS the One, or whom you suspect may be the One. This ain’t rocket science!)

And hey, did you notice, that Peggy is just so important and special and perfect that her sudden interest in Steve means that Steve's stated wishes are now irrelevant?

The staggering hubris of waltzing up to him to go ‘hey, by the way, one day... when all this is over... I will allow you to date me.’ 😘😌

Too bad he didn’t ask!

The fact that Steve explicitly told her he isn't interested in dating and didn’t specify he’d be interested in her is invalidated by his new looks and her desire.

Sheesh. These Carter girls sure are rapey as hell.

(Also, in characteristic NOT-A-FEMINIST Peggy Style, the first thing she does upon seeing Big Steve is yank a t shirt out of the hands of a waiting nurse, because Saint Poppins is apparently so good at everything without training or experience that she can do nursing better than an actual nurse, too? (Could be she's also being characteristically territorial, pissing a circle round her chosen prey.) While simultaneously, out of nowhere, affecting a dumb ‘oh I’m so soft-and-feminine’ voice she didn’t have before?? Does that sounds like someone Steve ‘son of a nurse’ Rogers would admire? UGH.)

The irony of all this is ^ you can read Steve as 100% gay and not have to change a single piece of his characterisation or interactions with women at any point.

I've touched on this in other asks, but:

He never asks Peggy out when he has the opportunity; only when he knows it's too late and he won't be expected to follow through (due to him being dead.)

He never makes a move on any of the chorus girls or his female fans (no matter what those creeps M&M claim). Or Private Lorraine. Or Nat. He has to be nagged to make one on Sharon (while Peggy's body's barely had time to cool, and looks fine about never seeing her again lol!) But he goes out of his way to befriend Sam, and waay out of his way to get Bucky back.

Throughout all his films he's consistently assaulted by women, even friends, and never looks happy about it; he also never looks upset when he's rejected or cut off from women love interests, or when he's able to dodge flirting (by, eg. jumping out of a frickin' plane!?)

It's 'his choice', in his own words.

He seems his happiest with women in platonic situations, and only sad about them when it's a question of a shirked duty, a bereavement, or him feeling he's let them down; eg. when Nat dies, when his mother dies, when he's unable to deliver a promised dance to Peggy, etc.

(But it makes people uncomfortable to address this since many of his fans are female.)

But even marrying a woman (albeit the most OOC choice it's physically possible for a Captain America to make, not to mention that it involves abandoning our-Bucky alone in the future). It doesn't preclude Steve from being gay, since lavender marriages were hella common (doubly so for famous gay men).

He could be gay and still in a relationship with Bucky, and married to Peggy. I mean, he's guaranteed a wife who'll spend most of the time away at work, able to use her connections to squash any inconvenient press; and unable to out him or Bucky without ruining her own prestige. Perfect!

Still makes EG Steve a douchebag tho. 😒

*we know they frequented north Brooklyn, because Steve said 'I know this neighborhood!' while the Brooklyn Bridge was in sight behind him; but, they got the street angle wrong, cuz they made it look like the BKB has a street which looks right at it, when in fact the street with that famous view is of the Manhattan Bridge. The places Steve describes being beat up; a parking lot, alleyway, and diner, are also all places you'd go while you're Out, rather than where you live. So IMO Steve and Bucky lived somewhere near DUMBO, but not so far east that their view was of the Manhattan Bridge; either Brooklyn Heights or Downtown. So that puts them right in the heart of Gay Brooklyn (as in, Truman Capote had a house there, because Walt Whitman wrote a famous poem about there; that level of gay), next to the Navy Yard and Sands Street (gay cruising central) and they also frequented gay cruising mecca Coney Island (big burlesque hot spot).

#mcu meta #antipeggy #toAyourQ #hey nonny #steve meta #bucky meta #p*ggy meta #anti st*ggy #endgame steve is a skrull #antiendgame #dat's me #bucky barnes #meta #mcu #yet each man queues the thing he loves

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fireladybuckley · 3 years

Note

congratulations on your milestone, love! could i request 5 with buddie? :)

Sure thing, love <3 Thank you for all your support and friendship (and betaing!) over the last while, you are simply awesome. :)

#5 - “At least let me clean it.”

