#and you change the conversation before you have to admit fault!!???? GOD. how much of a bitch are you???

[hazmatazz]

like go fucking cunt your boyfriends shouldn't feel like they're walking on eggshells everytime you're around. no wonder neither of us wanted to kiss you because we were so disinterested because you made us feel fucking awful!!! oh my god

[gor3-hound]

TOUCH ME INSTEAD – SCOTT SUMMERS + LOGAN HOWLETT

ft. scott summers x f!reader x logan howlett

a/n: commission for the super lovely @dollfacefantasy. literally check her out i do not have enough praise for her omg... god bless her for feeding my scogan fantasies. title is from the song 'over my head' by james marriott !! thanks to @cubedkennedy and @nexysworld for giving it a lil look over when i was tweaking 😓

cw: 18+ content. mentions of grief + death. gay sex (seriously... reader is in the background of this one), anal sex, oral (m!recieving), overstimulation, handjobs, fingering (f + m recieving), kissing, biting, blood, scott centric. canon divergent but set after x2

word count: 3.4k words

Scott hasn't been the same since Jean's death. He still remembers the jet. Demanding they lowered the ramp. Snapping at Nightcrawler to go and get her. The way the realisation set in as she spoke through Xavier. He didn't believe it at first. Not really. Something in him knew – you couldn't lose someone like her without feeling the shift in the universe.

Everything came crashing down all at once. She was gone. Jean Grey was gone, and he was all alone all over again.

He cried so much the first night without her that his lungs burned and his heartbeat pounded painfully in his head. Hours had passed before he eventually exhausted himself, falling asleep curled up on her side of the bed. When he awoke the next morning, he was suddenly very grateful no one would be able to see just how red and swollen his eyes were under the shades he wore.

There's a feeling of exhaustion that is unexplainable to those who haven't lost anything. Scott’s mind couldn't handle the rapid changing of emotions coursing through him. The regret he felt for every time he didn't put his all in when it came to Jean. The desperation he felt to find some way to get her back, some hint that she was alive somehow. The guilt he felt for every argument they'd had. That he hadn't told her ‘I love you’ the day she died. At the end of it all came acceptance.

With acceptance came numbness. Everything he did reminded him of Jean, so he chose to do nothing at all.

Logan of all people seemed concerned about him. Scott feels a little queasy when he thinks back to the jet, about how he clung to the older man. He felt safe with him, although that's something he'd never admit – even if he knows there's no point trying to hide it; Logan's the only one Scott’s let visit him since he lost Jean.

“She's been askin’ about you, y’know.” Logan didn't have to say who he was speaking about for Scott to know it was you. You had tried to speak to him once he returned to the school after the mission, and he had instantly pushed past you. It wasn't your fault, not really. You just reminded him too much of her in the way you acted. He couldn't stomach your presence right now. He didn't feel strong enough.

“Don't start lecturing me. I don't have the energy for your shit tonight.” Scott remembers how hard he had to try not to let his voice waver. How hard it was not to tell Logan how badly he needed comforting. He was a leader, first and foremost. He wouldn't break down. Not in front of him.

“You should at least come out ‘n eat somethin’.” Scott can't remember the last time he felt hungry.

“Nah. Nah, I can't face the kids like this.” That was the end of the conversation. Every time you or Logan have tried to visit him since has been met with silence and avoidance. He's never felt this pathetic before in his life.

It's better this way, he thinks, curling up with one of Jean's old shirts. The smell is starting to fade. He cries himself to sleep for the first time that night since she died.

˗ˏˋ ☆ ˎˊ˗

“He's grieving, Logan. You just gotta give him time.”

A scowl spreads across the man's face at your words, brows pinching together as he brings the lighter to his mouth, igniting the cigar he has perched between his lips. He takes a few puffs, breathing the smoke out through his nose as he leans back in the chair.

“He's bein’ a fuckin’ asshole, s'what he's doin’.” He grunts, running a hand through his hair. His gaze is distant at your words. Directed at you, but going right through you. “We're all grievin’. Bastard's just gonna end up killin’ himself at this rate.”

“He loved her, Logan. He's gonna need time to process it.” You say with a sigh, running a hand over your face. Your free hand absentmindedly taps against the table, fingers cycling one by one against the hardwood. The noise draws Logan's gaze downwards, and he scoffs slightly.

“I loved–” Logan pauses. I loved her, he was going to say, but it didn't feel right. He loved the idea of her. Loved her like a friend, once he’d truly gotten to know her. I love him, is what he wants to say, but it isn't the time or the place. What good would it do?

“Doesn’t matter.” He huffs after a moment, grabbing the bottle of whiskey from the jacket hanging off the back of his chair, unscrewing the lid and gulping some down. Nothing he can think of seems right to say at this moment.

Logan can't ever remember feeling so hopeless.

˗ˏˋ ☆ ˎˊ˗

Numbness bleeds away to self-destruction. Scott can't help but feel as though there's something he should be punished for. He could have tried harder to save Jean. He should have. Maybe she'd still be here if he had.

It's the third time he's been to the Danger Room this week. His muscles still ache from last time, each step he takes causing discomfort to shoot through his legs. The pain is a welcome distraction from his grief. A reminder that he was still alive.

Once Scott is thrown into combat, his mind goes blank. He's able to focus – finally – as his brain quietens down. He blocks each and every attack that comes his way with a hand or an arm, leaving his visor untouched. He has no desire to use his powers today, not when each hit he sustains makes him feel alive again. Makes him forget.

The simulation around him falters and fades, and it feels as though his entire world comes crumbling around him. He's suddenly aware of the throbbing pain behind his knuckles, the ache spreading upwards until a dull soreness settles in the muscles of his arms. Each blow he'd been unable to block sends searing pain up and down his body now that he's not relying on adrenaline to get him through.

His gaze filters across the room appraisingly, eventually settling on Logan who is slowly approaching. Of course it was Logan. It always came back to him.

“I was training.” Scott snaps. Or attempting to, at least. He's winded and tired and sore, and he doesn't want to have to deal with Logan today if he can help it.

“You were takin’ a beatin’. Not gonna learn anythin’ just letting a bunch of holograms kick the shit out of ya.” Logan grunts in response, taking his space in front of Scott.

“I didn't ask for your advice.”

“I couldn't give a fuck either way. Your attitude is startin’ to piss me off.” Logan growls, stepping closer until he and Scott are barely a few inches apart. His hands come up to push at the younger man’s shoulders, sending him stumbling back a few steps. “Hit me.”

“Sorry, what?” Scott replies, brows knitting together as he stares at Logan through the visor.

“C'mon, I know you've wanted to since the day we met. M’not givin’ you another chance.” Scott’s eyes narrow behind his eyewear, but his hands come up to push harshly at Logan’s chest. The mutant doesn't budge. “Really? I know you can do better than that, bub. Hit me.”

So Scott does. He hits Logan as hard as he can, fist connecting with the rigid muscles of his chest over and over again. The skin of his knuckles crack and break, blood marring his pale skin as he unleashes his frustrations out on Logan. He just takes it, jaw set tight. The only indication any of this hurts is his tense expression and the occasional grunt that spills past his lips.

Logan catches Scott when he eventually collapses against his chest with tears in his eyes, clinging to him just as he had that day on the jet. He holds him there until his breathing evens out and he stops crying.

˗ˏˋ ☆ ˎˊ˗

“Hey, uh… Can I talk to you for a second?” Scott's voice is quiet as he pushes open your door, even in the near silence of your room this late at night. He wasn't sure what he could say to you to make this better. He knows he's been avoiding you. Well, he's been avoiding everyone (except Logan, apparently, who is determined to stick to him like a tick), but he knows you worry about him the most.

“Yeah, sure. What's up?”

“I, uh…” He swallows hard, throat bobbing as he turns his head away. He seems more like a guilty puppy than anything at the moment, tail tucked between his legs as he shifts his weight awkwardly from foot to foot. He scratches at his jaw, stubble irritating his skin that he's been too tired to shave off. “Logan said you were asking about me.”

It's easier to say that then to really address the issue. He wants to speak to you, sure, but he doesn't want to admit how much he's been struggling recently. The idea of speaking about his loss almost feels selfish. You lost her, too. Everyone did. He doesn't know why the idea of speaking Jean's name out loud makes him feel queasy, makes him lightheaded to the point he has to grip the kitchen counter to stop himself from losing balance.

“Yeah… Well, I've been worried. I knocked at your door a few times, but you never answered.” You're not like Logan, you don't just barge in. He's not sure whether he appreciates that fact or not at this moment. He's missed seeing you. He almost regrets hiding away these past few weeks, but he's been acting downright pathetic. You look up to him, and he didn't want you to see him like that, anyway.

“You don't need to be worried about me. I'm alright, sweetheart. Honestly.” He has to be, doesn't he? That's his job. You don't need to know how much he's struggling.

It's a good thing he's doing such a terrible job at hiding it. You raise your eyebrows at him, the muscle in his jaw twitching as he realises he's not getting away with it when it comes to you. He clears his throat, tilting his head away from you.

“I'm fine, seriously–”

“You've been holed up in your room for over a month now. No one's expecting you to be at your best, but you're not even giving yourself a chance to feel better. You can't keep going on like this.”

“Don't.”

“I'm just saying that you're not doing yourself any favours–” A scowl crosses his features as his head snaps back to face you. He stiffens up, pulling his shoulders back. Acting like a cornered animal.

“You don't know the half of what it's been like for me. You barely knew her. You've… what? Been around a few months? Now you wanna lecture me about how to feel?”

He's raising his voice now, and you can't help but mirror his tone. Your body tenses, words sharper when you speak again. “I'm only trying to help–”

“I never asked for your help.” He snaps.

“What're you girls fightin’ about this time?” A third voice cuts in. You and Scott both turn to see Logan standing at the door, arms crossed over his chest as he leans against the frame. His gaze travels between the two of you, taking in the tension in the room.

“Nothing.” Scott huffs, turning away from him once more. Logan clicks his tongue in response, shaking his head as he steps past the threshold and into your room.

“Could hear both of you from my room.” Logan says, shutting the door behind him. “Hate to say it, but the kid's got a point.”

A muscle in Scott's jaw twitches as he tilts his head to look back at Logan, his body still tense as if he's expecting a fight. He'd rather that than the alternative, but when he sees how you're both looking at him, he knows it's going to be a long conversation if he keeps avoiding the issue.

He breaks far quicker than expected when he notices the expression on Logan's face. He was ready for annoyance, disbelief, indifference, even – anything but concern painting the older man's features. Maybe he's been looking for an excuse to be honest. He doesn't know, but the words come tumbling out before he can stop them, and all he feels is relief.

“I just–” Scott pauses, then swallows, then sucks a harsh breath in through his teeth. You don't need to see his eyes to know he's crying. It isn't long before the tears break past the edge of his shades, travelling down his cheeks in small trails. “I just want to forget her.

I know I shouldn't say that, I just… fuck. Just for a couple hours, or… just something. She's constantly on my mind and I just… I need to breathe.”

He watches as you and Logan share a wordless exchange before moving towards him. The hands that find him are warm and firm and so damn distracting. He lets out a choked sob as he leans into you, arms wrapping around your body as Logan's strong hands grip at his shoulders. His thumbs press into his flesh and rub circles in his tense muscles to soothe him, all while he's clinging to you like he's scared you'll disappear. Truth be told, a part of him is absolutely terrified he might lose you – he's even scared he might lose Logan, that his healing factor will somehow fail or be rendered useless one day and he'd be left truly alone.

He's so lost in his own mind that he barely registers your thumbs brushing the tears off his cheeks, doesn't even hear your whispered words of comfort. But when your lips meet his, everything quietens down for a moment.

When you kiss Scott, it's soft and sweet. The tension bleeds away from his shoulders as he kisses you back, eyes fluttering shut. His hands find your hips, tugging you flush against his body. His lips part further as he feels Logan press against him from behind, leaving him panting into your mouth for a few seconds as he feels Logan's steadily hardening length pressing against his ass and the scratch of his facial hair against his skin as the other man presses kisses along the back of his neck.

You tug Scott's face closer again, and he kisses you back almost mindlessly. Your tongue slides along his lower lip, and he parts them immediately granting you entry. He sucks on the wet muscle before he's licking into your mouth, desperate to taste more of you, feel more of you.

A hand that's too big and too rough to be yours slides under the fabric of his boxers to squeeze his cock. He whimpers against your lips, jaw growing slack as Logan starts to lazily stroke him while grinding against him. He's starting to feel a little dizzy, his legs weak as heat pools in his lower belly. Scott can feel hands tugging and pulling at him, guiding him to the bed on the other side of the room. He lets himself be led without any complaints, the distraction making him desperate. Pliable. He hasn't felt this way since–

The thought leaves him as Logan pushes him back onto your sheets. You watch closely as Logan's hands greedily roam Scott's body, hitching his shirt up so he can lick and bite the toned skin of Scott's stomach.

“Fucking Christ.” Scott hisses, jerking under Logan. When Logan lifts his head from his stomach, the shape of his teeth is visible, and a small amount of blood is visible on his grin. Logan is quick to pull Scott's clothing free, and you shimmy forward to help.

“Open up.” Logan grunts as he taps two fingers against your bottom lip. They part easily, allowing the digits to press against your tongue. You suck and lick at them eagerly, the taste of cigars lingering on the skin as you coat him in your saliva.

The fingers pop free, and he slides his hand down the inside of Scott's thighs until his fingers – warm and wet with your saliva – prod at his entrance. Scott's expression is tense, his chest heaving at the intrusion as Logan sinks his digits in slowly. A whine spills from his lips, hips jerking as he grips at the sheets with enough pressure that his knuckles turn white.

“Fuuuck.” He hisses once more, back arching as you spit in your palm and enclose your fingers around his hard, leaky cock, pumping his length slowly. He's going to go mad. There's no way he can last, not like this. Between Logan scissoring him open and your hand squeezing and stroking, he's going to paint his stomach in less than a minute. “It's too much… please.”

The fingers withdraw from his ass, making him whimper in protest. That is until the blunt head of the other man's cock prods at him, his hips jerking into your grip helplessly as a new string of curses fall from his lips.

“Look so fuckin’ sexy like this.” Logan groans, slowly sinking into him until his hips are flush against Scott's ass. His claws prick gently at the skin of his knuckles, barely unsheathing as he struggles not to immediately rut into the tight heat surrounding him. Scott cums in an instant as the sharp tips graze his skin, ropes of white coating the taut muscles of his stomach.

Your hand continues to stroke him through his orgasm, but then it isn't stopping. And Logan starts to thrust, knocking a choked gasp out of Scott. He writhes under the both of you, chest heaving with heavy breaths. He gasps and whines, torn between bucking into your hand and crawling across the bed to get away from the overwhelming pleasure.

Scott isn't even aware he's been begging until Logan laughs all throaty. Your grip tightens as you pump him with more vigour, his cock twitching in your grasp. “Shit, Scott. Didn't realise you were this much of a slut.”

Scott's body is tense, but he can't form the words to argue with the other man. His lips part, but all that comes out is a needy whine as your lips enclose around his head. His mind is gone – all he can manage is rocking his hips into your mouth, then back to meet Logan's thrusts. His hands move from the sheets to grip your hair, pushing you down further onto his length until he's nudging at the back of your throat. His breaths come out in short pants, thighs twitching as another orgasm approaches.

Logan's hand slides down your back as you work on bringing Scott to the edge, sliding under your pants to tease your entrance. He groans under his breath when he's met with how wet you are, his fingers dipping into your cunt and curling until you're moaning around Scott's cock. Every time he fucks into you, the force of it sends Scott further down your throat.

“Gonna… gonna cum, baby. Fuck.” Scott breathes out, the only warning you get before he coats your tongue with his release. You swallow as much as you can, a mixture of drool and cum leaking past the seam of your lips as you pull off of him.

Logan growls as he feels Scott tightening around him, and it only takes a few more thrusts before he's spilling into Scott. His hand falters slightly for a moment before he shifts, pulling you closer so he can thumb at your clit as his fingers drive into you.

“Come on, baby. Give Scottie a little show, yeah? You gonna cum for us?” His voice comes out breathless, his gaze flicking between you and Scott, who's lazily gazing at you as he attempts to catch his breath. You nod eagerly, head falling back against Logan as you reach for Scott's hand, giving it a small squeeze.

A few more skillful movements of Logan’s fingers has you gasping, body tensing as your climax hits you. Your thighs clamp around Logan's hand, your grip on Scott's making the man wince. You collapse after a moment, but not before you and Logan crawl either side of Scott, curling up against him. He wraps an arm around each of you, nosing at your hair.

For the first time in a while, a small smile curls at the corner of his lips.

[scarletwinterxx]

sunshine and midnight rain - mark lee scenario

hello! so i'm back and yes i'm still on my mark lee brain rot era😅 it's like whenever i see this guy i completely forget about the rest of male population haha anyways I hope you like this one🤍

if you have a request or scenario you want me to do, just send me a message I'll see what I can do😊💌

For my other works you can check them out here, and for my other story series’ you can check them out here.

and if you want, u can buy me coffee(totally optional but any donation is very much appreciated!) thank you🥺💛

All works are copyrighted ©scarletwinterxx 2023 . Do not repost, re-write without the permission of author.

(gif not mine, credits to rightful owner)

"Why are you so mad right now?"

"Because I asked you to do one thing and you didn't" Mark says, still avoiding your gaze.

This was not how you envisioned your morning, when you woke up Mark's side of the bed was already empty. When you went to look for him he was gone, no note, no text of his possible whereabouts. And when he got back, he was clearly and very obviously mad at you.

"I got home just fine" you say with your arms out. Mark still hasn't look at you and it's bugging you. You follow him out the living room. He's going round and round, trying to tidy the place just to avoid having a conversation with you.

"Mark, can you please look at me" you tell him, this made him stop and look over at you. A clear look of disappointment on his face, "I swear I was going to call you but the girls and I were talking and drinking. It slipped my mind, I already booked a cab home when I remembered"

"You went home, way past midnight alone and drunk. Do you know dangerous that is?"

"But I got home safe"

"And what if you didn't? What if something happened? God forbid I get upset about that, I was worried I'm sorry. Is that what you want to hear?"

You say nothing for a while, thinking of something to say back. You really are at fault here, you should be the one saying sorry right now.

"I'm sorry, I should've called" you tell him, now avoiding his eyes just as you feel the tears fill yours. Mark sighs, crossing the room until he's right in front of you. He hooks his finger under your chin, making you look at him.

"I'm mad because I care. I don't trust the world when it comes to you, I just want you to be safe always. I'm not going to stop you living your best life, but I want to know you're safe" he whispers, anger already disappearing.

He wipes the few tears that escaped, cradling your face between his hands.

"Are you still mad?" you mumble, this made Mark smile and shake his head.

"We're okay. I'm sorry for raising my voice at you"

"And I'm sorry for making you worry"

He kisses your forehead before pulling you in for a hug, "I don't like arguing with you, but I'd do it in every universe as long as we make up and end up like this. I love you, always. Okay?"

You hug him tighter, answering him without saying any words.

Just like that you're okay again.

Bless this universe for giving you such an understanding, loving, mature man to love. You'd be stupid to ever let him go which is why no matter what argument, the two of you always make sure to solve it together.

Mark never lets you go to sleep upset, he'll ask you what's wrong or if he's done anything to upset you. At first it was hard for you to admit your feelings that easily, you learned that you don't like being vulnerable, you don't like sharing your true feelings. You bottle it up. But ever since you started dating Mark, all of that changed.

He's there to listen, even when words aren't being spoken. He knows when to give you space, he knows when to chase after you and hold you tight. He knows you in a way you didn't want to know yourself, you used to be scared of these feeling but not anymore.

It's obvious who's the serious one and the jokester in you and Mark's relationship. The best thing about it is the fact that your boyfriend, no matter how serious he is, will always play along.

"Mark, you busy?" you ask, walking inside the office to see him on his computer

He looks over at you with a smile, "No, what's up?"

"I was wondering..." you say while walking towards him, he waits for you to continue. You got to where he was sitting, smiling cheekily at your boyfriend

He knows you're up to something, he grabs you by the waist sitting you squarely on his lap.

"Do you know how to whistle?"

"Do I know how to whistle?" he asks back,

"Yea like you know, like this" you pout, but before you can whistle Mark closes the gap between the two of you. Kissing you gently, he grabs the back of your head to deepen the kiss. Suddenly you forgot what you were doing in the first place.

After a few minutes of exchanging kisses, you broke apart. Looking dazed and in love, "Hey! I was suppose to do that! Did you know I was going to do that?" you asked

"Maybe" he mumbles, looking at you with pure adoration

"I'll pretend I didn't know" he adds, making you roll your eyes.

"You just want to make out"

"You're not wrong there, now come here I need your kisses"

The first time it happened, Mark thought it really was just coincidence.

You just started to decorate around the house, the tree was halfway done and a few other decorations scattered here and there. He was just walking to the kitchen doorway when suddenly you stop him

"What?" your boyfriend blinks back at you confused, instead of answering him you just point up making Mark look at where you're pointing. There hanging by the doorway was a mistletoe.

"When did you put that there?" he asks with a smile, finding the tradition cute. Even cuter when you're looking at him with the biggest smile, ready to receive your kiss

"I just put it up today, now where's my kiss" you say, pursing your lips at him making Mark chuckle. He grabs you by the waist, leaning down to kiss you. It was short but sweet, enough to leave you smiling like an idiot.

A few months ago, the two of you finally decided to move in together. It's been years since you got together, and most times you spend your nights together whether his place or yours. At some point you realized that it would make more sense to just move in together, so you did.

"Love, did you do laundry last time?" you asked him, walking inside your shared bedroom to see him resting on the bed

"I did"

"Oh thanks, love the fabric softener you used. Now all my clothes smells like you" you smile at him, jumping on the bed to cuddle him. Immediately he hugs you close.

"Then will you stop stealing of my clothes now?" he asks

"Negative, I like your hoodies better"

He chuckles at your answer, "Knew it"

"What were you doing?"

"Just checking my phone, I wanted to order this pan for making omelet. Should we get one?"

You love how his sentence now say "we" or "our" instead of his and yours. Of course you still respect each other's boundaries and individuality, but on things like deciding what to paint your home or what furniture to buy or groceries to stock up on it's always the two of you.

"Should we? If we're using it then why not, I love eggs for breakfast" you tell him, looking at his phone screen to check

"I know, that's why I'm getting it. Okay, I'll order it now then" you watch him as he do so.

"This is fun" you mumble

"Hm?"

"This, buying things for our place. I like it" you smile

"Me too"

"Do you want to marry me?"

Your question took him by surprise. Not because he didn't want to marry you, it's just when he thinks of that big question he's the one doing the asking and not the other way around.

"Mark? Sorry forget I said anything" you mumble, moving to rest your head on the pillow instead

"Remember when we first started dating or way before that?" he asks you

"Huh?"

"I was shy, I wasn't as confident as the other guys. People think I'm aloof and too serious. You never thought of me that way, you entered in my life like you were meant to be there all along and maybe you are. Scratch that, I know you are. You're meant to be in my life. When I knew I was falling in love with you I didn't know how to say it without scaring you away, so I did it slowly. I did it in a way that won't overwhelm you. Because to you it doesn't have to be a loud confession or a grand gesture. i loved you they way i knew you would understand. i loved you the way i know how. i just loved you. I know you, your mind is a wonder. You doubt, you question and you worry your pretty mind to no ends. I didn’t want to disrupt that"

By now you're face to face again, he's speaking so softly like he's afraid you'll float away of he's too loud.

