#as an obvious disclaimer... no i do not really draw like this anymore

[muffindaydream]

old 2019-2021 arts focused on my OCs Grayson and Ophelia

[so-so-woso]

i wanna be the one | part 3

Summary: Your first season at Arsenal as told by the highlights of your relationship with Leah Williamson. I don’t know how to write summaries, but this one is mostly angst tbh.

Disclaimer: Artistic liberties were taken in regards to Leah’s thoughts, feelings, and opinions as described in the fourth section. I am not/was not trying to extrapolate any of her actual thoughts, feelings, or opinions about anything mentioned in that section.

Word Count: 3,668

The next couple of months went by pretty quickly, all things considered. There were ups, there were downs, you got your first minutes against Brighton that was a bit of both. It was exciting and you were glad you finally got to play, but you let in a second-half goal that tied the match. A draw was a draw, and not a loss, and it was just one goal, and no one else seemed particularly upset with you specifically, but you certainly were. You imagined it was obvious that goalkeepers don’t like giving up goals, but logically you knew they would happen. It just sucked that you felt like you let the team down in your first real chance to play. After the game, you had gone home and immediately threw up, then lay on your living room floor for a couple hours before going to bed at 7 pm. You had always been someone who took things hard, even as a kid, but this one seemed to hit a little bit harder, presumably because you had already been feeling like you didn’t deserve to be here. But then again, you had pretty much always felt like that too, even as a kid. The worse part, probably, was that it also always made you feel stupid – because on the good days, you felt like you knew the truth, how everyone else saw it, how it was. But on the bad days, you couldn’t see anything but how horrible you were at everything you tried to do. That day was a bad day. Luckily, the next few were pretty good.

Before you knew it, it was March, and you were at Leah’s house celebrating her birthday with the team. You had all gone out to dinner, and then back to hers for cake and drinks. You weren’t really sure if presents were part of the deal, so you had made sure to wear a jacket with a big enough pocket to keep yours in, in case they weren’t part of the deal. You supposed you could’ve asked someone, but you were pretty sure some of the others were starting to pick up on the fact that your flirting with Leah wasn’t entirely a joke. Beth and McCabe had both straight out asked you about it once, and both had also quietly informed you that she didn’t date teammates. Katie had actually said that she didn’t date teammates anymore, but wouldn’t say anything else about it and you didn’t want to press, despite being curious. But none of that seemed to dissuade Leah from letting you flirt with her, or flirting with you back. It was still really confusing, but if it was all she would give you, then you would take it. You would also realize of course that this wasn’t entirely healthy, but there were worse vices to have.

So there you were, sitting crowded on a couch in Leah’s living room with your teammates, laughing at Kim and Beth sing karaoke – or try to sing karaoke anyway. You felt like you could say that since you had already embarrassed yourself twice doing the same thing. You had retired from your karaoke career and squeezed onto the couch next to Viv to enjoy the rest of the evening. It was honestly a really good time, and probably one you preferred to the nights you would all go out somewhere. They were fun in a different way, you supposed, but they did usually always end up just reminding you that you really were an introvert no matter how much you would pretend otherwise.

You had caught Leah’s eye a few times throughout the evening, but hadn’t managed to really get in a conversation with her yet, so you ended up spacing out on the couch trying to think of excuses you could make to get her alone. Everything you ended up thinking of would definitely be more obvious than you wanted, though, so ultimately you just stayed awkwardly on the couch for a couple more hours. Eventually people started filtering out, and as much as you wanted to linger, you knew that not only would that be obvious, but with the way Beth was going, she was going to be here for quite a while longer, or until Viv managed to drag her out.

You decided to say your goodbyes and throw one last quip at Katie over your shoulder, who threw a pillow back at you. You laughed and bent down to pick it up and throw it back, but Leah beat you to the punch.

“Don’t throw shit in my house, McCabe,” she called as she tossed it back across the room. Looking up at you then, she said quietly, “I’ll walk you out,” and you felt her hand on the back of your arm as she led you towards the door.

You became uniquely aware of both the soft pressure of her hand and the hard shape of the gift hidden in your pocket pressing against your stomach. You had somehow managed to ignore it all night, but now with her touching you, even as innocently as she had, it was like your senses had shot through the roof. You felt your nerves just begin to buzz as you reached the door and she pulled her hand away, which almost made you more nervous somehow.

“Thanks for coming,” she said, the consummate host.

You smiled and nodded, and said of course, your hand snaking into your pocket to retrieve the gift you’d stored there. You had apparently hesitated long enough that she knew you had something else to say. She looked at you expectantly and you felt that familiar surge of anxiety twist deep in your gut. Suddenly, all of this felt really, really stupid, and you could feel the burning start across your cheeks. You knew Leah could see it, too, from the look of slow growing concern on her face. You mumbled something incoherent and shook your head, pulling your hand from your pocket – empty – and reaching instead for the door. You opened it too quickly and too forcefully, and Leah was still looking at you like she wanted to ask what was wrong, but wasn’t sure if she should, and having her eyes on you made it all so much worse.

You took one step outside and hesitated – a small step for man and a giant leap for cowardice, it felt. You suddenly hated yourself again. Everything was always so easy when it didn’t mean anything, but the second something mattered all you could ever think about was how badly you would fuck it up. But you’ve made it this far into the evening, it would be stupider to just leave, right?...right?

You spun on your heel, and Leah was leaning against the doorframe staring at you. You hated it when she stared at you, almost as much as you loved it. You swallowed hard, and shoved your hand back in your pocket, this time quickly removing the red-wrapped rectangle before your brain had time to consider otherwise.

“Here,” you said. How polite.

You sighed and rolled your eyes at yourself.

“S-sorry, I—I didn’t know what you would want, so I just…it’s my favorite book. You don’t have to—it’s stupid, you don’t have to read it,” you rambled, and she let you, before she reached out to take it from you and held it against her chest as you watched you.

“Thank you,” was all she said. You sighed again and turned away, but your feet wouldn’t move away and your mind wouldn’t either, so you turned back to her.

“It meant a lot to me, when I was kid, after my parents…and, um, then I read it again as an adult and it’s like…it meant more, I guess.”

“…I don’t think that’s stupid.”

You could only hum in response, eyes dropping again for a long moment as you returned to choking down the embarrassment that had started swelling back up in your throat. Then finally, graciously, a firmness settled in your spine and you met her gaze again. God, you really liked looking at her.

“Happy birthday, Williamson.”

A beautiful grin spread across her face in response.

“There she is,” she said, and you knew exactly what she meant. Fear and Doubt and Bad Days made you someone else, and you knew you would have to explain it to her and the rest of the team at some point. Tonight had probably sped up that process quite a bit, but you didn’t think you can handle it right now, and you knew she wouldn’t make you. But she had smiled at you, and that made you smile back, and you felt Good again.

“Good night.”

“…good night, Y/N.”

Yeah, you thought, maybe it was.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Leah tore her ACL in April. That sucked, for a multitude of reasons – mostly for her, obviously, but it still made you feel sick too. You, and pretty much everyone else remotely invested in English football, hated that she’d miss the World Cup. This was supposed to be England’s year, and it could still be, but it wouldn’t be the same without Leah. It wasn’t really comparable, but you’d broken your collarbone once in college and missed most of the season, and you knew how badly that made you feel, even when the team did well without you. Especially when they did well without you. You knew she’d pretend it was okay because things like this happen, but you also knew she probably wasn’t really okay.

You had called her the evening it happened and left a voicemail: “Hey, it’s Y/N. Um, I know you’ve probably got like a thousand people trying to talk to you, so no worries but I just…I don’t know, I just…I wanted you to know I was thinking about you, and if you needed anything or wanted anything or literally anything, just, um…just let me know. Okay, um, bye.” Super smooth. When you woke up the next morning, you saw that she had texted you back ‘thanks’ at some point during the night. You would be lying if you said you weren’t a little disappointed that was all she had said, but you knew she would probably have a rough time for a while and that she had plenty of people supporting her, so like with everything else, you would take whatever she’d let you have.

The next few weeks saw you surviving on similar crumbs. You had gone to see her a few times with the team, and you’d text back and forth occasionally, but you really wished you could just go talk to her by yourself. You knew, of course, you didn’t really have a good reason to, though. You were friends, you guessed, and that was probably reason enough, but you wanted to see her and help her and take care of her, and that wasn’t your place however badly you wanted it to be. So, like everything else, you sucked it up and swallowed it down and did everything you could to pretend it didn’t bother you.

And then after her surgery she texted you again.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

leah: i read your book

leah: it was good

leah: it made me cry

y/n: that wasn’t the intention

leah: no but in a good way

leah: i get why you like it

leah: it reminded me a lot of you

y/n: in a good way?

leah: yeah mostly

y/n: mostly?

leah: yeah

leah: it was sweet and funny

leah: but also sad

y/n: you think i’m sad?

leah: i think you are sometimes

leah: sorry

leah: was that too much?

y/n: no you’re right

y/n: it’s just a whole thing

leah: do you want to talk about it?

y/n: yeah

y/n: but not like this

leah: do you want to come over?

y/n: like right now?

leah: whenever

y/n: okay

y/n: is monday okay?

leah: yeah if that’s what you want

y/n: yeah

y/n: okay

y/n: cool

y/n: i can bring dinner

y/n: i know you can’t cook on your best days

leah: fuck off

leah: but yeah bring dinner

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

This was the first time the two of you had really hung out totally alone, which you thought you had wanted but now that you’re actually here, sitting in Leah’s kitchen, you felt kind of stupid again. You poked around at the food you had brought, taking small slow bites here and there, while the two of you talked. It was, honestly, pretty awkward. You started with small talk, then talked about Leah’s injury and her surgery and her rehab, and the upcoming end of Arsenal’s season, the upcoming World Cup, pretty much everything but what you probably should’ve talked about. Eventually you finished dinner, and Leah offered another glass of wine and suggested you move to the living room. At that your throat dried up faster than the conversation had. You hesitated for a moment, but after about two seconds of watching her hobble around you took to your feet and began clearing the table. She told you not to, but that didn’t stop you, and she didn’t try any harder to stop you either. She lingered for awhile, though, in the kitchen, watching you, before moving over to the living room herself and settling on the couch. You brought the glasses and the wine, and made a point to sit on the opposite side of the sofa.

The silence continued for a few more moments before Leah finally broke it.

“So…did you want to talk?”

“Right, I tell you my trauma, you tell me yours?”

 “I don’t think I have any trauma.”

“…are you sure?”

“…no.”

Her reply was quiet and she shifted in her seat as she took a long drink from her glass. You did the same, and let the silence settle again. This time it did so softly, and despite the fact that the conversation was about to turn more serious, you were lacking your earlier awkwardness. Maybe it was the wine, or maybe it was just the time spent, but this for some reason felt more comfortable – the two of you sitting in the dim light of Leah’s living room, speaking with quiet words and loud stares. You basked in the silence for several moments, both of you musing over your own aforementioned traumas-or-perceived-lack-thereof, while you let the little bit of alcohol you’d consumed solidify your spine. Eventually, you drew in a depth breath and began.

“So, the beginning, then?”

And you talked. About your childhood, your parents, and the car accident. About moving to Texas, your grandmother, and how much she tried for you. About how sick and sad and unhappy you had felt all the time. About how playing football was one of the only times you felt okay. About playing in college, and how you got drafted to Seattle, and about how you came to Arsenal, and how much you loved it. About how good and fortunate and lucky you knew you were to be able to play professional football. About how you still felt sick and sad and unhappy all the time. About how it always lingered, no matter what you did or where you were. About how stupid it made you feel, to both know your worth and think you’re worthless. About how no one really knew any of that, because you had gotten really good at lying.

You cried a little bit. So did she. And then she talked. About how she didn’t date teammates, and about how much the last time had hurt. About how she wasn’t the one who had ended it, but she was the one who had made it bad, and about how she’d never admitted as much out loud before. About the constant pressure she was under, and how she tried so hard to use it instead of being crushed but sometimes it felt too heavy to lift. About how much she loved football, and how much she hated the attention she was getting because of it. About how much she really did try to use that attention to refocus on more important things, and how exhausting it could all get. About how devastated she was to miss the World Cup, and how some small part of her was glad for the excuse. About how no one really knew any of that, because she had gotten really good at lying.

And there you sat, two liars being honest with each other. It wasn’t long before the silence wrapped warmly around you again, this time both of you content to linger in it as long as you could – but if you were being honest, you guessed there was something else you should probably add.

“…do you want to know another secret?” you said quietly, unable to keep the corner of your lip from twitching though able to bite back the smile. She huffed a breathless laugh, and gave a small yeah as she wiped her cheeks with the sleeve of her shirt.

“It’s my birthday.”

Her face fell suddenly, confused, and her brow furrowed – which funnily enough you realized just then was a look that you had sorely missed.

“What? When?”

“Now. Today.”

“Today's your birthday?”

You didn’t bother fighting the small smile that pulled at your face then, and you nodded. Leah twisted around then, quicker than you’d seen her move all evening, and with her good leg kicked you in the calf, twice.

“What the fuck – why the fuck didn’t you say something!?”

“I don’t know, I don’t really – I don’t really celebrate stuff,” you said, pulling your leg away and feigning a few slaps towards her foot. “I just – I wanted to hang out with you.”

She huffed then, crossing her arms across her chest, visibly annoyed that you kept this secret for last. You sighed and pulled your legs further away, then decided to retreat entirely, standing up to gather both your glasses and the wine bottle.

“…is that why you picked today? To come see me?”

Her voice was softer, more akin to your earlier conversation and absent any tone of irritation. You turned to look down at her, and saw that her face was absent irritation as well, the brow-furrow gone and the look in her eyes asking all the questions her mouth wouldn’t.

You straightened up, the quiet confirmation leaving your lips before you even thought the word yes. You hesitated as you heard yourself, then turned and continued into the kitchen. You heard the couch shifting behind you and by the time you had finished cleaning up she had joined you, leaning against the kitchen table.

“You like me,” she said, lilting, and it was your turn to huff then.

“Yeah, I thought that was pretty obvious.”

“Yeah, but…you like me.”

You rolled your eyes at her slow tone shift, having now morphed pretty fully into teasing. You dropped the kitchen towel you’d been absently folding on to the countertop and took a single step towards her, closing the gap between you save for a few inches.

“Yeah, I do. Should I be more obvious?” you mocked back.

“I don’t think you could be more obvious. Neon sign, maybe.”

“I could get one, I know a guy.”

“You know a neon sign guy?”

“Yeah.”

“You’ve been in London for like four months and you have a neon sign guy?”

“Maybe I have a lot of neon needs.”

“What does that even mean?”

“I have no idea, I don’t even know.”

You were practically talking on top of each other, and you only realized you were also practically standing on top of each other when you felt Leah’s knuckles brush against your stomach. You cut yourself off and looked down at her hand, clutching the front of your shirt. When had she grabbed you? You didn’t know, and looking back up at her face, she didn’t know either, but you were both suddenly very aware of it. Her hand fell free and she took a step back, as did you, turning back to the counter and again absently reaching out to straighten the towel you’d dropped moments before.

“I should go,” you said, turning then towards the door instead of her. “Practice in the morning—”

“—yeah, of course,” she interjected, moving to meet you at the door. You both reached it at about the same time, and both tried to pull it open. You backed off, then she did, and then you did again, this time with a gesture for her to move in. She did, and the door opened, and you stepped outside with an apology.

“Sorry,” you said, finally turning back around and looking at her, chewing on the inside of her own cheek as she leaned against the door.

“No, it’s – um, I had a nice time.”

“Yeah!” you returned, a hair too excitedly. “Uh, yeah, it was…it was really nice to see you. Like away from everybody else. Not that everybody else isn’t cool, too, it’s just…yeah.”

“Yeah.”

“Yeah,” you repeated. She laughed softly at that, and so did you, and you both mumbled quiet good nights but neither of you moved. You just stood there on her doorstep with your hands in your pockets, and she stood leaning against the door, biting her own lip. And then suddenly something in the moment bent around you. It didn’t quite break, it just urged you slightly forward, where you pressed your lips against her cheekbone.

When you moved to pull away she turned her head and there were her lips, a mere inch from yours. You both froze, still as stone, daring the other to move. But for however long you stood there, she didn’t, and you didn’t either, and then you turned and walked away. Whatever had its hooks in you couldn’t quite break just yet.

But you could wait, you thought again. You would wait.

[marvelmaniac715]

It’s another Chucky and Glen au! This time, Chucky didn’t die at the end of Bride, but Tiffany did. Baby Glen/da is born, and Chucky finds them when he goes looking for Tiffany. You know what that makes him? A single dad. He decides to do the decent thing and raise the kid on his own, how does this impact the rest of the Chucky series? Quick disclaimer, I am a cisgender female, but I wanted to include the twins’ coming out. If I have written anything wrong or remotely offensive, my sincerest apologies, I didn’t intend to cause any harm and I will endeavour to fix my mistakes :). Also, I changed the twins’ names (don’t hate me). The reason for this is that in Seed, it’s obvious that Chucky came up with Glen on the spot, and for this fic I tried to think about what names he would choose if he actually put thought into them. What do you think of my choices?

————————————————————-

Chucky could hear screaming in the distance. It sounded like Tiffany. He had only barely survived, but he had enough strength to head towards her direction. Did he care about Tiffany anymore? Not really, he mostly wanted to see what was going on out of curiosity, and to get her to shut her trap. That screeching was hurting his head.

By the time he’d found her, Tiffany had stopped screaming. But something else was screaming instead. It was confusing for a moment, he didn’t know what was making that sound. But the moment he laid eyes on the source of the noise, Chucky knew that it was the most adorable, perfect ‘something’ he had ever seen.

A baby doll, about the size of his arm. With bright blue eyes and the most adorable little set of razor sharp teeth that they were using to bite down on a grown man’s neck. They weren’t even an hour old and they’d already killed a man. Chucky was so proud.

Then it hit him. He didn’t know how this very obvious fact hadn’t occurred at first, but it was all at once astounding and life changing. This was his child. His. He was a father. He had created life for a change instead of taking it. According to all laws of science and even religion, this baby shouldn’t exist. But it did, and Chucky had a huge responsibility ahead of him. 

Chucky bent down to scoop up the baby, trying his best to rock and soothe it. His only experience had been with a neighbour’s newborn daughter at the age of five, they had been invited to a celebration at their house and he’d been allowed to hold her with support from his parents. He’d known at that moment, that he’d wanted to be a father one day, but he’d never thought it would actually happen. 

It dawned on Chucky that the baby didn’t have a name. Or a gender. It seemed incredibly demeaning and dehumanising to refer to his child as an ‘it’, so he resolved to correct that issue. He soon figured out that the child was a boy, but he still needed to come up with a name for his son.

His son. Wow, those were amazing words to say. But he couldn’t dwell on that, the kid needed a good name. Obviously the last name would be Ray, and a middle name was easy. He’d always loved the Peter Pan story, so his son’s middle name would be Peter. But the first name stumped him. He couldn’t think of anything good. He nearly chose Glen, but a look down at the baby made him change his mind. No, this kid didn’t look like a Glen. But what was he-

His thoughts were cut off abruptly when the baby bit him on the hand, drawing blood. Chucky didn’t scream or yell, he laughed.

“That’s my boy! Wow, you’re just like me when I was-‘

Charles. That was it, that was the perfect name. Of course, this was the ideal opportunity to carry on his name. Chucky looked down at his son. Charles Peter Ray. Or for short…

“Hi Charlie, I’m your dad. I’m so happy to meet you.”

That felt right in a way that Chucky couldn’t explain.

————————————————————-

The woman screamed as she ran for her life. She’d been restocking shelves when she’d heard ominous footsteps. She’d thought nothing of it, but then that evil doll had appeared. All she’d seen was a grotesque grin and a flash of red hair, perhaps a glint of silver from his cleaver, but that was enough to terrify her. That was, until, she heard crying. The doll stopped in front of her, but he was acting quite strangely.

He began swaying awkwardly, patting something attached to his chest, shushing it gently.

“Shush, Charlie. It’s okay, I know you’re tired, but Daddy needs to do this first- what, are you thirsty? Do you need some milk, is that it? Is it your diaper? I checked it a few minutes ago so it should be fine. Please just go back to sleep, you’ll be in bed in just a few minutes, half an hour at most.”

The doll made eye contact with her, an exhausted and mildly apologetic look on his face.

“Sorry, the little one’s on a sleep strike right now, I’ve tried everything but I just can’t get him to sleep. Any suggestions?”

The woman sobbed, unable to comprehend what she was seeing.

“No? Thanks anyway I guess. Now, where were we? Oh yes, I was killing you.”

The woman choked on her own blood as she gurgled out one last scream, falling to the ground, dead.

————————————————————-

It had taken approximately three years for Chucky to realise that he didn’t have one child, he had two. Charlie was a sweet little boy who was terrified of violence, but his daughter craved it, just like her father did.

Chucky didn’t mind that he had two children, he loved and supported both of his children equally. He built a terrarium with Charlie so he could look after little frogs he’d found living on nearby logs. He taught his daughter (Charlotte, because he’d be damned if the twins didn’t have matching names, Lottie for short) how to swing a knife. He snuck Charlie a toy elephant from a nearby zoo and sneaked him into it to see his favourite animals up close. He patiently stayed up late to learn how to sew with Lottie. 

When Charlie was awake, he got to relax and indulge in some of his less active hobbies, such as painting and reading. When Lottie was around, he got to murder. Both of his children were unique and special in their own ways, but they were both the greatest kids in the world, in Chucky’s opinion at least.

————————————————————-

Chucky considered himself to be a pretty laid back parent as far as rules went. He let the kids swear if they wanted to, they were actively encouraged to lie and fight, although Lottie took to those teachings stronger than Charlie did. But the one thing that he wouldn’t let his kids do was wander off without him.

They were sentient dolls, anything could happen to them, they were small and knew nothing about the world. Alright, Chucky sheltered his children more than he probably should have, but can you really blame him? His twins were the most important things in his life, he had nothing else, and he needed to pass down his wisdom to somebody.

By the age of eight, phrases like “Charlie, go hide over there” “Lottie, you’re too little to actually murder someone yourself yet, go hide” and “don’t make a sound, go into Barbie mode” were common to the twins. Chucky had even turned it into a game when they were at home. He’d suddenly call out “Barbie mode!” And if they went still immediately, they’d get a treat of some kind, usually a small toy he’d stolen from a nearby store or a piece of candy.

It was his way of keeping them safe, because God knows those kids had no real survival instincts of their own.

————————————————————-

Charlie and Lottie were teenagers. Chucky was in a constant state of panic. Hormones had transformed his children into creatures of rage, rebelliousness and a weirdly high amount of teenage lust.

A week ago, he’d seriously had to tell Lottie “no, we can’t spare this guy his life just because you think he’s cute and want to date him.”

Even Charlie was acting out. Chucky had asked his son to help him tidy up around the room and his response had been “fuck you.” Charlie had said it before, but the way he’d said it had hurt.

But now Charlie wanted to talk to him about something important. Lottie did too, apparently. So Chucky arranged a bonding activity (pottery painting of all things) and prepared for whatever this conversation would lead to. 

Charlie looked nervous, hardly able to concentrate on the painting. With a tentative look at Chucky, they began to speak.

“Dad, my twin and I need to tell you about something. It’s kind of important, but we’ve been feeling like this for a while now, and we both think that we’ve found the right words to tell you.”

What was Charlie about to confess? Murder? Pregnancy? The possibilities were endless, and Chucky feared almost every one. But he needed to be a supportive parent, to show his kids that he loved and supported them no matter what.

“Go on, you can tell me anything.”

Charlie smiled, and with a deep inhale, began to speak again.

“Lottie and I are non-binary. We both would like to go by they/them pronouns please.”

Chucky let out a relieved exhale. Out of everything that could have been confessed, this wasn’t the least bit worrying or concerning. So, Chucky didn’t have a son and a daughter, he had two non-binary children. That was perfectly fine. So why was Charlie crying?

“Charlie, could you look at me please? It’s okay, you don’t need to cry. What you just did was so, so brave. I’m so proud of you, both of you. It doesn’t matter to me what your genders are, you’re still my incredible kids who I have loved from the very first second I saw you, when you were tiny little babies. The first time I held you I promised If love you forever, and that promise still stands today, make no doubt about it.”

Charle beamed and wrapped their arms around Chucky for a hug, sniffling slightly.

“We were both scared of how you’d react. You grew up in the fifties and sixties, they weren’t known for being… well, tolerant. We both know that you love us, we just weren’t sure how you’d feel, knowing that we’re both non-binary.”

Chucky had to laugh. But the second he did he realised how bad that could come across to Charlie, so he stopped and pulled back to look his child in the eyes.

“Sorry for laughing, kid. It’s just that that’s a silly thing to worry about. Look, people knew jack-shit in the fifties, they were wackos. I know I’m old, but I’ve been given the opportunity to learn and understand more about the world in each different generation. I may not fully understand everything, but I know that I love you both very much, and if you both feel in your hearts that the gender identity that best fits for you is non-binary, I’m gonna support you every step of the way.”

Charlie let out a sigh of relief, snuggling into Chucky’s shoulder.

“I love you, Dad. You’re the best.”

————————————————————-

Chucky couldn’t believe that it was this time already. The twins were all grown up and ready to see the world. It was hard to let go, but they wanted to do some travelling, and who was he to refuse? He taught them both self-defence and had made them promise to call at least once a week. They should be fine, but he still worried.

Today Lottie was in control of the body. They were so excited for their journey, they’d talked about it non-stop for ages. Lottie and Charlie were going on a truck that delivered all over the world, stopping off for a week in each country, giving them a chance to see more of the world.

Chucky wouldn’t admit that he was close to tears. He’d looked after his kids from the day they were born, he’d never been apart from them for any longer than an hour. This would be hard, but the twins were tough, they were ready for this.

As he helped Lottie up onto the truck with their luggage which they shared with Charlie, the younger doll squeezed his hand tightly, smiling.

“I love you Daddy. Don’t worry, we’ll be fine. We’re going to miss you though.”

All Chucky could do was smile fondly through the tears and squeeze Lottie’s hand just as tightly.

“I’ll miss you too. I know you’ll be fine, you’re both too tough to take any crap. Stay safe, I love you.”

————————————————————-

Nica stared up at the doll, reeling from what she’d just learnt. Charles Lee Ray had killed her father, abducted her mother and sister and paralysed her. Now he was in a doll, standing over her with a knife. Prepared to stab. Just as he raised the knife with a grin, a phone rang.

What? Where was the phone coming from- the doll pulled out a phone.

“Charlie, it’s so great to hear from you What? No, I’m not busy, I can talk. What? Why can’t I video chat? Well, I’ve got really bad reception y’see, the footage would cut out- I’m not killing anyone, what would give you that impression? Charlie, there’s been plenty of times I haven’t called with video, it doesn’t mean that I’m- look, this call’s meant to be about you, what have you and Lottie been up to? How’s Europe? Oh, I hear that that place is beautiful this time of year! Have you been having a good time? Really? That’s great, and how about Lottie? They’ve caused an international incident? Why am I not surprised. Listen, I’m trusting you to keep them out of trouble whilst I’m not with you-‘

Nica screamed, trying to draw attention whilst the doll was distracted. Maybe the person on the other end of the line could help her? They seemed to be against the murder, and Chucky seemed to think highly of them. Sure enough, the screaming made Chucky pause and glare at her.

‘Charlie, no, there’s nobody here. I’m watching a horror movie. A girl just got killed. You’re right, as a past serial killer I shouldn’t be watching this stuff because it could give me ideas. I’ll turn it off.”

His last words were directed at Nica as he offered her a withering stare. Nica glared back, refusing to back down.

“I should probably let you go now, I’m sure you have lots to see and do. Have a good time, I love you. Oh, and give my love to Lottie too!”

When he’d hung up, Chucky slashed Nica’s cheek with his knife.

“Well, that was a close one, wasn’t it?”

[ideas-on-paper]

Monster Hunter Tri Diary, Part 3: Cave exploration & Swimming lessons

For previous entries, search for #monster hunter tri diary

Disclaimer: Text is paraphrased from my localization and might slightly deviate from the English version.

Moga Woods (day)

Village Chief: "Looking for Iron Ore, aren't you? Good thing I don’t have to bother with that task anymore. It's nice to be the Chief..." Look, I know I'm the one who's doing the dirty work here, but you don't have to make it that obvious, okay?

"You're not going to see much inside the cave unless you have the eyes of a Felyne." So, Felynes have night vision - logical enough, since they're basically bipedal cats. (With a trait like this, I’m willing to bet there are Felyne mineworkers in the MH universe. Not that job prospects for Felynes are already bad enough…)

"You can't bring torches into the city. Fire regulations." Well, I guess that's understandable considering the village consists pretty much entirely of wooden huts. (But then again, there literally are large torches in the village, so…)

"Infusions of powdered Kelbi Horn work wonders on tummy-aches. It's a local secret!" A miracle cure for stomach aches? Why can't this exist in real life... (Still, if they can administer infusions, that must mean medicine is quite advanced in the MH universe...)

Village Chief when entering the cave: "What did I tell you? Pitch-dark." No kidding. I was kind of forewarned about this, but the caves in MH Tri are very dark. (I imagine fighting Gigginox is going to be really fun in this game...)

You know what’s an absolute bane? If you’re in a dark cave, it's a very bright day, and your completely blinded by the light coming through the window. Even with almost completely closed blinds, I can see absolutely nothing, despite using a torch.

Well, at least I managed to find the Felyne encampment in the cave (or rather, I accidentally stumbled upon it xD).

Yaaay, Giggis... I'm so NOT happy to see you... (Well, at least it's a good opportunity to get some Giggi materials.)

Fighting and carrying a torch at the same time is kinda tricky. You can draw your weapon while carrying a torch, but when you press the button for putting it away, you extinguish the torch first, and then sheath your weapon after pressing again. Might be easier to handle if it was the other way around (sheath weapon -> extinguish torch).

I guess this is why they adjusted the brightness of the caves in 3U so you can see without torches. (Although this makes the torches kinda pointless.) The atmosphere is nice, but fighting while carrying torches is a bit troublesome.

After blindly running in circles for five minutes, I finally found a single ore deposit to mine. (Man, exploring caves in Tri is hardcore...)

Following the relief of finally seeing daylight again, I took a short detour to the base camp. I was interested to see if things looked better by now, but nope - the camp is still in the same-run down state as before. Well, I guess the villagers are just people too - you can't expect everything to repair itself as soon as you hand over the materials (like, you know, in a video game).

Also, another REALLY handy feature I just discovered is that you can display additional information on the status screens. If you press B on the Wiimote while opening the status menu, little question marks pop up in front of every skill, and you can hover over them to get a more detailed description of what that skill does and how many points you need to unlock the different tiers. (I don't think Freedom Unite had this; I always wished you could somehow display that info.)

Chief: "My wise ancestors said: The life of the village is tied to the land around it. They were right." Well, I have to agree on that - it’s easy to forget in our modern world, but ultimately, our survival is dependent on the environment.