“You sure you don’t need help with those?” Eddie asked, watching Buck’s biceps bulge as he lifted a heavy metal crate.

“Nah, I’m fine,” Buck said, grunting as he hefted the crate high into the air and slid it onto its shelf. “It’s a good workout!”

Eddie shook his head as Buck flashed a grin at him, then shrugged and moved on.

“Alright, I’m going to start inventory on the medical supplies then.”

“Sounds good to me,” Buck agreed easily, turning back to the stack of metal crates containing extra equipment and lifting the second one.

Eddie moved over to the area where they kept the medical supplies and began counting, feeling his eyes start to cross within moments. Doing inventory was always one of the most boring jobs, but he and Buck had volunteered to start while the others went on a medical call, figuring the earlier they started, the earlier they could be done.

Eddie was halfway through counting boxes of sterile gauze when he heard Buck let out a wordless yell of alarm, then a deafening crash of metal and a cry of pain. Eddie dropped the boxes of gauze he was holding and bolted over to where he’d left Buck. The first thing he saw was one of the metal crates on its side on the floor, its contents spilled everywhere. Second was Buck, sitting on the floor where he’d clearly fallen over, clutching a hand to the side of his face and looking pained.

“Buck! Are you okay?” Eddie asked in alarm, hurrying over to him and kneeling down at his side.

“Y-yeah, I think,” Buck said, wincing as he held onto his face. Eddie reached up and gently pulled away Buck’s hand, though the other man tried to resist. Eddie wrinkled his nose and inhaled a little sharply, seeing a jagged cut along Buck’s temple and over his cheekbone that began oozing blood down the side of his face the second the pressure from his hand was removed.

“Ouch, that looks like it hurts,” Eddie said, leaning closer and examining the edges of the wounds. “Come on, let’s get you patched up.”

“I’m fine,” Buck groaned, pushing Eddie away with his clean hand and struggling to his feet, gripping the shelving unit to pull himself upright. Eddie followed him, watching as he swayed on the spot, reaching out to steady him.

“Buck, I need to make sure you’re okay,” Eddie said, and there was a command somewhere in his voice that Buck automatically responded to, turning towards him but looking wary. “At least let me clean it.”

“Fine,” Buck muttered, grudgingly allowing Eddie to put a hand on his back and lead him away from the mess he’d made, sitting down on the bench as Eddie brought him into the locker area. As Eddie ran off to get a med kit, Buck touched the side of his face, wincing at the sting of the wound and the feeling of his blood on his fingers. He could feel it slipping down his neck, slowly soaking into the collar of his shirt and he shuddered, hating the sensation.

Buck realized he could feel pain on his arm as well and pulled up the short sleeve of his shirt, noting that the cloth was ripped. Sure enough, there was another cut underneath that had soaked blood into the fabric of the sleeve and now oozed sluggishly down his arm in its absence. Buck swore, running his clean hand through his hair in frustration. Why did he always have to get hurt? Was it really so much to ask to go through a two week period without having to get patched up at least once?

Eddie returned with the med kit just as Buck was twisting his arm around to look at the wound and shook his head.

“Got you twice, huh? What happened, exactly?” Eddie asked, sitting down on the bench next to Buck and digging through the med kit for the supplies he needed.

“I was lifting one of the crates and it tipped over a bit when I tried to get it on the shelf. I guess it wasn’t closed properly because several pieces of equipment fell out onto my face. Lost my balance and dropped the crate,” Buck sighed, thinking of all the stuff he was going to have to clean up afterwards.

“Are you alright? Did the equipment hit you hard, or just cut you?” Eddie asked, trying to ascertain if Buck could be head-injured, looking for the maglite.

“No, it just cut me,” Buck replied. “I fell over because I tried to back up too fast and tripped, not because it hit my head.”

Eddie noticed that Buck sounded a bit embarrassed but shook his head slightly, dismissing it. It could have happened to him just as easily; if he’d had a cascade of heavy metal equipment falling towards his face he’d have backed up in a hurry as well.

