#but it also causes me pains from many angles and it’s just. ugh. I don’t know

[higgs-the-god]

Hnng

[i-will-change-this-someday]

I saw a post recently about how people treat Jonah/Elias like he’s way more evil than all the other avatars, and I completely agree that he’s not. He is however, hateable in a way many can relate to hating.

(This ended up way longer than I thought it would, so I’m going to put the rest under the cut)

Pretty sure most people aren’t able to relate to “yeah, this guy ripped my ribs out of my chest” or “that woman engulfed my hand in flames” or even “that’s the clown that murdered my brother.”

They can relate to “ugh, yeah that’s my creepy boss” or “yeah, that person has gaslit me and tried to manipulate me on multiple occasions” or even just “that bastard, he’s always so smug, like he knows something I don’t.”

There is also of course the fact that his evil plan actually worked, so he seems more evil cause he actually succeeded in the whole apocalypse thing. And of course most of his evil actions we see had a very direct impact on the characters we all know and love.

But no, he’s not more evil than most of the other avatars, I think people just forget the other, more mundane, things to hate about other avatars.

Jared was a bully. Mike Crew had no care for the people who died in his search for an escape. Jane was a toxic friend. Jude enjoyed watching people’s lives collapse. These were things about them before they became avatars.

Also, I don’t think people are as sympathetic as they could be to Jonah. (I am NOT excusing his actions, just hear me out.)

I would say one of the most sympathetic avatars (not counting Jon) is Michael, he was sacrificed to The Spiral without ever truly knowing what was happening. (Although, he’s not really Michael Shelly after that, so you could argue Michael Shelly was never an avatar, but that’s a post for another time.)

We get Annabelle Cane’s statement but it’s vague on whether or not it was true. Personally I do think it’s true, it was a statement and I don’t think you can lie during statements, so she also has a sympathetic angle.

Mike Crew got chased by something and was forced to become an avatar just to escape it. Oliver Banks just wanted to sleep. Jane was scared and looking for love. Simon Fairchild, if I remember correctly, just loved the sky. Even Peter Lukas arguably didn’t have a choice in becoming an avatar. (I honestly don’t really remember Jared and Jude’s story and don’t care to check right now)

So many other characters get, at least some, reasons to be sympathetic or understand where they’re coming from, but Jonah doesn’t. All the old statements are of people Jonah is hurting or has stood by as they got hurt. We don’t get a statement really telling us how he became who we see today. (Not counting the fact that we do see how he “became” Elias Bouchard, via eye swap.) The most we get is his statement in ep 160, but even that’s a very brief mention to what drove him to such extremes.

So anyway, now I have some headcanons as to Jonah’s life when he was still Jonah Magnus. As corny and tragic as it sounds, I do think Jonah probably watched his family die, and not all at the same time, I think he would have seen his family die in a lot of various ways.

I think he watched his mother die from childbirth, I think he probably had some siblings that died before they were even a day old, I think what siblings he did have were away when their father died, leaving him alone with his father’s corpse, I think he probably caused the death of some of them and the guilt of that faded away to the back of his mind. And I don’t think it stopped at his family, death seemed to follow him, or at least everyone around him, his friends and colleagues, his family, even just the mere acquaintances he made during his research.

I think as the ones around him died they were all in pain, but he wasn’t, he watched with morbid curiosity as people died, saw the agony they were in and feared it. And so, what was he to do but try to best it, to avoid the suffering that everyone around him seemed to accept as inevitable.

[steve0discusses]

S5 Ep 39 Part 2: Baby Pharaoh

My memory is something like tossed coleslaw at the moment with my on-and-off again long covid fatigue, but I’m pretty sure last we left off, Yugi and co were looking for Pharaoh, who as I’ve mentioned several times now, has fallen down a hole and can’t get up.

Alongside the Nile they have stumbled into Mana (man I hope that’s her name, it’s been so long since I’ve done a regular update, if her name is like Arkansas or whatever, I will not know, that’s just where we are. Bro who fact checks and spell check’s this blog was like “I dunno, sounds right? I’m not looking it up.”)

Whatever her name is, Mana is living her best life on this background that is askew just enough to cause me pain.

That horizon is killing me. I don’t recall exactly, but I’m pretty sure the bg was not supposed to be at an angle. Ugh, suffering.

(read more under the cut, assuming that tumblr still uses cuts? Pretty sure it auto-shortens my posts but I’ll still put cuts in for legacy users)

Anyway, this girl is a card as well as a magical person, so unlike all the other NPCs in Egypt, she gets the opportunity to set her eyes on 20th century people and be like “wtf are you assholes wearing?”

Rather than convince Mana that Yugi is the Pharaoh and see where this plot line goes, Joey says, “Isn’t that Pharaohs’ royal purple cloak like right over there? This cloak that probably costs in today’s money like 5 billion dollars because he’s a literal Pharaoh and wears an entire dowry on his ear lobes?” and Mana is like--”Oh shoot. Weird I did not notice that when I was so fixated on the fish.”

And so Mana has decided to join Yugi and Co because she is very much just here for the ride and also any information on how to run into her kind of sort of whatever the hell relationship is between her and Pharaoh. This makes sense to me, honestly, this was how I navigated all of college. You end up at a lot of weird parties doing this, but you’d be surprised how many people will ask you to just join their crew if you happen to be walking the same direction and know one person in common.

Bro came up with that pun and he’s extremely proud of it.

Again, rip the horse from last episode, at some point an alligator must’ve gotten to him (or the fall made him explode into little pieces, don’t worry about it). But we find Pharaoh in this cave, just out of sight of anyone who would actually be able to spot him.

Perhaps he’s doing this to stay out of the heat, but it’s also very likely that he’s just very embarrassed for that huge L he took falling down that hole and would like to just vibe out in a cave for a bit and contemplate his earliest memories.

To go from the man who remembers nothing to remembering yourself as a baby who gets his ass wiped 7 times a day.

Memory is freakin wild to Pharaoh.

I know this is a lot of caps of Pharaoh as a baby but that is a WEIRD ASS BABY. Also kinda cute but the baby is WEIRD.

Peak Renesmee energy, this old ass child.

Covered in tears, a preteen Yami is dragged to a tomb somewhere in Egypt, as if to scope out his future abode that he absolutely will not be buried in because he does, in fact, get smooshed into a puzzle.

And seeing a wonderful opportunity he immediately topples into it.

name a more iconic duo than Yugioh and ledges.

After walking down this long pit, we come to take part in some sort of Ancient Egyptian gods ceremony. Which is fascinating, because it’s not too, too often in this show that we reference the Egyptian gods outside of what is in the cards that Marik plays. But these are like the literal gods, not the fancy cards.

I have no idea if this is referencing an actual ceremony we know about or an actual mural that we have in some tomb in Egypt in real life. but I’m gonna guess this is probably not 100% historically accurate.

I have since been informed it is Kul Elna and not Kel Elna but I am not bothered enough to fix the cap.

Or this one.

Death count according to my google doc is 7,805,847,571 by the way. Originally I thought there were 700 people in Kul Elna. But thousands infer at least 1300 more so lets add another 2K just to round it off.

Says a lot when I’m like “eh give or take 700 deaths it makes like no difference to the number.”

A nice shot for anyone that wants to do an anime panel redraw for that meme (do people still do that meme? I have avoided art twitter rather successfully lately so I’m blessed to no longer have to draw memes. Unfortunately I’m still on webcomic twitter but that’s just a place where people get viral by complaining, so I don’t have to draw nearly as much promotional material. It kinda rocks.)

I really should not have laughed while watching this part of the episode but that realization that Pharaoh was trapped in a necklace anyway, and then this immediately following it was quite a funny jump cut.

And then he was gone.

so like.........

.......no backstory on Hassad, I guess? He’s just a guy who is wearing/is literally a millennium item and is currently depicted in a tablet?

I don’t even know where that backstory would go, it would have to be between Dartz and when the millennium items were forged out of the millennium stone. Or maybe he’s just a card? I dunno. But that guy jumped out of no where, just a brand new millennium item and now he’s gone.

My brother cannot tell the difference between Tahoma and Papyrus so hopefully it’s clear that Tea talks in Tahoma and Mana in Papyrus fonts. Unfortunately, they...have the same font color because I never initially thought they’d be on the same screen.

At this point, they run into Pharaoh, and Mana pretended like she knew that Pharaoh fell down a hole the whole time and that she didn’t spend half her day fishing.

Bro was like “Can you imagine trying to explain America to Mana?” and it sure was food for thought.

So, that’s all for this episode, in the next we shall find out how many more holes we can throw all our characters down. Which honestly is just Writing 101 when you think about it. As in Writing 101 the class, not 101 holes. Sorry I have a hard time reading and writing with long covid, although I still like to do it, so if parts of this are like incomprehensible, I’ll fix it in post. Like that joke just now. No idea if it made sense but we’re going to print it because I want to move on to the next episode.

And as always, to read these in chrono order from the very beginning when I had more than 3 operating brain cells, you can use this link here:

https://steve0discusses.tumblr.com/tagged/yugioh/chrono

[jacensolodjo]

Vi/Cait fic 1927 words. 18+ Explicit | Read also on AO3

Note: Given head canons I’ve finally settled on, Cait is a transwoman while Vi is genderqueer (explaining the constant ‘swapping’ of pronouns from she to they and back again). No I don’t take criticism and if you tag as ‘futa’ I will block you.

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

Caitlyn was vaguely aware of a low pitched whining sound, almost similar to how someone in considerable pain would sound like. But she knew better. She knew the noise came from her muscle-bound partner. 

“You can’t literally die from boredom,” Caitlyn chided without looking away from her paperwork. 

“How do you know? I’m sure loads of people have done it,” Vi said, indignant. And then went right back to whining, changing pitch just enough to sound more like someone suffering a stomach ache. 

“It is just a saying, Vi. Now hush. The more you distract me the longer this is going to take,” Caitlyn said, matter-of-factly. 

Vi harrumphed before dramatically collapsing on one side of the couch. Caitlyn sat on the opposite side, one ankle resting on top of the opposite knee in order to prop up her paperwork as she went through the reports for the past week. Reports which Vi should be doing, too, but Caitlyn knew better about that, too. If she didn’t do them, Vi certainly wasn’t going to have any paperwork submitted. 

Vi slowly inched and wiggled her way across the couch until she was butting her head up against Caitlyn’s hip. Caitlyn grunted from the impact then looked down to see an innocent little grin playing on Vi’s scarred features. 

“You are not putting your head in my lap. It’s occupied,” Caitlyn said. She knew all of Vi’s tricks. If Vi didn't convince her to put the paperwork aside, she tried to rest her head in the woman's lap and pretend to nap but would instead discretely nudge her skull into Caitlyn's groin. The worst part is it almost always worked, no matter how many times it had happened. But this time Caitlyn was putting her foot down, metaphorically.

Vi made a disgusted 'ugh' noise then sat up. She ran fingers through pink locks, and if the movement was meant to flatten it did a terrible job. In fact it made things worse. Caitlyn watched out of her peripheral and almost gave herself away but managed to tamp down any remarks at the last moment.

"You know if you're this bored you do have paperwork that has been neglected for eleven days," Caitlyn pointed out even though she knew damn well that Vi would wave away the suggestion.

She wasn't disappointed as Vi made a face then shook their head.

"Doing paperwork is even more boring than watching you fill it out," Vi said, frowning.

Caitlyn rolled her eyes then went back to the paperwork. Vi pouted, bottom lip out and everything. She flopped back down onto her back, staring up at the ceiling. After a few moments, she reached up and clumsily brushed her palm along Cait's jaw. The woman was all angles, compared to Vi's rounder chin and strong jaw. Vi adored it though. Their fingers then stroked down a throat that had the slightest of bumps around the mid point. Cait paused in her work. That was new... but, dammit, she couldn't let Vi win. Vi kept smiling, as if they weren't actively distracting the woman.

"You're gorgeous," Vi said, almost sounding breathless. Damn, the compliment stage.

"Thank you, now please hush before I send you packing to the Void," Cait said, but failing to sound at all stern.

Fingers traced jugular then carotid before barely grazing the woman's jaw. They deftly tucked a few loose strands of blue hair behind Cait's ear.

"Cait," Vi whined, shifting on the couch until she could nuzzle her nose into the spot on the woman where neck and shoulder met. It caused Cait to accidentally blotch the part of the paperwork she was working on. She let out an exasperated sigh along with an admonishing "Vi!"

Vi ignored her name being called in an annoyed voice. Instead they pushed up Cait's shirt then licked teasingly along lower abdomen near the belly button. Cait gasped and nearly dropped her paperwork. Shit!

"C'mon, Cait, give me like, twenty minutes," Vi begged before swirling their tongue right at the waistband of Cait's pants. Fingers tucked inside of the pants, pulling on them with insistence.

"If I do, then will you leave me alone so I can finish?" Cait asked finally. Vi was grinning wide enough for sharp canine teeth to flash.

"Yes," she replied after pretending to think about it.

Cait reluctantly put her paperwork on the table next to the couch.

Flush with excitement, Vi undid their pants and kicked them off onto the floor. Underwear followed. They then scrambled down until they were on their knees facing the woman.

Cait gasped, fingers squeezing the couch cushions, as Vi unzipped the woman. With a wide eyed smile, Vi delicately untucked their lover. Cait let out a slow breath at her length seeing the light of day. Her left hand groped on the table next to the couch before finding the small clock there. Once she got a firm grip she picked it up then peered at it through half lidded eyes. She fumbled with the controls but managed to set the timer for the right limit then dropped it back on the table.

Carefully, reverently, Vi's fingers traced the length. They loved the thick length, especially when it was reaming them out. They experimentally licked from tip to balls. Cait gasped and a hand darted out to snatch Vi by the hair. Vi smirked against tightening flesh then reached a hand up to grope a palm sized breast, enjoying the squeak of surprise from Cait.

Soon, Vi's mouth was enveloping the length and they were balancing on the balls of their bare feet as they crouched between twin knees.

Vi sucked on the tip, swirling their tongue along the slit. Cait's breathing turned erratic. Vi smirked, her hands rubbing along slender hips and thighs. Then they pulled their mouth off to instead rub it with their left hand. They looked up at Cait in time to see her mouth drop open and gasp for air. Once the length was hard and pointing up, Vi stopped their stroking.

"Ready?" Vi asked, as their free hand dropped between their own legs to gauge their wetness. Deciding they weren't slicked up enough, they produced a squeeze bottle of lube, which had been pressed into the rear couch cushions from an earlier morning romp, that they applied to their entrance then rubbed the remainder on their hand onto Cait.

"Yes," Cait said, barely more than a raspy whisper. She cleared her throat and tried again. "Yes, Vi. More than ready."

Grinning wildly, Vi climbed to her feet. Then it wasn't long for her to clamber onto Cait's lap, spreading some of their juices onto Cait's legs. With a low grunt, they climbed further to put their knees on either side of Cait's pelvis before lowering down very carefully. She let out a strangled howl of pleasure as the length speared her deep.

Vi put their arms around Cait's neck then leaned over to kiss her, sloppily and full of need. Their hips rolled, forcing a gasp to fill their mouth from Caitlyn's. They smirked, tangling fingers in long blue locks as they pressed in hard almost enough to bruise.

They rose up on knees, rolling their lower body again in a gorgeous wave that seemed almost impossible to do. Caitlyn moaned, eyes sliding closed then arms grasping around Vi's middle, bending at a 90* angle to scratch nails along their back, starting at the shoulder blades. Vi groaned in surprise and gave yet another roll, forcing Cait's nails to dig in deeper, nearly breaking the skin rather than just forming angry red furrows.

"You're such a brat," Cait muttered against Vi's smirking lips.

"You love it," Vi returned with a roguish wink. Cait hated it that Vi was right.

"You know what is gonna happen when I'm done with work," Cait murmured in between Vi's piston motions of rising up then dropping back down onto Cait's click.

Vi let out a soft snicker, tightening their grip in Cait's hair, slightly scratching her nape.

"Yeah. Lookin' forward to it."

Vi's head dropped down until their forehead connected with Cait's. Breathing became labored and hips rolled desperately. Desire roiled in the pair's guts.

Vi toppled over the edge into bliss first, crying out as loud as her lungs would allow which was shockingly loud and Cait always worried the neighbors would call the Enforcers for disturbing the peace.

Feeling Vi's pleasure erupt around her length soon had Cait tumbling into bliss as well. She buried her face into the hollow of Vi's throat as she cried out, higher pitched than Vi's. The brawler gave a second cry as Cait filled them to bursting. It sent another cascade of pleasure through them and a smaller orgasm crashed through. Which gave Cait an aftershock orgasm herself, raking nails down Vi's back and actually drawing tiny beads of blood at random places along the lines.

They both worked to draw out the orgasms as long as possible, with Vi rocking almost desperately. Eventually, a mere couple minutes further, Vi collapsed against Cait and struggled for breath. Muscles spasmed along their back, making them hiss slightly as the ripples stretched scratched up skin. They didn't mind the pain and almost desired it as bad as the pure pleasure.

Once Vi was certain they weren't going to slip and fall, they pulled themself off of Cait's damp length then sat down on Cait's lap proper, slit pressed to scrotum and length touching anus.

"You're so bad," Cait said with a raspy chuckle.

"Hm, then arrest me, officer," Vi joked, eyes the color of concrete twinkling with mirth.

"I just might!" Cait argued with a stern frown. She couldn't keep it going though, eventually sliding into a smile.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah! You deserve to be cuffed and sentenced to physical labor in my bedroom," Cait teased.

"I'm grounded; go to your room?" Vi asked, smirking.

"You bet, Vi. Such a naughty one," Cait said, leaning in to kiss them.

"Caitlyn Kiramman, lover of bad bois," Vi chuckled. They then licked along Cait's jawline.

"Mm. Just the one criminal in my arms is enough," Cait admitted, tenderly kissing Vi's smirking lips, tongue brushing along the scar there on the top lip.

Almost silver caught sapphire. Vi bit on their lower lip, capturing Cait's face in calloused palms. Tenderly, they kissed Cait with all their might. Cait was leaning into it and worrying about getting started up again when the alarm on the table began going off.

Vi leaned back with a whining groan, eyes rolling up to the ceiling.

"You know the rules," Cait tutted.

"Yeah, yeah," Vi sighed and grumbled as she climbed off of Cait entirely. She gathered her clothes back up in her arms then sat to pull everything back on.

"Just give me one more hour to finish this up, okay?" Cait asked, leaning over to cup Vi's cheek in one palm, eyes peering lovingly into the other's.

"By which you actually mean closer to three hours cause you'll spend time reading everything through three times, and check my stuff too, right?" It wasn't said in a snotty way, just slightly petulant.

Cait offered an indulgent smile then kissed her lover tenderly. "Right."

Cait chuckled before returning to her paperwork while Vi wandered off to find something to entertain them for a couple more hours that wasn't just bugging Cait.

[naralanis]

little bumps in the road (pt. 26)

Previously, on LBitR...

Lena has never given much thought to what happens after death.

She’s heard all about feeling cold—she’s felt that cold, more than once. She’s heard all about darkness—which she has seen, but not exactly in a near-death context. She’s also heard all about the light.

She does see that—not exactly a light she has to follow or whatever it is people see when they die, but a blinding expanse of white, as far as her eyes can see, though a little fuzzy, darker around the edges of her vision.

Considering the way she went out, Lena’s very surprised she doesn’t see any green.

Green. Kryptonite.

Kara.

Something that feels like a sob wrenches itself out of her chest by force. That dumb, stupid, idiotic Kryptonian—if Lena’s dead, then Kara is for sure—how dare she—

“Lena?”

The voice is familiar, and close; physically close, something that Lena didn’t think was possibly in this ethereal, post-death realm. Lena turns her head and realizes that, despite the brightness of the light she’s seeing, her eyes are most definitely closed.

Huh.

She opens them, then blinks, because the only difference seems to be… a lot of fuzzy shapes.

“Lena?” the voice calls to her again, closer still.

“Eugh…” is Lena’s less-than-eloquent reply. She could have done worse; her throat constricts painfully around something, and it’s like she’s pulling air the wrong way in, which causes a coughing fit that rattles her to the bone.

“Hey, hey, it’s OK, take your time,” the voice continues, and Lena knows that voice, but right now her brain feels like actual Jell-O sloshing around in her skull, and her entire body lights up with pain, so it’s understandably taking her a little while to get her bearings.

She blinks the crust out of her eyes; the speaking blob at her side begins to take shape and look like a person.

“Lena, don’t worry. You’re alright, you’re at the DEO. You’re hurt, but we could take the implant out—there will be an adjustment period, but you’re alright.” The voice explains, and Lena finally, finally places it.

“Agh… ah—ugh… L-lex?” she tries; her tongue feels like a wad of cotton in her mouth, and her throat is just burning.

The voice grows soothing. “We got him, Lena, don’t worry, we got—”

Lena shakes her head, which is a terrible decision—there is s sharp jolt of pain that shoots down her temple and settles all the way at the base of her spine; it makes her clench her teeth, which in turn just worsens the throbbing in her head.

She attempts to raise a hand; that fails when another painful shock travels from her shoulder across her collarbones. Lena groans in frustration, she needs to ger her words out, but it’s like her entire body has decided to call it quits.

Finally, she manages.

“Ah-Alex… Alex?”

The figure releases a breathless little laugh, and a reassuring hand comes to rest very gently at Lena’s shoulder.

