#my coloring is usually pretty mellow or water color-y. I want to get used to contrast

[zeb-z]

Final girl Timothy Rand

[dragonsapphic]

cw: drugs / psychedelics

Probably gonna be a long post. Wanted to go over my three experiences using psychedelic mushrooms so far! 🍄💖

🔴 My first trip (little less than 2g) started off a bit uncomfortable, with this sort of rocking back and forth motion like I'm on a boat. I knew from having used weed heavily that I should "give in" to this feeling, so I kinda just closed my eyes and relaxed and tried to allow it to take me. I was sitting there convinced for awhile that I was going to vomit, but that didn't happen.

Once the sickness feeling passed, I was a bit antsy to do something so I decided to play some Overwatch 2. People being trolls or angry didn't really affect me as much as usual, and I kinda just tried to chat and spread good vibes. Eventually I noticed the game looked super "spread out," like the distance between everything seemed much longer than normal. My characters' hands in view felt the same.

That's about when colors started looking REALLY vivid and awesome. I stopped the game and started really enjoying looking at colorful things, like a rainbow worm thing, and a trippy canvas piece I have of my OC, which I discovered is really reactive under a UV light. I became VERY appreciative of art and spent a lot of time just admiring my enamel pin collection or other art pieces. I watched the "Shrimplicity" channel on YouTube, which is just a video of some shrimps with LoFi music... Pretty good.

Spent some time being very introspective, examining myself and the way I respond to things. I felt genuinely bad for people who spend their time getting mad at games and not having the chance to examine themselves like this, but in a calm and accepting way. Overall it felt like a literal vacation from my own mind and physical form, and it seemed to last much longer than it actually did, perhaps even days.

🔴 My second trip wasn't as long or interesting. It was about a week later, I took 2g. I tried taking a bath while tripping and discovered I just did not like it; the water just felt cold to me no matter what, and I felt bored and not particularly interested in anything. I mostly just watched a video of some squids and smoked a bit of weed. It was calm and nice, but also mellow and largely uneventful. I felt in one key moment that the mushrooms "assured me" it would be okay to try tripping again whenever I'd like.

🔴 Third trip, I took 3g. This was only a few days after the previous trip, certainly not ideal, but I trusted the feeling I had when I felt the mushrooms assure me I could try again. Oh my God. I got so high. I wasn't only seeing colors vividly, but shifting colors dramatically, so everything colorful just seemed to have a lazy RGB filter applied to it. There were other texture-y filtures over my vision at times as well.

I had the overwhelmingly strong feeling that there was some kind of entity with me-- the mushroom entity I guess, almost like a god. I really did grasp the concept of religion more than I ever had at this point. The mushroom entity had answers to questions for me that I should not have had the answer to for myself. It seemed to want to look after me, to care for me and make sure I didn't feel alone. I felt very highly sensitive to any touch, as well as the emotions of others. I watched this random driving footage in different cities and I felt like I was looking at buildings for the first time in a totally different mentality, it was pretty wild.

I stayed high for quite awhile and spend a looong time talking with my s/o about different philosophies and worldviews, going from one topic to the next quite quickly if I decided I didn't want to talk about something anymore. It was a really freeing feeling.

Unfortunately I needed to go to sleep for work at this point and was still much more high than I'd expected to get. I tried laying down but closing my eyes was comical; I would clearly see all kinds of random kaleidoscope trippy shit clear in my vision. I had some ambiance playing and it ticked me off. The fan blowing ticked me off. Eventually my s/o had to sleep somewhere else because I just was not going to get to sleep with any sounds in the room at all.

Next day I felt normal. Overall though, REALLY enjoying the experience so far. It's been interesting for me because I have a lot of wildly mysterious shit locked in my psyche and this allows me to explore it and other concepts in such a new way.

Nice job reading all that lol.

[wrienne]

My Cheating, Amnesic Fiancé

Chapter 6: Lies and Pressure

Shoot.

Because it wasn’t as if though he had a famous girlfriend he had been cheating on you, his ex-fiancée, with for who knows how long. And though the amnesia had seemed to make him more mellow - probably because he recognized nobody else but you and therefore clung to that sense of familiarity - you would still not consider him a friend. Also, technically, he was still an idol and probably had an endless sea of fans that adored him in every and any way possible.

So, he was neither eligible nor a friend, in addition to being an idol, and here you were, wallowing in your feelings. Great.

Before you allowed yourself to sleep, you decided to check with Sejin. The man was pacing back and forth in front of the door, and opened his mouth to speak when he spotted you. Immediately, you put a finger across your lips, silencing him.

“He’s finally asleep,” you whispered as you poked your torso through the opening between the door and the frame. “I’ll stay here until morning, but then I need to head to school. I think it’ll be good if someone can be here by then to guard him against nosy journalists or stop him from being all too problematic.”

“I can be here by six-thirty,” said Sejin.

“That will be perfect,” you said. “Thank you.”

“No, thank you,” he said instantly. “I can’t even imagine how the situation would have turned out without you here. The kid is lucky to have someone like you.”

You blushed at the compliment. “I’m just doing what any good friend would do.”

“I thought you said you weren’t friends.”

“It’s a bit more complicated than that,” you admitted hesitantly.

“Are you dating?”

“No!” you blurted, startled by the question. You slipped out of the room and shut the door as gently as you could after you, as not to wake Jungkook. “We’re just… family friends.” This was sounding a bit repetitive even to you now.

Kim Sejin regarded you closely for a beat, but then relaxed. “Good. He already has one girlfriend to take care of. I would have hated to see him grow up into a type of guy to have several women on the side.”

You were tempted to laugh, but managed to rein yourself in. “Agreed.”

“I’ll leave you to it, then.”

You fell asleep almost before you had returned to the vacant hospital bed. Now, your plan had been to wake up before Jungkook and sneak out quietly as not to disturb him. But what you had forgotten from your earliest days of acquaintanceship - sleepovers, yes, there had been numerous of them during your childhood - was his eerie ability to wake up before anyone else. By the time your alarm went off, he was already awake, watching you in the dark.

You yelped.

“Scared you.”

You only barely discerned his smile through the dark. “Stupid,” you grunted as you tried silencing the harsh ringing. “I could have attacked you and injured you even more. Colored your eye to match the splint.”

“Didn’t take you for the fashion-conscious type.”

“You didn’t react to me threatening to throw a punch at you.”

“I know you’re violent,” he replied. “Besides, I know Taekwondo. I would like to see you try.”

His voice was smooth, like a soothing summer eve’s breeze. Or rather, as if he just had drunk from the glass of water standing on the bedside table between the beds. You sounded like a troll, and probably smelled like one, too.

“I know you do,” you grumbled as you sat up and fumbled for the glass. “Now, what did you just say about my fashion sense?”

“You never struck me as someone who cared about his or her appearance, that’s all.”

You downed the glass of water. “‘His or her’? Gee, thanks.”

“You’re welcome. Still tired?”

“Not a morning person,” you answered as you rubbed your eyes. “Why are you so talkative? Didn’t you drink last… er, about six or so hours ago? Shouldn’t you be the sour, surly one?”

“I don’t remember.”

“Did you drink so much you-- oh.”

“Sorry, I forgot to tell you - amnesia is contagious”

“Clever,” you said with a chuckle. “But no, it’s not. I just have a case of bad genes.”

Your body ached as you rose and you stretched. You hadn’t slept in the most optimal position, nor any way near the amount you needed, and your body and mind made sure to remind you of that.

“You were going to try and sneak out without waking me, weren’t you?”

“Yup,” you replied.

“You know you can’t lie to me, right?”

You threw up your hands defensively. “I merely thought you needed to sleep some more.”

“As do you.”

You turned on the lights and immediately found the room flushed with pallid light. You made a face and replied, “I don’t really have the freedom to do so. I have school and then errands to run because of you.”

You hurriedly unplugged your phone and checked the fourteen notifications you had received, thirteen of which were concerned texts from your parents’ driver. The last one was a message from Se-Eun, who wondered if you would pick her up as you usually did Monday mornings. You shrugged on your jacket and purse while replying to both of them. You didn’t think you could make it to Se-Eun’s, however.

“Try to rest, Jungkook,” you said absentmindedly while typing. “Be polite to the doctors and nurses. And eat something while you’re at it.”

“I’m not hungry.”

Just then, a growl erupted from his stomach. You raised an eyebrow at him.

“I won’t sit here, being fed by some stranger who treats me like I’m an infant,” he said sternly, his large brown eyes defiant.

“Just like you won’t wear the hospital gown or follow any other kind of normal hospital regulations?”

“Just like that.”

“You don’t remember you’re a world-famous idol, but you sure do behave like a diva.” You snorted. “Have fun starving until I get back then. I don’t have time to force-feed you right now, but I will later.”

Jungkook snorted, too. You headed toward the door after refilling the glass when he stopped you.

“(Y/N), before you leave…”

You spun around. “Make it qui--”

You felt your chest tighten. He was holding up your engagement ring.

Jungkook had picked it up and kept it after you left him.

“Is this what I think it is?” he asked. “I mean, I don’t know what type of guy I was yesterday, but I don’t think I’d just walk around with gold and diamonds.”

“Maybe a new trend in the K-pop industry?” you managed stiffly.

“It’s too small for me,” he said as he slipped the ring onto his little finger. It stopped halfway down the digit.

You didn’t know what to say. This was your chance to tell him the truth: the two of you had been engaged ever since you were eighteen. But then, he had cheated on you and you had broken the arrangement. You could change all of that now. To be frank, you didn’t hate the idea as much any longer. You were the only person he trusted and, as you had acknowledged a few hours ago, you were starting to actually like him, no matter how scary that felt. And you would fulfill your promise to him - you would help him get through the amnesia.

But you couldn’t get the image of him and Park Yi-Jae out of your head. So even though it hurt more than anything else in the world, more than when you had broken your collarbone falling down a hill, more than all of Hye-Bin’s words and “pranks” combined, you decided to lie.

“There was a girl visiting you earlier,” you began as you felt your hand clutch harder around your phone. “Do you remember her? Slim and pretty, with short, curly brown hair.”

He frowned, but nodded. “Yes, she was just as weird as the guys.”

“You and she were--are in a relationship,” you went on while you inwardly prayed that you sounded convincing. “A romantic relationship. She is your girlfriend, Jungkook.”

“My… girlfriend?” The furrow between his brows deepened. “I don’t remember anything about a girlfriend. What’s her name?”

“Park Yi-Jae,” you replied.

He shook his head. “Nothing.”

“That’s the thing with amnesia,” you said with a voice you hoped sounded light and playful, at least in his ears. “You loved each other very much.”

“So you’ve seen us together?”

You forced yourself not to grit your teeth in anger. “Yes, I have. Just yesterday. You looked very happy together.”

Jungkook didn’t say anything. He simply held your gaze, his eyes trusting yet suspicious.

“If you say so,” he finally said.

“Yeah, well, anyway, I better leave now,” you said as you broke away. “I’ll be back sometime late afternoon with clothes and food. Call your parents if you want to be a bit helpful meanwhile.”

“I will. See you later.”

“Yeah.”

You left before he could add anything to prolong the conversation. You didn’t want to be there any longer. Still, though it pained you, you were proud of yourself. You had chosen the right option.

Yeah, sure you had.

Down by the front desk, you met Kim Sejin while he was purchasing some coffee from an old beverage machine. You doubted he had gotten much sleep, judging by the still present bags underneath his eyes, and gave him a half-hearted smile.

“He’s awake, hungry and probably a bit tense,” you greeted him with. “He’s not exactly convinced about the whole thing, but he has agreed to let me try and help him.”

“I’m afraid I have worse news,” he said grimly. “I spoke with a specialist just now, and he told me there’s a big chance that Jungkook won’t ever regain all of his memories.”

“That's not the worst thing in the world,” you replied, furrowing your brows. “He could have died.”

“Yes but with the situation being the way it is now, I don’t think Jungkook will ever be able to perform again, at least not with the rest of the kids. The director is already considering kicking him out of the group.”

“Why?” you exclaimed. “It’s not like he’s lost a leg or his mind or something - he can still dance or sing or whatever else you need him to do!”

You ignored the sharp look a nurse sent you as she hurried past. You were fuming. Here they were, this large company that probably made a fortune out of these seven guys - out of Jungkook. And they were just dropping him as soon as something - an accident - occurred?

“They just launched their biggest tour yet,” Sejin explained in a calm voice, though he also seemed disappointed. “The company poured a lot of money and planning into this. The boys are supposed to perform on a lot of shows and be on programs as well. But how are we - or anyone at all -  supposed to work with a kid who refuses to cooperate with people he doesn’t know? Who can’t seem to recall a single song or performance with his members? And don’t make it anything personal - the director is desperate not to lose him.”

