#i almost hit someone with the taking piece and then i missed it horribly and it flew into the door and another student had to pick it up

[pepprs]

hi im coteaching a collrge class rn like literally while im typing this (they are working in small groups rn) and i suck at teaching and i suck at doing mental math and i suck at throwing and catching the talking piece. awesomeeeeee 😻😻😻😻😻😻

[nvrsaidiwasinurcloset]

okay hi just a warning rq my autocorrect is off bc it autocorrected my friend’s name to fuckin malayalam on accident. i dont like autocorrect.

ANYWAY! ive been listening to my lovely olivia rodrigo lately, specifically her new song obsessed. i wanted to know if you could make a fic with Ethan x fem! reader where readers bitchy friend has this ex (Ethan) and she made him out to be a real dick. like, manipulating and everything.

reader eventually meets him and it turns out that she remembers… a lot about him considering her friend is a constant yapper and cant shut up about him. Ethan actually turns out to be a real cutie patootie and could literally never hurt anyone.

a few days later theyd meet again at some club or party maybe where they end up hitting it off… a little too well.. yeah so she ends up in his bed (smut part, very dom ethan plspls 😛😛). they could be talking about something really random and then reader brings up how her friend basically completely lied about him and said he was a piece of shit when he really wasnt. like a realllll fluffy end before a small cliffhanger thats never gonna get finished where her friend ends up finding out and texting her.

so sorry if thats too long or confusing idk but i actually love your work so much im lowkey your #1 fan. 😍😍😍

HELLO! I switched this up a little, I hope that's okay! 💕

Also, I fucking loved the 'leave it on a cliffhanger part that won't get finished' because WHY IS THAT WHAT I DO lmao

Obsessed - Ethan Landry x Fem!Reader - Part 1

This contains SMUT - Minors DNI

Part 2

Summary: Your friend told you horrible lies about her ex-boyfriend, and once you get to know him, you realize he's not the monster she made him out to be.

Contains: Mentions of a toxic relationship, Dom-ish cocky Ethan, rough-ish sex, oral - f receiving, p in v, fluff (If I missed anything, PLEASE let me know. I'm sleep deprived atm)

A/N: This was the one that pulled me out of my writers block, lmao. It's still not where I want it to be, but I'm TRYING. I'll try to post more this week, but I will be busy so bear with me haha.

You didn’t know Ethan Landry, but you knew you didn’t like him. He used to date one of your friends, and after hearing all the horrible things he’d said and done during their relationship, you thought he was really scummy.

They dated in high school and couldn’t get enough of each other, so they wanted to go to the same college. They broke up right before freshman year started, and after almost a year, she still talked about him every chance she got. She’d tell you how controlling he was. The things he’d call her when he was mad. How he cheated on her. You couldn’t believe that she stayed in the relationship for as long as she did, because she never had anything good to say, except that she loved him.

You’d seen pictures of him, and after walking into one of your classes at the start of the new semester, you saw him in person for the first time. He was so shy as he took his seat in the lecture hall, some of the girls making their little comments about the rumors they’d heard about him. He didn’t seem like the type that would do the things your friend said, but maybe he was just really good at playing innocent. All you knew was that you needed to keep your distance from him.

When you met up with your friend later that day for lunch, you didn’t know if you wanted to bring up Ethan being in the same class as you, but once she brought him up, you decided to tell her.

“Speaking of Ethan…I saw him today,” you said, before taking a bite of your food. Her face dropped as she looked at you.

“Where did you see him?” she questioned. You explained that you saw him in one of your new classes, and she rolled her eyes. “Can you believe he still tries to text me?”

“What I can’t believe is that you haven’t blocked him,” you said, “I know I’d hate to see someone that treated me like shit’s name pop up on my phone.”

She started to giggle as you curiously stared at her. “I have him saved in my phone as ‘Tall loser with a small dick’, so I laugh every time he does text me.”

“That’s not toxic at all,” you said, as you started to think about what she’d said. “Wait, he treated you as bad as he did and has a small dick? What the fuck were you thinking?”

“All he had going for him was that he was cute,” she said, “But seriously, if I were you, I’d stay away from him.”

“Oh, please. Like I’d even want to be near him.”

Your morning wasn’t going as expected. You slept through all of your alarms; you didn’t have time to stop for coffee. You didn’t think your day could get any worse, until you walked into class and noticed the only empty seat available was beside Ethan. You took a deep breath before you walked over and sat down. Once you reached into your backpack, you realized that your laptop wasn’t there. You were in such a hurry when you ran out of your dorm and didn’t even think to grab it.

“Shit,” you whispered, “I’m so stupid.”

“Here,” Ethan said, passing you a notebook and a pen. You curiously looked at him as he offered a weak smile. “I always keep an extra notebook, just in case.”

“Thanks,” you said, a half-smile playing on your lips.

Once class started, you were taking your notes, but you kept glancing over to Ethan. He was so focused on typing that he didn’t notice, but you couldn’t help but wonder if everything your friend told you was true. At that moment, he didn’t seem like a jerk. Then again, he had only spoken a handful of words to you.

Ethan was aware of all the things that were said about him. He hoped that after a few weeks it all would’ve blown over, but once you have an angry ex-girlfriend paint you as some horrible, emotionally abusive asshole, it’s hard to come back from that. He knew that it was best for him to just keep his head down until he was able to transfer to a different school, where no one knew who he was. He was miserable at Blackmore, and he really had no reason to stick around, aside from the few friends he’d made.

After class was over, you tore the pages of notes you’d taken from the notebook to give it back to Ethan.

“Thanks again,” you said, as you handed it back to him.

“You’re welcome,” he said, shoving it back in his backpack. “I thought about just emailing you my notes, but I didn’t know if you’d want that.”

“You’re telling me I didn’t have to spend the last hour trying to write that fast?” you asked, as he flashed you a sweet, genuine smile. “Why wouldn’t someone want that?”

“I don’t know, maybe it’s because most people here hate me,” he said, sliding the straps of his backpack over his shoulders. “You’ve probably heard things about me.”

“Yeah…are they true?” you asked, as he shook his head.

“You’re the first person that’s asked me that. Everyone else just assumes everything is true,” he sighed, “But no, I’m not a bad person.”

You started to feel so guilty. You’d said plenty of bad things about him, but you only heard one side of the story. With your friends’ story changing so many times, getting more dramatic each time she told it, you were starting to realize that it was all bullshit. You still didn’t know exactly what happened, but you were curious to know what the truth was.

“You okay?” Ethan asked, noticing that you were lost in thought as you stood in front of him.

“I’m friends with your ex,” you said, as his smile slowly fell. “What’s the real story?”

He sat back down in his seat as the other students piled out of the room. You sat beside him as you waited for him to speak.

“I really loved her…but she was just so controlling. Then she cheated on me when she went to the beach with her family. I didn’t find out about that until right before we started college,” he said, looking over to you. “She was pissed that I broke up with her, then all these horrible things about me started going around.”

“That’s fucked up,” you said, as he nodded.

“Yeah, she’s still been trying to text me. I finally blocked her a few days ago.”

“Wait, she said you’ve been trying to text her,” you said, his eyes growing wide at your words.

“Her number’s been deleted from my phone for months. I have no interest in talking to her,” he said, “I know this must be weird for you since you are her friend, but I think it’s cool that you wanted to hear me out.”

“Well, I feel like I need to apologize…I’ve said some things about you that weren’t true.”

“She’s a good liar. She has almost the entire school hating me so it doesn’t surprise me that her friend does, too,” he said, as he stood back up.

“I don’t hate you,” you said, smiling at him. “I don’t know if you’d want to, and I know she’d kill me, but if you ever want to hang out sometime, let me know.”

“I’d like that.”

Ethan was kicking himself for not asking you for your number, or shit, even your social media so he could DM you. He thought you were beautiful, but he knew that hoping for a chance with you would be a reach. He really just needed more people in his life that believed him to make the time he still had at the university more enjoyable.

Your friend begged you to come to a random frat party that you didn’t feel like going to in the first place. After your talk with Ethan, you weren’t even sure you wanted to be around her. You still went, and after searching for her for almost an hour, you checked your phone to see a message from her that she wasn’t coming, and that she ran into one of the guys she’d been hooking up with on the way to the party.

“Why the fuck am I even here?” you said to yourself as you locked your phone and slid it into the back pocket of your jeans.

“Hopefully to hang out with me, if your offer’s still good,” you heard from behind you, recognizing Ethan’s voice.

“Hey,” you said as you turned to face him. “I didn’t expect to see the most hated man on campus here.”

“My roommate told me that if I stayed in my dorm tonight, he’d throw my Xbox out the window,” he said, glancing over to the muscular guy that was watching Ethan talk to you.

“Ah, so you were threatened into being social,” you said, as he started to laugh.

“I guess you could say that. Do you want a drink?”

“Sure.”

Ethan wasn’t much of a drinker; you could tell by the sour look on his face every time he took a sip. It gave him a little confidence though, as the two of you talked and got to know each other a little better.

“I don’t think I can drink this anymore,” he said, sitting the cup down on a table. You sat yours down too, and as soon as you did, someone bumped into you, shoving you into Ethan.

“Shit, I’m sorry,” you said, looking up at him. Your chest was pressed closely against his, his hands on your hips from catching you.

“Don’t be sorry,” he said, “You can stay this close to me all night, if you want.”

“Are you always this smooth? Or is it the alcohol?” you questioned as he smirked at you.

“I’m only buzzed,” he said, before he leaned down, placing his lips on yours.

Chad was still watching Ethan from afar, cheering and thrusting his fist in the air once he saw Ethan kiss you. He started to laugh against your lips before he pulled away to stare daggers through his roommate for interrupting the moment.

“I can’t take him anywhere,” Ethan said, as you smiled at him.

“We could go somewhere more private,” you suggested, as he took your hand in his.

“Want to go back to my dorm? He’ll be here for a while so I know we can talk without being interrupted.”

“Sure!”

Once you made it back to Ethan’s dorm, you were starting to think that he really did just want to talk. You enjoyed listening to him, though. He was telling you about all his hobbies and interests, and you were telling him yours. You started to glance around his side of the dorm room, noticing the cliché, dorky things you’d expect to see.

“Nice Star Wars poster, nerd,” you joked, as he smirked at you.

“Oh, I’m a nerd?” he said, as he nudged you back on his bed. He was hovering over you, his mouth inches from yours. The sexual tension got so thick as his eyes looked into yours, his hand rubbing your hip.

“Mhm,” you said, the corner of your bottom lip in between your teeth. “A hot nerd.”

He felt his cheeks start to heat up, and he really didn’t want you to notice, so he leaned down to finally connect his lips to yours. It didn’t take long for the kiss to get more intense, his tongue brushing across your bottom lip. You let him deepen the kiss, his tongue moving with yours as his hands started to roam. You whimpered into the kiss once his hand squeezed your thigh, your hips started to squirm underneath him.

He pulled away but still stayed close so the two of you could catch your breath. You were reading each other’s faces, and it was obvious that you both wanted more.

“How far do you want this to go?” he asked, his breathing still heavy as his eyes looked into yours.

“As far as you want,” you said, your sweet tone making him groan.

“That’s not what I asked you,” he said, as he leaned back down to kiss your neck. His curls were tickling you, but the only reaction you had were the soft moans slipping past your lips from how well his mouth moved. His hips were rutting into yours, showing you how hard he was for you.

“I want you to fuck me,” you said, as he pulled away to look at you.

“You sure?”

“Mhm.”

Ethan was a little, well, very eager. He got you undressed in what felt like seconds, leaving you in just your panties. Once he stripped down to just his boxers, you got a little curious. You glanced down to see his hard cock straining against the fabric, and started to laugh to yourself, your gaze going to the ceiling.

“What’s funny?” he asked, as he hovered back over you to take one of your nipples in his mouth. Your laughing stopped, a gasp slipping out when he started to suck. “I asked you a question,” he teased, before moving to the other side.

“She really does lie about everything,” you said, as his tongue swirled. “She said you had a small dick.”

He started to laugh against you, before he pulled back. “That’s funny, because she couldn’t take it.”

“I can,” you said, his smile turning to a smirk as his hand trailed down your body to rub you over your panties.

“We’ll see about that,” he said, as he moved lower down the bed to position himself between your thighs.

He slid your panties down your legs, before running his fingers over your wet pussy. Your eyes stayed on him, your bottom lip in between your teeth as he teased you. Your anticipation just kept building as he moved down the bed, positioning himself in between your thighs. He leaned in, slipping his tongue inside your entrance.

He was sloppily eating you out, his head moving from side to side. His arms hooked under your thighs to pull you as close to his face as he could as your hands went to his hair.

“So good,” you whimpered, your breathing getting faster as he worked you closer to your orgasm.

He slid his tongue out of you to focus on your clit, quickly replacing it with two of his fingers. Your back was arching off the bed as he moved his arm back and forth, applying as much pressure as he could to that spongy spot inside you as he sucked on your swollen bundle of nerves.

“You’re gonna make me cum,” you babbled, as he started to chuckle with your clit in his mouth.

That was all it took for your legs to start shaking and your grip on his hair getting even tighter. Once your pussy started to clench around him, he slowed his fingers to a slow roll, not wanting to overstimulate you. His tongue gently licked your clit as he worked you through it, your whimpers getting softer as you came down from your high.

“That was the best orgasm I’ve ever had,” you admitted through your shaky breathing. Ethan started to laugh a little as you looked at him, your eyes hazy. “What?”

“Just wait until I’m inside you,” he cockily said, “You still confident that you can handle it?”

“I know I can,” you said, your legs instinctively spreading wide for him as his fingertips ran up your thigh.

“What are you going to do when no one else can make you feel as good as I do?” he questioned, as one of his fingers started to rub circles on your clit.

“I guess I’d have to keep you around then,” you said, as he shook his head.

“You’d only have me until summer starts,” he said, his finger moving faster. “I’m transferring to a different school after this year.”

“No, you’re not..fuck. I’ll convince you to stay,” you said, relaxing into the bed as he teased you.

Ethan pulled his hand away from your pussy before he slid his boxers off. He crawled back on top of you and reached over to his bedside table to grab a condom.

“I might let you convince me,” he said, as he lined up with your entrance. You tensed up a little because you knew how big he was. “Relax, baby.”

You did as he said, taking a deep breath as he inched his way inside of you. You were moaning as he stretched you out, and when you thought he was all the way in, he just kept going.

“Oh fuck,” you whimpered, feeling so full as he finally came to a stop, wanting to give you plenty of time to adjust. “Told you..Fuck, I told you I could take it,” you said, already struggling to speak.

“Don’t get cocky,” he said, your mouth falling open as he started to move. “I’m going to ruin this pussy.”

“Ruin it,” you said, challenging him as your lusty, hooded eyes connected with his.

It took everything in Ethan to not immediately start pounding into you, but he didn’t want to hurt you. He started slow, your eyebrows already furrowing together, low moans slipping past your lips. The head of his cock hit that special spot every single time, but you needed more. He sped up a little as your legs wrapped around him, your hands gripped tightly around his biceps.

“Maybe you can take it,” he said, his breathing getting heavier. “Can I go faster?”

“Yes,” you whimpered, as his hips moved quicker.

Your brain was starting to turn to mush, the babbles slipping past your lips making absolutely no sense. The only thing your mind could process in that moment was how good Ethan was making you feel. He thought you were adorable, already so cock drunk, and he wasn’t even close to being done with you yet. He kept his pace, but occasionally thrust a little harder to see if you could take it, the loud moans slipping past your lips as your nails started to dig into his arms letting him know that you could.

He angled your hips to go even deeper. His pace was a little slow as he made sure you were okay. Your eyes were pleading with him to go faster, because you knew the words weren’t going to come out of your mouth. It was getting so hard for him to hold back, so he finally let go. He started to pound into you so hard that your skin was tingling, all the nerves in your body on edge. Your toes were curling as he slammed into your g-spot, your whimpers turning to cries as you felt your orgasm starting to build. It was hard for you to keep your eyes open, and you were sure Ethan was going to have your nail marks on his arms forever with how hard you were squeezing him.

“Fuck,” was the only word you were able to get out, your legs wrapping tightly around him as your body started to involuntarily jolt. Ethan was sure that everyone in the surrounding dorm rooms knew what was happening, because you were being so loud. He wasn’t letting up though. He loved that he was making you feel that good.

It only took a few more deep thrusts before your entire body started to tremble, loud whines flooding out of your mouth as the wave of euphoria washed over you. He chased his own orgasm as he fucked you through it, your pussy clenching him so tight that he was moaning himself.

“I’m almost there, baby,” he said, a slight rasp in his voice from all the panting he’d been doing.

You went limp, your grip on his arms and your legs around his waist relaxing as his hips started to falter, a loud groan slipping past his lips as he released into the condom.

He took a minute to catch his breath before he slid out of you. His abs were burning and his arms were sore from your nails, but he quickly got up to take the condom off so he could take care of you.

He crawled in the bed next to you as you adjusted to lay your head on his chest, still so fucked out that it was hard to process your thoughts. Ethan just held you close, his hands softly rubbing over your bare back as you relaxed into his touches.

“You’re okay, right?” he asked, after a few minutes of you not saying anything. You lazily nodded as your hand moved to rub across his chest.

You laid there in silence as you started to think about what’d just happened. You knew your friend was going to be pissed if she ever found out, but did that even matter? She made almost the entire university hate Ethan for things he never did, and it made you sad that he felt like he needed to switch to a different school so he wouldn’t have to deal with it anymore.

“So…” you finally said, “How can I convince you to stay?”

He let out a nervous laugh, not knowing the best way to respond. “I can’t take people talking about me the way they do anymore.”

“Even if I convince everyone that it was all lies?” you questioned, your tone playful as you angled your head to look at him. “I think it’d be awful for you to leave because of her. You could miss out on someone that would treat you right.”

“Someone like you?” he questioned as he looked down at you. You nodded, before he leaned down to kiss you. “You’re good at this whole convincing thing.”

“Does that mean you’ll stay?” you asked, smiling as you sat up to look at him.

“Yeah, as long as you don’t break my heart,” he said, wrapping his arms around you to pull you back down to his chest.

“I won’t.”

You stayed in Ethan’s bed for a couple hours, making plans for all the dates he wanted to take you on. It felt like you’d known him for way longer than just a few days, the two of you having an instant connection. You hated to pull away from him, but you knew you needed to get dressed before his roommate got home.

“It’s late, can I walk you back to your dorm?” he asked, as he started to put his clothes back on.

“I can’t believe I thought you were this horrible monster. You’re so sweet,” you said, as he smiled at you. “Yeah, you can walk me home.”

Ethan walked you to the front door of your building, pulling you into a gentle kiss before he pulled away.

“I’ll text you,” he said, as he started to back away.

“Yeah, let me know when you make it back to your dorm, please,” you said, as he nodded.

When you made it upstairs and got settled into your bed, you heard your phone vibrate as it charged on your bedside table. You grabbed it and saw a goodnight message from Ethan, a huge smile on your face as you responded to him. You were so exhausted from the time you’d spend with him, and you soon felt yourself start to doze off. You heard your phone buzz again, your eyes lazily opening to see if it was Ethan. You took a deep breath once you read the message that was sent to you.

‘Why the fuck were you kissing Ethan at that party?’

[save-the-villainous-cat]

Villain who actually used to be sinister and obnoxious is now an AMNESIAC lil softie😩😩😩

For whatever reason, the villain blocked the hero's hit perfectly. Not only that, but when the hero went in for a kick, the villain managed to throw them off balance. Before the hero could fall to the ground, the villain caught them, arm around the hero's waist, pulling them closer than decency allowed.

The villain's eyes widened and a gasp escaped them. Despite the hero's blush, they tried to look grumpy and annoyed - as so often - but the villain could tell it was just for show. What a night. They were exhausted and confused.

"Sorry," the villain whispered. "I almost hit you."

They pulled themselves up and with them the hero.

"No, it's fine, it's good." As soon as possible, the hero took a step back and the villain still felt the warmth of their waist on their fingertips. Was it possible to yearn for someone they had forgotten? Or maybe it was the other way around. Maybe they hadn't forgotten the hero at all. They remembered parts of them, not the whole picture but the most beautiful pieces, it seemed.

"I'm sorry if I-"

"Your muscle memory seems to be pretty good. I think you learnt how to fight at a very young age. Which is...sad." The hero looked at them and their face softened. Suddenly, the villain felt a familiar pain in their chest. Something was hitting close to home. "But you're not as aggressive as before. We need to work on that."

"I appreciate that you want to help me, really. But I think I don't want to be violent," the villain said. The hero touched their own chin, thinking intensively. That was familiar too.

"I've told you a lot of people want you dead," the hero said slowly. "Killing you would turn the whole city upside down. Every criminal tries to be on top of the whole network."

"Can't I just, I dunno, retire?"

"If you want criminals to take over and burn everything down to prove that they are the one on top of the food chain...sure." The hero took in a deep breath. "It's hard to admit but I need you. This city needs you. You keep things organized. You cause damage, yes, but if it wasn't you, it would be five different criminals at five different locations and I don't have the time nor the energy for that."

"Seems like I was a big deal before they fried my brain," the villain said. From what they had been told, they had been a horrible human being. They didn't really miss not remembering.

But there was one thing they wished they hadn't forgotten.

One person.

"You have no idea," the hero whispered. They were quiet for a moment but the villain was sensing that their annoyed and grumpy mask was slipping from their face. "Sometimes it feels pretty lonely. We used to talk about that every now and then."

"We used to talk?" the villain asked, even though they knew they hadn't always tried to murder the hero. Trying to remember was like going through mist and when they had seen the hero for the first time again, it had felt like a warm light in the middle of all the thick fog was calling them.

The hero smiled.

"Most of the time you tried to make me join you. You loved taking me hostage."

"That doesn't sound like a good thing." The villain was disgusted at their own actions. What on earth had driven them to such drastic measures? It was like the villain from the past was someone else.

"...no, of course it wasn't a good thing. It was...different." The hero cleared their throat. "Talking to you was refreshing in a sense. I don't know, it is hard to explain. Our relationship was difficult."

"Like a love-hate-thing?" The hero looked at them but didn't say anything. That was enough of an answer for the villain and acid started to burn their throat. So, the hero had liked them and now they seemed annoyed by them.

What if the hero had liked their old version more? The villain that was violent and aggressive? What if the hero wouldn't like how they were now? What if the hero absolutely loathed them now because they weren't the right villain?

"I was taught not to show any emotions to my enemies. I think that has made me quite bitter but you challenged that. I was angry at you and I hated you a lot of the time. But in your soft moments I loved your voice. I loved your thoughts. I loved when you were kind to me. When you decided to saved me before death could take me. I loved it when you talked to me and argued with me without being an asshole. And those mixed feelings for you conflicted me."

And now? The villain's heart was beating in their chest, loud enough, they swore, for the hero to hear.

"Of course, I knew you wouldn't understand it. You were doing this for your own benefits. You were a strategist, after all. It is more complicated now for me. You're someone I like a little too much."

"You've been waiting to get that off your chest, haven't you?" The hero looked at the ground and back at the villain. Their ears were red and they closed their hands into fists over and over again. They closed their eyes, swallowed.

"I know training can get tiresome and-"

"I remember talking to you. You're pretty much the only thing I remember. Little details. What you look like. What you smell like. Honestly, I thought we were married when I saw you for the first time after waking up." The hero's blush stretched over their cheeks. "Maybe you can give me some more tips? Punches and kicks, I mean."

"Y-yeah of course." The villain smiled softly.

[impala-dreamer]

Meet Me At The Beach

A Supernatural Story

~ Texting and emails can feel so impersonal. There's nothing quite like exchanging tangible, handwritten letters with someone you love...~

Dean Winchester x F!Reader, Sam Winchester

4,025 Words

Warnings: Bittersweet Angst. SFW. 

A/N: This is for @jacklesversebingo "Writing Letters To Each Other" was the prompt. I hope you enjoy...

June 2

Dear Dean, 

This feels so weird. Do people really write letters anymore? Am I going to get strange looks at the post office when I go to buy a stamp? Will they even know what to do with this tiny envelope and folded piece of loose-leaf paper? I almost don’t know how to write anymore. My script looks kinda like chicken scratch, huh? Hopefully it’ll get better. It is weird not typing though. But emails just seem like work. Impersonal, ya know? Besides, it gives us something to look forward to when we hit the mailbox. Nice to open something that’s not a delinquent credit card bill, huh? 