“It’s me, Lena. I’m alright, you’re alright. Rest now, OK? Your meds will be kicking in again any time.”

Lena is equal parts relieved and panicked; there’s the obvious relief that comes with the knowledge that Alex is fine and right here next to her. But the agent doesn’t say a word about her sister, and that fills Lena with a dread she cannot express in her condition; especially now, as her lids grow heavier by the second, as her body sinks into an undoubtedly double-padded mattress.

“K—K..agh…” she tries, needing to know that Kara is alright, that she’s alive, because if Lena made it, Kara has to be alive. The alternative is unthinkable.

She manages another unintelligible gurgle before the meds do kick in, and then she’s out like a light.

Lena dreams.

This time, she does see green—a lot of it as the entire space of her LuthorCorp office is awash in the glow of the fully-armed Kryptonite cannons, and when Supergirl—Kara—lowers herself onto her balcony, Lena realizes this is not a dream at all.

It’s a memory.

She watches Kara raise her arms in surrender, sees the crinkle of confusion on her brow as the Kryptonian stares at her as if she’s seeing someone else entirely.

Lena watches her fall once she’s hit by what was meant to be a lethal dose of Kryptonite.

The memory shifts.

They’re in the Jeep, this time. It’s the dead of night and Kara’s in the driver’s seat, hair cropped short—Christ, Lena had forgotten just how short it was during those first couple of weeks. Kara’s driving, but she’s not looking at the road—no, in this snippet of reality, she’s staring straight at Lena, her gaunt, pale complexion fixated on her passenger. She looks perplexed, but also, inexplicably, relieved.

The memories keep shifting—they’re at the diner where they finally spoke to one another again, then they’re at a gas station, a phone booth, on and on and on—until everything seems to move and merge into a blur of colours, shapes, and sounds. It’s a convoluted, puzzling mental kaleidoscope, but surprisingly, Lena finds it remarkably easy to make sense of it all.

After all, how could she not? These are her memories. She’s lived through it all before.

Lena blinks into awareness slowly, this time. Her dream—or actual trip down memory lane—fades away softly, giving way to the soothing darkness of eyes gently closed for sleep.

There’s warmth at her side, and movement, too. It’s the up-and-down, in-and-out steady rhythm of deep breathing.

Lena instinctively tucks into the warmth and feels it in a solid, unmovable presence on her bed. She blinks once, twice, registers the lower lighting of her room, the tell-tale beeping of hospital equipment…and a very warm Kryptonian, glued to her side, squeezed so tight into the MedBay bed she cannot be comfortable.

Lena shifts—she needs to get a better look, needs to touch, to make sure she’s not dreaming, that her mind (which hasn’t been extremely reliable as of late) isn’t playing a cruel trick on her.

When she moves, blue eyes rimmed by dark circles snap open; they crinkle at the corners with a smile as they meet Lena’s gaze head on, and Lena releases a breath of pure relief.

“Hey,” Kara murmurs, her voice a soft breath ghosting over Lena’s cheeks since they’re only inches apart.

Lena can’t really help it; the tears are running down her cheeks before she realizes she’s crying, and she breathes in through sniffles as she reaches out to touch Kara’s face.

She’s there, inches away, warm and soft, and alive, and Lena lets the sobs rip through her chest. Her breaths are short little stuttering gasps, really, and she can’t stop smiling.

“Hey,” she whispers back, leaning into the warmth of Kara’s touch once the Kryptonian delicately wipes at her tears with her thumb. Her hand stays there, cradling Lena’s face as they smile like idiots after one-too-many near-death experiences.

“I have to admit,” Kara says after some time, smile unwavering and bright despite the pallor of her features, “that wasn’t the reaction I was expecting.”

Lena chuckles—she does so lightly, since her ribs (most likely broken) protest at the slightest movement. “What, crying?” she asks. She can’t really move her arms, or really anything at all, so she settles for slightly craning her neck, leaning further into the hand Kara has kept in place at her tear-stained cheek.

Kara just nods, laughing a little. There’s a warm yellow hue around them—Lena surmises someone probably moved a sunlamp to her bed once Kara invited herself in—and it makes Kara’s hair, growing at awkward, adorable angles, glow golden and beautiful.

Lena soaks it all in.

“Is this real?” she can’t help but ask. She doesn’t think she would survive another trick of the mind, especially one so cruel.

Kara shifts on the thin mattress, impossibly closer, body practically melding along Lena’s. She’s still smiling, and there’s such certainty in her gaze, Lena practically melts with relief before Kara can even reassure her.

“Yes,” Kara says. “I have to admit the details are a little bit fuzzy,” she raises her arm with some difficulty to poke playfully at her own head, “but it seems I uh, ripped the Lexosuit apart and tossed it just before it exploded.”

Lena furrows her brows, trying to remember. All she can recall was the countdown clock and the split-second feeling of weightlessness before she began falling to the earth once the suit powered down.

“And then?”

Kara shrugs—Lena notices how her movements are stilted, like moving pains her, and wonders just how close to dying Kara had been. Again. “As far as I know, J’onn got to you in the nick of time.”

Lena narrows her eyes. “And you?”

Kara looks sheepish. “I uh. Hit the pavement.”

It’s said so… matter-of-factly, so casual and off-hand. It wrenches another sob right out of Lena, and her ribs ache in protest, but all she can think is Kara falling again, crumpling limply onto the pavement again, being on the brink of death again, and she can’t—Lena can’t cope with the image at all.

“Hey, hey, no, it’s OK,” Kara moves in, ready to calm and soothe, wiping at Lena’s tears with both hands. Her lips find Lena’s forehead, and while the gesture is entirely unprecedented, it has the desired effect—Lena’s body instinctively relaxes, and her sobs begin to abate. “I’m here,” Kara says, lips still on Lena’s skin, “Good as new, I promise.”

Lena doesn’t believe that for one second—there’s an unhealthy pallor to Kara’s complexion that tells her she still has a lot of time to spend under the sunlamps, and Lena can tell just how much it hurts for the Kryptonian to move. She bets there are slow-healing bruises all over her skin under the DEO-issue henley and sweats.

Though—she considers as her own body twinges with pains she hasn’t yet had the mental fortitude or will to catalogue in their entirety—she supposes she also has a long way to go as well.

“How long have we been out?”

“A few days,” Kara replies, chin resting atop Lena’s head and showing no inclination of moving. Good. “I just woke up a few hours ago.”

Lena grins. “And then the first thing you did was come to crowd my space while I recovered?”

Kara laughs. “Of course not. I went to pee first.”

It’s worth the twinges in her ribcage to chuckle a little. Lena lets out as deep a sigh as her injuries will allow, and her breathing adjusts to follow the steady rise-and-fall of Kara’s chest, still melded to her side.

“So, what now?”

Kara’s sigh is deep, and when she speaks, her voice grows heavier with sleep by the word. She’s probably exhausted and just about ready to conk out.

Lena thinks she’s got the right idea.

“Well,” the Kryptonian murmurs, voice so soft Lena has to strain to hear over the faint hum of hospital machinery surrounding them. “Nia caught Lex—gave him a good ol’ trashing, from what I hear. Uh, your name’s been cleared. LuthorCorp is yours, or will be after Lex’s trial—again. Supergirl is alive and back, sort of. Kara Danvers, meanwhile, is due to return from a mysterious illness… or something, I’m not sure what lie Nia made up at CatCo. Oh, and…”

Lena nods, barely processing Kara’s words. She’s just sinking into warmth, and Kara’s rambling in earnest now, and it feels so familiar. Comfortable, even here, cramped in this tiny MedBay cot.

Especially here.

Lena tucks further into Kara’s neck, and that stops Kara’s talking just enough for her to get a word in edgewise. “OK,” she whispers against Kara’s skin. “But for now… we just rest?”

She feels Kara’s slight nod, and Lena’s smile stretches wider while her eyes grow heavier. “Together?”

Another nod. Another whisper. “Together.”

<<<Previous||

That’s it! It’s done! Oof! Thank you all for humouring me in this wild, bumpy ride. All chapters (plus an epilogue!) will be posted on my AO3 within the next few days.

[reddeadreference]

Blog Progress Update (Travel Blog Style? #16)

I forgot to shave before passing out in the street… damn it.. 

Also I love (and hate) the idea that this guy just found me in the street and decided to DRAG me to the doctors (or maybe he just dragged me out of the middle of the road… cause he does try to get Arthur to wake up and the doc isn't far from where we fell over)

"Not good news" Yep here come the water works.

I made a gif, i’m sure there’s a bunch of these out there of this but I made one anyway..

I'm sure the game didn't think I would actually choose to leave the horses after taking the canoe up river and actually WALK all the way to the cave judging by how Arthur and Charles were yelling despite walking a foot apart. 

But guess what game, I just needed to take a long walk through spooky woods with my boy, the only guy (okay one of two cause John counts but he's not here right now) that has my damn back in this damn camp. 

It was actually rather relaxing… if I didn't think about where we're going or where we were or the fact that Arthur is DYING (I'm not okay)

Damn it the last mission in chapter 5 is just full of so many "oh shit" moments where I remember or hear a line that reminds me what's about to happen. Bringing Meredith home I almost started crying, hearing Molly I had to pause and take breath first… this game is so well done to provoke emotions like this even after years and knowing what’s coming

Oof and the music "I did… I told them!" And the music just gets so much darker and dramatic and UGH I don't like this pain. Yelling at my screen "no she didn't! She's drunk! Susan no!!!" DX but fuck man… she's so heartbroken she's lying so he'll shoot her and/or she's lying cause she knows it'll hurt him cause he’s hurt her… I hate it. 

The fact that Molly didn't get a fucking grave and that they didn't bury her but burned her… I know they didn't know… but she deserved better… and the fact that the chapter screen pops up on that image…

Chapter 6: loads in

Me: I hate it here...

Dutch is giving a speech… does he even realize NO ONE is looking at him. Like for his other speeches he had people stop and turn to look or walk over to listen… I think everyone has realized his speeches are just the same. He'd throw himself in the ground in their stead. Yeah, we got it Dutch…

Basically saying pick his side… dude there shouldn't be sides in the first place. You're a self fulfilling prophecy my man… 

Also seeing how the list in my “people” folder for camp stuff keeps getting shorter just HURTS

I am excited about doing Bronte's house's post. Dude has his fucking initials on his damn wallpaper xD

I think you can go inside it in Red Dead Online so I might go back for some more photos (it was very annoying to angle the shots I did take so bodies weren't in frame) if not I can just replay the mission.

Might have to see if I can go into the Mayor's house too cause the party doesn't really let you wander in there unless Luca is with you or you're sneaking

Apparently you have to use a wagon to get to the second floor then go through a window… well this’ll be interesting… just hope I don’t get a session with a lot of players in Saint Denis… ugh I wish it was like GTA V online where you have private lobbies. I hate going onto RDO alone cause I always run into assholes who just wanna kill npcs and players for fun. Well, I will ‘document’ my online adventure as Evangeline (my online OC) who looks like Ciri from Witcher 3 and her Missouri fox trotter Trevor.

Well I found a wagon immediately but it had an open back so i couldn’t climb onto it… now i’m waiting on the either side of a bridge for a good wagon… If i had a trader wagon that might work but I don't… wait... O_O Target acquired.

*Hacker voice* I’m in.

Obviously these photos won’t be as clear cause I can’t turn off blur on the 1st person view thing… Gonna do the same kinda thing I did with the Braithwaite manor post where there is a lil mini map to show which room it is. Gonna make a separate post for the garden in back… and honestly… probably have to make a separate post for each floor… I took a lot of photos...

So yeah that might be the next thing to come out cause I really wanna get that up.

[makeusfreefromthisfandom]

Pillow Fights (iwatobi)

A/n: enjoy some fluffy (literally) cuteness💓

Haru

Your footsteps quickly came to a halt as soft pellets of water made contact with your skin

Looking up at the darkening sky, you sighed, bracing yourself for the cold rain

“Just stay here for the night.”

Haru was right behind you, watching as the rain came trickling down, gradually turning into heavy downpour

You glanced back at the boy who refused to meet your gaze, already heading back inside

“You’ll catch a cold.”

While the two of you laid your futons, something had caught your eye, causing the corner of your lips to twitch up in a sly smile

You subtly reached for the man’s bare sides, his back towards you and unaware of the moments to come

“(Y/n) what are you-” Haru suddenly loses his composure, hunching over, control fleeting

The sound of his tiny giggles, so free and pure, left you in a momentary trance but only encouraged you more as you leaned in, Haru seeking refuge with only a pillow in his hand to shield him from your touch

It wasn’t exactly clear on who or what initiated the act, but soon your hands had also found themselves ahold of a pillow

“Y-y/n!! S-stop!” Haru, trying hard to catch his breath, eventually decided to fight back

The two of you, in the midst of laughter and pillows, gave out, falling to the floor and dazed by the overhead fan

As your breath studied, you realized the empty feeling in your stomach

“...I think I’m hungry.”

“There’s m-”

“Don’t say it.”

Makoto

“Awww baby, you didn’t have to do all this!”

A tray of your favorite snacks, drinks, and take out, gently placed near the lining of many pillows and throws, futons, and blankets

“It’s no big deal really, I was just excited to see you.” Makoto smiled, reassuring you with a chaste kiss on your forehead

Mamma Tachibana be raising him right

Settling down, Makoto raised the edge of the blanket, inviting you into his warmth

You gladly obliged, snuggling in close and welcoming his soft scent

It was nice to unwind after a long day~

However this was short lived as, unbeknownst to you, a set of twins had been scheming behind the frames of the kitchen wall, fluffy pillows clutched in their tiny hands

On the count of three, Ren and Ran smirked at each other, before dashing into the living room, where you and Makoto had been having a moment, and crashed

Before you knew it, pillows and throws were being flung into the air

“Ah! Ren! Ran! Stahh-Ahhh! The large man was tackled, getting caught under the ambush

You cheekily joined in, grabbing the pillow that was begging your back

“Not you too (y/n)-chan!”

The three of you showed no mercy, ganging up on poor Makoto

It was when you three pulled back did you realize your big mistake

Makoto face had gone dark, before suddenly pulling out his own pillow from behind and slowly advancing towards you

“All right...get back here you three...” your eyes widened as you stepped back, holding up a small cushion as your mere defense

Before you can turn around and bolt, a pillow is hurled at you, barely missing your shoulder as you duck and fling the tiny cushion at his knees

“It’s on (y/n)!”

Soon it’s a ruckus, all of you dashing around the room, whacking each other with pillows and throws.

You take this chance to slip away into a hallway, a mistake on your part as you were now cornered, catching a glimpse of a broad and tall shadow.

Your eyes widen and before you can react, you’re feet are no longer touching the ground as your lifted into the air

“H-hey! Makoto! Put me down!”

“Sorry,” placing tiny kisses all down your nape and shoulder

“Ewwww come on Ran.”

Nagisa

“Aww already!”

There’s no way you came over for a sleepover to actually sleep??

“Come onnnn!” Nagisa nagged you, whining and rolling over, wrapping himself like a little burrito to catch your attention

However, after a long week of constantly working, you wanted nothing more than to catch up on your much missed nights of sleep, which is why when you felt fingers poking your cheek, you furrowed your brows in annoyance and felt for the nearest object

In your case, a pillow

Oh what have you done

One things leads to another and now the two of you are at opposite sides of the room, with your own forts and flying fluffy projectiles

“This...is...what...you get for ruining my sleep!”

“Ahhh!”

Wake the whole neighborhood up typa beat

Ends with both you and Nagisa passed out on the floor

Rei

“Ugh Rei if I look at one more circle I’m gonna die!” My people who took geometry know the pain

You dramatically extend your arms, leaning back and falling off your chair with your tongue stuck out.

“(Y/n)-san” Rei sighed, rubbing his temples. You two had been sitting at his desk for hours now trying to understand the whole concept of circles with its lines, angles, secants, tangents, and a whole bunch of other bull you didn’t get

Stop trying Rei, they’re not going to get it

“Hmm by the way Rei...you still call me ‘san’” You sat up from your position, deep in thought

Rei arched an eyebrow at you, “well yes, it’s more formal and-”

“Call me ‘chan’” you looked at him blankly

“I-I” Rei stammered, his blush deepening by the second

You grabbed a pillow and lightly smacked his leg

“chan.”

“S-stop playing around! We need to finish-”

“chan!” You said again, whacking the pillow this time with a bit more force

“(Y/n)!”

Whack

“Alright...if that’s how you want to play...” Rei shifted his glasses up his nose, a mischievous smirk playing on his lips

He quickly snatched a nearby pillow, slowly advancing towards you, already mapping out and calculating your next moves

Ahem things quickly advance and the whole house becomes a -war zone-

Ends with you just giving Rei his victory as he laughs triumphantly, posing on piles of pillows and blankets, it’s only then he realizes the extensive mess of both of your actions

You pitch in, placing the pillows back in their designated spots and folding extra sheets and blankets before crashing onto his mattress

“We didn’t even get to finish that problem did we?”

“Sorry...” you mumbled, burying yourself in his chest, “I’m so...tired...can we try again tom...orrow...”

Rei chuckled, relishing your peaceful state and soft breaths

“Of course...(y/n)-chan”~

Taglist: @starbornecentral @enai-jigoku @allieturs @syrenblubs (let me know if you would like to be added or removed!)

[whump-town]

Lie to Me

Guess who's back on their shit?

Another cancer fic for you because there's something very weird about me that stays drawn to the idea of secretly being sick

Anyways

Warnings: well... cancer

Pairings: none? yet.

Supervisory Special Agent Hotchner has a certain reputation around the office. The BAU’s ghost, walking around in his leather dress shoes and fancy suits without so much as a groan from the old, torn tile beneath his feet or the muffled swish of the material of his slacks. You never know he’s there until he wants you to and by then it’s always too late. By luck of his poor hearing or his natural affinity for silence, nothing admitted in his silent presence ever graces his lips for a repeat. The secrets all die with him. He’s as loyal as a dog -- in ways that lead to natural gravitation. The reason why Penelope Garcia beams at him every time their paths cross, why she so eagerly rushes to match his pace. To just walk beside him and talk his ear off even though she knows her answers will come in the form of soft hums and furrowed brows. In other ways, it’s killed him. Left him to live the life of a lame dog, dragging his dying body away from them. Hoping to spare them the agony of his death.

Some things that people say about SSA Hotchner are true. He really does move like a ghost and it’s a thing of great mystery and annoyance. It’s cost Emily Prentiss numerous mugs but perhaps the flash of his smug crooked grin makes that worth the shattered cup at their feet (she wouldn’t agree with that statement). He’s made Derek Morgan nearly jump out of his skin, whirling around to attack whatever snuck up on him only to find Hotch frowning back at him. If asked, David Rossi will blame Hotch for 79% of the grey hairs on his head because he hadn’t even begun to go grey until he met Hotch.

He’s really not as scary as people make him out to be.

Penelope Garcia wishes everyone knew that. She wishes cadets looked at Hotch the way that they look at Derek and Spencer. As awe-inspiring giants, they crane their necks to look up to. Instead, they lower their eyes away from him. Whispering to one another about the rumors and the things that they have been told. They regard him as a lesson -- someone to measure their existence against. To know when to get out of the job. To know when they can no longer turn back.

He’d saved her when it seemed no one else in the world really looked at her. She’d watched him take her homemade pink stationary in his hands, held it delicately as he looked over what menial ideas she could think of. He’d looked at her kindly, not at all like the snobby FBI brat she assumed him to be, and shaken her hand, “Thank you, Miss Garcia.” For the months following her career change, he’d been too kind. Brought her lunch to her desk because she was too anxious to leave her office. Gave her advice about where to park and how to miss Strauss in the hallways.

As important as his approval is to her, his well-being is more important. So, no, she doesn’t turn away when she sees him on Saturday in the emergency room. He’s sleeping off a cocktail they’d given him, turns out it’s rather hard to place a catheter near the heart when it’s beating erratically. His anxiety had nearly caused him to be sick and so he’d agreed, finally, to let them give him something to calm him down. Which is where Garcia finds him, left arm cradled to his chest, too long limbs hanging off the stretcher, and breathing slow and steady through the oxygen canal under his nose. A precaution, that’s all, given the sedatives they’d doped him up with.

“Sir?”

The fingers in his left-hand twitch, flexing towards his palm and he grunts softly at the pain that the movement causes. Slowly, breathing hitching and his eyes fluttering open, he wakes up. He’d heard, vacantly, the hesitant “sir” from the end of the bed but he assumed it was a nurse. As his eyes rise up to search the room he’s surprised, entirely so that he thinks he’s hallucinating, to find Penelope.

“Are you okay?”

He’s still piecing together the last few hours but nods. Cracking open his dry lips he swallows thickly, trying to work his voice around the tightness in his throat. Dehydrated and still disoriented he reaches for the cup of water left for him but at the current angle that he’s laying at, he can’t get it. He clears his throat, sniffling, “can you, ugh--” He’s still looking at the cup, dazed to the point he can’t think of the words he means to say. Tired eyes look back at her, pleading silently that she understands.

Penelope nods, moving forward instinctively. She doesn’t look at him, at his dark blood dried to his arm. His hospital gown stopping just at the clear protective barrier between her and the port placed on the inside of his arm. “Here,” she whispers. She needs to be closer so he doesn’t have to stretch but can’t bring herself to be close. Not within his reach. Not so close that she can see the dark rings of sleepless nights carved under his eyes. Far enough away that the tremble in his hand is easily overlooked. So that he doesn’t seem as weak and frail as his voice sounds.

