#of course the universe would take my declaration of releasing him and being open to his return as

[bleuhisteria]

Deus Ex Machina|| Aizawa x Reader Chapter 3

Finding one's place in the right place and the right time is like a cosmic dance of destiny, where the universe conspires to guide us to our true path, unveiling the harmony that exists when our purpose aligns with the perfect moment.

__

Filled with a surge of excitement, I fled, driven by the newfound determination sparked by Power Loader's words. The support department at UA had become my resolute choice.

As I collapsed onto my bed, my room radiated a vibrant energy, infused with the lingering thrill of our encounter. But as time passed, a subtle unease crept in, questioning the impulsiveness of my decision.

Almost forgotten, the promise I made to myself resurfaced—no more tinkering with machines, no more inventing. Somewhere along middle school, my spirit had been shattered.

Raising my hand up in the air, I gazed at my palm, my vision darkened a flash of vibrant crimson startled me, causing me to sit up abruptly, releasing myself from the illusion. Clasping my hands together near my chest, I trembled with fear, taking deep breaths to calm myself down.

"It's okay, no one suffered grave injuries... I'm fine... it wasn't our fault..." I reassured myself, seeking solace in the truth.

"(N/N) dear, I brought you lunch." My mother's voice broke through my trance as she stood at the door, surprised to find it open. She offered me a warm smile and entered, placing the tray on my bed.

Grateful for her kind gesture, I returned the smile and expressed a quick thank you before reaching for the sandwich she had prepared. "It's delicious," I declared with happiness.

She beamed, gently patting my hair. "I'm glad you like it. Will you join us for dinner tonight?" she asked, her eyes pleading with mine.

Unable to refuse her, I nodded silently and took another bite of my sandwich. As she rose and left the room, I contemplated what to do for the next few days before my letter from UA arrived...

__

A few days later, my letter from UA arrived, confirming my failure in the initial assessment. However, there was a glimmer of hope within the disappointment. Since I had performed well in the mock exam and left my secondary course choice blank, the letter offered me the opportunity to select a different course. Remembering my previous encounter with Power Loader, I had no doubts about my decision—I chose the support department.

I was determined to seize this chance and give inventing another try.

A few days passed, and the moment arrived.

"I'm heading out," I called out, slipping on my shoes and waving at my mom who was engrossed in her work in the living room.

She waved back absentmindedly, her eyes glued to the laptop screen. I sensed that she was using her quirk. With a smile, I felt it was best not to disturb her. I stepped out of the door and made my way through the house gates.

I took the train to school, even though I felt a bit uneasy in crowded places. It was still better than relying on my dad for a drop-off. Stepping onto the platform, I made my way toward UA.

Inhaling deeply, determination shining in my eyes, I entered the gates of UA, searching for the support department. My assigned class was 1-F, and I wasn't sure if Power Loader would be my homeroom teacher. Just the thought of anyone else being in charge made me anxious.

Pushing open the classroom door, I discovered that the teacher hadn't arrived yet. However, the gazes of my new classmates felt like piercing daggers as I resisted the urge to flee. I took a step back, ready to escape when...

"Hey, get inside. Homeroom is starting," a voice called out. I turned around, instantly feeling a wave of relief at the sight of the familiar face.

"Power Loader!" I greeted, my nerves melting away. This time, he was wearing his hero costume headpiece. I bowed to him before walking inside, quickly finding the nearest empty seat as he made his way to the front of the class.

The classroom buzzed with chatter as students whispered among themselves about Power Loader's reputation in the world of hero support items. They expressed their excitement about learning from him.

"Quiet down," Power Loader ordered. He proceeded to outline the class schedule and requirements before instructing us to stand up and follow him. "We'll begin by familiarizing ourselves with the equipment. Follow me to the development studio. Remember, don't touch anything unless I give you permission, and don't make a mess," he warned, opening the classroom door and stepping out.

The class gathered eagerly, trailing behind the renowned hero until we reached two massive metal gates. Power Loader swung them open, ushering us inside...

My eyes lit up with excitement as I took in the surroundings. The other students stared in awe as we beheld the wide array of equipment available for us to use in creating our own support items.

This was going to be interesting for sure!

__

As the day drew to a close, we finally reached the last piece of equipment. Afterward, we were dismissed and allowed to do as we pleased. The other students headed back to the classroom, and I followed suit, having left my bag there.

My classmates seemed to enjoy conversing with each other, but my intention was solely to retrieve my bag. Just as I was about to leave, one of them called out.

"I have an idea! Why don't we introduce ourselves? It would be nice to get to know everyone," she suggested, clasping her hands together with hope in her eyes. The others agreed, seeing it as an opportunity to socialize.

I flinched, continuing to walk toward the exit. However, it seemed her gaze was fixated on me, and before I knew it, she had caught up to me, grabbing my shoulders just as I approached the classroom's exit to the outside. "Leaving so soon? Why don't we start with you?" she proposed, her voice filled with cheer.

My lips quivered, wanting to protest, but her sparkling eyes and the anticipation of the class made me hesitate. They all stared at me, waiting expectantly.

Reluctantly, I found myself standing at the front of the classroom, with some of my classmates writing "Let's get along!" on the board behind me.

"Just tell us what you'd like us to know about you," the girl said, stepping away and taking a seat on the nearest desk at the front.

Placing a hand on my throat, I tried to avert my gaze. With a gulp, silence fell upon the room as I spoke. "M-my name is (Y/N)... I am fifteen years old, and I... I want to be a hero!" I exclaimed, my words stumbling out. "I failed the physical exam, but the support course was my second choice. I hope that we can all get along..." I concluded quietly, nervously tapping my index fingers together.

The class erupted into applause. "Whoa, you actually took the exam?! That's awesome!" one of them cheered.

"You're so cute, (Y/N)-chan!"

Blushing at the comments, I bowed gratefully to them. "T-thank you!" I stepped away from the front and found a seat as another student began their introduction.

It hadn't occurred to me that I would stay for the rest of the introductions. My mind was still recovering from being the first one to speak, and I couldn't bring myself to stand up and leave while the others were still enjoying this activity. However, my attention was captivated by the very girl who had dragged me into this in the first place. It was now her turn to introduce herself.

Her long, curly brown hair cascaded perfectly along her shoulders, and her vibrant emerald green eyes radiated friendliness that seemed capable of drawing even the most reserved individuals out of their shells.

"My name is Haruki Mizuki. I'm fifteen years old, and my dream is to become a robotics engineer. My quirk is called Mechanic's Touch. It allows me to temporarily optimize the performance of machines. I can identify inefficiencies, fine-tune settings, and make minor adjustments that significantly improve a device's speed, efficiency, or overall functionality. I hope we can all pave the way to break through and step into a new era of technology!" she exclaimed confidently, igniting a wave of excitement in the class with her determined gaze.

The class cheered for her, and I felt a strange sensation in my chest as I gazed at her. She smiled at me as she took her seat next to me.

There was something about her, something I found myself longing for. I wanted to possess whatever it was that she had. Now here I was, sitting beside her. I was kind of grateful that she had dragged me into all of this. For once, I was starting to think that it wasn't so bad here after all.

Surrounded by friendly faces and intelligent individuals, each showcasing their dreams and aspirations, I felt like I was exactly where I needed to be. I was honestly a little sad when everyone decided to head home, but nevertheless, I picked up my bag and left with them.

Walking through the hallway, I spotted someone familiar approaching me. He had blonde hair, sunglasses, and a goofy, energetic smile plastered on his face as he walked alongside another person.

I had enough energy to strike up a conversation, but I couldn't help but feel that he would be disappointed to learn that I hadn't made it into the hero course like he had. So, I turned my gaze away, ready to continue on my way. But before I could, he called out to me...

Using his quirk, of course.

"(Y/N)!!!" His voice echoed through the hallway, causing the walls to tremble from the reverberating soundwaves produced by his quirk.

I quickly covered my ears, turning back to face him. "Hizashi!" I called back, my tone pleading for him to stop, and thankfully, he did.

He ran up to me and wrapped an arm around my neck, playfully nudging my head with his knuckles. "Why aren't ya in the hero course? You promised," he stated.

"I never said that!" I defended, attempting to wriggle out of his hold.

Hizashi pulled away, placing his hands on both sides of his hips as he asked, "Where'd you end up, anyway?" he inquired.

I held a hand to my head where he had been knuckling me, feeling a slight throbbing sensation. "The support department..." I answered.

Just then, Hizashi's friend caught up to us. He had smoky blue hair and a band-aid on his nose. He looked over to Hizashi and asked, "Who's she?" while pointing in my direction. Our eyes met, he flashes me a friendly grin.

"Shirakumo, this is (Y/N). We met at the entrance exam," Hizashi introduced, his hand gesturing toward me.

Nervously, I waved my hand to Shirakumo, feeling a bit apprehensive at the sight of his cloud-like hair. His presence alone was enough to make me feel a touch of anxiety, but once I learned about his quirk, that feeling began to subside.

Shirakumo offered his hand to me. "Oboro Shirakumo," he said, waiting for me to take his hand.

With a nervous smile, I reached out and shook his hand. "(Y/N)," I replied. "You're both in the hero course, right?" I asked, pulling my hand away from Shirakumo.

They both nodded and hummed in confirmation. My thoughts drifted to the person who had saved me during the entrance exam, wondering if he had made it into the hero course with his points.

"Do... do you have someone in your class with long black hair, who looks a bit tired and is about this tall?" I asked, describing the height by gesturing with my hand, comparing it to the heights of the two boys.

Hizashi put a hand on his chin, pondering the question before turning to Shirakumo. "Did we have an emo in our class?" he asked.

Shirakumo shook his head emphatically. "Definitely not," he stated, exaggerating his claim by making a cross with his arms.

Hizashi turned back to me with a curious look. "Did you meet someone like that during the test?" he asked.

I nodded, feeling my cheeks heat up as my eyes averted. "Mhm, he... he saved me, actually, from that zero-pointer," I said, twiddling my thumbs nervously.

Hizashi burst into laughter, pointing at me. "You must be one lucky person. If we come across someone like that, we'll be sure to let you know. Right, Shirakumo?" he said, nudging Shirakumo with his elbow.

The cloud boy nodded. "If we see a wild emo walking around, we'll be sure to come running," he chuckled.

"S-stop joking!" I exclaimed, feeling a wave of embarrassment wash over me as my cheeks turned a deep shade of red. I looked away from them, slightly pouting. For some reason, I felt comfortable around these two.

Hizashi turned his head. "Speaking of emos, there's one right there," he pointed towards the staircase.

Shirakumo and I turned our heads to the staircase, and there indeed was a student who matched my description. My eyes sparkled at the sight of him. "I-I'll head on first!" I bowed to the two boys before quickly running off to catch up with the boy.

'I have to thank him!'

[magnys-voss]

Heathen - David Bowie

released June 10/11 2002

In 5 days I will be seeing Brett Morgan’s Moonage Daydream and I am so excited!!! In honor of this event I’ve decided to challenge myself to go out of my usual depth and try to recreate Bowie album covers. I’m going to post one per day until the 15th. I’ll go over each album and express my thoughts on them because each one I’ve chosen to portray is special to me because each one I’ve chosen to recreate is special to me and I feel it’s only respectful to the work I’m portraying. I am genuinely in love with each of these albums and this is the best way I know how to express that in celebration of this exciting time to be a Bowie fan!

The opening track “Sunday” is a song that resonates with recent events in the world and my own personal life. The anxious realization that life has changed and it’s terrifying but there’s hope for a brighter tomorrow. I absolutely love it.

“Slip Away” is a song about missing someone, there’s a restless nostalgia to it I’ve come to understand more with age. “Slow Burn” makes more sense to me now too. The constant subconscious uneasiness of knowing that one is helpless in the constant terrifying changes and atrocities in the world…. But you have to keep going and finding joy in the small things in life. It’s not great and it’s exhausting but the cycle continues on and on and on.

“Afraid” is a great song about wanting to overcoming fear and anxiety. Something I’ve constantly looked to Bowie for guidance on. He’s an artist that has always been open about his struggles with anxiety and I appreciate that a lot. David said that early on in his career he created his personas in order to help him feel more comfortable on stage. Something I definitely relate to with my drag. I think there’s really no getting rid of it completely, fear is a natural emotion that has to be acknowledged and honored, but it doesn’t have to rule you. That’s what I take away from this song and a lot of Bowie’s work.

“Cactus”, “I’ve Been Waiting For You”, and “I Took A Trip on a Gemini Spaceship” are all fantastic covers. “5:15 the Angels Have Gone” and “Everyone Says ‘Hi’” are solemnly relaxing songs about moving on from stagnant relationships or places. I enjoy the mixed emotions they both possess concerning those difficult transitions in life. Then “A Better Future” is a marvelously defiant declaration to whatever controls the universe to give us a better future….. which definitely still resonates 20 years later. Things have gotten better in certain ways with gay marriage being legalized and people becoming more empowered in their identities and rights…. But there’s still so much wrong. One can only continue to hope or succumb to desperation. I thoroughly enjoy the closing title track too, “Heathen (The Rays)”. It’s reminiscent of Bowie’s work with Brian Eno, the dreamy build up is exquisite.

I left my favorite for last, “I Would Be Your Slave” is a song I’ve loved since I first heard it…. I loved the excruciated feelings expressed over unrequited love. Of course when I was a teen it encompassed my love life (or lack there of) but as I began to have my crisis of faith later in my teens the song suddenly made more sense…. And it terrified me. I refused to listen to it for years until well…. Recently. This song has been one of my anthems while processing my religious trauma I’ve been working through this year. It’s cathartic and definitely in my top 10 Bowie songs.

If you read this whole thing thank you and I hope it inspires anyone to go take a listen to a phenomenal piece of art. Thank you David Bowie for Heathen.

[urimaginespimp]

Untouchable (This Love pt 8)

Bucky x reader (elemental witch)

Set during TFATWS mainly episodes 4-5

Note: Little references on You All Over Me

Previous Part: Happiness

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“I’m letting you go, Bucky.”

It felt like he watched a part of himself die as soon as those words left your lips. How could he have been so late to realize that he’s in love with you? And in the worst possible time ever; When you finally look like you’re in peace and ready to open yourself once more to the world.

“I’d really like to be friends with you again someday. Maybe as you’ve said before, I will thank you.” You genuinely smiled at him and he almost wanted to yell at you to take it back. To say that you still want to be together.

But that would be so cruel of him. So he merely returned a smile, hoping that it came off genuine.

“You go alert Sam. I’m gonna try my best to stall Ayo and the other women. Though I doubt I could buy you more than a few seconds once the eighth hour rolls around.” you grinned and turned to go find where the Dora Milaje were waiting.

--------

Eight hours have passed and you were now taking the Dora Milaje to where Sam, Bucky, and Zemo would be.

Only when you were outside the door, you could hear an unfamiliar man’s voice almost threatening Sam into a fight.

“He’d die before he thinks he can hurt a friend to the throne.” Ayo commented, and before you knew it, one of them have thrown their spear before the man who you now can assume as discount Captain America could even raise a fist to Sam.

You walked in beside Ayo and based on Bucky’s expression, their business with Zemo wasn’t even close to done yet.

“Even if he is a means to your end, time’s up.” Ayo declared out loud in the room. “Release him to us now.”

“Hi. John Walker. Captain America.” The man interrupted. You bit your lip to stop yourself from laughing. This didn’t go unnoticed by Bucky however, who was mentally kicking himself because now was not the time to be reminded that he knows how those felt against his. The little taste of heaven he got.

“You were like a little sister to Steve Rogers, right?” He turned his attention to you with a cheery voice. “Happy to finally meet your new big brother?” He jested.

“Sorry. That positions been long taken over ever since the potty mouth racoon started exchanging memes with me.” you retort with a shrug, which made Sam cough to hide his chuckles, and Zemo to look at you as if that was the craziest thing he’s ever heard.

“Well, let’s uh, put down the pointy sticks and we can walk this through, huh?” Walker tried to gain control over the room’s atmosphere.

“Hey, John. Take it easy.” Sam butted in. “You might wanna fight Bucky before you tangle with the Dora Milaje. Or even worse, Y/N.”

“Yeah, I think I can take some water or rocks being thrown at me.” He smirked at you, making the side of your lip twitch.

“Careful, Walker, I’m almost twitching to blend that bloodstream of yours. I can control you like a puppet and I wouldn’t even have to move an inch from where I’m standing.” You smiled at him almost eerily, and Bucky was sporting a proud look on his face.

But of course, you weren’t gonna do it. You’ve long vowed to put puppeting the living off the table unless it was a life and death situation.

Walker gulped before turning once again to Ayo. “The Dora Milaje don’t have jurisdiction here.”

“The Dora Milaje have jurisdiction wherever the Dora Milaje find themselves to be.” You could almost see steam coming out of Ayo’s ears as she spoke. She could also feel that something didn’t feel right with this man.

Looking at his companion, you could see that unlike Walker, he was getting nervous.

“Look, I think we got off on the wrong foot.” Walker played it off, before he layed his hand on Ayo.

Then all hell broke loose.

--------

Ayo literally disarmed Bucky. Both of you shared the same shocked expression.

Walker was catching his breath after they handed his ass to him, and was failing miserably to remove the spear that held the shield up on the table.

Ayo opened the doors to where Zemo had last gone into, only to find it empty.

One of the women took the spear off effortlessly and picked up the shield as Walker was now on the ground looking defeated.

“He is gone. Leave it.” Ayo told her.

Picking his Vibranium arm off the ground, Bucky was still trying to wrap his head around what just happened.

“Did you know they could do that?” Sam asked, just getting up from the floor.

“Guessing from his reaction, no.” You commented as he attached it back and tested it. “Are you alright?” you approached him. His arm worked just fine. Relief flooded him.

“Yeah. How about you? You still got cuts and bruises from Madripoor.” He reaches out and holds a side of your jaw to turn your head as if to assess the minor damages on your face, causing your breath to hitch.

This was the first time he got to touch you again after all the distancing and avoiding you’ve been doing before. He smiled at you sweetly, making you confused. Sam was also giving Bucky a questioning look.

“I think I’m gonna help them look for Zemo. You guys gonna be alright?” you stepped back away from him and turned to Sam, and he nodded before giving you a hug and told you to be safe.

You gave Bucky a smile before leaving to catch up with the Dora Milaje. As soon as you were out of earshot, Sam turned to him with a smug expression.

“Have something to share, Bucky?” He asked playfully, already having a hunch why Bucky was acting all weird.

“Sam, I’m in love with her.” He replied, still staring at the direction where you just exited.

“Yeah, I figured.” he snorted in reply. It was about damn time.

“But just when it hit me, she then says she’s letting me go. Now I’m the one caught up in her.”

“Well that’s some angsty shit right there, man. Let’s grab something to eat first and talk about how your cyborg brain finally named the feelings you’ve had all this time.” Sam pats his shoulder before muttering that he was gonna need food for this discussion.

--------

You had an inkling that Zemo was heading to Sokovia. And it seemed that Bucky had the same though as he caught up on you and the Dora Milaje on your way there.

The moment you saw him, the dried blood on his face raised your concerns, and he was trying to hide the fact that he was enjoying your attention when you insisted on patching him up, and you were oblivious to the Dora Milaje’s teasing glances thrown his way, and even when one of them mouthed the word simps to him.

He made a mental note to look up what that means later.

I thought you’d be here sooner.” Zemo spoke as he got nearer. “Don’t worry, I’ve decided I’m not going to kill you.”

“Imagine my relief.” Bucky replied, clicking the gun on his side.

“The girl has been radicalized beyond salvation. I warned Sam, but he didn’t listen to me. He’s as stubborn as Steve Rogers before him. But you... they literally programmed you to kill. James, do what needs to be done. Karli has people everywhere, and there’s only one way to make sure she cannot continue her mission.” Zemo rationalized.

“I appreciate the advice. But we’re gonna do it our own way.”

Zemo chuckled softly. “Yeah. I was afraid you would say that.”

Raising the gun to his head, there was no once of fear in Zemo’s eyes, rather it looked like he was ready to be reunited with his family. This was further shown when he actually nodded at Bucky.

Only that nothing happened as he pulled the trigger. Instead, he raised his left fist, and as he opened it, the bullets fell off, clanking on the ground.

Just then, three of the Dora Milajes marched up behind him, ready to take him away this time.

“Ladies...” he acknowledged them before turning back to him. “I took the liberty of crossing my name in your book. I hold no grudges for what you thought you had to do.” Bucky nodded, appreciating the gesture.

“Parting words of advice...” Zemo spoke again, this time lower as he knew you might be somewhere nearer and might hear what he’s about to say next.

“Like every other dollar in our pockets, you can’t change where it’s been, James. Much the same goes for you. But Y/N... She loves you nonetheless. And if my eyes don’t deceive me, I’d say you feel the same but she’s doesn’t know that.” he smiles at him

“I’d only realized it myself recently.” He confesses, only then realizing that the three women were listening and now had their brows raised in surprise.

“Don’t be too late.” Zemo grinned in satisfaction of his confession.

“I’m gonna work on that, thank you.” He returned the smile.

“Goodbye, James.”

As you saw them lead Zemo to the ship, you took that as your cue to finally approach them. You’d witness the entire thing, except that it was all inaudible from where you’ve been standing.

“It would be prudent to make yourself scare in Wakanda for the time being, White Wolf.” You heard Ayo advise him as you were finally in earshot’s way.

“Fair enough.” he replies in understanding.

Ayo nodded at you as you came closer to where they were, and she shot you a teasing wink, confusing you while Bucky cleared his throat in embarrassment.

“We’ll wait for you in the ship.” she told you.

“I didn’t know you could be so theatrical, Bucky.” You grinned teasingly at him.

“Had to give you a little inkling to what was happening since you were so far away.” He gave you a boyish smile.

“You’re gonna pick those up later, right?” you gestured at the bullets still on the ground.

“Yeah, just after all of you are gone. Don’t wanna ruin the magic of that scene.” He replied scratching the back of his head, making you laugh.

"You’re going back to Wakanda with them?” Because if you are, then the universe was definitely punishing him since he can’t really go there right now as he pleases.

“Yeah, I’m long overdue for a visit.” You answered. “Don’t worry, I’ll explain everything to them. You’d be in their good graces again in no time.” you assured.

As you spoke, the sun was just starting to set behind you, creating a golden outline of you. The sight was making his heart pound. To him you were burning brighter than the sun.

Yep, the universe is definitely fucking me. He thought to himself.

And as you stepped closer, he felt like he was coming undone when you hesitantly pulled him in for a small hug.

“Take care of yourself, James.” you whispered.

James. She called me James. Heat was rising up in him.

Breaking off from the hug, you were blushing. “It’s alright if I call you that too, right? I mean I know I said that’s what I called 1940s you when we were testing the time portal, but it’s still you, you know, and-”

“You can call me whatever you want, sweetheart.” He cut off your rambling, smiling at you. “Just not Barnes again.” He added.

“Why?”

“Well, you were mad at me the whole time you did so.”

“Okay, dipshit.”

“Y/N.” he feigned offense.

You laughed at his expense. “I’ll let either one of you know if I’m back in New Asgard.”

“We’ll have a lot of catching up to do by then.” He smiled, and you turned to head to the ship where unbeknownst to you, the women and Zemo have been watching the two of you interacting.

“Hey Y/N?” Bucky called out to you at the last second.

“Yeah?”

He was contemplating whether he’d just tell you right then and there about his feelings. It was starting to eat him up, but then he shook it off, knowing that he and Sam still had a mission to finish first.

“I... I may have another favor to ask Wakanda.”

--------

When he got to Sam’s hometown, he saw that there was a community of people helping repair a boat. It reminded him of his time working with in the docs.

He’s now offered his services to help Sam repair their family boat. He’s also met his sister Sara, nad he was surprised that when he made an attempt to be charming, it actually kind of worked.

They were now enjoying a drink together after a day’s worth of fixing.

“Talked to Y/N, yet?” Sam asked him, taking a swing of the bottle.

“She’s a lot more friendly to me now which is both a good and bad sign for me. But I haven’t told her yet. Not really a good time.” he answered in dep thought.

“You know before we got ourselves tangled into this mess, like way before Walker happened and you decided to show up, we were in constant communication.” Sam shared.

“Yeah?” he failed to hide the jealousy in his voice, causing Sam to crack up.

“Don’t get your metal panties in a twist, man. We were mostly talking about you." he clarified. “She knew you didn’t want to see her - which I beg to differ by the way – but she was somehow hoping you would at least be talking to me.”

“I’m sorry for ignoring your calls and text.” He says to Sam, which the man assured him was fine. “There were instances at night where I couldn’t sleep and my thoughts would be plagued with her. That I wish I hadn’t been so rash with making the decision to be alone and leave her the way I did.” this was the first time he talked about it to someone. His own therapist didn’t know a thing about it.

“Let me ask you something. Where do you want to stand in her life after all of this is over?” Sam knew this wasn’t what co-workers would be talking about but he knew that this was for the good of you both.

“I want to spend the rest of my years making it up to her. To let her know that while it took me long to realize it, we were actually always in the same page.” He found himself replying with no hesitation. Sam was satisfied with this answer.

“And how are you gonna convince her to give you a chance?”

He shrugged. He didn’t know just yet.

“Tell you what. The younger people around here know their stuff when it comes to matters of the heart. I’ll have them make a manuscript you could read, or a video tutorial.” He chuckles. He had no idea Sam was being serious.

“Well...” Bucky got up and clinked their bottles together. “Gotta catch my flight tomorrow. Get a hotel for the night. Crash, you know?”

“You’re just gonna set me up like that, huh?” Sam grinned, shaking his head.

“Well I don’t wanna make it weird for your family.” He shrugged.

“Just stay here. The people in this town are the most welcoming people in the world. They don’t care if you wear small T-shirts, or if you have six toes, or if your mom’s your aunt, or that I work with a reformed cyborg that’s in love with a witch that’s practically an avatar, who apparently single-handedly secured her adoptive father’s kingdom’s economy-” Bucky chuckled at Sam’s ramblings.

“Okay, I get it. I mean, you know, the people are nice.” he concedes.

“But don’t displace your feelings for Y/n by flirting with my sister.” Sam pointed at him. “Cause if you do, I’ll have Carlos cut you up, feed half of you to the fish, and send the other half to New Asgard so they could to feed you to their fish.”

“Okay.”

--------

He was gazing up at the stars, feeling the soft grass underneath his lying figure. The comfort and peace it gave him was almost nostalgic.

“How is it possible that this place also has the best set of stars for us to look at?”  A voice spoke next to him. Turning his head to where it came from, his heart fluttered as he welcomed the sight of you lying next to him, looking up the sky with such wander in your eyes.

He recognizes this scenario. He had just woken up once again from a nightmare, and couldn’t fall back asleep despite your presence. So, you proposed you’d both get some fresh air and just lay out on the field while the rest of Wakanda was fast asleep.

At first he was hesitant, not wanting to keep you up any longer, but you insisted that you haven’t been able to sleep a wink before he woke up from his nightmare. That’s how he groggily got up and took the hand you offered up to him as you lead him out of your shared hut, and into the wide field before you.

“Ayo said you’re having progress.” you turned your head to look at him. This time, he was the one stuck looking up the sky. He merely let out a small grunt as a response.

“I’m proud of you, Buck.” He could almost hear the smile from your tone. The genuineness of it all made the side of his lip twitch.