Moga Village (day)

Chief's Son: "I used to break all my bones to get ore for the smith!" I suppose I should count myself lucky that I'm still in one piece, then... ^^' (But given how dark these caves are, I can imagine there's a lot of potential to fall flat on your face.)

Blacksmith: "Now, look at this Iron Ore. That's quality! Maybe not the best quality, but no rookie dug this up." Well, they did say he was hard to please. xD I reckon this is probably the closest thing to a compliment we're gonna get from him.

Chief's Son: "The smith liked you? Well, that’s surprising! Normally, the old geezer has trouble getting used to new faces." That's one more reason to feel honored, I guess...

Village Chief: "Well, if this isn’t a story to tell your grandkids! Of all ores in the region... you were able to find the exact kind that the smith LIKES?!" Man, you're almost making it sound like I'm the chosen one or something. ^^'

"We're making good progress rebuilding the base camp." Really? Last time I checked, it didn't really look like that to me.

"You're more stubborn than a Kelbi in heat!" Not sure if that says more about me or the Kelbi's mating behavior... ^^'

And now he just tells me to go take swimming lessons and thrusts a few harpoons into my hands. Well, I guess that's what we're doing, then.

Guild Sweetheart: "You're already back with the ore? You machine! What are they feeding you with?" Well, I told I'd be right back, didn't I? ^^

"Speaking of which, the Guild machine has a few loose screws. You'll never guess what they sent me this time. Absolutely NOTHING! Who would've thought?" Truly, wonders of bureaucracy...

"I'm burning for the hunt. Not that I can hunt. Not even beans. But I'm good at cheering!" Well, you have the spot as my No. 1 emotional supporter, I can tell you that much. ^^

The shy kid just gave me a free bug net he made himself, saying "I think I did a pretty good job with the net". And then he just hands me a Mega Bugnet. Kid, that's more than just a pretty good job - that's literally the best bug net in the game.

And the first of the Felynes is back on the farm! Nice - now we can finally cultivate stuff. (You have no idea how much I appreciate that feature after playing MH1.)

Felyne: "Veggies! Veggies! VEGGIES!! Food is more than just meat!" Well, you're not wrong about that. (The contrast is kinda funny, though - on one hand, we have the Chief’s Son and the Holy Grail of the barbecue, and then there’s this kitty who literally says “meat isn’t everything”. xD)

Still, I'm a bit surprised that Felynes are even able to eat vegetables (since they're basically cats, which are pure carnivores). And they apparently even need it to stay healthy, given that the Felyne says a lot of them switched to organic during the "health surge" a while back. Makes me wonder if they evolved differently...

"We're not using any chemicals or additives on the Moga Village farm! We would NEVER use pesticides made from Giggi extract!" Interesting fact that Giggi extract is used to make pesticides. (Also, sounds like the food industry in MH has much of the same issues as ours.)

Also, it's super cute that the Felyne calls the Chief's Son his "cub". xD

And then the Felyne just asks me "Would you like to give me a new name?" Like... Don't you have a name? Why do you want me to give you a new one? Are Felynes just fine with their employer changing their name to whatever they wish? Is it normal for them to be treated like pets? (Man, the implications are starting to get REALLY unpleasant...)

Btw, one of the names you can choose for the Felyne is Uber. Like, the company? I mean, Uber was founded in 2009, which is the same year MH Tri was released, so... ^^'

Also, the Felyne names are all male, as opposed to the Poogie where you could choose between male and female names. I take it the Felyne is canonically male, then.

"Felynes like to be clean, but I feel young digging in the dirt." Well, at least he seems to like his job...

Head Farmer: "The farm belongs to the village, but I can leave some land to you since you're protecting us and all that." I guess that means the farm is a bit bigger than what you see of it in the game (after all, the rice fields have to be somewhere).

"It's nice on the farm if you don't have to work." Yeah, I thought you’re not gonna do much of the heavy lifting, old man. You better don't exploit your farm hands, though - if you do, you bet I’m gonna call the Felyne Workers Rights Agency.

Moga Woods (night)

Anyway, returning to the Moga Woods, we're in for a nighttime swimming lesson with Juni-- I mean, the Chief's Son. As practice for underwater hunting, he wants us to catch a Molid. (Fun fact, btw: The common mola is literally called moonfish in most European languages. Get it? Catching a moonfish in the moonlight?)

Also, he is of the opinion that it would make "a great gift for the quest gal". I... believe there was something about the sea people bringing their lovers shells and other sea items as gifts, but I'm not exactly sure how he got the idea that the two of us are dating. xD (Also, since I'm playing a female hunter, does that mean the Moga Sweetheart likes women, too?)

At night, there are Melynx in Area 3. That reminds me of an interesting theory I once read about these kleptomaniac kitties - or rather, supposedly kleptomaniac. Kleptomania is a compulsive disorder to steal things, but in the Felyne camps, the Melynx are just as peaceful as the normal Felynes. Therefore, the author of the old MH Lore blog assumed that the Melynx were essentially organized raiding parties of the Felynes living in the wild. Considering that the stolen goods are brought to the Felyne camps where you can pick them up again, I think that's quite plausible.

On my way, I took a quick detour to the cave of everlasting darkness to collect some more ore. I'm not sure why, but I seem to have a bit of trouble with mining while carrying a torch. I know I pulled it off before, but for some reason, I'm just putting the torch out first despite holding R. Eh...

Also, I found out what happens if you hit monsters with a torch. If you hit the Giggis a few times, they'll bury themselves into the floor and disappear. If you give the Jaggis a bonk on the head, they'll leave the area. Of course, that means you'll be missing out on any potential carves, but at least you can keep the small monsters at bay if you just want to gather stuff. (Now, if I could actually use my pickaxe while carrying a torch...)

One thing that's kind of hilarious in Monster Hunter is that no matter how far you fall down, you never take a single point of fall damage. It’s part of the “normal craziness” you just get used to over time, but thinking about it, I wonder if there's any kind of in-lore explanation for it. Do the hunters wear inlays made from some kind of special material that softens the fall or something?

You know what's funny? That the underwater areas are actually brighter at night than anything above the surface. (I guess that's because they only made one 3D model for the underwater areas, including lighting and everything.)

The Molids actually look a bit different from our real-world common mola (the main difference being the longer fins). Makes me wonder if this is the general rule in the MH universe - all of our real world animals also exist there, but they look a bit different from what we’re used to.

Chief's Son: "If you keep going like this, you may have the honor of calling me Junior one day." Ahhh... So Junior is his nickname among friends and family... I see, I see.

There's this cave in area 12 that you can only access from underwater, where Bnahabras are swarming around a carcass. Their monster list entry says that they lay their eggs in carrion. So, given their lore, that’s actually quite a neat detail.

Also, you can gather bones from the carcass - although there's still rotten skin and flesh on it. Gross! You might wanna wash that stuff...

I've been using Iron Pickaxes so far because I didn't want to waste the Mega Pickaxe the smith gave me, but turns out that all I got to mine with the Mega Pickaxe were two ore deposits (not even that, since it broke before I could gather everything from the second). A bit disappointing, but the smith did say this was his old pickaxe - no wonder it gave out so soon.

Luckily, I remembered that you can make an Iron Pickaxe out of iron ore and a bone, which I happened to have on me.

I like how much effort they put into the physics of underwater combat. The blood effects appear blurred underwater, and if you kill a monster close to the surface, the body will actually float around. Really nice details!

Alright, let's get back to the village and see what the Guild Sweetheart thinks about our little "gift". (Not sure what's so attractive about Big Fins, but I guess we'll soon find out...)

To be continued

[detectivehannibal]

Studying with Hannibal Lecter

__

Hannibal Lecter x Student! Fem! Reader

Warnings: Smut, Cock warming.

Request: Hannibal x fem student reader? She’s trying to focus amd write her exam online but hanni gets horny from watching her?smut pleeeeeeaze

A/N: Disclaimer that the reader is over the age of 18!

__

Going back to college you finish your education was one of the best and worst ideas you ever had.

There were definitely pros and cons to the situation.

The pros were that you were working toward achieving something that you could use for the rest of your life.

You would be able to consider yourself an expert in your field.

Not to mention the bragging rights.

On the flip side, you were always slammed with work and all the studying you were doing was giving you flash backs to high school.

It didn’t help that you were a perfectionist, and that you would literally study until you fell asleep or Hannibal dragged you away to bed.

Hannibal is more than happy to share his home office with you, allowing you to sit at his large desk and use whatever material you might need.

Hannibal tries not to bother you when you’re studying or working on an assignment.

He’ll poke his head in every so often to make sure you don’t need anything.

He’ll bring you tea, coffee, a snack, etc.

You name it and he’ll get it for you.

Sometimes though, you’ll ask him to come sit with you so you can chat while you work.

You knew that going back to school had taken your attention off of him and he was beginning to feel distant from you.

So you try to reach out to him as best you can.

He’ll pull up a chair and sit next to you.

Sometimes he’ll even do some of his own work and the two of you will work together and make small talk.

He did what he could to lower your stress levels.

He wanted you to be successful.

But sometimes your workload was just too much.

There was one evening particular where you were REALLY stressed out.

Like, you came home and holed yourself up in his office without saying a word.

It sparked him as odd, considering that you always took the time to ask him about his day, no matter what you had to do.

He waited a couple of hours before going to check on you.

He stood near the doorway, watching as you typed furiously on your laptop.

He originally wasn’t going to say anything, but the longer he watched, the more...aroused that he got.

He couldn’t quite pinpoint why something as simple as you working hard got him hot and bothered.

He figured it was because he hadn’t really been intimate with you in a while.

That and there was something so attractive about seeing you so focused on something.

He approached you quietly in his socked feet.

He rested his hands on your shoulders carefully, breaking you from your trance.

“Hey, Hanni.” was all you could really muster to say at the moment.

“My love...why don’t you take a break?”

Normally, that was all it took for you to tear away for a bit,

But today you were determined to power through.

“No, I can’t. I’ve got to finish this.” 

“You’ve been working for far too long. I really wish you’d take a break.”

His thumbs started rubbing at the tense muscles in your shoulder, making his offer so hard to refuse.

He could see the stress on your face and he could practically smell the tension.

You needed some relief...some stress relief.

“Just 15 minutes. That’s all I ask for.”

His lips had fallen to your neck now, kissing and sucking softly.

A sigh escaped your chest, reluctance coursing through you.

But eventually, you agreed.

Hannibal stood you up from the desk chair, only to sit down himself and pull you on his lap.

You straddled him, the two of you making out and sharing passionate “I love yous”.

You felt bad when you felt how needy his kisses were.

They said nothing short of “I’ve missed you”.

Hannibal started to get handsy, his fingertips teasing the waistband of your shorts.

His hard on was obvious underneath you.

He slipped your shorts off of your legs while you worked on getting his belt and pants off.

He turned you around to where you were facing the desk again, raising you and lowering you down onto his erection.

The moan that you let out was music to his ears.

You went to start moving, but his hand stopped you from doing so.

“Hannibal, what-”

“Go on, darling. Read to me what you have so far.”

He had to be kidding.

He did all this to get you to stop working and now he wanted you to review it?

You tried to shift your hips to get some kind of friction, but he held you extremely still.

You started to read off of your laptop screen.

You were stuttering through it, an occasional curse sounding out.

He was buried deep inside of you.

His tip prodding at your cervix.

He made noises of interest and affirmation as you read, clearly impressed with what you had so far.

He turned down all of your pleas, prompting you to keep going.

You finished reading, ignoring the way that the words had began to blur.

You were begging now.

“Hannibal, please fuck me.”

“But I thought you liked feeling me like this?”

“I do, but...it’s so much better when you’re moving. Please, baby, I promise I’ll be good.”

Finally, Hannibal couldn’t bear to hear your whimpers anymore,

He wanted to make you feel good.

He lifted you off of his dick momentarily to turn you back around.

He took a second to marvel at how you had soaked him.

You barely waited to sink down onto him completely before you started rolling your hips against him.

Hannibal groaned in your ear, his voice rumbling and low.

He guided your hips in a rhythm, loving the way you bounced on his lap.

You angled yourself back a bit so he’d hit your g-spot every time you landed back onto him.

He wanted to get you to a fast, but good orgasm.

His fingers rubbed at your sensitive clit to bring you closer to your finish.

He thrusted up into you hard.

Each new thrust melting away more and more of your stress.

He sucked hickeys on your neck and praised you endlessly.

“You’re so good. I’m so proud of you.”

“Such a good girl. You’re so perfect.”

He worked you until you unraveled around him, your release hitting you full force with a flash of white.

He came inside of you, milking your walls white.

Your head fell onto his shoulder as you went limp, too tired to move.

His hands rubbed over your back as your breathings returned to normal.

He left sweet, lazy kisses wherever he could.

Your voice sounded out shortly after, drawing a laugh from him.

“I think...I can stop here for the night.”

[mercy-burning]

Your Favorite — Part 1

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!Reader Summary: When Y/N comes home from college for the summer to meet her mom's new boyfriend, she finds herself in a rather tough spot when she can’t stop thinking about him— And it seems he feels the same... Category: SMUT (18+) Content: Adults w/ age gap, masturbation (female and male), minor exhibitionism kink, oral sex (male receiving), penetrative sex, breeding kink (kinda? i think? 😅) Word Count: 7.3k (do you see now why I had to make it a miniseries? alsdjfdk)

PART 1 | PART 2 | PART 3 | MASTERLIST

DISCLAIMER: In this story, Spencer is dating Y/N’s mom while also having a sexual relationship with the reader herself. Because of that, there are obvious undertones of cheating, alongside some perv-y tendencies when it comes to a partner’s daughter. That being said, Spencer and Y/N’s relationship is consensual. However— If any of what I just forewarned is something that you think will make you uncomfortable while reading, please do not read! If there are any more disclaimers you think I may have missed, don’t hesitate to tell me! There is another post I made HERE with some disclaimers as well if you want to know more about what this story will entail.

NOTE: This intro is already too long, so I’ll just get this out of the way: you can find visual nsfw inspirations for this story over at @mercy-midnight, I’m working on a playlist for this story on my Spotify @/mercyburning, and I don’t know when part 2 and 3 will be out, but you can assume they’ll be here within the next few weeks.

———

JUNE 5th

I hate my mom's new boyfriend.

For the past three months she'd been telling me about this new guy who's "The One" as if "The One" hasn't been like four other guys in the past two years.

And as much as I'd love for my mom to find someone to spend the rest of her life with, I don't believe she'd ever find Mr. Perfect at this rate. Unless she spent more than a few months with them at a time before dragging me home from college for a weekend to meet them, I really don't see it happening.

It just sucks. Because every time she does this, every time I return home, I see the glimmering hope in her eyes and the diminishing spark in his, and I know. I know it won't last, and her heart will be utterly broken within the span of a few months.

I always thought maybe she just had terrible taste in men.

But this time around, when I begrudgingly walk through the door of my childhood home for the summer and see my mother clinging to a man who returns that glimmer in her eyes, I know she's picked a good one.

And I hate him.

His name is Spencer Reid, and he's a retired FBI agent who teaches full time at local colleges now.

He greets me with a bona fide, radiant smile, unlike all the others before, and it sets my insides on fire. And when we sit down for dinner, he's polite (but not in a fake way,) and he seems genuinely curious about my studies and my personality and my relationship with my mother. And when dinner is finished he offers to clean up while Mom and I settle in the living room.

I see the way he looks at me as I leave, a gentle, closed-mouth smile and eyes that linger a little too long on my exposed legs before averting, a glint of shame pooling within them, and it only spreads that fire in my belly.

Maybe I'd been imagining the whole thing, because deep down I wanted him to look at me the way he had... But it's hard to tell when my brain is mostly setting off sirens, blaring "THIS IS WRONG! THIS IS WRONG!" on a loop with blinding lights.

And they're even louder when my mom wraps her arm around me and lays her head atop mine. "Well, what do you think? He's great, huh?"

She's so lovesick, it hurts. It hurts even worse knowing that all I can think about is his big hands wrapped around my throat while he fucks me into the squeaky twin-sized mattress in my bedroom upstairs.

But I can't tell her that, obviously.

And so I decidedly hate him. And I have no choice but lie to her face, embracing her joy and hoping that I'll be able to survive this summer.

"Yeah, Mom. He's really great."

JUNE 19th

It's been two weeks and I can barely stand to be in the same house anymore.

I try to keep myself busy by going outside, to the beach or for long walks in the park; but it's too hot for my liking, and our town is so small that unless I want to spend my time in the grocery store or one of the three bars on Main Street...

I'm stuck either outside where it's hot and uncomfortable, or in the house where it's also hot and uncomfortable.

We have air conditioning, of course, but that's not the problem.

It's Spencer.

I thought by now my little crush on him would have gone, but the longer he hangs around the house, the stronger my feelings for him grow. They're not romantic—nor do I think they ever could be given the fact that if anything serious really were to ever happen between us, my mom would disown me for the rest of my life and murder Spencer with her bare hands—but that doesn't make it any easier on me.

Every day he just exists, right in front of me with that tug-able mop of hair, those warm honey eyes, and his hands that never stop moving. I swear, it's like every time he breathes, his hands are breathing too, challenging me to try and stop them.

But I refuse to touch him. Because I know the moment I do, all will be lost. I won't be able to control myself anymore. And if I don't drop to my knees and try sucking his dick at the dinner table, I'm sure I'll blurt out how I can't handle it anymore and that I need him, and either way I'd be royally fucked.

Right now he's in the dining room, teaching my mom how to do a disappearing card trick. She thinks it's utterly charming that he can do it at all, but mostly that he's patient and willing enough to teach her. And normally I'd agree, but I can barely look at them without wanting to waltz over, grab his wrist, and suck his fingers into my mouth.

It's truly pathetic.

So I try to focus on the television just a few feet away. It's one of those rare instances where I wish our house was bigger, because while I don't mind having less wall-space between rooms, I do mind not being able to watch TV without the kitchen table in my periphery at a time like this. And I think about going up to my bedroom instead for a moment, but I'd have to go past the kitchen, and I just know Mom is going to ask if I'd want Spencer to teach me his magic trick.

And I most definitely do not want that.

In another life, maybe, where he isn't a hot professor and rather an average-looking dude who's way too into fantasy football... But not in this lifetime.

So there I sit, concentrating so hard on Family Feud that my face hurts.

When I hear a flutter of cards and joyous giggling from the other room, it's more than my face that hurts.

It's also my chest, churning and tensing at the hands of the green devil.

Fuck!

I barely even know this man... I haven't really talked to him because I'm afraid that if I try to hold a conversation I'll snap. He's literally just some hot older guy who's dating my mom, and still, my whole body twists and aches with envy when they do anything together, and it fucking sucks. Not only because of the jealousy, but it's also the fact that my mom deserves to be happy.

This time it's different. This time, she's really found someone who returns her every loving gaze, who makes her laugh, who's kind and genuine and not a total douche. She's happier than I've seen her in years.

And the one time she finally finds "The One", every waking second of my life is spent longing for him fuck me.

But it's only been two weeks.

And it's also been nearly two years since I got laid, so maybe that's just my issue...

I figure it can't hurt, so in a spur of the moment decision, I turn the TV off and sprint towards the stairs, right past Mom and Spencer before they can ask questions.

———

I hardly even register the dimness of the light inside the house by the time I glide up the steps, fumbling with the key and trying to make my entrance as quiet as possible. Though, because I'm so used to the dark by this point, the light—no matter how dim—nearly blinds me. The door shuts louder than I'd have liked, and I cringe inwardly, pausing as if that will keep anyone from seeing or hearing me. Not like it'll matter, considering Mom and Spencer are the only ones that are staying here and they'd also been the only ones aware of my plans for the evening.

Well, somewhat, anyway. I told them an old friend invited me out and I probably wouldn't be home until late.

Regardless, that instinct of trying not to get caught coming in late at night is stronger than common sense. Throw a little cheap beer and some shots into the mix, and it almost feels like I'm a teenager again.

The only thing different now is that I have a pool of some stranger's cum soaking my underwear and a man in front of me who stands like an angel. An exhausted, almost scruffy-looking angel more like, but my point still stands.

"You're up late," Spencer observes. It's a simple enough statement— not really judge-y, but I can tell that regardless of his knowledge of my coming home late, he seems shocked to see me coming through the front door right now.

And it's hard to look away from him. Just like it has been for the past two weeks. Still, I try, just barely avoiding his eyes as I cross my arms and fight the urge to clench my legs together. "I'm a whore. What's your excuse?"

Maybe not the best thing to say. But like I said, common sense? Gone.

"O—oh... Umm..." Spencer stumbles through his words, obviously stunned by my response, and the look in his eyes kind of makes me want to curl up in a ball and die from embarrassment. Still, I stand my ground and wait for him to continue.

He settles on a short, "I can't sleep," and then there's nothing else.

"Ah," I express. One syllable. I don't draw it out, I don't exaggerate it... This is the first real conversation I've had alone with him, and I've made it extremely awkward, so I sigh and take a few steps forward, trying to walk past him. "Okay. Goodnight."

I only make it a few steps before he stops me, his hand reaching out to tap my shoulder. "Wait—"

The touch makes me jump, and he pulls it away immediately as I turn to face him. My heart is racing at the speed of light, my panties are soaked through, and if I'm not careful that whole 'no common sense' thing is going to bite me so hard in the ass I won't have one left.

"Can I talk to you?" His voice is barely audible, and the gentle rasp it has to it seems to make me even more wet.

I nod, not trusting myself to speak.

"Look, I um... Your mom has been totally transparent with me about her relationships, so I know that she's been through a lot of them in a short amount of time... And I know that must be a little difficult for you. Especially now that I'm here... And you've been... distant. And I know that I don't know you that well, so forgive me if I'm assuming anything, but I just want you to know that I don't have any intention of making things difficult for you and your mother."

Too late, pal, I think bitterly, the gentle authority in his tone setting my insides alight. I'm positive that voice could get me to do so many things...

That's the alcohol and sex talking, Y/N, just shake it and move on...

He starts again, but I cut him off with a short wave of my hand. "Look, I... I appreciate what you're trying to do, but I had a really long night, and I'm exhausted. I just wanna shower and go to bed."

I expect more resistance, but Spencer only nods. I still can't bring myself to look him in the eye, though this time I catch his hands clenching at the bottom hem of his shirt. "I understand. Sleep well."

Without another word I turn on my heel and walk a little faster towards the stairs, and I'm about to take my first step when I realize he's followed me. His voice calls out my name softly from a few feet behind, and it stops me in my tracks regardless of my desire to get out of there as fast as I can. And then I turn around and finally look directly at his face.

Big mistake.

His eyes are on my legs again, trailing slowly upwards until he reaches my face. The light over here is dimmer, barely noticeable at all, though I swear I can see red forming on his cheeks.

"I like your dress," he says softly. It's almost meek, like he'd been afraid to say it but took a chance anyway.

It's such a random, small compliment, but with the alcohol and endorphins flowing through my body after the night I'd just had, it nearly makes me quiver.

It also makes me incredibly stupid.

An amused, almost sensual grin forms on my face as I make eye contact with him, and I feel myself throb at the way I can just barely see his throat move. He looks like a deer in headlights, afraid to make one sudden move.

"Turning to flattery to try and win me over, are we?" I say slowly.

I almost think he'll stumble over his words once more, but again he surprises me with a full answer. It's only three words but it's clear, and his voice is deep, and I want to fucking jump his bones right then and there.

"Is it working?"

This has to be the alcohol making me imagine things... I swear I didn't even drink that much tonight, but it has to be an obvious lapse in judgement. The drinking mixed with the sex mixed with the dirty thoughts I've been having about this man lately have to be what's making this feel real. It's all culminating into this one big fantasy (or delusion, more like), and all I need is to shower and sleep it off.

That has to be it.

So because there's no other reasonable explanation that my brain can conjure up, I take a chance and throw Spencer a wink before turning and sprinting up the stairs.

And it's that same seemingly undeniable reasoning for this illusion that doesn't keep my hands from wandering in the shower. Even though those warning sirens in my brain keep blaring, telling me that the common sense is still there for me to utilize, they're drowned out by my thrumming heartbeat and the repetition of Spencer's soothing, authoritative voice, guiding my movements.

Keep rubbing your clit for me, baby... Just like that, nice and slow...

Warm water cascades down the front of my body as I lean back into the wall of the shower, but that's not why I'm so warm. This heat radiates through my insides, spreading like wildfire and bringing out small whimpers and mewls that I know I'll have to contain in fear of waking my mom from her bedroom right next door.

But then the thought of her hearing me next door as I cry out her boyfriend's name only excites me more. I keep it quiet still, but just knowing that someone else is in the house while I'm having these thoughts right now (one of them being the object of said thoughts) is what finally brings me over the edge.

I finish my shower on weak legs, definitely overstimulated now, but also feeling even more tired. I know that the moment I lay down on my bed, I'll be pulled into the sweet, soft surrender of a deep sleep.

Nothing else has ever sounded so pleasant.

———

When I woke up that morning after, I was feeling surprisingly calm. Realistically I knew that my whole 'this has to be an illusion' montage had been less truth and more inebriated babble, and the longer I sat on it the more I thought it'd all turned out for the better.

Turns out, tipsily masturbating in the shower to thoughts of your mom's hot new boyfriend was a surefire way to get it out of your system, right?

Wrong.

It really had been okay at first. I thought about Spencer almost immediately, and yeah, he was still hot as fuck—But there wasn't this overwhelming desire within me to jump his bones when I saw him that morning, his hair messy and his hands clutching a cup of coffee while Mom made breakfast behind him.

But that good feeling I had about all of this? It lasts only about a split second.

Because the moment he looks up and sees me, the mug falls out of his hand and shatters to pieces. His eyes stay glued to me, even as my mother darts over to pick up the pieces of the ceramic that are scattered about the table and the floor. And when she turns back to grab a paper towel, he still stares at me, once again at my legs.

It takes me all of four seconds afterwards to remember that not only did I talk to him briefly last night, but I also flirted with him after he complimented me.

That whole part seemed to have slipped my mind when waking up, and now that his gaze is bringing me back to that moment, that 'this has to be an illusion' montage is starting to become larger than I'd remembered.

It isn't until he finally snaps out of it and starts to help my mom clean up the mess that I snap out of it, too, going back upstairs to clear my head and cool the heat radiating over my skin.

———

There's a knock at my bedroom door about an hour later, and it sounds different than my mom's usually quick two-knock succession. That means it's someone else, and unsurprisingly, my stomach tightens at the thought of seeing him again.

"Yeah?" I call out, turning in my desk chair and meeting Spencer's figure in the doorway. He's changed, a rather nice pair of slacks and a white button-up shirt clinging to his limbs.

"Can I come in?"

"Mhm," I say. I still don't know if I entirely trust myself to say anything more than a few words to him, and as he enters the room and sits on the foot of my bed, I wonder if he can tell.

He tries, really tries, to look me in the eye, but I know that it's hard. I've been in the same spot. And then he takes a deep breath before folding his hands in his lap.

"Y/N, I want to apologize... When we... talked last night... It was kind of weird, and then this morning wasn't really any better..." He can barely get out the words 'talk' and 'last night'... And then he avoids my gaze altogether, staring at the floor and trailing off, trying to put his thoughts together it seems.

And that's when it starts to click into place.

There's one thing that both last night and this morning have in common, and I've noticed it almost every time I've caught him staring at me. At my legs. It's happened almost daily since I've met him. And then, the night I come home clearly having just been fucked, waltzing past him, entertaining his fascination with my legs and then masturbating to thoughts of him in the shower, he finally starts dropping mugs.

He must also really feel something here. Something similar to my own feelings. And really, that should be a red flag, because he's my mom's boyfriend, and it's a goddamned fucking mess...

But fuck, it excites me.

I'm still wearing my pajama shorts, silky and lavender in color, and I use them to my advantage, slowly crossing one leg over the other and just barely gaining Spencer's attention back.

"Yeah, what was that, anyway?" I ask him, amusement dripping off my tongue.

I can tell from his reaction that he wasn't expecting me to ask. A few times he opens his mouth to speak and then closes it , stumbling before panicking. He's been pretty good so far at coming up with answers and explanations, so the fact that this time I finally seemed to have broken him down makes it all the more clear.

He must have heard me in the shower.

Right?

I'm almost completely positive that's what this is about. And there's one way for me to get the confirmation I'm looking for.

"So you heard me, huh?"

I try to keep my voice as plain as I can as not to give away my motives, and with my luck Spencer is so flustered that he probably wouldn't have even noticed it at all. He looks up at me, his eyes desperately trying to find something he can use to make up a lie, but in the end there's no use.

I've caught him. And he knows it.

"Yes," he whispers. He looks exhausted, guilty, and also a little like he wants to cross the barrier and kiss me.

Okay, maybe that part's just in my head. I really can't tell. But I do know that hearing me call his name out in the shower last night is what brought him to this point of severe distress. As much as that excites me, though, it also embarrasses me a little. Maybe if it hadn't happened we could have avoided further destruction.

It must read on my face, because Spencer perks a little. "Oh! Y/N, I'm not... I'm not mad or anything. I really didn't mean to overhear and invade your privacy... Really, I-I'm sorry."

The fact that he's apologizing to me right now, rather than acting all grossed out that I even did it in the first place, tells me he either feels guilty for not being able to help himself from hearing me, or he's just a good guy who loves my mom and doesn't want to ruin it because of a little mishap.

Either way, it's frustrating, because I don't know what to do.

Well, I know what I want to do, but I don't know if I should hint at it.

But then he does something. It's small, and no one would have noticed, but I've been fascinated with his hands since the moment I met him, so my eyes are instantly drawn there.

They're clenched so hard, his knuckles are nearly white.

He's nervous.

To ease his mind a bit, I hold off on poking the bear harder (though it's really tempting to see what will happen if I don't) and nod, trying to make myself look as apologetic and small as possible.

"It's okay... I... I won't make it awkward if you won't?"

His shoulders slump, and his body seems to relax. "Y–yeah. Yeah, deal."

He gets up off the bed and blurts one final apology before heading for the door, but that part of me that wants to poke the bear further makes me stand up and follow him.

"Spencer?" I call out.

He freezes and turns to face me, and I don't think he quite expected me to be as close as I am. I have to tilt my head up to look at him, and the angle gives me an added layer of this innocence I'm trying to achieve.

"I'm sorry, too..."

No the fuck I'm not.

Whether he can sense my lie or not, he doesn't show it. But I think he at least knows that I'm pitching my voice a little higher on purpose, and if that doesn't give it away, the way I'm staring at him sure should.

Still, he only nods and retreats.

All there's left to do is see what happens.

JUNE 25th

For someone who agreed not to make things awkward, Spencer sure can't keep his eyes off of me.

To be fair, I have tried to keep things fairly normal. I only really interacted with him if I had to, I kept my distance, and I saved my skimpier clothing for the strangers I was regularly going out to see almost every weekend.

My lustful feelings for him aren't as strong now that I've been getting some on a semi-regular basis and keeping myself occupied. I've been doing my part.