He sips the water, knows from too many mistakes not to drink too much just yet. “Why are you here?” He nearly sounds like himself, dark brows furrowed and voice taken its steady, deep rhythm back.

She looks over her shoulder, past the curtain pulled around them for the sake of privacy. “I, uhm, volunteer for a support group that meets every Saturday here at the hospital.” She points to the front desk, to a woman with curly hair pulled back in two ponytails. “I came downstairs to say hi to Mac and I saw you and I just…” Suddenly, realizes how she shouldn’t be here. That if he wanted comfort he’d have told them, or someone.

Wait. Stop.

That doesn’t matter. Hotch doesn’t know what’s good for him. Everyone knows that. So she made the right decision to come over here.

“You’re not driving yourself home, right?”

In her silent contemplation, he’d began to fall asleep again. The cup in his hand dangerously tipped and eyes held open by slow, deepening blinks.

“Hotch?” She touches his hand, flinching away at just how cold his skin is.

He cracks his eyes back open, cracks of soft brown iris finding her slowly. He hums, mouth cracked open.

“Will you let me take you home?”

Home. He hums again, vaguely aware of her warm hand coming to rest over his. Moving his stiff fingers away from the cup, taking it from him so he doesn’t spill it over himself.

It’s meticulous work, keeping him awake. Even harder making sure he gets dressed but once he’s sitting up he’s much more alert, grumpy now for being duped into asking her for help. She’d offered it but that means nothing to him. He’s no less thrilled to find his brain too foggy and arm too weak to work his arm through his sweater. She still smiles when his head pops through, hair a crazy mess on his head.

She packs him carefully into her car, a boxy little thing he’d frowned at when she bought it. He’d been the reason behind Morgan and Reid both coming to her office with statistics and fear about the safety of it but she’d loved it. He’s a worrier, prone to stewing and her car had taken up a lot of his energy for the first year she owned it. Now he’s being packed into the green monstrosity, senses assaulted by incense. Everything’s sparkly and he ends up sitting with a teddy bear in his lap, a troll in his hand. He’d taken their rightful place as her passenger.

His legs do not fit no matter how far back he moves his seat back and Penelope feels awful that he looks so uncomfortable but also finds it to be humorous. His knees to his ears, dark scary Agent Hotchner holding a stuffed bear to his chest, head resting against the window. It’s sweet.

It’s fairly easy to figure what his thought process today when she pulls up to his house and no one’s home. Jack’s camping, she learns. He’s dozed off again, prone and more willing to whisper half-truths. Will be away for the whole weekend until Tuesday morning. Jessica is getting her nails and hair done, he’d made the appointment just to make sure she really did it. The haircut should have ended just in time that he could call her and ask if she’d pick him up from the hospital. Where he thought he would have already artfully hidden the PICC line under his sweater and played the affair off as a routine sort of deal. A check-up.

“Sir…” she’s standing now, awkwardly, in his living room. The curtains are drawn back the way he likes, closing off the sun. He’s tucked under his heating blanket, trying to remain awake for the sake of the fact that it’s rude to fall asleep while entertaining guests. Yet, failing miserably. “Sir, I was just wondering… Is everything okay?”

“I’m--” the truth nearly slips right out. He clears his throat, managing to sit up just enough to catch her eyes. “Don’t worry about me, Garcia. Jessica will be around in an hour.” He holds his left hand closed, trying to stop his cramped fingers from twitching. “Dave and Emily are coming by for dinner. I’ll be okay.”

It’s completely unethical.

It’s so unprofessional.

But she can’t help herself.

Her eyes prick with tears when Emily shakes her head in the kitchenette, the sound of Hotch’s wet coughs breaking through his closed office door. “He needs to get that checked out,” she sighs, hiding her bleeding worry with annoyance. “Sounds awful.” And Penelope stands there with Hotch’s secret tongue-tied.

He’s getting worse and fast.

She gets a call from Derek, seething anger laced into his words. “He fucking-- He fucking just-- .” She knows it’s really just fear. Can hear him walking, his rapid pacing as he tries to outwalk his expanse of emotions. “He -- He shouldn’t be in the field. I mean, it’s like he didn’t even see it coming. He was just…” She remains steady. Wipes the tears that slip past her eyelashes with the back of her hand. Derek cries, on the ground with his knees to his chest, and he tells her what happened. How Hotch was paying attention to him and if he hadn’t been then maybe…

She greets them at the elevator, feels her smile attempt to waver when Hotch’s tired eyes raise from the ground. The bruise along his cheek a deep agonizing yellow, the wound on his temple still weeping angrily through the bandage. He can’t fly until his concussion is healed, longer if his tinnitus doesn’t get better. “It’ll be fun having you home,” she assures him, giving his fingers an extra squeeze.

Luck, it seems, has never seemed to favor Aaron Hotchner’s particular brand of bold.

Working at the District Attorney’s had been a morally fulfilling job. In theory, he could rest assured, each night, that he was doing what he could to help people. He was putting the real bad guys behind the bars. Even as his dreams filled with the images of the victims who had to wait for months, and even years, to get their proper justice. In reality, he slept poorly and rarely. Unable to properly maintain his workload without impossibly long hours. With time he found his work to be unfulfilling. He was doing nothing to stop crime from happening and sinking further into the realization that was failing more people than he could ever begin to help.

In court, he was ruthless. Haley didn’t like the man he became in the courtroom. Ruthless and harsh, he appeared evil and terrifying with his hawk-like eyes and infallible ability to pinpoint weaknesses in his opposers. Around the office, they nicknamed his alter-ego “Hot-head Hotchner” because the Aaron that gets flushed ordering lunch couldn’t possibly be the same man who made a man wet himself on the stand. Haley couldn’t agree more.

Hot-head Hotchner got him offered a job in corporate law, several firms were throwing big numbers at him to encourage that lasered focus to be on their side. Lest they find themselves opposing it. Morally, he could never go into corporate law but the offer to spend hours bending law into something pliable and poking holes in judicial wordings was compelling. It would be complex, rewarding work with a big pay-out. Better than the shitty salary he made at the D.A.’s office. Before he could make the compromise he met David Rossi and he never got his chance to bend the law to his will, he held his moral ground and instead changed career paths.

It was bold leaving what he knew he was good at for something new entirely.

A costly decision.

He never got to fulfill his secret desire to mold the law but bending the truth wasn’t a far cry from the same thing. Lying has never been something he felt comfortable with and that had no exceptions. He hadn’t wanted to tell the team Emily had died but that had far less to do with his morals and so much more to do with a picture much bigger than himself. The hell he knew that would rain down upon them in the weeks to come. The inability of the team to cope. Intuitively something holding them back and what they could only assume was a stage of grief.

To Emily Prentiss, he has never lied. Stretched versions of the truth he maintains to not be the same thing as a lie. If they count then his answer would be different but the eye of the beholder adds context. And as the holder of this context, he resolutes the power to declare them very different.

“New girlfriend?”

He’s breathing through a bought of nausea attempting to take him off his feet. The cold countertop biting into the skin of his wrist, his palm pressed flat to the surface so that he doesn’t grip the edge. So that his pale bloodless knuckles holding onto dear life do not betray the severity of which he fears he might get sick or pass out.

His phone is on the counter, turned upside down so that he doesn’t have to see the screen light up with every new text that comes through. The high-pitched “ding” of each new message is lost to the tinnitus he’s been succumbing to now for the better part of the week. No amount of coffee or Tylenol has helped.

Raising his gaze makes the pounding in his head worse but he has to meet Emily’s questioning gaze. They’ve started to notice his “off” behavior. His inability to stand for long amounts of time without physical drain. His decision to stay home on the last several cases, working here with Garcia rather than joining them in the field. The way he relies on Morgan’s lead more than he used to, falling silent and allowing the other man to make decisions. He suspects they just assume he’s looking into retiring or that he’s struggling to kick his “chest cold”, he doesn’t bother correcting them.

“No,” he manages, swallowing around the heaviness of his tongue. The way his mouth seems full of salival added pangs to his stomach as he knows he’s going to be sick. “It’s Jessica.” She’s angry with him and for good reason, though he doesn’t offer an explanation as to why.

Emily hums, raising her eyebrows and shaking her head. “What’d you did you do to piss her off?” In other circumstances, he might assume she’s attempting to pry. She’s just here for another cup of coffee, offering him a way to release some of his stress. No hard feelings if he suggests she fuck off and willing to lend an ear if he wants to talk. She’s not holding her breath but she hopes he comes undone. That he admits to some awful conspiracy and that this whole time they’ve been in some twisted social experiment to see how unified they actually are. That he isn’t as sick as he looks. That he’s just in a low spot and in a month he’ll be putting the weight back on and Derek will be telling them all about training for another marathon. How Reid could do more pushups than Hotch.

“I’m sorry,” Hotch whispers. He tries to step away from the counter. Feels the temperature in the room drops several degrees, his skin broken out in goosebumps. “I think to sit down,” he says frantically, knows now he needs to sit before he passes out.

Emily grabs his arm, tries to help him up. To get him to the chair that’s right there, so close.

“Hotch?” Derek jogs into the kitchen, he’d seen from afar and come running. “Emily, what’s wrong?”

Emily helps him to the ground, hand holding the back of his neck as his body starts sinking faster, beyond his control. She sits down on the ground beside him, eyes scanning across his body to find a feasible answer. Below her, Hotch’s breathing has gone rapid and shallow. His eyes rolled back into his head, neck-craning as he unconsciously fights to get air into his lungs. “I don’t know,” she says. “I don’t know. He just-- He was just--” Hotch wheezes, an awful sound. He chokes, blood coming to paint his lips. To coat his teeth.

“Hotch?” Derek moves to his side, picking up Hotch’s shoulder to move him onto his side. “Hotch, answer me!”

His only reply is a wet gurgle, a blood-coated wheeze.

[willowbird]

Congrats!! If you want, how about the first time Ronan sleeps over at St. Agnes? Like the pining!!

Yay! I was SO EXCITED to get a Ronan/Adam ask!! I may have gone a little overboard with the pining, but I hope you still like it <3 <3 This is actually my first Pynch ficlet! I hope you like it! Lemme know if you think I should post it on AO3 ^^; Since it’s my first time actually writing them and I haven’t read the books as many times as I’ve read AFTG I hope it’s okay!

-----

Ronan bounced the rubber ball against the sloped ceiling from where he lay on Adam’s bed, waiting for the other boy to get out of the shower. He’d been out, just driving around with no discernable purpose or direction, when it came around that time for Parrish to get out of work so he’d swung by and picked him up. There’d been no reason to say no when Adam had asked if he wanted to come up for a while. After all, he and Adam were friends -- no matter how much they seemed to bicker -- and Ronan liked being at St. Agnes. Sometimes, it was honestly more satisfying to be there than it was to be at Monmouth. Nothing beat being at the Barnes, but still -- St. Agness had a particular energy, it always had. 

After all, Ronan Lynch was no stranger to St. Agnes. The hours he’d spent in the quiet pews could stack together to build a universe apart from the rest of the world, a separate realm that even the horrors inside his own mind couldn’t touch. And yet, since Adam came to live there, the hallowed halls of that familiar place had developed a completely new,,, feeling that Ronan had no idea how to feel about. 

A part of Ronan wanted to be pissed off about it. 

A bigger part of Ronan was fascinated in the way that the travelers in his father’s stories had always been fascinated by the glow of will-o’-the-wisps between the branches of the deep woods and frosted bogs. The peace that the church had once given him was spiked with something else now, something that fizzed like pop-rocks under his skin, and as annoying as that was -- he really couldn’t say that he hated it. 

Considering he knew that the fizz of... enchantment was most definitely caused by the boy now living in that small, slanted room above the church? No, he really couldn’t say that he hated it at all. 

Not to say that Adam I’ll-be-independent-if-it-kills-me Parrish didn’t make him want to punch his fist through a fucking brick wall -- because he absolutely did. But there was also something... undeniably right about the boy taking up residence above the church. After all, the infuriating pest already lived full time inside his head, he might as well sleep in the building that housed Ronan’s soul as well. At least he was fucking consistent. 

The shabby door connecting the bedroom to the tiny bathroom creaked open and Ronan caught the ball on its rebound and didn’t throw it again, instead turning his head to look as Adam entered the room. 

He did not expect to see Adam walk into the bedroom in nothing but a towel and instantly looked back up at the ceiling, throwing the ball again with a bit more force than necessary. Only his quick reflexes saved him from losing a fucking eye. He tried not to think about the way the other boy’s skin had been flushed pink from the heat of the shower, his hair damp and pushed haphazardly back from his face, exposing cheekbones and eyes that...

Okay, he tried -- that didn’t mean he succeeded. 

“Sorry, it’ll just be a minute. I forgot to grab something to change into.” Adam’s voice was soft, lilted with the Henrietta accent in the way that only happened when he was either really emotional or perfectly at ease. Ronan would never tell him how much he loved hearing the edge of gravel and wild country grass around his vowels, not on pain of death, but that didn’t make it any less true. 

“Take your time, Parrish. I don’t fucking care.” No one needed to know that the sigh that followed was relief at how nonchalant he had managed to make the words, instead of the dry irritation it sounded like. 

Adam huffed a soft laugh and Ronan could feel the eye-roll being directed at him. He didn’t bother to hide his grin, just gave it a bit more teeth as he tossed the ball up and caught it again. 

It was only another few minutes before the door creaked open again and Adam came out -- this time fully clothed. Ronan caught the ball and sat up, scooting over so that Adam could come over and sit down, which the other boy did with a flourish and a groan. 

“Ugh, I just do not wanna do homework.”

“Then don’t.” Ronan shrugged and bounced the ball on the floor this time, angling it slightly so that when it rebounded it went toward Adam. 

Adam caught it easily and bounced it back, timed perfectly with a familiar scoff. “Some of us care about school, you know.” Ronan waited for a beat, but when Adam didn’t follow that up with chastisement or prod for him to start caring about school, he gave a small shrug. 

“Sure, but tomorrow is Saturday. It isn’t like you’ve got anything due tomorrow. You just got off work, learn how to fucking relax.” He caught the ball and held it for a moment, tilting his head back as he mimicked a thoughtful expression. “Oh, oh that’s right, you don’t know how to relax.” He gave a deep, mournful sigh and bounced the ball back at him. “Shame, for man so smart to be missing such a vital real-life skill.”

“Ha ha, you’re hilarious,” Adam sniped back, but his words were sharpened more with amusement than irritation. 

“Oh, I know. I’m a regular comedy special,” Ronan agreed readily. “But that, actually, was not a joke.” He could press here. He could remind Adam that his whole world didn’t need to be as rigid as he was making it to be. He could tell him that he could afford to take a break every now and then, that he deserved to chill the fuck out. But if he did that he risked sounding too much like Gansey or repeating an argument that neither of them probably felt like jumping into tonight. So instead, he caught the ball and cocked his head, studying the other boy curiously. 

Then he asked, “Where would you go? If you could go anywhere in the world with no consequences. What would you do? And not to accomplish anything great or whatever -- I’m talking just for fun.”

Adam held up his hand for the ball and Ronan tossed it to him. His eyes caught on the way he began to roll it between his palms, those long fingers curling around it, bony wrists twisting to pass it from one hand to the other. Ronan had the sudden urge to brush his lips over the prominent bump in each wrist. Not in a kiss -- but just to feel the protrusion against his mouth. 

“That’s pretty broad,” Adam said with a hum, oblivious to his distraction. “There’s a lot of places I could go.”

“That’s the point. There’s no consequences, no limits. You could go anywhere.” He dragged his gaze away from those hands but this time they caught on the exposed bit of Adam’s collarbone on the way up to his face. “So pick a place, Parrish. Never known you to be so indecisive.”

Adam’s eyes dropped from where they’d been thoughtfully searching the ceiling, locking onto his as he flashed a sharp smirk. That expression cut him right between the ribs, twisted, and nestled in nice and deep for the winter -- because this, this was the Adam Parrish he couldn’t stop thinking about. Everyone seemed to underestimate him. Everyone thought he was so soft, thought he was so polite and sweet and yeah sure, he was all of those things, but that was only one part of him. It was just the surface setting to the multiverse that was Adam Parrish, and this sharp, biting, cunning side of him was closer to his core. Ronan knew he was one of the only people who knew that side was there, and was probably the only person who truly understood how much a part of him that facet was. 

“All right,” he said, his voice smooth and low and Ronan had the distinct certainty that if that sound were a drink it would be a spiked mulled cider, husky and tart in a way that made your head light and your chest warm. “I’ll play. But you go first. Where would you go? Somewhere outside of the States,” he added, before Ronan could say the Barnes -- because he was apparently that predictable. 

Ronan rolled his eyes, but shrugged and slipped off the bed, laying on the floor beside the bed and pillowing his hands under his head as he thought. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Adam stretch out on the bed on his stomach, hugging a pillow and using it to prop his head up a bit as he looked down at Ronan. The feel of Adam’s full and undivided attention on him did things to his pulse he didn’t want to think about. 

“Probably Ireland,” he finally said after a long moment of thought that was torn up and distributed between flickers of distraction caused by Adam’s silhouette in his peripheral, from the way his damp hair was falling into his eyes now that it was beginning to dry all the way to the slump of his broad shoulders and the sharp jut of his elbows against the cushions. There just really wasn’t any part of Adam Parrish that Ronan didn’t want to look at. 

A soft huff of laughter had Ronan turning his head to look at him straight on and the amusement on the other boy’s face told him that he was being predictable again. Ronan frowned -- he didn’t like being predictable. 

“Don’t give me that look. Tell me why, Ronan Lynch.” There was a teasing note in Adam’s voice, and if it were anyone else that would have brought Ronan’s back up -- would have made him snap his teeth and snarl. Coming from Adam, he had to give himself a moment so he didn’t trip over his own foolish tongue. 

Somehow he managed to avoid that humiliation. Instead, he told Adam about Ireland through his father’s eyes. He told himself he didn’t care about the softening of Adam’s smile, that it did absolutely nothing to him to watch the other boy close his eyes and rest his cheek on the pillow, leaving himself vulnerable as he dipped into his own thoughts. Rather, he focused on the stories he was telling Adam, reliving them as he did his best impression of his father’s cadence and storyteller’s hum. He told him stories about the fair folk, the fey and the night creatures. He told him about the magic of each valley and river and dale. He shared his favorite tales about cheeky brownies and powerful, dangerous sidhe that became captivated by the bright, fleeting magic of a human’s ability to create. 

Adam listened to each one, and that smile...? It never faded, not even once. 

“It’s your turn,” Ronan finally said, when his heart was full and his lungs tight -- torn between the memories caused by those stories and these newer, more electric feelings caused by the proximity of Adam Parrish’s smile.

“Mm, I think... I think that if I were to go anywhere in the world I’d want to see high mountains. High mountains and dark woods. Deep lakes. Flowers that seem to have their own language between the brightness of their colors and the way they sway toward and away from each other in a wind that affects them and them alone. Butterflies that cast shadows like birds of prey...” As he spoke his words drew further and further apart, his tone drifting as fatigue from the long day dragged him down toward sleep. 

Ronan held his breath, almost wanting to prod him for more -- because it was rare to hear Adam talk... well, like a dreamer. Adam was a boy who kept himself grounded so deeply in reality it was sometimes painful for Ronan to be around him. This secret side of him, this side of dreams and hope and wonder... it was a vulnerable side that he knew Adam wouldn’t be indulging in if he weren’t perfectly comfortable and probably way more tired than he’d originally thought he was. It was a side of him that Ronan had always known existed (you couldn’t chase a dead Welsh king without being at least part whimsy, no matter how charismatic Gansey was) but one that Adam kept very close to the chest. 

“Mm... Ronan?” Adam’s voice was soft and sleep-slurred, his eyelashes shielding the color of his eyes, he was barely able to keep them open. 

“Yeah?” Ronan’s voice was rough, even to his own ears, but Adam didn’t seem to notice.

“Do you think a place like that actually exists?” The question was light, but there was a raw, sweet shard of hope beneath the words that cut Ronan in a tender space below his throat. 

“Yes,” Ronan promised with certainty, not even needing to think about it -- not even needing to question it. “I know it does.”

Adam’s eyes dropped all the way closed and he smiled, sighing in relief. That sigh transitioned directly into the deep, slow breaths of sleep. 

Ronan knew that he should get up. Sleeping on the floor would give him one hell of a backache, and Adam hadn’t said he could stay over. He should get up and stretch, then drive back to Monmouth, where he should crawl into his own bed for the night -- or maybe stay up longer and bother Gansey, because fuck knew that guy didn’t understand the concept of a regulated sleeping schedule. 

Instead, Ronan watched Adam until his own eyes just couldn’t stay open any longer. Then, from the floor of St. Agnes, beside the boy who called to him like a fire-sprite, Ronan dreamed. He dreamed of dark woods and flowers that seemed to have their own language, between their bright colors and the way they swayed in their own self-contained breezes. He dreamed of butterflies that cast shadows like birds of prey. He dreamed of safe places even in the dark woods -- and when Ronan dreamed... well, when Ronan dreamed, reality itself seemed to listen.

