#its about making mistakes and fucking up and forgiveness where its earned and moving on even if you cant forgive

[shhhhimwatchingthis]

ok yeah, I'm willing to put Young Royals up as one of, if not the best teen drama ever written

and not just writing! cinematography, costumes, music, performances! this show truly is a masterpiece

[starcurtain]

I wouldn't say they present Mydei being in Kremnus as limitation more like an outpost? Like you'll be there and Okhema wouldn't get destoyed. But again, Castrum Kremnus moves? Demigod of Strife is one of the most powerful demigods you have at the moment and I get that desperate time and you need to some fighting back but not even have tb pop to check how their most powerful fighter is doing around nature calamity that can fuck you up severely?

And Grove got destroyed but FR and not their typical abnormal disaster. And by world quest, tb knows. But giving hoyo track record I doubt that make in main story.

My apologies if I sound too bitter bc I keep thinking about this. I think thematic stand point I could - and kinda is - beautiful: mydei not only choosing to end the dynasty but using position that for so long was tied with bloodshed only to protect and choosing to be protector. "Kinda" part comes from the part that even glossing over continuity errors, it reads as such mistake for heroes side. Maybe it supposed to be like this. Its just I really like mydei in 3.0 and every that they did with him in this patch(wonky timelines aside) made him of of my favorite characters in the entire game but this part is basically feels undercooked

I don't have too many extra thoughts on this, but I think this ask makes some great points so I wanted to share it publicly!

I do agree that there really is a nice bookend to the idea that Mydei took a position that he was so dead-set on rejecting because of what it represented--the bloody and miserable dynasty he wanted to end with his own hands--and managed to instead refocus that position onto protection, guardianship, and using the power of strife and war to hold the line of peace. There is a lot of meaning in that choice, and I think if we didn't have so much foreshadowing that it was all going to go wrong, that it's all for nothing because Amphoreus is just a series of cycles, then I think this could have been seen as a very positive end to his character arc.

(I also think there's a special kind of appeal in Mydei returning to Kremnos to take over Nikador's role as a sort of symbolic ascension of Kremnos as a whole--Gorgo founded Kremnos specifically to chase Nikador and try to earn the god's attention, and now "the son of Gorgo" managed to completely eclipse the god their nation was born to pursue... True "pinnacle of mankind" shit right there lol.)

However, as you say, it feels like "a mistake for the hero's side" because we do have so much foreshadowing telling us that this isn't going to go well, that it wasn't the right choice to split the team up, and that guarding something that is doomed from the start is a fruitless pursuit.

Personally, to me, while I don't think the plot is going to go this direction, I kind of feel like it would have been very interesting to see a second cycle with a coreflame swap instead--a sort of "Okay, following the prophecy line-by-line didn't actually get us where we need to be; we should mix it up this time."

Mydei would have made a really rad demigod of the ocean titan, just sayingggggg.

I think this ask came right after 3.1. As of 3.1 ending, I also reallyyyyy agreed that Mydei going off to Kremnos was way undercooked and not properly written into the plot, but since they made sure to keep him relevant in 3.2, I'm a bit more willing to forgive them now than I was at the end of 3.1, lol.

Now for 3.3 to crush all our hearts... (Or maybe it's just a trailer fake out, who knows lol.)

[lixtokki]

i saw that

pairing: chan x reader word count: 1.3k rating: 18+ warnings: possessive chris. public stuff. a/n: i literally wrote this on my 13hr flight home from seoul .. sleep deprived to hell and back. if there's any mistakes pls extend your forgiveness

“i fucking saw that.” 

you knew, you always did. you were merely performing for him after call. making sure all the mens eyes were trained on you before smiling a little more coyly than chris appreciated. it was something of a game, to you. from chris’ side of the room, it certainly appeared to be an act of defiance… a challenge. you steal a glance from an eager man, and turn your gaze to chris immediately — as expected, his expression is soured. rotten, actually. he doesn’t meet your eye, rather, he looks you up and down before mouthing those words in your direction. too angry to offer you the respect of eye contact. 

what awaits you when you find yourself out of the club remains to be seen. chris was an ocean, unpredictable, unyielding… but there always is a calm before a storm. 

the night isn’t far aged when you feel the commanding hand on the small of your back, guiding you out of the club, away from the thudding music and neon lights. you leave the scene behind, along with the broken promises to men now forgotten. 

chris leads you outside, silently, into the cold. his hand remains bound to you, regardless, a small nod to anyone who might think otherwise that you are taken. spoken for. 

a taxi is hailed quickly and you’re shoved inside, chris following hastily behind. his aftershave just about permeates every square inch of the cramped car; he takes the right most seat, and, when you assume the opposite seat at the left side, his hand  finds your neck and he silently commands your move to his side. arm raised, awaiting your embrace. 

so, perhaps he was not as pissed as one seems. you begin to think you might have taken your games too far for one night. the stoic impression on your boyfriends face gives away nothing — but then again, it never did. 

you nuzzle his side, breathing in his scent. when you open your mouth to speak, his hand raises immediately, shushing you without verbalisation. 

“you.” he begins. his voice barely a whisper against your ear. “you think you’re pretty fucking funny, yeah?”

ah, hook, line and sinker. you smile. “i have no idea what you’re talking about.” you suck a simper through your teeth, placing a hand on his thigh. 

“you should think very carefully about where this conversation is going, babygirl.” still, chris looks forward to the road ahead, but his body stiffens against your own. 

“i was just having some fun.” you say, your facade of innocence so transparent it actually earns a scoff straight from chris’ mouth. you continue, “you should consider it sometime. fun, that is.” 

chris stiffens again, his hand that dangles by your face swallowing into a tight fist. “fun?” he repeats, though you are certain he did not mishear. “fun…” he says it again, tongue stuck through his teeth, “alright.” 

now, he chances a downward glance at you, his eyes stern and dark. his other hand, finds your thigh. his touch so light its barely there. 

“so, that’s your idea of fun, yeah?” chris breathes against your neck. in fact, you’re sure his sentence slips into a growl toward the end. he trails his fingers up and down your thigh, feeling the goosebumps that rush over your skin. 

you neglect an answer, so he asks again. “tell me. tell me all about your idea of fun.”  

his fingers roam under your skirt, higher, higher and higher… before stopping completely. not without an answer, it seems. 

“i— i wanted to make you jealous.” you say, lip tight under your front teeth. and the breathy unamused laugh that chris releases flush against the hot skin of your neck sends shivers all the way down your spine. 

“mmm,” chris hums, as if we was expecting the answer the whole time, “and why’s that?” a finger, ever-so-gently, prods at your sheathed pussy. 

the taxi driver meets your gaze in the rear view mirror and you make a feeble attempt to close your thighs and will chris’ fingers away. but he’s stronger. “answer me.” he says, pressing into your soaked heat harder. 

you whimper, a little too audibly for your liking and look down at your own knees, the view of chris’ thick, veiny arm disappearing up your skirt almost being too much to look at, never mind the very sensation of it. 

“you— it’s hot when you’re jealous.” you croak out, holding onto the moans in your throat for dear life. it’s another answer chris was expecting. he laughs again, pressing his lips against your neck and running his tongue along a favoured expanse of sweaty skin. 

“yeah?” he says, not really asking anything. “now, that doesn’t sound like it’s very fun for me, now does it?” now, two of his fingers circle your clothed clit, rough enough that you’re biting back a yelp. the taxi driver peers back again and the blood rushes to your exposed face. “you think it’s fun for me to watch men drool all over you? you think i want to see the way people look at you when they’re thinking such filthy fucking thoughts about you?” 

his whispering crossed the threshold towards growling in an instant. his fingers pushing harder against you the more he talks, you screw your eyes shut, curling into chris’ body as much as he’ll allow. he keeps you positioned nicely so his fingers never leave your heat. when you fail to answer his question, his free hand snakes around your jaw, gripping your mouth and cheeks roughly. “answer me. do i wanna see that?”

you shake your head as much as his grip allows. “no. no, no.” 

“look at me.” comes a gentler command. 

hesitantly, your eyes flutter open and you stare straight into chris’ eyes that are simultaneously so full of both love and venom. 

“you are all mine, yeah?” his hand lowers from your face to your neck, where he holds you, stern but gentler than before. “wan’ hear you say it.” he says, bringing your mouths together for a long, languid kiss. in the meantime, with his other hand, he pushes your underwear to the side and rubs his fingers through your folds, completely slicking himself in your mess — it’s making it rather difficult for you to form sentences, but you couldn’t deny him. 

“yours. i’m yours. i’m all yours.” you breathe into the kiss, feeling embarrassingly close to an orgasm. you whimper and squirm, and chris knows right away. 

“oh, pup. you’re close? i’ve barely touched you.” his voice is dripping in faux sympathy, a cheeky grin tugs at the corner of his lips. “you’ve already made such a mess of the taxi. tsk.” 

shit. you’d almost forgotten that there’s another person in here with you. and the embarrassment completely flushes your cheeks red but… also sends all the right signals to your cunt that chris is so meticulously stroking right now. he slides his fingers across your clit and down to your opening, back and forth, back and forth. the slow pace has you bucking your hips towards him. 

“ah. ah. easy there.” he taunts, “don’t wanna cum already, do you?” 

but you do. you nod. your head again and again and again, and you know you’ve fucked up by admitting it because chris is the furthest thing from a merciful tease. he scoffs and tugs his hand away from your pussy, his entire hand absolutely soaked by now. you whine at the sudden loss of pleasure, and you whine loud enough that the entire taxi hears you. but chris just pouts back at you, mocking the face you always make when he denies you an orgasm.

“poor pup. gotta wait until we’re home.” he whispers, pressing a kiss into the side of your head. 

you cross your legs in an attempt for some friction between your thighs and chris laughs, loud. like he couldn’t hold it in, like seeing you so, so desperate was utterly hysterical. 

“so,” he says, mouth against your ear once again, “who doesn’t know how to have fun?”

[over-active-imagination]

Dinner Manners

(Not my Gif)

Synopsis: One of Sarah's friends has a run in with an old flame and a terrible dinner guest.

Warnings: SMUT, Mentioned minor character death, swearing, Fem!reader, Victorian Ideals.

A/N: I have been working on this for about three months beacuse I kept getting writers block or distracted. So please enjoy! I also haven't edited it..please forgive my mistakes it any lmfao

Masterlist

The soft piano lilted through the dinning room at Delmonico's as Y/n entered the building holding onto her friend Sarah's arm. Miss Howard had practically begged Y/n to dinner with her and John. Citing that they both missed her a great deal wanting to know how all about her time abroad in Paris and London.

That is what they said at least.

Then she saw another man sitting across from John with only two seats available. One next to Mr Moore and the other next to the bearded stranger. Upon their arrival both men stand up quickly John pulling out the chair for Sarah leaving the Y/n and the other man awkwardly staring at the empty one.

"Well this is a surprise" Y/n says quickly in a polite tone moving to take the seat before it was pulled out. She hated having things done for her.

"Mmm I would agree. Feels quite a bit like an ambush" The man to the left of her says. This causes Y/n to straighten up more, agitated by the fact he sounded so stiff.

"Yes, well since you called it what is is," John hums a bit and natures to the pair. "My dear I wanted to introduce you to Doctor Laszlo Kriezler a close friend of mine. Laszlo this is Miss Y/n Y/l/n a dear friend of Sarah's who has been travelling abroad with her family." John smiles brightly.

Both Laszlo and Y/n knew this was intended to be a blind set up the moment Sara and John snickered to each other. Deciding to just play along for the time being the younger woman looked up at Doctor Kreizler.

"Its a pleasure to meet you Doctor, Be it that our friends have taken it upon themselves to force this meeting" She hums not attempting to hide her annoyance.

"I wish I could say the same" Laszlo says simply causing every part to look at him in shock.

"Laszlo!" John and Sara say together shocked at his bluntness, sure they knew Kreizler wasn't the most well mannered man. But usually in public he could restrain himself.

"What? You two decide to throw both Myself and this...woman...into a very uncomfortable situation. How do I know you didn't just pay for her to be here just so you didn't feel bad for having me as a third party." He hisses causes the Woman to his left too snort.

"And the same could be said for you Doctor" She snaps back just as quick.

"That is a bold response coming from a woman in a very low cut dress" Laszlo says flatly and that was the last twist of the knife the young lady needed to hear.

"With all due respect Doctor...go fuck yourself" Y/n says and stands throwing a glass of wine into his face before storming out of the restaurant.

Laszlo however stayed seated picking up a napkin and wiping his face.

"Well she certainly makes an impression" He grumbles causing both of his friends to sign exasperated.

"As do you, you idiot" Sara huffs "I expect that you will go an apologize to her or I will never speak to you again"

"Thats a bit dramatic even for you Miss Howard." This earns a glare from John.

"You know what Laszlo, I share Miss Y/l/n's last sentiment. And be thankful I haven't received my wine yet"

With that Miss Howard rose to her feet and quickly followed her friends path. Wanting to find her and ease the anger that had bubbled up from the unfortunate meeting. Leaving John and Laszlo together for a less than comfortable dinner.

The young woman often made sure every engagement she went to was void of the handsome Hungarian man since that night. Usually she was pretty safe as he Laszlo rarely made public appearances, for example the party she had just come back from was void of the man right up until she made it home.

Teetering a bit on her heels that where all the rage back in Paris, she opened the door humming a soft tune. It was honestly a rather dull affair but the champagne was good and flowing.

"Oh...Miss...you're home. A gentleman is here to see you" The housekeeper, Ms. Fitzwilliam coos at her happily as Y/n kicks off her shoes jumping at the sudden voice glancing up.

After registering who it was the woman smiled a bit and nodded at her.

"Is there? How wonderful! Please make sure they are aware I want nothing to do with them as you send them away." She airily flourishing a hand as she move gracefully through the hallway towards the the sitting room off the main foyer.

"Umm..are you sure Miss? He is quite dashing and-"

"I don't care if he is the bloody king of England! Send. Him. Away."

Ignoring the way her housekeeper followed spluttering behind her as she looked up making eye contact with Laszlo who had been sitting in one of the high-backed armchairs a class of Port in his hand.

"I see your colourfully language is still the same" he says taking a sip of his drink. Laszlo would be lying if he said he wasn't bit stunned at how..disheveled the woman looked. She looked like a very different person then the one who he had observed at dinner.

Strands of her hair had fallen from the elaborate braid she had, the pieces framing her face. Slowly his eyes gravitated lower to her chest for a moment watching it heave under the effort of the tight corset that lay beneath the dark green lower cut dress.

Damn those Parisian designers.

"Well the statement stands, although I regret comparing you to the King of England"

"That is an inappropriate way to treat a guest" He replies gruffly, tightening his hand on the cane as she rolled her eyes.

"Right, of course. As I should always hold myself up to your high esteem right Doctor? Like how you practically called me a harlot. In public! Before rushing out of dinner leaving me ALONE." Y/n snaps and throws her shoes down onto the ground.

"You are acting like the children I work with" He retorts and realizes perhaps that was a mis-step as her glossy shoe comes hurling at his head. "Verdammter Scheiß!"

"Ms. Fitz, Show this pompous asshole out of our lovely home" Y/n snaps and moves to leave gasping when she feels his hand grip her upper arm.

"You will not speak to me that way. Ms. Fitz if you wouldn't mind giving us the room" Kriezler says in an authoritative tone. Fitz looking between both her mistress and the Doctor.

"It's fine, I can handle myself. Goodnight Ms Fitzwilliam" The woman says her voice still strong but Laszlo could sense her wavering. The older housekeeper nodded a faint smile on her lips as she moved to shut the parlour door.

"Do you enjoy making a fool of yourself?" Laszlo whispers harshly into her ear. "Do you enjoy making me mad? Testing my patience? Pushing me over and over again? Making me lie to our friends? To Dear Ms Fitz"

His tone made her shiver and bite her lip. Slowly allowing herself to press back into his body.

"No one asked you to lie to Sara and John. Just like no one asked you to humiliate me” She snaps reminding herself why she was so angry with him.

“We both know that is an inaccurate statement, as you have on many occasions asked me to humiliate you” Laszlos voice makes her shiver.

The pair had met each other at a seminar her father was holding on new ideas for child medicine. Laszlo had been more open minded then. Not so set in his ways often finding himself in discourse with the younger woman, who would often twist a knife just to get a rise out of him. He really believed that a beautiful relationship could blossom between them…until her father died.

Then she had went away. No words where exchanged, no goodbyes given. Just one day he walked by the home and the doors where closed and drapes hung over all the furnishings to keep the dust away.

Something that caused Laszlo a great deal of pain, Something he had never mentioned. Even though they made a point to send letters to one another it just wasn't the same. So when he caught a glimpse of her walking into Delmonico's he become a swirl of emotions, most he had never let himself feel. Until that moment their eyes locked again.

"You mean like how you left me alone Schatz." He husked and instantly regret and guilt caused her to relinquish the upper hand to him.

"Las I didn't-" She went to say something but found her words caught in her throat.

"How could you know! You left! You left and never told me that you planed to go." Laszlo snaps pushing her against the wall looking down at her, his eyes full of emotion.

"I-I'm sorry I didn't know I-it would hurt you so much" She says in earnest reaching up and gently touching his cheek. Trying her best to quell the beast brewing beneath the surface.

Laszlo did not reply leaning in and kissing her fiercely. He didn't want to speak about it any more. He just wanted to feel her again, have her close to him. He reveals in the soft moan that escapes her lips and the little bit of writhing she does attempting to get control.

"Stop it. We have been apart for too long and I have to remind you who is in control" He gravels out he roughly pushes her down onto the chaise lounge before kneeling between her legs.

"Pull up your skirts" Laszlo commands and nervously the girl does so, gasping as he lounges forwards licking a stripe along her thigh to her core.

It had been a long time since either of them did this. With anyone and Y/n was shuttering with delight as the man hadn’t lost his touch. A whine escapes from her lips and it sounded like a perfect melody to him.

A warmth started spreading throughout the woman as he head feel back with a soft thud against the head of the chaise. Just when she thought that warmth was going to over take her Laszlo pulled back. Another whine came from the back of her throat but before another word could exit her lips, Kriezler pushed into her warm welcoming heat.

"Oh Doctor!" She exclaims and he is hovering over her.

Originally he was going to draw this out, make her beg and plead for him. Be a touch mean to her in order to prove how much she needed him. But in the end he was over taken by his own primal urges to be one with her. All those other things could wait until later. Right now he just wanted to feel her, hold her and chase after their mutual pleasure.

He listened to all the soft whines and cooing that passed her lips. A smile gracing her usual scowl and kissed down the column of her throat.

"Thats it my little dove, Mein Schatz" He groans and Heiress looked up at him with so much unshared emotion both of them knew what they wanted to say but could never find the right moment.

"Laz...I-" She starts and he kisses her swallowing the admission.

"I know you don't have to tell me" He whispers and starts to speed up watching her come apart for him. Just like she used to, her nails digging into the flesh of his shoulders a high pitched sound escaping her chest.

The Doctor soon followed after her panting and resting his forehead on her chest. His eyes closed as a tear drips down his checks. It had been so long since he had been with anyone let alone the one woman he had been in love with. Laszlo instantly melted has her fingers carded into his hair as the both start to breath in tandem.

"I'm sorry...I didn't mean to hurt you" Y/n says softly after a moment of silence.

"I know" He answers slowly looking up as she wipes his cheeks.

"I was just so angry" She sniffles "And that wasn't fair to you"

"Listen we can work all of this out later. Right now I just want to hold you, will you let me?" He asks in earnest and she nods whining softly as he pulls out and moves to create room for him.

"I have and always will love you Laszlo" She whispers "Even if you call me a whore"

"And Ill always love you, even if you call me the King of England" He hums chucking when she smacks his chest.

"I told you I didn't mean to call you that" The woman laughs and he smiles down at her kissing her once again both thankful to be back in one another arms.

[slowpoke-fics]

The Good Doctor

Fandom: The Walking Dead

Pairing: Negan x Reader

Summary: You're the doctor in Alexandria and Negan comes on a supply trip, taking something that doesn't belong to him

Warnings: depression, death, mentions of off self, gets a little triggering, I know I'm missing some, Negan is off character, nothing is exactly right in this, it's writing for writings sake

A/N: This is my first fic in years please forgive me for mistakes, it's just me in this operation, probably gonna be a whole series, here is part two!

May 20th

Negan's trucks roll into Alexandria again, loudly pushing past the gate and up to the medical center. Your insides start to rumble at the nervousness you have to see the ruthless man who knows no bounds. You reluctantly step outside and wait for him at your door, not doing well at hiding your displeasure of the loss of supplies.

When Negan and his men get out of their loading trucks, Negan shoots you his oh so dangerous smile before directing his men to their collections, keeping two of his men with him, he finally approaches you. "Well good fuckin' morning Dr. Y/L/N," he holds the door open for you, "after you, doll."

You moved past him, smiling at him, and walked to the stockpile of medication you had collected yourself helping Daryl on runs. "Please, only take what you are owed." Negan's men glared at you viciously, "We will take whatever we damn well please." Negan turned to face his men, "Now, we have a peaceful agreement here with the nice fuckin' doctor, get the supplies n lets go." You smiled at him, "Thank you for keeping your end of the bargain." Negan nodded, "I may be a fuckin' prick, but I am a man of my fuckin' word, ain't that all that fuckin' matters nowadays?" You nodded, waiting in silence for the men to complete their tasks.

After the men went through the supplies that laid before them, they pulled Negan to the side, obviously keeping their conversation private, one of them turning to you and flashing you a gut wrenching smile, you leaned on the gurney, waiting for the problem. Negan turned to you, scratching his chin, laughing lightly, "See doc, my men seem to really think that you've tried to short us this week," your eyes went wide, remembering what happened to the last person that tried to short Negan and his group, "I know you wouldn't fuckin' do that so can you just clear this shit up for us."

Scanning over the pages in front of you, "No," you cleared your throat, "I'm not short, its all documented here," you handed Negan the clipboard. As he scans over it, looking at your logs for every pill that comes in and out of this faux medical center, every date and name, the two men he placed with him rips your bag from your shoulders, dumping it out on the table, displaying the contents. Negan glances up, taking in the items on the table; a knife, a ripped up pack of spearmint bubble gum, a few pens, a small first aid kit, a few hair ties, stray items and a small leather bound notebook.

Negan slams the clipboard down, smiling at you, "I'll be damned she's fuckin' right boys, pack it up, it's all in the goddamned charts." You let out a breath of relief, a little worried to be Negan's next lesson. One of the men came close to you, pushing you backwards toward the gurney, "Don't test me bitch," backing away while still staring at you, he picked up your knife and waved it at you, "mine now, doll." The nickname reverberated evil inside you, at least when Negan did it, it felt at least flattering, but this man dripped poison from his words. At that though, Negan perked up, "Come on, shithead we've got things to do." You panicked, "No!" They all turned to you, "You cannot have my fucking knife," you backed up a little when the man stared you down, "please, it means a lot to me." The man started to say something, obviously furious you would even try ordering him, but Negan stopped him, taking the knife and handing it to you. The man he took the knife from grumbled and picked up your pack of gum, "Fuck you, keep your knife bitch, I'll take something sweet." Flashing you his smile, Negan was gone.

As you watched his trucks leave Alexandria, you finally returned to your work, cleaning up the mess his hooligans had made. Straightening the bottles, subtracting inventory, picking up your bag and sighing at the small amount of happiness you had as you realized that was the last pack of gum that you could find in a 50 mile radius. As you were putting away everything on the table, you started to move frantically looking for your notebook, under the table, around the table, even been looking all over the room. You couldn't find it. Your coping mechanism for the world moving at a pace that you just couldn't handle. A sense of dread washed over you as you realized, Negan.

He just couldn't help himself, just has to know what makes the good doctor fuckin' tick. Now, he just happens to have an all access pass to your thoughts in the zombie apocalypse. Humming to himself and relaxing into his seat, he peeled the book back at the marker for your most recent entry, picked a random nearby page and began reading.

April 23rd

celebrating yet another round of people. at some point I hit my limit, just can't keep meeting and greeting. feels pointless, I never see half of them, and when I do they normally die in my clinic. is this what it's become? death after death? mercy after mercy?

April 30th

every time someone dies in my clinic and I slide a knife through their skull it just reminds me this is how it will end for us all. we'll all just be the walking dead in the end. when's my turn? when do I get to finally stop running this rat race and throw in my damn towel? everyone else gets to say goodbye seems fair

Goddamn, Negan thought to himself, there's an entry here for every fuckin' day. He readjusted, taking in where they were at and how long he had to read for now, planning to figure out how you worked. No shame in wanting the pretty doctor.

May 4th

so fucking stupid, absolutely incompetent, couldn't even find antibiotics. couldn't find any gauze or even disinfectant. what a waste of gas, we're beginning to pick clean every building, car and trash can in a 50 mile radius. how long do we have left with the saviors breathing down our neck

May 12th

found some supplies, couldn't find enough, not enough, people treat the medicine like it's never ending but I just can't keep up there's nothing left, there has to be something that I can do, has to be something out there for me to find, it can't just be all gone, I'm not thinking of something, there is something out there I just have to be fucking smart enough to find it

May 15th

risk is worth the reward, I finally found some more antibiotics, and hit the fucking jackpot, found some chewing gum, melted Twix for Judith, and a knife for henry after I lost his in that horde, indescribable emotion when I had that first piece of gum that reminded me of how it used to be, when I was surrounded by support and family, gotta make it last

May 16th

henry was carried in by rick and daryl. henry was conscious, talking, don't let me turn, he begged. rick said he fell from a third story window. daryl grabbed alcohol and gauze, rick grabbed the stitch kit while I cut open henrys shirt, glass, at least two dozen pieces, please be manageable. I grabbed the tweezers and pour alcohol on henry's chest, his screams. half an hour in, he's seizing, rick grab buccal midazolam, place it in his mouth, hold him still until it stops, wait for a beat, no beat, cpr, one hundred twenty seconds in, can't let him turn, wait for beat, no beat, knife.

had to be something more.

henry was carried in by rick and daryl. henry was conscious, talking, don't let me turn, he begged. rick said he fell from a third story window. daryl grabbed alcohol and gauze, rick grabbed the stitch kit while I cut open henrys shirt, glass, at least two dozen pieces, please be manageable. I grabbed the tweezers and pour alcohol on henry's chest, his screams. half an hour in, he's seizing, rick grab buccal midazolam, place it in his mouth, hold him still until it stops, wait for a beat, no beat, cpr, one hundred twenty seconds in, can't let him turn, wait for beat, no beat, knife.

Negan shifted uncomfortably, this went on for at least ten pages, questioning every move you made, reliving putting down a good friend of yours, is this how you mourn?

May 17th

This is it. surrounded by death, my turn.

Fuckin' christ, Negan thought, now realizing that the good doctor is too fuckin' hard on herself. Realizing that you had your own horrible demons, and that this world is starting to get to you.

May 19th

Guess not.

Negan felt horrible for taking this, he felt like he had taken a piece of you, just trying to figure out which buttons to press to make you want him like everyone else, he definitely didn't expect this. He had to give it back, had to find a way to make it better, and he just might have a plan.

May 21st

You woke up feeling empty, just going through the motions, getting dressed, brushing out your hair, brush your teeth, quarter of a piece of gum- no. Walk to the clinic, not hungry today. You sat in your chair, clipboard on lap, staring at the door, waiting for your next victim to come through. After about two hours, you hear a few bikes pull into the gate and getting closer. Taking a peak out the window, you see Negan at your clinic doors with a relatively large backpack on, and the same two men he had with him yesterday, and an extra woman who you had never seen before.

Negan walked into your clinic, the woman standing at the door but not stepping in, and you couldn't do anything but get your knife out. "What the fuck are you doing back here?" You pointed the knife at him, not going to let him take anymore of your hard earned supplies. "You raided yesterday and stole from me! The kind of nerve a selfish prick like you-" Negan pulled out your book and an unopened pack of spearmint gum. You lowered your knife, looking at him like a confused puppy, and then jerked the book out of his hand, leaving the gum. "It's a fuckin' peace offering, doll," Negan held out the gum, but you didn't take it, just stared at him. "I don't want it, you don't get to take all of our lessening supplies and steal from me after I've been nothing but honest trying to keep our deal for no violence and then just come offering a pack of gum your henchmen stole from me! I worked for that! I worked for all of this! I was good to your men! I was good to you, Negan!" You started tearing up and turned away from him, mindlessly putting your journal back in your bag, sighing in great relief that it was returned to you.

"Doll, I didn't fuckin' mean to upset you, I didn't fuckin' know what it was-" Negan stepped closer, setting the bag he carried on your table, "it's not the only peace offering, I've got two more." He sat the gum next to the pack and took your place in the chair, spinning around. You emptied the pack, meds, gauze, a Twix bar, and a few cases of extra supplies. You immediately turned to him, eyebrows raised, "What's the fucking catch? Nobody gets anything from you without a catch." Negan smiled, scratching through his beard, that trouble causing smile, "You gotta come back with me." You scoffed, gawked at that. "Are you serious? You want me to come back with you, with the saviors? Why? That's not even possible, I-I'm needed here, I'm the only one whose been studying the medical books, only one that can tell their ass from their end, that's just stupid-" Negan stands and points to the woman at your door. "Cue the next fuckin' offering, Amelia. She knows what she's fuckin' doing, she's a good one and fuckin' despises my fine ass, so I know that your fuckin' people are in good hands. You only gotta come for a week, just a fuckin' week."

You sighed, not sure what to do, but only had seconds to figure it out, "Okay," you moved closer to him, "on two conditions." Negan smiled, turned on by your big balls of courage to demand something from the man who mercilessly beat the shit out of people with a barbed wire bat. "I have today to train her on how to keep things in order while I'm gone, and next week, you leave Alexandria alone, and no taking extra in two weeks, we get to keep our extra supplies for next week." Negan scoffed, unbelievable that you'd demand that, he's gotta run his own group, "Are you fuckin' joking sweetheart?" You laughed, packing up the supplies and giving the bag of supplies back to him, "No, I am not," you pulled back and crossed your arms, "so how bad do you want me, Negan?"

[sebbybooks]

Wreck My Daydream

Part Two

Sebastian Stan x Fanfiction

18+

Tagged🎄

@wayward-mikaelson

Cataglottism

(n.) kissing with tongue

I’m already wet and Sebastian barely even touched me.

I hardly gave myself a moment to be ashamed or even stir in the crass words I was using even if I had only thought them. Like a diary I suppose there was no need to lie to myself considering it was one hundred percent true. I, Nellie Lennox, was unabashedly met with unending desires that washed away my trepidations that led up to this moment.

In its place I felt this newfound sense of possibilities that I wasn’t actually making an ass out of myself with my sudden confession of feelings for Sebastian. In my defense I didn’t just wake up one morning after having some epiphany as to why I wanted to be with him. The thought of us together made itself at home in the back of my mind.

Almost like a what if. . .

However, I couldn’t help but be terrified of all the ways it could go wrong. What if I had made things weird between us forcing us apart? Life would be a bitter existence if Sebastian wasn’t around in some capacity. For the longest time I tried to find him in different relationships. It is a messed up philosophy, but it almost worked. Whenever things would get too serious it nearly terrified me. I was their someday and they were my maybe. I owed this last relationship that is still so freshly cut more than that.

I owed myself that.

On the unique and rare chance I somehow got lost in a very realistic maladaptive daydream, I’m pretty certain Sebastian wants this too. Just thinking about what he had told me seconds ago made my heartbeat drum to a dizzy rhythm. Imagining myself getting fucked to the beat of it was a completely different type of sensation.

Retraining my focus on the now I could see it in Sebastian’s face all the wheels going around in his head. Confusion? Uncertainty? Regret?

“You don’t get to do that.” I tell him. I felt like I was going to climb out of my own skin if he left me suspended in the silence for a second longer. Sebastian tipped his face closer to mine, our lips gingerly brushing against each other. Perhaps he was feeling ambivalent in regards of his feelings for me? After all this was sprung on him in the middle of the night.

Sebastian shook his head as if he was at war with himself. “I want to.” His voice was strained and dangerously low, like something was causing him utter misery being this close, yet not knowing exactly when to pull away.

“Then why don’t you.” I dared him.

I was growing impatient with this slow burn we had somehow started. I wanted to play with this fire. If I got burned in the end by his touch then so be it. At least I would forever be marked with a reminder of knowing that I at least went after something I wanted with no apology. I wanted to see how far he was willingly to go.

Sebastian removed his hand from the security of being wrapped around me. I feigned a disappointed sigh at the lack of contact. My entire body must have been on autopilot , because I didn’t recognize the position I was in. I practically sat in his lap with one leg wrapped around him and the other one mindlessly dangling over the bed. Of course the mind reader that Sebastian was naturally grabbed ahold of the side of my thigh and wrapped it around his back.

It wasn’t like I was naive to sex or never had my fair share of romantic conquest. Regardless of my experiences I still felt like a gigantic ball of nerves. The way he stared down at me with a heated look in his eyes as if he wanted to posses every inch of me. Hell, I felt like I could come undone from that alone.