“But what are you going to do without him?” you wondered. From what you had heard from Se-Eun, Jungkook was one of the most significantly popular members of the group, which probably meant his mere presence generated quite the revenue. And judging by yesterday’s concert, he had the most lines in their songs overall.

“I don’t know,” he muttered, probably considering the same things as you. “They might make it, they might not. Chances are, however, that without Jeon Jungkook, the Bangtan Boys will disintegrate.”

You placed your hand against your forehead and exhaled. You weren’t sure exactly what the idol life consisted of, but you had caught bits and pieces from Se-Eun whenever she rambled with her friends about the group. It wasn’t what you would have chosen to spend your youth doing. It just seemed too risky.

And now, all of Jungkook and his hyungs’ accumulated effort from years of work, promotion and practice could crumble.

His childhood dream could crumble.

“I’ve grown too fond of them to let it end just like this, though.”

You shook your head to clear it from your brief reverie. “What can you do?” you asked, hearing a budding idea in his tone.

“I think I can convince the director to cancel most of the concerts,” said Sejin as he scratched his stubble. “Though it might be a little tricky, it won’t be impossible or detrimental to the company since the money is best in Japan, which is where the tour ends. If the kid could somehow perform by then, I might still have a job tomorrow.”

“But as you said, he can’t and won’t cooperate with anyone,” you pointed out. “Not even with medical personnel.”

Sejin drank from his coffee cup, then grimaced. It had probably gotten cold from all your talking. “The doctor told me there is an unorthodox way of reintroducing memories to a person with any kind of memory loss. Unorthodox because it isn’t scientifically proven and because, more often than not, it fails and proves fruitless.”

“What do I need to do?”

“You really are a great friend,” he said, giving you an odd look of sympathy. “All of this relies on your ability to remind him of his life before the accident. Since you’re the only one he trusts, he might be more receptive to you showing and telling him about the other boys, their music and their performances. All and anything that might cause it to fall in place inside his head.”

“This sounds like a movie trope or something,” you said skeptically.

“As I said, it’s unorthodox. But it’s all we really have. There are no known cures or proper treatments for amnesia.”

“Very well then.” You managed a smile even though you felt the heavy mantle of responsibility weighing your shoulders down. “I’ll try. I have at least until the end of the year on me, right?”

Sejin’s expression fell and he groaned. “Damn it, I forgot you don’t know their schedule like the back of your hand.”

“What is it?” you asked. “What do you mean?”

Tension and trepidation already tightened your throat, but your heart was beating steadily. When you had offered to help Jungkook that night, you had known it would be tough. And as the conversation with Kim Sejin had continued, you had had a feeling that whatever he was going to say would be the opposite of good. Still, you hadn’t lost faith in Jungkook’s recovery. Even now, looking at his manager, you knew it would be bad since his face said as much.

But you had never thought it would be this bad.

“The beginning of the end of their tour starts May 30th. That means you only have a little more than three months to restore him, (Y/N).”

[all1e23]

Between the Stars [Pt. 2]

Pairings: Past!Steve x Reader, Bucky x  Reader

Summary:  Struggling with the death of your husband, you find comfort in someone unexpected.

Series warnings: CHARACTER DEATH. Grief. Overall sadness. Depression. It’s pretty angsty if I’m being honest. Things mellow out as the series goes on. TW: Military/Spouse death

A/N:  This chapter is strictly Bucky’s POV. If you haven’t figured it out yet each chapter is another month since Steve has been gone. It’s a heavy chapter but the whole series is heavy. No beta and it was lightly edited because I was lazy. As always for this series, flashback are italicized. If you like it write a book report, sing me a song or come scream at me.

***My fics are not to be saved or posted on any other sites without my written permission. Reblogs are my jam, though! Thanks!****

“We’ve got two months left. You gonna tell him before we get home or just let him find out after you're gone and really mess with his head?” 

Bucky huffed at the sarcastic tone coloring Sam’s snark. At least Bucky didn’t have to guess what his opinion on the whole situation was. Sam was shouting it loud and clear. Bucky didn’t have much choice regardless of what Sam thought. He let this all go on far too long, and if he didn’t do something, this whole mess would come unraveled and hurt everyone involved. Bucky could deal with the hurt he put on his own heart, but he wouldn’t hurt Steve or Y/n.

This was the only option because Bucky simply couldn’t take it anymore. 

The zipper on Bucky’s rucksack snagged along the way, and Bucky cursed under his breath as the metal teeth stuck leaving the bag half-zipped. He yanked the sides open as best he could and aggressively shoved clean socks, underwear, and shirts into his pack. Thankfully, it wasn’t cold at the moment, so the weight on his back wouldn't be extensive this time around, and according to Steve, it was a short mission. In and out, gather some intel and back in time to lay low until it was time to catch a bird home. 

Going home was the problem, though. 

Bucky could navigate this life. He could handle being a soldier and all that came with it, but being back in the ‘real world’ complicated things, and Bucky had trouble figuring out how to…  exist without bullets flying by his head.

“What do you think is going to happen when you tell him? You’re like his brother, man. He deserves to know that you’re leaving town and the reasons why.” 

Bucky sighed and tossed his ammo pouch down next to his water. Sam and Bucky didn’t always see things eye to eye. It was a bit of give and take, tug of war between the two of them. It usually came down to what things they were willing to say and what they weren’t. Sam liked to talk things through, whereas Bucky would rather let some things die the way they are meant to -- so Bucky said. No need to kick up a fuss when it only ends in three broken hearts with no good reason for it.

“No,” Bucky grunted. “I’m not going to tell Steve, my best friend as you like to remind me repeatedly, that I am in love with his wife and I have to leave because I can’t stand to see them together a second fuckin’ longer. There ain’t no point. Only gonna hurt him and Y/n. It’s easier if I just go.” 

“Easier for who? You didn’t do anything wrong, man. You’ve been in love with her--” 

“Hey!” Steve shouted across tiny space and grinned at the two men sharing whispers. “You boys ready to go? The quicker we get this done, the faster I get to talk to my wife.” 

Bucky watched as Steve tucked a black scarf around his neck, hiding it under his BDU’s and it made Bucky’s stomach twist with something sharp and painful. It was Y/n’s scarf. Bucky knew that. He would recognize it anywhere. Y/n gave Steve one before every tour, and Steve clung to it -- Steve’s good luck charm. Just the sight of the damn thing made Bucky ache. He hated all of this, how he felt. Bucky loathed what he was doing to the two most important people in his life. As much as he wanted to stop, he couldn't. He tried. He tried over and over again. So when Steve mentioned starting a family when they all got back to civilian life, Bucky knew it was time he moved on. 

It wasn’t because he was doing some noble act by allowing the two of them to have a life and family without him interfering. It was purely for him. It was for selfish reasons, and Bucky wasn’t trying to spin it any other way. He had to leave because he couldn’t stand by and watch. 

“It’s easier for everyone. I’ll tell him I’m leaving, but the reason stays between you and me.” 

“Bucky…” 

“Swear on it, Sam. I need to know this doesn’t go past us.” 

Sam sighed but nodded his head. 

“Yeah, okay. It stays between us.”

Sam had been right it turned out.

Bucky should have told Steve the whole truth that day. He deserved to know who Bucky was and what secrets he was hiding from him. Especially after everything they’ve been through. After he asked Bucky to… Bucky shook his head and stared down at the photo in his hand, fifteen years changes a few things. Time adds a bit of wrinkles, a little grey, and maybe a little extra weight, too. Bucky ran his thumb over the photo and shook his head. It all seemed like a lifetime ago. Steve stood next to Bucky, a shy smile on his clean-shaven face and blonde bangs flopped in his eyes. Wasn’t much different from pictures they took not that long ago if he was being honest, only Y/n was on Bucky’s other side, perched on the deck railing and her chin resting on his shoulder. 

He should have been upfront and told Steve what a coward he had for a best friend, and now it was too late to make confessions. 

“What the hell are you doing?”

Bucky looked up over the toe of his boots to find Natasha standing at the foot of his cot, arms crossed and brow arched in the way that said she was disappointed with him. There was a lot to be disappointed by at the moment, so Bucky was unsure what defense he should start with. He tossed the picture on the rickety table next to him and folded his arms behind his head, he was going to play dumb. That was his best chance at getting out of this unscathed. 

“What--” 

“Don’t give that bullshit.”

Okay, that wasn’t going to work. Clearly 

“Have you called Y/n yet? We are set to be airborne in thirty-nine hours, and it’s been two months since the mission. You need to talk to her.” 

That was how Steve was being talked about now. Natasha has refused to say anything else since Steve died. She has called it “the mission” from the moment they came back bloody, broken, and missing a brother.  It had been hard on everyone, but Steve was one of the few people Natasha trusted without a doubt, and she took his loss hard. On the day of Steve’s funeral, Natasha didn’t speak to anyone but somehow ended up with a bottle of scotch and three paper cups. Bucky didn’t ask how she got it. Clint wasn’t about to question the first bit of booze he had seen in over a year. Knowing Natasha Bucky didn’t want to know where it came from and as her superior officer, it was better that he didn’t. 

Not that any of them owed The Army anything anymore. As far as Bucky was concerned, he paid his dues when he watched his best friend bleed out in his arms while he begged Bucky to take care of his wife. 

“I haven’t called her,” Bucky admitted, guilt showing through the tough facade he was putting on. He hadn’t meant to ignore Y/n these past eight weeks. There were roughly thirty unfinished letters wrapped up in his pack, likely to never see the light of day. They were awful and sounded like something you would read in a grief pamphlet. All the things Y/n would hate to hear and every time Bucky reached for the phone to call her, he couldn’t. Bucky didn’t know what to say: I’m sorry. I know I told you I would bring him home and I swore I would protect him with my life, but I didn’t. 

If he could, Bucky would trade places with Steve for Y/n in a heartbeat. It should have been him. It never should have been Steve. Steve was the better half of the pair. Everyone thought so, and Bucky didn’t have someone who loved him waiting on him back home, not the way Steve did. Yeah, his mom and sister would have taken the blow the hardest, but they would have leaned on each other and made it through like they always did. Y/n didn’t have anyone else, and Bucky should have done more to protect her from this. He was standing right there when it happened.  He shouldn’t have walked away and left Steve standing there out in the open--

“You need to talk to her before you go home. At least let her know you’re coming to crash on her couch.” 

“I don’t know what to say to her, Tasha.” 

Natasha stared at him long enough to make him squirm from unease. She had a way of making me feel like an idiot without ever saying a word. Natasha sighed and locked eyes with him, ensuring he wouldn’t look away before she spoke. 

“Tell her you love her for starters.” 

Bucky felt panic rising in his chest. How did she know? Only Sam knew. Sam was the only one that he told all those years ago, he was the only one there the night all went down. Bucky relaxed as she went on, “She’s your closest friend--” 

Natasha doesn’t know you can relax, Bucky repeated to himself a few times until his hands unclenched and his heart rate returned to normal. 

 “--and she doesn’t deserve to be ghosted by one of the few people she has left because you’re awkward with emotions.” 

Bucky knew Natasha was right, but that doesn’t make it any easier. One thing hadn’t changed in the past two months; Bucky was still a coward. 

“Hey, Trouble.” 

Bucky held back his chuckle as he watched Y/n nearly jump out of her skin at the sound of his voice. Once she realized it was merely Bucky she narrowed her eyes, and he could no longer contain his chuckle. Y/n dug an elbow into his ribs, and he feigned a groan for her sake. Bucky leaned against the railing, resting on his elbows and doing everything he could to keep his eyes focused on the water before him, not exactly where he wanted to look. 

He wasn’t sure he could look at her. Not right now. Bucky’s nerves were jumping like a live wire, and he was worried if he saw her pretty eyes staring back at him, he would chicken out. 

“Sorry,” Bucky said, soft and unsure. “I didn’t mean to scare you.” 

That was true. Bucky hadn’t meant to. He only wanted a few minutes alone with her. 

“It’s okay. I’ve seen one too many horror movies. I feel like Jason is going to come up out of the lake or something,” she said with a shiver and instinctively slid closer to Bucky, letting their arms brush against each other. 

Shit, she was adorable when she said things like that. Bucky grinned and leaned his head towards hers with his eyes trained on a piece of driftwood floating nearby. He took a deep breath and whispered in her ear, “I’ll protect you, Y/n. I promise I’ll always protect you.” 

Bucky didn’t know why he said that. That was so utterly stupid. They were friends, and it didn’t matter what he wanted, Y/n never crossed that line or hinted that she wanted him to cross it. He should know better, but then she turned to face him, and the driftwood floating against the black water couldn’t hold his attention a second longer. He swallowed the lump in his throat and watched the way her lip reddened from the friction of her teeth, her eyes were brighter tonight under the moon, and her voice never sounded as sweet.  