But I still can't shake him entirely.

Whenever he spends the night (which is surprisingly most nights), the occasional wet dream about him gets me frustrated when I know he's just down the hall and sleeping soundly next to my mom. On those days I try to cut as much interaction with him as I can, though it doesn't keep me from seeing the occasional stare he throws my way.

I wish I could say that I hate it.

But I don't, and it increasingly gets worse. It's only been a week, so there's still time, but honestly, I don't think there's any shaking him.

Today especially is one of those days where it's hard not to give into the incessant need to tease him and coax some stronger reaction out of him.

I talked to Mom earlier this morning about getting some new clothes, and she had this brilliant idea to have Spencer take me. "It would be a good chance for you two to bond a little, don't you think?" she insisted, nudging him in the side and silently pleading with her eyes for him to agree.

I could tell from the look on his face that he really wasn't ready to be alone with me again, but that only excited me.

"Yeah, I think that's a great idea," I piped up, positively beaming.

Mom was so excited for us to 'bond' and also that I was gladly inclined to go through with it that Spencer couldn't have said no to her even if he wanted to.

And I was pretty sure he didn't want to.

Yet here we are, sitting in the car, the air conditioning so strong it's blowing some of my hair into my eyes. I think it had been his way of punishing me for choosing today to wear a short skirt, something I usually refrain from nowadays unless I'm going out, and it makes me smile. I can't help it.

I also can't help the way my fingers play with my skirt, dying to tease him some more. I just want to see, to know for sure that I'm driving him mad.

"No offence, but you seem weird today... Is there something wrong?" I ask him, lifting my skirt just a smidge. The air from the car blows the fabric in waves.

"You're acting this way on purpose."

Well, I hadn't been expecting that answer... All this time he'd hardly been confrontative, and now he's full-on calling me out. It's plain to see that he's finally snapped, and I would have felt sorry about it if I didn't find it extremely sexy.

"What do you mean?"

"Y/N..."

My name on his lips is a warning. He's clearly annoyed, exasperated, and I'm loving every second. "Don't act oblivious. I'm not stupid, and neither are you. I don't want to make you hate me or anything, but you have to know where I'm coming from. I was willing to let the shower thing slide... And you said you were too, for that matter, so I don't know what's changed, but it has to stop now. Understood?"

Oh, all I want is to argue with him. I want to point out that none of this is really my fault because he's the one who hasn't been able to stop staring at me all summer so far. I want to tell him that if he wants this to stop he has to make it stop.

But that isn't going to give me any of the answers I'm looking for or further proof of my theory that he wants me just as badly as I want him. And I am not going to fuck this whole situation up by making a poorly-timed move on him.

I have to know for sure.

So, I fold my hands neatly in my lap, sigh, and look dead ahead. "Right... We said no awkwardness. I'm sorry."

Spencer seems to accept my apology and continues down the road.

When we make it to the mall I think he's calmed down. At least, he seems a little more comfortable around me, and honestly I'm okay with it. As much as his spiel in the car turned me on, it also exhausted me to the point of silence.

Even as we walk around each store in the mall, I just lead and he follows, not saying a word when I pick out a top or a pair of pants or whatever else I need. And when it comes time to pay, he takes the basket from me and pays for it with no question.

Near five bags of clothes later, I figure I could get used to this new dynamic.

But then we pass a lingerie store, and I remember that the main thing I'd needed was new underwear. I start to turn into the store, but stop suddenly, pausing awkwardly and deciding to go straight ahead instead.

"You don't want to go in?" Spencer asks.

I shake my head. "No, it's fine. I can just pick some up later, it's not a big deal."

He sighs then, nodding his head towards the sign. "If you need to go in, you can... I'll just wait out here if you're uncomfortable."

I really want to call him out, ask him if he's the one who should be worried about being uncomfortable. But so far this afternoon has been pretty decent, and I really don't want to make things any weirder than they have to be.

Besides... If my theory is right...

"Sure. Thanks. Uh, how am I gonna pay, though?"

"O—Oh... I'll uh... I'll just watch the counter and come in when you need me."

"Orrrr, you could just give it to me?"

This time I get a laugh out of him. "Not a chance. Go in, I'll wait."

I smile at him and hand him the bags to hold onto while I leave, and it fills me with absolute amusement that he'd just given me one more ounce of proof that I'm right.

He's gonna have to come inside and pay for what I bought. He could have just given me the card, and maybe he truly doesn't trust me with it (which I don't know why he wouldn't honestly), but he chose to come inside all the same.

I browse happily then, going through the displays and picking out things I need, but also things I know Spencer will like.

Specifically, I stumble on a pair of lavender panties, embroidered with flowery trim up top. The pattern from the outside is lace, but there's a thin layer of cotton underneath designed to be more comfortable to wear.

I've noticed that he can never seem to look away when I'm wearing anything, really, but it's more intense when I wear one of two things. Florals, and any type of purple. And these fit both of those bills perfectly.

Now there's just one more bill to take care of.

I stride over to the counter and turn around, finding that Spencer's caught my eye immediately. Either he truly had been paying attention to the counter the whole time, or he'd been watching through the glass, following me with his gaze to the best of his abilities. Either way, he blinks a few times and looks like he's gathering the courage to go in before actually taking any steps.

I laugh to myself, eager to gauge his reaction to this next step.

Surprisingly, he holds up well. The air between me, him, and the cashier is obviously awkward, but he doesn't say anything and barely looks at what she rings up. (I say barely because he tries extremely hard not to look at the purple pair I picked out, inadvertently adding another checkmark to my list of proof.) She tells him the total, he hands her the card, and within a minute, everything is in our possession and we're leaving the mall entirely.

I don't think there are any more steps to my plan today once we get in the car and I tell him thank you. (To which he responds a short and simple, Sure thing, and turns the radio on.)

But then there's a note taped to the front door, and it instantly gives me another one.

My Sweethearts,

I got called in on a work emergency and won't be back until 7. I would have called but I figured you were having a nice time and didn't want to interrupt! I'll bring home dinner, and then maybe you can tell me about how your day went. Can't wait to hear it!

XOXO,

Eve/Mom

I check my phone, seeing that it's almost 3.

Perfect.

But I don't want to give myself away too quickly, so I thank Spencer again for taking me out and tell him that I'm going upstairs to make sure everything fits right. He nods and lets me go, though not without lingering eyes. I can feel it.

The smile never leaves my face as I try all my clothes on. Once each article has been fitted, I throw it in a laundry basket and move to the next, until I get to the last piece.

The lavender panties.

As expected, they fit perfectly, and as I look at myself in the mirror I picture what Spencer would look like when he sees me wearing them.

That's right. When.

I throw back on my earlier outfit and grab the basket, acting as bored and normal as possible to find him sitting at the kitchen table, reading a book.

"Hey," I greet him, setting the basket in front of me once I reach the bottom of the stairs. "Everything fits good, I just need them washed now. Could you run these down to the laundry room for me? I think I'm gonna make something to snack on before Mom brings dinner."

It doesn't surprise me to see him look at my legs before my face, even if it is brief. I want to smile, but I hold back, watching him nod with a tight smile of his own.

"Sure."

He disappears and then I wait.

One...

Two...

Three.

I sneak as quietly as I can to the laundry room once I hear the washer door open. I hadn't specifically asked him to put them in the washer for me on purpose, and it looks like now he's doing exactly what I thought he might.

My head peeks around the corner, barely in his range of sight as I watch him empty the basket. He takes one item of clothing at a time and throws it in the washer, and halfway through the basket he stops, just to place a pair of my new underwear on the dryer beside him.

My heart races faster the more I wait for him to get to the end of the basket. Once he does, he pauses again, and I think I know exactly what he's looking for.

Still, he sets the basket aside and picks up the stray pair of underwear, a simple black cotton pair that I'd been getting for years, and drapes it over his hands. My thighs instantly clench, and I try so hard to remain where I am so I can see where he takes this.

He takes it straight to hell, apparently, tentatively pulling his dick out of his pants and gripping it firmly. I can barely see since his back is partially turned, but I see enough, and god he's so fucking pretty. My underwear dangle from his left hand while the other works slowly over his erection, a soft sigh falling from his lips.

I fight to let one of my own slip as my hand sinks down the front of my body, past the lavender cotton and lace that I know he just wishes he had right now.

And then, a few seconds later he's already coming, using my brand new underwear to catch each rope of it, and the sight nearly has me on my knees.

And because I want to catch him in the act, I quickly draw my hand away from myself and step into the room, barely giving him time to recover.

"You come fast."

Spencer looks utterly devastated when he turns to see me standing in the entryway to the laundry room, arms crossed and an amused smirk adorning my face.

"Y/N... I—I... I'm so sorry, I didn't... I..."

"Don't worry about it," I say, taking a step towards him and shrugging. "You heard me, and now I heard you... We're even. Besides, I... figured you might be looking for these."

He's still stunned, but he looks down all the same, watching my hands slip under my skirt and glide the lavender panties down my legs. I step out of them and hold the garment up on one finger, a soft smile still on my face.

"I picked 'em out just for you, you know," I tell him, tossing them past his face and into the washer. "I've noticed that you like purple."

This time he's quick to respond. "Y/N, we... We can't... This isn't right."

"Says the man holding my underwear soaked in his cum..."

He looks panicked again, extremely guilty, but if this isn't going to end in a total disaster, then I have to reassure him that I'm okay.

"Spencer, I'm not mad..." I take another step forward, and it feels much like trying to approach a wounded animal. I can see in his eyes and in his posture that this conflict is killing him, so I decide to show some rapport. "And I know... I know this is messy... I love my mom... And I'm sure you care about her a lot... But are we really going to ignore this? We tried that, remember? And now look where we are."

"I..." He swallows, shaking his head and trying to avoid my eyes. "I can't stop thinking about you... I can't..."

My hand finds his arm, and the light touch has him sighing out, an incredulous, breathy laugh escaping him. "Y/N, please... Don't."

"Don't what?" I ask softly, praying he won't turn me away. If he does, we're just back to square one, only the square is jagged, sharper than ever before, and in serious danger of injuring someone.

When he meets my eyes, I see nothing but a desire for something he knows he can't have. "Don't want me."

Now it's my turn to laugh. My knees start to wobble as I go down, keeping my eyes locked onto his, and I swear I see them dilate fully. I scoot in closer, sliding my hand up his leg and finding the words in my heart to finally say out loud.

"It's too late for that..."

My face moves closer, and the hand of his that doesn't currently hold my underwear flies down to gently tug at my hair, keeping me in place.

"If you do this... God, Y/N, I won't be able to stop myself..."

A smirk dances over my lips as I lean in, breath fanning gently over his exposed skin. "Don't."

He swallows. "Don't what?"

"Don't stop yourself."

I barely get the words out before his hand is completely pulling me towards him, and the second my lips press against the silky skin of his hard cock, he loses it completely.

His fingers thread through my hair as I kiss and lick my way softly up to the tip. Once I'm there, I swirl my tongue out and taste the small beads of cum that had remained after he came, a low, satiated hum radiating through my body and making him shiver under my touch.

And then I wrap my lips fully around the head of his dick, and there's no stopping the most beautiful sound I've ever heard come out of his mouth. It's a broken, desperate whisper of my name. The crack in his voice when he says it spurs me forward, and I take him deeper into my mouth until he hits the back of my throat.

That's when he tosses my underwear in the washer and uses both of his hands to grab my head, roughly guiding me along his cock and fully taking control of my actions.

The fire in my belly doesn't ease up, not even once he's decided that he can't take it anymore and pulls me off of him harshly.

And that's only because now he's fully turned over, finally given into these desires that have been plaguing him presumably from the moment we met.

"I want you stripped and in your bed, on your hands and knees within the next five minutes."

I get up off the floor and walk up to him until our bodies are flush, my arms reaching up to wrap around his neck.

"What are you gonna do to me, Spencer?"

He searches my eyes, and his own grow dark with the purest form of sin I'd ever seen. And when his hands come up over the back of my legs, and under my skirt to grab my ass and pull me even closer to him, I can't help the little mewl that slips past my lips.

He smiles, and if it hadn't been for the grip he held on me, I would have fallen to my knees. "Little girl, when I'm through with you, you'll have to come up with some excuse to your mom about why you can't walk straight... Is that what you want?"

The mention of my mom should send me running in the opposite direction, but his threat only prolongs that fire in my veins and makes me want him even more.

I tilt my head up and press a gentle kiss to his lips.

"Do your worst..."

———

Turns out he was very true to his word.

Sitting at the kitchen table is somewhat of a relief, but I try not to walk around as much when Mom gets home. She'd asked me almost immediately if I was okay, and I told her I was just hungry and needed to eat something.

She seemed to have bought it, rushing to the kitchen to unpack the fast food she'd ordered for us. Over her shoulder, Spencer gave me a sly smile, and it took everything I had within myself not to crumble.

Through bites of food, I only half-listen to Mom telling us about the stuff she had to do at work because most of the words I'm hearing are in my head— A loop of endless dirty talk that plants deep into the soil of my stomach and spreads out through my whole body. It infects me, like the most beautiful poison, and I never want it to stop.

"Tell me, sweetheart, you ever let a man come inside you before?"

His weight on top of me coupled together with the heft of his voice has me whining out in pleasure, each snap forward of his hips over my ass as he pounds into me from behind the most delectable burn I've ever felt.

"Uh huh," I answer happily, twisting my head to feel his cheek against my own. "That night you heard me in the shower... I walked through the door with a stranger's cum soaking my panties... And you know what?"

He grumbles, his hips hitting into me harder as he waits for me to continue.

"I wished it was yours..."

My legs clench together under the table and I take a large gulp of water.

I feel something graze over my bare shin, and I already know it's Spencer's foot, a silent reassurance of his presence and that no matter what, he'll always be here.

"Here's what's going to happen..."

He has me on my back now, my legs hoisted over his shoulders and bent back so I'm nearly folded in half. His hips are flush against mine and I can feel his cock throbbing as he comes into the condom.

"You're gonna make an appointment to make sure you're clean... You're gonna make sure you're on good birth control... And then the next time I fuck this pretty little pussy, you're gonna really know what it feels like to have a man come inside you."

Right... Like I really need a reminder of his presence.

I can practically feel it still inside me, taking up every inch of space my body could provide. And no matter how long I go without seeing him, I have no doubt that it'll always remain.

"But that's enough about me, I'm sorry." Mom's voice shifts and breaks me out of my fantasy. "So, how did your day of bonding go? You have fun?"

Spencer and I share a look, a smile spreading over his lips that makes me smile in turn.

"Yeah, Mom," I say. "It was great."

He nods in kind. "Yeah... We'll definitely have to do it again."

His foot grazing over my leg under the table cements the unwavering smile on my face, as does the way my whole body burns at the memory of him fucking me upstairs only hours before.

I don't even flinch or get sick to my stomach when Mom reaches over and gives Spencer a kiss.

———

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[a-constant-gay-panic]

Fears 

masterlist

pairing: peter pettigrew x gn!reader

warnings: angst w a little bit of comfort at one spot, kinda gets dark at the end, mentions of james and lily's deaths

summary: you've always feared the worst about everything but you never expected any of these fears to come true. what happens when one of them does? when one of your friends turn into something you fear, someone you fear - a death eater.

word count: 2.5k

a/n: here's the fic based of this request. hope you enjoy anon <3 i decided that i'd make it a gn!reader cause a specific one wasn't mentioned and this could pretty much work for anyone. also, just a little disclaimer: this peter pettigrew is a mixture of my headcanon personality for peter and canon peter. some of his traits and characteristics will match his actual character while others might differ from it as it's how i interpret him (plus i see him as dane dehaan btw)

— — — — — X — — — — —

you're silently sitting on the couch, blanket wrapped around you as you listen to the crackling of the fire.

you've been staying at the order for the past year, not exactly having a home or family to go back to. you and the rest joined as soon as possible, willing to do anything to stop the dark lord.

you don't get much sleep these nights, mind swirling with fears and worries. there's whisper of a traitor amongst you and quite frankly, you can't find it in you to get a decent sleep anymore. tossing and turning, fearing for you and your friends, not knowing what's happening or if you can stop it.

the one constant worry of yours is engraved into your mind, replaying over and over like a mantra.

‘what if it's one of them?’

you don't want it to be true, but you can't shake the feeling. what if one of them is this traitor people talk of? what if you have to stop them? will you be able to? how could you when you consider them all family? how will you-

creak

you snap your head up at the sudden noise, fear rooted deep within you.

you squint in the darkness, the bright flames giving you just enough light to make out the figure which stands in the doorway.

“remus…?” you question.

a deep chuckle reaches your ears as the culprit steps forward, allowing their face to be seen.

“peter? what're you doin' down here so late?” you're surprised to see him. peter often prefers to stay out the way, not wanting to draw any excess attention to himself.

peter pettigrew… you've known him since your first year. you were both put in gryffindor, quickly becoming friends with remus lupin, james potter and sirius black.

since day one, he's always intrigued you. the way his eyes seem to hold so many secrets, his strange demeanor around everyone, his timid and reserved persona which definitely didn't fit in with the other marauders.

he's intrigued you yes, which is why you made it your mission to get close to him. and it worked rather well actually. you consider him to be one of your closest friends, and he would say the same for you.

that's exactly the reason he's standing in front of you right now.

“i couldn't sleep… guessin' you couldn't either.” he slowly walks towards you and rests his forearms on the back of the couch, staring at the orange flames in front of him.

you slowly nod. “yeah… don't get much sleep anymore.” you admit to him.

he frowns and gives you a side glance, not noticing the way he taps his fingers on the back pillows. “why not?”

you shrug and make a mental note of his seemingly nervous state. “dunno. jus' worryin' too much i s'pose. that and the fear can get too much, y'know? but it doesn't matter.” you try to force a small laugh, not wanting him to really continue the conversation.

he, being oblivious to obvious social cues, doesn't notice your attempt to end the discussion. “fear? fear of what?”

you shrug yet again, his fingers slowly but surely drum faster and you're almost positive he doesn't even realise it. “y'know… everythin' i guess.”

his brows furrow and as he pushes you further. “everythin'? that's not very descriptive.”

“everythin' pete. everythin' scares me nowadays. there's a war brewin' and any of you could get hurt, there's supposedly a traitor among us, we're no closer to findin' the dark lord than we were when we started. bloody hell, the list goes on!” you sigh in frustration and fail to notice the way his eyes dart to your face at the mention of the traitor.

“oh.” is all he can manage to say and you scoff at his response. “yeah, oh.” you sarcastically say.

a moment of silence passes before he quickly stands, stopping the rhythmic tapping of his fingers.

“care for a walk?” he says. you're surprised to say the least.

“a walk? at this hour? are you mental wormtail?” you stare at him in confusion.

“i jus' might be…” he mutters, you not quite catching what he said.

“what?” you ask but he just shakes his head and walks away from your sitting figure before turning and nodding his head in the direction of the door, a silent demand for you to go on that walk with him.

you roll your eyes and get up, whining in annoyance as the warmth leaves you and you're met with cold air. 

you tighten the gown which keeps you somewhat warm and begrudgingly follow peter out the building and into the cold streets of london.

the two of you walk in silence for a while, the only noise being the shuffling of feet and your occasional sniff.

he suddenly stops in his tracks when you pass a park bench and pulls your arm so that you're following him to sit down. once you're sitting, he quickly let's go of your arm and his fingers start to nervously drum against his upper thigh.

‘he's nervous again… why?’

you decide to wait and see if he speaks up first but after a few minutes of dead silence and his skittish behaviour, you figure you better say something.

“peter. what's up with you mate?” you turn your body so you can face him.

he looks at you without stopping his fidgeting. “nothin'...” you roll your eyes at him.

“c'mon. you're shakin' like you've jus' seen a dementor. why'd you bring me me here?” he takes a shaky breath and his next question gives you chills.

“what if your fears were to come true?”

you stare at him, mouth agape as you try to understand what he's asking. your mind races with thoughts and questions, not knowing how to respond.

“what?” you dumbly ask.

“you're scared of the traitor right? scared that it's one of us. what would you do if you're right?” he's looking intently into your eyes, trying to analyse your reaction and answer.

“i… i don't know pete… i wish i did but i don't. it'd depend on who i s'pose. why'd you ask?” you answer truthfully.

he doesn't answer your question, instead he counters it with another one of his own. this one sends a shiver down your spine.

“what if it was me?” his voice is just above a whisper.

your eyes widen and your pulse races. something about this situation scares you. something about his words send fear throughout your mind and body.

“what're you sayin' peter?” your voice trembles slightly, not wanting him to confirm the thought which bubbles in your head.

“what if i was to say that i'm the traitor? that i'm the spy. what would you do then?” his eyes never leave yours and the pace of his fingers gets faster and faster, the constant drumming doing your head in, making you unable to think properly.

you open your mouth, only for no words to come out, your mind goes blank and you sit there gaping like a fish above water. 

“what would you do if i was the one betraying everyone?” his drumming gets faster still. “the one passing all the orders secrets to the dark lord,” and faster “the one helping voldemort?” even faster now, aggressive almost.

there's only one word to describe what you feel. fear.

not fear of him, but fear of the possibility. fear of finding out that he might be the one who's turned. fear that he's become the one thing in life that you fear above all else. the one thing that makes your blood boil and freeze at the same time.

the thought plays on repeat in your mind.

‘what if he's the traitor? a death eater…’

the last words make your heart clench. the thought of the sweet and timid peter being one of them.

‘death eater… death eater… death eater…’

those two words replay in your mind like a broken record and you have to fight to keep yourself under control, the frantic tapping of his fingers and the fear of what might be sending you into a spiral.

you shake your head in an attempt to clear it and deny what your gut is telling you is true.

“no…” you whisper into the cold air. he still doesn't look away from your eyes, his filled with regret and a deep rooted sense of despair.

“what would you do if it was true? if i became what you fear.” he questions again.

all you can do is shake your head, heart pounding in your chest. agitation clouds your fearful mind at his constant repetitive tapping.

your mind races and you place your head in your hands, squeezing your eyes shut as you shake your head, desperately trying to force the loud voices out.

‘traitor… spy… backstabber… enemy… betrayer… death eater.’

you're pulled from your overwhelming thoughts as it goes dead silent all of a sudden.

you raise your head and see that peter is standing up. you look closely at him and see the tears which brim in his eyes.

“what would you do…” he takes a deep breath before continuing, “if i was to show you this.” his trembling fingers roll up the sleeve of his nightshirt, revealing your worst nightmare and confirming all your fearful thoughts.

‘he's one of them.’

you're frozen in your spot, eyes wide as you stare at the dark ink which is tattooed onto his pale and fragile skin.

“what would you do y/n? what are you going to do now?” his voice is full of fear. 

you can't answer him. all you can do is sit there in shock.

peter pettigrew, your long time friend, the shy and timid boy you've known since you were 11, is now a death eater. he's betrayed you and the others and has now blatantly put it on display for you.

why? why would he do this? why would he tell you? you had no idea.

“peter… why?” is all you can manage to say.

he shakes his head in defeat as silent tears run down his tired face. “i was scared… i didn't want to die.” his voice cracks on the last word, more tears rolling down his flushed cheeks.

you don't know what to feel. one part of you is scared. you want to run away from him, fearing what he's capable of. you don't want to be near him any longer than you have to be.

but then, there's the part of you that feels for him. the part of you that wants to comfort him and let him know that it's going to be ok. you want to embrace him and keep him near you. afterall, he's still the same person he was just a few years ago, is he not?

your heart wins over your mind as you stand and wrap your arms around his shaking frame.

as soon as he is in your embrace, his walls crumble as does he.

there the two of you sit, on the ground in a park at the early hour of 2 am, the chilly air causing the both of you to shiver uncontrollably, the warmth from one another not nearly enough to outweigh the cold.

“y/n… 'm so sorry… so sorry…” he murmurs through his quiet sobs.

“shh… 's ok pete… i know you didn't want this…” you comfort him, hand coming up to run through his locks in an attempt to calm him.

“c'mon… let's get you back to the order…" you softly say once his cries subside.

you stand and pull peter along with you. the walk is silent yet again, only this time your mind is desperately trying to come up with a solution.

you open the door and lead him inside, up the stairs and into his bedroom. you help him in bed and sit at the bottom of it, deep in thought.

‘what am i going to do now? peter asked the same thing but i still don't know. he's with the dark lord. he's betrayed all of us yet i can't seem to do the same to him. i can't tell the others can i? no… i can't. but can i just ignore the fact that he carries the dark mark? that isn't an option… merlin i don't know anymore. he may be one of them but he's still peter right? he wouldn't hurt us, would he?’

before you can ponder even more on it, he pulls you from your thoughts as he grasps your hand, silently urging you to say something. anything.

“i don't know pete…” you sigh, “i honestly don't know.”

he leans his head back onto his pillows and whispers 5 words which both warm your heart but also make you shiver.

“i won't hurt you, y'know.”

you slowly nod. “i know.”

but you didn't. you really didn't. you had no idea what he was capable of. you underestimated him greatly, letting your own misconceptions of the man you once called ‘friend’ cloud your mind and judgement.

— — — — — X — — — — —

‘why did i do that? why did i keep his secret? now they're gone and it's my fault.’

you're standing by james and lily's graves, a bouquet of roses in hand, tears streaming down your face as you remember what he did. as you remember how he broke his promise.

he didn't hurt you, no. but he hurt the others. he hurt your family and you let it happen. you let him destroy the only family you had left.

“y/n. 's time to go.” remus' soft voice speaks up.

you nod slowly and bend down, gently placing the flowers where your two of your best friends were buried. the graves which marked the death of two members of your family. you stand and turn to him, giving him a sad smile which he returns.

“ 's all my fault, y'know. if i had jus' said somethin'-”

“no. 's not your fault ok? you didn't know. peter tricked you like he did to all of us. don't blame yourself. james and lily wouldn't want that, nor would sirius.” he cuts you off.

you don't respond, opting to nod slowly at him again. “now c'mon, it's time we leave.” he holds his hand out and you grasp it before the two of you apparate away from it all.

away from all the memories, away from all the pain, away from their graves.

‘when i see that backstabbing bastard, i'm gonna kill him.’

is the last thought you had before you let sleep overcome you that night, a plan for revenge already forming in your mind.

you were going to make him pay. you were going to make peter pettigrew pay for his betrayal and you were going to make it hurt.

you were going to avenge your family. he isn't the same boy you once knew, you realise this now. he isn't the same and now, neither are you.

— — — — — X — — — — —

[thehaitanis]

𝔴𝔥𝔢𝔫 𝔱𝔥𝔢𝔶 𝔤𝔢𝔱 𝔧𝔢𝔞𝔩𝔬𝔲𝔰: 𝔰𝔞𝔫𝔷𝔲, 𝔯𝔞𝔫 𝔞𝔫𝔡 𝔥𝔞𝔫𝔪𝔞

❮★❯ summary: how will sanzu haruchiyo, haitani ran and hanma shuji act when they get jealous.

❮★❯ warnings: none, maybe bad writing.

❮★❯ disclaimer: english is not my first language, so forgive me for any mistakes.

sanzu is definitely one to get jealous and he is more than conscious about this. he knows himself and you enough to know that not everything you do is a reason to put him in a bad mood, but sometimes he just can’t help but feel like you’re doing all of that on purpose, is it really that bad that he wants to make sure you’re by his side every time you’re together? no, sanzu is just trying to protect you while he does his job assisting muto.

it doesn’t take him any more than just one second to make him feel like someone’s trying to take you away from him, like, he just needs you to look uncomfortable for him to act, leaving whatever he’s doing to appear by your side and, even if he’s not as tall or as strong as other toman’s members, his cold eyes and the fact that he has peculiar scars are everything he needs to scare the person away. he won’t even try to hide how jealous he is, he doesn’t care really, sanzu just wants them away from you so he could continue with what he was doing before someone decided to try their luck.

he tends to be mean to people he doesn’t like, so expect no less of him if he happens to open his mouth because what’s about to happen will leave with a pounding headache and the reminder to never have an argument with your boyfriend.

it’ll be pretty obvious just how jealous he is, you would know what he is feeling but not the reason behind it and it’s not like he will tell you, so you’ll have to investigate the possible causes for his sour mood. it’ll look like he is mad but, in reality, he’s just going through the very same scenario that made him feel like that, thinking of different ways he could’ve approached the situation to not make it that obvious.

sanzu will accept his jealousy only if you push him to. he’ll gladly die with his envious feelings before even coming close to accepting the fact that he doesn’t like to see you paying attention to anyone that’s not him, at least not the special attention you always give him. that is something he holds dear to his heart and would completely refuse to share.

he doesn't get jealous, not at all, he has never in his life felt jealous, not even when stupid guys try to get closer to you by faking some kind of accident, no, he never feels the need to beat their faces until they’re not recognizable anymore. that, obviously, is a lie because haitani ran is the ceo of reading to dirt anyone that thinks they can get close to you with those intentions without any consequences.

as confident as he is, it wouldn't take long before he begins to feel jealous. it would start as mere amusement, finding funny that someone had the guts to approach you when you’re clearly being surrounded by the haitani brothers and a bunch of other dangerous criminals that act under their command, but ran let’s them be, observing with interest as this stranger tries to get you to give your name and your phone number. then he’ll make a stupid joke in hopes of getting you in a better mood and there is where ran will draw the line. he knows you’re only laughing because you’re nice, but that doesn’t take away the fact that he feels the sudden urge to kill that idiot right there.

he’ll approach this person with confidence, a fake smile plastered on his face and an aura that can repel whoever is around. he’ll be “nice” every moment he gets to talk, making hurtful comments that will either make the stranger leave or make the situation extremely uncomfortable. whatever it is, you just need to be prepared for ran to be in his absolutely worst mood once he scares the person away.

although he won’t treat you any differently, you’ll know something it’s up with him the moment you’re alone. usually, ran is the one always doing the talking, speaking of everything that comes to his mind but now it’s you the one who’s doing all the talking

he won’t ever admit his jealousy mostly because he doesn’t want you to think lowly of him, trying to keep the oh so perfect image he worked so hard to keep, but he will definitely be way more affective with you for the rest of the day to compensate for his behaviour.

i think hanma is one of the characters that can get the most jealous in tr mostly because his personality is very volatile. as we have seen before, hanma only acts under his own interests so it wouldn’t be rare to see him getting mad when something doesn’t go the way he planned or when something takes his fun away from him.

even if he gets easily jealous, it would take a lot of time before he realizes what he’s feeling, mistaking it at first by simple annoyance when he sees you leaving to talk to someone else. just where are you going? weren’t you telling him about your day? his relaxed smile dropping the moment he sees you laugh with the one he was left for. it would take someone else to point out the fact that he might be jealous for him to realize that he actually is and, the moment he accepts it, it’s the moment all the fun you were having is gone because there’s no way you can ignore the tension in the air when suddenly you feel hanma’s arms circling your shoulders, his chin resting on top of your head while he gives an obviously fake smile to the person in front. it’ll be best if you just leave, pretending you both have something else to do in hopes hanma will let the problem go.

hanma is pretty much an asshole to everyone except you, so as you can imagine his behaviour towards the other person will be anything but kind. he’ll pretend as if nothing’s happening, including himself in the conversation you were having in hopes the person will get the point that he’s only faking his laugh. i feel like he’ll also be the type to put threats into his words in hopes to create a fight like the troublemaker he is.

i’ll be pretty obvious to you that he’s jealous, this guy won’t even try to hide it because, at the end of the day, it really makes him feel like you’re the only one that can get him that worked out without even being responsible for it.

hanma will one hundred percent admit his jealousy and he will do it in the most hypocritical way, finding it funny that even someone like him can get jealous. this will also show you just how much he cares about you, so please don’t go talking to other people if you were previously beside him.