"You said I was your peace, and back then that was more than enough for me. By some miracle, you fell in love with me too. And now we're here. So to answer your question, yes I want to marry you. One day I want to get down on one knee and ask you that question, I'm still working on being the man worthy to ask that" he continues, and you soak each and every word he speaks like he's already saying his vows.

Because you know, you know he is a man of words. If Mark says it, then it's true. He will never say such things to deceive you.

"Do you have any more questions for me, pretty girl?" he whispers, waiting for you to speak

You shake your head, scooting until you're on his side again. Tucking yourself as close to him as you can.

He tilts your head so you're looking at him, leaning down to kiss you on your nose, your cheeks and last your lips.

"I'll love you over and over again, just like when we met"

[void-wolfie]

It's Not About Dinner

summary: After accompanying Jenna to dinner with some friends, the two of you get into an argument. It ends a bit differently than expected. [request]

pairing: Jenna Ortega x gn!Reader

tw: mentions of a toxic past, (not exactly sure what else, feel free to let me know if I need to add anything), my terrible writing lol

words: 900

a/n: so, in complete honesty, i suck at writing arguments, so i borrowed bits from the all too well (10 min) music video. i might come back to this prompt one day when my writing skills improve but for now, i think this is about as good as it's going to get.

You slammed the door shut behind you, the walls shaking from the sheer force. Jenna dropped her stuff on the kitchen table, the noise echoing throughout the house.

You were pissed, and Jenna had clearly picked up on that.

You stormed straight off to your room, more than ready to climb into bed and forget about your shitty evening. Jenna trailed after you, hot on your heels.

"Are we going to talk about it?" Her question rang out. You nearly laughed. So now she wants to talk...

"Talk about what?" You asked, not bothering to spare her a glance as you dug around in your dresser drawer for pajamas.

"Whatever has you so pissed off,"

"I'm not pissed off."

"You clearly are." She spat, "You won't even look at me."

"Gee, wonder how that feels," you mumbled under your breath, taking your clothes to the bathroom so you could get changed.

Before you could shut the door behind you, a hand caught it, pushing it back open.

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?" She stood in the bathroom doorway, practically burning holes through you.

"I don't know, why don't you go ask your friends?"

She scoffed, "Is that what this is about? Dinner? You wanted to come with me, you didn't have to-"

"It's not about dinner, Jenna! It's about how you wouldn't look at me once tonight. It was like I wasn't even there! You barely even said a word to me once-"

"That's bullshit!" She cut you off, raising her voice.

You closed your eyes, trying not to wince at her volume. You hated shouting; it reminded you too much of your childhood. Of that little kid hiding under the bed just to get away from your parents screaming matches, flinching at the sound of slamming doors, scrambling out the window at the nearest sign of conflict. You’re not that kid anymore, you tried to remind yourself.

You set your eyes back on Jenna, the anger of the situation seeping back in, "You wouldn't even hold my hand. How do you think that makes me feel?"

"I don't- I don't even know what you’re talking about."

It was your turn to scoff, "Of course, you don't. Why would you? You were too enthralled by your fancy friends to even look at me. Do you know how that feels, Jenna? It makes you feel like shit, it made me feel like shit-"

"God, you are so annoying! I was just trying to catch up with some friends, why are you making this all about you?!"

You tried your best to ignore the jab about being annoying. She was just upset; she didn’t mean it… Did she? She didn’t actually think you were annoying, right? But what if she does think that? You shook off those thoughts, a rabbit hole for another time.

"I'm not trying-"

"Yes, you are!" She raised her hand, and you flinched back, putting as much distance between you and her as you could.

She was only trying to make a point. She had a habit of talking with her hands, a tendency of getting animated in conversations or arguments. She would never hurt you.

She took it too far. She shouldn't have fought with you. She should've just admitted she was wrong; God, why did she have to be so stubborn?

You stood with your back against the wall, tears streaming down your face. You hated crying, you were better than that. But you just couldn't help it. It's not your fault, you tried to convince yourself.

"Babe?" She took a tentative step towards you, half expecting you to run off like a scared puppy.

You pressed your back further into the wall. You pawed at your eyes, trying to get the tears to stop.

"Baby?" She took a few more steps towards you, gently pulling your hands from your face. She tried wiping the tears from your cheeks, but they kept flowing regardless, "I'm so sorry, my love."

You tried to push her away, but you were too tired, too deep in your own thoughts to really push with any force. She hugged you, despite your attempts to push her away. She held you close to her chest as she tried to soothe the sobs that wracked your chest. Sobs that she caused.

If the scared look on your face wasn't enough, the sound of you sobbing as you pushed against her was. She caused that, she did that. It nearly broke her.

It took a minute or so before you stopped trying to push her away. Instead, taking comfort in her arms, in the way she rubbed your back softly trying to soothe you.

A few minutes after that the crying died down altogether. You weren't sure when the two of you ended up on the floor, her arms wrapped around you as she kept you pressed close to her, but you didn’t mind. The warmth was welcoming.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, “I am so sorry,”

You snuggled further into her chest, too tired to be mad anymore, “Please don’t leave me,”

You said it so quietly, Jenna almost missed it. It broke her heart that you thought she would leave you after one argument. It spoke volumes about the hell your ex put you through, about what your family put you through.

“Never. I promise.”

[artificial-transmutations]

Two sides of the same coin - Buddies

"Yoooo Pete!", Tom shouted across the whole gym floor. He had just spotted his workout partner and waved.

"Hey! What's up?", Peter called back from where he was working out.

Tom walked towards him, wearing only his red gym shorts, showing off his toned body. Both of them would qualify for the dictionary entry of "jock": Both were young men in their twenties who met over their obsession with working out, drinking and picking up girls. Tom was the larger one of them both and had medium length blonde dyed hair, while Peter was half a head shorter and not quite as bulky as Tom. Still, both of them had definitely bodies that turned a lot of heads - and they knew that well.

"Are you doing anything later?", Tom asked the other jock after they had said hello with a short hug. Emphasis was on short, of course, since neither of them wanted to come across as gay.

"I don't think so," replied Peter. "Why?"

"Care for a post-workout beer?" suggested Tom.

"Sure." Peter responded, "But we will have to earn that first!"

"Yeah, let's go work out some more then," agreed Tom enthusiastically.

The workout was long and intense, with Tom and Peter spotting for each other in tandem. Back in the locker room, as Peter was waiting for Tom to finish his shower - the gym showers were pretty small and there was a mutual understanding between them that they would absolutely not shower together, that was gay shit - he spotted something on the floor under a bench. Curious, he bent down and picked it up: It was an old coin that looked like a silver dollar or maybe even a quarter.

"Nice", he said to himself and pocketed the coin, not realizing it vanished once he put it in his pocket. Tom finished his shower quickly afterwards and they both headed for Tom's apartment. It was close to the gym and a good place to enjoy a beer.

As usual, when they entered the apartment, it was sparkly clean. Both buddies were neat-freaks, and it was way easier to bring home girls that way. Peter flopped down on the designer couch and looked expectantly at Tom. "You mentioned beer?"

"Yeah, sure," Tom answered, going into the kitchen and opening the fridge door. He pulled out two bottles of cold beer and handed one bottle to Peter. "Cheers!" They clinked their bottles and took a sip.

Peter liked this kind of beer very much: It wasn't too bitter but still full of flavor. "So how are things with your new neighbor?", he made casual conversation. "The hot one", he added for not-needed clarification.

Tom smiled. "She's nice," he said, taking another swig of his beer. "Aaand really hot. Did I mention she left her door open while changing last week when I came home? She didn't seem to care if anyone saw..."

"Wow!", exclaimed Peter in disbelief. "And you're telling me you haven't fucked her yet?"

"Well, no... But I'm planning to." He took another sip of his beer before going on: "I mean, have you looked at her boobs? Just the right size!"

Peter had felt horny since they exited the gym, and his buddies graphic description didn't make things better. He tried to casually readjust himself to hide his boner. "They're nice, yeah. But what about the ass?" He asked curiously.

Tom nodded, thinking about her tight little bubble butt. "Yeah, she has a great booty. And she's got a killer rack, too."

God, Peters cock was throbbing. What was wrong? A little dirty talk didn't usually excite him so much. He reached down to his groin to readjust himself again, shivering slightly as he touched his cock through his shorts. His friends' comments made him feel strangely aroused, almost as if he would get a hardon just from looking at her.

"What is it with you today?", Tom finally asked, noticing the change in his friend's demeanor before suddenly laughing. "Are you having a boner, dude?"

"Yeah," admitted Peter, feeling embarrassed by the sudden realization of his erection. "It's your fault, talking about that hot babe."

"So, you're saying", continued Tom, laughing, "I am giving you a stiff one? No homo, man!"

Peter laughed nervously and looked away, trying to hide his hard-on. "Shut up, dude!"

But it was no use. His cock was harder than it ever was, and it was aching to be touched. He looked at Tom. They didn't have that kind of relationship, but he *needed* to touch himself now. Excusing himself to the bathroom would be even more embarrassing. So, he just fished out his leaking rod out of his shorts and mumbled "God, sorry, I hope you don't mind." as he slowly began to stroke himself.

"Dude! What the fuck!? Are you jerking off?! Do that at home!" Tom shouted, shocked by what he saw. He couldn't believe his best friend was doing that in front of him. He wanted to say more, but there was something else catching his eye: On the right arm that Peter was using to jerk his cock, he could see some hair growing in. Just a light coating, but clearly visible. Usually, Peter was well groomed, just like himself. His left arm followed suit.

"Dude! You're getting hairy!" Tom exclaimed, even though that adjective was really far from true yet. Peter looked down on the arm Tom pointed at, without stopping his slow jerking. Tom was right, this coating of hair hadn't been there before. As he looked to his legs, he could see the same thing happening there. For some perverse reason, this only served to make him even more horny. He moaned, as another spurt of precum wetted his hand.

"Dude, are you okay? Why are you fucking jerking yourself off in front of me?" Tom asked concernedly. He felt bad for his friend who seemed to be getting turned on by his own body changes. A small diamond patch of dark hair had now appeared on his friends chest and he could see small bushes of hair growing in under his armpits. That was when Tom smelled it. The manly smell of musk and sweat, coming from Peter. His armpits were damp from sweat, as this new smell only turned him on even more.

"Oh God Tom, I'm so sorry, but... I... You...", With a defeated grunt, Peter grabbed his buddies head with his right hand and forced it between his legs, and over his cock.

At first, Tom was surprised, before he tried to resist. It was no use, however. Even though Tom was supposed the stronger one of them both, Peter had his hand firmly at the back of Toms head and pressed him into his groin. Peters cock, which was slick with pre rubbed against his mouth which he kept closed at all costs.

"Come on!" Peter whined, increasing the force even more. "I need someone to suck me off here."

"I'm not..." Tom began to answer, only to recognize his mistake right after. As he opened his mouth to answer, Peters cock was pushed inside. He could taste the salty flavor of Peter's precum on it and almost gagged. He wanted to byte, but somehow didn't find the strength for it. He let out a soft involuntary moan instead as Peter's cock slipped deeper into his throat until it hit his tonsils.

Meanwhile, Peter noticed a visible trail of black hair running across his previously hairless cobblestone abs. He felt really bad basically face-fucking his workout buddy, but he just couldn't restrain himself. He *needed* to bob his bros head up and down his cock with his strong paw. As more and more hair grew in on his belly, he felt his body filling up more and more. His muscles were joined by a substantial layer of fat, giving him a burlier look by the second. At the same time, his smell intensified further, filling up Toms apartment.

Meanwhile, Tom was undergoing a change of his own. Every passing second, he felt weaker and weaker, his body visibly shrinking in on itself. It didn't help that his nostrils were simultaneously attacked by the increasingly intense stink of Peter and his large pubic bush that was growing in either. He was being used, and he hated every second of it, but found himself powerless to do anything about it.

Where Peters stink reached the apartment, it began to change, subtly at first, then increasingly fast: The designer couch became a cheap red leather sofa. In the kitchen, dirty pans and plates were piling up, a patina of dust and grime covered the surfaces. It looked like a wardrobe exploded over the room, as dirty laundry scattered over the floor, adding to the stale and stinky air with the same aroma that Peter was emitting full force now. If anything, this only served to excite him more. While his left hand went through his beard and his dense pelt of body hair, he grabbed more and more of Toms shrinking body with his right hand and pressed it into his groin, not caring that it changed into a wooly cloth like material that had seen much, much better days already. It was ripped and ragged, stained by numerous stains of various sources. Mainly, of course, cum, but also pre, sweat and even the occasional bit of piss that had leaked into Toms fabric body.

The cum rag that was once Tom was fully aware of everything happening to it. It could still taste and smell, all across its filthy fabric body, and was forced to absorb another huge load of cum that Peter shot into it, even though it was still damp from the previous one.

Panting, Peter threw the used cum rag onto a pile of clothing on the floor. He didn't care that his hairy body was crusty with dried up cum or that he stank like a cave man. Taking a shower was not a concept the new Peter needed, he was a real man after all.

If you're a fan of the theme, check out my other two sides of the same coin stories!

[starboybutler]

Chasing Cars

ao3 link

summary: bucky can't find a reason to get out of bed anymore. gale comes to him one night, and he's reminded of why he's fighting.

word count: 6451

warnings: bucky's crumbling mental health, gale's crumbling mental health, curt's death, slight eating disorders, depressive episodes, smut towards the end

notes: wow this was supposed to be pure smut but i accidentally plotted on my porn because i felt like being sad. oh well have this kinda character study thing i wrote purely on a whim

bucky hadn't left the bed.

he couldn't find a reason to. the rest of the men were outside, gathering wood. training, doing god knows what else to prepare for a plan that would never play out. after some brits had made their escape attempt, the amount of german pricks on duty almost doubled. that, and morale had pretty much gone down after they had said the captured escapees were executed. no one even wanted to make an attempt anymore.

they could talk about escape all they wanted to– it would never happen. they would try, fail, get shot, and get buried somewhere on enemy territory. hell, odds were good that if they waited it out the same thing would happen. so why bother?

he had been staring at the wooden slats of the bunk above him for about an hour, now. this felt familiar, at least. as he lay here, he could pretend he was back in base between missions, talking to curt about whatever was going on in their muddled brains.

“it was a close one today. don't want anymore missions like that for a while.”

“that's just how it is, bucky. they’ll only get tougher, y’know. but i think we got it.”

“yeah?”

“yeah. i’ll be tellin’ my grandkids about this one day, y’know. don't seem like it now, but i promise it’ll be a distant memory soon.”

always so optimistic. that was one of the last late-night conversations he had ever had with curt before he went down. he never even got to say goodbye to him. he’ll never forget the pure dread he felt when he asked buck about him, and he didn't have an answer.

sure, bucky could have believed he was alive with every fiber of his being, but that didn't change the fact that curt was dead, crashed somewhere over unknown territory, most likely to never be found.

so much pain, so much death. and for what, he would wonder. what was he really fighting for anymore?

“hey,”

a soft, low voice, like honey. all too familiar.

he looked up, faced with gale, who was just about the only friend he had left at this point. even then, he felt as if buck was slipping from his grasp at times. tensions were high, and he had yelled at him more than he would like to admit.

just yesterday, they got into it outside. john was at fault, he absolutely deserved the punch to the face gale gave him, but neither of them had spoken to one another afterwards. john was never good witth apologies.

“hey,” he said back, the bruise on his cheek left by the blonde throbbing dully as he made eye contact with him for the first time since their scuffle.

“you just gonna lay here all day?” gale asked, his tone not angry or accusatory– just soft and genuinely curious, laced with just a tinge of worry.

“that's the plan,” he replied, shrugging. “nothin’ else to do. unless you wanna punch me again.”

gale stiffened a bit, his lips twitching as if he were trying to find the right thing to say, before he just sighed heavily.

“i’m worried about you.”

bucky shut his eyes, a sigh of his own escaping his chest.

“i know.”

it fell quiet between them. john had closed his eyes so that he couldn't see gale’s sad baby blue’s boring into him, urging him to roll over and show him his most vulnerable parts like a dog begging for attention. for pity.

he knew gale was worried. he knew it before their fight, and he knew it now. gale wasn't an idiot. far from it, actually. he was intelligent and observant, which was why he was such a damn good pilot. he saw john’s pain before john felt it. he saw it in how john would lash out at anyone that looked at him wrong, and how he would toss and turn in his sleep at night.

“you haven't eaten in a few days.”

“i know,” bucky said again. he couldn't bear to imagine gale’s expression. “i’m tired of the same shit. if i see another potato i’ll puke.”

“bucky.” gale hissed, voice urgent. “i’m being serious.”

“so am i.”

he hadn't eaten in about three days. ever since his last serving of the same bland bullshit, he decided he would rather starve than touch it again. so what, if he lost a little weight? that seemed to be the least of his problems right now.

he didn't care anymore. he just didn't care if he withered away inside this stalag surrounded by his men. that seemed to be the most honorable thing to do at this point- because at least then he'd be around people that knew him, and celebrated him. he'd rather die here and now, miserable, than drag it out and die alone in enemy territory with no one around.

“okay, bucky.” gale mumbled, clearly on edge already and not in the mood to argue. “just…i’ll be outside with everyone else. you should eat some dinner tonight.”

the blonde stalked off, expression and gaze steely and distant as bucky rolled back onto his side, facing the wall and sighing tiredly.

night rolled around and he didn't drag himself out of bed for dinner. he couldn't. the urge to eat, to get up and walk and be active wasn't there. his will to survive had vanished.

gale wasn't the only one worried about him. he heard everyone muttering to one another behind his back as they ate the slop that was served to them half-heartedly.

‘he doesn't look good at all.’

‘i know. when’s the last time he left his bunk?’

‘hush and eat. he can probably hear you.’

bucky didn't care what they were saying. whatever it was, it was probably true. maybe word around the stalag was that major john egan was a spineless, worthless, gutless piece of shit that gave up on everyone around him when they needed him most. harsh, yes, but not necessarily wrong. john was acutely aware of how him laying in this bed, rotting for days on end was selfish to his men. he knew that they were looking to him for guidance, and all he was giving them was a depressing display of self pity.

his mind drifted back to curt. he would always tell bucky that he was one of the strongest and most resilient people he had ever met, and how he would give anything to be as half as stubborn as him.

bucky always shot back that stubborn didn't necessarily mean good, but curt refused to see him in a bad light under any circumstances.

“i got you a bowl.”

gale’s voice. he glanced over his shoulder, gazing at the metal dish that gale was holding in his direction. same meal they'd been served for the last few months. the rumbling in his stomach wasn't even a bother to him anymore.

“thanks buck,” he hummed, turning to face the wall once more. “but i’m not hungry.”

silence fell over the room, tense at bucky’s blatant refusal of the food gale offered. he heard a short sigh from his friend, as well as a scuffing of his shoe against the floor as he turned on his heel and walked away.

he felt his stomach sink with guilt, but he really wasn't hungry. what was the point of eating, prolonging his survival when he would most likely die in the very bunk he was laying in? the thought made his appetite disappear.

he pulled the thin, scratchy blankets they were given over himself, clutching it in his hands tightly as if it were the only thing keeping him tethered to this reality.

honestly, it might have been.

𓆩✧𓆪

days and days passed him by. he wasn't able to shake the dread that had begun eating at him days ago. in fact, it seemed to have consumed him whole by this point. he only left the bed when he was instructed to by those goddamn guards, or when he had to use the bathroom. he didn't get up for food, water, to exercise, to speak to friends, nothing. he was not interested but a shell of the outgoing, confident man he used to be.

gale had kept trying to get him to leave his bunk, or to at least put some food in his system. he would bring a plate of food for him every night, and bucky would refuse it all the same. he would tell him that the others were asking for him, but bucky just brushed it off. if they were really worried, they knew where to find him.

only a few other men besides gale came to check on him during the day, hambone being one of them. he started talking about how different things were without him around. it was quiet, and no one really liked it all that much. they missed his snarky comments about the german guards and how he would shit talk them all day. that got a little smile lut of him, he had to admit that. what got him feeling serious again was when hambone started talking about how gale was taking his absence.

“he’s been quiet. way quieter than normal.” he said, voice dropping low. “only says one or two words to everyone before…he just shuts down. goes into autopilot. it's not really like him.”

and he was right. after he had said that he kept think about gale, how he was probably out there with god knows how much on his mind, and for bucky to only be adding to that…

what was he doing?

was he really causing buck that much distress? the thought made his stomach sink with guilt. gale already had so much on his mind, and for bucky to act like a petulant child and add onto all of that stress and anxiety and pain he’s been bearing for the entirety of the men trapped here was so unbelievably shitty.

what kind of friend– what kind of man did something like this to his other half– his rock, his one source of sanity in this camp, in this war?

he curled in on himself further, self loathing and dread curling their ugly black tendrils around him, engulfing him in a pitch black abyss.

he felt so, so sick all of a sudden.

𓆩✧𓆪

“word is there's gonna be another march in a few days,” hambone dutifully informed him, leaning against the creaky wooden wall and staring out the window, into the yard.

bucky was actually sitting up in his bunk today, idly fidgeting with the little radio gale had crafted a few days earlier in his hands. he hadn't actually spoken to buck, finding himself unable to think of anything of value to utter to him.

“again?”

“mhm,” he mumbled, fiddling with the dirty sleeve of his sheepskin. “apparently allies are real close. gale caught word of that last night on that radio. not sure when the germans caught wind. might happen tonight.”

bucky grimaced, setting the tiny radio on the cluttered table, sighing and squeezing his eyes shut at the prospect of walking for days on end just to get to another shitty camp, and rot there for god knows how long. he hasn't eaten in a good week, and he knows his odds of surviving the march on an empty stomach are little to none.

“thanks for tellin’ me,” buck said softly, standing from his bunk and making his way towards the door, keeping his eyes glued to the floor as he stepped outside for the first time in weeks. immediately, he felt eyes on him from all angles.

‘major egan?’

‘he’s okay!’

‘christ, i thought he died…’

he smiled humorlessly, making his way over to the water pump and grabbing one of the metal jugs, placing it under the tap and filling it up with slightly murky water and sighing to himself. he hadn't seen gale yet. a small part of him was hoping that buck would be the first person waiting for him, but he also wasn't in a good headspace to talk to him right now. he didn't know what to say to him, after knowing all the torment he had put him through with his little episode.

he turned the tap off, exhaling deeply and picking up the jug– flushing when he struggled a bit due to the weakness that came with staying in bed and not eating in about a week. he lifted it on the second attempt, huffing and hauling the jug back to his bunk.

out of the corner of his eye, he saw gale, encouraging some men to push a little harder to break the ground using that damned contraption- whatever it was called. he tensed at the sight of him, speeding up his steps until he was safe back in his bunk.

he set the jug down heavily, not even thirsty anymore. that night march could kill him, for all he cared. maybe then gale’s problem’s would be solved.

he laid in his bunk miserably, jug discarded as he thought of gale. he deserved the world, he deserved to be happy, to live a life without having to worry about him being a sad sack of shit, wallowing in his self pity. he did his best to try and keep his spirits up, but he couldn't help it. he didn't have anything to look forward to anymore. life just seemed like a whirlwind of misery and he didn't know how much more he could take. so many friends lost, so many people dead.

maybe when he died, gale would finally move on, lose that stress that came with knowing him. he could only hope.

𓆩✧𓆪

john had lost track of time long ago. he only knew day and night, and occasionally he was told what month it was.

he knew it was late, evidenced by the snores of all the men around him, and how the room was pitch black. the moonlight didn't reach his bunk, leaving him alone in the darkness to stare up at the wooden slats of the bunk above him.

he heard shuffling from somewhere in the room, then the creaking of floorboards as someone moved towards his bed.