"Always saving me. How’d I get so lucky to have a friend like you, Buck?”

That night changed everything between Bucky and Y/n, and his friendship with Steve was never the same. Not that Steve noticed, and maybe Bucky never did either. They’ve been friends for so long, ups and downs came and went through the years, so it wasn’t unusual to go through a few rough patches. Well, they were friends. Steve wasn’t there, and even if he was Bucky doubted, Steve would want him in life. 

Not once he discovered the truth under it all.  

Bucky leaned his head back against the headrest and closed eyes. That night wouldn’t stop playing on repeat. He saw the flames from the bonfire like they were in front of him, he remembered the violet in Y/n’s shirt and the lines on her bathing suit top. He remembered being a chicken, Dot, and every single second that led them all here to this future. There was a heaviness in his heart, and it came from the weight on his lap. Bucky looked down at the stack of envelopes resting on his legs, wrapped with white twine. 

They were meant for him, and every one was written by Steve; Bucky hated him a little for putting that burden on his shoulder. Bucky already had to live with failing him; was that not enough? 

Steve had to ask this of him, too?

Bucky ran his thumb along the worn paper of the envelope. They were covered in dirt, and the ink his name was written in on the front had all but faded away. He wished he could ask Steve when the hell he wrote these letters. If Bucky didn’t know any better, the punk’s been carrying them around since their first tour. It wasn’t fair what Steve was asking of him, and it wasn’t fair to Y/n either. Steve should have left these to Y/n, not to him. Bucky didn’t deserve to have Steve’s last words. 

There wasn’t much that Bucky did deserve, and the little that he did wasn’t anything good. 

Bucky glanced around at his unit surrounding him, and everyone was preoccupied. A few were playing card games, some were telling stories about their families and what their plans were once the plane landed, but the majority were fast asleep. It was as good a time as any to see what this was all about. Bucky took a deep breath and pulled the first letter out of the stack, carefully running his index finger under the flap to loosen the glue. It wasn’t difficult to separate thanks to the age of the glue and delicate paper it was clinging to. 

Clint’s loud cackling laugh startled Bucky enough to make him hesitate when he began to unfold the three pieces of notebook paper in his hand. He eyed the group, making sure they went back to their own little bubbles before he forced his fingers to work. Bucky flatted the pages on his knee and shifted in his seat at the sight of his name in Steve’s handwriting on that top left corner of the yellowed page. Something Bucky never gave much thought about before, but now he wanted to hold onto that little piece of Steve.

It was dumb, but that was all they had left. 

He cleared his throat to rid it of the lump that was rapidly forming and adjusted the hat on his head, pulling it down over his eyes as he leaned forward to rest his elbows on his knees. Not that anyone would dare come over when he looked as he did, it felt as though he needed to hide. Bucky stayed hunched over like that as he read the first of twelve letters. 

Buck, 

I’m not thrilled that you’re reading this. If you are, it means something went wrong, and I’m not going to be making it home. I hope you’re not with me. I hope you’re heading home and taking care of things for me. I know you will. You’ve always been there when I needed you. This time will be no different. 

I bet you’re wondering how this is possible or why I did this. After Y/n, I knew I need some kind of back up plan. I wrote this during our first tour. Remember when I was sitting at the table and refused to tell you who I was writing to? You said I must be writing in my diary. I was writing to you, pal. 

You might have noticed there are twelve. Twelve letters. One a month. I figured it will take about twelve months, maybe more. I hope it doesn't take more than a year from any of you. I don’t want that.

Listen, Buck… I’m writing these because I have a favor to ask, and you’re the only one that can do it. I need you to take care of Y/n, and the letters will help…” 

Well, Bucky certainly deserved this. 

--

The flight was fine, long, but it went by without incident. Everyone was too excited to get home to cause much of a fuss about anything. It had been a long, painful tour, and for most, this was their last. Clint, of course, made a show the second they hit the pavement, fell to his knees, and kissed the tarmac. He wouldn’t admit it, but Bucky knew he burnt his lips. Bucky watched the men and women being greeted by friends and family, his chest tightened, and it felt as if he was being torn apart from the inside. If everything had gone the way it was supposed to, Y/n would be there with one of those silly signs and a tub of cookies. 

Y/n wasn’t there because she had no reason to be, and part of that was Bucky’s fault. 

That fault extended beyond the loss they both were suffering.

Bucky asked his mother and Rebecca to stay home this time around. It wasn’t a secret how badly they wanted to see him, but he wasn’t in the right place to give them the reassurance they needed. They needed to see him, so they knew without a doubt he was home, and he was okay, but he wasn’t. Yeah, he made it back, but a big part of him died out in the desert along with Steve. He wasn’t worthy of some big welcoming party full of tearful kisses and bone-crushing hugs. A quick hello at his mother’s place, in private, would be all he got because Bucky had several promises to keep before he could move on like he had planned.

Being home wasn’t all bad, though. The weight of his mistakes still clung to him, but the air was lighter here, and the sun was brighter without being as hot. The trees rustled in the breeze making his skin prickle at the sound. Bucky had forgotten he liked that sound. There were times like this when Bucky could simply forget. It was as if Steve wasn’t gone. He would be waiting for him when they got home, and the last two months wouldn’t have happened.

Those moments never lasted long; reality was always lurking nearby. 

Bucky stopped on the front porch, letting the thud of his boots sound his arrival. His pack slid off his shoulder and dropped onto the aging wood with a thwack. He took a deep breath and waited. It took longer than he thought it would. Bucky was a minute away from ringing the bell when the screen door creaked, and Y/n stepped out onto the porch, eyes clouded and hesitant, bottom lip sucked between her teeth to keep him from seeing the quiver. She crossed her arms over her chest, using them to guard herself against whatever Bucky had to tell and to ensure he knew she was angry with him. 

Bucky smiled. 

Forced into a new life, but the same girl he left behind was wrapped up in there somewhere. He had no doubt a part of her was gone forever, just like him, but that little piece stuck around, and he was glad. As mad as she was, he hoped she would let him say sorry. He had a lot to apologize for, a broken promise he could never make up for at the top of the list.

“Hey, Trouble,” Bucky said with the faintest of smirks. 

Bucky titled his head to the side, giving her a moment to process that it was really him standing there before him. Y/n’s arms fell to her side, and she threw herself into his waiting arms, hiding her face in his neck where she could finally let out two months' worth of tears and heartache; no one else would be able to carry them the way Bucky could. It turned out, she had missed him as much as he missed her. Bucky lifted her feet off the ground, she was lighter than he remembered, but losing half your heart will do that to you. He tightened his arms around Y/n, letting her feet hover off the ground as he carried her behind the safety of the concrete walls she’s been hiding within.

“It’s all right, Y/n,” Bucky whispered into the dark and empty house that already haunted him. “I got ya. We’re gonna be okay. I promise. I’m home, and we’re gonna be all right.” 

Sorry, and secrets could wait till morning.

Previous // Next 

[fortheloveoffanfic]

The Arrangement

John Wick x Reader (A/n- I have no idea where this is going, but its definitely going. Also, just for some supplemental texture--> John’s townhouse   Y/n’s apartment)

The Arrangement 

Warnings- NSFW/SMUT, dom/sub, vaginal fingering, semi public sex, some angst, John being kind of an asshole.

Sweet Surrender

John leaned back in the dark leather chair positioned behind his mahogany desk, his elbows propped on the upholstered arm rests and his fingers touching at the tips. Besides work, there was a lot of his mind, most of it having to do with Y/n. They weren't his usual thoughts of her though, these were troubling. Something had changed with her and lately, he had been starting to sense that she was unhappy. Y/n hadn’t out-rightly said so, but it was in the little things; she’d stopped offering him details on the life she lived outside of their shared moments and all in all, she wasn’t her typical light, carefree self. 

In the beginning, it was Y/n’s bubbly personality that had attracted him, enthralling him. Before, he’d usually find his women via other means, there had only been a few others and they were all nice enough, good at following orders and fun in bed. But nonetheless, Y/n was certainly his favorite, upon meeting her, John could easily tell that she was a natural submissive and wasn’t thoughtless like those gone by. She didn’t take her role in his life lightly either, and John cared for her in a way that he hadn’t for anyone one else. Which was why it stung to think that he wasn’t doing right by her, their arrangement was supposed to bring them both pleasure, but if he wasn’t doing that for her, then half the purpose was lost. He wondered what had caused her discontent, up until then, he figured that he had been good to Y/n, he took care of her needs; sexual, financial and otherwise, he tried to listen when she needed an ear and always respected her boundaries. 

He’d have to bring it up soon, John wasn’t afraid of addressing it, besides, it was nearing the eleventh month of their first contract, they’d have to discuss whether or not they wanted to renew it or not. Usually, John never renewed them, by the end of the year, he'd often find himself yearning for a fresh face, letting his latest attraction go like dust on wind, but that year it was different and he couldn’t see himself growing tired of Y/n in the foreseeable future. John knew what he wanted, the final decision would have to be Y/n’s. 

“Mr. Wick?” his secretary poked her little brunette head into his office, interrupting his tumultuous thoughts. With a hum and annoyance expertly kept at bay, he glanced up, meeting a pair of clear green eyes. Abigail was just a few years older than Y/n and had been his secretary for going on three years. He could never tell what her angle was though, with all the tight shirts and short skirts, sure she was pretty enough, but it was the kind of beauty John could see himself getting bored of quickly. She didn’t really have much of a defining personality either, very two dimensional and he suspected that she didn’t have much more depth than she offered at face value. She was nothing like Y/n who was intelligent and exciting. “Your one o’clock is here,” even after she delivered her message, Abigail stayed there, still holding the door open.

With a quiet sigh, John sat up straighter, slowly moving to stand, “Is that all Abigail?” He didn’t even spare a minute to look at her, though, he could feel her eyes on him. When she offered a meek yes, finally turning to walk away, he called her back, just remembering something, “Did you finish the draft I asked you to work on?”

After a moment of hesitation, and shuffling her feet childishly, “No, Mr. Wick, I haven’t-”

“How the fuck am I supposed to start the deposition on Monday without it?” He snarled, glaring at her; John absolutely hated excuses, especially when he could tell they were going to be baseless.   Alarmed, Abigail jumped, her face going pale and her eyes glassy. Apologizing profusely, she cast her gaze to the shiny marble floor, but John was too irritated to care. He’d have fired her right on the spot, but he needed someone working his receptionist’s station and for that draft to be finished by the end of the day. So, he’d spare her, for now. “Just….get it done by five,” he’d wanted to leave by four thirty to get ready for dinner later that evening, but he’d spare Abigail the half hour, “And get the hell out of my office.” Without another world, Abigail scurried out and John  finished gathering his materials, almost ready to head to the elevator when his phone vibrated in his pocket.

It was a text from Y/n, and despite himself, he smiled, she never ceased to brighten his day a little. She had sent a picture of the dress she’d purchased for the night, per his request; a short, dusty mauve, chiffon one with a cowl neck and thin straps at the shoulders. Directly below that picture was another of strappy nude stilettos with thin five inch heels, John adored seeing her in high heels, especially those pencil thin, dangerous looking ones. The attachments were followed up by a simple question, “Are these okay?”

John moistened his lips, already able to picture how the outfit would look on Y/n, definitely good enough for him to want to keep her in the bedroom. She had a wonderful sense of style and normally looked good in anything. Usually, John preferred to be there when she shopped, ensuring that she wasn’t worrying about prices and that things like lingerie were suited to his tastes, but in the event that he was unavailable, John had found that she was fine on her own. “Those are perfect,” he sent the text, locking his phone and heading out of his office to the conference room.

John detested Y/n’s apartment. It was small, no, small would be an understatement, it was tiny and if he’d had his way when they were first checking places out for her, John would have seen that she’d gotten something bigger. But, he was deep in lust and Y/n hadn’t been happy with any of the other that the real estate agent took them to. In fact, it had taken almost a month for her to find that place in New York City and, when they had gone to see it, Y/n had instantly fallen in love with the quaint, cool-toned, vintage styled apartment with beige and mellow blue walls, light hardwood floors and white wooden doors that were intentionally made to look faded and unfinished. The decorator that John had hired kept with the natural vintage theme too, adding an old fashioned farm sink, a charming mix of stained marble and tiles on the kitchen counter, homely rugs and even a 1950’s refrigerator solely for aesthetic purposes. Thankfully, the running fridge was integrated and actually from their century. 

As time passed, Y/n had also ensured that her love for houseplants were reflected in her decor too. She had one in every room, always watered and tended to, some growing cheerful flowers while others just maintained a healthy greenness.