❮★❯ requests are: closed!

[dnforever206]

To Love The 'Ocean'

!! Disclaimer: most of this was written at night so i apologize for any mistakes or if it doesn't make 100% sense <3 !!

Also! Lmk if you guys want a part two or just like a follow up from this <3 Info:

Word count: 4823

characters: 25337

characters without spaces: 20541

Finally, after all those horrible years of suffering, fighting and, somehow, endless drama there was peace. It was finally over, actually this time. No more mirrored dimensions, no more scary and dangerous monsters that were constantly out to kill whatever came along their path. It was almost weird how calm it suddenly was, it felt weird that they no longer had to worry about their lives and the lives of literally everyone else in Hawkins. Of course there were people they had lost along the way, people they’ll never forget, the people that sometimes gave their lives to protect or save others.

Now all there was left to do was clean up the mess that was left behind from all this.

Most of the older kids had been helping some of the people in Hawkins collect their stuff from their homes to move out as the caverns formed by the four portals had not closed and were actually quite dangerous, especially for the younger kids. Not our main group though, they finally decided to catch up on everything that had happened before everything started back up again. 

“Yea, Dustin, Lucas and I joined this DnD club called hellfire and it was run by this guy named Eddie! Oh, Will, you would’ve LOVED Eddie!” Mike said excitedly, however, Will seemed almost upset? Yea that's the best word to describe it. It took a short moment of silence for Mike to realise that Will was even upset, “Hey? Are you ok? Why are you upset?” Mike quickly questioned, already feeling bad before he even knew what had happened.

“You guys… joined a new party? Didn’t we promise we wouldn’t do that…?” It was obvious from Will’s voice that he was not happy at all with what his friend, best friend, just told him. “And that after refusing to play with me that entire time before highschool. Good friends you guys are…” The room went quiet, no one really knew what to say in response to this. Mike had felt bad for a long time about how he had treated Will back then and if it wasn’t for Dustin, Lucas and Eddie pushing him to join he probably wouldn’t have. And all 3 of them know that.

“Hey,” Dustin started, “Don’t be mad at Mike for this, please, we basically pushed him to join, he needed to get his mind off of El and you moving away… We all did” Dustin explained, trying to maybe make Will feel a little less bad. It wasn’t like he was lying either, this was the truth, they just usually never talked about it as it made them miss their friends more most of the time.

“It’s fine either way, I’m going to unpack my stuff. Have fun catching up with your girlfriend.” Will sounded almost pissed now, and it was most definitely directed at Mike, which was odd? Why would Will suddenly be this pissed? Especially with Mike, he hadn't done anything wrong. What the others didn’t know is that Will had already internalised all that they said and his mind had turned it into terrible thoughts of how his friends don’t like him anymore.

“No! Will, wait!” Mike was about to get up but El stopped him and he just decided not to resist, trying to get away from her now would only upset her as well.

Meanwhile, Will was already in tears, sat on his floor, going through one of his boxes that had a bunch of old photos, some of his old drawings, that he always meant to give to Mike but never did, and some character ideas that he never ended up doing anything with. He picked up one of the drawings, it was of when they first met, well not exactly of course but it was the playground they met on, Will couldn’t help but feel tears start to well up in his eyes… ‘You used to be so nice, you used to care so much… What happened to you?’ Will thought as he looked at the drawing in his hands, a single tear rolling down his cheek and ending up falling on the paper. Just then there was a knock on the door and a soft voice spoke, “Hey, Will? Can I come in please? I wanna apologize…” It was Mike. Will thought for a moment, he didn’t really want to talk to Mike but he knew Mike was trying to do better so he should probably just let him apologize. Will hesitated for a while longer before wiping the tears from his eyes, putting the drawing back in the box and getting up to open the door.

The moment he opened the door he was pulled into a hug by Mike, “Look, I’m so sorry about that, I’m so sorry we joined another party when we promised we wouldn’t, but we all needed to just get our minds off of all that had happened, distraction. I also just assumed you were doing good, since El always said you were, she told me you had gotten into painting more and I guess I just assumed you grew out of it and it wouldn’t be a big deal. I’m sorry, Will, I really am” Will didn’t know how to respond to that, he simply hugged Mike back, hesitantly, and stayed quiet. And so they stood in silence for a while, it wasn’t an awkward silence, it was quite nice, actually. “Mike, it’s ok, really, I just overthink things, it’s a me problem, not a you problem. And I guess maybe it’s a tad bit of jealousy, because you guys never wanted to play with me before… But it’s ok.” Will responded, his voice breaking slightly, since he had only just stopped crying, it was still quite obvious in his voice. 

“Were you crying?” Mike asked with a concerned tone in his voice (the Will voice™) as he pulled himself away from the hug to look at Will’s face, now also noticing his eyes were, infact, slightly red and puffy. “Oh you have! I’m so sorry.” Mike hugged him again. As sad as Will still felt he couldn’t help but feel butterflies in his stomach, Mike rarely ever hugged him anymore so this was a very special moment for him. Suddenly a voice spoke up from behind them, “Guys! You wanna come meet up with Steve and Robin? El really wants to see them again.” It was Dustin. Mike turned around, letting go of Will, and nodded “Sure, as long as Will is coming too?” He said, facing Will again. Will simply nodded, and so they followed Dustin. “We agreed to meet at the local park so it’s not too far from here.” Dustin informed the two and they both nodded even though Dustin was walking in front of them and couldn’t see it.

Once they were all together and had their shoes on they informed Joyce on where they were headed and left.

As Dustin had explained, it wasn’t a very long walk, about 10 minutes, so they got there relatively quick.

“Took you guys long enough.” Steve said as he walked towards the group that was slowly approaching, Steve’s eyes moved over to a familiar yet different face, “Byers,” Will’s head basically shot up to look at who ever was talking, Will wasn’t paying attention, “You’ve grown, you’re a lot taller than i remember you being.” Steve joked and walked over to Will to give him a hug, which Will weakly returned. Will looked over to someone he knew he’d seen before but didn’t quite remember. “Who’s she again? I’m sorry, I just don’t really remember you that well.” Will asked, pulling himself out of the hug.

“I don’t blame you for not remembering me, we didn’t really talk at all, I mean we’ve talked a couple times, but not like-, you know, we just don’t really know each other- I’m Robin.” Robin said, rambling as she usually did, Will giggled a little at the rambling, sort of reminded him of himself. “Well, nice to see you again, Robin.” Will said politely and gave her a soft smile. “So, why did you guys want to hang out again?” Mike questioned, not leaving a moment of silence between the end of Will’s sentence and the start of his own. 

“Well, I just wanted to know how they were doing, they looked after us for the most part those 3 years, especially Steve.” El said with a smile as she walked over to Steve and gave him a hug, which he gladly returned. “That’s really nice of you, El.” Steve responded.

They all talked for a while and Steve had brought snacks which they were currently eating, everyone kind of scattered around in small groups, Will didn’t really feel like talking to the others so he had just decided to sit with Steve and Robin, hoping to just be left alone for a bit. Which they did, not for very long though,”Hey, Will?” Steve started, Will sighed and sat up straighter against the tree he was just leaning on “Yea, what’s up?” he responded.

“How was California, like, how was the school, the people, you know, those things” Robin quickly asked before Steve could. “Oh- Well, It’s not too special, I mean the school we went to was pretty ok, most kids were nice. There were a few assholes, though, that liked to pick on El, but I tried my best to, you know, cheer her up if anything did happen…” Steve sounded almost shocked to hear that. El? Being bullied? The El he remembered would never get bullied, he decided not to ask about it though.

“Well, that’s not good… But, no need to worry about that anymore, since you guys are back and here to stay we can all look after her.” Steve said, in a cheery voice to try and make Will feel less bad about it all. “Yea, that’s good.” he responded. It went quiet for a short moment before Robin spoke up, “Soooo, Will, any cute girls at your new school?” she questioned, a huge grin plastered on her face, she knew what she was asking and, from what she knew about Will, she knew what kind of answer she’d get. She knew he was shy and hasn’t had a girlfriend before so she hoped to hear some sort of cute confession he had for a girl, so the answer she got was kind of shocking, “No, not really, I mean- they were… ok I guess? Just- none of them were really my type, I suppose…” Will said, slightly rambling, trying not to make it too obvious that he simply just had no interest in girls at all. Robin wasn’t fooled though, neither was Steve. Suddenly it all kind of clicked for Steve; Will’s closest friend was Mike, Mike was also the first person to know if something was wrong with Will and would sometimes be the only person to ever know about certain things. 

Steve was about to ask Will another question when they all heard yelling, Mike and El were having another fight and so Will quickly got up to go de-escalate the situation. “HEY! What’s going on!?” Will yelled at both of them, “Dustin here, just informed me that Mike hasn’t talked about missing me at least once!” El yelled, clearly mad. “WELL I’M SORRY I HAVE OTHER THINGS TO KEEP ME BUSY? AND OTHER FRIENDS?!” Mike yelled back at her, suddenly it went quiet, no one could really believe he just said that when he KNEW El was having a hard time making friends and even getting bullied and yet he still said that. Then El spoke again, voice shaking a little as she teared up “Screw you, Mike.” and then she stormed off, back home. 

“Mike, what is WRONG with you!?” Will yelled, “You know how hard the past year has been for her! There was no reason for you to say that and yet you did, you’re a piece of shit, Mike!” and with that Will ran after El to go comfort her. “Will! Wait!” Mike tried to stop him, but Will ignored him and just ran back home. Mike sighed and looked at Dustin “Why’d you have to mention that dude, look what happened” Mike said, trying to shift the blame onto Dustin, when really Mike was the one that clearly did not care and instead of apologizing to El he made everything worse by practically making fun of her in front of the others. “HEY! don’t try to blame me for this dude! Not my fault you for some reason you never talk about your own girlfriend?” and now Mike was pissed. “Ok, but you shouldn’t have brought that up IN FRONT OF HER?! Screw you guys, I’m going home” and then Mike stormed off too.

After this the rest all decided it would be best to just pack things up and go home, it was getting late anyways. “Well, it was nice so at least see you guys again” Steve said, clearly feeling awkward about the whole situation. “Yea, you too. Cya guys” Dustin said, grabbing his stuff and going home too, Lucas following soon after, Leaving Robin and Steve to clean their trash up as they usually did. 

At home with Will and El things weren’t too great either, El was sobbing on her bed, there was a mix of angry and sad tears violently streaming down her face while Will tried comforting her “Hey, it’s ok, Mike’s an asshole, please don’t let this ruin you, ok? You’re amazing! You’re sweet and you’re simply a great friend, El! Just cause stupid Mike doesn’t realize or see that isn’t on you. He’s always been blind to those things, trust me.” Will told her as he hugged her tight. He never thought he was too good at comforting people but now Will was sure he said the right thing, the thing El needed to hear, know and understand. He wasn’t lying either, Mike was oblivious to a lot of things, especially regarding people’s feelings, he always had been. “Are you sure? I mean my own boyfriend never even talks about me to his friends, doesn’t that say enough?” El said in between sobs, this absolutely broke Will’s heart, sure he had liked mike for ages but he knew how much El loved Mike too and how happy he, used to, make her. Will felt almost obligated to keep them together, but after what Mike pulled today at the park Will decided it was time Mike got what he deserved. “El, dump him. Please, all he’s doing lately is hurt you, he’s not good for you, you deserve better than him.” El looked up at her brother, eyes red and puffy from the crying, which was still happening, “You really think so?” she asked, Will’s eyes were now also starting to well up a little from seeing his sister cry “Yea, of course.”

So, El decided to go over to Mike’s house and break him the news, Joyce, being the supportive mother she is, drove El there and waited outside until she was done doing what she needed to. When they got to the house El felt nervous, she didn’t know why though, seeing as last time she broke up with him it didn’t feel like a big deal, but suddenly it did this time. El stepped out of the car and walked over to the front door, ringing the doorbell. Karen opened the door, “Oh! El, how lovely to see you! You’re here for Michael I’m assuming?” mrs. Wheeler said and El simply nodded before carefully stepping into the house. “He’s watching TV in the living room right now” mrs. Wheeler told El before getting back to cooking dinner. El walked to the living room and Mike looked up to see who walked in, being slightly shocked to see El “Why are you here?” he asked and El crossed her arms “Well, you made it very clear how much you actually care about me today. First I find out you never mention me at all to you friends, then you get mad at ME for being upset with you over this and then you try to blame Dustin for everything. Mike, you suck. I dump your ass.” and with that she turned around and began to walk away, but before she had left the room Mike said “It’s not that I don’t care, El” El stopped dead in her tracks and turned around, “And what’s that supposed to mean?” she questioned, “Well, I do care about you, it’s just that, I’m not in love with you anymore… I really tried to get those feelings back but I just can’t. So I’m sorry for not mentioning you enough, ever even, you just… You aren’t on my mind 24/7 anymore, because I don’t love you anymore. Sorry…” Mike explained and El understood better now, she still wasn’t happy but she understood. She gave a small nod and then turned around again and left, going back home with Joyce.

Mike was still on the couch, thinking, he was slightly shocked about what El just did but he also understood. However, this now meant he was going to have to confront his feelings from now on instead of projecting them onto El or anyone for that matter. This was going to be difficult. 

When El and Joyce came home Will was sitting on the couch, almost like he was waiting for them to come back. Well not almost, he WAS waiting for them to come back. “And? How’d it go?” Will said, a little too enthusiastically. He was looking at his sister's face to try and see if maybe she was upset over something Mike had said again or if she was happy, but he just could not tell how she was feeling. “It went unexpectedly well, I think? I mean, I told him how what he did and said made me feel and he admitted that he hadn’t been in love with me for a while now. I feel like he means the day we left Hawkins by ‘a while’ …” El explained, she seemed suspiciously calm for someone who just broke up with their boyfriend. “Are you ok though? You seem awfully calm” Will questioned and El just nodded as she sat next to Will on the couch, laying her head in his lap. They did this a lot, it wasn’t weird to them at all, it was nice actually. Like this they could just kind of sit comfortably and be quiet for a moment, both thinking their own different thoughts. After a couple minutes Will let out a deep sigh, “You ok?” El asked opening her eyes and look up at Will, “Yea, I’m fine, just… thinking I guess, I’ve been doing that a lot recently” Will said, ending in a small chuckle, “Yea, I’ve noticed, I’ve had to snap you out of your thoughts a lot the past few weeks. So, I think it’s time you tell what exactly you’re thinking about so much recently” Will suddenly felt a wave of anxiety wash over him, he wasn’t sure if he was ready to talk about this yet with anyone. Sure he was happy Jonathan now knew, but when he basically came out to him Jonathan was the one to bring it up, not Will.

“Well, it’s not that easy to talk about, it’s stupid anyway, I promise you.” Will tried, hoping El would just drop it, but she wasn’t going to give up that easily, “Will, come on, I’m your sister, you’re supposed to tell me things”

That’s when Will decided it was time to tell them, everyone… Well, his family, so he thought for a moment about how he was going to say this and god was he afraid of this moment, “Well… I guess I have been thinking about a few things… It was easier last time because Jonathan figured it out on his own but now I’m gonna actually have to tell you guys… Wow…” while Will was talking his mom had sat down on a chair in the room and Jonathan was standing next to the couch now, “Hey, Will, if you aren’t ready you don’t have to tell us, ok? It’s completely up to you but I don't want you stressing yourself out too much so soon after everything happened” Jonathan told him, putting a hand on his brother's shoulder to comfort him a little. “Yea, I know, but I want to.” Will’s voice was shaking slightly as he spoke, Jonathan nodded in understanding and took a step back to give Will some personal space.

“Well… I just want to start off by asking you guys that no matter what, you won’t leave or, i don’t know, kick me out?” and Will was already on the verge of tears before he even started and Joyce got up to hug her son, “of course not, hunny, nothing could ever make me leave you behind or kick you out, don’t be silly” she then sat back down and Will continued talking. “Thanks… Ok, well, uhm, I think you all already know I’ve never had a girlfriend, right? And I, myself, always thought I was just too awkward to talk to any girls or that maybe I just wasn’t capable of falling in love… But oh my was I wrong, I’ve actually been in love for a while now… but I never said anything because I felt terrible for it, I felt like I was weird, a freak, for feeling this way… but it’s time to finally fess up I suppose…” Will fell quiet and no one interrupted him once that whole time. Will took a deep breath and spoke again, “I-... Mom, I’m gay. I’ve thought this for a couple years now but once we started going to school in Cali I was sure of it.” Will let out an almost sad chuckle, “I guess dad was right, huh? God, I’m so sorry…” Will’s voice sounded weak and soft. Then suddenly El hugged him and so did his mother, “Oh, Will, it’s ok, I still love you. I’ve suspected this for a while, but I’m glad you got to figure it out on your own. I’m so proud of you.” Will basically started sobbing at his mother’s kind words. 

They all sat there for a while, just hugging when suddenly El pulled out of the hug and spoke up, “Will, you said you’ve been in love for a while, right? With who are you in love, if that's ok to ask?” and there was that anxiety again, he didn’t just want to admit his feelings for Mike right after he got his sister to break up with him, that would seem selfish, “No one, it’s not important” Will responded quickly. El rolled her eyes at him and shook her head “Tell us!” Her yelling scared Will, since his dad used to always yell at him if he didn’t do as he was asked, which caused him to just blurt it out “It’s Mike!” Once he said that he went completely pale. “Shit.” he said and quickly got up, simply walking out the door as he still had his shoes on.

Will walked all the way to ‘Lovers Lake’ to think, since castle Byers was still destroyed this was the next best place to go to think. 

Of course, with his luck, Mike was there too. Will was about to walk in the other direction when Mike looked up and noticed him, “Will! Hey!” Mike said, sounding surprised but also happy. Will turned back to Mike and just decided to sit next to him on the small bench that faced the water, “Hey, Mike, why are you here?” Will asked as he kicked a small pebble into the water, not looking at Mike at all. “Could ask you the same thing.” They both chuckled and accidentally locked eyes for like a split second, but that split second was long enough to make both of them slightly flustered. “Well, I just came to sit and think here,” Mike began, “Mainly because I don’t know how to feel at the moment, my girlfriend just broke up with me but I’m not sad that she left, at all, I’m more upset that I now have to face my feelings. Feelings I think I might have for someone else. That I now cannot push onto her, I know how selfish that sounds by the way” Will was taken aback when he heard that. ‘Feelings for who???’ Was the only question running through his mind at the moment. So Will decided to shoot his shot, in a very… difficult and vague way that is, “You know… I don’t tell a lot of people this, but, I’ve always preferred the ocean over a sunset, do you know why?” Will started, looking over at his friend who seemed rather confused but also very intrigued, “No, I don’t know why, but please, do tell.” Mike told him and Will nodded before he continued speaking, “Well, I’ve always preferred the ocean, mainly because it can sometimes feel like it’s… alive, almost? you know what i mean?” Mike nodded at the question, “Like, the tides change constantly, so do emotions, and when it’s storming the sea gets all wild and dangerous… There’s almost constant waves, or constant thoughts… And not to mention how mysterious it is” This was Will’s way of explaining to Mike how he saw him and he hoped Mike understood that but part of him also really hoped he didn’t. But of course he did, “Yea, I get it,” Mike thought about his next words for a second, “I used to always think I was supposed to prefer the sunset over the ocean, but I don’t… I mean, sunsets are nice, but the ocean is so-... so alive! Like, the way it shimmers when the sun shines down on it making it almost look like little diamonds in the water, all of the fish living in it, sure there’s a lot we don’t yet know about the ocean, but it’s so… pretty” the last word Mike spoke was accompanied by eye contact with Will.

 “You know… You’ve always somewhat reminded me of the ocean” Will admitted, this comment made Mike blush a little. “Oh yea? Because I’m like, super mysterious right?” Mike teased and Will laughed, “Shut up! You know what I mean!” Will said, giving Mike a friendly shove. After that they both went quiet a little for a bit, it wasn’t a bad silence, it was very nice actually. But of course, the silence came to an end as it usually did, “You know, Will, I think I know why I fell out of love with El the second you guys left…” Will looked up once he heard Mike speak and looked at him with a bit of confusion mixed with curiosity. “Oh yea? Why is it then? If that’s ok to ask I guess.” Mike nodded in return, “Of course it’s ok to ask, I wouldn’t have brought it up if it wasn’t.” Will chuckled at that, “But yea, I’ve been thinking a lot the past year and… I’ve come to realise that I was simply, I don’t know… I guess I was projecting my feelings, like I said earlier… and those feelings were, well, for you. I’ve liked you for the LONGEST time, Will, and at this point I don’t care if you don't feel that way about me, I just needed you to know” Mike basically blurted out the last part but Will still knew what he said and he could not stop smiling. “Mike… You blind idiot, I cannot believe you’d think I don’t feel the same, I’ve liked you for forever, Mike! But I never said anything because I thought you loved El and I didn’t want to ruin what you guys had… Plus, I already got bullied for being gay, I didn’t want these people to be right… I’m sorry, I should’ve said something earlier and not have waited like five years…” Will could feel tears welling up in his eyes from admitting the last bit, he hated telling people how much he didn’t like himself for who he was, “I always thought I was just some freak…” his voice broke as he spoke and Mike pulled him into a hug. “Hey, it’s ok, you’re not a freak, ok? And if you are… then so am I!” that made Will smile.

They sat there for a bit, just holding each other and then Will spoke, “So… Does this make us boyfriends?” Will asked, carefully, pulling away just far enough from the hug to look Mike in the face, Mike smiled and nodded “Absolutely.”

[itsclydebitches]

I kinda wonder, what could bakugou do (hori write bakugou to do) to make him less popular with the "anti" crowd. Like He was a horrid child no doubt and people who try to put blame on Deku or lessen the terrible shit bakugou did aren't great. But as we don't rly see it, we have to assume bakugous behaviour wasn't stopped, we only ever saw his mum "punishing" him when he was being rude after getting kiddnapped. Nothing will excuse what bakugou did, but he has stopped? He's overall a harsh person but he's not harrassing and bullying people anymore, specifically not deku, he's trying to attone for what he did to deku and has now apologised for it. His behaviour was never viewed as justified or good in the series, he's a scary figure in middle school, we're not meant to like his behaviour, so the series itself hasn't justified his actions.

As someone who relate to both bakugou and deku more than I'd like to admit (never told someone to jump tho, that's fucked lol) so I can 100% understand not liking or even hating bakugou but as someone who's not 15 anymore, looking back I also made a lot of really shitty decisions and like bakugou have tried to make up for it, and like deku I was 'friends' with people who hurt me.

Is there anything he can do for the "antis" to just dislike him rather that be "anti"?

(I'm very sorry if you've talked about this somewhere, you can just tell me to look for it if you have, I'll continue to look for your posts on the subject)

Hey there, anon! I think I’ve spoken about this only tangentially and/or in my main Bakugo meta, which is too big for anyone sane to read. So yeah, let’s chat here!

For me personally—and that’s all I can ever do: speak personally. I think it’s important to keep in mind that there is no single solution to please the “anti” crowd. Each fan will be looking for something slightly different in Bakugo’s character, much of which might contradict what a “stan” is currently enjoying. Given how charged a character he is, I'm not sure it's possible to get the entire fandom to like him—what I’m looking for hinges on having a different reading of the story than you seem to. Meaning, I think the series does justify his behavior. Not in any overt, super obvious way like having all the characters go, “Wow, Bakugo! I sure do love how you threaten people all the time. That’s super cool and heroic!” Things are rarely that straightforward. Rather, it’s in a more subtle, but consistent manner that paints a rather conclusive picture across hundreds of chapters.

Simply put, Bakugo is continually rewarded for his actions. Or, if not outright rewarded, his actions are ignored in a way that implies silent acceptance. Characters may not always like what he does... but they're willing to let it slide because Bakugo's heroism was always treated as a given, not something he had to earn and prove.

With the ever necessary disclaimer that I’m not fully caught up yet, here’s a list of some of the things that stood out to me in the first half of the series:

Bakugo’s bullying made him the most popular kid in school.

Bakugo’s bullying was ignored by/outright supported by the teachers.

Bakugo’s bullying did not hinder him from getting into U.A., one of the most prestigious hero schools around.

Despite acting horribly throughout his time at U.A. too, this behavior was continually ignored by the teachers and other authority figures around him.

Bakugo’s struggle to realize that other people aren’t “trash” doesn’t hurt his achievements in any way. He still gets top scores, still wins the tournament, etc.

Bakugo’s behavior gets him special attention from All Might, the greatest hero and Bakugo’s personal idol.

His behavior doesn’t make others dislike him in any manner that’s taken seriously. Everybody is still willing to not just put up with Bakugo, but—in time—start treating his behavior as a quirk (no pun intended lol) that they’re secretly fond of, rather than something he should legitimately be striving to change. Kirishima is the most overt example of this.

This is compounded by his behavior constantly being framed as humorous. Much like with Mineta’s perverted actions, characters might superficially go, “No, that’s bad!” but the story never demands any significant development because then we’d lose the “joke” of Bakugo screaming in rage at the slightest inconvenience, threatening to murder someone over nothing, constantly belittling everyone around him in a “funny” manner, etc. When fans talk about development of a manga character as archetypal and extreme as Bakugo, most don’t really want to see significant change to his base personality. Because then that would result in someone who doesn’t look like the “real” Bakugo: someone nicer, more even-tempered, more mature, etc. But for those of us who were never drawn to that personality in the first place, the continued acceptance of his rude, egotistical, and violent behavior is discomforting. The easiest comparison I can draw is between this and Bakugo’s mother slapping him. That slap is meant to be another “joke”—we see it constantly in shonen anime, something "humorous" you shouldn’t take too seriously because haha, it's just an overprotective mother—but many fans do take it seriously, using it as the basis for a whole “Bakugo was abused and this explains his behavior” reading. Well, I take the “joke” of Bakugo’s threats and insults seriously, especially in a story that starts with something like telling Izuku to jump off the roof. In the same way that many fans want others to treat Bakugo’s mother as a serious topic that has had a negative influence on his development, I want the series to take Bakugo’s everyday actions seriously as a negative influence on… well, everyone around him. But it doesn’t. His base personality is grudgingly adored.

The above two points are seen most overtly in Izuku, who never wavers in his respect for Bakugo despite how Bakugo treats him. Not just prior to U.A., but during their training too. Izuku, as the protagonist, is the emotional heart of this tale, so when he talks about how inspiring Bakugo is, it encourages the reader to see his behavior as inspiring too. Rather than, as said, something that needs to change. Izuku's continued friendship with Bakugo, his adoration of him, and his acceptance of the way he's treated has severely warped how the entire story sees Bakugo's actions. After all, if #pure Izuku can see the good in Bakugo, why can't everyone else? He must not be that bad after all.

I could get into detailed analyses of all the above—like how Bakugo was the one comforted after attacking Izuku outside the dorms at night and how the messed up relationship he has with Izuku is upheld as something to nurture; how the remedial courses he had to take were made to be rather silly, thereby undermining their supposed importance to his development; how Bakugo’s kidnapping had nothing to do with his flaws, but much of the fandom uses it as a way to dismiss any appropriate consequences because, “Hasn’t he suffered enough?” etc.—but in the interest of keeping this within a readable length, I’ll leave it at that. The point is that Bakugo has always been privileged when it comes to his behavior, resulting in others either outright praising it, ignoring it, or demanding that he change a miniscule bit, which always keeps him far below the standards of both his peers and the expectations of a hero. Everyone in 1-A must learn to be even better than the good people they already are... Bakugo needs to learn that other people aren't dirt at the bottom of his shoes. It's never been a particularly impressive development when pit against the rest of the class. All of which can make something like an apology feel pretty hollow. Yes, he’s apologized and I say with all seriousness that that’s great! But how does that apology stack up against 300+ chapters of content? As Bakugo’s words highlight, he's been a really awful person up "until now": he was consumed by Izuku being “miles ahead of [him],” he “looked down on [him]” because he didn’t have a quirk, he “didn’t want to recognize that,” he “hated that,” “grew distant,” “tried to beat you down,” “opposed you and tried to show my superiority over you,” and ends it all with, “it probably doesn’t mean anything telling you all this” before finally getting to the “I’m sorry.” This is basically a laundry list of how horrible a person Bakugo has been for the entire series, with an acknowledgement that this apology is coming really, really late. This is the moment where I could START to like Bakugo, depending on how he acts form here on out, but that pivotal moment arrived after six years of content and in the final arc of the story. It’s too late. Bakugo needed this kind of self-reflection and positive action 250+ chapters ago so he could (hopefully) grow into a better person across the story, not at the story's end. What we got instead is 322 chapters of him being a really horrible person, but the story going out of its way to excuse or even praise that behavior the majority of the time.

As a quick comparison to end on, I think what Bakugo needed was what Soo Jin got in True Beauty. You don’t need to have seen the drama to follow along. The tl;dr is that she has a lot of the core qualities of Bakugo: an all-consuming drive to win that was created due to abusive parents with high expectations, resulting in her bullying a peer to a pretty horrific extent. The difference between them is how the story frames their actions. When Soo Jin becomes the bully she loses everything. Rather than succeeding academically, her grades plummet, making it clear that this anxiety and self-doubt (things the fandom keeps insisting Bakugo is struggling with, but that rarely ever show up in the text) is actually impacting her day-to-day life. Her best friend drops her because she’s not going to support her choices. The boy she likes rejects her. She’s eventually forced to start over somewhere new - which importantly separates her from the girl she was bullying - and get some distance from her parents, resulting in the growth needed to become a healthier, happier, good person again. So when Soo Jin apologizes to the girl she hurt, it feels earned. The story continually recognized how horrific her actions were and put her into a place where she either had to change, or continue losing at everything else that was important to her. Bakugo? Bakugo doesn’t lose. Oh, he claims he does because he’s comparing himself to Izuku constantly, but that’s just him thinking in extremes. He still wins academically. Still wins many battles. Still wins at having friends. Still wins by maintaining the prestige of being a U.A. student. Still wins by getting All Might’s attention. Still wins by receiving Izuku’s respect and an agreement to maintain this rivalry that Bakugo is so obsessed with. Bakugo comes out well 99% of the time, he just thinks he's "lost" because he can't stand not being the absolute best.