“Going to check your pupillary reflex anyway, just in case,” Eddie said and Buck nodded. Buck looked up obediently and held still as Eddie shone the light into each of his eyes, checking his pupils. “Looks good, thankfully.”

“This is probably going to sting,” Eddie said apologetically as he unwrapped an antiseptic wipe next and turned to Buck. Buck sighed and sat still, not really bothered as Eddie cleaned the cut on his arm. It stung a little, but it wasn’t terrible. Buck was far more focused on the feeling of Eddie’s hands on his skin, the warmth of his grip as he steadied Buck’s arm with one hand, cleaning the wound with the other. The feeling of Eddie touching him, even in this more clinical way, had set his heart racing and he bit the inside of his lip, looking away from Eddie, sure his expression would betray him.

He and Eddie were in uncharted territory, as far as he was concerned. Recently, feelings between them had become known, but neither one had moved past those admissions and done something about it. Buck had been dying to ask Eddie on a date, but he was too nervous most of the time to actually do it, despite knowing that Eddie was interested in him.

“Okay, all done. That cut isn’t very deep, but I’ll cover it just so it stays clean for the rest of the shift. You can take the bandage off as soon as you get home and let it breathe.”

“Okay,” Buck agreed, still looking away as Eddie taped some gauze to the wound and pulled his slightly tattered sleeve down over it. Buck watched Eddie out of the corner of his eye as the other man shifted on the bench, straddling it and facing Buck.

“Come closer,” Eddie requested, and Buck couldn’t think of a reason to protest so he shuffled closer, until he was practically sitting between Eddie’s legs. Eddie being so near jacked up his heart rate once more until he was sure Eddie would be able to sense it, which really only made things worse.

Eddie reached up and began to dab at the wound on the side of Buck’s face, and this time, it really did sting. Buck let out a small hiss of pain and turned his head instinctively, trying to move away from the burning sensation. Eddie’s face scrunched up in sympathy, but he reached up with his free hand and cupped Buck’s face, gently but firmly turning his head back and holding it in place.

“Sorry, I know it hurts, but you have to stay still,” Eddie admonished gently, and Buck swallowed hard as Eddie leaned closer, focusing on the wound. It felt strangely intimate to have him so close; Buck could smell his aftershave and see every individual hair in the stubble over his jaw that was starting to push through his skin after nearly 20 hours on shift. The touch of Eddie’s hand along his chin and cheek sent his nerves into a frenzy, and he let out a shaky breath, hoping Eddie would mistake his nerves for pain, rather than suspect just how affected by Eddie he was.

Eddie, too, was affected by his proximity to Buck, but he was doing his best not to show it. Buck’s bright blue eyes were so expressive, Eddie could see the apprehension in them, the unspoken words that he was longing to say shining back at him. Eddie gently cleaned the wound, holding Buck’s head still, desperately resisting the urge to slip the hand holding Buck’s chin up his jaw and into his hair, to pull him close and kiss him the way he’d been dreaming about for weeks.

Eddie finished cleaning the wound and then gently wiped up the blood that had slipped down Buck’s cheek and neck, stroking his skin with the wipe, trying to clean up the drying blood without rubbing too hard. Buck shivered as Eddie’s fingers ghosted over the skin of his neck and Eddie’s eyes flickered to Buck’s, seeing the nervousness there, the embarrassment of the shiver that he hadn’t been able to suppress.

“I’m just going to put a couple of steri strips on this, okay?” Eddie asked after a moment, his voice quieter than before. His affection and desire for Buck was screaming in his chest and he was amazed that Buck couldn’t hear it through his neutral words. Buck nodded in response, and Eddie carefully applied the steri strips, closing the wound and dabbing at the bit of fresh blood that squeezed out.

“All finished,” Eddie said softly, and despite his words, Eddie’s hand lingered on the side of Buck’s face, his fingers still steadying Buck’s jaw. A sudden silence passed between them as Eddie found he couldn’t pull away, and instead he slipped his hand a little higher, cupping Buck’s entire cheek, his thumb gently stroking over Buck’s uninjured cheekbone.