“bucky?”

gale’s voice rang in his ears, making him go completely still as if he were a scared cat. maybe he was dreaming, and the gale beside him was nothing more than a figment of his imagination, spurred on by hunger. but when gale didn't leave, he turned to look at the blonde with tired eyes.

“yeah?”

“can’t sleep,” he said softly, and the bags under his eyes seemed to prove it. “mind if i bunk with you tonight?”

bucky wanted to say so many things. ‘of course you can.’ ‘no, i don't want you to get too attached to me if i’m bound to die soon.’ ‘i love you.’ but all that came from him was a little “uh huh,” as he scoot over to make room for the blonde.

he felt his mattress dip, and a familiar warmth crowding at his side. he almost jumped up at the almost desperateness of it all, half expecting gale to just lay by him and turn the other way. the blonde wrapped his arms around his waist, a surprising amount of muscle on them from the training they had been doing in preparation for an escape, and buried his face into the nape of his neck.

it was dangerous to be doing this here, with everyone in the room. anyone could wake up and they'd probably kill them on the spot before the nazis could. no one would accept it– two respected majors, cuddled up together like shy newlyweds in the middle of a shitty stalag, when they should be leading their men, training them, helping out in some way. but, as gale tightened his arms around john, holding onto him as if he'd disappear if he let go, he found that he could care less about what everyone would think of them.

“buck,” he started, voice soft, as soft as it's been in a long while. “what–”

“i’m scared, john,” he whispered, trembling ever so slightly as he pressed closer, like he was trying to become one with the other man. “i’m trying so hard to keep up appearances, to lead and be strong, but i’m scared.” he admitted, fingers digging into john’s side.

john was shocked into silence for a minute. gale was always so well put together. he never cracked under pressure, he just didn't. up in the air, when his engines were out and his crew was panicking, he would land that b-17 like it was nothing. ‘no engine cleven’, they called him, and he just smiled in that shy little way of his, heading to the barracks to sleep off the shock and do it all over again.

he'd seen gale shaken up a few times. when they landed in africa, he was quiet. quieter than usual, anyway. he was staring off into the distance, eyebrows drawn together slightly as he worried that damned toothpick in his mouth until it snapped in two.

but for gale to admit that he was scared was…unheard of. he wasn't the type to show or admit his emotions too openly, none of them were. but being here and eating the same bland shit, not knowing if you're ever gonna get to go home, and watching the last of your friends die during nighttime marches to a new camp did something to you. it broke whatever spirit you thought you had left.

“gale, hey-” he whispered, turning on his side and gently cupping the blonde’s face, watching as tears welled up in his eyes and spilled down his flushed cheeks. “hey, look at me. none of that,”

he used his thumb to wipe away his tears, tilting his chin up so that the blonde’s glassy eyes met his. he hated seeing gale cry. he hated knowing that all this time, he's been in pain, the weight of all of these men in camp on his shoulders, counting on him, and all john has been doing is making it worse.

“i’m sorry,” gale sniffs, hiccuping softly, breath picking up as john pulls him close, allowing the blonde to hide in his chest and inhale his scent. “fuck, i’m sorry. i just don't know how much longer i– if i can do this anymore.”

those words put fear into john’s heart. if gale, the brains, the brawn, the heart and soul of the very operation to get them out of here was losing hope– what did that mean for them? were they truly doomed to die in enemy hands, holding onto the hope that allies would somehow manage to sneak close enough to the shitty camps they were held hostage in and launch an attack on the germans?

he knew most of their thinking was extremely wishful, but it was something. a little glimmer of hope in a dark, gray times. for buck, gale was that glimmer of hope– that thing he held onto when all else seemed to fail him. even when he felt he’d die here, at least it would be with buck.

he couldn't let gale give up like this. not for his sake– hell, not for everyone’s sake. if gale gave up, he gave up. and if he gave up, everyone else would give up. a hell of a burden to carry on top of everything.

“gale,” he said softly, taking both of his slender hands into his large ones, caressing the backs of his knuckles with his calloused thumb. “gale, you've gotta keep going. without you, this whole thing would fall apart.” he said, nuzzling closer to him.

“i can't save everyone, bucky.” he hiccuped, trembling in little fits and starts, shattering john’s heart as he watched. “i can't even save the person that matters most to me. if i can't do that then–”

“you don't need to save me.” john said harshly, much more harshly than he intended to. he saw gale wince, and he immediately regretted being so harsh. “i mean– you don’t– i’m just like this. nothing you can do about it, buck. it’s not your job to fix me, okay?”

“i want to. i want you to be okay, bucky. i want–”

he sniffled, nuzzling his hot, tear-stained cheeks into bucky’s large hands. “i want you to be okay. i want you to be there with me, no matter what. i just– we've lost so many men, john. so many. but i still have you. i can save you, i can help you. i just….i need to make you feel better than this. i need you to know how much you mean to me.”

bucky was stunned into silence. he spent all this time thinking gale loathed him for his behavior, wishing he was dead and gone so that he had one less thing to worry about– but gale just spilled his guts to him about how john was the most precious thing in his life right now. not marge– him. him. it made his heart swell with something ugly.

“i’ll always be with you, buck.” john said softly, stroking his blonde locks, once soft but now slightly gritty with dirt and grime from their time in the stalag. even with limited supplies to take care of his hygiene, gale managed to outshine every single one of them in terms of beauty. “what’d i say? if i’m gonna bet on anything, i’m gonna bet on us. y’hear me?”

a shaky little exhale left gale’s mouth, pressing his face into john’s chest like a boy seeking comfort from his mom after a scary dream. john didn't say anything else, just held gale close as he sniffled and sobbed into his chest until he cried himself to sleep, soft snores leaving his pretty pink lips in soft little puffs.

he felt a surge of overprotectiveness wash over him as he watched the blonde sleep, curled into his body and clutching one of john’s hands close to his chest. he didn't need to feel sorry for himself anymore. he needed to be there for gale, so that he stopped carrying these burdens on his shoulders. they were a team, always have been. always will be. nothing in this godforsaken place could change that.

𓆩✧𓆪

john got up the next morning, careful not to disturb gale, who was still sound asleep next to him. he was on his side, almost completely curled up on himself with his thumb pressed against his lips, biting at it idly.

john smiled softly, eyes filled with a fondness for the blonde as he shuffled into his shoes, heading out into the daylight to grab some rations for the both of them.

last night was extremely sobering for him. he had spent so much time wallowing in his self hatred that he hadn't realized that his neglectful actions towards himself had been affecting gale in a negative way. when his friend came to him, crying and sobbing, worried for his wellbeing, insisting that he was the only thing that was worth fighting for anymore, he knew he had to get it together.

he went to the service counter and asked for two servings of food, saying that his friend was still asleep and that he would wake him up when he got back. who would lie for extra slop anyways?

he was given two plates, and he hurried back to his bunk, where a few of the other men began to stir awake, including gale.

“mornin, boys,” he said, setting down his two plates on the lightly cluttered table. “food’s gettin’ served up. go grab some.”

they all let out a noncommittal groan as he sat down at his bunk, digging into his mean of bland potatoes. it didn't taste any better than the last time he ate it, but he’ll be damned if he wasn't hungry.

gale sat up beside him, blinking the sleep from his eyes, which were slightly puffy from crying. his baby blue’s landed on john and widened as he saw him scarfing down the bland mush.

john smiled at him. “mornin’,”

“you're eating.” he said, voice quivering slightly.

he shrugged slightly, stirring the mush around absentmindedly. “got hungry. craved potatoes. you’ll never guess what the canteen was servin’.”

gale was on him in a matter of seconds, hugging him tightly and pressing his face into his shoulder. he was trembling, a shaky exhale leaving him as john set his plate down, returning the hug and smiling against his shoulder.

“thank you.” he whispered, voice so heart-wrenchingly vulnerable.

“don't count on it.”

𓆩✧𓆪

gale bunked with him for the next few nights, out of pure need for comfort and reassurance. he was obviously happy that bucky was eating again, but he was still stressed with all of the ongoings in the camp.

bucky had stepped in and gave a hand in training, instructing the men in what to do and how to do it, but there were just so many of them. on top of that, those german bastards were always waving their guns around, yelling at them whenever they felt like it. john had almost gotten into it with a few of them, but gale har talked him down.

what would he do without him?

“you need to be more careful when you talk to the guards.” gale said, idly smoothing down the fabric of john’s thin sleep shirt, which made john’s chest fill with warmth.

“to hell with those guards.” he muttered angrily, looking into gale’s eyes with a steely determination. “i just got my spirit back. i ain’t gonna let these nazi bastards destroy it again.”

“they'll shoot you, bucky.” gale said softly, looking up at him with a hard gaze. “zero hesitation. they've done it to other men before, and they’ll do it to you.”

“and then they’ll have a hell of a riot on their hands.” he laughs softly, which made gale sigh and press his forehead to his chest.

“why can't you just be good?”

the words caught john off guard, making his cheeks flush and his heartbeat kick up a notch. he felt his heartbeat pick up whenever gale was close to him like this, but it was a pace he had gotten used to, honestly. but hearing gale tell him to be good in a soft voice– as if he were speaking to a dog made his heartbeat kick up in another way entirely.

“uhm,” he started, face flushed a soft pink, hands finding gale’s waist and fidgeting with the hem of the blonde’s shirt. “i can– i can be good, i jus’...”

he was stumbling over his words painfully obviously. he was hoping that gale couldn't see the flush on his face in the darkness of the room, but knowing his luck he probably could.

“what's wrong?” gale asked softly, eyes lidded as his hands halted on john’s broad chest, thumb idly brushing across the fabric of his shirt in soothing little circles. “your heart is beating really hard.”

“nothin’.” he said, way too quickly for it to be true. “just. hot. i ‘unno.”

silence fell, save for the sounds of breathing from the men around them, and their own soft breathing. john really took in gale in this moment, how soft and vulnerable he looked.

his sleep shirt was loose on him, thanks to him losing weight in the camp over the months they’ve been here. his eyes were soft with sleep, lips pink and plump and parted with each little breath he took. god, he was gorgeous. he wanted nothing more than to take him on the bed right now, make him cry out his name so that everyone in the room knew who he belonged to.

he’d had these thoughts of gale since they met in basic training, but they had only gotten worse the longer they stayed in camp. back on base, he was able to keep his mind off of gale, or at least quell his desire by picking up some desperate broad in a bar and sleeping with her. but now, he looked at gale and could hardly keep his mind out of the gutter. he hated it.

“hot, huh?” gale chuckled softly, hands running up john’s chest and resting on his shoulders. “you're a bad liar when it comes to me, y’know that?”

john flushed darker, hands tightening on gale’s waist and pulling him closer, careful to keep their lower halves apart so that the blonde didn’t feel his erection through his shorts. “i’m not lying.”

“mhm?” the blonde chuckles, leaning closer to him, invading his space so that their noses touched, breath mingling together as they stared at one another tenderly, something more carnal and desirous underneath. “why're you hard then?”

bucky choked on a gasp, his face completely red to the point where he was sure gale could see it, even in the dark. their lower halves weren't touching, and yet, gale had known. read him like a book.

“how’d you–?”

“you have a thing you do,” he says, thumb rubbing at his collarbone gently. “you stumble over your words. start touchin’ things with your hands. fidgeting. sometimes it's more noticeable. its a lot less noticeable when you hit on girls at a bar, but i picked up on it.”

john huffed, worrying his bottom lip with his teeth and averting his eyes. he wasn't expecting gale to call him out so straightforwardly. it made him embarrassed. he also didn't expect gale to trail a hand down to the hem of his shorts, dipping his cool fingers inside and making john gasp sharply.

“want me to take care of it?”

“gale,” john hissed, eyes wide as the blonde’s nimble fingers trailed lower and lower, scratching at the wiry hair just above his hard cock. “our men are all around us. they might hear us.”

“then you'll have to be quiet, won’t you?”

a strangled noise left john’s throat as gale wrapped his thin fingers around his hot, hard length, giving a tentative squeeze. a shuddery breath left deep from bucky’s chest, his hands squeezing gale’s waist so hard he was bound to leave bruises.

“that good?” gale whispered, shuffling his boxers down and letting john’s cock free completely, swiping his thumb across the head and gathering the precum there so the friction of his hand was less harsh. bucky didn't have it in him to answer coherently, so he just nodded and bucked his hips upwards into gale’s touch.

it was intoxicating, the way his fingers occasionally caught under the sensitive head of his cock and made his cock jerk and leak even more, all over gale’s pretty hand.

“see? look at you.” the blonde cooed, eyes lidded and practically glowing as he gave a twist of his wrist on the upstroke, relishing in the little groans and gasps bucky let out. “you can be good for me, why can't you be good out there? i know you're a good boy, bucky. such a good dog.”

“jesus christ,” bucky swore, stomach tensing up and cock leaking into gale’s palm thickly, precum making the glide of his palm slicker. “i’m gunna cum- oh, god, buck–”

“shh,”

the blonde scolded him lightly, free hand moving to cover his mouth firmly as he jerked him off faster, the wet, slick noises coming from between them downright obscene. he felt like a girl getting laid in her bedroom, her parents right next door as her boyfriend fingered her so good she couldn't help but whine and whimper.

he didn't have time to warn gale as he shot off, thick ropes of his spend painting buck’s chest and stomach a pretty pearlescent white. when he pulled his shirt up, he didn't know.

he came down from his high, and found gale’s lips on his. he kissed back, gentle and hungry at the same time, like he wanted to devour gale whole. he pulled him close, choking out a gasp into the kiss as he felt gale’s erection press into his hip.

“buck,” he panted, letting the blonde thrust against him minutely, the little pleased noises he let out going straight to john’s spent cock, bringing it back to life. “lemme– lemme make you feel good.”

gale exhaled sharply, rolling his hips against him more desperately, now. “please.”

john flipped them over so fast that it gave them both whiplash for a moment. it was short lived, though as he was faced with the sight of gale’s hard cock straining at his boxers. john’s large hands spread the blonde’s thighs apart, tugging his boxers down his hips and letting his pretty pink cock spring free from its confines.

john was on him in an instant, licking at the clear bead of precum that gathered at the pretty pink head. gale gasped softly, his breath shaky and deep as john laved his dick in attention, running his hot tongue along the vein that adorned the underside, sucking at the tip, doing anything but taking it in his mouth yet– to enamored by the sweet little noises gale was making.

“john, please.” buck whimpered, voice soft and needy as he thrust upwards, cockhead sliding against bucky’s wet lips. “please,”

he begged so prettily. who was he to resist?

he finally took gale into his mouth in one go, nose nestled into a small thatch of blonde pubic hair just above his dick. gale bit back a moan, hands flying into john’s pretty curls, gripping them so hard that he was sure he ripped a few strands out. the sting made bucky moan around gale’s length, bobbing his head slowly.

he loved every little noise that left gale– the little gasps and quiet keens as he drooled around his cock, eyelashes fluttering as the tip of his cock nudged at the back of his throat. he wishes that he could hear gale at full volume, whining and begging for more– but they couldn't. not here.

“such a good mouth,” gale moaned, voice breathy and deep and so smooth to his ears, melting his brain as he pulled off his cock completely, licking at his dripping slit and collecting his precum with his tongue. “fuck, wish i could keep your mouth on me all day. keep you quiet. fuck–”

hearing gale cleven, straight edge, no gambling, hates sports gale cleven talking dirty to him like this sent shockwaves directly to his cock. he took him all the way back into his mouth, groaning deep in his throat as he ground against the rough sheets of the mattress, brows furrowed in concentration and pleasure as he took hold of gale’s slender hips. he felt so filthy, so needy and desperate for anything gale would give him, like a stray dog begging for food.

he wanted anything gale would give him. affection, hatred, love, loathing– he was hungry for all of it, for him. his cock was amazing on his tongue, hot and heavy and velvety, leaking in copious amounts down his throat as he swallowed every last drop of him. he could feel gale spasm in his throat, close to orgasm, and he found himself feeling greedier by the second.

“jesus christ,” buck gasped, hips lifting from the mattress, hand tightening in john’s curls, pulling him down onto his length frantically as his stomach began to spasm and tense up. “i’m– i’m gonna– john–”

his throat was flooded with gale’s spend, and he worked his throat around his sensitive cock dutifully as he swallowed it all. it was the sweetest thing he’d ever tasted, it made him hot, it made his brain melt, it made him needy for more–

he felt his cock spill against the sheets, a small whimper caught in his throat as he rode out his orgasm.

when he came to, he was aware of gale whimpering from overstimulation as he absentmindedly suckled at his cock.

“john, please,” he whined, trying to pull free. “enough.”

bucky pulled off, cheek resting on his thigh stickily. they were both panting, faces flushed and eyes glossy with aroused tears. they locked eyes, and john couldn't help the surge of emotion that overcame him as he shot up, capturing gale’s lips in a soft kiss. at this moment, everything felt like it would be okay.

“we should clean up,” gale mumbled against his lips, panting softly. “made a mess.”

“yeah,” john agreed, kissing him again, quicker this time. “think we can score new sheets?”

“we can jus’ move to my bunk for now. toss these sheets aside for morning laundry.” gale hummed, yawning softly and rubbing at his eyes like a sleepy little kid. how he could be so goddamn cute after doing something so filthy was beyond him.

“alright,” john hummed, watching as gale tucked himself into his boxers. “lemme wipe ya down first.”

john untucked a corner of the bedsheets, using them to wipe at gale’s cum stained torso gently, gale squirmed under the attention slightly, blushing at the way john was looking at him, full of love and reverence, like he hung the sun and the stars himself.

once he'd finished, he let gale stand and move back to his bunk, allowing john to rid his bed of the stained sheets and toss them aside for laundry. he'd find an excuse later.

he made his way to gale’s bunk, reversing the roles and cuddling up to gale, nuzzling into his neck and sighing deeply. gale smiled softly, hand carding through his hair gently.

“next time, we’ll try to make less of a mess,” he mumbled, voice deep with sleep as he pulled john closer.

“next time, huh? you fantasizing about it already?”

buck rolled his eyes, and bucky didn't miss the faint flush on his cheeks.

“i’m just saying. it’ll be nicer. maybe it’ll be in a proper bed, without all these people around. just the two of us, in our own bed,” he mumbled, eyes drifting shut. “just us, bucky.”

“buck–”

he didn't get to ask what he meant. he had already fallen asleep, snoring softly into the darkness of the room. buck went silent, pressing his ear to buck’s chest and listening to his steady heartbeat as he mulled over his words. his heart felt like it was going to jump out of his chest.

maybe they would get out of here. if it meant he and buck would have a promising life together, he would be damned if he died in one of these godforsaken camps.

he would make it. for them.

taglist: @mooodyblue @lauvmyself @kaiistheguy @slowsweetlove

[pyreo]

I know there's people who like their fantasy storytelling to take a few steps away from reality, you know. Nothing that verges on allegorical to the stuff we worry about in real life. And I think I'm on the opposite team to that and y'know, the further away we get from gw2's original core story the more I see The World Summit instance as more pivotal than it appeared.

It's the part in the middle of Season 2 where you bring the world leaders together to try and insist that they need to aid you fighting Mordremoth, a primal force who's only just now awakened and started causing disruption and deaths. Mechanically, it serves to show the various cultures being made aware of the upcoming antagonist for mostly the first time.

But there's something that grips me to this day about the realism in that segment. You know full well that this thing is beginning its warpath and will kill those around you. You and your guild know that you need to take action immediately before it gathers itself together to a point you cannot fight it any more. I don't think the scene serves much more than obligatory scaffolding in a narrative sense but it echoes the way I feel in real life all the time. It's the focal point where I've never felt more aligned with my Commander.

Smodur: They're plant creatures! How hard can they be to fight. One good flamethrower and…

Knut: Mordremoth is not yet as close as the Sons of Svanir. They press in around our homesteads. That is more important.

Phlunt: Are you saying we should put ourselves on the line to protect all of you? We are safe in Rata Sum.

Jennah: I'm not ashamed to admit that I don't see how this will work. What are you asking of us?

It's not easy to ask the Main Five Peoples to get anything done together - they do come from legitimately incompatible cultures and there's bad history between humans and charr, and sylvari and asura. But you have to present an argument to each one to convince them this is the most important thing to devote resources to.

It's been about ten years since this was written and it still feels exactly like every conversation that deflects from the reality of climate change. The 'we have bigger things to worry about', the 'it's not that bad', the denials, the giving up, the ones who have enough to feel secure individually and don't really care.

That and the way the narrative turns from 'you're the hero, slay the dragon' to a domino effect that cannot be stopped, wrenching the planet off its hinges and it was all down to you. There's a big difference in changing the threat from ancient dragons awakening to devour all life... and it being the Commander's fault that the stabilising effect those dragons had is unplugged. The allegory becomes undeniable - you doomed the world. You have to chase down that tether and pull the weave back from unravelling even if it'll tear you apart. And even if nobody realises how close their lives are to ending, even if nobody respects you for it.

You have to look the most powerful people alive in the eye and plead with them to fucking help you for god's sake knowing it's a crisis and if you don't take action right now instead of waiting for it to get worse... being able to tell them 'I told you so' will be no solace at all.

And fuckin.... if fantasy stories are there to give us hope for ourselves, nothing hits as directly as the journey from "It's not that bad, why should we put anything on the line for you?" to

That hope means something very real to me.

[soaps-hoe-141]

Drowning In The Depths

More art by @foreverrunningfree Everyone say thank you cause this shit cute af

Part 11

Pairing: Captain Price x Male!Reader

WC: 12k

Synopsis: Come rot ya teeth. Both of them are being vulnerable, this shit as rare as a double rainbow (heh get it cause it's pride...I'm sorry).

Warnings: You will need to see a dentist after this chapter, I'm sorry. They needed, they deserved it, and so did I.

Pulling the phone away from your ear you blinked at the ended call screen for a few short moments. What the hell? Why…Just why? Why was it always in the middle of something? Shock and frustration were mixing in your head, making you grip the phone a bit tighter than you should have as you stared ahead at the wall. This was absolutely some bullshit. You felt your jaw tense, teeth clenching together as you tried to fight back that little worm of anger starting to wake up in the back of your mind. 

The bed shifted under your knees as John sat back down and you watched as he leaned back against the wall with a frustrated sigh, apparently he was in agreement with your unspoken thoughts. This wasn’t an unusual thing to you, getting called away in the middle of something important, but it had been a long time since you’d experienced it and you had to admit that the annoyance was beginning to turn into something akin to nerves. Especially when the brunette beside you growled out in a low tone, "Bloody hell." Your eyes darted nervously to him, worried he was about to blame you for this.

Well not so much worried, that was maybe the wrong word. It was more like you were expecting to catch the blame. It was always your fault, especially when it was work calling you. Your ex-wife had made that clear enough, it didn’t matter if the same thing had happened more than once now and it hadn’t been you getting called away. It certainly didn’t matter than when it had been John getting called away you hadn’t blamed him in the slightest. This still felt like it was somehow your fault, like you could have changed Laswell’s mind on when she would call you. Doubtful, that woman definitely had a mind of her own.

Instead John just growled out again and shifted uncomfortably on the sheets, "Every time, every bloody time." Shit here it comes. Your eyes darted to the phone in your hand and then back to him slowly, just in time to see him run a hand down over his face. His fingers audibly scratched against the short brown hairs along his jaw, smoothing them down where they had canted up slightly.

Your eyes slid down to where his cock laid against his stomach now as he ignored it stubbornly, unable to hold his gaze in the oncoming hurricane of what would soon be his anger directed at you. It was obvious he was aching as he shifted his hips against the bed and you saw his freehand grip into the muscle of his thigh in an attempt to still ignore it. Ignore the pulsing and twitching against the skin of his stomach. The throbbing that you could feel mirrored in your own cock. God this was gonna be bad.