For me, the story needed to have Bakugo face consequences for his behavior, not receive rewards and/or have others ignore it, and that revelation/apology needed to come way, way sooner. For me the issue is not a specific action that Horikoshi can have Bakugo do in the next chapter and them bam, I like him now. The problem is Bakugo’s entire concept, how he’s received by the entire cast, and his run across this entire series. "Entire" is the key word there. Which is why the “But he’s apologized. What more do you antis want?” reactions don’t sit well. What we wanted is a better written redemption arc across those 300+ chapters, not a single scene that’s meant to have us forget all the other problems inherent in the story. At this point it’s a far more complicated situation than, “Bakugo just needs to do X, Y, and Z and then we’re golden.” At the end of the day, Horikoshi failed to make me like him as a person and I’m pretty sure he isn’t going to change Bakugo enough to make him likable to me. Bakugo was never the sort of character I’d be inclined towards without a serious, nuanced redemption arc, but sadly, a core, crucial part of that redemption arc took six years to arrive. At this point there’s no way to change the problems in Bakugo’s writing for that huge chunk of the series and not enough time left in the series, it seems, to do the work we should have seen across the entire run. Honestly, idk if the Bakugo we'll get going forward is someone I can just dislike as opposed to being really uncomfortable with, but my money is on there being too little story left and too much investment in upholding Bakugo's base personality for that to happen. I could absolutely be proven wrong! But I think the problems are structural and needed to be better dealt with from page one, not hastily patched over in the final hour.

[darling-i-read-it]

Wretched Candy

Lucius Malfoy x reader

Word Count: 3.9k

Warnings: bad spell casting, break ups, cheating but not really, semi panic attack at meeting a Boggart, Lucius and his pure blood thing

Author’s Note: oh shoot guys, my first fic that I planned since the hiatus bitches...and it’s Lucius fucking Malfoy who has no audience but you know what I really liked this. 

Disclaimer: I added some of my own elements to some spells. I am aware that it’s not how it actually is lol 

Summary: You and Lucius were together when you were at Hogwarts. You are surprised to meet Draco years later. 

I don’t own these characters. They belong to author/director 

(not my gif)

You remembered your days at Hogwarts well. Most people lived them like they were going to be the end of their days. People like those were the head of the Quidditch team, a Head boy or girl, a prefect. 

The place was as magical as everyone said it was. The walls gleaned with wonder and mystery. There were places that were sure to be the doom of some students. Classes that could result in death, if not handled correctly. Although you had never really thought about the death count, you were sure it was up there. No one would give an honest answer if you asked back then though.

You were just a student. 

And a rather mediocre one at that. At least at first. 

You were sitting in the back of your Potions class. First day of class, your third year. You had your own friends here and there and you were close enough with people in your own year but no one in this class. 

You floated from person to person. There wasn’t a set of people that you could be found with. You had to assume that it was in your best interests to float. You looked up at the sky and saw the door open as the next person came into the class. People had begun filing in, finding their seats and their friends. You didn’t know the Professor, he was new. You weren’t sure if he would move you all around later but for now, everyone was looking for a place to stay all year. 

You recognized Narcissa Black walk in and take a seat next to one of her friends. You watched her smile rise and fall as other people she knew walked into the room, sitting beside her. There was quickly a group at the front of the class but one seat remained, beside her, empty. 

You were looking down when Lucius Malfoy walked into the class. You had taken your cauldron out of your bag, placing it carefully on your desk. The seat beside you was still empty but you expected it. When Lucius sat down you were noticeably intrigued. Not surprised, just intrigued. 

You raised an eyebrow at him but he was not looking at you. He was bringing his much too expensive silver cauldron out of his bag and placing it beside yours. Narcissa watched him as he did so and you realized that she had been hoping he would sit with her. You didn’t know that they had ever been together but if they were, they were clearly going through a rough patch. 

It would be ample entertainment to try and draw a rift between Noble houses like Black and Malfoy. Perhaps potions wouldn’t be as bad as you thought. 

He finally met your gaze, as you had been staring at him for a moment longer than necessary. 

“Starring isn’t very polite,” he told you. You shrugged. 

“Did your daddy buy that caldron for you from the top shelf in Diagon Alley?” you asked him. He gave you a sly smile.

“I picked it out, actually,” he told you. You raised your eyebrow and scoffed, looking away from him. 

“You got a tongue on you Malfoy. Is that what caused you and Lady Black to break up?” you questioned him. He shot you a look and you knew you had taken it a bit too far but you didn’t owe anything to Lucius Malfoy. He had quite a reputation for being a stuck up rich boy around the school. Living under his fathers thumb...a prick regardless. 

“Her name is Narcissa,” he told you. “What is your name?” 

“Y/N.” He waited for you to give him your last name and you did not. He was too hung up with the family stuff, you weren’t about to give him the satisfaction. 

“Alright Y/N. Would you like me to move and sit with her?” he asked. He had an enviable poise to him. You slowly leaned back in your chair and brought your quill feather to your nose. You pursed your lips and leaned forward again.

“Why don’t you stay? I could use some entertainment. You’re not bound to the back left corner seat if you and Narcissa get better.” 

Class began then and you and Lucius Malfoy were too intrigued with each other for it to go nowhere.

==========

Over the next few weeks, you would come to Potions and write each other notes, slipping them under the table. They started out with simple curiosity. It was two classes in when he pressed you for your family name and you gave it to him. It wasn’t anything fancy but you were a pureblood and you knew that was important to him. 

Every time you came to class you expected him to leave the spot and go back to Narcissa. He didn’t speak to you out of class and you barely paid him any mind. 

When you looked back, you knew you were in love with him. You had prided yourself with being able to withstand Lucius’s charms but you hadn’t. You had fallen for the sly smile and mysterious gaze. His silver hair that was cut just above his shoulders looked more and more appealing with each passing Potions class. 

You couldn’t let yourself fall in love with him. He was in love with Narcissa.

One day she didn’t show up to class. That wasn’t unusual, everyone got sick every once in a while. 

“Where's the princess?” you asked him. He took off his scarf as he sat down beside you. His eyes flicked to Narcissas empty seat.

“Her sisters and her are taking a week vacation. Don’t ask me where, I do not know.” You also had a feeling that he didn’t care. You glanced over at him.

“Aren’t you gonna miss her?” Your voice was a little more emotional than you had wanted it to be. He didn’t look at you. 

“Why are you so hung up about her?” he asked. You raised your hands in a sarcastic defiance.

“Sorry lover boy, I won’t bring her up anymore.” He leaned back in his seat and didn’t say anything more until class started.

That class he handed you a note as everyone was dismissed. You took it and read it the second he was out of sight.

‘Astronomy tower, 8 sharp’

=======

You hadn’t taken an Astronomy class yet so you had to do some hunting to make sure you went to the right place. After too many stairs and having to unlock the door with magic, you were able to slip in undetected. Lucius was waiting for you there, standing beside a railing in the dim lighted room.

“You wanted to see me?” you asked, voice small. You had attempted to slip hide your emotion but failed miserably. You walked up to stand beside him and leaned against the pillar. He turned to you and without warning, kissed you. You pulled away quickly, unsure of his intentions and suddenly feeling very flustered. “What about Narcissa?” you questioned, holding his cheek in your hand. 

He did not answer so you kissed him again. 

=====

Hiding a relationship with Lucius Malfoy had become to be more tedious than you had expected. He would lend you his scarf, even though you had your own, and people tended not to notice. A part of you was fine with the subtlety but you also wanted to be known. 

You were your own person but you were also his...for the time being at least. 

Narcissa returned to school and you watched her more carefully than you had before. She didn’t even seem to be more than acquaintances with him but then again, you probably looked the same way. 

But after classes he would sneak you away places. He would be romantic, he would show you a side to him that you had never seen before. His touch was tender and loving. His home was hard and challenging. Lucius confided in you and you tried to confide in him as well. Your relationship was easy. 

You ran your hand through your hair as you sat in the Three Broomsticks. Hogsmeade was alive with students and teachers alike, enjoying a nice day off from everyone's studies. Lucius leaned back in his chair and there was clearly something bothering him.

“So are you going to speak or am I going to have to get you something more to drink?” you asked. His empty cup of cider sat in front of him. “What will it be then? Another cider? Butterbeer? Pumpkin juice?” He shook his head and glanced at the door as another group of students came in.

“No, it’s alright.” He didn’t say anything more though. You rubbed your cold hands together and then took a drink of your butterbeer. 

“Lucius…”

“Don’t push it.” His voice was harsher than usual and you took the hint. You stood up and walked over to talk to someone else. You mingled around Three Broomsticks for a while and Narcissa came to talk to Lucius. You were pleased to see that he wasn’t very responsive to her either. 

“Hows you and Malfoy?” one of your friends asked. You rolled your eyes.

“Nothing is going on with me and Lucius.”

“Oh yeah?” You gave her a look but Lucius had walked up behind you. 

“Let’s go,” he muttered. He grabbed your arm gently and you nodded. 

“I’ll see you guys later.” Your friends nodded and gave you looks as you left but you ignored them. Lucius and you walked through Hogsmeade and his breathing seemed to get more shallow.

“My parents sent me an owl,” he said carefully. You shoved your hands in your pockets. You should have brought gloves. 

“What did it say?” He looked over at you and noticed how you were shivering. It was snowing pretty well. He took off his scarf and handed it to you and you took it gratefully. “Thanks.” 

“I...let’s not talk about it.” You nodded, deciding giving him space would be the best for both of you. You were going back to the school soon anyway and would be going to your separate dorms. 

You reached in your jacket pocket and pulled out a handful of candy.

“Where’d you get that?” he asked, an amused look on his face.

“Candy shop. I shoved it in my pocket while you were paying for yours.”

“Stealing isn’t good darling,” he said. You rolled your eyes.

“Thank you mister obvious.” You grabbed his hand and put some of the candy in his hand. “Enjoy,” you said with a smile. He unwrapped one and popped it in his mouth.

“This is wretched.” He was laughing.

“Well I didn’t look when I grabbed!” 

======

You remember the day that Lucius Malfoy branded you well. 

You were walking to Defense Against Dark Arts. Your mind was elsewhere and you hadn’t been listening to instructions the whole week so when you came in to find that you would be fighting actual Dark Arts, you were flabbergasted and wildly unprepared. You genuinely weren’t even sure what the monster was. 

You could slack off in some other classes but not DADA. Sometimes, you didn’t even trust the teacher to make sure they would save you if you couldn’t save yourself. 

You thought about skipping, taking the mark downs for the day but it would be hard without predetermined planning. The teachers tended to look around the halls for stray students.

You slipped into the back of the class and listened to the teacher as he spoke.

“Today we will be dealing with Boggarts, as you likely know already. I trust you’ve all practiced saying the spell at home.” You hadn’t. You furiously flipped through your textbook pages in a last dodge attempt to be prepared. “How about you Y/N? Would you like to start us off?” 

Your head shot up and all eyes were on you. You saw nervous looks and it didn’t make you feel any better. If students who had been actually paying attention were nervous, then you had every reason to be.

Prideful and with a hard look on your face you stood up. Your teacher gestured for you to walk in front of a wardrobe and quickly the other students stood behind you. You raised your wand but still had no idea what you were meant to say. 

What was a Boggart? 

Your Professor opened the wardrobe and your greatest fear stepped out. You froze. You kept chastising yourself in your head, you should have been listening, you should have been listening, you should have been…

The thought was the only thing that kept you from becoming paralyzed with fear. 

Your greatest fear took another step toward you and you could faintly hear your teacher speaking and your classmates gasping and whispering but all you could really focus on was that you should have been listening. 

Suddenly the thing was struck down and you could breathe again. You fell to the ground, your body suddenly feeling exhausted. On your knees you did not feel embarrassed all you could feel was relieved. 

You felt hands on your upper arms and assumed it was your Professor that had saved you but was surprised to turn and see Lucius. He wasn’t even in this class. 

“Lucius…” you whispered and before you attempted to hug him in thanks, you registered his face. Shock, worry...you couldn’t put your finger on it. Then all at once, completely unreadable. You swallowed. “What is it?” He was knelt on the floor beside you and he reached forward, taking a piece of your hair in his. 

Your hair, once Y/H/C, was now silver like his. Just one strip amongst the other natural colors. 

“A side effect of reckless spell casting,” your Professor said. “Shouldn’t you be in class Mr. Malfoy?” 

He stood up, hard and professional demeanor back. “I saw she may need help and stepped in.” You were holding your new strip of silver hair in your hand, trying to get a good look at it.

“Is it permanent?” you asked. Your teacher turned to you and leaned down, feeling your hair. He pursed his lips.

“Afraid so. Riddikulus is a spell that should be cast only by the person with the fear or someone who has been doing it for years. I’m afraid Mr. Malfoy is neither. It’s a branding that the spell was done wrong, that you did not complete it.” You scrambled up to your feet and the embarrassment set in.

“I’m sorry Professor. I will do better next time,” you promised and you meant it but truthfully you just wanted the attention to be off your new hair do. 

“I trust you will. Now Mr. Malfoy, aren’t you supposed to be somewhere?” 

Lucius barely gave you a glance as he left the room. 

====

You walked into Potions with your head down. People were talking about Lucius and yours little incident and you didn’t need more people gawking at your hair change. You sat in the same spot and only then is when you decided to look up at the classroom.

Lucius was sitting beside Narcissa. You tried to hide your surprise but you didn’t do it very well. A small, heartbroken look on your face was evident to everyone. He wasn’t looking. He didn’t spare you one glance as class went on. 

As he was about to leave you yanked his arm toward you, not caring who saw. His face was unreadable as he looked you in the face. You found yourself relishing in his gaze, after being deprived of it for so long. 

“What-”

“I thought I wasn’t bound to the seat?” he told you and his words felt like daggers. You let him go just as quickly as you had grabbed him and stepped back.

“You’re right.” You could tell that your words had hurt him a little bit too but he barely showed it. If you hadn’t been paying keen attention you would have missed it. He walked away, Narcissa Black at his arm. 

====

As everything in school did, the gossip about the two of you subsided. Lucius never gave you a proper explanation and you never asked for one. You grew to resent him through your final years and your grades went up. 

But every time you looked in the mirror you were reminded of the very quick and fleeting fling you never should have had. Constant proof that at some point you had belonged to Lucius Malfoy. 

===

- Years Later     - 

You put down the parchment papers on each desk. Things had changed since you were a student at Hogwarts but not a lot. The desks in the Potions room were likely the same and the textbook requirements definitely were. It made your teaching job a lot easier. 

You were teaching a first year class this year, among others. They would start filing in soon. This was your first first year class you were teaching so you really wanted to be prepared. You glanced in your reflection in the cabinet glass doors. You took a deep breath, adjusting your hair. Even after all these years, the streak of silver remained and you had all but forgotten the story of how it came to be. Lucius Malfoy had been nothing but a matter of your past since you left Hogwarts as a student.

The door opened and the first group of kids started to come in. You picked up your attendance sheet and sat down on the teachers desk as people started to take their seats, picking and choosing which friends to partner up with. 

You flipped through the textbook as well, opening up to the right spot and getting your last preparations done as the kids sat down. When everyone was seated you looked up with your best teacher smile.

“Welcome first years, to Potions.” You glanced at everyone quickly and your eyes landed on a boy sitting in front. He was whispering with the boys beside him, silver hair, sitting right in Narcissa's old seat. You looked down at your attendance sheet and found what you had suspected...Malfoy. Draco Malfoy. You quickly regained your composure. “I’m going to go through attendance, if you would please raise your hand when I call your na-”

“What happened to your hair?!” someone in the back called. You pursed your lips.

“I dyed it. Now, let's start with A’s.”

====

Draco paid you no mind. You asked around and found that his mother was in fact Narcissa, as you had suspected. You weren’t sure how to feel. It didn’t feel right, that you were sure about. Maybe you were just jealous because you hadn’t gotten married. Sure, you had had your fair share of flings here and there but nothing serious. 

You supposed Lucius was a fling as well. It was only a couple months anyway.

But you were not expecting him to show up to the school. You had been comforted in the fact that you didn’t have to see him or Narcissa again so when he showed up, you were noticeably shocked. 

Lucius stood beside Draco as they walked down the hallway. 

“I will have a conversation with Dumbledore about this, don’t you worry.” You tried to walk past them but Lucius stopped just as you were about to pass. 

“Y/N?” You looked up and feigned surprise. You smiled politely, like it wasn’t bothering you that he was there. He looked so much older but almost the same. You couldn’t deal with it.

“Lucius? Oh hello!” You stopped, holding your books close to your chest. His face was somewhat softened, the menacing look he usually had all but gone. 

“Draco, go on ahead. I want to talk to an old friend.”

“Professor Y/L/N?” Draco accused. 

“Professor?” Lucius said professor but he was really hung up on the fact that your last name had not changed. 

“I’m the Potions Professor,” you explained. Lucius had a sly smile creep onto his face. 

“Go on Draco.” Draco listened this time and walked forward. The hallway was empty except for the two of you. 

“It’s nice to see you again,” you lied. “Draco is a smart boy.” He nodded, gaze following his son as Draco disappeared behind a corner.

“As I was.” 

“I was your Potions partner for a good portion of our third year and I beg to differ,” you joked. He raised an eyebrow amusingly.

“Still have the quip of a teenager.” 

“And you still have the poise,” you said. He nodded. You were both silent for a second and he reached forward, deleticly grasping your silver strand of hair. 

“I never believed that Professor when he said it was permanent.” 

“Well it is.” You stepped back and his hand hung in the hair for a second before dropping. 

“I suppose I should apologize for leaving you all those years ago,” he said. You shook your head.

“We were just kids you don’t have to-”

“You deserve an explanation.” You didn't expect him to say that. The Lucius you knew would not succeed to any wrong doings he had ever done. “The letter I received from my parents detailed that I was to marry Narcissa if I wanted to or not. In the end I did want to.” He hardened his face into an unamused mask. “I couldn’t face you.” 

You always had wondered. You had truly loved him, even for only a moment. You nodded, the understanding showing on your face.

“Thank you for telling me.” 

You started to walk away, desperate to go cry somewhere as the feelings all resurfaced but he grabbed your arm. 

“Draco should have been yours.” It had been a lapse of judgement on his part but for a moment he truly believed it. Your faces were very close and you couldn’t hide your contempt for his words. He was right but you would never say that. You couldn’t say anything else so you yanked your arm out of his grasp before walking down the hall again. You got only a few steps before turning back around.

“Lucius?”

“Yes?” 

“I never thanked you for saving me from that Boggart. Perhaps we’ll get a glass of cider sometime. As thanks,” you said because you needed to say it. You couldn’t leave it like this. He raised his chin and smiled.

“And some wretched candy.” 

You grinned and nodded knowingly. 

“I’ll pay for it this time.”

“I believe you.”

[bigskydreaming]

Hi! I was reading a fanfic and it brought up Roy and Dick's fight, which I see a lot of in fics but never what they fought about and consequently why they don't talk. I thought it was a vague excuse/reason why Roy was Jason's friend not Dick's anymore but this fic brought up when Dick was batman so I was wondering if there was actually a fight between them? Btw I really enjoy your metas! They're v thought out and well articulated. Also it's v easy to separate what's your opinion and what's fact which is. Very helpful for me

Yeah this is one hundred percent a fanon thing that's kept deliberately vague to justify why Roy in his friendship with Jason seems to have no positive thoughts or concerns about Dick whatsoever. Now granted, Dick and Roy are not nearly as close in the New 52 as they were pre-Reboot. The lack of their friendship there is definitely one of the things I disliked most about the Reboot - and I actually don't care if Jason and Roy are friends tbh, its the total erasure of his history with Dick as if he can't be friends with both, that like, bugs most.

But so like, yeah, Roy and Dick aren't super close when they interact on the Titans in the New 52, but there's literally nothing in any of their interactions that explains the complete absence of him from Roy's life or a reason that Roy would like, hate him the way he tends to in a lot of Jason-centric fics.

When you factor in pre-Reboot stuff though, it starts to get a LOT more.....uh wyd? And this is why I have trouble buying that people just write Roy and Jason the way they do because its the only thing they know from recent comics. Like one, most fans talk about how they don't even read the source comics, so there's no reason their knowledge of the characters or events would be limited to just recent comics if they're going off wiki summaries and scans anyway. And second, most fans AREN'T limited in their knowledge to just recent comics.

Like, the second people start writing Roy and Jason and Kori but with their pre-52 characterizations and references to events from THAT timeline, it all gets very messy, the way they're like, completely antagonistic towards Dick a lot of the time. Because Roy and Dick were always solid. Yes, they fought. A lot. But they always, ALWAYS made up afterwards. They had conflict about Roy's drug addiction - it didn't stop Dick from being there to support him through rehab, or Dick being the first person Roy called to help him get Lian after he learned of her existence. Dick literally held Lian before Roy ever did? He's the one who first put her in Roy's arms for the first time.

(Which is the prime grudge I and most Dick Grayson fans have about Roy and Jason fics which make Jason like, the absolute apple of Lian's eye. If you want to expand Lian's circle of loved and trusted ones to include Jason as Roy's friend and thus her uncle, like go for it! But there's zero reason that should require invalidating and erasing the fact that Dick was this little girl's adored godfather and uncle for pretty much her entire life. And the way Dick is just shoved offstage from Lian's life entirely, to slot Jason into his place as though they're completely interchangeable, its like....THAT'S the kind of thing that gets people irey about how Jason 'steals' Dick's dynamics and character relationships.

Because there's nothing saying they both can't be major players in Roy and Lian's lives! But just that they're not interchangeable! You need to develop the specific role Jason plays there WITHOUT just overwriting everything Dick actually did in relation to the two of them pre-Flashpoint, which is what you're drawing from the second you write Lian, unless you're specifically going with the few appearances we've had of her within literally just the last year.

But I mean, when people just search and replace Dick Grayson in all Roy and Lian's pre-Reboot stories and act like Jason was the one doing all of that instead.....why wouldn't fans of the source material be annoyed by a character getting credit for interactions and things done for Lian and Roy that Jason literally NEVER DID, while at the EXACT SAME TIME, conjuring some mysterious, unnamed 'Falling Out' that Roy and Dick had, that was clearly all Dick's fault, and resulted from him being basically excised entirely from Roy and Lian's lives?

Same with Kori, for the record, and like despite being Dick's ex, she and Dick have NEVER been like, estranged? She and Dick have often been close even after their breakup. None of it makes any sense, and the fact that a lot of fans don't even try to make it make sense or justify it, and expect other fans to just be fine with settling for an inexplicable reversal of Dick's every actual dynamic with these characters while setting up Jason to occupy the exact same role Dick played in these other characters' lives, like.....lol. Its fun.)

Anyway, back to your question, like, there are fights you can go with pre-Reboot as the source of various conflicts between Dick and Roy - but again, I maintain its just as crucial that they're always written as getting past them. They have a very tempestuous relationship because they are the two people MOST likely to call each other on their shit, two of the two people WITH the most shit in common due to the parallels in their childhoods and the roles they've occupied in the Titans and the superhero community in general, and the two people most resistant to being called out on their shit by each other, lol. Mostly in that case because like, they do recognize that they have a lot in common and understand each other very well, so the second the other is calling them out for something, they're usually like "ugh, if HE'S saying this, its probably true and I am just not prepared yet to be wrong about this. I need more time being unjustifiably rawr about things." Its like that thing where they both look at each other doing something that feels familiar or calls back to their own reasons for doing something and they're like ugh I'm in this picture and I don't like it.

So they clash. A lot. But always with the implicit bedrock of like, there's nothing either of them can do or say to the other that will push the other away for good.

They fought over Roy replacing Dick as leader of the Titans when Dick's wedding fell apart, even though Roy actually didn't want to do it and was kinda pushed into it by the government, but again, Dick like, got over it and realized it was for the best and forgave Roy for it that very same issue. And on and on. It always went like that. So there's plenty of stuff that can be used or pointed at as a source of conflict between the two, but the part I'll always call unbelievable is the idea that they never make up after one of these fights. Why now? What fight, specifically, is so bad between them that despite everything else they've gone through AND gotten past, they can't get past this one? Y'know?

So yeah, that's my take on this. There is no definitive falling out between Dick and Roy as many fics like to point to in order to shove him offscreen and make room for Jason in Roy and Lian's lives, and personally, I just don't find it necessary and I actually think it makes Roy look REALLY bad. Because when you're not specifically detailing all the things that Dick has actually DONE for Roy, the lengths to which he's been there for his friend, and like, specifically invalidating each and every one of them as something that never happened in a particular fic, then literally anyone who reads that fic and has their own awareness of Dick and Roy's friendship is kiiiiiinda likely to be reading that and thinking wow what an ungrateful asshole, when Roy's just written as bitching about Dick with Jason and sandbagging him without any real explanation as to WHY, beyond just 'oh they had a fight years ago.'

(And coming up with some random awful thing that Dick did to justify Roy hating him now isn't like, a superior alternative, lmao, because again, its still just trashing one character for the sake of getting him out of the way of two other characters' friendship and people are going to think what they think about that).

Anyway, my now standard stock disclaimer that like, there doesn't actually need to be a canon fight obviously, for people to just write things this way and handwave that Dick and Roy had an epic falling out years ago and now they just hate one another or whatever, or just Roy hates him or vice versa. Obviously people are free to do what they want. They don't need a reason other than "I want to write it this way so Jason and Roy are friends and Jason doesn't have to 'share' him with Dick or have his friendship be overshadowed by their greater history together." That just happens to be a reason that no Dick Grayson fan is ever really going to be happy about, lol, for what should be perfectly obvious reasons, so it honestly shouldn't be surprising to people that fans of the source material often gripe about it.

Because yeah fanfic is a tremendous opportunity to transform the source material into something better, but if what's better for some fans actively takes away what was working perfectly well for other fans the original way, they're going to say that. Especially in a fandom where so many new fans take their view of the characters and their dynamics from fics rather than the source material - when fandom has that much of an influence on what new fans perceive to be 'canon,' fans are perfectly within their right to emphasize what is ACTUALLY canon and what isn't, so that new fans at least have the opportunity to determine for themselves what take they want to go with, instead of just accepting at face value that the nature of say, Dick and Roy's relationship is just that Roy hates Dick because of some mumble mumble ancient history vague mumble details not found mumble mumble fight.

[weirdochick56]

The Bodyguard 2- Bucky Barnes AU

Bodyguard!Bucky Barnes x Princess!Reader

Warnings: Explicit language, insults, snark, and sassy!Buckster sexy times (ok, so maybe only slightly sexy)

Disclaimers: I don’t own any MCU plots or Characters mentioned

Word Count: 5, 173 words

Summary: The Reader and Bucky’s hate for eachother is at an all time high; she can’t seem to rid herself of him and he, well he can’t seem to get her to cooperate with him. But as their frustrations grow, a late-night outing might just be what they both need to see other parts of eachother. 

A/n: This has been a long time in the making, but I finally felt inspired enough to continue the story. Hope you enjoy it!

~The Bodyguard 1~

***

“You can stop following me now,” you grumble with thorny irritation, rolling your eyes at the tall persistent shadow staying hot on your tail. 

It was in vain to ask him to leave, you knew. Agent Brainless was ridiculously adamant about following you around the moment you stepped foot outside of the palace and he was -infuriatingly so- a stubborn man.

How he knew that you were leaving even when you had concocted what you considered a genius plan to evade those infuriatingly pretty grey irises was beyond you.

He sighs at your words, and you can see the annoyance bubbling to the surface of his cold professional exterior, though he tries his hardest to keep a straight face. 

“Your highness, I think we both know I won’t do that,” he responds simply. “Now if you would please stop being so stubborn and simply do as I ask and come with me to the car so that this is easier for us both...” 

You can tell his patience is wearing thin because, in the past few weeks of having him follow you everywhere you went, you had made it a point to figure out his exact breaking point. 

And as you continue making your escape to town like he isn’t even there, you know that so is yours. If there’s anything that can give you that deep burning satisfaction you sought with everything you did, it was pissing Agent Barnes off.

He had patiently asked you to retreat back the way you came so he could “safely” transport you in a castle-owned car, but you refused redundantly because your friend was already waiting for you, but maybe also because you loved the little twitch of his eye every time you refused to listen to his directions.

If you were being completely honest, he really should’ve been asking you to come back to the castle and not go to a club in town at all- as per your father’s orders. But you weren’t fond of said orders and you definitely didn’t want some dark and mysterious shadow following you around during a night of fun with friends. 

“No,” is all you say because in the few minutes you’ve spent talking to him you’ve noticed he’s the most infuriated when your responses are curt and nonchalant. 

You want to see him snap oh so bad...seeing those steely grays lose their cool? Gold. 

“Princess...” he growls in warning, daring you to cut that little thread of control he had left in him with your sharp tongue. 

You don’t look back at him even once enjoying the thrill that travels up your spine at his low-timbre words and the way his voice travels straight to your core, tugging at your short black dress lightly. 

You wanted to see what he would do should he be pushed over the edge. It was fun.

“I already told you, I’m not listening to you. My friend is already waiting for me. And I’m sorry if you have an issue with- Ahh!” Your words choke back into your throat and morph into a shocked yelp when big rough hands grip your hips, spinning you around and without much of a warning, lifting you with incredible ease.

Before you know it, you’re being carelessly thrown over a broad, strong shoulder.

You let out a small ‘oomph’ when the wind gets knocked out of you and all you see is a firm ass, the blood rushing to your head. 

“What the hell do your think you’re doing you absolute buffoon?!” You screech hysterically, wriggling aggressively against his hold on your thighs. 

He barely flinches, only wrapping his muscular arm tighter around your legs and adjusting you on his shoulder like it was a mere midnight stroll for him and you weighed no more than what a feather did. 

“I’m taking you to the car,” he informs as if it’s obvious, voice full with obnoxious satisfaction. 

“Get your filthy hands off me this instant you utter and complete idiot!” You growl, twisting harshly but he doesn’t let go so you start pounding on his firm back with your fists, fighting to free yourself of him. “WHO DO YOU THINK YOU ARE?!”

He just laughs at what seems to be your weak attempts to break away. He laughs.

You gasp at the absolute and complete audacity he has of laughing when he’s treating you, the single heir to the Androvian throne, like a sack of potatoes. 

“You ass!” You wriggle around some more, tugging at his hands to try to pry them off your legs but all he does is smack them away as if they were mere pesky flies. 

“I may be,” he chokes back a small snort but only barely. “But at least I’m the only ass trying to keep your reckless self in check, princess.”

Indignation, humiliation, and utter vexation all burn deep inside you like a thrumming fire ready to ravage everything in its way when it got the chance to escape your body as you slowly fall limp against him. 

Resignation comes hand in hand with the deep desire for revenge and you fist your hands in deep ache to somehow exercise it. 

He carries you all the way to the garage of cars in the back part of the castle, walks over to a black SUV out of all the expensive cars to choose from, opens it and all but throws you into the back leather seats like you’re not a fucking human, much less the princess of the land he’s currently stepping in. 

You land flat on your back in the smooth leather interior of the luxury SUV with a small thud and instantly sit up to glare at him heatedly. “Do you have any idea who I am? Be gentle, you brute!” 