Before Y/n had moved in, John had been sure to ask her well over three times if she was sure about her decision, and each time she’d assured him that she was. Y/n had eventually explained that if she lived in something bigger she wouldn’t have a clue on what to do with the extra space, it was just her and Theo anyway.

John stood at Y/n’s door for a minute, searching for her key on his bunch, casually looking up and down the hall. Thankfully, the neighborhood and by extension, the building, was a nice one. Upon finding the right key, John slipped it into the lock, turning twice. As he entered Y/n’s apartment, John called out to her, though, before she could answer, he felt a gentle rubbing on his leg; Theo.

Chuckling, he bent, scooping up the grey Scottish fold. John held the cat to his chest, absently running his fingers affectionately on his soft head, “Where’s your mom?” He asked, already walking towards the living room, earning himself a meow.

“Oh,” Y/n was just hurrying out from the other side of the living room, barefoot and still in her silk lilac robe, though her hair and make up was already done, “John,” her eyes went wide and she looked down in embarrassment, clearly alarmed, “I’m so sorry, I must have heard the time wrong.”

“You didn’t,” he reassured sternly, “I’m early, don’t worry about it,” he waved off her worry, still holding Theo in his arms. John had never been a cat person, but Y/n’s four year old rescue had taken a liking to him upon their first meeting and John at some point, the furry fella had grown on him. 

“Thank you,” she smiled lightly and John offered a faint smile of his own in return, “Theo!” Y/n scolded just realizing that he was in John’s arms, “You’re gonna get cat hair all over John.”

“It’s okay, he just wants a little attention,” John sat himself on her olive colored living room sofa, the length of his legs exaggerated by how low it was, “Go finish getting ready,” he urged and after a brisk nod of compliance, Y/n  hurried off again.

John’s hand was low on Y/n’s back as they followed the hostess to their party’s table in the high end French restaurant. Their table was near an elaborate indoor fountain, beneath a glittering chandelier and as they approached, Y/n could see that a middle aged couple was already seated with a round of drinks. Putting on her best smile, she waited for John to introduce her before offering her hand, “Ellis, Lauren, this is my girlfriend, Y/n.” Her breath hitched excitedly at the word, even if that was the way John always introduced her, it wasn’t like he went around telling people that he had an, by all intents and purposes, a paid for fuck doll. Still, it was enough to feed her hope that one day, maybe in the distant future, he could actually see her as that, as his girlfriend, that the word wouldn’t just be a cover. 

“It’s nice to meet you,” after a moment of bewilderment and obvious hesitation, they took turns shaking her delicate hand, and Y/n did her best to maintain her trained smile; she was used to dealing with snobs anyway.

Even as they introduced themselves; Lauren and Ellis Capeldai, Y/n could see they were judging her; a girl her age, with a nearly middle aged, rich, powerful man? In their minds, Y/n could only be one thing. But alas, she was used to it, and if John had taught her anything, it was that opinions didn’t matter, they were consenting adults, and whatever they did with their personal lives was no one’s but their business.

John pulled out her chair and just as Y/n sat, John did too, immediately engaging conversation with Ellis. They glazed over small talk for a couple minutes, before getting into the specifics of a case; the Capeldais’ owned a private clinic in the city and had recently had a malpractice suit brought against them. Quietly, from her position next to John, she tried to keep up with their conversation, though, she only knew that much when it came to legal and medical jargon; an English degree could only take you that far in certain directions. In fact, the only thing she could deduce was that someone’s relative had died and that John was positive that he could prove that it wasn’t anyone’s fault but the dead patient’s. 

Eventually, it came to the point where the more they spoke, the less Y/n wanted to hear. There was a dirty side to John’s job, or maybe it was just John himself, though Y/n could never bring herself to see him like that, so she blamed it on the trade instead. He was always willing to go the extra mile, or twenty, for his clients, just to make sure that they won, even going those miles meant getting his hands dirty. It was rare for Y/n to see that side of him, the side that he showed clients, that was ruthless and capable of anything in the name of victory and though John’s power and confidence enthralled her, it also scared her.

If he was like that, what else could he be?

Slowly, Y/n retreated into herself, no longer paying any mind to how their conversation unfolded. Working on autopilot, she steered her gaze to the plate before her, using her fork to shift around what was left of her entree, punctuating her movements with the occasional sip of Pinot Noir. Y/n sunk into her own little world until John’s grip held firm on her exposed thigh, his warm breath fanning her ear as he leaned in to whisper, “It’s rude to play with you food darling.” His gravely drawl sent shivers up his spine, “You don’t want to ruin our night by being punished, do you?”

Hastily, Y/n shifted her dilated gaze to meet John’s whiskey pools, the new rosiness in her cheeks brightening her sparsely applied blush, evident to those that sat across from them, “No sir,” she cast her head down out of instinct, “I’m sorry.”

Surely, the Capeldais’ were spectating with intrigue, though, thankfully not hearing a word of John and Y/n’s exchange. “It’s okay,” his rough fingers inched higher, sneaking beneath the hem of Y/n’s dress, “But don’t do it again,” he warned, covering his tracks with a peck on her cheek.

Even when John redirected his attention to his food, his hand still lingered on her upper thigh, slowly working its way further up, his feather light touch ticklish and reflecting in the pooling moisture in her panties. “So Y/n, dear,” Lauren turned to Y/n, her distaste masked under a stiff smile, “What do you do when you’re not being wined and dined by Mr. Wick?” There was malice in her words, Lauren had apparently decided that Y/n was nothing but a gold digger or something of the sort. 

For a moment, Y/n glanced towards John, who cleared his throat loudly, thankfully, opting to answer for her, “Y/n works at a bank, you probably know it; Fraser Holdings,” John gave her leg a reassuring squeeze, and by then, his fingers were close enough to brush her crotch, “It’s where we met actually, I had some business there and she caught my eye.” John was a master of controlling narrative Y/n knew that every word of his explanation was chosen carefully, with the intention of carrying an air of vagueness. Y/n wasn’t ashamed of her job as a secretary, it paid the bills, at least, it used to, and she knew that John probably wasn’t either, but some people just weren’t worth the whole truth. 

“Oh,” Lauren's stiff, condescending smile was apparently permanently plastered to her no doubt Botox infused face, and her nosiness was proving to be relentless, “And how long have you two been dating?” At the question, the graying Mr. Capadali looked up, he too was intrigued by the question.

Just as the query hit the ear, John’s stocky index brushed her lace clad folds. Caught off guard, Y/n jumped, her eyes going wide and breathing an alarmed gasp, her knee made painful contact with the bottom of the table as she crossed her legs, only serving to squeeze John’s hand in place. Again, she looked to him, but that time, he indicated for her to take the question, a slight smirk tugging at his lips, his trimmed scruff hiding it almost perfectly. “Um…” her words wavered as he rubbed gently, just barely grazing her nub with his pointer, the lace of her panties adding extra, effective friction. “We’ve been together for about a year.”

A slight tugging on Y/n’s thigh was enough of an instruction for her to uncross her legs, parting them slightly. Under the security of the pristine white tablecloth, John pushed aside the crotch of her panties, rubbing Y/n’s cilt slowly with the ‘v’ of his index and middle fingers. Once again startled, she glanced his way, but he merely offered. Her swollen bud throbbed beneath his expert touch and Y/n had to hide the moan that threatened to escape her matted-burgundy painted lips with a lengthy drag of her wine. Her breath shuddered as she set the glass down, quickly looking to John, who'd already rekindled conversation with the older couple, seemingly unaffected by her plight.

Her eyes stayed trained on his side profile though her attention waned; John's handsome features blurring as her orbs glazed over with desire. By then, it wasn't hard to identify the distinct pink hue standing out on her otherwise flushed cheeks and the absence of focus was blatant. The more prolonged John's ministrations became, the closer Y/n got to her tipping point. Just out of the corner of her faulty vision, Y/n could see when John carelessly let the fabric napkin fall over his hardened crotch, the creases and haphazardness of the eggshell material masking his hard on. 

Another hitch of her breath came when one of John’s fingers slid further into her drenched heat, her posture, maybe thankfully, not allowing him access to her entrance. Though, John had a solution for everything, no mind how harsh or abrupt it may be, “Well, Ellis, Lauren,” he cleared his throat, pretending to check his watch. A waiter had just cleared their plates and had promised to be back soon with a desert menu, “I think we’ve covered a lot tonight, but Y/n and I have an early start tomorrow,” for the first time in a while, he removed his fingers, dragging them along her inner thigh, messily spreading her slickness. Now hot, bothered and still in the middle of a packed restaurant, Y/n could quickly feel herself growing frustrated at the loss of contact, ready to grab her clutch off its resting place on the table as John signaled a waiter, handing over a business card and requesting that the final bill be sent to his office. Y/n doubted that it was something the establishment regularly did, but there wasn’t a soul willing to deny John Wick. Besides, if he said he was going to pay, there wasn’t a bit of doubt that he wouldn’t. John was a man of his word. 

After they’d bid their companions goodnight and safe travels, John led Y/n out of the restaurant, holding onto her into her light petite coat as the valet brought around his navy Maserati, the dark coat shining even in their dimmed surroundings. John, as Y/n had learnt, was quite the car enthusiast and he’d collected quite a few over the years, enough to supply a small dealership, with almost everything from prized, classic muscle cars and widely adored classics to flashy sports cars and of course, some more sophisticated ones. 

After they’d gotten in, John had tossed her coat to the back seat and then peeled away from the curb, navigating the car onto the busy street, easily weaving through the thinning traffic. Stealing a glace, Y/n found that John’s expression wasn’t readily readable, though, when, not too long after they’d left, he turned into a deserted, poorly lit, damp alleyway between a shady Chinese restaurant and a low grade department store, she got a pretty clear idea of he wanted. “Do you know how fucking sexy you look in that dress babygirl?” His question strained and mumbled as John undid his seat belt and used the lever beneath his seat to push it back a little. Excitement had Y/n breathing heavily, and she didn’t think to answer his question. “Didn’t I ask you something?” He probed roughly, undoing the belt, button and zipper on his black slacks.

“I don’t know,” she breathed, blushing and blinking quickly, her stomach fluttered when John reached over to undo her seat belt, easily manhandling her over the console and into his lap.

“Well let me show you,” he grunted, grabbing her hand and shoving into his undone pants, over his erection, gasping quietly at the distinct firmness overtaking his member, “See what you do to me? This is all you baby,” he whispered harshly, catching her ear lobe between his teeth. 

The alluring aroma of fine wine and musky cologne clouded her senses and Y/n’s breath hitch, the sound quiet, and pitched. “Sir,” she moaned, eyes wide and pupils lust blown as her hand lingered in John’s pants long after he’d stopped applying pressure. 

John trailed feverish kisses down the column of her neck, high on the scent of her perfume, occasionally alternating between lapping his tongue over her vein and nibbling her skin. He was definitely going to leave marks, claiming her as his own. As his mouth ravaged her throat, John fiddled with the thin straps of her dress, letting them slip carelessly down the curve of her shoulders, eventually urging her arms out of them and pushing the top down, exposing her breasts, pushed together enticingly by a simple, cream colored strapless bra. “I want you to ride my cock,” John’s fingers slid up her body, thumbs brushing the smooth, stain covered padding over her nipples, before easily undoing the front clasp and freeing her full, voluptuous breasts, “Now,” he growled, pushing aside the crotch of her flimsy thong, his digits brushing the lips of her swollen, soaked pussy.

With anxious hands, Y/n helped John shove his pants down to the area right above his knees, “Come on,” he slouched further into the leather stead in an instant, John’s hands were up her dress, holding her hips in place as she eased down on him. Feeling how he bottomed out inside her, stretching her tightness so wide it burned, Y/n’s head lolled back, squeezing her eyes shut as her loud moan bounced off the windows. “Move, now,” he managed through his clenched jaw after he’d given Y/n a minute to adjust. 

Desperate, filthy mewls swirled in the heavy air around them, joining John’s languid grunts as his hips rose to meet hers. Each time Y/n came down on him, her bouncing erratic and harsh, her core slapped his balls, rendering loud, wet, perverted sounds. “Sir,” her breathy cries were the only interruptions of her heady noises.

"Fuck," John hissed, just before taking one of her breasts in his mouth, his tongue swirling around her pebbled nipple and one hand sliding up her back, pressing her chest to his face, "Faster," he urged.

Y/n's eager hands slid up John's chest, the material of his grey button up smooth under her palm, his carnal heat seeping through. She settled them beneath the lapels of his tailored, black blazer, bunching the fabric up in her fingers as she quickened her pace with renewed vigor. 