The hand that was planted on my back slowly drifted downward trailing the curve of my backside gripping my ass through my thinly silk hunter green shorts that matched the top. Earlier I had berated myself for wearing scantly clad pajamas to bed. Now I am thanking my lucky stars I opted out of the option of wearing a red Christmas onesie that had polar bears wearing scarfs around their necks. They were ones my mother insisted the whole family wear.

If I had I probably would not have been able to feel his erection that was restrained in his sweatpants. Trying to situate myself closer I rocked into him slightly, massaging myself on him. My ears didn’t miss the subtle groan Sebastian let out from the feel of my weight pressing further into him.

His silence wasn’t lost on me and he still hadn’t answered my question so I did it again. I wanted him to say something. My nervousness abated at this point. I twined my arms around his neck, grinding myself against him again and again. All the while Sebastian watched my every movement with a hint of a star struck look in his eyes. The feeling was certainly mutual I was even shocking myself at my behavior.

“Nellie,” Sebastian finally says, voice husky. He usually only ever calls me by my nickname so I was more than sure that he was not fully himself.

“I’m a big girl Sebastian I can handle whatever you need to say.” I tell him, holding in my breath.

“Alright,” he said with uncertainty. “You and me, this, it’s not a good idea.” His tone was barely audible and even more so he sounded hurt. Everything in me froze.

“And why is that?” I asked him more confused than ever. Suddenly feeling absolutely self conscious as I over analyzed every intimate word I just shared with him. I was even more horrified by the fact that I was dry humping my best friend.

He let out a darkly laugh. “It’s pretty damn obvious Nells.” Sebastian says rather ominously.

“...It’s not actually.” For someone that wants nothing out of this, Sebastian was holding on to me like an anchor and I on the other hand just wanted to get away and sink.

Admittedly, I was losing this game of tug a war. There was only so much I was willing to endure even I had my limits. “You’re giving me whiplash Sebastian .” I tell him honestly, “ I’m not like those other girls you go for that are satisfied with you just dangling yourself in front of them like a piece of cake that I can’t have. I meant what I said when I told you I didn’t say it just to hear you say the same.” My voice could only rise so high in pitch.

I definitely didn’t want to wake up the upstairs guest that would love nothing more than to recap this conversation over breakfast. Then like an unexpected bolt of lighting startling you from a distance, Sebastian kissed me.

Sebastian

I am a selfish bastard.

My mind fell quiet when I looked at her. I wanted to swim in the serenity and peacefulness that was this smart, vibrant, sexy, and uniqueness this woman possessed. I only wondered even in the darkness could Nellie see my eyes as plainly as I can see hers. If so could she see the shame reflecting in them? I could feel the nagging weight of my conscience siting on both of my shoulders, arguing back and forth over what I should and shouldn’t do. It was kind of ironic that the devil in my ear insisted that I give in to the angel in my lap.

God knows I waited for her and that I would keep waiting if I had to in this lifetime or the next. It was always going to be Nellie for me. I wanted to tell her all of this, but the longer I held on to this slice of heaven I was given during this random hour. I also knew that this moment was fleeting. I basked in the way she looked at me, the way she held on to me like I was an object of virtue. I also got a sample of what it would be like to lose her the second she began to slip away on her own accord. So, I did what any poor fool would do in my position. I kissed her.

It wasn’t exactly suave or how I imagined it would go. My mouth sort of crushed against her unmoving lips in a rushed and unskilled manner. Frankly, I wasn’t sure what I was doing, I certainly could do a hell of a lot better than this. An yet, it was still like I predicted it would be, filled with pure unadulterated pleasure. Nellie’s lips were sweet and warm, exactly how I imagined forbidden fruit to taste like.

A perfect mixture of firm and softness that drove me wild. She flattened her hands on my bare chest as if to brace herself. Nellie pushed herself away, but her face was still so close to me. She didn’t speak and neither could I. I forced myself to look up at her and hoped that she could see I would do everything in my power to earn her forgiveness. That it was a mistake I will make right somehow.

“Nell,” I let out an exasperated breath. “ I have a need for you that goes deeper than just lust and I know that it will never truly be sated. The killer thing is I’m already at risk of losing you before I even had you.”

Nellie stared hazily up at me.“You already have me.” She whispered, our lips still grazing. Those four simple words set off a firework in me. This time when I kissed her our mouths came together like we needed to feed off of each other’s oxygen in order to survive. I’d suffer if I didn’t have it.

My mouth was greedy for hers, and I could imagine she felt the same. The moment I felt her lips slightly part open to let me in, less than a second our tongues slid together in a torrid and sensually slow pace. We kissed like a couple of eager teenagers. My heart threatened to leap from my chest when the tip of Nell’s tongue moved across my bottom lip. She tastes like gingerbread , mixed with some other divine flavor that I can only assume is Nellie. She arched herself closer into my chest and I could feel the points of her hardened nipples through her top. I seized the opportunity to press her body close because I needed more.

I wanted to feel the heat of her soft skin on mine. She returned her arms back around my neck tightly holding me in place as she angled her head kissing me back with the same ferocity. Deeply, and oh so thoroughly by the way she sucked on my tongue. I had a rough grip on her ass keeping Nellie steady as she straddled me. I was so damn hard for her. If my dick could get even harder it was bound to. Nellie did that thing again where she grinds down on my erection and I cursed at myself to not combust. I grabbed ahold of her hips guiding her to move faster, harder.

I kept telling myself to savor her, fucking take my time with this moment. I couldn’t just rip those tiny little shorts off and sink myself into her over and over until we’ve both had enough. But even then I would always need more of her. I wasn't a sentimental man, with Nellie I at least wanted to try. I wanted my first night with Nell to be a little less spontaneous than this. It wasn’t like I came prepared for festivities filled with endless fucks. Plus the added fact I couldn’t let things get too carried away especially since she still didn’t know what I have done.

Yeah, I am a very selfish bastard.

I didn’t want this to end. I wanted my mouth to explore every single part of Nellie. I wanted the taste of her to live on my tongue. I wanted to go as far as she and my consciousness would allow me.

“I need to touch you.” I panted, between every nip and kiss I left on the delicate area of skin under her jaw.

“You’re already touching me.” She says with a soft laugh, which was a melody to my ears. I was but at the same time I wasn’t. I needed to rid Nellie of any barrier that prevented me from branding her skin with my touch.

“This…off.” I tug gently on the bottom of her tank top before returning my hands to rest on her thighs, caressing them as I sucked on her neck for dear life. Going back and forth between grazing her neck with my teeth then licking over the area to soothe any imprint I’ve left.

Nellie crisscrossed her arms reaching for the hem of her top gracefully pulling it over her head. She purposely fell backwards onto the mattress aiming her shirt at my face. For as long as I’ve known Nell she was never one to be shy in her own skin.

“Imagine how unsexy that would have been if I hit my head on the headboard.”

“As long as you didn’t hurt yourself I would have just pretended that I didn’t see a thing.” I teased.

“Ah, to think they wonder where all of the good men have gone.” Nell scrunched up her nose pretending to be lost in critical thought.

I cock my head to the side. “Mm-hmm. Are you mocking me?”

“What if I am?”Her plump wet lips spread into a smile.

It was miracle I caught a word of what she said to me. I swallowed a groan as my eyes drift over the area of her body that was naked from the waist up. Nellie was clearly a stolen painting from the Louvre that I had no intention of returning. All I could do was stare.

With her legs still draped around me, my hands slide up the curve of her torso passing her ribs. I sensed that she was watching me, but I didn’t dare take my eyes off of her just yet. The pads of my fingers traced over to her breast and my mouth practically watered at the sight of them. She was ethereal.

“Don’t suddenly go mute on me Sebastian.” She let out a shaky breath.

I’ve heard her say my name a thousand times. Hearing her say it in this state created a feeling of warmth that filled my chest. I could only begin to imagine the different ways I wanted to hear her call out my name. My gift, my best friend, my Nellie. Those last words had a sting to them even as I thought them. Deep down I knew that was never going to be true.

I eased all the way down my tongue traveling around the dip of her navel. Creating a path up the center of her abdomen. I knew that Nell was extremely ticklish. The slightest form of contact would automatically turn her into a ninja. From the way she was pressing herself back into the mattress I knew she was trying her hardest not to flee. Of course I found it rather enticing so I made sure to spend extra time over the areas of her exposed skin I knew to be the most sensitive. Brushing the tip of my nose between her breast my mouth finally latched on to what I’ve been waiting for.

“So fucking beautiful.” I say as I graze my mouth over the stiff peak of her nipple. I was in awe over the ability that they simultaneously could feel hard yet felt extremely soft. I dragged the tip of my tongue around the bud of it in a languid movement before sucking it in deep. I loved listening to the sounds she made while I sucked and devoured as much as I could fit into my mouth. I wanted to hear a symphony of the noises that escaped from Nellie.

Going for one after the other not wanting to miss out on either. Nellie kept a limp hand pressed into my hair keeping me close as if I dared to stop.

Writhing underneath me Nellie gasped,“Touch me.”

Now she understood what I meant. My own body felt betrayed by my decision. I literally ached from pain and pleasure. Truthfully I wouldn’t opt for a better scenario than this. I would be more than gratified with giving Nellie an orgasm or two.

Still leaving featherlight kisses across her chest. With one hand I reach down and brushed along the dip of Nellie’s hip, then began to tug away at her shorts. To my surprise she was bare underneath. This was a new and uncharted territory we were crossing.

Tell me to stop, say that this is just the wrong time, tell me we would never work. Those words never escaped me, the sound of the goddamn doorbell intervened for her. My movements hesitated then shortly I picked up on inaudible chattering out in the hall. Nellie turned her head in the direction towards the door which I hoped like hell was locked. “Maybe we should go see what’s going on.” Her eyes widened.

“Or we could stay here and not shame the fact that I was two seconds away from wrapping your legs around my face while I tasted the slickness between your thighs. ” Nellie released a ragged breath and I meant every word.

To my dissatisfaction we were composed in under three minutes. I felt a strange sense of comfort and pride seeing that ever so often I’d catch Nellie looking in my direction smiling like she had some big secret she was bursting to tell. Which only made me feel like an even bigger asshole. The walk downstairs was surprisingly noisy. Someone had plugged the Christmas tree back up and there was a chilly wind breaking in as the front door came to an immediate shut.

Nellie’s parents were both moving around in a fast pace trying to find new spots to put a couple of suitcases. I had to swallow down a chuckle at the sight of their bold choice of pajamas. Nellie had already beaten me to the bottom of the staircase just as I rounded the corner of the spiral stairs.

“Cousin!” Vanessa squealed rushing over towards Nellie, who excitedly embraced her the same. They exchanged a few excitable words to each other that I tuned out. I was busy focusing on the six foot son of a bitch with a puppy dog expression on his face standing awkwardly behind them.

“Now you know Nells Bells you can’t have Christmas without good ole St. Nicholas can you?” She winked at a stone faced Nellie who just looked straight ahead at her ex boyfriend Nick. “I hope it’s okay I brought him over with me. I saw him at the airport dozed off in a chair.” Vanessa whispered as she leaned into Nell, like she just earned a gold star. Soon as Vanessa’s wild dark brown eyes caught ahold me I knew my bubble was about to pop.

“Something told me I was off the naughty list this year.” Vanessa bit at her glossed up lips and made a beeline towards me, wrapping her arms around my waist. She smelled like an overtly sweet perfume that tortured my sinuses. “Did you forget how to work a phone or what? I’ve been trying to get ahold of you for days. I miss you.” She cooed.

Out of the corner of my eye I saw Nellie watching the two of us. This was my punishment.

[makeste]

is it too late now to say sorry

anon I agree with almost all of this for the most part, but if you don’t mind I would like to come to Kacchan’s defense here a little bit. while he absolutely does need to apologize to Izuku, there are reasons why he hasn’t done so yet which boil down to a lot more than simply “he’s still a dick.”

anyway, so for my next trick, I will take the thesis statement of “Kacchan is afraid to apologize to Deku for both selfish and unselfish reasons, and Deku doesn’t realize how much he needs to hear the apology because he pays no attention to his own needs”, and somehow transform that into a 3500 word rant lol.

first of all, I’ve said this before, but on the topic of whether or not Katsuki actually needs to apologize to Deku at all, my answer is an emphatic “yes.” is it necessary in order for him to earn Deku’s forgiveness? no. in fact I’m pretty sure Deku has already forgiven him. because that kid doesn’t have a petty bone in his body (not that wanting an apology from your friend who basically turned on you and made your life miserable for ten years and told you to go kill yourself is in any way petty at all), and because he has staunchly held on to what he could of their relationship throughout that entire time, hoping that one day they could somehow be friends again. Kacchan never stopped being “Kacchan” to him. Deku never stopped caring about him. and that goes beyond him simply being a good person; there’s also just an attachment there, for lack of a better word, that he is simply unwilling to give up. their friendship is that important to him. Kacchan is that important to him.

but just because Katsuki is almost guaranteed forgiveness from Izuku doesn’t mean the apology isn’t still owed. putting aside that it’s really the least he could do, I think an apology is also necessary in order for their friendship to ever move past the level it’s currently stuck at, for one simple reason: Izuku doesn’t actually know that Katsuki cares.

more specifically, he doesn’t know that Katsuki actually cares about him. because Katsuki, for various reasons which I’ll get to momentarily, has done such a spectacular job of hiding this fact that he even fooled a lot of us for a very long time. before chapter 284 came along, there was hardly any evidence at all that Katsuki actually cared about Izuku as a person beyond just the requisite, bare minimum level of “well I don’t actually want you to die or anything, because I’m not a complete shithead.”

because he hides it. and he hides it on purpose, which is a mind-blowing revelation I’m still only just starting to wrap my head around. it’s an act. all of his continued hostility toward Izuku since the Endeavor internship arc -- and possibly going even further back than that; possibly going all the way back to their second Ground Beta fight -- has been an act. here he is, continuing to bitch at him at every turn and basically doing everything he can to remind Izuku that They Are Rivals And Nothing More, and he has played that role so perfectly that hardly anyone suspected what was actually going on.

he cares about Izuku. not just subconsciously on a level where he’s in denial about it, but to a fully conscious and aware degree. he’s dedicated himself to helping Izuku as his way of trying to make amends. that’s a decision he consciously made, something he’s given a lot of thought to. he worries about Izuku. he worries about his selflessness and his recklessness and that one day he’ll take it too far and it will go terribly wrong. he worries about One For All and All For One, and about the legacy his friend has inherited that’s so much bigger than him, and which he knows Izuku won’t hesitate to sacrifice himself for if it ever comes to that. he worries. he cares.

and Izuku does not know this. and he deserves to know this. and that’s why the apology is so important. not because it’s a magic sentence that will miraculously restore the ten years of friendship and trust that was lost between them, or heal the ten years of pain and misery that Izuku went through alone and friendless, because nothing can ever restore or heal that. as a gesture, an apology is nice, but it’s also fairly useless, at least on its own. it’s meaningless without action to support it, and rather pales in significance when held up against the LITERAL DECADE of misery that it’s trying to make up for.

but the reason it’s still so, so important in spite of all this is because Izuku doesn’t know that Katsuki cares about him. he doesn’t know that their friendship isn’t just one-sided. he does know that Katsuki is a good person, and that he has a good core beneath his prickly exterior. and he’s more adept than most people at seeing past Katsuki’s outer shell of bullshit and understanding what lies beneath. but he has a blind spot, and that blind spot is himself.

he hasn’t made the connection between “Kacchan is a good person who cares about other people and is trying to do the right thing” to “Kacchan cares about me.” because Kacchan has been diligent in making sure that every time Izuku does start to make that connection, that he shoots it back down and disproves it as vehemently as he can.

which, just to be clear, is actually a huge load of bull, as we now know. huh.

but anyway. the point is that Katsuki is still hiding this part of himself from Izuku. the fact that he actually cares. the fact that their friendship is reciprocated on a level that goes beyond just rivalry and shared secrets and a mutual admiration for All Might. Izuku doesn’t know yet how much Katsuki cares about him, and he deserves to know.

and that’s why the apology is important. not because the words themselves are important, but because he deserves to know that Katsuki is sorry. he deserves to know that Katsuki cares about him. he deserves to know that he’s valued, that Katsuki sees him as someone who has value. he deserves that. and that, more than anything else, is why the apology is needed, and why it’s important for him to actually hear those words. because Katsuki was spot on when he said that Izuku doesn’t see himself in the way that he should, and I think he needs this to help him understand a little better just how much value he actually has.

so that’s part one of my rant! and now we move on to part two, which can basically be summarized as “okay but then WHY has Katsuki not just FUCKING APOLOGIZED TO HIM ALREADY.” because yeah, though. at the end of the day, this is all on him. and he does care, and he is sorry. so then what is still holding him back??

and that... is complicated. and it basically boils down to four things.

1. it’s insufficient.

ten years. all the way back to when they were four years old and Izuku first learned that he didn’t have a quirk. ten years of Katsuki bullying him and distancing himself from him. ten years of pain and isolation and unhappiness that Izuku absolutely did not deserve.

and yes, it ultimately stemmed from a misunderstanding, but that doesn’t make it right in the least. there’s absolutely no justification for it. Katsuki knew that it was wrong and he acted like that nonetheless. and anyone who says that Izuku in any way brought it on himself, that it’s in any way his fault or that he invited it on himself by not leaving Katsuki alone -- you can miss me with that, tbh. he was a child and he was lonely and confused and didn’t understand why his best friend had suddenly turned his back on him. this was the most vulnerable period in his life, and the person who should have had his back ended up being the person who made it even worse for him instead. and even after Izuku grew out of the so-called stalking and actually did mind his own business, and just admired Katsuki from a distance -- that still wasn’t enough to appease Katsuki either. even just the mere mention of Izuku wanting to go to U.A. was enough to set him off worse than ever before. that was absolutely not Izuku’s fault in any way, and I’m positive that even Katsuki himself would agree. Katsuki was terrible. I can’t emphasize enough just how terrible he was.

so yeah. ten years of that. and now Katsuki finally realizes just how awful it was. and he’s sorry! and he regrets it, a lot, and he wants to atone for it.

but now here’s problem number one: when you put it up in comparison to ALL OF THAT, an apology just feels overwhelmingly inadequate. almost laughably so. and Katsuki may be a bit emotionally dense (although perhaps less so than we always thought), but he’s sharp enough to realize this much, at least. it’s almost pathetic to simply try saying “I’m sorry” after all of that, and expect it to mean anything at all. it’s not enough. it’s so much not enough that I imagine he must almost feel helpless just imagining it. the weight of everything he’s done is so much, and an apology isn’t enough to undo any of it. it’s not even close.

Katsuki isn’t someone who backs down from things easily, but the sheer scale of the mistakes he’s trying to grapple with now is enough to give just about anyone pause. how do you even begin to address something like that? how can you even begin to make up for it? and Katsuki isn’t stupid, and I have to imagine that everything he saw during that first week of interning with Endeavor only cemented this for him. an apology simply isn’t enough. not for something like this.

2. it’s unfamiliar.

reason number two! and this one is a bit selfish on his part, yeah. but Katsuki is still just a kid too. and his falling out with Izuku didn’t only have a negative impact on Izuku; it hurt Katsuki as well. he lost that friendship too. he thought Izuku was looking down on him, and I’m certain that hurt him a lot more than he ever let on. if you trust someone and care about them only to have them turn on you like that (even though he got it wrong and it was ultimately all just in his head) -- that hurts. it’s not a coincidence that he became closed off and mean afterwards, and that even now he’s resistant to letting other people get close to him. for all that it was more or less self-inflicted, it still had a huge impact.

but now he’s learned that Izuku was never looking down on him at all and that he had it wrong this whole time. and as a result, he’s gotten this chance now to try and rebuild the childhood friendship that he almost destroyed. and make no mistake, this is something he wants too. it’s not just Izuku who’s grateful to have this chance to have normal interactions with the other again. this is something both of them value, and Katsuki doesn’t want to ruin it this time.

so he’s picking up where he left off! only the thing is, this involves him reverting to a blueprint that hasn’t been updated since the two of them were four years old, lol. “normal” for them is him being a bossy little snot, and Izuku happily shrugging it off with all of his limitless nerdy enthusiasm as they go about their various misadventures together. it’s a script that hasn’t changed since they were children, and one they’re both still more than content to use, but it is an outdated script nonetheless. Katsuki is playing the role that Izuku expects him to play. and it’s not like he’s being dishonest or anything like that, because that’s still him; he’s still his same old short-tempered, argumentative self, and it’s not like his personality has done a complete 180 or anything like that.

but at the same time, there’s a calmer side to him now which he is deliberately keeping hidden from Izuku because it’s off-script for them. it’s unfamiliar ground. with Izuku, he’s always been this Kacchan:

and again, it’s not like he isn’t actually that person, especially when it comes to his old rival. but at the same time, there’s another side to him that he rarely if ever lets Izuku in particular see. Izuku never sees the quiet Kacchan who avoids other people’s eyes while he fiddles with his water bottle and calmly asks questions about the OFA successors. Izuku never sees the insightful Kacchan who opens up about his own regrets and weaknesses. there’s a level of emotional intimacy, for lack of a better term, that Katsuki has been unwilling to let them cross into. and if I had to guess why, my guess would be that it’s because Katsuki is afraid that changing up the formula now will lead to unfamiliar territory which may or may not end up completely upending their relationship just as it’s starting to grow into something actually solid again.

which brings me to reason #3!

3. he’s afraid.

Katsuki already experienced what it was like to fall out with Izuku. and again, for all that he was the cause of it, and that Izuku had it much, much worse, that doesn’t change the fact that it was a pretty terrible experience for him as well.

and look, we know Katsuki is afraid of losing Izuku. that’s confirmed canon now. he actually admitted that he was worried about Izuku, and that Izuku’s tendency to recklessly disregard his own wellbeing unsettled him and made him want to keep his distance. and he sacrificed himself to save Izuku’s life!! and did it automatically, unthinkingly, because the decision-making on his part was so fast it didn’t even register. that’s how much he cares. enough that his desire to protect Izuku now ranks higher than his own self-preservation.

and when something is that important to you, you will fight not to lose it. and Katsuki does not want to lose this. Izuku is important to him. by extension that means their friendship is important to him. and he wants to preserve that.

and the thing is, the apology is an obstacle to that. and he knows it. he knows he has to face it at some point, because he can’t atone without it. he has to take responsibility for what he did. he can’t keep running away from it forever.

but he also knows the potential consequences. he knows that apologies don’t always end in reconciliation. he knows falling-outs don’t always have a happy ending. he knows that forgiveness isn’t automatic, and that years of pain don’t just disappear just like that. and he recently got to see firsthand one possible way how it might all turn out.

he knows Izuku doesn’t have to forgive him. he knows Izuku might not forgive him. and he knows that he probably doesn’t deserve Izuku’s forgiveness, and that ultimately he does not have a say in the matter one way or the other. it’s Izuku’s choice, at the end of the day, and whatever he chooses Katsuki is going to have to accept it.

but you can know all of that, and accept the fact that you’re going to have to take responsibility, and yet still be afraid to face it. and yes, maybe it’s selfish of him to feel that way. but that selfishness is also human. it’s human to fear rejection, and it’s human to go through the various stages of trying to postpone having to face that. Katsuki is a brave kid, but he is just a kid, still. and this is going to be very hard for him to do. that doesn’t mean it doesn’t still have to be done. but I feel for him and I have a lot of empathy for the situation he’s currently in.

and there is also one last reason why I think he’s putting it off as well, and it just so happens that this reason actually isn’t selfish at all.

4. he doesn’t want false forgiveness.

and this one is ironically kind of at odds with reason #3! Katsuki fears the possibility of Izuku not forgiving him... but at the same time, I think that strangely enough, there’s also a part of him that fears being forgiven, just like that. easily and gladly and unconditionally, with the trademark selflessness that defines so many of Izuku’s other decisions.

“he just... deep down, he doesn’t take himself into account, y’know?”

Izuku rarely if ever takes himself into consideration, and Katsuki knows this. he’s selfless to a fault, and Katsuki knows this. and so if Katsuki were to come up to him and apologize, there’s the possibility that yes, Izuku might decide not forgive him. he might in fact be all “nah, you know what, fuck you,” as would certainly be within his rights.

but this is a very remote possibility, and we all know it. and Katsuki knows it too, I think. because that’s not who Izuku is. he puts other people’s welfare above his own, every time. and so if Katsuki were to break down and tell Izuku that he was sorry, and if he were to ask him for forgiveness, nine times out of ten that is something that Izuku grants instantly. this is the same kid who put his own life at risk to try and save Katsuki less than an hour after Katsuki told him to dive off a roof. Izuku’s instinct is to protect and save. and so if he sees that Katsuki is hurting; if he sees that Katsuki feels guilty for what he’s done and that it’s eating away at him in much the same way as when he was blaming himself for Kamino -- he is going to do what he always does. he is going to try and save him.

and he would do that even if it meant shoving down his own pain. he absolutely would. he would prioritize Katsuki’s feelings over his own. and if he did still feel any lingering resentment at how cruelly he was treated, he would still put it aside if need be. and he would forgive him.

in other words, the risk exists that Izuku might grant Katsuki forgiveness that he doesn’t actually feel. if Katsuki is granted Izuku’s forgiveness, he doesn’t have any way to actually tell for sure if it’s real. there would be that element of doubt there, that question of whether or not it’s really sincere. and something like that could ultimately poison their relationship, if things were allowed to play out that way. it would prevent them from being fully able to trust each other. ultimately, it might lead to them drifting apart again, and something like that might ultimately be even more painful than Izuku rejecting Katsuki’s apology outright. and there’s also an argument to be made that Izuku doesn’t deserve to be put on the spot like that, and forced to make that decision one way or the other when he might not be ready to yet. so there’s that to consider as well.

so yeah. four reasons why Katsuki has not apologized to Izuku yet. and they are good reasons, in my book. complicated reasons, too. but none of that changes the fact that at the end of the day this is still something he has to do. his current way of trying to atone through action is great, don’t get me wrong! and it’s necessary too for sure, because like I said, the apology just on its own is never going to be enough. he needs to commit to doing the right thing, and trying his best to make it right between them from here on out. and saving his life is certainly a decent start! but you still gotta say the words too eventually bro.

but there is just a ton of stuff at play here and I find it all fascinating tbh. they are just so, so bad at communicating with each other. and the thing is, they both actually want the same thing! but they want it so badly that ironically it’s almost holding them back right now, because they don’t want to put it at risk. but ultimately this is a leap of faith that Katsuki in particular is going to have to take sooner rather than later in order to finally restore that last bit of trust between the two of them.

so yeah. just two stupid teenage boys who fail at emotions, and who are probably overdue for another of their famous Get It All Out In The Open stupid shounen therapy battles lmao. round 3, featuring Deku’s new robot arms vs Katsuki and his shiny new “like father like son” All Might torso scar. sob.

[imaginesmai]

Arvin Russell - The preacher’s sins (1/2)

Requested by an anon, please enjoy it! It was too long, so I divided it in two parts. I’ll post the next one tomorrow!

Plot: there is nothing bigger for you than the love you feel for Arvin Russell. Not a lot of people can awaken what he does in you, with his cheeky smile and chocolate eyes. Now, a stranger threatens to break that bond, manipulating where it hurts the most.

Warnings: It’s the devil all the time, and you know the preacher. So if you’re reading this, it’s because you’re alright with what’s about to happen. Anyway, violence and manipulation.

Arvin’s car was waiting for you when your shift at the café ended. You couldn’t keep the smile off your face when you thought about the upcoming events; a whole weekend just for the two of you, in your house since your parents were away in a business travel. That meant you could sleep in the same bed, have your own space and dream about finally moving in together. As you crossed the street jogging, your bag hanging from your left shoulder, you thought you could get used to it.

He was smoking, looking ahead and lost in his thoughts. Some wild strands of hair had fallen on his face, making him look a bit more childish that usually. Arvin Russell looked as handsome as ever, and for two whole days, would be handsome only for you.

“Arv” you announced your presence when you climbed in the seat beside him, rubbing your arms in an attempt to get ride of the rain’s coldness.

“Hey, pretty girl”

Arvin dropped his denim jacket over you, and while you put it on, he threw his cigarrete through the window’s car, moving his hand around to get ride of the smoke. Once he made sure you wouldn’t choke with it, he closed the car’s windows and looked at you with a half-smile.

“I can’t believe it’s finally happening” you giggled softly, enjoying that moment of excitement and peace.

“Hope ya haven’ changed your mind” Arvin quickly pressed his lips against your cheek, before starting the car. “How was work?”

As you started talking about a cute dog which owner had let you pet, Arvin drove you to your house. He managed to listen to the story, drive safely and sneak a hand so that he could hold yours.

During most of the weeks, it was hard to see him. He was busy with his family and his part times job, taking what he could to earn a little money. Lenora took a lot of his time too, because she often got picked up by the bullies at highschool and Arvin insisted in picking her up every day. Then, he went with her to the grave yard to visit his mother, and he stayed with her until she finished. Sometimes, he would sneak for a few minutes and come visit you in the café, ordering the cheapest thing in the menu and watching you for afar.

Neither of you had a lot of free time. Your family, humble and hard-working, was also very conservative, so even if they accepted your relationship with Arvin, they didn’t like when he stayed at night. His family didn’t have a lot of free space neither, and if they had they didn’t see with good eyes sleeping together before marriage.

That week hadn’t been different. You had been working every afternoon until the sun came down, and then drove back home. The only difference was that you had been stopping briefly at the church, to talk with the new preacher. You knew Arvin didn’t like him – which was why the mood darkened on the way to your house.

“He ain’t good, Y/N” he grumbled, briefly looking at you.

“You don’t know him, it’s just – he’s new here, he needs a chance to prove himself” you defended. “I know what he did to your grandma was wrong, but we can’t judge him by one mistake!”

“It wasn’ just one mistake. He talks and talks ‘bout how everyone is a sinner but ‘im” Arvin protested.

“Arvin, please” you shifted closer to him and placed a hand on his arm. “It’ll be just a few minutes. He told me he needed my help with something, you don’t even have to see him.”

The preacher, indeed, had told you the previous day that he wanted to meet you in the church on Friday. You hadn’t told him your plans with Arvin, even if he was kind of interrupting your peaceful weekend with your boyfriend; probably, because you knew he wouldn’t approve you spending the night with him.

Deep inside, you knew that Arvin was probably right; he always was at the end, no matter what he was talking about. He was the one who said that the boy who Lenora’s was after wasn’t a good man, and now he had fun chasing her with a bag and awful words. There was something about the preacher that you didn’t like either, but you still didn’t know what. For now, you wanted to be on his good side.

“So? Can we stop?”

“I’d feel better if not” Arvin scoffed. “But I guess that’s a yes”

Arvin stopped on the graveyard, an empty place where the sun was setting already. It was dark and silent, and even you, who wanted to stop, were starting to reconsider the decision. You looked out the window, seeing that the church’s door was open and a dim light could be seen from the inside. Arvin exited the car without another word, and you knew he was pissed. He wasn’t too keen on sharing his feelings, even more when they weren’t of love or happiness.

You had been dating for seven months officially, and it had been ten since he asked you for a date after your shift at the café. There was no way you could make him talk about it and comfort him before the sun disappeared completely, so you decided to ignore him and walk towards the church. Still, before entering you looked back, half expecting him to be ready to leave and pick you later. But he had lighted up another smoke and was leaning against the car, looking to his feet.

Much less happier than before, you entered the church. You wanted nothing more than Arvin to be happy, and if you were up to wish anything, for him to have a better relationship with the rest of Knockemstiff; starting with the preacher.

He was sitting in the first row, reading from a small book. The faint lights you had seen came from the candles, which made the place much more scarier than usually. You didn’t think anything about it, not even when you made yourself heard by calling him and he told you to close the door. It was a cold, October day, so you guessed there was nothing wrong with it. After looking at Arvin once more, and receiving no smiles, you closed the door behind you.

“What did you want me for, preacher?”

“Come sit with me, Y/N” he patted the bench beside him, and you approached him. “You ever read the bible?”

“Um, a little. Lenora reads to me sometimes, a-and from what I hear on Sundays” you explained, not really wanting to say it out loud.

The truth was that you had never learned how to read. You had had to drop out of highschool at a young age because your mother had fallen ill, and your father couldn’t manage the family business on his own. With no money to buy books or material, your father had you help in on the shop. You were good with numbers, from years of experience, and you were starting to know what some words were written like thanks to Lenora and Arvin. But not a lot of people in Knockemstiff knew that you didn’t write the orders down in the café because you didn’t know how.

The preacher hummed, finally raising his eyes from the small book on his lap. He shifted closer to you, until you were sure you could hear his heartbeat. He showed you what he had been so focused on, and while you knew some of the letters, it all looked like garbage.

“This is my favourite part” he said, his voice soft but with a sharp edge. “Mom used to read it to me every night, too. You know it?”

“U-um, yeah” you said. Quickly, you tried to search for a word that you could understand. Lenora always read to you a passage of the bible when you went to their house, and maybe you could know what was it about. However, the preacher closed the bible before you had time to find it.