Annoyingly enough, he simply ignores you and leans over your body. His heat floods through your bare skin and feels good for a second and you subtly inhale his musky scent as he tugs on the seatbelt, roughly pulling it over you. 

You forget about your hatred for him for a split second and that only makes you angrier when it comes back full force. 

You fucking idiot, Y/n. 

In a last and desperate attempt of defiance, you try to push his hands away to which he responds by firmly pressing you back by your shoulder into your seat and staring you dead in the eye with blazing grey eyes. 

The fire that swirls in them is...something. Not necessarily scary, but intimidating and...something else.

Something that makes your skin flush and your nerves throb to life. 

You stare right back, tilting your chin up to show him you weren’t backing down or scared of him and his brute force. He got too under your skin and you knew you got under his which only offered you only a limited amount of comfort. 

He clenches his jaw as he clicks the seatbelt into place, never looking away from your challenging gaze. As if to stick another dagger into your burning insides. As if to reassert his power here. 

Your labored breaths are all that can be heard for miles to come in the calm night air and he leans close for a second, your heaving chests gently brushing.

Not meaning for it to happen, you feel your nipples harden beneath the flimsy fabric of your black party dress and you wonder if you imagine his hands clenching around your shoulder -his fingers digging into your flesh with suppression- or the sly flick of his eyes from your eyes to your lips. 

You wonder if you imagine the look of heat that passes over his eyes when your breaths mix the second time seems to stop and an overwhelming emotion washes over you. 

But then it’s gone as soon as it came and hatred burns deep in your belly once more. So deep that it hurts and brings painful tears to your eyes, your nose burning so hard you can’t focus through your blurry vision.

You lean in closer, so close your nose is brushing just barely against his and pause for a second. A second of torture for him, a second of uncertainty, a second where his breath catches and his pupils dilate. 

Then you speak, voice trembling with overwhelming anger. 

“I have never,” you whisper, licking your lips. “Been treated with such disrespect.” You swallow hard, cheeks red with humiliation. 

You see a flash of guilt in his eyes but it’s quickly replaced by his usual look of cool professionalism- not even anger anymore. Not even that.

And he leans right back into you, a wave of heat passing over both of you. “Then learn to listen next time. It’s for your safety.” 

And just like that he’s drawing back, slamming the passenger door closed and climbing into the driver’s seat- leaving you cold and angry beyond reason.

A moment of tense silence passes before he releases a tiny sigh and breaks it by turning on the ignition. 

“Where are we going?”

*

BUCKY’S POV

I watch her laugh at something one of her friends says from a dark corner of the club and it’s hard not to stare for reasons other than my duty being just that...to look after her. 

The club was a luxurious one, with high ceilings, intricate designs and a VIP section where we were immediately escorted to.

Her Highness’s friends, a blonde guy and girl who had nodded at me in polite acknowledgment were already waiting for her there and I assumed that the few seconds when she had stopped her sulking and taken out her phone from her clutch were the seconds she was texting her friends to meet her there instead. 

I would never admit it, but I enjoyed watching her cave. It was like taming a wild horse, even if momentarily. 

Princess Y/n was a brat, plain and simple. Selfish, childish, and feisty as hell, I had never met anyone as completely and utterly vexing as her and to say these past few weeks had been hell would be an understatement. 

If I wasn’t so good at my job, I would’ve lost her already. She threw me for a loop any chance she got, cutting corners and doing everything she could to avoid my protection. 

As I stared at her with that pretty ass smile on her annoyingly beautiful face, it’s hard to imagine that that was the same person pushing every single one of my buttons just a few minutes before. 

She actually looked relaxed and...nice?

God, she infuriated me in ways I had no idea I could be infuriated, discovered buttons I didn’t know I had and pushed them to the point I had to throw her over my damn shoulder like a sack of flour.

I was a professional, for God’s sake. Had always been one with every single one of the cases I was assigned, so why was she the one to get under my skin?

...And why did I enjoy having her perfectly round ass so close to my face? Why did I keep thinking about the defiance in those stupidly big eyes over and over like I....craved it?

I wondered to myself as I watched her take down a shot by the bar. She glanced at me over her shoulder, still smiling, but it quickly melted away when our gazes clashed and my own mood soured instantly. 

I grimaced when she looked away as if I had burnt her with my eyes and quickly pulled my head out of the gutter. 

The fact that she was utterly gorgeous didn’t change how annoying she was. Not to mention I was here on a job. 

One I fully intended to complete, no matter how fucking difficult the client was.

*

The night moves on at a slow pace for me. The princess parties and I watch her like a hawk, making sure not to let her get too wild. 

So far I had pried off five guys who were trying their luck with her. From what I’d read on her file and the extensive research I’d done online, her face wasn’t really well known. 

She was always kept  secret and would be until she was crowned queen of Androvia- some weird old belief or something- so not many people knew what she looked like. 

Meaning, these guys probably didn’t know who they were trying to get all handsy with on the dance floor and would only assume was some rich daddy’s girl once my towering form appeared and nicely escorted them away. 

For the most part nicely, anyway. Some I had to get a little rougher with. 

I make sure to keep my eyes glued on her form, ignoring the way she moved her hips in that tiny black dress. It hugged her alluring curves like a glove and I swallowed hard as she grinded on her female friend, head thrown back and a free smile on her face. 

“She is...beautiful, isn’t she?” 

I calmly turn towards the voice as it hums out from beside me, turning to see the guy she came with. He takes a sip of his drink, smirking as his eyes remain on the way the princess waves her hands in the air to the beat of the song, sensually shaking her hips as if she was one with the sexy R&B song I had no idea the name of. 

I clear my throat, remaining stock still in my bodyguard pose. “Sir, I”m only here to protect her Highness. I really don’t-”

“Oh don’t even try to hide it. She’s easily the most beautiful woman in this whole club.”

He takes my silence as confirmation, it seems, because he proceeds to speak on as if I’ve agreed.

“But it’s not just her physical appearance is it? It’s something else. Something...inside,” he whispers. 

When I don’t respond, he continues bitterly. “I’m warning you; don’t fall for her. It’ll only bring you a world of pain, trust me.”

I catch the pain in his voice and stiffen. “I would never fall for one of my subjects, sir,” I assure him.

He laughs sourly. “Sure bud. You keep telling yourself that.”

“I don’t know what you mean,” I insist, swallowing thickly as she laughs, beautiful smile wide and her laughter too melodious to be coming out of such a wretched little urchin. 

“Well,” he coughs suddenly, clapping me in the shoulder. “I think I need another drink. Want one?”

I eye his hand which he slowly pries off and shake my head with a slightly clenched jaw.

“I’m on the job, sir,” I remain calm and professional despite the fact that all I wanted to do was break that hand for putting stupid thoughts in my head. 

Because for a second there, as the bright club lights shun down on her, I could see what he talked about when he said there was something inside. In that smile, those eyes, that laugh...

But then she made eye contact with me and the feeling turned bitter so quick it’s a miracle I didn’t get whiplash. 

She was a brat. Nothing more.

*

YOUR POV

Sometime late into the night, you had found myself fairly buzzed. Not enough to fall on your face, but enough that walking- well, stumbling over to Agent Asshole only seemed more and more attractive an action.

He glances at you with those eyes and you can’t help the anger the bubbles within you. “Do you plan on staring me down the entire night?”

“It’s my job,” is all he says. 

You scowl fiercely at him. “I hate you,” you seethe.

He raises a dark brow but otherwise keeps that stoic expression on his face. “Do you want to leave, your Highness?”

His neutral tone and complete lack of reaction only angers you more and you shake your head furiously. “No, I don’t want to leave. I want you to leave though.”

He presses his lips firmly together. “I’m sorry-“

“No, you’re not.”

“Huh?” He cocks his side slightly to the side and you lean closer to him, craning your neck to look him in the eye.

“I said; you’re not sorry. If you were sorry, you WOULD LEAVE ME THE FUCK ALONE!” You feel your drunken emotions deep in your chest and without much effort, your voice quickly escalates.

He sighs heavily. “Okay, your highness, I think it’s time I take you back to the castle. C’mon,” he waves a hand toward the door.

You laugh at him coldly, shaking your head. “Who do you think you are, ordering me around? Know your place asshole, you are below me- never forget,” you growl snarkily, leaning right into his face.

You feel his breathing quicken against your cheeks the longer you defiantly smirk up at him, his calm eyes darkening.

You realized you enjoyed pushing him to the edge, that you craved this look on his face...

He smirks mockingly down at you, staring you down. “You can come willingly, your highness, or I can throw you over my shoulder like last time.” He leans straight into your ear, whispering hotly. “I’m sure you would rather not go through the embarrassment.”

You swallow thickly, your heart hammering against your chest and you’re not sure it’s from anger anymore. With disgust, you jerk away from him, glaring holes into his head.

“Let’s go.”

*

“You can go, Agent Obnoxious,” you mumble drunkenly, waving a dismissive hand at him as you stumble into your warm room, practically ripping off your heels.

You throw them somewhere in the corner of the large room, sighing with relief when you feel your bare feet touching the soft carpeted floor. 

Your knees shake slightly and buckle and you end up tripping forward.

You land on the ground with a soft grunt and for some reason, laughter bubbles deep in your chest.

“Your Highness!”

A few seconds later, you feel strong warm hands wrapping around your body to heave you up. You place your hands on his strong arms for support and look up at Agent Barnes.

The laughter immediately dies on your lips when you see a beautiful concerned frown of engraved deep in his face. It looks so sincere and his arms are so strong...

Before you know what you’re doing, a small mumble is leaving your lips. “You...” you cut yourself off abruptly when his eyes meet yours.

His hands now rest lightly on your waist, and you’re so close you can smell him. His scent is deep and rich and manly, so unlike the scent of those rich assholes you were forced to mingle with on a daily basis.

And his hands, are strong and resilient. The callouses on them tells you that he’s worked his entire life. Those hands, the ones holding you right now, They’ve probably handled a gun, they’ve probably saved so many lives...

You bite your lip, thinking about the way those hands felt on the skin of your arm and how heavenly it would feel if it traveled all over.

Goosebumps rise on your skin as you crane up your neck to stare up at him.

He stares down at you, and even when your room is dark, the light of the moonlight that filters in from the huge window highlights the heavy tension in his gaze.

You’re both unmoving and you wonder if he enjoys touching you as much as you enjoy his touch.

He inhaled deeply, his eyes flickering to your lips and eyes and then back.

You want to ask him what he’s thinking. You want to tell him to just do it -to just kiss you because you wouldn’t dare push him away- not in this state, not when the alcohol and his scent and eyes were clogging every single sense and reason you had, but you’re afraid to break the spell of whatever this was. 

So instead, you wait on abated breath, feeling like you’re both on the verge of something utterly earth-shattering, for him to move.

Finally, he speaks a few seconds later and it’s a quiet murmur. “Let’s get you to bed, princess.”

You ignore the sharp sting of his rejection when you were so clearly begging him to kiss you and step away from his touch as if he’s burnt you.

You turn around so he can’t see the hurt in your eyes. “You can go now Agent Brainless,” you say coldly over your shoulder, but you know it’s a lot softer than the other time.

Another second passes. “Princess..” he whispers.

You ignore his barely audible whisper and angrily begin undressing, tugging at the straps of your dress.

“What in the world do you think you’re doing?” He growls lowly as you begin to pull your dress down to your waist.

With a sarcastic smile, your turn towards him, your top half completely naked aside from your black lacy bra.

His gaze immediately falls on your half-naked chest, but aside from the small flicker in his eyes and gulp he takes, he gives no other indication of shock.

You raise a brow. “Are you going to watch me undress now too, Agent Barnes?” You ask mockingly.

His eyes find yours again and they’re darker than you’ve ever seen them. They send shivers through your whole body and you almost give into the urge to look away, but the anger and frustration within you don’t allow your gaze to waver.

“I’m not leaving until you’re safely in bed,” he husks, clearly trying his best to remain professional and cold as his icy stare bores into your eyes- purposefully looking away from your naked form.

You tilt your head up at him innocently, slowly sauntering closer to him. “Oh? Well in that case, do you mind helping me with the zipper of my dress? It’s stuck.”

You turn your back on him and a smirk blossoms in your face as you hear his breathing strain, your ass slightly brushing against his crotch area. 

He blows out a shaky exhale and it blows against your naked back, all hot and angry. 

When he makes no move to help you, you look at him over your shoulder. “Well?” 

His grave expression doesn’t budge. “I can’t do that,” he says lowly. 

But even as he resentfully spits this, he doesn’t budge and his eyes are still tracing over your body, their electric desire leaving goosebumps over wherever they ran over.

You roll your eyes at him. “Then turn around, you idiot.” 

He growls, fisting his hands and clenching his jaw tightly but doesn’t try to fight you on it and turns his broad back to you.

You’re intoxicated, so it’s probably because you’re not thinking straight, but as you quickly slip on a silk night gown and stare at his back, you can’t help the deep heavy sadness that sinks into your chest. 

Why hadn’t he kissed you just now? You could’ve sworn he wanted to and you sure as hell did...it was there, the moment, the split second when you were willing to risk it all, to overlook any and all boundaries, cross all imposing lines- but you lost it. 

Pushing your hair to the side, you convince yourself it was for the best. 

“I’m done,” you say softly, climbing into bed. 

Agent Barnes nods at you stiffly, turning on his heels to leave as you get under the covers. Blaming this on your intoxication, you suddenly find yourself exclaiming. 

“Wait!” 

He pauses right before his foot moves outside the doorframe and turns toward you, eyebrows raised. “You need something, Your Highness?”

You stare at him seriously, pressing your head against your pillow. “Don’t...leave, please,” you whisper softly, curling into a ball at the tenderness of your voice.

“I don’t want to be alone,” you admit quietly. 

He freezes, staring at you as if he’d never seen you before and you avert your gaze, afraid maybe you let on too much. 

“Sorry,” you quickly apologize, but that only flusters you more. “I-I mean not sorry, you asshole. Just- whatever. I’m in bed now, you can go.” 

Feeling embarrassed, you quickly flip over and turn your back to him.  

Seconds later, you hear the door click close and then nothing. A heavy sigh escapes you and you try to suppress the feeling of disappointment that envelops your whole body. 

You didn’t know if it was the drinks or the cold distant dinners you’d been having with your family...but you had never felt more alone. All the clubbing and trying to escape your destiny by trying to pave a life of your own couldn’t fill in that emptiness you couldn’t get rid of no matter how hard you tried.  

You didn’t want to feel like that anymore. Not tonight. 

So even if it was your bodyguard who you hated with everything in you, you needed someone just to be there. Even if it was just to sit in silence with.  

Suddenly, you hear a gentle swish noise and gasp lightly, flipping over. Agent Barnes has thrown his jacket over the chair beside your bed and is loosening his tie and he stares at you. His beautiful gaze sucks you in as you blink up at him in surprise. 

He shrugs. “I can’t just....leave you here alone.” 

Your chest clenches painfully and warmth travels all over your body like warm gooey honey. The feeling of having someone there for you when you need them most is almost overwhelmingly strong. 

“Thank you,” you whisper so quietly, you’re shocked he even hears it. 

He tilts his head at you, frowning with that handsome face of his. “For what? It’s my job.” 

There he goes detaching himself. With a gentle shrug, you nod and curl into a ball under your covers, trying to covet sleep. 

You try this for a few minutes and you’re tired, but you can’t help thinking about Agent Barnes sitting in a hard chair all night. After a while of tossing and turning, you sit up. 

“Oh for fuck’s sake,” you breathe with irritation. 

“What? What happened?” he sits up instantly, and though you could tell he was on the verge of dozing off, his sharp senses are impressive as he reaches for the gun on his ankle frantically. 

You sigh, hating the way your cheeks grow hot and you look away timidly. “Just get into bed,” you say roughly. 

“What?”

You bite your lip, looking at him in the eyes. “I said; get into bed with me. That chair is uncomfortable.” 

He laughs lightly. “Princess, I was trained by the world’s best assassins. I was taught to sleep on a cold concrete ground if need be.” He gives the chair a firm pat. “This chair is a luxury for a guy like me.”

You stare at him for a few seconds more, wondering more about his past before lightly shaking your head. 

“I don’t care. I still feel bad that I made you sleep here on a chair. Just get in already, will you?” You growl at his stubbornness. “The bed is huge, there’ll be enough space for the both of us, if that’s what you’re concerned about,” you add on, softly. 

After a few seconds of intense eye contact, he finally relents with a small sigh. “Fine.” 

Hesitantly, he cuffs his sleeves and perches himself on the edge of the bed- all stiff and tight. “Good?” He asks, glancing at you with raised brows.

You frown. “You’re kidding.”

“What?”

“You’re not actually planning to sleep like that are you?” You snort. 

“I told you-”

“That you were trained by dangerous assassins, yeah yeah. But you’re still a human and a ridiculous one at that,” you scoff before suddenly smirking.  “You’re not afraid of lil old me, are you? I’m tiny- I couldn’t possibly hurt you...too much,” you offer him a faux innocent smile, batting your lashes. 

He stares at you, a small smirk tugging at his lips. “Oh trust me, I’ve met girls like you before. You definitely don’t bite.” 

You raise a brow amusedly. “Girls like me?”

His sexy smirk widens. “Yeah. You’re all bark but no bite,” he replies vaguely.

Feeling partially indignant and partially curious, you decide to probe him for answers. “Oh yeah?”

He can’t resist your subtle challenge and continue speaking. “You’re always in power, constantly being chased after because you’re beautiful and rich and you act like it’s what you want in a guy, but it isn’t, is it?”

Deeply intrigued by his generally accurate analysis, you can’t help but laugh. “Oh?”

“No.” He stares deeply into your eyes and the smile slips off your lips as he says his next words with the intensity of a thousand suns. “You bark out orders and you take on responsibilities like a boss, but what you really want is a man. Not a pushover boy that’ll listen to your every command and constantly try to please you, fall at your feet...But a man that’ll choke slam you on the bed, that’ll make you his, that’ll torture you with the deepest pits of hellish pleasure until he ruins every other man for you. You want to be controlled, brought over the edge so far you won’t ever be able to go there by yourself and then at the last moment get that taken away from you. You want to be used.” 

You openly gape at him but he ignores you and slightly scoots closer, still at a safe distance, but close enough where you can feel his body heat radiating off of him.

“Sleep, Princess,” he whispers. “I’ll keep an eye out for you.”

At first, you’re too shocked to react. Your heart is positively hammering against your ribcage and your cheeks are uncharacteristically red. You were flushed. How had he managed to...’you know what?’ You think. ‘No.’ 

You breathe in deeply. ‘ I’m not going to think about it anymore.’

Because doing so would mean letting him win. And also, never mind the fact that he’s in your bed right now...

Decidedly, you squeeze your eyes shut, begging sleep to come amidst all your stupid, surely drunken thoughts about your stupid bodyguard and kissing him, or simply straddling him right now...

Despite how much you disliked him, you felt safe and protected, like you could let your guard down. And yet...not enough. 

Soon, lulled by the steady beating of his heart and the warmth of his body, you curl into a ball and slowly let your heavy lids close, relaxing completely.

“Oh, and Agent Brainless?” you murmur, on the very verge of sleep. 

“Yes, princess?” He looks at you. 

You manage to send him one last cold smirk before answering.  

“Don’t misinterpret this, right now. I’m merely asking you to do your job.” 

And then darkness takes over.

Before fully giving into the softness of the darkness of slumber, though, you think you hear him laugh softly and say something like “wouldn’t dream of it, brat.” 

****

They’re honestly growing on me. Should I continue?

ALSO YALL SEE TFATWS????  SEBASTIAN LOOKS SO DARN GOOD PLEASEEEEEE

A special thanks to:

@lilypalmer1987

@jessikared97

@sammykb1994

@mogaruke

@mo-onstarrs

@loveofmychips @juliesland​

[mrwinterr]

So Happy

Pairing: Rockstar!Bucky Barnes AU x Female Reader

Summary: After a night with your favorite artist, you’re left wondering where you both really stand. 

Warnings: Smut 18+ (consensual, but unprotected sex, oral [male & female receiving], vaginal penetration and fingering, size kink and dirty talk). Language. Light mentions of substance abuse. Lying asses. Internet toxicity (I hate it here sometimes). Angst, I guess...TIME SKIP...and absolute horrendous fluff (that’s not my brand, alright).

Disclaimer: You can read part 1 here! It would make some sense. 

A/N: This follow-up is still based on some true events. Can’t hate the players, hate the game. For the most part it’s made up because some of us deserve the ending we think we deserve. I’m dedicating this to @shawnie--jo​ for all the love, enthusiasm and the patience because this took me a while. It’s a doozy! & with that note, enjoy!

“You owe me,” is the first thing you hear your friend say the moment you stepped foot back into the hotel you had booked for the night before. It was in a much different tone than of the one she had in line for the concert.

Frozen in place, you turn your attention to her sitting figure on one of the single couches of the lobby. She wasn’t happy that much you could tell judging by the expression on her face and the way she sat impatiently, one leg over the other and her arms crossed against her chest.

The bag next to hers on the ground adjacent to her feet were your belongings. The way it was misshapen suggested she had hastily shoved your things back in it for you. She must’ve been in a rush to leave before checking out or…

“You owe me $50 for the late check out fee,” she clarifies, ceasing all thoughts of why she was currently pissed at you.

Now begins the walk of shame. It wasn’t something you were used to. Could you even call this that? You had no reason to feel ashamed because you were completely aware of last night’s events. You defended your decision as so! Then why did you feel this way?

Perhaps it had to do with you just now returning to the hotel you were supposed to have been checked out of hours ago, but instead you’re greeted to your more than displeased best friend staring daggers at you for a different reason.

Sheepishly bringing a hand to rub the back of your neck, when you’re close enough to her, you open your mouth to begin apologizing, but she wasn’t done as she got up on her feet to level with you.

“You said you would be back before check out,” she said voice slowly rising in volume, no matter the distance between you two was close or not, you could tell this was just the start of a catalyst, “and it’s...oh,” she stops to look down at her phone, which shined bright revealing her lock screen and more importantly the time, “...only three hours past check out!” Yup, not happy with you at all.  

“I know you’re upset,” you start with the obvious, “and you have the right to be. I said I would be back in time, but I wasn’t,” maybe admitting you were wrong would allow her to see you were indeed aware of your mistakes, soften the blow to come a little bit.

“Upset? I’m disappointed!” she says, her arms falling to her sides and with a look of disbelief but is quickly washed over with indisposition. “Some sell-out rockstar invites you over to see him and you lose your sense of mind?”

“Look, I’ll pay you back. It’s no big deal.” At least on your end, you’re trying to remain calm even when her tone and choice of words get under your skin. You didn’t need this weekend to end on a bad note.

“This isn’t about the money!” She proclaimed.

“Then why are you bitching at me? I’m a grown adult! I know what I did-” Yeah, at least you were trying to stay composed, right?

“Do you?” She challenges. It’s one of those rhetorical questions, in which she didn’t need an answer to, but you were still going to give her one.

“Yes, ok. I slept with Bucky and I don’t regret it.”

The defense you put up so quickly around you weren’t something your friend was used to witnessing...maybe to your parents, yeah, but not at her. Sure, you’ve both had the occasional quarrels, but your relationship and sexual life was different because she really cared for your wellbeing and would be damned if someone hurt you.

“I’m just worried,” she admits for her initial brute front, “what you did was totally unlike you and I…”

“What?” You interrupt her, growing more tired of this conversation by the second.

“I don’t trust Bucky.” She blurts out.

You scoff at that reasoning, “you don’t know him-”

“And you do?” This time she interrupts and catches you off guard on that one. “You’re right. I don’t know him, but you said it yourself. Bucky meets tons of people every day. He’s on the road a lot. It’s easy for him to get lonely.”

There it was again. The self-conscious thoughts questioning everything about last night’s events. In a pathetic display of defense, you start counter-questioning her with some of the statements Bucky said to you. Why would he tell you all those sweet things and pretty promises if he knew he could have you so easily? Why would he think you weren’t like the other women out there who exposed their escapades for their 15 minutes of fame? What made him think anything of you? There were other girls in the crowd.

“He’s going to tell you things he wants you to hear to get what he wants.” She really believed that. She knew what some men were capable of. She had more experience than you and you often turned to her for things like this.

Her last sentence was something to let sink in. The way last night played out and the last few hours you spent with Bucky; you were blinded by a rose tint world.

Earlier that morning...

“You know,” Bucky starts with his gaze first set on your face, slowly starting to drift down your body trying to catch a glimpse of uncovered skin that the blanket was doing a horrible job in concealing. You watch with bubbling desire the way he bit his bottom lip and eyes growing darker, ”...if you ever need anything. I’m here to help. I can get you out of that town and you can stay with me in Brooklyn. We’ll find you a place to work in that’ll appreciate you more.”

He was a dream. He was so sweet, but you weren’t going to deny it. As much as you adored what little you knew about the real Bucky, a part of you that was always so careful was also skeptical. That voice in the back of your mind, whether it was your parents, teachers in the past, PSA spokespersons or your best friend, was still trying to tell you Bucky wasn’t an exception.

Then on the other hand, you were finally getting what you wanted. You weren’t a little girl anymore. You could take care of your own heart. Why couldn’t you have some fun? Indulge a little. Life is too short to sit around and wait. If he was serious about any of the things he said, then great! If not, oh well, you’ll live. What’s life without experience, right?

You just never imagined any of the harmless mentions or replies through social media were going to get you in bed with him and so smitten.

When Bucky pulls his lips away from you, he repositions himself on the bed to lie on his back and bask in the comfortable silence. You’re still on your side, but your eyes suddenly widen as you curiously take a peek over his frame and notice the red numbers of the alarm clock on the bedside table. The curtains were drawn shut, so you had no trace of the actual time of day.

“Shit,” you muttered to yourself, but was no use. It was just you and Bucky in the room and he’d definitely wonder why you’d grown frantic.

“Whoa. What’s the rush?” He says slowly sitting up, still exhausted, and watching you throw the hotel comforter over your body to get out of bed. You didn’t even care that you were naked in front of him. He’d have a souvenir to remember you by.

The sex tape was the least of your worries though. You fucking missed check out! You can only imagine the look on your friend’s face when you reunite.

“I missed check out,” you respond while momentarily being thrown off course in search of your underwear, but then instantly remembering how Bucky tore it off of you, and you did your best to push aside last night’s activities.

“What?” He asks, rubbing his face trying to rid himself of sleep. He had to get going too. The band was off to play in the next city in some hours. Unfortunately, you didn’t have enough time to take off from work to follow him.

“The hotel I’m staying at. I missed check out and my friend is going to be so pissed at me,” you explained beaten. You can’t for the life of you see where your clothes were in the dark room.

Drawing the curtains open or switching the light on without warning wouldn’t be ideal to the both of you and not only that, the effects of the substances your body was coursed through, the physicality of you and Bucky’s actions last night, the consequence of it all topped with the lone fact that you’re now standing naked in front of Bucky starts to seep in.

You try not to stand there awkwardly and do the only thing you can do. Inhibition creeping back in, you cover your face with your hands and breath in and out, hoping the floor would swallow you whole so you could escape this embarrassment and your friend’s pending wrath.

“Look,” Bucky says now in front of you, pulling your hands away from your face, he’s naked too, washing away some traces of vulnerability away, “you’re already late. You can’t change that. We can only keep moving forward,” he says, his arms slipping around your body to pull you close to his.

The sudden jolt from the skin-to-skin contact quickly subsides with the warmth of his body transferring onto yours. You hold onto his biceps and nod in acceptance. Any attempt to rush back to your hotel wasn’t going to do you any favors now.

“So then, what do you say we get cleaned up and try to enjoy our time together?” The way his head tilted to the side, a not-so-subtle hint in the direction of the shower in the bathroom, his smooth voice and his eyes half-lidded, ready to get lost in you one more time.

You said it yourself, life was short, so if you already knew your friend was going to chew you out, why deny yourself of its pleasures right now, especially if it’s coming from Bucky. 

“Can we just get going? We’ll catch traffic on the way back to the city if we just stand here and keep putting each other down,” you ask, slightly shaking your head of the early morning activities and straightening yourself up, bending forward to pick up your bag and sling it over your shoulder.

This little spat would eventually pass. None of the arguments you two had were ever threatening to your friendship with each other. You’ve both fought over things much more critical that it’d be a shame to let it be over someone like Bucky.

Before you could turn back around to exit, your friend grabs a hold of your arm and stops you. “I don’t want to see you get hurt. I could be wrong. Bucky could be the one, but I want you to be smart about doing whatever you end up doing with him. I just want you to ultimately be happy,” she says wholeheartedly.

You knew she was only coming from a good place. She only ever encouraged you to do your best and the right thing. She was the one you sought out advice from and she never led you astray. In the end, you knew you couldn’t ever truly be mad at her. You owed her more than $50 alone.

“Thanks. I’m sorry for snapping at you. I know your intentions are in the right place and I really appreciate you for everything. You even agreed to come to this show with me! But I’m only human and I’m going to make mistakes along the way,” you say and notice the fallen look on her face, but you don’t give her long enough to feel sorry for you with your follow up statement, “...if I get hurt, it’s going to suck, but I’ll get back up, learn from it and move on. Plus, I’ll have you there by my side to tell you I told you so...again, and we both know how much you enjoy that!” You end it on a joking note.  

A look of hope creeps back in on your friend and she’s pleased to see your resilient attitude again. You give her your best steadfast smile and it seemingly proved to be successful enough for her to accept your answer as she pulls you in for a warm hug.

You wonder, what Bucky’s motive was? He was Bucky Barnes. He could have anyone. Why did he trust you enough to be intimate with? What was his game? You just had to keep telling yourself for your sanity and wellbeing, with or without Bucky, in the end you’d still be happy.

The months to follow after that tour, you and Bucky had continued to stay in touch. You genuinely felt happy. He was giving you attention! From daily texts and long phone conversations or video calls, some rather suggestive than most, you were able to really learn a lot about each other. While you minded his glamorous lifestyle, each interaction erased all notions of it and he was just another normal human being.

If you were being truthful, a part of you was hoping whatever the two of you had was exclusive. You didn’t want to admit it, but you were in a way reserving yourself for Bucky because you felt there was something between you two and maybe he was just like you and too shy to be the one to bring it up first.

At times you’d find yourself being the one to initiate conversation...especially when the communication started becoming less frequent. They then reduced to just Holiday texts and suddenly they’d become unresponsive and you’d even be left on read. He never flew you to Brooklyn. He never followed you back on social media. You’d accepted he was most likely busy and the excuse of not wanting to attract unwanted attention to you, but the reality of it was he had seemed to move on.  

It’d been close to a year and things were really quiet. The Avengers hadn’t released anything new nor did they have an upcoming tour to rehearse for. You’re trying to not let Bucky’s silence bug you and do what you’ve always told yourself - keep living your life. You weren’t going to lie to yourself, you were angry at first for letting him get to you like that and realize that boys will be boys. They would never grow a real pair and be straight with women. They always had to go and sugarcoat everything. You had to accept it. Don’t hate the player, hate the game. You were just a one-night stand and the worst part of it was that you consented to it, so you couldn’t hold anything against him.