Getting up halfway to face him, you were supporting yourself up with your elbow. “We could celebrate if you want.” you suggested.

“I’m not even fully recovered yet.” he replied.

“So? Every milestone to recovery should be celebrated.” you shrugged. “C’mon old man, it doesn’t have to be grand. Any piece of treat you have in mind?”

“I’ve been meaning to try sushi.” He muttered shyly.

“Consider it done.” you beamed at him, laying back down.

There it was again. The tingly feeling he had in his stomach, which only ever occurred every time you were near. Maybe this was the feeling of gratitude. You’ve never been less than nice to him.

Yeah, that explains it. He thinks to himself.

“Why are you so fine with spending your days here anyway? Don’t you have someone waiting on you out of Wakanda? Steve said you’re more social than him.” He found himself asking.

Still looking up, you were sporting a gentle smile on your face. “I spent a great deal reading up classic romance novels when I was just learning the Midgardian ways. And I’m still in love with the whole chivalry, slow-burn romance thing. Imagine my disappointment when the first civilian man I found inherently cute outright asked me if he could have some in the bathroom.” you pursed your lips, making Bucky crack a soft laugh.

“My ma would’ve had my head if I ever said that to a lady.” he replied smiling, his eye crinkling at the thought. “...is that why you said you find me incredibly attractive?” he found himself asking, surprising both of you.

Even underneath the stars, he could see the heat rising up your cheeks. “Oh, you remember that?” you chuckled awkwardly.

“It’s not every day a girl would say that to the world’s deadliest assassin whose just been accused of a bombing incident.”  he was mentally kicking himself for even opening up the topic.

“It’s Steve’s fault. He wouldn’t shut up about how charming and a gentleman you are. And it didn’t help that you’re annoyingly handsome.”

He shifted in his position. “Bet you’re disappointed now.” he said in a low voice.

“Not really.” you argued. “If anything, you’ve added the words hot and strong to the list.” you teased, poking him on the arm. He shook his head at how casual you were being.

“Sooner or later Buck, it won’t be just me crushing on you. Maybe you’d even find yourself falling for a civilian.” There was a hint of sadness behind your smiling eyes. Everybody in the kingdom knew of her allegedly having a crush on you, curtesy of Steve’s blabbering mouth, but this was the first time she actually admitted it.

He didn’t say it, but the thought of what you just said didn’t appeal to him. It felt almost wrong to imagine himself casually being open and carefree with someone else.

Carefree. This was what your conversation now felt like. You managed to somehow make him talk, far from his usual quiet and grunting self during daytime.

He opened his mouth trying to think if a reply when you cut him off.

“Don’t respond to that. You’ve already managed to make my drowsy self, confess having a crush on you.” he turned his head to look your way again, only to find that you now had your eyes closed, a small smile playing on your lips.

Letting you finally get some sleep; he turned his attention back to the sky.

And it's like the million little stars above him were spelling out your name.

Just then he wakes up from the dream, as the little whispers by the doorway caught his attention. Sam’s nephews were playing with the shield.

“Hey!” he raised his hand to greet them while still lying down on the couch.

“Put it back.” one of them said to the other. “Hurry, hurry.” and they both took off.

Alone once more, his thought went back to the dream of a memory he had with you.

He found himself smiling.

--------

Y/N: Thanks for all the love! We're one chapter away. I'm just waiting for the last episode (brb crying) to decided where we go from here.

@eternalharry @iheartsebandchris @lizzarooni @the-ayo-lit @tanyaherondale @eliwinchester-barnes @knowyourworth-sellyoursoul @ebxny27 @just-a-littlebit-of-everything @fadingdreamersportsmaker

[t0wnspersonb]

Sleepless Nights (Kageyama Tobio x Reader)

Anonymous said:

Hi hi hope you're doing well! I was wondering if I could request a fic with giving kageyama a blow job for the first time? You can take it further if you want, whatever you want! Love your writing 😊

~~~~

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 2,973

Warnings: SMUT, oral sex (male recieving), language, Kageyama being a perfect angel baby.