[shreddedparchment]

Absence Makes the Heart

04/17/2020

Pairing: Superman x Reader          Word Count: 5,431

Warnings: language, lots of language, violence, blood, wounds, injuries, plenty of angst

DCEU Canon

A/N: I’ve been meaning to write this one down for a while. It’s based on a dream I had but I just went and added details and a little bit of backstory. Nothing too crazy. This will probably just be a one shot. The top half is heavily edited while the second half I just spat out because I was inspired and I went with it. Hopefully it’s good. This is my first foray into something other than Marvel, so any feedback would be greatly appreciated. If you happen to reblog, thanks so much for helping me spread my work! xoxo

Edit: I forgot to thank @babiiface95​ @evansweaters​ and @sherrybaby14​ for giving me some feedback on this! It helped tons!! xoxo

It hurts.

Everything hurts.

In this moment, all you can feel is the pain in your side.

You stumble forward, hitting the chestnut wood of your door hard. With nothing to brace yourself on, you slide along the length of it until you’re sitting, shoulder pressed against it.

“Ugh…” You groan, letting your hand trace the smooth grain until it can latch onto the handle. “Fuck this shit. I quit.”

You tell no one.

There hasn’t been anyone for months.

The door gives as you twist the knob sending you falling onto the small foyer of your apartment. You’re on the top floor, beside the penthouse. Your own place is small. Compact. Just three rooms, four if you count your bathroom.

You pull yourself along the dated ceramic tile and watch as you leave a smear of red behind you.

“Honey…” You begin, kicking the door shut while you stay flattered against the floor. “…I’m home.”

No one responds.

You exhale through your nose as annoyance rips through your chest.

“Fucker.” You say at no one, but obviously someone.

It takes every ounce of strength you have left to haul yourself into your bathroom. You peel off your suit, letting it drop to the floor in a whip of heavy fabric, space quality tech that was not fashioned on Earth but created for you.

To protect you.

Because he said he cared.

“Fucking…fucker.” You huff, yanking the first aid kit from the open shelf beneath your sink.

Your sports bra is drenched in sweat and blood, sticky against your skin as you plop yourself at the small kitchen table. You pull open the kit and reach for needle and thread.

It’s a messy stitch, clumsy and crooked from the angle you’re forced to work in. However sloppy, you do seal the wound to your ribs and the bleeding finally stops.

In your blood-soaked underwear, you make yourself a sandwich and stand at your counter, staring at the primary blue coffee cup sitting beside your own in teal.

You chew loudly, smacking your mouth as the bread sticks to the roof of your mouth. Eyes glaring at the cup, you bite down more fiercely. Tearing the food apart angrily.

“You’re a stupid bitch, Y/N. Get over it.” You sigh, then retreat to your bathroom to tidy up.

~~~~~~~~~~

Exhaustion is not your friend. It makes you cranky and irritable and sad because you can’t stand the silence in your home.

You groan, pressing your hand against your side gently, then reach for the remote and turn on the TV to war the silence.

It’s a cacophony of sound and for a moment, it grates your nerves. Some cartoon, loud and full of slapstick.

Next channel has people screaming at each other from opposite sides of a stage. Chairs begin to get thrown. A guy with a mullet takes off his shoe and chucks it at a man with one ear.

Next channel has an old black and white movie. The pretty woman with dark curls and a heart shaped face leans across a table, chin in her hand as she moons over the composed man who is smirking at her casually.

Nope. You think. No romance.

Next channel is the news.

“-sure what to make of what we’re seeing. It’s like nothing we have witnessed before. Veronica, can you tell us what’s happening?” The news anchor presses his hand to his ear, eyes squinted as he stares ahead.

The screen shifts and Veronica—a pretty woman with flowing red hair and deep blue eyes fills your screen.

“Miguel, it looks as if all of the ocean’s water is being pulled away from our coastline and out towards the ocean. Where the water is going, we aren’t sure. There is no way to know what this means or what can be causing it. And although we’ve seen this phenomenon happen in films, doomsday blockbusters where a tidal wave the height of a skyscraper builds up before the subsequent flood, experts are sure this is not at all what’s going on.

There are dozens of meteorologists, marine biologists, oceanographers, and astronomers still searching for the cause. The only thing that they all can agree on for certain is that the oceans are not withdrawing, but rather, they are draining, leaving sea life, coral reefs, and the ocean floor exposed.

“Something is pulling this water away. Whatever is causing this, is not natural.”

Sitting up, you place your elbows on your knees as the video changes to that of a helicopter shot as it circles the ever-decreasing ocean line. A humpback whale and her calf attempt to outswim the retreat, but they fail and as the water falls away, the creatures are beached between two sheer ocean cliffs.

“What the hell…” Reaching up, you cover your mouth, watching as the video moves back to Veronica.

“If we can’t figure out why the ocean is draining, we will have hundreds if not thousands of species left without chance of survival. This is not only a loss of a life for many endangered species, but also leaves us to face the consequences within our fishing industries and the millions of people it not only feeds but employs as well. If we cannot stop-”

Veronica suddenly stops speaking, holding her hand to her ear as she listens for a moment.

“Sorry, Miguel, it looks as if Doctor Rashda has found a source point for the draining. Doctor Rashda can you hear me?” Veronica asks, waiting for a moment before the video splits vertically.

The second frame of video sits empty, a sloping sandbank visible in the distance. It curves around in a semi-circle at the center of which is a growing swirl of dark blue water.

“Doctor Rashda?” Veronica asks again, her eyes frantic as they search a monitor out of view.

“Surrender.” A voice says, high pitched. Female. “Surrender and you will not suffer. Surrender your planet, and I shall make your end quick.”

Veronica is silent as the column of swirling water parts a little, just enough so that a pale face is visible.

“Surrender.” The voice says again, the pale face’s lips moving as it speaks. “And you will die quickly.”

Frowning, you move to the edge of your seat, your anger doubling.

“M-Miguel are you seeing this?” Veronica asks, voice small with fear.

Miguel doesn’t answer.

The figure in the water holds out its hand and from the swirl comes a smaller sphere. In this sphere something moves. As the camera zooms in, you can make out the distinct shape of a body, thrashing within its bubble.

Veronica screams just as you and everyone else that must be watching realizes that within the bubble is Doctor Rashda, struggling and gasping for breath.

You’re up on your feet, racing to pull your suit back on when a commotion pulls your eyes back to the TV, legs already in but with one shoulder exposed as you freeze mid-dress.

“He’s back!” Veronica is shouting gleefully. Relief and reverence painting her voice. “Superman is back!”

You move two steps closer to the TV, not intending to take the word of a panicked reporter. Until you can lay your own eyes on him then it isn’t real.

A few seconds pass. Then, a blur of blue and red streaks through the center of the bubble and when the water stops rippling, Doctor Rashda isn’t there.

“Motherfucker.”

You pull your suit on roughly, ignoring the way the movement tugs at your side as you zip up and launch out your open window.

You fall fast, plummeting towards the ground in a streak of teal and gray. When you’re only three feet away, you feel a surge of power as your arms, and legs burn with white hot energy.

It pushes you upwards and propels you higher and higher until you’re soaring across the sky at incredible speeds, leaving a silver trail of light behind you.

It only takes you minutes to reach the coast but sometime between you jumping out of your living room window and arriving here by the Golden Gate, the fight has moved cityside.

You hear a deafening crunch as blue and red goes slamming into black, gray, and brown ocean floor, disappearing into the subsequent rubble.

Heart pounding, you propel yourself towards a thin figure, long stringy black hair, sallow skin, arm still stretched out from her hit. She turns to look at you just as you reach her, but you throw your own fist out in a powerful uppercut. It throws the strange woman high into the air.

You follow for a few feet, hovering in there as you watch her skyrocket out of sight into dark clouds overhead.

Behind you the heap of ocean floor rubble begins to shift.

Coming to rest on the cliffside above, six feet below he breaks through the rock and it falls around him, a flurry of fine sediment saturating the air.

Chest heaving, side burning, heart clenched so tight you think it might truly be shredding, you watch as the fucker stands up and does a quick scan of the area looking just as perfect as he did when he left.

His eyes are focused, searching the sky for sight of his attacker but instead he finds you.

His eyes soften and you’re still so angry you glare. You turn on your heel and walk away, staring up at the sky as you wait for the woman to fall.

“Y/N…” You hear him say, but you don’t turn to look at him.

You can feel the swirling of wind as he flies up to you, the soft pats as his feet hit the ground. He circles around your right, leaning forward to get a better look at your face.

In your peripherals you can see the gentle curl of his dark hair, falling along his forehead and a hundred memories of your hand gently sweeping it aside make your body tremble.

The pleasure that the memory brings makes your blood boil and you roll your eyes, ignoring the puppy eyes he gives you.

“Let’s just get this over and done with. I’m tired.” You assert and watch as the strange woman careens towards the two of you, an inhuman screech growing louder as she falls.

Moving forward a few steps you aim yourself, bend your knees and launch yourself up towards her. As you collide, she grabs hold of your shoulders, and the two of you twist and spin in the air, struggling to get the upper hand.

Shifting quickly, you pull her over you, grab hold of her shirt front and with all the force in your body, you spin and chuck her down as Clark flies towards you to finish the job.

~~~~~~~~~~

A tattered white dress is all that remains of the ocean thief.

“Who was she?” Clark wonders, moving to stand beside you as you watch the stain of saltwater grow as her body dissolves to nothing.

“You don’t know?” You ask him, turning to look at him and hating how much it pleases you to finally see him again.

His broad body, thick with muscle and stupidly accentuated by his damn blue skintight suit, feels larger than before he left though you know that’s silly. He’s as God like as ever, though he’s only an alien. To the world, he’s a savior. Invincible.

Superman.

What really hurts to look at are his eyes.

It chokes you, those baby blues, full of unspoken questions and expectation. For you. For the future. For the present. He wants to know you again.

You tear your gaze back down to the woman as Clark shakes his head.

“No. I was flying home when I saw the ocean empty and followed the trail to the spout she was in.” Clark explains.

“Well, it’s too late to find out now.” You point out. “The water will come back soon. You’ll need to make sure people stay away from the coastline.”

Turning towards him, you wait, your rage evened out and layered with betrayal.

That painful gaze of his so piercing it nearly steals your breath away.

“Where were you, Clark?” You ask quietly, your anger outweighing the hurt.

The apologetic look he gives you, the tilt of his head, the step he takes towards you grates your nerves.

“Y/N-”

“It’s been months. Almost a year.” You sigh, unwilling to give in.

He takes your hand and the impulse to pull away nearly overwhelms you.

His hands are rough, only in that masculine way. His skin is unblemished. Perfect.

The strength of his movements are carefully calculated. A natural habit he’s developed after a lifetime of having to be gentle to keep from breaking those he touches. The heat from his hands is familiar and it envelops yours easily.

“I was coming home.” He tells you.

“Home? How do you know that it’s still your home? Maybe someone else has moved in.” You threaten and there’s a visible fall in his eyes.

It nearly breaks your icy exterior. But you have every right to be angry and hurt that he left you. Out of the blue, no word as to where he was going or when he’d come back.

“I have to go.” He’d said, and left you sitting on the couch, wondering when he’d come home.

He looks down at your hand in his, his thumb gently caressing the back of your hand.

“You went to see her first, didn’t you?” You accuse and he quickly meets your gaze.

“No.” He assures you passionately, moving a little closer. “No, I was going straight home.”

“She’s been looking for you.” You tell him, tempted to confess how useless you’d been in those first few weeks he was gone. “All of them have been. Where is Superman? Is the million-dollar question. And now here you are.”

He’s back just as randomly as he’d left. Just as sudden. Just as quiet.

“There he is!” A familiar voice shouts. On the bank across the large ravine you both stand in Veronica appears looking dazzled and excited, her camera man hoisting up his camera to begin what will be the first clear footage of Superman finally back. Earth’s hero returned.

Quickly you pull your hand from his and turn to walk away.

“Where are you going?” He asks, following for a few steps.

“Home. I’ve been in Australia for the last month dismantling a new crime syndicate with Bruce. He and I are both very tired. He stayed behind.”

“Oh.” Clark says.

“Superman!” Someone calls. “Superman is back!”

Civilians have begun to gather along the empty waterway, all of them eager for a glance at the Man of Steel.

You know how you made it sound and maybe it’s your annoyance making you push him away now that he’s home, but all you can think about is getting back home and being alone.

“The water will be back, Kal.” You shift to his birthname with so many ears nearby. “Get these people away.”