Speaking of which- how the fuck do you do it? I just got another card canceled. My credit is non-existent. Fuck, I need to get a job. Could you imagine me in an office? High heels and panty hose and my hair tucked into a neat, matronly bun? I shudder to think! 

OK, this is weird. I just wanted to write “LOL” but it’s not an email. Or a text. Why are we doing this again? Oh, yeah, see above. 

Anyhoo- - - - I don’t even know what to say! Umm… I’m in New Orleans for a bit. Not working, just hanging out. My friend Emily from high school tracked me down online and we’ve been chatty. She’s in a band. They’re not bad. Not great, but not bad. So yeah, I took a drive down to see a show and I’m just lingering. Drinking too much, sleeping past noon. It’s fun. Nice little vacation. 

Which - ahem - you should be taking. When are you gonna get your ass out of that dusty old bunker and stick your toes in the sand? I already told you I’d meet you in Pensacola with sunscreen and a cooler of beer. You know you want to. Or are you just scared to show off your ugly toes in flip flops? Your boots might actually cry if you ever took them off, so I guess it’s just as well. 

Hey, do you remember that night in Richmond when it started pouring and your boots sank into the mud puddle? God, that was a mess. We were soaked to the bone. Nice way to warm up, though - cuddled in the back of the Impala. I miss that car. Sometimes, I think I can hear it at night when the world is quiet and the wind is still. It’s like the engine roars in the back of my mind and I start thinking about all our adventures, all the time we spent driving into the sunset. 

I miss you. Is that wrong? I probably shouldn’t. Or at least, I shouldn’t tell you that I do. But I do. I miss you so bad sometimes that it hurts. Like someone has punched me right in the chest. Maybe we can end up in the same town soon. Grab some tacos and sit on the hood. Make a mess. I’d like that. 

OK, before I get too emotional and start asking you to run away with me, I think I’ll end this ranting scribble of horrid handwriting. 

Write me back soon.

Love, Y/N

June 21 

Y/N- 

Your handwriting does not look like chicken scratch. I like it. Mine is like some toddler just learning his letters. Whatever. I never learned that fancy shit. I can sign my name and make a grocery list. That’s all I need. 

This is weird, yeah. But it’s kinda nice. Feels more… like you’re here. Does that make sense? Like seeing your handwriting, the dents in the paper- I don’t know. Just feels more real. Like you’re not just some computer talking back at me. Also there’s something strange about answering questions weeks later. I meant to write this sooner, but I got a little distracted. There was a Kung Fu marathon on and I just lost track of time. Too much pizza, not enough Carradine. Ya know? You know. 

Remember that horrible motel in Raleigh when we both caught that nasty stomach bug and stayed up all night watching old tv shows? Saltines and Little House. I’ll never forget it. You were so sick that day. Shit, I was sure I was gonna end up taking you to the hospital. Sure, I was puking too, but you looked like death. I hated that. Hated that I couldn’t help you, make you feel better. I did cook up a mean chicken noodle soup though, didn’t I? Not that it stayed down for long. 

Thank god for that yellow Gatorade. And yes- it’s fucking yellow. Not green. 

Anyway- I miss you too. I try not to, I really do. Not all the time, no offense, but sometimes I’m just fucking insane with shit going on. But at night, especially, I miss having you beside me. I miss rolling over and seeing you there, or hearing you snore. I miss feeling your freezing feet under the blanket. I don’t know, I just- 

What can I say? I’m sorry. I’m an asshole. I’m the biggest piece of shit in the universe. I shouldn’t have pushed you away. 

Can’t change the past. Just gotta move on. 

Maybe someday you’ll forgive me. I hope so anyway. 

I’m sorry. I shouldn’t dump that all out in a letter. I almost ripped this all up and started over. I actually let it sit for a day before I came back to it. But, fuck it- we said we were gonna write to each other and be honest, and here I am, being honest. 

Fuck, I’m so tired. That kinda tired when sleeping for ten days wouldn’t even put a dent in it. Yeah, OK, so things are getting a little better. Chuck’s gone for good this time. Jack’s got things back in place, even made a few improvements. Sam’s- well, he’s Sam. He’s fine, doing his thing. The dog is- did I tell you we have a dog now? Yeah, I know. Me and a dog- yeah right. But we do. Miracle. He’s a good boy. I’ll send you a picture soon. 

Never thought I could slow down like this. Feels like for the first time we can just - work. I mean, I’m never gonna give up hunting, not totally, but- feels like I could just ease back a bit. Been looking at some jobs in town- nothing crazy, fixing engines and stuff like that. Don’t know if you remember, but I’m pretty good with my hands. 

Did you blush? 

You did. 

OK. I guess- that’s it for now. I have no fucking idea how to end this so - bye?

~ Dean

P.S.  I’ll meet you at the beach soon. I promise.

Fifteenth of July 

To Whom It May Concern:

Re: Beach Vacation

Dear Mr. Winchester, 

I am very pleased to hear that you are agreeable to meeting me at the beach. It should be delightful fun to run through the surf and hunt for sea glass with you.

Oh shit! Do you remember that new age shop in… where the fuck was that? With the sea glass necklaces in the window that I said were so pretty and the witch inside said they were blessed to give the wearer riches or some shit like that. Where was that? Who knows.

Feels like we’ve been all over the world together. Well, this country at least. Lord knows I could never get you on an airplane. If only you could drive to Paris. Did I ever tell you about my trip to France? God, it was beautiful. Rained the whole time, but it was this beautiful, warm spring rain that made everything smell like dust and petals. Not rose petals, but those little white ones that grow on trees, ya know? It was so beautiful. Fuck it. I’m taking you one day. You need to see more than the dash of your car and the backroads of America. Time to travel!

Speaking of- I’m glad you’re slowing down a bit. I know that won’t be easy for you but if you think about it, you’ve spent the last forty years running from problem to problem like a damned bomb-sniffing dog. 

A DOG?! Dean Winchester, I never thought the day would come. I can’t wait to see a picture. Don’t forget it next time. 

I think you’d be a great mechanic. It was always very hot seeing you covered in sweat and grease especially if you had those damned coveralls on. I mean… what? I don’t think about you like that anymore, you know. It’s over and done with and we’re just friends. We are friends, aren’t we? Maybe something more than friends, I guess. Ex lovers? Ew. I hate that word. Lovers. So gross. Well, then what are we? Just two souls swimming in a fish bowl…

Year after year. Day after day. Do you know that I put nearly a hundred thousand miles on my poor truck this year? Back and forth, up and down the country. I don’t have to tell you how exhausting it is. Fun, but exhausting. Rewarding, but not. I wonder how many people remember me after I leave? Does that family in New Haven think about me whenever they go into the basement and it’s no longer haunted? Is there a photo of me on a fridge in Wilmington where I saved that guy’s fiance from the vamp nest? Probably not. I’m sure people remember you - The Great Dean Winchester. The sexy hunter with the green eyes and the giant black car. You’re hard to forget. Also, you hang out with a giant. Tell Sam I said hi. 

I do remember that puke fest! And it’s green. It’s literally neon green. Fight me. 

We could probably write a book, you and me. ‘Winchester & Y/L/N Do America’. It’s a coffee table book with pictures of random diner signs and gas station bathrooms. Maybe a list of the country’s best french fry places. Shit like that. Let’s do it. I’ll call my literary agent in the morning. Ha!

SPARTA!! That’s where that damned sea glass shop was. It just hit me! Stupid brain. I swear, I’ve been hit in the head way too many times. Broken too many bones. I’m getting too old for this shit. Did you know that my left knee pops whenever I stand up now? Like, how old am I?? I can’t stand it. I need a month at a spa somewhere in the desert. That’d be nice. 

Damnit. I just got a call from Vinnie Alverez. Do you know him? Hunter out of Pittsburg. Anyway- he needs help on a job. Guess I’ll cut this letter short. Hopefully I’ll find a box to drop this in on the way to PA! 

Miss you. 

Sincerely yours, 

Y/N

P.S. - I do forgive you, Dean. Of course I do. Things were just too hard back then. Life didn’t want to cooperate for us. It’s not your fault. Not my fault. It just was. Please don’t carry that guilt in your heart. You deserve better than that. 

August 2

Dear Y/N- 

You’re a real character, you know that? Love the corporate letter. I’m in for the book by the way. Could be awesome. We do need a full chapter on onion rings though. Make a note. 

I heard about your hunt in Pittsburgh. Came through the grapevine that you kicked some serious wolf ass. Nice job, kid. Hope you’re being careful. I know how bullheaded and impulsive you can get when you’re in the zone. Just watch your back, OK? Promise me. Last thing I wanna hear is that you got your heart clawed out or you’re walking around with a demon in your ass. 

Demons. Haven’t seen so many running around lately. Queen Rowena’s been keeping them in check. So fucking weird that she’s in charge now. Not that I’m surprised- she’s a badass bitch. If I had a nickel for every ruler of hell I was friends with, I’d have two nickels. Which isn’t a lot, but it’s weird that it happened twice. The kids still say that, don’t they? See, I’m not old. I keep up with pop culture and shit. Started watching the tik toks. I still don’t get it, but I like the woodturning stuff. Thinking about taking up whittling. Maybe carve you a keychain so you stop losing them. 

I got a call for a job interview. Chickened out though. I don’t know if I’m ready to start all that, ya know? Start a real life in the real world- just seems- I don’t know, scary. Yeah, I’ve faced every deadly thing on this and other worlds but the idea of getting a 9 to 5 civilian job scares me. I’m some kinda fucked up, huh? 

I think about it a lot though. Getting a job, finding a little house somewhere, settling down. A little fenced in yard so Miracle can run around and dig up dirt. Might put a rocking chair on the porch and watch the clouds, some shit like that. Would you come visit me in my Barbie dream house? I’ll cook you breakfast every morning and you can rub my feet at night. Real cozy couple stuff. 

OK, so maybe I’m thinking about you more and more these days. Maybe I’m regretting leaving. Maybe I’m just an idiot daydreaming about meeting you somewhere in the middle and sweeping you off your feet. One of those running hugs that hurts when you collide but ends in a kiss that makes everything feel better. I’m a real romantic fuck, huh? I was digging through my drawers yesterday and I found a pair of your socks. Those tiny ones that barely covered your ankle. I don’t know why they were stuffed in the back of the dresser, but there they were. Dingy white socks with the pink threads on the toes. I’ll bring them to the beach when we meet up. 

Oh, Sam says hi and he hopes you’re good and he wants you to shoot him a text when you can. You can do what you want, but you better not mail him a letter. That’s just for me. God, my hand is cramping up. I’m not used to this. Oh, and you’re not alone. My knee creaks like a haunted house when I go up stairs now. And my right wrist pops, and my neck makes this weird almost squeaking sound, and my ass- well, I could go on, but just know you’re not alone. Kinda weird to think that we lived long enough to be this old, ain’t it? I never thought I’d live to be thirty and here I am staring down 42. Forty Fucking Two. Can you believe that shit? Goddamnit I got old. Let’s go find a nursing home together. Maybe we can get a double room- or a king sized bed?

Think about it. We could be cranky old people together. Losing our memories and shuffling around with walkers and shit. You’d look cute with white hair. And fuck, my beard’s already going gray. Should I grow out my beard? 

Write back soon. I really like seeing your letters in the box. 

Dean  x

My dearest Dean Winchester, it is with great happiness that I write this letter to you and I do hope that it finds you well and happy and all good things and I can’t keep this formal shit up. Ha!

Anyway- but yeah, things are good. I know it’s been a while since I’ve written, but I was on a little trip around the continent. Headed up to Montreal for a bit. Killed some nasties, salted some bones, generally fucked around. My beloved truck crapped out in Burlington, Vermont, so I had to hang out there for a while and gather my resources to get a new vehicle. I think you’d like her. Green Ford Explorer from ‘94. OK, she’s not as sexy as the Impala, but she gets me where I need to go. Which, apparently, was Maine! I met up with some friends in Greenville. Cute little town full of witchcraft. So much fun. Also had a lobster roll on a pier… I swear to god, they plucked this thing right out of the water and slapped it on a buttered roll. You’d LOVE it. I’m gonna take you there someday. 

Speaking of- We need to make plans for Florida. I picked up a little bikini on my travels and I think I really need to show it off. Maybe you could be my bodyguard and keep the creeps away while I’m sunbathing? To repay you for your services, I’ll gladly let you take it off me at night…

Oh, and I’ve thought about this extensively, and I believe that you should, in fact, grow your beard out. Like, full on, bushy lumberjack beard. I can’t wait to see all that gray. You know I have a thing for older men… and you’ll always be older than me, Dean Winchester and don’t you forget it!

And for your information, I don’t lose my keys anymore! I got one of those… apple taggy things. Now I know where they are at all times. Can’t find my phone to find them sometimes, but that’s another issue. 

Two weeks later, I’m picking up my pen again. Sorry this is taking forever. Things are stupid busy. I wish I could just… put this fucking gun down and go live with you on a farm somewhere. Not a working farm, we wouldn’t keep pigs or anything because gross, but a farmhouse in the middle of nowhere. Big white house with a giant tree in the yard and a tire swing and a picket fence and a kid chasing the dog around and - 

Shit. Do you ever think about it? I do. A lot. More than I’d like to and it fucking cuts me up inside every time. I know we could never have kept it, and life- I mean- it just wasn’t meant to be. But I do think about it sometimes. Imagine if we’d just walked away from the life and tried to be a family? Impossible, I know. Maybe in another life. 

Shit, I’m sorry. Fuck. Ignore me. I haven’t slept in a while and I just

I want to see you. Can we meet somewhere? Wherever you want. I’ll come to you. 

~ Y/N 

Dear Dean, 

This is my second attempt at writing this. Crumpled up the first one because I’m an idiot. Am I an idiot? Did I piss you off with the last letter? I honestly didn’t mean to. I just- we said we’d be honest, and you’ve been so open in your letters that I thought it was ok to talk about, but I guess not. I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have dug that stuff up. 

I’m so tired and stressed and I miss you so much. Since we’ve been writing back and forth it’s almost like I can’t stop thinking about you. I get so fucking excited to check the mail whenever I roll back into town. It’s like… I don’t know, it’s like Christmas every time I see your handwriting in my box. Remember the time you wrote your name on my thigh in Sharpie? That stayed on for like a week. I shoulda gotten it inked on. That’d be something, huh? Branded by a Winchester. 

Fuck, Dean, I really hope you’re not mad at me. I really want to call you, but we said we wouldn’t. Just write me back, please. 

I’ll be in your neck of the woods next week. Got turned onto a haunting up in Abilene. Maybe we can meet on the road somewhere? Please? 

Hey, did you know there’s a Hunter, Kansas? Wonder why they didn’t build the bunker there. I don’t know, made me laugh when I was looking at the map. 

Anyway- Please write me back. Or call. Or text. Or send a damned pigeon with a tiny letter taped to its foot. I don’t care, how, just do it please. Even if you’re mad at me and don’t want to talk anymore, I get it. But please. Just let me know, OK?

I’m sorry. 

Love, Y/N

Dear Y/N,

I didn’t know you and my brother were writing to each other like this, but I found your last few letters to him in his private P.O. Box. I didn’t even know he had one of his own, but I guess we all keep secrets from those we love. I hope you don’t mind that I read your letters. Not all of them, but the last two that came through. Please know that Dean would have responded if he could have, I know he would have. He talked about you a lot recently. Said you two were in contact and that he was hoping to find some time to meet you for a vacation. I don’t know where you guys were planning on going, but I found a new Hawiian shirt in his closet with the tags still on it. 

I know we spoke on the phone after he passed, but I wanted to send this to you. I was cleaning up his stuff and found his notepad. Looks like he’d started a letter before we left for Canton. I think he’d want you to have it. 

I’m closing up the Bunker soon. I don’t really know where I’ll go, but I can’t be here right now. Not without my brother. 

I’ll always be around if you need anything or want to talk. I’ll always answer the phone for you, Y/N. 

Be well,

Sam Winchester

Y/N/N, 

If I could take it back I would. Every fucking word. I think about it now and I know we made the wrong choice. I know we could have made it work if we tried. But we are both total fuck ups who can’t be normal. We just can’t. 

Forgive me

That’s dog slobber up there, not tears. Just fyi. Definitely not tears. I think I might have been a little drunk when I started writing and then well-

Anyway- Maine sounds awesome. We were there once but no time for lobster rolls. Guess I missed out. 

Not much to report since the last letter. Been kinda quiet here. But… I did apply for a job. Well, I filled out the application. Well, I started filling it out. It’s actually underneath this notepad right now. I’ll get to it. I will. I just need a good kick in the ass. Or maybe a pinch… wink wink

I absolutely think we need to get together. Pick some place stupid like the World’s Largest Frying Pan or South of The Border. I’ll meet you. Just say when. 

Guess this letter will take a little longer to finish. We’re leaving for Ohio in a little bit. There’s a buncha vampire dicks making a mess. Gonna take ‘em to batting practice. Show them my machete swing. I’ll give a full report when we’re back home

Dean Dean, 

I made it to the beach. It’s hot, like stupid hot. Had to stand in the water just to keep my toes from burning. I’ve been sitting here for hours trying to think of something to say, but all I can say is I love you. I miss you. I wish you were here with me. I wish things had been different. I wish and wish and wish. 

If I throw this into the ocean will it get to you somehow or will my words just wash away like the sand? 

I’ll see you again someday. I hope so, anyway. Let’s just pretend I’m destined for Heaven. I know you’re up there. You were too good not to be. You sacrificed so much, cared so much, saved so many people. I know you made it. If there’s any mercy in this universe, I’ll be up there someday too. Just don’t have too much fun without me. 

I love you, Dean. Always. 

Y/N

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[anonzentimes]

hi zen!! my friends and i are doing a powerpoint night this monday and like any self-respecting person almost 7 months deep in a dangan hyperfixation (i'm never getting out of here) i am using it as a platform for an all-encompassing kmhn infodump. this powerpoint is going to be the komahina bible and i want to hit Every Stop. i will grab everything i can find. no hesitation. however !! the danganronpa franchise is A Lot. so there's always a chance i will miss something. so! as a fellow kmhn understander and enthusiast, is there any particular Komahina Moment or piece of analysis you feel people often miss or overlook? could be big or small, or involve just one of the two of them, but i'd appreciate the input! <3 have a good one :D

OH MY GOD??? I’LL TRY TO ANSWER IN TIME FOR YOUR POWERPOINT LMAO THAT SOUNDS AWESOME?????? You should record it! Well, you probably will, but I’m still saying it anyways just in case you aren’t, because something that fun going unrecorded sounds like a tragedy!

I’ve had ideas of doing all encompassing komahina rambles for a video or something, but I’m already working on other projects so It’ll be a long time before I even try lmao. Makes me happy someone is trying something similar, and with friends no less! I’d be happy to help in any way I can, I hope you and your friends have fun! :D

ANYWAYS. I’ll say a huge ramble of Komahina things and hope it helps LOL.

This is more of a silly statement, but for a FULL Komahina coverage I think it’s most satisfying to cover the different flavors of komahina, if that makes sense? Like, depending on what approach you’re taking you may not cover kamukoma, since to a degree that’s an entirely different ship, but you’d still cover the canon adjacent other flavors. Basically, try including the canon adjacent variations!!! The Dangan island events are good for analyzing their dynamic with less horrible circumstances bringing them to worst and causing them to hurt each other. The stage plays are also great to mention since there’s some komahina content that is play original, and seeing them physically interact is fun! Can’t forget the Komahina CD too Lol. There’s also smaller things like their anniversary outfits, especially the matching purple ones, their animal outfits, and their Danganronpa S Swimsuits!

Little details that are so special to me are things like the parallel of Nagito waking Hajime up being reserved in Danganronpa 2.5, and there’s also how things like Hajime’s grief for Nagito that’s so compelling, special, and telling about their dynamic.

I think my main thing to actually add on properly is that, a lot of people say Hajime hates Nagito which is absolutely incorrect. I don’t think I’d try so hard or care enough to revive and or wait until a person I hated woke up. Hajime displays he actively cares a lot, they just happen to feel hurt and betrayed by each other due to the circumstances. Komahina is unhealthy but it isn’t toxic, if that phrase makes sense. The beauty of it is that they grow TO be healthier, they learn to love each other, understand each other, and in the process learn to understand and love themselves. Komahina is reciprocal, it gets unhealthy due to circumstances, but it is reciprocal and the beauty of it is them becoming healthier together.

Nagito is not a malicious psychopath, and Hajime is not an overly horny person with no personality, I see them misinterpreted and characterized like that constantly It’s ridiculous. Hajime is awkward, conflicted, introverted, caring, and tries to be positive but ultimately is usually a realist. Hajime gets attached to people easily and deals with discrimination, insecurity, and self esteem. Hajime is relatable enough to where he’s empathetic but unique enough to where he’s special.

Nagito is a mentally ill queer coded man who is an antagonist and an anti-hero. He is morally gray when it comes to his unhealthy coping mechanism and has complicated beliefs, he’s honest, intelligent, struggles with insecurity, struggles with self esteem, has absolute beliefs influenced by hope’s peak, is a parallel and warped version of Makoto while being his own person, and he’s very sweet. Nagito’s love language seems to be mostly playful teasing, he rambles a lot and weirds people out just by saying what he thinks is fact. He has tonal issues and usually isn’t self aware, despite this he also worries about the impression he gives off if he thinks it matters. His beliefs are very hierarchy based and he thinks he’s all the way at the bottom, he doesn’t absolutely hate people like him but he thinks they have no purpose other than to help those more capable and projects onto them. Nagito is a very complex character, he is numb to intense situations due to the immense trauma of it being normal for him. He’s optimistic but also pessimistic, he’s positive but also incredibly anxious, he’s well intentioned but also thinks anything is okay if it’s for hope, there’s a lot to Nagito but in the end once it clicks it really clicks. He is contradictory in a way that perfectly makes sense, creating the perfect character. There’s a lot to him but when you understand him there’s no need for words, you just get it. There’s a feeling to him, an understanding, and I think that’s really special. He really is amazing.

Anyways, the ramble on summarizing both of their characters simply is to more expand on points about their dynamic! Nagito and Hajime are sides of the same coin. Nagito is irrational when it comes to Hajime in the way that he defies his normal behaviors because he usually avoids others and thinks he’s not worth the ultimates time, it means so much to me that Nagito just immediately had a feeling and connection with him. I’ve seen some people not think about it, but genuinely Komaeda feels something upon first sight and it’s irrational given his regular behavior it’s so sweet.

This has been just a lot of me rambling, but hopefully some of it helps! I had fun yapping haha, thanks for you ask!

[bachissidehoe]

gossip

chapter 6 of it's classy, not classic [bachisagi]

Isagi rolls over, his head nearly pounding as the daytime light makes him see spots around his room. 

But- it isn’t his bedroom. 

It’s his living room. He’s on his couch. 

Right. 

Isagi slept on the couch last night, and Bachira slept in his-

Bachira. 

As the memories of last night start flooding into Isagi’s already hangover-ridden head, he stands, searching for his phone in case anything happened while he slept. Last night, Bachira got super drunk, drunk enough to admit the horrible things that happened to him in his previous relationship. If Isagi ever gets a hold of that guy, he’d-

Well, he’s not quite sure what he’d do. He’d probably just be upset. Plus, Bachira had mentioned before that his ex had reached out after finding out he and Isagi were in a relationship. Isagi can’t help but wonder what that conversation was like. Does Bachira miss him? Is he scared of him? 

Those questions will probably never be answered for Isagi. It’s highly unlikely that Bachira remembers his confession last night, so a good friend would keep quiet. Putting him in the position to relive that wouldn’t be a good idea.

Speaking of Bachira, Isagi turns toward his bedroom, figuring he should check on his fake boyfriend. He’s probably way more hungover than Isagi is, he may still be sleeping, even though it’s well past noon now. 

He peeks into his room, scanning it for signs of Bachira Meguru. But he only sees some crumpled up sheets and an empty bed. Isagi checks the bathroom as well, but finds no Bachira there either. 

He sighs, standing by his window to text him and see where he went. Hopefully he’s okay, maybe he just got up and went home, but still, Isagi can’t help but worry. 