~~~~

I didn’t think that I was a simp for Kageyama but like maybe...?👀👀👀 I hope that you guys like it! It was a lot of fun writing lmao. Also bonus points if you can catch the reference I made😂 I’m still shuffling through my inbox, I won’t be doing all the requests that have been asked but I will still be doing a select few. Please enjoy:)

~~~~

You shifted nervously in your seat, weakly smiling at the orange haired male that was blatantly staring you down.

 This was incredibly awkward.

 “Stop staring at her dumbass!” Kageyama growled, setting down his milk cartoon to slap the middle blocker, who easily dodged his advances. 

 “Why are you dating Kageyama!? He’s a bad guy!” Hinata yelled getting in your face.

 “OI!” Kageyama grabbed the back of his uniform, yanking him away from you.

 You furrowed your brows in confusion at his statement, a bad guy? Kageyama was far from it.

 “I really like him.” you blurted out, pausing their fighting, the tall setter looked at you with a shocked face, blush coating his cheeks in embarrassment. Hinata on the other hand looked mortified at your statement. “He’s very kind and strong.” you finished, glancing down at your bento, now you were embarrassed at your confession.

 “He’s not kind at all! But he is strong! His tosses are the best!” Hinata declared, returning his attention to his large sandwich.

 Kageyama ignored him, his blue eyes focusing on you completely. You guys had only been dating for a couple of weeks but… those past couple of weeks he’s never been happier.

 You were in the same class as Yachi, but the store that he went to often was the same store that you worked at part time. Before you knew it, a friendship began to blossom between the two of you, and then you guys literally ran into each other during a morning run.

 Come to find out that you guys went to the same school and were in the same year. Although, you were completely unaware of the tall male and his club activities. You were on the swim team, on the complete opposite side of where the volleyball gym was.

 But after that friendship began to bloom, something new took its place. Something more vibrant, and far sweeter.

 You were the first one to confess your feelings, despite the nerves, despite the fear that he wasn’t going to feel the same. You knew how hard he worked at volleyball, you figured that he wouldn’t have time in his life for a girlfriend, but the secret ate you up inside. When you had confessed, you were already prepared for the rejection that he would give you, only it never came. 

 He liked you too.

 Naturally you guys began dating, and it was pure heaven. Despite his awkwardness, things slowly became more natural. It wasn’t until now that he started to introduce you to his friends. 

 Hence the strange interaction you just had with the middle blocker.

 “Is Y/n-chan going to come to the game tomorrow?” Hinata asked with his mouth full of food.

 You perked up at that, beaming at the small male. “I am! It’ll be my first time seeing a volleyball game! I’m very excited.”

 “Eh!? You’ve never seen a volleyball game before!? What have you been doing!?” Hinata exclaimed.

 Kageyama scowled at him. “Y/n isn’t a volleyball player. She’s on the swim team, she doesn’t have time to focus on volleyball like you do dumbass.”

 Before another fight between the two began you started talking. “I’ve never been interested in the sport. I’ve always been really busy with swim meets and fundraisers. But when Tobio talks about volleyball it sounds like a lot of fun! Your team sounds so strong!” You said brightly.

 Kageyama felt his heart thump harder in his chest at your praise. The clear happiness and excitement on your face was undeniably adorable. 

 “What do you do when you swim Y/n-chan!?” Hinata asked excitedly.

 “I only swim free.” You said proudly, grinning at the smaller male. “It’s the only style I swim during meets.”

 “She’s really good too.” Kageyama stated, thinking back when he had gone to his first ever swim meet. You were incredible in the water, breathtaking. He couldn’t keep his eyes off of you as you swam, you were elegant and beautiful, your movements gliding through the water easily.

 He had never seen anything more perfect before.

 “I don’t know what that means but it sounds cool! You’re cool Y/n-chan!” Hinata said brightly.

 You couldn’t help but grin back, all traces of awkwardness gone now. “Thanks, Hinata!”

 Lunch ended without a hitch now, the conversation was easy with Hinata, despite the constant fighting, it was incredibly fun.

 Before you could head back to class Kageyama grabbed your hand gently. He stared off into the distance, blushing softly as he glanced over to you quickly. 

 “Will you wait for me after practice?” he asked.

 You squeezed his hand carefully, ignoring your racing heart. “Of course! Let’s walk home together Tobio.” you smiled sweetly.

 He nodded once before releasing your hand and walking off; Hinata was already long gone by now.

 You smiled softly to yourself, the tall setter had a hold on your heart like no other. You couldn’t wait for the game on Saturday.

 ****

 As promised, you stood outside of the volleyball gym, kicking lightly at a rock near your foot.

 “Y/n-chan!” you heard a familiar voice call out, you looked up smiling at the orange haired male jumping and waving his arms around, several others looking at you in curiosity.

 “Shut up Hinata! Boke!” Kageyama growled grabbing his head. After a couple of shoves, Kageyama made his way over to you.

 “Ready?” you asked sweetly, beaming up at the tall setter. He felt his face flush but nodded, reaching to carry your bag.

 “Yeah let’s go.” he said, slugging it over his other shoulder before taking your small hand into his own.

 “What? Is that Kageyama’s girlfriend?” Tsukishima asked, intending for it to be a joke.

 “Yeah! She’s super cool!” Hinata said excitedly. “Y/n-chan is on the swim team! She only swims free! Whatever that means!”

 “... WAIT WHAT!?”

 “KAGEYAMA HAS A GIRLFRIEND BEFORE ME!?”

 “BUT SHE’S TOO CUTE!”

 “THE UNIVERSE HAS FORSAKEN ME!”

 “SHUT UP AND GO HOME EVERYONE!”

 “... Yes Daichi.”

 ****

 Kageyama couldn’t help but notice that your hand was cool, and that your hair was still wet from your swim practice.

 “Are you cold?” he asked, looking at you from the corner of his eye.

 You shook your head. “I’m fine. Besides, we're already at my house.” 

 You looked up at the dark-haired setter who was scratching the back of his head, not meeting your gaze. 

 “I’ll see you tomorrow?” he asked, finally looking at you, his face slightly flushed. 

 “Bright and early. You’ll do great.” You smiled, hands resting on his uniform. “Sleep well?”

 He nodded and stooped down as you stood up on your tiptoes, his slightly chapped lips gently brushing against yours before sealing your lips in a gentle kiss goodnight.

 This wasn’t your first kiss with Kageyama. Surprisingly, kisses came incredibly easy for the awkward setter. He loved how soft your lips were, and how he could taste the melon lip gloss on his lips afterwards.

 Your heart raced in your chest, and you were tempted to pull him in deeper, wanting the kiss to develop more and last longer, but all too soon he pulled away, giving you a soft smile before taking his leave.

 That boy was going to be the death of you.

 The rest of the night progressed uneventfully, and you soon found yourself freshly showered and ready for bed. 

 Practice must’ve been incredibly draining for you, because as soon as your head hit the pillow, you were out cold.

 It had to be at least three in morning when your phone began to ring. You sleepily fumbled around for it before squinting at the bright screen.

 Kageyama.

 “Hello?” you answered, voice thick with sleep.

 “I’m sorry for waking you.” he said softly. “I just couldn’t sleep. Is it okay if I come over?”

 “Yeah. Let me open my window.” you mumbled quietly, rubbing the sleep from your eyes, turning on your bedside lamp before shuffling yourself out of bed to open the window. 

 This also wasn’t the first time you’ve done this either. 

 Even before you guys had started dating, Kageyama frequented your bedroom many nights to hang out.

 You could barely keep your eyes open as you waited for Kageyama to show up, it had been about fifteen minutes before you saw a familiar figure slip through the open window and quietly close it behind him.

 You gave Kageyama a sleepy smile from your bed, noticing his grey sweatpants and black pullover. He looked good, incredibly good.

 You hadn’t noticed his sharp intake of breath. Kageyama swallowed thickly as he took in your sleepy appearance. Your hair was tousled from sleep, the baggy white shirt did nothing to hide your hardened nipples that were now straining against the thin fabric from the frigid air. Your soft legs were incredibly exposed to his eyes and… oh fuck, your pink colored panties were on full display now.

 “Why can’t you sleep?” you asked, yawning, stretching your arms above your head. This caused your shirt to pull up more, revealing the delicate white bow on the front of your panties.

 Kageyama couldn’t tear his eyes away, his pants tightening ever so slightly.

 “T-Too pent up for the game tomorrow.” he said, finally snapping his eyes away from your figure. 

 His palms were incredibly sweaty at this point, blood roaring in his ears as he attempted to calm his racing heart. 

 “I see.” you said tiredly. “Well we can play a game on the console until you feel tired.” you stretched your body out on the bed as you reached for your side table drawer, your upper body lying flat, your bottom swaying slightly in the air.

 Kageyama’s eyes zeroed in on your ass, the panties hugging your cheeks perfectly, and the urge to grab at those perfect mounds of flesh caused his fingers to twitch at his sides.

 This definitely wasn’t good, because now he was pent up for an entirely different thing.

 “Here it is.” you mumbled to yourself, completely unaware of the internal conflict that was going on in front of you. You looked over at him, sitting up on your knees and patting the spot next to you on the bed. “Come here.”

 He sat down next to you stiffly, carefully resting his back against the wall. 

 “Get comfortable Tobio.” you said in amusement, yawning once more. He nodded robotically as he situated himself a bit better on the bed, making sure to rest his legs in a position that prevented you from seeing the increasing tent in his pants.

 You handed him the game, resting your head against his shoulder, feeling him stiffen slightly before relaxing as he started playing.

 He had only begun playing for a couple of minutes before your eyes began to droop in exhaustion, you wrapped your arms around his bicep as you settled against him comfortably.

 But he could feel your breasts pressing into his arm, his character dying in the game as he started to focus more on you.

 While your relationship was still relatively new, you guys definitely weren’t strangers to cuddling or gentle touches.

 Kageyama was definitely familiar with the desire that was now coursing through his veins. The first time he had experienced this was the first time he had gone to your swim meet. While the swimsuit that you wore wasn’t necessarily the most flattering thing, you were definitely beautiful, and the revealed skin of your body did something to him.

 “Y/n,” he whispered, causing your head to jerk up as you were startled awake. But before you could even process what was happening, Kageyama tossed the gaming console at the edge of the bed, twisting his body slightly as he moved to cup your face, and pressing his mouth against yours.

 A noise of surprise was made in the back of your throat, but you kissed him back. Arms wrapping around his shoulders as you pulled him into you. The tiredness you were feeling began fading away, want and need seeping into your body now. 

 The kiss developed quickly, your tongue carefully tracing his lips before they parted in surprise. Your fingers were twisting in his black hair now as you pulled him in deeper. Your tongue massaging his, in a hot, slippery mess. 

 One of his hands rested on the side of your neck, keeping you to him, while the other was placed carefully on your waist. 

 This wasn’t enough though. You needed more. Carefully you swung your leg over his hip, maneuvering yourself so that you were now straddling him, your core pressing directly into his crotch.

 And that's when you felt it, a growing hardness that began pressing against you in your most intimate areas. 

 Kageyama ripped himself away from your lips, his expression dazed as he tried to gather his thoughts. “I-I’m sorry.” he breathed out. 

 You ignored him and carefully grinded your hips down against him, wanting more. A choked sound escaped his swollen lips, his hands darting out to grip your hips tightly, preventing you from moving further against him.

 “What are you doing?” he panted, his pants were incredibly tight like his chest as he struggled to catch his breath.

 “Let me.” You whimpered, tugging at his hands. “Let me help. Let me take care of you.”

 You scrambled out of his lap, his face confused and dazed as you settled yourself between his legs. Your hands gently ran up and down his strong thighs, you could feel the muscles flexing under your sweet touch. 

 “You want to sleep right? I’ll make you tired.” You whispered and started tugging at his pants. You didn’t know what came over you, but all you knew was that you wanted to see Kageyama unravel before you. You wanted to hear more of those noises escape his lips.

 “W-Wait.” he grabbed your hands, staring at you with wide eyes. “Are you… what are you -” “trust me.” you interrupted him, “I’ll make you feel so good Tobio, please?”

 The pleading that was escaping your lips made you feel a bit pathetic, but that feeling was overshadowed by the complete need to make him feel good.

 He stared at you for a bit longer before nodding, his hands released yours as you pushed his pullover up slightly, working his pants and underwear over his hips and then… fuck. Your mouth watered at the sight. His member contrasted beautifully with the hard lines of his lower stomach; the splatter of dark hair caused your stomach to twist pleasantly. Carefully, you wrapped your hand around him, the skin soft and hot beneath your fingers.

 Kageyama’s breath became more labored, coming out in short and quick pants. His eyes fluttering shut at your touch. 

 You stared in awe as you began stroking him up and down carefully, his cock pulsing in your hand. 

 You wondered… your tongue darted out, flicking softly at the swollen head, tasting the bitterness of the leaking precum.

 A strangled groan escaped Kageyama’s mouth, his hand shooting out to grab your wrist. Your eyes flickered up to look at him.

 Fuck. You had always thought that Kageyama was beautiful, but this time.... You wanted to burn that image of him into your mind forever.

 His eyes were half-lidded, the pupils blown completely, sweat stuck to his skin causing his hair to cling to his forehead. His cheeks flushed a beautiful red, his lips parted and swollen from his constant biting.

 He was perfect.

 You ignored the hand that was gripping your wrist and lowered your mouth further onto the head of his cock. He flinched, body shuddering as you started sinking down lower. Your mouth was like a furnace, hot and wet, Kageyama didn’t think he could get any harder than he was.

 “W-What are you doing?” he choked out, reaching to pull you off his member. “Y-You shouldn’t put that in your -” you started swirling your tongue against his head. He whimpered loudly, biting at the neckline of his pullover, muffling the sounds that started to pour from his lips.

 You started moving, slowly dragging your mouth up and down, your tongue dragging against the underside of his cock. You continued this movement for a moment, before increasing the pace, and sucking harder.

 His hips thrusted up in a short and tight movement, the tip of his cock hitting the back of your throat. You gagged at the sudden touch, felt tears sting at your eyes, but it was worth it.

 His long fingers carefully reached down and dragged gently against your cheek, he was staring at you, pleasure contorting his face beautifully.

 “You’re so pretty.” he breathed out, his breath getting caught in his throat as you began flicking your tongue rapidly against his head now.

 “I… ngh… I’m not - not gonna last… l-long.” he stuttered out. His cock throbbed violently in your mouth, and then you began to feel thick spurts of cum hit your tongue, you hummed softly at the taste of him, easily swallowing his load down your throat. 

 Carefully you pulled your mouth off of his softening member, watching him as he struggled to breathe, his eyes were screwed shut still, his brows furrowed.

 “Tired?” you asked softly, your hand gentling rubbing against one of his locked thighs. His eyes fluttered open, staring at you in awe. He nodded softly before tucking himself back into his pants and adjusting his clothes. 

 He held an arm out to you wordlessly, your body easily tucking into his side as you guys laid on your bed. His scent wafting into your nose, causing your eyes to flutter shut, you were tired now too.

 “I think… now I’ll be able to win my game tomorrow.” he said quietly after a moment. 

 Your lips twitched into a smile as you pressed your face deeper into his chest.

 “Go to sleep Tobio.”

[toxicjayhoe]

We don’t have to dance

Explicit

Shinso / Reader(OC)

M / F

Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot

I mean there's some plot in my head but y'all don't get to see that haha

Cunnilingus

Blow Jobs

Hitoshi is a good boy

he asks for consent

Brainwashing

Oral Sex

Vaginal Sex

Unprotected Sex

Aged-Up Character(s) obviously

Light Dom/sub

Choking

Ahegao

Smut

He glanced across the overcrowded room, observing acquaintances and strangers as they socialized and sipped their drinks, swaying to the beat of the music. The open space of the hero office had been rearranged as to accommodate as many individuals as possible for this year’s Christmas celebration.

Shinso had never really been the type who partied, but he thought it was important to attend, if only for appearances sake. As a new Pro-hero, he believed it was a necessity to demonstrate he was a team player.

He took a mouthful of his cider, feeling it burn down his throat as he swallowed the effervescent drink. He never really drank either, but he enjoyed a nice glass every once in a while.

The couch he rested on was quite comfortable, he thought to himself as he settled back into it. He was more than content in just sitting here all evening until he believed it was acceptable to leave. He wasn’t interested in idle conversation about the weather or whatever these people were gossiping about to one another.

However, the universe had other plans for him it seemed, as Denki quickly approached him, shots in hand.

“Hey bestie, down this and let’s go get some ladies.” The blond handed the liquor towards him, urging him to take it, waggling his eyebrows and winking.

Shinso sighed, ignoring the offending alcohol currently being offered to him. “What ladies, Denki? We are at the bottom of the food chain here.”

“My dude, it’s a Christmas office party. Have you never seen a movie in your life? Things always get spicy at Christmas office parties.” He cackled, downing one of the shots and throwing the empty cup behind him. He pulled another from behind his back.

The purple haired man made a face, before chuckling quietly. “Where did that one come from?!”

Denki shrugged, shoving the two shots into Shinso’s hands. He rolled his purple eyes, giving in to maybe the only true friend he had.

He brought them to his lips, one after the other, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand and placing the empty receptacles on the table by him. Of course Denki had chosen peppermint schnapps.

“I’m only going to be your wingman, and only because you could really use the support.” He said with a bored tone to his voice as he pushed himself up from the sofa. Denki whooped enthusiastically, rushing off to where Shinso could only assume the ladies were.

He unhurriedly trailed after him, making his way between the gatherings of individuals, being vigilant as to not come into contact with anyone as he passed them. He wasn’t fond of strangers to start, much less being touched by them in any way.

He was terrific at communicating when he was obligated to, which was merely when he was required to use his Quirk. He still had issues with it and, even now, citizens still told him it was better suited for a villain, but he’d come to terms with not being able to please everyone. As long as he did a respectable job as a pro-hero and protecting the populace, then he would be happy.

Once he finally made it beyond the crowd and to where Denki had run off to, said man was being rejected by yet another woman.

Jaw clenched as not to show any suggestion of a smirk, he clapped the blond on the back in sympathy.

“You’re aiming way too high, Denki. And you try too hard.” He said simply, unsure if it was the right thing to say or not. Nonetheless, the shorter man smiled up at him, seemingly undeterred by yet another loss.

“Let’s go play foosball!” Denki hollered, forcing him in the direction of the tabletop game, stealing two additional beverages as a waiter walked by them.

They played a few rounds, one versus the other. Shinso loathed to admit it, but he had struggled to keep up with the innate talent Denki appeared to have at the game.

Just as he began to genuinely start enjoying his night, Denki sprinted off, declaring he needed to piss. Shinso took the moment alone to survey his surroundings once more, taking in the sight of people’s inhibitions all but forgotten as alcohol started influencing their behaviors. He took another sip of his own drink, finishing it in one gulp.

If he was being honest with himself, he was also starting to feel the affects drinking had on his body and on his mind.

He leaned onto the wall behind him, arms crossed on his chest as Denki came into sight, marching towards him, arms intertwined with the two women at his sides.

One of them he recognized as Jiro, whom he was relatively convinced Denki had a major crush on. The other, however, he could not recall ever having the pleasure of meeting.

“Shinso, don’t be rude, say hi!” He rolled his eyes before nodding silently at them both. “Good enough. Okay! Me and Jiro against the two of you. Let’s do this.”

/\*\/*/\*\/*/\*\/*/\*\/*/\*\/*

Shinso was sure Denki had let him win for some odd reason his mind could not fathom.

As the two of them argued over why they lost the game, he cleared his throat, offering his hand to the shorter woman by his side

“I’m Shinso. Hitoshi Shinso. It’s nice to make your acquaintance”

She smiled, giving him a firm handshake.

“I know who you are, Brainwashing Hero.” His eyes widened, astonished anyone, let alone an alluring young woman, would know who he was. Was she not frightened of his quirk like everyone else had been? “My name is Aruna Ai.”

He heard himself hum before the words spilled from his mouth like word vomit.

“The moon does not fight. It attacks no one. It does not worry. It does not try to crush others. It keeps to its course, but by its very nature, it gently influences. What other body could pull an entire ocean from shore to shore? The moon is faithful to its nature and its power is never diminished.” He finished, taking a deep breath after such a long-winded sentence.

“Did you just quote Deng Ming-Doa’s Everyday Tao: Living with Balance and Harmony at me?” Aruna stared at Shinso, brows furrowed as her lips quirked up.

His hand found the back of his neck as heat rose to his cheeks in mortification, unable to look directly at her.

“Sorry, I don’t know where that came from, heh.” He continued to look everywhere but her, feeling crushingly stupid. Aruna chuckled, placing the palm of her hand on his muscular arm and squeezing.

“Don’t worry so much. I’m already a fan.” An overwhelming sense of calm overtook him then, like something paranormal was causing him to relax.

“What’s your quirk?” He blurted. He scratched his skull, once again mortified that he seemed to not have a filter tonight.

She squeezed his arm again before dropping her hand to her side, smiling brightly up at him.

“Well aren’t you just the most perceptive man?” She crammed her hand into her pockets, rocking back and forth on the heels of her shoes, seemingly deep in thought.

He patiently watched her.

“I can manifest emotions in others if I have direct skin contact with them. My power varies depending on the cycle of the moon though.”

He felt his eyebrow arch in curiosity. It was sort of similar to his own quirk, when he thought about it.

“That is truly fascinating, Aruna.”

She huffed and laughed. “Not as fascinating as being able to brainwash someone. I wonder what it feels like.”

“Care to find out?” He couldn’t believe the words leaving his own mouth.

“I would love to.” No hesitation in her voice, only a slight blush stained her cheeks.

His eyes narrowed as he stared into hers. “Are you sure?” His voice low.

She rolled her eyes “Of course I’m sure, Shin-“ Her eyes glazed over as her mind went blank.

“Follow me.” Came the command.

Although she had no control over her own movements, her mind was still aware enough to realise what was happening.

She was led across the crowds and through the halls. He silently guided her into an unoccupied office, small cots lined up on the walls.

He released his hold on her mind, allowing her a moment to turn around and leave, if she so chose.

His gaze never left her face, eyes concentrated on the way her cheeks darkened. Mortified, no doubt.

They remained standing, unmoving for long moments. Hesitation welled in him for a second, unsure of himself. Aruna’s breathing came out in a sigh as she strode forward, toward him in quick steps. When she reached him, her hands grasped his clothed shoulders as she pushed herself up onto the tips of her toes, raising her lips to meet his in a sweet kiss.

Purple eyes widened at the unexpected contact.

“I just… wanted to do that of my own accord first.” She whispered as she stepped back, breathing heavier than moments before, smile on her lips.

“You look at me like you think I’m someone else.” He said simply.

Her eyes narrowed, a look he could not read painting her features.

“How do I say this… We don’t have to talk, and we don’t have to dance around it, we don’t even have to be friends. I’m attracted to you…I want you to brainwash me. And…” She paused as Shinso slowly approached her.

Eyes peered into hers, pupils dilated. “And?”

“And… I want you to use me as you wis-“ Her mouth hung open, no words coming out as Shinso gained control once again. If she could smirk, she would have.

“Come here.” Her feet pulled her to where he was now sat on one of the cots.

Large hands grasped hers. The softness of her fingers in comparison to his own, rough and calloused, felt like heaven.

Shinso had never done anything like this before and the thrill of it all made blood rush through his entire body, his heart hammering in his chest.

He looked up into her blank eyes, dick twitching against his slacks at the sight of her. He couldn’t wait to see her ruined by him.

He couldn’t get enough of her soft skin, gliding his fingers up her arm and to her neck while the other hand drifted lower, reaching under her dress.

A devilish smirk formed on his face when his fingers tightened around her throat, a soft gasp leaving her mouth.

Hiking her dress up, he dug his fingers into her hip, pulling Aruna closer, lowering his head to kiss just above his tight grip.

Teeth grazed against her skin, eliciting soft moans from above as he nipped and kissed and sucked, marking her. He hoped the resulting bruises would last weeks, reminding her of tonight.

Despite that most thought that, while under the influence of his quirk, his victims couldn’t remember what they’d done under Shinso’s control, it all depended if he wanted them to remember or not.

He most definitely wanted Aruna to remember tonight, needed her to feel and see everything he would do to her and have her do to him.

“Spread your legs.”

A hum left his lips as she did what she was told, legs far enough apart for his face to fit nicely between soft thighs.

“Good girl.” He whispered, looking up into those blank eyes, her pupils now dilated, a look of lust filling them.

He kept his gaze fixated on hers as he released her neck, hand gliding to her breast, squeezing it gently. Fuck, he couldn’t get enough of her body. Her soft curves and her even softer skin. The breathy moans that left her lips at every new sensation.

Perhaps she was the one ruining him.

Both hands were on her hips, fingers slipping under the hem of her panties, dragging them down her legs and around her feet. He placed them in his pant pocket. They were his now.

As he pressed his nose to her, he inhaled deeply, a groan ripping through his throat. Absolute heaven, the scent of her driving him crazy with need.

His tongue met her folds, licking up to her clit before bringing it into his mouth and sucking. He felt her knees go weak, the only thing holding her up straight now were his strong hands at her hips.

She tasted absolutely amazing. Shinso’s eyes squeezed shut as he devoured her. He was sure his fingers were leaving bruises. He hoped they were.

Leaving her pussy for air was torture, but he could feel his control over her slipping as he got lost in the taste of her.

“I’m going to let go of your hips now. Don’t fall.”

He wiped his chin of her juices with the back of his hand, tongue darting out to gather the droplets on his lips. He pressed his palm down onto his cock, needing some kind of touch to release the pressure building inside him.

Nimble fingers unbuckled his belt, releasing his cock from its confines. Aruna glanced down, eyes lidded.

Her own tongue slipped from her mouth, licking her lips at the sight of him slowly stroking his cock, tired eyes locked on hers.

“Come taste me.” The commanding tone sent noticeable shivers down her spine, clearly trembling where she stood.

She could feel herself resisting the request, his control wavering as pleasure began to overtake his senses.

“ Obey me.” Aruna’s knees hit the floor, palms resting on his thighs as she positioned her mouth over him.

One calloused hand cupped her cheek, guiding her lower, the other gripping the base of his cock.

The sound that rumbled through his chest was unholy as she took as much of him into her warm mouth as she possibly could, hallowing her cheeks the instant the head hit the back of her throat.

“F-fuck. Aruna” His fingers fisted into her hair, staring down at her as drool dribbled down her chin. He gently pushed her down on his cock, face fucking her softly. He didn’t want to hurt her, but fuck if her wet tongue across the underside of his dick didn’t feel like paradise.

She moaned around him as he thrust into her mouth, sending delightful vibrations through him, dick twitching in her mouth. He was losing control. He could feel it.

Her tongue swirled around the head of his cock and- he was sure it would be the end of him. This girl. How did he get so fucking lucky?

Aruna’s fingers dug into his thighs as she came up for air, his quirk weak enough from the pleasure to break out of it.

His eyes widened as she quickly rose to her feet, pushing his chest down as she settled onto his lap, sitting on his cock, sinking down on it in one swift movement.

Strong hands grasped her hips once more, furiously fucking up into her. Every moan from her lips sent heat through him.

“You like that, baby?” He asked, voice hoarse and husky.

“Y-yes. Hah. You feel so good, Hitosh-“ Her pussy tightened around him, losing herself to his control once more.

“Silly girl. Stick your tongue out for me, and don’t stop fucking yourself on my cock.”

Her eyes blank again, tongue sticking out, drooling down her face. It was absolutely stunning. So fucking beautiful, and it was all for him. He had never seen anything so breathtaking.

He stared into her face, bringing his thumb to her clit, gently pressing circles into it and watched as she shuddered, grinding on him harder, breaths coming out unevenly, whimpers escaping her lips every time he bottomed out in her.

“You’re so beautiful. Aruna. Fuck. The way I fit inside you, like we were meant to be like this.”

The words left his mouth, any shame he might have felt discarded, pleasure overwhelming his every sense. She looked amazing, tasted amazing, smelt amazing. She was perfect.

He grasped her throat again, other hand on her ass as he met her thrust for thrust. She was close, he could feel it in the way her walls clenched around him, in the way her eyes crossed, tongue still lolling from her delicious little mouth.

“Come for me, my lovely moon. “

She stilled above him, walls clenching tight one more time as her insides fluttered around him, sending him over the edge, cock spurting deep inside her, a growl leaving his throat, fingers tightening painfully around her neck.

She collapsed against his chest as he released control over her, breathing heavily in the crook of his neck as he gently caressed her back and played with her hair, calming her as she came down from her orgasm.

Shinso adjusted her dress to cover her body. His heart felt full for what seemed like the first time in his life.

“It’s so nice to meet you, Aruna.”

He felt her smile against his neck.

There was no point in saving the world if it meant losing the moon.

Art by Me

[giorno-plays-piano]

Promises

Hi dear! As agreed, I’ve changed it to dad’s friend!Bucky <3 Hope you’re going to enjoy this!

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Warnings: yandere, obsession, age gap, daddy kink, allusion to non-con, death of minor characters.

Words: 3000.

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Looking at the lonely chocolate muffin laying on the table in front of you, you closed your eyes for a couple of seconds, making a wish: it was your birthday, and you were stuck in some filthy roadside diner with no one but Mr. Barnes by your side.

Bucky. You were ought to call him Bucky, you reminded yourself, opening your eyes and blowing softly on a single candle sitting on the top of your muffin.

It wasn’t his fault you two ended up here - there had been a huge accident on your way back home, a tanker truck exploded into flames in the middle of the highway. In fact, you were lucky you were far away since several drivers and passengers who had the misfortune to be close to the truck had already been declared dead. It was all over the news, most of the people inside diner glued to the old TV hanging on the wall.

Staring at the candle, you carefully pulled it off and dropped it on a cheap white napkin, taking the muffin and eagerly having a bite. Mr. Barn... Bucky watched you from the other side of the table, his coffee already long cold. There was no smile on his face as you quietly said thank you to him, but you barely remembered him smiling at all despite knowing him for several years at the very least. He was your dad’s friend, and he often visited your house to share a beer and watch hockey with your dad late in the evening. Who could imagine it would be Bucky of all people helping you stay afloat.

“What did you wish for?” He asked you, and chuckled grimly at him, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand. Apparently, you had to keep it a secret to make your wish come true, but it didn’t matter now.

“To have a family.”

You gulped down a sob and stared at the red table as Bucky reached out to pat your shoulder gently. Both of you knew what you meant, but you had no strength to talk about it again. It was still painful as hell.

“It will get better.” He said quietly as you nodded, wiping away your tears and gulping down your coke. “You need time.”

Yeah, time, that was what everyone around you kept saying as if time could change the fact you were all alone now; as if it could make you forget all that happened and keep the pain away. What could time do? Make you insensitive, unsympathetic, and unable to feel anything at all. All this time could probably do to you, sure.

He bought a couple of ham sandwiches and bottles of coke for the evening and left with you following him closely. The motel room was just as dirty as the diner, but you didn’t expect anything else, preparing to cleaning it up - anyway, there wasn’t much you could do around here. Although there were lots of people stuck here along with you two, you had no wish to go talk to them about the tragedy. You had your own already, and it was enough for you.

“Your uncle looks scary on this photo.” Your phone buzzed in your pocket, and you picked it up, reading the message from April, your best friend - your only friend, to be completely honest. “Like he’s straight out of those serial killer documentaries.”

“April, come on."

"what, I'm serious lol"

"Maybe he’s not your sunshine guy, but he’s the only one who stayed with me after all that happened."

"And he is NOT my uncle!”

“sorry girl just wanted to cheer you up”

You smiled at the text, missing Bucky’s gaze as he came closer to you.

“Who’s that?” He asked, and you raised your eyes at him, immediately getting back to your grim state.

“April. She saw the photo I sent her.” Explaining quietly, you tried pretending you were happy, stretching your lips in a thin smile and thinking whether Bucky could feel it. “She’s checking on how we are here.”

“Good.”

With that he left to bathroom, leaving you on your knees scrubbing the floor. He was bad at cleaning - really bad, missing tons of dirty spots to the point it felt like he didn’t clean anything at all. That was why you preferred doing it yourself. Besides, it was him who paid for the room and food despite you trying to share the expenses, so you felt obliged to him.