The tinted windows around them fogged over and the purring of the engine fell on deaf ears. John could feel her nails digging into his skin, even through his shirt and the throbbing veins running up his shaft offered Y/n an irresistible friction. Every time she came up, only to sink back down on him, John’s swollen tip reaching her end, Y/n could feel herself drawing closer to the edge. “Please,” she whimpered, pleading for John to permit her release.

John’s hips  jerked upwards to slam into Y/n’s center, the remaining hand caught under her dress now aggressively squeezing and kneading her ass. The other violently grabbed a fistful of her head, rearing her head further back so John could ravish her neck without resistance, “Do it,” he commanded between skin pulling bites, “I want to feel your cunt squeezing my cock. You’re my little bitch and I need to feel you cum.”

Before long, Y/n was shuddering; her legs straddling John stiffening and her pussy convulsing as warm juices gushed from her center. Her gasps were broken and her breaths ragged as Y/n’s eyes rolled back and her hold on John’s now wrinkled shirt loosened. With a slackened jaw, the rest of her body went limp and John was the one still moving, though, his thrusts rigid. 

The feeling of Y/n milking his cock entwined by the ecstasy that always accompanied being buried deep inside her was pleasurably unmatched and soon, John was following her to release, “Fuck Y/n,” he sputtered, slowing his movement as he spurted bursts of hot seed inside of her, their products mixing as it seeped out, coating Y/n’s thighs and dripping onto his.

It took awhile for their breaths to slow and for any sense of coherence to make its way back into the stilling running car, and even after; they lingered, John’s now flaccid cock still cocooned in her settled center. When he finally guided her off him, John used tissues from the glove compartment to clean Y/n up as she still sat in his lap, and she let him readjust her dress, forgoing her bra, instead just pulling the straps over her arms. When he set her back in the passenger seat, Y/n winced, though she wasn’t half as sore as she’d usually be after sessions with John, when he had more room and time to work with. In fact, hot, spontaneous moments like that one were rare, which arguably only made them more enjoyable.

Except, that night, as Y/n silently watched John clean himself up, his expression stoic, as it typically was, she couldn’t help but feel a little dirty, and not just in a physical way. That dinner hadn’t been her best one with him, she didn’t particularly enjoy seeing him as the villain, willing to desecrate the name of a dead man. Logically, she knew that it was the job, and someone had to do it, but being that good at it? It took guts and a certain kind of coldness that frightened her. 

And then, of course, there was the typical issue of their otherwise unattached status. Because, as scary as John was when he was in his element, she still found herself falling deeper and deeper in love with him, which wasn’t exactly ideal, considering the more she fell, the more it hurt when she remembered that she was just his sub. It was confusing, but mostly it hurt.

The drive back to Y/n’s place was without conversation, though, when John parked on the curb and Y/n had gathered her stuff, namely her purse with generous bits of her bra sticking out the top and her coat draped over it, John grabbed her leg before she could get out, “Do you have vacation days?”

“Yes,” she nodded firmly, intrigued though not daring to say anything further.

“How many?” John’s eyes were void of anything telling and he wasn’t going to give her more without Y/n’s compliance.

“A month.”

“Good,” John reclaimed his hand, immediately fishing his phone out of his pocket, unlocking it and his fingers going to dance on the unlocked, brightened screen. He didn’t look at her again, leaving her bewildered as he came out and jogged to her side, opening the door for her. John helped her out of the car, and with a hand low on her back, he walked to the front double doors of the building, holding one side open but making no move to go in himself. “I want you to take two weeks,” he said, putting his cell away, “I’m taking you to a summer home in North Carolina. Abigail will book a jet for Sunday afternoon, call your boss and tell him you won’t be in on Monday,” and before Y/n could protest that she actually needed to give H.R. a month’s notice, John intervened, “If he gives you any trouble, let me know and I'll talk to him, okay?” By ‘talk to him’, it was quite possible that he meant bullying her boss into giving her the time off without consequence.

“Yes,” her lips quivered in surprise, and Y/n nodded again, “Okay.”

“Okay,” John repeated, stiffly reaching across to peck the side of her lips, “I’ll send you the flight details, and I’ll taking you shopping tomorrow afternoon,” when Y/n agreed, they exchanged pleasant good-nights and John finally let Y/n go, secretly hoping that their trip would do them both some good in terms of their upcoming discussion. 

******

Tagging- @harrisongslimited @magnificentclodpiebanana   @keandrews @greenmanalishi  @rdjloverxxx​  @danceoftwowolves​

[maknaesdancersrappers]

eating for two.

special chapter to the baby dont stop series

warning/s: suggestive (mutual masturbation)

It’s been a year and a half of being married the one and only love of your life and it’s been nothing but a dream come true.

Both of you fell into a routine of waking up together, Taeyong would cook breakfast for both of you while you take a shower. Eating together and then he takes his turn in the bathroom while you do the dishes.

You work at the same company; the same nine-to-five office job, but at just different departments. After work and going home, you’re in charge of dinner and he’ll be the one to clean up.

And of course, depending on how draining the day was, you end the night by making love; relieving each other of the stress from work, reminding each other of your love, or as you’re secretly hoping for; making a baby.

Taeyong is in no rush to have a kid, and you’re not either, but it would be nice to have a mini you and/or mini him running around soon. You’ve been long off your birth control and investing in a lot of skincare to keep your hormonal acne in check when your period comes around. At one point, you’re starting to think one of you could be infertile at how you’re still not able to get pregnant. You even made sure to go rounds after rounds on the day you’re period tracker tells you you’re on your ovulation period.

And then it happens.

One early morning, you woke up feeling sick and ran to bathroom to throw up. You don’t want to jump to conclusions, but as you’re trying to find reasons as to why you’re heaving the contents of your stomach into the toilet bowl, you just couldn’t think of any. Your period isn’t due until next week either.

Taeyong was at a small gathering last night with friends and had a drink too many that he’s completely wiped out; he didn’t even budge when you threw his arm off of you to run to the bathroom. As you tuck yourself back in his arms, you decide not to tell him first, just in case it was a false alarm.

You’re incredibly careful at purchasing multiple pregnancy tests and hiding them where he doesn’t usually check - which is almost close to impossible because he does a lot of cleaning around the house, too, so you couldn’t store it away in the storage cabinet. You would hide it where you keep your pads and tampons, but it’s beside the hair dryer both of you use from time to time. You ended up hiding it in your underwear drawer because you’re pretty sure he doesn’t have some weird kink with panties that makes him go through them or sniff them or anything. hopefully

Another thing you had to worry about was how you were going to take the tests and wait for the results without Taeyong wondering why you’re taking too long in the bathroom. Luckily for you, he was chosen by his department head to accompany him to an out of town trip. It was a an overnight trip but it’s more than enough for you to take the tests.

“Have a safe trip, baby,” You adjust your purse on your arm before kissing his cheek. It was Friday night and they were traveling tonight to attend the conference tomorrow noon instead of waiting for the wee hours of the morning to set off.

Taeyong kisses you back on your forehead after he hands you the car keys. “You, too. Double check the locks before you go to sleep, okay?”

“Okay, dad.” You roll your eyes, but you almost blush because he could very well be one in a few months.

“You’ll be gone for a day, Lee. We’ll be back by the evening.” His department head, Mr. Shim Changmin, approaches both of you. “It’s good to have a little solo time, too, in marriages.”

You bow your head at him as he’s still one of your superiors. “Of course. I’ll be maximizing my ‘me time’ this weekend.”

“I got you a few bath bombs to try.” Taeyong informs you, running his hand down your back. “They’re in the cabinet below the sink.”

“Aw, thanks.” You debate for a second whether or not to give him a peck since his superior was right there but Mr. Shim receives a call and he excuses himself to pick it up, allowing you to quickly kiss Taeyong’s cheek. “I’ll try it to tomorrow... do you want pics?”

You say it low enough for him to hear and it immediately brings a bright red tinge on his cheeks. He chuckles, licking his lips, “Well, I’d have to proof that you’re using it, don’t I?”

His hands are itching to tickle your waist, but you’re quick to pull away. “Then I will. I should go ahead, traffic will be piling up soon.”

“Take care. I’ll miss you.”

“I’ll miss you, too. Text me when you arrive at your hotel, okay?” With one last kiss, you head home. You order food for dinner; too anxious to cook and while waiting for it, took all the pregnancy tests and lined them up on the bathroom counter.

As you wait for the results, pacing back and forth outside the bathroom; your food arrives and for thirty minutes you genuinely forgot about the tests until you had to go in wash up for bed.

You’re looking at the tests, double checking the back of their packages about what the lines and colors mean. And all of them say the same thing: positive. You’re pregnant. You wanted to cry out of joy; there’s life in your belly, a little mix of you and Taeyong. Despite the numerous tests that tell you you’re pregnant, you wanted to be extra sure and planned to go to your doctor as soon as her office opens tomorrow morning.

As you lie down for the night, the bed too spacious for your liking as Taeyong’s spot is empty, you curl up on your side and place a hand on your stomach. You know you’ve been waiting and hoping for it, but you can’t believe a baby is growing in your womb right now. You’re trying not to think ahead of it like what the gender could possibly be or what his/her name is, you’re just glad you don’t have to worry about Taeyong taking the news since you knew he wants to have a kid just as much as you do.

And as if on cue, your phone rings.

“Hey, baby, I just got to my room at my hotel.” His voice fills the room as you put his call on speaker. “Are you in bed? Did I wake you up?”

“Not at all, I just got in.” You hum, fighting off the urge to tell him the news. “Before you ask, yes, I did double check the locks. They’re closed and I’m safe.”

“Good.” He chuckles. You could hear clothes rustling and you’re guessing he’s changing out of them. “What did you have for dinner?”

“I ordered some pork cutlets and jjajangmyeon. Have you eaten?”

“We ate at a Chinese restaurant before checking in. I just had noodles and some dumplings.”

Maybe it’s all in your head or maybe it’s your pregnancy talking, but you’re suddenly craving for some soup dumplings. “That sounds good. Maybe I’ll have Chinese takeout tomorrow for lunch.”

He laughs at this, “Are you really not going to cook for yourself at all while I’m gone?”

“I will, it’s just that I don’t want to cook if my husband isn’t here to eat and compliment it.” You sigh, “I already miss you.”

“I miss you, too... are you okay?”

“Yeah. What makes you think otherwise?”

“I didn’t mean you weren’t, it’s just that... you sound different? A little dreamy? Mellow?”

“Oh... well, I did just have a nice hot shower.” You lied, “So I’m relaxed and ready for bed.”

“We should both get to sleep then, huh? Good night, baby, sweet dreams.”

“Good night, love. Sweet dreams.”

The following morning, you spend a good half an hour vomiting into your toilet bowl and the other half trying to look for something to eat that isn’t triggering you to run back into the bathroom once its’ scent hits your nostrils after calling up your doctor for an immediate appointment.

In the next hour, you’re already at the clinic; texting Taeyong and pretending to be out on an errand like grocery shopping before going through the check up with your doctor.

“Congratulations, [Y/N]. You’re definitely pregnant, about 7 weeks in.” She smiles up at you as she points out the fetus through the monitor of the ultrasound.

You have a photo taken of the ultrasound and after scheduling more check ups with your doctor and going through a list of the things you are now not allowed to do and things you should do as pregnant woman, you head back home.

You decided to run a bath, trying to decide how to tell Taeyong when he gets home. You remembered the bath bombs he told you about and took them out of the cabinet, choosing a lavender scented one. Grabbing your phone, you take a video of you dropping the bath bomb it and letting it bubble up for a good minute before sending it to Taeyong.

Almost immediately, he replies, “You’re lucky we just got back from brunch.”

It’s around 10:30 and you know the conference is at noon so you know he has time to spare. You shed off your clothes and step into the bath, sinking into warm water with a moan. You keep one arm out of the water to dial your husband and wait for the video call to connect.

Once it does, you hear the shower running on his end of the call and you see him trying to look for a place to put his phone up on. “How’s the bath bomb?”

“It smells amazing.” You show the lavender colored water; not even shy about how your breasts were on full display. “I wish you were here. We should try the rose one when you get back later.”

“I’m looking forward to it.” He sighs. You watch him step back into the cascading water, biting down on your lower lip when he tilts his head back to expose his throat to you. It was a little annoying how the camera just cut off below his abdomen; barely showing the base of his cock. “What did you get from the grocery?”

“Hm?” You’re confused for a second until you realized that was the excuse you gave him when you were at your doctor. “Oh, just a few fruits and snacks. I wanted cupcakes, though, so I might go back out later.”

“Can you get me some, too?” He looks back at you through the camera.

“Sure.”

“What are you doing after?”

You sit back against the tub after resting your phone on a stand, massaging your arms with the scented water. “I might lounge around after lunch, maybe clean up the house a bit.”