Buck looked over at him, his blue eyes shining; Eddie knew immediately how important this moment was - Buck’s eyes conveyed a vulnerability that Eddie had never seen before. Buck’s expression showed a complete trust in Eddie, but also a shyness that anyone who thought they knew Buck would never have suspected was there. Eddie could see from that single look how much Buck wanted to be with him, but that he was afraid to make the first move, afraid of being rejected again. Eddie also knew he was afraid, like Eddie was, of what might happen if they tried being together but it didn’t work out - what would happen to their friendship? And yet, Eddie couldn’t do this anymore. He knew how Buck felt, and not being with him when they both felt the same way was incompatible with life as he knew it.

So, instead of withdrawing his hand, Eddie took a breath and then did exactly as he had imagined a few minutes prior. He slipped his hand along Buck’s jawline and downwards until his hand rested comfortably on Buck’s neck, his fingers gently teasing the ends of Buck’s hair. Eddie could feel Buck’s pulse pounding against his hand and knew he was as excited and nervous as Eddie was, which somehow helped fill Eddie with the confidence to finish what he’d started.

Closing the distance between them, Eddie pulled Buck’s head a little closer as he leaned forward, and in an instant their lips had met. Eddie felt Buck inhale a little sharply in reaction, but then he was pressing closer, kissing Eddie back. It was like a fire ran through his veins; Eddie felt all of his limbs tingle with electricity as they embraced, his own heart racing as Buck let out a soft whimper and pressed even closer to him. Eddie wrapped his free arm around Buck’s side, his hand resting on and stroking Buck’s back, and it was Eddie’s turn to let out a soft noise as he felt Buck’s hand reach up and hesitantly touch his cheek, settling there after a moment.

Eventually they broke apart, the silence around them broken only by their shaking breaths. They looked into each other’s eyes for a long moment, the brown considering the blue, before they moved back together in unison, joined together in a kiss once more. Buck’s heart was pounding in his chest as he wrapped both of his arms around Eddie’s shoulders, Eddie responding by pulling him in as close as possible, deepening the kiss as they both became breathless, desperate for more.

They only broke apart a moment later as Buck’s radio, which was positioned right below their heads, suddenly blared into life with Bobby’s voice, letting them know that they were headed back to the firehouse. Buck and Eddie both sat there, panting, then burst into laughter, throwing their arms around each other and hugging. The hug ended abruptly as the side of Buck’s face bumped into Eddie’s and he let out an involuntary gasp of pain and flinched away.

“Sorry!” Eddie said apologetically, standing up and leaning over, pressing a kiss into Buck’s hair, beside his wound. Buck smiled at the sweet gesture, looking up at Eddie as the other man gathered the garbage from the supplies he’d used. Eddie grabbed Buck a new shirt and helped him peel off the ripped, blood-stained one he was wearing, and by the time they’d tossed the old shirt and Buck had pulled on the new, they could hear the truck rumbling outside, about to pull into the house.

“So… where does that leave us, then?” Buck asked, turning his back to the parking bay and looking over at Eddie, who had just turned back to join him. Eddie could see the hope in Buck’s eyes, and knew there was nothing else to it.

“Why don’t we get breakfast after our shift and see where that goes?” Eddie asked, trying to sound casual but aware that the eagerness that Buck felt was also clear in his tone.

“Sounds like a date,” Buck replied after a moment, and there was barely suppressed joy in his voice that made Eddie smile. Quickly, just before the truck pulled in, Eddie ducked his head and pressed a kiss to Buck’s lips, leaving the other man feeling dizzy with happiness as the truck appeared in the bay.

Buck watched as Eddie walked away and followed in a daze to greet the others as they returned, suddenly finding himself under a barrage of questions and concerns as Hen, then Bobby and then Chim noticed his facial injury and grilled him about it. As Buck laughed and insisted that he was alright, he caught Eddie’s eye from across the room and bit his lip as Eddie grinned at him. Buck had never wanted to get off of a shift as badly as he did at that moment, and the memory of their kisses sustained him over the next few hours until they could finally be together, exploring what ‘together’ really meant for the first time.