Things picked back up in your life, work demanded more of your time and you were dating again, taking it very slow and casual. You knew nothing more would come out of it, but it was enough to distract you from Bucky. Life was slowly returning back to normal, even though it never truly could be, until you notice Bucky is posting regularly on his social media accounts again.

It’s not so much that but is one of the comments from another user that is a constant in each sporadic post. You recognize the user as an international model from another country. Curiosity gets the best of you and you decide to check out her profile, noting all the photos of them together and realizing that while you thought Bucky went M.I.A., he was spending his free time getting cozy with her in exotic places.

Her comments start out harmless in the beginning, but quickly become more and more persistent until one sets the record straight. It read, “that’s MY man” followed by a number of heart eye emojis.

You didn’t even know Bucky and the model knew of each other, but why wouldn’t they? He was exposed to extraordinary people, so finding someone in the business was a better bet than settling with you. They lived in a totally different world than yours.

There’s a plethora of thoughts that run through your mind. This is why he isn't responding to you. He had a girlfriend, who was in a much different league than of your own, and he didn’t really go public with it on his end. It made you sad, that much you could admit to yourself because you held back for him, but you weren’t going to admit this feeling to him or your friend or the world. You were going to prove to them you’d do the same thing - move on. 

It’s a rather slow day at work and you’ve resulted in mindlessly scrolling through your Facebook newsfeed, but growing tired of lame memes and life updates from people you haven’t spoken to since high school, you switch over to Twitter for a more different kind of news and also a bit of some entertainment.

You’re not expecting the particular topic to be trending - #BuckyBarnesIsCancelled. You’d manage to move on from whatever it was between you and Bucky and returned back to your daily routine. You tried to remain a fan of The Avengers, but it wasn’t the same. The fling, if you could call it, with Bucky wouldn’t let you. You’d always be grateful for how their music impacted your life, but you’d have to keep living your life despite what transpired.  

Sitting up from your slumped position in your office chair, you ponder for maybe two seconds before clicking on the hashtag. Things were still pretty quiet with The Avengers, with the exception of paparazzi photos here and there, but this seemingly came out of nowhere. What stupid thing did he get himself into?

“No way,” you mock at the headline. Claims of Bucky being mentally abusive, and an addict were being made left and right.

You scrolled through the timeline and threads of replies to find the source of it all and you were shocked that it came from none other than his own girlfriend...well now ex-girlfriend you assumed. The vindictive side of you only allowed a small part in finding some humor in this, but if Bucky was any bit of the Bucky you spent the night with and got to know for those few short months then this was sad for him.

There wasn’t much you could do though. What were you to do? Send him a message of condolences of some sort? He’d probably just leave you on read. Whatever you two had was long over.

Bucky’s agency did well to defend him and save his reputation. They released one statement to clear things up. There’d been images before of him partying and no doubt high on some substance, but that didn’t prove he was an addict. Then again, did you ever really know him? You’d been exposed to that stuff around and because of him. Some people just had more access to certain things than others did.

In some time, when things leveled out once more, he seemed to be back in the clear, but at a rate where people have already decided whose story they believed over the other, whose side they were on, the damage had been done. If there was a recurring theme here, Bucky had one thing to do after the scandal - move on with his life.

It felt a little strange being here again. If you take into consideration some of the things that had already happened, a lot has really changed since you were last in a line to see The Avengers live.

The band had taken a short hiatus to let the fire die out from Bucky’s scandal. It was probably a smart move - to let people cool their jets and forget. It was last reported Bucky had turned a new leaf...something about getting help. Steve took time off to focus on other projects...something about humanitarian work. Sam released some solo stuff...something with a different sound, but still as successful. The time off was probably the best for the guys.

There weren’t as many people it seemed, but enough for them to play in one of the city’s largest venues. You suppose that’s what a span of three years could do to an artist. When the tour was announced you weren’t sure if you should buy a ticket or not, but it’d been some time since you had a night where you could forget about the stresses of the world for a few hours. Never mind the short stint between you and Bucky, you were still a fan of their music and the joyous feeling you got from it was timeless.

This time you were alone. You didn’t even tell your friend they were touring again. Bucky was almost a nonexistent topic for a good while now. Plus, she had her own life to live and couldn’t always be there next to you. You were the bigger fan after all. On top of that, she would’ve most likely have advised against you attending.

Your attire was not to impress, electing on something casual and comfortable with a simple pair of jeans, a leather jacket over a nice top that did a better job at controlling your cleavage than the last one, and cute boots. Yeah, a lot had changed, but the scene didn’t as there were still a mix of fans, old and new, over and under dressed.

The guys still had it. They looked great! They definitely belonged on the stage for the world to see. They even played a 3-song encore. You could tell they loved doing what they did and anyone who was a fan could feel the passion and energy they poured out in the performance.

You’re currently sitting in the seat of your car, head resting against the headrest as you try to unwind a little from standing for a few hours and from the walk back to the parking garage when your phone vibrates and chimes loudly.  

You glance over at the device you placed next to the driving console and your eyebrows scrunch in confusion at the name that appeared. Bucky Barnes. You’d never deleted his number and his text message thread had remained at the very bottom of your messaging app all this time. A sense of apprehension flows through you as you wonder what he could possibly want. How do you just text someone after ghosting them for over a year? Not to mention to someone you did something so intimate with and made all those promises to in the past. How does one do that?

Not wanting to dwell on it any longer or slip into restless thoughts about Bucky again because it wasn’t a walk in the park to forget about him, you open the text. It asks if you were in attendance because he claimed to have seen you in the crowd. This time around you’re not overthinking about what to respond with, you simply say yes. He’d been quick with his next message asking if you were still in the area to meet up.

The wise thing would probably be to reject the invite, but you find yourself once again staring at a hotel door waiting for him to open it. Initially, you’d suggested he tell you what he wanted to say via text, but he said it was something that had to be told in person. So, having been through what you had as a result of meeting up with him in the past, you had some sense of mind this time, you’d just have to make another mental note to not jump into bed with him again. If you were being truthful to yourself, the sex tape left you feeling a little cheap. He didn’t even send it to you as some form of fucked up courtesy or assure you that it wasn’t ever going to get leaked and luckily it hasn’t. You hoped he’d deleted it.

It was almost like Deja vu. You might as well have been reliving the night the first time Bucky invited you over to his hotel room. In the beginning it was kind of awkward and quiet, and it was exactly that years later, just with added history of course.

You’d chosen to sit on the end of one of the beds while Bucky moved slowly around the room trying to gather his thoughts and where to start. He notices the change in you. You were more confident and as you should be. Bucky Barnes couldn’t intimidate you this time. He had more to be embarrassed about than you did now.

Even though you had nowhere to be in the morning, it was getting late and you really would just like to get this meeting over with and Bucky was stalling.

“Bucky, why did you invite me here?” You say, the one to break the ice. He finally stops fidgeting around and focuses on you.

“I...I wanted to apologize,” he starts off, and you’re unmoving silence allows him to continue, “I realize how much of a complete dick I was to you…”

“What do you mean?” You ask. It’s not like he spread any dirty rumors about you or anything. He didn’t need to apologize for anything that you’re aware of. Maybe for leading you on, but you came to terms some time ago that maybe he didn’t owe you an explanation or perhaps you’d never get one. Yet here you both are.

“I used you,” he explains, now you’re confused, and he can see you’re not getting it entirely, which pains him. You didn’t think anything he did with you was wrong because you consented to it. It took two to tango, right?

Except it wasn’t like that at all and he wanted you to know how he strung you along all just for a quick fuck in the beginning and to cover his tracks he acted like he cared in getting to know you afterwards not realizing something purely good could come out of it for him. The confession wasn’t meant to hurt you again, but for you to realize your worth. He messed up with someone so special.

“I wasn’t lying when I said I remembered you from years before when you tripped in front of me,” there’s a small trace of happiness in the fond memory, “...and when I saw you in the crowd that night, fuck you looked so good and you still do…” he ended up a flustered mess after that small admission.

“Where is this going?” You ask hoping he’d get back on track and reveal the rest, trying to keep the fact he admitted an attraction to you in the back of your mind.

“Right...I’ll admit my ego got the best of me. The band was doing so well, everyone noticed us! I was getting attention from all kinds of people! I got hooked to different things,” suppose those articles were true then about him getting clean, you thought to yourself, “...it does get lonely on the road and I was so desperate for anyone,” oh you hoped and prayed he wouldn’t say what he was going to say next, but he does, “...and I knew there wouldn’t be that much effort on my part to get you to sleep with me.”

Great. Your friend was right then, and he was just like any other house name artist.

“Um...okay, that’s not something I was wanting to hear about myself,” you said after letting that sink in. Did you still appear to look easy?

“No, I’m sure it’s not, but when we were alone together everything was just easy-”

“Yeah, I got that. I’m easy!” You interrupt, and now you’re angry. As he’s trying to explain his actions, you started thinking about how mad and hurt you were when he started ghosting you. You couldn’t be upset about him getting a girlfriend, but the fact that he didn’t think he could continue even being your friend and instead just chose to ignore you was the better option was hella annoying.

“That’s not what I meant!” He says trying to justify his choice of words.

“Then how did you mean it?” You demand, and Bucky is a bit stunned with your new attitude. He foresaw that he would have a difficult time in explaining himself, but he didn’t think it’d be this hard dealing with how much his actions affected you.

“Everything was easy with you because you made it easy to feel,”

“I don’t know if I understand,” you say and attempt to get up, “...maybe this was a bad idea.”

“No, please. Let me finish,” Bucky is quick to get in front of you as he pleads for you to stay. You give him a slight nod and sit back down.

“Things with you were easy in a sense that being around you I was able to just be myself. I’ve never said those things to girls before you! I didn’t have to impress you with anything flashy. I even forgot I was some rockstar! You’re an incredible person, really-”

“I’m sorry, Bucky, but I just can’t,” you say, hating to interrupt him again, but you’re not ready to hear any of this, “...none of this still doesn’t sound right. It was just one night and then how do you explain just ghosting me the moment you get a supermodel girlfriend?” that last part came out unintentionally feisty but might as well let him know how you’d felt, “You couldn’t even be my friend when you were with her! I guess it was easy to just forget me too…”

Bucky lowers his head ashamed of how he handled that and just nods in acknowledgement of his actions, “you’re right. It doesn’t make sense, but what I feel is even harder to explain...”

“None of this accounts for her,” you demand. A part of you just wanted to know where she came from. How did it happen? Who asked who out? It wasn’t important information to know about, but the urge of human curiosity was large.

“She wasn’t even my idea,” he muttered, not really wanting to talk about her.

“What?” You ask.

“Getting with her was the label’s idea,” he admits, hating he was coerced into the idea of an on-screen relationship.

You scoff at the stupidity of fake relationships in the Entertainment industry. Why did people get their rocks off over it? Were OTPs really that a big deal? Are people so bored with their own lives that they have to push corporate into bringing two people who don't have feelings for each other together? However, Bucky thinks you don’t believe him and given how little you developed in trusting him with things, he’s not entirely wrong.

“I know it was a dumb thing to agree to and it’s one of the horrors working in this business, but I know now I should’ve just been forward with you,” Bucky says, voice still riddled begging for forgiveness.

“Why couldn’t you then?” You interrogate and notice the creases of distress on his face soften. “If I made it so easy to feel, then why wasn’t it just that to tell me the truth?”

“I-I don’t know,” he replies.

“Yes, you do,” you retort, and pretend you’re going to leave, but by doing so you know it’ll only get him to spill the beans quicker.

“I was scared!” He admits, stepping in front of you and keeping you still in your place on the end of the bed.

“Scared? Of what? Me?” You ask incredulously looking up at him.

“Yes!” He says and kneels down in front of you. “You’re so perfect! You’re real! You don’t treat me like I’m some celebrity. You didn’t even participate when people started cancelling me or whatever! You could’ve and you had every right to expose me, but you didn’t!” Your act did the trick, because the words just kept coming out of Bucky.

“I’m so sorry for ignoring you, for not telling you I was with her, but the more I got to know you, a part of me got really scared that I couldn’t keep being the kind of man you deserved because of my problems,” by this point, Bucky has placed both his hands on either side of you, his arms trapping you, “...trust me, I had a lot of time to think about everything I did wrong and what harm my reckless lifestyle has on others…I just feared it was already too late, but the one thing that I always thought about that helped me get through it was the lone night I had with you. I was so happy! I wanted that again...I had to get back to that, so I invited you back to try,” you didn’t even realize how close his face was to yours. He looked so torn and you hated seeing him like that, but there was nothing you could say that could fix things right now.

Bucky now felt vulnerable and almost pathetic. Just because he wanted another shot of happiness, and with you of all people, what made it okay for him to think you wanted to try again? You weren’t so certain of what you wanted with him anymore.

“Wow,” is all you give. You’re not sure what more you could add. After all that, he actually liked you? Were you still sure you weren’t living in some fanfic world? You needed some time to think about that and much to Bucky’s expectations, you weren’t going to come to a conclusion before you left this room tonight.

“Is there anything else you want to say?” You offer him the floor, and he gets it. You’re not going to say anything particular to his confession, at least not now. He’s not upset at all. It was a lot to take in. He had time to think, and he had to respect the time you’d need now.

He nods and backs away, realizing the close proximity, “just one question,” you nod this time and let him ask, “do you regret it?”

You know what he’s referring to, sleeping with him, the sex tape, the countless conversations, meeting with him right now - everything.

“No,” you answer honestly.

He lets out a weak smile, looking down sheepishly and adds, “I’ve never done anything like this with anyone before, I promise.”

He could promise and swear up and down all he’d like, but how could you be really sure? The only response you could give him is a small, neutral hum in acknowledgement.

Bucky knew this conversation wasn’t going to go as he had hoped. He really didn’t have a plan, he just really wanted to see you again. He goes silent and you know at this point, everything was all laid out. Time would tell the rest if this was worth saving.

“I can forgive you. I know I can because in a way part of moving on allows one to do so but completing a session or doing time in rehab doesn’t really prove anything,” you said brutally honest with him, he looks up at you almost defeated and just waiting for the final blow.

“You said a lot of promising things back then and you said a lot more tonight,” you add on, and gently begin to remove his hands from the spots either side of you to let you free, and get up to head out, however not with one more thing he could reflect on, also giving him hope, “...you need to show you’ve really changed,” then the conversation was over.

In some ways, these events needed to happen. He had to hit rock bottom to learn from his mistakes and kick out the bad habit. He knew now that he had to work hard to give you a reason to trust him and maybe even in the long run be with him.

On the other hand, you had to go through this whole thing in order to not base your happiness on someone else. You could be happy on your own and open enough to be with someone that wasn’t Bucky. 

For the next few months, to your surprise, Bucky had actually made an effort to keep in touch with you. It wasn’t overbearing and he minded your space as well as he could from a distance, given that he was still busy with the band and other duties that came with his status.

While at times he could be flirty, you learned it was part of his charm. Your friend wasn’t entirely thrilled when you’d admitted to her that you visited Bucky that night. You might’ve not shown it, but she knew how much his past actions affected you. Granted it did its job in teaching you a lesson and in return allowed you to be more confident and to not take anyone’s bullshit, she’d be damned if Bucky tried to pull another act like that around you again.

By now, you were comfortable enough with him to even tell him about random dates you’d gone on; none proving to be long-term, but it was nice to confide in someone else other than your best friend and get an opinion from a male perspective.

You weren’t going to lie, there was a part of you that still liked Bucky more than a friend, but you weren’t sure when it was okay to willingly go all in again with him. Sure, you’d given him another chance, but just how low could people really go to get what they wanted? Some people could just be really manipulative, and you weren’t wanting to ruin what you’ve both rebuilt for yourselves. Either way, you’d be happy with him in your life even as a friend, which is how it could’ve gone if he’d been honest from the get-go.

The year was coming to a close and you’re at your job’s annual Christmas party. You’d managed to convince your friend to be your plus one, but she claimed she didn’t need bribery because your company always ordered outstanding catering and who in their right mind would turn down free food anyways?

Aside from pretending you were having a great time talking to your co-workers, most of which whom you barely spoke to at the office and as faux-friendly as they were tonight, you felt stupid for glancing at your phone every now and then hoping to get a message from Bucky. He’d been keeping you entertained the first half of the party until he just stopped responding.

Your friend had ditched you to take advantage of the open bar several minutes ago, so you were sitting at a table alone trying not to look pathetic. You started thinking of when an appropriate time would be to leave when the Market Manager of your job took the mic. Too late, you thought to yourself and decided to get comfortable in your seat and listened to what cheesy Holiday speech they had to give, but what you hadn’t expected was a surprise guest.  

“What the hell?” You said to yourself as you watched Bucky, Steve and Sam shake hands with one of your bosses before settling into what would appear as an acoustic performance.

How’d they manage to get in contact with your job? Who gave them the in? Bucky knew what you did for a living, but you never stayed on that subject long enough to think much about it. Then your friend slides into the empty seat next to you, a drink in one hand and a knowingly smirk on her lips, one that suggests she was definitely in on this act. You didn’t realize how long you’d been staring at her with a stupid look of disbelief all over your face until your name is echoed throughout the speakers.

It snaps you out of your trance and you focus your attention to Bucky on stage, a huge smile on his face. All formalities set aside, he highlights you and your friendship before jumping into their new single, which was widely popular right now. Normally, you weren’t one to take compliments easily, not used to so much attention, but the whole world disappeared with Bucky.

Once their little set was over, the majority of your colleagues enjoyed the performance and asked for photos, to which the guys were more than happy to appease to. Your friend had managed to escape your clutches once more, this time abandoning you for the dessert table. You’re not alone for long as Bucky occupies the seat left open next to you. You look around your surroundings, hoping there aren’t any more surprises in store, and practically attack him with a big hug.

Bucky’s chuckle is muffled, his face buried in your hair, as he wraps his arms around you to return the gesture. When you pull away, you’re almost left speechless, but you’re dying to know how he managed to get here. He was technically still on tour and this was not one of the passing by cities.

“How?” You ask.

“Hi to you too,” he said with a cheeky grin, to which you playfully slap his arm, and he responds with your friend’s name. He explained how he’d wanted to see you and how much he had to grovel for your friend to trust him. She’d helped him arrange a meeting with your boss, who turned out to be a huge fan of The Avengers, and even sneak them inside the building all under your nose. She wasn’t easy to persuade, but if she was convinced enough to work with Bucky on anything then you knew this meant something more.  

The initial notion of wanting to leave the party immediately vanished and you wanted nothing more than to just sit there in Bucky’s company all night. Steve and Sam greeted you and you never realized that this was actually the first time meeting them formally and not outside of a venue. They weren’t rockstars to you any more than you were just a fan to them. They were Bucky’s friends, of course he’d confined to them on his end as much as you did with yours.

At some point they had excused themselves to catch the last flight headed back to Brooklyn, but Bucky had decided to stay longer. When it was time to leave, you found out Bucky hadn’t planned long enough to where he would stay the night in your city. The original plan was to fly back home with the guys and pick up on the remainder of the tour. They had a few days off, but it was just a few days shy of ending, and he couldn’t wait that long to see you.

It’s funny how life works because this time you’re the one inviting him to your place. You weren’t going to blame it on the open bar or how late it was or the underlying tension that was surrounding you two, but one thing was certain, it was mutual, and you both weren’t going to deny the attraction any longer.

You’d missed the weight of Bucky’s body on yours more than you’d realized as your hands held his face, keeping his lips attached to yours. You could taste the remnants of the unfinished drink he’d abandoned at the coffee table on his tongue. Bucky’s hands hiked your leg over his waist to get you to lie flat on your couch.

You’re the first to attempt to remove clothing by popping open the buttons of his button-up shirt before completely ridding of the item leaving him in his thin undershirt. You feel his hands slide up from your hips along your back as they dig into the minimal space the arch of your back had created for him to slowly unzip the back of your dress. With your lips both still attached, you manage to sit up, your dress falling down and bunching at the waist in the process, exposing your breasts. He couldn’t have picked a more perfect time to see you in an outfit that would not work with a bra.

Bucky curses breathlessly when he pulls his lips away from yours for a quick breather, but in the process, he takes a peek at your half naked body. You can tell he’s just itching to touch you and you take the commanding lead and place his hands on you. The atmosphere grows thicker, him kneading your breasts, you smash your lips on his in a sloppy lock.

You push Bucky down on his end of the couch and manage to kick your loose dress all the way down your legs and off your body. Bucky’s hands travel down to the curve of your ass before he grabs a handful of flesh, causing you to moan into the kiss. Your hands rake through his styled hair, the product he used unstiffening and his hair falls limp in your grasps.

Bucky’s hands started to aid your hips in moving roughly against his clothed member, desperate to relieve some friction, and you internally blushed remembering how thick he was, how full it felt to have his cock stuffed inside of you. You didn’t remain celibate during the hiatus of your relationship, you both had urges, but Bucky had really ruined others that came after him.

Your lips drifted down Bucky’s body, kissing at the skin of his chest in the pattern following the swoop-line seam of the undershirt that he was still wearing. You skipped the expanse of his toned stomach, until you’re met with the small amount of skin that peeked between his bottoms and hem of his undershirt. You slightly lift the material up and place small pecks at his lower abdomen, which causes a low groan to rumble in Bucky’s throat.

Your fingers deftly unbuckle his belt and unbutton his pants, with the zipper pulled apart, you’re marveling at the imprint of his hard cock, already twitching and staining his boxers. You manage to break your gaze and look up at Bucky, who is desperately pleading with you to proceed. Your eyes never leave his as you lower your head closer to his member, tongue darting out to the dark spot of his boxers, tasting the precum.

The contact causes him to squirm and lips form in a tight line. You pull down his pants and agonizingly peel off his boxers slowly, dragging it down to his thighs, just enough to expose him enough for you to work with before you wrap a hand around his length. Bucky’s upper body is supported by his bent elbows so he could watch you.

You kiss the tip of his leaking cock, a small string of his precum sticking to your lips when you pull back, to which you run your tongue over. Bucky’s head falls back just in time when your lips enclose the head, tongue twirling around the ridge and teasingly at the slit and loving the sound of his breath getting caught in his throat. You inch your mouth down his length and your vacant hand gets quick to work on what you’re not able to intake while the other runs up his exposed abdomen, your fingers curling in and lightly scratching down as it runs down to massage one of his thighs. You can feel the muscle in his thigh flex at your touch the more your head bobs up and down on him.  

A plethora of curses spew from his mouth, but the rush of sucking his cock, the gurgling of your spit mixed with his precum and occasional choking noise when your throat contracts around him, is all you can hear from your perspective. When you part from his member, you’re breathing intensifies, desperate for more air to enter your system, eyes slightly watering, lips swollen, your hand lazily slathering the wetness all over him.

“You’re so good at that,” Bucky comments and he finally manages to pick his head back up to look at you. He reaches forward to swipe at the mess on the corner of your chin, but you’re hungry for more, and you move your head to the side to suck on his thumb, eyes closed as you hum at the taste of his skin and essence.

Your soft tongue running against the pad of his somewhat calloused thumb, it pops lightly when you release the digit, a small, devious smile on your lips as you scoot away to lie on the other end of the couch. He’s almost at aghast by this, but even back then you were just always full of surprises around him and he wasn’t going to deny the appeal of your sexual allure.

Bucky is quick to get to your side, completely riding himself off the rest of his clothes - the undershirt, pants and boxers - he had dressed to impress but right now nothing more than but overdressed. He gently parts your legs, kissing up your calves and thighs, until settles between them, you can feel his warm breath fanning against your scantily covered core.

Unlike last time, you’re not afraid to watch him and he sends you a knowingly wink, quickly ascending up to give you a sweet kiss, while his fingers slip inside your panties and between your lips. Your hips eagerly thrust upwards hoping his fingers slip in.

“Baby, we got all night,” he says cradling your face in his other hand. You let out a small whine, but regardless attempt to be patient. Bucky studies your face, mesmerized by every structure and unique feature, then what felt like an eternity, but in reality, was only a few seconds, he sinks a finger inside your wet pussy.

As soon as the gasp leaves your lips, his lips swoop in and tongue instantly dipping in search of yours. The heated kiss only heightens the sensation in the pit of your stomach, your hips losing control and every buck up into his hand, your clit rubs up against his palm, invigorating it. The curl of his finger, lightly probs at the right spot inside you, you uncontrollably squeal against his lips, with a hand against his chest you gently push his body away from yours.

“Oh my God! Fuck, Bucky…” you say with your head tilting back to the curve of the couch’s arm. You feel Bucky’s lips kiss and suck at your exposed neck as his fingers continue their handy work, the lewd noises causing your eyes to roll back.

His lips find their way next to your ear, gently nipping at it, and you could just drown at the sound of his husky breathing and filthy words. “Can I taste you?” He asks. You’re not sure why he was asking, you’d want nothing less. You nod almost instantaneously before allowing him to remove your panties.  

Bucky’s hungry eyes remain fixated on your glistening core, “oh, I missed this pussy,” he comments before his tongue fondles the lips. He has a hand lying flat against one of your legs, pressed on the couch to keep them spread apart, the other blocked by his body. His routine contrasts his old with how his tongue moves in slow and calculated laps. His mouth was very talented, given whatever style he chose to play.

You’re tethering on an orgasm and Bucky wanted nothing more than to watch you come undone for him. Bucky’s fingers and tongue work in tandem and fast to help you reach a climax.

“You’re close, aren’t you?” Bucky manages to ask in between, eyes peering up at you. You don’t actually answer because you can’t concentrate from the pleasure he’s bestowing and the impending release. “Good. I want you to cum. I want all this pussy has to give,” his voice hitting a different low, even his fucking voice was so sexy. Your hands clutch on fistfuls of the couch cushions when you feel the first wave of pleasure wash over your body, your hips stilled in place as Bucky laps up at your arousal.

“The sweetest thing ever,” Bucky mutters mostly to himself, but hearing that comment only feeds your ego, which never is a bad thing in an intimate setting. Your chest heaves up and down from the impact. Just as Bucky is about to crawl back up to parallel, you stop him with a foot at his chest. He grabs your small foot in his hand and blinks at your resistance.

“Sit back,” you command. He drops your foot and watches as your body maneuvers around to climb over his. He didn’t even realize his body had complied to your demand, absolutely hypnotized by you.

You lean in for a deep kiss, one that leaves his brain a mush, yours too almost that you have to steady yourself with one hand on the couch armrest. You reach a hand down between your bodies and grab a hold of his hard cock. Your fingers tracing along the vein before you start rubbing his head through your sensitive, wet folds. Bucky’s hands lay lightly on your hips, trying with all his might to not force you to take him all the way in. A large part of him liked this dominant side of you. There was so much about you he was dying to unearth.

“Baby, please…” he begins pleading as you barely press the tip of his cock just at your entrance before you slowly lower your body down to engulf his entire length. You sit still once you’re sure you’ve bottomed out, not noticing Bucky’s fingers digging into your hips, sure enough to leave crescent marks and tiny bruises.

Bucky’s face is buried in your neck, your cheek pressed against the top of his head, lost in the mop of dark hair. You feel his cock twitch inside of you causing your hips to ground on his. He was in so deep, you weren’t sure how long you were going to last in this position, but you’d be damned if you denied it.

You start with slow swivels before sliding back and forth on his cock. Bucky’s hands released their death grip from your hips, one travelled to the front to grope at your breasts while the other supported your body settling itself on the small of your back. Your hands set themselves on the back of the couch on either side of his head, using it as leverage to ground down harder on him.

“Mm, I missed fucking this big cock,” you lean down to whisper right in his ear, “you’re so deep, Bucky.”

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he spits out curse after curse at your dirty words. “You gonna cum on this big cock, hmm?” He asks. The question comes as a challenge and you weren’t ready to give up the ropes to him.

“Yeah, is this big cock gonna cum inside this tight pussy?” You counter the question, speeding up your gyrations until you start to feel the burn in your thighs and stomach begin to twist. He lets out a low, long growl, his eyes lulling shut and head falling back against the couch, ready to succumb to euphoria.

“No,” you say, suddenly ceasing all movements to pull at his hair. The sharp pain in his scalp causes his eyes to snap open and look up at you. “Keep your eyes on me,” you command much like how he did with you the first time. You watch him swallow the knot in his throat and give him a wicked smile before picking back up where you left off.

Your hands are sprawled on his sweaty chest as you bounce up and down his length. Bucky’s senses are on overdrive, the way your pussy naturally hugs his cock, walls squeezing occasionally, your breasts swaying right in front of him, your skin shining from the layer of sweat coating your body, and the look of immense pleasure written all over your face because of him.

“Baby, I’m gonna cum,” he says over and over as some form of warning, hoping you’re not far behind.

The way his face contorted in ecstasy, lips parted, sweat building up on his forehead, the tip of his cock stabbing at your sweet spot, you were about to cum too. His words become a muffled mess when you attempt to silence him with a bruising kiss just as you reach your high, pussy clenching tight around his cock milking him of everything he’s got. Each spurt of his hot cum that shoots inside you causes your hips to stutter in response. Bucky attempts to keep them at bay with a hand pressed against your back, keeping your body close to him and in the process also instilling his seed is rooted deep inside of you.

“God...damn,” Bucky says short of breath when your body lies limp against his. Your arms are wrapped around his neck, you haven’t attempted to move just yet as you both sat there with his cock still buried in. When you manage to sit up, you stare back at Bucky with tired eyes, but there’s a smile on both your faces. It only slightly falters at his next words.

“I love you,” he says earnestly. Thankfully your silence doesn’t bother him, “...you don’t have to say it back,” he adds, “I just wanted you to know. You’re so special,” he proclaims and your heart leaps at the very admission. You only nod for now but give him another reassuring smile because in time you knew you could allow yourself to love Bucky and be loved by him in return. It wasn’t a conventional meeting, but this was your life, not everyone else's.

When you finally manage to pull yourself off his cock, it slips out fluidly with a trail of his cum following in suit. You knew you’d curse yourself later on, but you’re both too tired to clean the mess right now. The pair of you settle into a lying position, facing one another, encased in each other’s arms. It’s a moment of bliss as you both just lie there, his eyes closed and a smile seemingly permanently etched on his face, only around you.  

“Hey Bucky,” you pipe up breaking the silence. He hums in response, “I want to know something...” you start out with.

“Anything,” he says, eyes still closed, his hand running up and down your arm, an indicator that he’s present and listening.

“What happened between you two?” Curiosity getting the best of you once more, you’re hoping this doesn’t ruin the moment, but you had to know. What went wrong? Besides, if this was going to work, he was going to have to be honest.

“Uh, she saw something on my phone…” he said cautiously, “...that involved you.” Your eyes widen at that. It couldn’t have been the sex tape you hoped.

“Bucky, no!” You gasp, sitting up and just hoping he doesn’t confirm it.