“Huh?” Isagi says aloud, hovering over Bachira’s name on his phone while looking down at the sidewalk below, noticing a man awfully similar looking to Bachira standing down there, talking with someone. However, his back is to him, Isagi can only see the face of the other person. 

Isagi presses the call button, his eyes still trained on the man below. Sure enough, the man takes his phone out of his pocket.

“Hey Isagi.” Bachira answers, his voice sounding much more cheerful than Isagi expected. 

“Hey, are you alright?” Isagi asks, watching Bachira turn around on the sidewalk, his back now facing the man he was talking to.

“Yeah, I’m good. I went home. Sorry, I should have texted you or something.” Bachira lies. 

“What? But you-” Isagi starts, confused as to why Bachira would lie to him. He’s standing right there, he could probably make eye contact with Isagi right now if he just looked up. 

But then it hits him. Isagi’s eyes widen, looking between the two people below. Bachira, and another man he doesn’t recognize. Isagi can’t quite tell what types of expressions they’re wearing, but from where he stands, he can see the other man standing tall, one hand on his hip. Whereas Bachira stands hunched forward a bit, his head down. He can’t say for sure, but it doesn’t seem like Bachira is enjoying this conversation. 

“Bachira. Look up.” Isagi says, lower this time, just in case the other man can hear. 

“Yeah. I see you.” Bachira whispers back. 

“I’m coming-”

“Don’t. It’s fine.” He chuckles. 

Bachira’s tone is much different than Isagi has ever heard before. His voice is nearly shaking. He does not want to be in this situation. 

Isagi hangs up, throwing on a pair of shoes and racing out of his apartment. He’s never sprinted down the stairs of his building so fast. What if this guy wants to hurt Bachira? What if he’s in danger? He rounds the corner of the building, bringing Bachira and the other man into view. Their conversation is also clear by now, he can hear almost every word. 

“I just miss you, I came all the way here for you-”

“Hiro, I told…dy, it’s not…happening.” Bachira replies, but his back remains toward Isagi, so he can only make out bits and pieces of the sentence. 

It’s confirmed now, this smug looking guy is indeed Bachira’s ex, the same one who used to get Bachira drunk night after night for his own personal pleasure. Isagi’s heart is racing, he feels like he could have a panic attack. 

“There’s just no way you could have moved on from me that fast, this guy’s just your rebound, come on Ru-” This guy- Hiro- reaches out, making a move for the collar of Bachira’s shirt, the same shirt he was wearing yesterday. 

But Isagi gets to him first, grabbing the back of Bachira’s shirt, pulling him backward by the collar, directly into his arms. 

The gesture is followed by a silence from everyone involved, including Isagi, who can’t quite explain himself why he would do that. 

“I- I don’t think he wants you to touch him.” Isagi tries to sound confident, but it certainly doesn’t come out like that. In fact, it comes out shaky and unsure. Now that he’s in Hiro’s presence, he sure is intimidating. For some reason, Isagi wasn’t expecting Bachira’s ex to look like this, so professional, and not to mention tall and older.

“Yoichi-” 

“I was worried about you.” Isagi chuckles, trying to distract from the embarrassing display he just put on. “You let me sleep for too long, come on, let’s go back inside-” 

“You’re Isagi Yoichi, huh? I’m a huge fan! So you’re the guy Ru’s dating now?” Hiro smiles. He does have a kind smile, he seems genuine. That’s the dangerous part, surely. Isagi knows better, but if he didn’t, he’d fall for it too. 

“Yeah, I am.” Isagi steps slightly more in front of Bachira. 

“Mind if I borrow him for a bit? I’m visiting here for the latest show, I wanna catch up. I’ve missed him too, ya know?” Hiro asks kindly. 

Isagi feels the heat rising to his cheeks, anger threatening to wash over his body. How dare this guy, how dare he walk up here and want to put Bachira in this position after hurting him so badly. 

“You’re asking if you can hang out with my boyfriend?” Isagi smiles through gritted teeth.

“I guess so, if you’re the type of clingy boyfriend who has to give permission.” Hiro chuckles. 

Isagi wants to hit this man. In fact, he’s never wanted to hit anyone more than he wants to hit this guy right now. He’d lose, but he still feels his free fist clenching next to him, his other hand still tightly gripping Bachira’s shoulder.

“Plus, I mean come on, I just gotta make sure you’re good for him and all and appreciate him enough.” Hiro continues. His tone is so kind and genuine, but his words are so manipulative. 

For the first time perhaps ever, Bachira is rendered completely silent as Isagi stands in front of him. Nobody’s had to protect him before, but now he feels like he needs it. It’s not like Hiro is dangerous or anything. He won’t hit or hurt him physically. But after such a tumultuous relationship, Bachira finally felt like he was free moving to Tokyo- Hiro had agreed to leave him alone. He doesn’t want any of this anymore, he doesn’t want to be tied to someone who doesn’t let him live his life the way he wants. He’s still Bachira Meguru, he needs to express his ego. 

“I am the clingy type, actually.” Isagi replies, catching both Bachira and Hiro off guard. “I’m too obsessed with him to let him go wandering around with an ex, sorry about that. You know how it is, gotta watch out for this one, he’s too perfect. I’ve only got so much time until he loses interest in me. So nah, we’re heading out, nice meeting you though.” Isagi quickly turns around, linking his shaky hand with Bachira’s, pulling him back around to the front of the building.

Hiro doesn’t even reply. But then again, Isagi doesn’t give him the time to protest. 

“Isagi- what the fuck?” Bachira pulls his hand away as they get back to the front of the building. “I told you not to come down-”

“I’m sorry.” Isagi sighs, holding open the front door of the apartment building for Bachira to enter first. He does, reluctantly. “I saw you looking unlike your normal self, I was worried.” 

“How’d you know who that was?” 

Isagi pauses. “I just had a feeling.” He clenches his fists, his hands still shaky from the anxiety-inducing interaction. 

The two finally make it back up to Isagi’s upper floor apartment, Bachira quickly collapsing on the couch, directly on top of the blanket and pillows Isagi pulled together to sleep with last night. 

“You feeling okay?” Isagi asks, realizing that if he has a hangover headache, Bachira’s is surely worse. 

“Eh.” He answers, taking a breath. “How much did I tell you, Isagi.” He asks, though he says it more like a statement than a question. Like he’s already figured out exactly why Isagi would react to an appearance from Hiro the way he did. 

Once again, as Isagi looks into the concerned golden eyes of Bachira Meguru, he’s faced with the reality that he doesn’t know Bachira at all, but Bachira seems to know him really well. 

Isagi can’t really respond, he just looks stunned, shifting his weight back and forth on his feet. 

“Come here, come sit.” Bachira pats Isagi’s couch in the spot next to him, almost like he’s about to have “the talk” with a middle school kid. 

But Isagi obliges, accepting Bachira’s permission to sit on his own couch. 

“I’m sorry I told you some things you probably didn’t want to hear.” He starts, his tone serious and soft, a much different tone than Isagi is used to hearing from him. 

“Don’t be sorry, it’s all safe with-”

“I know I know.” Bachira smiles, followed by a sigh. “So, Hiro and I met through my art, he’s a good bit older than I am and is high up in the art industry. He picked me up and is really the reason I got so popular so fast. I was head over heels like right away, which is why our relationship was so well known in that community.” He pauses, looking out the back window, anything to avoid looking directly at Isagi. 

 “He asked me about some kinks he’s into, like sleeping with me while I’m blacked out and basically non functional. I told him that’s fine, I’m down for anything. So it was something I consented to, but I realized really quickly that me not remembering things that happened was making me feel weird. The problem was that when we would go out and I’d tell him I didn’t wanna get drunk and do this, I would wake up the next morning and find out that we did it all anyway.” He leans back on the couch, taking another deep breath. 

All Isagi can do is listen. He’s never seen Bachira seem so emotionally bothered over something before, it’s clear that he doesn’t want people to know about that part of his life, the traumatic part. He’s such a bubbly sunshine of a person with a kind heart and a blazing ego, it hurts Isagi to know that he would let someone else take that over. 

“He told me he was sorry and such every time, but would also remind me that I was nothing without him, and I wouldn’t be popular and rich if it weren’t for him, so I stayed in it way too long. When I finally got that offer for the Tokyo tour, I realized that continuing to date him wasn’t actually affecting my career as much as I thought it was. So I ended it. But it was a good few months of all that before I could actually end it.” He finishes his story with a chuckle, trying to make light out of sharing such a serious revelation. 

“He wasn’t happy about it, so I guess he showed up today to try to win me back or whatever, he would always tell me I would never find anyone else, so I think he’s confused that I moved on so fast.” He adds, noticing Isagi is just kind of sitting there, not talking. “Obviously I didn’t actually, but you know.” 

“Bachi-” Isagi pauses, feeling his body filling with more angry anxiety than he’s felt in a while. It’s not the type of hype nervousness he feels before a game, it’s not the anger he feels when he reads a mean review about his gameplay. This is a different feeling, one that’s making his entire head feel like it’s going to explode. “Meguru. I know we’re not actually dating but I’m still your friend. I’m sorry I roped you into all this when you were in the middle of going through so much already-”

“No, no that’s not what I was trying to do by telling you all this at all-” 

“I know I’m making it about me, you’re right.” Isagi chuckles. 

“That’s not what I-”

“That guy is bad news, clearly he didn’t love you like you thought he did. You’re a strong person for leaving, and strong for meeting up with him today.” 

Bachira just sits silently, staring into Isagi’s eyes with a straight face. 

Then suddenly, he bursts out laughing. 

“Uh, what?” Isagi asks over Bachira’s little giggles. 

“I dunno!” Bachira continues laughing, forcing smiles out of Isagi as well. His laugh is just contagious. “This is just so weird, right?” 

“Yeah, it is pretty weird.” Isagi laughs too. 

And it’s genuine for both of them. The realization that they’re closer than they thought. That without Isagi’s lie, Bachira wouldn’t be here seeking his support. That good things have come from this. That a dumb fake relationship is way more important to both of them than they thought. 

“Regardless of what ends up happening, thanks for being here, Yoichi.” Bachira breathes, this time his smile is real, and happy. 

And he can’t help himself, he leans over, letting his head rest comfortably on Isagi’s shoulder. He’s still pretty tired anyway, and trauma dumping can really take a lot out of a person. Isagi’s shoulder is so comfortable and inviting. 

Isagi pauses, feeling like a cat just chose to sit on his lap and if he moves too much he’ll ruin it. But he pets him anyway, letting his hand comb through Bachira’s unwashed hair. 

“Anytime, Meguru.” 

+++++

Yet another big sporting event has been unfortunately overshadowed by Isagi and Bachira’s latest drama, which the paparazzi has decided is related to the encounter with Hiro the other day. Three high profile people with histories having a conversation cannot possibly be taken a normal way by the public, so it was absolutely blown out of proportion. 

Hiro has his things to say about it online, which luckily, aren’t painting Bachira or Isagi in a bad light at all, but the man sure does love his drama. 

Despite the championship qualifying game being today, the only questions Isagi has gotten from fans and the press has been related to this encounter with Bachira’s ex. Coach Noel Noa instructed Isagi not to say anything, but after being flustered too much by pre-game interviews where he tried for over an hour to dodge these questions, he finally fucked up. 

“It’s all fine between Bachira and I, he was surprised to see his ex in Tokyo, and I guess I got a little jealous is all. I’m just focused on the game today and nothing else.” 

Isagi thought his statement was clear and in no way misleading, but the questions just kept getting worse after that. The cheers from the fans right now as Isagi takes his position on the field are filled with the joy of the drama, not the joy of the game, which he absolutely hates. 

Bachira’s here too, of course, being hounded in the VIP box by other families and friends of the players about the exact same thing. He proudly wears Isagi’s number 11, redirecting every uncomfortable question he can. 

Isagi feels bad, honestly. He’s felt bad about everything he’s put Bachira through, even if Bachira insists that it’s helped him escape that shitty relationship he was in. But still, he doesn’t deserve the drama or the obsession with their fake relationship just because it’s taking a different form than is expected from the romantic endeavors of a famous athlete. 

In fact, Isagi feels so bad that he can’t do fucking anything in this game. He’s so frustrated, tilted even. 

“Get it the fuck together.” Rin rolls his eyes, slapping Isagi hard on the back after he misses another textbook pass from Sae. 

“Yeah, we’re done with this bullshit, get your dick out of your boyfriend’s ass for two seconds and focus on the game.” Sae groups up with them in the midfield, scolding Isagi right along with his shitty emo brother. 

Isagi can’t even argue with them, he’s rattled. 

“Yeah, I gotcha.” He takes a few breaths, trying to put him in the mindset to see the field like he always does. But he just can’t. When he tries to see the paths to the goal, when he tries to create new plays and expand on existing ones, he can only see Bachira’s face, the way he looked when Hiro was talking with him. And he sees the press too, the mean tweets and the articles doing anything they can to get views. 

Therefore, Isagi doesn’t, in fact, “gotcha”. 

Sae and Rin link up, and for the first time in a while, Rin wins out over Isagi, receiving passes from his brother left and right, leaving Isagi completely in the dark. 

“11! Off the field!” Noa sends a sub for Isagi, finally ridding the game of the toxic environment Isagi is bringing. Rin and Sae can hold their own, but it’s certainly disappointing for Isagi to be contributing absolutely nothing to the game. Especially one that seems to be going back and forth between the teams.

He trudges into the locker room, passing Noa, who doesn’t even have to say anything for Isagi to realize why he’s been subbed out. He sucks. 

He’ll beg to be let back into the game later, but right now, it’s clear they don’t need him. Maybe it’s all finally gotten to be too much for him. Maybe he can’t actually do this whole fake relationship thing. Maybe he needs therapy, or to be locked up in a mental institution or something. Nothing in his life that isn’t supposed to matter should be causing him this much stress.

Bachira Meguru: i fluster you that much, huh? ;)

A simple text, but one that makes Isagi’s heart lurch. Perhaps he’s having a heart attack. 

Isagi Yoichi: Oh shut up

But he doesn’t actually want Bachira to shut up. He reads the text over and over until his vision is blurry. He likes that there’s a little winky face there. He likes that Bachira thought to text him at all after the shitty performance he’s been providing. 

Bachira Meguru: get your shit together and get back out there, egoist

He feels like he could cry, but somehow, that’s the pick-me-up he needs to keep going. Bachira is the one that convinces him to press on. The only reason he hasn’t caved and told the truth already is because it’s Bachira he’s fake dating. Without him, there’s no reason to keep up the facade. The other day, Bachira thanked him for being there, and is showing that same support for Isagi now. 

He can’t just take this one lying down. The press will be all over this, wondering how his performance can be related to all this drama. He just has to take it, do his best to get over that initial hump of a couple months of people being excited and then it’ll die down. Soccer is still his number 1, and this game is crucial. He needs to get back out there. 

Which is exactly what he does. After begging Noa to give him another chance, Isagi then has to beg Sae for another chance. Upon much eye rolling from the Itoshi brothers, Sae agrees to run a play with Isagi. 

And it works.

Isagi feels his team piling on top of him, giving him hi-fives and pats on the back for scoring a miracle buzzer-beater goal for the win. 

Thanks to Bachira. 

Without the quick texts, Isagi would have been defeated. Without Bachira, Isagi wouldn’t have soccer either.

[theoddcatlady]

For Better or Worse

“For better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, till death do us part…”

I run through vows through my head every time it gets hard. I twist my wedding ring round and around on my finger as I wait in my parked car, waiting for my chance to make things better.  

We only met because I didn’t want to be alone on Valentine’s Day six years ago. One of my friends said she knew a guy named Corey who was single and ready to mingle. I figured at worst it’d be a great story- my horrible blind date on Valentine’s day.  

Corey arrived almost ten minutes late, nearly tripped over his shoes and ended up spilling my wine all over the front of my dress, and apologized a dozen times while I fled to the bathroom to dab up the worst of it. But after I managed to clean myself up and before I could make an excuse to get out of there, he explained he was late because he’d gotten distracted by a busker down the street playing his guitar, and the music was so nice he just had to stop and listen. 

We ended up ditching the restaurant right then to go check out the busker out. Corey loaned me his jacket to cover up the worst of the wine stain. Thankfully the older man was still performing, and as he strummed away some old love song, I found my hand intertwined with Corey’s.  

We stayed up past midnight, strolling through the park, talking about everything we could think of under the moon. There was a natural chemistry I just could not deny. We talked about college, places we wanted to see, what we wanted to do with the rest of our lives, our favorite movies and songs… it was like I’d known him for my entire life. By the end of it we were at his apartment and ended up falling asleep on the couch to whatever we were binging on Netflix. I can’t remember. But I remember hearing his soft breathing and never feeling more content.  

That dress was completely ruined, I was never able to get the stain completely out, but I still have it. It’s a good memory.  

We’ll be married for two years come August. Lived together for four. Corey and I… are just meant to be.  

Someone passes by my van, doesn’t even take a second look. Ten minutes later, when the sun’s going down, that’s when someone stops.  

“Hey, you all right, miss?”

The man who comes too close ends up being middle aged, tall, probably worked too long at the office and was just on his home now. I smiled and replied the lie that I’d gotten down pat-

“I think I’m lost. My phone’s out of battery, can I use yours? I need to call my husband to have him give me directions.”  

He takes another step closer, like a fly buzzing too close to a spider’s web, and I move fast. The first hit over the head stuns him, enough for me to get out and drag him into the backseat. Another hit and he’s floating in and out of it while I duct tape shut his mouth and hog tie his wrists and ankles. It takes less than a minute, and the street’s empty so no one sees my evil act. People are finishing up dinner with their families, getting ready to put the young kids to bed and convincing the older ones to help clear the table.  

I would be doing that too, at least the finishing up dinner part. Corey and I hadn’t had kids before it happened. We were trying though. I want two, Corey wants… wanted, as many as we could have until we’d have to be airlifted supplies from the grocery store.  

Corey never got to know his birth family, he was adopted when he was just a few weeks old by two people who loved him to pieces. He never bothered to look into them until I brought it up a little over a year ago. After all, we do want kids. It’d be important to know your family medical history for that, and if there’s a chance to figure that out, you should take it. It took less time than we thought, Corey’s birth mother still lived in the area. I offered to go with him that day, but he declined. Said this was something he wanted to do himself.

When he came home, Corey was a different man. He didn’t even say anything to me, just locked himself in his study. I heard him crying. He wouldn’t tell me what his mother told him, only that if I chose to leave him now, he’d understand.  

I now have a secret staircase that leads from the garage to the basement. I dragged my newest victim down there, who was now awake and did his best to ask what I was doing through his gag. I stopped learning their names after the third one. It’s so much easier when I don’t know who they were, what their lives were like, who their family was, who is going to be on the news pleading for any scrap of information about their lost loved ones. I did take off his gag though, so I could hear his answer when I asked him this:

“Do you want me to finish you off now?”

God, I wish for once they’d say yes. Only one did, an elderly woman. I think she knew what was coming and didn’t want to live through it. But this one didn’t, he just shook his head and started babbling about his family and to just let him go, that he wouldn’t tell anyone.

But I couldn’t. I just sawed him free from his bondage before going to the cage. By the time I undid the lock, the man was on his feet, inching back towards the staircase, ready to make a break for it.

He froze when he heard the thump of the beast falling down from the ceiling. He crawled out of the cage not a moment later, bright red eyes trained on his victim. There was no hope now. I just slipped into that cage and closed my eyes. I don’t have the stomach to watch, when he kills it’s not quick. Like a kid pulling the wings off a butterfly, the beast pulls off each of the man’s limbs first with a snap and a pop. The screaming goes on for so long my ears start to ring. It’s still going on while the beast crunches on the detached limbs, swallowing them with gusto before going to the next one. The screaming still goes on until he’s pulled in half, then all I hear is the tearing of flesh and spilling of blood on the cement floor.

Corey didn’t change overnight after his thirtieth birthday. It was slow. He first stopped going outside, which is why I thought he was so pale all the time. Then the fur started sprouting along his spine, I found teeth in the bathroom sink but saw he wasn’t missing any in his mouth, just that they were so much sharper now. He was covered in fur when he finally cracked told me, told me of his family’s curse that falls on the men. Women can be carriers, which is how his mother knew and gave him up. She couldn’t make herself care for something that would soon become the bloodthirsty beast of her worst nightmares.  

He grew so tall he hit the ceiling. His back sprouted leathery wings that span several feet, grew claws from his feet and hands that can hook into the walls so he can clamber about. His maw was filled with those horrifying teeth, and his eyes… they’re no longer his eyes, always full of sensitivity and light. They’re the eyes of the devil.  

My heart broke when I filed his missing person’s report last year, claiming he went for a walk at the local park and never came back. My mother’s trying to find the right way to ask if I’m going to declare him dead, but I won’t.  

Because Corey’s not dead. He’s the beast in my basement, locked up to protect him.

After he finished devouring his newest meal, he ambled up to me, rumbling like a cat’s purr and resting his head in my lap. After a good meal, he’s more of himself. I run my hands through his furry head, stroking his leathery ears and placing a kiss on his blood stained snout. Many times Corey sunk his teeth into me and left scars, I can’t leave the house without long sleeves and I certainly can’t wear a bathing suit. Strangers would probably assume I was attacked by a dog, but family and friends would know I don’t own a dog. It would bring up too many questions.  

Corey doesn’t bite me anymore though. He knows who I am.

He noses at my stomach, which is just starting to grow. I can wear loose fitting clothing for a bit more before I start having to answer uncomfortable questions, but most of me just doesn’t care what people will think.  

“I think it’s going to be a girl, Corey, I can just feel it,” I said as I knelt on the floor, letting him wrap his wings around me like a cozy blanket, “How does Lacey sound for a name?” He hums pleasantly, his claws carefully combing through my hair. His way of telling me he agrees.

I miss Corey’s voice, and I miss being able to walk through the park with him, and I definitely miss being able to cuddle with him without having to scrub the bloodstains out of my clothes afterwards. 

But when I said ‘for better or for worse’ during our vows, I meant it.  

[noonmutter]

Cycle

(Tw: death, grief, generally being really fucking sad. Because of course I did)

It had been a very long day.

Days like these usually were. It hadn't even had the decency to be the appropriate weather; no dreary greys in the sky, no puddles from a slow, chilly rain, not even a peep of distant thunder. The sun was bright, the sky was brilliant blue and clear save for a few fluffy, insulting clouds, the air was calm, and

He wasn't there.

Leon would've loved to prod him about the sour expression on his face; he'd gone to such lengths to look the part and the weather had so thoroughly refused to cooperate. So much black under bright skies clashed horribly with his complexion, he looked like a damn ghost under warm sunlight, to say nothing of the awful effect that light had when it hit the inevitable twin trails of mascara.

There had been plenty of funerals behind him--a musing he would only ever make in private--and there would likely be plenty more. He always wondered if he would stop attending one day. Mourning was a messy process and he'd much rather have it out in the comfort of his own home, cuddling his puppy and making a terrible mess of her fur, and not wasting perfectly good makeup on an ugly cry. Funerals were miserable, dreary affairs, even if there was occasionally a big raucous wake at the end. That part was nice, but there was always the bit afterward, when everyone went to sleep or went home, and it became even more obvious who hadn't gone with him, and it put an awful pall over the remainder of the evening, like morning breath after a night of tavern crawling.

Elegant, dark cloth hit the floor in a rumpled pile, and he thought fondly of what someone might say when the shoes gently thunked on the rack in the oven, but

He wasn't there.

And for a few hours, that was all. It was quiet in the apartment, aside from the puppy's claws clicking on the floor as she trundled along after him, and refused to leave him alone. It was a terribly familiar habit, and that really made it all so much worse. He reflected, during one of his quieter moments, that he should've seen that coming. But then, he'd spent so long avoiding making those little mental connections, lest they become vocal ones, and if they'd escaped from his traitorous little mouth, Leon's face would've done that terrible thing where it became a mask, and he would've kicked himself the rest of the day, and

He wasn't there.

Eventually, the mail came. Probably the afternoon delivery, but it might've been the morning. He'd drawn the curtains and hadn't bothered to open them yet. Tossing the pile onto a countertop, he almost missed the plain brown envelope they landed on.