You leave him standing there, watching you fly away, with those baby blues full of quiet yearning.

~~~~~~~~~~

The apartment…your home…it’s a void.

You sit on the arm of your sofa still in full uniform, hand gently resting on your thigh—palm up. You’re a mess again. Dirty with blood and dirt and sweat.

Needing a shower doesn’t do much to deter your silly brooding. Silly because you did this to yourself. You made it seem like you had someone new waiting for you here when really the bleak emptiness is in need of a six-foot, three-inch tall Kryptonian.

His presence is here. Loud and white hot. His coffee cup burns you from across the kitchen—asking where its owner is. His drawer still full of clothes. Comfy sweatshirts and crisp white t-shirts. Blues and grays and reds too.

There’s one you’d set aside. The last he’d worn. Only once. It had sat on the end of your bed night after night until you’d caved and pulled it on. Now it probably smells more like you than him.

The place is silent. Only the drip, drip, drip of the bathroom sink breaks the quiet.

Your gaze wanders to his shoes by the door, shoelaces left undone, a small speck of mud on the side of the left heel.

Shutting them, your eyes water.

No. You shake your head. I won’t cry.

You take a shaky breath and release it slowly, sighing as your body slumps forward.

The movement reminds you of your earlier wound and you gasp in pain as you sit up straight again, leaning to the side to look at the spot growing increasingly wet on your side.

“Shit.” Stitches are probably torn open. “Fuck.”

Maybe it’s your frustration with this whole situation or maybe your wound really just hurts a lot, but as you reach over to feel the bloody spot, your voice finally breaks. Though there are no tears, they really want to fall.

“Fucking, stupid, fucking…” You sigh again, this time faster, angry.

“That’s a lot of French.” Clark says, his voice smooth and even and excruciatingly beautiful to your ears.

You stand up, startled, and spin to watch him pull his left leg in through your open window, following his torso.

He’s still in his suit, cape and all. Once again, the sight of him reminds you of his Godlike status. His perfection unreachable and yet, here he is. In your home. Where he’d given himself to you openly and without reservation.

He stands there, his hands clenched into nervous fists. Skin just as dirty as yours but not sweaty. Not bloody. His hair is a little disheveled. The tresses normally so carefully tempered are free to curl and wave.

“What are you doing here?” You ask, voice still weak from your raw emotional outburst.

“I went to see Bruce.” He explains, and you might just kick yourself for implying Bruce would be waiting for you. “Why-?”

“Because I wanted to hurt you.” You admit, cutting him off before he can word the question. “Because I wanted you to regret leaving me the way you did.”

“I do regret it.” He sighs. “I-I only left because I thought I heard…”

He hesitates and you’re tempted to kick him out. You turn away from him and move into the kitchen, trying to ignore the wound that needs tending.

With your own coffee cup in hand, you pop a k-cup in your Keurig and punch the power button, waiting for it to power on before you select the largest cup option and listen to the whirr of the motors instead of Clark’s silence.

“I went to Krypton, or what’s left of it.” Clark finally says, this time from the mouth of your kitchen archway, hands still clamped tight.

You shut your eyes tight, hands clinging to the edge of your counter. Squeezing ever tighter until they begin to ache, and you still only keep squeezing.

“I wish I could be as impressed by that answer as I was the first time you told me that.” You shake your head.

“It was different this time, Y/N.” He shakes his head, then takes a step closer.

The movement draws your eyes and you watch the intense focus on his face, the uncertainty to speak.

“What is it?” You ask, still a little bitter.

Even though he looks as if he means it and this trip to Krypton is more serious, he’s not speaking. He’s keeping this from you. Holding it back.

“Jesus fucking Christ Clark, I guess you don’t trust me.”

“No.” He insists, moving another step closer which still leaves him a ways away from you in the kitchen. “It’s not that. I do trust you. More than anyone. But…”

You want to scream at him. You want to tell him to go to hell and to stay away from you and to shove his excuses up his ass, but your curiosity is growing.

There’s a small panic in his baby blue eyes. A fear.

So, you wait. You hold your tongue. You’re patient for now. You give him a familiar silence that tells him you will wait until he’s ready.

He recognizes it and meets your quizzical gaze as your coffee finishes brewing.

You don’t even realize it’s done as you stare into Clark’s eyes and he stares into yours.

The moment he decides, his shoulders relax. His jaw drops a fraction of an inch as he stops clenching his teeth.

As the weight on his shoulders is visibly lifted, you feel yourself relax too. Nearly a year of being without him and you’re still so attuned to his moods.

“I found someone.” He tells you. “On another planet, in a Kryptonian ship that had been sent only days after my own.”

“Another Kryptonian?” You ask, curious but also fearful.

You remember very clearly the last Kyrptonian that had come to Earth. Zod and his minions had torn Metropolis to shreds. They’d killed so many people and Clark had made the hardest decision in his life.

Not that you’d been there. She’d been there. But Clark had let you in on the weight of that moment. The choice that he hated to make but would gladly do so again.

He must see the fear in your eyes because he shakes his head and takes yet another step towards you.

“No. Don’t be scared. Really. She’s-”

She?!

“-she’s harmless.” You frown at him because that’s the stupidest fucking thing he’s said since getting back. Maybe the stupidest thing ever.

“Okay,” He amends. “Maybe not harmless, exactly. She’s my cousin, Y/N. And she needed help.”

“Your cousin?” You ask, voice low and full of questions.

“From what I can tell, she was sent here after me, but when her ship was knocked off course, she was trapped in form of hypersleep for a long time. She was older than me, but now she’s a lot younger.” Clark continues to explain, speaking with some gusto now that you’ve allowed him to pick up some momentum.

“Where is she?” You wonder.

“I left her with a family that can take care of her. Someone that I trust. Far away from me. She’s still very young and I think it would be best if she remained hidden for a while. Just until she learns how to control her abilities here on Earth and to give the world time to get used to the idea of another Kryptonian.” He takes one more step.

“After Zod, I don’t know that there is any amount of time that would prepare the world for a Supergirl.” You frown.

With your defenses lowered, Clark takes the opportunity to step even closer, finally stopping beside you.

He hesitates again, this time as he reaches to take hold of your elbow. His fingers press against your arm gently like he’s stroking piano keys. Testing to see if you’ll pull away.

You don’t.

He lifts your arm a little and doesn’t break eye contact with you until your arm is lifted enough that he can get a clear look at the red on your side. Head tilted to the right as he assess the injury.

Straightening his head, he slides his hand down to your hand, taking it before gently pulling you away from the kitchen, through your bedroom, and into your bathroom, switching on lights as he goes.

Watching him be like this has always been your favorite. He moves with a purpose, eyes trained on what he’s looking for without a glance spared your way.

You stand beside him as he holds your hand, hunched over to look under the sink for your first aid kit.

After he retrieves it, he pulls you back out into the kitchen. There’s more room there for both your bodies, especially with his taking up so much space.

He places the kit on the floor before he pulls you in front of him. Both of his hands find your waist and he lifts you up onto the edge of the counter to sit.

Slightly surprised, you gasp and place your hands on his shoulders, tracing the muscle while you can do so discreetly until you must remove them and place them at your sides.

Clark steps towards you, his hard abdomen pressed up against your legs as he wraps both arms around you, hands searching for the zipper on your back. Leaning over your shoulder to get a look at it, he’s almost hugging you.

And you can’t stand the tease of it.

The movement is quick, and he leans back again once he’s got the suit undone.

“What happened?” He asks as he hooks his thumbs into the top of your suit and pulls it down over your shoulders, your biceps—then holds the arms still as he waits for you to pull them out—then bunches it down along your waist to expose your injured side. “Lift your arm.”

You do as he ass, wincing as it tugs on the reopened cut.

“This is deep.” He disapproves.

“Bruce and I really were in Australia. One of the guys caught me with a knife just as we were getting them rounded up.” You explain.

“This is gonna hurt.” He tells you as he pulls the kit onto the counter beside you and pulls out a pair of small scissors and tweezers.

It takes him almost no time at all to snip away the broken threads and clean the wound again.

He waits, thinking for a moment, then meeting your gaze.

“Do you want something for the pain?” He checks, eyebrows raised in worry.

“Just do it, Clark.” You sigh, frustrated because this is all too familiar. This proximity, the smells, the heat, the way his hands poke and prod at the edges of your cut.

His eyebrows gather together as his jaw flexes with a frown, staring at the cut as he threads the needle quickly.

A proper needle this time, sanitized and threaded properly.

Taking your lifted arm, he pulls it over his head onto the opposite shoulder and places your hand there where his cape meets his suit.

“It’s gonna hurt.” He says again, and you realize he’s giving you something to squeeze.

And he’s right. Without the adrenaline from before, you feel every stitch and you’d thin you would get used to this sensation. But it hurts like fuck all and you squeeze his cape tight until you can’t help but give a small yell in annoyance.

“Why is it always the little wounds that hurt the most?” You sigh as he sips the thread and moves to clean his work area.

“You should go shower.” Clark says as he sanitizes the counter. “Be careful with your stitches.”

You don’t fight him on this because you desperately need another shower. Maybe if you’d been fine, you would have argued, but you’re dirty and aching.

When you emerge from the bathroom, you find that the sky outside has darkened. You dress quickly, just a pair of black old cutoff sweats and one of Clark’s gray hoodies.

You’re absolutely swimming in it, but it’s so soft and comfortable. Loose so that it doesn’t add any pressure to your stitches.

The apartment is so quiet you stand there, pulling the sweatshirt down as you listen intently for any kind of movement.

“Clark?” You call, just a little insecure after months of his absence.

You move out into the living room. The floorboards creak and moan as they settle beneath your feet. The large carpet in your living room silences your steps but you also stop walking, staring at the empty kitchen, then the empty living room.

Had you dreamt him?

Maybe he really isn’t back?

What if you’ve finally gone crazy?

What if he’s never coming back and you’d passed out after you got back from Australia and everything with the ocean had been a dream?

Are you really going nuts?

There’s a soft thud from your bedroom and with eager footsteps you rush back in.

Sitting on his side of the bed with his bare feet planted on the ground, Clark is hunched over. Elbows on his knees. Hands resting relaxed at the wrist while he stares at the floorboard underneath your bedroom window.

“Clark…” You sigh, not realizing how relieved you sound.

He’s changed, wearing a pair of gray sweats and a plain white t-shirt.

He looks good. Showered. His curls just barely damp.

“Am I welcome here?” He asks, staring ahead.

You move to the bed and climb on, walking on your knees towards him until you stop just a foot away and sit back on your legs.

It’s a good question. One you think on for a moment.

“You didn’t come back for ten months, Clark.” You sigh, hating that fact. “I didn’t know if something had happened to you or maybe you’d decided to leave me and Earth behind altogether? Mostly I just thought you were dead. I spent most of my time convincing myself that you’re so close to invincible that killing you might be impossible but-”

“I’ve died before.” Clark says, hating the idea that people think him a God. He turns towards you and frowns.

His words, however true they may be, send painful clenches into your chest.

Your face does something that makes his demeanor shift. Suddenly he’s sitting beside you, arm wrapped around your waist as he reaches up to push your hair back and away from your face.

His fingers graze the skin of your neck and he hooks it there, squeezing gently.

“I’m not dead.” He says, maybe guessing your thoughts of madness? “I’m right here.”

“But you weren’t.” You shake your head. “And I was so angry at you. I hated you. I cursed your name. Fuck that guy. Stupid fucker. I hate him.”

Clark simply watches you, his eyes moving side to side as he looks at your face and every expression that crosses your features.

The one thing that you’ve always loved about Clark, is the way that you can tell he’s really listening. Not once have you felt as if you weren’t being heard. Even if he doesn’t agree with whatever you’re saying, he listens so intently, trying to understand your point of view before he poses his own.

And you love him for it.

Shit. You still love him. Of course, you do. Of course, he’s always been yours.

Even in his absence, you were his and he was yours.

“I said that almost every night, hoping that you would hear me and come back. But you didn’t.”

“But I did.” Clark says. “I’m here. And I’m sorry I left without explanation. I’m sorry that I put you through that. And I know that you can’t forgive me for it. That I’ll be trying to earn your trust again every day that we’re together. But, please can I stay?”

He rubs your lower back, his large hand sending heat into every inch of your heart. Restarting it after he killed it ten months ago.

“Please?” He begs. “All I’ve thought about is getting back here. To you. To our home and our life together.”

You shut your eyes, relishing in the way his arms feel around you, his hands large and hot. His breath is sweet and warm. His scent is clean and so him that it makes your stomach flutter.

You won’t need that shirt of his anymore. Now you have him back, here with you. Where you can touch and feel and love and laugh and just be with him.

“Or should I leave?” He asks.

Your eyes pop open, red fury raging through them. “You do and I’ll hunt you down, Kent.”

He smiles, softly at first. But when your hand begins to trace the taut sinew of his muscly forearm, his smile grows wider. It grows and grows until it’s blinding and beautiful.

You trace the curve of his shoulder, tickle his neck before reaching up to smooth the curls that fall against his forehead gently.

He shuts his eyes, enjoying the affection before you push yourself forward between his legs and settle on your side.

You cuddle into the center of his chest, tucking yourself between his arms, head on his chest, under his chin, arms grabbing tight to the soft cotton of his shirt.

“I missed you.” He whispers against your hair.

You smile, shutting your eyes as you let yourself finally be at ease. Clark is home.

[btswishes]

Love me for who I am now

Bucky x Reader ( Chapter 3)

Previous / Next (4)

Summary: You apply for the Stark internship and end up getting it, so now you have 5 months to make a good impression to continue working with the Avengers.

A/N: Ok Chapter 3 here we go, things are moving 10 000+ words later XD. Sorry for any mistakes made, hope you enjoy it even a tiny bit.

Word count:  3,997

Warmings: fights, harsh language, not part of the original MCU

Y/N- Your name

Y/L/N- Your Last Name

Tag list: @vicmc624​

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

   Two men dressed in dark fancy suits helped Captain America sit on the bench next to Dr. Banner, while one more presumably, also an agent rolled in 2 stretchers. From the voices you could distinguish Natasha Romanoff and Sergeant James Barnes. Not too far, with a confidant step followed Tony Stark keeping the splint around his left hand, covered slightly by the expensive material of his jacket - throw casually over his shoulders. Poor Pepper having her husband come home almost dead all the time- must be just awful.

“What happened?” Bruce barked out intensely checking Natasha in a hastily manner, making sure there wasn’t anything too major

 “HYDRA fed us the wrong information, long story short caught the link in time and no one died.” Tony explained, pulling a squished protein bar from the inside of his pant pocket

“I almost saw the light for a second time Tony.” Captain hissed when you began disinfecting his wounds, reacting to the cold cooling yet irritating feeling of the clear liquid on the cotton ball.

“I am sure that was the explosion.” Natasha snickered at the blond man. ”Next time don’t look at it, ok?” One after the other injured agents flooded the lab making motion difficult. Most of the equipment was on the other end of the packed room. Talking and a mix of incoherent sounds filled your head, causing you to go into overdrive. You had no idea how people could work in such an environment. Hospital work was part of your curriculum, as weird as it sounded, since you were dabbling in human body functions. Even there you never had so many people on your head, there was order- obviously lacking here.

  Some were very badly injured, near-death was a correct way to say it, but for sure not 90%. Looking around you couldn’t find a shorter way towards the bandages and irrigation solution. Tables and people were placed like chess pieces in a game you were losing because of panic. Tony kept his eyes on you, biting down on the crumpling snack, waiting to see what you would do. It could have been all a test for what you knew, yet it flew over your head.

“Dr. Banner.” You yelled out patching up the Cap and moving onto one of the stretchers “Can you pass me the small bag behind you please?” he nodded and did it all without even taking a look away from Natasha’s wounds. Professional or just slightly overconfident?

  Rising your right hand you caught the bag making its way towards you. The flap flung open and you pulled out the 4 bottles of vibranium dust onto the table, right next to you. A hair tie emerged from the same place shortly after. Bucky looked up at the changing expression on your face, interested in silence maybe also in a bit of pain. Your fingers raked up your scalp, gathering as much hair as possible to imprison with the elastic. Tony ever so silent but focused, a good judge of character.

  The lids of the bottles rolled onto the desk, discarded without a thought. Your hands cupped all of them and spilling piles of metallic dust on the floor. Stark rose an eyebrow and stopped chewing for a second. Taking a deep breath the oxygen gathered all your thoughts into an anxiety suppressing pill, shooting in waves through your bloodstream. You didn’t waste any time, your eyelids swung up letting your lashes almost hit your brows. Both your elbows bent in, positioning themselves next to your waist line snugly. You could feel your back muscles clench and tighten before extending. They shot your arms to the sides, dust cloud forming two plates pushing agents to the side. 

“SILANCE!” the room granted your wish, even the atoms could be heard moving with the shock engulfing the field “This is a lab NOT a playground! If you are able to cause such ruckus you aren’t hurt enough to be here. If any of you insist on doing this, I will give you a reason to scream. If you are patched up leave! Got a paper cut or bruise- leave! Unless you crawl to me, I don’t want to see you.” hunched over your body didn’t move from its metal bending pose, arms spread like a bird in flight, eyes looking forward “Now, out.” the words vibrated fearless in your throat

  It wasn’t surprising that almost all people in black suits left in a rush, accept some that were actually getting treated from the mission. Sergeant Barnes was still laying on the stretcher waiting for his turn, taken back from the scene that unraveled above him. Almost in a Dr. Strange hand motion you pulled the vibranium back.

  The silence continued making your confidence evaporate and let the anxiety condensate back into you. Eyes roaming around the room till a loud and audible clap pulled the strings of your head towards it. Tony was doing his best not to mess his arm up more, but to him this deserved praise.

“Well done Miss inter, I am pleasantly surprised with your actions…” his footsteps creeped up, letting his body lean onto Bucky’s current bed, ignoring the man’s grunt of discomfort “…and that.” his finger made circles pointing at your arms covered with the metallic dust shaped slightly like a gauntlet

“It’s amazing isn’t it?” Banner, back still facing the rest of the room, scoffed proud like a father witnessing his child’s grades 

“You know about it?” Tony crushed up the plastic of the protein bar, tossing it in the trash in the corner of the room

“Yeah.” The doctor was finishing up with Natasha “We were actually talking about that with her before you rushed in. I was lucky enough to get a special demonstration as well.”

“So what is it Miss intern ?” his head tilted, showing a new angle of his goatee

  It didn’t take you long to notice that the sergeant couldn’t get up because he was shot pretty badly. Your desk had turned into a makeshift surgical table with all kinds of things on it - soon to be used. One of the gauntlets flew off your soft skin and pulled up the soldier like he was made of feathers. The wound seemed to be closing up fast, the super serum did give him abnormal healing. This was proof that not everything is a good thing. The bullet was still lodged inside his body, which wasn’t the optimal place for foreign matter.

“It’s vibranium dust. I am sure Mr. Stark knows about it. It was in my application papers.” You began disinfecting the area, applying a small dose of lidocaine onto the open cut, just to numb it as much as possible. Somehow you didn’t want this man to feel any more pain that he already had endured, past or present moment.

“You did, about it being inside the body not throwing it like the pissed off Sand man.” The ever so playful with words Tony ladies and gentlemen 

“I might have skipped one or two parts, but they were something I was experimenting with on the side and not on the subject I was offering.” The vibranium took the elegant shape of a sharp scalpel. With a light hand, the pressure made the blade disappear into Bucky’s skin, making a big enough incision. Tweezers fit inside snugly, pulling out the bullet that looked almost destroyed in his body. “ This batch is under my willful control.”

“Transmitter?” Tony’s eyes went over your whole body trying to find something, still consciously making a mental mark, on the little knife you manifested from basically a pile of metal “Doesn’t look like they are voice triggered .”

“The only transmitter is my brain waves.” Placing your fingers over a cup of rubbing alcohol, you dropped in the tweezers and the scalpel, now turned into the same shiny mass as it was originally in its own jar “ Quantum engineered with quarks made from my own tissues.”

“Ssss.” The hissing sound that came out from in-between Tony’s teeth as he took a sharp breath in, send chills down his own back “Masochist aren’t you. Hey, we don’t kink shame here sweetie, don’t worry.” A playful wink flew towards you “Y/N right?” your head nodded, hands putting things in their original place, trying to give the room back its original look “Nice nice. Welcome to the team, glad to have you. Seems like you chose Banner to start off your training. I am deeply offended .” a big hand grabbed onto the fabric over his heart, in the most theatrical way possible “Most people go for the playboy billionaire. I guess not everyone has good taste, don’t worry I will fix it.” 

“Excuse me?” training? Well that definitely was NOT in the list of activities for you internship “Ugh…”

“Sweet cheeks, you didn’t thought I would give access to Avengers information just like that to an intern?” he scoffed at exactly what you were thinking. The rest of the members were observing the situation from the sidelines. It wasn’t yet their time to jump in.

“Look.” His thigh went over the desk, sitting half way onto it, head crooked at you. Tony was focused on the ever so slightly changing lines of your face. He wasn’t the only one holding a breath in in expectation “I went over you application, I was taken back by your idea. It was so outside the box I am kinda jelly I didn’t come up with it. Some more digging here and there... turns out joining my university was done on a whim - second shot to the heart sweetie.” his fingers back onto his chest next to the reactor core “ Lack of history before that, no future ambitions whatsoever. Heck -” Tony’s body slid off the hard flat surface, fixing the jacket slipping off his shoulder. His back was facing you as he began walking towards the exit “ Even your professors were worried about you- gave them a lil call. I just saw a bright cookie I wanted, so I got you.” With a sideways, look he smirked almost like a cat playing with a mouse

“And I plan to keep you here one way or the other, so I offer you this.” Arms spread sideways, garment now resting on the floor, gathering the dust and dirt from all the shoes in here previously “Training, knowledge and access to tech you would never have even in university or the government. Your choice. Become someone who you used to look up to, or go back after the end of your internship.”

  Your eyes moved from the floor, slowly towards his jacket, over it and straight up his body. The breath lodged inside your throat began moving in and out unnoticeable. The two super soldiers could practically hear you inhaling a storm around yourself and Natasha read your body language. To all of them you were as simple as an open brochure. Tony knew, he was just waiting for the moment you crack under. You were but a pile of clay with astonishing properties, ready to be turned into anything.

“I did apply to Stark university as a last choice. BUT! I applied to this internship for the sole reason of doing nothing but the best to build up a reputation and secure a position in the future.” Your voice snuck out from between your soft lips as a rising in octaves whisper. As confidence began to accumulate so did the need for you to prove your qualities “Even if you didn’t tell me this Mr. Stark, I would have still whipped my success onto your face. There is something I just gotta know.”

  The loud laugh echoing from inside his voice box made your whole body flinch, a blink opening your eyes wide simultaneously. “That is my girl! Exactly what I wanted to hear from you. I knew I chose you very very well. And call me Tony, I am not that old yet for Mr.” his heels swung his body like a ballerina to face you for a bit “ First round you have with green angry guy over there. Banner seems to like you already, but I want to see how true those PE grades of yours are. I expect you to take the gym in the building as serious as the rest do, little smarty pants. I would say don’t disappoint, but that look in your eyes shows me you don’t need cheesy lines. ”