He’s washed up his hair as you tell them this, rinsing off the suds and reaching for his body wash. As he squirts it into his hand and begins to lather it, he asks, “Can I see you, baby?”

You hum, “Hm? Can’t you see me now?”

“All of you, baby.”

Oh. You sit up a bit to move your phone to the other end of the bathtub, directly across you, and move to lean back. You part your legs, making sure he can see your everything even through the colored water.

Twenty minutes later, the video call ended. He’s satisfied, you’re satisfied, the water’s cold now but your body still feels hot. When you get out of the bath and dress for the rest of day after you dry off, you feel giddy. You’re so excited to tell Taeyong about the baby and you have an inkling on how you were going to announce it to him.

After lunch and lounging around, you head back out to your favorite bakery around six to pick up a few cupcakes and drove through a fast food chain at the sudden craving for something greasy even though you marinated some meat to cook for dinner.

Back in your home, as you munched on nuggets with one hand while cradling a double pattied burger with the other, you keep eyeing the cupcakes on the kitchen counter and hope everything goes to plan and Taeyong would understand what you mean.

Taeyong announces he’s home around ten and you’re running up to him a like giddy little child, jumping into his arms and peppering his face with kisses. “Did you miss me that much?”

“I’ve been wanting to eat the cupcakes all night, but I wanted to wait for you.” You confess, which is actually true. Aside from wanting to reveal the pregnancy, all the salt and grease from your dinner needed to be washed down with something sweet - you would have opted for wine, but obviously, you weren’t allowed to.

He sets his bags aside and laughs, letting you lead him to the kitchen, “You didn’t have to wait. I was planning to eat it tomorrow.”

You stop and turn to him with a frown - almost pout - on your face, “After I waited hours so I could enjoy these cupcakes with you?”

“I’m kidding! What flavors did you get?”

Pulling the box of cupcakes across the countertop, you open up the lid, “Vanilla, chocolate, and red velvet. Which one do you want?”

He hums, resting a hand on your hip and pulling you close, “Chocolate.”

You hand it to him and as he peels the paper off, you drag the remaining cupcakes towards you, “That’s yours and these are mine.”

You’re hoping he comments about it, jokingly or even passively, and he does; giving you a pout, “Why do you get two?”

You inhale deeply, looking at the cupcakes - and although seeing them up close and catching a whiff of its sickeningly sweet scent makes you want to hurl - you shrug as casually as you can, “Because I’m eating for two now.”

“Ah.” He nods, about to take a bite until he suddenly stops, mouth agape and cupcake suspended inches from his lips. He looks back at you, “You’re what?”

“Eating for two.” You repeat, swallowing your saliva. “D-do you understand what that means?”

He blinks at you for a while, gaze dropping to your stomach, and then back up at you. He puts the cupcake down and stares at you for a few more seconds. “Are you pregnant?”

You smile, nodding vigorously. 

“I-” He grins, pulling you by your waist and looking back down at your midsection, “This isn’t a joke? You’re serious? I’m going to be a dad?”

“You’re going to be dad.” You confirm with a little giggle at how his eyes are just wide and sparkling.

“We’re going to be parents?” He asks once more and you’re laughing, answering his question with another nod. He picks you up, hugging you tightly and squealing along with you. “When did you find out?”

As he sets you down, you shrugged, “I felt sick the other day and I took pregnancy tests last night - they all came back positive.”

“Last night? And you didn’t tell me?”

“I had to make sure! So I went to my doctor and-” You flinch, internally scolding yourself for forgetting about the sonograph in your purse. You run over to it and Taeyong curiously follows after you. “I wanted to be very, very, very sure that I was pregnant before I told you.”

“Is this our baby?” He takes the picture from your hands and you quickly show him as what your doctor had said. “I can’t believe this.”

“Do you think we’re ready to have kids?”

He puts the photo down and takes your hands, “I do... and if we’re not, we have months to prepare.”

“Are you ready to have fat, bloated, and moody wife?” You half-joked, pursing your lips at the thought of your belly swelling up in the next few months.

“No, because I will always only have a beautiful, loving, deserving wife.” He kisses you with each description, “I couldn’t have asked for anyone else to be a mother of my child.” 

“Alright.” You roll your eyes before gazing back into his eyes, “I love you.”

He scrunches his nose and gives you an eskimo kiss, eliciting a little laugh from you. “I love you, too.”

bonus end scene:

“Wait,” You pull away from him all of a sudden, your hair disheveled and clothes gone.

Taeyong drops his head to the bed and blinks up at you, out of breath, “What?”

“I have to call you daddy before our kids do.”

“O-okay? But... in what context-”

“As in, I’ve been really, really bad while you were gone, daddy. I need to be punished.” You say in your best sultry voice, tracing the tip of your finger down his abdomen. “I’m sorry, daddy.”

He lets out a little scoff, quickly turning your positions around, “Is that so?”

[tannertravelslife]

Oaxaca, Oaxaca !

Two weeks spent backpacking through Mexico.

I started my trip flying from Los Angeles to Mexico City. When I arrived in Mexico, I stayed overnight in a pod hotel. They’re super convenient and cost effective, but they obviously lack most of the amenities you would find in a regular hotel or hostel. All I needed was a place to sleep that wasn’t an airport bench, and early the next morning I was on my way to Puerto Escondido. The Koffi Boys were already staying at a hostel within walking distance from the airport, called La Escondida. Definitely a step up from the simple design of the pod hotel, costing only 170 pesos (10 USD) for a night’s stay. Like most hostels, the sleeping situation is a bunkhouse-style shared dorm, (we opted for no air conditioning). In the mornings the hostel provides a small breakfast, and guests have access to two kitchens for cooking their own meals. Hostels are great if you’re up for socializing, plus you can experience the cooking and cultures of all those just passing through. Overall the vibe was very relaxed. There are other spaces besides the kitchens to hang around with fellow hostel-stayers, like the terrace and bar area. Venturing out of the hostel, downtown Puerto Escondido is less congested with fancy restaurants and bars, and more home-y in a way that feels “authentic”. La Punta and Zicatela are trendier and popular with transient visitors, and likely for a good reason, but to me they also seemed more commoditized. I generally prefer to travel a bit more immersively, but if a hip atmosphere appeals to you, check it out. 

Highlights in Puerto -

Vegetarian eats at Cocofam

This little restaurant is family-run, located right in the backyard. The food was incredible, the drinks were delicious. The menu is limited, but it’s absolutely worth checking out if you have a restricted diet (or even if you don’t)

Jugo across from the hostel

The juice spot nearby was only open until early afternoon each day and was always packed. My buddies and I would grab a drink in the morning (about 32 ounces) before we got on with our day. I recommend the “Surf Juice”.

Playa Coral

This is a “secret” beach, meaning you have to climb under a fence and hike down a trail to access it, or at least that’s how we got there. When you get down to the water, you’ll find it’s a cool and secluded spot without many people, right in front of an abandoned water park. Because it’s a bit isolated, there aren’t any options for food along the beach, so bring a picnic and watch the sunset. Just be out before it gets too dark, as the pathway down is not lit. 

Playa Carazillo

If you’re not up for making your way down an unpaved trail to get to a beach, this is a more popular and easily accessible spot. If you’re into surfing, there’s usually some decent ankle busters for beginners (the locals can be a bit territorial with their spots, so don’t expect to catch the best ever waves). Snorkeling near the shore was pretty sweet-- I even saw a few sea turtles. Playa Carazillo has the bluest waters, and is definitely a good place to spend a day. You can even rent a chair with some shade for a few bucks, and grab some grub too.

The Road to San Jose del Pacifico

After 4 days on the beaches of Puerto Escondido, we started heading towards the more mountainous San Jose del Pacifico. The town is about halfway between Puerto and Oaxaca City, tucked away in the Sierra Madre del Sur. It’s often called “magical”, both because of its beauty and because of the wild psychedelic mushrooms that grow there. These ‘shrooms are essentially decriminalized, and are sold basically everywhere, commonly preserved in honey. 

In Puerto, we left La Escondida to catch a local bus to Pochutla, about an hour and a half’s ride. The price was ~20 pesos each. ( 1 USD )  A very easy trip. The next leg of the journey was a slightly different story. From Pochutla, we bought tickets for a colectivo bus for about 150 pesos. This vehicle was absolutely nuts. The odometer read 9999999, the dash was lit up like a Christmas tree, and our driver did a quick sign of the cross as we departed. The ride up is a would-be nightmare for anyone who might be even a little hungover; the road twists and turns and winds around the mountains with very little space between the edge of the pavement and the edge of the cliff. Mads and I were practically sitting in the driver’s lap-- we kept joking that I could have grabbed the wheel and steered us off the mountain if I had wanted to. Despite sitting in the front and NOT being hungover, we still experienced a bit of carsickness. All in all, we nearly crashed only a handful of times in this uphill battle, and made it to our destination in a little over 4 stomach-churning hours. No shade directed at the bus driver; this man was truly a hero with nerves of absolute steel, steering us to victory. On arriving in San Jose del Pacifico, we walked about a half mile to our “hostel”, La Cumbre. I put “hostel” in heavy quotes, because for 150 pesos each we were treated to a private room with two queen sized beds and a desk. 

We spent two days relaxing in this mountain haven, venturing into town to eat at a local restaurant. Most meals were in the range of 35-60 pesos (about 2-3 USD). Being so high in the mountains, the evenings can get cold, and we each had 2-3 hot chocolates in the evening to keep us warm and wind us down. San Jose del Pacifico is mellow, and the best way to enjoy the town is by wandering through the streets and enjoying the views. You can also opt to trip on shrooms, if that’s your style. Relax and enjoy yourself. Two nights reading on the terrace of La Cumbre sipping chocolate, overlooking the restaurant near the hostel was good. We had some joyful conversations with other travellers around a firepit, which for 50 pesos could be lit and maintained by the restaurant staff. When it was time to move on to Oaxaca City, we bought colectivo tickets through the same company as we did on the way up. We weren’t elbow to elbow with the driver this time, but the 4-hour trip down the mountain was not nearly as harrowing. 

Just as a side note, a two hour hike from San Jose is San Mateo, which we heard is an even smaller, hippier town. We attempted to hike there, but got twisted around and ended up turning back. If you end up making it there, let me know how it is. The folks we met from the area told us it’s an off-the-beaten path, off-the-grid, psychedelic experience. 

Oaxaca City

We arrived in the afternoon and walked leisurely from the bus stop to Hostal Chocolate. The woman at the front desk told us the only beds available were in the basement, 110 pesos a night. We checked them out, and she was definitely right to give us a heads up. We decided that it wouldn’t be the most questionable thing we’d done in Mexico though, and agreed to stay. After a night, we met up with the rest of our party of 7 and checked into an Airbnb, which we stayed in for 5 days and was much more pleasant. I spent my time in Oaxaca City wandering the market places, beautiful churches, museums , and art spaces that this city has to offer. The grass roots scene for press print style artwork is huge here, and any of the studios will be happy to explain the process to you in spanglish. We took a free 3 hour walking tour and that helped us kind of get a lay of the land, pointing out some local hot spots. I am always a fan of taking the walking tour just to see what you can get out of it, usually some local spots and at the end you feel like you have a grasp on the town.  

Things to see -

Ethnobotanical Garden and Santo Domingo Cultural Museum. 

These two are located directly next to each other and are some of the most iconic landmarks in the city. It takes about 2 hours to see the museum in its entirety, but don’t rush it. It’s chock full of history, including the discovery of Tomb 7 at Monte Alban. Plan ahead so you can experience the cultural museum before the White Mountain and understand the history of everything you’ll see. The Ethnobotanical Garden is full of native plant life that is endemic to the region, meaning many of the plants are not found anywhere else on Earth. They offer a guided tour for 50 pesos in Spanish, or 100 pesos in English. If you’re looking to take some pics for Instagram, this is a good place. 

Monte Alban

A round trip bus trip to the heritage site will cost 80 pesos, and can be purchased on the west side of the Zocalo. Meet the bus driver in the morning and they'll drop you off at 9 AM. Pick-up is at noon, so you have 3 hours to take it all in. The entry fee to the mountain is another 80 pesos, but I almost recommend spending some additional money on a tour guide. There is so much to see, and having someone to guide you through the rich history may have enriched our experience. Even without, it was a humbling and beautiful place, and amazing to see the architecture of the Zapoteca still standing after centuries. 

Mercado 20 de Noviembre

It doesn’t actually have to be the 20th of November to visit this market; it’s named for the date of the Mexican Revolution. The market itself is a celebration of Mexican culture and cuisine, a deluge of smells and sights. It’s full of knick-knacks but the focus is really on the sizzling meat all around you. Everything you could ever want to eat all packed into the one market (as long as you like carne asada). 