Bucky certainly wasn’t the most talkative or friendly type, but he still cared about you, supporting you the way he could. Even if he was way older than you, and a part of you still didn’t feel very comfortable around him, Bucky was the only one by your side. He agreed living with you when most of your relatives had little interest in staying even for a few days longer, leaving you all alone. He helped you with all the legal stuff you knew nothing about, never having to deal with these issues before. He gave you a drive to your university campus every morning and called you every time when you were supposed to come home, probably afraid you’d do something to yourself. That was what you thought, at least.

He was a good man. Maybe a little gruff, seemingly unfriendly, intimidating even, but still better then all those who promised to look after you and then vanished.

“I’m going to go for a walk.” Bucky said after leaving bathroom and putting his sneakers on. “Will you be okay by yourself?”

You felt shame bubbling up inside you at his words. He still thought you might be suicidal.

“Of course. I’ll be waiting here.”

With that he nodded and left you alone with a bright pack of Lysol and dirty doormat on the floor. Sighing, you felt relieved, finally staying all by yourself in the grim silence of the room. It wasn’t that bad. You weren’t stuck together somewhere in the desert with no food and shelter. Tomorrow morning you’d be able to return home from that little improvised vacation Bucky organized purely for you, staying in a cabin close to the beautiful lake in the woods. It wasn’t his fault you were spending your birthday like this, scrubbing the floor clean and wiping the dust from shelves and nightstands instead of celebrating somewhere in the club with April, drinking fancy cocktails.

In half an hour you finished the clean up and had a shower, changing into your funny pink pajamas - you knew your looked pathetic in it, considering how old it was, but it was one of the things that made you feel safe. Anyway, Bucky didn’t care about the way you looked, so you simply wore whatever you found comfortable, often looking like a kid who was too big to fit into their old clothes.

“Whatcha doin??” A message popped up on the screen as you checked your phone again.

“Gonna go to sleep, I guess. I didn’t sleep well yesterday again.”

“i have a gooood recipe for a nice 8-hour sleep”

“Really? What’s that?”

Instead of answering you clearly, she sent you a link. To your horror, instead of checking the name first you simply clicked on it and found out April sent you some porno. Groaning, you quickly turned it off, afraid somebody gonna hear it - the walls here were out of paper, you could swear.

“WHAT THE HELL IS THIS?” You typed furiously. “Are you mad?”

“come on, what are we, holy virgins?? Ima telling you, this thing works! Just try it, you’ll be sleeping after this in no time!”

“April, even if I’m gonna believe this crap, Bucky just went for a walk. I have no clue when he’s going to come back. Do you really think I’m ready to do this when he’s around?”

“damn girl just don’t put earphones, cover yourself with a blanket and sit facing the door.” You could literally see her rolling her eyes at you. “you’re a grown up, there’s nothing to be ashamed of. When you hear the man coming, just turn it off!”

Rubbing your eyes tiredly, you muted your phone and carefully opened the link again, trying to understand what kind of porno she sent you exactly. Apparently, it was that daddy thing she kept telling you about - you read the name of the video, and your face grew unbearably hot in a second. Damn, this girl had no shame whatsoever.

But maybe she was right: you needed to release some tension that had been building up over the last months. It was quite an innocent way to do it, really, and you’d be careful enough to do it before Bucky came back, finding anything suspicious. You were a human being, after all! There was nothing nasty in what you were going to do, you tried assuring yourself.

“I’m gonna regret it.”

“NO GIRL YOU WON’T! Treat yourself!!”

Laughing, you quickly dropped your phone on your bed, taking a tablet out of your backpack along with a pair of pink socks - you couldn’t explain it, but your feet were always getting cold while you pleasured yourself. Getting comfortable on your bed and wrapping a comforter around yourself, you opened your tablet, setting the volume level low and finding that link April sent you. You threw a quick glance to the door, prepared to switch the tablet off any second if Bucky was going to show up. Shoot, were you doing it for real? Yes, yes you were.

Opening the video, you bit down on your lower lip, a little ashamed still. Trying to get these thoughts out of your head, you concentrated on what was happening in the video, watching a girl sitting on the lap of a beefy bearded man stroking her ass. He was speaking to her softly, but in a very low, husky voice, and you realized it was getting warm in between your thighs. You closed your eyes, listening to the voice that, along with a sound of him slapping the girl, was making you aroused way more than the picture itself.

"Have you been good, princess?" The man whispered, and you could see the smug grin on his face even with your eyes closed.

Yes, you have, you thought, your hand slowly trailling down your belly and touching the elastic of your cotton panties.

Fuck, you heard the sound of one more slap and bit your lip again, imagining it was you he spanked, caressing your raw, hot skin with his calloused palm, his fingers digging in your soft flesh when you tried moving away, quietly squirming from his touch. You were a good girl for him. You'd do what your daddy told you, baring your ass in front of him and getting back on his lap, moving on top of him, making him feel you through the fabric of his pants until you ruined them. Would daddy be happy if you rode him, moaning like some dirty slut until he shut you with his mouth? Would he like you cumming on his cock with your eyes rolling inside your skull out of immense pleasure?

With your fingers on your clit, you gently stroked that bundle of nerves, getting more and more wet until you soaked your panties, listening to the voice of that man and imagining being with your own daddy, somebody who would take care of you, somebody who would never leave you alone and comfort you when you needed it the most. Oh, were you crying, thinking of it? You could feel your eyes growing wet as you softly moaned. You imagined the man touching your hair and kissing your forehead, and tears were now streaming down your cheeks.

You were pathetic, you thought. You couldn't even pleasure yourself while watching porno anymore.

Softly sobbing, you kept listening to the video, touching your sleek folds and missing the shadow that descended upon you - you couldn't see the stranger behind the window, watching you sitting there on your bed with a tablet in front of you, seeing the video clearly. Maybe Bucky couldn't hear it from the outside, but he knew it - he saw it a couple of weeks ago when he felt a little lonely.

You almost cummed when you heard the steps right outside the door, inmediately hitting the screen to stop the video and hiding your tablet beneath the comforter. You didn't figure out anything better than pretending you were already asleep, aside from the fact it was barely seven.

Covering your head, you prayed Bucky didn't see anything suspicious, mentally cursing April for sending you the link. Shit, you knew this wasn't going to end well! Why on Earth did you even tried something as reckless and stupid as this when Bucky could show up any minute?

"I know you're not sleeping."

His voice sounded so much closer than you anticipated that you almost flinched, holding your breath for a couple of seconds. Fuck, did he know? Did he hear you? Could he see the tablet beneath your blanket?

You stilled, still pretending you were sleeping when Bucky landed close to you, the bed dipping under him. When he suddenly touched your leg, making you flinch involuntarily, you clamped a hand around your mouth. Shit! What was he doing? He had never ever touched you like that before. Was he mad? Did he-

"You can stop pretending, little one." As Bucky lifted your comforter, you stared at him, terrified to the core with your eyes almost popping out of their sockets.

Immediately, you tried moving away, determined to get to the other side of the room, but he quickly held you down with his hands on your wrists, getting on top of you. Shit. Staring at his dark but calm expression, you saw a strange glint in his eyes that had never been there before. The thought made you shiver.

Something was wrong with the way he hold you, looked at you - it was not like before when he treated you like some sad kid, patting your head awkwardly when you cried and rarely giving you a hug. You were staring at the man who barely reminded you of Bucky who had been coming to your house to watch a hockey game late in the evening. This man seemed like a stranger.

"Please, Mr. Barnes-"

"Shhhh." He interrupted your pleading, leaning closer to you so his dark hair brushed against your face. "Don't be scared. It's alright."

No, no, it wasn't alright in any sense, and you kept struggling, doing your best to break free from his grasp until Bucky made you yelp from pain, grabbing your hands so hard you thought you'd have bruises. When you got silent, trembling beneath him with your eyes full of tears, he got closer, his forehead touching yours as he exhaled into your face.

“P-please, I don’t want to.”

“Don’t you? I’ve seen what you’ve been doing while I was gone.” His stormy grey eyes bore into you, and you thought Bucky was angry at you watching that filthy porno. “But I won’t punish you.”

“What do you want then?” You sobbed, then froze when he kissed your cheek, and then your nose and eyelids, his chapped lips brushing softly against your skin. His touch felt warm.

“To take care of you.”

You looked at him with your watery eyes, whimpering softly when Bucky kissed your forehead as you relaxed beneath him, shocked at his words. Take care of you? What did he mean by that? Wasn’t he taking care of you already? No, now you knew why Bucky was close, and he definitely wasn’t some good Samaritan you imagined him to be. Was it all for this? Did he pretend to be your friend just to let you lower your guard?

Crying, you closed your eyes, thinking how silly you were wanting someone to be by your side, having dreams about someone taking care of you, comforting you when even the one you thought was there for you just wanted to use a silly little girl and throw her away.

“Take what you want and go.” You managed to mumble, choking on a sob. “Just leave me alone.”

Bucky raised his brows, his gaze heavy as he stared at your face wet with tears. “Why would I? Didn’t you hear what I just said, little one?”

You gave him a sarcastic smile, avoiding looking him in the eyes. “You’re here because you want to take something from me. So, take it and go. Please!”

Bucky let out a loud breath, getting off you and rolling to the side, but holding you close and pressing your face into his chest. You could feel a subtle smell of sweat coming from him; strangely, it was almost comforting. Anyway, you had no strength left to fight him, so you just laid there, his hands on your back and in your hair. His black zipped hoodie was quickly getting wet with you still sobbing quietly.

“I’m not going anywhere, little girl.” He whispered, touching the top of your head with his lips. “You’re mine to take care off. Look at you, barely able to sleep on your own. How do you think you will manage without me?”

You didn’t answer, not knowing what to say. What Bucky told you was true - you barely existed outside of your house, facing the reality where you were always alone. April was trying her best to help you come to your senses, but she wasn’t family. You needed a family.

“Will you stay?” You whimpered, shaking lightly at the though Bucky would go, too, and you would end up all by yourself, talking to four walls until one day they would talk to you, too.

“Remember your birthday wish?” He asked instead of answering your question, and you felt like the air was sucked out of your lungs. But before you had time to said something, Bucky dropped a kiss to your forehead again, caressing your head tenderly. “I am your family, little one. You will never be alone.”

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Tags: @finleyjayne @alexakeyloveloki   @helenaeisenhower @villanellevi @hurricanerin​ @abyssaint @heeeyitskay @chris-evans-indian-fanfic @navegandoaciegas @rosalynshields @brattycherubwrites @sllooney @angrythingstarlight @lookiamtrying @buckysbunny @soleil-dor @stargazingfangirl18 @dillybuggg @ninefuckingoneone @iheartsebastianstan @inlovewiththefictionalcharacters

[falcor-thee-luck-dragon]

Love Cuts Deep

Chapter 13- Avengers. Assemble

Summary: With the new Infinity Gauntlet finally put together, things are about to get more chaotic then you could have ever realized. But in the aftermath, there is a joy within the sadness.

Warning: fighting, some blood, angst, fluff, bucky returns!

Masterlist

With no time to waste, Tony’s robotic tech ever so carefully placed the Infinity Stones onto a new gauntlet specially crafted by the man himself. With the utmost precision, he designed the piece in the familiar likeness of the Ironman suit, specifically taking into account the hand area. All in all, it looks just like that blasted Infinity Gauntlet that’s caused yourself and the universe so much pain.

But you known this is different, this is necessary above all else and must happen or you’ll face the dreary facts of never seeing Bucky ever again. No one still left behind in the aftermath like yourself will ever see their loved ones again, and Natasha’s death would all be for nothing. This is it.

You stand around Rocket with the rest of your friends, everyone suited up for the inevitable unknown while he carefully finishes up a few lasting touches on the metalwork with the aid of Tony to keep it steady.

“All right, the glove’s ready.” Affirms Rocket with a confident nod as everyone stands around him waiting expectantly, “Question is, who’s gonna snap their freakin’ fingers?”

 The room keeps to a heavy silence before Thor immediately makes hastily overconfident steps forward, “I’ll do it.” States the bearded god of thunder, no surprise to you, like he’s even in the right headspace to take on such a task. Especially looking like he just walked out of a homeless shelter.

Thor quickly earns a puzzled look from Tony. “Excuse me?” Asserts Stark with a raised brow as just about everyone else gives Thor a similar look of bewilderment.

Thor waves him off with a casual swing of his thick paw, “It’s okay.” Calmly dismisses Thor as he walks in closer to the perched gauntlet, eyes set for the powerful object within arms reach. Tony, Steve, and Clint immediately raise their arms to hold him back for the time being as your eyes widen at his go-getter attitude for something so seriously dangerous. He would fucking die.

“Stop, stop. Slow down.” Advises Tony while Steve steps between the gauntlet and an eager Thor. Blue eyes set and steady though a friendly softness flashes through them knowing the true reasons why Thor wants to do this above all the others, “Thor. Just wait. We haven’t decided who’s gonna put that on yet.” Implores Steve while Thor blinks, clearly not satisfied with this answer.

“I’m sorry. What, we’re all just sitting around waiting for the right opportunity?” Laughs off the large Asgardian as his eyes trail around the room to the unclear hesitant faces of you all.

“We should at least discuss it.” Interjects Scott as Thor turns to face him before looking to all of you again.

Thor finds Steve’s conflicted gaze of uncertainty, “Look, sitting here staring at that thing is not gonna bring everybody back.....I’m the strongest Avenger, okay? So, this responsibility falls upon me...”

Tony sets a friendly hand on his chest, “Normally you’re right...”

“It’s my duty.” Interrupts Thor, more heatedly this time as Tony slowly draws him away from the gauntlet. Doing his best to sway Thor’s mind, “It’s not about that...” Begins Tony as Thor interjects. “It’s not that...” Rambles Thor as you frown, eyes set on the glowing Infinity Stones as they rest comfortably atop the Vibranium laced metalwork.

“Sheeesh stop it!” Whines the agitated god of thunder, “Just let me....Just let me do it.” Whispers Thor in defeat, face falling with remorse as he focuses on Tony, “Just let me do something good. Something right...”

Tony lets out a disheartened sigh, “Look, it’s not just the fact that glove his channeling enough energy to light up a continent. I’m telling you. You’re in no condition.” Sincerely adds Tony, trying his absolute best to sway Thor from doing this to himself.

“What do you think is coursing through my veins right now?” Asks Thor with a reasonable bout of self confidence while Rodney throws a sarcastic. “Cheez Whiz?” In reply. Thor clenches his fist, pointing a threatening finger to him but ignores the verbal blow.

Eyes set on Tony as the god smiles, “Lightening.”

Tony doubtfully nods, “Yeah.”

“Lightening.” Says Thor again, like that’s going to hold all the answers and save everyone from oblivion.

Taking an anxious breath, you’ve already made your decision as you take a step forward, “Lightning won’t help you this time, Thor. You couldn’t take it.” He sends you a defeated look, eyes falling to the floor as the others gain your attention. Frowning, your eyes study the glowing colors of the new Infinity Gauntlet as you nervously swallow, “I’ll do it.”

“Y/N...” Begins Steve like a concerned father while his blue eyes grow with apprehensive doubt, he opens his mouth to speak more on the matter but you cut him off with a stern look, “My body can regenerate its genetic makeup, essentially I should heal from anything it does to me, it won’t kill me Stev...”

“We don’t know that,” Interjects a worried Bruce as he walks in closer to your little group, “It’s gotta be me, we saw what those stones did to Thanos. They almost killed him, these are the Infinity Stones we’re talking about. None of you could survive.” Explains Bruce honestly as he finds your troubled gaze, “Even you, Y/N.”

Your brows furrow in thought while you let a depleted sigh escape your lips, “How do we know you will?”

“We don’t.” Begrudgingly admits Banner, “But the radiation’s mostly gamma. It’s like...” He stares solemnly down at the beacon of destructive hope for a small moment, its shimmering colors glowing with a dangerous beauty, “..I was made for this.”

“Then it’s settled then.” Declares Tony with a confident nod, “We do this today. Everyone suit up, we have no idea how this is going to go.” And with that does the room quickly file out, your small team of nine hastily on the move to prepare yourselves for the impending future still held in mystery and a growing hope.

Soon, you and the rest of the Avengers nervously watch as Bruce picks up the metal gauntlet while Tony sends him a concerned brotherly look. “Good to go, yeah?” Wonders Tony as he stands a couple feet away for safety reasons like everyone else. Bruce gives the stones a last fleeting glance before raising his eyes up to meet him, “Let’s do it.”

“Okay, remember, everyone Thanos snapped away five years ago you’re just bringing them back to now, today. Don’t change anything from the last five years.” Warns Tony as Bruce nods. “Got it.”

Everyone takes a cautious step backwards, making sure to shield themselves from whatever’s about to happen next with either their actual suits or in Steve’s case his legitimate shield. All you got on is your usual dark attire that’s armored comfortably in the areas needed. That and your uncanny but evidently helpful ability to heal yourself instantly. Which may either become unneeded, or hold true to its helpful wonder if things go south for whatever reason.

Tony quickly has Friday adorn the protective barriers around the buildings interior so whatever happens inside, stays inside. A moment later Banner puts the gauntlet on with a hesitant grimace, the metal grows as it adjusts to his hand, immediately the power of the stones glows bright. The raw energy crawling wickedly up his arm as Bruce falls to his one knee in pain. Loud grunts of strained discomfort emitting from the half-hulks throat. Shit that looks painful.

“Take it off! Take it off!” Worries Thor as Steve throws up a cautious hand. “No, wait. Bruce, are you okay?” Banner groans in agony as Tony adds, “Talk to me, Banner.” More pained moans are heard before Bruce is finally able to give a reassuring nod, well, at least the best one he can manage.

“I’m okay.” He mutters through clenched teeth, sending a small spark of relief through everyone as he forces his fingers to reach one another. Yelling like a charging warrior through the pain of battle, Bruce forces his stiffened digits into submission, snapping his fingers through the gauntlet with all the strength he has left before a blinding bright light emits forth in an instant. Cascading the small lab into an almost heavenly glow, you can’t see anything it’s so obnoxiously bright.

When the light fades a swift moment later, you’re able to witness the aftermath of a brave Bruce Banner who’s currently semi-unconscious on the floor, metal appendage laying a couple feet away from him as Steve races to Banners side, “Bruce!” Panics Steve.

“Don’t move him.” Warns Tony as he sprays some type of healing particles onto the ashen green of Bruce’s right arm to increase the natural healing process from the stones hefty damage. “Did it work?” Wonders a drowsy Banner while he blinks back the blurry fuzz of the gauntlet's intense power.

Thor smiles brightly, “We’re not sure. It’s okay...just relax, it’s alright you did it.” Both him and Steve give Bruce some more encouraging words of praise as you take a step back from the scene to release a breath you didn’t know you had.

Holy shit, you think, heart slowing down from the adrenaline rush of it all. Trying to take in everything's that’s just happened, you ignore as Scott wanders away to the giant opening windows as your ears prick to the sound of Clint’s phone ringing on the nearby metal table. You watch curiously as he slowly walks over to it before picking it up and answering with a teary eyed grin from witnessing the picture of his beloved significant other. The sound of his confused wife reaching your ears in an instant and your heart immediately swells with joy.

Bucky!

Suddenly a dark shadow bestows itself upon the compounds opened sunroof, you quickly twist on your heel to face the others who are looking up at a dark shape with an equally as baffled expression. A second later your world turns to darkness.

Then nothing.

——

Someone’s shaking your shoulders. God that’s annoying.

But you can’t see or hear anything, can’t even feel your own body but the stuffy thick air that flows forcibly into your healing lungs. Slowly, your senses of touch and perception come back to life, vision deciding to wake up from the blurry void next and with that so does your hearing, “Y/N! Wake up! Come on, wake the fuck up!” Shouts the annoying voice of.....Clint. While his dirt smudged face flashes with uncertain panic. The fuck does he want? And where the hell are you?

Coming to, you suck in a needed breath before he quickly sits you up against a rock, a dull throbbing making itself known from the right side of your forehead that feels oddly wet. Ignoring his concerned gaze, you press a hand to it only to find your fingers coated in blood, “Clint, what the fuck just happened? And where the hell are we?” You grumble before taking a good look around you, finding nothing but rocks and ruble. “This looks like a sewer system, goddammit my suits ripped.” You complain, still a tad bit disoriented from the head trauma that’s still healing while you eye up the nasty blooded gash on your left thigh.

Clint huffs in frustration before taking a calculated look around at your minimal surroundings of rock and red warning lights as he takes a step forward, boot quickly smashing into something hard as he looks down to find the fucking gauntlet of all things right by his feet as something oddly familiar sounds in your sensitive ears. Oh, shit. Jumping to your feet, you turn your head to the cavernous tunnel on the right, night vision giving you the perfect view of... “Space dogs. Fucking space dogs!” You fearfully whisper yell as he sends you a perplexed look.

“Ugh what?” Mutters Clint as you throw him a look of pure panic, understanding something is most definably wrong if you of all people are scared shitless, he quickly sends a lighted arrow past your head before catching a glimpse of exactly what you were warning him about. Thanos’ army of monstrous bastards from space. This is your nightmare all over again.

“Shit.” Mumbles an alarmed Clint as he tugs on your arm before the two of you book it in the other direction, screams of fury and death sounding from the beasts pursuing you. For a good twenty yards do the both of you run until by some wondrous act of the universe are you able to climb your way to a higher level where the creatures can’t get to either of you. Clint shooting a skilled blow to the creatures brave enough to pursue you further, killing them quickly enough so you both have a moment to rest. And inhale much needed oxygen from the swift sprinting session you just unwillingly endured.

Laying on the metal floor next to a worn out Clint, your breaths are heavy and labored when Nebula randomly walks out of nowhere like she owns the place, glad to just see a familiar face you pay her no mind when she leans down and quickly retrieves the gauntlet from Clint before raising her hand to her ear and speaking, “Father...I have the stones.” 

Uh, what? Oh wait! Your eyes widen in fear as you swiftly jump to your feet, Adamantium claws protruding out of your fists as you prepare yourself for a fight to the death over that damned gauntlet when without warning she sends a swift blast straight through your chest. Shit, you can barely breath.

You gasp, falling to the metal earth as she’s immediately confronted by some green chick and another Nebula, though you’re too frazzled and in pain to listen to their arguing. A couple long moments later the traitor Nebula is shot, falling to the ground right next to you as your lung muscle and bones fuse back together again. Body at long last letting you take in a proper breath. Dammit she got you old western style too.

Clint’s at your side in an instant, “Jesus Y/N, you okay? That looked bad.”

Grumbling in annoyance for the misadventure you’ve just found yourself in, he kindly helps pull you to your feet, “I’ve had better days Clint, I’ve really had better days.” You deadpan as he chuckles before the both of you follow Nebula and the green woman out and into the clearing of the destroyed Avenger’s Facility.

Once foggy ashen sunlight hits your dirt smudged blood spattered face, a pearl white pegasus flies above you and Clint, “The hell?” Mumbles Barton as the two of you start jogging into the destroyed landscape of the desolated Avengers base that’s currently in the midst of a chaotic battle between Thanos’ army and the Avengers, and clearly a lot more then just your lost friends. God today just keeps getting worse, not to mention weirder.

“Come on, this way.” Shouts Clint as you two begin making your way through the mess, both on a mission to protect this stupid gauntlet and try not to get yourselves killed in the process. Though soon some type of giant lumbering beast starts trailing you two as Clint calls in to anyone listening, “What do you want us to do with this damn thing?” You can’t hear what they’re all saying due to the fact that your earpiece is broken, but quickly enough Clint glances at you.

“Y/N! We gotta find Scott and that ugly brown van of his, it’s got the time machine portal in it so we can get these stones away from here!” Shouts Barton as he jumps over a protruding piece of shrapnel before one of Thanos’ loyal creatures jumps near, throwing him to the side as you launch yourself onto the beast. Digging your shimmering talons deep into its neck as it screams in agony, dying a second later.

“Give me that fucker, I can see the van from here.” You urgently exclaim as he hands it over to you without a second thought, too exhausted to run any longer. With the stones in your possession now, you book it on swift legs across the demolished battlefield as monsters of all kinds pursue you.

You’re luckily able to slash a few while dodging heated blows in an attempt to stall your progression, although unknowingly to you while you’re sprinting like a bat out of hell, mumbling a distressed chorus of “Fuck off, Fuck off, Fuck off..” to no one in particular. Bucky’s gaze is able to track your panicked form as it races across the destroyed landscape, Infinity gauntlet in hand. So that’s what you’re doing, thinks Bucky with relief, glad to know you’re okay. Well, for the most part.

Slipping from his curious view, you make it a good ten yards before a lumbering beast knocks you from your stable legs and onto the ground just as T’Challa ends its ugly life. Body hurting all over, you finally give up the gauntlet into the arms of the Black Panther, “I got it Y/N, you’ve done well.” Praises the king of Wakanda as you give him a weak thumbs up in reply, too damn winded to really answer with anything fully comprehensible.

God it’s a good thing you heal quickly cause shit, your everything hurts.

When will this shit end! Huffing in irritation, you swiftly pull yourself up before joining the Avenging masses into the storm of chaos. You slay monster and beast of all kinds before Proxima of all beings throws her spear at your head, just narrowly putting a full damper on your already hectic day as you dodge left.

“Didn’t I kill you already?” You growl in irritation as she begins hand to hand combat with you, more so claws to sword then anything else. For the next minute do you two hash it out on the battlefield, Thanos and other brave Avengers doing what they can to fight the Infinity Stones off of him as you slice up her face in a moment of valuable weakness.

Unfortunately she’s able to kick you into the cement, raising her shimmering blood coated weapon before thrusting it downwards straight for your naked jugular when suddenly it turns to dust against your exposed skin. Eyes wide in bewilderment as you breath in heavy breaths, you’re pleasantly surprised when the bitch disappears completely, nothing left but ashes floating on the breeze.

Wiping some fresh blood from your nose, you slowly stand on sore legs, eyes quickly scanning the surrounding area only to find all of Thanos’ army turning to dust as well. A relieved smile falls upon your chapped lips, though quickly enough your heart sinks when you wander over to Steve and Thor as they watch Pepper say her last goodbyes to a dying Tony Stark. So he was the one who did it, he killed Thanos for good. And this is the price that must be payed.

Your chest rises and falls with labored breaths from battling the enemy as his reactor core flickers, white light slowly going out soon after. You frown deeply as Pepper sobs by her husbands side as you notice the others beginning to slowly gather around behind you, and the ones nearest to him. Peter, Rodney, Steve, and Thor.

The dismal scene breaks your heart to watch so instead do you drop your gaze to the ground where you study the ripped fabric of your pants and the dried blood that coats it. You can’t believe after all this shit and time spent tirelessly in pursuit of those fucking stones has the deed been done at last. Two friends lost in the taxing journey to save the world from a deepening pit of confusion and despair, but it’s done, and Thanos will never hurt anyone ever again.

You’re so tired you could probably curl up and fall asleep on the rocks below, but yet your body shakes with adrenaline that keeps you from submitting to the earth for a long rest.. “Y/N?” You freeze, going still as a statue when your ears fully register the voice it belongs to. You’d recognize that voice anywhere.

Blinking hard, you turn around, your eyes slowly trailing up to meet the beautiful blues of the one and only, James Buchanan Barnes. Your breath catches in your throat, it truly feels like your whole world has just stopped and reset itself. Tears immediately prick at the corners of your eyes from the intense feelings of being overwhelmed from battle and by him, he looks exactly the same as when he left you five whole years ago. Long dark hair falling to his broad shoulders, metal arm apparent as it shows itself freely in the cloudy sunlight.

His eyes of stormy ocean studies your awestruck expression, handsome face softening as he takes a cautious step forward, “Y/N.” Mutters Bucky as your lip begins to quiver, so many emotions rushing through you like a giant waterfall, a couple stray tears draw clean marks down the sides of your dirt smudged face as your heartbeat begins to race.

You feel like hyperventilating right now but are to astounded to completely lose your shit, instead do you let him silently walk the rest of the way to you before gently placing his hands against your tear stained cheeks. He hands you a handsome grin of pure love and adoration as you place your shaking hands against his forearms. So incredibly awestruck that he’s actually with you right now in the flesh for you to form a coherent sentence.

You swallow, eyes furrowed as they wander all over his beautifully dirty face, “Please tell me this isn’t some sick dream.” You whisper, voice raspy while you try and keep your inhales as less erratic as possible. “Oh God I hope this isn’t another dream.”

Bucky chuckles a sweet tune of joy before engulfing you into a ginormous Bucky bear hug, he gently wraps his strong arms around your tired vessel with ease, burying his head in the crook of your neck as tears flow freely out of you now. Shaky hands holding him as close and humanly possible while you breath him in for all he’s worth. Your Bucky, finally in your arms at last.

You can’t believe it, after everything you’ve endured, after a thousand nights spent alone and days lasting for too many hours to count. He’s holding you like his whole life depends on it, every single muscle and fiber of his entire being wills himself to hold you in his arms like nothing and no one else matters.

Because right now, in the midst of a desolated battlefield, you can finally feel at peace with the man you have never stopped loving for even a single second. The man you will swear on your life to never leave his side ever again if you can help it. Your sweet James Buchanan Barnes. Your beloved Bucky.

You can feel as a feather light kiss brushes past your hairline before he slowly pulls away, metal and flesh hands still holding yours as his blue eyes soften, “This isn’t a dream.” Chuckles Bucky as he studies your teary eyed face, a growing confusion clear on his puzzled features, “Why would this be a dream Y/N? I mean, well I’m not sure where we are actually or how I got here or why your hair looks different now....and uh...clothing too?” His brows furrow as he trails his gaze all over you, clearly unaware of the time differences between you both and what troublesome lengths it’s taken to see him again.

He doesn’t know. Biting your bottom lip anxiously, you blink with saddened eyes before resting a hand on his metal shoulder for a bit of self comfort, “How long until you came through those portals?”

Blue irises flicker to the ground in puzzlement before finding yours once again, “Uh, I think it was about five minutes actually....it’s, it’s weird. I remember seeing you by Steve and then, I don’t remember anything else until it felt like I blinked and suddenly these huge portals were appearing in Wakanda. And you weren’t with me. I don’t know what happened....I’m not sure why you look a little different now either?”

Smiling at his adorable confusion, you trail a hand up to drag it through his messy dark locks, “You weren’t gone for five minutes Bucky, you were gone for five years.”

His lips part likes he’s about to speak though nothing comes out, handsome face slowly falling into a frown while he gently touches the side of your bloodied cheek, “What?” Whispers Bucky in astonishment, “Five...five years? Five whole years? That’s why....that’s how....how you, Jesus Y/N...”

“You have no idea how much I missed you James....how much I, I...” Your throat feels like it’s tightening as you lip quivers, voice unable to produce any sounds but your labored breaths. You feel like bawling.

Bucky takes this like the dutiful lover that he is, pulling you flush against him once more as he gently squeezes you close, face pressed into your neck as he mumbles out a soft but meaningful, “I love you Y/N.” That causes you to almost crush him in your loving embrace.

“I love you too, so fucking much.”

——

Standing on the grassy edge of the Starks riverside house somewhere in upstate New York, dressed in your usual dark attire. Though for this instance, it’s a rather dismal affair that truly represents the black clothing adorning your body with more purpose this time. But you don’t feel as terrible as you thought you would have.

A soft late summer breeze blows your hair back as you keep your hands deep in your jacket pockets while you let yourself enjoy the beautiful view of the water shimmering in the sunlight. It truly couldn’t have been a nicer day for such a day filled with melancholy for the loss of Tony. In fact, when you arrived for the funeral today, you could barely look at Morgan without feeling the urge to shed a few tears.

She’s surprised you though, her little heart is stronger then you’d realized, she’s clearly filled with confused grief for the sudden loss of her father. But she’s admittedly able to handle the dreary situation better then you’d expected, though it is true we all grieve in our own way and in our own time. Luckily she has a plethora of friendly people by her side, plus your cat Silver who you let her adopt considering you’re technically homeless.

Soon the familiar sound of footsteps walking across the grass alerts you to a new presence approaching you nearby, you could smell his scent a mile away. The blue eyed man in question, stops by your side, eyes trailing over you while you keep a steady gaze on the water. “Y/N.” Your name on his tongue, spoken so gently as he forms your letters into a term of simple greeting.