It'd been pressed into his hands after the procession. He'd almost forgotten about it entirely. The little crow's-head wax seal over the flap tempted him to try and forget about it again, but he knew that wouldn't have been fair. So, steeling himself, he broke the seal, and tipped the contents onto the countertop.

A little piece of something clattered onto it, but knowing where--and whom--the parcel had come from, he went for the letter first.

"Diva,

"I'm sorry. I know there's nothing to be done about it, but nonetheless, I'm sorry that I couldn't stay. I hope that I managed to be one of your favorite chapters. Failing that, at least one of the most interesting, the way I'd once said I aimed to. And if I did... I'm sorry for that, too. But if you were honest about anything, I hope the bit about loving to return to those chapters was one of them. Nothing would please me more than to know that I can still be responsible for it when you smile, even if you're cursing at me through your teeth when you do. Perhaps, sometimes even especially when you're cursing at me. We both know I'm a little shit, but you liked that, too.

"Thank you for being my friend. Thank you for loving me. Thank you for letting me love you. Thank you for taking care of what I can't anymore. Thank you for forgiving me my humanity. Thank you for letting me know you.

"I look forward to seeing you again, however long that takes.

"Yours,

"Leon Elroy Ambroce"

The little piece of something took a bit of unwrapping, made more difficult when he had to keep pausing to wipe his face. Eventually, he revealed his prize: a carved stone crow, nestling comfortably in his palm. Its cool feathers were ablaze in bands of shimmering green and flecks of blue. And...of course Leon had; there was another, much shorter note attached to even that.

"I always liked your window the most"

The next morning, the little crow caught the sunlight beautifully from its perch on the windowsill.

( @celedyn for mentions and ease of yelling at me)

[tomtenadia]

Thicker than blood - 29

Hello!!! So, here I am with another chapter. I promise that this chapter and then 30 and then the really horrible part is over. So hang tight! CW: Aelin is in a bad place and she has almost given up on everything, so yeah, her thoughts are quite dark.

I am coming.

Aelin had felt that. It had been clear through the bond. His voice brushing her mind gently.

She opened her eyes and only saw darkness and the horrible stench of blood. How many humans had she killed? How many had she turned? She was helping Maeve build her army and the idea was driving her crazy. She was tired. Erawan had kept pumping her blood with whatever toxic juice he fancied that day. Her body was on fire and she was constantly sick. All the humans she drank were not A+ and her body rejected them but they were so jacked up with drugs that she kept drinking no matter the pain. If she ever made it out alive it would be very hard to kick the addiction. This time it was bad and in the last few days she had given up. A part of her had begged for death. She was so damn tired.

I am coming.

His voice again.

Why would he bother? She was such a mess that no one deserved to take care of someone like her. But a part of her, a tiny part that was still trying to hope for the best, wished he was there already. Hoped to scent again pine and snow and fall asleep at the feeling of being at home.

A sob escaped her mouth. She missed him. Gods, she missed him so much…

She was sobbing hard when Erawan opened her cell “come on pet, we have another session ready for you.”

Aelin tucked away the thoughts of her mate in her heart and pushed emotions aside ready for another session of torture.

*

Rhoe had tried to contact Rowan for days now. He had left voicemails, texts, call after call got unanswered. After three days like that he had decided to take his car and pay the man a visit.

He arrived at the house and saw all the lights were off. It was evening, maybe Rowan had gone to work. He very much hoped so. Lysandra had admitted she had a spare key that Rowan had given her when Aelin was staying at his place and was unwell. She had felt bad at betraying Rowan’s trust that way but Rhoe had convinced her that it was important.

He opened the house and stepped in and switched on the lights and once in the living room he saw a sea of maps sprawled on the floor. The man crouched down and had a look at all the notes and satellite photos. Rowan had been trying to find Aelin. 

A sense of guilt hit him. That should have been his job, but he had been so busy with Darrow that he had let one of his men in charge of it. Gods, he had abandoned his daughter once more. How could Aelin ever forgive him? He was about to stand up when he spotted a mark on a map. Rowan had added a note saying that it was a fitting location. Rhoe grabbed the paper and then a noise startled him. Rowan’s mobile was abandoned on the table and a man called Gavriel was calling.

Rhoe picked up the phone and answered.

“Damn it Rowan, about time. Where are you? We were expecting you at work three days ago. Lorcan said that you have been reinstated.”

Rhoe listened in silence “Rowan is not here at the moment.”

“Who are you?” Asked the man on the other side of the line.

“Rhoe Galathynius. I think Rowan has left on a mission.”

Silence.

“He is going to do something stupid.”

“Leave it to me.”

Rhoe hung up the phone and went back gathering all the info his son in law had pieced together. The location he had chosen was so deep in the mountains that there was no vehicle access. Had he been hiking this whole time? Frantically he grabbed his phone and made some calls and a few minutes later he locked the door of the house behind him and left.

*

Lorcan walked to his office and once inside he collapsed exhausted on his chair and ran a hand through his long hair. A deep sigh left him.

He was in his dress mess uniform. Interim mayor Darrow had organised in record time a memorial for all the humans and vampire victims that had lost their lives in the recent months. The attendance had been very high and the main square in front of the main government building had been packed. Police and his unit had been patrolling for fear of a possible attack from Maeve. But that fear had not stopped all the citizens from taking the streets and pay their respects. Rhoe Galathynius had joined the ceremony a little later and Lorcan was surprised at seeing the man late.

Darrow and Rhoe had then taken the time to explain to the population that change was coming. They were both running for mayor, and the plan got a roaring approval from the vampires who were aware that they finally had some representation. They wanted the two species to coexist peacefully like in other parts of Erilea. 

Rhoe had then stated that he was converting the now abandoned deviation centres, in venues to help people with addictions but with a program that was not as brutal as the previous one. He explained that his wife was planning on creating a foundation to look after these structures and allow vampires to have a second chance. Lorcan thought about some of the guys in his unit. They had gone from criminals to agents and although he agreed that the program had been brutal it had worked. He admitted to himself that perhaps a gentler approach was needed.

He closed his eyes for a second and when he opened them Gavriel was standing in front of him.

“Rowan is gone, I thought you allowed him back.”

Lorcan groaned. Since the jail incident they had not talked and he doubted his friend wanted anything to do with him.

“I have no idea where he is.”

Gavriel’s hand landed on his desk “I haven’t heard from him in ages and when he finally picks up it’s Rhoe Galathynius. Something is brewing.”

“He will come back after he clears his head,” he added coldly “since he married that woman he has lost it.”

Gavriel growled “That woman makes him happy.” He stood back and left the room slamming the door hard.

His hand ran through his hair once more and a ragged breath left his lungs. He had to apologise to Rowan and get his friend back in his unit. It was all falling apart and he needed his friend at his side.

*

Maeve was sitting comfortably in her studio with a newspaper in her hands. The front page was plastered with the news of the riots that had ended the tenure of the mayor and the rebellions in the deviation centre. But as she perused the articles there was no more news of Aelin being a junkie. It had lasted for a day and then it had disappeared. At the memorial, Rhoe had gathered supporters instead of losing them after the harsh interview released. Maeve groaned in frustration. She had failed at undermining the man and now he had put his name down to ran as mayor with Darrow. 

In a burst of anger she balled up the newspaper and shouted for one of her guards to call for Erawan.

The man arrived a few minutes later.

“You called?”

“How is our pet doing?”

The man smirked “I have been increasing the doses of spiked blood and she is feeding now from all the humans I place in a cell, but she is not ready yet.”

Maeve looked at him with curiosity.

“For our plan to work she needs to be on the verge of slipping, but I can’t seem to push her that far.”

“I need her to transform in a wild animal. I need my niece to slip.”

“I am trying,” he snarled back.

“Rhoe and Darrow are having a rally soon. I need to be able to unleash Aelin on the crowd and have her kill humans in front of her dear father. That will definitely destroy the support for him.”

The man nodded.

“I thought all the modifications were meant to make her more prone to relapsing and slip.”

“Yes,” he nodded “But somehow she is resisting.”

“Fix this.”

He bowed and left the room.

Maeve called a few of her men and told them to keep attacking humans. If Rhoe thought he had won, he had a surprise coming for him.

*

Aedion had finally managed to go back to his lab in the huge mansion after the police had released it back to the Galathynius. Rhoe had been staying there from time to time when he had meeting in town with Darrow but Evalin had decided to stay in the mountains and the man had been happy at the idea. At least he knew his wife was safe. 

He had missed having a professional lab. The one is his house was okay for very small jobs. He needed state of the art machines and the Galathynius had it.

Aedion was still dead set in creating a type of synthetic blood that Aelin could tolerate. He used her golden blood as a template and started working from it. 

Lysandra had told him that creating golden blood in a lab would help humans too. But alas that experiment had failed. Humans could not tolerate synthetic blood so the dream of solving the chronic shortage of blood for transfusions had remained a dream.

He was busy at work when he heard footsteps approaching. He turned and saw Rhoe dressed up in mountain gear.

“How does it feel being back here?”

“I missed having a real lab at my disposal.”

The man chuckled “Aedion, I am going on a mission for a while.”

Aedion stared at him in confusion.

“Rowan is going after Aelin. I was in his flat and saw maps. I think he found the location and I can’t let him deal with this on his own.”

“That is dangerous.”

“I need to save Aelin.”

Aedion nodded. Rhoe had been hard at work since Aelin was taken. It had destroyed him making that horrible interview but it had helped to keep Maeve at bay. As long as he was back for the rally with Darrow. They had to win the public in the last stretch of the campaign.

“Save her, please.”

The man nodded “You and Lys go and keep company to Evalin from time to time.”

Aedion nodded.

“We will come back with Aelin.”

Aedion really wanted to believe the man in front of him.

*

Gavriel and his unit were patrolling the streets at night. After Rowan’s disappearance Lorcan had placed him in charge. It did not matter that Hamel had been deposed. Maeve and her minions were still a threat so Lorcan had ordered the paranormal unit to continue patrol as if nothing had happened. Slowly some clubs had started reopening and a few more people flocked again back to the old customs although the streets were not as busy as before. People apparently were still wary and knew that the danger was not over just yet. Gavriel loved that they were being cautious. 

He was walking with Fenrys when they reached the Vaults. The club was boarded shut and still had the police tapes to mark it as a crime scene.

Gavriel paused and stared at the flowers and cards that citizens had deposited in front of the place. The images of that night forever etched in his mind.

“All those life destroyed…” was Fenrys’ comment. His voice low and deep with grief. He had not gone inside but he was on the streets and had watched the paramedics carry away all those humans. It made him want to bring Hamel back from the dead and inflict an even bigger punishment.

Darrow had slowly removed all the bans that the previous mayor had inflicted and stopped the need for vampires to submit to blood tests every two days. He had called it the firsts step into creating a new bridge towards the two species co existing together once more. The decision had gained him a great success among both species. Ansel had gone back to work in the deviation centre and was helping dismantle the hellsite. She then had asked Evalin Galathynius to take part in her initiative and the woman had been ecstatic.

“Any news from Rowan?”

Gavriel shook his head “I just hope he is fine. I don’t want to imagine what is passing through his head right now.”

Fen was about to speak but down the road they heard screams and they ran and once at the spot they saw a man attacking a young woman and drinking from her.

The two men ran in her aid and while Fen looked after the victim, Gavriel neutralised the man pretty quickly. A newborn. 

“Fen, a newbie, there might be more around.”

Fenrys called paramedics and a police van to take the vampire away. With the transition they were trying to decide what to do with people they arrested, so for now they were taken to HQ and booked in.

Once the paramedics arrived, Fenrys let the young woman in their care and joined his partner “This is Maeve. The bitch needs to die soon too.”

Gavriel sighed and looked away “Soon.”

taglist

@rowaelinismyotp​ @swankii-art-teacher​ @whimsicallyreading @elentiyawhitethorn​ @aelin-bitch-queen @bruiseonthefaceofhumanity  @mis-lil-red @thegreyj​ @sailorsassley @leiawritesstories​ @clairec79 @morganofthewildfire​ @sv0430 @heartless--aromantic @autumnbabylon @rowanaelinn​ @backtobl4ck​ @susumaus98  @gracie-rosee @mybloodrunsblue @tanvee1231 @avenrebekah @whoever-you-choose-to-love  @theywillnotsingforme @universallytreepost @black-daisy-water @goddess-aelin @whispers-in-the-darkest-heart @lovely-dove-zee @athena127​

[kinglyisms-archived]

❛  i deserve better than this.  ❜ (frickin roman+wyatt)

𝑺𝑶𝑭𝑻 𝑨𝑵𝑮𝑺𝑻 𝑺𝑬𝑵𝑻𝑬𝑵𝑪𝑬 𝑺𝑻𝑨𝑹𝑻𝑬𝑹𝑺. @ofrozsa

"And I deserve a throne of gold and my family not dead. We can't all get what we want." Wyatt tossed his coat onto the floor, missing the coat hanger, and made his way through the Manor past Roman who was lingering around. He spared him a brief glance as he passed him before heading for the stairs, taking a few of them up before pausing and giving a soft sigh. He had a rough day, he was exhausted mentally and physically, Roman chose to accompany him today to see what Wyatt does.

It's not his fault shit hit the fan in the middle of the King's Throne room.

...alright it might be a little bit his fault.

Luka just had a way of getting under his skin--merely by existing. He threw insults, got them back, a fight broke out and Wyatt was put down once again. He was working hard to be more powerful than Luka and that was going to take more years. Right now though, he'd been thoroughly put down and Roman saw the entire thing. He spent a day with Wyatt and saw the worst pieces of him. The worst of who he was and everything that was wrong with him. He saw Wyatt.

"You spent a day with me. You saw everything from how I take my coffee, to what I do as Patriarch to a Witch Coven. You saw my flaws, my weaknesses, my damaged parts. If you want better, go find better." For as bad as a person Wyatt was--he was aware of every single one of his flaws. Every single thing that was wrong with him. He held them all to him. Almost like badges. "I never claimed to be a good person. In fact, I'm pretty sure I made it clear I wasn't."

You can't break up with someone you're not in a relationship with. You can't be dumped by someone who never officially asked to be in a relationship with you. He's not feeling numb enough, he needs to crush these horrible aching feelings down so deep he can't even get a prickle of them.

"You right anyway, you do deserve better. Think I told you that too." Wyatt turned on the stairs again and continued his way up them.

[kpop-kitkat]

You Promised | Watanabe Haruto

pairing | boyfriend!watanabe haruto x f!reader

genre/cw | angst, fluff, explicit language, argument, screaming, crying, busy schedule, haruto is a bit insensitive, hurt comfort, happy ending

wc | 1.1k

notes | none

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

Watching the clock strike 10:00 p.m when her boyfriend had promised to be back by 7:30 p.m. As horrible as it sounded, this had become a regular thing for Y/n. 

Haruto was a busy, busy idol. And as of late, he had become somewhat of a perfectionist, always staying late at the studio. He had started to neglect his role as a boyfriend to Y/n, and she was devastated. She never woke up before Haruto. His side of the bed was empty when she woke up. And of course, she didn't expect him to be back by his promised time. It's not like he ever told the truth anyway. She was absolutely done, sick of this routine. 

Haruto unlocked the door to their apartment with only one thought: sleep. Nothing else mattered as he collapsed tiredly onto the bed, falling asleep almost instantly as his head hit the pillow. He didn't even take the time to notice the death glare his girlfriend was giving him from her spot on the sofa downstairs. She was filled with too many emotions to sleep in the same bed as him, so she got cozy on the couch. 

The next morning, Y/n was the first to wake. It was time to confront Haruto.

After he had descended the stairs and made his way to the kitchen, she cleared her throat.

"Ruto?" she called. 

He didn't even do as much as glance her way. He only gave a soft 'hmm' in response. 

"What are we?" she asked, not being able to look him in the eyes as he turned her way.

"Why would you ask? Don't you know?" he raised an eyebrow.

"No I don't," she snapped, anger, fear, and sadness quickly filling her. "Ruto, I've been invisible to you for the past month! You're never home, you overwork yourself, and the last text I sent you, you left me on read. I feel like I'm just a maid that keeps your apartment clean," she sighed, hanging her head.

Haruto scoffed, earning a painful frown from Y/n. "You're being dramatic. I'm just a little busier lately," he passed off her worries like they were nothing. And they were something.

He ignored her hurt expression as he poured himself some coffee. 

 "Are you fucking serious?!" she seethed, earning no response from him. 

 She sighed loudly as she walked over to him, took the coffee mug, and threw it to the ground, shattering it into a million pieces.

"What the hell?!" he gasped. "What is wrong with you?!" he yelled, grasping her shoulders, shaking her slightly. 

"Do you love me Haruto!?" she inquired angrily. 

He couldn't even bring himself to answer, and he didn't know why.

"Do you love me?!" she screamed, all of her built up emotions pouring out.

Haruto let go of her shoulders and looked at the floor. 

 "Y/n... I-

"You know what," she began stepping away from him and removing something from her right hand ring finger. Haruto's heart was shattered into even more pieces than the glass mug when he realized it was the promise ring he bought her for their one year anniversary. She slipped it off and threw it, hitting him in the chest. "You can keep that, but you can't keep any of your promises!"

She stormed up the stairs and slammed their bedroom door. 

Haruto bent down and moved some broken glass to the side to pick up the ring. He fell to his knees and realized everything he had just done.

"Fuck," he cried, covering his mouth with his free hand. He could care less about missing practice that day. Y/n was the only thing on his mind.

He thought about the past month. Y/n was absolutely right. Haruto had become a workaholic. And because of it, he became cold and ignorant towards someone he truly loved. He overworked himself and spent all of his time on anything besides time with his girlfriend. He didn't realize how worried Y/n and his members had become. He didn't realize that he was hurting not just them, but himself. He didn't realize... he was breaking her heart. And the sad reality became painfully clear as he held something that was given as proof of a promise, one that he failed to keep.

He wiped his tears and managed to make his way to the bedroom door. After having planned a ten page apology in his head, he entered the room. But it was vacant. He looked to see the open window, which wasn't open before. The window led to the fire escape which led to the roof. Haruto knew from experience that his girlfriend loved to sit on the roof when she felt sad. It made him feel all the more guilty and sorry. 

He ever so quietly ascended the fire escape and spotted Y/n, looking so ethereal sitting there. It was a sight Haruto could never give up. The way the wind blew her hair and dried her tears, how she hugged her knees and rested her chin on them, and how she chewed on her necklace when she was scared. Haruto figured she must've been scared of losing him. But that's something she'd never lose, not on his watch.

He sat next to her, accepting the fact that she wasn't in the mood to talk, or even be around him. She faced away from him and sighed shakily. Sadness and fear were taking over her anger, despite her will.

"You were right you know," Haruto began, as Y/n gave him a half glance. "It is all my fault that you feel this way, and that we are where we are," he admitted. "I don't know what happened to me, I just..." he paused, refusing to let the tears fall. "I felt useless to the group, like I wasn't enough, so I pushed myself. Before I knew, I had taken the whole thing too far and... I hurt you."

 Y/n was now looking deep into his eyes. They were evident with sorrow and the fear of losing her. 

 "I'm sorry for everything. I promised to always love you and take care of you," he said, taking out the promise ring from the pocket in his hoodie. "And I plan to keep that promise," he smiled, meeting her eyes.

Y/n smiled as a tear slid down her cheek. There was no way she could couldn't forgive him. She loved hi more than anything. She gave him her hand as he slipped the ring back on. She smiled and watched the diamond glisten in the light of the beautiful sunrise. She then closed her eyes and leaned into Haruto's chest. He instinctively wrapped his arms around her as rested his head atop hers.

 "I forgive you," she said, voice barely above a whisper. 

 "I love you," he replied, closing his eyes.

 "I know," she smirked.

[n1k1tty]

kiss me ! part 1

jake was definitely head over heals for your cold personality, and he wasn't going to let anyone take you. but heres the problem: he couldn't find a single way to keep a conversation with you. despite your scary demeanour, jake decides to man up and does everything out of his will to get you.

fluff, jake x reader, (not proofread)

jake was frustrated to know that many guys have been after you the second you stepped in that classroom doing the bare minimum.

hearing ‘wanna grab lunch with me?’ here and there somehow always made him ball his fist to prevent himself from being a problem. yet again he couldn’t blame other people for wanting to ask you out either. he even sometimes wished that you had rejected him so he could move on. although of course he didn’t really mean that.

because now he was wandering around the school looking for you while he was on a “bathroom break” during his soccer practice. he knew you always liked to stay at the school rooftops admiring the view while listening to music. not like he was stalking you or anything...

you turn your head to look at the person at the door "you again? when are you going to leave me alone? pervert" you scoff, kicking the little pieces of rocks as you avoid jakes eyes. it was almost the millionth time you've seen jake this day, and it was always for the same reason, to piss you off, well more like ask you out --which still pisses you off.

you weren't one to believe in love, or maybe just not yet. because you weren't even sure if you were capable enough to love someone. even the thought of having to be so sweet and touchy with each other grossed you out, and of all people, jake especially knew that. so why was he so determined to get you to fall in love with him?

you weren't one to believe in love, or maybe just not yet. because you weren't even sure if you were capable enough to love someone. even the thought of having to be so sweet and touchy with each other grossed you out, and of all people, jake especially knew that. so why was he so determined to get you to fall in love with him?

"hmmm maybe never?" jake chuckles at the sight of you rolling your eyes "then i'll move schools --countries if that's what takes for you to leave me alone" as you turn around and face him, eyes widened at the thin space between the both of you "and maybe i'll find you"

you raise your eyebrows "well that's borderline criminal act" you wander off "now sim jaeyun i think it's best for you to leave before you add up to my anger --i mean you already are. but wouldn't that be horrible?" jake's eyes follow you as you drag your feet "not really" he states "you're hot when you're mad"

you scoff out of disbelief, hitting him hard on his arm, looking away almost immediately as you trying to hide your heated face "shut up before i'll push you off this building" letting go of the grip you once had on his collar, "alright, alright sorry ma'am. but if you're really mad for whatever reason, come with me. i'll take you to a place" he suggests, offering his hand for you to take "you should be happy. i normally wouldn't even consider letting anyone know about my spot" he shoots you a grin

you take time trying to consider his offer, but as much as you don't want to stroke his ego about convincing you to go with him, you really needed something to release your anger "as long as you shut up about this" you give him a side glance "no promises" he sends a wink your way "ugh, fine"

he gently takes your hand as he drags you out of the school "can you jump over the wall?" jake looks at your flustered face "....no..?" you answer, making a line with your lips, causing him to let out a small chuckle "okay cutie, i'll help you up" you cringe at the nickname "call me that again and i'll break your neck" you step on his knee as he tries to boost you up "yeah that's right, keep going"

but as jake looks up he couldn't help but feel flustered, looking away "i made it!" you pant, hands resting on your knees as you wait for jake to come up as well. but after a few seconds of not hearing him, you call out his name, peaking your head over the wall "jake? i swear to god if you leave me out here i'm killing you"

"n-no i didn't leave you" he stutters, trying to collect himself from being a flustered mess "then come up here! the sun is setting, you wouldn't want to miss it"

"y-yeah it's just that i uh, i saw.....your....you know?" he explains, his hands not knowing what to do "you saw my what!?" you shrieked "no no it's okay i looked away!" he reassures you "ugh, just- just come up here!" you yell, already walking ahead as you try to cool down your heating face "so pink aye?" jake jokes, catching up to you

"SIM JAEYUN!" you yell, kicking him on his ass "ow! okay sorry!"

jake was resting his head on his hands, watching as you play with the small puddle while watching the sunset, not even an hour in, jake panics as he sees the amount of missed calls from riki "oh shit! my soccer practice!"