Bolenc 

Sourdough bakery and restaurant-y deli-y place with awesome sandwiches and pizza.

Hierba Dulce

Vegetarian and vegan restaurant serving traditional Oaxacan dishes with a twist

Calle Porfirio Diaz

This bustling street is lined with hip restaurants and shops. 

Zocalo The city center square, full of shops and restaurants. 

La Cosecha

An organic harvest market filled with rich history, fresh juice, and many shops. 

Mexico, and more specifically the state of Oaxaca is a rich blast of culture waiting to be taken in. An assortment of indigenous culture paired with an array of bright primary colors everywhere you look make it hard not to have a smile on your face at all times. I reflected on my trip when I returned to my fast paced life in Los Angeles and quickly missed those cobblestone streets, siestas, and easy afternoons spent in Oaxaca. The emphasis on a happy life and much time spent with family and friends is infectiones, and I wish more people prioritized these things back here in the land of the 9-5. I look forward to returning to Oaxaca someday, and exploring the rest of what Mexico has to offer. 

Click here to receive a free copy of Oaxaca, Oaxaca ! A 16 page zine filled with 35mm photos from my trip. Just enter your name and address.

[imsvg]

Finding You chapter 4: finding

Fandom: Hibike! Euphonium/Sound! Euphonium Pairings:  Kumiko/Reina; Natsuki/Yuuko; implied Asuka/Kaori/Haruka; Nozomi/Mizore; Hazuki/Shuuichi Summary:  Two years have passed since Reina left after their second-year. Two years have passed and Kumiko is now a freshman in college. Two years have passed and she receives a letter from Reina. Two years have passed but something Kumiko thought she lost is making its way to her. Words: 4.2k+ Previous Chapters: 1 | 2 | 3 Links: FF is here! AO3 is here!

as usual, i recc reading on AO3 - or anywhere that’s not tumblr lmao

The days leading up to the Agata Festival came in a slow-kind of blur. Kumiko never really knew what happened each day, aside from the fact that she would desperately wish for the sun to go down faster so that the next day would come, followed by the next, and so on and so forth until the dawn of the Festival was on the horizon.

And what better way to spend the morning of the Festival than to run errands?

“I’m starting to think that Mom likes me back home so that she can stay inside the house,” Kumiko grumbled as she shielded her face from the blinding sun, “where there’s air conditioning.”

A sudden screech pierced the air. A bit startled, Kumiko looked over her shoulder to see what was going on.

“OH SHI—” The rest of Kumiko’s words came out as a wheeze when two women slammed into her, locking her in a rib-crushing embrace.

“Ohmygodohmygodohmygod!” One of the women squealed, tightening her hold on Kumiko. “It’s actually you!”

“U-uh-h-huh….” Kumiko wheezed, and pushed on their shoulders. “C-can't…breathe….”

“Oh! Right! Midori-chan, you heard her!”

“Aye, aye, Hazuki-chan!”

As if on cue, both women released her. Kumiko took in a huge gulp of air, wincing when a shot of pain hit her in the ribs. “I-it’s great to see you two,” Kumiko said with a crooked grin. “It really has been a while, huh?”

“Yeah!” Hazuki said with a nod, her bun following her movement. Kumiko wondered how long Hazuki’s hair had gotten. “God, you should have told me you were in town! The both of us were thinking that you didn't come after all!”

Kumiko furrowed her eyebrows in confusion. “Did Shuuichi not tell you?”

Hazuki’s and Midori’s jaws dropped at the same time.

“What!” Hazuki exclaimed. “He saw you?!”

Kumiko nodded. “First day I came back.”

“And he didn't think to tell me?”

“Are you thinking about beating him up?”

“It’s very tempting.”

“Do it,” Kumiko said with a smile, “and be sure to film it, yeah?”

“Kumiko-chan!” Midori said with a gasp. “When did you get so violent?”

Kumiko laughed. “I was just kidding, Midori-chan, don’t worry.” She took a moment study Midori, noticing how, while there weren't any physical changes, a mature air hung around her.

She shook the thought aside, and put on a smile. “How’s England?”

Midori’s eyes sparkled as she pressed her hands together in awe. “Amazing! Truly amazing! I can’t find the words to describe it!”

“That good, huh?”

Midori gave an enthusiastic nod. “It really is! The both of you should visit me sometime!”

Hazuki gave a nervous chuckle. “That’s…a lot of money, Midori-chan.”

“Oh, money's no object!”

“To some it is,” Kumiko muttered with a frown.

“Say, we should all explore the town together!” Midori said with bright eyes. “Like we did back in high school!”

Hazuki perked up. “We should! God, it’s been so long since all three of us hung out!”

“I would love to, but”—Kumiko raised her empty grocery bag—”errands.”

Hazuki scoffed and waved her hand. “We can kill two birds with one stone, right, Midori-chan?”

Midori fist-pumped and nodded. “Yeah!”

“It’s decided, then!” Wrapping an arm around each of them, Hazuki guided an excited Midori and an overwhelmed Kumiko down the sidewalk.

Well, Kumiko thought with a small smile, at least some things don’t change.

-X-

Kumiko forgot how tiring hanging around Midori and Hazuki was. While, yes, she was having fun, there were times where Kumiko felt the need to sit down and gather herself before moving on to their next stop.

“You’re acting like an old woman!” Hazuki said after Kumiko took her fourth break. “This time in your life is supposed to be your prime, Kumiko!”

“Easy for you to say, Ms. Softball Player.” Kumiko rolled her eyes and leaned back, resting her head against the wall behind her. As she stared at the cloudless sky above, she noticed that waves were swimming in her vision, and her head felt considerably lighter, yet her brain felt like it was ready to explode.

“You don’t look so well, Kumiko-chan,” Midori said. Kumiko flinched when she felt cold fingers press against her cheek. “And you’re super warm! Hazuki-chan, she might be dehydrated!”

“Seriously?” Kumiko felt another pair of fingers press against her face, this time on her forehead. “Whoa, it’s like you have a fever!”

“Great,” Kumiko groaned. “Just what I needed.”

“I’ll make a quick dash somewhere to get you a drink, Kumiko-chan. Midori-chan, can you take her inside that shop?”

Midori made a noise of confirmation. “Roger! Okay, Kumiko-chan, you need to get up, and I’ll support you. Yeah, easy does it—whoa! Okay, okay, I got you.”

Kumiko leaned most of her weight on Midori, grateful for the support. “You’re a lot stronger than you let on,” she said as she shuffled inside the open door. An intense smell of sweetness hit her.

“The contrabass isn't exactly the lightest instrument around,” Midori said, lilts of amusement and pride in her voice.

Kumiko chuckled weakly. “Right.”

“Here, let’s get you seated next to the aircon.” Midori carefully guided Kumiko down to a nearby chair, which Kumiko promptly flopped herself on.

“Thanks,” Kumiko muttered, clasping her palm over her scalding forehead. “The hottest day of the week just had to be today….”

“If you properly hydrate from now until tonight, you should be well enough to go to the Festival if you were planning on going,” Midori said with a knowing nod.

“Mm…hopefully.” Kumiko frowned, the thought of her missing out on her meeting with Reina upsetting her much more than it should have.

“Sit here, Kumiko-chan. I’ll go ask the clerk if they can spare a glass of water.”

Kumiko replied with a thumbs-up, and watched as Midori disappeared behind a display of roses.

A flower shop, huh? She looked around, appreciating the vibrant colors greeting her. Explains the sweet smell.

“Excuse me! I’m here with a bottle of—oh? Oumae-san?”

Kumiko’s eyes widened when she saw a familiar pair of blue eyes, a shade much lighter than Asuka’s. “N-Nozomi-senpai!”

“Whoa, you actually remembered me!” Nozomi said with a laugh, tucking away a strand of hair that fell from her French braid. “God, how long has it been? Two years, right?”

“About.” Kumiko’s lips quirked up into a small smile as she took the cold water bottle from Nozomi. She pressed it against her face, relishing the way the condensation kissed her skin. “You’re a lifesaver, you know?”

Nozomi shook her head. “Hardly, but I do try.”

The sound of plastic filled the air as Kumiko opened her water bottle. “You work here?” she asked before taking a drink.

“Part-time. Mizore and Haruka-senpai work here too, but I’m the only one on shift today since it’s one of our slower days.”

Kumiko let out a relieved breath as she capped her half-empty water bottle. “You’re still with Mizore-senpai?”

Nozomi’s cheeks flushed a faint shade of pink as she chuckled. “Y-yeah. I mean, we’ve always been together, you know?”

“Are you two—mm—in a relationship?” Kumiko asked, fiddling with the peeling sticker on her water bottle. Nozomi’s eyes widened a bit and her blush darkened, but she answered the question with a sheepish smile and a nod.

“Yeah,” she said quietly, “we are.”

A small smile crawled on Kumiko’s face, and she chose to ignore the faint beginnings of Jealousy’s flame in her gut. “Cute.”

“A-ah, thanks.” Nozomi laughed again, and her smile turned mellow. “It hasn’t always been an easy ride, though.”

Kumiko thought back to Mizore’s and Nozomi’s tearful reconciliation in that empty classroom in her first-year. “I bet. But you two managed to make it work in the end, so isn’t that what counts?”

Nozomi nodded. “It’s like that with a lot of things, really. If you want to make something work in the end, you have to put effort into it. Relationships aren’t an exception.”

“What was it like,” Kumiko began slowly, “after you two got back together?”

“What do you mean?”

“Like, was it awkward between the both of you? Did you find it hard to talk with one another?”

Nozomi hummed, shifting her weight back and forth between her feet as she thought. “In the beginning, I guess. But we kept talking about was on our minds, you know? We’ve developed this relationship of honesty because we were tired of keeping everything bottled up. After that whole classroom incident, there was this unsaid agreement to be more open with one another. And that whole incident that once split us apart was made us even closer together.”

Something welled up inside Kumiko’s chest as she smiled, and Jealousy’s flames were dampened. “You two really love each other, huh?”

“Yeah.” Nozomi chuckled, scratching the back of her neck. “Honestly, I’d really love to spend the rest of my life with her.”

Kumiko’s smile grew. “I’ll be supporting the both of you.”

“Thanks,” Nozomi said with a grin.

For a moment, the hum of the air conditioner was the only thing that was heard.

Nozomi was the one who broke the silence.

“Is there a reason?”

Kumiko looked up from her water bottle. She blinked. “What?”

“Is there a reason you asked about Mizore and I?”

“A-ah, well, mm, I’m…reuniting with an old friend”—Kumiko suppressed a wince—”and we had this falling-out thing. We’ve been talking lately, but it’s never been face-to-face, you know? And I’m meeting her tonight, so I’m pretty anxious to see her.”

“In a good way or bad way?”

“Little bit o’ both.”

“Well,” Nozomi began, “if you’re willing to work to repair your relationship, then everything should fall into place, yeah?”

Kumiko gave a nod. “Yeah.” She gave a grateful smile. “Thanks, Nozomi-senpai.”

Nozomi grinned and gave a thumbs-up. “Don’t mention it. Think of it as thanks.”

“Thanks? For what?”

“Helping me back in my second-year.”

“Oh, that.” Kumiko chuckled sheepishly. “I barely did anything, though.”

Nozomi shook her head. “You’re discrediting yourself. You were a driving force that helped me get back into band, you know.”

Kumiko felt her face heat up to scalding temperatures. “Then, mm, you’re welcome.”

Nozomi laughed. “I better get back to the counter,” she said, taking a quick glance at her watch. “If you’re looking for Midori-chan, she’s near the front looking at flowers.”

With quick words of goodbyes, Nozomi left, disappearing behind the display of roses. Kumiko took a sip of her water before hefting herself up, the pain in her head dulling a bit.

“Midori-chan,” she called out, “where are you?”

“I’m here!”

Following her voice, Kumiko found Midori standing in front of a display of Italian whites. The sight was strangely familiar to her.

“You know,” Midori began, “I’m kind of surprised to find out that Nozomi-senpai worked here. She didn’t seem like the type, you know. I thought she would work at a music shop or something.”

Kumiko hummed, never taking her eyes off the flowers.

A silence fell over them for a brief moment before Midori broke it.

“Do you remember what they mean?”

An image of Reina, dressed in her white one-piece, looking over the town of Uji during their first Agata Festival together came to mind. The remnants of the wonder and awe Kumiko felt that night tugged at her heart.

That was the night where it all started; the night when she began to feel Something towards Reina.

“It means that you’re always thinking about that person, right?”

Midori let out a noise of confirmation. “Forever and always.”

-X-

“Kumiko, there you are! Why are you home so late? I was beginning to think that you got kidnapped!”

“Sorry Mom! Here, I got the groceries.”