A smile immediately tugs at the corner of your lips when he literally says anything now, you turn to face him as you raise a brow, imitating his tone, “Bucky.” You practically tease.

He flashes a quick grin before shrugging, eyes glancing up to the house before finding your undivided attention once more, “They made sloppy joes if you want one. They’re not too bad actually, I had one so....yeah.”

“I’ll take your word for it, but uh...I’m okay thanks.” You add, gaze set back onto the water beyond as you let out an admittedly tired sigh, “I’m just, I don’t even know.....whatever, I’m okay.” You mutter while giving a weak shrug, a frown crossing your features as your mind wanders to your lost friends and the reason why you’re even at this funeral. It’s been a long fucking road to peace, if this even is peace.

Bucky, noticing your disheartened expression, gently nudges your arm, “Hey, you know you can talk to me.” Assures your sweet lover, eyes softening as he gently tugs at your sleeve, “Are you sure you’re okay?”

Making a sour face at the water, you avoid his gaze while your heart swirls with a conflicted sadness, “No. Not really.” You freely admit, “Both of them, I never got a chance to say goodbye. I wish I could have, I really do Buck.” Biting your lip to hold back the tears, Bucky wraps a comforting arm around you, knowing how much this all pains you since he’s been back and was filled in on everything that’s happened.

You don’t even hesitate to relax into the warm embrace as you throw an arm around his waist to bring him in even closer to you now, “Truth be told Y/N, I never got a chance to tell Tony how sorry I am for what I did to his parents. If there was onl...”

“He forgave you, Buck.” He shares a puzzled look with you.

“He did?” Whispers Bucky in confusion though a slight hopeful relief laces his words.

 You nod, “Tony...we had a long conversation about that when I was visiting once for some birthday party, it was a difficult subject. But after everything we talked about, he forgave you for what you did. Of course we had no way of knowing this was all going to happen but uh, I just want you to know that. And so did he even if you weren’t there to hear it. Guess it was the thought that counts.”

“oh.” Mutters Bucky in clear astonishment as he keeps silent for a long moment, truly processing the solid fact that Tony Stark actually forgave him for such horrendous crimes committed against his closest family members. Bucky lets out a heavy breath of relief, giving you a small squeeze before speaking, “That’s, that’s good. Yeah, alright um...” His eyes flicker to the side as he pauses for a brief moment, “..you, you want anything up there?”

Chuckling, you roll your eyes at him, “What? Let me guess? You’re still hungry and don’t want to eat alone?”

Bucky keeps silent for a brief but telling moment as he mumbles out a soft, “Yeah.”

“You’re ridiculous.”

He nervously laughs before gently squeezing your shoulder, “Or we don’t have to, it’s fine I was just wondering...”

“Buck.” You throw him a humored glance as he smiles before you lose your grip on his torso, “Come on hot stuff let’s get you a sandwich.” He grins as you start backing up towards the house filled with multiple guests of all kinds still socializing amongst one another.

“Y/N I could go myself if I wanted to.” Says Bucky as he wanders across the grass by your side, “I could....but yeah, I’d rather have you with me.”

You snicker quietly as his stubbled cheeks redden in slight embarrassment, “Well Mr. Barnes, if you must know, I don’t plan on letting you do anything alone for a long time so get used to my company.”

“Sounds good to me.” Smiles Bucky as he gently nudges your shoulder, “But seriously you gotta try these sandwiches they’re really good.”

“Buck, I don’t doubt it.”

-

Tagged:  @diegos-butt @minigranger @bibliophilewednesday @holyhumorliteraturelight @lilacs-lavender @a-girl-who-loves-disney @starkssnarks @vikingqueen28 @bizarrebibitch @atomicpersonacheesecake @jmstz @staygoldsquatchling02 @marvelbros-oneshots @shawnartmendes @mischiefmanaged71 @jckie94  @iamasimpingh0e @mjaudrey  @thescarlettvvitch

[bokutosworld]

in the stars | m. atsumu

character/pairing: single parent/dad atsumu with son

wc: 1.5k words, angst, longing for loved one. warning/s: slight mention of death.

summary: in which atsumu helps his only son find comfort in the stars where he believes your soul lives on.

--

in the dead of the night, atsumu awoke with tears streaming down his face. confused and startled, he shakily brings a hand to wipe his cheeks. just when he was finally getting peace on his evenings, the nightmares that plagued his days and disturbed his slumbers has returned to haunt him.

he scrambles to get the blanket off of his body, standing up and slipping on his fuzzy slippers. he remains seated on the side of the bed, a hand clutches his chest as he feels his heart being twisted and burning with pain - a sensation which he hasn't felt in a long time.

the clock on his bedside table reads 1:15 am and he tries to catch his breath. when he woke up, he felt as if he has been running a marathon, sprinting to get to the finish line. but in his case, wouldn't it more accurate to say that he has been running away from agony? he reaches for the glass of water that he usually places in his table, only to find it empty.

after what seemed like an eternity sitting in darkness, he gets up and walks toward the door. he turns the knob carefully, as if he would wake someone up if he makes even the slightest of noise. the first step he takes in the hallway is silent. with cautious footsteps, he stalks quietly towards the kitchen to refill his drink.

atsumu places the glass on the counter and picks up a pitcher of water from the refrigerator. he figures a cold drink would be enough to wake his senses up and pull him from his perturbed state. a drink became two until he felt relieved once again. he washes the glass on the sink and places it carefully on the racks to dry.

he retreats back to his room to try to return to sleep. however, he stops his tracks in the carpeted floor of the living room, catching sight of a silhouette at the balcony. the sliding door has been opened, the curtains were being swept away by the winter winds, and the faint moonlight reveals the only family he has left.

'takeru, what are you doing here,' the said boy jumps in surprise at the voice of his father. he shyly looks up at him then brings his gaze back at the skies. atsumu takes note of the way his son shivers at the harsh cold and takes off his sweater to cover him. 'have you been awake for long?'

the boy nods, tugging the sweater closer to his body for warmth. 'i dreamt of mama,' takeru confesses. suddenly, atsumu feels chills go up his body, rendering him frozen in his place as he listens to his five year-old son. 'we were in our vacation house with uncle osamu's family and mama was happy. papa was in my dream too, then,' takeru stops midway his story. he turns to atsumu, stretching his arms to reach his waist.

atsumu goes down on his knees, bringing takeru to a hug and comforting him in the best way he can. 'shh, takeru, it's okay, i'm here. you don't have to tell me your dream if you can't,' he feels the child shaking his head. his tiny fists grips his father's shirt, and atsumu feels his clothing turn wet with tears. 'no, no, buddy, don't cry.'

but his voice betrays him, almost choking on his own tears that are threatening to spill from his eyes. his mind wanders to what his wife would do in these moments. you were always the perceptive one, you knew how to brighten up the mood in the room, you understood emotions better than anyone. it always left atsumu speechless whenever you would work your magic and comfort people's dampened spirits.

it was one of the things he loved about you. atsumu believes that his marriage with you was the best thing to happen in his life. you were the greatest gift given by the gods above, every day spent with you felt like he was in heaven - as if he had his own paradise and you were his angel.

and when you got pregnant with takeru, atsumu was lifted up in cloud nine. the birth of his son was a momentous event, but truth be told, he was scared. he thought he could not perform his duties as a father, given his busy schedules and jet-setter lifestyle due to volleyball. but you assured him that you would never leave his side. it was you who gave him the confidence that he would be the best dad to takeru, and he believed that with all his heart.

he never imagined the day would come when you would no longer be by his side. the first time he heard of the tragic news, he felt the world around him lose its brightness, the colors disappeared and everything he saw was grey. to say he was heartbroken was an understatement, you were his light, and without you, he felt his life held no more meaning and purpose. he closed himself off from his friends and family, even his own son - leaving the boy to osamu's care.

for weeks, he seemed as though his soul has been sucked from him, leaving him to be a lifeless, empty vessel. but one day, he was brought to life by the tender touch and the soft whimpers of takeru. the child has crawled his way to atsumu's lap and in that moment, he broke down.

looking at takeru brought him pain and comfort. the little boy resembled his mama so much that it only hurt atsumu as it reminded him of the person he had lost. but he also came to the realization that takeru was the only person you have left behind. the little boy had no else but him to rely on, and since that day, atsumu swore to pick himself up. remembering your words, he swore to live for his son's sake, and even though he was sure he could not fill the gap your absence have left, he promised that he would become the best parent for takeru.

'i miss her too,' he hears the boy's sniffles subside. 'mama also visited me in my dreams tonight. she was telling me that you have become a big boy now,' atsumu smiles as he says these words, not knowing where they were coming from. the child lifts his head and looks at his papa, 'did you tell her that i miss her?'

atsumu's heart breaks at the thought that takeru was waking up each day, searching for you and yearning for your presence. he brings the boy to his arms, carrying him with ease as they stand to look at the clouds. he presses a kiss to takeru's temple, 'mama knows you miss her, every day. she also wants me to tell you that she is always looking over you from afar.'

the boy is puzzled, his eyebrows furrowing and atsumu remembers the way you would also do the same action whenever you confused. takeru was truly a mama's boy, he thought. 'what do you mean, papa?'

he grins and extends an arm to the skies, 'raise your head, takeru. the stars look lovely tonight, don't they?' the child excitedly nods, and atsumu remembers the moments he would go stargazing with his wife.

'hey, tsum-tsum. did you know that when a star dies, it releases all of its light and sends it out in the darkness,' you circle your arms exaggeratedly to make your point. 'and there it shines for a very long time.' you peek at atsumu who was lying down the grass by your side. he laughs at your antics, pulling you down to his chest. you can hear the erratic beating of his heart.

'you do love your astronomy, don't you?' atsumu says, amazed at your wide knowledge of the universe, the moon, and everything beyond. you chuckle, 'of course! it's always phenomenal to know that there's something greater than us and somehow, it puts me at ease, knowing that we're all under the same vast sky, staring at the same celestial bodies. it makes me feel connected with you even when we're apart.'

it was under those stars and skies that atsumu proposed to you. it was under those stars and skies that your smile shone the brightest and atsumu likened it to the twinkling of the stars on that special night. 'i'm so lucky to have the brightest star by my side,' atsumu declared before sealing your engagement with a kiss under the moonlight.

'look for the star that's shining the brightest tonight,' atsumu guides his son to locate your star. a few minutes and takeru finally spots it, 'over there, papa! it's round and white and sparkling.' he laughs at his son's vivid description.

'that's mama's star, takeru. she's watching over us from above and no matter where you look at, you can find her dazzling in the skies, as if calling out to you and telling you that she will never leave your side,' atsumu comforts his son who visibly relaxes and smiles at the thought. 'so whenever you miss mama, just look up and her star will be there.'

atsumu knows this because, for as long as he can remember, the skies has been the source of his solace and whenever he looks up, he feels your love radiating from the stars.

[s1nderella-a]

bungou stray dogs fic recs!

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and the cracks began to show; ExorcisingEmily

soukoku | 19,752 words | 3/3 chapters

summary:

By twelve, Chuuya would kill for him. By fourteen, Chuuya would go to war for him. By sixteen, Chuuya was ready to die for him. By eighteen, Chuuya was ready to destroy everything to save Dazai.

And isn't that just the problem.

i was screaming your name through the radio; ElectricSplatter

soukoku | 256,709 words | 10/10 chapters

summary:

“Four months from now will be the seven year anniversary of when you and Osamu Dazai released your hugely successful first and only album Double Black and its diamond single Corruption. After performing with Dazai earlier this year, are you planning anything special to celebrate?”

“Corruption is insanely overrated, and I would prefer to never hear Dazai’s voice for the rest of my fucking life.”

where the tides take us; kempine

soukoku but in the bnha universe | 19,265 words | 3/? chapters

summary:

Dazai seems to be back to his usual I-love-giving-Chuuya-a-headache self, and thus, loudly and proudly declares: “I have two guesses as to where we have been transported!” he pauses purely for the dramatics and just stares at Chuuya smugly, “wouldn’t you like to hear them, chibi?”

Chuuya rubs the bridge of his nose, shutting his eyes tightly, “Just spit it out, bastard.”

“So rude,” the mackerel whines at him, at which he can just groan desperately. However, the gods smile at him from the skies above, through the tiny break of sunshine in the sea of clouds, and Dazai finally gets to the point. “We have either travelled to the future, or we were transported to an alternate universe. I am more inclined to believe the first one.”

Or: Chuuya and Dazai work out their relationship while being chased by a hero or two.

of brains and universal thoughts; rimacchi

dazatsu | 99,154 words | 15/? chapters

summary:

Kicked out of the orphanage because of his poor lungs, Nakajima Atsushi is miraculously saved from starvation in the midst of war by a man in black; Mori Ougai, who happens to be the headmaster of an educational institution for the ill. Left with no other choice, Atsushi spends his time to recover from his sickly condition at The Guild; a school that only lets students graduate if they pass the tests and heal from their afflictions.

Atsushi's days of war and strife are over despite the eccentricity of the students and his suicidal room mate named Dazai Osamu but when students start to disappear one by one like wildfire and the rumors lingering in the air go out of control, he begins to question if The Guild is the place where everyone should be.

“You know where the students really go when they get sent home, Atsushi-kun?” Dazai asks, his lips forming into a smirk.

Atsushi shakes his head.

“They go six feet below the ground.”

in desolation we live, in desolation we fall; anonymous

pm!boss dazai meets a couple heroes | 1,546 words | 1/1 chapters

summary:

All Might's voice trembles in repressed anger. "All those people... all those people you've hurt and killed... do you not feel any regret at all?"

"Nope." Dazai clicks his tongue, his tone light and careless.

a thousand tiny revolutions; flyby

soukoku | 227,838 words | 19/25 chapters

summary:

When Dazai Osamu shows up to class on the first day of his third year of high school, Chuuya wants nothing to do with him. He's too busy juggling homework and part-time work to have any patience for an annoying waste of bandages, but Dazai has other ideas – and the mystery that surrounds him is about to blow Chuuya's own secrets wide open.

Principal Fukuzawa said once that what you do in school can change the course of your life, but Chuuya doesn't think he meant it like this.

wanderless oblivion; kiroiimye

shin soukoku (mostly) / bsd writetober drabbles | 1,894 words | 3/? chapters

summary:

Days of love, loving, and learning how to fall in love.

that’s it for part 1 ig?? i like doing this so i’ll probably make more (for diff animes/mangas too)

[little-mad]

“Tiny ears! Remember?!” With Tara and Thomas!

Ok, I really liked writing this one

From this list of prompts here

And for anyone who doesn’t know, more details about these two can be found on my oc masterlist

______________________________________________________

After knowing one another for two months, Tara finally agreed to cross into giant territory for her meetings with Thomas. Admittedly, it was kind of awkward standing on opposite sides of the creek. More importantly, being out in the open like that, they ran the risk of getting seen by somebody. Tara definitely did not want to have to explain why she was hanging out with a giant to her family and friends back home.

The spot she and Thomas had decided on wasn’t far into giant territory, in fact Tara could still catch a glimpse of the border through the trees. Meanwhile, Thomas was about as concealed as his giant form would allow in an area with trees shorter than him.

Of course, Tara never would have agreed to the arrangement had she not been confident Thomas harbored no ill will towards her. The guy had saved her life twice, and after getting to know him better and better over time, she could almost call him a friend.

That being said, Tara had been sure to set up clear ground rules. Most important of the rules was that Thomas had to keep his hands to himself unless given express permission otherwise. The giant had pouted extensively about it. He obviously got a kick out of holding and touching her, which was exactly why Tara had forbidden it. Plus, being around hands that could easily snuff out her life made her more than a little anxious, believe it or not.

In order to avoid physical contact while still managing to remain close to Thomas’s eye level, Tara had positioned herself in a high branch of a tree directly in front of where the giant was sitting. Thomas had been fretting like a mother hen as she climbed up, insisting it was too dangerous for someone “so itty bitty.” The comment only served to make Tara climb quicker. She’d been scaling trees since she was little, she knew exactly what she was doing.

“Wait, but I thought you said you wanted to study at that university?” Tara inquired as she absentmindedly swayed her dangling legs back and forth.

During their last meeting, Thomas had explained to her his desire to attend some fancy school in a giant city a ways away. They had something sort of similar on the human side of the border, but it was incredibly far away and was very selective with who they allowed as students. No one in Tara’s town ever even considered it as a feasible option.

Thomas gave a humorless laugh. “Well of course I want to, both Lane and I have dreamed of going there for years,” he explained. “But it costs an arm and a leg to even be allowed to study there, not to mention room and board, food, supply costs...we’d never be able to afford it.” He let out a resigned sigh.

A frown formed on Tara’s face. She couldn’t necessarily empathize with Thomas’s situation exactly, but the feeling of being trapped by forces out of her own control was familiar enough after encountering giants. “So what are you going to do then?” she asked. The First Hunt had marked Thomas’s transition from child to adult, meaning he could no longer rely on his parents and needed to seek out a way to make a living.

“I’ll probably start helping out at my uncle’s shop, at least for now,” Thomas said with a shrug. He didn’t look especially pleased with the plan, but before Tara could call him out on it, he spoke up again. “What about you? Are you going to keep gathering supplies for your doctor?” he questioned.

Since even before she had finished school, Tara had been assisting the town’s physician by foraging for medicinal supplies that could be found in nature. At first it had mostly been freelance, but within the past month she had begun receiving a regular wage from the doctor. Tara enjoyed the unrestrictive nature of the work, plus the pay wasn’t half bad either. That being said, she couldn’t see herself doing it for the rest of her life.

“Well actually…” Tara started, “I’ve been thinking I might want to join one of the scouting parties.” The job was mentally and physically demanding, but scouts were well paid and well respected. Plus, after almost being eaten on two separate occasions, Tara felt as though non-giant related dangers were pretty manageable.

“Are you crazy?!” Tara winced at the unexpected volume of Thomas’s voice, her hands instinctively going to cover her ears against the thundering noise.

When her ears stopped ringing, she lowered her hands and shot a scowl up at the giant’s face. “Hey!” she shouted, “Tiny ears! Remember?!” Despite his natural enthusiasm, Thomas was usually pretty good at keeping his voice at a volume that was comfortable to Tara. Over time, his accidental loud outbursts had decreased in frequency. Whatever streak he’d had was now soundly broken of course.

Thomas’s eyes went wide as he realized what he’d done. “Sorry, sorry!” he exclaimed in an overly hushed tone. His cheeks became tinged with a slight red color and he wore a regretful expression on his face as he looked down at Tara. “I just--I can’t believe you would actually consider doing something so needlessly risky.” When he finished the sentence he began to take on the appearance of a stern father or something.

Tara pressed her lips together. She wasn’t really sure why Thomas seemed so worked up over the idea of her joining a scouting party. In the past, she had described what the scouts did and why they were so important to the wellbeing of her town. She’d mentioned the fact that, aside from ensuring no giants ever crossed into human territory, scouts were also responsible for fending off vicious wild animals, as well as occasionally dealing with bandits that sometimes hung around the woods surrounding the town. Sure, it was probably one of the more dangerous jobs Tara could do, but it wasn’t as if it were a death sentence. It was rare that a scout was ever killed in the line of duty.

“It’s not ‘needlessly risky’, Thomas,” she insisted. “Scouts are vital to the safety of my town. Plus, it’s not as dangerous as you seem to be imagining it to be.”

“The world is a dangerous place, and you’re so small--” Thomas started, but Tara was quick to interrupt him with a raised hand.

“Okay--just because I’m small to you, doesn’t mean I can’t handle myself just fine.”

“But why risk it when you don’t have to?”

Tara rolled her eyes. “I’m not going to live my life in a bubble.” It was becoming increasingly clear to her that while Thomas may view her as a person in some respects, he still thought of her as some kind of weak creature in need of protection. Considering he’d had to save her life on multiple occasions, Tara supposed she couldn’t entirely blame him. But that had been when she’d been in giant territory. Things were different on her side of the border.

At first, Thomas opened his mouth as if he were about to shoot back a retort. However, after a moment’s pause, his expression softened slightly. “I’m--I just don’t want you to get hurt,” he admitted.

Tara sighed. It was hard to stay too mad at the guy when he sounded so genuine. He seemed to really care about her wellbeing, even if he was being a bit overbearing about it. She allowed her tensed shoulders to relax. “I appreciate your concern,” she began, making sure to choose her words carefully. “But I promise, I’ll be fine.” Tara offered Thomas her most sincere smile. “Besides, I don’t even know for sure if I am actually going to join a scouting party. It’s just a possibility.”

With slow, controlled movements, Thomas leant forward so that his face was hanging about a foot above where Tara sat. She stiffened when one of his hands gently settled down beside her on the branch, close but not quite making contact with her body. “You don’t know how much I wish I could touch you right now,” he stated, a petulant look on his face.

With her cheeks flushing pink, Tara attempted to disguise it by fixing an unperturbed expression on her face. “You--you can keep your hands to yourself, Mr. Grabby,” she declared stubbornly.

Even if she trusted Thomas not to hurt her, willingly allowing a giant to touch her felt like crossing some line. Of course, she’d already crossed all kinds of lines just by agreeing to meet with him in the first place. Maybe Tara wasn’t completely opposed to letting him touch her--but only for practical purposes! Allowing him to fiddle with her now was certainly not practical.

Thomas gave Tara a pouty face, but when she remained resolute, he released a dramatic sigh before pulling away. “You’re killing me here.”

Tara snorted as she shook her head. “You are such a drama queen.”

[satansjit]

Reflections on the Color of My Skin

By Neil DeGrasse Tyson

Wednesday, June 3, 2020

My colleague had other encounters with the law that he shared later that night, but his first story started a chain reaction among us. One by one we each recalled multiple incidents of being stopped by the police. None of the accounts were particularly violent or life-threatening, although it was easy to extrapolate to highly publicized cases that were. One of my colleagues had been stopped for driving too slowly. He was admiring the local flora as he drove through a New England town in the autumn. Another had been stopped because he was speeding, but only by five miles per hour. He was questioned and then released without getting a ticket. Still another colleague had been stopped and questioned for jogging down the street late at night.

As for me, I had a dozen different encounters to draw from. There was the time I was stopped late at night at an underpass on an empty road in New Jersey for having changed lanes without signaling. The officer told me to get out of my car and questioned me for ten minutes around back with the headlights of his squad car brightly illuminating my face. Is this your car? Yes. Who is the woman in the passenger seat? My wife. Where are you coming from? My parent’s house. Where are you going? Home. What do you do for a living? I am an astrophysicist at Princeton University. What’s in your trunk? A spare tire, and a lot of other greasy junk. He went on to say that the “real reason” why he stopped me was because my car’s license plates were much newer and shinier than the 17-year-old Ford that I was driving. The officer was just making sure that neither the car nor the plates were stolen.

Among my other stories, I had been stopped by campus police while transporting my home supply of physics textbooks into my newly assigned office in graduate school. They had stopped me at the entrance to the physics building where they asked accusatory questions about what I was doing. It was 11:30 p.m. Open-topped boxes of graduate math and physics textbooks filled the trunk. And I was transporting them into the building, which left me wondering how often that scenario shows up in police training videos.

We went on for two more hours. But before we retired for the night we searched for common denominators among the stories. We had all driven different cars—some were old, others were new, some were undistinguished, others were high performance imports. Some police stops were in the daytime, others were at night. Taken one-by-one, each encounter with the law could be explained as an isolated incident where, in modern times, we all must forfeit some freedoms to ensure a safer society for us all. Taken collectively, however, you would think the cops had a vendetta against physicists because that was the only profile we all had in common. In this parade of automotive stop-and-frisks, one thing was for sure, the stories were not singular, novel moments playfully recounted. They were common, recurring episodes. How could this assembly of highly educated scientists, each in possession of the PhD—the highest academic degree in the land—be so vulnerable to police inquiry in their lives? Maybe the police cued on something else. Maybe it was the color of our skin. The conference I had been attending was the 23rd meeting of the National Society of Black Physicists. We were guilty not of DWI (Driving While Intoxicated), but of other violations none of us knew were on the books: DWB (Driving While Black), WWB (Walking While Black), and of course, JBB (Just Being Black).

None of us were beaten senseless. None of us were shot. But what does it take for a police encounter to turn lethal? On average, police in America kill more than 100 unarmed black people per year. Who never made it to our circle? I suspect our multi-hour conversation would be rare among most groups of law-abiding people.

As I compose this, about 10,000 chanting protestors are filing past my window in Manhattan. And because of the intermittent looting and related violence, the curfew for this evening has been pushed earlier, to 8 p.m., from 11 p.m. in the preceding days. The most common placard was “Black Lives Matter.” Many others simply displayed the name George Floyd, who was handcuffed face-down on the street with a police officer’s knee on the back of his neck, applied with a force of at least half the officer’s body weight, resulting in his death. Curious irony that NFL star Colin Kaepernick offered a simple demonstration of care and concern for the fate of black people in the custody of police officers, by taking a knee during the Star Spangled Banner before football games. (One media outlet mangled the moment by describing him as protesting the national anthem.) The outrage against his silent act of concern for a national problem persisted through the 2017 season when, as a free agent, he went unsigned by any team to continue his livelihood.

So, we went from a peaceful knee to the ground to a fatal knee to the neck.

The way peaceful protesters and the press are being shoved, maced, tear-gassed, pepper-sprayed, and tackled in the streets of our cities (when the police should have focused on arresting the looters) you would think the protestors were doing something illegal or un-American. But, of course, the U.S. Constitution has something to say about it:

Congress shall make no law … abridging the freedom … of the press; or the right of the people peaceably to assemble, and to petition the government for a redress of grievances.

Which amendment was that? The First Amendment. So, the founders of this nation felt quite strongly about it, empowering one to declare that protesting for redress of grievances is one of the most American things you can do. If you are the police, pause and reflect how great is the country whose Constitution endorses peaceful protests.

What do we actually expect from our police officers? To protect the peace and arrest the bad guys, I presume. But also, to be armed with lethal force that they can use when necessary. That part clearly requires training on how and when to use (and not use) the power of your weapons. The rigorous Minneapolis Police Academy training lasts 4 months. The slightly more rigorous NYC Police Academy lasts 6 months.

Yet to become a certified pastry chef at a prestigious culinary academy requires 8 months. The perfect croissant demands it. So maybe, just maybe, police recruits could benefit from a bit more training before becoming officers.

In 1991, Rodney King (age 25) was struck dozens of times, while on the ground, by four LAPD officers, with their batons, after being tased. The grainy 1990s video of that went media-viral, inducing shock and dismay to any viewer.

But I wasn’t shocked at all.

Based on what I already knew of the world, my first thought was, “We finally got one of those on tape.” Followed by, “Maybe justice will be served this time.” Yes, that’s precisely my first thought. Why? Since childhood my parents instilled in me and my siblings, via monthly, sometimes weekly lessons, rules of conduct to avoid getting shot by the police. “Make sure that when you get stopped, the officer can always see both of your hands.” “No sudden movements.” “Don’t reach into your pockets for anything without announcing this in advance.” “When you move at all, tell the officer what you are about to do.” At the time, I am a budding scientist in middle school, just trying to learn all I can about the universe. I hardly ever think about the color of my skin—it never comes up when contemplating the universe. Yet when I exit my front door, I’m a crime suspect. Add to this the recently coined “White Caller Crime,” where scared white people call the police because they think an innocent black person is doing something non-innocent, and it’s a marvel that any of us achieve at all.

The rate of abuse? Between one and five skin-color-instigated incidents per week, for every week of my life. White people must have known explicitly if not implicitly of this struggle. Why else would the infamous phrase, “I’m free, white, and 21” even exist? Here is a compilation of that line used in films across the decades. Yes, it’s offensive. But in America, it’s also truthful. Today’s often-denied “white privilege” accusation was, back then, openly declared.

The deadly LA riots associated with the Rodney King incident are often remembered as a response to the beating. But no. Los Angeles was quiet for 13 months afterward. Everyone had confidence, as did I, that the video was just the kind of evidence needed to finally bring about a conviction in the abuse of power. But that’s not what came to pass. The riots were a response to the acquittal of the four officers in the incident, and not to the incident itself. And what is a riot if not the last act of helpless desperation.

The 1989 film by Spike Lee “Do the Right Thing,” which explored 1980s black-white-police tensions in Brooklyn, New York, ends with a dedication to the families of six people. Eleanor Bumpers (age 66), Michael Griffith (age 23), Arthur Miller (age 30), Edmund Perry (age 17), Yvonne Smallwood (age 28), and Michael Stewart (age 25). All are black. One was killed by a white mob. The rest were unarmed and shot by police or otherwise died while in police custody. All deaths occurred within the 10 years preceding film, and all occurred in New York City. None of the police-induced deaths resulted in convictions, as continues to be true for 99% of all police killings.

We know of these events because they each ended in death. But even so, back then, it was just local news. Was this just NYC’s problem? I asked myself. But for every police-related death anywhere, how many unarmed victims are shot by police and don’t die, or are wrongfully maimed or injured? Most of those cases didn’t even make the local news. But if you lived there, you knew. We all knew. For what it’s worth, NYC now has the lowest police-caused death rate per capita among the sixty largest cities in the US. Is it that extra two months training in the Police Academy?

The corrosion and ultimate erosion of our confidence in the legal system in cases such as these, even in the face of video evidence, has spawned a tsunami of protests. With sympathetic demonstrations across the United States and around the world. If the threat of prison time for this behavior does not exist—acting as a possible deterrent—then the behavior must somehow stop on its own.

Some studies show that the risk of death for an unarmed person at the hands of the police is approximately the same no matter the demographics of who gets arrested. Okay. But if your demographic gets stopped ten times more than others, then your demographic will die at ten times the rate. I suppose we first have to get the bias factor down to zero, but then there’s still the matter of police killing unarmed suspects, white people included.

I talk a lot. But I don’t talk much about any of this, or the events along this path-of-most-resistance that have shaped me. Why? Because throughout my life I’ve used these occasions as launch-points to succeed even more. Yes, I parlayed the persistent rejections of society, which today might be called micro-aggressions, into reservoirs of energy to achieve. I learned that from my father, himself active in the Civil Rights Movement during the 1950s and 1960s.

In a way, I am who I am precisely because countless people, by their actions or inactions, said I could never be what I am. But what if you don’t have this deep supply of fuel? What becomes of you? Who from historically disenfranchised communities, including women, LGBTQ+, and anybody of color, are missing—falling shy of their full potential because they ran out of energy and gave up trying.

Are things better today than yesterday? Yes. But one measure of this truth is a bit perverse. Decades ago, unarmed black people getting beaten or killed by the police barely merited the local news. But now it’s national news—even breaking news—no matter where in the country it occurs.

So how to change all this? Organizations have surely assembled demands for police departments. Here, I offer a list of my own, for policy experts to consider:

Extend police academies to include months of cultural awareness and sensitivity training that also includes how not to use lethal force.

Police officers should all be tested for any implicit bias they carry, with established thresholds of acceptance and rejection from the police academy. We all carry bias. But most of us do not hold the breathing lives of others in our hands when influenced by it.

During protests, protect property and lives. If you attack nonviolent protesters you are being un-American. And you wouldn’t need curfews if police arrested looters and not protesters.