John cleared his throat, trying to raise your gaze to his. The Brit shifted forward in his attempt, finally earning a quick flick up of your eyes for his troubles. When your gazes met he took a breath and gave you- Wait was that a smile? His mouth turned up at the corners, it was a tight smile but a smile nonetheless. The nerves began to melt away almost immediately, and you watched as he shook his head before tucking his erection away and the Brit asked calmly, his tone only what you could describe as soft, gentle, "When did you get a phone?" He buttoned the jeans back as you continued to watch him. Almost incredulous about how well he was taking this.

That wasn't an accusatory question, it was simply a curious one, akin to a conversation starter. Your own brows furrowed a bit still expecting the other shoe to drop but he merely raised his brunette brows slowly. He was expecting an answer from you rather than just deadpan silence, you’d forgotten about needing to provide a response in order to carry a conversation for a moment. Your eyes blinked at him a couple times as you fought to regain control of your mouth.

Finally you got your thoughts and limbs back under your control. You pulled the jeans back up over the swell of your ass, ignoring the painful throb at the base of your erection. Clearing your throat you sat down beside him with a deep breath. You looked down at the phone in your hand and finally muttered, "Today actually. Wade gave it to me earlier today. I didn't know anyone even had the number, especially not fuckin Laswell." You reached out to hand it to him instinctively. Any time your ex-wife had mentioned your phone it'd been because she wanted to go through your things.

Sure there wasn't anything on it at the moment but it was still a reaction you couldn't quite suppress. John though just glanced down at it in confusion before he shook his head and gave a light huff of amusement, "No, love, I believe you. Just worried this'll mean we have twice the interruption possibilities in the future." Future, that was good. Future meant he wasn’t at least directly blaming you.

Slowly you pulled it back towards you with a slow nod. You couldn’t stop the sigh of relief, still lingering on how he’d said “Future.” Future meant this wasn’t just a few good kickin of the boots, this was something he didn’t plan on stopping, at least not soon. You hid the relief in your eyes though, the last thing you needed was for him to think you were attached or something…Right? 

Quickly you looked through the phone for the first time since you’d gotten it. Funny enough everyone on the team was already in the contact list, must have been Wade's doing. It was a team phone so you gotta have the team’s numbers, at least it made sense. You typed out a quick message to the number listed in John’s contact, shooting him a simple text. A bit curious to see if the number was actually his or not. Sure enough a second later a little ding came from his bedside table and he smiled a bit, not bothering to look in its direction. “Wade really came prepared with this one.” You gave him a small smile then, catching the lines of worry around his eyes just as they melted off his face and he gave you a nod in answer. 

That primal look in his eyes was gone for the moment as he relaxed against the wall his bed was shoved against. What was he worried about? You? That made something in your stomach do a flip, it felt odd to say the least, but it wasn’t entirely unpleasant. "You better get going then, Laswell doesn't like to be kept waiting. And she doesn't call for just any reason," your eyes widened just a smidgen as you remembered what had interrupted the two of you. Laswell, yes, that's right. You had people to interrogate and a role to play.

Sliding the phone into your pocket you took a breath and glanced down at the tent that was visible in your boxers without your pants buttoned up yet, "Almost forgot about that.” You huffed in sardonic amusement before continuing “I'll uh, if you want I can come back?" You offered hesitantly and he gave you another curious look before you quickly added, "Or not, whichever is fine. I don't have to. Just thought, nevermind-" Starting to scoot off the bed you felt a strong hand grasp at your forearm then, halting your progress as his head tilted a bit.

A little, warm smile was visible in his eyes as he leaned forward, managing to actually catch you off guard. John pressed a soft kiss against your mouth, much more gentle than the one you'd shared earlier. As he pulled away his fingers ran through the hair at the nape of your neck before he spoke again, "If you have time, of course I want you to come back, sweetheart. You're always welcome here, yeah?" His brows rose expectantly, nodding a bit of encouragement until you joined him in nodding along. Refusing to let you remain stoic, wanting to make sure that you did in fact know you were wanted. 

The Brit took a deep breath and a low sigh left his mouth as the hand in your hair pulled you forward, your forehead pressing against his. Neither of you really wanted to leave, that much was obvious, but the both of you knew that work was work. When was it not? When did it not always pull you away from the best things in your life? There’d been a lot more than just leaving John eight months ago that this job had taken from you by force.

Finally though you heard him force out a quick, "Good." One of his large hands slid around to cup the side of your face tenderly, such a drastic contrast to the man who had been about to fuck your brains out not even five minutes ago. He leaned back against the wall again with another sigh and nodded towards the door before he said, "Go see what she needs. When you're done though come back here, can't forget to get your stuff, yeah? It'll be safe here. I won’t let anything happen to it. I swear by it, love. " You didn't even have to look at him sideways in order to get his reassurance, he just gave it without prompting. A proffered encouragement that normally you’d have had to beg for. John was so very different from anyone you'd ever encountered before. Drastically so.

Letting your tense muscles relax you gave another quick nod, "Ok. Yeah I'll just come back," you stopped yourself before you said something stupid but you could feel the slightest hint of a smile playing at the corner of your mouth. It was suppressed though, hidden behind that disappointment that you couldn’t stay here and finish what had been started. Well not really suppressed, more like it was muted. Like the difference between color TV and black and white. It was still there, you could still see it, but you missed some things, it wasn’t quite as eye-catching or vibrant. It was…Hollow.

Still though you forced yourself to move as you slid to the edge of the bed, pausing as you reached it. Your eyes flicked to the legs stretched out beside you, before you glanced back at his curious blue hues again, “I’m sorry.” John shook his head and was already opening his mouth to answer but for once you beat him to the punch, “But thank you, for helping with that.” His mouth shut slowly before he took in a deep breath like he was about to answer before he stopped himself and gave a single nod with a soft smile.

Standing from the bed you reached down to work on buttoning your own pants back. This damn team was gonna give you blue balls before it was all said and done. That wasn’t a worry, that was a fact. There’s no way it wasn’t going to, with how many times these fuckers interrupted the both of you it was a miracle it hadn’t happened yet.

You palmed yourself through the fabric, letting out a deep sigh as you adjusted yourself trying not to think about what you could have been doing if it wasn’t for that fucking phone call. John huffed out behind you, and when you glanced back you saw him doing the exact same thing. Apparently he too was feeling that throb that was refusing to subside. Taking a deep sigh you flexed the muscles in your arms and thighs before you zipped the jeans and fastened the belt again. This was gonna be torturous, almost certainly.

When you glanced back once more John had his face to the ceiling, his eyes shut as he took in a few deep breaths, his jaw tense and the muscles in his neck flexing. Restraining himself from doing something you were almost certain was akin to every time you’d fucked the air because of him. There was a slight grimace on his face that melted away when he realized you weren’t moving anymore. His eyes opened quickly before his blue gaze fixed on you and he tilted his head. Giving him a small smile you cautioned, “Gonna give yourself blue balls there, John. Be careful,” his gaze narrowed as you started to back up towards the door.

He sat up from the wall slowly, sliding to the edge with his gaze still firmly on your slowly retreating form. “Hier, Cerberus,” the dog hurried out from under the table he’d settled underneath once more to join you. A smirk found your mouth before you added to him, “You’ve still got my picture. Don’t think I forgot about it, have fun…Sir,” there was a shift from him on the bed as your eyes darted to the table, his gaze following just as quickly.

The picture he’d tried to take from you sat underneath where you’d left his phone. You heard the light chuckle but sadly you didn’t get the pleasure to see it. The door shut behind you with a thud and you smiled at the ground, face warm and a smile you could no longer hide spread across your face. You glanced up at the sky, a warmth that wasn’t embarrassment or arousal flooded you, something foreign and unknown. It made your heart ache in your chest, but in a way that felt so good it was kind of insane how wide it made you smile despite yourself. God what was he doing to you?

It felt like you were a disney princess and you’d just met your handsome prince for the first time or some bullshit like that. Whatever it was the kids liked to imagine they would run off into the sunset with nowadays. What kind of idiotic, immature emotions were clouding your mind when it came to him? You weren’t sure in all honesty. However, you knew they were good ones, at least good enough to make your mind whirl. It may have been a fucked up fairytale but it was your fucked up fairytale. Not to mention all the sensations rushing through you right now were enough to make you forget how stupid it was to feel like this. This was yours to fuck up now, and there was no way you were letting that man get away. You doubted there was a thing in the world that could keep you from getting your happy ending now.

Shaking your head with a smile plastered to your face, you returned your eyes to the world in front of you. You jolted yourself out of your thoughts, cheeks burning and stomach turning more than a few flips as you headed down the stairs and off on your path. The faster you got this job done the faster you’d be able to get back to him, back to the happiest you’d ever been in your entire life. Work face Speck, get it together. Your smile dropped and you raised a hand to run over your face, clearing it of the easy smile that had been stuck there moments before. Taking in a deep breath you glanced down to the Dutchie at your side as you made your way towards one of the buildings on base. Get your head in the game, there's no telling what you were about to have to do now.

You walked quickly through the hallways, somehow managing to remember the twists and turns all the way back to the interrogation room that had held Labeeb not too long ago. There was a guard standing by the door a little bit down the hall just as there had been the last time. You, however, moved to the other door and raised your knuckles. Your closed fist knocked against it and waited for a few moments. It didn’t take long though before it swung inward, Laswell standing there in front of you before she stepped aside and let you into the room. As you stepped inside your eyes flicked to the one way glass with a sinking feeling creating the beginnings of a pit in your stomach.

One of al-Mustafa’s wives and his son were sitting in a chair in the middle of the white walled room, with a plain metal table in front of her. They'd gotten his first wife, Munisa, a woman in her late thirties from Sierra Leone. At least it hadn't been the second wife with the three daughters, sure that one had been talkative, but every word she'd said had been a lie. Not to mention wrangling three children had made her somewhat immune to things like sleep deprivation and audio torture. The last thing you wanted was to be taking a knife to anyone, that was always a last resort.

You'd held all three of those women and the six children for a week, this was the same woman you’d threatened to kill already, she was never going to tell you anything. She had no reason to, so what was Laswell planning on doing? They hadn’t seen you yet sure, they’d been blindfolded on the way back to base from the warehouse and it was doubtful they would have recognized your voice seeing how easily you changed accents, but this still felt like a bad idea. The confusion was written on your face plainly as Laswell crossed her arms and gestured to the woman through the glass, “I need you to translate.” Really? That’s what had been so damn important she couldn’t wait till John and you were finished? Sure she hadn't known what you were doing, but she'd said ASAP, that you needed to get there now, so why the fuck was it something as stupid as just translating.

The annoyance must have flashed over your features momentarily because you could have sworn there was an amused smile playing at those lips. Like she was privy to information she had no need to know…She probably was, “Something wrong, Speck? Do you have something better to do?” Well no but actually yes. Someone better to do was a more accurate statement.

Your eyes narrowed at her for a moment sensing that somehow she knew, or at least suspected. Shit, had Soap gotten to her as well? Suddenly she gestured for you to follow her, “Play it like you did Labeeb. Relay my questions to her and, what was it you called it last time? Playing your role?” You gave her a slow nod at the questioning tone and she smiled before continuing, “I’ll let you go about it how you see fit. Just get me the information I need.” You followed her out of the observation room, so you did have a real reason for being here then even if you didn't like it. She was using you, that’s fair though, you were a tool. The point of the spear, or at least that was what the Navy had taught you. You stopped as she did in front of the door of the interrogation room, “And I’ll be in there with you, so no going off the rails this time.”

Oh just fuckin great. So now you get another pair of eyes looking over your shoulder. When were people going to learn to just let go of the leash when it came to you? You watched as she typed in her code for the door before she turned the knob. She paused though holding it closed as she turned to look back at you for a few moments with her brows raised expectantly and you finally sighed and nodded, “Yes ma’am. I will stay on the train tracks this time, alright?”

Her smile was pleasant enough as she pushed open the door with a nod. You added in your own thoughts though this time, 'Not like you could understand me if I didn't though.' A hint of that rebelliousness that had made you such a talented leader when you were still a SEAL peeking through your thoughts even as you fought to smother it. Just get the job done, Speck, no need to complicate shit. It was already complicated enough. “Sitz, Cerberus, bleib,” you whispered quietly to the dog, watching him take a seat beside the door before you followed the CIA agent inside.

When she stepped inside though not only did your attitude completely change, hers did as well. You stayed behind Laswell until she broke off to take a seat in the chair across from the woman and her son. As she sat down though you stayed behind the middle aged woman, just out of sight, her young son sitting in her lap with her arms wrapped protectively around him. His back rising and falling slowly as he slept in her arms.

Your jaw tensed at the sight. It had been nearly impossible to look at them the first time you’d taken those women and their children. Now, to look at this sleeping boy wrapped up in his mother’s arms, how did Laswell expect you to make it through this. Especially after you’d unwrapped all those emotions and memories with John and exposed your vulnerability once more. Hell just seeing that kid’s small body made your chest hurt, like an elephant was sitting directly over your heart and refusing to move. There was no way you were gonna make it through this, fuckin hell.

No, Speck. Not now, you had a job to do. You’ve done it how many time before? Just one more time, that’s all you needed. Just one more time and this was all going to be over. So do it. Laswell’s voice sounded first from the table as she addressed the woman, “Munisa?” A dark set of eyes lifted from the table she’d been watching studiously to look directly at the blonde woman in front of her. She didn’t seem to notice there was another person in the room yet, that was fine though, it gave you time to come to terms with your own thoughts. To put your own demons at bay and get your head back on right.

She was definitely one of the women you’d held captive for four days. Jesus fucking christ you couldn’t even look her in the eyes. Hell you could barely even look at her reflection and she still hadn’t even noticed you were there. How was she going to react when she did notice you? Her voice as she spoke made your brows furrow for a moment. She wasn’t hoarse anymore, she was recovering at least. Fuck, get it together Speck. That hadn’t been you, that had been a role you had to play. Quit thinking about it. The past is the past. Three foot world idiot. Play this role now and you never have to look at her again. “No English,” her tone was unsure and cautious, almost distrustful. Still you stayed silent, no need to draw attention to yourself before you were ready.

Laswell nodded quickly to the woman before she answered in English, “I know you don’t speak English. I’ve brought a translator.” You relayed the blonde’s words in Temne, a Niger-Congo dialect. The woman visibly tensed the moment she heard your voice, her shoulders and spine going rigid in the chair. Hell even her arms tightened around the little boy, pulling him tight to her chest. The reaction only made your gaze fall from her reflection, trying to forget what you’d done to cause that and failing miserably. There was no forgetting what you’d done, just get through this.

Your eyes slid back up just as her dark hues darted up to find you in the one way glass, her eyes going wide even as you watched her breathing start to quicken. Oh yeah, she definitely still remembered you. No doubt about that. Somehow you managed to keep away any visible reaction the moment you knew she was watching, and even your voice stayed steady as you translated the agent’s words to the woman. You had done your research on her before you’d met her the first time. Originally she had been from Sierra Leone, in particular the northern province. And as she eyed you, you saw the fear that so many innocents felt when they saw you. She was not the first person to fear the sight of you though, and she likely wouldn’t be the last.

Her hands were near shaking now as she hid her son’s face from your gaze. “Get him out of here. I don’t want that devil anywhere near my son again.” She spoke to Laswell but she couldn’t communicate with the American. Her words were frantic, but there was no meaning there. You watched her as she tried to get it across in Temne, but the blonde woman merely furrowed her brows and looked up at you as if she was oblivious to what you had done to cause the fear in those eyes. As if she couldn’t see terror hidden in those dark, inky pools. Hell Laswell didn’t know though. Sure she could make a good educated guess, but she didn’t really know.

Since you didn’t know the extent of her English you maintained the role even as you spoke to the CIA agent across from her, “She is afraid of Americans, ma’am. This woman does not wish to be corrupted by your country’s loose morals.” Your accent had obviously been from the deep south just a minute ago when you were talking to Laswell outside. Now though it was obviously more local. Not quite recognizable to any particular region, but it was certainly as far from American as one could get. That skin was now shed and you’d slid into a new one, one that had your gaze darkening in a silent threat at her. Play the role and get this shit over with.

Shifting your gaze back down to the woman, you listened as Laswell spoke again, “Tell her not to be afraid. We only wish to ask her a few questions and then she will be free to go.” You nodded slowly and you weighed the words in your mind. Wondering how you could put this without relaying Laswell’s exact words. How to construe the meaning to further your own cause? A silent moment passed as Munisa glanced up at the glass and then back to the blonde woman waiting to hear what she had to say on what was almost certainly bated breath.

Finally you settled on, “We leave when you answer our questions. She can’t understand you, and if you try to tell her something that I don’t like…” Your words trailed off as you watched her in the glass, her eyes darting nervously back and forth between the blonde’s sky blue eyes and your own hues. Munisa started to shake her head slowly, about to refuse to cooperate until you said again, “You know what I am willing to do, think of your son.”

Dark pools flicked down to her son as her grip tightened on the sleeping form clutched in her arms once more. Laswell’s head tilted curiously as she looked up at you wondering what it was you had said even though you were sure she understood the gist of it all. When she looked back up at the blonde woman there was a look almost of acceptance in her eyes. There was nothing she could do but cooperate, not without risking her and her son’s life. The American woman had played her cards right once more. She had used you once again to her own gains, your past which was darkened with the blood of the innocent aiding in her quest to hunt down Al-Mustafa.

Munisa sat a little straighter, her arms still wrapped around her son as she pulled him down into the safety of her bosom. Finally she spoke again and you listened as she did her best to project confidence into her voice, “I will answer her questions. Do not touch my son, you demon.” Under any other circumstances you might have laughed, you definitely would have smiled, but not here and not now. She deserved respect and you wished you could have given it, but it wasn’t your place.

Turning your eyes to Laswell you finally stepped around the table, taking a seat beside the blonde as you translated simply, “She will answer your questions. What do you want to know?” Your eyes narrowed when you noticed the woman across from you swallow hard, she understood that, or some of it at least. You’d have to be careful with your words both in English and in Temne. When you looked back to Laswell you could see the recognition in her eyes as well.

Good. That meant you wouldn’t have to police her words as well. The American woman sat forward then, the file in her hands hitting the table now as she began the interrogation in earnest. “You are the wife of Amaan Al-Mustafa, correct?” You translated for the woman as she gave a slow, cautious nod in the affirmative. “Munisa I need for you to answer me verbally for my records,” again you translated Laswell’s request.

The woman sighed before she gave another, firmer nod and answered, “Yes I am one of Amaan al-Mustafa’s wives. He has two others, but I am his first wife.” It took you a moment to translate the words in your mind. The Niger-Congo dialects were so hard to work through sometimes considering they weren’t actual languages themselves, rather they were just different ways of saying certain words. It made your thoughts pound as you sorted through what she had said, taking a few moments as you stared at the woman now sitting across from you. Both women’s eyes were on you now as the silence began to stretch on, neither really understanding why you still weren’t saying anything. Munisa even went so far as to pull her son closer to her as she watched you, afraid she might have said something that you didn’t like.

Finally though you managed to give Laswell a translation, telling the blonde, “She is only one of al-Mustafa’s wives. He has two more.” Quickly your eyes darted to the darker skinned woman who met your gaze for only a moment before shooting her eyes down to the tufts of curly hair that her son sported. “I believe the other two are named Reema and Raita, they are sisters.” At the mention of the other two women you saw a momentary chink in her carefully created exterior. It wasn’t that much different than your own carefully constructed armor. Your eyes narrowed for a moment as you watched her before you asked her, “What is it? Are you holding out on us, Munisa?” Her jaw tensed as her mouth pressed to the soft, wiry curls atop her son’s precious head.

She started to shake her head, but when she glanced up to find your cold gaze she stopped mid shake. Had her head and neck not been covered you knew you would have seen her throat bobbing as she swallowed. Oh yeah she was definitely holding onto a piece of information, and it was your job to get that information no matter what it took. Sliding the chair back slowly you stood up, stepping around the table to sit on it beside her. Close enough that you could have reached out to touch her if you were so inclined. More importantly though you were closer to the boy now, she jolted at the change and immediately shifted the boy to her other shoulder.

It was a futile attempt to keep him away from you. Your brows knitted together in annoyance even as the little boy began to finally stir from his sleep after his mother had moved him so abruptly. Fuck, just stay quiet kid, please don’t do anything stupid. You couldn’t hurt that kid, no matter how much you tried to bluff and scare her, that was a line you couldn’t cross. It was a line you would toe but the idea of hurting that little boy was hitting too close to home.

Your own son hadn’t been much older than him when you’d last seen him. The memory of holding him as a baby still sat so close to your heart there was no way in hell you’d ever be able to bring yourself to harm the little boy in front of you. Your two kids were the only light you’d gotten from your marriage with Rachel. They were truly the only reason you’d ever even married her and stayed married. How could you put that behind you and harm this innocent child? You couldn’t.

When a pair of chocolate brown eyes lifted to find your face it felt like you were frozen. Hide it, don’t let her see it. If she sees the weakness you will lose every bit of leverage you had over her. She will know. Role, play your role, that’s it play the role. A smile lifted the corners of your mouth, but it never reached your eyes. Laswell stayed silent behind you, a faint memory now as you slid comfortably back into the skin she’d put you into. “Tell me what you’re hiding Munisa,” still her eyes stayed on the table in front of her, not able to bring herself to find your eyes.

She diligently stared back at you, even as her son whispered, “Mommy? What is-'' The woman stopped her son from speaking, trying to pull the boy back down to her chest as she did her best to keep him quiet. The child struggled in her arms though, rarely did children know what was best for them. He pushed himself up off his mother’s chest as you and Laswell both watched her struggling to control the child. Munisa was nearly frantic now as she fought to hold onto the boy. This was about to get out of hand, it was time to intercede. Time to get this over with.

You pushed up off the table and your hands slid underneath the boy’s arms, lifting him off his mother’s lap. The panic in Munisa’s eyes then was obvious, her entire body freezing in her chair. Halfway between standing and sitting with one hand braced on the table and the other on the back of the chair. You held the boy in your arms, narrowing your eyes down at her for a moment before you turned to look at the wide eyed child in your arms. He too was frozen as his gaze darted back and forth between you and his mother. Something that wasn’t quite fear but more like caution in his eyes now. “Munisa,” the woman finally seemed to breathe and forced herself to sit back down in the chair, “What are you hiding?”

Even as you held the boy in your arms she was quiet. There was no chance in the world her loyalties for al-Mustafa were stronger than her protectiveness over her own son. Your gaze shifted back to the boy in your arms who was still watching you with a cautious look, “Your name is Umair yes?” You couldn’t even help the softness that came through in your tone. It only seemed to add fuel to the woman’s fear though. A snake whispering falsities to her son. The little boy nodded in answer then and you gave another soft smile that you somehow managed to keep out of your eyes again.

Moving with the boy in your arms behind his mother and towards the door you felt the woman’s eyes on your back as you moved. Stopping at the door you put a hand on the handle before asking, “Do you like dogs, Umair?” The child in your arms nodded again, the caution beginning to melt away now, and you started to open the door, “Would you like to meet my dog, Umair?” He gave you an excited nod then, nearly vibrating in your arms with expectation. But when you pulled the door open and started to step out, looking down at the dog who hadn’t moved an inch from his place, there was a gasp behind you.