“Relax!” He says pulling you back down with him, “She was psycho. She went through my texts and saw some of the photos we used to send to each other. She must’ve thought they were recent.” He explains like it was no big deal.

Your heart stops racing slightly, you’re a bit relieved that she didn’t go as far as posting any of the photos on the Internet. You knew you were risking it by sexting with Bucky, but what was that saying? Hell hath no fury…and in a blind rage, she lashed out only on Bucky, but if she was a psycho, who knows what else she might’ve found on Bucky’s phone.

“Bucky?” you figure you might as well know now.

“Yeah…”

“What did you do with that sex tape?” You’d been dying to know if it was safely stored away or if maybe he even still watched it or just deleted it.

A big toothy grin spreads across his lips, his pearly whites on full display as he laughs at the question before he reaches over to the table next to the couch, where his cell phone rested on.

“Want to make a sequel?” He asks suggestively with a smirk on his lips and waving his phone at you, to which you playfully attempt to snatch from his grasp. He’s too quick, but nonetheless he replaces the phone in its original spot before focusing his attention on you alone.

“You don’t think this is all weird?” He questions almost hesitantly while tracing the outline of your jaw delicately. You’re not thinking that at all. You’d both been through a lot during the last few years that the only thing that was normal now was what you both had.

You shake your head in response, too tired for words, and drowning in the blissful moment. Bucky nods before declaring, “good because you make so happy,” then ending the night with sweet kisses. 

“Hey, it’s me. I know you’re busy at the studio today...” you start, cell phone pressed against your ear. You’re attempting to leave a voicemail to your boyfriend, who was expecting your arrival later that day, “...but I just wanted to assure you that this isn’t weird, and I can’t wait to see you...I love you, Bucky,” you finish up the message and stuff the device into your bag just in time to hear the voice of the airline staff making the pre-boarding announcements booming loudly from the speakers.  

Now boarding Group B for flight #107 to JFK Airport...final destination Brooklyn, New York.

A/N: We’ve been in quarantine for so long, I don’t remember how airport announcements are like anymore and I was only in Brooklyn last Spring…RIP to the good times.

A happy ending was weird to write in the end and I actually don’t like this particular Bucky so it could’ve gone really bad, but I said to myself, no, not this time, I can do what the title says and let them be just that - happy. I too can be happy if you give this a like, reblog or comment! Thanks for reading!  

[forbiddenship]

it bothers me so much how people make the whole matt/sofia age gap thing into such a big deal just to invalidate portwell. as if this isn't a literal disney show. sorry for the negativity, i just saw a bunch of people talking about it today and it just soured my mood.

yeah, that bothers me too. and don’t apologize! i’ve actually wanted to address this for a while but just never brought it up.

it’s really just one more example of #those shippers’ hypocrisy and how they say literally whatever they can to fit the narrative they’re spinning that r*na = good and portwell = bad.

on the one hand, they make the usual comments about the actors’ age gap. this is valid, because i’m not here to tell anyone what they should and shouldn’t be comfortable with.

five years is a sizeable difference especially with one of them being a minor still, and as much as it hurts my portwell heart, i get why the show withheld that kiss from us. i’m honestly glad they did it too because 1) i now have that to look forward to in s3 and 2) if portwell had kissed in the finale, all the haters would’ve erupted and created a kissgate scandal and the scene would be kinda tainted by all of that negative discourse about it being gross/wrong. i think it’s much better that we get the kiss only once sofia turns 18 and there’s no valid reason for people to complain anymore.

all of this that i just talked about is (imo) a valid thing to be worried about when it comes to portwell, if i was thinking from the perspective of someone who doesn’t ship them (we gotta try to take the high road here, right?). what’s not valid at all is using the fact that there’s an age gap to draw your own illogical conclusions, like “matt and sofia didn’t kiss in the finale because they’re clearly uncomfortable filming a kiss.” don’t make dumb extrapolations without knowing anything.

i saw so many r*nas take matt’s words and just twist them around beyond recognition. in the live the day before the finale, he talked about how he and sofia were laughing a lot during the “hey babe” scene - which was a little awkward bc of their heights being so similar (and tbh i noticed it looking a little weird too but just from the back. but anyways it’s only bc of the boots sofia was wearing in that scene otherwise it’d be fine). and of fucking course they heard that as “portwell is awkward because no chemistry = they shouldn’t be together”

so many people are just pulling out of their asses that matt/sofia aren’t on board with portwell (when they’ve both been nothing but supportive and matt literally rambles on about pw making each other happy in every interview), they’re super awkward and uncomfy with it, etc. first of all: them laughing during takes and not being able to contain their laughter is because they’re best friends irl. it’s pretty obvious that they’re like one of the coolest dynamic duos to come out of this show and that they get along really well. they’re also super chaotic and laugh all the time.

none of that has anything to do with them having onscreen chemistry as screen partners. it’s very common that relationships and chemistry onscreen are reflections of real friendships offscreen, even if they’re not romantic in nature. the first example i can think of off the top of my head is jennifer and josh from the hunger games. they’re chaotic best friends and they’ve always said they love each other platonically, but no one would dare say they don’t have chemistry as their characters. that’s part of what makes portwell so appealing, and rina too. they capitalize on the natural chemistry between the actors. obviously this doesn’t mean the actors have any sort of feelings towards each other, i mean, nobody says that about sofia and josh, right? it’s literally just about how they play off each other. which is why chemistry readings exist and why they were all cast opposite each other in the first place. if you think about it, each of the core four has chemistry with the three others.

but okay, even if i were to play devil’s advocate and go along with the r*na line of thinking that matt/sofia don’t have any chemistry and only give off sibling vibes, the logic still crumbles. if the relationship btwn the actors is a siblings relationship / no chemistry, then why are all of them so pressed about the ship and the age gap? they’re only saying the age gap btwn the actors is weird because of the romantic connotation (which isn’t even about the actors but yk r*na logic), so how can they also say that the same actors are incapable of creating a romantic connotation? which is it???

anyways, sorry for such a long answer to your ask 😭😭 this has just been pissing me off for quite a while.

disclaimer: i do NOT ship the actors in any way, and nobody should be doing that because sofia is a minor and shipping real people is not a good idea regardless. most portwell shippers know how to separate the characters from the actors and don’t do this anyways. we just gush about how cute we think matt/sofia’s irl friendship is, which ofc our wonderful r*na friends just love to take out of context.

[ruthiswriting]

body of choice

chainsaw man | denji, power, hayakawa aki, gen, 5k | on ao3

“It’s just…” He stopped. “You really don’t care about tits?”

There was a long silence, punctuated only by low buzz of Aki’s desk lamp. “You care about tits,” Aki said finally, “an unusual amount.”

(or: Time off work means that Denji gets to spend a lot of time thinking about what exactly it is that he likes about tits, anyway. Gender is involved. Power helps.)

inspired by my roommate’s headcanon that denji is a trans lesbian and doesnt know it yet! this fic takes place after the international assassin arc but before ch 73.

trigger warning for denji making transphobic statements due to the fact that he doesnt know that being trans is a thing, internalized transphobia, and body dysphoria. general disclaimer that i am not a trans woman but have been known to experience a gender from time to time. enjoy!

-

They’d all been given time off work, after the Darkness Devil. A leave of absence for Aki to recover, for Power to get her head screwed back on straight, and for Denji to sit and wait for them to be well, since he wasn’t allowed to go on work missions by himself. It was coming to an end soon— Aki had acclimated to his one arm pretty well, and Power didn’t wake up screaming anymore, so they’d be back to work soon.

Still, Denji was running out of ways to fill the empty time. Having nothing to do made him sizzle with nervous energy, waiting for something to do, for a task and directive to achieve. Aki provided the direction of reading materials, movies, and chores— but it still gave him too much time to think.

So it was a lazy afternoon, not long after lunch but still too early for another meal, when Denji asked Power a question.

“Hey, Power,” he said. “You took over a dead body, right?”

She was stretched out on the floor on her back, hugging Meowy in her arms— Aki always said that she held him too tightly, but no matter what Power did the stupid cat purred like a pleased, rusty motorboat. Denji’s question made her stall, frowning as Meowy squirmed. “Eh?”

“That’s what Aki said a fiend was,” Denji said, rolling onto his elbow to look at her from the couch. “A devil that took over a human’s dead body. So you did that, right?”

She paused, thinking this over— reaching for something hidden in her memory. Then her eyes widened, and she sat up. “That’s right,” she said, suddenly triumphant. She rubbed one finger under her nose, pivoting Meowy to rest awkwardly in the crook of her other arm. “I forgot… The way Power was born!”

There was the beginning of the story in the gleam of her eyes— something that would go on, and be uninteresting and mostly nonsensical. “Yeah, I don’t really care about any of that,” Denji said, before she could begin. “I was just wondering, like,” he paused, and one hand rose up, like he could better form the thought if he could grab it. “…Why’d you end up picking the body you did?”

“I used whatever was convenient,” she said. “Of course, my body is the best body I could have gotten. Tis one of the reasons I am so perfect.”

“So you didn’t care about what it looked like?”

Power sniffed, immediately dismissive of the question. “Only humans care about things like that,” she said. Denji could tell she was starting to lose interest in the conversation— she was starting to lift Meowy in front of her, the cat’s little arms jutting awkwardly toward her as his body dangled. “It is very sad! The only good devil feature I have now are my horns… Human bodies really are so unappealing. And they all look the same.”

This caught Denji off guard. He slid forward on the couch, trying to get Power’s attention again to argue. “Huh? That’s not true at all. We all look completely different. Like, you don’t look anything like me. And Aki looks super different from us…” His argument warmed up slowly as he cooked it over, and suddenly, he was invigorated. “We all look super fucking different! That’s crazy.”

“What are you two talking about?” Aki appeared in the doorframe, his one remaining arm wrapped over the white laundry basket he’d been struggling with the whole day.

“Denji is jealous of my perfect body,” Power said.

“No way!”

Before Power could say anything else stupid, Meowy squirmed over her shoulder to land on the ground behind her with a thump. She wheeled again to grab at him, but he scooted comfortably out of her arm’s reach to vanish under the couch, curling his patchy tail around his feet. “Meowy!”

Denji pointed at her, victorious. “That’s what you get. He’s not gonna come out for the rest of the day.”

“You two, stop fighting,” Aki said, before Power’s high pitched whine could end in a yell. “Denji, help me hang up the laundry. And Power, you need to clean Meowy’s litter box. It stinks.”

“Meowy should be allowed to shit wherever he wants,” Power grumbled.

“He does shit wherever he wants,” Aki said. “He just has better manners than you.”

As he stood on the balcony with Aki, picking up shirts one by one to hang, Power’s words continued to turn in Denji’s chest, until they finally stopped to lodge themselves there at an uncomfortable angle. It felt like he’d swallowed a piece of food before chewing it all the way through, and some piece was sticking there. His breaths couldn’t dislodge it.

Was he jealous of Power’s body?

No. There was no way. Why would he want a body like Power’s?

He’d seen a lot of Power’s body. All of it, actually. He knew what it looked like, what it felt like— even what it tasted like, not that he’d wanted to drink her blood. And he’d decided, pretty thoroughly, he wasn’t interested. Whatever exciting mystery lay under a girl’s clothes had fallen flat when it was attached to Power.

But maybe there was something else to want about her body? Something not about sex, or touch. He couldn’t name it. Or maybe, eventually, he could name it— but he definitely shouldn’t.

Laundry ended with hanging their spare public safety uniforms, all in an identical line. Denji was bigger than Power, and Aki was taller than both of them— still, they were all close enough in size that their clothes could easily mingle together in a confused heap. Denji had gotten halfway through getting dressed into Power’s too-small clothes to know he couldn’t wear her pant size, but on the line they almost looked identical. Empty squares of fabric, wafting in the warm breeze. When the sleeves moved, they looked like they were waving in time.

“You’re thinking about something,” Aki said.

He was kneeling by the now empty laundry basket, because even though Denji could have hung the laundry by himself in about the same amount of time, Aki had insistently stayed to pass the laundry to him. Denji guessed he just didn’t like being able to finish the stuff he could before, when he had both arms, and that maybe if he stuck around to the end of the task it was like he could do it anyway. But also, it felt like he was watching Denji. Waiting for something important.

Denji clipped the last shirt up, letting the clothespin clap shut around the starched white collar. “It’s nothin’ important,” he said. “Don’t worry about it.”

The next day, Denji remembered something that brought him back to Power, reading through a manga that Aki had brought home from the conbini.

“I thought of something else about what you said that doesn’t make sense,” Denji said, standing over her.

She had to move the volume down out of her face to look at him, scowling immediately at the interruption. “What?”

“You said that you don’t care about your body, but you do,” Denji said, accusatory. “You wore those— fake boob things. Why the hell would you do that if you didn’t care about what your body looked like?”

She stared at him, and Denji could see from her expression, instantly, she’d forgotten the whole conversation already. Power forgot about a lot of shit, admittedly, but for some reason it felt like a bad sign— like Denji was putting way too much thought into something stupid. He went on pointlessly to add, “you know— what we talked about. How you said human bodies are gross…”

“Correct. Human bodies are gross,” Power said, instantly confident even if she’d forgotten the context. “But there are ways to make them less gross.”

She sat up, throwing the magazine aside. Denji jerked back, out of the circumference of her turning legs, and watched her draw herself up. “It is also helpful to have large breasts,” she said, confident. “Because many people desire them, and so they act in useful ways— like when you helped me save Meowy.” She folded her legs under her and crossed her arms, with sudden finality.“Isn’t that right?”

“Well— yeah,” Denji said. “But you couldn’t have known I would do that before we met…” His eyes flickered to her chest automatically at the memory— she wasn’t wearing them right now, so her t-shirt hung loosely against her body.

“But I knew humans are disgusting. And that they would be interested in me having larger breasts.” She crossed her arms and legs at once, forming a defiant pretzel. “Maybe you should try it some time, Denji.”

Any further argument Denji had against this line of reasoning immediately evaporated. He felt his face flush instantly, and he struggled for words— or anything at all, really. “What—“ he stopped, sputtering. “Don’t be fucking stupid! I can’t have tits, I’m a guy.”

“Why not?”

He stared at her, bewildered. “Cause— cause guys don’t have tits.”

It was so obvious it felt stupid to say— but even with it being obvious it felt like a weak argument. Power wrinkled her nose. “Stupid! Very stupid, Denji. Come with me.” She stood up, briefly on the couch before hopping down next to him. And then, she grabbed his arm and marched him to the bathroom, her fingers making a vise grip against his skin.

“You’re lucky I’m here to help you,” Power said, shutting the bathroom door behind them. This seemed like a bad sign to Denji— Power had to practically be bribed to not leave the door open when shitting, and she didn’t care when they shut the door either. She was trying to cut off his escape route. “Humans are so limited and rigid in their thinking! It’s very boring, so I will help you.”

She was wriggling out of her t-shirt as she talked, discarding it on the floor between them. Then, she ducked her arms behind her back to undo the clasps on her bra. That wasn’t really a big deal— Denji had seen Power naked before, and he’d done her laundry enough times to know what her underwear looked like. But he was starting to feel nervous about wherever this conversation was going. “Power,” he said, eyes flickering to follow her movements, “I don’t know about this.”

“I’m only trying to show you,” she said. “That it is very easy. And that humans do look alike.”

And then, she was pulling his shirt off— Denji choked as the cloth dragged against his mouth, arms jerking up automatically to follow the movement. His shirt joined hers on the floor.

With businesslike hands, Power turned him around so he was staring at the blank drywall. He felt the bra drag around his ribcage. “Whoa— whoa,” Denji yelped.

“Don’t bother fighting me! This is for your own good!” She was snapping the clasps in place, so it was snug against his body. They scratched against his back as they clicked.

Then, she pulled the straps over his arms. Denji felt his eyes drop, to where his cleavage would be, if he had cleavage (but he didn’t because he was a guy, and so he shouldn’t be thinking about this). The rip cord of his chainsaw heart curled awkwardly out between the bra’s lace detailing. He could feel it constrict in his chest— an ugly spasm in reaction to the way it gapped against him.

Power’s hands snaked out from under his armpits. She was holding the breast pads. “Put them on,” she commanded.

Hell no, Denji screamed. Or, well, he thought he screamed. His voice wouldn’t cooperate.  Instead, his hand moved, mechanical, to take them from her.

They were pretty much how he remembered the first time— silicone. Kind of squishy, except for an odd firmness in the middle. There was a sticky backing that probably helped keep them from falling off your chest. They also stank, since they lived up against Power’s sweaty unwashed body most of the time.

He raised them to his chest, and after a few moments of arranging, they were on, cool and sticky against his skin.

Power turned him again with one firm hand on his upper arm. Now, they were both facing the mirror— Denji in Power’s bra. Both shirtless. Both, somehow, with tits. She leaned against him and crossed her arms, smirking with satisfaction. “Now you see,” she declared. “We don’t look so different.”

She was wrong, obviously. Denji was taller than Power, and broader shouldered, and just— different. They looked different. Because they were two different people, obviously, but also because Denji wasn’t a chick. No way anyone would buy that he was just from some fake boobs.

But also, he couldn’t stop looking at them. Why? He knew they weren’t real, and also, they were on him. The usual reasons Denji wanted to be looking at tits couldn’t really apply. Especially when Power, who had actual tits, was standing next to him, naked from the waist up.

Of course, he’d already figured out he wasn’t interested in Power, so it made sense that he wasn’t looking at her— except nothing about this situation made sense at all. Especially that some noise, buzzing in the back of his skull constantly, had gone quiet. A feeling that he hadn’t even known was there was gone.

“You can keep them if you want, Denji,” Power said generously. “I only wear the bra because Aki makes me.”

Reality snapped back into place. Denji pushed her away, yanking off the bra. The boob pads unstuck from his body with only a little coaxing, and they fell to the floor with a mushy plap. “Fucking— keep your clothes on, Power!”  

Denji ran from the bathroom without reclaiming his shirt, hiding in his room from both Power and whatever he had seen in the mirror. He’d have to come back for the shirt later— Aki always got onto them for leaving their clothes in the bathroom when they showered. But he wanted to be sure that Power would be gone. Power, and her stupid fake boobs, and whatever she’d done to him when she snapped that bra into place.

That night, Aki turned on an old cartoon while he cooked dinner— the sizzle of grease popping over the tinny background music and shouted dialogue. TV always mesmerized Power, although she complained if there wasn’t blood and gore. She still sat close to the screen, blocking the bottom half with the top of her head and horns.

Denji didn’t care about TV, really. It had been kind of novel at first, since his dad had sold the TV set when he was pretty young and they’d never had money for things like movies. But since he’d gotten to watch movies with Makima, watching grainy TV on Aki’s tiny television set had hardly been appealing. But he still watched, apathetic, until his stomach began to twist again.

The show was about some kid who got cursed, so that every time they got wet they’d change from a boy to a girl— or a girl to a boy. Denji wasn’t sure. It seemed pretty inconvenient, honestly. You probably couldn’t plan for being splashed with water in every situation, and the kid didn’t want everyone to know about it, so it just ended up being a lot of dumb shit about the kid managing all the different identities and what people thought he was— or she was. Denji could hardly keep up with his one life, so managing two seemed like a huge hassle.

So he didn’t know he felt so much envy, every time the dumb kid slipped into some water fountain or got dunked in a river. It didn’t make sense to want that. Nothing he was feeling made sense.

He took a shower after dinner. The hot water steamed over the mirror, leaving Denji alone with his thoughts, and the water, trickling over his back. His naked chest.

It was probably something wrong with his head. He knew that already, though—everyone had already made it clear that whatever Denji thought about anything was probably weird and fucked up. This was probably the same sort of thing. Whatever this was.

He rubbed his skin raw with soap and tried not to look down.

It was early in the morning when Denji couldn’t take it anymore.

Without understanding why, he crawled out of bed— over where Power was sprawled, taking up half the space in his bed, like she always ended up doing whenever she passed out there— and crept down the hall to Aki’s room.

When Makima had arranged for Denji to live with Aki, the door to Aki’s room had stayed solidly shut. He hadn’t been explicitly told to stay out, but Denji knew when not to sniff. And it wasn’t like he’d been especially compelled by whatever Aki got up to, so, whatever.

But then, Power had moved in too, along with her near-constant impulse to wreck most of Aki’s possessions and her cat that liked to sleep under Aki’s desk. Aki had waged an intense internal battle between wanting to make sure he could hear when Power was up to shit and wanting to keep at least an illusion of privacy. But at some point, he’d admitted defeat, and the door remained just slightly cracked, even when he was sleeping.

Then, after the Darkness Devil, Power would alternate between sleeping in Denji’s bed and Aki’s, so whatever privacy Aki had attempted to maintain had been thoroughly destroyed. He didn’t seem to care too much anymore anyway— even when it was Denji’s turn Aki always ended up ghosting down the hall to check on them, when he thought they were both asleep.

The light was off, and Denji was at least smart enough to feel bad about bugging Aki when he was definitely asleep, and when Denji should be too. He hovered in front of the door, hand half clenched over the knob, before finally reasoning that he’d known when he’d walked over here that Aki would be asleep, so he might as well follow through. He pulled the door open, and crept into the room.

Denji had seen Aki fall asleep on the couch enough times to know that he slept like the dead.  It wasn’t something he understood— it seemed like a pretty big weakness for a devil hunter, if he was being honest. But at this point he at least knew the drill. In the dark, Denji hunted for Aki’s desk lamp, and clicked it on.

The warm yellow bulb cast dozy light over the room. Aki stayed stone still, body half curved on the bed in an uncomfortable contortion. Denji sat next to him, touching his shoulder. “Hey, Aki,” he said, voice a mutter, and felt his ears turn red.

On any other day, Aki would have remained asleep long enough for Denji to back out of this terrible idea. But as Denji hurriedly pulled his hand away, Aki’s nose wrinkled, and he slowly blinked awake. Denji’s shoulders sunk.

“Denji?” Aki’s voice was still thick with sleep, and even in the dim light he squinted like it hurt. “What’s going on? Did Power clog the toilet?”

“It’s not important,” Denji blurted. “Don’t let me bug you, actually.” He stood, planning to leave, but he couldn’t get his feet to unstick from the floor. Every attempt he made just rooted him more solidly in place.

Behind him, Aki’s gaze slowly focused on his back. “…Is everything okay?”

It was a weird sentence, from Aki. He knew it, too— there was something self conscious in the way the words formed, even through his fuzzy concern. But this whole moment was weird, and Denji figured if they both knew it he might as well take advantage of it. He glanced over his shoulder to look at Aki. “I was just, like,” he stalled, trying to find a way to word what was sitting in his chest. “Wanting to know what you thought of something I’ve been thinking about. It’s not important, but, you know…”

The lamp’s bulb was making a weird buzzing noise, filling the dead space between Denji’s fumbling sentences. Aki’s body hadn’t moved, but his eyebrows kept contracting, like if he furrowed them enough he could get to the point of Denji’s sentence. Finally, he said, words slow, “you want my advice.”

Super lame. It sounded so lame when Aki said it, in his weird, grown up way of talking about everything. “Yeah,” Denji said.

Aki looked at Denji. Looked at the alarm clock on his bedside table that was scheduled to go off in three hours (which Denji knew because whenever he couldn’t sleep he could hear Aki start to move at the same time every morning). Looked up, finally, at the ceiling, squinting into nothing. Then, he said, “okay.” And he sat up.

Before he could stop himself, Denji sat again on the bed. This time, Aki drew his legs up, making room for Denji. He waited expectantly for Denji to start talking.

“It’s just..” Denji was glad, suddenly, for the awkward configuration on the bed. Looking at Aki in the eye felt too intense. “You know. I was thinking about…” He took a breath, and said in a  burst, “Aki, you’re gay, right?”

The silence suddenly got a lot thicker. Denji could feel the way Aki stared into the side of his head with a new, unwelcome intensity. When he talked, there was a beginning of an aggravated edge to his voice. “Did you wake me up at three in the morning to ask me why I’m gay?”

“No,” Denji said defensively. “It’s just— I’m trying to understand something, okay.”

“Why..” Aki stopped, and ran a hand over his face. He tried again, voice mechanically even. “Why do you think I’m gay?”

This, at least, was an easy one. “Your ears,” Denji said. And he pointed at Aki’s ear, where normally, black stud earrings would poke out from behind his bangs. “They’re both pierced, so like… One of them’s gotta be the gay one, right.”

Aki’s face was beginning to sour at his usual impressive rate. Unusually, though, he made an effort to contain it— to keep his bad mood from running off the edges of his face into the rest of the house. “We can unpack that later,” he said. “What’s your point?”

Denji wasn’t sure, was the thing. He wasn’t sure what his point was— only that there was this unknown thing lurking in the base of his stomach, something he didn’t know was good or not. He tilted his head back to look at the ceiling, like the answer was living up there. “It’s just…” He stopped. “You really don’t care about tits?”

There was a long silence, punctuated only by low buzz of Aki’s desk lamp. “You care about tits,” Aki said finally, “an unusual amount.”

“Fuck,” Denji said. He rubbed one arm over his eyes. “I know you think it’s stupid, okay. It’s...” He didn’t know. He didn’t know what it was.

Aki’s head tilted, just a little— the lamp shadowing the way he squinted at Denji. But then, he said, voice slow, ponderous: “are you thinking you don’t care about tits? And that…” He raised his eyebrow, leaving the connection for Denji to make.

“I’m not gay,” Denji said, voice definitive.

Aki didn’t argue this point. He nodded, willing to accept it without trouble. “But there’s something else about it that bothers you,” he said.  “Like…” He paused, slowly feeling out his words. “That you think what you want about them— might not be normal?”

They were statements of fact, made carefully— Aki watching his reaction between every minute word. So Denji knew that he saw the way his shoulders shriveled, inching away from whatever Aki was arriving to. “I don’t wanna talk about this anymore,” he mumbled.

“Why not?”

Denji stared down at his hands. His hands, resting on his legs, and the curve of his stomach against his boxers. “When all those assassins were coming after me,” he said finally. “One of them said… That some things you’re just better not knowing about. So, maybe it’s one of those things.”

Aki considered. “I suppose that can be true in some cases,” he allowed. “But I’d rather know the truth, however painful. …And I don’t think it really is one of those things, this time.”

“So what do you think it is?” Denji challenged him, finally turning his head to look Aki in the eye. “You’ve got something in mind, right? You wouldn’t have said something like that otherwise.”

“Not really.”

Denji couldn’t make out Aki’s face clearly in the dark, so it was hard to tell if he was lying. “Yeah, right,” he said. And he looked away again.

It was a while before Aki responded. Before he said anything, he shifted to be sitting next to Denji— legs close together, the ghost of his empty sleeve batting against Denji’s arm. Denji chanced a look at him, out of the corner of his eyes, but Aki wasn’t meeting his eyes either. He was just looking at some point on the wall. Reflecting.

“Some things you might be better off knowing,” Aki said. “Some things maybe you shouldn’t. But I don’t think it’s wrong to want to get to know yourself better… Even if it’s uncomfortable in the meantime.”

“You do have something in mind,” Denji mumbled.

Aki paused again. “Only based off of what you told me,” he said, voice light. “What you asked me.”

Denji’s vision swam. He squeezed his eyes shut, insistent on blocking out whatever he was feeling, and however Aki was looking at him. “It really doesn’t matter,” he said again, because maybe if he kept saying it it would be true.

The bed creaked, and he felt the mattress rise underneath him as Aki stood. Denji dared to open his eyes to watch him move. Aki was turning to face Denji, so he could use his one remaining arm to push him down to the bed— gently, one hand firm on his shoulder. Denji didn’t fight. He let his body sag, until his head was resting against one of Aki’s lumpy pillows. His eyes kept prickling, so laying down was probably a bad idea. Whatever was burning behind his eyes only got worse the gentler Aki was.

But then, mercifully, Aki turned the lamp off, dropping them both into darkness. He went around to the far side of the bed, and laid next to Denji, a tiny sigh bursting out from behind his lips. Denji felt his throat click.

Aki’s arm cuffed around his head, almost cradling him in the crook of his elbow. “We don’t have to talk about it anymore, if you don’t want to,” he said. “It’s fine if it takes you time to figure it out.”

Denji wanted to protest more. To say that really, there was nothing to figure out, and that Denji was just making a big deal out of nothing. Power had said and done some weird Power shit, and that was all. He could get over it. But at this point, that felt even stupider. So Denji swallowed, and nodded. He didn’t trust his voice anymore, so Aki’s only answer would have to be the way the back of Denji’s neck shifted against his wrist.

Aki didn’t say anything else, only laid against him in the dark, a silent, still presence. Denji drew in breaths until his heart calmed, until he could trust himself to speak. “Should check on Power,” he muttered. “She still gets nightmares sometimes… ‘Specially if she wakes up alone.”

“Right,” Aki murmured. “I can go look— you don’t have to get up.”

“Nah,” Denji said, and he started to sit up.

Before he could get further than his elbows, though, a heavy, furry weight thudded into Denji’s chest. Meowy sank heavily against him, like a furry rock pinning him to the bed.

Denji swore, and in response, Power’s cat meowed in his face. “God, your breath stinks,” he muttered.

“What are you both doing in here?” The vague outline of Power’s body lingered in Aki’s doorway, like a horror movie monster.  If a horror movie monster refused to eat vegetables or brush her teeth. “You left me alone, Denji.”

Denji grumbled, still trying to move the cat. “What’s it look like we’re doing? We’re sleeping. And you defeated the Darkness Devil, so it’s fine, right? Nothing bad’s gonna happen. You’re too tough.”

“Not important!” She stepped into the room and the bare sliver of moonlight coming through Aki’s balcony. It made her face white, almost gleaming with sweat. “I knew Meowy wouldn’t leave me for no reason. You two are too weak and pathetic to be left alone! Very good work, Meowy.” She crossed the room to crawl into bed next to them, pressing up against Denji in an insistent effort to fit.

Denji grumbled in protest, but there wasn’t any stopping her— in a matter of seconds she was insistently pretzeled next to him.

“Thanks for watching out for us, Power,” Aki murmured. “Good job.”

He was already falling back asleep. Which was really pretty annoying, because Aki’s bed really wasn’t big enough for the three of them. But if Denji wanted to move, he’d have to drag all of them with him and he just didn’t want to deal with that. So he sighed and wriggled over, making room for Power by jamming himself against Aki’s shoulder.

Meowy slid off his chest like a heavy ooze, landing between him and Power on the crook of his shoulder. Power curled happily around the cat, one arm catching around it to drape across Denji’s chest.

And then, they were asleep again, with just Denji awake. Watching the dawn light start to crawl across the ceiling.

Sometimes, when he was stuck on shit like this, he started to wonder if he had been better off when it was just him and Pochita. Even if he didn’t have money and food, it was less complicated. He didn’t have time to think about things like tits, because he was too busy trying to pay rent, and the bills, and feed him and Pochita. It was harder, but also way, way fucking easier.

Right now, though, it was okay. Denji could stand thinking a little more, if it was like this.

He let his eyes close. This time, he fell asleep.