If fellow officers are behaving in a way that is clearly unethical or excessively violent, and you witness this, please stop them. Someone will get that on video, and it will give the rest of us confidence that you can police yourselves. In these cases, our trust in you matters more to a civil society than how much you stick up for each other.

And here’s a radical idea for the Minneapolis Police Department—why not give George Floyd the kind of full-dress funeral you give each other for dying in the line of duty? And vow that such a death will never happen again.

Lastly, when you see black kids, think of what they can be rather than what you think they are.

Respectfully Submitted

Neil deGrasse Tyson — trying hard to Keep Looking Up.

Copyright © 2018 Neil deGrasse Tyson

[violethowler]

False Start: Analyzing Kairi’s Arc After Melody of Memory

In October 2019, I did an analysis of Kairi’s character arc as of the end of Kingdom Hearts 3 and what I felt was being set up for her going forward.

My major point was that Kairi's fear of change was holding her back from reaching her full potential and catching up to Sora and Riku, but that by the end of Kingdom Hearts III she had overcome that fear and was ready to move forward. 

In hindsight, I jumped the gun in assuming that the end of KH3 marked the definitive point where she got over her change and could truly move forward. While she had some good moments in Re:Mind, Limit Cut promptly put her to sleep for an entire year, trying to search the memories in her heart for a clue to Sora's whereabouts. 

But then Melody of Memory happened. 

When Kairi faces the memory of Xehanort, she says in the original Japanese version that Sora and the others being hurt was the result of her strength not being enough. I'll save the rant about how the English localization consistently removes Kairi's moments of self-reflection throughout the series for another day, but my main point is that this sets the groundwork for her decision to remain behind while Riku goes to Quadratum. When she chose to increase her training under Aqua, I was thrilled because finally this was the sign I was looking for that Kairi was really, truly, ready to move forward. 

A lot of people were disappointed by this decision because they felt like Kairi needing more training was the whole point of her being brought to the Mysterious Tower at the end of Dream Drop Distance. But there are a few things that set this moment apart and explain why her training in Kingdom Hearts 3 did not amount to as much as fans were hoping. 

First, it's that this time Kairi is exerting her own agency and making the choice herself. Her training in Kingdom Hearts 3 was never something we saw her actively choose. So Kairi making that choice on-screen has more weight than Riku bringing her to the Mysterious Tower for training on Yen Sid's orders. 

Second, while the memory of Xehanort notes that she did improve in the brief time she was training, the way she was being trained wasn't suited to her style. The description we get of her training in Kingdom Hearts 3 mostly seems to amount to her and Lea sparring each other repeatedly - which is exactly how Sora and Riku developed their sword fighting skills growing up. And when you look at her battle stance and the way she holds her Keyblade in Kingdom Hearts 3 compared to how she held it in previous games, her stance is an exact copy of Sora's. It's no wonder then why she changed into Sora during the final boss fight in Melody of Memory then when she was clearly trying to imitate him. 

In the 2006 Characters Report Vol. 1 book, Tetsuya Nomura's comments about Kairi in the early games identify the fear of growing apart from Sora and Riku as a major source of anxiety for her. The fact that her training and combat stance in Kingdom Hearts 3 imitate Sora so heavily indicates that Kairi is trying to catch up to Sora and Riku by trying to be exactly like them in that area as much as possible. With how much the series has focused on personal identity with regards to Roxas and Xion being their own people, it makes sense why Kairi doing that failed her in Kingdom Hearts 3. Because Sora and Riku's style isn't suited for her. 

Because she isn't them. 

For Kairi to achieve her goal of catching up to Sora and Riku's level, she needs to step out of their shadow and figure out how to be herself instead of trying to be Sora. And the best way for her to understand herself will be to understand her past. 

The Xehanort that Kairi faces in Melody of Memory is explicitly identified as a construct of her heart. He tells her that the answers she seeks "lie in memories that are long gone," and tells her that there is nothing for her to find in her heart. However, that isn't really true with what previous games have established about how memories work in this universe. Chain of Memories establishes that memories are stored in the heart, and that while the connections between them can be rearranged, they are never gone for good. 

So while Kairi may not consciously remember her childhood before arriving on Destiny Islands, the memories are still there deep in her heart. All she needs is something or someone to help her restore the connections between them. To rebuild the links in her Chain of Memories, so to speak. Kingdom Hearts 3 and Melody of Memory both specifically call attention to Kairi's first meeting with Aqua in Birth by Sleep, as well as the fact that Kairi doesn't remember it. From a narrative standpoint, the series has set up that remembering that first meeting will help Kairi regain the rest of her memories from Radiant Garden. 

But remembering her past is not the only arc the story has set up to help Kairi understand herself better. Training with Aqua also puts her in a position to interact with another teen who has a heart of pure light.

Who was also in a coma for a time while his heart rested in Sora's body. 

It's not a coincidence that Union X first revealed the existence of the entity known as Darkness just a few months after KH3 revealed that being a Princess of Heart was a mantle that could be passed on rather than a permanent state of being. Then Re:Mind revealed that Darkness is still hiding within Ventus' heart in the present day. And following the release of Melody of Memory, the next Union X update revealed that Darkness had killed Streliztia because it saw her death as the best way to grant Ven's desire for strength. The ability for Princesses of Heart to pass on their powers serves as set up for Kairi to do the same, opening herself up to struggling with darkness in her heart for the very first time. 

Kairi wants to become stronger in order to stand alongside Sora and Riku. But she has not struggled with her negative emotions the way that Riku has or that the narrative framework sets up Sora will be in the near future. But her decision to train alongside Aqua puts her in a position that has the potential to force her to go through that struggle herself should Darkness try to grant her desire for strength in ways that she doesn't want. 

I know that I was wrong before about Kairi getting over her fear of change. But this time, I'm confident that Kairi's character arc is finally picking up momentum. What Melody of Memory has that previous games didn't is a clear sense of narrative direction. All Dream Drop Distance did was vaguely establish that she was going to start training. Kingdom Hearts 3 didn't give enough information to form concrete theories about the trajectory of her arc. 

But all the Kingdom Hearts content released in 2020 has set up foreshadowing for a very specific plotline in regards to Kairi's character growth. And not only that, Xehanort's monologue in the flashback to her childhood where he says "if you arrive in a world that is neither light nor darkness, but somewhere on the other side, your task will be far from easy" adds a significant connection between Kairi rediscovering her past and the mysteries of "unreality." Especially because Xehanort acting like it was actually possible for her to end up there instead of Destiny Islands raises the question of whether she truly went straight to Destiny Islands after Xehanort sent her off. 

Kairi's connection to "unreality" makes her the lynchpin of all the major story arcs being set up for the other characters while Sora and Riku are in Quadratum. The parallels between them foreshadow Ventus regaining his memories of the Age of Fairy Tales just as Kairi is set up to regain her memories of Radiant Garden. Ventus regaining his memories of the past logically connects the Birth by Sleep trio to Lauriam and Elrena through his role in Strelitzia's death, as well as to the Twilight Town crew considering that Subject X is heavily implied to be Skuld. Then of course there's Luxu, who is directly responsible for Subject X's disappearance, and the Foretellers, who are still with Luxu last we saw them.  

With Sora and Riku off in Quadratum with Yozora and the Master of Masters, Kairi is narratively set to step up and take charge in dealing with the major unresolved plotlines from Union X and KH3 that need dealing with. By the time Sora and Riku finally make it back, she'll be a whole lot closer to their level.

TL;DR: I was too hasty in 2019 when I declared that Kairi had gotten over hear fear of change. I only had nebulous ideas of what would come next. But now I can pick out all the subtle foreshadowing that illuminates a concrete path forward, and I'm confident that now she's finally on the right track.

[bluenet13]

Heroes Tonight

Written for @badthingshappenbingo

Fandom: 911: Lone Star

Characters: T.K. Strand, Carlos Reyes

Prompt: Taking the Bullet

Summary: Life is but a series of split-second decisions, and when you were born a hero, any one of them can end it all in the blink of an eye. Especially when your boyfriend is about to be shot and you don't think, just leap. Or, Carlos and T.K. should have been safe. It was only their day off. But when a convenience store robbery walks in on them, they end up in even more trouble than if they had been on shift.

Links: ff.net - AO3

"This was a really good idea," T.K. says softly, before taking another bite of his cherry ice cream, "thanks for insisting we do something special."

Carlos smiles, and squeezes the fingers that are intertwined in his. "I'm all about staying in bed all day on a day off, especially if it's with you. But every once in a while I like to go out and show the world that the prettiest boy in Texas is all mine."

"You're a dork," T.K. says, a teasing smile on his face, which quickly turns into a fake pout. "But… only in Texas? And what about the other days?"

Carlos sets his mango sorbet down and captures T.K's mouth in his, anything else that T.K. wanted to say dying on his lips, as he parts them in an invitation and deepens the kiss. Carlos' hands now on either side of his boyfriend's face, as T.K's moves his to Carlos' back and draws him close.

When they both need some air, they break the kiss and smile at each other shily. Carlos then grabs his phone and takes a selfie of the two, doing quick work of posting it to his Instagram. "There you go, now the whole world knows... Maybe we can get Marjan to reblog it so even more people know," Carlos lets out with a breathy laugh, then snickers when T.K. playfully smacks his arm. "As for other days... on those I like to show that boy how happy I'm that he chose me." Carlos again continues right from where T.K. left off, his smile only faltering for a second as he remembers a time when a failed past relationship made T.K. choose fear over him.

"I love you," T.K. breathes out, "and if you let me, I'll gladly spend the rest of my life showing you how I choose you over and over again."

"Rest of our lives," Carlos echoes wishfully, "I like the sound of that."

Carlos and T.K. share another kiss, before T.K. interrupts the moment with a chuckle. "I think the rest of our lives is going to be cut frustratingly short if we don't get out of here and to the Ryder household soon."

Seeing the time, Carlos blanches. Quickly finishing the last of his ice cream cone in one swallow, then grabbing T.K's hand and pulling them both towards the parking lot.

Carlos and T.K. had already agreed to meet the team for another 126 hangs before Carlos convinced T.K. to take advantage of the first day of summer landing on their day off to go on an adventure. So they had spent their Saturday on Zilker Park, then playing a round at Peter Pan Mini-Golf, which Carlos had insisted was a real Austin attraction and mini-golf tradition that T.K. needed to experience. Then stopping at The Range after much insistence from T.K. for Carlos to teach him how to shoot. Argument which had been going on for weeks and which Carlos had instantly metaphorically shot down as soon as T.K. tried to argue that it wasn't just for fun, since they never knew when he would be taken hostage again, and learning how to shoot could help him defend himself. At that, Carlos had mumbled that making the switch to paramedic was supposed to be safer, then told T.K. there was no way he would let him handle a gun, as he already was a trouble magnet without adding firearms into the mix. But T.K. was nothing if not stubborn, so today he had sweetly offered to drive when they left the park, and next thing Carlos knew, they were already parked in front of The Range, T.K. smiling up hopefully at him. Never able to deny his man anything, Carlos had begrudgingly agreed. And so they had spent their next two hours in the shooting range, before ending their magical day at the ice cream parlor.

That's how now Carlos and T.K. were very late. Which wouldn't be a problem if not because they were already in hot water after being no-shows at the last three team gatherings. This time, Marjan had said in no uncertain terms that they were both expected to be there or they would be forced to take a time-out every third shift. Well, that idea had come from Mateo, always the sentimental wanting to keep the band together and preserve the status quo, but Marjan and Paul had easily agreed, much to both Carlos and T.K's displeasure. Judd hadn't particularly cared either way, saying his only job was getting the house ready for the team.

-x-x-x-

"I'll be back in a sec," Carlos says, as T.K. parks the car in front of a convenience store a few blocks from Judd and Grace's house.

"I can go with you," T.K. offers, already turning the key and opening his door.

"Sure?" Carlos inquires softly, "I don't mind if you'd better just wait here."

T.K. shakes his head, shooting Carlos a confident smirk. "I'll just get some snacks while you check the fridge."

Nodding, Carlos gives T.K's hand a quick squeeze before following him out of the car. As much as Carlos always wants to protect T.K, he makes a point to remember that living normally while in proximity to alcohol is a natural part of his boyfriend's recovery.

Intertwining their fingers together, Carlos and T.K. then walk into the store, completely oblivious to the two men arguing next to their car, three spots away from theirs.

Parting in different directions, Carlos goes to pick some beer, while T.K. tries to decide which potato chips brand is better, then meeting back in the center aisle and walking together towards the front. "Wait, I forget Mateo wanted some Takis," T.K. says, cringing, then runs back to the snacks aisle.

As soon as he meets Carlos again in the center aisle, T.K. sees the six-packs discarded to the side, and turning to his boyfriend, he easily recognizes the no-nonsense posture and fiery eyes that Carlos keeps reserved for when he's on shift. But before he has a chance to ask what happened, Carlos moves his finger to his lips in the universal sign for please stay quiet and don't get us into any trouble, and grabs his hand, forcing them both to kneel, as he begins to take quiet steps back.

That's when the voices coming from the front start to filter into T.K's mind, eyes going wide as he realizes what's going on. "...quietly open the register and no one will get hurt. Speak or call for help and you won't live to say another word." A man is threatening in a hushed voice. Then there's silence, and Carlos and T.K. can only assume that whoever is tending the register is complying with the robber's demands.

When Carlos feels that they have backed away enough, he drops T.K's hand after giving it a final squeeze and reaches for the phone in his back pocket.

"We have to do something," T.K. whispers, a broom in one hand, and shovel in the other, his face scrunching as he silently tests which would make a better weapon. Because, of course, and much to Carlos' dismay, he had walked them to a mix aisle containing household, yard and other miscellaneous items.

"We're not doing anything," Carlos warns, "and drop those things!" He exhales long and slow, his hand clawing through his hair as he tries to take control of the situation. "I already messaged my boss, someone should be here any moment now."

"It will be too late, we can't let them get away," T.K. argues, "come on, you're a cop, you can't tell me you're okay with this."

Releasing a pained exhale, Carlos closes his eyes for a second. "Of course I'm not okay with this! But I'm a cop because I know what to do in these situations," he chides, "and I'm not okay with my hothead boyfriend getting hurt either. So, you're staying right where you are," he finished in a low, threatening tone.

T.K. nods and stays put, even if the fighter inside is shouting at him to do anything but that. But with Carlos here, he can't do something stupid and risk his boyfriend's life.

Those thoughts however come to mean nothing as soon as the bell above the door rattles loudly and a mother and her daughter come in, both stumbling and crying out loud as soon as a gun is pointed in their direction.

"Oh, crap," Carlos mutters, turning quickly to T.K. with a pleading look on his eyes. "Please," Carlos tries but T.K. is already crawling forward to get a better look. "T.K!" Carlos hisses but he's too late, and is forced to follow instead.

"You two, come here," the robber directs, grabbing the lady by the arm, pulling her along with the girl, who's holding on to her mother's skirt. "Just stay here, and don't try to interfere," he says, pushing them both down towards the floor, behind a hot bar full of hot dogs, taquitos and pizza slices.

With that done, the man moves back to the register and continues pulling out bills and dropping them onto a bag his partner is holding open. "Come on, man. That's more than enough. Let's go before someone else decides to crash this party." The second robber pleads, speaking for the first time. His eyes looking nervous as he moves them from the register to the front door and back again.

And as if summoned, the bell rings again, and a couple of teenagers step into the store. "Mierda!" One swears loudly as his eyes move between the two men, the cash register, and the terrified store clerk whose back is as far as it would go into the wall, his hands raised and slightly shaking.

"Marcos, vamonos," the older teenager says as he grabs his companion's hand and tries to walk back outside.

"You're not going anywhere," the first robber declares, his gun already being pointed towards the two boys, "we don't need no one calling the cops."

"We won't, we won't. Please, just let us go. My brother and I won't say anything. I promise," the teenager begs in a heavily accented voice. Then out of nowhere, he opens the door and pushes his younger brother out of the store. At the same time a shot rings out and the boy collapses in a pool of crimson.

Back in the rear of the store, the shot seems to set something loose in T.K's mind, because not two seconds later, he's turning to Carlos with an apology in his eyes. I'm sorry, T.K. mouths, then gives Carlos' hand a final squeeze, before he drops it and begins crawling towards the front of the store.

-x-x-x-

Getting to his feet, T.K. raises his hands just as the two robbers notice him for the first time. A lump making its way up his throat as he stares down the barrel of a gun. "I'm a paramedic, I can help. Let me..." he begins to say, but his words are cut short as the gun is pressed directly to his temple.

"And where did you come from," the man asks, "is there anyone else here?"

"No, I was alone, hiding in the back," T.K. explains, releasing a relieved breath as both he and the man with the gun scan the area where he came from but come out empty. "Please, let me help him. He's going to bleed out," T.K. tries again, pointing with his chin towards the teenager.

"Go! But I don't want any more surprises or I'll shoot you both," the man angrily concedes.

"I need a first aid kit," T.K. says. "Please," he adds as an afterthought, because he's open to being polite to the man threatening him with a gun, if it can potentially stop him from getting shot, again.

After getting a nod from the man, the store clerk lowers his hands for the first time, reaching down towards the counter and grabbing a small red bag that he throws to T.K, before raising his hands again just as quickly.

Catching the bag, T.K. wastes no time. Just barely acknowledging the robbers with a clipped thank you, before rushing to the boy and kneeling next to him. By now the boy is unconscious, his wound bleeding freely. Not ideal, but T.K. honestly thinks it's a small mercy as he roughly pushes gauze into the opening. After the wound is packed, T.K. curses to himself when he sees there's no chest seal or sterile medical plastic on the kit. Reaching for his wallet, he instead grabs his credit card, and carefully places it over the hole, then uses some medical tape to hold it in place, doing his best to form an airtight seal on the wound to keep air from being sucked into the wound and preventing the lung from collapsing, while also making sure to leave a small opening to let out air.

With that done, T.K. turns back to the robbers, wondering why the hell they're still here and where the damn cops are, when the boy starts to stir, mumbling in pain. Wishing he could switch places with Carlos, T.K. tries his best to keep him calm, whispering whatever comforting word he can think of in Spanish and promising that his brother is safe. Absentmindedly, T.K. also wonders where Carlos is cause he hasn't heard a single sound coming from the back.

Turning to the rear of the store, T.K. tries to find any sign of his boyfriend, but instead he notices the reflection of blue and red lights bouncing off a potato chips display. Keeping any expression from his eyes and his breathing even and calm, T.K. turns to the door, trying to understand what's happening outside.

Seeing cops beginning to get close, weapons and shields at the ready, T.K. carefully starts to pull the boy towards the first aisle and away from the front of the door so he doesn't get trampled down.

"What are you doing?" One of the men asks, as he and his partner begin to walk towards the door, eyes going wide as they see what T.K. just saw. "Did you call the cops? Or maybe it was that damn brother of yours," he all but shouts, gun going up as his finger tightens on the trigger.

Not knowing what else to do, T.K. raises to his feet and stands protectively in front of the boy, his lips parting as he tries to form words, but before he settles on anything in particular, a voice booms from outside, no doubt amplified by a megaphone.

As a man, who T.K. assumes is commander of S.W.A.T, or whoever came to negotiate their release, asks the men to turn themselves in before anyone gets hurt, the one who's clearly the leader swears loudly, as he begins to take steps back. Then when he feels far away enough from danger, he begins to pace, his gun moving widely along with his thoughts and words.

A telephone ringing is the only thing that stops the pacing, as the man angrily grabs it and starts shouting demands. Not smart, T.K. knows but what can he expect from two guys that took like 20 minutes to rob a convenience store. Not able to hear the other end of the call, T.K. just sighs as the robber asks for a car with a full tank, and for the cops to leave so they can drive away, threatening to shoot everyone if his demands are not met, before he throws the phone into a wall, the device breaking on impact.

Knowing there's no way out now, the firefighter turned paramedic tries to add his two cents in an attempt to get everyone safely out of this situation. "Come on, man. Think this through. The cops are already here, they won't just let you go. Turn yourselves in and I can say this was just a big misunderstanding." T.K. has no idea how he would do that, but he can only hope the men are dumb enough to believe his empty promise.

"But we shot someone," the second man whispers, voice shaking. "There's nothing you can say that would justify that."

What a surprise, the one not in charge is actually the smart one, T.K. thinks and chuckles inwardly. "That's okay. He just came in too quickly and scared you guys. We can explain that to the cops," T.K. tries his best to sound convincing.

Seeing the leader drop the gun to his side, T.K. has a second to think that his words must be sinking in and they will turn themselves in. But there's a reason why he's a firefighter and paramedic, and not a cop. Because next he knows he hears someone shout his name, just as the gun is lifted again and a single shot resonates all around him. Everything happening before he even saw it coming.

T.K. waits for the remembered pain, but it never comes. Instead his mind barely recognizes the voice of his boyfriend as the one who screamed his name, just as the man in question lands on the floor in front of him. Blood already beginning to pool under him.

As soon as T.K's mind comprehends that Carlos just jumped in front of a bullet for him, he tries to run to his side, but the robber is now standing in front of him and as soon as T.K. moves he swings the gun hard against his temple. Stunned, T.K. stumbles backward as tears cloud his vision, and he can only wonder if they're because of the hit or due to the fact his boyfriend just got shot.

Feeling like he has nothing left to lose now, and throwing what's left of his self-preservation out the window, T.K. launches himself forward, tackling the man. Both paramedic and bad guy land hard on the floor and instantly begin to struggle against each other as they fight for control of the one weapon. The robber manages to land the first hit, punching T.K. on the face, but he just shakes his head and swings, connecting with the man's nose and feeling it break on impact. Taking advantage of his bit of good fortune stunning his assailant, T.K. takes hold of the gun and raises to hit feet, backing away from the offender on the ground.

Trying to remember everything Carlos taught him earlier today, T.K. sets his feet down and squares his shoulders as he points the gun at the man who just shot his boyfriend. But before he can cock the gun or even really think about pressing the trigger, T.K. instead disassembles the weapon and throws it to the ground. Not only because his oath says that he's supposed to save people, not be judge and executioner, but because T.K. knows Carlos would never want him to hurt someone on his behalf.

Fight over with and save for the time being, T.K. stands paralyzed as he stares down at Carlos, bleeding out on a dirty store floor in front of him, after being shot with a bullet meant for him.

-x-x-x-

As T.K. took care of the injured teenager, Carlos had stayed hidden in the back. Grateful that his boyfriend was just working quietly and not doing anything special to put himself in even greater danger.

Keeping an eye out on T.K. and the robbers, Carlos had text his boss as the men continued to wipe the cash register clean, moving then to the mother's purse. He had done his best to keep calm as he shared with his boss the internal layout of the store, and information on the number of people inside and where everyone was located. But when the commander of S.W.A.T had started making demands, which were only followed by the leader of the pair making even more demands over the phone, Carlos realized he had seen many stories like this before. And rarely, did any of them end peacefully.

Knowing the men wouldn't voluntarily give themselves up, and not wanting his worst fears to come true, Carlos had begun to crawl forward. Luckily T.K. had been focused on the man with the gun and the injured boy, and the man with the gun on T.K. and the cops, so no one had noticed Carlos getting closer.

When T.K. had started trying to plead with the men to turn themselves in, Carlos had the sudden urge to kill his boyfriend himself. But then T.K. seemed to be gaining ground so he allowed himself a brief smile. Before his cop training kicked in and Carlos recognized the man was not accepting defeat, but preparing to go out in a blaze of glory.

And suddenly Carlos knows what is about to happen. And what he has to do.

"T.K!" Carlos shouts, at the same time as he closes his eyes and leaps.

The pain is instantaneous as Carlos collapses to the floor. Darkness already nudging at the edges of his vision.

With all his energy being used on just being able to take one breath after the other, Carlos barely notices the robber walking towards T.K. before the man is raising his gun and Carlos stops breathing altogether when he thinks he's about to shoot at T.K. again and this time he can't do anything to protect him. But the man just pistol whips T.K, forcing Carlos to release a nervous exhale. Because another hit to the head is not ideal, but definitely better than the alternative.

But then Carlos gets another urge to shoot T.K. himself, because his boyfriend launches himself against the robber and they begin to struggle on the ground. And before Carlos can even try to get up and help, T.K. is standing and pointing the gun at the man, making Carlos curse silently because why did he teach him how to shoot. But T.K. being T.K. never disappoints him, and does what Carlos himself would have done, then seems to lose the remaining of his energy and just stumbles and stares at Carlos with teary, guilt-ridden eyes.

Just then the doors to the store burst open and the scene around them turns to full-blown chaos as cops and paramedics rush inside. Doing his best to ignore everything going around him, Carlos focuses solely on T.K, because he can feel a lot of blood pooling below him and if he's about to die he wants his boyfriend to be the last sight he sees. So, doing his best to clear his eyes, Carlos shakes his head and looks up, smiling at T.K. who just dropped to his knees beside him.

Carlos parts his lips to try to say something to his boyfriend, but he's not listening. "No, no, no," T.K is saying over and over again, his already blood stained hands going to Carlos' chest as he tries to stop the flow of the blood which has already soaked his shirt.

Talking off his flannel, T.K. pushes it into the wound on Carlo's chest. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry. I know it hurts, but I need to stop the bleeding," T.K. soothes when Carlos grunts and tries to move away. "Damn it! Why is this blood not stopping?" Discarding the saturated shirt to the side, T.K. uses his own hands again, blood seeping through his fingers.

"T.K, it's okay," Carlos tries to say, but stops as he coughs and chokes on a mouthful of blood. "Please stop and look at me," Carlos whispers as T.K. continues trying to stop the bleeding, so he weakly raises a hand and catches T.K's, intertwining their fingers together. "Whatever happens, everything... everything will be okay," Carlos promises, even as more blood trickles down his mouth, "you'll be okay. I love you, T.K."

"No, no, no!" T.K. continues his chant, tears sliding down his face as he desperately shakes his head. "Please, Carlos…"

"I'm sorry," Carlos says with a pained gasp, weakly reaching out with one hand and running it through T.K's hair, stopping on the bruise already beginning on his temple and stroking softly. By now he can hear muffled voices around him but can't make out any words and he knows that he's fading. Then he sees T.K's lips moving and desperately tries to read the meaning behind his words, but his eyes are closing and he's just so tired. When his lids finally close, Carlos can see unshed tears pressing against them, but instead he chooses to focus on the last image he saw. That of two cops grabbing T.K. by the arms and pulling him from Carlos, his boyfriend's teary eyes pleading, as T.K. begged him to hang on and open his eyes.

-x-x-x-

The door opening behind him and a multitude of emergency personnel rushing inside, springs T.K. back into action.

Forgetting all about the boy whose life he just saved, and ignoring the cops and paramedics around him, T.K's only focus is the man bleeding in front of him. He drops to his knees, doing his best to ignore Carlos' attempts to talk, because it sounds suspiciously like his boyfriend wants to say goodbye and he's not ready for that, instead he concentrates on using his shirt, then his hands, as he tries to stop the bleeding. As Carlos grunts, T.K. does his best to push his guilt down, hating that he's hurting him but willing to do whatever is necessary to save his life.

As Carlos continues trying to call his attention, T.K. can only continue his chant and work because if he stops to listen he knows he will break down, and that is not going to help Carlos. But then his boyfriend grabs his hand and squeezes weakly, and T.K. crumbles. Because Carlos' tear-streaked face is looking directly at him, and there's blood on his lips, and he is obviously dying.

But Carlos can't die so T.K. shakes his head and continues to chant, "no, no, no!" His words, a plea for anyone willing to listen. Then he pleads to the man himself but T.K. can see Carlos' eyes are beginning to close and then he's apologizing. Carlos' hand softly caressing his boyfriend's hair, because even when he is bleeding out, Carlos is still more worried about T.K.

As Carlos goes silent, T.K realizes someone else is talking to him, and there are also people kneeling to his side, and someone is grabbing his arm from behind, but he does his best to ignore it all. "I love you, too," he whispers instead, because he didn't say it back and if this is Carlos' last moment, then T.K. needs to make sure he knows. But he doesn't think Carlos understands because he scrunches his face in confusion before his eyes finally slip shut. "Carlos, please, you can't do this to me, to us… please fight… Please, open your eyes." T.K chokes on his own sobs, and then he's being pulled away from Carlos, two sets of hands grabbing him from behind.

"Son, please. Let the paramedics work. And they need to check you out too," a cop, who is not Carlos, but might be his boss, T.K. can't really remember, is saying to him. "That's a lot of blood."

With that comment, T.K. looks down at himself, his stomach threatening to revolt at the sight, but he pushes it down and shakes his head. "It's not mine," he mumbles, pushing away from everyone. He stumbles backwards, almost collapsing, but steadies himself on the same potato chips' display that first alerted him to the cops' presence. If only he hadn't seen them and tried to play hero.

Feeling his anger and guilt begin to overpower him, T.K. uses the last of his strength and swings his arm hard against the display. The sudden movement makes him feel lightheaded, and for the first time, T.K. notices the nausea and headache. Blinking his eyes a few times, he lifts his hand and touches his temple and winces, then frowns when he sees his fingers covered in wet blood. But he focuses on the dried crimson staining his fingers, and suddenly T.K. is stumbling to the back of the store where he remembers seeing a bathroom and standing in front of a run-down sink as he roughly rubs his hands, trying to get the blood, Carlos' blood, out of his skin.

After his hands are as clean as they will be with just water, T.K. stares at himself in the mirror, absentmindedly wondering if the cop had been talking about the blood on his clothes, which is undoubtedly the boy's and Carlos', or about the one that he now sees flowing down the side of his face. Not particularly caring about the answer, T.K. feels the need to strip off his clothes because he just can't keep seeing all this blood that should be inside Carlos' body. But shaking his head, he just sighs and exits the bathroom instead.

As soon as he's back in the front of the store, T.K's stomach drops as he notices the amount of blood on the ground, then the absence of one of the men whose it belonged to, but before he can ask, he sees the stretcher being pushed into a waiting ambulance. T.K. tries to run outside to follow, but with his adrenaline fading, and all his discomforts finally making themselves known, he just swings wildly as his vision dims and he feels arms pulling him down into a stretcher.

"No," T.K whispers, struggling to get up. "I'm going with him. You can treat me in the ambulance... or I can wait until we get to the hospital. Just save Carlos, please," he begs, voice breaking at the end.

The paramedics prepare to argue, but a voice T.K. only heard once but still would recognize anywhere, speaks next to them. "Let him go." Steadying himself on the stretcher, T.K. turns to find Gabriel Reyes staring back at him. "Let him ride with his boyfriend."

"Thank you, sir," T.K. says, then wastes no time and climbs into the ambulance, sitting on a bench next to the stretcher and instantly taking one of Carlos' hands in his.

"Just take good care of my son. I will be by the hospital as soon as we're done here." And by done here, T.K. knows Mr. Reyes means making sure everyone remotely at fault for what happened to his son is sitting in a cell, without any possibility of parole. So he just nods, before the double doors of the ambulance are closed, cutting any further conversation short.

And whatever happens next at the convenience store is lost to both T.K. and Carlos as their magical day ends with another trip to Dell Seton Medical Center.

-x-x-x-