Your eyes shot back to the woman who was standing up now, about to move in your direction before Laswell grabbed her by the shoulder and stopped her. “Stop, please don’t take my son. I-” she stopped herself again, almost as if it was a trained response. It probably was, al-Mustafa always did strike you as the rat bastard type even before you even knew what he looked like. “I can-” again she stopped, seeming to debate with herself but when you looked away from her down to the dog at your feet, the panic seemed to overwhelm whatever block was stopping her from speaking finally. “I can give you Amaan!”

The moment that name came out of Munisa’s mouth, bright blue eyes shot up to find you, waiting for the translation even though she already knew what it was the woman had offered. Cerberus’ head was in the door now, looking up at you with his head tilted. Even he was a silent threat, a monster that this woman had seen the last time she’d been under your control. “She said she’ll give us Amaan,” Laswell nodded slowly and looked towards the woman as you asked her, “How can you give us Amaan? I need a guarantee, Munisa.” Her mouth opened for a minute, her eyes darting between you, her son, and the American woman beside her.

It took a few seconds before she managed to answer back, “He…He is…Amaan will be with Reema and Raita and I can find them for you. I swear it. You dismantled all his contacts in the country, they are the only other people he knows here who aren’t dead. He sent them to a different warehouse with their children, it’s why they weren’t there when you assaulted the building.” You watched her carefully for a few seconds before you glanced down at Cerberus and motioned for him to follow you inside the room. Closing the door you looked at the boy with his wide brown eyes and took a step closer to the woman.

You stopped though when your eyes narrowed, “What do you mean you can find them? Do you not know where they are?” The dark hues flicked back and forth between Umair and you, relief obvious on her face now that you weren’t actively trying to leave with the boy.

Munisa took a moment to compose herself before she finally answered you, “They, well we, all have microchips. Amaan knows where we are at all times. It’s how he found us at that safehouse with the man.” What the fuck? “And I can access that for you, I will give him to you. Just please, do not hurt my son. He is innocent.” Well that was the truth. The poor boy never should have been caught in the middle of this, hell she never should have been caught in the middle of this either.

Wait. Back it up for just a moment. “You are microchipped?” She nodded, your eyes slid over to Laswell where she was still holding Munisa by the shoulder. Quickly you relayed the information to the blonde woman, your stare hardening as the American lost her composure for a moment, seeming almost shocked by the revelation. You certainly were. That man treated them like fucking dogs, hell he treated them more like cattle than dogs. At least most dogs were treated halfway decent.

You’d seen the scars that marked that woman’s body beneath the layers of fabric covering her. God you hated him more than you hated even yourself probably, and that was hard as hell to do. Laswell jumped back into the conversation then, well the interrogation anyway, “Ask her how to access the locations. And ask her where the microchips are located, we need to remove them as fast as possible.” You took another step closer before relaying the questions to the dark skinned woman.

She sighed and her hand settled near where the bone of her hip would have been. No wonder you hadn’t seen it the first time. Yes you were a monster, however you were far from that kind of monster. “I need a computer to access the locations.” You relayed the information to Laswell who was quick off the block. Her phone appeared in her hand with a flick of her wrist, like a magic trick you'd seen from that traveling circus guy one time when you were a kid. 

Laswell typed out something quickly before looking back up, "Give the boy back. I will handle the rest, Speck. Be ready to go soon." Your eyes shifted to the boy who was starting to squirm in your arm, your shoulder beginning to ache with the weight of him there. You still weren't healed all the way and you'd nearly forgotten about it until just now. After you'd been holding this precious, young child for long enough to make Soap's stitches sting where they were holding the skin together in your arm.

Munisa's wide eyes still looked between you and her son, her hands raised out in front of her, a pleading look in her eyes. "Yes ma'am," you managed to get out before shifting the boy in your arms and holding him out. The woman snatched the child from you, pulling him into her chest as she hid his face away from you again. Cerberus' weight leaning against your still healing thigh was all that kept your mind from wandering now. The only thing grounding your thoughts.

Lifting your chin you stamped a look of pure neutrality on your face and stepped back, pushed the handle down, and left the room in stride. The guard standing at the door glanced at you for a quick moment before muttering, "Good evening, sir." Their back was stiff, their arms stuck to their sides as they stood at attention. You gave a simple nod to them even despite your own feeling of what you could only describe as exhaustion. It wasn’t in you to be rude to someone who didn’t deserve it though, not when you weren’t having to be ‘Speck’. Thankfully a nod seemed to suffice as their eyes returned to the wall across from them.

Cerberus’ weight against your leg drew your eyes away from them, seeming to pull you out of your raging thoughts once more. God you hadn’t seen your own kids in two years, nearly three now. Turning down the hallway and walking mindlessly through the maze of corridors you couldn’t stop your wandering thoughts. Emma would be almost twenty-one now, a junior in college. Well she might be graduating early actually, she’d mentioned that the last time you’d spoken to her. God that’d been such a long time ago now. Hell Logan was almost eleven now or wait…

You pulled the phone out of your pocket with what was almost panic as you checked the date. Fuck. He’d turned eleven already, two days ago. Yet another birthday that his father had been absent from. A twist of pain churned your stomach at the revelation. You couldn’t even manage a simple facebook message to your own kid? Rachel had been right to call you a deadbeat father. What was it she’d said again? “Just like your real dad, should have known.” A sigh left you as you navigated through the phone, adding the one app you actually used. The last string of connection you actually had to your children and your family back in the States.

Putting in your login you scrolled through your ex-wife’s page, looking at the latest pictures from Logan’s birthday party. His light brown eyes brought out your own smile, even as you continued to feel that ache deep in your gut. A knife of pain you couldn’t escape even as you pressed the button to turn the screen off and shoved the phone back into your pocket. Never should have agreed to get close to Munisa’s boy, never should have opened that damn app, and you never should have even tried to pretend you were straight. All of this heartache could have been avoided if you’d just been truthful with yourself back then.

One hand was on the head of the big Dutchie beside you, the other shoved into the pocket of your pants, finger running against the corner of the phone absently. Your eyes were glued to the tiles passing underfoot. You were so engrossed in said tiles that you didn’t even notice the approaching man ahead. Not until you ran smack into him anyway. A solid chest slammed against your own, jolting you out of your quickly deteriorating thoughts. Your gaze shot up to those almost too familiar ocean blue eyes before you blinked once and took in the sight of him.

His head tilted curiously as he watched you, a firm grip finding the bone of your hip as he steadied you, "Everything ok, love?" Not really but it was nothing he needed to worry about, and nothing that could be fixed by simply talking about. You'd abandoned your children to be here, abandoned your family so you could risk your life over here. There was no fix, nothing he could do, so as far as he was concerned…

"Yeah, I'm good. I's just thinkin," that seemed to spark interest in those eyes. Shit. Should've just left it at, you were good. Say something before he asks, if he has to ask you won't be able to lie about it. The furthest you can get from what you'd just done and what you'd been thinking about, "Bout you." The curious brows lowered and a small smile softened his features. 

And like magic your own thoughts began to shift and your tight, nervous smile began to loosen and mirror his own softness. Just the idea of thinking about him turning you into a nearly giddy mess. Your mind wandered to how you'd left him, disheveled and wanting, with your picture within arms reach of where he'd been on the bed. "How'd you like that picture?" A knowing grin found your face when his cheeks started to go red beneath that brunette beard, his eyes darting down the hall as he pulled away from you.

His hands settled on his hips as he watched you for a moment before he sniffed and lifted one hand to wipe nervously at his nose. The same hand smoothed down over his mustache and then scratched at the hairs along his jaw. Damn, that’s what you wanted to do. Just run your fingers through those short hairs that always felt like pin pricks against your skin when he was kissing along your exposed flesh. When you ran your fingers through them though it always felt so soft, so soothing, like when he held you close enough you could feel his heartbeat like a soothing melody against your cheek.

A deep voice jolted you from that dangerous train of thoughts, drawing your eyes up from where you’d been watching his hand running through his beard and back to his blue depths. When you gave him a questioning tilt of the head he did a poor job suppressing his smirk before he said again, “I loved that picture, sweetheart.” He nodded his chin down the hall the way you had come, beckoning you to follow him. Quickly you fell into step beside him with Cerberus at your hip. The small, knowing smirk should have annoyed you but instead it only drew you closer. It made you want to kiss it away. Now there was a thought.

John may have gotten to have his fun but you’d been called away to do some less than enjoyable things. Now that he was here it was all you could do not to jump him in this fuckin hallway. You’d always thought that maybe it was just because you had some good self control, or at least a modicum of self respect. Yeah that was a blatant lie. You’d just never been completely head over heels infatuated and attracted to someone else.

The brunette beside you had completely unraveled the idea you had begun to believe that maybe you just truly weren’t attracted to anyone. Like you’d put yourself above those kinds of feelings. Sure there had been McCann but you’d never acted on those desires and even that had taken years to grow into something more than friendship. Whatever this was with John it was burning hotter than the sun and you knew it was going to consume you if you weren’t careful. Hell, let’s be honest, it was already consuming you, the only option now was to just ride it out and enjoy.

“Are you listening to me or are you still thinking?” Again the man beside you jolted you from your thoughts. Son of a bitch you’d gotten distracted again. You shot him a quick look, finding him already watching you as the two of you took a turn towards the squad room.

Taking in a breath you lifted your chin and offered him an apologetic smile, “Sorry bout that, John.” He shook his head about to say something along the lines of ‘Don’t worry about it,’ or ‘It’s ok, love.’ You didn’t give him the chance though, quickly saying, “I’m listening now though. You’ve got my undivided attention.” You leaned towards him as you walked, your shoulder brushing against his and your lips nearing his ear as you added, “I promise, angel.” The flush in his cheeks, which had finally begun to recede, returned in an instant and he smiled a bit wider, clearly still enjoying the name you’d given him.

There wasn’t a chance in hell you were about to let him think that you didn’t care about what he had to say. You’d been on the receiving end of that for twenty years, you knew how that felt. No one deserved that shit, especially not him. This man deserved the world and you’d give it to him if you could.

He stopped outside the squad room and put in the code for the door before he pushed it open and repeated himself, “Laswell texted me and said we had new intel finally. I’m guessing you had something to do with that, eh?” You gave him a quick nod in response as you followed him into the squad room. At least you didn't have to nearly kill someone to get the information this time.

The squad room was devoid of the others, either they were on the way or they hadn’t gotten the call yet. That was fine, you didn’t want to deal with all of them right now anyways. You’d had enough of their bullshit for one day already. John didn’t even know that they all knew. Fuck, they all knew. You really should tell him that they all knew exactly what both Soap and Ghost had seen in their Captain’s bunkhouse. God that was gonna be a hard conversation to have to say the least.

Not right now though. John still wasn’t done talking, pay attention, “I didn’t think you’d have time to go back to my bunkhouse so I went ahead and fixed the shirt back how you had it. Everything’s inside it and I locked the door, it’ll be safe in there.” This man was a fuckin dream, no one deserved him, especially not someone like you. God he was perfect.

John slid a key into the lock of the door to his office before he opened it and led you inside, “Laswell was about to call all the boys in, probably within the hour, anyway.” Again you gave him a quiet nod to show you were listening, unsure how else to engage in the conversation. It was still weird having someone trying to talk to you rather than just talking and expecting you to listen. You felt almost like you were navigating a minefield of what to do and what not to do. Except you had the overwhelming feeling that Price would never explode at you the same way that your ex-wife would have.

You didn’t notice the quiet look he leveled at you, concern riddling his expression for just a moment before he hid it when your eyes found him once more. “You sure you’re ok, love?” A simple nod and smile were all he received in answer before you took a seat in one of the chairs in front of his desk. Just smile and nod and eventually he’ll believe…right?

He leaned back against the desk, his hands bracing on the edge as he fixed you with a narrow eyed look. Well damn. Yeah he wasn’t believing your smiles and nods anymore. You’d been quiet for too long and he was on to you. Speak, now, or he’ll drag this shit out of you by force, “I’m fine, Price.” That name had him shifting against the desk, his face going blank as he receded into his own thoughts for just a quick moment before you managed to add, “Kinda disappointed I didn’t get mine today since you’ve been keeping me so well satisfied but other than that I’m just…peachy.” You couldn’t help the small smile that turned up the corner of your mouth at that. He didn’t understand it, but you did, and it served to make the heartache just a bit lighter.

A bandaid over the emotional pain you’d just been fighting so diligently to hide from him. The hint of a smile on your mouth, what had been a mask moments before, was now turning more genuine by the second. Even if you didn’t truly feel it at first just pretending seemed to go a long way as you focused on the brunette and the expression he wore which was quickly becoming more and more flustered. God he was adorable, he was everything you’d never experienced before, and he was quickly becoming the only source of happiness in your otherwise lonely and dull life. Shit.

John huffed and shook his head, his hands releasing the edge of the desk and they were about to cross over his chest before an impulsive thought shot through you. Your hand reached out and took his of its own volition, without even consulting with your mind for its opinion. You held the weight of it in your palm, your eyes tracing the lines along the back of his hand, the faded scars and the popping veins and the dark hairs that covered his skin like a fine dust. It was an experiment with the feel of both of your calluses rubbing together, the rough texture of dry, well-used hands running across one another. It was a foreign feeling to hold another person’s hand, especially a man’s, but it felt…good. Warm. Heat seemed to radiate off every part of his body, warming what you hadn’t even realized was ice in your veins until just now.

The open wounds of your soul stitched together merely by his presence alone. A balm for your aching soul with the addition of his touch. It was a soothing sensation that you usually only felt running over your thighs and hips when the both of you were naked and panting and needy. Now though, with it running against the worn and torn skin along your own palm it wasn’t nearly as sensuous, but damn if it didn’t feel ten times more intimate than anything you’d had with him recently. 

Hell it was reminiscent of the first night you’d met this man who was changing your life one step at a time. When you’d been sitting on his couch and he was doing everything in his power to keep you wanting for more from him. It wasn’t like you’d never held hands before, it wasn’t a foreign concept to you, but his was the first you’d ever actually wanted to hold before and been able to hold without the possibility of guilt or shame swallowing you whole like a pit in the earth. There was truly never any shame when it came to John Price, not unless you were the one making it anyway.

Swallowing hard, your gaze shot up, looking up at him beneath long eyelashes to find him watching you with a quizzical expression. Curious as to what you were doing, but obviously pleased to be the one you were doing it with. You couldn’t blame him, it was doubtful you’d have done this with anyone else but him. Was this what all those old country songs were about, or any song really. Not the slow and sad ones but the other ones, the ones you watched couples dance to at bars. The ones who always made your chest tighten while a longing for something you’d never experienced before rose in your chest. 

“What’s your favorite song?” The question escaped you before you could stop it. Your brows furrowed and your forehead wrinkled up at the memory of the pain that sat right at the tip of your sternum where your xiphoid process sat just beneath the skin. It traveled upwards, making your throat tighten almost painfully before you forced it down, still watching him carefully. Though you did release your grip on his hand then, sitting back in the chair with a nervous glance down at your still warmed palm. The scratch of where his calluses had run along the length of your own still fresh in your mind.

Your question must have caught him off guard just as much though because he didn’t answer even when you finally looked back up at him. His face was set in stone, his expression and features chiseled into the wall of granite he’d been carved out of, marred only by the occasional scar and the dark, flat moles that occasionally dotted his skin. It was almost like he didn’t understand the question so he didn’t want to answer, or maybe he wasn’t sure how to answer. It was your turn to be a bit more forceful though it would seem, “I asked what your favorite song was, John. I’d rather not have to ask again.” The ocean hues were boring into you as they narrowed now, his intense gaze setting your face on fire though his mirrored your own. A light flush working its way onto his skin.

Ignore it and he will answer, don’t give into him this time, stay strong. That was probably the hardest thing in the world to do though. Not give in to him? John Price? The man who you literally couldn’t deny anything, even when your life was in danger. Even when he had a gun to your head. It felt like an eternity of this. His blue gaze stuck on your face, eyes watching and examining with deliberate slowness. Almost like he was trying to throw you off as much as your question seemed to have thrown him.

Finally though he cleared his throat and gave you an unsure shrug, “Don’t really have a favorite song, love. Just listen to whatever strikes my fancy at the time.” You leaned over, resting your elbow on the arm of the chair as you watched him now, your hand raising to rest your mouth against the back of the knuckles on your hand. He shifted against the desk again before his arms finally managed to cross over his chest without you impeding their progress this time.

There was a weakness there, you weren’t certain what it was causing it but you could see it. Your relentless gaze picking away at it as he tried to hide it, tried to hide his shifting hips and his gaze that would flick away for half a second before finding yours once more. It was barely noticeable, almost like it wasn’t happening at all. Had you been of weaker mind and spirit you might have believed that it wasn’t, that it was your mind playing tricks on you.

At least up until he sighed and muttered, “Quit looking at me like that.” Huh? Your face lifted back up, hand dropping to hold onto the arm rest. You tilted your head curiously. He finally couldn’t help it, his mouth splitting into a smile as he said simply, “Don’t even know what you’re doing, do you?” You shook your head in answer and he relaxed finally, you could see the muscles untense and his posture slouch just a bit, “Feels like you’re interrogating me. Mind not doing that, Speck?”

Your face broke out into a wide grin then, “Oh, is that what’s got ya all shifty and flustered?” John huffed in amusement and shook his head. His fingers were still digging into his biceps though and when they tightened you knew you were right. “Just tell me whatcha like to listen to, angel.” His mouth tightened into a thin line, his eyes shutting for just a moment as he controlled some kind of urge.

Of course you didn’t know why he was controlling it but maybe he just wasn’t in the mood, or maybe yall didn’t have the time. Whatever the reasoning was didn’t matter though because he finally gave in, his voice dropping almost a whole octave as his gaze landed on you once more, “I like a little bit of everything. Ever since that night we met though I’ve been…” He stopped and watched you for just a moment before he asked, “Why don’t I just play it for you, eh love?” Oh now that was interesting. You couldn’t help but sit forward in the seat at the offer, a nod signaling that yes he most definitely should just play it for you.

He fished in his pocket for his phone as you stated quickly, “I haven’t heard any good music in years. Most I’ve gotten the privilege to hear was some damn elevator music during my time in the UK.” You smirked a bit at that, it wasn’t a humorous smirk though, it was one almost of disdain for the financial situation you’d found yourself in over the past few years. There was a quizzical look in the other’s eyes before you shrugged and gave him an easy smile to ease what you took almost as worry from him, “I can’t afford any of those apps and I haven’t been back in the US for a while. And any music out here I can’t really enjoy, not like the music back home. I’m too worried I’m about to get shot in the head every damn second I’m outside the wire. And the music’s good, but it’s not…It’s not what I grew up with, ya know?”

John’s hand lowered slowly with the phone still in it, the heavy phone finding the desk beside where he was leaning against it. You held up a finger though, glancing to the side in thought before you corrected, “I take that back actually. Soap was kind enough to serenade all of us in the showers when we got back. So I have heard that ‘music’ if you can call it that.” Your eyes darted back to his face to find his soft little smile, a pleasant reminder of the good that surrounded you when he was near.

The Brit chuckled a bit and nodded, “I can imagine. That’s why I always get in and get out as fast as possible. Anything to avoid listening to Katy Perry and Celine Dion on a loop. Kid has a set of lungs on him. I can tell you that.” Your smile turned genuine once more and you gave a short laugh. John’s smile widened and he leaned forward, grabbing your hands before hauling you out of the chair. Widening his stance until your hips were slotted perfectly between his thighs, “What kind of music do you like then, love? Pop? Rock? Or uh I think Ghost likes that loud stuff, heavy metal, you like that?” Your gaze slid down from his eyes to his mouth before returning to those deep pools you could have drowned in, and would have willingly if he’d asked.

His head tilted questioningly before you shrugged and answered, “You mean like when I’m back in the US?” John nodded in answer, his hands snaking around your waist, thumbs rubbing circles against the point of your hip seemingly absent-mindedly. You were anything but. It made your skin run hot, a searing burn running directly up from where he’d planted his hands at your waist and flushing across your cheeks in red hot waves. Swallowing hard you had to force your mind to focus, your mouth opening to answer though for the first couple tries it stayed stubbornly silent. At least until you managed to answer, “Guess I’m a bit of a cliche, John. Country music usually, new and old, I don’t really discriminate.”

John gave a slow, almost appreciative and understanding, nod. One hand slid up your side, on a warpath north. Your shirt caught against his palms and bunched in certain places before it crossed the threshold at the collar. Fingers were sliding over the muscle of your neck before stopping at the line of your jaw, “That’s not a cliche. Just a by-product of circumstance. I imagine it’s comforting to hear the music of home, sweetheart.” His fingers were still resting against your jaw as his thumb ran against the point of your chin. Barely more than a soft swipe over the facial hair that had grown there.

His mouth turned up in a gentle smile before he pulled gently at the hairs there and whispered, “The beard looks good on you.” The fingers holding your face pulled you down towards his mouth, but before you could reach what you so desperately sought he stopped your downward descent and whispered in front of your lips, “I mean it. Looks amazing,” your eyes darted between both of his, seeking sincerity and of course you found it. He was always sincere. John Price did not give idle or false compliments, he sought the truth and he told the truth. Always.

The grip on your chin loosened and he let you finally press your lips to his. Soft and sweet, so much of what you never knew you needed from someone. This wasn’t the ‘tough love’ you were so used to receiving, this was a tender sort of care. His hand slid around to the back of your head, your eyes squeezing shut as you leaned into him. John’s free hand rested at the small of your back, holding you close as the two of you enjoyed one another. You were losing yourself in him, in his touch and the way your facial hair rasped against his.

When he pulled back it took you off guard, leaving your mind feeling as if it was missing a vital piece of itself. An ache starting in your chest as he watched you, until you managed to open your eyes and find his soft gaze. Your eyes glanced down to where your hands were bracing on either side of his hips against the desk. Finding his blue hues once more with your head tilted questioningly and your mind on the verge of annoyance at being stopped for the second time today. And this time it wasn’t even some out of the loop third party, it was the fucker you were trying to…well…fuck.

The hand at the small of your back was suddenly gone as John reached for his phone once more. You hadn’t heard it ring or buzz, what the fuck was he doing? Why were you being left high and dry? What was so damn important on that fuckin phone that he felt it was necessary to leave you wanting?

And then the music started. The annoyance that had begun to appear on your face falling away like the drop of a hat. Your expression went blank as the melody rolled out of the phone’s speaker. You stared down at the screen for a few seconds, the album cover for Cody Johnson’s On My Way To You staring back at you as it played. It was clear you weren’t sure what he was doing, or even how to react as your eyes returned to his face.

John couldn’t help the small smile on his mouth as he set the phone back down on the desk and asked, “This one good? This is your kind of music then?” Your confused expression changed then to almost a bewildered amusement, a short chuckle leaving you before you saw the amusement mirrored in his eyes as well. His hands found your hips again before he stood from where he’d been sitting on the desk, pushing you back a step as he muttered, “I’ll take that as a yes then, love.”

Your arms slipped around his waist as you sighed and nodded, “Yeah John, this is my kinda music.” He gave a satisfied nod, seemingly proud of himself. The lyrics were turned into a whisper, somewhat muted by the snort you couldn’t muffle and the expression on the brunette’s face that you couldn’t quite place. “How did you even get this? You got one of them fancy apps or somethin?” John shrugged as his hands slid a bit further around, his forehead leaning down to rest against yours even as you felt the fingers digging into the flesh of your backside.

It wasn’t completely unexpected when you felt him rock you a bit in his arms, your foreheads pressed against one another and his hands keeping the two of you locked together. It may not have been what you initially wanted but you had to admit, this was just as good. Maybe it was even better, actually. A soft smile found its way onto your lips as you listened to the words playing.