--

the following days after that, almost everything remained the same, jake continuously teasing and flirting with you, you getting in trouble for the littlest things, never coming home until the latest of the hour. but yet again, almost everything remained the same

you were now in denial of your feelings towards sim jaeyun. it would hurt too much of your pride to actually admit it, because after all, you've always told sim jaeyun you hated him.

you groan "jake, there's a reason why i'm failing english, okay? just accept the fact that i'm the worst" you bury your head on the pages of your book, seated across jake at the back of the library "i didn't even ask for you to help me! i simply just asked for your notes that just happened to have a first grader's hand writing" he scoffs, a little taken back by your sudden insult on his hand writing "thanks? i know you didn't ask for help, i just wanted to do this with you so that you don't get detention for not knowing proper english" he explains, handing you another sheet of paper with an 54 circled on the right corner "seriously y/n? 54? come on, one last set of questions and i'll take you to the new cafe just across the street"

and almost immediately, you bring your head up, grabbing the pen and taking the set of questions. making jake giggle "y/n, just say that you like me, you know i'm not going to reject you-- ow!" you smack him on the head with the pencil "that's absolute nonsense!" you whisper with a harsh voice, digging your face on the note book as you try to cover the little smile you had on your face

i think it was safe to say you got 4 out of 10 right, causing you to almost have a mental breakdown at the library "i can't do this sim" you groan "i think you just need a break yeah? wanna head to the cafe?" jake stands up to pack your stuff, giggling at the sight of your head still buried in between the pages of the book "c'mon y/n" he kneels beside you "get up, let's go to that cafe"

you've never felt your pride hurt as much as this did, having to show jake how bad your were at english, him having to tutor you without you asking for help, and jake bringing you to the cafe even though you weren't even remotely close to getting at least 6 right

and you weren't exaggerating when when you say jake had to drag you all the way to the cafe "hi! what can i get for you today sir?" the girl says, the obvious heart eyes she has for him pissing you off even more "hi yeah i'd like to have a caramel machiatto" he responds politely, smiling at the obvious glare you held at the girl, poking out your tongue after she was called by the manager, an old lady replaces her "anything else for your girlfriend--" before you could correct her, jake immediately speaks up "she'll have (drink)"

he smiles at the old lady before paying "i'm sending you money later whether you like it or not" you roll your eyes "and i'll send it back" he holds your waist as he leads you to a table, causing your heart to beat 10 times faster "yeah? well i'll send it back to you again! i'll keep doing it until you die!" he scoffs at you "as if!"

--

even after multiple attempts of trying to make jake ask you out, the boy who you thought was so smart couldn't take a single hint at all.

but in jake's defence, you were a little bad, considering how bad you were with boys, he vividly remembers that one time when you were trying so hard to make him jealous by talking to other guys. he even laughed as you struggled to keep up with a conversation.

or that other time when you tried to hold his hand just to do something romantic just for once but ended up letting go because he wouldn't stop teasing you about it. he still took your hand, yet he never asked you out still.

"you okay darling?" your mother asks, taking a quick glance at your droopy form leaning on the counter as you wait for her to finish cooking "is it a boy?" she teases, making you perk your head up "i knew it!" she gives you an endearing smile as she gives you a plate with eggs on it, a heart shaped ketchup placed on the top of the egg "mom!" you whine

"okay fine, it is a boy. but don't tell dad" you whisper, smiling once she zips her lips "what's his name?" she asked, tilting her head as she leans on the counter in front of you "jake"

"jake?! i love jake! you should invite him over sometime" she squeals "he's a nice guy, i'm sure he wouldn't hurt you, so what's bothering you?" you sigh, taking a sip of the water "he likes me, it's like the whole world knows. but he just keeps on flirting with me and never actually tries to ask me out" you pout, aggressively taking a bit of the scrambled eggs, making your mother chuckle "oh baby, i'm sure it'll happen soon. just give him some time! unless if you're that impatient, then maybe you should try considering to be the one who makes the first move" she walks away, heading upstairs

no, as much as you hate it, that would hurt too much of your pride. so you decided to wait.

--

summer just had started and you couldn't even explain how much you hated the heat. staying under the shade 70% of the time whenever you went out with jake and his friends "guys! i have an announcement" jay yells, you were currently over at jay's house, just having a little party with just the 8 of you "my father booked us a trip to hawaii"

"WHAT?!"

part 2

— HEY 👵🏽 so i decided that this would be a multiple part story bcs i didnt want it to be too long!

i haven’t written the second part yet, but hopefully i’d have it done before tuesday

feel free to ask if you want to be tagged once the second chapter is out!

this has been n1k1tty! see ya!

[criminalmindzjunkie]

Unlucky in Love

masterlist

Gif credit to @ogledalo-moje-duse​

Summary: Spencer is unlucky in love - until he isn’t.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

Warnings: swearing, some suggestive content

Word Count: 3.4k

           Spencer Reid is, by most people’s definition, unlucky in love.

           It wasn’t for lack of trying. In his early twenties, Spencer often caught himself fantasizing about being on the receiving end of some great storybook romance straight out of one of the classic novels on his bookshelf. On the rare occurrence where his mind was able to slow down long enough, Spencer would daydream about what his future partner would be like. Would they share his fondness for the written word, or his penchant for foreign cinema? Would they find his tendency to go off on tangents endearing and his less than fashionable style of dress charming? Spencer liked to think so, but the likelihood of finding someone who could accept him despite all of his quirks seemed low.

           But still he hoped, even though he knew hope was a dangerous thing. Hope gave life to the possibility of disappointment – and if there was one thing Spencer did not need more of, it was that.

           Spencer Reid was in love with the idea of love – obsessed with the idea of his soul intertwining with someone else’s. But with his thirtieth birthday quickly approaching and absolutely no prospective love interests in sight, Spencer was feeling more than a little disheartened. It certainly didn’t help that everywhere he turned, love was running rampant. Hotch had Beth, Penelope had Kevin, Jennifer had Will, and Morgan had… any number of possible partners. Emily and Rossi were both unattached, but happily so in a way that Spencer just couldn’t quite manage.

           It wasn’t that he didn’t like seeing the people around him happy – it was just that he couldn’t help but wonder when he’d finally get his chance at love.

           A month before Spencer’s thirtieth birthday, everything changes.

           When a member of Garcia’s victims’ support group goes missing, it’s all hands on deck at the BAU. It’s not that they’d give any less than one hundred percent on any other given day, but as with any case that hits close to home, everyone on the team is in a frenzy trying to put the pieces together. The thing that makes this case different is the fact that people from other departments are quick to lend a hand. It comes as no surprise to Spencer – Penelope is a social butterfly by nature. She made it her business to know and befriend everyone in the building. Her sunny disposition is hard not to love, and her current distress had garnered the support of more than a few non-team members.

           By the time the case wraps up, the bullpen is much busier and, much to Spencer’s chagrin, much louder than usual. The steady influx of people has Spencer’s head spinning and he can’t seem to focus on the papers sitting in front of him. What should take him thirty seconds to read has almost taken twenty minutes, and at this point the words on the paper are all running together. Spencer knows that it doesn’t help that he’s running on less than three hours of sleep, as evidenced by the frequency of his yawns. Worse even is the fact that his coffee cup is empty and no, he thinks, that simply will not do. With a sigh Spencer pushes away from his desk, bones creaking as he stands.

           With his coffee cup in hand, Spencer shuffles to the breakroom. He goes through the motions of preparing his drink, lazily stirring in the mountain of sugar before turning to leave.

           Spencer supposes that if it weren’t for the fact that he was horribly sleep deprived, he would’ve seen you walking down the hallway. But alas, Spencer’s alertness had been compromised by poor sleeping habits, and he isn’t aware of your presence until his body is colliding with yours and his hot coffee is dripping down the front of your blouse.

           “Ouch,” you whimper, and Spencer is immediately overwhelmed with guilt.

           “O-Oh my God, I am so sorry,” he splutters. Without waiting for a response, Spencer’s rushing into the break room and procuring a thick stack of napkins. The part of his brain that controls logical thinking is apparently overrun by the onset of his mortification, and in an act of absolutely panic, he begins to dab at the stains with one of the napkins.

           “I-I wasn’t looking where I was going. I’m so so sorry,” Spencer stutters out, frantically attempting to blot the stain. “I’ll give you money for a new shirt. A-Actually, you should probably take this one off.  The best way to treat scalds is to immediately get the person away from the heat source. You should also run some cold water over it.”

           In his hurry to rectify his mistake, Spencer hadn’t managed to take a good look at you. When his eyes leave the stain in favor of looking at your face, he prepares himself to see anger there. What he doesn’t expect is for your face to be just as flushed as his, with eye brows raised in shock.

          Spencer also doesn’t expect this to be the moment he’s been waiting on his entire life, but one look into your eyes tells him this is it - this is your person.

           Stunned into a stupor, Spencer stills, eyes boring into your own. You’re even more beautiful than he’d dared to let himself imagine, but in all honesty that didn’t matter much. What matters is the fact that there’s a faint hint of smile lines etched into your skin, and your eyes are so inherently kind that Spencer has no doubt that you’re as gentle as you are alluring. Your benevolence is also evidenced by the fact that you hadn’t immediately begun to yell at him, and for that he is thankful.

           Spencer’s revelation renders him unable to form any semblance of thought, and before he knows it almost a solid minute of him gaping at you passes. You begin to squirm uncomfortably under his gaze.

           “I, uh, appreciate the help, and you seem like a nice enough guy, but your hand is on my boob and I kind of make it a point to not let strangers touch the goods. So, if you don’t mind,” you stammer, looking pointedly at his hand that is still pressing a napkin to your chest. Spencer recoils as if he’s the one that’s been scalded.

           “I-I didn’t mean to, um, t-touch your -,” Spencer gulps, “- chest. I swear I was just trying to get the stain out. I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable,” he chokes out. Spencer had imagined the moment he’d come face to face with his person a million times, and none of his daydreams had accounted for the possibility of him giving her second degree burns and inadvertently copping a feel. His emotions fell somewhere between mortification and elation.

           “Mm likely story,” you murmur, lips upturning into a smile that has Spencer feeling weak in the knees. Spencer practically swoons. “Do you make it a habit to ask strangers to take their tops off, or am I just special?”

           Oh God, had I really suggested that? Spencer cringes and wonders what good an IQ as high as his was when it seemed to fail him at times like these. Speaking to women had never been a specialty of his, despite Derek’s coaching, and Spencer was floundering to come up with an acceptable response.

           You are the most special woman in the world, probably. Nope – too creepy, and Spencer definitely doesn’t want to scare you off. Not when he’s been waiting the better part of thirty years to meet you.

           I didn’t mean to insinuate that you should take off your shirt, but I also wouldn’t particularly mind if you did. Even worse – that would certainly earn him a stern talking to from HR.

           Spencer decides to go for the honest approach.

           “I-I’m not sure how to answer that.”

           His honesty draws a laugh from you, and Spencer loves the sound so much that he decides then that he’ll never tell a lie again. You shake your head at him and reach for the napkins that he still has clutched in his hands.

           “What’s your name?” you ask him as you continue his earlier efforts to sop up the coffee.

           It’s probably the easiest question he’s ever been asked. That doesn’t stop him from making a fool out of himself, though.

           “I’m Doctor Spencer R-Reid. Uh, I’m Spencer. Y-You don’t have to call me Doctor.”

           Someone please put me out of my misery.

           Your eyes meet his again and he can tell that you’re holding back a laugh.

           “Okay, then, Spencer,” you say as you discard the napkins in a nearby trash bin. “I’m Y/N.” You punctuate your words with an outstretched hand, and before Spencer can think better of it, the usual spiel come tumbling out of his mouth.

           “The number of pathogens passed during a handshake is staggering. It’s actually safer to kiss.”

           Your lower your hand and cock your head to the side.

           “Are you always this forward, Doctor Reid?” you tease him, eyes flashing amusedly.

           “I-I didn’t mean that we should kiss,” Spencer interjects, cringing at the way his voice has suddenly raised in pitch. “N-Not that I wouldn’t kiss you! I-I’m sure that kissing you would be really n-nice. I just meant that… you know. Germs.”

           Are you there, God? It’s me, Spencer. A hole opening up in the ground and swallowing me up would be great.

           To Spencer’s delight, you don’t seem offended in the slightest.

           “I cannot believe that they’ve been hiding you up here, Spencer Reid. I should’ve come to visit Penny years ago.”

           Wait – what?

           “You work here?”

           You nod.

           “I work on the floor below this one – sex crimes,” you explain.

           “For how long?”

           “Coming up on three years now.”

           Three years. You’d been right under Spencer’s nose for three years and he hadn’t the slightest clue. You’d parked your car in the same parking garage and taken the same elevator as he! How many times had your paths nearly crossed in the last three years? If he’d been just a little bit earlier or a little bit later getting into work, might the two of you met earlier? The possibility of it was maddening.

           “Oh, wow. I-I’ve never seen you,” Spencer mutters lamely. But miraculously, you don’t think he’s lame, if your response is any indication.

           “Nor I you, Doc. It’s a shame, too. You’re a funny guy.”

           Spencer Reid has been called a lot of things in his lifetime – funny was never one of them.

           “Y-Yeah. I’m a real riot at parties,” he deadpans.            “I’ll be sure to keep that in mind,” you hum, and Spencer really hopes that you mean it. “Would you mind escorting me to Penelope’s office?”

           Spencer nods, and the two of you fall in step together. Spencer’s wracking his brain again for something – anything- he could say to fill the silence. Thankfully, you don’t seem quite as inept at conversing as he, and you beat him to it.

           “You look a little young yourself, Spencer. How long have you worked here?”

           “Uh, I’ve actually worked here for almost eight years. I started when I was twenty-two.”

           Your eyebrows raise in shock.

           “Twenty-two, huh? That makes you – what? Thirty now? I wouldn’t put you a day past twenty-five,” you muse, and Spencer isn’t quite sure what to make of that. You must pick up on the conflicted look on his face, because you clarify. “That’s a good thing, Doc. I hope I look as good as you do when I’m thirty.”

           Spencer has to remind himself how to breathe.

           “I’m not thirty yet. Technically I have twenty-three more days. I could have a rapid decline in attractiveness by then.”

           Spencer’s not usually one to try to be funny, but she seems to have a good sense of humor and he wants to impress you in any way he can.

           “I guess I’ll have to swing back by in twenty-three days and find out.”

           The two of you come to a stop in front of Penelope’s office and Spencer tries not to look as disappointed as he feels. He doesn’t want your meeting to come to an end – not when there’s so much about you that he wants to know. He wants to ask about your opinion on books and obscure foreign films and most importantly, Spencer wants to know what you think about him. Did meeting him affect you in the same way it did him? Did you secretly wish to make this moment last, too?

           Spencer wants to say so much, but he can’t. He’s too awkward and too scared and too nervous to find the right words. So instead, he gives you a tight-lipped smile.

           “I’m sorry about your blouse. Can I please give you the money to buy a new one? I feel like it’s the least I can do.”

           “Absolutely not. It’s really not that big of a deal. Didn’t even really care for the shirt, if I’m being honest. Red really isn’t my color.”

           Spencer wants to tell you how wrong you are – that he’s infinitely certain that you’d look irresistible in any color – but he doesn’t.

           You reach for the door knob, and Spencer’s shoulders slump.

           “It was nice meeting you, Spencer.”

           And then you’re gone, and Spencer can’t help but think that he royally fucked up the most important introduction of his entire life.

--

           When Spencer envisioned how his life would look at age thirty, he’d imagined it being a lot different than it is now. He’d hoped to use his intelligence for something great – finding a way to cure Alzheimer’s had been his main aspiration. Yet, here he was, thirty years old with nothing more than three PhDs to his name. He’d accomplished nothing of great significance, and the idea of having wasted his intelligence was eating away at him.

           In short, Spencer Reid was in a bit of a funk.

           It didn’t help that he hadn’t seen you since that fateful day in the bullpen. Spencer had contemplated paying you a visit, but the lingering embarrassment over his actions kept him from reaching out. He didn’t think he could handle how badly a rejection from you would hurt, so instead he sulked around the office and wallowed in his own self-deprecation.

           Spencer’s birthday wasn’t something he tended to advertise. From a young age, he’d chosen to observe it silently. Usually, his mother would forget, and he never really had any friends to celebrate with, so the day was always rather unimportant to him. Perhaps he would order takeout and gorge himself on greasy food while he sat alone in his apartment. It had been good enough for him last year, and he supposed it would have to suffice this year as well.

           He made it a point not to mention it to his coworkers, and the day passed by just as any other day. By the time five o clock rolled around, Spencer was waving a goodbye to his coworkers and heading out the door. As he waits for the elevator, he debates on whether to order Thai food or pizza for dinner.

           Just as he settles on Thai, the elevator doors open.

           “Oh, thank God, I was worried that you had left already!”

           Before Spencer can get over the initial shock of seeing you, you’re stepping out of the elevator and into his space, an excited smile on your lips. And then you’re holding out your hand, and Spencer’s almost moved to tears when he sees you wielding a single chocolate cupcake.

           “I wasn’t sure if you’d like chocolate or vanilla better, so I went with my gut. I get the feeling you’re a chocolate kind of guy,” you say, eyes shining as you look up at him. “So, was I right?”

           “You brought this for me?” Spencer asks, voice barely above a whisper. He can’t fathom it – that you had spared him any thought past your initial meeting. Spencer had surely expected you to forget about him entirely. Either that, or you’d written him off as someone to be avoided.

           You nod.

           “Of course, I did. It’s your birthday. Everyone deserves something sweet on their birthday.” You pause, the smile dropping from your face. “It is your birthday, right? I didn’t miss it, did I?”

           Spencer is slow to shake his head.

           “N-No, you didn’t miss it. I’m just surprised you remembered.”

           You chuckled softly.

           “You’re very unforgettable, Doctor Reid,” you say, and Spencer’s heart flutters in his chest. “And you didn’t answer my question.” You gesture to the cupcake expectantly.

           “Chocolate is my favorite,” Spencer breathes out, raising a shaky hand and taking it from her. “I… Thank you. You didn’t have to do this. It’s not that big of a deal.”

           “Are you kidding me? You’re turning thirty. That’s a very big deal, Doc.,” you argue, and Spencer gives you a tentative smile.

           “If you say so.”

           “I do,” you smirk, before hitting the button to open the elevator doors. “So, do you have any big plans to celebrate?”

           The doors open and you and Spencer file into the elevator together– an event three years in the making.

           “Not really. I was just going to order some food and stay in,” Spencer says before taking a bite of the cupcake. It tastes wonderful – better than a store-bought cupcake could ever be. This cupcake was undoubtably made from scratch, and the thought of you taking the time out of your day to bake something for him makes him feel weak at the knees. Pair that with the way you’re looking up at him and Spencer worries he might collapse.

           “What kind of food?”

           “Thai,” Spencer says around the mouthful of cake.

           “Mm,” you hum. “You know – I happen to love Thai food. And I also happen to not have any plans for the evening.”

           Even Spencer, who struggles to decipher the simplest of social cues, can deduce that you are insinuating that you want to spend the evening with him. He’s thankful, then, that he had already swallowed the bite of cupcake, because there’s no doubt in his mind that he’d have choked on it. Spencer gapes at you, but your gaze is unwavering and your body language gives no indication that you were joking.

           “D-Do… Do you want to, uh, come over?” Spencer trips over his words more times than any grown man should, but in his defense, he isn’t exactly well versed in matters like this.

           “Do you want me to come over?”

           “Yes.” Spencer answers so quickly that it should be embarrassing, but it’s hard to feel anything but happy when you’re looking at him like that.

           “Then in that case, I thought you’d never ask,” you sigh dramatically, and then the door opens up and you link your arm with his. “You know, I was beginning to think I’d never see you again. I’ve been driving Penelope crazy asking about you, Doc.”

           “You’ve been asking about me?” Spencer asks, incredulous.

           “Absolutely. It’s not every day that you meet a guy who has the audacity to feel you up and ask you to undress within the first five minutes. I just had to know more,” you tease, and Spencer can’t help but laugh. Despite the cold air of the parking garage, Spencer feels warm – warmer than he’s ever felt and he knows that it has everything to do with the way you’ve pressed yourself against his side.

           “In that case, I’m very glad I spilled my coffee on you,” Spencer says and you let out a snort.

           “Yeah, I could’ve done without that part. And the part where you called me germy.”

           “I did not mean it like that,” Spencer insists. You hum and detach yourself from him, and Spencer instantly misses the contact.

           “Because it’s your birthday, I’ll let you off the hook,” you announce, making your way to the other side of his car, all while never taking your eyes off him. “And if you’re lucky, birthday boy, I might just be willing to test that theory of yours.”

           Spencer cocks his head to the side.

           “Theory?”

           You nod, and the smile that creeps across your face is the best birthday present he’s ever gotten.

           “You said you thought kissing me would be nice. I think we should find out.”

           Spencer Reid is, by most people’s definition, unlucky in love. But as he steals glances at you on the way to his apartment, his chest swells with a hope that maybe – just maybe – his luck is about to change.

[bontenten]

Sleeping Beauty

Pairing: Shirabu x f!reader WC: 5.6k Genre/Warnings: smut, fairy tale retelling, incest, dubcon/noncon, drugs (sleeping pill), somnophilia, abusive past relationship, implied rape (not Shirabu), panic attack, victim-blaming, hero-complex with a bit of god-complex, hints of yandere, uhh medical malpractice, Shirabu’s bangs

Summary: The real story of Sleeping Beauty is anything but beautiful. Shirabu will do everything he can to keep you in a safe haven where you can freely dance with your prince once upon a dream.

A/N: This is a part of the whorehouse intoxicated collaboration, rest of the pieces of this toxic journey can be found here! Thank you Ria and Angel for helping beta <3 Love you both so much.

Unofficial bgm: Once Upon a Dream & Once Upon a December 

"You'll never wash me from you," he sneers, pulling you back by a handful of hair. You feel a blanket of pain shoot across your scalp. "You'll never really get away. Time to wake the fuck up."

"G-get away from me!" 

You thrash and kick your legs wildly hoping something will land. The moment you hear a pained grunt and feel his grip loosen, you scramble up to your feet and run. Your shoes grate against wet cement as you take off. Your heartbeat pounds in your ears as you will your legs forward one after another. The caw of birds seem to act as a beacon leading you through the twists and turns of the terrain.

A left turn here, two blocks straight. Past the corner store and beyond the stoplight. Three blocks. Right turn. Two Blocks. Five steps away. Four...Three..Two...Safety...

----

"In the forest, the princess played with a lot of animal friends. She grew up there in the cottage with three fairies looking after her."

Thunder claps and lightning strikes outside.

"It's so loud Kenjirou-nii!" you cry, burying yourself into Shirabu's arms.

"Shh, I'm here," Shirabu coos, rocking you back and forth until your sobs subside. "One day, the princess was singing with the songbirds..."

Shirabu begins to recount the fairytale of Sleeping Beauty to you, slowly easing your mind away from the turbulence outside.

"Do you think you can sleep now?"

You shake your head and jump again when the thunder claps over the roof of the house.

"It's okay, I'm right here. Big brother’s always going to protect you."

"Like the prince protecting the princess?"

"Yes, exactly. You're always my princess, now go to sleep. I'll wake you when the sun's up.”

After a while, you calm down and slowly drift into sleep with your breaths evening out. Shirabu pulls the covers over both of you and enters sleep as well.

The winds continued to howl outside the window...the branches tapping...tapping against the window...tap...tapping…

----

Shirabu Kenjirou opens his eyes. He had just fallen asleep while studying for the third time that night. There is no use staying at the library if he is going to treat it as a hotel; he’ll be better off going home first. He yawns and stretches his neck, then packs his bags to return to his apartment. There are few students left in the building at this ungodly hour. Dark clouds loom overhead and the air is filled with the pitter patter of autumn rain hitting cement. Shirabu zips up his coat, opens his umbrella, and walks into the dark.

You would have been so frightened by this sort of weather, whimpering under your blankets, counting sheep with shaky breaths. Just like how you did in that dream of his earlier.

While growing up, Shirabu hadn't cared all that much about anything else considering he spent most of his time with his studies or playing volleyball. Although there was you, his little sister, he figured you had your little bubble anyway. But on a stormy night, you teetered down the hall after finding your parent’s room locked. Afraid and sleepy, you looked for comfort elsewhere and arrived at Shirabu’s room.

Shirabu had been most irritated and decided to shoo you out with strings of curses and profanities, but he couldn’t. The sight of your form huddled right outside his bedroom, with young eyes pleading for him took hold of a bit of humanity in Shirabu’s heart. So, he let you into his room, a safe haven, and eventually a world that was composed of only the two of you against the rest of the world.

Shirabu has known for a long time that you are the most brilliant, precious, and purest thing he’ll ever encounter. Always perfect. Forever unsullied. 