“God is merciful and benevolent, Y/N” he stretched one arm behind your shoulders, and you felt tears run to your eyes when you understood he knew it. It wasn’t something to be ashamed of – Arvin had managed to convince you it wasn’t, but you felt embarrassment crawl through your spine. “He forgives us all, all of our sins. But you know what is what he doesn’t forgive? Lies”

The back of your hair was grabbed with so much force that you emitted a low cry. If the door had been open, maybe Arvin would have heard you. But he angrily pacing around the graveyard, thinking about how he shouldn’t be so hard with you, and you were too afraid and embarrassed to scream any louder.

You were met with the preacher’s hard eyes, hateful and unforgivable. The back of your head throbbed from how hard he was gripping it, and finally a lonely tear made its way down your cheek. It seemed to offend him more, because he squeezed harder.

“You think you’re worthy of stepping into this temple?” he hissed, his hot breath making you shudder. “You think I wouldn’t find out that you can’t read? Or that you spend the nights with that boyfriend of yours?”

“Preacher –“

“Shut the fuck up!”

The nice man who you had been talking to the rest of the week disappeared in thin air, and you were thrown to the ground with a force you didn’t know the kind preacher had. A small cry of pain left your lips as your right wrist bent awkwardly against the edge of the bench, and you tried to move away. But the preacher had other ideas, because he hoisted you up until his face was inches away from you again.

You were sure he would just bash your head against the bench and Arvin would only have your cold body for the weekend when his face morphed, and that calm that always surrounded him was back. He sat on the bench again, and put his head against his hands, as if he was in deep thinking. Before you could think about running out of there screaming Arvin’s name, the preacher talked.

“Get naked”

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[ahkaahshi]

2:09 AM [sakusa kiyoomi x reader]

pairing: sakusa kiyoomi x gn reader

genre: angst with a fluffy ending; comfort

warning(s): mild swearing

word count: 1.8k

overview: sakusa makes an uncharacteristically late night call that finds him right back in the arms of one of the few people he’s learned to trust

It’s 2:09 AM when Sakusa finally accepts that he seems to have difficulties sleeping without you. He’s spent the entire evening tossing and turning, his mind too restless to allow him more than a few minutes of peace. There’s a lingering discomfort in the pit of his stomach that swells each time he glances over at one of his team sweaters resting atop the desk at the other end of the room. It’s still neatly folded, as it had been by your careful hands, left undisturbed since the arrangement in which you’d returned to him.

He feels sick at the situation he’s gotten himself into. At how he’s sleeping by himself instead of at your side. At how he pushed you away. At how he made a decision for you that you might not have made yourself—and how wrong he was.

It had been a week since he’d broken up with you, and he’d spent a week regretting it.

He often told himself as consolation that the concept of right or wrong decisions in gray areas such as this was ridiculous. That they were only choices that lead would lead down different paths, neither more correct than the other. But this… this felt wrong. The error of his ways seeped into his gut, clouded his mind, and pounded against his head on nights like these when sleep evaded him. But he wasn’t quite sure how to remedy the situation.

How could he be sure you wanted him back when his words had shattered the calmness of your expression like a storm does the glassy reflection of an otherwise still lake? When you’d come to his apartment to drop off his sweater and a few stray items he’d left behind with just a “Here you go,” and nothing more? When he was the one who had broken your heart?

He was sure you’d never want to see him again, so he hadn’t tried to see you again, in spite of his need to fix the mistake he’d deemed selfish.

There’s a haunting, smothering quietude to his room. No sheets whisper against your skin as you shift beside him to readjust your body in your sleep. No gentle sighs pour onto his shoulder from your drift into a deeper slumber. No quiet murmurs escape between your lips while you respond to your dreams. Just his heartbeat thrumming against his ribcage and his shaky breaths, then the heavy dragging of his phone against the wood of his bedside table when he picks it up.

Your name is on his screen in an instant, and he wonders if you’ve changed his name in your contacts yet. Before he can even process what he’s doing, the gentle buzzing of the dial tone pierces the silence. Fuck. Is he even ready to have this conversation now?

The phone you feel to have been staring at all night lights up on your own nightstand, breaking the darkness and brings you to alertness with its quiet but shrill chimes. Upon picking up the device, you’re met with your ex’s name and face, making your eyebrows furrow both in anger and confusion.

What the hell’s he thinking, calling me at two in the morning? You let it ring once.

Why’s he calling me at all? What does he want? You let it ring twice.

Maybe something’s wrong. What if something’s wrong? You pick up on the third ring.

“Hello?” Your greeting isn’t met with a response. “Kiyoomi…?”

“Hey.”

His voice sounds as heavy as your heart feels. “Uh…” you mumble, unoccupied hand moving to grip your other wrist in an attempt to ground yourself, “Is… everything okay?”

“No. It’s not.” He could never lie to you, even if he wanted to—but the desire never crossed his mind. “(F/n), I…” he drifts off, his jaw clenching as he breathes out a quick sigh of irritation with himself. He clearly wasn’t prepared to make this call, and he hates that he’s disturbed you at such an early hour out of his own selfishness.

In the silence that follows, three, distinct words plaster themselves at the forefronts of both of your minds. They’re those each of you wants to speak but they’re not the same ones. With each second that ticks by filled with anticipation, marked by lips parted as they wait to voice your desires, you find yourself growing more desperate to tell him your three words.

But he speaks his first.

“I fucked up,” he whispers, the soft timbre of his tone a far cry from that of the commands you’ve heard him shout across the court.

Raking his fingers through his dark curls, he continues, “I self-destructed, and I didn’t know what to do. So, I tried to save you by speaking for you, telling you that you were better off without me. But I shouldn’t’ve done that.” You take your lower lip between your teeth as tired eyes sting with tears. “You’re strong; you can speak for yourself. You don’t need or want me to do it for you, especially not when I’m wrong.”

“Kiyoomi…”

“I’m sorry.” A nearly inaudible, shaky breath falls from his lips. “If I could take that moment back so you never had to feel that kind of pain and doubt, I would. I don’t expect forgiveness. I don’t expect anything, not with the way I pushed you away even after you’d shown you’re the person I can always trust the most.”

The truth behind his words makes your fingers curl tighter around your phone. 

He’s right. 

Earning Sakusa’s trust hadn’t been easy, initially, but over time, he’d let down his guard. Laid his head on your chest to let your heartbeat lull him to sleep rather than turn away from you. Spoken to you about what was really bothering him rather than giving you a superficial overview or dismissive response. Let your shoulder be the harbor and safe havens for his emotions when he couldn’t hold them in anymore. All because you’d accepted him each time he chose to step under the blinding light of vulnerability, where all his most intimate thoughts and feelings were exposed without any darkness in which they could hide. Because you’d loved him for who he was, because you love him for who he is, because you will love him for who he becomes in the future.

Sadness brings tremors to your lips and beckons your fingers to your eyes to brush away a few stray tears. Him turning his back on you in a time of need, choosing to fall deeper into the hole he’d dug for himself rather than into your outstretched arms ready to catch him had hurt you the most. The suddenness of his cold behavior had shocked you, and the moment he’d walked away from you had replayed itself in your mind on an endless loop the entire week. But his honesty with you now, admitting to his mistake rather than moving on and away from you, shows you he still loves you—that he never stopped, rather.

After swallowing thickly, the ball of emotion in your throat making it hard to do so, you let your three words be known.

“I miss you.”

His response is almost instantaneous this time: “I miss you too.”

Your lips form a relieved smile though they carry a subtle taste of salt.

An invitation extended to him to come over finds him at your door no more than a half an hour later. The fatigue and stress he’s been experiencing is evident in the darkness beneath his eyes and the slump of his shoulders, but he has no qualms with standing in the entryway for a few minutes longer while the two of you hold one another in a tight embrace. His warmth and the faint but ever-present scent of his favorite laundry detergent lingering on his clothes lifts the fog that has been clouding your mind, and you can feel his body melt into your arms as his head comes to rest beside yours.

“I love you so much,” he murmurs, “I won’t let my thoughts get the better of me like that again, okay? I’ll talk to you, and I’ll be here for you.”

You reply, “I love you too,” and feel his grip around you tighten when you add, “You’re safe with me.”

When the two of you pull away, he follows you along the familiar path to your bedroom and sets his backpack down in the same spot as always—right by his side of your bed, next to the nightstand. It’s only been a week, but things have felt so different without him around that watching him follow the same routines, such as the way he methodically adjusts your pillows to just the right angle and height before peeling back the comforter and sheets, gives you immense comfort. Crawling into bed beside him brings your bodies close once more, and your fingertips find his face out of habit, tracing over his handsome features and moving stray curls away from his weary eyes.

His nose brushes against yours moments before your lips meet in a tentative kiss, as if he’s testing the waters. Your fingers pressing into the nape of his neck to keep your mouths connected pulls him beneath the surface, and he allows himself to get lost in the depths with you for a bit instead of questioning where you’re going. He doesn't feel the need to.

It’s both lazy and fervent, the way your lips meld together, and your kisses reflect a yearning for each other that eclipses your exhaustion—for a few, blissful minutes, at least. You hum gently when your mouths part for the last time as sleep takes its hold on you. “You need to rest,” you suggest, “Can we talk sometime after you get back from training tomorrow?”

He nods slowly, head heavy with a week’s worth of fatigue, and answers, “Of course.” Beneath his dark fan of eyelashes, Sakusa’s gaze follows yours while you turn on your side away from him, glancing over your shoulder as a silent request for him to take up his usual spot behind you. His arms snake around your torso and the bed dips, bringing your back flush against his chest. Your fingers interlace with a set of his that you naturally hold close to your chest, and he nestles his face in the crook of your neck, planting a gentle peck against your exposed skin.

With you, there’s a peaceful, weightless quietude. He hears your legs shuffle beneath the covers as they readjust and the gentle sigh that leaves your mouth as you drift off to sleep. Feels your heartbeat against the back of his hand while he basks in the familiar warmth emanating from your body that fits against his so seamlessly.

His warm breath cascades over your skin when he exhales deeply once more, and finally finds solace in the slumber that comes to him almost instantly.

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[walkingdaryls]

the chosen one

pairing: loki x reader

request: hi i was wondering if you could write a fluffy loki imagine where maybe he’s like an ass to everyone but just kinda claims the reader as like his favorite person or something and honestly you don’t even have to stick to that i’d just love a fluffy loki if you could thank you!

warnings: some swearing, very fluffy

(gotta love fluffy loki. the best loki. also, this is a bit long so i’m sorry about that hehe)

The main thing you loved about the Avengers, your lovely teammates, was the fact that each one had something that set them a part from the rest. Bruce’s buzzing brain, Tony’s ego, Nat’s confidence, and so on. You adored every single one of them.

And what they adored about you was that you were always the “empathetic” Avenger. The one who believed in second changes. In never judging a book by its cover. And the one who believed people could genuinely change for the better. Now, everyone else was also fully aware of the fact that you could easily kick anyone’s ass with your powers or wit. Or both at the same time. But your welcoming, trusting personality definitely shined. Most of your teammates loved you for it, even if they teased you endlessly for being the nice one.

But what really threw your team off was the way you allowed Loki onto the team so easily with no doubts. Years after the incident in New York with the God of Mischief, Thor began asking for Loki’s acceptance into the Avengers. He claimed that even under his sarcasm and rolling eyes, he had changed for the better. The whole team was very hesitant, but after tons of psychological evaluations and close screenings, Loki was slowly turned into an Avenger. He’d aided on plenty of missions, proving himself to be good a bit more every time. But the team still wanted to suffocate him to death every once in a while.

Loki didn’t exactly like any of the Avengers, and he felt like none of them liked him either. But a job was a job.

The only exception was you. You’d been the only one throughout his time as an Avenger that never provoked him, or looked at him in a dirty way. Well, it wasn’t like you two even had conversations. You two simply minded your own business around each other. You never trashed him, so he left you alone. Simple as that. You were never one for hating on someone who was trying to change.

It wasn’t until one night after dinner, when Tony provoked an argument with Loki, that you finally had had enough.

“Someone tell me why we let him be an Avenger again. Please?” Tony said after Loki had dramatically left the room.

Clint sighed, “I’ve been saying, he’s too risky after what he did in New York.”

The others chimed in, and even Thor expressed reluctance about his brother. You couldn’t believe your ears. So you suddenly slammed your hands on the table, causing your friends’ head to snap towards you.

“Are you guys fucking kidding me? I wasn’t aware that we were gonna start contemplating kicking people off the team every time we talk back or start a stupid argument.”

Tony crossed his arms, “That’s not what we’re doing. And it is so much more than just the arguments. Loki-“

“No!” You exclaimed, “It isn’t fair to him! It’s not fair at all. How many of us have shitty pasts we’ve moved on from? How many of us have made stupid mistakes that we will probably regret for the rest of our lives? Most likely all of us. But do we give each other horrible looks every time we see each other? No! We forgive each other and ourselves. That’s the thing about us, Tony: we stick together no matter what.”

No one said anything, so you continued, “And I’m fully aware that Loki’s mistakes are probably far worse than anything we’ve ever done, but the message still stands. I mean, how many missions has he helped us on? The amount of close security and psych evaluations he’s been through just to be part of the team? It’s been years, for fucks sake. Yes, he can be a dick to some of you sometimes, but that’s just him. It’s no reason to continue to hate his guts. Do you guys remember the mission France like 5 months ago that almost went wrong? Loki saved my life. I was this close to being killed. If he hadn’t been there, I wouldn’t be here today with you guys. So I think we owe him some thanks. Especially me.”

You were heated by that point. Everyone continued to stay completely silent, so you stood up.

“I-I’m gonna head to bed now. Just wanted to let y’all know you’re being a bit hypocritical,” And you walked away, catching just a ghost of a smile on Nat’s face.

“Jesus, I think she’s heard one too many of Steve’s speeches,” Rhodey muttered, earning a shove from Steve himself.

But what you didn’t know while you walked away, was that Loki had been standing in the other room, hearing every word you’d just said.

—

Over a week passed since your monologue at the dinner table. No one really mentioned anything about it afterwards, which you were really grateful. All you got was a random pat on the back from Steve and him saying, “We’re all proud of you, kiddo.”

You made your way into the kitchen, which was currently being used by most of your team. 9am in the tower’s kitchen on days off were always pretty hectic. Wearing your usual workout outfit, you made your way towards the mug cabinet.

You were the only one on the team that avoided coffee at all costs. Tea was your go-to. The only other person like you in that aspect was Loki. He was the kind of person you’d caught making tea at 2 in the morning when he couldn’t sleep.

As you reached for the mugs, you realized your favorite one - a minnie mouse one you’d bought at Disney World years ago - was nowhere to be seen. You were pretty sure you’d just put it away last night after helping Tony with the dishes.

“Here.”

You turned around to see Loki, still in his forest green silk robe, holding out your well-loved mug in his hand. You could smell your usual green tea steaming out of the mug.

You stood in shock more a moment before snapping out of your thoughts and taking the mug from him carefully.

“Oh, thank you,” You smiled genuinely. You could feel Nat’s gaze on you a few feet away at the waffle-maker. In fact, a few of the team members’ eyes flickered towards your interaction. Loki’s face remained neutral as he went back to making his own cup of tea.

Thor, noticing this, yawned, “Brother, could you please pour me a cup of-“

“No,” Loki walked out of the room with his tea in one hand, and book in the other. Thor’s mouth slightly fell, glancing back from the cup of tea in your hands to Loki. Steve snorted from the stool next to Thor.

What the fuck just happened? You made your way towards the gym a few floors down with confusion on your face. But mostly warmth in your heart.

The next day, Loki had your green tea waiting for you in your favorite mug once again. And you didn’t hesitate to give him your signature smile and a sweet “thank you”, even if you were a bit taken aback.

And he continued to do this for the next few days. Every morning, without fail. Green tea. Minnie Mouse mug.

At this point, Nat definitely became more aware. She pulled you aside after a while with slightly mischief in her eyes.

“Are you two friends?” She asked genuinely.

“Nat, it’s just tea.”

“Yeah, except Loki’s never even bothered to do something like that with the rest of us. Never.”

You shrugged, “He isn’t Satan. He’s capable of nice things.”

Nat chucked, “Not like this. And it’s just with you. He practically begged you have you as a partner during our last mission.”

It was true, although you wouldn’t exactly say ‘beg’. But he had been pretty adamant on having you as his partner for the mission. He’d asked you kindly first before letting Tony know. In the moment, you hadn’t thought much of it. But looking back at it, you now realized how genuine his actions had been. And you two made a hell of a team that day.

“Maybe he heard your speech that other night,” She smirked, walking away before winking at you. You stood there dumbfounded with a slight redness growing in your cheeks.

That afternoon, with your work done for the day, you made your way towards the main living room with your current book in your hands.

Upon entering the room, you should see Loki’s figure on the couch. He was slightly bent over which only meant he was probably reading as well. You hesitated, but made your way over anyways.

“Is it okay if I read here, too?” You asked quietly. Loki glanced up at you, nodding softly.

“Of course.” Was all he said. You gave him a ghost of a smile before plopping down the the other couch a few feet away. His eyes promptly followed you as you turned to the page marked by your bookmark. You began reading calming, posing no threat to him, so he continued his reading too. Loki felt quite at peace with the sun setting, your soft breathing, and his favorite book in his lap. And the best part: the rest of the Avengers were nowhere to be seen.

“What are you reading?” Your voice sounded softly. Loki placed a finger to mark where he last read before glancing up at you. You feared he’d be pissed off for the interruption, so you continued.

“I mean, I’ve seen you carry that book around for a while now. And it’s all worn out...which usually means it’s a good book,” You chuckled.

Loki watched you carefully before smirking, “Indeed. It’s called Pride and Prejudice. I’ve been told it’s a classic amongst mortals. Have you read it?”

Your face suddenly lit up. Your book was suddenly set aside as you leaned forward excitedly. Loki, although he would never admit it out loud, loved the sparkle forming in your glorious eyes.

“Yes!” You said, “Oh, it’s one of my all time favorites. The movie, too.”

Loki quirked an eyebrow, “There’s a movie? Well, I’ll have to watch that once I’m done with reading it.”

“So you like the book?”

“...Yes. I’m about three-quarters done with it. I have to say, it is rather enjoyable.”

You leaned back against the couch, gazing dreamily at the ceiling, “I’m a sucker for those kinds of romance stories. And I like to think I’m quite like Elizabeth Bennet.”

Loki squinted, “I think so, too.” You lifted your head slightly, making eye contact with the raven-haired God. The soft gaze on his face seemed to mean well, so you allowed for your cheeks to grow a light shade of red.

“Well,” You smiled, looking down at your book, “Let’s get back to reading, yeah?”

Loki nodded, but made sure to keep his eyes on your for a few seconds longer before opening to his page once more.

—

Another couple week passed, and Tony decided to call a ‘very urgent team meeting that has nothing to do with actual team stuff’.

You entered the kitchen where the rest of your teammates were sitting or standing around, chattering amongst themselves. Tony was waiting until everyone arrived before sharing what he needed to say. You slid on a stool next to Nat.

Bucky and Bruce showed up a minute or so later, which meant practically everyone was there. You looked around for the only missing person: Loki. But before you could say anything, the familiar God walked in with Tony followed a few feet behind.

“Alright,” Tony clapper his hands, “Glad we’re all here.” He walked into the kitchen where he served himself some liquor before turning to the rest of you. You felt Loki come up behind you, before situating himself right next to you.

You looked up at him, smiling softly, “Hi.”

“Hello,” He spoke extremely lowly, yet his eyes brightened just a bit more. You felt even more tiny compared to him now that you were sitting and him standing.

“So...what’s this meeting for?” Bruce asked.

“Great question,” Tony said, “I have decided that after tireless back-to-back missions these past few days...we all deserve a treat. That’s why I booked a reservation to the fanciest restaurant within a twenty minute drive. It’s at 8, so I want all of us ready to leave by 7:40.”

“God, Tony you know I hate when you plan stuff like this last minute,” Bruce stressed.

Tony shrugged, “It’s not like any of you losers had plans. Now, go get ready. You’ve all got less than two hours.”

You sighed, “The fanciest place in the city? I hope you’re paying.” A few chuckles sounded from your teammates.

“I wasn’t joking,” You looked at Tony.

The genius rolled his eyes, “Obviously I’m paying. Now, go! All of you. Shoo. Jesus, you try to do a nice thing and people still ask questions-“

Everyone groaned, getting up from their spots and leaving to their rooms to get prepared for the big night. You sent Loki a sympathic glance before going to your floor. You knew he hated going out.

So that’s how you ended up wearing your nicest white, tight-fitting dress that ended a few inches above your knee. It had a long, thick golden embellishment traveling from the bottom to your top left shoulder. It was very classy. And paired with golden heels, you truly felt otherworldly.

You, Nat, and Wanda were all up in each other’s bedrooms, trying to decide each other’s hair and makeup. Wanda was especially skilled with eyeshadow looks for some reason. And Nat more with hair. Your two blessings, you called them.

You three joined the rest of the guys in front of tower, all piling in the long, iconic Stark limo. You definitely hadn’t missed the look Loki gave you as you walked past him to get into the vehicle. He didn’t say anything, so neither did you. You just sent him your signature smile.

Champagne was passed around once in the limo with flashing lights. You were squished between Thor and Loki, which wasn’t exactly a complaint. Thor was cracking jokes to you and calling you “my lady” the entire ride. It was a blast, and you hadn’t even arrived yet. Loki on the other hand, stayed quiet as a mouse. He only said “thank you” when you passed him a glass, and that was it.

Upon arriving, your breath was almost taken away at how fancy the restaurant truly was. Tony never disappointed. Your team’s reserved table had each seat labeled with each of your names on paper.

Nobody noticed, but Loki created an illusion to switch you and Bucky’s seats so you’d be sitting next to him.

Loki allowed you to slide into your chair first before sitting down next to you. He immediately reached for the menu. Seeing that there weren’t enough left for you, you silently read over his shoulder. Without saying anything, he slightly lowered the menu to give you a better look.

Hours passed, and the entire table had fallen a bit tipsy. You were stuffed with more than enough raviolis and champagne. You even accidentally hiccuped while trying to tell a story to the rest, but everyone teased you so much for it, you couldn’t even finish what you were going to say. But how could you be mad? You were having the funniest, and most lovely night of your life with your second family. The rest of the restaurant probably hated all of your guts for your loudness and endless laughter, but none of you cared.

“I’ll be back,” Loki had whispered from beside you. You turned your head, watching him walk away towards the restaurant’s balcony doors. You looked back at your team, seeing they were all occupied with themselves, and followed Loki.

Feeling the fresh breeze outside somehow made you and your bloating feel a bit better. You spotted the familiar dark-haired man gazing out at the buzzing city at the edge of the balcony.

You sucked in a breath before speaking, “May I join you?”

He looked back, “Of course.”

It was always of course, you thought.

Your heels clattered lightly on the tile floor as you made your way next to him. You didn’t know if it was the champagne in your system, but you found yourself standing extremely close, touching shoulders with Loki. But he didn’t make any efforts to move away.

“You seemed awfully quiet during dinner. Is everything okay?” You asked.

Loki looked at his hands, “Just not the ‘going out’ type, remember?” You nodded, looking back at the skyline.

“You know, Loki,” you said, “I never properly thanked you for saving my life back in France months ago.”

You’d had a couple slip ups in missions before, but the entire team remembered that traumatic mission in France extremely well. You truly had been on the verge of dying. So close. But Loki had gotten in there and saved your ass. And Loki remembered, too. But it hurt him too much to think back on it. He’d been so close to never seeing your bright smile, or your infectious giggles again.

“Y/N, I-“

The alcohol in your system didn’t stop you from rambling, “I know I’m late, like, months late, but I just wanted you to know. I am so thankful. I literally owe you my life-“

“You don’t owe me anything, Y/N, heavens,” Loki watched you with a concerned gaze.

You blushed, “Well, I needed to get it off my chest. So, thank you Loki.”

“Well, I couldn’t afford losing the only person on this team I can somewhat stand.”

Your eyes flickered to his, seeing him wear an amused smirk on his face.

“I’m-I’m your favorite Avenger?” You teased. The God rolled his eyes.

Your smile was making your cheeks burn, “FYI...you’re my favorite, too. Well, maybe next to Nat.”

Loki let out a small, breathy laugh. You joined in, making him stare at you once more. His stare was so intense, you didn’t know what to do except awkwardly stare back.

Loki wanted more. He yearned to hear your voice again. So that’s why he said the next thing without thinking.

“You look beautiful tonight. Well, every day, of course. I forgot to tell you when you walked of your room a couple of hours ago, so I’m letting you know now.”

You were so thankful it was dark out, for you just knew that the look on your face was embarassing. You couldn’t believe what you were hearing.

“I think you’re beautiful, too,” You blurted. Loki gave you the softest gaze you’ve ever seen, so you couldn’t help but carefully place your hand on of top his.

Loki tenderly lifted your hand before pressing his lips to the tip of your fingers. All you could do was watch, breathless. He set your hand down before grabbing both sides of your face, and pressing another soft kiss, but to your forehead this time.

“That’s why we’re each other’s favorites,” He smiles cheekily at you.

You giggled, resting your head on his shoulder.

“Indeed.”

—

[dulafer]

TWIN REVENGE

This is an old one, just thought I’d share..... Its of my shortest stories. Any feedback appreciated - dclouser@mac.com 

REUNION

I’ve always been the odd twin out. Will and I were both named William C. Witt with the only difference being our middle names – Charles and Conner. I’ve never liked being called ‘Willy’ while William preferred ‘Will’. Growing up, our parents couldn’t tell us apart - we even have the same birthmark on our chins. 

I’ve always been jealous of Will for being the favorite. Many times, I’d answer to my brother’s name on purpose or force Will to swap places with me. The first time I was Will was when he was failing algebra in 9th grade and didn’t want our parents to find out. We swapped places so I could take his tests. My condition was that I stay as him for the day – soaking up my parent’s adoration and love. Will was definitely our parent’s favorite which pissed me off the older I got, often lashing out for attention. In high school I started impersonating my brother to get him in trouble. Sometimes, I would get caught because my brother would have an alibi with friends backing him up, or I’d would slip up wearing my hair differently or some other little detail. 

By our junior year, I started hanging with another group of friends and dealing drugs. My reputation for trouble followed me as my ‘business’ grew. Will knew what I was up to because people would mistake him for their dealer. Weeks before graduation, the principal caught me selling drugs red handed, thanks to a tip from Will. Since Witts are a powerful family, Dad worked a deal to allow me to graduate on the condition that I spend the summer in rehab.  The deal was made and the day after graduation, Dad drove me to the rehab center. I lasted a week before escaping and never being seen again.

My drug pals smuggled me out of Los Angeles to northern California.  San Francisco was the perfect spot for me. With my college age looks, I blend in on local high school and college campuses where my business grew exponentially. I wear the college gear that fit the campuses I was working daily. I’ve always been thrifty with my earnings and always a light user myself so I saved my money for a future free of drugs. When I can, I sit in on college classes, mostly political science since my father was always drilling politics into Will and I. 

Will on the other hand, was the perfect son. He attended college for political science, becoming a staunch conservative. But Will wasn’t always perfect. After two years in college, he dropped out and was hired at Prager U as a campus correspondent to interview students and follow trends. Will quickly picked up a fan base nationally and within months was buying a condo and new car – with the help of a proud rich father. Will travels the country giving speeches, interviewing people and blogging.

Mom and dad have all but forgotten about me. I faked my own death and changed my name when I heard my family was looking for me.  It was convincing enough that the Witts even had a funeral for me. 

CAMPUS LIFE

I’m at Stanford University working my regular ‘route’, supporting my boys with product. A few girls spot me, come running over and one screams. “Oh my god, Will! I’m your biggest fan.” 

I wonder why they’re calling me Will and fawning over me? “Hi, thank you so much.”

“We can’t wait to hear you speak.  You going to do a ‘man on the street’?” the other one squeals.

“Sure am.” Not knowing what that is even. I see one of my boys coming over for his weekly stash. “Excuse me ladies, I’m meeting an old friend.”

Tyler comes over with his usual swagger carrying his backpack. “Do I have competition bro?”

“No, not at all! You know you’re my main man.” We do his frat’s handshake. Anyone watching us would see us both in Stanford gear and just assume we’re students. We take a seat on a nearby bench, talk business, two minutes later, he’s leaving with my backpack full of drugs.

I walk around campus, wondering about those two girls calling me Will.  When I get to the campus hub, I see my face plastered all over the board. The flyers reads ‘Will Witt, Prager University, Topic: Campus Diversity’. I pull one off the board, fold it up and place it in my backpack pocket. I’ll be damned, my little brother in town. I have to see this for myself.

I get home and study the flyer, find the Prager U site and start watching my brother’s videos. We’re so alike with our political beliefs – neither of us have fallen far from our father’s tree. We both have the same attitudes and beliefs as good old dad. He even sounds like dad did, around the dinner table our entire life. I then log into his Instagram account, using Will’s password he’s been using for a decade. I’m getting envious of my brother’s life – he’s still the golden boy and I’m sure dad is super proud of him. He’s traveling all over the world thanks to this Prager gig. On top of that, he’s become famous on Fox and other mediums for being very articulate and full of energy. 

As I watch him, I’m getting very envious of Will. I’m as smart and talented as my brother. I could have been the favorite son, the celebrity.  ‘Should be, could be, will be.’ I think to myself. That should be my life.

The next day, I head to a theater supply store and buy a fake belly, beard/mustache and some make up. I’ve got to see my brother in action today. Will is scheduled to do a ‘man on the street’ interview on campus this afternoon, then the speech later tonight. 

I show up for his man on the street interview but hang way back, out of sight of Will. With my disguise, I’ve gained 50lbs, a full beard, sunglasses and wearing a tie dyed hoodie. I watch and listen as Will, his producer and camera man set up everything. I record everything with a shotgun microphone - hearing the back and forth banter between Will, his cameraman Gavi and Mike, his producer. That evening, I attend the lecture in another disguise just to be safe. I’ve haven’t seen Will in over two years but he’s still the same arrogant Will in private. In public he’s very friendly and charming. As I’m listening to Will speak, a plan starts to formulate in the back of my mind. Willy is already dead to the world, so why not become Will. It’s not like I’m inexperienced in doing it. It would always piss Will off when I would steal his identity and fool his girlfriends. While he was taking a shower, I would get dressed first, take his clothes, phone, car and pick up his girlfriend who was clueless. Will would be pissed but I would apologize and he would forgive me. One time Will called his girlfriend while I was impersonating him and couldn’t convince her that he was actually Will – I was that good. 

I start tracking my brother via his emails, calendar and social media. Will is flying from Los Angeles to Washington for a week, with Turning Point USA to promote Prager U and himself. Our parents will also be gone on vacation to Europe for months, with plans to hook up with Will in London for lunch and a show in a month.

MOVING TO LOS ANGELES

I need to formulate a detailed plan. Will has lived the good life long enough, it’s my turn now.  I start with cleaning up my life here – telling my friends that I need to disappear again. They buy it easily as it has happened before. I clean out my bank account – about $1m, and drive to Hollywood where Will lives.

I rent a furnished apartment across the street from Will’s condo. It’s perfect – from my living room and bedroom, I can see his entrance and garage. I keep my fake beard and baseball cap on all the time, and only use the back entrance to go anywhere. On his departure day, I watch him being picked up by an airport service and confirm his flight took off on schedule. I head to my bathroom and remove my beard and hide my longer hair under a baseball cap. The condo manager gladly provides ‘Will’ with a spare key when I tell him I lost mine.

Will’s condo is very nice with an open floorplan. There’s 3 bedrooms and 3.5 baths. The lower level is a 2 car garage, lots of storage, a large video recording studio and utility room. His silver Porsche 911 Cabrio is parked next to a motorcycle. On the wall is some leather gear, boots and helmet. The 2nd floor has a large living room with exposed brick walls, huge flat screen, fireplace, bar, gourmet kitchen with top end stainless steel appliances and a personal office. The 3rd floor is all bedrooms with a huge master suite with large bathroom and large walk in closet. The one spare bedroom is sparsely decorated with just a bed, dresser and chair. The other bedroom is mostly empty. It’s a great ‘crib’ but I’m certain daddy helped pay for most of it.

I get to work quickly with my plans.  I try to check out his studio’s computer but its password protected and I can’t get it to unlock. This isn’t a problem after I plug in a thumb drive with keystroke tracker and some other tricks. In a minute, I gain access to all his computers and social media accounts.  The password was his usual password but backwards.

His iMac Pro is a wealth of information – full of his unedited videos, speeches and even a digital diary. I thought he stopped doing a diary in 11th grade but apparently not. He updated it just this morning before leaving. I’m sitting there for hours reviewing his life since I left. His comments about my death and funeral are cruel to say the least.  He blames me for fucking up life with my death, how mom & dad are glad it’s over and they’re all better off. Even my father agreed with him. That’s fine by me, they won’t miss Will at all when I take his place.

I decide to spend the night here and continue my studying. In his basement studio there is a green screen, professional video cameras and teleprompters set up in one corner which he uses to make his cutesy videos. I turn on the equipment, click on a file and up pops the words to his last blog on the teleprompter. On another display in front of the green screen pops up the empty stool where he sits. On the stool is a remote I believe is for controlling everything. I plop my ass down, face the camera, and see myself, or Will on the display in front of me. I fuss with my hair to give me Will’s prominent cowlick, press ‘record’ and the words start moving for me to perform. “What’s up guys, Will Witt for Prager U” I repeat his performance, then delete file before passing out at 2am, after seeing his posts on landing in Washington DC. 