Your eyebrows rose as you suddenly felt his chest vibrate against yours and he hummed along to the song, not quite believing what you were hearing even as he whispered the words, “All the damage done, I was just passin’ time, kinda just passin’ through, on my way to you.” It was shocking enough to hear the Brit singing a country song, it was even more shocking to hear him sounding so familiar and so easily American as he did it.

Brunette brows rose as he watched you during the short silence in between the verse and the chorus. His eyes squinted ever so slightly as he held his smile at bay. The deep voice went quiet as the two of you returned to listening to the song, his arms rocking you steadily though not actually in time with the music. Just enjoying the dancing and the closeness that it brought without having to worry about being on beat.

Lips pressed lightly to your forehead before he pulled you closer, your cheek resting on his shoulder and his chin on yours. Your throat felt tight and only seemed to get more so as you strained to get out the words, “All the boats I’ve missed, all the hell I’ve cause, all the lips I’ve kissed, all the love I’ve lost, I thank God for that, I guess he always knew, I was on my way to you.” In all your life you’d never felt the need to cry so much. Hell you’d never been so close to someone that you felt comfortable doing that. It was an overwhelming sensation though, a feeling you couldn’t hold onto anymore though.

The tears slipped down your cheeks in rivulets, staining the shoulder of his shirt. And as the two of you continued to dance slowly to the music, even as the song changed, you could feel even him relax against you. It wasn’t just you. John was feeling it too. Tears were soaking your shoulder as he found comfort for whatever it was ailing him in your touch. Two halves of a whole that had finally been pieced together to put two of what seemed like the most distanced of people in one another’s path. And thank God for that.

[cal-daisies-and-briars]

Hiiiii Cal 💕💕💕💕💕

You know what I’m going to ask for! 😉

The time loop fic!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

➰➰➰➰➰➰➰➰➰➰➰➰➰➰➰➰➰➰➰➰➰➰➰➰➰➰➰➰➰➰➰➰➰➰➰➰➰➰➰➰➰➰➰➰➰➰➰➰

(I don’t even know how many I sent I just did a bunch 😂)

-❤️🪐

HI SATURN! Here's 171 for ➰:

---

They do it all. See the same things. Seals, sea lions, and otters. Even slugs. Buck finds himself growing increasingly impatient. But there’s that look on Christopher’s face again. The bright, curious joy. The fascination. The awe. And once again, Eddie watches Chris watching the little critters with the same sort of joy in his eyes. How can he still be so enraptured by it? How is it not old? 

Because we’re all dead otherwise, Buck remembers. And maybe is choosing to accept purgatory and try to craft it into heaven. 

Shit.

Buck tries to be a little more appreciative. 

By the time they make it back to shore, arms aching just a little, Buck is practically vibrating with his own reluctance. He knows what he has to do, and he loathes the idea of actually doing it. He allowed himself to get hurt plenty of times as a kid. He’s tried to change. And, besides, a pretty significant blow to the back of the head is different from jumping out a tree and knowing it could hurt your leg. Nevertheless, he powers through with the plan.

He and Eddie help Brittany load the kayaks from the beach onto a rack. 

“Thank you!” She exclaims, as per usual. “Most visitors don’t stick around to help.”

“Yep,” Buck replies tightly, unable to say much more. 

“We like to help,” Eddie adds quickly, covering the part where Buck has missed his lines.

“They’re firefighters,” Chris says. “They lift heavy stuff all the time.”

“It’s true,” Eddie says, sliding a kayak onto the rack. 

Here it comes. The part where, finished, Buck positions himself in front of the kayak rack, at the top of the sandy slope. He turns to look out at the sea. Buck’s legs are shaking a little. He’s biting his lip. How did he start this conversation before? The one he was having to keep himself planted here?

“Uh, so this is your job,” Buck tries awkwardly. Nope. That’s not quite right. He did it better before. 

“Um, yes,” Brittany replies. “It is. I had a co-op here during my undergrad and decided to come back full time.”

“That’s… Uh, nice. That’s nice.” 

He sounds like a freak. 

Then he hears it. The strange metallic creaking sound. The one that signals what is about to happen. Eddie is watching him with intense eyes. Buck tries to hold himself still. He hears the crack. 

Buck jumps out of the way, throwing his body into the sand. 

He can’t help it! It’s instinct. He just can’t fucking do it. 

“Sorry,” Buck starts. “I-OW!” The falling kayak lands hard on his ankle.

“Shit,” Eddie sighs.

“Oh my god!” Brittany shouts. “I’m so sorry!”

She bends to drag the kayak off of him.

“Buck, are you okay?” Chris calls. 

“Yep,” he grits. “Not to worry.”

“I wouldn’t say that,” Eddie whispers, as he kneels down to help Buck flip onto his back. “Let’s look at that ankle.”

“I’m sorry, Eddie,” Buck says as he shimmies out of the way of the kayak rack. “I tried.”

“I know,” Eddie says quietly. “It took me a while, too.”

Buck swallows down a nauseating feeling at that. It took him a while to let Buck get hurt. Fuck. 

Eddie removes Buck’s sandal and inspects his foot. It’s throbbing and sore but Buck can move it. 

“Probably not broken,” Eddie says. 

“Would it matter if it was?” Buck asks quietly.

“No,” Eddie admits. 

“Does he need to go to the hospital?” Brittany asks, a little frantic and teary. “Should we call an ambulance?”

“No,” Eddie says, switching back to his script.. “I don’t think so. I can drive him to the ER if it comes to that. Do you have ice?”

“Yes, in the main building. I can go grab it. My god, I am so sorry this happened.”

“Not your fault,” Buck mumbles. 

“I’ll be right back!” She promises before running off. “With ice!”

“What happens now?” Buck asks Eddie after she’s gone.

Eddie makes a tight expression. “I don’t know.”

➰➰➰➰➰

The ice helps, but Buck thinks the whole exercise is a little moot. He’s already ruined this go-around. One of them is going to die soon, and they’ll have to try again tomorrow. He just really hopes it’s him, not Eddie, and especially not Christopher. 

“What do you want to do?” Eddie asks, as they hobble back to the Jeep. Buck leans against Eddie for support. 

Buck looks nervously at the vehicle. “How do we…”

“We can’t,” Eddie finishes the thought for him. “Even if we hunker down in the room and don’t move. We can’t.”

“What are you guys talking about?” Chris asks. 

“Just that nothing will make my foot feel better, really,” Buck lies quickly. “So it doesn’t matter what we do.”

Not his usual philosophy on responding to injury. At least not since his pulmonary embolism. 

“Oh,” Chris replies. “Well, jeez, it’s not like we have to go on a hike.”

Buck smiles. He loves this kid so much. Couldn’t love him more if he was his own flesh and blood. He’s so much like Eddie sometimes it’s hilarious. 

“How about we go back to the pool and relax?” Buck asks. “Sound okay?”

“Yeah,” Chris says. “I’m okay with the pool. We have beaches in L.A.”

“Thanks, buddy.” Buck says. “I appreciate you being understanding.”

He’s terrified he’s going to have to watch Christopher die, all because he wouldn’t hit his damn head. 

➰➰➰➰➰

Christopher and Eddie swim in the pool while Buck relaxes on a reclining plastic chair. He’s his foot elevated, an ice pack resting on it, and a beer in hand. Despite the pain, it’s a nice afternoon. If he wasn’t so nervous about what is about to happen, he’d be loving it. Regardless of his foot. Chris is having fun. The weather is perfect. The beer is great. What’s not to love?

Eddie, too, is enjoying himself. He has this remarkable ability to turn off the nerves. Maybe it’s practice. Maybe it’s brutal desensitization. How is he not second guessing every little action? Like what if Chris drowns in the pool one minute from now? 

[coraniaid]

Literally the whole point of Buffy's arc in Season 6 is that she didn't come back wrong -- her depression, her inability to connect with her friends the way she wants to, her attraction to vampires in general and Spike in particular, the way she focuses on Slaying because it's something simple that she can excel at when she's struggling with the quotidian and unromantic aspects of her normal life, how hard she finds existing in the world now that her mother's gone and she and Dawn are alone -- these are all things that were true of Buffy before she died in The Gift. They are all things that we have seen from Buffy before, some of them going back all the way to the first season.

Spike tells Buffy that she must have "come back wrong" in Smashed because he wants to believe it -- as much as he wants her to believe it -- because it makes her more like him (and like all vampires, who really have come back wrong, "a little less human than you were"). And equally Buffy wants to believe that she "came back wrong" because it means it's not her fault she feels the way she does now. It means the emotions she's been struggling with all season are something that's been done to her by outside forces and not who she "really" is. But the show explicitly tells us (via Tara in Dead Things, who is clearly more informed than Spike here and actually does the research) that they are both incorrect: Buffy did not come back wrong in any way beyond "surfacy physical stuff". The Buffy of Season 6 is the same Buffy we've seen in the previous seasons; just cast in a new light by new circumstances and new experiences.

The Buffy of Season 5 would have struggled to cope with the reality of life after her mother's death just as much as the Buffy of Season 6. In fact, she does struggle just as much -- it's just that there's a whole world-saving Slayer mission to focus on as well, which she can use to distract herself from the sense of purposelessness she now admits to feeling ("I don't know how to live in this world if [...] everything just gets stripped away. I don't see the point") . But S6 Buffy doesn't get to have that sort of grand adventure to distract herself from the mundane. S5 Buffy gets to battle sword-wielding knights in shining armour and to fight a literal god and to make a big heroic sacrficice to save the world; S6 Buffy has to deal with the squalid reality of the Trio and paying bills and working in the Doublemeat Palace. But, underneath, she's the same person she always was. Again, that's the whole point of the story this season's telling.

We see Buffy struggle to come to terms with this in the second half of the season (including her retreat into fantasy in Normal Again) but it is something she ultimately does accept about herself. It is the entire subtext of her final speech to Dawn in Grave. Buffy admits that things have "really sucked lately" but promises Dawn that that will change; she admits to having gotten things "so wrong" and that instead of trying to protect Dawn (that is, to protect her memory of her pre-S6 self) she should be encouraging her to live and grow (to live in the world, which Buffy described in The Gift as "the hardest thing in the world"). And Dawn is explicitly a part of Buffy (the part of Buffy that exists outside of being a Slayer), so any time Buffy has this sort of conversation with her sister it is really a conversation she is having with herself. It is deliberate choice that the season ends with Buffy and Dawn climbing out of a grave together -- reenacting the events of Bargaining -- with Buffy having come to peace who with she is and her own resurrrection and seeing now how beautiful the world is.

There are a lot of characters in Buffy who come back wrong, but Buffy Summers is simply not one of them. However much she might wish that she were.

[observeowl]

Miscarriage N.R

Natasha Romanoff x Reader

Summary: Natasha wasn't there when R needed her at the most desperate times

Your POV I was waiting in the hospital, going through my life decision. What has caused it to go downhill? Everyone here was at least with someone yet I was here alone. 

I have been having some discomfort around my stomach and knowing that I have been having some difficulty during my pregnancy, I knew it was not a good sign. 

With one last try, I decided to text Nat.

You: Nat, can you accompany me to the doctors?

Nat: Why did you message me? I thought I told you not to disturb me at work?

You: I know, but I really wanted your support. And everyone here is with their partners.

Nat: So? They probably booked an appointment. You just decided to go without telling me.

You: This is the A&E And I seriously think something’s wrong with our child

Nat: You’re making a big deal over nothing. Stop finding me during work.

I sighed as I set down my phone. Nat changed during the last few months of the pregnancy. At the beginning, she was really kind and attentive but she started to drift away and focus on work. Even when she’s back, we hardly have any conversation. 

“Ms Y/L/N.” 

The doctor called my name and I stood up. 

“I’m sorry, but there appears to be no heartbeat.”

“What?” I wasn’t sure if I heard correctly. 

“Sorry for your loss, your child has passed away. I’ll start with the papers to get you admitted for induced labour. Do you have anybody to call?” 

I shook my head. 

“Okay, I’ll give you a moment.”

This was it, my child died before I got to hold them in my arms. I looked towards my belly for one last time. “I’m sorry I couldn’t be a better mum, I couldn’t give you the future you deserve. Something must be wrong with mummy that’s why you had to suffer. I’m so sorry…” My bottom lips quivered as I caressed my belly, the overwhelming feeling of loss was beginning to get to me as I let the tears flow down my cheeks. 

I was still sobbing when the doctor returned. “I’m sorry.” I wiped my tears with the back of my hands.

“No, it’s okay. I’m here to guide you to your ward.” 

--- >after stillbirth/induced labour<

I was laying on the hospital bed after birth. Thanks to the nurses and doctors, I was able to hold him in my arms at least once. He was so tiny at 5 months. They had to do the birth and death certificates as I remained in the ward. 

They told me I was only allowed to discharge the next day since they needed to make sure everything was fine and there were no other complications. 

I woke up from my nap by the ringing on my phone. I stretched over to pick up the phone and it was Wanda. 

You: Hi Wanda.

Wanda: Oh my god, Y/N! You finally picked up your phone. Where have you been? I’ve been trying to call you for hours! We were all so worried. Where are you?

You: I’m… I’m at the hospital. 

Wanda: Oh my god! Do you need me to go over? Did anything happen? Nevermind, I’ll just come over.

You: Thanks Wanda. Can you come alone? 

Wanda: Sure Is everything alright? 

You: Please… I just want you.

Wanda: Okay. I’m coming over now.

After the conversation with Wanda, no matter how much it hurts, I curled up in a ball and started crying again. 

I was still crying until I felt Wanda’s hands around me. She looked at me in a disarray state and knew what was wrong. “He’s gone… He died… All because of me…”

“It’s not your fault, you didn’t wish for this to happen.” 

Second POV Wanda stayed with you throughout the night. She wanted to inform the team where you were and that you were safe but you told her not to do that. You just wanted to be left alone.

Wanda tried to talk to you during the ride back but you would either ignore her or just make some noise. What she said you had no idea, in through one ear and out the other. 

Everyone crowded around you when you came back because you have been missing for a day. You shot them a quick smile before taking your bag from Wanda and headed for your room. “Don’t let anyone in JARVIS.”

“Yes Ms Y/L/N.”

“What happened to Y/N?” Steve asked after seeing you went up the elevator emotionless. They didn’t know anything except for Wanda rushing out to get you. Your belly was still around the same size since it wouldn’t go down until a few weeks later. 

“She lost the baby.” Wanda said in a low voice. 

Only gasps were heard from the room, everyone was so excited for the arrival of the new baby. “Does… Natasha knows about this?” Steve inquired wearily.

“I don’t think so.” 

Natasha was nowhere to be seen. She has been in her office in SHIELD so people hardly know what’s going on with her. Only Clint and Steve ever entered her office to look for her but she would only chase them out without explanation. 

“So she’s still in SHIELD?” Steve nodded his head. 

“I’m going to call her.” Wanda said as she made her way up to your room. 

Nat: Wanda, what is it? 

Wanda: I need you to come back.

Nat: Why? You know I’m working.

Wanda: It’s about Y/N.

Nat: I know. She told me she went to the hospital yesterday.

Wanda: And you didn’t go?

Wanda tried to open your door but it was locked. She told JARVIS to open the door but the AI couldn’t refuse your orders. 

Nat: Does it really matter? 

Wanda: It does. 

Wanda opened the door with her powers and saw your dark room. You were not under the covers where she was expecting so she turned to the bathroom. 

“Oh my god! Y/N!” She found you covered in blood, lying on the bathroom floor. “BOYS!!” She yelled but decided that bringing you down to the lab would be faster. 

Nat: Wanda! What’s happening? Shit.

Wanda couldn’t reply as she left her phone on the floor as she carried you down. Everyone looks at you as Bruce prepares the medical supplies. Steve tries to place pressure on your wound as Wanda runs back to her phone. 

Natasha was making her way back after hearing Wanda screaming for the boys to help.

Everyone was glaring at her when she walked into the lab. Bruce cleared his throat and brought their attention to him. 

“Y/N is a bit weak since she’s just given birth along with the blood loss we found with her earlier. It’s better to keep her in bed after she wakes up.”  

“Wait… What do you mean by given birth?” 

“She delivered a stillborn baby Natasha. That’s why she was in the A&E and you had THE AUDACITY TO TELL HER YOU WERE BUSY WITH WORK!!!” Wanda shouted at Natasha. Everyone around was surprised that she dared to shout at her.

“SHE HAD TO GIVE BIRTH ALONE! WITHOUT ANY HELP, ANY SUPPORT!” 

“I..I…” 

“I’m ashamed of you.” 

You started to stir when everyone left the room for you and Natasha. 

“Y/N, I’m so sorry.”

“Get out. I don’t want to see you.” 

“Y/N-”

“I said get out. Get out, before I force them to take you out.” 

You weren’t ready to face her yet, not when she left you alone when you needed her most. 

[findafight]

(Okay, gonna try and send this again)

I had a whole spiel about how R0nance has the potential to be very interesting and stimulate character growth on both sides in a similar way to Steve and Eddie. Not to say that Nance needed “ego death”, but she has built too much of her identity around being the smartest person there/the only person who can find the answers, and having Robin challenge her in that way (at times without even needing to) would provide some much needed growth. Because at the moment she’s giving “gifted student who didn’t struggle in school and is going to be eaten alive at college”.

Or, if you wanted to lean into the “Bad R0nance” side of things, they have the potential for a lot of interesting dynamics, scenes and conversations that they couldn’t have with other characters. Like, Barb is already such a charged subject with Nancy - add to that the fact that Barb ditched Robin to become Nancy’s best friend. To say nothing of Steve, who is such a big part of Robin’s life, he’s going to be part of Nancy’s what her she likes it or not.

Hell, assuming that that argument prompt wasn’t meant to be cute or funny, that’s a dynamic that could be interesting to explore. Honestly, I find Nancy’s difficulty with admitting that she’s in the wrong/having to have things done her way interesting, especially in contrast with a lot of the guilt she carries being over things that weren’t really her fault (if a bit too close to how certain loved ones of mine act sometimes). And I already see enough of her sticking to her guns despite common sense going unexplored in the show (quite literally; I love surprise gun-toting badass Nancy as much as the next person, and her and Max sawing down the shotgun was a cool visual. That being said; WHEN have guns ever worked against the Upside Down?).

Anyway - my point is that it’s not that I dislike R0nance, I just find a lot of the stuff written to be OOC, that it ignores many of the elements that I think would make them interesting together, or that it downplays Steve’s importance in Robin’s life/ignores it in favour of treating him more as Nancy’s ex-turned-kinda-friend.

haha yeah I got the first one and was like hm. that's not finished...hope they continue!

yeah Nancy doesn't need the same kind of ego death as Eddie did, but she's in desperate need of the realization she doesn't need to form her identity around her academics and journalism and her ability to Solve the Mystery etc, she can be something other than that. The tidbit from rebel Robin that if Robin tried a bit more, she could be valedictorian or something is so juicy for this! I don't think this is exclusive to romo rnce tbh i think them getting a kind of friendship could be really interesting and change them.

The Barb of it all would be so good and neat to explore. God. the hurt and guilt on both sides? I want them to have a conversation about Barb!! How robin mourned her even before she died, and maybe felt like a fraud for crying herslef to sleep when Barb went missing, because they weren't really friends anymore. How Nancy feels guilt for letting Barb leave, how she wishes she could take it back. How Robin resented Nancy for "stealing" barb away, about her insecurities in her friendships because of that. I want to see it! They could have such a rich friendship!

I want to see them argue! yell! scream and cry! There's so much potential here! their personalities would clash in glorious ways even in a friendship, let alone a romo relationship! hoo hoo!

Poor Steve is just. He's there too. He can't not be, because he might be an ex Nancy didn't talk to unless the world was ending, but Robin would see him everyday? and that's awkward. idk I think people also miss that for Nancy, dating the best friend of an ex she broke up with in....not the best circumstances and tried to avoid since then would be majorly awkward! idk like Nancy has warmed again to Steve in s4, but clearly didn't interact with him a lot between seasons, but she was also flirting with him and then went back to Jonathan, so it's probably not a situation she wants to be in! Besides the whole mess it would be for Robin considering if she actually wanted to date a friend's (best friend's) ex, the ex, Nancy would probably have to consider spending time with an ex like that. (because you're correct! for robin Steve is non negotiable)

(the prompt was absolutely supposed to be cute it blew my mind) But it's such an interesting dynamic, and absolutely something that I can see Nancy doing. It's been haunting me for weeks! Her feeling guilty over things she had no control over, but then not taking accounatbility for things she did and could change, that's so neat! With her relying on body language, and not adequately communicating to partners what she actually wants/needs/is thinking, Combined with Robin not being good at reading people and generally nervous about that inability to read more subtleties, it would be brutal. They would both dig their heels in, but robin wouldn't know why. FASCINATING.

Common sense doesn't exist in Stranger Things <3 Also I know next to nothing about guns but for some reason I know (am pretty sure of?) that sawed off shotguns have worse accuracy. I was like "nooo nancy you don't need to do that! It will also not help at all!" please let Nancy get a meelee weapon please let her beat the shit out of a demogorgon please let her actually inflict damage!

Uhg yes agree. I think it's one of the few ships I dislike more because of the shippers and how they interact with the characters, and that I see it as sort of a relationship that wouldn't last, and the shippers wouldn't like that and also want it canon. So much stuff I find ooc, and also for some reason a number of steve haters (super uncharitable ones that really, idk why they like robin, a character who loves steve so much she wants to combine with him, if they hate everything about Steve). Big turn offs. Not a lot of nuance happening! (which is NOT rnce exclusive!! I exit out of fics with ships I like because I find them ooc etc.) It could be a really interesting ship that would be messy and possibly implode but oof it'd be neat to explore. I've said before that I can see them liking each other and just not working out in an au where Steve and Nancy never had that history, because honestly another part of it is that I just don't see them as compatible (and included it in one of my not at all canon adjacent aus!).

I am with you on a lot of the content fumbles how Steve fits into it. The complexities his relationships both past and present to both Nancy and Robin would bring up between them could be explored more. Like yeah maybe steve's fine with his bff dating his ex whatever. but how would they feel about it? how would Nancy feel about steve being Robin's ride or die? how does Robin's friendship with steve effect that relationship? there's interesting bones here but alas. He's often shoved to the side as Robins friend and nancy's ex-turned friend. WHERES THE JUICE THERE? c'mon! i get some folks want non-conflict romance but maybe the ship that has potential to be so so SO messy that isn't going to be the most incharacter interactions.

[staysproutsol]

A new beginning

Chapter 9

<-previously : next->

It's been two weeks since Eren last saw Zeke. Nothing much has changed since he left and their grandparents moved in with them. He felt like those two weeks were uneventful, and Mikasa had agreed with him.

Eren knew they shouldn't have been so dependent on Zeke. He knew he would leave. Just like everybody else. His grandma, his mother, Mikasa's parents, his father They all left, whether it was by choice or by death. They all leave.

Armin had disagreed with him upon hearing his thoughts and told him that the older blonde isn't like that and he will come back. But Eren doubts it. Everyone leaves; why would he be any different?

After that conversation between the tiny trio, Eren never once mentioned the blonde and was like that till the end of the month. His grandparents had worried about him keeping to himself, but Mikasa told them to leave him be. It was his way of coping with the pain the world had thrown at him.

His nightmares had gotten worse. He could barely sleep a wink after he'd had them for days. His grandmother had noticed his tiredness, but he assured her he was fine. He doesn't need someone to worry about him; he's fine. He felt fine.