There are many things that Shirabu wants to shield you from. If he can secure one more hour of innocence, one more day, one lifetime, he’ll do so without a moment of hesitation. The real world is unlike the fairy tales that you hear about while growing up. 

The real story of Sleeping Beauty is anything but beautiful. There isn’t a handsome prince the princess meets in a forest. No color changing cake. No kiss of love. In the real story, the princess is put into an endless slumber and has her virginal body taken by some unknown beast of a king, used like a rag for his carnal pleasure. When he leaves, the sleeping girl is then forgotten like trampled daisies under the hooves of horses. And she will wake to find her womb bulged with bastard life as a result of the damnation. The stretches clawing around the navel as permanent reminders that nothing will wash him from her.

The real world is dark. Horrible. Wretched. Dirty. Filled with suffering. That is why he, Shirabu Kenjirou, responds to the call to action and enters a life of service. In his heart he yearns to save and help, even if just a little, by becoming a prince with a white coat. He will not give up trying to salvage pieces of humanity he’ll touch, and in the process, carve out a haven, a little forest with a cottage, for his dearest sister to safely live in.

It has been a while since he last heard from you. Partly his own fault, really. Ever since Shirabu entered university and then medical school, the number of times you two would meet up dwindled. The hours on the phone became texts and soon after, communication vanished into mostly silence.

You are in university now, grown up and stepping into the real world, but that doesn't mean you are no longer his little sister. And because you are the one and only, Shirabu feels that he should try to do a better job as an older brother and check-in with you to see how you are doing. So, Shirabu takes out his phone that’s still on silent after studying.

27 missed calls from Sister 

Shirabu pauses in his tracks and returns the call. Cars zoom by on the streets while he waits for the line to connect. 

He was right, you must have been frightened.

The first call doesn’t connect, so Shirabu immediately tries the second time. You pick up on the third attempt.

"It's me, I'm so sorry I didn't pick up earlier."

"K-Kenjirou-nii..." your voice weakly translates over the speaker. 

Shirabu presses the phone closer to his ear and turns up the volume. "Where are you now," he demands. "At school?"

"...Your place..." Your voice sounds so dangerously faded, like petals beaten to the ground from the rain.

Shirabu bolts. His apartment is just a couple blocks away. Around the corner just up ahead. Shirabu makes a sharp turn and splashes through a puddle. 

"Stay...on the phone with me," he urges, paying no mind to his soaked shoes and socks.

You nod in understanding, as if he’ll hear your action.

"I'm almost there okay, almost."

Shirabu isn’t lying. A few moments later you hear the frantic footsteps coming closer to you. The stomping noises make your skin crawl, but the familiar face of your brother melts those fears away. He appears with his wet bangs stuck to his face and his shoulders heaving up and down. It’s him, your niichan, your prince finally here.

You scramble up and dive into his open arms, in relief that you are safe at last, as you finally allow tears to mix with rain.

"I was so scared. I missed you so much, Kenjirou-niichan," you sob into Shirabu's wet coat. "Where were you, where were you?"

"I'm sorry. I'm here now, I'm sorry," Shirabu apologizes, "Let's go inside first, alright? We’re both drenched.”

----

Under the bright lights of the living room, Shirabu gets a better look at you. You catch his discerning eyes studying you up and down, visually tracing the markers of your demise. That’s when you crack.

“Kenjirou-nii...the real world, the world is a horrible place. I trusted him, you know? I trusted that man.”

Foolish and stupid, Shirabu wants to say. It’ll be easy to simply yell at you.

Shirabu is not someone without a temper. He was quite known for it back in his high-school days. The bruises, the scars that did not heal well. Shirabu reminds himself to keep his composure, especially in front of you. He’s to be a doctor. He’s to be a protector, a savior. And with the training he already has so far, Shirabu knows he’s already as good as any board certified, licensed white-robed saint. He just needs to do what he’s meant to do. Heal. Clean. Purify.

After listening to your brief tale, Shirabu tells you not to worry about anything else tonight other than take a hot shower and get some rest. He gives you a reassuring smile and sends you off to the bathroom with towels and a large t-shirt.

While you wash-up and lose your thoughts piecing together the messy events of the night, Shirabu paces in the living room after he changes his own wet clothes. Nevermind the medical books he still needs to pour over, all Shirabu wants to do right now is track down the culprit and stick a scalpel through his socket. No, that’s just too easy. That bastard deserves something much more horrible, a slow and patient torture, a death within grasp but just out of reach. As if agreeing with Shirabu’s thoughts, your phone on the coffee table lights up. Shirabu picks up the device and watches the notifications pop-up.

Shirabu sees an unknown number call you. He doesn’t pick up, letting the phone ring while he reads the numbers across the screen and commits them to memory. The phone calls stop and an onslaught of texts follow; some coherent and others far from decipherable. There are messages of broken apologies and confessions of persistent love. Requests for you to go back to him. Shirabu scoffs at the language.

Shirabu continues to wait with impassive eyes, but the tight death grip around the device gives away the boiling rage beneath his skin. How dare the man behind that accursed number treat you, his little sister and princess, in such a foul manner. This beast who stole from you. Who is the reason behind the tainting of your now sullied innocence. 

Finally after a few minutes of silence, the screen lights up with a series of curses and condemnation that show the man’s true colors. A morphed beast due to your lack of response. Shirabu scrolls through the list of notifications again with impassive eyes, but the tight death grip around the device gives away the boiling rage beneath his skin. 

"You will pay," Shirabu seethes, taking a knife from the kitchen and ramming the sharp end straight into the device glass. The phone buzzes desperately and goes dark. You have no use for that phone anymore after all of this anyway, and the cursed number is already memorized by Shirabu for his own purposes.

----

Shirabu’s room is tidy. The two bookshelves on either side of the table are filled with books, photos, and many other accolades. That’s your older brother alright: perfect, proper, always right. Always right about everything, except one thing. The world you know really isn’t the wonderland he told you about growing up. Not at all. 

You bury your face into Shirabu's pillows and will yourself to sleep. You are safe here in his bed. It’s a haven...safely tucked in a forest. You are in a forest. The trees and the breeze. Songbirds are singing. 

You can dance here, twirl about...safe...free…

The trees melt.

Birds squawk and screech, scampering away…

Ink engulfs you....swallowing you whole

Falling...falling…

"You'll never wash me from you," he sneers. "You'll never really get away. Time to wake the fuck up."

NO! you try to scream. You can’t, the weight on your chest sinks you deeper, only silence is uttered...choked…

Wake up.

Wake up.

"Wake up!"

Your eyes fly open and you see him. Him. A blood curdling shriek finally tears through your throat and you thrash. "Getawaygetawaygetaway! NO!"

"It's me, hey, it's me. You're okay, you're safe." Shirabu’s eyes widen with worry at your outburst, but gives you ample space to breathe and compose yourself.

This familiar voice. It does not belong to him. It’s definitely not him.

"...Kenjirou-nii?" you ask quietly. The shadow is backlit from light coming in through the door and your vision is still fuzzy from the nightmare.

A tender hand closes around yours. "Shhh, it's okay, you're okay now. It was a bad dream, you're safe. You're safe. I'm here."

Cold sweat runs down your temples. Your breath is fast and shallow.

"Follow me, okay. Breathe in..." Shirabu takes a deep breath. You follow his voice and movement as if they are lanterns guiding you through a maze. "And breathe out. Good, you're doing great. Breathe in...and out..."

You feel your mind slowly beginning to clear with each inhale and exhale. Finally, you see Shirabu clearly again. You can smell the scent of his body wash from him. The texture of the blanket rubs against your fingertips. You’re here in Shirabu’s room. Safety. Haven. 

"I'll be right back," Shirabu tells you, before leaving you for a moment and going towards the bathroom. He opens the medicine cabinet, pops out a few white pills from a box.

"Here," he says holding out the small tablets in the middle of his palm. The off-white seems to almost glow in the dark.

"It's zolpidem, a sleeping pill I sometimes take for insomnia. It'll help you for tonight, and then we'll get you something else tomorrow that'll work better."

You look at the pill and then at Shirabu. Shirabu is someone you love and trust with all your heart. His embrace is your anchor and haven when the rest of the world has turned a blind eye. He’s your brother. One and only. There’s no reason not to trust him.

"I won't see him will I?"

"No," Shirabu affirms. The pills don't really manipulate dreams, but if reassuring you can placebo sweet dreams, then what harm really is there? He didn’t pass Ethics with top marks for nothing.

Shirabu gently presses the pill body against your lips and you part them, allowing the small object to slip through. He feeds another and you open your mouth obediently. You look at Shirabu’s eyes which are fixated on the way your lips wrap around his three fingers.  Kenjirou-nii’s lashes are so nice and pretty, you think. 

One gulp of water later, and you feel nothing but a cold sensation traveling down your throat and disappearing into your belly.

"It'll take about half an hour, I'll stay with you until you fall asleep," Shirabu says. He supports your back and gently lowers you back into the comforts of the plush mattress. Shirabu will surely carry the same attentiveness and care when he becomes a full-fledged doctor. You are sure of it. The big brother you grew up with has truly grown up and matured. But no matter how much he changes or how much you mess up, he’ll always be your big brother.

"Can you lie down next to me again, like when we were young?"

An innocent request from a patient-in-need. Shirabu complies and lies down next to you.

"I remember when we were young, I would make you dance with me to live out my princess dreams. You remember?”

Afternoons next to the stereo, crayons scattered on the floor. The smell of something baking in the kitchen. Shrieks and laughter in the living room. Even though Shirabu would be mildly annoyed at first, he found humoring your imagination to be a pleasant and soothing experience. Even he was sometimes whisked away from textbooks into a magical forest that was just you and him. The stress and burdens of everything else all seem so much lighter on his shoulders when you’re simply just there.

"Of course I remember, silly."

You hum softly and continue waiting for the medicine in your bloodstream to make its way through your body.

"Do you...remember the sleeping beauty story you would always tell me?"

"Yea?"

You pause for a moment before quietly asking, "Kenjirou-niichan, why did you lie to me?"

Shirabu does not respond and only glances over at you, eyeing your closed lids. Closed though they may be, the tiny beads of glimmering tears are beginning to emerge from between the lashes and trail down your cheeks.

"There is no prince, Kenjirou-nii...no prince for me, no one...niichan...," you mumble between your breaths. The drug is starting to take its effect, ushering your mind into another dimension far away from hurt and pain. It swallows you like a pit of ink, sinking you deeper and deeper...

----

Kenjirou-nii, why did you lie? Earlier, Shirabu felt his breath hitch when you asked that. 

He calls out your name softly, brushing over your cheeks, and listening to your soft breathing for a good while to make sure you are in fact asleep. At long last, maybe this is a good dream.

A lie? No! Not a lie, Shirabu wants to tell you. For you, his dearest sister, who only ever deserves happiness, in the rawest and truest form. You are supposed to have a life of others giving gifts of love, never having to offer anything of your own.

Shirabu feels his blood boil once more at the thought of that man who stole your innocence away. The one who took your body for his own carnal pleasures. The one who dared to steal you from him, Shirabu Kenjirou. If Shirabu's nails are not kept in immaculate condition for his profession, no doubt, his grip would be drawing blood from his palms.

Those marks and scars across your skin. Shirabu traces his finger down your neckline and along your arms...

Your head turns from left to right and you manage to shrug the big collar of the t-shirt off your shoulder. Shirabu can see, under the glow of moonlight from the cleared night sky, a nasty mark. A permanent mark. And before he realizes it, his fingers are already traveling over, tracing along and testing out the patterns and bumps.

Shirabu feels his chest burn beyond the anger and fury. Guilt. Where was he all this time when you were suffering? Why hadn't you just called him then? Anguishing thoughts of his little sister writhing in pain under that beast's grasps tear Shirabu apart. Did you cry? Were you scared? All these years studying for what? For what noble purpose is Shirabu trying to pursue if he can’t even save those closest to him?

Shirabu continues to search for any other marks or discolorations that are splayed across your skin like a map. It is what it is now. But Shirabu still has his calling. He is a man who answers to a life of service and healing: a prince in a white coat. No matter what happens, even if you’re tainted now, you’ll still be his little sister.

Even if your naivety and stupidity got you into the mess in the first place. Of course, why didn’t you listen to your brother’s warnings and stay in a safe haven like a good girl? Stay in your room and study for your future like a good student? Like him? Why did you think running off for fun, enjoying “youth and freedom” like the other degenerates would be a good idea?

Shirabu grits his teeth. Look at you now, damaged and past the point of no return, used. Injured and ill. Still, he needs to get the full story first, and see where else you might possibly be hurt. A complete diagnosis needs to come first. After the messages from the man, Shirabu is all the more certain that there are more clues left, and he needs evidence. He needs to know. The comforter is pulled away and careful hands examine the lines of your palms.

Once upon a time, you grabbed Shirabu’s hand and tried to use the methods of schoolyard palm-reading on him. You even exclaimed, “Kenjirou-niichan, this line means you’ll live a long life! And we can be together forever because my life line is really long too!”

Shirabu smiles at the memory and presses a kiss to the center of your palm. It must have been so painful, how could you have possibly endured? But you did and you survived. You are so brave. 

Probing fingertips trace across your collarbone and push the fabric of the large t-shirt up to reveal your torso. Shirabu blinks, realizing that this is now the body of a fully matured woman. You take a deep breath in your sleep from the cold air running across your exposed breasts. Shirabu can see the nipples perk up from the chill and hesitantly touches the bud with a hint of academic curiosity.

“Mmm, that tickles...” you giggle softly. Your hand pushes Shirabu's off and scratches the same spot he just traced, fondling your own breast briefly before letting go and continuing to sleep. Even grown up now, still the same adorable little sister.

Shirabu lets himself tease your nipples and knead the soft flesh of your breasts, toying around and watching your cute little expressions. Sometimes you’ll respond again and paw the tickling hands away. It’s fun, like playing a little game.

But when he lets his eyes wander down, Shirabu’s eyes narrow. Below the breasts, on either side of the waist, Shirabu sees damning marks of deep purple turning into a disgusting yellow. Like cursed claw marks. Shirabu hesitantly presses on the bruise, watching the color transform under his touch. He stops immediately when you begin to whine in pain. Carefully, Shirabu presses a kiss on these markings too, just like any other little injury you sustained in the past. A kiss so the pain flies away.

Foolish, foolish girl. Naive princess. Why did you let this happen to yourself? In the future, don’t run anymore. Stay here where it’s safe. 

There is just one place left Shirabu did not examine yet, a hidden spot that is supposed to be locked away that someone else discovered. Shirabu looks down at the dark lace panties obstructing his view like gates of a castle. It’s a poor “keep out” message; if anything it entices anyone who sees it to come in. A tempting invitation to see what’s behind.

Shirabu allows his clean fingers to easily slip through and begin a thorough investigation through the soft folds of flesh. His fingertips dip into a pool of wetness. He furrows his brows. When did this happen? 

Why are you wet? His eyes focus on your sleeping face that still has a relaxed smile. What are you dreaming about that makes your body like this? Shirabu drags the fingers covered with your slick to circle your clit. In response your thighs clamp and twitch. So sensitive, still inexperienced, even if you’re sullied. 

Shirabu slides the soaked panties off and pushes your thighs apart so he can continue his examination. That person must have touched this area too, his fingers have been here, and then…plunged his fingers into you like so. Your body trembles as Shirabu’s two fingers probe in, fully examining your inner anatomy. Soft, warm muscles clamp tightly around his digits and try to stop them from entering further. It’s for your good and his knowledge. He pushes deeper into you, dragging alongside the bumps and ridges of your walls.

You whine loudly and arch your back when Shirabu’s fingers find a sweet spot. Your head shifts on the fluffy pillows.

“Did you like that? Did that feel good?” Shirabu asks, probing your hole once more. As if in agreement, your body twitches again and your hips automatically roll against the palm, pressing your sensitive clit into the surface. Your breathy sighs are soft and sweet, unlike any other sound Shirabu has heard from you. It’s like a spell that enchants Shirabu and beckons for him. He shudders as he feels his cock responding to each noise coming out from between your lips.

It’s good, something feels so good. Under the sunlight, you feel warmth pooling throughout your body. There are tingles in the soles of your feet, like grass tickling skin while running around barefoot. Your body feels so light and relaxed. It’s warm and you’re not in this forest alone. The shape of a prince appears. You know he’s a prince because his voice is gentle and his touch feels safe.

If this feels good, it’s only because this is an act of love. If this makes you happy, it’s because it’s love. If it’s love, it’ll fill the empty pools of hurt. And if you’ll be whole again, you’ll heal. Shirabu makes up his mind and caresses your cheeks tenderly, So beautiful. Always beautiful. A sleeping beauty. His hand reaches to the waistband of his pants.

The prince rests his hand on your hips and excitement jolts through your body. You wrap your arms around his neck and smile back.

Shirabu freezes the moment he feels your arms wave into the air and reach for him. The sneaky fingers run across his skin.

"Dance..with me," you slur before falling back into silence.

The alarm washes away when he confirms you are still sound asleep.

"Are you dreaming of your prince?" Shirabu asks while tearing open a condom packet. Medical safety. He should have worn gloves earlier too, if he wasn’t already too entranced. "Dancing? Then I'll dance with you."

Forever. I'll be your prince, my sweet darling.

Shirabu runs the length of his hardened cock along your glistening slit. Rather than take, rather than pillage and steal...Shirabu will give. Replace the gross markers of pain with soft fleeting kisses. Replace the innocence stolen with love given unconditionally. Shirabu will give you all the love you deserve and more.

Shirabu’s fingers weave into your delicate ones, the palms join together, and your fingertips automatically lock with your niichan’s. It’s the starting position for a waltz in the forest, once upon a dream.

The man takes the initiation, the leading step. Shirabu closes the gap, sinking his length into your sweet embrace in a fluid and wet squelch. You respond, digging your nails and tightening your grip on his hands. Your other arm hugs around your partner, your niichan, pulling his body close against yours. Your blank eyes flutter open briefly to look straight at the shadow of Shirabu. Of course, you don’t see anything, you’re actually in a warm forest shyly gazing at your prince. Shirabu almost thinks that he woke you up, but you only let out a quiet moan before your body relaxes again.  

Shirabu groans and rests his cock in your warm and tight embrace. This is the way it should be, how it ought to be done. No one else can lead you in this dance the way he can. The way he will. This is not the self-fulfilling king stealing the princess’s virginal body for his own pleasure. This is the loving prince who loves and gives selflessly. Your big brother knows you the best, knows how you’ll respond, knows how you’ll like it. Shirabu slowly draws himself out and thrusts back in.

The prince presses himself so close to you, and you inhale sharply. During the waltz, you always have to maintain body contact with your partner. You feel his breath on your cheeks, and you’re sure he can feel your hammering heartbeat. The intimacy builds in the tender but secure hold. The steps are quick but the movements are not violent. It’s just enough that the heat stirring in your core spreads throughout your body.

Breaths become more labored and raspy into the act. Shirabu sees your face morph into bliss as he continues his pace and rocks his hips into you. His own brows furrow as Shirabu feels his grip over rationality falling apart with each thrust. Each flutter of your walls against him only invites him to come in deeper, farther. Harder. 

“...K-Kenjirou-nii...,” you softly cry out.

Your honeyed voice is a thick syrup trapping Shirabu, coaxing him. It’s like a melody inviting a weary traveler, a lost prince, in for rest. Your voice, your body, it’s tantalizing.

"Too good," Shirabu groans to himself. Why is it so good? You, his little sister, how? He looks down towards where he sees his cock, covered with your fluids, disappear into you. The thin latex barrier doesn’t stop how close the two of you are, Shirabu feels each clench and spasm around him. “My little sister, I didn’t know…” 

Shirabu can now understand just why that man did all that to you. Why that man wants to keep you by his side. Why he incessantly sends messages and tries to manipulate you back into their world.

It’s the only explanation, really, when you don’t even know how bewitching your body is. How enticing your voice is. Anyone would want to keep it as their own. Your warmth, your sweet, sweet hole. This cunt of yours is itself a safe haven. And Shirabu feels like he’s the one being made whole from you. It’s all because of you.

Each moan from you. Those gentle mewling cries, a witch’s spell, an incantation for addiction. That man is trying to manipulate you? How? When your whole existence manipulates everyone first, drawing them all in with the image of your unsullied purity.

Shirabu feels his impending release around the edge. His pace quickens and his thrusts meet with each of your twisting squirms. Your head tosses side-to-side on the pillow as your sleepy climax washes through.

Spin. Faster and faster in the forested ballroom. Twirl for the finale. You feel a dizzying jolt as the prince dips your body back. It’s a whirlwind of love. In your dream, the sunshine is so warm and growing so much hotter. It feels like you’re floating. So light and free. That prickling tickle in your feet is growing stronger until little fireworks set off across every corner of your body, filling you completely. The forest melts as the colors blend together in a dreamy painting. 

Euphoria, as Shirabu finishes spectacularly, clutching your sleeping body close to him in a messy ending pose. The final winds of the dead storm outside sound like a rumbling applause for this sinful waltz. He can hear his own pants and your shaky breaths mix into a fading duet. Shirabu lets himself bask for a moment, resting, entangled with you.

Everything makes sense now. He completely understands why the bastard king forces himself onto Sleeping Beauty. He completely understands why your allure is much too exquisite to pass on. Shirabu pulls out and carefully removes the condom, collecting the white essence you bewitched out from him into a little package with a tie. Dangerous little princess, that you are.

Even though Shirabu now fully understands the complete story after careful examination, there are still a few lines Shirabu will draw. One, that man has still committed a very grave sin, being the first to sample your purity, stealing that away from Shirabu? Damaging your flesh and skin? Unacceptable, he thinks as he tosses the used condom into the waste bin. A complete low-life who doesn’t know how to cherish. Punishment will be due.

Shirabu returns to the bed where your unconscious body is still sprawled between bunched sheets. His blank eyes study your spread legs and puffy cunt that’s still quivering every now and then. He taps his index finger against your sensitive clit. As if it is a magic button, your body briefly trembles on command. As if you are ready to enchant another unsuspecting traveler into your safe little haven. A little bit of fluid leaks out from your hole, presenting itself seductively. Welcome. 

Shirabu scoffs. And number two, you’ll be better off staying here with himself, your big brother. You’ll be safe here with a prince who knows best how to love you right, and give you the world. This is the way it should be; before you completely lose yourself into degeneracy and invite just about anyone into you. 

Those sleeping pills will be insufficient for the long-run. A different concoction while you are still healing from your terrible trauma will be needed. A cocktail of sorts that will target different needs. Yes. Shirabu files that thought away, putting it towards the top of his to-do list. There’s so many things he has to take care of. Too much pain in this world waiting for him to don white robes and be out there.

“But you’ll always come first on niichan’s list,” Shirabu whispers, slipping your panties back on and pulling the comforters over your body. He’ll never allow you to be sullied again. You’ll stay here in this safe haven, like a little cottage tucked away in the forest. Dream here. Find happiness with the only prince you need.

The first rays of dawn begin to brighten the sky, shooing away the cloak of night. The first songs from the birds announce the arrival of a new day. The morning light filters through the windows of the room, spilling over onto the bed and your quiet, unmoving form.

Time to wake up now, sleeping beauty.

[sunmoonandeddie]

who you are and who you’ve been

pairing: bucky barnes x reader

word count: 8,490

summary: Sometimes love takes a little longer to find you.

warnings: SMUT.  Mention of past abusive relationship, drinking, swearing.

a/n:  Thank you so much to @zeilenkrieg for commissioning this and being so patient while I wrote it!!

“Mama!  Mama!  You here?”

You sighed as you looked up from your coffee, seeing your daughter coming through the living room.  She had on that pair of daisy dukes that she stole from your wardrobe—the ones you used to wear in the heat of summer, a white shirt tied to let the sun on your tummy.  You used to scandalize your own mama with that outfit… 

You had argued with her that she had worn the same kind of outfit back in the seventies, and that vintage was in.  But she liked to wear hers with cowboy boots and you preferred it with a good pair of sneakers.

God, you missed being young…  Your twenties had been absolutely wild, even if they had started out with that horrible pandemic in 2020.

You still washed your hands after touching almost anything.  An instinct that never went away.

That year and the couple years before had been… insane.  But at least it incited real change in the world.  The people had learned from their mistakes, at least for now.