LOOKING THE PART

My brother prides himself on his hair, especially the huge cowlick that he’s proud of. According to his calendar, he had a haircut a few days before leaving for Washington. I make myself at home taking a shower, and pulling on some of his clothes – dark gray skinny jeans, t-shirt, jacket and his black high top converse sneakers. I’m missing his clunky watch and ring he wears all the time, and also his rope crystal necklace he’s been wearing since he was 15. The one time I was with one of his girlfriends, not having that necklace on, gave away my identity. I jump in Will’s Porsche and find a salon with a great google rating. I ask for my usual and show her pics from two days ago. They’re very close up and detailed. In half an hour, I’m smiling at Will in the mirror, running my hand through his cowlick. 

Back home, I pull in to the garage and before I can close the door, some pretty little thing is running over to me. 

“Will! Hey there, I’m glad I caught you.”

“Oh hey, you caught me.” I smile and act surprise.

“Tammy and I are having a party tonight.” She hands me a flyer ‘Jen and Tam’s Big Party’.

“That sounds like a blast, ‘Jen’.” Hoping she’s the ‘Jen’ on the flyer.

“I was just going to slip it in your mailbox. Thought you were going to Washington or someplace exotic again.”

“My DC trip was postponed, so I’m here.” I give her a typical Will smile. 

“Washington’s lost is our gain. You have to come. Besides you can crawl home if you get drunk like unlike last time.”

“I’ll try my best but super busy here.” I chuckle with her, not sure what she’s referring to but Will’s diary will probably help me remember some of it. I’d love to go but there’ll be lots of iPhones around and plenty of pics/videos posted on social media.

A friend sent me a lot of WiFi HD fiberoptic video cameras and microphones to bug my brother’s place. I place a few in each room then sync them to my iPad. Walking from room to room I test them all for activation. It takes all day to hide them properly. Later on, Will’s latest VLOGs and antics from Washington start appearing on his desktop. 

His video reminds me how different our styles are. Will was always conservative dresser while I went for the grunge look. His videos confirm his tastes haven’t changed at all except becoming more expensive. I’m making myself at home – it’s going to be my future home soon anyway. With my new haircut, it only takes a little of his gel to look exactly like him.

 It was always fun turning myself into Will when we were younger, it’s still a turn on now. I print out some pics from his PC files, showing various outfit he’s worn.  I’ve got to nail his ‘look’ perfectly for my future life. There’s one of him in a sharp black suit, white shirt and black tie playing a piano, with a red lapel thingy at a Prager U gala a month ago. We both took piano lesson but I was always a little better.

It’s easy finding the outfit in his very organized closet.  He took it off, left the lapel pin in and probably hasn’t worn it since. There’s a video of the gala in his files that I watch, providing me glimpses of his shoes and watch. I strip out of his jeans, and into the outfit. I couldn’t find his watch – it’s probably in Washington on him but I slip on his pinky ring and a different watch from his jewelry box. Back in the studio, I start a new file – Prager Gala, pretending that I’m Will being interviewed about the night’s events. I sit on the stool, hit record and adlib the event starting with Will’s signature “What’s up Guys” intro, including flashing his two fingers. Being Will is all very natural for me. I’m up half the night learning the equipment, checking out his videos and closet. I just need a few weeks of studying him before I replace him. 

To access his cell phone, a friend puts me in contact with a local guy who clones Will’s iPhone. It costs $2000 but I now see his text messages, calendar and listen to his voicemails. I can also listen in on his calls while he’s talking to people. I can’t speak to them, and they can’t hear me but it’s perfect timing. With him in Washington, his entire life is going through his cell phone, providing me with up to the minute information. He’s working on his schedule for the next few months. With access to all this, I’m learning who his coworkers are, listening to work conference calls, what they’re working on and what Will’s job entails as Prager’s ‘social media influencer’.

Will has a spare set of keys for our parent’s place so I visit just to see what changes have been made while I’ve been gone. The most obvious change is the lack of pictures of me. Their mantel has no pics of Will and I together. It almost looks like they have only one son – that I never existed. Everything else is pretty much how it was three years ago. As I was leaving, Mrs. Tarantolo, their neighbor sees “Will” and comes running over to say hello. She thought it was sweet I was keeping an eye on their place while they were away “Such a good son.”  She claims to be my biggest fan and hasn’t missed any of my videos. She’s clueless about me, as she should – when even our parents couldn’t tell the difference, I’m not worried about anyone. 

My week consists of listening, watching and reading everything he’s up to. I take his Porsche out to grab lunch or dinner to remote places so I’m not seen by anyone that could know him. A few times, fans mistake me for Will and I sign autographs using “What’s Up Guys”. They’re thrilled and its harmless fun for me.  

The week flies by and I return to my apartment across the road.  I return the spare condo key to the manager after making a duplicate of it. On schedule, Will returns via  LAX shuttle service. My surveillance system works perfectly as he moves around his condo.  I see him taking a shower, changing into sweats and working in his studio.  His buddy Mike arrives later with pizza and they brainstorm in the studio about their next VLOG and ‘man in the street’ topics. Listening to their banter helps me learn the lingo and their personal relationship.

Will has not changed a bit since I left Los Angeles – same old anal retentive asshole. It’s fun watching and learning about him. He’s still an avid runner, and like clockwork, he does five miles around a nearby park most mornings. Prager U is just a few miles away and he’s there daily unless he’s traveling. He has a new girlfriend he casually hooks up with but it’s not serious, so that’ll be easy. He writes about meeting her in his diary. He’s got his work schedule planned for the next few months and I know enough to handle it. After a few weeks, my gut is telling me I’m ready to be Will Witt. 

Will’s next major trip is to London for a scheduled Turning Point USA promotion/MOTS and speech at Oxford University – same as he did at Stanford. My plan is to replace him when he arrives home. This gives me another 10 days to get up to speed with his life. I watch him pack, see LAX shuttle service pick him up and confirm his plane took off as scheduled. I make myself at home but keep a low profile, rarely going out. 

Between his phone and computer, I’m kept busy 24 hours/day just keeping up with his life. He’s definitely a video freak, not only recording content for Prager but also everything else like his hotel room, what he had for breakfast, his shopping excursions. I can’t wait to wear his new $7000 bespoke suit he purchased during his shopping expedition on Saville Row. I listen in on his phone calls with our parents, his friends and girlfriend Lisa. This helps me get up to speed with what’s going on in his life. Mom & Dad meet Will for lunch at his hotel, then go to see Hamilton. There’s plenty of selfies and videos to make his life mine. He’s spending a fortune on food, wine, clothes, cigars and trinkets. 

A few hours before he returns, I’m armed with chloroform, truth serum and various knock out drugs.  I hide in his bedroom, ready to pounce with a heavily soaked rag of chloroform. It’s almost enough to knock me out just holding it. 

HONEY I’M HOME

The door lock jiggles and Will enters, plopping his luggage inside the door. He makes a beeline to kitchen and opens the refrigerator. He’s there quite a while before I hear him dragging his very large suitcases up the stairs. I’m crotched in the corner, behind the door as he struggles to get both bags through. The perfect moment happens when one of the bags get stuck in the door jam and I hear him say ‘fuck’. In a split second, I pounce and have the chloroform soaked rag over his nose and mouth. A split second after that, he almost falls to the floor as I catch him. I drag him out into the hallway, and finish putting his bags in the bedroom.

“Welcome home Will, have a good trip?” I look down at him passed out and ask.

“Awesome trip man, had fun with the TP USA team, saw Hamilton with the parents, and hit up lots of pubs and cigars. I’ll have to show you all the pics I took.” I respond to  myself in Will’s typical enthusiastic lingo.  

I drag Will to the empty bedroom and start stripping him. Of course, he’s in a sport coat and tie to travel. It’s so ‘Will’ I think as I carefully remove everything from him, amazed at how alike we still are. I strip off my old sweat pants and t-shirt and put them on him. I pull him up into a metal chair I anchored to the floor, then handcuff his hands and feet so he can’t move an inch. I kneel down next to him, grab his face, then rotate it side to side to check his appearance close up. My sideburns are about a quarter inch too long so I head to my bathroom and trim them to match exactly. 

 I carry ‘my’ clothes back to my new bedroom and slowly start my transformation into Will. I love pulling on the outfit he’s been wearing all day—his sweat and scents mixing with mine. Everything is still warm as I put on his black briefs and socks. His charcoal dress pants fit perfectly as I pull them up. His shirt has gunmetal gray cufflinks and is monogrammed on the sleeve with our initials ‘WCW’. I pulled the black lace up shoes off his feet without untying them. I wiggle into them, tuck in my shirt and fasten my belt. In the bathroom mirror I put on his tie using the same technique dad taught both of us.  I pull on his cool black sport coat with large dark gray plaid patterns. There’s a video of him wearing this outfit for red carpet Oscar interviews. I check his breast pockets, locating his iPhone, keys and wallet.  Tucked inside an outside pocket are his glasses. Slipping on his ring, leather wrist band and watch completes my transformation into Will Witt. I adjust my hair using his Cremo hair cream—Will is always fussing with his hair. Staring in the mirror, I only see Will Witt, just as he was traveling first class earlier. I grin at myself as I adjust my shirt cuffs and admire my looks. I do his usual MOTS intro flawlessly – “What’s Up Guys”. From this moment on, I’m Will Witt and no one will have a clue I’m not. 

My iPhone buzzes in my suit pocket, it’s Will’s girlfriend, Lisa calling. 

“Hey Lisa, I just got in the door babe.” I answer watching myself in the mirror, smiling and playing Will flawlessly.

“I thought you would be, I’ve missed you so much Will.” She whispers seductively.

“Same, may I take you out for dinner?” I ask as charmingly as Will does, remembering their conversation from a day ago, and Will promising dinner and a surprise.

“I would love that.”

“Great, I’ll pick you up at 7, Let’s dress up and go someplace nice. I’ll wear a suit and tie.” This gives me the afternoon to get settled into my new life. 

“Okay Will, can’t wait.”

“Bye Babe.” Will’s cutesy name he uses for all his girlfriends.

‘It’s show time’ I think to myself. I head back to my brother who’s finally starting to stir from the chloroform. I start slapping his face and he becomes more aware.

“Wake up Willy, Willy wake up.” I say playfully. 

He looks confused, slowly recognizing me, his eyes bug out, then starts to struggle. “But you’re dead?”

“Rumors of my demise have been greatly exaggerated. Don’t struggle bro, you’ll only hurt yourself.” I laugh at him.

“What’s going on Willy? Why are you in my clothes?”

“From now on, please call me Will and they’re now my clothes. I just got back from London and I’m really jet lagged.” I stand proudly, straighten my tie then reach into my breast pocket for my new wallet.

“Asshole, what do you think you’re doing?” he yells and gets pissed as he’s now fully awake.

“Well, remember when you planted drugs in my locker, turned me into the school principle and ruined my life?”

“Yeah, that was a good one! They all bought it too. Got rid of you for good.” He laughs.

 “Well, laugh all you want.  I’m borrowing your life.”

“You’ll never get away with this. Whatever you are planning, won’t work.” He predicts.

“Well I’m taking Lisa out to dinner tonight to celebrate my return. In other words, I need pussy but Will doesn’t talk like that. Let me rephrase it – I’m taking my girlfriend out for dinner and hopefully make love to her. Better?”  I leaf through my wallet checking it out, pulling out the debit card. “Bro, is your PIN still 8991? I may need some cash for my date. You only have a $40 in here.”

By the look on his face, I know he never changed is PIN. “Thanks bro, just needed to confirm that.” 

“She’ll know you’re not me, don’t even try it.”

“Bro, you’re talking to the guy who fooled all your girlfriends in high school. You’ve been dating her for what? About 6 weeks after meeting her at Jen’s last party where you got wasted and don’t remember getting home.”

“You’ve been reading my private diary?” 

“Well, you could say it’s my diary. So, I was just reviewing my life for the past few years.” I laugh at him. “Which brings me to a new issue – where should I take her for dinner, and do afterwards?”

“Fuck yourself.” He yells.

“Bro, I’m hoping to fuck her, not myself. You don’t want me to do something brash, ‘unWill like’ and ruin your relationship do you? I bet she doesn’t even know you have a twin brother, am I right?” I laugh at him. 

“Willy, what are you doing? Just untie me and I’ll forget this ever happened. I promise.” Trying to soften me up.

“Let’s get this straight, for the time being, I’m Will Witt, you’re nothing, don’t call me that again.” I yell at him. “Now, you’re going to help me be you or I’m going to really fuck up your life. You know I can do it. If you lie to me, there will be repercussions. Do not test me.”

“Okay.” He responds defeated.

“Okay, what?” I demand.

“Okay Will. Lisa loves Italian and there’s this little family owned restaurant called ‘Papa Joe’s’ near her house. She loves it and so do I. That’s where I was planning on taking her tonight. I always get the ‘Lombardo’ dish with an ice tea of course.” He answers defeated. 

“That’s good information bro, I really appreciate that.” I watch his face and have always been able to tell when he was lying. “What after that? What are her limits?  I need everything to be you with her. Give me the full history.”

He proceeds to tell me everything I need to know about Lisa – at least I hope so. 

“Now I need details about my job.  I know where you work, and what you do but more details about the people, office layout, where your office is and how I get in?” He gives me looks that could kill. “What’s up guys?” I mock him with his catch phrase. 

“My work ID badge gives me complete access anytime. It’s in the front pocket of my backpack. I have an office on the second floor, just left as you get out of the elevator. My name is on the door. You can’t miss it.”

“What do you do when you first get there, in the morning? Routine? Pals? Coffee? conference room? Where do you go for lunch? I need it all Willy. You don’t want me to mess up your perfect little life, do you?” I subtly threaten him.

Once I pump him for everything, I grab the bag from the corner, pull out a needle and inject him. He screams at me for about two minutes then become docile. I walk him to the bathroom and order him to relieve himself. Once secured back in his chair, I give him dose of Midazolam that will keep him out for 12 hours and put a ball gag in his mouth. I shut and lock the bedroom door, head back to my master bedroom finishing my unpacking. 

I slip easily into Will’s routine.  My shirts and suits will go to my cleaner per the receipts in the Porsche, the rest go into the washer. Carefully tucked inside his luggage is his new Saville Row Huntsman, a few new dress shirts and the Big Ben charm I bought Lisa in London. I can’t help but try on the new suit, admiring the fit and material. I head downstairs and see Will’s work backpack he has with him all the time. I take it down to the studio office and start going through the content…. A few cameras, my passport, iPad and MacBook Pro.  There’s a printout of my next Prager assignments and hand notes he made in the margins. I find his work ID, clip it to my suit, repack his backpack and head to the office. 

A DAY IN THE LIFE

I’ve followed Will to Prager U but have never stepped foot inside. I pull into an empty parking lot, and park in his assigned spot. Will says no one is ever there but he sometimes goes in to get a jump on Monday. My ID badge opens the main door. I easily find his office and make myself at home. On the wall I notice the signed photograph of Reagan that dad treasures and wonder how Will has it. I plop my backpack on the chair next to my desk and start exploring. I open my MacBook and it starts syncing with the LAN. I easily log in and upload my videos as Will does after all his events, according to his logs.  

I explore the entire building and everything is as he described – Boss’ office, video production, media center, studio, executive conference room etc. I confidently walk around taking in the names of my coworkers. In the men’s room, I smile at Will in the mirror and clean out my coffee mug. 

Back in the office, I settle into my desk and go thru my drawers, check my work email and respond to some.  I hear someone coming up the stairs, calling my new name, approaching my office.  I recognize it immediately as Will’s producer and friend – Mike.

“In here.” I yell out to him.

He pops his head around the corner. “Welcome back, how was your flight?”

“Uneventful, good to be home but jet lag.” I casually answer.

“My flight yesterday was delayed an hour from Chicago but not too bad.”

I heard their last conversation before Will took off this am, and continued it. “I’m good with the final edits from MOTS, just uploaded it so Alexander can add the graphics.” 

I pull up the video, knowing Will made a few cuts on the flight over, and show it to him.  

“You’ve been busy man, looks great. You want to grab lunch?” 

“Sure, you drive and pick.” I can’t resist the thought of testing my ‘Will skills’. 

Mike takes me to ‘In & Out’ for burgers.  He doesn’t suspect a thing, readily accepting me as his friend and coworker.  We talk about the trip, work and future trips. I feel as if I was actually there. He drops me off and I head back to my office and continue to familiarize myself with everything for a few more hours. 

My big test will be ‘my’ girlfriend Lisa.  I stay in Will’s slick outfit, donning his favorite Ray-Bans for the drive. She’s waiting for me outside and jumps into my car. Her unexpected full tongue kiss surprises me but I quickly adjust and give her full tongue back. We make out for a minute then I take her to Papa Joe’s.  Will was telling the truth, Lisa lights up as I pull in front and valet the Porsche. I use my brother’s pics, diary, blogs and text messages to talk about my London trip. When desert comes, I spring the Big Ben charm on her. She leans in tenderly, kisses me deeply and invites me to spend the night. 

At her place, we strip and jump right into bed.  In minutes, she’s moaning as I work her pussy, slowly penetrating it with the tip of my head. She starts moaning softly ‘oh Will, oohhh Will’ making me harder, pushing deeper into her as she climaxes. I explode in her, then collapse onto my back as she curls up under my arm and we fall to sleep.  She wakes me up with a blow job and homemade pancakes – Will’s favorite she notes. I’m not a big pancake fan but eat them eagerly as Will would. I’ve replaced Will completely and now have his sexy girlfriend. 

DAY TWO

I check on Willy when I get home and he’s starting to stir. My schedule today calls for video editing at Prager U with Gavi and Mike. I take a quick shower put on an outfit that screams ‘preppy conservative’ – which isn’t difficult as that’s all Will has in his closet, making my job easy. 

I pop my head in to the bedroom and see that he’s wide awake.

“Morning sunshine.” I cheerfully say.

“Let me the fuck out of these straps now!” he mumbles as I remove the ballgag.

“Sure thing, but first a little shot so you can take a dump and eat a little something. Hungry?”

“No, don’t drug me, it’s a fucking weird feeling.” He pleas.

“Sorry man, I can’t chance you getting free and having a fake Will running around.”

“You’re the fake Will, ass wipe.” He screams.

“Hmmm Lisa and Mike didn’t think so.  I ran into Mike in the office yesterday while uploading my latest VLOG and MOTS video, then had lunch with him.  He’s a good friend of mine. Oh, and Lisa… Damn did I hit her sweet spot last night as she moaned my name softly in my ears. She really loved the Big Ben charm I got her and the ‘Big Will’ I gave her. I think I’m in love bro.” I grab my crotch so he knows what I’m talking about. 

“You fucking bastard!!  Fucking asshole!! You’ll be caught. You can’t slip into my life that easily.” He screams.

“Now, now, Willy.  Guess you didn’t notice the video and audio bugs I installed throughout my new condo or the keystroke tracker on your computers. I’ve been catching up with you since Stanford. Your condo manager was gracious enough to give me a key after you lost it.” I run and grab my iPad and play some of the videos for him, then I show him the cloned phone and play his last conversation with Mike. 

“Guess I don’t need this cloned phone any longer. I have to admit, you’re quite the busy person. Your phone never stops ringing and beeping but don’t worry, I’m keeping up.”

“Fuck you Willy!  When I get free, you’re going to jail or worst.”

“If you get free, which I doubt. If you haven’t noticed, you’re bolted to the floor. Oh, don’t worry, I’ll have new carpet installed at some point. Nice thing bro – between my bank account and yours, I’m quite wealthy with a lot of future potential. In fact, after this gig, I’m thinking of running for office. Dad would love it and back me financially.”

He mutters. “Fucker.”

“Hey bro, don’t worry, I’m taking good care of your life. Enjoying it immensely, especially Lisa. She really knows how to wake me up but I’m not big on the pancakes.”

He thrashes back and forth in the chair screaming more obscenities at me.

 “Bro, seriously, how do I look? Do you approve my work outfit? I’ve noticed this sport coat is one of your favorites. Oh, and my new suit from London fits great and feels incredible. I just had to try it on.” I taunt him while adjusting my shirt sleeves and checking my watch.

“What are you doing here?” he quietly demands.

“Well the drug career pays quite well but is extremely dangerous.  After seeing you at Stanford, I decided a career change was necessary. Don’t you agree it’s a good career move?”

“You’ll never fool them for long.  There are things only I could know. You’ll tripped up.  What about mom and dad?”

“Are you serious?” I laugh out loud. “Mom and dad could never tell us apart, you know that. I did visit the house while you were in London and from the pictures displayed, it looks like I, Will, am an only child. They’re the least of my worries.”

“Oh, they’ll know you’re not me.”

“Why would they? Just look at me bro. I was always a better you than you, when I wanted to be. I do have to get fully up to speed with my new life, friends and girlfriend but that’s what all my new drugs are for. I kind of like your style so I’ll only wear what you already have in your closet.  I’m enjoying your preppy style. I think I’m rocking the Will look, you have to admit it.” I tug on my sleeves not interested in his rants.

“What about work?” He counters.

“Oh bro, that’ll be easy too. I’ve watched all your videos – the work and personal, edited and unedited. I taught myself iMovie to edit my MOTSs for uploading. I’ve seen you brainstorm with Mike on MOTS topics and question. It’s amazing how we even think alike politically. I’m ahead of schedule for today.  Like the anal person you are, I was in the office all afternoon while you were sleeping. I cleaned out my scummy coffee mug, organized my desk and left a note for Alexander on the graphics I’d like to see before the end of today. I can’t wait to meet the boss, have been a fan of his for years.”

“You can’t be me!” He slumps his shoulder in deeper defeat. 

“I am you, no one will have a clue I’m not.” 

I inject him with truth serum and a powerful muscle relaxer.  By the time I come back with breakfast, he’s docile and defeated. A few protein bars, quick trip to bathroom and he’s safely secured again. The truth serum is remarkable. I have a totally different discussion with him.

“Hey bro, how do I look? You like?” I spin around to model my outfit.

“I’ve worn that exact outfit before I think.”

“Thank you, now see, it wasn’t too hard to be nice, now was it?”

He spills his guts to me about all his coworkers, and what he thinks of them. While he’s drugged, I hit him up on family issues and his feelings towards me. He basically threatens to kill me and will since I’m already dead. It’s been on his mind since he woke up chained to the chair. I snicker to myself, knowing he’s the one who’s days are numbered. It’s almost time for work today, so I knock him out for another 12 hours.

My first day of work is a breeze.  I visit Alexander and review the graphics I want. Mike and I review the schedule and brainstorm future MOTSs and VLOGs. Will has the easy part and probably makes the most money. Prager’s staff writes his MOTS questions and helps him with upcoming speeches. He provides the topic, they handle it from there. Will was good enough to do my outline for his University of Texas speech next week. I turn them in and talk to Marissa, our content producer. I have the best gig – I just need to be the hip preppy conservative face of Prager U and get to travel all around the world. 

When I’m leaving Marrisa’s office, I run into Dennis Prager, the president of Prager University. He puts his arm around me and leads me back to his office.

“Will, good to see you, how was London? I just saw your rough video and it’s great”

“Thank you, Mr. Prager. London was great.” I respond and his face immediately looks puzzled.

“Since when am I Mr. Prager?”

“Dennis, sorry it just came out. I’m still out of sorts with jet lag and the British are so formal.”  I try to recover.

“I understand boy, plus you probably had too much wine and cigars I’m sure.”

“I sure did. I brought a few Charatan Robustos back with me” I chuckle knowing their conversations about them and using them to solidify my identity.

“And you’re not sharing? Will, Will, Will, how could you?” 

“I’ll bring them in tomorrow.” 

“Let’s grab lunch son.” 

I can’t believe I’m having lunch with Dennis Prager. He’s thrilled with ‘my’ work, wants me to do more TV appearances like Fox & Friends but also liberal networks. My ratings are through the roof. I talk about my London trip, showing him pics of my parents and selfies I took. We talk politics, going back and forth on issues. We get back to the office and I easily fit in and learn the ropes. By the end of the day, I’m very pleased with my new life. I pass on happy hour claiming I’m still of out sorts due to jet lag. 

CHECKING IN

Back home I check Willy. He’s awake but groggy.

“What’s up guy? How was your day?” I ask cockily as I strut in.

“How do you think, you sick fuck.”

“So sorry to hear that. My day was awesome. My latest VLOG and MOTS are killing it. I had lunch with my friend Dennis and he wants me to do more TV spots. It was probably the best day of your life, I mean my life.”

“My life! You fucker, my life.” He screams with pure rage.

“Wow bro, you smell. We’ll have to get you a shower but first I need to change. Be right back.”

I run to my closet and throw on a pair of running shorts and a Prager t-shirt. I keep my cell phone on me as it’s been going off all day. When I get back to Willy, he starts yelling at me.

“What are you up to? Did you get me fired? The truth, you owe me that at least.”

I laugh. “Now why would I mess up my career bro?”

“It’s my life and career. You’re going to pay for this you fucking asshole.” He continues to rant. 

“I’ve had enough of you already.” I grab the ball gag, shove it in his mouth and he starts thrashing again. My phone rings, it’s Mike calling.

“Hey Mike, What’s up?” Willy’s eye light up watching me.

“No, I’m fine, it was just jetlag and you know me…I tried all the beers and cigars in the pubs…Yeah buddy…thanks for your concern.”  I hang up and look at Willy. “Hey that Jetlag excuse will be good for another few days till I get the groove completely.”

He starts mumbling again but the phone rings again with Lisa calling. 

“Hey babe, how was your day?” I sincerely ask. Willy starts squirming and getting louder. 

“Hey babe, hang on, I’ve got my producer calling.” I put her on hold, walk over to Willy and gut punch him with all my force. I impale him and he shuts up.

“Sorry babe, did I thank you for last night?...Oh yeah, I’d love to but I’ve got a lot to catch up with…My parents are coming back Wednesday from their European vacation and we’re suppose to do dinner Thursday? Would love for you to meet them….Okay… love ya.” 

“Bro, see how easy this gig is for me? I still need you for some additional information like the combination to the safe in your office.” He stares at me but is keeping quiet. I grab my little box of drugs and mellow Willy out.  A quick shower, shit and change of clothes and he’s back in his chair. I feed him a sub and water that he quickly inhales. 

“Now Willy, what’s the number to my safe?”

“Go fuck yourself.” he mumbles.

“Willy, you know I could give you some truth serum or beat it out of you.”

“17858” he spits out as in disgust. 

I head down to his safe and open it up.  Inside is a gun, his birth certificate, social security card, and a stack of other seemingly important papers. I grab it all and take head up to review with Willy.

“Nice Glock Willy, let’s review what’s in my safe and why it’s there. Some quality bonding time. Most of this I know but the rest?”  I ask nicely.

“My contract with Prager U, noncompete, mom & dad’s will, my will, some stocks dad gave me.”

I leaf through it, reading it all and ignoring Willy. In between docs, I feed him some granola bars from the kitchen. I play with the unloaded gun in front of him, on purpose. I’ll have a use for it soon.

“Ok brother, more work questions. There’s ‘PR shots’ on calendar for tomorrow afternoon. What’s with that?”

“Joel, our CMO set them up.  It’s just ‘glamour’ pics for his new marketing campaign.”

“Oh, so that’s what my new suit is for I’m guessing. The email to Joel saying you’re all set after you bought it?”

“Yeah, please don’t fuck things up for me Willy. I’ve worked hard this past year.”

“How many times do I have to tell you? I’m Will.” I gut punch him again.

“I’m sorry Will.” He cries in pain.

“That’s better Willy. So, tell me what to expect.”

“Easy, take suit to work, some of my shirts, ties and jewelry.  Collette in our makeup will take care of the rest. Just smile and do what they tell you in front of the camera.” he answers, still in pain.

“Shoes?”

“The black derbies I had on yesterday, I bought for shoot specifically, wanted them broken in. Doesn’t matter though – they only shoot from waist up.”

“Now that’s more like it. Don’t fight me, help me so I don’t fuck up your life.” as if he’s ever getting it back, I think to myself. 

“Yes Will.”

HANGING WITH FRIENDS

“Now, my friend Tommy wants to go out tonight, grab dinner. What would ‘Will’ do?” 

“He wants to do 71Above – it’s the highest restaurant west of the Mississippi. Tricia, his friend is host there and can get us in. Very high end, suit and tie required.”

“That sounds great.”

“Yeah, he’s picking me up, I’m paying.”

“I’m paying!” I correct him. “What were you going to wear?”

“There’s a black Tom Ford suit with a red lapel pin on it, I’ve only worn it once for a few hours. White shirt and any tie.”

“Oh yes, my outfit from the Prager gala where I played ‘blue moon’ on the piano. What tie, what shirt?” I demand.

He looks at me shocked. “There’s a new gold paisley tie, white spread collar shirt with cufflinks.”

“Why thank you brother. I better go and get ready.” I shove another granola bar in his mouth.

I easily assemble the outfit he was going to wear. After all my spying, I’m sure I would have selected something as tasteful. I skip the gold paisley and decide on a ‘men in black’ look, almost exactly as he had on at the gala. A quick shower, 20 minutes with my hair and another 20 to dress and I’m still 36 minutes early for Tommy.

“How do I look Willy? Now be honest.” I ask walking into the bedroom.

He checks me out head to toe. “You look good Will. You’re wearing my good watch?”

“My good watch brother, remember? You wore your smaller ring at the gala but I stuck with what I had on coming back from London. I think I looks great. Went with the gold black onyx cufflinks. And dude I even had my name embossed inside the suit, sweet!” I open up my jacket.

“You’ve been watching my videos.” He realizes.

“Of course, and reading your diary, all the way back to when dad drove me to ‘New Starts’ and abandoned me. I’m good Willy, been watching you for a month.”

Just then my phone rings in breast pocket. I pull it out and see it’s Tommy.

“Now keep quiet Willy or you know what’ll happen.” I warn him as I answer. “What’s up Tommy? On your way…yeah early is good, I’m ready… Okay, that sounds good, see you soon.”

“Please don’t drug me bro, I’ll be quiet, I promise.”

“Sorry Willy, can’t take any chances. Besides, Tommy mentioned about having a drink when he gets here. Sounds like it’s routine for you guys. What does he drink?”

“Rum and Coke, lots in the fridge just for him.”

I grab the knock out needle and give him a dose.  He doesn’t fight me at all.

“Why thank you bro. I’ll see you later tonight maybe, if you’re awake.” I laugh as I leave and lock the door. 

Tommy walks in without knocking, making his way to my bar as I make my way down the stairs. He sees me and lifts the glasses.

“The usual?” 

“Sure, sounds good to me.”  he’s right at home, grabbing the rum and coke.

“Cheers!” he hands me one, we clink glasses and swig.

I follow Tommy’s lead the entire evening but I know enough about Will to discuss his trip, girlfriend and work. Tommy talks about his auditions for a few movies and a commercial. Sadly for him, I’m a bigger celebrity than he is, as a few people ask for my autograph while waiting to be seated. Tricia has seats for us right next to the window with the best view of LA. It a fun night as a few of Tricia’s friends join us. It’s easy playing Will and his friends. I have everything put on my tab. Thank god he has an early audition for a new Marvel movie, so we leave and I’m home by midnight. 

MORE WORK

I’m up early but Willy is out cold still. He looks like death, probably from all the injections and being upright on the chair for days. Not that I really care as it gives me more ‘Will Time’. To keep in character, I put on some of his work out gear, grab my iPod and do my usual run around the park. I work up quite the sweat but it probably helps with all the alcohol Tommy and I consumed. I check on Willy and he’s now awake and not happy. A quick injection allows me to get him relieved and toss him in the shower. He’s not putting up any resistance so I give him breakfast, leave him in the tub but making sure to securely handcuff him to a grip bar. I take my morning shower in the same shower so I can keep an eye on him.

Willy is so beaten that he’s stopped resisting completely and is cooperative even. Believing that by helping me, I’ll get what I want from him and leave him to his old life. What he’s doing is sealing his fate faster. Once I no longer need him, we’ll head up to my parent’s cabin in the mountains and he’ll be fertilizer. 

After I towel off, I sit on the toilet seat next to Willy.

“How you feeling Willy?” I ask trying to sound concerned.

“Please Will, can I stay here in the tub all day? I promise I’ll be good.”

“I think I can do that but you have to be knocked out. But sure thing. Tommy is a fun guy bro. He sure loves his rum & cokes. We had a blast. I think he was hurt that women were coming up to me for my autograph but not him.”

“Yeah, that’s happened before when we’re out.” He looks really down.

“What is it bro? you look sad.”

“What do you think? I’m chained up and I can’t believe people are falling for your act.” he gets a little feisty.

“Come on bro, how could they not think I was anybody but Will Witt? Don’t worry, no one suspects a thing, so we’re good but I need your help with today’s schedule – sorta of ‘what would Will do’ session just to make sure I don’t fuck anything up for you. Okay?”

“Sure Will, it’s what I live for.” he responds sarcastically.

“How do you come up with the topics for your MOTSs?” 

“Who do you think? Dad, you know how opinionated he is. When we had dinner in London, he rattled off six topics for me to cover and things he’d ask these snowflakes.”