He didn't like to admit it, but when his lack of sleep would get the best of him, he would always be in Zeke's room. He would often sleep there to calm himself down, but leave the room in anger when he remembered the blonde had left them. He had promised he wouldn't! Yet he did.

(Yuzuki saw him leave the room a few times and would smile sadly at Eren's sight.)

○●°•

Getting back to Marley after a month was a relief to Zeke. He was in desperate need of sleep and wanted to hug the hell out of both Eren and Mikasa. God! How much he missed these two!

He got separated from his group as soon as they came near the internment zone. He walked all the way to his house, ignoring the yells of his team. He couldn't waste a second longer here! He needed to go and see his siblings.

When he walked into the house, he was greeted by an empty one. It looks like they're still at school, and his grandma probably went to the market. He hadn't told them when he would finish his mission, as he wanted to surprise them.

He wanted to make up for the lost time with his siblings and know every little detail that happened in their lives while he was absent. He hoped that they were able to get a good night's sleep. He knew their night terrors were terrible, and he wasn’t there to help them sooth their pains and troubles for an entire month.

He took a shower, got dressed in sleepwear, and went to bed to catch a few hours of sleep before he goes and surprises his siblings by picking them up from school. Titan suddenly jumped on his bed and started licking his face, making the blonde chuckle. Cotton, too, started to purr by his side.

He patted them both, saying, "I missed you guys too," and fell into a deep slumber.

○●°•

Mikasa had a feeling all day that something big would happen. So she decided to keep an eye on Eren in case he got himself into trouble. He tended to do so a lot back in the walls, and Mikasa would always keep him in line. It was something only she could do. Stop him from doing anything reckless or stupid.

She and Armin had a normal, boring school day. She would often let her mind wander to how class would have been better with Eren in it, but she gets rid of them quickly. It wasn't his fault that he was born younger than them. She had always liked how she was older than him. She remembers always asking her mother for a little brother, and she has gotten one in the form of one Eren Yeager.

Sure, Eren would sometimes be a handful, but he was a nice person deep down. He was just trying to protect himself from getting hurt, and Mikasa was also making sure he wouldn't hurt himself from within. He tends to bottle up his feelings and lash out at the wrong person.

The day dragged on, and one of their classmates started talking about how there had been a fight in one of the younger years. She couldn't help but feel dread running through her body. What if it's Eren? Has he gotten himself into a fight? He had told them he had gotten along fine with his classmates. So why?

"Mikasa, calm down. I'm worried too, but we will have to wait till the end of the period to know."

And she had never been grateful for how fast the day had passed. As soon as the bell rang, both she and Armin had dashed out of the classroom. They were both too worried for Eren.

Nearing the gate, they noticed her grandma hugging someone. Mikasa came to a stop when she saw who it was. Armin had arrived at the usual meeting spot and welcomed the blonde Yeager back.

Mikasa was frozen in place and couldn't help but feel relieved. She was starting to believe what Eren would tell her about the blonde not coming back. She was beginning to fear how attached she had become to him in such a short time. She felt like she was dreaming.

She took one step after the other until it turned into a full-on sprint and she jumped into the teenager's arms. The arms that used to hug her when she had nightmares; the warmth that she longed for after her parents and Carla's deaths; and how safe he felt in that moment. Just like a home. A home both she and Eren desperately needed.

She felt hands wipe her face and noticed she was crying. How embarrassing! Grandma Yuzuki started drying her face while she was in Zeke's hold. She didn't want to admit it, but she didn’t want to let go in fear he would disappear and never come back.

But Zeke didn't let go and kept hugging her. It's like he knew she needed reassurance. She let go of the grip she had on him and wiped her face from any left over tears. She had never cried in front of anyone who wasn't Eren, and it felt weird doing so.

Zeke held her face in both his hands and started stroking both his thumbs on her cheeks.

"I miss you so much! I'm sorry I was gone for so long. I swear, when I told you about leaving for only two weeks, that's what the commander really told me. I never wanted to go in the first place, but he ordered me to. I promise I will make it up to you and Eren. I will spend so much time with the both of you that you will get sick of seeing my face! I'll make sure to spend all my time off with the both of you."

And Mikasa actually looked forward to it.

"What are you doing here?"

A voice cut them off, and Mikasa felt her heart break. Eren was standing a few feet apart with a black, swollen eye and a busted lip. She rushed to his side and tried to touch his face, but he slapped her hand away.

"I said something. What are you doing here?" He repeated it in a voice full of venom and pain.

Zeke stood up from his crouched position and tried walking towards the brunette, but he took a step back each time the blonde tried to get close. It had hurt watching him like this. This distrustful attitude toward their older brother

She knew Eren wouldn't be happy with Zeke's return, and she thought she wouldn't either until she saw him safe and standing a few feet away from her.

"Eren!" Their grandmother had begun to speak in a worried tone."This is no time for this; what happened to your face?" She demanded worriedly.

And Eren had ignored her. Mikasa knew nothing would stop him from saying what he wants to the older blonde, but she couldn't help but worry. Eren doesn't care what happens to him; he always dives in head first without thinking how he will come out of it. And that's what always made Carla worry for him. He was too reckless for his own good.

She had entrusted Mikasa with the job of looking after Eren as her last words, along with how much she loved the both of them. Eren didn't get to hear her last words, but Mikasa always made sure to tell them to him whenever he felt down.

"Why did you come back!? Leave! Isn't that what you were doing? "How come you're leaving when you said you wouldn't?!?"

Mikasa knew Eren didn't think about the words he's spouting as he's too angry, but he's letting go of all of his pent-up anger towards Zeke's leaving.

Eren approached Zeke and aggressively kicked his leg. "You promised, didn't you!?"

He kicked him.

"Why are you back!?"

Kicked him.

"I don't want to see you!"

He kicked him.

"Leave!"

Kicked him again.

"You think we're some toy you play with then throw us when you get bored!"

And Mikasa watched how those gems for eyes filled with tears and started to spill out of them. The pain she felt seeing Eren break down feels greater than anything they have ever experienced, and she could only stand on the sidelines doing nothing.

Eren was taken in a bear hug from Zeke, who lifted him up. He was in the blonde's hold. They followed after them. She could see Zeke limp a little, but didn't say anything. These two need to fix their problems first before any of these injuries get healed, and she was also sure they would do that already without saying anything about it.

○●°•

Zeke knew he messed up, but he couldn't help but think maybe he overthought everything when Mikasa's reaction was normal. He thought Eren would be okay too, that he was fine and wouldn't be mad or feel like he was leaving, but he was clearly wrong. So wrong.

Eren doesn't do normal. He does the impossible.

He knew he had messed up when the brunette refused to be close to him. He knew he messed up because he made the brunette cry. He knew he had messed up. And he doesn't know how to fix it. He feels utterly useless and guilty.

When he picked up Eren, he felt him grip the fabric over his shoulder like he was afraid, terrified even. He knew he was to blame for this. He was terrible. A horrible human being for hurting one of the most important people to him.

Once they arrived at the apartment, Zeke took them to his room and closed the door. He set Eren on his bed and got the first-aid kit from under his bed. He always put it here so it could be easily accessible to anyone who might need it.

He started treating Eren's face injuries.

"Why, why are you doing this?" asked the brunette weakly. He couldn't even look at Zeke in the eye.

"Why am I doing what?"

"Being nice." He answered. "I said mean things to you. I, I hurt you—"

"That barely left a scratch on me,"

"Still!"

"Eren, you had every right to do what you did. You were afraid. You felt like yet another person had broken their promise to stay. But I swore. I swore I would never leave you or Mikasa ever again. I will stay by your side till the day I die."

"You will not get rid of me that easily!" He exclaimed, making the brunette giggle.

(And a few people were at the door listening; no one ever said anything about it. As they were too relieved that these two had made up. Like a huge burden was lifted up.)

The blonde finished disinfecting and wiping any blood from the brunette's face. He decided it was time to know what had caused that in the first place, now that they had made up.

"So," he started getting Eren's attention. "Are you going to tell me how you ended up in a fight?"

"Do I really need to?"

He gave Eren an 'are you serious' look before the brunette sighed and pouted. Zeke squished his cheeks, earning a whine from the brunette. He let go, letting Eren rub his cheeks in pain.

"Fine! Some people were annoying Falco about his family, and… I,"

"And?"

"They were also badmouthing you…" The brunette mumbled, but Zeke had heard him loud and clear.

"Eren, I need you to speak up-"

"They were talking bad about you, okay!? They said you've been lacking in your work. They said that you have turned down several missions because of personal reasons. They kept saying that it will be a matter of time before the higher-ups will demote you from your post!"

Zeke smiled and ruffled Eren's hair. "When someone tells you something that annoys you, you don't always have to answer back with your fists,"

"You sound like Armin," groaned Eren, making Zeke chuckle.

But he didn't care. Eren has just proved that even if he was angry, he couldn't let anyone badmouth him. It made him beam with pride.

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

[strangerfigs]

i need to be taken to the psych ward w all the other delusional bylers. i have officially lost my mind <3

i cant get over mike barely even trying with el when she was literally sobbing about how mike doesn’t say she loves her, telling him exactly what she needs to hear from him, and him saying she is ridiculous about this (which by the way - this was supposed to be like mike trying to fix things between them as the night before, it ended rocky!! just like another pair…) to mike literally softly speaking to will, with soft eyes, being vulnerable and obviously feeling nervous about that with how he stumbled through the conversation, telling will “dustin, lucas and max… they’re great, they’re great… but it’s hawkins. it’s not the same without you,” even though in s1, he tells dustin you are all my best friends, and this line could and would have been worded differently if the audience was not supposed to see that there is a clear distinction between lucas, dustin and max, and will. Like, that part could have been left out if thats not what he meant! Which just says a whole lot on its own, but he is also saying that his literally home is not the same without him. like how can this be taken in a platonic way? if a friend said this to me, i would lose my fucking mind. if I said this to a friend, i would be in love with them.

mike has the party, yet it doesn’t matter - will’s absence is so heavy that it literally doesn’t matter that he is the one who got to stay in the same town, same friends, whatever, have less change, because like, that change, or will leaving him, is the biggest change (and worse thing) that could happen to him, with the biggest impact on his life. he loves him. so much. and then, again, contrasting to the eleven fight, he says “I feel” instead of “I think.” He admits to his faults, and explains his behavior, saying “I feel like I lost you or something” instead of just using “you know what I think of you” as a scapegoat, not even providing any explanation, not being able to, because the feelings are not there. it’s all just emptiness. she is directly telling him what she wants to hear, and he won’t even do that, again in contrast to with will, when he says “friends. best friends.” Literally giving Will exactly what he wanted to hear - like Will literally said “we used to be best friends” and also expressed his sadness and disappointment to mike not staying in touch/giving him attention, and mike addresses this too with saying he was worrying too much about el and felt like “I lost you, or something” literally, responding to all of Will’s concerns, so softly and gently, and then he literally asks will, “does that make sense?” wanting to make sure that he understands him and make sure that things are okay between them, and that will feels better about their ‘friendship’ and that he gets everything he is saying; asking him if he needs to say more because he would if will asked him, like this is an unspoken offer for him to open up more; even though he is obviously nervous about it, compared to eleven begging him to explain himself, and refusing. (EDIT: and mike literally later CONFIRMS that she was asking him to explain himself later. he says ‘IF I JUST EXPLAINED MYSELF BETTER/MORE’ like it’s so darn obvious. but of course will doesn’t need more because he understands because they understand each other that well that it’s enough. another contrast. again. will is literally saying he understands, declining any further explanation. even though he is literally in love with him, and like - could have just basked in mike saying nice things to him and apologizing? but no! will’s love for him is so beautiful that he gets it, knows that this is hard for him, and wants him to know that it’s okay <3. it’s so sweet and beautiful. i just - like my heart is so full of joy.)

and god this is so out of order, but again, this scene contrats m*leven’s scene/argument with mike not understanding el, saying he doesn’t and then later, eleven confining that he will doesn’t, and then will and mike later saying: “I didn’t say it,” “you didn’t have to” like… it’s just such directly paralleling; showing how much more mike is able to deal with these relationship issues with will, how much more he wants to, how much more genuine and sincere he is with will, and how much he listens to him: both to his words and his actions, behaviors, etc.. again, paralleling m*leven when mike wasn’t able to pick up that angela was a bully (even though it’s so obvious and mike knows what bullies look like) but it’s because he is too focused on being normal, while also focusing on will, which he literally points out later. and someone pointed this all out before, but also just the fact that it’s will who sabotaged the day - with not talking to mike and moping - and not el’s literal bullies, like - literally, mike is just so obviously in love with him !! like how can you say this right after your girlfriend was just humiliated and recorded. genuine question? how did you notice Will’s behavior and not your girlfriend? and like, again, like this is directly speaking to the audience - we are shown exactly the things that will is commenting on - will describes it perfectly when he says, “you made it clear that you’re not interested in anything i have to say.” and we are SHOWN that, but mike counters it, says it’s not true, and specifically points out everything that will was doing - noticing that he was miserable, even though he is ONLY shown paying attention to eleven, but this speaks so much volume because he is not actually focusing on eleven (which explains him not noticing the bullies), he is focusing on will, and being normal, and trying to not show that his focus is on will rather than his girlfriend. him saying, ‘you practically sabotaged the whole day’ was so harsh. but it shows us that to mike, this day was not just about him and eleven (as eleven said with ‘this day is all about you and me’) if it was, then, he wouldn’t have cared (or noticed) will’s behavior, and it certainly would not ruin his whole day (especially after his girl friend just gets humiliated and bullied) but will is - no matter how hard he tries - his object of focus, he is what his day is about, he is what he is thinking about, he is who he is paying his attention to (secretly), and he hates that. he is more upset with will than his own gf, and like, again - it’s all about will. like, truly, it’s not even about eleven. he is more hurt by will not telling him. which makes zero sense whatsoever, seeing as he doesnt stay in touch with will, and how would will even know eleven had not told him? it makes absolutely no sense. he is being crazy. and yeah, “they say it makes you crazy.” his behavior towards will is just - !!! crazy !!! it makes no sense. he feels like he lost him, and hawkins was not the same without him, literally pointing out that it doesn’t matter if he has the party there, they are great, but it’s not the same without him.

like i’m literally going insane because it only makes sense when you take into account that love makes you crazy. especially in the 80’s when you live in a town like hawkins, and you think you have no chance with that person, which 100% believe. mike doesn’t think he has a chance with will. he doesn’t think the painting is for him. we have confirmation that mike was told it was for someone else. despite not reaching out more, will’s drawings are still in his room + basement, while there is literal no sign of el anywhere. despite el having like a shrine dedicated to him. mike has always been shown to love his art, more than anyone else. he literally gave eleven a couple of will’s drawings to hang up in his room!! he had a BINDER full of his drawings!! and you are going to tell me that if mike thought that will painted him something, he’d just dismiss it like that? no! when i first watched, before the other scenes, i thought, how stupid does mike have to be? this is so hurtful, im so sad, even if he is repressing, but - as scenes go by, and as i see people on tiktok, and elsewhere literally not get that the painting was for mike, and argue it’s for something else or related to the upside down, it just like, really shows that this is the case - mike thinks it is for someone else - a girl, someone he likes - and he doesn’t want to see it for that reason. the only time that he doesn’t want to see his art and dismisses it, and just to like, really confirm it more that he didn’t know it was for him - mike was canonically called oblivious in season 1. this is a canon trait of his - one that literally frustrates dustin! anyways. im rambling. but. literally m*leven is just a foil. and it’s such a good foil, and it’s so well done, and I just - literally adore it, but also if byler is not endgame or reciprocated, i will literally lose my mind, and just - seriously be so, so, so confused and also just - like, no. it’s happening. they are happening, there is no way. like. the duffer brothers - this is intentional. it has to be. 

and in no way did i even cover every parallel/every foil between m*leven and byler, like there are so many more, all indicating the same things, that mike and will work better together, and so on. it’s just so incredibly beautiful ugh!! I need HELP you guys, for real. 

anyways. i need help. i need to be entered into that psych ward with all the other delusional bylers like cherry person pointed out because literally i can only think of them and like i will lose my mind if this doesn’t happen because how - and like - like we can’t all be this crazy, right like - we wouldn’t all see this if it wasn’t there. like man. if they are not endgame. i will just fully dive into delusion because that makes more sense than any other ‘reality’ of them not being endgame at this point. 

[sukirichi]

crush

pov. you have a crush on your brother’s best friend

request. Hi! Congrats on 2.4k!!🤩 For the event, may I request an au where reader is Yuuta’s sister? Can be gn/fem reader anything is fine. And they fall in love with Toge? Fluff fluff fluff please

notes. awww i love this request, i have a fat crush on toge so i enjoyed writing this! i made this a modern high school au, by the way!

You stare disappointedly at the black wrappings of your bento, sighing because your brother took the wrong one again. Waving goodbye to your friend, you made your way to your brother’s classroom, knocking on the door to get his attention. However, it isn’t your brother who’d stopped laughing mid-conversation. Instead, it’s a familiar-looking platinum haired guy, his purple eyes glimmering with mischief as he slapped your brother’s arm.

“Yo, Yuta, I think someone’s looking for you,” you heard him say.

Meanwhile, you just stood there blankly, your throat growing dry because he was cute – like actually handsome boy-next-door cute.

You’ve met lots of cute guys before, but they were all very immature that you found no interest in others. He, on the other hand, was nothing less of polite, shooting up from his seat because your stupid brother was too invested in his video games. The guy flashed you a bright smile, the beauty of his face up close enhanced that you felt your heart squealing.

Not that you’d ever show that, of course, so you just reciprocated with a polite smile to hide your frantic nerves.

“Hi! You here for Yuta-kun?”

“Y-yes.”

Before he could speak, an arm had shoved him aside. Yuta stood before you, his frown apparent while his friend stayed at the side, a smile still playing on his lips. It took all your energy to not stare at him too much in fear he’d easily read through you.

“Hey, what are you doing here?”

“You swapped lunches with me,” you shoved the black bento box to his chest, stepping closer to your brother to whisper in his ear. “Is that a friend of yours?”

“Yeah, he’s Toge. He used to play with us a lot before he moved away, but his family’s back in town. Don’t you remember him?”

“No…”

“Toge, come here!” he called out to his retreating friend, the guy freezing in his tracks before he jogged up to where you were quickly. Oh crap, you kept gushing, he really was cute. He placed an arm around your brother’s shoulder, nodding at you as a greeting. “Remember my sister? You used to play with her a lot when we were kids. You kept stealing her Barbies, remember?”

“I did?” Toge looked shocked, his back bending into a fake bow. “I’m very sorry for that, but don’t worry, I don’t do that anymore.”

“I don’t play with Barbies at this age!” you defended, heat spreading all over your skin when he winked at you. Both of them laughed at your flushed face, and you crossed your arms on your chest, glaring at your brother. Really though, you were just trying to hide the fact you were very attracted to his friend, even more so now that he was actually familiar. “Stupid Yuta-nii.”

“You’re cute,” Toge randomly piped in.

If you were feeling shy before, you couldn’t speak now.

“Dude, don’t talk about my sister like that,” Yuta gagged, slapping his friend on the chest who effortlessly ducked away, his laughter like music in your ears. You stared at him for who knew how long, his happiness absorbed in your body as you found yourself giggling back. Yuta, on the other hand, wasn’t as impressed, rolling his eyes at his friend before turning to you. “You should go back to class. The bell will ring soon.”

“Okay,” you nodded quietly, hesitating for a moment. Surely it wouldn’t be too weird, right? Deciding to heck with it though, you balled your hands into fists, mustering the courage to look him in the eye as you said, “See you, Toge-senpai.”

He simply shrugged his brows up as a farewell, and just like that, you dashed down the hall so fast you put Quicksilver to shame.

Great. Out of all the days it had to storm, it had to be on the rare moment you forgot your umbrella. Unsurprisingly enough, it was Yuta’s fault for making you forget it. Both of you had slept in too much, but instead of being the responsible older brother, he left you to prepare the meals all by yourself while he spent half an hour fixing his hair. In your haste to arrive on school on time, you’d forgotten to pick up your umbrella, and now the misfortune of it slapped you right on the face.

“Tch, how can I go home?” you glared at no one in particular.

Yuta had to stay behind for baseball practice in the covered court, leaving you all alone to take the bus by yourself. Well, not that it mattered, going home alone was way better than listening to your brother rant about video games and girls he wanted to talk to in class.

Shifting your weight from one foot to another, brows pinched as you mulled on the different ways you could come back home, you came up with two options.

One, run like hell and risk getting sick from this weather, or two, wait for the rain to subside.

But ugh, you wanted to go home already. Before you knew it, you’d unknowingly pouted, arms hugged to yourself while you cursed your stupid brother a hundred times over in your head. Too lost in your own thoughts, you failed to hear humming from behind you, a scream nearly ripping from your lips when someone planted himself beside you.

“Hey, you’re here!”

You gazed up at him wide-eyed, subconsciously stepping away to keep your beating heart at bay. “H-hello, Toge-senpai.”

“Please, just call me Toge,” he offered, opening his umbrella before his eyes landed on you. Probably realizing you were quite helpless, Toge smiled, nudging you to come closer to him. “Hey, I’ll walk you home. You guys still live in the same block?”

“Yeah.”

And so there you were, debating that maybe Yuta’s carelessness wasn’t such a bad thing. After all, if it would lead to your crush taking you home, then you weren’t complaining. Funny how the weather seemed so gloomy, a huge contrast to the sunshine you radiated at the sheer happiness of living out your most romantic fantasies. It was silly, actually, to crush on your brother’s best friend of all people, but Toge was so nice and handsome – it was kind of impossible not to like him.

In the span of two weeks that you’d known him, he’d been nothing but friendly. And no, you weren’t going to admit you started visiting their classroom more often than before, simply because you wanted to get a glimpse of him.

Toge pulled you out of your lovesick trance, his arm landing on your waist before he shifted you beside him. You noticed he was now closer to the road while you were on the safer side of the sidewalk, and god, did he just step closer? He was close enough that your arms brushed with each step, sending a wave of heat that you bit back by tugging your lips with your teeth.

“For warmth,” he explained as if reading your mind, arm raised lazily in a shrug. “Wouldn’t want you to get cold.”

“Thank you,” you muttered, hiding your face under your scarf.

You and Toge were silent the whole time, but it was a silence you adored. Very rarely that you found comfort in silence with others, but with Toge, it felt so easy – so natural. You hadn’t even realized you were already at home, Toge chuckling at your spaced out self. He bid his farewell then, his back facing yours as he walked away when you blurted, “Oh, my parents aren’t home. I think you should stay first to let the rain calm down a bit. You live a little far from school, right?”

Toge looked a little surprised, his eyes shooting up to the sky with a sigh. Inwardly, you were screaming because you just invited him inside, but Toge was already waddling back to you before you could regret it.

“Yeah, thanks for the invitation. I don’t think I should go home in this weather too,” he said, following you across the threshold. He looked around in awe, his shoes left in the front door before he crossed the living room with you, his eyes shining with nostalgia and happiness. “Wow, your place hasn’t changed one bit. I missed being here.”

You flashed him a smile. Turns out it wasn’t that bad – Toge being comfortable made you comfortable. Aside from the nervousness partnered with shyness from having a crush, you applauded yourself for being able to look him in the eye as you asked, “Do you want tea, coffee…?”

“Water is fine. Thanks,” he shrugged off his jacket and placed it behind a chair, chuckling when you nodded too fast. Toge, much to your dismay (or delight?!) trailed behind you in the kitchen, having no business looking that handsome as he leaned against the counter. Him being unaware of his effect on you was even worse, and you bit the inside of your cheeks, trembling as you poured him a glass of water. 