History did have a habit of repeating itself.  Humans were fickle, forgetful creatures like that.

“Yes, honey bun?” You said as you stood up, moving to hug her.

At thirty-seven years old, she was the only good thing that ever came out of your marriage.  That, and knowing how to wash blood out of clothing.

The only problem was that by the time you’d finally left him, you had no friends left.  You were in your forties by then, with no family besides your daughter, and no friends left to speak of.  You hadn’t even had Facebook at the time to keep in touch with old schoolmates from university.  And by then, what was the point?  They were all leading completely different lives and probably hadn’t spared you a thought in at least a decade.

“When’s the last time you left the house?” She asked, her hands on her hips in a stance that reminded you so much of yourself that it scared you.

Now that… that was hard to answer…  You honestly didn’t think you’d be able to remember.  You got practically everything delivered, you worked from home… 

Shaking your thoughts away, you shot her a look.  “I’m fine right where I am.”

“Your doctor called and said you haven’t been taking your medication.”

“Fuckin’ snitch,” you scoffed, rolling your eyes as you turned back to the window, staring down at the now cold coffee.

Josephine rolled her eyes.  “He said you haven’t picked up your refill in over two months.”  She came over to stand next to you, staring out the window with you for a long time.  “Mama, you’ve gotta take your medicine…  You remember what happened last time…”

Ah, yes, the infamous incident.

Which was an incident in a long line of incidents.

There had been a… few times when you’d stopped taking your medication—either intentionally or simply because you had forgotten—and it had resulted in a stay in the psych ward at the local hospital.  It had happened far too many times for your daughter to not be in contact with your doctor so she would be informed if you had stopped getting your refills.

You didn’t blame her, of course.  But it did make you feel like a horrible mother.  One who couldn’t even take care of herself to the point where your daughter had to.

“Yes, I remember last time,” you sighed, staring at a cardinal.  “You know, my mama used to tell me that if you see a cardinal, a loved one who’s passed is visiting you…”

“Mama, I signed you up for a seniors’ social club.”

You blinked.

And then, you blinked again.

You turned to look at your daughter, disbelief written all over your face.  “No the fuck you did not.  I swear to all that is holy, Josephine Ann, if you signed me up for one of those… those… pre-death support groups, I’ll tan your hide!”  You gasped as some of your coffee splashed onto your sweatshirt.  “I brought you into this world, and I sure as hell can take you out of it!”

“You’ve been saying that since I was two,” She said, taking your arm and guiding you to sit down at the kitchen table.  “And it’s not a pre-death support group.  I feel like that’s offensive somewhere so make sure you don’t go running around the group saying that.”  Josephine used a paper napkin to dab at the coffee on your sweatshirt, muttering about throwing it into the wash and getting you a new one.

This was what you meant by your daughter taking care of you.

“Josie, really, I can get my own sweatshirt.”

“Doesn’t mean you gotta,” she said as she came back with a new one, helping you change.

Sometimes you felt like she thought you were a hundred years old.

“Honestly, mama…  I just want you to be happy…  You should have friends.  You shouldn’t be cooped up in this house all day, all the time.”

“What do I need friends for when I’ve got you?  And Danny?” You asked.

But you had been hit with the sudden reality that except for Josephine and her girlfriend, you were alone.  Completely, and utterly, alone.  Hell, they were the only people you had ever invited over to the tiny one bedroom you owned.

Repairmen didn’t count because they were there to do a job, not keep you company.

God, you had wanted more than this, once upon a time.  You had once had dreams, of maybe being a writer and making the New York Times’ Bestsellers List, of a husband who adored you and brought you flowers every Friday, of lazy Sundays eating waffles on the couch with the love of your life.

But life didn’t end up the way you had dreamed it.  There were no book signings or meetings with editors… there were no gardenias… and there was no smell of waffles and syrup.

And you’d made your peace with that.

Sort of.

Josephine’s arms wrapped around you as she rested her head against yours.  Like a mirror of yourself, she was, from her face down to her toes.

Thank god.  She didn’t deserve to have to look in the mirror and see reflections of her father.

“Will you at least try it?” She asked gently, her hand running up and down your arm, her freshly manicured nails tickling your skin.  “It’s not like a pre-death support group, as you call it…  It’s for seniors or people who are approaching seniority and are still active and want to go out and have fun, but maybe need some friends to do it with.  Please?”

And how could you say no when she wanted something so badly?

“Alright,” you said after a moment.  “I’ll go once.  And if it’s horrible, I’m not going back.  And I’m gonna tell Danny how you forced me to meet a bunch of strangers.”

She squealed excitedly, running off to your bedroom and going through your closet.  “Okay, the first thing the group is doing is having a first meeting at a bar, and we’re gonna get you all done up.”

Oh, good.  She was going all in.

“When’s the first meeting?” You asked as you sat on the bed, leaning back on your hands as you watched her.

“Tonight.”

Uh.  What?

“TONIGHT?!” You shouted in shock as you jumped up.  “What?!  You didn’t think to ask me about this a few days ago?!”

She snorted, picking out a few tops that you hadn’t worn in what felt like decades.  “I signed you up this morning, I didn’t know about it a few days ago.”

You watched in exasperation as she threw article after article of clothing onto the bed for you to try on.  “I don’t think I need to wear four pairs of jeans to a bar,” you said, beginning to pick up a few of the pieces.

Josephine gave you a look as she continued.  “Considering how long it’s been since you’ve been out, I think it’s fair that some of these might not fit anymore.”

Well, you had lost some weight…  Not necessarily in a healthy way, but she was right.

In the end, she ended up shoving you into the bathroom and forced you to do a full shower—which meant body and hair.

You hadn’t even gone to such lengths when you were going on your first date with her father.

She spent hours on your hair and makeup, chattering away excitedly about the vacation her and Danny were planning.  A South American cruise.

Josephine had never married, never had kids.  Never wanted to after seeing what her daddy had put you through.  It left a sour taste in her mouth, and even though it was legal now, her and her girlfriend hadn’t breathed a word of a wedding.

Though, you suppose they had a common law marriage at that point, if lesbians were included in it.

“Perfect,” she said as she got you to slip on an old jacket of yours that was a little too big.  “Come on.  I’ll drive you and pick you up.”

“Oh, honestly,” you snorted as you grabbed the purse Josephine had shoved all your things into.  “You’d think I could take an Uber.”

The bar wasn’t what you had expected when she had first told you that’s where the meeting was going to be held.  The last bars you’d been to had practically been nightclubs.

But this was… upscale.  Sophisticated.

Now you understood just why she had put so much work into making you look presentable.

It didn’t look like anyone else was there yet, even though most of the patrons were around your age, so you took a seat at the bar, the group’s site pulled up on your phone.

“What can I get for you, miss?” The bartender asked as he set down a coaster in front of you.

A snort erupts from your throat as you look at him.  “You always call women as old as me miss?”

“Oh, come on, you’re a catch,” he said, shooting you a playful wink.  “My dad’s single, you know.  If you were… looking.”

“Thank you, but I’m not,” you said gently, your cheeks flushed.  “Can I get a Manhattan?”

The bartender nodded, gracefully backing off the subject of you possibly dating his father.  And barely a minute and a half later, there’s a perfectly made Manhattan set on your coaster.

You’d barely taken a sip before someone came up beside you.  “Do you have Macallan’s 18 Year Sherry Oak?” A man asked.  At the bartenders confirmation, he hummed.  “Can I get a double on the rocks?”

The bartender dropped a large ball of ice into a glass before pouring two shots of whiskey over it and handing it to the man.

“Macallan’s, huh?” You said softly, your heart pounding.  Josephine had told you to make friends.  That was the whole point of this, even if the man wasn’t part of the social club you’d been forced into.  “You know your whiskeys.”

The tall man took a seat beside you, his eyes boring into the side of your face.  You hadn’t dared look at him yet.  “I’ve always preferred those who choose a Manhattan over a martini any day.”

“And why is that?” You asked, finally looking up at him.

And oh, you wished you hadn’t.  He was… stunning.  The very definition of male beauty.  His salt and pepper hair reminded you of the photos of the men in the forties…  The 1940s, that is.  Blue eyes so striking that you lost your breath, and broad shoulders that you knew would haunt your dreams.  He was wearing a glove on his left hand for some reason, but you didn’t linger on it too long.

But at least he was at least your age, if not a little older.  You’d die if you’d just sort of flirted with a twenty-something asshole who just bought expensive whiskeys for the sake of buying expensive whiskeys to show that he had money to blow.

“Martini drinkers think they’ll get some kind of award for their choice of drink,” he said, “as though choosing a drink that generally tastes like shit is some kind of accomplishment.  Unless you’re just taking a shot, a drink should taste good.”  He looked you up and down, letting his pretty blues linger on your lips.  There were faint crow feet at the corners of his eyes, but they just seemed to make him even more handsome.  “And a Manhattan doesn’t need a fancy whiskey.  It is steady and sure even with the cheapest five dollar bottle you can get from a gas station.  Someone whose drink of choice is a Manhattan is sure of who they are and what they want.”

You hadn’t felt this hot under a man’s gaze in decades.  “Really?”  Swallowing around the lump in your throat, you took another sip of your drink to buy you a moment.

“Mmm…”  He stole one of the two cherries from your drink, biting it off the stem.  You were transfixed as he slipped the stem into his mouth, sticking his tongue out about thirty seconds later with a perfect cherry stem knot on display.  “Really.  I’m James.  What’s your name?”

Butterflies filled your stomach as you gave him your name.  God, you felt like you were sixteen again and being flirted with for the first time.

His eyes flicked down to your open phone that rested on the bar, the social club’s page still up.  “You’re here for the meeting, too?”

“Um…  Yes,” you said, ducking your head.

“But, doll…”  He leaned towards you, a charming smile on his lips.  “You don’t look a day over thirty-five.  Are you sure you’re a senior?”

Blinking, your mouth hung open in a soft o.  “Are you planning on flirting with every woman in the club like this?”

James looked around dramatically, his gloved hand resting over his heart.  “A club?!  Is that what you call this place?” He asked, mockingly serious.  “Damn, what does that make all those dirty, gross places these young kids go to now?  Brothels?”

For some reason, you felt comfortable enough to shove his shoulder, surprised a little at the feeling of metal under his jacket sleeve.

For the first time, he looked a bit… uncomfortable.  He had flinched a bit, his bright eyes focused surely on his drink.  “Um…”

“You’re the Winter Soldier.  James Barnes,” you said curiously, your head tilting to the side as you looked at him.  “I thought I recognized you from somewhere.”

“Is that a bad thing?”

“No.”

“You sure?”

“Mmhm,” you drawled, taking the cherry left in your drink and biting it off in a way that you hoped was alluring.  “Though, I gotta say, it is a bit awkward to meet the man I wrote two papers about in high school.”

Shit, his laugh was beautiful.  Everything about him was beautiful.  Like Apollo or something...

James’s head was thrown back in laughter.  His cheeks were flushed, his eyes squeezed shut.  “Did you actually write two papers about me?” He asked as he tried to catch his breath.  At your nod, he smirked, leaning in close again.  “What did you write about?  How devilishly handsome I am?”

You couldn’t believe you were saying this.  “I mean, I can show you the papers and actually let you read them, but they’re at my place.”

Before he could pick his jaw up off the ground, there were other seniors in the group coming up to greet you.  Your throat was dry as the Sahara as you turned to face them, plastering on a smile as you tried to ignore the heated gaze on your face and the way he licked his lips.

The meeting was… long.  Boring.

Or at least, that’s how it felt when you had James’s dark, sultry eyes on you the entire goddamn time.

Mind fuzzy, you vaguely remembered agreeing to come to the next meeting, and even signing up for a hiking trip they were taking the next weekend.

As you headed outside, you felt Bucky’s hand slip into yours, his long, calloused fingers intertwining with yours.  “So…  Am I gonna get to come over and… read those papers?” He murmured, his lips brushing against your ear.

God, you could practically feel yourself bursting into flames.  You weren’t gonna survive.

Thank god your daughter had forced you into a full shower.

But what about how dirty your house was sure to be?

“Um…  Y-Yeah,” you said as you turned to look at him.  “But, my daughter is gonna be driving me home…  I don’t want her to know I’ve got someone coming over.  She’s nosey.  Real…  Real nosey.”

“Of course, darlin,’” he chuckled.  “Here, why don’t I give you my phone number, and you shoot me a text with your address when you’re ready for me to come over?”

Your head was swirling as you got into your daughter’s car, your phone burning a hole in your purse.

“How was it?” Josephine asked nervously once you got about halfway home.  She couldn’t tell from the look on your face.  “Did you like it?”

“Hm?  Yeah.”  Swallowing, you shot a text to James with your name, telling him you’d text him when it was all clear.

“Are you gonna go again?”

“Yeah.”

“Really?”

“Yeah.”

She seemed both dissatisfied and pleased by your vague answers.  At least you were getting out of the house.

Once you got home and said goodbye, it was a mad dash to ensure that your house was clean as could be.  Josie had put in some work while you’d been gone, it seemed.  She’d done the dishes and the laundry, as well as dusted.

Thank fuck.

You struggled for a solid twenty minutes to put fresh sheets and pillowcases on the bed, lighting two candles and placing them in a manner that you hoped seemed natural.

“Shit,” you cursed as you smelled under your arms.

Okay, quick body shower.  It seemed all that flirting had made you a tiny bit sweaty.

You turned the water to scalding and scrubbed your body down, exfoliating and using your best scented body wash.

And to be quite frank, you’d never shaved your lady bits as quick as that.

As you texted him your address and that it was safe to come over, you pulled on your clothing from the bar (though, you did put on nicer, matching lingerie underneath.)  By the time he’d gotten there, you’d downed two shots of tequila for a bit of liquid courage and had poured yourself a glass of wine.

“Hey, baby doll,” he said, a crooked grin on his face as you welcomed him inside.  His glove had been abandoned, and black metal fingers lined with gold glittered in the light.  “Woah…  You know, I wasn’t sure how your place was gonna look, but this is very… you.”

“Oh, really?” You asked as you offered him a glass of wine, which he gratefully took.  “How so?”

“I don’t know,” he chuckled as he swirled the deep red liquid in its glass.  “It’s cozy.  Sweet.”

Your throat was dry as you watched his adam’s apple bob as he took a drink.  “Um… so those papers…”

Bucky whispered your name, moving closer to you as he set the wine glass down on the counter.  “Baby girl, I’m not really here for the papers, am I?” He asked as your back hit the island.  “If I am…  If I am, then just tell me, and I’ll stop this.”  His slightly chapped lips ghosted against yours like the tease he was.  “Am I here just for the papers?”

“No,” you breathed out, before pressing your lips against his in a firm kiss at last.  His breath was minty and cool, with just a touch of the wine you’d been sharing, like he’d brushed his teeth before coming over just like you had.

Could it be possible he was just as nervous as you were?

But he was perfect?  Why the hell would he be nervous?

Your thoughts were cut short as he reached down, his hands firmly grabbing your ass as he lifted you up and set you on the counter.  “That’s a good girl,” he growled as he kissed down your neck, his hands working at your blouse.  “Couldn’t stop thinking about you during that whole stupid fucking meeting.  Just wanted to kiss you.  Just wanted to… to touch you.”  He pulled back, kissing you fiercely as his hands moved from your blouse to hold your face again.  “You gonna let me touch you, angel?”

A whine escaped your throat as you nodded, desperately yanking at his shirt.  Once it was off, you didn’t hesitate to run your hands over the broad planes of his chest.  He wasn’t quite as toned as you remembered from when you were younger, when you used to (occasionally) stalk (lightly) his social media accounts.  There’d been so many pictures of him on vacation with the other Avengers… all tanned and toned…

But you liked this better.  There was a softness to him now, a gentleness.

You were so distracted by his physique that you didn’t notice he’d gotten your shirt and bra off until the cold air hit your chest.  “Fuck,” you mumbled as his lips found your neck, trailing down to your breasts.

You couldn’t remember the last time you’d been kissed, let alone the last time you’d had such… attention.

Especially when his hands worked your pants off and he stood between your legs, moaning as his fingers tickled your thighs.  “You’re so beautiful,” he said as his lips wrapped around one nipple, suckling at it and teasing until it was diamond hard, and he moved on to the other.

Gotta be fair, after all.

“James…”

“Fuck, baby girl…  Never been with a woman as beautiful as you,” he growled, kissing down your tummy.  “You’re not making it out of here without orgasming at least twice,” he warned jokingly.  He was half bent over in front of the island, watching in wonder as he slowly pulled your silk panties down your legs and revealed your aching core to him.

“I-If you’re not comfortable standing like that, w-we can move somewhere else,” you stammered, suddenly growing self conscious.  What if he thought your pussy was weird?  Granted, you’d overcome thinking that when you were in your early twenties, after learning that each one looked different.

But he was born in the forties.

But that meant he’d probably seen an exponential amount of pussies!

Oh, god, there was no way you’d have anywhere near as much experience as him.  The only person you’d ever been with was your ex husband, and he wasn’t exactly the paradigm of lovers.

“Hey.”

You refocused with a shake of your head, your eyes meeting James’s.  “Yes?”

“You’re in your head,” he said softly, his forehead resting against yours as he slowly ran his fingers along your sensitive folds.  “There’s no need…  It’s just you and me, okay?  And you’re absolutely perfect.”

Your heart was melting inside your chest as you nodded, stealing a tentative kiss.  “Okay…  Just you and me.”

James nipped at your lower lip as he lifted you up, wrapping your legs around his waist.  “Come on.  I don’t want our first time to be on a kitchen counter.  Though I make no promises I won’t help christen every inch of this house after,” he said with a playful growl.

You whispered directions to your bedroom as he held you tight to his chest, his lips finding purchase on your neck.  “And here I thought you said the super soldier serum was wearing off,” you joked.

The man snorted as he pushed you up against the hallway wall.  “Trust me, doll, no lack of super soldier serum is gonna stop me from fucking you right,” he said, his voice husky and deep.

Before you could even open your mouth to reply, two thick fingers were slipping inside of you to slowly tease your cunt, his lips ghosting over yours.  “Does that feel good, sweetheart?”

You couldn’t find it in you to be embarrassed at the whimper that fell from your lips.  “Y-Yes.  Yes.  Please, I need more, James…”

James smiled into the kisses he’d been giving you.  “I’ll give you everything you want.”

“That’s a tall order.”  You threaded your fingers through his hair, shivering at the way his metal fingers dug into the plumpness of your ass.  “You sure you can fill it?”

He doesn’t respond with words, growling as he kisses you fiercely, carrying you to the bedroom.  You don’t have time to think before he’s crawling over you and kissing up your tummy to your lips.  “I need to be inside you,” He whispered as he stroked his length.

“Please…  Don’t wanna wait anymore,” you said.  Vaguely, you’re aware of the twinge in your knees from all the physical activity, and you knew you’d be sore as hell in the morning.

Fucking worth it, though.

James didn’t hesitate to line himself up, the head of his cock pressing against your entrance.  When he finally pushed in, unison moans fill the air.

“I…  I haven’t done this in… so long,” you finally admitted as he slowly pushed in more, taking his time.  Eyes locked, your mouth fell open in a soft ‘o’ as he bottomed out, his hips meeting yours.  “Oh, fuck…”

“Then I better do a real good job fucking you right.”

You weren’t quite sure how long you two lasted, but you do know he manages to pull three orgasms out of you in the space of just a few hours.  There’s snack and water breaks in between rounds, his cool metal hand running up and down your spine to cool you down as you two whisper in the dim light of your desk lamp.

You can’t remember a time that you’d felt so at peace.

A spark had been lit inside your chest as you two laid there in bed, legs intertwined.  Both of you were quiet, his fingers moving to caress your cheek.

There were no words that needed to be said.

His sea blue eyes are sparkling in the dim light, and your hand runs over the sharp stubble that lines his jaw.  It had certainly marked up your neck.

“I had intended on asking you on a date,” he said quietly as his hand found yours, bringing it to his mouth.  Chapped lips kissed each of your knuckles like you were something precious, something to behold.  “I didn’t think the five minutes or so before the meeting counted…  But I’d still like to take you on that date, if you’ll let me.”

“That sounds nice,” you said, a grin twinging at the corners of your lips.

“Yeah?” He asked, sitting up a bit as his fingers brushed against your forehead.

“Yeah.”  A giggle escaped your lips as he playfully tackled you, starting yet another round as his hips rolled down against yours.

The next morning, you woke up alone.  The sheets beside you were mussed, though the space James had been occupying was still a bit warm.

Jazz music floated down the hall, through the cracked door, and you could vaguely hear the clinking of pans.

It took you a minute to gather the will to get yourself out of bed and find your robe, but you finally did it.  As your feet hit the ground and you pushed yourself to a stand, you winced.

You had been right about feeling it in your knees.

You forced yourself to walk smoothly down the hall, despite how much it hurt.  Embarrassing yourself in front of James was the last fucking thing you wanted to do.

He was in the kitchen, standing in front of the stove and humming along with the old jazz song playing on the Bluetooth speaker.  He had a pan full of pancake batter in front of him, a whole stack he’d already made on the side.

Standing in the doorway, you couldn’t help but grin as you watched him.  He’s so handsome… and he seemed so at home in your kitchen.  In your home.

Maybe he’d like to move in…

You shook your head, knowing that it’s already too much.

But the thought was nice.

Him in his pajamas, making coffee…  Him in your shower…  Him in your bed every night…  

Yeah.  It’s a really, really nice thought.

“Hi.”

James jumped, his eyes wide as he whirled round to face you.  “Hi.  I thought I had another thirty minutes before I had to go and wake you up,” he said.  “I’m making pancakes.  For you.  For us.”  His cheeks flushed, turning a bright red as he turned back to the pan to quickly flip the pancake.  “I hope you don’t mind that I used your flour and shit…”

“Oh, no, I…  I almost never cook,” you admitted as you moved over to stand next to him, watching as he made two more pancakes.

As he carried the huge plate to the kitchen island, he teasingly grabbed your ass and squeezed.  “Maybe I’ll have to stay the night more often, if only so you get a homemade breakfast.”

It was sweet, and domestic, and somewhat terrifying.

You hadn’t had a man do anything for you like this since you were in your twenties, when your husband was still sweet and loving.

But even so, this was somehow better than anytime your husband made his famous burritos.

Maybe because James’s cooking actually tasted good.

Your first date was to a movie, a drive in.  Something that’s designed to be vintage but really just looked cheesy as all hell.

But it’s perfect.  Perfect and cheesy and romantic.

Your only complaint was that he didn’t kiss you at the door when he dropped you off.  He pressed his lips to your cheek and whispered a goodnight, and that was it.

It took two more dates within the same week for him to kiss you again.

Bright and early on the next Saturday morning, he knocked on your door, holding a bouquet of flowers.

“I figured I should make up for you having to be up so early with this,” he said as he came inside, kissing you quick before moving to put the flowers in a vase.

At this point, he knew your house almost as well as you did.  It felt good, when you two moved around like you were part of a team.

“Have you gotten your coffee this morning?” You asked, already pouring two travel mugs full of the good stuff.

He came up behind you, kissing your shoulder.  “I have, but you know I’ll never say no to more, doll.”

The rest of the group eyed you curiously as you got out of the same car, a few elbow nudges and whispers in the air.

“At least I know no old ass dickheads are gonna come hit on my girlfriend,” James growled in your ear, his calloused flesh hand squeezing your hip.

“Jamie…,” you whined, cheeks flushed in embarrassment.  No one had ever claimed you in such a way that made you feel so desired and… and worthy.

James made you feel worthy.

Which is something you’d only ever really gotten from your daughter.

It sent a bolt of arousal through you, and you were tempted to drag him back to the car so you could bring him right back home and do something about it.

Also…  Girlfriend?  Were you his girlfriend now?  Officially?

That just made you wanna find somewhere to fuck him even more.

But alas, you pushed the thought away as the lot of you boarded one of those white airport vans that took you out of the city to the closest state park.

“It’s beautiful,” you breathed out as you stared out the window, forehead pressed to the cool glass.  The morning air was a bit chillier than it had been lately, signaling the coming onslaught of winter.

Maybe Bucky would wanna make hot cocoa together… go sledding…  Would him, Josephine, and Danny would all come over for Christmas and New Years and—

Would he even want to meet Josephine?