“Ah I thought you sounded a lot like dad when interviewing people. That explains the notes on your iPad. By the way, I’m having dinner with the rents Friday night, having them meet Lisa.”  I just smile at him. “Now about today’s pics, what should I wear? ‘What would Will wear’?”

“We’ve been through this – my new bespoke suit.”

“Exactly what you’d wear today – into the office and for the shoot. I’m just trying to help you Willy.”

“Dennis is always pushing for me in more suits and ties, to be taken more seriously outside the campus forum. Keep it simple – black button down shirt, my charcoal brooks brothers suit. For the shoot, the bespoke of course and take all my new dress shirts and ties, many pairs of cufflinks. I love my gold paisley tie, the one you wore last night. Hopefully you didn’t ruin it.”

“No, I went with a black tie, so the paisley is fine.”

“There’s a large suit bag in the back of my closet that can hold everything you’ll need.’

“I have to tell you bro, I’m gaining a real appreciation for your closet. My tastes have really matured in the past months. What’s with the glasses though?”

“They’re for eye strain bro, giving my eyes a break now from the contact lenses. I also wear them for important interviews or meetings where I want to look more mature and smarter.”

“Well your glasses and contacts work great for me too. My eyes have been changing but I never had them checked. Now, what about the shoot? Who’s going to be there?  How does it work? What does Will do?” I press him.

“It’s a larger version of my down stair studio. Someone will come get me when it’s my turn, take me to changing room, then make up, then to the set – green screen. It’s easy really.  There’ll be people in and out all day long.”

“People like who?”

“Candace, Charlie Kirk, Dave Rubin, Guy Benson and many others.  It’ll be a few days of craziness.”

“Nice!  Do I have any nicknames or personal things with any of them?  Like, how do you address Candace? or Charlie?” He stutters and hesitates. “Spill it or more drugs. Besides, you don’t want me to fuck up anything with your friends now do you?”

“Candace is ‘Candy’ jokingly, she’s getting married in a few weeks.” He continues with the others. I’ll use the information but it sounds childish – something a more mature, evolving Will would never use.  I’ll phase that nonsense out. 

“Good to know. Thanks. I’ve got to get ready for work.” I grin at him.

Dennis Prager alluded to my evolving image during lunch and that I should be wearing more conservative outfits. I agree completely with the boss and love the image. With that in mind, I ignore Willy’s suggestion and go ultra conservative. I remember a beautiful light blue shirt with white contrasting collar and cuffs that ‘I’ve’ worn a few times. It would be ultra conservative with my gray Brooks. 

In Will fashion, I lay out my work outfit on the bed, adding all the details. When I’m satisfied, I pull it on my underwear and socks, pull on my pants.  After I add the belt, I pull on the Brooks shirt.  To keep with the Brooks theme, as Will likes to do, I select the Brooks tie that he wore previously. The whole image screams ultra conservative and looks great. I add white gold cufflinks, his smaller ring and gold watch. I pull on the jacket and stare at myself in the mirror. I put some gel in my hair then fix it exactly as in the pic I found in an old MOTS video. Oh, almost forgot my tie clip. He’s famous on Instagram for his tie clips? I clip one on and it completes my image. I flash a Will smile and fingers. “What’s Up Guys?”. 

I must have nailed the look because when I entered the toilet, Willy’s mouth dropped. In the bathroom mirror, I admire myself, tug on my cuffs and adjust my tie. I don’t say a word.

“Well aren’t you Will Witt.” He comments snidely but I ignore him for a few more minutes as I run my hand thru my hair.

“Who else would I be?” I turn around to face him. “What’s Up Guys, Will Witt for Prager U.” flash my peace sign to him, pretending I’m holding a microphone.

“Probably a better choice for today. No pocket square Will?” 

“Oh shit, totally didn’t notice.”

“In drawer under jewelry box.”  He answers me without even asking. I run to his closet, find a nice silk white one neatly folded in a square. I tuck it in my suit pocket and check myself out in the mirror quickly.

“Better?” He’s silent.

I pull out his preppy glasses and put on and off. “Glasses, no glasses?” I look at him.

“I don’t care, up to you.” 

“Know what, think I’ll have pics taken both ways. I think they make me look older, which would kill my ‘frat boy’ image on college campuses but might help me with the older generation.” I turn to look at his expression but he looks broken. “I love this suit bro, it fits me great. I made sure the knot was right by noting the length of the tie, and location of stripes. Not used to wearing one, almost forgot the tie clip – my fans would have blown up over such a faux pas.”

“True, they watch everything I post.”

“Ok bro, I need to get to work, busy day ahead. I’ll probably be late tonight because Mike wants to do Furley’s for happy hour. I’ll let you in the bathtub so you’re comfortable but how about something to help you sleep?”

“No don’t do that please, I’ll be good.” He begs.

I ignore him, grab the needle and knock him out for the day. 

I jump in my 911 and head in for another day in the life of Will Witt. The suit bag weighs about 30lbs and takes up the entire seat of my 911. Everyone accepts me and I keep learning more and more.  The lingo is coming naturally to me. The routine of emails, small talk and understanding my role is easy. 

I hang my suit bag and jacket on the back of my office door, grab my coffee mug and ease into the day.  Just before lunch, Nicki, one of the film staff comes for me – it’s my turn. I’m seated in in one of the dressing rooms, in a makeup chair, in front of the mirror. Collette comes in all smiles. 

“Will, you’re looking great.”

“You too, so let’s get started. I’ve got a lot to do today on top of these pics.”

“There’s something we’d like to do different this time.”

“Oh yeah? That sounds ominous.”

“Well, how about we cut your hair some?”

“Oh, I don’t know about that Collette, it’s my signature, my “conservative with the best hair”.” Sounding uncertain for effect.

“Well, I was talking to Dennis and Joel, and we feel you should be the focus, not your hair. We’re not talking about shaving your head, just toning down the cowlick some. If you don’t like, it’ll be back in a few months.”

I think about it for a minute, running my hand through my cowlick, looking at Will in the mirror. I’ve seen videos where the wind destroys his giant flop, part of his gig but in the end, I nod in approval and let Prager U redo my image. 

The ‘Will’ PR shoot was so simple, but time consuming.  They brought in some famous stylist from West Hollywood to cut my hair – it took an hour! They went through my suit bag and laid out a number of outfits but didn’t question my taste. They took multiple pics of me in 5 different outfits including what I wore in this morning. I was there for hours. At the end of the day, we head to Furley’s as planned for happy hour. I left on my new suit and last outfit I was photographed in. What a happy hour – hanging with Charlie Kirk, Ben Shapiro and other famous conservatives was incredible. Thanks to Will’s unedited interview videos, I knew exactly what small talk he had with a number of these conservative celebrities and played them perfectly. 

When I get home, my first stop is to taunt Willy still tied up in bathtub.

“Hey bro, this suit is simply amazing. You were right, the shoot was really easy, except for having to change every 20 minutes. Like my haircut?” I tease

“What did you do to my hair?” 

“Willy, remember, it’s my hair. It’s a shorter, more mature, conservative cut. Everyone loves it.  I still have the best hair of any conservative. I texted it to mom and she loves it too.” I open up the iPhone and scroll thru pics from the shoot, then laugh and leave to change into sweats. Following the same routine, I inject Willy, help him to bathroom, feed him and put him to bed. In just a few days, he’s totally changed from being in control to being dependent. He’s definitely a shadow of himself but I’m now casting his shadow.

Every day as Will gets easier as I seamlessly take over his life.  I’m sure I’ve slipped up a few times but since no one knows Will has a twin, who would suspect me? Wednesday at work was incredible. I helped with the rest of the PR shoot, chatted with all of my new conservative friends. I especially liked talking to Dave Rubin and Candace Owens.  I had dinner with everyone that evening and it went really late. By the time I got home, Willy had wetted himself. I was so pissed that I shoved a hot pocket in his mouth, hosed him off and drugged him heavily. 

On Thursday Gavi and I do a man on the street, at Santa Monica Pier. I nailed it – quickly picking up Will’s attitude and methods. It was easy after watching all his videos from the past year. Back in the office I sit down with Gavi, edit his video and work with Alexander to add the graphics.  

Willy is awake when I get home. His eyes scan me from top to bottom then he starts yelling through the ball gag.

“Hang on Willy.” I pop out the ball gag.

“I hate you Willy and I’m done playing your game.” He spits and hits me on my shorts. 

I gut punch him with all my force, then inject him to keep him docile. “Now Willy, we’ll get you on the potty and fed quickly. I don’t have a lot of time, Lisa and I are going to dinner at mom and dad’s. I really like her.”

I get Willy settled, take a quick shower and head out to pick up Lisa. Dinner is a breeze as Lisa is the center of attention. There’s no discussion of Willy at all – just about me and how proud they are of everything I’m doing. As I expected, they were totally clueless I wasn’t their precious little Will. I have to admit, it felt great being home. I showed Lisa my old bedroom and got a BJ on Will’s bed. It was like old times, like his other girlfriends I fooled. Mom and dad announced they’re heading to Hawaii to celebrate their 30th wedding anniversary and ask me to watch the house while they’re gone. More time to get reacquainted with my new life as their loving son Will. I spend the night at Lisa’s but get up early to take care of things at home, then work.

Willy is awake and pissed more when I check in on him. 

“Morning Willy.” I cheerfully announce.

“You’re Willy asswipe.” He yells back.

I gut punch him with all my force. “Don’t make me repeat myself Willy, now who am I?”

“You’re Will, Will Witt.” He’s barely able to speak, I hit him so hard.

“Now that’s much better Willy. Let’s get you to the bathroom and fed.” I inject him and continue talking while it takes effect.

“So, mom and dad love Lisa bro.  I think she’s really falling for me.  She gave me a BJ in my old bedroom. Sadly, your old bedroom is now a workout room with no trace of you at all. I showed Lisa my swimming and track trophies, tried on my old letterman jacket and gave her the whole Will Witt history. Can you believe mom and dad are celebrating their 30th wedding anniversary? I can’t!” I lay it on thick as the caring son that Will is. 

“Fuck off.” The mumbles.

“Oh Willy, don’t make me hurt you more.” I warn him. I can see the drugs have kicked in, and start untying him. Just as I loosen the last night, Willy tries a fast one on me, trying to tackle me to the floor.  I’ve wrestled him too many times and know his ‘plays’ and another gut punch and I’m dragging him into the bathroom. A quick shower, shit and breakfast bar and he’s good for another 12 hours.

Once he’s secured, I jump in shower and prep for another day in the office. Fridays are so routine with a team strategy meeting for upcoming projects/videos/content.  This is followed by lunch and office time till happy hour at Furley’s. After happy hour, I meet Lisa and a bunch of her friends out for more drinks and dancing, then back to her place.

END OF THE ROAD

I’m up early and skip out of Lisa’s, telling her I have some chores to do for my parents and I’ll be tied up all weekend. Willy is awake and thrashing about trying to get loose. I enter the bedroom smiling, and clap my hands.

“Willy, good news! Road trip bro! We’re going to the cabin to take care of some things for Dad. I thought you’d enjoy it.”

He stares at me, blood shot eyes, a week of facial hair, looking like crap. “Good, could I sleep in one of the bunk beds?”

“Sure thing bro, then we’ll talk about next steps here.” He calms down, feeling better, probably thinking he’s getting his life back.  He’s not. 

I drug him, give him a shower, get him dressed and fed. The next morning, I get him ready for 4 hour trip to the cabin. The dosage I gave him should keep him out for most of the trip. I pack some clothes and fishing gear in case I get the urge. We leave at 5am to avoid any traffic. 

He sleeps the entire journey and I don’t stop once. I’m careful to drive the speed limit to not attract any attention from state police. I pull up to the cabin before 9am. There’s no one around, no one on the lake even – all peaceful and quiet.  With Willy securely tied up in the car, I walk around the cabin inspecting the place, reminiscing about our family outings and fishing trips. In the rear about 500 feet from the house is an old well that’s been dry for years. Dad has been talking about filling it in for safety for years, but never did. It’s the perfect place to hide a body.

When I get back to the car, Willy is stirring. I help him out of the car and walk him inside the cabin. 

“Will, untie me please. My arms and wrists are killing me.” He pleas.

“Sure thing.” Knowing he’s drugged still and couldn’t run anywhere or harm me. 

We walk out to the back porch and I hand him a coke and sandwich. He sits on the step eating and enjoying the partial view of the lake.  I laced the coke with enough fentanyl to kill him – he’ll just pass out and die peacefully. 

“So what’s the plan Will? I guessing this is it for me.  Am I right.” As he takes a large chug of the coke.

“Yeah that’s about it Willy.  You won’t feel a thing though, you’ll just fall asleep. Hope you enjoyed the coke, no after taste?”

“Nah, it tasted fine. You know I need a few cokes a day to keep the energy up.”

“Yeah, it’s a habit I’ve had to adopt. You know Willy, I’ve always been a better you and this life is perfect for me. Don’t worry, I love my new life and have seamlessly integrated into it.  I’ll take good care of it.”

He’s in a daze now, the drug is kicking in. I help him up and over to an Adirondack chair near the fire pit.  He puts his head back and starts breathe erratically. Within minutes he stops breathing. I waste no time stripping and dumping him in the well. I grab a shovel and start shoveling dirt into the well until I can’t see any evidence. For good measure I add another foot of dirt on top of that. 

I’m exhausted after that, take a shower and dress in clean clothes. In town I grab a bite at Palmer’s diner – a dive with good food. As I’m sitting there finishing up with a piece of Apple pie, Rob Decker, an old friend of me and Will come up to me. He’s a local who owns a few small businesses, most inherited from his father. 

“Will! How are you man? Why didn’t you let me know you were coming?” He grabs my hand and shakes it hard. 

“Rob, good to see you! Dad asked me to check on the cabin and I needed a break from LA. I’m heading back to tomorrow.”

“Dude, got your gear?”

“Of course, was going to try the old creek before heading home.”

“I’ll join you, heck, even Tommy will go.  He’ll be thrilled to see you. He was talking about your videos on Facebook.”

“Sound great Rob, stop by tomorrow morning whenever.”

Back at the cabin, I start a campfire and relax. Once it’s burning good, I grab Willy’s clothes and toss it all in. I have an overwhelming sense of accomplishment and freedom now. I have a few beers and watch the fire slowly burn out. Sunday morning Rob and Tommy show up at 6am. They don’t even mention my brother Willy even though we were all friends growing up. We have a blast and they want to come to the big city and party with me soon.

I fly back late Sunday afternoon and clean up my condo – unmounting the chair, smoothing over the holes in my carpet, cleaning the bathroom and tossing out the rest of Willy’s clothes. I call Lisa and invite her to my place tomorrow night for dinner and love making.

Monday morning I’m in full Will Witt mode. I wake up and take my run, shower and fuss with my hair for 20 minutes. In keeping with Dennis’ wishes, I up my conservative appearance to match my new haircut. My new bespoke Saville Row suit anchors my identity as the only Will Witt. It’s teamed with my favorite blue Brooks Brothers shirt with white contrasting cuffs and collars.  I pair it with my new shoes and favorite tie I’ve worn a few times.  Joel loves my new attitude and appearance. At lunch, I pull a typical Will move – I escape to a nearby restaurant, hang out and work on my schedule as is habit. 

Life is great now. I have tons of friends and fans. Prager U is very lucrative and I’m in demand across the US and world for speaking appearances. No one suspects I’m not Will. I love the notoriety and acceptance. I even love my preppy wardrobe and new style. It’s grown on me and I’ll maintain it.  

[laypis]

rating: mature pairing: bakugou katsuki x gender-neutral reader word count: 8.2k warnings: swearing, violence, medical imagery note: crossposted to ao3 here

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summary:

A comet will only truly shine when passing by the Sun. After a mission for the Hero Public Safety Commission goes terribly wrong, you're taken in by Bakugou Katsuki, your former high school rival, to recover. However, when you’re forced to confront a brewing conflict between two sides of the Hero world head-on and fend off a criminal organization hellbent on slaughter, will you die out or burn bright? A Pro-Hero Bakugou x Pro-Hero Reader fic, featuring a reader with a slug Quirk. Reader is gender neutral/nonbinary but AFAB. All characters depicted are 18+.

Chapter One

It was raining.

It often rained on your missions. You've never been sure of why, but it did. That wasn’t a surprise to you.

Most of those missions didn’t involve you laying on the ground and bleeding out, that part was new. You can’t say this is how you foresaw your end to be. You’d hoped it’d be more peaceful, perhaps a bit warmer. You watched with bleary eyes as your bright, smashed phone screen next to your head blinked frantically with an onslaught of messages from your last known contact. A serene smile befell your face. You’d worried someone. You hoped he’d forgive you, in the end.

Your eyes closed.

You were surprised again to wake up not to the soothing, ethereal light of the afterlife, but to the obnoxious lights of a hospital room instead. You blinked several times, looking about in dull alarm. Was this a mistake? Was Heaven taunting you? Around the room, bundles of flowers and well-wishes spilled from every corner. Bouquets of all shapes and sizes, stuffed animals, and get-well-soon cards with words you couldn’t read from this distance. Your eyes settled on a figure sitting in an armchair towards the corner of your small room. The figure was slumped over like a ragdoll, a soft snore emanating from them.

You ached to call out to them, ask them if this was truly what the end looked like. You’d always thought it would be much more tranquil than the beeps of heart monitors and the gnawing pain in your side from where you’d been slashed.

“Where...?” you managed to rasp out. You heard the figure snort, then grunt before straightening up. After a pause, a low, masculine voice met your ears. It was astonishingly familiar.

“About damn time.”

⁠—

As it turns out, you hadn’t passed away and gone to the afterlife. According to Bakugou Katsuki, you’d almost died, and he’d carried your nearly lifeless and bleeding body to the closest hospital while you were unconscious. He’d explained all this once you’d awoken from what you understood to be several days of drug-induced slumber.

Now, the two of you sat in his fancy car, a carry-on bag at your side full of the meager toiletries you’d convinced the nurses to let you take. The orange and red glow of the underlights in his dashboard illuminated your feet as you stared downward at nothing.

“Oi, Snot-For-Brains, you alive over there?”

Bakugou’s brusque question brought your eyes up to meet his for the briefest of moments. You tilted your head, the medicine left in your system making it difficult to speak. You fought the all too familiar delay in time that seemed to grow by the second.

“Still here,” you offered softly, the corner of your lip quirking upwards into something akin to a smile.

“Good. I don’t need anyone dying on me in this car,” he answered before his eyes returned to the road ahead. "Just paid the damn thing off."

You smiled.

“I’ll try not... to.”

Besides the soft music from the radio, the car was quiet. It had turned dark before the hospital got all the paperwork finished in order to release you. You didn’t mind. The dark was where you thrived, after all. Where you’d almost died. The moon was peeking out from the clouds among the silhouettes of lighted buildings. It was barely noticeable past the streetlights that would pass, but you noticed it. Your eyes locked on the little semicircle, drawing strength from its willingness to shine. Bakugou broke your trance when he spoke again.

“What happened, slug?” was all he said.

“A lot. I’ll... tell you more when I... can,” you murmured. Bakugou accepted your answer more easily than you’d expected. He didn’t pry, his eyes turning back to the road after glancing at you a few times.

“Do you, uh, need anything special? A humidifier, or whatever?” he asked. The question made you chortle.

“No...” you smiled, lifting a hand to hide your mouth. “I’m not... that frail.”

“Tch, no kidding,” he agreed in a low voice. When he caught you looking at him oddly, he glared at the road. “I mean, you did just survive nearly getting cut in fucking half!” he sputtered. The smile behind your hand grew.

“I’ll... be okay,” you told him. “Look.” To make your point, you wiggled the two sets of antennae atop your head gifted to you by your Quirk. They were slower to respond than you’d like, but they moved to your command, with the smaller set twitching and the larger set pivoting like ears. Bakugou had glanced over in time to see you move each pair separately. You saw a shiver run up his spine.

“Creepy,” he muttered. The insult didn’t bother you much. You were used to hearing it. Having a slug Quirk wasn’t considered flashy or beautiful, but you knew the extent of your own capabilities. Your gaze lingered on his profile, outlined by the streetlights above. His jawline had filled out over the years, but there was still a hint of his former boyishness in his face.

You looked down at the broken phone in your lap. It barely maintained a charge, it was basically ruined, but you’d managed to message Mina Ashido. She was overjoyed to hear from you. You could tell she was holding in her questions about what had happened to reassure you. You’d asked a favor of her, and she’d obliged without any hesitation. You wondered if you’d ever be able to repay her for all her kindness over the years of your long friendship, the two of you had been attached at the hip since middle school. You loved her dearly, though had never said as much out loud. The lingering warmth the conversation brought you was enough for you to stay awake during the remainder of the car ride.

When you arrived at Bakugou’s apartment complex, you weren’t expecting squalor, but nor were you expecting the lavishness that assaulted you at every turn. The delicate organs peeking from your long hair were bombarded with new information. Your companion had earned his place in the hero world. Being the up-and-coming number 2 Pro was nothing to sneeze at. At the same time, you never pegged Bakugou for the rich living type. Some part of you was relieved when you came upon his actual apartment. A penthouse suite, but furnished sparsely and simply for a practical person. Much of the furnishings were black, but again, that could be expected considering who lived here.

As Bakugou swept you further into his place, you peered around. It was meticulously clean, of course, and the kitchen was weirdly enormous. Well, considering who it belonged to, maybe it wasn’t all that weird.

“You’re taking my bed. And I don’t wanna hear nothin’ smart about it,” he barked as he started moving around to pick up odds and ends. “You need more blankets, they're in the hallway closet. It's the second door to the left. Bathroom’s connected to the bedroom at the end of the hall. Now get your ass cleaned up and go to sleep. You’re a fuckin’ mess.”

Ah, so even his bedside manner was deplorable. Good to know you were in such capable hands.

You had to resist the overwhelming urge to roll your eyes. Though, you couldn’t deny you were weary. Your disastrous wound and the medicine they’d pumped you full of the past few days had taken an enormous toll on your body. Recovery hadn’t been easy. Not to mention the effect all the drugs had on your Gastropod Quirk.

The protective layer of mucus that normally covered your hair was watery, and threatening to stick to everything it touched. It felt as disgusting as it probably looked. Bakugou had already warned you back at the hospital not to get any of that “snot” on his things. The fact you felt like you were underwater didn’t help either. Your head hadn’t stopped swimming since you’d woken up properly for the first time in the hospital room. You usually liked the water, but not when it was all in your brain.

“Right,” you drawled, your dark eyes watching Bakugou in distant fascination as he swept some stray mail into a pile on the table next to the door. He either noticed your hesitation or got tired of it, because as soon as he finished, he took a hold of your shoulders and began to guide you toward his bedroom down the hallway.

“What the hell did I just say? You got more snot in your ears than usual or something?”

You shot him a glare that was promptly ignored.

“Look, just clean yourself up and if you’re hungry I’ll fuckin’ feed you, but then it’s bedtime. Got it?”

“Oh, is it... past your... bedtime?” you remarked. You were spun around with such force you thought you were going to pass out. Once the dizziness faded, your eyes locked with bright ruby hues.

“Listen here, slug. If I’m gonna play babysitter to your ass for who knows how long, then you go by my damn rules. Don’t make this more fucking difficult than it already is.” His eyes narrowed dangerously. You couldn't help but wonder what he meant by that, his choice of phrasing odd. However, even you knew when it was time to back down. You heaved a long-suffering sigh. You were too tired to pick his brain. Not only that, but you'd walk away with more questions than answers, that you were certain of.

“Your... flair for... drama... has not left you,” you mumbled. Bakugou’s grip on you tightened minutely, as if he were holding in the urge to blurt something obscene like he usually would. To your astonishment, he kept it together.

“Whatever. Go wash up, you smell like a wet dog that rolled in hell knows what.”

With that, his grip on you ceased. He sharply turned away from you, returning to the living room with a low huff. You tried shoving aside the strange feeling of missing those large, rough-hewn hands encompassing your lithe shoulders as you trudged to where he told you the bathroom would be.

Being alone in the bedroom of your former high school rival was an experience. Whether it was a good experience was up for debate, but at the moment all you could focus on was the door connected to the room that was slightly cracked open. Light was flooding out from it, signaling you to pull it open and reveal a spotlessly clean master bathroom. It had both a shower, and a tub.

How fortuitous for the man who can’t seem to get over calling you playground bully level insults. It was still a welcome sight, however, knowing you had private access to the entirety of the room until Bakugou would inevitably darken your door wanting to know if you’d finally passed on.

Without hesitation, you carefully peeled away your old clothing and bandages to reveal what you’d not been wanting to confront since you left the hospital. The whole reason you’d be holed up with your own personal nurse shark for the foreseeable future.

It was stitched with all the care in the world, an ugly blemish dyed with yellow iodine and old blood, staining your glossy tan skin with a sickly and unpleasant tinge. It split you from the top of your left hip upwards until the final end met the bottom of your sternum, spanning the whole width of your abdomen. You stared at it in the mirror for a long minute, absorbing every detail of it.

That criminal's blade had torn you asunder. Yet, here you stood in Katsuki Bakugou’s bathroom with breath still in your lungs.

By all rights, you shouldn’t be alive.

The thought echoed in your head, foggy and perpetual in the darkness of your mind. Onyx irises met each other in the mirror as you peered through pale bangs at yourself reflected inside the glass.

You looked like a ghost. And, truthfully, you should be one.

Eventually, your logic caught up with you to helpfully remind you that staring at your life-threatening injury in the mirror wouldn’t get you clean or fed.

Resigned, you padded toward the shower to start the water. It fell cold on the hand you held out to check the temperature. You had no doubts Bakugou probably liked his showers hotter than the devil’s teat, but you certainly did not. As soon as the water wasn’t cold enough to make you shiver, you shook the moisture from your hand to grab your bag. You plucked the sample-size shampoo bottle from the top of the pile inside and slithered under the waterfall.

You kept your mind empty as your body went through the motions of cleaning. You did, however, come back to reality long enough to watch the protective layer of mucus covering your hair slough off into the drain.

You hoped, somewhat bitterly, Bakugou had good plumbing. A new layer would form in its place, a stronger layer,  protecting your hair properly instead of acting like a sticky hand fresh from the package at an arcade.

You sighed when you felt the appropriate amount of time had passed before your host would inevitably come looking for you. You were clean enough. You’d managed to wash away the sterile hospital scent and replace it with something lightly floral and refreshing. Your natural scent of wet leaves would make its return once you dried and rested, you imagined. A small comfort. The only good scent was your own.

Though, the strange sweetness permeating all of Bakugou’s home was becoming familiar to you. Albeit reluctantly.

I should give Bakugou more credit, you thought. He did save me from the clutches of death, and all.

Once you’d had enough of ogling your wound again in the mirror before wrapping it up, you came upon a dilemma. Dilemma being the mildest of words to describe the problem.

You had no clean clothes.

Mina had promised you in a text earlier in the day she’d drop by your apartment and grab you enough clothing to cover your, hopefully, short stay at Bakugou���s place and bring it to you. You’d agreed, stupidly perhaps, that she could do that tomorrow when she had a chance.

Your hand wiped over your face, a scowl affixed on your expression, and heaved a sigh. You’d have to borrow something from Bakugou.

Finding a towel big enough to wrap around your willowy figure wasn’t an issue at least. You steeled yourself for facing the owner of the house, taking in a deep, calming breath. Could things really get that much worse?

As it turned out, yes, because the moment you opened the door you were face-to-face with your gracious host who looked like he’d seen a ghost the minute he laid eyes on you.

“For fuck’s sake, where the hell are all your-!”

“Gone.”

He paused, his expression frozen in a contortion of both anger and ... embarrassment? You hadn’t seen that look on him very much in all your years of knowing each other, but he still wore it about as well as a fish wore pants. He reached up to run an agitated hand through the short, buzzed locks of his hair.

“Before you... lose your temper... be reminded I came with nothing but... the clothes the hospital so kindly let me... take. Mina... promised me she would bring more. Tomorrow,” you explained, painstakingly slow as you fought exhaustion, irritation, and pain to form coherent sentences. Bakugou stuttered out something under his breath that sounded strangely like an apology before shaking his head and tearing around his room to find something for you to wear.

“Right. Fine. Whatever. I’ll give you something of mine, but it’s mine, got it? I get it back whenever Racoon-Eyes brings you your own shit,” he grumbled as you watched him rifle through a drawer for something that was even close to small enough to fit you. “And try not to get any damn slime on it!”

An amused smile tugged at your lips. You leaned heavily on the door frame of the bathroom, eyes never leaving Bakugou as he finally pulled out a pair of shorts and an oversized black t-shirt from his dresser’s bottom drawer. As soon as he checked them over (for cleanliness, you assumed), he tossed them your way.

“Here. I don’t wanna hear any complaining about size. It ain’t my fault you’re a stick,” he said, pointing a finger at you with the usual scowl on his face. Compared to you, he’d beefed up in the time you’d spent apart. You noticed it whenever you caught the ripple of muscle through his toned arms.

“Me? Complain...?" You did your best to sound scandalized at the very idea. "You may... have bad manners... but I don’t,” you chided, clumsily catching the bundle in your arms.

You cursed the slip, because you heard Bakugou scoff instead of taking the bait. Were you so wrong for wanting some normalcy between the two of you? You’d traded barbs like cards back at U.A. but clearly Bakugou had other ideas at the moment. You didn’t catch the deepening of his scowl at the comment, too occupied with looking over the new clothing you held.

“Just get dressed, dammit,” he said before storming from the room. Well, at least some things never changed.

Once you were finally settled in fresh clothing, you sat at the edge of Bakugou’s huge bed, tying up your hair into a looping ponytail so that it would be out of your way. It would hopefully also prevent your hair’s natural slime coat from getting onto Bakugou’s clothing while it reformed.

How he slept in such a monstrosity was a mystery to you. The bed was easily three times the size of your own at home. Looking at it closer, it seemed it was fit more for someone like Hawks, whose quirk made it tough to fit in a normal bed. Not really an angry bachelor, as was Bakugou.

The thought of him sharing a bed with anyone but the covers was a funny thought to you. But it turned sour when you felt an odd pang of jealousy at the idea.

Had he shared a bed with anyone else in the five years you’d not seen each other? It would only be reasonable to expect as such. He may be gruff and have all the charm of a bulldog, but he had needs… or so you thought.

Right?

You shook the thought from your mind, bringing a hand up to hold onto your aching head. What had he mentioned earlier before marching you to his bedroom? Food? You hadn’t eaten a decent meal since before you were hospitalized, and that had been… Oh. That was several days ago, now. If your fuzzy memory served right, Bakugou was an... adequate cook. You hated admitting that much, but if he was offering to make you something, then you’d be a fool to turn it down.

Picking yourself up from the edge of the bed, you shuffled out of his bedroom and into the dim hallway leading out toward the main part of his penthouse.

“You ask... if I’m dead... yet you disappear like... a ghost?” you muttered to yourself as you saw not hide nor hair of him in the living room.

A cacophonous rattling of plates and a curse in the direction of the massive kitchen drew your attention. It seemed he was a step ahead of you on the matter of food.

You strolled to the kitchen’s ample island, sitting yourself in a bar seat as quietly as you could while you focused your gaze on Bakugou’s form hustling about the stove top. The drugs remaining inside your system were dulling your senses and your pain, so you hadn’t smelled the food before. However, now that you were close enough, the enticing scent of something light and hearty met you like an old friend. It reminded you again how long you had gone without food, evident by your stomach lightly rumbling.

At first, Bakugou didn’t acknowledge you directly. He must have realized you’d slipped in somewhere along the way though, because he addressed you as he stirred something on the stove without turning to you.

“Pinky told me you don’t eat meat,” he stated, his voice even and, surprisingly, calm. “I’m making vegetable curry. I’ll make sure your portion is up to your wimpy standards, so I don’t wanna hear nothin’ about how hot it is.”

You blinked. You hadn’t realized Bakugou had spoken with Mina at all, let alone about your diet.

When did that happen? While you were effectively dead to the world? How long had Bakugou been thinking about becoming your personal nurse? You suddenly had a lot of questions for your host.

Still, it was true, meat was near indigestible for you. Spicy food rarely agreed with you either, but you knew Bakugou liked everything as hot as his temper.

“I... see. That’s... uncharacteristically considerate... of you,” was all you could think to say.

"Hah?" Ah, there it was. "You really think I'd be such a selfish asshole after all this?" he growled, still not looking at you as he picked up fervor in beating the vegetable sauce in the pot instead.

"You do not... have a fantastic track record... of doing so, no," you pointed out. "You made... Kaminari cry... by giving him that... abominable ramen you enjoyed... in high school. And laughed."

Bakugou was quiet at that. When he did speak again, he stopped stirring.

"That shit was funny, and don't you try and act like you didn't laugh like the rest of the peanut gallery," he grunted. "And it wasn't 'abominable'," he mocked, "it was the only good, cheap ramen at that shitty school!"

The familiarity and comfort of his banter won a tiny smile from you as you rested your head against your arm. You watched as his movements slowed back to a more professional pace.

"Fair enough," you relented. Bakugou gave a hum of satisfaction.