Opening his eyes, Carlos' first conscious thought is asking himself why everything hurts. He then tries to move his hand to rub his tired eyes, but finds an IV there and decides to leave it alone. Trying to move his other hand, Carlos sees no IV or tubing, but his hand still feels glued to the bed, so he turns his eyes downward and sees another hand attached to his, their fingers intertwined together. Following it to its owner, Carlos sees T.K. slumped on a very uncomfortable-looking chair next to him. The sight steals his breath away for a moment, as all the memories of the last day come crashing down on him.

So, Carlos' second conscious thought is wondering how he can still be alive when there was so much blood. Maybe this is all a cruel dream and I'm still in surgery, Carlos thinks, but as soon as his eyes land on his boyfriend again, seeing him unharmed except for a white bandage on his head and brace on his other hand, Carlos pleads with whoever is listening for this to be real. Because if T.K. is okay, nothing else matters.

There's no third conscious thought, as the pull of whatever drugs they're giving him is too strong and Carlos drifts back to sleep. But not before he squeezes T.K's hand, and softly promises that he will see him soon.

-x-x-x-

One of the next times Carlos wakes up, he quickly notices there's no hand in his, instead T.K. is lying on the bed next to him, one of his hands under his head holding it up, the other one carefully set on top of Carlos' chest, as his eyes focus on the rise and fall that tells him Carlos is still alive.

Wanting a moment to take it all in, Carlos says nothing and just stares at his boyfriend, thanking their lucky stars because they're both okay. A few seconds later, still saying nothing, Carlos just moves his free hand and sets it over T.K's, intertwining their fingers from above.

Turning away from their joined hands, T.K lets out a small squeak, tho later he would argue it was only a gasp, then looks up and smiles at Carlos. "Hey babe, glad to see you awake," he says softly, "you really scared me today."

Carlos begins to say something, but his dry throat makes it hard to talk and he ends up coughing instead.

"Here, don't talk yet." T.K. quickly turns to a table next to the bed and grabs a cup of water, setting the straw in front of Carlos so he can drink easily. "Go slow."

Carlos drinks a few, tiny sips, letting the cold water soothe his throat and waits a moment before he tries to speak again. "Thank you."

"Anytime," T.K. whispers, then turns back to the bed and gets closer so he can kiss Carlos' forehead. His lips lingering above as his eyes look down on him with as much guilt and pain as Carlos as ever seen there.

"I'm sorry I scared you, but you also scared me a lot," Carlos admits, barely stifling a grunt as he slowly lifts his head to press a kiss to T.K's lips. "And I'm also glad you're okay."

"You shouldn't have done that," T.K. mumbles, lowering himself back onto the bed as he continues to stare at his boyfriend, as if trying to convince himself that he really is okay. "When you said I wasn't allowed to get shot again, that didn't mean you could just jump in front of a bullet meant for me." With that admission, his eyes glaze over and he squeezes them shut to stop any tears from falling.

"I'm sorry, T.K, but I couldn't just do nothing and see you get shot right in front of me," Carlos says honestly, even when he knows his action forced T.K. to do just that but still not regretting his decision. "Besides, at the moment, I didn't think, I just did."

"That's not how this works..." T.K. begins, but Carlos cuts him short.

"This works however way it ends with both of us alive at the end of the day," Carlos finishes for him.

T.K. opens his mouth to say Carlos didn't know that would happen when he took that bullet for him, that he could have died, but honestly, he doesn't think it matters. Because T.K. would have done the same thing for Carlos, and they both know it. So why delve on it now.

"Thank you," T.K. says instead, "and sorry for also worrying you. I just couldn't let the boy die."

"You saved his life… both our lives," Carlos says proudly, "a doctor came before, the boy is okay. His brother also. He stayed outside and helped explain things to the cops when they got there," he answers the unspoken question on T.K's eyes.

T.K just nods, the events of the day still too fresh for him to say much. So Carlos and T.K. just fall into silence for the next few minutes, eyes locked on each other but no words being exchanged.

Raising his hand, Carlos runs it through T.K's hair, stopping when he reaches the white bandage. "You okay?" He asks softly, breaking the silence in the room.

"You just spent four hours in surgery to fix a hole in your chest and you're asking if I'm okay?" T.K. wonders incredulously.

"I will always worry about you," Carlos says sincerely, "and… I'm very high on painkillers, I can see you're not."

Rubbing his bloodshot eyes, T.K's sighs, for once wishing Carlos didn't know him so well. "I'm okay, or I will be. They offered some OTC painkillers but you know I'd rather not."

"Okay," Carlos says simply. He wishes he could do something to alleviate T.K's pain but he knows he can't. This battle is something T.K. always undertakes alone, but as every other time, he will just be here to hold his hand while he toughs it out. "Come here," he says, pulling T.K to him and running his fingers soothingly over his scalp.

Sighing, T.K carefully rests his head over Carlos' shoulder, mindful of all the wires and tubes around him. "Next time we're not going out, and just staying in bed all day, just like this," he says with a breathy laugh, his eyes beginning to slide shut as feelings of content and relief overtake him.

"And next time you guys don't want to hang out with the team you can just say so, no need to be all dramatic and get yourselves shot and concussed again," a voice says from the door and both Carlos and T.K. groan when they see Marjan, Paul, Mateo and Judd standing by the door, no doubt with Owen and Gabriel closed behind… Both cop and paramedic wondering if it's too late to close their eyes and just fake sleep.

[johnkrrasinski]

two paper airplanes flying; 

full masterlist

Pairings: Ransom Drysdale x female!reader

Word count: 8,537 (yes you got that right) 

Warning: smut!!! exhibitionism, fingering, dirty talk. (MUST BE 18+) 

Summary: ransom drysdale will always find you, no matter where you are. always. 

a/n: this is for @darkficsyouneveraskedfor​‘s dark writing challenge. i chose prompt #24 “Character A is starting over. What happens when their past catches up to them?” hey there! i knowwww that the word count probably shocked the hell out of you cause it did me too. i got so lost in writing this fic that i ended up writing over 8k+ but honestly, this was really fun to write and i’ve been thinking of writing about ransom for awhile! so i hope you like it! please leave a like and comment. 

You stepped into your apartment unit, as you hauled the very last box of your belongings with your foot, due to its ponderosity. You were wearied from the hours you spent on moving in. And you hadn't even set everything up in place yet. You simply had to worry about getting all of the boxes out of the moving truck now.

You thanked the mover for helping you with all the commodity that was partially carried by them into your unit. You tipped them off and said your goodbye.

You closed the door behind you and you sighed. You immediately slumped yourself down on the couch, trying to regain the energy you had receded. You threw your head back as you closed your eyes. Your thoughts drifted to the chaos that had coerced you into escaping to the big city and run away.

Free. Free from the town, free from the drama, free from him.

You had been dating Ransom Drysdale for three months now. Your families were well-acquainted since you were only kids. Well, Ransom was several years older than you, but the first time you met him was when he was nothing but a fresh-faced, ambitious young man who had been spoiled by his parents since he was still in Linda Drysdale's womb.

Even as kids, he would often flirt with you, and make stupid jokes that used to elicit a chuckle out of you. At family gatherings, he would often ask you to play hide and seek and he always succeeded in locating you, no matter how clever you think you are at hiding. There's not a single hiding spot that you hadn't attempted to hide yourself in, that he failed to find. "I will always find you." He once said.

Years later, you remained good friends, despite the alteration in his demeanor. He became more impertinent. He grew into a charismatic, presumptuous, dashing young man who used snarky remarks as his weapon in family events. He was aware of his indisputable good looks. He utilized it as the power to lure any woman into his bed and that gave him even more reason to his entitlement.

He never once had to look for a job, because he knew his parents were incapable of cutting him off. Just like how he made you incapable of resisting him one night after you went back to Boston after you graduated for Thanksgiving break. You wanted to take a little break and spend some time in your hometown before you start your own clothing line that you've dreamt about since you were a toddler who was obsessed with Barbie dolls and dressing them up.

You'd always pretend that you were Barbie and Ransom was Ken. Silly little you.

You knew damn well that spending Thanksgiving with your family would be a bad idea. You had this tradition, that on every Thanksgiving, your family would celebrate it with the Thrombeys. And you knew Ransom would be there. He would make a magnetic entrance, with his nose up high and a tantalizing scowl on his face, showcasing his intact ego.  

Ransom sat next to you on Thanksgiving dinner as he would every year. You were wearing a beige-colored, off the shoulder knitted-sweater dress. Ransom would openly flirt with you in front of your parents, despite being aware that your parents strongly opposed the idea of you dating him. They respected his family, but not his notorious reputation. That's why they would never say anything incriminating that would cause a strain between your family and his, in front of them. So they'd pretend to smile and nod along.

You had warned Ransom many times to take it slow on the PDA when your parents are around.  You have told him that they weren't too keen on you being together. And so, Ransom took it as a challenge. He would put his hand on your thigh, as you try to swat him away. The more you try to resist, the harder he would try to tease you. He loved seeing you struggle under his touch and he wanted to see you fall apart in front of the entire family. Because he was an asshole who got off on your humiliation.

Ransom would slowly lift your dress as Richard and your father exchanged stories of how their business empires had been doing. He would push it even harder when Meg would make a conversation about university life as a fellow college student, of course, she'd confide in you regarding the stress exams and assignments. You were practically sisters. She trusted you more than her own cousins; Ransom and Jacob.

Ransom would keep retreating his hand onto your thigh to hike up your dress and to insert his fingers into your private parts. He would smirk when you couldn't impede him anymore. He would slowly rub your wet core and feel you under his touch. It made you squirm in your seat, as you try to concentrate on what Joni was flaunting about. She was talking so highly about a new deal she made with a skin-care company that asked her to advertise their overpriced products or something.

Ransom would peek his eyes to the side to watch your struggle, as you try not to choke on your drink. You tried to calm your nerves by gulping a glass of wine. It didn't help, his fingers were now moving so furiously that if everybody stopped talking, the whole room would be able to hear the obscene sounds of your drenched pussy against your panties.

He kept circling your bud as you try not to crumble from orgasm in front of your entire family. You held yourself back by covering your mouth as your moans were pleading to be vocalized. Meg detected the agitation on your face, from the way you sweat nervously, despite the cold air in the room. From the way you were fidgeting in your seat and the way you were a little silent from the usual.

"Y/N, are you okay? You look a little unwell."

"Y-yeah. I'm fine, Meg, ju- just... Cramps. That's all." You cleared your throat.

She nodded at that, but the look on her face told you that she didn't believe you were telling the whole truth, but she was going to let it slide.

Joni carried on with her interrupted vaunting about her best-dressed award or something. Your head started to become hazy from the impending climax that was about to hit you like a hurricane. Just a few more vigorous rubs from Ransom's skillful fingers, and then you fell apart.

You hunched yourself down slightly to hide the orgasmic look on your face, as your release drenched both your underwear and his palm. You tried to slow your breathing down by staying still in place, as you relish in the aftermath of your displayed euphoria.

Everyone was still unaware of what just happened, and you were glad of it. There's no way you'd be able to face your parents alone if they knew Ransom had inappropriately groped you under the table on Thanksgiving dinner. The look on their faces would make you wish the earth would swallow you so you'd vanish from the face of the earth.

You excused yourself, saying that you needed to use the bathroom. And you weren't exactly lying, you did need to use the bathroom. For an unspeakable reason. To make it less conspicuous, Ransom waited for a few minutes to join you.

He excused himself and followed you to the bathroom. You were cleaning yourself up when Ransom knocked on the door. You immediately knew that trouble was paying you a visit. You opened the door and his Carolina blue eyes greeted you. You exchanged nothing but glances for a moment there, then he grabbed your face in his big hands and pressed his lips onto yours brutally as if his life depended on it.

He backed your body with his and pressed you to the bathroom sink. Your makeout session didn't stop until he decided to turn your figure around in the swift motion of his hands, and he lifted up your skirt abruptly and ripped apart your panties. He threw it on the marble bathroom floor.

His broad figure was towering over you, and you had never felt so tiny against a man before. He stared into the reflection of your eyes on the mirror before he made the next move. He then pushed his finger onto your clit and shamelessly rubbed you there, stimulating you for the second time, as if you weren't soaked in excitement already.

"I've barely done anything to you and you're already soaking wet..." He chuckled condescendingly. You shut your eyes in pleasure, couldn't suppress the moans on your lips.

"You secretly like it when my fingers are buried deep in your cunt, in front of your parents, don't you. What a dirty girl."

You were too lost in the feel of his fingers to answer him. The truth is, you have wanted him for as long as you could remember. You remember 10 years old you were giddy whenever your parents told you that the Thrombeys were coming over. You had the biggest crush on Ransom since you were basically a toddler. You never said anything to him though, fearing that it would ruin the friendship. And what if... He didn't feel the same way? What if instead of reciprocating the declaration, he laughs on your face and turns his back on you?

So you buried your feeling deep until you entered your teenage years. Never hinting a single clue that you were into him. Even during his teenage years, you both went into the same school. One of the top private schools in Massachusets, the best both of your parents could possibly afford. Money was never part of your family's problem and Ransom could relate.

You watched him breaking girls' hearts here and there, throughout his adolescent years. He and you remained close for sure, but in school, he barely acknowledged you. He would always pretend that he didn't really know you well. And oftentimes, that would irk you, to the point where you'd neglect his texts and phone calls for days. When he couldn't come over, he would either text or call you, treasuring your companion through the small device.

But he went over the line, you'd always give him a silent treatment. You wanted him to know that you were exasperated at his actions. When his texts and calls remained unanswered, then he would try to FaceTime you, but that too went ignored. You'd decide to read his texts without replying, trying to give him even a harder lesson.

Deep inside of your heart, you knew that you technically had no right to be mad at him. He had the right to date any girl he wanted, or to sleep with any girl he wanted.  You weren't in a committed relationship, you barely had feelings for each other. Well, for him. Not for you, you were steep in love with him, and yet, you couldn't say or do anything about it. You were screwed, and you couldn't get yourself out of the quicksand.

But you told yourself that this was for the best. Maybe if you keep ignoring him, you will slowly learn how to get over him. You needed some space and maybe, just maybe, with the absence of his presence, you could find a way to accept that what you had was merely friendship and nothing more, nothing romantic.

The next day, after you neglected him all night, he would come up to you and confronted you about it at school. "What the hell happened? Why did you ignore me last night? I tried to call and text you a thousand times and you didn't fucking answer!"

You scoffed at his anger. Seriously? He wanted to go there? He wanted to act as if you owed him an explanation? "I don't have to answer you if I don't want to, Ransom. Now step away, I'm late to class."

He didn't flinch. He stood still and persisted in blocking you from leaving him. He grabbed your biceps, not too harsh but enough to hear him. "What the hell is wrong with you? Are you on your period or something?"

You stared at him incredulously. Is he seriously this stupid? There was no point in trying to give him a lesson, he was too inconsiderate and proud to care about your feelings anyway. "Get the fuck away from me, Ransom. Just move, please, I need to get to class."

"I am not letting you go until you explain why you're acting like this! Just tell me what did I do? Did I say something wrong?" His tone softened. The look on his face told you that he was desperate to fix whatever the hell was wrong between you two, even if he didn't really have a clue whether something was really wrong or not.

"Move, or I will call the principal." The principal didn't intimidate him, none of the teachers did. He was trouble, parading around the halls like he owned the entire school. And he knew that his parents were capable of affording the entire school, that's why none of these teacher's threats could put him in fear. But he didn't want to cause a scene, especially in front of the whole school, where his reputation might be damaged.

"This conversation's not over, y/n."

You didn't give him a reaction and just walked past him, straight to class. A small part of your heart didn't want to leave him in the dark, but you also couldn't find a way to yell at him without making yourself look crazy, especially in front of the entire school.

So you put on this cold facade like you didn't really care about him and that you weren't in the mood to talk to him, hoping that he would figure it out himself. Maybe if you punished him long enough, he would have a change of heart. Deep down you know that it's wishful thinking. He had gone too deep into his fuckboy ways and there wasn't an ounce of regret in him about it. But you let your brain create these nonsensical scenarios, that once he realized that he had not cherished you in the way you deserved all this time, he would drive to your house and beg for your forgiveness, and you'd be the happiest couple in school. Maybe... Just maybe.

Years went by as you both kept playing this cat and mouse game. A perpetual cycle for the two of you. But eventually, one of you had to be the grown-up and cut it off.

Ransom took you from behind as he put a hand over your mouth to muffle the obscene noises coming out of your mouth. You couldn't help it, as much as you wanted to stay quiet and prevent your parents from catching you doing the dirty, his vigorous thrusts were too good, the friction of his shaft made your head spin.

Your knees buckled and if it weren't for his body pressing you tight against the sink, you would've crumbled to the floor already. He whispered filthy words into your ears, making you feel even more lightheaded. "You can not resist me, can you? Walking around in your designer dress, like you are this posh little princess, when I know you bury your fingers deep in your cunt every night wishing it was my cock instead..."

A few more deep-seated thrusts and you came apart. You threw your head back and rested it on his shoulder, as he sloppily pushed into you more trying to reach his own orgasm. He moved his hand that was blocking your moans to your hips. His unmerciful movements prolonged your release as he reached his.

You were spent from the intense eruption as he pulled himself out of you and stepped back, watching his fluids flow out of you like a celestial water fountain saturating its frame. He loved the picturesque view. You steadied yourself as your knees quivered. You gripped the sink tile of the sink and turned around to face him.

"Don't speak a word of this to anyone."

That made his grin grow wider, like the conceited asshole he was. "Aw, what's the matter, baby? You don't want anyone to know what a little whore you truly are?"

"Shut up. And wait here for at least 10 minutes."

You opened the door and lurked the halls, glad that no one was there to catch your shenanigans with Ransom.

You stepped out of the bathroom hurriedly and closed the door behind you quietly. You walked back to the dining room, as calm as you possibly could, despite the still lingering high from Ransom's cock, but you were good at mastering the impassive face.

Later that night, Ransom paid you another visit as you were doing your nighttime skincare routine, in your silk black robe. He quietly climbed through your window and knocked softly at the glass.

You were surprised to see him. What the hell is he doing here? Also, climbing up to your window? This isn't 9th grade and you two weren't fifteen anymore. But you opened the handle for him slightly and spoke before you let him in.

"What the hell are you doing here, Ransom? It's getting late and I'm exhausted."

"Oh, I bet you are, babygirl. After what I did to you this afternoon, I would've been worn out too." His voice teasing.

You shook your head at his stupid banter. "Shut up, and don't make any noise. My parents are sleeping next door. If you wake them up, I will act like you attacked me and let them call the cops on you."

"Can't promise you anything, but I'll try." He winked.

You rolled your eyes and you opened the door wider, to enable his enormous figure in. "What do you want Ransom, couldn't you just text or call me?" You folded your hands against your chest.

"I needed to see you again, and I actually have something to say to you."

You shrugged. "Okay, then tell me. What was so important that you couldn't call or text? Or FaceTime, it's really not that hard to ju-"

He shut you up by attacking your lips as he grabbed your face with his hands as he did earlier. You were slightly pushed back by his truculent action but he caught you and his tongue entered into your open mouth as it tangled with yours.

You were breathless from the sudden action. He kept on kissing you until he was running out of breath as he was satisfied with how swollen your lips were. You gulped as you gathered the cells in your brain that were scrambled gruffly by him back together again. You assumed he wanted sex because if there's anything that Ransom couldn't run low on, it's his stamina. And of course, being the manwhore that he is, he couldn't keep it in his pants for at least until the morning.

"Be my girl, baby."

"...What?" You backtracked your face to assess him, for you were taken aback by what he just said. The words 15 years old you were longing to hear, but not now. Not anymore.

The truth is, you had moved on. At least you thought you were. When you both went off to college, you went to separate universities, despite still staying in touch, you rarely saw one another. You got busy with unraveling the major that you were passionate about and made new friends who shared the same interests as you do. You even met a couple of cute boys that caught your eye.

Though they couldn't compare to Ransom's charm, they still lend a hand in helping you forget Ransom. You realized you couldn't be a teenager anymore and had to chase only what truly matters to you and what helps you grow.

Eventually, your feelings started to erode away, as your college days went by. Went on a few monotonous dates, went to parties with your friends, and studied hard for your grades. You had the whole world in your hands, and you weren't about to let anything or anyone, including Ransom, fuck it up. No, no, especially Ransom.

But every time you see him at annual celebrations or at family gatherings, his magnetism still pulls you in like gravity. So you decided to let loose and live your life, without fearing that you'd get deeper into your feelings because you've matured now, and you weren't going to be held back by your juvenile crush anymore.

"Ransom... How drunk are you?"

"What? No! I'm totally sober. Say yes, baby, I know you've wanted me since high school."

"Ransom, shut up. You are clearly drunk, and I need to sleep, alright?" You tried to push him playfully, knowing that he might hit the floor with a loud thud and it would risk your parents catching you both.

"I'm serious, y/n! Why do you think I came all the way over here just to talk to you? I want you, baby."

You scoffed at his antics. "Let me get this right... You want me, to be your girl?"

"Yes," he grabbed both of your hands and brought them close to his chest. You could feel his heartbeat's pace escalated, slowly but surely. You wanted to believe the look of longing in his eyes. A part of you believed that it was simply part of his charm; the way he'd gaze deeply into a girl's eyes and how he'd make them believe that he sincerely wants them, to only ruin their mascara and never to return their calls again.

But the other part of you wanted to believe that, after years of dynamic friendship, he truly yearned for you. That, after many meaningless hookups, he had realized that it couldn't fill the void inside him and that he couldn't find you in anyone else. Suddenly, the 15 years old girl in you revived. You remembered the old flame and you couldn't extinguish it now.

"I know I'm a little late, but c'mon. We've been fucking around for years and tell me, this afternoon didn't mean something to you. We'd make a great couple." He paused, giving you a moment to answer. He searched for it on your face, whilst waiting for your mouth to say the green-light word.

He then continued, replacing the silence with his beguiling persuasion. "So, what do you say, baby? I know you want this. I know you want me. We'll go on a date tomorrow and I'll pick you up at 7." The look on his ocean blue eyes confined you in spot, frozen the time. Like you were in a movie and the picture was put in slow-motion. You felt helpless under his words. You couldn't fake it anymore now, deep down you knew that you had always been his even when he didn't have a clue of it.

"Yes, Ransom, I want to be yo-" Before you could even finish your words, he cut you off by abruptly pressing his lips to yours and you were slightly shoved back from the sudden force. If he hadn't been holding you so tightly, you would've already landed on the floor. You opened your mouth to let his tongue enter as it gets tangled with yours. His hand immediately moved from your face to your thighs, lifting you up and you circled them around his waist.

He carried you to the bed, as his lips continued its misbehaving on you. He dropped on you the mattress, and untied your robes, revealing your naked body under it.  You were wearing nothing but black lace underwear, that was soon torn off from your body, exposing your moist pussy too. His lips then move to your neck, kissing the sensitive spot that took your breath away.

He bit the skin hard to leave a hickey, stamping his mark on you. He kept on trailing open-mouthed kisses to your body, as he made a quick stop on your nipples, giving them extra attention. He sucked on the right one like a starved baby, as his other hand circled on your other one, and he pinched it hard, causing your body to jolt.

He made sure it was wet enough with his soaked with his saliva until he decided to move further down, as his other hand was still groping your other breast. Without wasting any more time, as soon as he reached your most sensitive part, he immediately licked a stripe on your bud, as he feasted like a deprived man.

His fingers unclasped your breast, as he shoved the two of them inside your heated core. You shrieked due to the shock, as your hand immediately muffle yourself, trying not to make any louder noise. He lifted his head to see the expression on your face, lost in pleasure as he kept on intruding in and out of you. "Shh, be quiet babygirl, or your parents are going to walk in on you creaming all over my fingers."

Your mind was hazy from the friction his fingers caused, you stared at his face through foggy lens, as his fingers went deeper and faster. It was getting harder and harder to hold back your moans. His words sounded obscure in your ears, as your brain was clouded with the tightening coil inside you. You couldn't think, you couldn't speak, you couldn't move under him. He truly had you wrapped around his fingers. Literally.

You felt yourself nearing the explosion, your hands immediately went around his shoulders as you hid your face on his neck, he sensed your impending release, so his thumb pressed itself to your clit and circled it, making you lose your damn mind. Just a couple more flicks, and you were a crumpled mess on the sheets. Your juices splattered all of over his hand, but it didn't stop moving in and out of you, prolonging the bliss.

After you started to cool down and recollect yourself, he pulled his hand out of you and he intensely gazed into your eyes whilst cleaning himself off your juices by sucking them clean, like a goddamn peanut butter Nutella.

He grinned like a devil who had just committed his greatest crime while you were a sweating, panting mess underneath him. "You taste better than those fucking Biscoff cookies, sweetheart." He kissed your mouth one more before he decided to get out of your bed. You rose from the bed too, as you followed him to the window. "Gotta go, it's getting late. Think you need to charge yourself, baby."

You chuckled, his wittiness always gets you. "I don't know, got a couple of unused toys in my drawers, I might need to see if they work."

"Don't you dare." His expression hardened, but you knew that he was playing along with your teasing.

"Can't promise you anything, but I'll try." You winked. His remark has backfired. "Now, leave, before, I call my daddy on you."

"Oh, babygirl, soon, your father won't be the only one you call daddy." If you were having a drink right now, you would've chocked on your water. Before you could retort, he ended the windup the night with a quick reminder, "Tomorrow, 7 pm. Dress up for me, yeah?" It was merely a rhetorical question, with an imperious intent. You both knew damn well you were going to dress up for him, he didn't have to ask twice to know the answer.

"I'll see you tomorrow." As he opened the window and quickly climbed down like a thief. How he managed to be as silent as a Ninja with his enormous figure, you'll never know. But he did it impeccably anyway.

You watched him through the window, as he opened the door of his car, and slid into the driver's seat. You two were practically the modern version of Romeo and Juliet. Your silliness whispered. Your hopeless romantic heart had associated the mundanity of life with fairytales and magical characters. You quickly shook those thoughts away as Ransom drove off his BMW and vanished into the night.

You laid in your bed that night, giddy with elation, like a teenage girl who had just been asked to go to prom with him by her crush. You tried to sleep off the exhaustion from the shenanigans had left you with. But despite feeling the weariness in your bones, you still couldn't resist the grin on your face. You eventually closed your eyes, replaying the way Ransom had touched you, kissed you, and fucked you earlier as you slowly drifted away to the land of dreams.

That's how your relationship with Ransom began. It only lasted for so long, until you both started arguing more and more every day. Whenever you had a big fight, you'd often threaten him by saying that you were going to leave, and when you actually dumped him, he always came back to your door, begging for forgiveness, wearing his best apologies.

Here's the upgraded cat and mouse game you two were playing again. Only this time, you two were caught in a narrower circle, that you both started. Him by asking you out, and you by agreeing to be his girl.

One morning, you were woken up by the news of Harlan Thrombey's death. To say you were shocked, was an understatement. Of course, you were aware that due to his age, his clock was ticking. It was only about a matter of time when you'll have to reminisce about your very last conversation with him.

You and Harlan were quite close. He was like the grandfather you never had. Your grandparents from your father's side died before you could even know them. Your grandparents from your mother's side lived on the other side of the world, and she didn't get along with them, due to your mother's ambitions of moving to the United States, and refused to follow her parents' footsteps in business. She pursued her own dreams and so, they totally cut her off.

But being the boss lady that your mother was, she managed to build her own empire, making her and your father 'a power couple', as one would say. Your mother met your father while they were in college, they got married after dating for three years, and had you, a year later.

You had always admired your parent's harmonious marriage. Your father could get a little too overambitious sometimes, and your mother had high expectations of you, but, you knew deep down they loved you and wanted nothing but the best for their one and only daughter. And most importantly, they were still madly in love with each other even after years of being married. It's very rare to find those these days.

You always wondered whether it was possible for you and Ransom to see a peak of light. Whether you could have what your parents have. A loving, committed, everlasting relationship. You used to think that you were going to marry Ransom eventually. That you might see a slow change in Ransom, but eventually, you were going to end up together, have kids, maybe two, a girl and a boy. You'll name them Florence and Nathan. Yeah, you had always loved those names.

But those fantasies spontaneously combust as soon as your relationship started to get rocky. Your faith in your future with Ransom was fading, and you were okay with that, maybe it's going to sting for a while, and you were going to cry on your bedroom floor, but you'll be fine. You'll move on and you'll meet someone else, someone better, someone wiser, someone kinder with your heart.

After the news of Harlan's unexpected death loomed over the house like a ghost, you quickly called Ransom. He didn't answer. You called him for the second time, and he finally picked up. "Hey, baby." His voice sounded too cheerful for someone who had just lost his grandfather. But then you remember that this was Ransom you were talking about. He didn't have an ounce of remorse or clemency in that cold heart of his.

"Hey, I just heard the news... How are you doing?"

"Harlan's death? Well, who are we kidding, it was just a matter of time anyway. That old bastard."

"Ransom, my parents told me everything. He didn't die to natural causes, he was murdered." Saying it still doesn't sound right. The flair for the dramatic, Harlan Thrombey. Death by cliche, like the murder mysteries novels he wrote.

"Unfortunately, but I guess he had it coming. Things already went South since the party anyway." He shrugged it off.

The party? Why would the conversation suddenly steer into the party?

The night's party before Harlan's death, you attended the family's mansion a little late, for you were feeling a little sick due to your menstruation cycle. The truth was, you didn't really wanna go anyway but you promised Ransom that you were going to see him and your parents that you weren't going to be rude.

By the time you were there, you didn't even get to see Ransom for he was arguing with Harlan in his small study room. So you went over to Meg to have a little chat with a glass of champagne in your hand.  Suddenly, you spotted Ransom storming off Harlan's study as he picked up his jacket and ran to the door to God knows where. You didn't wanna be nosy, you figured Ransom would probably tell you about it later. But you were going to let him have some space, so you didn't try to stop him.

"Hey, I've been meaning to ask... What happened last night? In Harlan's study before you stormed off from the party?"

Silence faltered for a moment before he answered, "just Harlan's usual antics. It was no big deal, I promise you."

You doubted that he was telling you the full truth, but it was apparent to you that he wasn't interested in discussing this topic any longer, so you weren't going to push him. People grieve in different ways, and you were going to let him deal with it in his own ways.

"Alright, for whatever it's worth, I'm truly sorry. He was a good man."

"Yeah, I know, baby. Me too. I'll call you later, alright?"

"Okay." And the call ended.

Weeks went on as the investigation of the murder proceeded, Detective Benoit Blanc, Lieutenant Elliott, and Trooper Wagner were meticulously taking every step further to find out the truth, investigating every possible suspect, learning their motives thoroughly.