Would Josie wanna meet him?

She had no idea that you’d found a—A boyfriend?

“Not as beautiful as you,” Bucky murmured against the shell of your ear as his vibranium fingers intertwined with yours and squeezed.  His stubble tickled your neck as he rested his head on your shoulder, watching the passing scenery with you.  “I’m really glad I met you, doll…”

“Me, too,” you said, grinning as you squeezed his hand back and leaned your head against his.

It was strange, falling so hard for someone so quick after everything you’d been through.

But you had a gut feeling.  One that you had never had with your ex husband.

James was a good one.  A really, really good one.

That reminded you.

When were you meant to tell him about all the shit you’d been through?

Despite the amount of time you had spent together already, you hadn’t found the courage for it.

Soon, you decided.

But first, you had to get through the damn hike.

Bucky was glued to your side the entire time, even though you were a lot worse at hiking than he was.  He would hold your hand, guiding you anytime there was a fallen tree or a creek.  His blue eyes were soft as he murmured encouragement, quietly praising your every move.

It was intoxicating.

So when you two fell behind from the group, watching them go around a curve and down a hill, you dragged James behind a large rock formation.

“Baby doll?  Darling, what the hell are you doing?” He laughed as you pressed a fierce kiss to his lips.

“Can’t a girl be spontaneous?” You teased as you dropped to your knees, ignoring the way a twig was poking into your left knee.  “Need to taste you.”

His eyes locked on you as you worked at his jeans, getting them down and off, his nails scratching at your scalp as he got a good grip on your head.  “Fuck…  Are you really this needy for me, angel?  Fuck, you’re so god damn gorgeous…  Look at you.”

Your heart pounded against your rib cage as you finally freed his length, a grin on your lips as you wrapped your hand around him and slowly stroked him.

Bucky’s eyes rolled back as your mouth wrapped around the head of his cock.  “Fucking shit…  Good girl…  Suck me off real good, baby.”

The group probably would notice your absence, not that you particularly cared.

Not when you had your man so weak for you.  And all you’d had to do was get on your knees.

His metal and flesh hands guided you to take more of him in, going at a slow pace so as not to hurt you.  He was so big there was no way you’d get all of him down your throat but what you couldn’t take in your mouth, you pleasured with your hands.

Pleasuring your partner like this was addicting.  You’d never felt the desire—no, the incessant need—to please your ex husband.  All you could think about was getting Bucky off, making him feel so good that he couldn’t see or walk straight.

You choked around him as you took him as deep as possible, your eyes glassy.  When you popped off, you stroked him as you moved down to carefully suck at his balls, fighting a grin as he gasped, his hips stuttering.  Before he could orgasm, you took him back in your mouth, wanting to swallow him down.

“Fuck, fuck—  Oh, shit…  Baby—  I’m gonna…  I’m gonna—”  Bucky broke off with a shout as he came, spilling down your throat.  His large hands stroked your cheeks as you swallowed all of it, barring the little bit that had gotten on your lower lip.  “You did so good, darling,” he cooed as he helped you stand, pressing you against the rock behind him as he kissed you.  “Are you okay?  I didn’t hurt you, right?”

“No, you didn’t,” you said, a faint smile on your lips as you helped him put himself back away.  “You were perfect, James…”

When you finally caught up to the group, a few of the others shot you knowing looks.

But Bucky just had a satisfied smirk on his lips, his hand tightly intertwined with yours even as you flushed in embarrassment.

“Once we get home, it’s your turn,” he whispered in your ear as you all headed back for the van.

Your relationship with James was… wonderful.

It was easy in a way you’d never had before.

Within just two months, he was living at your house almost full time, to the point where you’d been thinking about asking him to move in.

It was like you two were magnets.  Even when you both had work to do, you did it in the same room, slowly gravitating towards each other until you were sitting close, your foot running up his calf.

And he’d gotten you to start writing.

“It’s your dream, doll.  You’re never too old to chase your dreams,” he said one night as you two laid in bed.  His metal fingers were tracing shapes on your spine, a chill from the cracked window ruffling his sweaty hair.  “If you don’t mind me asking…  Why did you stop in the first place?”

Ah.

The conversation you’d been avoiding for so long.

Sitting up, you pressed your hands to your face as you tried to find the words to say.  “Um…  I was married before…  I know you know, but, uh…”  Your fingers fiddled together nervously.  You swallowed around the lump in your throat.  “My husband…  He wasn’t…  He wasn’t nice.  At all.”

Bucky immediately sat up behind you, his vibranium hand resting flat on your back to reassure you that he was there, and to give you something to focus on while you spoke.  He didn’t need to speak for you to know.  He was there and he wasn’t running.

“I married him young… and I had Josephine young…  He’d always been so… possessive, but I just considered it protective,” you continued, pulling strength from his touch to keep on going.  You needed to tell him this.  You needed him to understand.  “Then after Josie was born, he started getting violent.  He’d always been mean, but he’d never hit me until after I gave birth…”

James was tense behind you, slowly scooting over so he could wrap his arms around you, his legs resting on either side of yours as he held you.  He needed you close.  Needed to know you were safe in his arms and that man was long gone.

“Put me in the hospital a few times…  He at least didn’t do it in front of Josie.  That’s the one thing I asked of him that he listened to.”  You couldn’t help but snort as you slowly relaxed back against him.  “She always thought all the bruises and shit was just a side effect of how clumsy I am…  But she came home one day during college, to surprise us…  She walked in on him holding a frying pan above his head, about to swing again.  She jumped in between us and told him if he ever touched me again, she’d kill him.”  You let out a breath you hadn’t realized you’d been holding as his lips pressed to your bare shoulder.  It was soothing, feeling his skin against yours.  “She moved me out of that house and into her apartment, helped me get the divorce, get back on my feet…”

“Remind me to tell Josephine thank you,” he said quietly as he squeezed you close.  “Thank you for telling me, doll…  I…  I can’t imagine how hard that was…  But he’ll never touch you again.  No one will ever touch you again if you don’t want it.”

“I know.”

He nuzzled into your hair, breathing in the scent of your shampoo.  “I love you.  So much…”

A peace settled over you as you rested your head back against his, allowing yourself to truly fall into him, to relax.  “And I love you…”

After that night, Bucky slept over at your place five to six nights a week, only going home to get more clothes and do his laundry really, even though you’d told him a million times he could do it at your place.

“Wake up, sweetheart,” he murmured in your ear one morning, pushing your hair away from your face.  “Time to get up…  I’ve got breakfast ready for you…”

Groaning, you tried to pull him down for more cuddle time, but he wasn’t having it.  He always woke up before you, too many years a soldier coming into play.  He’d go for a run and make breakfast before waking you up.

“Come on, doll,” he chuckled, pressing a quick kiss to your lips as he got you to sit up, your vision blurry from sleep still.  “Medicine,” he said, pressing your pills into your palm and putting a glass of water in your other. 

Ever since he’d found out about your prescriptions and how you had a hard time remembering to take them, he’d taken it upon himself to make sure you did, every morning and night without fail.

“What’d you make this morning?” You asked sleepily after swallowing your pills, letting him pull you to your feet.  His t-shirt clung to you as you followed him down the hall.  Your hand was tucked into his as you rounded the corner to the kitchen.

What neither of you had heard was the sound of the front door opening.

“Mama?!  What the hell?!” Josephine demanded, standing in the kitchen with Danny right behind her.  “Who the fuck is this?!  What is he doing here?!”

Oh.

Yeah.

You’d neglected to tell your daughter, afraid of how she might take it.

“Hello.  I’m James.  Or Bucky,” your boyfriend said as he held out his hand to you, clearly unashamed and standing his ground even though he was only wearing a pair of pajama pants.

“What the fuck are you doing here?!” Your daughter repeated angrily, ignoring his hand.

“Josie,” Danny began, trying to soothe her.

But your daughter was nothing but determined when she was in her protective mode.

Before you could open your mouth, Bucky supplied, “I’m her boyfriend.”

You felt a flush coming over you as she stared at the two of you, slack-jawed.  “He is,” you said, wrapping both of your arms around his metal one.  You were so nervous, you were shaking.

“When did this happen?!” She demanded, beginning to pace back and forth around the kitchen.

“Um…  The first meeting at the bar… for the club,” you said.  Seeing her so upset made your anxiety spike, and you knew James could feel it, could hear the way your heart rate increased exponentially.

Josephine whirled on you, her eyes—so much like yours—wide with disbelief.  No.  Betrayal.  “You’ve been seeing someone for almost three months and you didn’t tell me?”

“I…”  Tears pricked your eyes as you tightened your grip on Bucky’s arm.  This was not the way you wanted them meeting to go.  “I was scared… of how you’d react…”

At that moment, Bucky turned to meet your eyes, his forehead almost pressing against yours.  “Darling, I feel like this is a conversation you two should have alone, yeah?  So I’m gonna take—Danny, right?  Yeah—Danny to the living room with some coffee so we can get to know each other, okay?”

After a nod, and a squeeze of his hand, he got two mugs of coffee and led your daughter’s girlfriend to the living room.  You could see them sitting down from the corner of your eyes, but you were much too focused on Josephine.

“Mama, I—”

“I love him,” you said, before she could say anything more.

Her eyes were shining, locked on you as she waited for you to speak.  In her gut, she knew this was something you needed to get out.

“I love him more than I’ve ever loved a man.  More than I loved your father,” you whispered, your voice cracking.  “And I know…  I know you’re as protective as you are because you saw how he treated me.  You saw how much I hid that he was hurting you, but Jamie isn’t like that.”  Your fingers fiddled as you tried to keep yourself from pacing.  “He’s kind and adoring and gentle and…  and he loves me.  More than I thought anyone could ever love me.  And I know you feel like you need to take care of me and I am so grateful.  And I still need you.  Everyday.  But Bucky…  I love him.  I love him and he loves me and we take care of each other.”

Josephine reached out, slowly taking your hands in hers.  “He…  He makes you happy?  He takes care of you and you’re safe?” She asked, voice trembling as a few tears rolled down her cheeks.

“Yeah.  He takes real good care of me,” you insisted with a weak laugh.  “And I’ve never been so happy before, honey.  I promise.”

“Okay…,” she said, taking a deep breath.  “I’m still giving him the shovel talk.”

Bucky looked up as Josephine entered the living room, looking much calmer.  He wasn’t sure what you’d said, but it had seemed to placate her for the time being.

“Can we talk outside?” She asked him, keeping her chin high.

God, she looked so much like you.

He nodded stiffly, getting to his feet and leaving his mug behind as he followed her to the front door and out onto the porch.  The former super soldier watched as she paced back and forth, biting her thumb.  “I’ve heard a lot about you,” he said finally, breaking the silence.

Josie stopped in her tracks, listening quietly.

“Your mama loves you something fierce.”  Nervously rubbing his hands on his pajama pants, he couldn’t remember the last time he’d been so nervous meeting a girl’s family.

Though, he supposed it was a bit different when it was meeting your girlfriend’s daughter.

“And I love her.”

Your daughter, your mini me, stared him directly in the eyes.  “I’m sure she’s told you about my father.  What he did.”

“She did.”

“So you know that if you put one fucking foot out of line, I’ll filet you?”

“I do.”

She eyed him for a long moment.  “What are you in this for?  What’s the long term?” She asked.  “I’ve heard of elders just… settling for someone because they don’t wanna be alone in their twilight years.  Is that what this is?”

Bucky tried really hard not to feel a little bit offended.  He wasn’t that old.  “I’ve been alive since 1917,” he said slowly.  “I have no doubt you know who I am.  But I’ve been alive a hundred and something years, and I’ve never met someone who makes me feel the way your mom does.”  His heart clenched inside his chest as he thought of you, seeing your shy smile in the mornings, how you clung to him when you went out in public, the sound of your voice as you read an excerpt of your writing to him, so nervous about what he would think.  “And I…  I can say that everything I’ve been through…  Everything I’ve ever been through was worth it, because I got to meet her.  And I get to be hers for the years I have left.”

She looked absolutely speechless.  “Good,” she said, coughing to clear her throat.  “Good.  I just…  I can’t see her get hurt again.  Not after everything.”

“Trust me, I don’t plan to,” he said, his mouth dry.  “I…  I actually have something to ask you about…  Been waiting to meet you to talk to you about it…”

Inside, you paced the kitchen and living room, going back and forth and back and forth, sometimes moving to the window to try to hear what they were saying.  But they were keeping it all very hushed.

“It’s gonna be fine, mama,” Danny said, standing up and moving to wrap her arms around you.  “Josie’ll see how much you two love each other, and it’ll be fine.  She’s just gotta have her protective moment.  You know how she is.”

Sniffling, you hugged her tightly.  “I shouldn’t have kept it from her for so long…  I was just so nervous…  They both…  They both mean the world to me.”  You paused, snorting.  “I knew you’d approve of him.  I wasn’t so worried about you.”

“Oh, please, the way that man looked at you?” She said, laughing as she kissed your forehead.  “Mama, there’s no way in hell that man would ever hurt you.  He looks at you like you’re his entire universe.”

Heart warm, you glanced towards the front door, wishing they’d just come inside already.  “I’ve never felt something like this…  But fuck, if the whole shit show that’s my life wasn’t worth it for him…  I wouldn’t change a thing, as long as it means I get to end up with him.”

You broke out of her grasp as the front door opened and they came back inside, looking relaxed and even… happy?  “Well?  You aren’t gonna kill him?” You asked Josie as you moved to James, heart racing.

“Nah…,” she said, giving him what seemed like a secretive smile.  “As far as dads go…  He’d be pretty nice to have.”

“What?” You said, brows furrowing as you looked between the two of them.

Bucky chuckled, winking at Josephine as he led you to the stove where breakfast was still waiting, making you waddle as his arms wrapped around you from behind.  “Don’t worry your pretty head about it, baby doll.  It’s all good.”

You still couldn’t help but feel like the two were planning something as he made your plate for you, cutting up your pancakes and filling up your coffee.  “Why do I feel like you two are gonna end up ganging up on me?”

“Oh, come on, mama,” Josephine said with a smirk on her face.  Her and Danny had made their own plates and joined you and Bucky in the living room.  “How could you ever accuse us of such a thing?”

“Yeah,” James said as he fed you a bite of pancake.  “How could you ever accuse us of such a thing?” He asked, before leaning in and stealing a kiss.  “I love you.”

You’d never felt more relaxed, surrounded by the people you loved the most in the world.  What you’d said to Josephine had been true.

“I love you more,” you said, leaning back in for another kiss.

You’d never been so happy.

[bio-nerds-corner]

Stolen Snacks

heyyyyyyy a new fic :D have some soti, inspired by a ridiculous thought aperson had of someone falling onto a giant like when you drop your phone while reading it onto your face

(tws for hard vore, dehumanization, brief talk of gassing)

A new shipment arrived today. Tommy did as he always did when this came around - plug in his headphones, crank up the music, and try his very best to lose himself in doing something else. It didn’t totally shut out the sounds of cut-off screams and the wet crunch of bone but. It made it a little easier to ignore. 

Worst of all, he had been texting Wilbur about something or another before the box arrived, and Wilbur had just left him with a ‘one sec, foods here’ before he heard the thumps of giant foot falls, the opening of the door, and the careful emptying of struggling bodies into a cage for later snacking. He was too far away to hear the desperate begging from the people, but he certainly wasn’t too far away to miss the first scream. 

Then Wilbur texted him again - ‘sorry, had to grab a bite. what were we talking about again?’ Like the human life that was just cut off gruesomely at his own teeth was just a distraction, not even enough of an event to register in his mind. 

He texted back something quick about needing to get editing a video, that he’d get back to Wilbur later. 

Wilbur replied with a blithe ‘sure thing’ punctuated with another horrible crunch that lodged itself low in Tommy’s brain, curled around his brain stem and hissing at him to run, to flee from the horrible noise. 

He took long shuddering breaths, before closing his messages and pulling up some mindless video to lose himself in.

He was about half way into learning about how some old game’s programming worked and had almost tuned Wilbur’s loud munching out when the giant cursed softly. Even such a small sound was immediately on his radar - something new had happened, and he needed to know if it would affect him. 

There was a tiny thump, then a much louder one, and he could hear scrabbling and hands running through carpet. “Shit,” Wilbur breathed, far too close to the ground. “Where’d it go -”

Then a buzz of a notification on his phone, mercifully silenced by the foam he kept it stationed on. ‘Hey Tommy sorry to bother you but do you know how fast it takes for humans to breed?’

You: ‘what the fuck. why‘

Wil: ‘I just lost one of mine and i want to make sure it doesnt. idk. Start infesting my walls and form a borrower colony and tear my shit apart. ive heard the horror stories.’

Tommy sure did too, though he doubted that his were from quite the same perspective as Wilbur’s. ‘Thats all exaggeration, you only lost one and it takes like. almost a year to reproduce. its probably booked it out of your house at this point anyways.’

Wil: ‘ok thats true. still, feels a little creepy having one of those things running loose around my house. never know if it left or not. Yknow?’

He took a deep breath, clenching his teeth. ‘did you drop it far?’

Wil: ‘kinda? It hit my face on the way down, i think i tasted blood but it mightve been my own’

‘idiot’ was all he really could manage. There was a human who escaped from him, who could be hiding around the house. He knew that he could just leave things be, let his fellow man just figure it all out themselves and either escape or get caught and eaten gruesomely. 

But he knew he couldn’t do that, couldn’t leave someone like that. He needed to find them, see if he can get them out of the house before Wilbur finds them again. 

The thumping and scraping of furniture being checked subsided as Wilbur gave up. He peeked out of the tunnels just in time to see him click the cage shut, the muffled yells and gasps as it was lifted and tucked under Wilbur’s arm, and him leave the room. Now, of all times, was his chance. Immediately Tommy poked his head out of the tunnel, searching desperately under the many furniture pieces in the room and squinting to find the far corners. He realized that this was probably not the best course of action, as if this person could hide from Wilbur’s predatory gaze they definitely could hide from his own, but he was rewarded when a patch of shadow behind a bookcase along the wall his tunnel ran through shivered slightly. 

Tommy glanced around nervously, even though he had already been certain that Wilbur’s footsteps were only getting further away before he dashed out towards the other person. As he drew nearer he hissed out a “hey!” 

The other person flinched hard and swung around to look at him in terror, and he realized he probably used the giants language. He tried to remember one of the languages of the farm he had been raised on, but all he could recall were the tattered scraps of words he and Puffy would use. “You… Safe!” He managed.

The person blinked, before speaking back in low and desperate tones. It was entirely lost on him, though he might’ve heard a ‘where’ in there. He waved his hand, pointing to the tunnel he came from. “You…” he tried to scrounge up anything in his brain that could work. “Here?”

The stranger blinked at him, slowly emerging from the shadow. They were older than Tommy, but not by much. They were clothed in rather uncomfortable-looking garments that made Tommy think of the patient scrubs that he saw in shows about hospitals. They also had a long shallow gash down their cheek where Wilbur’s teeth nicked them, and Tommy didn’t need to know much about medicine to see the fast breathing, pale face, the way that their gaze was already starting to drift despite their best efforts, and know that they were going into shock. 

This is absolutely not the place to do it - he needed to get them to safety. “Here!” He said again, reaching out a hand. The stranger grasped at it desperately, their grip clammy, and he started pulling them out into the open. It took a few tries before they would stop flinching at the open space long enough to be pulled. 

He started chatting softly, with whatever words he could remember in the farm tongue because he knew the giants language would just freak them out further and he really needed them not freaking out. “You safe. Healthy… injury? No. Heal. Heal you.” It was starting to come back a little more, and the stranger was keeping their eyes locked on his. “Safe. Away from giants. Away from…” Shit, what was the word for ‘predators’ or even just ‘danger?’ “... Not-safe?”

The stranger huffed a tiny bit, the first reassuring noise he’d heard from them so far. They were inching along the wall moulding, and he was considering where he had last placed his clean bandages, he needed to patch up the blood before Wilbur started smelling it. He could loan out his bed at least, and he had a good amount of food so the stranger could take some with them. 

“You safe, me safe, us safe,” he continued as a mantra, though he had a feeling that the stranger wasn't really hearing him anymore. They were at least continuing to follow him.

It was as he stepped forward to catch their stumbling that a shape loomed out of open doorway and Tommy knew that his window of reprieve had closed. He no longer had any time to coax the stranger slowly. He looked up at Wilbur, every muscle strained to run.

Wilbur looked back, eyes dilated in surprise. “Tommy you liar,” the giant grumbled, and he felt a bubble to terror burn in his chest until he remembered his earlier text-conversation. “C’mere -” He dragged the stranger forward with hysterical strength as Wilbur strode towards them, pulling the other human who had gone weak with horror towards the tunnel. With an almighty shove he managed to push them in front of him, yelling “go!” as loudly and forcefully as he could muster. The stranger stumbled again, but sprinted as he told them to. 

Tommy felt giant fingers clumsily graze along his back and he ducked into the tunnel just as the other hand slammed down on the ground. He pushed the stranger further into the tunnel as fingers probed the hole, trying to pin down the tiny creatures that hid within.

“Come onnnn~” Wilbur whined. “Maybe I can just-” the fingers retracted, then turned and braced against the wall around it. Tommy didn’t have time to watch as the wall started to flex back, as Wilbur tried to dig out his hiding place, he just kept pushing and shushing the stranger, picking up all of the belongings he could manage in two hands, and made for the deeper tunnels that were a little more out-of-the-way for a giant to break into.

It was only after he had shoved the stranger he had saved into a wooden alcove hidden by a water heater that he let out the long breath he had been holding ever since Wilbur almost - he almost-

(He could’ve been caught today. Such an idiot, such an idiot, probably would’ve crunched down on him like he did everyone else)

The stranger collapsed, and he managed to nudge them away from the open ledge and drape one of the blankets, more lint than cloth at this point, over top of them. They shivered minutely, and tucked themselves into the dusty corner with their head leaning down onto their crossed arms. He wanted to collapse too, or try to scrub out the feeling of the light touch of fingers against his back, or something.

Instead he checked his phone. There were 3 messages he hadn’t responded to.

Wil: ‘tommmyyyy theyre multiplying ive already found another one i swear there must be an infestation somewhere’

Wil: ‘man if they didnt smell so good id just bite the bullet and fumigate. i saw a tunnel and everything. what are those microscopic creatures that can eat through wood again?’

Wil: ‘mice. they must be like mice.’

He managed to type back something with shaky hands.

You: ‘doubt a mouse could make a hole that big’

Wil: ‘human sized mice. what a concept’

You: ‘whatre you going to do with the ones you found?’

The ‘typing’ symbol appeared and disappeared a couple of times over the next few minutes, and by the time the message came through he was shaking in fear, teeth clattering.

Wil: ‘listen tommy i know that youre vegan and all that, honestly dont mind its all good. but if you could smell this one i found, the other one that showed up. im absolutely sure youd change your mind it was so good. im still salivating over it. the kind of smell that you know you gotta savor slowly, you know?’

A pause. Tommy was surprised he wasn't cracking his phone screen with the force he was gripping it.

Wil: ‘maybe i should leave the escaped one alone. hope they breed, give me a whole colony of great smelling snacks.’

He was not going to think about this. Not now, not ever. Wilbur didn’t know, he would never say these things if he had known.

(Wilbur knows what he smells like now. He likes how he smells. He will never get a moment's peace now so long as he continues to be within smelling range.)

He typed back a quick ‘sure wil’ before shutting off his phone from the continued barrage about Wilbur’s new white whale of a prey, swallowing thickly. He needed to think about how close it was today, about the entire branch of the tunnels he would need to totally vacate now, the extra precautions he would need to put up on the others. Maybe Wilbur pulled out an entire chunk of the wall trying to get to him, and that side of the house is entirely unsafe at this point.

Maybe he should just cut his losses and find a new house to live in. Or go wandering and try to find a traveling village to stay with. Sure it's not safe, but where in this world is for a human?

His gaze drifted back to the stranger, who had fallen into a half-asleep haze, fingers worrying the fabric of the blanket. No. He needed to stay. For the fallen snacks, the people he can get to safety. It’s something at least.

He pulled a second blanket over himself, leaning onto the side of the water heater and trying to ignore the sounds of stomping as Wilbur tore the house apart trying to catch him.