“Drinks are in the ‘fridge. Get whatever you want,” he told you. You slipped off your chair, moving to the large, double-door refrigerator. It was filled with clearly fresh groceries, vegetables of all kinds spilling out from various places, and packages of what seemed to be seafood, and tofu. A shelf in the door was full of nothing but a plethora of hot sauces of every label and brand. You wrinkled your nose at the sight, trying to focus on finding the drinks. They were located in a plastic drawer at the bottom, but you merely selected a bottle of water that’d caught your eye before closing the fridge.

You stood for a moment, watching Bakugou at the stove. From here, you could see the steam rising from the pot of rice. You also saw that he had set aside a pan of curry from the main portion. Was that for you, or him? You couldn’t quite tell. You had apparently stared too long, because Bakugou turned his usual glower on you.

“What?” he barked. You clutched your water bottle to your chest, the cool plastic bleeding through your shirt.

“Nothing,” you replied. “You just... look at home among all the... pots and pans.”

“The hell? You tryin’ to say I belong in the kitchen?” he pointed the large utensil in his hand at you accusingly, a vein popping in his neck at the insinuation.

“Of course... not.” You held up your hands in surrender. “You’re the one who... always brags... about your cooking. You seem... comfortable... when you’re making food.”

Bakugou’s eyes narrowed at you as he tried to think of a reply, but when something simmered in front of him, he turned back to it with a disgruntled sound. When it was clear he wasn’t going to answer with anything more than a scowl in your direction, you decided to make your way back to your former seat at the island with drink in hand.

The kitchen grew quiet after that, barring the sounds of Bakugou working and the gentle bubbling of the curry. You’d noted that he didn't use an automatic rice cooker, he did it all himself. Impressive, but likely just another detail of his skills to boast about.

In the silence, you remembered the manners you'd boasted about earlier. Specifically, being thankful to your temperamental host. Despite his bedside manner needing improvement, he'd truly done a lot for you. More than you'd thought him capable of. You hated owing people, but there's comfort in the way Bakugou made it so you couldn't protest his "kindness" as he knew you might.

After some thought, you finally eke out the phrase that had been on the tip of your tongue since Bakugou had offered to take you in until you were healed enough to return home.

“Bakugou?” you asked tentatively. He stopped stirring the rice to turn around, pinning you with his usual wrathful stare as he obviously expected another snarky comment.

“Thank you,” you bowed your head to him with your hands clutched in your lap, eyes downcast. A faint blush dusted your cheeks, and of course it would. Your sensitive antennae gave the smallest twitch. You hoped that he understood you meant more than just the food. You didn’t see him turn back around, nor did you see the slight softening of his expression in reply to your gratitude. A beat passed before he answered.

“Yeah.”

⁠—

A plate of fresh, steaming curry with a side of rice was placed in front of you on the counter, along with a spoon. You raised your head to look at the cook and thank him, but he was already moving to sit across from you as he pulled a barstool to the other side of the island.

He set his plate down, bombarding your senses with the frankly offensive amount of spice he liked in his food. His curry was much more red than your own, which, by all rights, looked to be a tolerable level. You both mumbled a quiet thanks for the meal, then you picked up your spoon to start eating.

It was hot, but only in temperature. He’d managed to keep the spices to himself, it seemed. You found yourself smiling a bit at that. The taste was nice, but you still ate slowly. Bakugou didn’t play with his food, but you noticed him hesitating in taking a bite. You’d felt his eyes on you since the first spoonful. You put down your silverware.

“If you’re... expecting a review...” you started, a gentle, teasing lilt to your voice.

“Shut up and eat!” he bellowed, then began to wolf down his curry like a starved man. It drew a soft chuckle from you.

The dinner continued in the silent way that dinners do, the clinking of spoons against porcelain being the only noise that cut through it. You had other things on your mind besides him, all of which were beginning to surface with more clarity as the food helped the medicine in your system recede. You were drifting when you heard Bakugou clear his throat.

“I know you said you’d tell me when you can, but what the hell happened?”

You shifted in your seat. That was sooner than you’d thought it’d be.

“I was... caught infiltrating a... criminal organization. One of the other... members... lured me out on a fake errand... and left me to die,” you explained. You didn’t want to go too far into details about your work for the Hero Public Safety Commission, not right now.

“You’re a stealth operative for the HC, right? Racoon-Eyes mentioned it once or twice.” You could hear the barely contained anger threatening to spill out in his voice. It was clear he wanted to know more, but he shoved a spoonful of curry into his mouth instead.

“Yes.”

“And still holdin’ number 7? Can’t imagine the public knows a whole lot about you, though,” he snorted. “You’re better off that way, trust me.”

You stopped eating to cock your head, fixing him with curious eyes.

“You’re... number 2, right? Is the public so... bad?”

Bakugou huffed.

“Nah, but they’re nosy fuckers. The media ain’t much better. Worse, if anything.” There was a pointed note of disdain in his voice. It reminded you of something.

“Yes... They make... quite a big deal... of the fact Endeavor is still... active,” you said, lifting a spoonful to your mouth. You’re startled by the sound of Bakugou’s own spoon clattering against his nearly empty plate.

“Yeah, I know. That stubborn old bastard says I ain’t ready for it yet and won't even tell me why! It’s bullshit,” he snarled, crossing his arms over his chest and staring you down. “I don’t know what the hell his problem is, but I’m gettin’ real tired of it. He’s gonna be pushin’ 60, what’s the damn point?”

You blinked a few times at him, then put the bite you were holding into your mouth. You chewed slowly. It’s a long enough pause that Bakugou raises a fine brow at you questioningly.

“People are... stuck in their... ways,” you replied. Your answer didn’t seem to satisfy him. If anything, it appeared to anger him further.

“What about you? I don’t see or hear shit from you for five damn years, and then you text me outta nowhere for help? The fuck is that about, slug?” You froze. The irritation at having the conversation turned on you once more was enough to make the delicate stalks on your head twitch.

“The HC is... hellbent... on keeping me a secret. In case... you hadn’t noticed,” you stated coldly. “Besides... I knew... your and Red Riot’s... agency... patrolled that area. You were... my first thought.” Your brows knit together behind your curtain of hair, and you were thankful he couldn’t see it. The reply made him bark out a cruel-sounding laugh.

“But me? Why not fuckin’ Pinky or, hell, even the Tape-face?” he growled as he angrily took a bite of his food. “Ain’t like they don’t work for me.”

You bid yourself to calm down as you racked your brain for an answer. Why did you text Bakugou of all people? You found yourself slightly regretting the decision.

“I knew... you would be... the one to know... what I meant in my message,” you finally said. He grunted.

“Texting someone the word help with coordinates attached ain’t exactly as mysterious as you think it is, slug,” he said, shaking his head. “Where the hell was the Hero Commission anyway? Didn’t they send you with any damn backup? Couldn’t you see that whatever dumb villain did that to you was gonna snap?”

“It was... too dangerous to send... more operatives,” you explained. “I was... a good fit.” You left it at that, his other questions hanging in the air. He noticed, because he stood up from his seat abruptly to lean over the island, braced on his palms, to glare at you from above.

“A good fit? That’s a fuckin’ laugh! You were bleeding out in a shitty alleyway, and no one would’ve found your corpse if I didn’t get there in time! What the hell were those higher-up idiots thinking, putting you in that kinda situation all by yourself?”

You gritted your teeth, temper boiling up through your veins. It felt like ice coursing through you. You calmly placed your spoon down on your plate, your half-finished food turning to ashes in your mouth. You rose slowly from your seat, and it seemed Bakugou had finally caught onto the fact he’d angered you. He withdrew a bit, but his glare was still just as piercing.

“I live in the shadows, and... that's where I'll die,” you clenched your fists at your sides. “It must be... so nice, to not have to... worry about that," you replied to him, voice low and frigid. "If... it's such a big deal to you, why... did you... come for me? Why... go through all this... trouble?" You gestured widely to the meal, the apartment, and yourself, clothed in his spare wardrobe.

Your questioning leaves Bakugou looking stunned. He gave an owlish blink, his scowl wiped away temporarily as his lips hang open without retort. You can practically see the hamster wheel turning inside his head, complete with a furious-looking rodent.

You fought an oncoming wave of stress-induced dizziness and nausea. You brought a hand up to your head to steady yourself and squeezed your eyes shut to block out the increasingly incessant lights, wrapping the other arm protectively around your middle. You give one last glance to Bakugou's deepening frown.

“Thank you for... the food, Bakugou, but I think... I need to... rest.”

"Oi⁠—!"

With that, you turn and stalk off to the dark reaches of his bedroom, leaving Bakugou with only his thoughts and the dirty dishes.

⁠—

You hadn’t left Bakugou’s bedroom since you closed the door behind you. Normally, you’d have been polite enough to at least help with the dishes, but the whole ordeal had upset you enough that you couldn’t think of anything more than your own spinning head. As the calm of the darkness settled over you, you felt yourself regretting your words to the man. After all, he had helped you. Yes, you were in pain. Yes, Bakugou had likely overstepped. At the same time, you’d practically thrown his kindness back into his face and spat on it.

You physically cringed at the thought. It wouldn’t surprise you if he threw you out the next day. Better enjoy this ridiculously huge bed while it lasted, you sighed.

You were sprawled out atop the bed, not even bothering to get under the covers. It'd been a few hours at least since the dinner. Once the nausea had passed and your head no longer ached, you were left only with echoes of your fraught conversation to plague you. Needless to say, you hadn't gotten any sleep since you'd laid down.

It certainly wasn’t as if you wanted to die the way you almost did. However, Bakugou made it hard to understand why he’d do all this for you. To his credit, he’d never been an easy person to understand. You knew his temper, you knew his bluntness, and you knew from your years together at U.A. what drove him, considering he never shut up about being the number one. The memories made you smile, the smallest quirk of your lips. At the same time, there was a part of him that he was good at obscuring. He was a straightforward person, that much was certain, but there was a piece of his puzzle you’d never quite understood.

You sighed miserably, rolling onto your uninjured side as you stared out into the darkness of his room. How did he sleep in this bed? It felt so incredibly empty. Perhaps he liked the space. Knowing what you did about him, it wouldn’t come as a surprise to you. He seemed the type to toss and turn until his body finally gave over to slumber. How he maintained a strict bedtime was a mystery to you with your chronic insomnia coupled with horrendous paranoia.

You buried your nose into his comforter, immediately breathing in that strange and sweet scent that lingered in the air throughout his penthouse. You’d finally figured out what it was.

His Quirk.

You’d read, somewhere, long ago, that nitroglycerin gave off a distinctly sweet scent. Some likened it to caramel, but his smell wasn't nearly that pure. Likely because whatever caused his sweat to be explosive wasn’t pure nitroglycerin. Still, the composition was similar, right? It would make sense. You closed your eyes. It wasn’t all that different from the damp foliage smell that your slime created, though you much preferred that smell over his at the moment. His was merely a reminder of whose house you were in.

You reached up to rub your temple. You’d have to apologize to him. You weren’t sure if that’d save you from being swiftly booted from his door in the morning, but you had some faith that Mina would be willing to take you in.

Lost in your drifting thoughts, you snuggled against one of his pillows and were assaulted by his scent. And a memory. A memory?

In your second year at U.A., you and Bakugou had formally faced each other during a mock battle at the Sports Festival. You’d lost by a hair, mostly because it was warm that day, and you’d dehydrated from both the fight and Bakugou’s fiery explosions. It was a pitiful defeat, in your mind, even if you’d placed 3rd in the end. It was also the first time you’d ever caught a glimmer of the side of himself Bakugou hid so expertly.

You looked at the scar on your arm. It was one of the few you had, now counting the one that would likely form across your abdomen from the villain attack.

In the dark, it wasn’t difficult to see. A faded, bright patch of skin over your tan complexion. In many ways, it resembled a star streaking over the night sky. It was long, stretching in ragged lines over the back of your forearm and ended in a distinct shape on the back of your hand. It was formed when you took a point-blank blast from Bakugou in a poor attempt to block the only way you knew how in the heat of the moment. You thought you could take the impact of the blast to throw that force back at him with your rubbery body. Instead, you were sent sprawling with a bloody arm onto the concrete stage.

You remembered trying to get up, struggling to get to your knees, not realizing the extent of your injuries. You were determined to let him see what you could really do. To let everyone see what you could really do. It was almost funny to look back on when your mere existence was so clandestine nowadays.

He’d stopped you by placing a firm, hot palm over your back and pressing you down into the hard stone. You were sure he was going to blast you into the ground, then and there. You’d watched with glassy eyes as the surrounding crowd was awash with jeers and calls for the referee, Mr. Cementoss.

Bakugou didn’t throw all his weight onto you, nor did he blast you. He only said three words that you barely heard before you finally passed out from the pain and exhaustion of the match.

“You did fine.”

After that, you’d woken up in Recovery Girl’s office with Mr. Aizawa at your side to tell you not to push yourself so hard next time. He’d drawn your attention to your now bandaged arm, pointing out that it was going to scar. You’d begrudgingly accepted his advice about understanding your limits. Sometimes, the best trick in a hustler’s arsenal, you knew, is when you should fold.

That being said, you never had been sure how you ended up in the nurse’s office. Your brows furrowed at the thought. Back then, you had asked Aizawa if he’d taken you, but he’d just scratched his neck and told you that he was watching from the stands without any indication of who had taken you. You’d later learn from Mina that she’d rushed to the stage to offer to take you. You assumed all these years later she was the one to haul you there. However, with your antennae surrounded by Bakugou’s scent, you were remembering a different version of events.

You hadn’t entirely passed out after Bakugou had claimed his victory. You were conscious in flashes, mostly from the pain in your arm. You do remember hearing Mina’s desperate voice, but she wasn’t yelling at you. She was saying something to someone else.

“Let me do it! Please Bakugou, you hurt them enough already!”

“Shut up, Racoon-Eyes, and get outta my way!”

The feeling of being braced over a large, muscular shoulder as you were carried. The growl in his voice as you were berated for your damned recklessness.

The next time you heard anything, you were being laid out on a bed while Recovery Girl frantically worked in the background. She was scolding your carrier.

“I’m fine, old hag! Just take care of them.”

A door slammed, and all was quiet at last. You finally succumbed to fatigue at the sounds of bandages rustling and kissy noises. Mina hadn’t carried you to Recovery Girl that day.

Bakugou had.

You jolted up, letting out a seething hiss as your wound reminded you that it was very much still there. You slumped, looking out into the dark bedroom with a grimace. You glanced at the closed door leading out into the hallway.

Compelled, you scooted off the bed, coming to stand in front of the door. You opened it quietly and were greeted with nothing but darkness. The tentacles atop your head swiveled as they took in your environment, allowing you to navigate the pitch black with ease until the hall opened out into the living room.

The only sounds were the distant hum of the city, and a ticking from an analog clock somewhere in the background. The soft noise of someone breathing was coming from the large, leather sectional that Bakugou had, the dim light from his windows allowing you to make out a figure bundled in blankets atop it.

You approached on silent feet until you were standing next to your unconscious host. You felt your expression soften. He was far more peaceful at rest than any other time in his life, the angry lines in his face nonexistent as he snored quietly.

You hesitantly reached out, wondering if you should even bother until morning. You had no idea what time it was, you’d been laying in bed drifting in and out of consciousness but failing to fall asleep properly. Your hand hovered over his shoulder, but you pulled away when you heard him snort.

Red eyes fluttered open at the interrupted snore, unfocused, before they settled on you and grew wide. In an instant, Bakugou was on his feet, his hand wrapping around your slender wrist and crackling ominously. You braced, ready to accept your fate when he finally rasped out your name in question.

“Fucking Christ. You’re goddamn lucky I didn’t blow your hand off, Snot-for-Brains,” he growled, voice husky with sleep.

“I suppose... I would deserve it,” you countered softly.

“Hah? What the hell are you talking about?”

You tilted your head. Did he not remember your little tiff earlier? At the gesture, it clicked into place for him.

“Oh. The dinner thing,” he said. His eyes met yours for a brief moment, assessing. Then, he shook his head, his gaze drifting to the side. “Don’t fucking worry about it.”

This was when he noticed he was still holding onto your wrist. He withdrew his hand like he’d been burned, leaving you to rub the spot while checking for damage. Thankfully, the only thing that remained was a warm sensation. It was a remarkable bit of restraint on his part. Bakugou cleared his throat, but you spoke first.

“I’m sorry. About... all that. I really am... thankful for all you’re doing for me. I... also realize you’re not obligated to... do any of it,” you murmured, hanging your head as you set your eyes on the floor. You heard him huff.

“Well, duh. I wouldn’t be doin’ it if I didn’t want to,” he stated, his arms folding against his chest. “But from now on, try not to kill yourself. I’ve seen enough of your dumb, passed out ass to last me a damn lifetime.”

Again, another strange choice of words from him. You lifted your gaze, dark eyes narrowing at him in the dimness. He wasn’t looking at you, determined to keep his eyes on something to his right.

“I’ll try,” you replied, letting yourself relax. You could feel a wave of exhaustion washing over you. You were relieved. At least it didn’t seem like Bakugou was going to shove you out the door in the morning. “Did... you want your bed... back?”

Bakugou looked at you in disbelief.

“Hell no! Which one of us almost got gutted like a damn fish, huh? You take the bed, idiot,” he stated sternly.

“I hate it,” you said bluntly. “It’s far... too big... for one person.”

“Yeah, if that person weighs less than a paper sack soakin’ wet, like you,” he retorted. He let out a frustrated sigh, letting his arms drop to his sides. “I can’t believe I’m about to suggest this, but would it make your stupid ass feel better if I was there?” You were taken aback by the question. You stared at the ground, then him.

It wasn’t a stretch by any imagination to say you’d had less than a few purely friendly thoughts about Bakugou in the ensuing years you’ve known him. For as atrocious as his attitude was, he was attractive, well-built, and had a decently handsome face. In your mind, one would have to be blind not to see that much. The idea that he’d be in the same bed as you in the real world, however, was not one you’d ever thought you’d confront.

“I...” you stuttered, uncertain of exactly what to say. In the darkness, you thought you saw the beginnings of a flush in Bakugou’s neck and ears. You had to wipe away the immediate idea you had about how pretty it looked on him.

“Just answer the damn question!”

You swallowed.

“That... might help. Yes,” you managed. You fiddled with the hem of your borrowed shirt, not looking at Bakugou directly anymore. You tried to fight the heat rising to your cheeks, hoping the darkness would cover for you should you lose the battle.

“C’mon then, we ain’t got all night,” he commanded as he started making his way to the bedroom. You followed in a daze, unable to believe you were about to share a bed with Bakugou Katsuki. Sure, you’d had something of a crush on him in your later high school days despite the rivalry the two of you maintained, but that was years ago, for God’s sake. Some higher power was clearly getting a laugh from this, and you cursed their name in your head.

You hesitated at the doorway to the bedroom, watching as Bakugou turned over the covers.

“Did you even fucking sleep?” he grumbled, more to himself than you.

“Not... really,” you answered from the door frame. He whipped around to look at you, pinning you with ruby eyes of disbelief that nearly glowed in the darkness of the room.

“Shut up, and get in,” he pointed to the bed. You strolled past him, feeling his glower on you as you climbed into the plush cocoon of blankets with a creak of the mattress. This was indeed far more comfortable than laying atop all the covers, you’d give him that much.

As soon as you had arranged yourself on one side of the bed, Bakugou laid himself on the opposite side. You were forced to face him due to your injury. He didn’t cover himself completely with the sheets as he sprawled out on his back. He tucked his hand under the pillow beneath his head, eyes closing. You couldn’t help but notice it left an empty, enticing space against his side.

Before you realized what you were doing in the haze of your pain-addled and weary mind, you’d wormed your way closer to him. You tentatively reached out to place a hand on his chest. He was so warm beneath your palm, the feeling of his heartbeat against it reminded you he was very real.  

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” he growled without opening his eyes. You blinked your way back to reality, about to remove your hand when he let out a low huff.

“If you’re gonna do this shit, at least follow through,” he groused.

You had to hold back the incredulity in your expression, even if he wouldn't have seen it anyway. Too tired to argue, you could figure out the meaning of his words. You mustered your courage. Keeping your hand against his heart, you slid over until you were tucked against his side with your face buried to his black wife beater. He was practically a furnace, his warmth permeating from where the two of you met against each other. You fought the urge to peer up at him and gauge his expression, fearful of what you might find there. You focused your gaze on his chest instead.

“Relax, idiot. I don’t bite.”

You didn’t realize how tense you’d been. He let out a deep breath, and you could feel his body relaxing alongside yours.

“Are you finally good?” You could feel the rumble of his low voice against your cheek. You nod.

“Good, now go the fuck to sleep. Tomorrow, you're helping with the dishes."

"Fair... enough."

You yawned softly. With eyes closed, you focused on the sound of his breathing. You were all too aware of the rise and fall of his chest under your hand, the slight quickening of his heart when you’d sidled up to him. A tiny smile graced your lips. Feeling safer than you’d felt in a long time, you allowed the gift of slumber to claim you at last.

[maria-scribbles]

loyalty’s all i got | part two

three years ago, you had it all: great friends, good grades, and an almost perfect relationship with your boyfriend, jj. it all came crashing down when your mom relocated your family to california for work and you were forced to trade the outer banks for malibu, leaving your broken heart behind in the place you were just starting to think of as home. now you're back in town for college and to pick up the pieces, hoping to make things right again with your friends and the boy you never stopped loving.

word count: 8.6k+

ship: jj maybank x female!reader, pogue friendship

warnings n stuff: angst angst angst all around (with a happy ending tho!!), the reader being a v. sad girl, mentions of anxiety/depression, failed long distance relationship, drifting apart, self-inflicted loneliness/isolation, the classic trope of 'they broke up but they're still in love with each other' that gives me feels, swearing (it's not my writing unless someone says 'fuck' at least once), reconciliation/mended relationships, traditional cheesy rom-com rain scene 'cause i'm a Dramatic Hoe™

a/n: and here's the second and final part of this looooong two-shot! thank you all so much for reading and i hope you enjoy the finale even though i low key kind of hate it 🙃. fun fact: surfrider beach is a real place in malibu known for its great waves :) also i apologize for how long this took to post, i dropped my laptop and the screen broke so i had to wait for it to get fixed lmao. unbetaed as usual, any mistakes are my b. 

~masterlist~

part two: like a ghost that no one knew

When you said goodbye to your friends three years ago, you should've known things would never be the same again. You were sixteen, still so young and naïve and full of an almost childlike hope that kept you from seeing the obvious: life wasn't fair. Sometimes, you could be holding all the right cards and still lose the game.

It should've been easy. You had a video chat schedule already figured out, promises of daily texts and Snapchats, a boyfriend willing -enthusiastically willing, in fact- to go long distance and make it work no matter what 'cause you both agreed that what you had was something worth fighting for. You and your friends had weathered many storms together, what was one more? It could've been easy but you underestimated just how cruel California would be.

You traded one coast for the other and watched the sun set over the Pacific alone when you would've given anything to watch it rise over the Atlantic with your friends. It hurt to surf solo but you did it anyway, even though it felt like a damn sucker punch each time you caught yourself scanning the sand for JJ and his proud smile when you successfully caught bigger and bigger waves at Surfrider Beach. 

Long distance was hard. You had days where all you wanted to do was lay on your bed for hours, safely curled up in his arms as he ran his fingers through your hair but you had to settle for his voice over the phone and one of his shirts from your closet instead. You missed everything about him: his pretty eyes that looked like the clearest ocean, the cheeky grin he'd send your way after making a stupid joke that had you affectionately rolling your eyes in exasperation, that adorable flush that spread across his face without fail each and every time you said you loved him. You longed for his constant affection; the way he always wanted to keep you close somehow, his arm around your shoulders, hand in your back pocket, or fingers entwined with yours; how he could never go a day without kissing you. Being apart was nothing short of torture.

"I fucking miss you." He said late one night during a rare FaceTime session -his phone was a piece of shit so he had to 'borrow' John B's whenever he could- and you smiled despite the knife twisting itself deeper and deeper into your heart as you played with the fraying sleeve of his old sweatshirt you wore. 

"I fucking miss you more, J." You whispered back, giggling quietly when he scrunched up his nose in playful skepticism. 

"Yeah, I don't think so, babe. There's no way." 

"Yes, way!"

Although it hurt like hell, you imagined being tangled up with him in the hammock hanging in the Chateau's yard under the North Carolina sky -the light from the moon would turn his blond hair a pale silver as he grinned down at you and cupped your cheek in his hand, closing that final distance between you for a kiss that'd fuel the fire racing through your veins- and you let that fleeting happiness carry you through the night, long after you said goodbye. You fell asleep with your phone in your hand, unaware that your mother had been listening from the other side of your closed door.

You'd been distant from her and your dad in the months since the move, obviously going out of your way to avoid them both by spending all your spare time surfing at the beach, coming home well past sunset and heading straight to your room without a word. They'd taught you forgiveness wasn't something to be given willingly -it had to be earned- and since neither of them had done anything worthy to deserve an absolution, you simply pretended they didn't exist and let yourself stew in your justified anger.

Until the morning after your video date with JJ, they'd wisely given you your space so you were pretty blind sighted to find them both waiting for you at the dining room table, one of your dad's famous cinnamon rolls on a plate set in front of your usual chair. You paused in the middle of tying one of your boyfriend's worn bandanas in your hair before abruptly continuing toward the front door, acting like you didn't see the hopeful looks on their faces that made guilt slowly start to burrow its way into your chest. 

"Y/N, wait," Your dad sprung from his seat and reached his hand out toward your elbow, his face falling when you instantly pulled back and crossed your arms. "Please, let's just talk for a second."

"I'm gonna be late for the bus," You lied and tried for the door again, sighing in frustration when he blocked your path and ushered you toward the table where your mom was sitting, biting her thumbnail. The guilt burrowed deeper: you thought she kicked that habit years ago but there she was, chewing her nail to shreds and it was all because of you (the empty satisfaction you felt knowing you were the cause of her stress made you hate yourself just a little more.).

"Jellybean, don't worry about that. I'll drive you." 

You bristled at the old nickname but sat in the chair your dad pulled out for you anyway. The smell of the cinnamon roll he pushed your way made your mouth water but you refused to eat and kept your eyes down as you played with the stack of bracelets adorning your wrist. "You wanted to talk?" You asked, deciding to just rip the band-aid off all at once 'cause knowing your mom when she was anxious and your dad being allergic to any type of confrontation, you'd have sat there all day until one of them worked up the courage to speak.

"Talk, right." Bill said with a nervous chuckle, shaking his head as he took a seat and swiped his own cinnamon roll from the pan in the middle of the table. "Uh, how are you?"

"Are you serious right now?" You asked incredulously, looking up from your lap with a raised eyebrow. "All this for 'how are you?'" 

"How would we know?" Your mom finally spoke up as she pulled her ruined nail from her mouth, only to start instantly drumming her fingers on the table. "You're always holed up in your room or at the beach, Y/N. You never talk to us anymore."

You rolled your eyes before fixing her with a deadpan stare. "Hmm, I wonder why."

"Honey, you know I'm sorry-"

"Don't, okay? Just don't." You swallowed thickly and dumped the cinnamon roll back into the pan, blinking away the awful burning pressure building behind your eyes. "I can't listen to some half-assed apology that you don't mean!"

"Y/N, we are sorry. Everything's gonna get better, just give it time." Your dad's reply was muffled by a mouthful of pastry and any other time, you'd usually be laughing at his chipmunk cheeks but instead you just stared back down at your hands again, lip quivering as you tried and failed to hold yourself together. You would not cry. You would not cry. You would not-

"Please, honey." Your mom tentatively reached out one hand like she was approaching a wounded animal, her voice so soft you could barely hear it above the rush of blood in your ears. "It hurts us to see you like this-"

Oh, fuck this shit.

"You're hurt?! Are you kidding me?" Your chair scraped along the tile as you rocketed to your feet, vision blurring when the dam finally broke. "You promised we wouldn't move again until after I graduated and you broke that promise. I let myself make friends for once in my goddamn life -I fucking fell in love, Mom! I fell in love with the most amazing boy who, by some miracle loves me, too despite me being a...a complete loser!" You were rambling now but you couldn't find it in yourself to care about or stop the words flying from your mouth. 

"God, I was happy -so, so disgustingly happy it kind of scared me, okay?" You laughed bitterly and roughly wiped the tears from your cheeks, only to have more immediately take their place. "And you didn't even stop to think before you took it all away from me! So don't even talk to me about being hurt 'cause you have no fucking idea!"

Your dad was frozen, eyes the same color as your own blown impossibly wide in the middle of another bite of cinnamon roll while your mom, two tears streaking perfect twin tracks down her cheeks, looked at you like you'd just told her the world was ending -to her, it just might've been but to you, it already had. Neither of them said another word as you snatched your backpack off the couch and stormed from the house, slamming the door behind you.

Halfway to the bus stop, you decided school just wasn't in the cards that day and doubled back, hiding behind the shed in your backyard until your tears had run dry and both of your parents left -Rebekah to the hospital, Bill to wherever he went while you were in class- before heading inside to change into your rash vest and grab your board. Despite it being early Friday morning, Surfrider Beach was full of life and you welcomed the hustle and bustle as you turned off your phone and buried it at the bottom of your bag, leaving your problems behind on the sand. 

You spent the whole day at the beach, blissfully alone and free to do what you wanted, until the sun dipped low in the sky and you were too exhausted to even think about anything but dragging yourself home so you could pass the fuck out. You caught one final wave before heading back to shore, waving goodbye to the group of other kids you'd surfed with all day (the one thing you loved about California: everyone was so chill) and trudged through the sand toward your things where, just as you expected, your sister sat on your towel, clad in a baggy UCLA long-sleeve with her phone in hand. 

"Bitch, you killed it out there!" She looked up as you dropped your board to the ground and sat down heavily beside her, slipping an old Kildare County High School sweatshirt -the first one you ever 'borrowed' from your boyfriend, much to his delight- over your head. "I mean, look at you go!"

You leaned closer to watch the video she took, the barest hint of a smile on your face when you watched yourself perform a near perfect cutback on the screen. "That's 'cause I had the best teacher." 

Daisy tagged you and posted it to Instagram before you could protest, then tossed the phone back into her bag and turned to you with a forced cheerfulness that kind of made you want to smack her. "So..."

"Mom and Dad sent you to clean up their mess." You finished quietly, tucking your knees to your chest and wrapping your arms around them as your sister sighed dramatically and offered a sympathetic wince. 

"As always." She copied your position and you both stared out at the sun sinking over the water, its fading rays turning the sky brilliant shades of orange and pink. It was typical of your parents to send Daisy after you when you were upset -after all, you'd both been each other's only friend for over half your lives- and normally, you'd be glad to see your sister's friendly face instead of your mom's or dad's. That evening, though? All you felt was...disappointment.

"Guess they really don't give a shit about me." You mumbled under your breath, half-hoping Daisy didn't hear you but from the way she snapped her head in your direction, you didn't get your wish.

"Y/N, that's not it. They're just..."

"Just what? Pretending that they didn't stab me in the back? Acting like everything's all hunky-dory and they actually cared about my feelings?" 

You hastily wiped at your face when your sister silently looped an arm around your shoulders and tucked you against her side, her fingers running soothingly through the ends of your damp hair as you vented all of your frustrations -everything you'd kept locked deep inside your heart- until your voice was hoarse and the sun had long disappeared from the horizon and you had no tears left to cry.

"You have no idea what it's like, being so lonely it hurts to breathe. It hurts knowing Mom and Dad have each other and you have Daniel and I'm alone all the time." You lifted your head from her shoulder and rubbed your red eyes with your sleeve. "Worst part is, they just keep acting like I'll wake up one day and magically be okay and everything'll be all sunshine and rainbows again." 

"First off, I wanna say that I'm sorry for not making more time for you. I knew you were struggling and I'm a terrible big sister for not being here for you like I should have," You squeezed Daisy's other hand in thanks as she tucked a loose strand of hair behind your ear, her voice soft and steady like the waves crashing against the shore. "Second, I definitely don't think Mom and Dad are handling this the way they should, but I think they're trying in the only way they know how. That should count for something, right?"

You sighed and tugged the sleeves of your sweatshirt over your hands. "I guess, but they haven't even tried to see where I'm coming from and they don't get that I'm not the only one they hurt. If I have to hear one more half-assed apology, I'm gonna lose my shit. Again."

"I'm not saying you have to forgive them right away 'cause I sure as hell wouldn't until they say they're sorry and mean it. But..." She said, pulling you to your feet and shaking the sand from the towel you were sitting on, "you shouldn't keep shutting them out, okay? It's not healthy."

You tucked your board under your arm as Daisy grabbed your bag and swung it onto her shoulder before you both started walking toward the parking lot. "What if I'm never ready to forgive them?"

"That's a question I don't have the answer to." She said with a shrug. "You've gotta figure that one out for yourself."

So you followed your sister's advice. You were civil and gradually, your relationship with your parents improved until you could stand to be in the same room as them and even carry on a short conversation, even though you knew you'd probably never be able to fully trust them again. You caught them exchanging glances you could only describe as wounded when you often turned down their invitations to go to the movies or get ice cream or other things you used to love doing when you were younger but for the most part, they took it in stride and you were grateful for their little efforts. Forgiveness wasn't in the cards quite yet but with each passing day, you felt the icy wall around your heart slowly start to melt away.