“About time—wait, why are there so many empty water bottles in the bag?”

“I was dehydrated earlier today.”

“You were what?”

“But don’t worry! I drank lots of water and fluids after I almost fainted.”

“You almost what? Kumiko, can you please sit down and tell me everything—”

“I will, I will! Once I get back, that is.”

“Get back? From what?”

“The Agata Festival, obviously.”

“That old thing? Honestly, you’re acting like a high schooler again—”

“Can’t talk Mom, gotta go!”

“Wait, Kumiko—”

“Okay, bye, see you later! Love you!”

-X-

To say that Kumiko was nervous would have been a terrible understatement.

While, yes, taking her usual route to Mount Daikichi gave her nostalgic comfort, her mind was full of anxieties and her nerves were a jittery mess. Kumiko let out a shaky breath as she separated from the group she was clumped with to follow the quiet road that led to Daikichi—and Reina.

Walking through here, Kumiko thought as pebbles crunched under her feet, really brings back memories.

The clamor of the Festival faded behind her like a distant memory. With every step she took, Kumiko remembered the first time she walked this path, the heavy ghost of her euphonium strapped on her back. She had gotten strange looks and quiet whispers from passersby, but she didn’t pay them any mind as she trekked up the path towards Mount Daikichi.

Thinking back on it, Kumiko remembered not feeling any ounce of fear as she walked alone that night.

“Gah!” Kumiko found herself tumbling forward, but managed to catch herself before she face-planted into the ground. She took a breath, trying to calm her rattled nerves.

“At least no one saw that,” she mumbled as she dusted herself off.”

“That’s what you think.”

A jolt passed through Kumiko’s body, and she whipped her head up. She opened her mouth to say something, but her throat clenched before she could say anything. She stood there, open-mouthed and wide-eyed, at an enigmatic woman dressed in a white yukata, printed lilacs wrapping themselves around her body.

The woman’s lips curled into a familiar half-smile half-smirk. “Yes?”

Kumiko felt her face heat up in the cool air. “R-Reina!” She squawked. “I-it’s you!”

Reina laughed, the sound so light Kumiko thought her soul would drift away with it. “Why wouldn’t it be me? I was the one who invited you here.”

“R-right.” Kumiko gave a shaky laugh, trying her best to wipe her clammy palms on her shorts discreetly. “You, uh, look good.”

“Thank you. You do, too.”

Self-consciousness made Kumiko hold onto her own forearm. She wasn’t wearing anything elaborate like Reina; it was just a shirt and shorts with her usual sneakers.

“Well?” Reina asked, pulling Kumiko from her thoughts.

“W-well what?”

“Are we going?”

Kumiko gave a singular nod. “Y-yeah. Let’s go.”

Reina took the lead, her yukata flowing behind her in the breeze. Kumiko observed her and her every movement as more and more memories of their first hike together flooding back together. She remembered how she thought Reina looked like a yuki-onna that night, with her flowing hair and white dress. Kumiko felt like she was a weak traveler entranced by beauty that was beyond words.

That sentiment seemed to hold more truth now.

“You cut your hair,” Kumiko said, breaking the silence.

Reina ran a hand through her neck-length hair as if to prove a point. “Didn’t I mention it in one of our letters?”

“Not that I remember.”

Reina hummed.

“Why’d you do it?” Kumiko asked. Her words felt heavy on her tongue, and a part of her hoped that Reina would catch onto their double meaning.

“Long hair is a pain, so I decided to cut it. Easier to manage, you know?”

“Yeah,” Kumiko said as she tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, “I can relate.”

Reina let out a breath of amusement. “I’m glad you can.”

Their conversation was blown away with the passing breeze, and silence was all that was left. It was awkward and heavy, weighing down on Kumiko’s shoulders that it made her slump.

The “grown-up” shrine came into view. While the torii gate was more weathered than Kumiko remembered it, she thought it was in rather good shape. An offering of oranges was sitting in a pyramid of sorts, their vibrant skin giving them a faint glow in the flickering lights.

“I thought no one visited this shrine,” Kumiko pointed out.

“Not exactly,” Reina said. “An old woman comes here sometimes to keep it clean. Or as clean as she can—she has back pain so she can't do much.”

“Yeah?”

Reina nodded. “But sometimes when I hike up here and I see her, I help her.”

“Really?”

“I mean, it’s an important place for the both of us.”

Reina’s words struck Kumiko with a hidden weight, and she wondered if Reina meant more than she was letting on.

The rest of the way was spent in an uncomfortable silence, like the both of them had things to say, but didn’t have the heart to voice their thoughts.

This is stupid, Logic reprimanded. What’s difference between talking to her and and writing to her? You’re still exchanging words. You’ll still say the same thing.

She’ll hear the cracks in your voice if you speak, Anxiety said. And then what’ll happen?

Fear entered the conversation. Kumiko felt her heart clench in her chest. Maybe she’ll leave again.

But maybe she won’t, Something said. Because maybe she’s hurting just as much as you are right now. And she’s struggling to find words, too.

“We’re here,” Reina announced. Kumiko’s thoughts scurried away like little animals as she followed Reina to the railing.

The sight made Kumiko’s breath hitch in her throat.

The city and Festival lights gleamed and sparkled, as if some deity had taken stars from the night sky and planted them in the soil. There were bursts of reds and oranges that came and went, no doubt from firecrackers and fireworks. Kumiko’s lips curled into a smile laced with nostalgia.

“I’ll never get tired of this view,” she found herself saying.

Reina made a noise of amusement. “Same.” There was a beat of silence until Reina asked, “When was the last time you came here?”

Kumiko didn’t answer right away. “I dropped by the night before I moved.”

“You did?”

“Yeah. Just to think about things.”

“Mind if I ask what kind of things?”

Goosebumps littered Kumiko’s arms as a breeze passed through. “What happened, what could have been”—Kumiko’s throat felt unbearably dry as she swallowed—”what should have been.”

Reina said nothing.

“It looked a lot like tonight,” Kumiko continued, gesturing to the town. “All pretty and magical, like nothing could go wrong. But something felt wrong. Something was so very wrong.” She turned to Reina, whose eyes were glued to the scenery below. “Because you weren’t there.”

Reina tensed, as if Kumiko’s words slapped her. She slowly raised her head. Her expression was placid and emotionless, but her eyes were glazed, like she was ready to cry.

“You weren’t there because you left,” Kumiko said. A part of her wanted to stop so that she wouldn’t say anything she would regret, but the filter that separated her thoughts from her voice was nowhere to be found. “You left without a word, Reina! L-like everything we had was nothing but—but a fling!” Hot tears were spilling from her eyes, burning into her cheeks. “I-it hurt!”

Through blurry vision, Kumiko saw Reina staring at her with that impassive masks, but the cracks were beginning to show. “You know I want to become special,” she said like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

Anger and Frustration churning Kumiko’s stomach. “You always say that! But why? Why do you need to be special? Why do you need to look for justification from others? Don’t you see you’re already special? To me?”

Tears began to well up in the corner of Reina’s eyes.

“A-am I…not good e-enough for you?” Kumiko’s words scratched at her throat, making it feel raw. “Am I not—”

“You are good enough! You always were!”

Reina’s outburst shut Kumiko up.

“I always knew that I was special to you,” Reina croaked out, tears free-falling “I knew it ever since our first-year in high school. You looked at me no one in the world ever did! I t-tried denying it for a whole year, trying to force my focus on Taki-sensei, b-but the way you looked at me just—God, it made me so happy. B-because I was finally recognized.” Her lips curled into a shaky smile. “Don’t you know how amazing that feels?

“But th-then I r-remembered what you said when we were practicing for the competition in our first-year. You said”—Reina had to pause to take a breath, and her smile faded as she did so—”you said you wanted to become special to catch up to me. A-and I said that I would work harder to be even more special. I f-felt so h-happy then, but there was this thought that scared me: What if I couldn’t be anymore special? What if you surpassed me and l-left? L-like the others?”

“You know I wouldn’t have,” Kumiko said quietly. “You would’ve killed me.”

“B-but still!” Reina shook her head. “That thought ate at me! Especially so during our second-year! Watching you improve so much in just two years scared me, Kumiko. And I just kept thinking if I really was special to you….”

Understanding dawned over Kumiko. “Was—was that what you meant by my good-girl skin?”

Reina’s weak smile came back. “Initially, n-no. But later on, yes.”

“And…and then you left,” Kumiko began, “to become special abroad.”

Reina’s expression melted into a mix of morose and regret. “I never wanted to.”

“You felt you needed to,” Kumiko finished quietly.

“I know that no justification nor apology will excuse your hurt and my actions, but I’m sorry, Kumiko.” Reina reached out to cup Kumiko’s face in her hands. Kumiko shut her eyes and tensed at the cold touch. “I’m so, so, sorry….”

As she wiped away a stranded tear from Reina’s cheek with the lightest of touches, Kumiko realized that this is the first time she truly saw Reina vulnerable. There was no more mask, no more good-girl skin to peel back at this point. If Reina’s letters were raw and honest, then seeing her at this moment was pure emotion: puffy eyes, red-faced, mussed hair, quivering lips. The brilliance that set her apart during their high-school days was nowhere to be found.

Can you blame her? Sympathy asked. She’s human, too.

That realization hit Kumiko like a meteor.

“You should have told me all of this,” Kumiko said with watery eyes. “Why didn’t you?”

“Part of it was pride,” Reina began quietly, “another part was fear.”

Kumiko brushed a strand of woven obsidian behind Reina’s ear. “I’m sorry.”

“For what?”

“Never realizing how much pressure I put on you.”

Reina took a deep breath, then released it, long and slow. “You didn’t know, it’s—it’s fine.”

“Looks like we’ve both done something wrong, huh?”

“Some more than others.” Reina sniffled and pulled Kumiko closer so that they could touch foreheads. For a moment, the both of them shared warm breaths in the quiet cold of the night.

Kumiko broke the silence. “Can I ask you something?”

“Go ahead.”

“Why’d you come back? As a teacher?”

“Part of it was because I missed Japan. Part of it was because I wanted to repay my debt to Taki-sensei, to inspire a kid the same way he inspired me and so many others.” She took a half-step closer, the tips of their noses brushing together. “But mainly it was because I had this crushingly strong urge to see and apologize to you.”

Kumiko’s heart leapt and fluttered in her chest like a butterfly. A crooked smile pulled on her lips. “That so?”

Reina hummed her confirmation.

“So…what does this make us?”

“I don’t know. What do you want us to be?”

Kumiko opened her mouth, but hesitated on her words.

Go on, Something urged, say it.

“I’d really love to rebuild what we had,” she whispered, tears welling up in her eyes.

Reina broke down again. Her tears fell like little waterfalls, but the biggest grin, one that held all the genuity in the universe, was on her face. “I’d really love that, too.”

It took Kumiko a moment to realize that this was the first time she ever saw Reina truly, truly happy.

A wave of Something hit her chest in a pleasant sort of pain, breaking the remaining seams on her heart, and filled her body with incredible warmth. It was a strangely familiar feeling, one that made her stomach feel unbearably light and ticklish. It made her shoulders shake as she laughed, her mirth ringing in the night sky like a song.

It took her another moment to realize that Something was Love all along.

With a light push on the shoulder from Love, Kumiko closed the distance between her and Reina. Her lips were slightly chapped and had the distinct taste of tears on them, but Kumiko could make out the faint sweetness that always lingered on her lips. Kumiko smiled into the kiss, overwhelmed by the nostalgia and awe of it all.

Things certainly changed, Kumiko mused, but Love certainly didn’t.

They broke apart at the same time. They looked into each other’s eyes, fondness gleaming in their eyes.

“It looks like this is the place where we found Love,” Reina said with a quiet chuckle.

Kumiko smiled at the reference.

“Yeah,” she said, “it really is.”

sorry for the late update - again. i completely forgot to do it on saturday...and on sunday...and on monday. lmao

but anyways, thank you guys for reading. this concludes this little novella-length kumirei of mine. i know, looking back on it, a lot more could have been added to make everything much more...better, for lack of better term lol. but i initially wrote this as a way to get things off my chest, and i must say, it has been quite therapeutic lol. most of these characters and the relationships, especially the relationship between kumiko and reina, have been very important to me, both in canon and in story. i guess you can say this is self-insert and projection to the Extreme^tm. if you wish to know more, feel free to PM me on fanfic or on tumblr (tumblr is much more effecient; my url is imsvg).

this story also holds a special place in my heart because it's the first multi-chapter that i actually had the dedication to finish, lmao. but that's much more insignificant in the scheme of things lol.

but really, thank you, you guys. i truly, truly appreciate the reviews and comments, and the little theories. it made me look at this piece in a bit of a different light, lol.

thanks for reading.