  It felt like time froze the moment the owner of the building stepped out of the lab. The heartbeat in your ears was the only thing counting down the seconds passing by you, before a big and firm arm rested onto your right shoulder. Neck cracked a bit looking up at the huge yet gentle owner. He flashed you a smile almost as bright as his blonde hair.

“He tends to mess with newcomers, don’t worry your head about it too much. Was like that with me too.” Captain America looked down at Bucky and then back at you “I leave my oldie here with you, make sure you take good care of him. “

“Thank you sir.” You blurred out, out of respect towards your childhood hero and probably one of the few people who you felt you could talk casually with out side of ‘work’

“Please, call me Steve. Even if you are a baby to the group, you are still an Avenger in training so, no need for formalities with us.”  With a gentle patting motion he pushed himself off you and in the direction of his own room. ”Don’t stay too long and forget to eat, I know how you science people get.”

  Natasha jumped off the stretcher and groaned out, trying to reposition the shoulder that once more was part of her body and not just hanging by muscles and tissues.

“See you later.” She flashed you a smile, red locks of hair dancing like fire around her “Neighbor.” The word sung out playfully, in a teasing big sister manner

“You staying behind for the usual check up?” Bruce’s voice cracked, waves directed towards the super soldier sitting on the stretcher next to you.

“Yeah.” The word bass low almost pushed his head to the side, but he stopped half way- direction opposite from you

“Y/N would you be a dear and do it for me? I have to go and get Clint his meds.” His thin figure skillfully snaked around tables, chairs and desks out of the room - door sliding closed behind him. You could hear the pressured air whistled inside from the movement.

  Pushing the screen over to the Sergeant’s body made you paused. The scanner caught easily the interference caused by his weapons, plastered over his body in bondage style belts and bags.

“Um, you will have to take those off. Sorry.” Your voice but a whisper that only his super senses could catch. With a nod he reach up to the clasp. The straps were pushing into his strong and muscular body so much, the moment he pressed the button they popped off with a jump, landing onto this pectorals seconds later. As much as you tried to stay professional, your eyes kept drifting over his body. Bucky looked huge compared to the TV version of him. Everyone knew he was experimented on by HYDRA and made into an enhanced human, but this man was a walking tank. His biceps and thighs waiting to just bust out of the fabric. Going wide, your eyes connected with your brain, realizing you were practically having weird thoughts over an injured person. Shaking out of it, you pulled back.

“F.R.I.D.A.Y. ?” calling out, the interface answered practically before you could finish saying the name

Yes Miss.

“Do a standard scan and a nerve check please.”

Shall I send the results to your tablet?

“Yes, thank you.” The sound of the machine turning on led you to pull the flat screen and look at the image developing as pixels. Bucky’s body didn’t move, a bolder just sitting there and waiting. Yet his eyes caught a glimpse of your body slowly leaning onto the desk, focused on your work, unintentionally exposing your neck to him - the shapes your curves made. Somehow he couldn’t avert his gaze even if his head was empty from thoughts.

Done

“Ok...” the letters were prolonged. Biting your nail you noticed the inflamed nerve on his shoulder, pinched between his metal arm and the flesh of his body. “ Any shoulder pain?” you wanted him to say it, not you showing it

“None that I know of.” He responded, voice like thick caramel- sweet. Breathy as it was, the sigh left your mouth open, pulling your eyelids down over your irises. Your hips pushed you away from the desk and over to his left side. The cold vibranium under your touch felt refreshing. Soon as you found the spot, just the slightest pressure made him grunt.

“Hm.”an amused smirk followed the huff of air through your nose “Well I am sure this is something you know of.” Bucky kept his serious face, looking forward and not acknowledging the pain you pulled out of his extremity “Sergeant Barnes, come on.” He didn’t budge nor would he any time soon and you knew that without a verbal answer or marker

 Inhaling some air, you prepared yourself for a conversation that might just jab at more than his inflamed nerve. It could or couldn’t end up with you dead, but you weren’t getting anywhere with this. Pulling the chair on one leg, you swung it over standing directly in front of the tense man. It was time for a confrontation that no one wanted. With a push of your coat you sat down, crossing your legs and leaning onto the knee, elbow to palm.

“Look, I may not be the best person to have this conversation with or anywhere close to that, but you really need to start opening up at least to the people that care about you. Steve ‘cough cough’.”

  Bucky was still jumping from object to object but staying away from you “Keep your secrets to yourself soldier. Fighting inner demons and past trauma that you don’t even remember is hell, but that doesn’t mean you have to suffer on the outside too. No one would think of you any less if you said ‘hey my shoulder hurt’.” Leaning onto the chair’s back you let your head fall towards the wood behind . Diverting your physical eye contact let him eye you comfortably.

“What would you know about that?” ok he spoke, defensive and aggressive but progress- we are making it

“I don’t, I never said I did. If I could experience what you have, I would do it to understand you.” Side to side your head rubbed over the backrest, little splints tugging on your hair “Trust me, I would make this whole situation a lot better.”

“Is this part of your internship or something?” his words pulled your teeth to your bottom lip, squeezing away gently the remark you wished to make. Maybe a bit of Tony was rubbing off onto you.

“Babysitting problematic kids?” head shot up, as your fingers found your chin, placing your whole demeanor into a thinking position “No, I don’t think so.I don’t tend to brats, not my forte.”

“You seem to let your lips lose in bad situations.” Oh now, now he was mad. “Might end up biting you in the ass later.” You didn’t need superpowers or the bp of his heart to deduce it. Since we jumped over the acceptable line by a mile, no need to turn back now. There is one way to deal with an ass and that was bite back harder.

“Sorry for not walking on eggshells around you. Sergeant Barnes.” You saluted him in a mocking way, leaning back in the chair, basically feeling the waves of anger directed towards you. If this was the Winter Soldier he would have bitten off my throat, disgraceful. - the contractions of your lungs stopped at that thought, so rude...so you? Almost like you knew him personally. Ok, ok time to cool down before something happens.

“How do you expect me to help you if you don’t throw me a bone?” you sighed, feeling still how angry Bucky was about the whole conversation and situation in general. You were in the same headspace, if not in a weird yet familiar one” If the arm hurts, let people help, heck ask Dr. Banner or Tony.” It still felt weird using their first names - energizing no doubt

“They don’t understand, never will, nor will you.” This grown man was acting like a child, like the world didn’t have people who had similar levels of stress in their life. It was slowly crawling up your nerves and igniting a fire that could, if unleashed, burn him down so fast, only the metal arm would be left. But you tried to stay cool and calm, be the adult.

“Fine, do what you want.” Your body shot up as you threw your hands even higher. The lab coat fixed itself back onto you, fingers rubbing the back of your neck. The man sat there hunched over, arm stinging with the most dumbfounded look he could plaster over his stoic façade. “You can go, but if you don’t fix it you will be a burden on the next mission.” And you threw the hook, now all good ol’Bucky had to do is bite and this would be all over in the nick of time. There was a room with your name on it, calling.

  You waited and waited till you noticed the stars pocking inside from the window. Head moving towards your clock made you realize that it was already 9pm. With a jump in your step you pulled all the vibranium back in its original comfy home and inside the space in your new desk. Whipping dust off tech and trying to organize your papers, completely ignoring the tantrum little boy pretty close by.

“Fine.” Bucky’s voice was louder and deeper than before

“What?” your neck tugged on the muscles, letting you look at him with an unbothered look swimming around in your eyes.

“I said fine.Do what you gotta do.” And the verbal consent was given on a whim. Joy filled you up knowing you wouldn’t have to deal with him anymore. All happened in a blink of an eye - arms wrapping around his, a sudden loud and painful swing leading to the crack of his whole metallic prosthetic. This was probably the first time you saw such an expression on his face. His brain now activated to deference mode, reached to grab your neck. Any normal person would piss their pants, but you tried to stay calm. Tapping his wrist you played a small echoing sound, when his eyes landed on the full extension and rotation of his arm.

  The accumulating pressure left his muscles as it showed on his face. Bucky’s eyes were wide, roaming over his arm with the speed of light, pulling a light cough out of your throat.

“Sorry. “ he pulled back instantly.

“I just repositioned your arm you big brute. Next time swing gentle, no need to go through walls.” Palming your neck you pointed at the door

“Now leave me to my work.” A light jump and he was on his legs again doing as you requested, not being able to say anything. Leaning onto the door frame he mumbled something and left.

Sergeant Barnes was thankful Miss.

F.R.I.D.A.Y. informed you, pulling a smirk from deep inside. “Yeah yeah, I know. Tough nut that James Barnes. Such a kid.” One more giggle and it was off to finishing up for you.

[gwenbrightly]

Redwall Falls Chapter 2

“He’s looking at me...” Brome heard his sister whisper to herself. She was not so inconspicuously watching Martin, one of the Mystery Shack’s teenaged employees, while she cleaned bobbleheads made in the image of their Great Aunt (or Graunt) Polly. The siblings had been put to work helping out around the tourist trap as soon as they’d had some time to settle in.

“Why don’t you just, I don’t know, talk to him?” he suggested with an eye roll. Rose stared at him.

“After what happened last time?” she cringed. Yesterday, when they’d met him (and the handy-squirrel known as Feldoh), the mouse had introduced himself before saying something about a “rosty nose”, which had taken several minutes to decipher. Brome still wasn’t sure what that was about, but it had definitely been awkward.

“Well, he’s proven that he can speak coherently,” Brome observed, nodding his head at the customer Martin was currently ringing up, “so maybe this time you guys can make it through an entire conversation without crashing.”

“I... Don’t be so pushy, Brome. These things take time. And besides-” Rose’s protests were cut off by Graunt Polly’s appearance from the back room.

“All right, all right, look alive, everybeast. I need someone to go hang up these signs in the spooky part of the forest,” the mole announced, displaying several signs that had advertisements with question marks and directions to the Mystery Shack on them. Rose, Brome, Feldoh, and Martin all glanced at each other.

“Not it,” Rose said quickly.

“Not it,” Brome followed suit.

“Also not it. You needed me to switch out the lightbulbs upstairs, remember?” It was Feldoh, this time. Graunt Polly looked annoyed.

“Martin, go hang these signs.” She ordered. “Oh, I would, but it’s so far. And I just realized I never had my lunch break so...”

“I’d fire all of you if I could,” Polly complained, frowning at Martin’s lame excuse. Her statement didn’t seem to have the desired effect, for she looked rather disappointed when no one took the hint and volunteered as tribute.

“Fine, then. Guess we’re gonna have to do this the old-fashioned way,” she said, “let’s make it.. Eanie, meanie, minie… you,” she pointed a paw at Brome. He groaned in dismay.

“What? No. Graunt Polly, there’s something off about these woods… they’re creepy and I always feel like I’m being watched.”

“Noonvale doesn’t have much in the way of real forests, Brome. It’s gonna take some time for you to adjust to, well, the great outdoors,” Polly told him, giving his headfur a ruffle. He looked to Rose for backup, but she didn’t offer anything.

“I’m telling you – there’s something weird going on in this town. Homesickness can’t explain why the mosquito bites on my arm spell out ‘beware’.” Brome pointed out, rolling up his sleeve to show the others. Feldoh made a gagging noise. Rose raised an eyebrow and said,

“It looks more like ‘bewarb’ to me, and that’s really only if you squint.”

“Look, kid, that whole ‘monsters in the woods’ thing is just a local legend drummed up to attract more tourists,” Polly tried to assure him, but Brome wasn’t convinced. He had only been in Gravity falls for a day and he’d already seen bizarre glowing lights, heard strange noises, and been accosted by possibly radioactive mosquitos.

“But...” he protested as Graunt Polly plopped the signs into his reluctantly waiting arms.

“Stop being so paranoid and try to have some fun with this, eh, Brome?”

_______________

“No one believes anything I say,” Brome muttered to himself as he nailed a sign to a tree. It felt like he had been out in the forest for hours. All by himself. With no one to talk (complain) to. Was it even legal to send children out into the forest to perform manual labor without supervision? He’d have to check the local child labor laws once he got access to wifi – yet another thing the Mystery Shack seemed to be lacking in.

“Ugh!” he cried. “Stupid Mystery Shack! Stupid signs!”

Kathunk! Brome kicked the next tree he came to and immediately recoiled. He yelped in pain, then cocked his head. Trees didn’t make weird echoey noises… did they?

“Weird…” he commented, dropping the remaining sign on the ground so he could investigate further. Rapping gently on the tree – he didn’t want to hurt himself – Brome listened to the oddly metallic sound the tree made on impact. Something was definitely off about it. He took the sleeve of his sweatshirt and rubbed away at the trunk. Textured brown paint and a healthy coating of dirt and grime gave way to old metal. Ahah! The entire tree was fake. In full detective mode, now, Brome examined the tree until he spotted a small handle.

With slight apprehension, for there was always a chance his actions would activate an army of laser equipped robots, he grasped the lever with both paws and yanked it down. Nothing happened. No grand reveal. No explosion. Just the sound of birds chirping in the distance.

The young mouse huffed in disappointment and turned to leave, wishing he hadn’t gotten his hopes up. All his Sci-Fi TV shows and books had lied to him. Cool things never happened in real life. The world just didn’t work that way. But then, the creaking of a rusty hatch forcing its way open somewhere nearby caused him to stop in his tracks.

Brome circled the area, searching for the source of the sound. The switch must have done something, after all. He checked every nook and cranny, below each bush and on top of every rock and stump. His query remained elusive. Whatever the lever had opened was clearly well hidden.  Brome took a step backwards, hoping the action would give him a different view of this patch of forest.

In a way, he got exactly what he wanted; the fallen tree he tripped over certainly forced him to see the area from a different angle. But the unexpected fall wasn’t very pleasant and Brome couldn’t help but wonder how badly he’d have to hurt himself before his parents would let him come home. He lay on the ground for a moment, half tempted to sink into the dirt and become one with nature. Thankfully, such drastic actions did not end up being necessary.

It was no wonder Brome hadn’t noticed the bizarre hole the switch had uncovered. Half buried by the log and built from camouflaged materials, he would have missed it completely if not for the fact that he’d practically fallen right on top of it. He sat up, thoughtfully. Whoever had installed this hidden treasure trove obviously hadn’t wanted anyone to find it. How long had it been since someone sat where he now sat? Since somebeast had peered into the hole to examine its secrets? Brome gently removed an object wrapped in old newspapers, bursting into a fit of sneezes at the resulting cloud of dust that had floated into the air.

It was old. Old-old, as in more than just a few years old. The newspapers were from several decades ago. Their edges had curled with age, and some of the lettering was too faded to be legible. Fortunately, Brome had little interest in the newspaper; the item it protected was far more intriguing. A journal. And journals always had juicy secrets written in them – he’d learned that from snooping in Rose’s bedroom (though this journal would inevitably be much more interesting than his sister’s diary).

The journal’s design was simple enough. It was made of thick brown leather with the insignia of a paw print on the front cover. Brome wasn’t sure what kind of creature would have an entire extra toe. He also wasn’t sure he wanted to find out. What if the journal contained something bad? Something he wasn’t supposed to see?

It must have been hidden for a reason, after all. The young mouse sat for a moment, pondering his options. He could, of course, bury the journal and get back to work hanging Graunt Polly’s signs. He could also take his chances and open the book regardless of ancient curses or government Intel. It was a difficult choice.

“Alright, mystery beast. Let’s see what you’ve been hiding,” Brome muttered when his curiosity finally got the better of him. He hummed thoughtfully and flipped through the first few pages. They were covered with sketches of creatures he had never seen before. Detailed notes and memos accompanied many of the sketches.

“It's hard to believe it's been six years since I began studying the strange and wondrous secrets of Gravity Falls,” he read aloud from the page that had the most writing. Six years was a long time to be stuck in this place. The author must have had an awful lot of spare time on their paws to create such an elaborate journal. Flipping through the journal some more, Brome found himself growing more intrigued with each page he read.

Eventually, the writing and sketches grew increasingly erratic and less caretakingly organized. Notes that made no sense lined the margins in some places. One page in particular had the words Trust No One scrawled across its top in large lettering. Brome read the rest of the entry with bated breath, “Unfortunately, my suspicions have been confirmed. I'm being watched. I must hide this book before he finds it. Remember: in Gravity Falls there is no one you can trust." He paused, confused. That seemed… harsh. But if Gravity Falls really did have a dark side-

“Watcha doin?” someone said, sending Brome into a frenzied attempt to hide the journal behind his back. He groaned when he realized who it was. His sister gave him an awkward wave.

“Rose! Thanks for that. I really needed a heart attack today,” he stated flatly.

“I didn’t mean to scare you,” Rose told him, sitting down on the fallen tree, “Graunt Polly sent me to check on you.”

“Oh,” he said. He felt a little foolish for being so easily shaken. The journal’s tone was clearly getting to him.

“So… what were you reading that you didn’t notice me coming your way?” she asked.

“It’s nothing,” Brome said quickly. Rose hummed in response, clearly skeptical.

“Seems like pretty interesting nothingness. You were really invested in it.”

“Well… it’s not nothing nothing,” he admitted, “Just not something I should show you out here where anyone could happen to walk by. Let’s go somewhere more… private.”

“Alright. But now I’m curious. This better not be evidence of aliens, or I’m going to be very insulted that you didn’t show me right away,” Rose teased, ruffling his head fur. Brome winked at her and stood up. He waved the journal at her before taking off in the direction of the Mystery Shack as he said,

“You’ll just have to wait and see.”

After all, surely the book journal hadn’t meant sisters when it said trust no one… right?

[backtobasicbellas]

hi friends, just wrote something in honor on 10 years of victorious. don’t think i’ll put this one on AO3, but feel free to enjoy here!

you think you know better

Word Count: 3,451 Relationships: Tori Vega/Jade West

//

The last thing Jade wants to do is play Tori Vega’s wife in a play.

However, Sikowitz is being a total gank and now she’s here, multiple rehearsals in having to pretend she’s in love with the stupid brunette. It’s already one thing that her ex-boyfriend’s playing her son. How on earth is she also supposed to pretend she’s happily married to Tori?

Jade knows that her acting kind of sucks right. She knows it does and she knows Tori’s acting sucks too because she hesitates even looking at Jade too long when she reads a line or touching her in the slightest of senses. True to her craft, Jade is usually able to put personal feelings aside for the sake of whatever project she’s working on, but something about this is different. Something about Tori frustrates her to no end that not even being forced to play love interests in one of Sikowitz’s weird plays is able to push those feelings aside.

“I love you,” Tori says with squinted eyes and an awkward punch on the shoulder.

“I love you,” Jade answers with gritted teeth.

Seriously, this is painful.

“Uh no you don’t,” Sikowitz interrupts loudly, shutting his notebook and slamming it onto the empty seat next to him.

Despite his clear frustration, Jade inwardly sighs in relief, glad she doesn’t have to keep up the act for another moment. She hardly even hears Sikowitz and Burf’s exchange, too focused on the fact Tori is standing way too close for their comfort levels.

“You girls are ruining this play.”

Sikowitz’s comment brings Jade back into focus, and she almost feels bad because it feels like she’s disappointing Sikowitz - which, honestly, is kind of difficult to do.

“Why?” Tori asks.

“Andre, Beck, take five,” he nods at the two boys, who gladly take the break and walk away rather quickly.

The teacher turns his attention back to Tori and Jade and says, “This is our fifth rehearsal and you two aren’t getting any better at playing a believable husband and wife - BURF BE QUIET!”

Jade’s shoulders jump just a little at the outburst, but something in her stomach doesn’t sit right. She can’t believe she’s letting Tori ruin her acting like this.

“Meet me at Nozu tonight. 7 pm,” Sikowitz tells them sternly, putting his playbook in their face as he begins to walk away.

Jade’s jaw visibly drops at his comment. Tori’s the one who vocalizes the same thought they’re having.

“But I don’t wanna g-” 

“Nozu!”

“But why are you-”

Sikowitz then starts yelling gibberish, to which Tori and Jade both just stare at him like he’s crazy.

“At least let us-” Jade tries, but Sikowitz just yells louder.

“SEEYOUBOTHATNOZUATSEVENPM,” he yells, angrily stomping out of the room.

They stare after him for a moment, then Jade feels Tori look at her.

“So...are we just...not rehearsing…?”

Jade gives her a look before she scoffs and promptly storms out in a similar fashion as her teacher. She’ll be damned if she has to go to dinner with both Sikowitz and Tori.

//

Jade goes.

Not at all by choice, of course. Sikowitz tells her later in the day if she doesn't, she’ll receive a failing grade for the play. So Jade sucks it up and drives to Nozu, praying that she can sit for a few minutes, get a free meal, and then leave without too much suffering.

She walks into the restaurant, eyes wandering, hoping the other two haven’t arrived yet.

“JADE!”

Her head snaps, seeing an overly unenthusiastic Sikowitz waving his hand wildly in the air. Tori is sitting next to him, something similar to a grimace on her face. Jade only rolls her eyes, dragging her feet to join them at the bar. She purposefully leaves a seat between herself and Tori before sitting down.

“Okay I’m here,” she announces. “Why?”

“Because you two need to learn how to play a husband and wife believably,” Sikowitz tells them.

“What does that have to do with sushi?” Tori asks, clearly irritated.

Jade hides a smirk; she doesn’t mind when Tori shows other emotions than being the sweet, goody two-shoes she’s always been.

“Listen, I once had to do a show where I had to play a man in great pain. So to prepare, I threw myself down a flight of stairs.”

Jade and Tori only stare at him, unsure if they should even respond.

Sikowitz adds, “You wouldn’t believe how many times I hit my head.”

“Yeah we would,” Jade supplies without hesitation.

“We really, really would,” Tori nods in agreement.

Sikowitz ignores them both, continuing on, “Now to prepare for your roles, you two must date.”

Jade stares at him, wide eyed.

“So, have fun,” he concludes, standing up from his stool.

“What date?” Jade snaps.

Sikowitz points at the two of them. “This one. It begins now at,” he pushes up his sleeve to reveal nothing but his bare wrist. “Seven-oh-twelve p.m. You two will stay here, eat, chat, drink and giggle until the restaurant closes at midnight.”

Jade is absolutely not going to be forced on some dumb date with Tori. She immediately pulls herself up from her seat.

“Forget it, I’m leaving.”

Tori follows suit. “Yeah, me too.”

“Ah!” Sikowitz warns, making the two of them freeze and turn to him. “If either of you two leave before midnight, you both get an F for the semester.”

“Sikowitz,” Tori lets out in a whine, stomping like a child on the verge of a tantrum.

“It’s fine,” Jade insists, mainly to get Tori to shut up as she slings her purse over her shoulder. “He’s gonna know when we leave.”

Sikowitz gives her a look. “Oh yes he gonna.”

The two just stare at him, as if wondering how much worse this can get.

“I have two spies watching you. Sinjin and Burf,” he informs them, pointing to both of them awkward and lanky boys from their respective spots.

Jade looks at Sikowitz again, unable to believe she’s being forced to sit through this. Tori glances at her and it’s clear she’s in the same boat.

“Happy dating,” Sikowitz tells them before he’s slipping out the door.

Jade shares a look with Tori before they’re both slouching back into their chairs with a glare.

“Excuse me,” Tori says in her stupidly sweet voice.

Jade hates it.

“Hi, my date and I were wondering if you had a flight of stairs we could throw ourselves down.”

Jade has to school her features because she’s surprised at Tori’s comment. She keeps a straight face, but honestly, she’s impressed.

She’d never let Tori know it, though.

After sitting there moping for a moment, Tori lets out a sigh.

“Let���s at least order food,” she suggests. “I’m hungry.”

“Fine, we’ll eat in silence,” Jade decides.

Tori gives her a look to which Jade pointedly ignores before she’s shoving a menu Tori’s way.

When they order, the waiter just looks at them hesitantly, as if he doesn’t quite understand what’s going on, but when Jade glares at him he turns and sends their orders in without having to be told twice. Jade groans. She isn’t sure how she’s supposed to survive this night.

It’s just uncomfortable silence for the most part, one Jade is trying to eat through the best she can, but then Tori starts slurping on her soup and really, didn’t anyone teach her better?