But every time you thought you were taking one step forward, life pushed you two steps back. Just when you were getting things back on track with your family, the train went flying off the rails when it came to your friends and it was all your fault.

It wasn't like you didn't try -God, did you try- to keep yourself from falling back into old habits but Malibu just had a way of bringing out the absolute worst in you. Your old self, the girl who kept to herself and pushed everyone away, someone you thought you buried in the deepest grave, slowly came back from the dead with a vengeance little by little, so subtly you didn't realize what was happening until it was too late. 

One missed phone call turned into two, texts went unanswered for days or not at all, FaceTime sessions happened less and less. The last video chat had been with Kiara and it ended terribly, after you blew up at her for mending her friendship with Sarah Cameron in the near two years since you'd been gone, spitting words you couldn't quite remember -something along the lines of 'didn't take you too long to replace me, huh' and calling the blonde girl a 'heinous bitch'- but knew you regretted with everything you had and hanging up before she had a chance to explain. You couldn't even recall the last time you talked to Pope or John B aside from the occasional Snapchat and your daily calls with JJ had turned to once a week, if you were lucky.

He was trying, you could tell, and so were you but the deck was stacked against you and you were never very good at cards, anyway. It hurt to try, it hurt not to try, everything just hurt. Nearly two years apart had done their damage and coupled with your debilitating fear of being forgotten that clawed at your chest like a rabid dog, your relationship was on unstable ground and for the first time in almost four years, you were thinking about the end. It wasn't like you didn't love him anymore (holy shit, were you still completely head over heels in love). In fact, you loved him so much you realized that he could do so, so much better than you and the thought rested heavy and bittersweet on your mind, lurking in the shadows until you were ready to bring it to light.

It happened on New Year's Eve. Alone in your room, your hands shook as you answered JJ's call at midnight, his voice tired and a little hoarse from celebrating the new year three hours earlier on the opposite coast and you nearly started crying right then and there when you replied with a shaky "I think we need to talk."

"Babe, what's wrong?"

You took a deep breath and said quietly, "Everything."

"Talk to me." The pure concern in those three words nearly convinced you to call it off, to tell him to forget you said anything and that you were fine, everything was just fine but deep down, you knew you couldn't.

"I've been thinking about us and I...I just think that you deserve better than me. Someone who can actually be there for you when you need her and hold you when your dad's an asshole and see you every day. Someone who can laugh at your silly jokes and share a joint with you and clean you up when you get into fights defending your friends-"

"Babe, what are you talking about? That girl is you."

"Maybe I was but I'm not anymore and I don't think I have been since I left. I just can't be the girl you want, I can't be the girl you deserve, J -I'm a total fucking mess and you can do so, so much better than me."

"Y/N."

You didn't know you were crying until you heard the broken way he breathed your name and salt water dripped from your chin onto the bracelet around your wrist. 

"...are you breaking up with me?" His voice was impossibly small, the quietest you'd ever heard it and the exact moment your battered heart shattered into pieces was when you realized he didn't even put up a fight. 

"I think so." The words tore through you like a gunshot as you cried, curling into yourself on the bed in an effort to ward off the worst pain you'd ever felt in your life and you wondered if it was possible to die from a wound that wasn't even physical. 

He was quiet for a long time, so long you thought he hung up without you noticing through your tears, until he sniffed on the other end of the line.

"Guess we had a pretty good run, huh?" He asked with a watery chuckle and you found yourself giving a tiny, shuddering giggle in response -God, even when you were breaking his heart he still managed to make you laugh.

"The best, baby." The pet name slipped out like second nature and you winced, hastily trying to cover your mistake with an awkward cough but from the sharp breath you heard him take, he'd heard it anyway.

("I'm sorry," you said, and it stood as an apology for more than just your slip-up.)

"I love you, Y/N. Probably always will."

"I'll never stop loving you, JJ. That's a promise."

You let yourself believe him as you laid there bleeding from a gash you couldn't see, a wound you knew would never heal, and you hoped he let himself believe you, too, even when you ended the call without another word and threw your phone away from you, not bothering to see where it landed. The sound of your heavy, broken sobs filled the room and you didn't even mind when your mom, who you knew had been listening from the other side of your closed door like always, barged in and took you into her arms, stroking your hair as you cried into her lap.

If you were supposed to avoid getting hurt by leaving first, why did it feel like everything in you was broken? If you were making the right choice, why did it feel so wrong? You didn't have the answers and no matter how hard you searched, you knew you'd ever find them.  

So you tried to stay busy. You joined the surf club at school, got a part-time job at the local aquarium, did anything you could to distract yourself from the hurt and the guilt and the way getting out of bed every morning was the hardest thing to do. Surf club introduced you to Mackenzie, the one girl who was more ostracized at school -an even richer version of the kook academy you hated -than you, her for being freakishly tall and you for your East Coast attitude, and the two of you became fast, if reluctant friends. Mack didn't try to stitch the gaping hole in your heart caused by your absent friends but she numbed the pain just enough to make it bearable and you were grateful for her calm, steady presence at your side, even as you both tried to keep each other at arm's length.  

Later, you found out she was just like you, friendless and awkward with no self-esteem and a tendency to push people away, and that just cemented your friendship through the summer and your final year of high school.

Mack told you all about her life, growing up with no siblings, having height that she never learned to deal with, and a debilitating social anxiety that made making friends near impossible, and in turn you told her about how you hopped from town to town on your mother's whims, the wonderful friends you let slip away, and the beautiful boyfriend you loved enough to let go, and you both cried together for the lives you could've led.

"You two looked so happy," She said during the first sleepover you hosted as she held one of the many picture frames littering your dresser, her lips turned upwards in a small smile.

You gently took the frame from her hands and ran your fingers over the grinning face of your ex-boyfriend, his arms wrapped around your shoulders as your painted lips planted a deep red kiss on his cheek, and the wave of longing washing over you was almost strong enough to bring you to your knees. "It was the happiest I've ever been."

"Do you miss him?"

"So much it hurts."

i miss you.

i'm so sorry.

i still love you.

You'd typed and erased those texts every day but never mustered the courage to hit send and you couldn't decide if that was a blessing in disguise or the worst possible curse. Of course you still loved JJ: you promised you would and even if you didn't, you couldn't stop if you tried. He was your first love, the boy you so willingly gave your whole heart and then some; you still kept his ring on your thumb -the one he gave you at the airport the day you left- and his bracelet around your wrist, his bandanas in your hair and his face in your dreams and you knew you always would.

Before you could blink, your eighteenth birthday flew by and graduation was upon you.

You thought the second you were done with high school you'd be gone, heading straight back to the Outer Banks and the life you left behind but you found yourself stalling on sending in an application to UNC -Chapel Hill until you missed the deadline for the fall semester. On the outside, you made up a semi-legit excuse about getting your basic courses done at a community college to save money but deep down you really knew why you procrastinated: you were terrified to go back. Ever since your break up with JJ, you hadn't spoken to him or any of your old friends other than the obligatory birthday wishes on Facebook and you wondered if the damage you'd done over the years was too much to come back from, even as you tried to work up the courage to find out for sure.

Another year passed: in between earning college credits, you and Daisy took a sister's trip to Disneyland, Mack asked you to tag along on a jaunt up the coast to San Francisco to see Alcatraz, your parents celebrated their 25th wedding anniversary (your gift was long-overdue forgiveness and they said it was the greatest thing you possibly could've given them). When the time came, you and Mack both sent out your applications to UNC -you for biology, her for chemistry- and the myriad of emotions you felt when you got in was nothing short of dizzying. The old you was terrified, screaming at you to rip up the letter and join your sister at UCLA instead of opening old wounds but the hopeful you, the girl who lived without fear, the girl who fell in love and let herself be loved, screamed louder.

And so you killed the old you once again, burying her even deeper than the last time in a locked chest and throwing the key as far as you could out into the Pacific where you knew you'd never find it. You clutched your acceptance letter close to your chest and took a step east, away from California and toward the place where your broken heart still rested, scattered in pieces across the sand.

Settling in at UNC was surprisingly easy. You and Mack already clicked pretty well as friends so making the transition to roommates was natural and, dare you say it, even a little fun and the two of you quickly fell into a comfortable routine in your tiny apartment off campus in Chapel Hill. Comfortable and yet...that happiness you once felt all those years ago was missing from your life and you found yourself just as restless as you were in Malibu. While you knew exactly what you needed to do, that fear kept rearing its ugly head in the back of your mind, poisoning your thoughts: what if they wouldn't be happy to see you, what if they forgot about you, what if they hated you? What if he hated you?

It was terrifying, picturing yourself turning up at the Chateau with a hopeful smile only to have the door slammed right in your face. Deep down, you knew they'd never do that to you no matter how badly you'd hurt them but when you'd spent your whole life expecting the worst, taking a leap of faith wasn't an easy feat -something Mack just couldn't wrap her head around.

"I don't get it."

You glanced up from where you were lounging on your bed, flipping through your biology notes in preparation for your lab exam the next morning and shot your roommate a confused look. "Get what?”

Mack sat at your desk, her own notebooks lying ignored as she spun the chair around to face you, arms crossed. "Why you haven't hopped on that ferry to go get your man yet!"

You froze for a moment too long before offering a half-hearted shrug as you fiddled with the beads at the end of your bracelet. "It's not that easy. He probably wants nothing to do with me and I don't blame him."

"How do you know? You haven't talked to JJ in over a year, right?" At your tight nod, she continued, "What if he's just like you-"

"Depressed?"

Mack fixed you with a flat, unamused look. "Still in love, dumbass."

You scoffed and propped your chin in your hand as you glanced back down at your study guide, trying not to latch onto that little thought -hope and pain all rolled into one- that sparked to life at her words. He'd said he would probably always love you that New Year's Eve and back then you'd let yourself believe him but now, you weren't so sure. "Yeah, right. No way he's still...still in love with me after I broke his heart."

"Maybe he is, maybe he isn't," Your roommate said with a shrug, spinning around on the chair to grab her things. "You'll never know if you don't get over there, track his fine ass down, and talk to him."

You stared down at your notes without actually seeing anything, the slanted letters of your handwriting blurring before your eyes as the other girl flipped her chemistry book closed and stood, shooting you an warm smile that you didn't see. 

"Listen, Y/N, you're my best friend and I want to see you happy more than anything but I can't take that jump for you. Yeah, it's scary and nerve wracking and you might end up hurt worse than before, so what? That's just...life."

Mack left after that, crossing the apartment to her room so she could get ready for a date with a girl from her psych class, leaving you alone with tears on your face and a million thoughts in your head, all of them terrifying and exciting and oh so loud.

She was right, of course -Mack always knew the right thing to say- and as you stared down at the bracelets on your wrists and the ring on your thumb, the pictures on your phone and the too-big shirt hanging off one shoulder, you realized sitting around moping wasn't gonna solve anything; if you wanted your happiness, your friends, the love of your life back, you needed to step up and fight for them with everything you had. And so you wiped the tears from your cheeks and walked to the cliff's edge with your head held high, ready for the fall and whatever came with it. You were ready to fix your mistakes, no matter how badly it might hurt.

Still, you couldn't do it all on your own. You needed some help to make things right again and while you knew just who to ask, you weren't quite sure if they'd be willing to lend a hand. Desperate times called for desperate measures though and you penned a good old-fashioned letter, feeling like a heroine in a Jane Austen novel as you poured all your thoughts -your dreams, wishes, hopes- onto a piece of paper in bold blue ink and sent it off to its destination on Figure 8, your Hail Mary for a happy ending sealed up neatly in a single envelope.

Mack, bless her heart, did her best to keep your spirits up as you waited on a response but even her ever reassuring presence couldn't keep you from worrying as one week passed by, then two. Halfway through the third you'd almost given up, already wracking your brain for another way to make your plan work when your phone chimed with a text from an unknown number.

i'll help you

And just like that, the moment you'd been waiting for was finally within your reach; you told your parents not to expect you for Thanksgiving break, called your sister for a much needed pep talk, and started counting down the days until you'd see your friends again, for better or worse.

When you left the Outer Banks three years ago, it was sunny. You were sixteen, young and in love and scared about the future.

When you returned, it was in the middle of a storm. You were nineteen, a little bit older but no less in love and definitely still scared about what was waiting for you at the end of the road.

Rain pounded against the roof of Sarah Cameron's SUV as she drove away from the docks and toward the Chateau, her fingers tapping along to the music playing quietly through the radio. You sat in the passenger seat, soaked to the bone from your ferry ride from the mainland and shaking like a leaf despite the towel wrapped around your shoulders and the warm air flowing from the car's vents.

"Thanks for coming to get me," You said, wincing at the awkward lilt of your voice echoing in the small space as you spun JJ's ring around your thumb and stared out the windshield at the familiar sights streaking by in blurred shades of green and brown. Being back opened a Pandora's box of emotions in your head, both good and bad, and instead of trying to sort them out, you let them bounce around in your brain like a pinball machine and concentrated on methodically twirling the warm metal ring in circles on your finger.

Sarah briefly glanced away from the road to shoot you a small smile, her kind eyes softening at your visible nervousness. "Not gonna lie, I was pretty sure you hated me so when I got your letter it kinda...threw me for a loop. Sorry it took me so long to reply."

You wished the heated leather seat would swallow you whole as you winced again and wrapped the towel tighter around your shoulders. "For the longest time, I thought I did hate you but I realized I was just...scared of losing my friends and I took it out on you. You didn't deserve to be labeled the villain in my story when I was the one, um, sabotaging myself, I guess." You took a deep breath and picked at a loose thread tickling your arm. "And I'm really, really grateful for your help."

It was more than you wanted to admit out loud -nearly the same words were written in the letter peeking out from the center console of the car- but at the same time, you knew it was what needed to be said and from the way the blonde girl's fingers stopped tapping against the steering wheel, she knew she needed to hear it. At a red light, she quickly tapped out a text on her phone before tossing in back into her bag with another tiny grin in your direction.

"Happy to help. For what it's worth, I'm so sorry if I made you feel like you were being replaced, I never intended to hurt you or steal your friends or...or, I don't know, usurp-" 

"Sarah, stop. Please," You held up a hand to cut off her apology and offered her a self-deprecating smile. "I'm the one who's sorry. I let my...jealousy get the best of me and I feel so bad about all the shit I said 'cause that wasn't fair to you at all and I hope you can forgive me-"

"Y/N, there's nothing to forgive! We all say stupid shit when we're mad -trust me, I know." She interrupted with a bubbly, contagious giggle that seemed to scare away the gloomy storm clouds gathered over your head for a moment in time. "But I was never pissed at you, ever. I just want you to know that."

Stunned, you settled deeper into the seat and started playing with your ring again as she kept driving on, unbothered by your lack of response. You felt like you were thirteen again, back when Sarah and Kiara were your only friends, before the birthday disaster and the whole pogue versus kook feud that got completely out of hand; it felt...nice and you found yourself hoping that the blonde girl would still want to be your friend again, no matter what the others thought about your sudden return. 

"Thank you."

Sarah gave no indication she heard your quiet confession of gratitude but from the way you watched her smile grow out of the corner of your eye, you knew she did. The rest of the drive passed in companionable silence as you retreated into your own thoughts, your nerves getting worse and worse the closer you got to your destination.

You took a deep breath and let it out slowly through your nose, feeling like your heart was trying to beat its way through your rib cage. You hadn't been this anxious in a long, long time, so long you almost forgot how much you hated the tightness in your chest, how your palms would start to sweat, the way you'd chew the inside of your cheek until you tasted blood on your tongue. By the time Sarah pulled into an open spot beside the achingly familiar Volkswagen parked in front of the Chateau, you were surprised you were still able to breathe.

The sight of the tiny house, one you spent so many carefree days and beautiful nights in alongside your friends, standing virtually unchanged in front of you was like a shot to the heart and your hands, curled into fists on your lap, began to shake without warning. Shit, you were a godforsaken mess; how the hell were you supposed to do this without having a mental breakdown?

"I'm so scared."

The whispered words, barely audible over the torrential rain against the roof, slipped from your mouth before you could stop them and Sarah slowly reached one hand over to give your trembling wrist a reassuring squeeze, the corners of her mouth curled upward in a slight smile.

"Don't be. They're gonna be so happy to see you!"

You turned to look at her, eyebrows knit together in disbelief. "How are you so sure they still care about me?"

"I'm sure 'cause I've seen it. My God, if only you could've heard all the times they talked about you -'I wish Y/N was here,' 'remember that time with Y/N,' hell, just straight 'I miss Y/N so fucking much,'" She said bluntly and shifted in the driver's seat to face you head on, smiling wider at the thunderstruck look on your face. "Pretty sure I haven't gone a week without JJ saying that last one at least once." 

"I thought..." You paused, tongue darting out to run over your dry lips as you tried to put your jumbled feelings into words, "I thought he'd hate me -I mean, after all I've done, you think he still..."

"Loves you? Are you kidding?" Her reply was so enthusiastic it was hard not to believe her as she went on, her words like sunshine brightening the darkest corners of your mind. "He's still head over heels, I've never seen him even look at another girl in three damn years. You know he still wears your necklace, the one with the silver star? Kie told me all about it."

"I-I didn't." You remembered giving it to him the day you left, managing a shaky smile through your tears as you carefully clasped it around his neck, your fingers running over his skin as you settled the charm perfectly alongside that little shark tooth you'd grown to love.

('Be careful with this, baby. It's my favorite.' You had said, crying harder when he'd taken off one of his rings and slipped it onto your thumb.

'Well, this one's my favorite so take good care of it, okay?' His voice had been light but his eyes were heavy with unspoken words that you'd heard loud and clear because you knew your gaze said the exact same things.

don't let me go

don't break my heart

don't stop loving me)

You coughed to disguise the fat tears that started rolling down your face, quickly wiping them away with your sleeve but the blonde girl wasn't fooled as she gave your hand another friendly squeeze.

"Come on, they're probably wondering what's taking me so long," She sent a conspiratorial wink your way and grabbed her bag from the center console. "I told them I was picking up some pizzas but I have a funny feeling they won't be too pissed that I lied."

With a desperate grip on the strap of your backpack and your heart racing, you trailed behind Sarah through the rain to the front porch. 

"Ready?" She glanced back where you lingered at the top of the stairs, anxiously shuffling from foot to foot, and shot you a smile that did little to calm your nerves. "Just wait here!"

She knocked on the door before you could reply and yelled loud enough to be heard over the pouring rain, "Hey, it's me! Can somebody get the door? My hands are kinda full."

"Got it!"

Your bag slipped from your fingers and fell onto the porch with a loud thump at the sound of the voice floating through the open windows, a voice you heard nearly every night as you slept, in your dreams of a future you wanted with everything you had. You knew it better than your knew your own, knew every pitch and tone and lilt; quiet and raspy in the mornings when you woke up in each other's arms, loud and carefree during long days spent under the golden sun with the rest of your friends, soft and warm and laid bare at night when he showed how much he loved you with more than just words.

Sarah gave you an enthusiastic thumbs up before stepping to the side just as the door opened and you suddenly found yourself struggling to breathe as you stared into the wide blue eyes of your ex-boyfriend. JJ stared right back, one of the hands you used to hold clenched so tight around the doorknob his knuckles were white, the lips you used to kiss parted in surprise, the blond hair you used to run your fingers through falling onto his forehead like always and the familiar, beautiful sight of him standing close enough to touch made your knees weak.

"You're not pizza."

It was such a JJ thing to say and you didn't know whether to laugh or cry as you swallowed thickly and shook your head. "Sorry to disappoint you."

"I'm not."

"Oh."

Hope flared white hot in your chest at his words but it quickly started to fade, replaced by fear when he made no move toward you, his fingers still gripping tight to the door, and you felt your face start to heat in embarrassment as Sarah looked back and forth between the two of you like she was watching a tennis match. 

God, you were so stupid. What did you expect would happen, showing up out of the blue after over a year of no contact? Everything would fall into place again with just one long, heavy look? Believing it could be that easy turned you into a complete and total fool, tongue-tied and insecure and weak.

"Yo, what's the hold up?" John B's voice asked from inside the house and Sarah leaned down to call through the open window, "Come out here and find out!"

A wave of dizziness hit you like a truck and you took a sudden step back toward the stairs, arms wrapping around your stomach as it twisted itself into knots. "I'm sorry, I-I shouldn't have come. This was a mistake." You didn't notice the stricken look that crossed JJ's face or the three familiar, stunned expressions that appeared behind him in the darkened doorway before turning away and stumbling off the porch toward the road, leaving your bag behind and you definitely didn't notice how you barely made it off the bottom stair before a set of footsteps hastily gave chase. 

"It wasn't a mistake, Y/N!" JJ's desperate voice stopped you in your tracks, halfway across the yard with more than just rain running down your face. "Not to me, never to me."

His soft touch on your wrist sent shockwaves through your body and you instantly became putty in his hands, letting him turn you around without a fight to face him, watching in fascination as the downpour started to darken his gray shirt and flatten his hair against his forehead. Three years hadn't changed much about him -he was a little taller, hair a little longer, the muscles in his arms a little more defined- and when you met his wide-eyed gaze, beads of rain dripping from his long eyelashes like diamonds, you wondered if he was thinking about the differences time created between the younger you of the past and the you of the right now, too.

"Oh." You repeated dumbly, struggling for something, anything to say that didn't make you sound like an illiterate fool. Even at nineteen, words still weren't your strong suit so you let your actions speak for you as your hand reached out on its own accord to caress the silver star still clasped around his neck, the thumb still wearing his ring brushing slowly against the dip between his collarbones; he shivered, and you weren't really sure if it was from your touch or the cold. 

"Y/N." JJ said your name like a prayer, like he couldn't believe you were there in front of him, and you inhaled sharply when both of his hands slowly, carefully moved to cup your face, his calloused thumbs habitually wiping the tears from your cheeks over and over, even as more instantly replaced the ones he swept away. "I fucking missed you."

You stood there, looking like a damned drowned rat with your hair dripping into your eyes, shivering in your soaked jeans and Kildare County High School sweatshirt, the love of your life cradling your face so gently in his hands, and so many things you wanted to say flooding your brain but only the one that mattered the most managed to get by your trembling lips.  

"I'm still in love with you." 

You noticed a lot when you put your heart on the line: the steady, soothing sound of water falling through the trees, the bright, clean taste of rain on your tongue, how the sun was just barely starting to peek out from behind the stormy clouds, but they all paled in comparison to the little things you noticed about the boy in front of you; blue irises made even brighter by the red rimming his eyes, how he stepped closer on the wet grass until the tips of his scuffed boots touched your worn gray high tops, the way his hands trembled ever so slightly against your flushed face. 

"Well, it's your lucky day 'cause I'm still in love with you, too."

All of the breath left your lungs in one big rush when JJ smiled hopefully -oh, how you loved everything about that smile: his slightly crooked teeth, that dimple in his cheek, the endearing pink blush swept across his nose- and you felt yourself return it without a second thought, your own hope once again burning bright in your chest.

"Even after...everything?" Your voice shook like the fingers you slid into the hair at his nape and he leaned down to rest his forehead against yours, close enough you could feel his breath on your lips when he spoke.

"I told you I'd always love you, didn't I?"

You nodded, a delicious shiver running down your spine when he tilted his head just so and gently bumped your nose with his. You remembered all the times he did that through the years, a dizzying slideshow of memories that flashed through your mind like lightning, and your fingers wove themselves deeper in his hair. 

"I have so many things to apologize for," You said with a tiny, quiet shake of your head, tearing your eyes away from his in shame and staring over his shoulder toward where the rest of your friends watched from the porch, all crowded together at the top of the stairs with identical enthralled expressions on their faces. "There are so many mistakes I've made and people I've hurt and I have no idea how to even start saying sorry for it all." 

"Babe."

The sound of your old pet name caused your gaze to snap right back to his and your heart felt like it was about to beat right out of your chest when one of his hands trailed down the sensitive skin of your neck and then lower until it traced along the curve of your hip and left a line of fire in its wake.

"We'll figure that out later, okay?" JJ said as his fingers tucked a loose strand of wet hair behind your ear, a coy, ardent grin on his face. "'Cause I've been waiting three years to kiss you again and if I don't get to do it soon, I'm gonna lose my fucking mind."

You smiled -a wide, joyful, elated smile- and rose up on your tiptoes in anticipation. "Then kiss me." 

You didn't have to tell him twice. His lips pressed against yours desperately, like he needed you to breathe, like you were the very air in his lungs, religiously, like your mouth was the altar and he was there to worship as he pulled you close, the fingers of one hand tangling in your hair while the others dug into your hip. You kissed him back just as hard and the familiar taste of him on your tongue -mint, smoke, salt- sent that dearly missed spark racing through your veins like wildfire.

It was a little cliché, having your long-awaited reunion kiss in the rain but it was honest and candid and real and so much better than anything you could've dreamed. You lost yourself in his touch like you used to, clinging to him like a lifeline and pouring your whole heart into every fierce brush of your lips against his, both of you pulling away for a moment only to dive right back in each time. It was addictive, intoxicating, and you could've spent the rest of your life standing there in the middle of the yard and kissing like there was no tomorrow if a loud, ear-piercing wolf whistle hadn't come from the direction of the porch.

The two of you broke apart just barely, with foreheads still pressed together and swollen lips, and you couldn't stop yourself from giggling when JJ blindly flipped the bird over his shoulder before pulling you back in for another eager kiss that filled your whole body with an exhilarating, heavenly heat that never faded, even after four enthusiastic voices suddenly surrounded you like an excited swarm of nosy, buzzing bees.

"You aren't the only one who missed her, J." Kiara said, smiling widely as you reached out to grab her hand and pull her into a powerful one-armed hug, her chin resting on your shoulder.

"Yeah, stop hogging all the love!" John B added, throwing himself into the pile along with Pope, who slung an arm around your shoulders as he said, "Great to have you back, Y/N."

Sarah was the last to join and she quietly tucked herself under John B's arm with a pleased grin on her face, nodding when you mouthed 'thank you' in her direction. The six of you stood there in the rain, smiling like fools, and as the sun started to scare away the dark clouds overhead and in your heart, a weight you didn't even realize had been crushing your chest slowly began to lift away with each freeing breath. 

You still had a lot of work to do: wrongs to be righted, apologies to be made, explanations -not excuses- to be given for every shitty thing you did in your past. But as happy tears started streaming down your face once again and you felt the arms of the friends you’d thought were lost to you forever tighten around you at the sight, you knew in your bones all would be forgiven. You knew that after three long years, you'd finally come home.

-

let me know what you think! i read each and every one of your comments and cry because they mean so much to me! ❤

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[what-the--curtains]

In a Week

Part 3/4 - Snowballs and cigarettes

(Frankie Morales x f!reader)

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Summary: The snows finally stopped and its about time you got to work unburying your car. With your friends all prompting you to move on from your toxic ex you find yourself becoming more and more aware of the kind of person you’d want to be with. And how Frankie was ticking all those boxes.

Authors notes: Ugh okay I was over the max block text so the finale is split into two parts!! But you get them both tonight💕🌻💕 .

Warnings: mentions of toxic relationships, allusions to sex (nothing depicted), PTSD, smoking, drinking, swearing

Tagged: @agingerindenial @icanbeyourjedi

Word count: 4.0k

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

Day 4

It had only been three days but you had found yourself in a routine that you hoped you never fell out of. Each morning he’d wake up first and you’d be predictably wrapped around him for another 2 hours or so. He found it hard to believe you were able to wake up before 10am, let alone that you were up at 5am most days but he’d love to be around to see it happen. For the first time, he saw something he’d long given up on. A future with someone else ingrained into his and his daughters life. Maybe it was stupid feeling this way after a few days, but he was old enough to know when he felt a real connection, and he’d never felt as good as he did when he was with you. He would make his feelings known to you, one way or another, he’d regret it forever if he let you slip through his fingers. He just had to find the right time to do it. It had been a long time since you’d woken up with someone in the same bed as you and even longer since the person was someone who made you feel safe and secure. There was something calming about knowing that even if you pushed your freezing cold feet between his calves in the middle of the night he wouldn’t get angry, or push you off he’d just grumble and pull you closer.

It sounded pathetic but it was the nicest a guy had been to you in years. You knew how stupid it was to catch feelings this fast, and it definitely wasn’t like you to feel such strong emotions. Since the funeral you had actively decided to forego them although. This benefited your work, helped you in your field, made you a better doctor, but keeping all your emotions bottled up took its toll. Primarily on your love life. You’d had your fair share of flings with other residents, nurses, friends of friends, but between classes and shift work there wasn’t time. Plus what was the point when you had no idea where you’d be moved to. At least that’s what you told yourself. Then Jonathan came along and you’d let him in, let him know you and you fell for him in the process. Then he’d started dating someone else, told you he didn't realize you were exclusive, and it shattered you completely. You’d pieced yourself back together and once you were better, once you were finally over him, he’d cycle back round to you, determined to keep you on retainer. The whole ordeal had left you tired. You’d never had a real relationship and you were already done with them. You never understood how people would want to live with someone for the rest of their lives until now. Catching feelings had always happened in periphery to your life making it easy to push by a crush by simply avoiding them, but you couldn’t avoid Frankie. Each day you spent trapped inside with him he’d continued to grow on you, cementing your feelings for him tenfold. You yawn and stretch your leg out over Frankies torso propping yourself up onto your elbow so you can reach over him and grab the glass of water on the nightstand. He exhales as if your movement across him is an inconvenience to his meticulous strategy for winning whatever game he was playing on his phone. You take a sip and put the cup back down, rolling off the bed and opening the curtains.

“Hey!” you shout, causing Frankies head to shoot over to you, “It stopped snowing!” you exclaim, gazing out over the parking lot where the snow had fallen. The powder undulating overtop the cars buried beneath it. You stretch your arms up catching an unsavoury whiff coming from your armpits causing you to pull a face. Turning around just in time to see Frankie laughing from the bathroom door.

“Seriously man? Do you have to beat me to everything!” you pout, crossing your arms over your chest.

“Gotta be faster sweetheart.” he says, closing the door behind him. From anyone else the term would have driven you into a rage induced frenzy, but it was endearing not condescending coming from him. You take the time to call Stella, you’d been texting with her since you got stuck but you felt it was time to officially announce your arrival as permanently cancelled.

“Hey girl”

“Hey babe what's going on? You calling with good or bad news?” she asks, a constant bustle evident in the background.

“Don’t shoot the messenger, but only bad news on my end. I am so fucking sorry, I should have just flown down like you said” you offer, leaning back against the window allowing the chill of the outside to cool you off.

“Well this is why you should always listen to me, but i’ll forgive you just this once.” she laughs.

“God I can’t believe the one wedding I actually care about I’m going to miss!” you exasperated, shifting away from the window and flopping down onto the bed.

“Well I definitely won’t miss you, especially considering you’ve already sent a gift.” she teases.

“How, very dare you” you punctuate.

“Yup long con paid off, 10 years I pretended to like you just to get you to buy me a toaster from ebay” Stella laughs.

“You could have just stolen mine after the first year, then you could have had me gone!” you state.

“Ugh a huge mistake!!” she overemphasizes dramatically, causing you both to burst out laughing.

“So….” you say after your giggles subside leaving a gentle ache in your ribs that always occurred when you talked to Stella.

“What?” she asks, sniffling.

“ Did John make it out there?” you ask, in a painfully transparent way.

“Why?” she spits, her tone suddenly lethal. She hated the guy, she was the one who was always left dealing with you after he’d used you up, helping to piece you back together, just in time for him to get a hold on you again.

“He asked about me?” you query, once again failing to convey your intentions.

“I’m not indulging this anymore, it's bad for you. He’s bad for you, there's only so many times I can watch him emotionally manipulate you” she rants.

“Ya, but it's easy and it's so good with him.” you emphasize.

“It’s not easy, take it from someone in an easy relationship, it's not supposed to hurt that much.” she chides, determined to have you see the light.

“But..”

“Nope, I'm drawing the line for you, find someone else. You’re a gorgeous single doctor,

“Almost doctor” you interrupt, but the statement is ignored.

“Aren’t you currently shacked up with one of my stupid brothers friends?”

“Yes? And?” you say, your heart suddenly beating faster as your head turns to see Frankies hat on the nightstand.

“Frankie right? Statue like, soft curls, kind, deep brown eyes? And don’t pretend like you didn’t notice I know you like the back of my hand!”

“So what if I have, doesn't mean..” you whisper, not wanting him to hear you.

“Nope, don’t sell yourself short, I say get cozy with him and finally move on from dickhead McGee, even if it's just for a night, cleanse the palette. Besides, you know he’ll be doing whoever looks his way at my wedding.” you hear a muffled shout “alright I have to go, something about the bridesmaids fighting.”

“Your sisters? Fighting? Who could have seen that coming” you deadpan.

“I know, god I wish you were here.”

“I wish I was as well i'll call tomorrow in case you get cold feet, I have a five point plan”

“I won't” she chimes.

“ I know because you love her”

“And I also love you” she says

“And I love you” you respond before hanging up. Not even a minute after hanging up you get a call from Santiago

“Hey, I just wanted to verbally apologize for trapping you with ‘Fish, though he's definitely one of the better ones to get stuck with.” he says.