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lena-in-a-red-dress · 3 years

Text

Notting Hill AU Snippet #10

Kara doesn't call.

Lena doesn't know if she wants her to, of if she just aches for a new kind of hurt, after the sting fades to a throb fades to a bonedeep sense of loss. When her therapist asks, she tells the truth: she doesn't know what she expected by inviting Kara Danvers into her home a second time. It had simply felt... right.

Weeks bleed together, time losing its meaning as Lena trudges through attempts from her friends to distract her. She sees Lex more than ever. He and Nia set her up on more than one date, but not one scratches Lena's surface.

"I could kill her for what she's done," Lena overhears Andrea telling Lex one night. "Look at her: it's as bad as Veronica."

"Worse, even." Lex's voice is low and concerned. He's always good for a laugh, but is at a loss when every single joke lands like a sack of bricks. Lena doesn't hear anymore. She slips out and texts an apology the next morning.

One day, Nia visits the bookshop with Querl in tow. She's radiant with excitement, enough so that even Lena nearly catches it.

"You are going to love me forever," Nia says, offering Lena a slip of paper. On it is written a phone number.

"What is this?" Lena asks.

"The number of Kara's agent in America."

The news hits Lena like a kick to the stomach. Her chest locks, and suddenly it feels like she can't breathe.

"I thought," Nia continues, suddenly nervous when Lena doesn't respond, "now you can finally call her. Now that things have calmed down. Get some closure, if nothing else..."

Lena still can't respond. Finally, Nia curls her hand around the slip of paper for her.

"Just, promise me you'll think about it, okay?"

It lives in Lena's pocket for a week, heavy and foreboding. Twice, she almost reaches for the phone. In the end, she throws it in the waste paper bin outside the shop and walks away.

---

One night, Lena finds herself sitting on her brother's couch. With Lex sitting next to her reading the paper and Andrea working on her laptop in the nearby armchair, the room is quiet. Normally, Lena prefers the silence, but tonight it weighs on her like a lead blanket.

"I should have known better, shouldn't I?"

The question slips from her without thought, marking the first time she's spoken of the great Kara Danvers debacle since it happened. Both Lex and Andrea look at her, and suddenly Lena's eyes fill with tears.

"Maybe-- maybe I'm just not meant for you two have. I should have taken the hint when my first crush fell in love with my brother instead. Spare myself the trouble."

"No," Andrea says, snapping her laptop shut and setting it aside to focus her entire attention on Lena. "No, just because I didn't love you the same way doesn't mean you aren't meant for happiness."

"Yeah," Lex chimes in. "And it's not been all sunshine and roses for us either. But the not so great moments are the entry fee you pay to get to the good stuff."

Lena wipes her eyes. She wonders if this was how the american colonies felt-- taxation without representation. Well, consider this her declaration. She's done.

"No," Andrea says again, recognizing the look on Lena's face. "You don't get to give up, Lena. We won't let you."

"Mmhmm," Lex agrees with his wife. "No one deserves to be happy more than you do. You'll get there... and maybe sooner rather than later."

"What does that mean?"

"It means," Lex says, folding his newspaper and handing it over, "that someone's back in London."

"Lex..." Andrea warns.

"What?"

Their conversation fades out as Lena stares at the headline. Kara Danvers Returns. It features a picture of Kara in a ballgown, grasping her academy award with a beaming smile, and a second image of a filming location filled with actors in period costume. The caption identifies the location as Hampstead Heath.

Though the image of Kara brings fresh tears to her eyes, Lena feels a strange sense of calm. Kara is okay. In that moment, she realizes that so much of her anguish was the not knowing whether Kara had recovered from the media blitz that had ended their tryst so spectacularly.

Now she does, and Lena feels... okay.

She coughs a laugh, wiping her eyes again as she stands. "I should go."

"Oh, Lena..."

"No, Drea, I'm okay. Thank you." Lena sniffles. "For caring."