“NO!” Jade shouts when Tori’s slurping for the third time in the past five seconds.

Tori side eyes her, slurping another spoonful just to spite her. Jade resists the urge to smack her arm.

“Worst night ever,” she states, sifting through the remnants of her meal with her chopsticks.

“Oh, you think I’m having fun on this ‘date’? ‘Cause I’m not,” Tori responds with a glare

“Then let’s not talk,” Jade suggests quickly.

“Fine!” Tori agrees.

Jade feels like she’s won at least a small part of her night, turning back to her food, but of course, Tori has never been a quiet one.

“You know-”

“Ugh!” Jade groans, as if she’s physically in pain at the sound of Tori’s voice.

Tori rolls her eyes, staring at the ceiling for a second before she says, “There is no reason you and I shouldn’t be able to sit here and have a conversation”

“I’ve got a good reason.”

“Which is?”

“I don’t like you,” Jade reminds her in a duh voice.

Tori raises her eyebrows, taking it as a challenge. “Really? You can’t think of one good thing you like about me?”

Jade pretends to think about it for a moment before she says, “I like when you’re sad.”

Tori looks at her before she lets out a scoff. Jade shrugs like there’s nothing else Tori should’ve expected. Because really, she should’ve seen it coming.

“Okay, try again,” Tori tells her, turning to face her again. “Reach down into your twisted, bitter soul and see if you can find anything nice to say about me.”

Usually, it doesn’t go like this. Usually, by now, Tori gives up and just lets Jade have the last word. Something about this piques Jade’s interest in conversing now, a side of Tori that only she’s really been able to pull out of her.

“Uh okay,” she begins, thinking for a moment. “Your singing isn’t...awful.”

Tori nods, a sardonic smile on her face. “Thanks so much.”

“Now let’s hear you say something nice about me,” Jade suggests.

“Sure,” Tori relents. “Um, I admire how you’re never afraid to say what you think.”

“That’s stupid.”

“See?”

Jade rolls her eyes. Stupid Vega’s getting better at this, she notices.

“Now your turn again,” Tori says.

“Uh,” Jade starts, and the first thought that comes to her mind - well, she can’t have Tori the satisfaction of knowing that. But she’s got nothing else so, “I guess some people might say, that from certain angles you’re pretty.”

She’s suddenly focused on poking her chopsticks through her rice and definitely not looking at Tori. She can feel Tori’s eyes on her though, and when she risks a side glance she notice the way Tori’s lips lift up into a small smile.

Jade ignores the feeling in her gut.

“You could say I’m pretty,” Jade suggests, trying to stop Tori from smiling like an idiot.

There’s a pause and then, “You are pretty.”

Jade looks back at Tori then, and Tori can only manage a shy smile and a shrug. Jade hates how it makes her a little soft. Then, as if they both notice the air has shifted, Tori and Jade look back at their meals and take a bite, trying to figure out what the hell just happened.

Jade thinks this night couldn’t possibly get weirder.

...until it does.

Jade’s met her fair share of annoying, overly-confident boys at Hollywood Arts alone, but these two are a whole new level. Every glance she shares with Tori is confirmation enough that they need to get rid of them like now.

“Sing us a song!” one says.

“Yeah we wanna hear a little songy-song action,” the other chimes in.

Jade thinks she’s just going to smash both of their heads onto the table. But wait - songs. What was that lesson with Sikowitz the day they cast themselves into the play?

With a new idea, Jade turns to Tori, concealing a smirk.

“You hear that? They wanna hear a little songy-song action,” she says smugly.

Tori stares at her like she’s crazy for a moment, and Jade almost screams because how is Tori this dense - but then she’s smiling along the moment it clicks. A big smile with a nod, and Jade knows Tori’s acting when she sees it.

“Okay, we’ll sing you a song,” she agrees, standing from her chair.

Jade follows her to the DJ’s makeshift station, smirking at the back of Tori’s head.

“Hey.”

The DJ looks up.

“Break’s over,” Jade tells him, crossing her arms.

“What song do you want to sing?”

“Um,” Tori squints, leaning over to inspect the song list.

Jade feels the eyes of the boys on them.

“T305,” Tori answers, looking up at Jade with a knowing smile.

Jade looks down at the page, finding the listing. She smirks. Not bad, Vega.

It’s not the first time they’ve sung, but Jade is pretty sure it’s the first time they’ve sung together by choice, and the first time it’s just the two of them. She finds herself enjoying this, performing with Vega. It’s no secret that Tori’s always been a good singer - that much was clear from day one, but for once Jade isn’t looking at her as a threat.

Maybe, just maybe, everything with Tori isn’t a competition. And of course, making two idiot boys squirm never hurts either.

As the crowd applauds them, the two boys silently make their exit. Neither of the girls notice though, because Tori is throwing an arm around Jade as she laughs, and Jade lets her without complaint, and maybe they’re finally getting somewhere.

//

“That was phenomenally better!”

Sikowitz is outright applauding them the following day at rehearsal. Sinjin and Burf lookin with glee. Even Beck and Andre are impressed by the looks of it.

“See? Doesn’t acting like this feel better?” Sikowitz asks.

Jade shrugs. “It’s alright I guess.”

She won’t give Sikowitz or Tori the satisfaction of knowing that yes, being able to fall into a role like this feels immensely better than forcing herself to go through the motions with someone she hates.

“Seriously that’s stop good stuff,” Andre nods. “How’d you guys do it?”

Tori smiles, like it’s a secret only for her and Jade. “Oh you know, just a date night at Nozu.”

Jade suppresses the smile that wants to appear on her face. It’s kind of fun, like an inside joke no one else will quite understand with Tori. Tori wears her heart on her sleeve, she is open and honest and welcome to those who approach her. To have something with her, even if it’s just a dumb forced date night, is something Jade holds on to.

She misses the way Beck looks at her curiously, as if trying to understand the new dynamic between them.

//

They start hanging out. No, actually, not really. It starts as Tori suggesting they go over lines together after school in the days leading up to opening night and Jade agreeing. That’s all.

But Jade finds herself laughing more than she should. She finds herself finding less and less reasons to snap at Tori - though, don’t be mistaken, she is all for pushing buttons and poking fun. Tori can handle it, this much Jade knows.

But Tori always surprises her, coming up with a sassy remark or a quick comeback when Jade leasts expects it. It keeps Jade on her toes and for the first time in a long time, she doesn’t think about missing Beck.

“Why did we hate each other?” Tori sighs, stretching back on her couch the night before opening day.

“Did?” Jade asks with a smirk and a quirk of her eyebrow. “I still hate you.”

Tori rolls her eyes, giving her a look. “Well, I, for one, don’t hate you. I don’t think I ever did.”

Jade looks at her. “I know you never did. You definitely have every right too, though.”

And it’s true. For all Jade’s thrown at her, Tori has never once retaliated as hard. She has always forgiven Jade, even taken the blame when Jade’s the one who pushes and pushes. Tori has done nothing but forgive Jade time and time again, and Jade isn’t even quite sure why.

Tori looks at her curiously, her head doing an adorable tilt.

“I think I like us better as friends.”

“Who said we’re friends?”

Tori scoffs, pulling a pillow out from under her and smacking Jade with it. Jade laughs, grabbing another pillow and hitting her right back.

Jade is having a stupid pillow fight with Tori Vega in her living room, but she can’t find it in her to stop smiling.

//

Opening night is something like a dream.

Jade loves opening night of plays, honestly. There is something about it that is so unique, that there’s never anything quite like it.

(There is also the fact that on the opening night of her play a few semesters ago, Tori made sure it happened exactly as she’d hoped.

She tries not to think too hard about that, though.)

The black box theater is packed despite it only being an in-class play, and Jade thrives off the full room. Something about the acting tonight elevates it all, and she knows Tori can feel it too from the way her eyes shine the entire time.

“You are no sleepy loser,” Jade tells her, squeezing Tori’s arms in comfort. “You’re an astronaut.”

Tori looks at her for a long moment, long enough for something to bubble underneath Jade’s chest.

“I love you,” Tori tells her in a deep voice.

“I love you,” Jade replies without missing a beat.

Her voice is so soft and genuine, she truly doesn’t know where it comes from.

Tori pulls her in a hug then, and Jade wraps her arms around her tightly. Sikowitz leads the audience in applause, and when they finally pull away, Tori is looking at her with a smile as if to say we did it.

As they take their final bow, Jade holding Tori’s hand, two voices become louder than the rest. Standing back up, Jade’s eyes fall to the back row and her stomach drops in dread. Tori is hitting her shoulder, starting to say something, but Jade cuts her off quickly.

“It’s them,” she says, grabbing Tori’s arm. “It’s them.”

Tori gives her a confused look, but then she’s looking into the audience herself and her eyes widen.

“What do we do?” Jade asks.

The boys are beginning to stand up and it’s clear they are trying to make their way over.

“Run,” Tori decides. “Run Nancy.”

“Yes, Walter,” Jade nods without hesitation, grabbing Tori’s hand and practically sprinting to the back of the theater.

They exit the room and down the hall, both of them tugging off their wigs and Tori pulling off her fake mustache in the process. They end up in Sikowitz’s classroom by the end of it, breathless. The two of them look at each other for a moment before bursting out in laughter, unable to help themselves.

“God I’ve never been so scared in my life,” Tori admits through her laughter, clutching onto Jade for support.

“Tell me about it,” Jade breathes out, shaking her head in disbelief.

When they’ve finally calmed down enough, they are still holding hands, wigs discarded on the nearest chair. Tori is so close and she smells like her dumb fruity perfume. Her eyes still shine brightly, and Jade can’t help it.

She kisses Tori. It only lasts a moment, soft and quick, but it’s enough to both know it wasn’t a mistake. Jade pulls away, and they’re both left staring at each other with wide eyes. Tori is clearly surprised, but at least she doesn’t look upset.

“Did you just…?” Tori asks in a quiet voice.

“I..um, yeah. Guess I did.”

Tori bites her lip. Jade hates how good she looks still with her hair tied back and pinned in place from the wig.

“Can you do it again?” she asks, uncharacteristically shy.

Jade smirks then, pulling Tori into her again.

Maybe they end up making out in Sikowitz’s classroom while everyone is looking for them, but hey - it’s better than the janitor’s closet.

When they finally return to the dressing room, Jade holding Tori’s hand, Beck and Andre are already changed and Robbie and Cat are also there, hanging out.

“Where have you guys been?” Beck asks. “There were two guys who were looking for you.”

“We didn’t want to see them,” Jade tells him.

He notices their hands and quirks an eyebrow, silently posing a question. Jade only raises her eyebrows in response, pulling away from Tori to change out of her costume.

“Oh you know,” Tori shrugs, biting her lip to hide a smile. “Around.”

Everyone exchanges a look, but none of them say anything further about it as the other two change.

And when Jade kisses Tori in front of everyone at Nozu later that night, Tori gives her a big smile.

“I knew you didn’t hate me,” Tori sing-songs.

“Don’t push it,” Jade teases, but her arm rests comfortably around Tori, not minding when Tori slides her hand into hers and kisses the back of Jade’s hand softly as Cat tells a story.

[wordsfromafangirl]

@cookiedoughmeagain

Saw this post.

Answered some of the questions.

Long post warning. Spoilers too for those who haven't seen the show or want to. Bare with. I did mostly answer Nathan and Duke oriented questions and there's no way I can answer those without shipper goggles on, sorry. Also, I think Haven left a lot of holes for the audience to fill in about the town. Don't know if that was intentional, but I often found myself wound up in subtext, things that could happen off screen with just those one lines, like you brought up about hijinx and illegal things Nathan might've done but we never see or really hear about.

For many of the questions concerning Vince and Dave, I just kind of assumed that half the time they were the old guys of Haven who kept its secrets and so anything they did was always suspect. They covered up the truth. They basically tried to keep their involvement a secret (all the time). Look at Vince and how he was the apparent leader of the Guard to keep troubles in check and help those (with mostly volatile and uncontrollable troubles) in need, but the Guard looked like that oppressive middle ground where they sometimes play both sides with or without Vince in charge…? Personally, Vince and Dave would be the sus people of the town. They know everything and sure when they are giving me my Haven newspaper everything seems peachy, but how far could you delude a town until it starts asking questions or rather everything implodes, and everyone just knows? Not an inner circle of people, the whole town knows now either because they were newly given a trouble or because they finally caught on that Haven was not a “normal” town. Vince and Dave are the gossipers and busy bodies but kept (dare I say) hypocritical secrets of their own? (<And this could answer the very last question about why they'd write an article if they knew, but memories were wonky that day except for knowing they found "The Colorado Kid" dead...?)

Now onto the questions that really got me curious:

5. What was Evi doing working with the Rev? Was she genuinely simply trying to help Duke, or was she working an angle? Did she know about the Troubles? What did she think the Rev’s motivation was? What were her final words (“If you don’t tell him, I will.”) about?

Honestly, this intrigued me, but I assumed Evi had to know. Didn’t she also mention something about Duke being powerful? I do not know, it has been a while since I watched it, but she had to know about the troubles. The Rev must have filled her in that Duke is a vital part of the plan but as my mind goes back to 2x09; in order to sway Duke, they could not allow Nathan to oversee anything. Nathan would stand in Duke’s way because it is someone who can convince him otherwise. Someone who would see the use of Duke’s trouble as “wrong” and uncontrollable and always try to stop him. Of course, we know there is more emotional ties between the boys that would make Duke stop and think about abusing his trouble. Or not even at this point because in 2x09 Nathan has no qualms about locking Duke up even if that meant they would (as they did) shoot Evi. Nathan could not stand the thought of Duke being injured?? I am digressing from the point, because you mention, “if you don’t tell him, I will” and that must mean she knew about the trouble(s)? She knew what Duke could be capable of, but they had to get Nathan out of the way? Literally, the Rev wanted to attempt assassinating Audrey and mostly Nathan because…that is the one person who would be in Duke’s way…in the guise of the Rev’s prejudiced mind when dealing with people who had troubles…then in the end look who Duke ends up siding with? "Just so you know I'm the lion."

6. On one of the commentaries there is talk of how Duke and Nathan got up to “hijinks” together as teenagers. WHAT WERE THE HIJINKS?

Many of their HIJINKS were probably pranks, you know. Duke would mostly prank Nathan of course and then occasionally Nathan finds himself wrapped up in one against other people. Or they are the kids riding around on their bikes (like the IT gang) and just causing a ruckus? They could be in a group. Yet I think sometimes Nathan and Duke ventured off alone…

I think if you consider off screen hijinks as teenagers it is probably why Duke acts so snubbed towards Nathan all the time. If you think about it, Duke lost a friend who would be the “bad boy” with him. Nathan turned into stuffy, stick up his butt Nathan either A. because of his trouble or B. because he had to follow in Garland’s footsteps and be a cop. It reminds me of Harmony right there at the beginning of the show, episode 3? Nathan is lying about everything, according to Duke and so he is being a Pinocchio like usual; not a real boy, which is also in reference to “his condition” of feeling no pain/nothing. And it is probably because Nathan was a “bad boy” and the only one who keeps that information in confidence is Duke. Nathan wants to keep it that way. Duke never really tells anyone anything and truthfully, he just likes fucking with “law-abiding” Nathan. Duke of course misses those times when they were teenagers just messing about and getting heckled by Garland, but maybe once or twice getting cuffs slapped on them only to be let go an hour later? Sooner or later, Duke would see that shift. Nathan would start becoming interested in law enforcement and Duke seeks a path towards smuggling/criminal activity. Duke is the only one being arrested by the time they are 17-30 and sometimes it is by Nathan (small head canon: Duke does it on purpose. He is an attention seeker and hell if he does not like Nathan putting him in handcuffs). Then suddenly Duke has up and vanished for a little while (guessing from 30 to 35ish? Or some time frame shorter). Nathan would lie about missing him, but because his trouble was activated how does Nathan really know? He just knows, but never admits it, hence the whole love/hate game we get between them when Duke does come back.

24. In Harmony Duke says something to Nathan about “does she know the things you’ve done?” - implying that when they were younger Nathan did something illegal and/or possibly immoral that Duke knows about (because he was also involved?) but most people (or at least, Audrey) don’t. WHAT THINGS?

Primarily? IT’S LOOKING THE OTHER WAY WHEN DUKE DOES SOMETHING ILLEGAL. It is essentially just being there as a participant while Duke breaks and enters? Or being there while Duke is smuggling something because I venture to think that business started early on for Duke. 18ish and onward? It is giving Duke a pass once, twice, three times and more. Nathan cannot be mad at Duke. Then there is maybe those few times is it was Nathan picking the lock. It was Nathan doing something illegal and Duke of course did not care. He would look the other way or help him along. This is something that would always stay between Nathan and Duke, which is why I think the relationship is so rocky. Duke is holding secrets that could jeopardize Nathan’s “law abiding” reputation and he never once tells a soul, right? This is a testament to loyalty and how neither of them hates each other. Of course, for me, from space they can be seen as exes. The on and off type of relationship because Duke’s smuggling business got in the way or as I think of it, Nathan got so tired of Duke being sort of unchanging that he would break it off and then suddenly he had run back to Duke, hop on the boat and beg to be taken back. Duke would chuckle and take him back. Was this secret? Or did the whole town see it? Most likely people knew, even Garland. Not so sure Simon approved, but somehow while their relationship was fucked up and Simon ends up dying, I don't think Duke necessarily sought his approval on anything? Truthfully, his feelings for Nathan were his business alone and Nathan mostly felt the same way so who cares?

26. What’s Duke’s side of the story about the fishing trip when Nathan’s Trouble got triggered?

Duke knows he fucked up.He used Nathan as a distraction while some illegal procedures were happening underneath his nose. Nathan thinks oh well maybe I still have a friend, because they’re probably in the middle of their: “Oh, seriously, Duke. Put your hands behind your back.” “Oh, come on Nathan, can you just this once not.” Too late. Nathan grabs his wrists and puts his hands behind his back. Duke feels the familiarity of handcuffs and smirks his whole to Nathan’s Bronco. Ironically.

If I track it right Nathan’s trouble was triggered on this fishing trip before Duke left Haven right? So therefore, this was probably to make amends? It might have been that good old let us just actually hang out as friends (or more…because my brain goes there) but it turns out I need you as my cover while shady shit goes on in town. Nathan finds out. They fight. It triggers the trouble. And presumably Duke feels so guilty and thus he decides to leave. Or he had already decided and did not know how to tell Nathan on the fishing trip, but part of leaving and getting out of dodge meant also doing some smuggling for parts, money etc.

35. Wouldn’t Nathan have recognised Duke in The Colorado Kid photo? (Especially given that he would very probably have seen the photo when he was a kid?) And wouldn’t he have told Audrey that from the beginning?

Everyone’s memory was effed up right? So perhaps Nathan did not remember? Though, you are right. Nathan would have recognized him. Would he have told Audrey? Not so sure, because Nathan would be in that battle inside his head. How far can I trust Audrey? I immediately liked her. Duke does too. That should mean she is great. But Duke is kinda sorta my friend…my ugh whatever, tell him or do not tell him? Imagine Nathan knowing about the photo before Duke reveals to Audrey that it is him…and so Nathan is sitting in his house waiting for coffee to cool off and contemplating…I could tell Audrey. It is crucial information, and I don’t know why Duke isn’t saying anything? Is there a reason? Should I talk to him first? Then at one point he just gives up and lets Audrey continue playing detective in hopes Duke would just fess up. For me, Nathan is in a constant battle of loyalty when it comes to Duke and Audrey, but when he realizes that Duke cares just as much about Audrey...(okay, we're not talking about threegulls and the relationship that is the three of them...)

23. Were there ever any female Crockers? If there were, would they have had the same curse?

Hey! There is a female Crocker isn’t there? Or does she since she cannot even be near Dad at all, inherit the trouble of the dock worker only? Whose name slips my mind. But I venture to think that Duke’s blood would overcome that, but the baby had life draining powers because that was the trouble of the dock worker. Baby after baby only to suck the life out of the father like some metaphorical siren.

Personally, I always think that if the babies survive and we know she did, then I think by the time she’s a teen all life draining powers would just go away [because I assume that’s the curse, never being able to keep the baby but the baby doesn’t get the full curse; however what about duke’s trouble [at this point is his trouble is inactive like a volcano, but can it still be passed on? Volcanoes sit there and stew so the genetic thing of the trouble must still be there…isn't it implicated that families still have the trouble but can go on without it being activated?]…anyway, Duke’s blood is taking over and she finally realizes something funky is going on so she searches out her father because Nathan made sure to tell the adoption services that any parents who fosters or even adopts her down the road they should tell her that her real father is out there and he did not, would not just abandon a baby (even if it happened in real time and not some sped up sci-fi version).

Basically, in any version (in my head) of the Crocker bloodline, Duke is probably the first to have a girl and yes she'd get the same trouble, because imagine a badass woman who looks like Duke manage the Crocker trouble (the eye thing). It seems to me though that it was bloodlines/legacy that stuck with men because apparently boys were it in the Crocker family. And many other families seemed that way too. Some troubles seemed bound by legacy born from the men and carried on, etc. I like to think that Duke subverted all that shit. And funny enough, his trouble went away at one point, but I think if there were ever any female Crockers? If there were, would they have had the same curse? If there were that baby girl could have still had it. Meaning his fate could have been different if they played an angle of that daughter coming back into the story. Someone else who had Duke’s trouble and then of course, it would turn into a reason for Duke to live (still bitter because I’m being biased as to who is my favorite in the Haven world). Imagine juxtaposition story lines of Dwight and Duke fighting… Duke: “She’s my daughter!” Dwight: “Well, that’s my daughter too!” Then they would both just take a deep breath and realize they are fighting on the same side.

Okay, so I am blowing smoke with an answer to this question but really, I see it and go, damn, I wish we could have seen more of Duke being fatherly. I mean we got the pirate episode of him taking care of that young girl who could manipulate your will, but honestly, Duke raising a kid…

__

Much of this may not be an answer at all. It's head canon really, because often with Haven I felt like I had to fill in experiences of the characters. Mostly did so with Nathan and Duke, individually and then together. However, there's something about this show, because questions always pop up even when you revisit it. Like wait a minute? What? Was this intentional? How in the world did this happen? Sure, we'll just accept some things even if it's strangely abnormal to the plot, but after all it's Haven.

[tinlizziedlinwa]

Developing Sexuality, Discovering Kinks, a Spinal Injury, and Barely Beginning to Explore the Edges of the LGBTQ+ Community

Howdy, y’all.  I’m just gonna put this out there - If it’s not for you, just keep on a’scrollin’!

Now, I’ve not really explicitly spoken about my sexuality and how it’s evolved over my almost five decades of life.  So, I’m about to start, and believe me, your patience and kindness will be appreciated.  If you choose to be a close-minded, conservative, cis-asshole then I strongly suggest you leave right the fuck now.  Thank you :-)

If you want to get to know me a little bit more and talk of incontinence and sexuality doesn’t scare you, please continue!

Decade 01:  Around four years old, I have my first memories of things related to my as yet totally undeveloped sexuality.  No history of physical abuse - Don’t worry about that.  It was finding my mother’s menstrual pads.  I saw pictures of them in underwear, so I took one and put it into mine.  It felt so right and so amazing!  I don’t really know how to describe it, but it felt like I needed the whole package of them in my underwear all at once!  I got in trouble for using up a package that my mom needed and I didn’t understand why she needed them yet.  But I made my first “diaper” out of pads and tighty-whities when I was only four years old.  Since I’m gonna be using a lot of numbers, I’m gonna cheat and sacrifice the “proper way” of spelling them out if they’re ten or less.