From behind you, Toge snickered, “Why are you so jittery? Do I make you nervous?”

“A-a little.”

“Why? Am I intimidating?” he appeared beside you out of nowhere, so close that you could count his lashes. You leaned back with a muffled squeal, eyes wide at the proximity. Toge, as always, seemed completely unaware of it, taking his time to assess your features with a hand on his chin as if all the answers he was looking for was written all over your face. “Yuta told me I was very easy to approach though.”

“No, it’s not that, I just…” you stuttered, giving in with weak knees and turning your head to the side. Your heart, your poor heart! “Crap, I hate myself.”

“You were saying something?”

“I, uhm, it’s just,” you panicked, mind failing to function now of all times. “I think…I have a crush on you?”

The room fell silent.

Realization dawning on you, you flattened your palms together in a begging motion. Toge merely blinked back at you, and you were so close to just kneeling to the gods to rid yourself of this moment forever. “Please forget everything I said, I’m so sorry! Gosh, Yuta’s going to kill me, forget I said anything, I didn’t mean to be weird.”

“Hey, chill, it’s fine!” he laughed, helping you get up just before you fell in exasperation. Then, he smirked at you, wiggling his brows in the process. “I kind of knew that anyway, to be honest.”

“You do?”

“Yeah, I mean, you asked me to marry you when we were kids,” he informed you, but the memory never played back in your mind. It wasn’t a lie though, you really did ask him that when you were kids. Embarrassment taking hold of you, you groaned behind your palms, feeling like your heart was going to explode every now and then.

“Oh my gosh…”

“It’s okay,” Toge peeled your arms away from your face, his grin nothing less of teasing the moment he’s greeted by your shyness. “I did say yes – let’s just wait after high school, yeah?”

[neopuppy]

Dive Into You: Part 4.(M)

Preview: “What brings you into confession today?”

Pastor Lee’s voice sounds through the small wooden booth around you. Uncomfortably shifting in your seat when the reality of confessing your sins to the one who brought them into this world settles.

“Pastor… what does the bible say about pre-marital sex with two brothers?”

“At the same time?!” Pastor Lee spits out abruptly, gagging on his words.

“Separately Pastor!”

Pairing: brothers Jeno/Haechan x female reader

Word Count: 4k

Genre: pwp, church boys AU, smut, love triangle, brothers nohyuck, a little angsty

Warning: sacrilegious themes, explicit language, master manipulator Haechan, innocent Jeno, corruption, cheating, religious innuendos

Smut Warning: dry humping, fingering, in public setting

Intro—>

Part 1–>

Part 2–>

Part 3–>

“Oh my gosh goodness, that woman is old enough to be his mother!” Your mother gasps, hand over her chest. Haechan strutting into mass with, quite frankly a woman old enough to be his mother. Scantily clad in a tight skimpy hardly there dress. Arm securely draped around her waist. Your jaw falls open following where he leads her into a pew. Both Mark and Jeno sharing looks, back and forth between you and Haechan. Mumbling whispers erupting throughout the crowd of church-goer’s gathered.

“Isn’t that woman just a bit too mature for Pastor Lee’s son?” A voice behind you whispers. Conversations sparking around faster. Pastor Lee awestruck at the podium, slack jawed similar to you and others questioning what Haechan is doing. Your mother scoffing eavesdropping in on everyone muffling their words.

“That is just disappointing. Such a promising young man, wasting his time with an old whore like that.” She lets out a sound in dismay. Never noticing how you hide your face behind the scripture for today's mass. If you muted everyone's speaking enough, sure enough, you’d be able to hear your heartbreaking this very moment. Blinking away hot tears threatening to pass over the rims of your eyes.

Your mother may have not noticed, but that didn’t mean the altar boys missed the way you sunk into your seat. Sadness taking over your features as Haechan relaxed in the pew across from you. Arm around this woman’s shoulders, large smirk displayed. Jeno and Mark gave you many warnings, too many. Your stubborn fault for not listening…always insisting to do things your way. Maybe this was how life worked? How could you have expected a guy like Haechan to want you for more than sex?

Your eyes lift to the ominous cross hung above the altar where you let Haechan commit sin with your body. This church becoming more like a place to drag your mind through hell than anything. Ah, but what was really the point in letting yourself get upset over this? He used you, like some brainless naive idiot you danced along to the pied pipers fiddle.

With a few rapid blinks you return to stare at the floor until this dragging mass ends. Catching Jeno’s gaze before you land on the dirty brown itchy carpet. His lips part open, surprised when your eyes lock on each other. The question passing through his mind all too obvious in his stare. A silent ‘are you ok?’ that you didn’t even deserve from him.. Forcing a smile, your eyes end on the floor, defeated. What if Jeno was the angel on your shoulder that you turned a muted ear to? Turning the volume up for the devil on your other side. Consequences, that’s what the bible was all about wasn’t it? Learning your lesson and living with the aftermath.

Eve bit into the apple of temptation, you were no different.

——————————————————————————

“Father Lee insisted we provide fruit along with baked goods. Health is wealth!” Your mother slaps an apple in your palm. Turning to greet approaching bodies with a shining bright small. Like a wire hanger was propped in her mouth.

“Watermelon! My favorite!” Mark’s brows wiggle, picking up a plate of vibrant fruit. “The fruit of salvation. You know fruit represents, pleasures.. overindulgence, temptation.”

Mark holds up a slice of bright red watermelon. Pale light in the bible room dimming it’s flavorful beauty. Admiring it as if it’s the best thing in the world. He takes a large bite, avoiding seeds. Juice spilling down his chin, speaking between chews- “Can’t always agree with the bible I guess.”

“That’s shocking coming from you..” you look at the apple in hand. Thumb rubbing over a bruise developed on the red yellow coating.

“Nothings perfect right? Only God is perfect. Look at that apple, bruised but still serves a purpose. Sort of like us, we have our flaws but we’re doing our best.” Mark shrugs, devouring the rest of his watermelon.

“You’re pretty logical when you’re not quoting Samael 6:66 all the time.” You smile, earning the jaw drop from Mark as expected.

“Now that is just blasphemous, you little harlot!” Mark scoffs. Damn finger waving about in front of your nose. “Jesus said..”

“Save the quote, I’m not seeing the gates of heaven anytime soon.” You quietly interrupt Mark. Setting down the apple with the other fruits. Some more pristine then others, none perfect. How could perfection be defined anyway..

“I’m pretty sure my invitation to the sky above got revoked years ago.” Perfection spoke up. Jeno standing by, catching the tail end of your conversation. Hands shoved into the pockets of his tight black jeans. Form hugging black t-shirt tucked in. Defined trimmed waist leading down to sculpted long legs. Physique of a God if you’d ever seen one.

“Gods for sure not the only perfect being..” you mumble under your breath. Mark and Jeno’s eyes both lifting to you curiously. Smiling, shrugging off a response. “Well I’m sure you redeemed yourself with all that bible camp stuff. God loves shit like that.”

“Does he now?” Jeno’s arms cross over his chest. Forehead wrinkling in surprise. Mark muttering into another bite of fruit how you needed to stop cursing all the time.

“He doesn’t communicate with me, but I’d imagi-…” Haechan’s loud laughter cuts your speech off. Entering the room with that woman old enough to be his mother. Pulling them closer to the table filled with coffee, pastries, fruits. Shifting side to side anxiously as they near, stomach bubbling in.. embarrassment? Was it because Mark and Jeno knew?..or could at least assume very well.

“Aw nono, you already changed out of your cute little altar boy get up? Wanted to introduce my girl to my cute innocent little brother. Now you just look like hot topic threw up on you or something.” Haechan pokes at Jeno. Smirk plastered across his face. Jeno’s ‘fuck off’ reply coming in like garbled words.

My girl?! My girl? All of a fucking sudden? Hag. Haechan wasn’t even sparing you a glance. If he was trying to make it clear there was nothing between the two of you- he didn’t need to try much harder. Accepting the situation the best to your abilities or not wasn’t going to stop the rush of tears attempting to streak down your face. A quick spin had you racing out of the church, Jeno’s neck snapping catching sight of your back exiting.

“You’re such a dick Haechan.” Shoving past his older brother, Jeno pushes past a few bodies. Running out of church behind you.

“I didn’t watch the porn because there was a watermelon in it…BUT there was a watermelon in it…” Mark’s eyes lift expecting to see you and Jeno. Too engrossed in his favorite snack. Haechan staring at him dumb founded.

“This is exactly why I don’t believe in God.” Haechan’s head shakes, teeth clicking. Nudging the woman at his side to agree with him. “He’s my distant cousin. Emphasis on distant.”

——————————————————————————-

“Hey! Wait up!” Jeno catches up to you easily. Long legs sprinting out faster than you were moving. Hand wrapping around your arm, revealing your wet tear stained face with a turn. His face instantly falling, chest moving up and down returning to a regular breathing pace.

“It’s ok..” hands lift covering your face. You should be accustomed to this sensation of embarrassment by now. Hunching in, sobbing harder the more it settles in. Humiliating deeper because it wasn’t some secret you could live with. Jeno knew exactly how easily you walked into his brothers trap.

His hands shook, staying still in the air near your head. Internally resisting the immediate urge to comfort you. Arms dropping, hands flopping down by his sides. Lips pursing annoyed he couldn’t bring himself to even touch you. The fact was- you weren’t interested in him. You were another broken girl, crying at his feet over Haechan. Ignoring the stinging pain in his chest, from watching you break down. From knowing why you were in such pain. Who knew either way, Jeno wasn’t going to admit it.

“I can.. take you home..”

His delicate rasp reaches your ears past muffled cries. Pouting, rubbing your palms across wet heated cheeks. Reminding yourself in the back of your mind how you probably looked like shit. The last way you’d prefer for Jeno to see you, not that it mattered.

“Don’t wanna go home..” you sigh into your hands, shoulders shaking trying to control yourself. “Dad’s home..”

Jeno looks around, eyes falling on his bike under a large tree. Shaded from the bright daytime sun. Mouth lifting to one side, he could take you to the diner? The book shop was closed on Sundays to prioritize mass.. or maybe..

“I got a place..” Jeno pulls your wrist. Sad face reveal causing another type of tight clench in his chest. “Come with me.”

Gently leading you toward his bike, unclasping the helmets attached along the back. The memory of riding attached to his back still drawing impure thoughts to your mind. No idea who you even were anymore. Riding around on the back of an attractive boys motorcycle. Losing your virginity in church of all places.

Arms circling around his flat stomach. Jeno smelled nice, clean and fresh. Nothing too strong, your nose tempted to dive in with a deep inhale. Opting to rest your chin on his broad upper back where it dipped down the middle. Not bothering to question where he was going to take you, grateful he even cared.

He cared.

“What is this place?” You cautiously stepped forward. Looking down the ledge of the cliff Jeno had brought you to. Setting the helmets back on the bar attached at the end of his bike.

“I guess I come here to get away.” He shrugs, moving to stand by your side. “Small town, not many places to go. It’s hard when you’ve lived here all your life, everyone thinks they know you..”

“Yea..” guilt gnaws away at your gut. You were no different from everyone else. Like your mother looking at Jeno with preconceived notions, judgement. “It’s hard when you’re the town pastor’s son, I can only imagine..”

“Pft.. cause he’s so innocent. Somehow brain washed everyone into forgetting he cheated, knocked up my mom while still married to Haechan’s..”

“Oh…” scuffing your boots nervously against dirt. Sparing glances Jeno’s way. Chiseled jaw having you ready to swoon like some sad teenager passing her crush in the hallway. Mind so far away distracted, screaming at yourself that Jeno’s trying to have a deep conversation with you. “I didn’t uh…know that about your dad.”

“He just lucked out my mom didn’t tell anyone about the church intern fresh out of high school that she filed divorce papers over..” Jeno says, removing his jacket. Holding it open for you with a questioning look. Your eyes widen, immediately caving in a moment of weakness. Allowing him to drape the material around your shoulders. Fresh scent engulfing your sense of smell.

“You’re really.. nice Jeno. Considering everything, I have to admit I expected you to be more like Haechan..” you express, pulling the jacket around yourself tighter.

“We aren’t that different, growing up together will do that. Someone has to be the scapegoat, unfortunately it’s always me. Typical younger sibling syndrome right?” Jeno rubs his exposed arm, muscle tank revealing bits of tattoo. You nod to his words, unable to picture Jeno and Haechan getting along like two loving brothers.

“Your tattoo… your dad doesn’t know about it right?” You inquire, returning to topic back to Jeno. Ready to forget his brothers existence, at least for the time being.

“Oh yea..he’d probably ship me off to Jerusalem, peace core or some shit.” Jeno laughs, pushing the loose cut off sleeve up. Further exposing the evil creature blaring into your vision.

“Why a demon?”

“Why not right? I lost my faith in religion when my dad kept coming up with new excuses for why his sins were forgiven. God isn’t real anyway.” Jeno finishes. Eyes narrowing, expecting a reaction from you.

“I think you’re right actually..” you nod, softly smiling. Awestruck eyes staring into yours, satisfied. “..I should probably get home. Didn’t even tell my mom I was leaving. She’s gonna be so pissed..”

“Ah yea..can’t have that. She’s pretty intense huh?” Jeno scratches his throat anxiously. The voice in the back of his mind yelling at him to do something now. “..I’ll take you home.”

You take languid drawn out steps together. Tension surging between your bodies like electric shocks. Jeno reaching for his helmet. Fingers hesitating to open the clasp.

“Can I ask you something?” he looks away, teeth digging at his bottom lip. Was that nerves?

“Of course” you promptly respond, bouncing on your toes.

“If Haechan..hadn’t.. I don’t know, gotten to you first..” Jeno cringes. Focusing his eyes on the ground. Ending his curiosity there, struggling with his hope that you’d ever like him.

“What do you mean?” Your brows furrow, moving in, closing the space between your bodies. Jeno’s eyes meet yours, giving away the intent behind his question. “..you..why are you asking? You don’t..”

“It’s nothing, forget it.” Jeno’s head shakes, realization hitting you. Guys like Jeno never gave you the time of day..

“Would you have?” Boldly your hand lands on his, pulling fingers away from the helmet. Still wearing his jacket, could you be more oblivious?

“I wanted to..” those words are all it takes. Pushing up on your toes, lips smashing on his. Fever like heat raising your confidence to go for it. Jeno’s been good to you- the cold demeanor a cover up for how painfully shy you make him.

Hands find your hips, pressing you against the seat of his bike. Ass digging into the warm leather, jacket falling from your shoulders. Jeno kissing you back needy, full of desperation, loud breaths passing through his nose. Finger nails scraping the material of your dress, gathering the fabric up. Skin rubbing on the sun kissed bike under you. He presses in, tongue flicking out, asking for permission to enter. Fisting the cotton shirt on his chest in a wrinkled mess. Mouth parting so fast, too fast. Wet tongues eagerly meeting, rolling against the roof of your mouth.

Jeno’s groans are hot, raspy and deep. Affecting you quickly, sinking back on the bike when his hips roll between your thighs. Hard on tenting angrily in tight jeans. Grinding against your soaking core.

“God I..” Jeno mumbles on your lips, lapping spit across your mouth. His own pouting out cutely, blood tinted lips shining in outdoor light. “I really…whoa..fuck..”

“Jeno..” your arms lift, wrapping around his neck. Bringing your bodies together impossibly close. Pained moan trapped in his throat, thrusting in anguish. Craving to bend you over on his bike, slap your ass and fuck you until you can’t even remember his brothers name.

Jeno’s thumb shoves between your wet mouth, tongue swirling around. Groaning louder with another crushing thrust. Cock screaming for release, working up a faster speed. Demanding movements bouncing you on the bike. Eyes falling shut sucking at his thumb, picturing the length prodding at your walls sitting heavy in your mouth instead. Both of you growing needier with each dry hump against each other. Calves finding Jeno’s hips, lifting yourself up writhing against the hard fabric of his worn jeans.

“You feel so good..fuck..” Jeno captures your upper lip, sucking harshly. Hips growing furious, thigh muscles flexing tightly. Dragging sweet panted moans out of you, thumb opening your mouth. Saliva drooling past both of your lips messily, chins coated in each other.

“Please..” you whimper, pleading. Unsure what you could be begging for. Jeno nods reassuringly, gripping the back of your neck. Hand falling from your mouth, finding space between your legs. Drenched underwear shoved aside, sliding long fingers up and down. Catching your wetness, palm covered, landing loudly on your mound. Jeno finding your clit, pressing down hard. Surprised scream releasing from your chest. Tongue covering your exposed neck, nipping at dips.

“Can I?” Jeno’s fingers prod your opening up entrance. Head nodding rapidly, eyes wide. Gliding past your convulsing walls. Groaned curses repeating from his lips, finding way deep inside of you. Slender pretty hands working you to a heightened pleasure. Jeno continuously licking around your jaw, catching parted lips in bites. Hard enough to leave you a swelling pained mess, lips pursing out asking for more.

He lets your neck go, face dropping, forehead hitting his shoulder. Tattoo coming to life so close up, licking the expanse inked skin. Jeno grits his teeth, whimpering with squeezed eyes. Hand squeezing your hip, fingers jabbing in and out. Thumb circling your clit with expertise, nothing innocent in his touches.

He squirms on your thigh, member begging to fuck you open. Resisting to need for himself, fully focused on getting you off. Enjoying the way your eyes roll, tongue hung out letting your mind succumb to his touches.

Your hips jump up, wriggling into the thrusts of his fingers. Reaching far deep within, hitting every delicious spot. Lips landing together in a bruising sloppy kiss, muffling strained moans. Jeno’s thumb pressing down just right on your clit, precise fingers hitting where you need him in repeated motions. Trembling around him, walls gripping tightly. Jeno’s motions slowing down, letting the climax high wash over you. Softly tracing kisses atop your burning cheeks, staggering down to your neck. Soft nips turning into hard bites, leaving marks of himself behind.

“I..” Jeno’s forehead rolls over yours, skin dragging against his. Nose nudging gently at you, nerves still clouding his sense. Hard breaths landing on your face, eyes finding yours, mind returning back to you. “I want.. I like you.. I need…..I want..to take you out, like…date out...”

You nod a bit too excited, nose hitting his. Jeno’s stressed words making you clench up around his fingers yet again. Another pained groan blended into a sigh sounding around you. “I want that so bad Jeno.. I really want you.”

—————————————————————————-

“What brings you in to confession today?”

Pastor Lee’s voice sounds through the small wooden booth around you. Uncomfortably shifting in your seat when the reality of confessing your sins to the one who brought them into this world settles.

“Pastor… what does the bible say about pre-marital sex with two brothers?”

“At the same time?!” Pastor Lee spits out abruptly, gagging on his spit.

“Separately Pastor!” You shriek out. Fingers stopping your lips, wondering if Pastor would recognize your voice. It’s not as if you spent time speaking to each other much..

“Well..” Pastor Lee’s throat clears, adjusting the collar tightening around his neck. “That’s..good to hear. Are you planning to wed one of these men?”

“Wed?! Like marry?” Your forehead creases, thinking it over. It was way too early to even consider such a thing. “I’m not pregnant pastor!”

“That’s…that’s good news my child.” Pastor audibly swallows. Sweat gathering at his hairline. “You..wish to know what the bible has to say about this?

“Am I going to hell if I choose to…have intercourse with both of them? I’ve only slept with one..”

“Only?” The pastor sounds flabbergasted. Gulping down another loud breath of air. “You won’t go to..hell over this. You need to repent for your mistakes none the less. God is good, and forgiving.”

“So, I’m not going to hell right?” Your frazzled tone sounds around the booth. Growing frustrated the longer he skirts around your questions.

“Yes my child, of course God does, but!-…”

“….God forgives all right? Like…God will love and forgive me even if I do happen to…somehow…you know..fornicate with uhm..” you chew on your thumb nail, catching yourself ready to say- ‘your sons’. “..siblings?”

Pastor Lee becomes frantic on the other side of the confessional booth. Fingers quickly turning through thin pages of his bible. Murmuring sounds of ‘uhm’ between, buying extra time to find an explainable excuse for why you absolutely should not do such a thing.

“Now my child.. yes God loves you, of course. I cannot say he would approve of you doing this! What about the brothers bond you could end up destroying?? That would be greed and lust! Those are sins child, sins!” Pastor Lee exasperates. Patting a handkerchief along his sweating forehead. Small towns hardly ever brought him confessions this extreme.

“Pastor, did you not have sex out of wedlock once too?.. more than once! With two different women! Does God approve of that?” You sit up straight. Hand slapping over your mouth after speedily replying. Shit, God probably didn’t care much for this conversation, that’s for damn sure..

“Child of God! now..” the pastor continues, avoiding your accusations. “Are you going to go through with this regardless of what excerpt from the bible I give you?”

“Yes father…I believe so..I really like this guy..” you timidly say. The thought that the pastor could have you in mind making your stomach turn.

“Well then..” with a heavy dissatisfied sigh, Pastor Lee continues. “Twenty hail Marys and Fifty our fathers should do it.”

“Fifty?!” your mouth falls open, disbelief stricken by the idea of sitting here for the next three hours repeating prayers.

“Make that seventy child. Ten for each seven deadly sin.”

You pause for a moment, hand on the door knob ready to exit. Mouth gaped considering asking what the bible says about losing your virginity in church. A minute of contemplation later, you decide it’s best to add another fifty hail Mary’s.

“Thank you so much Pastor Lee!”

——————————————————————————

It felt a little scary, but fun, getting ready for your date with Jeno. Of course you still wanted to leave an impression, even with his confession.

Repeating it in your mind over and over again: A. Date. With. Jeno.

Holy fucking shit. What alternative universe had you stumbled into moving to live here. Maybe the best way to get over someone really was by getting under someone else…younger brother and all. God had to be real if this was how your love life was playing out.

Walking up to Jeno, he was a complete vision. Black messy hair pointing different directions, as if he just ruffled it and said ‘good enough’. Leather jacket all too tight over his defined rippling biceps, like a second skin. Silver chain necklaces shining under the sunset across the orange red sky behind him. Hoops adorning his ears making the sparkle in his eyes come to life. The large steel ball chain necklace catching your eye against his pale thick neck. Imagining him on top of you coated in a sheen of sweat. Cold chains dangling down on your skin..

“Isn’t this… your brothers car?!?” Your eyes nearly bulge out of sockets asking the question. Drawn out of the quick fantasy you’d almost drifted into. The cherry black trans am practically glowing behind Jeno.

“It is, isn’t it..” Jeno’s smile lifts into his eyes. Fingers waving around a set of keys mid-air. “Who do you think Haechan learned how to pick pocket from? Still no match to the king.”

Jeno unlocks the car, opening up the passenger door for you. Surprising you first with his tattoos.. now this. Maybe he wasn’t the innocent cute younger brother you’d perceived him as all this time.

The engine sounded alive, Jeno pulling out of your driveway. Better looking than any heart throb you’d see on some terrible basic cable teen drama. Arm reaching around the space between your bodies. Other stretched in front of him. Long fingers attached to pretty veins flexing around the spinning steering wheel. All he had to do was grab your thigh to set you bursting up in flames. Stealing subtle looks at him picturing the tattoo adorning his perfectly sculpted shoulder.

“Haechan doesn’t know you borrowed his car I’m guessing? Won’t he be mad?” You wonder out loud. Jeno’s smile spreading into his cheeks. Eyes squinting under the low sun coming through the windshield. Relaxed in the drivers seat making way down the empty road. Arm closest to you splaying out, fingers wrapping around your exposed leg. Shivers shooting up your heat from where his large palm covers the majority of your visible mid-thigh.

“That’s the plan.”

Final—>

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