“Well that’s good to know” you laugh, rolling your eyes.

“He hasn’t tried anything has he? If he has I'll kill him, and get away with it, you'll have to help me with the body but...” Santiago starts.

“Santi, it's fine he's cool, really sweet, actually,” you offer heat rushing to your face for some unknown reason.

“Good. He touches you ill..” he warns.

“You’ll kill him ya I got it!” you snap, you understood why Santiago felt like he had to play big brother for you but sometimes he was a touch overbearing. “Is John there?” you try and ask casually, failing to head Stellas advice.

“Don’t...” Santi starts, you can practically hear his jaw clench over the phone “you know if I see him tonight i'm gonna knock him out for how he treats you”

“It wasn’t that bad.” you whisper.

“It was, still is, I heard him bragging about how if worse comes to worse he always has his plan D,” he offers, not to hurt you but to try and free you from the cycle.

“That dick. You know what Stellas right, fuck him!” you exclaim with a newfound determination to rid him from your life.

“Oh my god, are you finally seeing the light?” Santi asks “Praise the lord!” He shouts up into the sky.

“Ya I guess so” you say staring at Frankie as he dries his hair with the towel. “I gotta go, see you soon.”

“Not soon enough” he laughs as you hang up.

“Whose that?” Frankie asks, still curious about who you’d been hoping to see at the wedding and what they’d done to earn your affection.

“Pope!” you say with a smile, pushing your back off the bed and sitting up.

“Threatening to kill me?” Frankie predicts.

“Ya we have a plan” you murmur.

“We?” he asks, a twinkle in his eye and his mouth upturned at the sides.

“Well he'll kill you but, I cant have him go to jail so i'll have to hide your body.” you explain

“Good glad that got sorted” he says, his smile now in full effect.

“I'll go grab some breakfast” you say.

“No ill get it, you’re always getting it, plus gives you time to shower, I can smell you from here.” He prods, grabbing the key.

“Rude!” you yell out after him.

He's back when you exit the shower

“Oh thank you, you say grabbing the plate form him”

“Just what the doctor ordered, hey?” he asks, smiling stupidly big.

“Ouuuf that that was bad truly apologize to me” He laughs at how serious your face gets “You're laughing? I had to listen to that joke and you're laughing?” you say through a mouthful of eggs. “Here's something that'll wipe that stupid smile off your face, snow stops which means we have to clear off my car.”

“Using the royal we are we?” he asks

“Think of it as repayment for the pun,” you say waving your fork in his face

“How will we be clearing it off?” he asks, leaning over the counter.

“Brush” you say, as if it's obvious

“Where's the brush?” he asks, resting his chin on the back of his hands and smiling sweetly at you, waiting for an answer.

“In the….oh” you say, face dropping when you realize that the brush was in the car currently buried under a snow pile.

“Not so smart now” he laughs pushing back off the counter taking your empty plate with him, washing it up for you.

“Well I guess we just have to get to the door with our hands then” you say smiling.

“Once again, about this we,” he says, drying his hands on the dish towel, turning to see a dramatic pout plastered across your face.

“Fine, I'll only help because I think you may disappear in the snow if you go in alone” he responds, the truth was, he couldn't deny you.

You both get dressed into the most winter proof clothes you had, neither of you having packed for a snowy expedition. As you exit the room you see him grab a pack of cigarettes he’d been hiding, not wanting you to see his worst traits.

“Those will kill you, you know,” you say, causing him to roll his eyes dramatically.

“Okay mom” he laughs grabbing the lighter despite your disapproving glare,

“You have a daughter to think about” you say, feeling like you'd be letting your profession down by giving up so easily.

“It's why I smoke, the safest way to calm the nerves while staying clean” he murmurs with a look on his face that is enough to get you to drop it for now. You weren't about to pry into his struggle with addiction and you certainly weren’t one to judge, you’d faced similar issues after your brothers passing.

“I used to smoke,” you confess as the elevator doors close in front of you both.

“Seriously?” he remarks, not able to believe it.

“Pack a week for about a year” you say, slowly nodding your head as the two of you walk through the foyer towards the parking lot.

“You quit?” He asks, impressed.

“Ya I don’t think it was long enough to form a habit. When did you start?” you offer as you move your legs through the snow, it was dense your legs would be sore tomorrow.

“What? Are you gonna assess the state of my lungs?” Frankie laughs, moving easily through the snow you were struggling so hard against.

“Yes, but i'll only tell you the results if you want to know”

“Few years back, after...” he stops himself before confessing the worst thing that ever happened in his life.

“The mission” you finish for him, remembering how Pope had picked up similar habits once he finally returned home. “You were there with Santi?” you question

“He told you about it?” he asks, sterner than you’d seen him before, he was afraid that you knew what a monster he was. You shake your head, no and he thanks the gods. “You think i'm going to?” He queries lighting up a cigarette and taking a drag, making sure not to blow it out anywhere near you.

“I don’t know, maybe. It’s the one thing he wont tell me about, figured it would be easier for you if you were talking to a stranger about it.”

“Not much of a stranger now” he laughs, but there was something behind his eyes, a similar sadness that you saw with Santi when he talked about it. Your thoughts are interrupted when something cold hits you in the face, your mouth drops open, your forehead scrunches in disbelief.

“Shit, I wasn’t aiming for your face I swear!” he looks up panicked

“I guess it's what I get for asking so many questions” you say, hand still over your face playing into it as you formulate your attack.

“No, oh my god! No! It wasn't because of that, let me see” he says, you let your hands drop and you smile wickedly up at him. Before he has time to react, you rub a handful of snow into his face.

“Oh... you're gonna pay for that.” he draws out, wiping the snow from his face.

After 15 minutes of all out war, and a brief truce that was to be officially signed once back inside you managed to get to the door handle and lean into the back seat grabbing out the brush. You offer it to Frankie, but he's already started clearing off the rest of the car with his arms.

“Hey can you grab my spare charger out of the compartment there?” you say cleaning off the trunk, the front doors now accessible.

“Ya, holy shit is this a knife?” he asks, pulling out a knife.

“Maybe.” You say staring into his eyes as his mouth hangs open in amusement. “For safety, I didn't know who I'd be driving up with! You coulda been a murderer” you explain palms up.

“And you were planning on what? shanking me?” he laughs a huge smile on his face, weirdly endeared by your thought process.

“Only if I had to.” You say chuckling between shivers, the cold now seeping through your makeshift snowsuit hitting against the sweat you’d worked up.

“You want it?” He offers.

“No i'm good, thanks”

“Because you don’t think I'm a murderer or because you have another one hidden in the room already?” he laughs, but he stops when you tilt your head slightly and raise your eyebrows, averting your eyes.

“Wait, do I need this knife?” he calls as you trudge back through the snow.

You both change into less sweaty attire and you settle into the couch turning on to watch the latest forensic files rerun. You shiver as you sit down having caught a chill. Noticing you shaking, Frankie goes to the wardrobe and grabs down a spare blanket throwing one at you so it lands directly over your head. He laughs when he sees you slowly turn towards him beneath the blanket, like someone in a makeshift ghost costume.

“Excuse me!” you laugh

“Hey you should be thanking me, can't have you freezing to death.” he says, “Are you asleep under there?” he asks, when you don't respond

“I'm not a cat! I don't fall asleep when someone throws a blanket over me!” He's not paying attention to what he's doing and the bottle in his hand shatters against the counter, a shard slicing his hand open.

“Fucking shit.” you him sigh.

“Are you okay?” You ask maneuvering out from under your blankets to see Frankie in the kitchen, glass on the floor and blood coming down his arm.

“Wow you're out of my sight for 2 seconds and you maim yourself” you say laughing, stopping when you see the panicked look in his eye, the event evidently triggering something deep in his psyche. You quickly stand up and he goes to move towards you.

“No don't move Frankie, stay where you are.” you reassure softly, watching as his eyes lay into your own, his breathing calmer now “You're in socks, can't have you cutting your dancing feet” you say.

“You’ve heard of my dancing feet,” he says, grounding himself again.

“Only bad things” you say, throwing him a pair of shoes that he carefully puts on before moving toward the closet where the broom is “No come here, let me see your hand. The mess can wait, you're more important,” you stress leading him over to the couch and sitting him down.

“Wow, first time I'll be able to afford professional health care “ he jokes as you take his hands in your own.

“Ow” he says when you press down onto the hand to assess the damage.

“It's fine, not deep enough for stitches, should heal up on its own. I still want to clean it though, to stop any infection.” You return with a small bottle of over priced vodka opening it and dabbing some onto a cotton pad. He doesn't flinch when the alcohol cleans the wound and he watches as you bandage his hand up.

“You carry a med pack with you on every trip?” he queries, but you don’t hear him you’re too focused on wrapping his hand.

“There! good as new,” you say standing up and cleaning up the glass on the floor. “Hey did you bring a swimsuit?” you ask, dumping the glass into some newspaper that was left in the room.

“Why?” He asks.

“Answer the question Frankie” you say, folding the paper around the shards before placing it into the trash.

“Yes, you wanna go hang out at the pool with the fifty families stuck here?”

“Ya. You don't? Seriously this room is wildly expensive and has a huge jacuzzi tub, I'm getting in your welcome to join, but bathing suits are mandatory.” you offer.

“I was gonna get in fully clothed,” he offers, not missing a beat.

“Perfect even better”

As per usual he beats you to the punch and settles into the tub that was more akin to a hot tub than a bath, he wanted to get in first partially to annoy you and partially so his body wouldn’t be on full display, he wasn't as jacked as he once was and he’d become insecure about certain areas that he’d let go once his kid came along. He watches as you walk in and his eyes can't help but follow your figure around the room, a beautiful person behind a beautiful personality, he thanks the universe for placing him into your orbit.

“That why they call you catfish?” you ask drawing him from his daydream back into an equally pleasing reality.

“What?” he responds, blushing at having been called out on his gawking.

“Cause your mouth hangs open like a fish out of water when you're zoned out” you smirk, lowering yourself down into the tub.

“Rude” he says splashing after you settle in.

“Alright, Frankie, what is it?” you ask, causing his face to look up to you “what's your deal, apart from smoking? You gotta have flaws”

“Wouldn’t you like to know.” he charms

“Sinister” you laugh, but he doesn't, you reach your foot up tapping his cheek with it,

“Disgusting,” he chuckles, grabbing it and rubbing the arch before pushing it back into the water.

“God, I miss the ocean” you confess, “ I hate the city sometimes.”

“You’re not planning on staying in Chicago after you're done?”

“Nope, gonna get myself out to the coast, or at least somewhere without winters.” you say stretching your arms out across the tub. “How about you, are you planning on staying?”

“ Probably, no reason to leave, plus it's close to my mom so she can take care of Arianna when I'm at work, though I wouldn't be opposed to moving if the opportunity presented itself she's young enough that it wouldn’t be too hard.” he says, wanting you to know that if you asked, hed follow you anywhere.

“Arianna, beautiful name. Did you pick it?” you ask looking up when a few minutes of silence pass. As you do you notice that the somber look from early had returned. “You okay?” you ask.

“I don't deserve her, I don’t deserve something so good.” he states, suddenly realizing he didn’t deserve someone like you either. You wouldn’t be sitting in the tub with him if you knew what he’d done.

“Frankie that's not true” you reassure

“You don't know the shit I've done. I'm not... I'm not a good person,” he says, still not looking over to you.

“Well, I…” you begin to refute.

“Seriously, I've done bad things… awful things'' he clears his throat, afraid to look at you, afraid you’d be terrified by him.

“People make bad mistakes, but that doesn't make them irredeemable, not if they are willing to change. You understand what you did was bad, that says something.” you reassure, knowing the guilt was likely left over from the military.

“Well, wise words coming from someone who's never done anything bad”

“You don't know me that well Frankie, I’ve done my fair share of stupid things, crappy things to numb the pain. It's what we do to make up for those shitty actions that count. At every turn, you’ve shown me that you're not an evil person. Everything I’ve seen is good, and funny and incredibly kind.” you finish and you continue to nudge him with your foot until he finally cracks a smile.

“Well now you're smiling again, my missions complete and it's time for bed” you say stepping out of the tub and drying off, unaware that you’d just made Frankie fall even harder for you. His eyes helplessly following you as you leave the bathroom.

“Since I'm an outpatient, does that mean I get the good side of the bed?” he calls out after you. You roll your eyes but let him have it, you preferred the sleeping situation the way it was.

[moonstruckbucky]

The Recruit (3/?)

Summary: Becoming a SHIELD agent had been your dream and finally, you’ve achieved it. You’re at the top of your class in every field except one—hand to hand combat, and it doesn’t impress Captain Rogers in the slightest. Instead, it seems to convince him you’re useless, setting off a tense relationship between the two of you. In an effort to bridge the gap, Bucky offers to help you train to earn your way back into Steve’s good graces. What could possibly go wrong?

Pairing: Steve Rogers x fem!Reader x Bucky Barnes (not Stucky)

Warnings for Chapter: Violence may be wished upon Captain Rogers. Injury, blood, overall not happy times. Some poorly-written fight scenes.

Notes: Sorry for the lateness! Work’s been hectic and I’m about to pull a 9-day marathon. Please send love and chocolate and alcohol. Enjoy! x

Series Masterlist //  Main Masterlist

It comes as a colossal shock to you that, two weeks following the incident with Captain Rogers in the gym, you’re paired up with him and Sam for a mission in Lima. When you receive the email, short and to the point, you spend a good few minutes blinking, rubbing your eyes, spluttering at your desk. Surely you’re imagining it that Captain Hardass has requested you to partake in this mission.

You’re proven wrong when he sends an email in response to yours, in which you claim there’s a mistake, that reads: “Quinjet takes off at 8 PM tonight. Miss it and you’re gone.”

So you show up fifteen minutes early, garbed in an all-black SHIELD-issued tac suit and heavy boots. At the gentle behest of Bucky, you’d applied the salve to your knee as you dressed, just in case. The slight numb feeling in the joint makes you smile - or is that the thought of Bucky?

Your acquaintanceship has blossomed headlong into an easy friendship. He works out with you in the gym, finds you when you’re lounging in the SHIELD common room. In turn, you’ve introduced him to some modern music once you’d learned he’s still trying to catch up. You’ve also gotten him sucked into Netflix and binge-watching shows, which the two of you do together often. Sometimes, you’ll just read while he learns how to work Snapchat or works on mission reports. 

He’s easy to get along with despite the rocky start he’d had to the Avengers Initiative. Gentle, in spite of the horrors he’d survived; cheeky and sassy and so quick-witted it sometimes throws you off. He’s overall just...good.

It’s such a far cry from the relationship you have with his best friend that it nearly gives you whiplash.

And the look Captain Rogers gives you as you enter the hangar is proof of that. He’s glaring fiercely, even finding fault in the fact that you’re early for takeoff.

“What?” you snap before you can stop yourself. You cringe internally, wait for the reprimand for insubordination. You couldn’t help it - your reaction to him is automatic hostility, matching what seems to be his reaction to you as well.

You’re not sure where he gets off on such behavior, but you’ve about had it with Captain Steve Rogers.

“You’re late,” he barks, and it sends white hot rage through your blood.

“You said takeoff was at 8. It’s 7:50,” you retort, make a show of waving your wristwatch in his face.

“Prep is half an hour prior to takeoff, Agent.”

Oh, you could slap the smirk off his face. If you both a) wanted to fist-fight Captain America and b) wanted to be fired for assaulting a commanding officer. He seems to see the struggle on your face because his smirk widens, darkens when he knows he’s won.

“Forgive me, Captain. It appears my commanding officer seemed to have left that part out,” you hiss through clenched teeth.

“A good agent should know when prep time is without her CO reminding her,” he shoots back, and a hot rage boils in your belly.

You brush by him roughly, keeping your biting retort on your tongue, stomp into the jet.

Sam is seated at the controls. You haven’t interacted with the Falcon all that much, but he gives you a bright, welcoming grin that eases your aggravation a little.

“Welcome aboard Falcon Airways,” he chirps, and you find it in you to smile a little. The Falcon glances over your shoulder at Captain Rogers, nodding once, and begins takeoff. Captain Rogers prefers to stand, while you opt to keep your distance in a seat towards the back.

The ride is mostly quiet; Sam and Captain Rogers go back and forth, muttering between themselves, but it’s too low for you to hear. Occasionally, though, the Captain shoots you unreadable glances, and your mind itches with the knowledge that they’re discussing you. It sours you, puts you in a bad headspace that you know you need to get over. It’s your first mission - you can’t fuck it up.

Not with Captain Rogers there to see it.

Sam expertly lands the jet about an hour later. You’d spent most of the ride going over the details of the mission, analyzing each bulletpoint and retaining as much information as you could. In your opinion, it doesn’t hurt to be mentally prepared. Know thy enemy, you think the phrase goes.

(Un)fortunately, Captain Rogers benches you inside the jet. You’re incredulous, and you do a poor job at hiding it. Your first mission, and you’re benched?

“I beg your pardon, Captain?” you question as he slides the famed shield onto his back. He barely glances at you, only doing so when you follow him to the ramp. Then, he rounds on you.

“I said, you’re to remain here. In the event that we need you, we’ll call for you. Until then, do us both a favor and stay put.” He doesn’t say another word, merely stomps down the ramp.

Sam’s hand is warm on your shoulder, and you turn to him. His face reads of sympathy, but an unwillingness to go against his Captain’s order.

“He just wants you to stay safe. First mission and all. Keep your comms on, learn some things, and then you’ll get your chance.” He smirks a little when you scoff in disbelief. His wingsuit is buckled across his thick chest, goggles pushed up his forehead. He checks and rechecks his weapons.

“Next time, kid, it’ll be you out there. We’ll call if we need you.” And then he’s gone.

You can hear the two of them going back and forth, Captain Rogers calling out instruction and Sam countering it with a different strategy. They operate like a well-oiled machine, and you can only hope one day you’ll have that kind of comradery with your teammates.

You spend much of your time alone balancing your knife on your fingertips, disassembling and reassembling your sidearm, and poring over the mission notes once again. It’s boring, but you suppose, in the calmness that follows your initial outrage at being confined to the jet, you understand why Captain Rogers has done it. You’re green as can be, and though you’ve done simulations, have trained under duress, you’re still not quite sure how you’d react in the face of real danger. Perhaps you should be a little relieved, but still, there’s an underlying feeling of resentment towards your prickly Captain.

Narrowly avoiding slicing your finger open as you flip your knife, you startle when Sam’s panicked voice comes over the comms.

“Agent L/N, we need you - now. Southwest corner, fifth floor.” He’s cut off by gunfire, grunting, the sounds of fists meeting flesh. You don’t hesitate, slide the knife back into its sheath.

A second voice in your ear makes you pause. “No, Agent. Remain where you are. Do you hear me? Do not leave your post.”

Captain Rogers growls at his attacker, the echoing ping of his shield loud in your ear. You know the Captain outranks Sam, yet with the noises of the fight in your ears, it’s hard to obey orders when they so clearly need your help. Mind made up, you arm yourself to the teeth, tighten the straps of a Kevlar vest and slam the button on the ramp to the jet.

Nondescript, the building in front of you looks like an office, innocent, unimposing. The gunfire coming from within it, however, shatters that illusion. Your stomach curdles nervously, hands a little shaky where they grip your handgun, trigger finger along the frame, safety flipped off. The door in front of you is smashed open, a boot-shaped dent in it. On silent feet, you enter the building, follow the sounds of gunshots, shouting, the ring of Captain Rogers’s shield.

Sweat beads at your hairline, slides a salty line down to your eye. Jaw clenched, body rigid like a cat ready to pounce. Every bit of your training kicking into high gear as you focus on untoward sounds around you. Bodies litter the floor in the next room, all knocked out or dead, you’re not sure, but you clear the room and move on quickly.

Soon enough, you find Sam and Captain Rogers, each of them bogged down by men in dark tac suits. The shield glitters under the fluorescent lighting as it flies through the air, sends a man careening into a wall, returns to the Captain’s hand thanks to the magnetization. Sam, meanwhile, has his wings folded into the suit and grapples with a brute of a man who has his hand around his throat.

You aim your gun, careful, steady. Inhale, a squeeze of the trigger on the exhale. Bullet meets its mark in the brute’s shoulder. His cry is gruff, a spray of ruby as he presses a hand to it, and Sam sees his opening. A hard boot to the chest has the man flying backwards, head colliding with a metal desk that’s been flipped in the melee.

You throw yourself into the fight despite a sharp order from the Captain to stand down. Yet how can you when the two of them are overcome? You abandon the gun, slide it into the holster at your side and instead reach for your knife. It quickly meets the innards of an approaching enemy, and you drag it upwards towards his neck, open him to the bone of his sternum. You’re drenched in blood, but you shove him away, move onto the next.

Your hand-to-hand is sloppy, but it gets the job done as you slash and stab each body that throws itself at you. A punch to the ribs has you gasping, arching away from the attack as pain blooms in your side. It’s a mistake - your attacker is fast and hits you again, a left hook that sends you spiraling, puts stars in your vision. You hit the floor on your hands and knees, nose bloody and head swimming.

You cry out roughly when his boot meets your stomach, knocking you flat on your back. Your grip is slippery on the handle of your knife, slick with blood, and it’s all too easy for your attacker to gain control. He straddles your hips, plants a knee on your knife hand and pushes. You feel the bones snap under the weight, sending a blaze of pain up your arm, and yours fingers loosen around the handle.

The man’s hands move to your neck as the bones in your wrist are crushed, fingers going numb and losing grip on your knife. The sounds of the fight around you begin to fade out at those gloved fingers tighten, press down on your windpipe until your vision blackens at the edges.

And then they’re gone - the hands around your neck, the weight on your broken wrist. A wrenching gasp from your throat while your entire arms feels as if it’s on fire. Whimpering, you cradle it to your chest as Sam helps you sit up. Around you are the bodies of the rest of the men, a sea of varying shades of black and charcoal stained with blood.

You grimace as your wrist is jostled, press it tighter against your chest as Sam helps you stand. Even with your head down you can feel Captain Rogers glaring fiercely at the side of your head. But he stays silent, at least until you’re boarded on the jet, arm in a makeshift sling.

“I ordered you to stay put,” he barks, face going red with his ire. “A good agent obeys command, not ignore it for five minutes of fame!”

Your face heats up in fresh anger - an emotion you’re quite getting used to around Captain Rogers. You grit your teeth against both his criticism and the pain in your wrist, level him with a fiery glare.

“If I had obeyed, who the hell knows what would have happened to both of you? Sam called for help - I answered.”

“And I said no. That trumps what Sam says,” Captain Rogers responds heatedly. Sam, bless him, pointedly ignores the argument in the back of the jet and prepares for takeoff.

“But you both were overwhelmed! Am I really just supposed to sit here while you get your asses kicked?”

“You might as well have! You nearly got yourself killed in the process. You have no experience in the field, and with that shoddy hand-to-hand, I’m not surprised you ended up where you are! In fact, I’m really surprised you aren’t dead.”

A sharp inhale, though whether it’s from you or from Sam you aren’t sure. Your mouth snaps shut with an audible click, teeth grinding hard as pressure builds behind your eyes. You look away, silently relinquishing this argument, and you can feel Captain Rogers’s gaze burning your face. But you refuse to break, refuse to let him see just how much his criticisms have affected you, have hurt you.

When the jet lands, you tear off of it, making for the med bay with your head down and feet quick. Behind you, you barely make out Sam and Captain Rogers exchanging words. You pay it no mind as you ignore your fellow agents, who all seem to know exactly what has happened already. Whispers flurry around you as you hurry to the elevator, making your face burn in embarrassment.

They’re prepared for you - Sam must have called ahead to let them know. To your surprise, Bucky is waiting too, and when he sees you, his expression is so worried it makes your heart pound. He’s gentle where he grasps your shoulders, eyes flying over you form until he sees the sling and your bound arm.

“Jesus, Sam called for medical but when Steve got on the radio too, I just...I got so worried, doll.” Whether his use of the pet name is intentional or not, it still makes your belly flutter, face flush, and his hands warm your body from the inside out.

“I thought the worst,” he admits, crystalline eyes shining and wide and so damn inviting you let yourself fall into him. He steadies you, an arm around your back and the other cradling your head.

It makes you forget your anger for a little while, allows you to simply enjoy his warmth, the safety you feel in his embrace. His flesh hand is warm where it slides up and down your back, the most comforting of touches that you know you should reject yet can’t.

Finally, you begin to feel a little awkward, your injured arm between you against his warm chest, and you step back. He lets you go but keeps his hands on you, begins to lead you to the waiting team of medics. They take you from Bucky, bring you into a room for an x-ray. He watches you, still worried but warmth in his gaze.

It keeps you distracted, blocks out the pain while they set your arm in a cast, prescribe you painkillers, and send you on your way.

Chapter Four

[inglourious-imagines]

The Only One (Lewis Nixon)

Requested by: @dontfearthereaper-09

Summary: You're Colonel Sink's granddaughter and you're helping out with paperwork - you eventually fall in love with Lewis Nixon and start dating. However, every relationship has its ups and downs.

Prompt: a requested one - I wish I'd never met you.

Author's Note: I struggled so hard with this and I'm not proud of it at all, but hope it is what you wanted. A big thank you goes to for @alienoresimagines and her great help as always!

Taglist: @alienoresimagines @teenmagazines @meteora-fc @eugenesmorphine @band-of-brothers-cz @real-fans  @not-john-watsons-blog @tealaquinn @ok-roemanov @mrseasycompany @punkgeekchic @wexhappyxfew @hellitwasyoufirstsergeant @rayofshanshine @mavysnavy @easynix @stressedinadress @georgeluzwarmhugs @easy-company-tradition @immrsronaldspeirs @snafus-peckuh @curraheewestandalone @warrior-healer @justamadgirlinabox @happyveday

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"He felt now that he was not simply close to her, but that he did not know where he ended and she began." - Anna Karenina, L. Tolstoj

Y/N had never in her life shooted from a rifle or even held it in her innocent hands. She had never known combat, real combat, where men kill and die. She had never endured real physical pain.

And still, Y/N was standing in the middle of Camp Toccoa during the hot summer days of 1942 with a huge grin on her face. She finally persuaded her grandfather to let her join the paratroopers. Well, she was there to help out with paperwork mainly, to be there at hand for the intelligence officers, but she also managed to pull a few strings so she will be undergoing the combat training like every other soldier even though she's not allowed to go and fight in France.

The first weeks were exhausting - physically and mentally - with the combat training Y/N volunteered for. She constantly felt like she's at the verge of giving up and going home. 

But Y/N didn't and neither will she. Even though it was the hardest thing she'd ever done in her life, it seemed right. This is where Y/N Sink belonged.

But thank God it wasn't just exercise, work and signing documents. One evening, when everything was finished for the day, her grandfather Sink took her with him to a certain celebration, more like an occasion to get drunk and forget that a war is going on just across an ocean. 

It was certainly the most eventful night during her stay in Camp Toccoa, Georgia. Y/N lost her grandfather nearly 10 minutes after they walked in the pub. She immediately befriended two guys - George Luz and Joe Liebgott. It seemed like they'd known each other for years. The soldiers heard all about the mysterious woman that had been helping out in their training camp weeks ago now but never really got the chance to talk to her.

George introduced her to the rest of his friends within Easy Company and they spend the night together laughing, downing shots one after another, dancing and joking around. Y/N felt relaxed and genuiely unworried that night so when they were told to break it up and get some sleep for tomorrow, it suddenly saddened her. The Easy Company boys were the most welcoming, kind and funny men Y/N'd met during her stay and she was sure that she's not gonna have a chance to talk to them like that night for a long time.

There was a soldier waiting for her outside of the pub to escort her into her room but Y/N kindly told him to fuck off and he made sure to be quickly on his way. 

So there she was again, standing under the starry night in Georgia, a warm summer breeze dancing through her hair while she struggled a bit to remain on her feet due to all the alcohol flowing in her veins. 

"Have a trouble finding your way, Miss Sink?" a deep voice filled her ears and Y/N jumped a bit on her spot as she didn't see him coming from behind.

"I'm perfectly fine, soldier." she tried to answer with a firm steady voice but a quiet giggle escaped her lips.

"I can see that. Let me help you there, Miss." he offered his help kindly, smirking. The Moon was illuminating his face making his hair appear darker than the night itself and his eyes shined like two stars up at the sky.

"I assure you, Mr Nixon, that I have no trouble at all. I can manage myself." Y/N stood behind her words but a part of her desired his gentle hand on her lower back steadying her. 

"I'm surprised you know my name." Nix laughed raising his eyebrows as he took a few steps closer to her.

"And I'm surprised it was just a can of peaches." Y/N replied boldly looking directly into his dark eyes.

They were covered in silence for a few moments but they burst out laughing in the next second earning some "shut the fuck ups" from the nearest barracks.

The duo spent the rest of the night walking around the camp as they eventually ended up in her room talking about nothing and everything. By the next morning, Y/N knew every little thing about Lewis and he knew every little thing about her. 

It was no surprise, to Easy Company boys or even his grandfather, that the two of them started dating just a couple of days after the party. Richard Winters soon payed Y/N a visit informing her how he's never seen Lew so damn happy and cheerful all the time.

•••

At the end of May, 1944 when all the preparations for D-Day were finishing, another party was thrown in honor of the paratroopers that had earned their jump wings. Y/N persaued Sink to take her to Britain with him so she was able to celebrate with all of them. 

She was a bit tipsy already because George Luz made her drink three beers and the forth was already on its way. 

Lewis Nixon glared at the duo with a bottle of whiskey in his right hand and a cigarette in the left. He watched how Y/N's lips curled into the most beautiful smile he'd ever seen at something George whispered in her ear. She burst out in a hearty laugh as she touched Luz's shoulder gently and this simple action reminded Lewis the night they met for the first time. An uneasy feeling burned through his chest - it suddenly became hard to breathe. Nixon clenched the glass in his hands and he'd have break it eventually if Richard didn't shake with Lew's shoulder.

"Not now, Dick," the intellingent officer snapped immediately, "we'll talk tomorrow. I'm heading back to my room."

And with that, he stood up and walked out of the pub without any other glance toward his girlfriend. The bottle of Vat '69 was left on the table half full.

•••

"Baby? Why did you disappear so quickly?" Y/N barged in his room while he was sitting behind his desk looking out of the window absently. 

"You seemed quite happy with George." Nixon murmured quietly, he didn't even bother to turn and face her.

"What is this all about? Is there a problem?" she asked kindly moving closer to her broken soldier. The sweet tone of her voice was making it even harder than it already was.

Lewis Nixon looked at her for the first time. "I think we shouldn't be seeing each other anymore." He sounded decided, strongly convinced in his statement.

Y/N suspiciously eyed his face whereas Lewis tried to avoid her concerned look. "Is this about George?"

"No, it's not about fucking George!" Lewis raised his voice and stood up from the little chair, "you are better without me, okay? I drag you down, Y/N."

She stared at him in disbelief. "What the hell are you talking about? I love you and only you, damn it!"

"You just think you do!"

Y/N's eyes began to water and when the first hot tear rolled down her cheek Nixon's heart broke into million pieces. He hated himself for hurting the most precious human being on the Earth but he had to do it. There was no other way.

"I wish you trusted me more, Lew." she breathed out reaching out to caress his cheek but changed her mind in the last second and her hand fell to her body.

Lewis pressed his eyelids tightly together forcing the coming tears stay inside of his soul. "I wish I'd never met you."

•••

The next days hit Y/N harder than her first days at Toccoa. No combat training, no amount of paperwork had ever made her feel so broken, tired and demotivated. As weird as it sounds, even after the relatively short relationship with the Easy Company intelligence officer, Lewis was a big important part of her life. He made her feel so many new emotions, he fulfilled her soul and heart like nobody else did.

And now, it was all gone.

Everyone noticed the sudden cold behaviour between Y/N and Lewis but they didn't really know what happened. Y/N brushed it off every single time when someone asked her and no one really dared to approach Nixon. 

It wasn't like the duo stopped communicating absolutely. Lewis after the argument stormed off and got drunk, he was genuiely wasted, but he also realised what a mistake he did. It was the first time Y/N told him she loved him and he was still able to make the person who cared for him the most go away.

When Y/N tried her best to avoid Nixon, he tried his best to talk to her as much as possible, every day he left her a note at her desk along with a flower and every time she accidentally glanced at him he sent her an apologetic smile.

Y/N knew her anger and hurt was slowly fading away. Lewis felt truly sorry - alcohol and jealousy wasn't really a great combination.

•••

My dearest Y/N,

I know you don't want to have anything to do with me, and I don't blame you, but there's still something I need to tell you. I'm just gonna hope that this sort of letter is not lying in the bin already.

I want you to know that I regret every single word I said that night. Clearly my jealousy and my alcoholic problem (as much as you hate me right now, please don't tell anyone I just admitted that) came in the way and I thought you're better off without me.

I'm not the perfect boyfriend, Y/N, and I never will be. I'm not funny as George, and I guarantee you there's gonna be more arguments between us. But I can assure you that no matter what happens, I will love you for the rest of my life. 

Hope you can forgive me,

I'm sorry.

With love, your Lewis

A tear soaked into the piece of paper as she pressed it to her heart. Little did Y/N know that she will love the idiot forever.