At 5, I knew I wasn’t built right.  I had this thing I peed through that girls didn’t have.  Boys had them.  But I wasn’t supposed to be a boy!  I didn’t like it and hated the feeling of it touching my legs (still do...).  I started asking questions about things.  Now, my parents are the stereotypical Boomers, “trapped” in a loveless marriage by dependent children and their own sense of “honor.”  Dad was a Medical Corpsman who became a Physician’s Assistant (PA) after retiring, while Mom used to be a Wave (nurse) in the Navy, but became a stay-at-home Mom when she started having children. I’ve 2 brothers and 1 sister, the last of them born 10 years before me.  So, when I questioned things, Dad’s response was usually to hand me a medical book and tell me to look it up.  Mom’s response was usually, “go ask your father.”  So, there I was, a 5-year old with a head full of partially-understood terminology (at best!) and a bunch of clinical photography in anatomy and physiology books.  At least I learned the purely physical differences between boys and girls and why I was one and not the other.  This made me mad.  So. Very. Mad.  I cried a lot for a while, finding out that I would never become what I feel I was supposed to be.  But I kept reading....

When I was 6 years old, I wrote a letter to my parents explaining how I felt about my body and how it made me feel inside and how I wished I could change and be the girl I’m supposed to be and would they be ok with helping me do this some day?

It was not received well.  Not well at all.  I’ve spent the last 40 years trying to get over their reaction to it and I still hate them for their reactions with a passion.  I feel like I was truly shattered, and the glue I’ve had to use over the years to put myself back together has never been the right type and pieces of me keep falling apart.

Entering Decade 02 (10 to 20 years old):  Puberty, damn it!  None of my “researches” had even hinted at ways to stop it, and my body started changing in ways that made me very uncomfortable, but there was also this attraction I kept feeling towards some people, and I started getting erections.  Now, I knew what was happening and yes, it did feel good to play with myself, but it also felt wrong in that I should have someone entering me, not me entering them, so when I masturbated that’s what I dreamed of - being entered and feeling them expand inside me, them giving themselves up in me, losing control and exploding into me and feeling their satisfaction as my own at having been so desirable.  Cockwarming them gently back to hardness and having my own way with their body as their hands stroked my breasts and hips.... Eventually I would orgasm in real life, while dreaming my dream.

I have never had a blow-job.  Several girlfriends have attempted, but honestly that’s like the fastest way to shut me down.  It instantly kills my dream between one heart-beat and the next, causing me to feel absolutely horrible about myself and this carcass I’m trapped in.  I should be going down on you, tasting, caressing, nuzzling and lapping up your wetness as I get more and more achy and wet for you.... Sticking my dick in your mouth is absolutely the worst thing that can happen during any attempt at sexy-times for me.  I’d rather have diarrhea on a crowded school-bus.

The problem was, I had been emotionally terrorized by my parents (and now I know how they controlled my access to information...) and the area I grew up in was populated by fairly conservative folks, so I had no exposure to other ways of living and had no idea I could express my sexuality in any way other than by being masculine with it.  Ergo, I was very much in the closet, hiding my thoughts and feelings as best I knew how, and retreated from situations that might expose my inner workings. Hence, I’m an introvert who overshares o.0  Start unstacking the bricks from my walls and Watch Out!  You might get more than you bargained for :-\

Decade 03 (20 to 30 years old):  I was just positive I didn’t want kids.  Also had no clue what to do with myself, so I landed in Alaska for about a decade.  Isolated, small town, conservative folks (a church on every corner, attended at least twice a week).  Repressive.  No sex for 8 of those 10 years.  Met my (now ex-) wife up there.  Internet actually got off the ground and we bought a computer, modem, and had an AOL account!  This was around 2002′ish or so.  Yeah, I watched the twin towers fall on a tv in a bar in Alaska.  But while in Fairbanks, I discovered the old Usenet Newsgroups... and that led me straight back into my diaper-fetish which I’d almost forgotten about... omg, seeing those first photos... I can’t describe the feelings that burned in me.

Decade 04 (30 to 40 years old):  Left Alaska and moved to western Washington State.  Worked as a Medical Assistant for about 5 years, then re-invented myself as a welder when I got a Federal job.  Learning a whole new trade wasn’t easy.  Shittons of practice later I was good at it and loving my career, until a toolbag fell on my head in 2008.  It could have killed me had I been in any other position.  As it was, it hit the top of my head while my spine was almost perfectly straight up’n’down, causing a couple of discs in my neck to blow out.  One completely ruptured and the other bulged so badly it could never heal and restricted my movement (couldn’t look up or pull my chin in).  To this day I still have a smallish “shadow” on my cervical spinal nerve where the disc exploded and a “dent” where the next one down bulged out.  The doctors think that’s why I’m incontinent and really struggle to get hard-ons anymore.

Here’s the rub:  I’ve hated this body of mine forever.  I’m not supposed to get hard-ons in the first place!  I’m supposed to have breasts, hips, hair, a flat front and a curvy bottom, and you should be making passes at me, not vice versa!

So, rather than pursue medical (surgical) options to deal with the urinary and occasional fecal incontinence, I choose to wear diapers and give myself regular enemas.  This way I can kinda (mostly) control the #2 and keep it from happening in public, while I can let my bladder just run on it’s built-in autopilot (which is really random, btw).  Wearing diapers also helps me with tucking!  I can  pull the dick out, pop the balls up inside where they belong, tuck the dick as far back as I can and put my diaper on tight.  Bingo!  A flat front!  And a bit of a poofy bottom!  YES!!

Decade 05 (40 to 47′ish years old):  I’m beginning to feel slightly more confident in my sexuality, though I’m still not comfortable actually trying to seek out anyone special... but yeah - I’m an introvert by nature.  Probably need to get adopted by someone because I’m not sure I’ll ever really be brave enough to really reach out first....  But now I’m able to afford nice diapers, I’m buying women’s jeans/pants/sweaters/onesies, and I’m feeling so much better about myself when I’m able to dress up.  Keeping my chest and legs shaved helps, too.  When I look down and see long, course, curly body-hair... ugh.  Hair in the armpits and groin is what’s normal.  Chest hair?  Get it off!  Looking at myself in the mirror, I still hate many aspects of my physical self, but when I’m freshly shaved, diapered and wearing women’s jeans and a lovely pink sweatshirt or just lounging around in a cute diaper and huge sweater, I’m much more able to ignore the things I don’t like.

Lately, as I’ve begun exploring my sexuality a little more, I’ve discovered the joys of dildos.  Lemmie tell you what, guys.  A traditional male orgasm doesn’t hold a candle to what I’ve felt while playing with a good dildo.  After a good, thorough clean-out in the shower (I have a shower-attachment with multiple nozzles and use the long black rubber one), I’ve used a dildo that’s got a bit of a bend near the tip - it’s shaped like a real penis, normal size (not humongous), with a bit of a crook near the glans.  By holding the balls & suction cup in hand, it can be inserted and moved in-n-out at that perfect angle to stimulate *all* the right spots inside...  I can honestly say I’ve peed, cum, and blew that dildo across the room as my knees hit the floor and I forgot my name during the best, most intense, can’t-walk-for-a-minute whole-body orgasms I’ve ever experienced in my life.  The area between the anus and scrotum feels so very hot and heavy, like it’s going to burst, it’s not truly painful but almost close? - It’s an amazingly satisfying feeling.  I’d love to hear from you girls out there... Are my orgasms anything similar to yours?

Some day, my dream is to meet someone who can understand me, who can feel where I’m coming from, who can love me even when I’m having difficulty loving myself.  Someone who is kind to my broken soul, and who’s idea of a hot date may involve a stop at the adult toy store!

Edited on 01OCT2021:  I’m not looking for a Mommy or a Domme.  I’m an adult with adult responsibilities and concerns.  I’m looking for a partner who’s also fairly self-sufficient.  I own my own home, work full time, and being an introvert I need lots of alone time.  Someone who’s open and accepting of the fact that I’m diapered 24/7/365 and am perfectly capable of changing myself.  And she’ll understand that I don’t just wanna get her out of her jeans for sexy-times, but I also wanna try them on.

Edited again on 02OCT2021:  As I’ve just begun actually  exploring my sexuality, I’m starting to think I seem to fit into the “enby” grouping (even as I don’t like being stuffed into a box, I find myself doing just that, to myself!  Damn categories...).  I don’t know all the lingo yet and it feels like the terminology is a living thing that is always changing.  Even though I’ve always found women to be super attractive, and I also really enjoy wearing women’s clothes and have dreamed of being a woman for decades, every once in a blue moon a guy really turns me on.  I’ve got fantasies about going down on her while he enters me, his hands on my hips pulling me in as he gently thrusts, speeding up slowly as I’m getting wetter, he’s sliding in and out of me faster and faster and I’m lapping up her juices, buried in her scent, the orgasm in all of us building until we simultaneously explode.  Then, once we all have our breath back, each of us gently diapers one another.  The idea of feeling my diaper sticking to my bum as his seed dribbles out of me is really turning me on again right now!  Hearing our crinkles as we move, cuddling in a contented pile, patting bottoms all around.

Am I a “bottom?”  Is there such a thing as an independent “bottom”?  More research is needed!  

[pendragonsandbuckleys]

hold me like the moon holds onto the tide (2/3)

Summary: Kidnapped and locked in a cell with no escape. Alex and Michael are faced with an ex-Caulfield employee who is prepared to do anything to get alien powers of his own. (Inspired by the Daisy/Sousa scenes in Agents of Shield 7x06)

Word Count: 3,203

[Also on AO3] [Part One] [Part Three]

Barely any time had passed before Hughes had returned to collect his prisoner, with two soldiers following close behind ready to do the grunt work.

Michael had been forced to watch as they released Alex from the wall and used the chain to lead him out of the room like some obedient dog. He listened to the threats being made towards them, how if one of them tried anything the other would be punished and as much as Michael wanted nothing more than to send Hughes flying into the wall, he didn’t so much as move an inch from where he was sitting in the hopes that it would save Alex from further pain.

Now he was sitting alone in the cell, his back still pressed against the cold stone, waiting for Alex to return.

It had been silent behind the door since they’d left. No footsteps, no murmurings and mercifully no screams. It was bad enough letting his imagination run wild with what Alex was enduring but he didn’t think he would have been able to handle it if he had actually heard Alex’s cries of pain.

Finally, after far too long in the deafening silence, Michael was ripped from his thoughts by the door slowly opening.

Hughes entered first with a smug grin on his face. The crisp white apron he was wearing had several splotches of blood down its front and Michael had no doubts that he had kept it on just to taunt him.

The sight of the man made his blood boil but the sight of Alex completely took his breath away.

The same two airman as before had a grip on each of Alex’s biceps and hauled him into the room, his head lolling weakly against his chest and his feet dragging behind him. His skin was uncharacteristically pale and there was blood seeping through his t-shirt and the many bandages wrapped around so many parts of his body that Michael had to wonder if there was anywhere that Hughes didn’t touch.

Michael shuffled onto his knees as he watched them drop Alex unceremoniously to the floor and resecure his chains, completely uncaring of the pain their actions might cause.

“What did you do?” He demanded as his eyes roamed over every covered wound that was visible from the angle that Alex was laying. He hadn’t actually expected Alex to be in such bad shape.

“Took as much blood and spinal fluid as I thought he could handle, a couple of glands,” Hughes began rolling his sleeves down from where they had been kept safe from the mess of his experiment. “Now I’ve got to synthesise it all and transfuse it to me.”

“You really think it’s going to be that easy to give yourself powers? You’re insane! It’s never gonna work.” Michael gritted his teeth as Hughes nodded at the two airmen as permission for them to leave the room.

“Maybe not. But if his cells fail, at least I’ve got a back up ready and waiting for round two.” Hughes shrugged with a smile as he turned to leave, shutting the door forcefully behind him.

Michael instantly crawled over to where Alex was lying on his side on the cold floor and closed the gap between them.

“Alex?” He whispered, as he placed a gentle hand against the back of Alex’s head. He watched as Alex squeezed his eyes shut and tried to take a deep breath before attempting to push himself up onto his forearms, his weak limbs shaking with the effort.

“They can’t take you. I won’t-- I won’t let them take you.” He muttered as his muscles gave out and he dropped the small distance back to the floor.

“Hey, it’s okay, it’s alright, I’m not going anywhere.” Michael whispered reassuringly. His heart was pounding at the sight of how frail Alex looked but also at the words he just spoke. Barely conscious and Alex was still ready to protect him. “Just stay still okay.”

Up close, the fine sheen of sweat against Alex’s forehead was hard to miss, as was the quick, shallow breaths it seemed like he was struggling to take. Michael delicately pressed the back of his hand against Alex’s forehead fully expecting an unnatural heat but instead the skin felt strangely cold and clammy.

There were bandages wrapped around his wrists, his elbows, even some gauze tapped to the side of his neck, each with their own small stain of blood that luckily didn’t look to be growing. Peering at Alex’s back, Michael grimaced at the blood sitting prettily in the middle of his t-shirt. Liz had mentioned to him before about the pain that Jenna had gone through with her involuntary spinal tap. He didn’t even want to think about how much suffering Hughes’ spinal fluid extraction was causing for Alex.

With closed lids and a furrowed brow, it was hard to tell if Alex was unconscious or just too drained to open his eyes, but he was breathing and right now that was all that mattered.

Michael leant against the wall once more and huffed at the inconvenience of having to rearrange the chain to the other side of his body as he carefully coaxed Alex’s head to rest against this thigh. Alex let out a low moan of pain but quickly settled as gentle hands began to card through his soft hair.

“So, while you were gone I was thinking about how we managed to get ourselves kidnapped and I remembered what we were talking about before we were rudely interrupted.” Michael pressed his fingers to Alex’s neck, being mindful of the bandage, to check his pulse. “You were talking about that stray cat that’s been hanging around your place and my weak attempt at persuading you to stop feeding it was clearly not working."

Alex let out a small noise not far off a chuckle.

“Well, I never got round to bringing out the big guns, you know, the thing that was going to blow your measly, animal loving side of the argument out of the water, the-- you know the--,” Michael’s eyes roamed towards the ceiling as if the word he was thinking of would be helpfully written there in capital letters as his brain tried to grasp what was on the tip of his tongue. “Ugh, remember when we had to do that dumb debating at school? I swear there was a word for it. Anyway, yeah, I was gonna tell you about the time that a cat managed to sneak its way into the airstream.”

Michael shuffled over slightly so that Alex’s neck was better supported. His back protested at the odd angle he had now positioned himself in but he was prepared to ignore it for as long as it meant that Alex’s pain eased even just a fraction.

“You know me, I don’t bother shutting that door half the time when I’m working in the junkyard, so it could have been in there for hours by the time I finished. It was certainly long enough to make itself at home though, as I soon found out when I tried to get into bed that night. I was just minding my own business and this mangy thing attacks me out of nowhere! Scratched all up my arm and the side of my face but then it went crazy trying to get out, bouncing off the walls and messing up all my paperwork, causing way more destruction than was necessary before trotting out the door. And, okay, maybe it scratched me because I happened to ruin it’s evening by sitting on it while it was under the sheets, but I choose to believe it’s because cats are evil, evil creatures that are plotting Earth’s demise.”

Michael leant closer to Alex as if preparing to reveal a secret, his hands still carding through Alex’s hair as he dropped his closing statement.

“And that is why you should stop feeding the stray, because soon it’ll want more than your little scraps of food. Soon it’ll invite itself in and make itself at home and then it can take you down from the inside.”

Michael looked down at Alex’s face. His ashen cheeks growing steadily paler. His closed eyelids, twitching occasionally, but still beautiful even in sleep.

“But then again, I can’t imagine any cats hating you, so maybe you’re safe.” He added softly.

-

Several hours later and with no sign of Hughes returning anytime soon, Michael had rambled on and on in a shaky attempt at keeping Alex awake. He talked about Isobel’s latest dining room decorating plans and Maria’s most recent cocktail creation and the new milkshake idea that Liz had run by him. As soon as the stories starting involving Kyle he knew that he was running out of material. All the while, Alex barely moved besides the occasional groan or violent cough.

Michael didn’t want to admit to himself that he was scared but honestly, he had kind of betted on being rescued by now and the longer that Alex went without help, the more bleak their situation was looking.

Alex had squirmed several times under his hands but still his eyes remained closed. Feeling Alex move again, Michael watched as he scrunched his brow and pressed his forehead to Michael’s thigh. “Need to help Michael,” he muttered quietly against the material, his hands weakly trying to push against the floor.

Michael felt a pull in his chest at the words. Alex was so out of it with probably zero awareness of his surroundings, but as always the man’s selfless natural was pushing through to do the one thing he always did without fail. Protect others.

“Shh, it’s okay Alex, I’m right here. Everything’s gonna be okay.” Michael tried to reassure him, the sudden lump in his throat making it difficult to get the words out. “Just gotta hold on a bit longer, okay? I’m sure after last time they’ve got an entire search party out looking for the pair of us.”

He placed his hands back on Alex’s head and resumed the soothing actions of running his fingers through Alex’s hair.

“I’ll do you a deal. You hold on until we get out of here and I’m gonna finally take you on the best first date you could possibly imagine. I’m gonna pull out all the stops, I’m talking flowers, champagne, a candle lit dinner at some super fancy restaurant. After everything I probably owe that to you anyway, don’t I? I mean it’s definitely my fault it’s taken us this long for us to actually become an us.”

Alex’s hands weakly reached up to feel at the gauze on his neck but Michael gently caught them and guided them back to the floor before he could do any damage.

“I mean let’s be honest, we’re both as bad as each other, constantly running away from it. But then at some point you stopped running and I still didn’t do anything. And it’s not that I didn’t want to, I just think after everything, I didn’t want to get it wrong. Because I’ve always loved you Alex. There’s no point denying it. But no matter how much we loved each other back then, it just went so wrong last time. Maybe we just weren’t ready, we were both dealing with so much and keeping so many secrets. And then I keep thinking, if we couldn’t make it work in the past decade then maybe the smartest thing to do would be to move on completely, to not even risk repeating it all over again.”

Michael’s head shot up as he faintly registered a sound beyond the door. It was hard to make out what was going on, but his breath instantly caught in his throat and he felt his hairs stand on end at the thought of Hughes entering the cell.

His powers hadn’t returned yet and with the chains not going anywhere anytime soon it was going to be impossible to protect Alex. He’d try, of course. He’d rather die than not try to protect Alex.

But he knew what was about to happen. It was playing out so vividly inside his head.

Hughes must have discovered by now that Alex’s cells were no more than human and no-one hates an inconvenient test subject more than a madman on a mission. He would have no problem with disposing of Alex and moving onto his next lab rat.

The noises continued outside but Michael closed his eyes and focused on the feel of Alex’s hair caught between his fingers.

“But we tried to do that as well,” He continued softly. “And yet, here we are back at the beginning. I guess that’s just the thing about your first love, isn’t it? Your first love always hurts the most. It gives you the biggest rush and the most incredible feelings and the greatest heartbreak. And there might be other loves, but none that quite compare to your first. And I just can’t seem to walk away from you Alex, no matter how hard I’ve forced myself to.”

His heart was pounding now. He could practically feel it slamming against his ribcage.

Why did he ever think he could get over Alex?

Why did he think he should try?

They had wasted so much time dancing around each other and now that they’d finally made it to the same page it was going to be torn away from them.

The noises quickly turned into shouts and Michael naively hoped for a second that maybe something else was going on. Maybe some other poor soul was being tortured and Alex would be spared for a little while longer.

But then the unmistakable sound of footsteps stopped right outside the door.

Nothing happened for a moment and Michael could feel his palms getting clammy. Then it creaked opened carefully to reveal the last person Michael had expected to see.

Flint Manes.

There the man stood, in the doorway, in his usual army attire with an unreadable expression on his face as he looked down at his little brother.

Michael held his breath as he and Flint locked eyes, his hands gripping Alex a little bit tighter. He had been ready to put up a fight with Hughes no matter how short lived it would have been, but if Flint wanted to get to Alex, he’d have to kill Michael first.

Months ago, when Jesse was still alive, Michael had had no trouble believing that Flint was capable of kidnapping his own brother. But since then, Alex had been trying so hard with Flint, trying to encourage him to leave their father’s ways behind and become his own man.

And he had succeeded. Or so Michael had thought.

To see him standing in the doorway filled Michael with so much anger he could have exploded in that very moment. Or at least sent Flint flying into the nearest wall had he still had his powers.

Michael opened his mouth ready to unleash his fury at the man if he dared take a step closer, when Flint barely turned his head - his eyes not wanting to stray far from his brother - and shouted loudly out of the cell.

“Valenti!!”

Michael barely had a chance to be confused before Flint swiftly crossed to the other side of the small room and dropped to his knees with a loud thud. His hands came close to Alex but stopped a few inches away, hovering hesitantly as if unsure of where to touch that wouldn’t hurt his brother further.

“What happened?” His voice quivered as he looked up at Michael with such a pained expression that Michael couldn’t believe the rage he’d felt at the man only mere moments ago.

Before he could answer, Kyle appeared in the doorway with Isobel right on his heels. They both looked flustered and were breathing heavily as if they’d been running but no amount of cardio could stop the pure joy from crossing their faces at seeing their friends.

Kyle immediately switched into doctor mode as he joined Flint in kneeling next to Alex, his hand going straight to his neck to check for a pulse. Isobel dropped down next to Michael and used the key she was gripping to unlock his and Alex’s cuffs.

“You’re okay.” She smiled as she gently cupped his cheeks for a moment, the look of such relief shining in her eyes. “We’re gonna get you both out of here.”

“How did you find us?” Michael asked as he rubbed at his wrists. Now that he was free of the cuffs he noticed just how heavy and uncomfortable they had been.

He glanced down at Alex, desperately wanting to reach out to him again, and watched as Kyle gave a careful glimpse under a few of the bandages.

“It was all Flint.” Isobel helped Michael to his feet. “The guys who took you used to work with him at Caulfield. It’s a long story, but as soon as we realised you were missing, he worked it all out and managed to track them down.”

Michael glanced down at Flint and watched as the man’s eyes shone as his focus stayed on his brother. He wanted to thank him. In fact, his mouth did its best impression of a fish as he tried to find the right words but it just felt so strange to be so immensely grateful to a man who had been willing to kill him in the past.

As if Flint could sense his hesitation, he looked up and gave a short reassuring nod, his eyes crinkling as he smiled.

“You can explain the rest in the car. We need to get Alex out of here, now.” Kyle nodded at Flint as he stood up.

At the confirmation that Alex could be moved, Flint wasted no time in getting his brother off of the cold floor. He couldn’t stop the grunt from leaving his mouth as he lifted Alex up and into his arms. He may be made of muscle from his many years in the army, but Alex was just as tall as him and probably weighed just as much.

He shifted his brother slightly into a more comfortable position, being extremely mindful of his many injuries. Alex’s head rolled into the crook of his neck and Flint could feel his soft breaths as they ghosted against his skin.

Michael quickly followed as Flint led the group out of the cell, a sickly feeling settling in his stomach once more as he watched Alex’s legs swing so lifelessly as he was carried.

He barely registered the sheer number of empty cells they passed as they hurried through the corridors and towards the exit, Isobel’s protective hand on his lower back reassuring him more than he could admit.

There was no one in sight as they left the Caulfield-like building and as much as Michael wanted to know what had happened to everyone, the priority of that question was way lower down on his list than Alex’s wellbeing.

In that moment, as long as Alex was breathing, nothing else mattered.