As those weeks went by, your suspicion of Ransom's innocence grew. Every time you ask about him, he'd quickly shut it off and redirect the topic. He told you once, that Harlan was going to cut him off his will and that from now on, he was going to have to fend for himself. That only raised more questions in your head; how was he going to fend for himself now, is he going to get a job? Did Harlan say something else that might've indicated his farewell?

And most importantly, the conveniently coincidental timing. This heated argument between them took place the night before Harlan's death. Your curiosity grew about what really went down in his study...

The news broke when you were sitting in your spacious study, filled with books of your favorite authors. Romance novels, Sci-Fi books, business books, fashion books, etc. You like to keep yourself educated. You had just ended a phone call with a potential investor of your future clothing line when your mother knocked on your door and you let her in. There was a flash of disturbance on her face.

"Sweetheart, have you heard yet?" She approached you and put her hands on your shoulders, trying to comfort you before you even knew what she was trying to comfort you from.

"No, heard about what?"

"Ransom has been arrested. For Harlan's murder. Detective Blanc figured everything out. He also confessed of killing Fran, their help."

You squinted your eyes at her statement. "...What?" You felt like you had been struck by a thunder amidst your serene beauty sleep.

"I'm truly sorry, sweetheart. But your father and I knew that he was bad news. You should've never associated with him since a long time ago."

"He's my childhood friend, mom. You and Dad are close to the Thrombeys. How do you expect me not to be associated with him?"

"I know, but we never concurred on you two dating. His reputation precedes him."

You felt like you were going to vomit, you couldn't believe your own ears. You always knew that Ransom was a rascal by nature, but the fact that he was capable of murder dumbstruck you. And the fact that he murdered his own grandfather made you question whether he had a drop of empathy and remorse at all in that frozen heart of his.

"Where is he now, mom?"

"He's currently in custody. Detective Elliott and Trooper Wagner are questioning him for his statement."

And that's how you ended up here, in New York City, relocating your personal belongings to your brand-new place that you refer to as home. You kept recalling that night when you were finally ready to talk to him after he pleaded guilty of committing Harlan's murder.

A big part of you loathed him. A murderer. He wasn't just a man with bad intentions and bad behaviors, but he was willing to go as far as taking someone else's life if they don't grant him his wishes. Money really brings out the worst in people.

But another part of you yearned for him. Yearned for his benign words and sincere touches exchanged during late-night conversations after he fucked you like an animal in your bed. Or at his place, where he'd ask you to stay because he knew how drained you were after he made you cum three times... At least.

Things were often convoluted and acrimonious between the two of you, but when it's good, it's as gentle as the autumn breeze and as steady as Wednesday evenings in Boston. It's ironic, really, how you moved to the city that epitomized the chaos part of your shattered relationship.

For now, you were okay. You were dealing with the split at your own pace, whilst your mind was constantly calculating your next move to start your own clothing line. Making calls and closing deals here and there. Nightly meetings in fancy restaurants of Manhattan. Invariably sketching up the spontaneous designs that appear in your head.  

But your heart discreetly missing him. When the buzzing of the city was boisterous and the lights are sparkling like a Christmas tree, you wished that he was here with you instead of being locked up in prison. You loved New York and you had been dreaming of moving there for as long as you could remember.  You just wished that someone was there to share the beauty of the city with you.

Like one night when your parents were out of town, and Ransom came over to your house. You had passionately made love in the dark that night, and as always, after he was finished with you, he'd hold you close to his chest as he strokes your hair and his other hand was placed behind his head, displaying his hard rock chest.

"You ever thought about getting out of Boston?"

"Any place you have in mind?"

"New York City. I've always loved the big city life, you know? The town that never sleeps and the endless opportunities that await."

"You're thinking about moving there?"

"...Yeah. I wanna start my own clothing line, Ransom. I don't wanna live off of my parents' trust fund forever. I wanna be my own person and New York seems like the best city to start off."

"I can't stop you  if you that's what you really want but, we're gonna have to figure things out."

"What if I move to New York and you stay? How would we make this work?"

"Don't worry, we'll figure something out... I'll find you. I'll always find you."

When you were finally ready to have an one-on-one with him, you went to visit him. You put on your black coat and your Chanel sunglasses to hide your own face, not wanting to be recognized by people.

He walked into the visitation room and sat on the phone booth in his neon orange attire. His raven hair was slicked back, as neat as ever. How he managed to still look like an entitled, trust-fund brat whilst locked up in prison, you'll never know.

"You've finally come to see me."

"I'm not here to see you. I'm here to talk to you."

"C'mon sweetheart, cut me some slack here, I've been accused of my own grandfather's murder and you were going to act like a bitch on your first visitation? It's been months and I've fucking missed you."

"Shut up, Ransom. I don't wanna hear any more lies coming out of that mouth of yours. You are a fucking murderer, how could you? And your own grandfather? What kind of wretch does that?"

"That old bastard had it coming when he decided to cut me out. You think I'll let him get away with it? Hell no. That's my money! My birthright! He couldn't just-"

"Ransom, I'm breaking up with you." You interrupted his grievance.

He paused for a moment as if he was digesting the words you just unloaded on him. "What did you say?"

"You heard me. I'm breaking up with you. I do not wanna be associated with a murderer."

Suddenly, his palm struck the glass with a roar so harsh, it nearly staggered. The look on his face was murderous and his breathing labored. And in that moment, you had no doubt that he was indeed a murderer. The way his temper could strike at any time when he wasn't getting his way, you saw it with translucent eyes now.

"You are not breaking up with me, you hear me? I'm getting out of here and I'll find you. I will always find you."

"Goodbye, Ransom." And just like that, you terminated the ties that linked the two of you like a string on a puppet. Your entire history; two decades worth of whirlwind of emotions, resolved at the very last place you'd ever expected yourself to be. You rise from your seat and left him to rot in prison for his sins.

You kept yourself busy, chasing your ambitions to life. You kept reminding yourself that Ransom was exactly where he was supposed to be. You made a vow to yourself that you weren't going to let anyone or anything stand in the way of you and your dream career, and you were going to live by that.

One night, you had just returned to your apartment from a meeting with your PR team for your clothing line company. The meeting went well and they were positive that your marketing & advertising plans will succeed in shaping the brand's excellent image.

You took off your Louboutin heels and put them on the shoe racks where all of your other shoes were neatly organized, from your sneakers, sandals, boots, and wedges. The apartment was still dark, but you could see through the city lights from the window, and because you had been living there for weeks now, you had memorized every inch of your place well enough to move around blindfolded.

You switched on the lights to your left, and that's when it echoed.

Him. His voice. Vanquishing the stillness of the room.

Shivers ran down your spine, like the cold midnight air of New York, assailing you when you were clad in nothing but bare. Just like how he pounced you out of the blue when your guard was down to the point where you had even forgotten why you had it in the first place.  

"I see New York has been treating you well."

He stood there by the window, staring out into the bustling city, with a black trench coat hung flawlessly over his broad shoulders. His hands were deep in his pocket. You could only see the back of his head, but you knew if he turned around, you would see the insincerity in his words.

You stood there frozen in place, not believing your own eyes. The man you had come to fear; a murderer, who was imprisoned for his heinous crimes... He was standing in your very own apartment, on your wooden floors, waiting for you to come home.

Despite the low temperature of the room, you were sweating. You couldn't move, you couldn't breathe, you couldn't make a sound. You just witnessed as horror plays out, calculating its next move to imperil you.

He turned around, and that's when you saw it. His face displayed nothing but hollowness, Antarctica blue eyes pierced right into your soul. Like a spear shot right through the center of your heart.

“Ransom… How did you…?” Your breathing labored.

“You’re breaking up with me, you said?” He started walking towards you, deliberately. With every step his shoes thumped the ground, your heart raced, faster than the rogue wave washing over people on the shore.

You gulped. Your feet unconsciously withdrew you, as his figure was getting closer. You kept rewinding until your back hit the door, as you realized there’s no more room for you to run. Your hand immediately reached for the doorknob, but it was too late. Ransom had already seized it first, sealing your hand from turning it around as you run out of his grasp, once more.

He knew he will outrun you but he wasn’t going to take that risk. He was a man in hiding after all. He stealthily tracked you down in New York, without anyone’s knowledge, and wasted no time in paying you an unwanted visit to your apartment. He was a resourceful man, and once he set his mind on something, he will do whatever it takes to obtain it.

And he wanted you. Oh, how much he had missed you.

His other hand leaned on the door, right by your head, caging you with his body, trapping you right where he wanted you. But not for long.

“If you try to scream or run, I’ll make sure you’ll never see another light of day, sweetheart.” He whispered eerily into your ears. The hairs stood up in the back of your neck.

You weren’t going to be a fool and try to hit him or escape, knowing what he’s capable of. So you slowly unclasped the doorknob, and you pressed your forehead to the door, trying to shield yourself from this bloodthirsty beast.

Without saying another word, Ransom grabbed a full fist of your hair as he pulled you by your shoulder and directed you towards the capacious window, presenting a pellucid view of the city and how very much awake the pedestrians are.

Your hands palmed the window so your face wouldn’t hit the wall so hard, you might have a concussion. His hand moved to your back as it started to pull down the zipper of your dress. You tried to break free out of him, get him off your back, but you couldn’t, knowing that he could effortlessly overpower you.

“Don’t you fucking think of doing anything stupid, little girl. What did I warn you?”

Then you stopped thrashing around, as tears started to brim in your eyes. You tried to muffle your cries, not wanting to show him he had nearly broken you, but you couldn’t help the impotence. He brutally stripped the dress out of you, not caring if the fancy material might get lacerated.

Then he removed his own coat, and dropped it on the floor, as he used his leg to sweep both of your attires further away from your stance. The chilly night air overrun your skin, as you felt so exposed under his presence. You could hear the clinking sound of his belt, as he pulled down his pants and briefs and he moved to yours, tearing the material off of you.

Without any warning, he pushed himself inside of your wet core, feeling the slick easing him in and out of you. His hand returned to grab a fistful of your hair as he pulled back your head so he could grab you by the throat as he made you look into his eyes, whilst his other hand went to your hip, knowing full well that it could imprint a bruise on you. He then pressed his body into yours even tighter, to exhibit your bare body as he put on your breasts on full display for the entire city to see.

He slides in and out of you so easily, as his hips paced faster and unrelenting. “You really think you can run from me, huh? You must be delusional. You are mine and mine only. Always will and always be. You can’t fucking get rid of me.” He gritted through his rigorous thrusts.

You moaned in pain, as you could feel your humiliation wearing down on you. Your tears started to run down your cheeks, as your mascara got ruined along the way. Your head with clouded with shame and illicit lust.

“Let’s show the entire New York fucking City that you are mine, huh? That you are nothing but a dirty little cum-whore that belongs to me.”

You wailed louder, the mixture of pain, lust, and degradation overwhelmed you, inundating your lungs with water like you were drowning in the ocean. You squeezed his cock as you could feel your climax approaching, the fire in the pit of your stomach was ready to give in and explode. But you weren’t. You didn’t want to hand over your pleasure and give him the satisfaction of using you.

You were only human after all and the friction in your most pleasurable spot stole away all your power and strength to deny him as you yielded. A few more strokes and you crumbled. Your release washed over you and took over your body. Euphoria clogged in your brain, making you unable to think of anything else but him. His relentless thrusts that kept going prolonged your release as he tried to chase his own orgasm.

Then he let go, all the frustration, stress and anger, he unleashed all of them inside of you as he stayed still for a few minutes, making sure every drop of his cum stay inside you and none gets spilled to waste.

He breathed into your hair, as your panting didn’t slow down. You struggled with catching your breath as the glow of the moon reflected over your sweaty chest, exhibiting your exploited nudity. Your brain couldn’t even remember that you were standing on full display for you were too trounced by euphoria.

“I told you… I’ll always find you.”  

[my-writings-and-musings]

hey! so idk if you write platonic relationships but if you do, could you write something about whirl asking someone to be his amica endura? i just. i need more whirl love in my life and GODDAMN i love the way you write him sm gshdjf,,, thank you!! <33

I miiiiggghhht have gone a little overboard on this one and made it more of a short story than an answer... But I hope you like it! Thank you so much for the compliment, I do try my best to write Whirley well!

Whirl doesn't like to let fear boss him around. Ordinarily that's easy enough to accomplish, he's a big bot and threatening his life is a great way to end yours, and any threat he can't kill (for moral or legal reasons) can usually be ignored out of existence. As a result he's had very little to be afraid of these past few millennia, and he's even perfected his reflexes to the point he can quickly judge what reaction is warranted whenever that creeping feeling returns, meaning it never lasts more than a few minutes tops. It's a solid strategy, and the proof is that he's outlived everyone who's ever doubted it. Most of them, anyway. He's been getting sloppy since this whole quest thing.

Or more specifically, since he met you on this quest thing. The quest thing that's becoming less about the quest and more about the real treasure you've all gained along the way, which for once isn't the (many) guns he's found or the (countless) bad guy corpses he's left in the rearview mirrors.

Nope. It's you. The squishiest little air breather his optic has ever beheld, and darn the saps on this crew for rubbing off on him, because he wants to go out of his way to let you know that. Their silly insistence on honesty has made him feel like you need to know what you mean to him, and isn't that just ridiculous?

But if it's so ridiculous why was he scared? Because you could say no, damn it! You'd be silly not to! It was one thing for you to hang out with the ship's resident screw up and part time nutjob, maybe even have a drink with him, and sure you'd actually called him your friend and the two of you had looked death in the eye to insult its cataracts on more than one occasion together... But to officially declare to the crew and the universe you were Amica Endura and that you actually liked him?

You'd be mortified he even thought it was okay to ask, obviously. Then you'd wisely cut all ties and pretend you didn't know him, and he'd be left with... well, not nothing, but not much above nothing either. Worse actually now that he considered it, he'd probably be left with pain. The kind of pain you only got when you lost something, a particular experience he'd spent a very long time trying to ensure he'd never have to endure again, and he'd been doing pretty well until you showed up. But he wasn't mad at you, he was mad at himself, both for having the audacity to grow feelings and then getting soft enough to actually acknowledge them like a sap.

But facing fear was far better than the alternative. If he kept on pretending you were just another chum, that you didn't deserve the title of Amica for what you meant to him, then he'd have guilt. More guilt, to be specific, and he was already fully stocked on that. So... fear it was then. Fear and the inevitable pain that would follow when you did the only sane thing you could.

But hey, what was another mistake in the pile, right?

You'd been in your room by yourself, just relaxing an perusing the wonders of interstellar Wi-Fi, when he'd decided there literally couldn't be a better time. Some bots insisted that a proper ceremony required witnesses, but those bots couldn't judge him if there were no witnesses, now could they? Checkmate, seeing as how the two of you would definitely never speak to each other again after this... His claws had knocked on the door with as little force as he could muster, some part of him hoping you wouldn't hear and he'd have a reason to retreat, but as usual he also had to open his mouth and ruin that plan.

"Hey, Y/N, you uh... you alive in there?"

Approximating a facepalm as best he could without either half of the required components, his spark dropped when you replied with a good natured laugh, probably thinking he was just being his usual self and not making much sense. Which was true, just not in the usual way...

You'd happily opened the door with a command on your data pad, inviting him to come in and relax because you weren't up to anything anyway. Claws clacking together nervously, he'd entered with an unconvincing veneer of calm, far too worried to really pretend otherwise. Long legs carry him with slow steps, and he can't help but survey your room; he's certain this is the last time he'll ever see it. Your tiny belongings looking so ridiculously small in the Cybertronian sized living space, the ladders that have been welded to everything, gosh, is it foggy in here or is that just some emotional turmoil in his optic?

"Whirl? Are you okay?"

Of course not, but thanks for asking is what he wants to say, but a more accurate reply would involve him mentioning how things were actually really okay for a while... Until he'd started messing it all up, a process he'd be finishing up now so you could both move on with your lives.

"Oh... that's a matter of debate." He finally brings himself to say, claws firmly pinched to prevent him from any further tapping. You look more concerned than baffled, which is nice. Somehow you'd always managed to look past what he said to understand what he means. That's something he'll miss, once he finally manages to get this over with. Of course his voicebox is pitching a fit and refusing to cooperate, but it's going to be a simple series of steps once he gets it going. He'll ask you to be Amica, you'll refuse, and then he leaves. It's such a simple plan that even he can't find something to blow up in the process. Not for lack of trying, mind you...

"Is there something you need? You've been a little off lately." You said, putting aside your data pad to move to the edge of the berth. It hadn't escaped your notice that the usually loud mech had been growing quiet around you as of late, his one optic looking almost forlornly in your direction when he thought you were focused elsewhere, and so you sat and let your legs dangle off the berth to let him know you were listening. His antenna twitched backwards like a startled ear on a mammal.

"Me? Well, I'd be inclined to say..." Some half attempt at a joke died before it even could be set up, and he quickly decided the stalling had gone on long enough. If he had to endure one more second of gnawing apprehension he was going to have to destroy something exceptionally expensive to shake off the nerves, and he had just gotten his room the way he liked it. Better to go down with some dignity if he could. "You're spot on, actually. I've been off because I've got something I've gotta get off my chassis, but it's not gonna be fun for either of us. Still needs to be done though, ain't that a shame?"

Any other person on the ship would have been terrified if he'd said that to them. They'd have expected some kind of terrible bodily injury, no doubt, but you knew him better than that. You knew that if he wanted to hurt anyone it would happen as soon as he entered a room, and with something way more intimidating to kick off the fun. Instead your expression was just thoughtful, concerned, and only a little confused. "I... if it upsets you then yeah, but why do you have to do it?"

"Do you know what an Amica is?" He blurted out, the words almost hurting as they came into being. It felt like he had just struck another match, surrounded himself with fuel, and this time there'd be no interruptions.

"Amica?"

"There an echo in here?" He said dryly, unable to help jumping on the chance for an old classic. Apologetically lowering his optics, he released a quick bit of air from his vents in imitation of a cough. "Yeah, that, know what it is?"

"Sure, it's like... best friends, only way deeper, bound for life." You said, recalling it amongst the many Cybertronian terms you'd been learning these past few months. It had obviously had cultural implications and connections you just didn't have the experience to understand, but the importance of the practice had been abundantly clear from the moment you first heard of it. Chief among the things you'd been able to determine was that it carried no less weight than being a Conjunx, it was just a different kind of love.

He clicked his claws together in an imitation of an affirming snap. "That's the one. It's tough to explain to aliens, but that's the basic rundown, and there's a whole ceremony to it and everything. Did you know that?" He appreciated that you only shook your head and looked back to him for an explanation, it made it quite clear you were intent on listening as much as possible. "A bot has to ask the one who's less likely to ask, and they get to say yes or no during the ceremony. I'd imagine by now you've figured out I came here to ask you to be my Amica, start the ceremony and everything, only thing stopping me is I... just don't want to."

It was the first time he'd surprised you in a long time. There had been... well, you'd been fairly certain he was leading up to something else there, and had just been nervous. You had to repeat back what he'd said in a question for clarification. "You don't want to ask me?"

"What? No! Don't put words in the mouth I don't have!" He replied vigorously, taking a step closer to your berth and throwing up his arms in total consternation. Upon seeing your comforting near smile of reasurance, he drops his claws and holds them near his face, a gesture he typically only performs when anxious. Thoughts are beginning to run wild in his head, so he knows he'll have to wrap this up before they sidetrack him, or he'll never get it done. Bless your little fleshy fuel pump for wanting to comfort him, but there just isn't time for that. "What I'm trying to get across here, or say or whatever, is that I want to but I shouldn't..."

"Ah... why shouldn't you? Does me being a human make it... illegal?" You ask, finally getting an inkling as to what's going on. As usual, his burying of the lede means you're far less shocked than you should be now that he's actually getting to the point, but you want to use that to stay calm. Whirl has been a dear friend to you, as protective as could be from the moment he decided he liked you. The least you can do is be what he needs by letting him talk things out in a way that works for him, even if it feels so much easier to cut to the chase; you'd love to be his Amica no matter the hurdles.

"You and I both know that would only make it better. Illegal friendship? Sounds more like an endorsement than a deterrent to me." It's hard for him not to laugh at the very idea. If this was actually against some law? Oh, how very different things would be... Somehow he'd feel okay then, perhaps because this would just be another of his crazy ideas, and not something sentimental and completely irreconcilable with who he was. Previously upright antenna drooped low at the disappointment. "But... no, no such luck. It's not illegal for me to ask you, just stupid, because you're going to say no."

Suddenly so many things made sense, but in the shock of sadness that followed you couldn't help but speak, your own disappointment showing through. "I am?"

"Well of course you are! That little pink glob between your ears is smart enough to know better! If you were most saps, sure, you'd probably say yes because oooh friendship, but the fact that you're sensible enough to say no is exactly why I want to ask!" He replied, sounding emphatic instead of angry. Despite being a master at appearing mad for the sake of self defense, he can't bring himself to appear anything but... sad. Every part of him is wilting from the sadness that's clocking in early. Because you have to say no, that's just how this works, and his resignation to that fact is clear no matter how badly he wishes it wasn't true. "Believe me, I know what smart looks like. I know what sensible looks like. Most people have a terrible deficit of the two, but not... not you. That's what makes you worth asking, and also worth saying no. Weird, huh?"

Your heart is breaking, somewhat for you, but mostly for him. Did he really think he was unworthy of friendship? Of any kind of love? Clearly you were his best friend, but in the fog of self loathing clouding his vision, he's convinced himself that it has to end now that he truly feels he isn't alone. "Whirl..."

Venting in sharply, like a human sucking in a breath to hold off tears, he perks up and gestures a claw back over his shoulder. "Look, I'm just going to save us both some drama and skip to the part where you kick me out. Since I'm nice, I'll even pretend you're big enough to actually do it. I'll throw myself into the hallway and everything, really seal-"

"Whirl." You say softly, knowing that yelling won't help but desperate to keep him from leaving. It works, but he pretends to be interested in the floor, crouching like he's preemptively flinching away from a hit. It's not the first time you've seen him do this. Coming to understand the big bot had been more natural for you than most, but had still taken effort, and in all the trial and error you'd learned he just needed things phrased a little differently. Thus, you decided to give what you'd learned a final trial.

"Can I at least... actually get a chance to say no?"

It was just indirect enough to immediately catch his attention, but his wounded look remained unchanged, like he didn't dare hope.

"Any particular reason why?" He asked, tilting his helm as if you've piqued his interest with a daring and devilish scheme. There's a lot going on behind his optic, but you're unflinching as he levies it back on you, smiling to emphasize you have nothing to hide.

"It's... well, it's not really fair for you to decide something for me, is it? Even if you know what the answer will be, shouldn't I get the chance to make that choice myself in the moment?"

He clacks his claws together to imitate snapping fingers. "Damn it all, you're a clever little fleshy, I'll give you that. Appealing to my peerless sense of justice for self determination to get your way." The mask of neutrality is razor thin, and beneath it he's anything but calm. None of this is going the way he planned. Far from casting him out, you're encouraging him to go through with this, but why? You can't actually plan to say yes, so why all this fuss? It's not in you to set him up, but he can't bring himself to hope he has a chance at the impossible... So he just plays along like it's all a game, albeit a very sad one, and one he intends to play carelessly. "If you... I'll give you the way to say no and the way to say yes, okay? That way you'll... really mean it when you say no."

"I promise I'll mean it." You say, wishing so badly he'd believe you wanted his friendship. It'd be so much easier than coordinating with him to give you a chance to accept his Amica proposal. Yet you know his manner of processing can't be argued with, so instead you just keep going, praying he'll let you have a chance to show how much you care. "But I need to know how it all works."

"Well, I'll say some fancy words, show my spark, all that mushy stuff most folks love." He waves his claws about, as if to brush away the silliness of the ceremony right there. The idea of baring a spark surprises you, but you keep quiet, focused only on getting through to the part he's convinced himself won't happen. Even as he continues his pessimistic prediction is obvious in his tone. "Then, when I've said my piece and pause, you just say "I refuse" and it's all over, we don't have to talk again, I'll leave and..."

If you were close enough you'd have laid a reassuring hand on his shoulder, but thankfully your silent look of encouragement does the job, and he overlaps his wrists whilst looking away.

"But if you were going to say yes, hypothetically, then after my pause you just go quiet and... put your little digits on mine... Then repeat after me when I say "today, tomorrow and always" to wrap it up. But since that isn't happening, let's just get this over with, eh?"

It's the flattest one of his jokes has ever fallen. For all his skill keeping his feelings reigned in, even he can't prevent a little bit of intimidation slipping through. It's impossible not to be afraid, because he wants so badly to hope, but he knows what happens when he does... Still, he wants to at least get it over with, and he gathers himself just as you give your final encouragement with a smile.

"Lets."

Clearing his vents, it occurs to him that he's never been more self conscious than he is right now, which is an unfortunate feeling to prelude him baring his spark.

The soft glow fills the room as he shifts back his chest plating, revealing the orb of his "soul" as you'd once called it, and he internally admits that your quiet expression of awe gives him the boost he needs to start. "I bid you stand in the glow of my spark... so um, that you may feel the heat of my words and k-know them to be true."

It's arguably one of the only times he's ever stuttered, and while you don't react, he's never felt more foolish. Was it not enough for him to make a spectacle out of himself just by doing this? Did he really have to butcher the whole process too? Feeling dizzy, he forces his voicebox to try and start making words again. He's painfully aware of how ridiculous he looks; one eyed, mangled screw up trying to be sentimental... But darn it all, he made a commitment. Putting his claws beside his spark, he kept going into what he knew would be a bitter end.

"I invite you to receive my light and in doing so become my Amica Endura—from now until forever."

He doesn't realize he's at the end until he runs out of words. The fear and helplessness that follow are akin to the level he'd experience falling off a cliff with no flight to save him, and for an eternity he's left floundering in anticipation of the impact. This is supposed to be it, the moment you turn him away and rightfully go forward in life, better off for having left him. But you're quiet. Your words of dismissal aren't forthcoming, and your soft and somewhat sad little smile doesn't indicate that he should expect them. But why not?! Why won't you say them?! What could you possibly hope to gain by accepting?

You hardly dare to breathe as you wait for him to begin the next phase. The glow of his spark illuminates everything, allowing you to see the fear in every inch of his being, particularly his lone expressive optic. He doesn't want to believe you're saying yes, as much as he treasures you, he just can't believe you'd ever feel the same about him. But you do, and you try to communicate that with every fiber of your being. You want to be friends with him through anything that may come, and you pray that he can see the depth of your conviction in your eyes.

Something like a hiccup shakes his shoulders. You haven't refused him. It's been almost a minute, the light of his spark fluttering as the sheer power of his emotions coursed through it, namely his disbelief that any of this could be real. Something like relief but a million times stronger makes his vents hitch. He's still processing the turn of events when he remembers he has more to say.

"Ah... Y/N... for you... um... for your acceptance..." He croaks, trying to keep an accursed tear from leaving his optic by briefly tilting back his helm. You're similiarly affected, but you let yourself sniffle and shed a few tears as he approaches with his claws out to you. They're big enough that even a semblance of holding hands isn't really possible, but you grab the tip of each and squeeze regardless, knowing the sentiment is still quite clear. You're his friend, and you always will be, through thick and thin. Now he's finally starting to see that too.

He doesn't fully have a grasp on the fact that this is real, but he doesn't care about that as much as he should. You were his Amica Endura, his dearest friend, and you somehow liked him enough that all the baggage was worth it. With one of your tiny hands on each of his clawtips, he finished the ceremony. Each word felt light as a feather when he spoke it. "As you are to me, may I be to you—today, tomorrow, and always."

"Today, tomorrow, and always." You echo, meaning it with everything you are. There's no grand finale, but the emotion in his optic and quivering antenna is more impressive than any supernova. He doesn't seem to want to pull his claws away as he shifts his chest plating back into position, and you're happy to oblige, keeping a solid hold on his claws as if your tiny body is his lifeline.

"You didn't say no." He says as the glow of his spark disappears. It's a tone for a statement but he obviously wants it to be a question, and he only keeps it from being one because he's still too overwhelmed to ask that many yet.

You can't help but sniffle as you try to sound confident. "Of course I didn't."

"We're still friends." He says softly, closing his claws together so incredibly gently around your hands, letting the two of you be a little more connected as he marvels at his luck. Of all the squishies in the galaxy, this trip had led him to you, the one who made him happier than anything. Despite all sense you loved him, and he loves you back, and the two of you would get to keep on adventuring after this. You smile as you repeat your vow to make your dedication clear.

"Today, tomorrow, and always."

Those words strike a tender chord in his still sensitive spark, for you to believe them so confidently you'll repeat them with ease, and he's promoted to react on a whim.

"Can we hug?"

"Hug?"

"Is there an ech-" The rapid fire reflex of a joke fades out in the face of his genuine and unheard of desire for a bit of tender contact. Releasing your hands, he opens his arms to make his point clear, and is delighted when you start nodding even before he's done asking. "Yes, if you don't mind... okay? Okay."

It's more of a hug for you than him, your arms wrapping around his neck as you nuzzle against his helm to show affection, feeling him wrap as much of his gangly frame around you as possible without risking any kind of damage. While this may not be the first time he's initiated something like this, it's one of very few rare occasions, and thus you know this is special. You can feel how badly he wants the comfort through the ease he shows at your touch.

"You want to stay like this for a bit?" You ask gingerly, getting settled so you can stay comfortable for a few minutes cuddled up to him.

"Mhmm." He says softly, admitting to himself that hugs might actually be worth the fuss after all. Tiny hands reassuringly pat his shoulder, encouraging him to stay in place while he basks in this single perfect moment. He hadn't dared to hope you'd still be friends after this, but here you were, your little body holding and comforting him as if he wasn't several times your size. Funny thing, that fate, eh?

"Take your time."

"Y/N?" He whispers softly into the quiet, wanting to say one final thing before taking a few minutes to enjoy your company.

"Hm?"

There's a tiny pause before he holds you close with one final statement.

"Thanks."