Andrea rises, enveloping Lena in a hug. "I do love you, you know. That's never not been true."

Lena nods. "I believe you."

---

For a few days, Lena thinks the peace of knowing Kara is okay will be enough. But three days after Lex hands her the newspaper, Lena finds herself in Hampstead Heath, walking past horse drawn carriages and crewhands working diligently, eyes peeled for a flash of blonde hair.

She runs into a production assistant first. "Can I help you?" he asks, subtly shifting to stand in her path and keep her from going any further.

"Um, yes, hopefully. I'm here to see Kara Danvers, if she's not busy. I'm a friend."

"A friend," the guy says, clearly unconvinced.

"Yes, as far-fetched as that seems. I--"

She stops abruptly when the sound of a familiar laugh drifts through the air. In an instant, Lena zeroes in on the source, and sees Kara stepping out of her trailer with her agent in tow, her face alight with mirth.

Her agent grins back, clearly pleased with herself as she peels off to head in a different direction. Kara joins up with a trio of other actors heading towards the south lawn of the hampstead manor. They pause briefly, and in that moment Kara turns, and their eyes meet.

Electricity fills Lena from head to toe, rooting her to the spot even as her hand lifts in a hesitant wave.

Kara stares for a moment more, until Lena carefully retracts her hand. Only then does she say a word to her costars and take her leave, closing the distance to where Lena stands with her new friend.

Said friend notices Kara's reaction and stands aside, allowing Lena to approach the picket line marking the boundary of the set. They meet on either side, neither speaking for a long moment.

"What're you doing here?"

Kara's question cuts like a knife, and Lena has to swallow against the sudden lump that rises to her throat.

"I heard you were in town," she says softly, "and I..."

Again, she doesn't know why she's here. She doesn't know what she wants to say or how she hopes this conversation will end. She's just... here.

For now, even with all things unsaid between them, it feels like enough.

"Excuse me, Kara?"

Another production assistant calls for Kara, and the moment shatters. Kara holds up one finger, earning them a few more seconds.

"Um, things aren't going very well, and it's our last day, so..."

"Right, you're clearly very busy, I shouldn't have--"

"But if you could wait?" Kara asks, cutting Lena off before she can bolt. Lena looks at her, and in Kara's gaze she sees nothing but a wary earnestness. "There are... things to say."

Lena feels herself nod. "Of course."

"Okay," Kara breathes. "Great. I'll come find you when I can?"

Lena nods again. Kara leaves, taking all the air in Lena's lungs with her. Lena flexes her trembling hands, then hides them in her pockets when someone approaches and offers to take her behind the cameras.

The walk through the cultivated garden filled with costumed actors is thrilling in its own way, allowing Lena a glimpse into Kara's life as an actor rather than just a celebrity.

"Here," her guide says, passing Lena off to the sound technician. "Bill here can hook you up with some headphones to listen in. The actors are already mic'd."

Lena offers Bill a smile of thanks when he hands her a headset. There's also a small monitor, allowing Lena to see what the cameras currently see-- Kara Danvers running lines with another woman.

"So I ask you when you're telling everyone, and you say..."

"Tomorrow will be soon enough."

"Right, and then I..." On the monitor, Kara nods under her lace parasol. "Got it. Thanks, Siobhan."

Her costar, Siobhan, nods, then leans back against the fence behind her. "So. Who was the hottie you were talking to on the way to set?"

With a jolt, Lena realizes that she's suddenly the topic of conversation. She shifts uncomfortably in her seat, fidgeting with her headset-- but not removing it. Not yet.

"Oh. No one."

Lena swallows, her cheeks heating with a mortified flush. She was so stupid for coming here-- but Kara's not done.

"Just a friend from the past. It's actually kind of an awkward situation-- I don't know what she's doing here, actually."

The ground falls out from under Lena's feet, making her stomach swoop sickeningly. She tears the headset from her head, and shoves it back into Bill's hands.

"Sorry, I've got to--"

She doesn't bother finding an excuse. She simply bolts, and doesn't look back.

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#supercorp #notting hill au

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