#of course they could’ve went deeper but to make it accessible to all people of all age groups it well still well executed in my opinion

[nct127s]

the switch up on barbie is so strange to me, the same people who were all going to the cinema to see it & proclaiming it film of the year are now all the same people slating it

[ellestra]

All Apologies

This whole episode was a reset and set up for the next so it was mostly positioning people for the finale. But I appreciated it doing that by the good guys making amends, talking it out and really apologising.

Bucky made up with Ayo enough that the Dora Milaje waited until he did he was done with Zemo. It was predictable in outcome and a bit overdramatic but he clearly needed this. They didn’t forgive him enough to let him back to Wakanda but enough to make Sam some new toys because White Wolf asked.

And it was nice to see Zemo really didn’t change. Just like with T’Challa he wants the heroes to kill him. Goading Bucky to do it was still low. But I bet he’ll find interesting company on The Raft. This is clearly not the last time we see Zemo.

It might’ve looked like Bucky was basically going “see what happened when you give up this” when he threw the Shield by Sam but he had time to think and he came back with a gift and some real apologies. Bucky and Sam may joke about being co-workers who once knew the same guys but this finally started to feel like friendship. Repairing machines and training montages is how guys bond, right?

Still, I loved Bucky being little show off with his super strength and annoying Sam by flirting with Sarah. And that Sam for not letting be alone. The way Bucky smiled when he scared off the boys from playing with Shield was almost happy. He clearly needed that.

Sam has learnt he can’t win every battle. At least not alone. He made up with his sister by doing some actual helping instead of talking and giving her space to make the decision about keeping the boat herself.

He also went all counsellor on Bucky telling him the truth he needed to hear (and certainly wouldn’t get from his therapist). Bucky was trying to do the redemption the easy way. Avenging instead of helping. It’s time to face real consequences and do it for real.

And now Captain America and the White Wolf are ready to save the world.

I also loved how all of the above was contrasted with John Walker going deeper into a lies and delusion. When Bucky and Sam were doing the work to understand others and apologise for their mistakes he was just going deeper. It was not his fault. The guy did kill Lamar. I only did what you asked me to. I m Captain America.

When the sound of the hammer in the dark hit in the post credit scene like at the end of Endgame I was ready to scream. It’s not enough for him to tarnish the legacy of Steve but he just had to come for Tony’s too. Making his own Shield clearly out of his own entitlement.

He’s just a walking proof of everything Isaiah Bradley said. The white, blond, blue eyed walking convictions that he is owed everything that was never even his. Even Val told him that Shield wasn’t really government’s to give.

And seeing Walker and GRC plotting to use military force to remove people from their land it was hard not to agree with Bradley. It’s hard not to understand Kari. What does it matter if people like these believe you are criminal? How can their words have any meaning?

Isaiah was alone and overpowered and the only option was being used or hide. The overwhelming evil that leaves you hopeless and takes everything you ever had and treats you like an object. One that keeps happening over and over again. Bradley doesn’t believe it can be defeated. After all they even abandoned Walker when he became inconvenient.

Karli thinks she can fight it but to bring it to the level they understand means going all out and not caring who she hurts in the process. Her plan is to match evil with evil.

Watching in the real world it is easy to agree with that hopelessness. It feels like the bad just gets worse and the cycle never changes. But I like how show builds Sam into a hero, who like Steve, never gives up no matter how overwhelming the odds are. He believes in people and that there is enough good ones to repair boats and maybe even the world. It’s of course a way to easy, superhero world solution but the stories like these are to give people hope and strength to keep trying.

I liked the nod to Torres becoming new Falcon when Sam left him the wings but I was hoping for real mentorship not leftovers. Although, I suppose this subplot is another thing that got lost to pandemic.

I really liked the community coming together to repair the boat and I get the metaphor but I still think Sam should’ve asked the rich guys to return favours. It’s somehow never their responsibility and Sam’s so allergic to asking them Bucky had to do it to get him new suit. Sam wouldn’t be able to save the world if Bucky didn’t do it for him.

I understand he’s the hero and doesn’t beg or whatever but I’m sure that the rich only got richer because of the whole Blip thing just like they did of the pandemic. Make them pay their share. Get them to work on that boat.

I am however very appreciative of hiring Julia Louis-Dreyfus (of those Louis-Dreyfuses) to play evil heiress.

Clearly Val is one of these who profited and Walker is about to make a deal with the devil. And I wouldn’t be surprised if he ends in some lab being experimented on by people who would like some of that serum.

And clearly Sharon is also playing a game. She got Batroc out of prison and working for her. She has access to satellites. This is not just art selling and she clearly could’ve contacted that family she is so missing. But that conversation with Batroc means he isn’t there with Karli for revenge (no matter how plausible that is). Sharon got someone with the Flag Smasher on their big attack. I still think it’s to get Power Broker and not because she is them. But we’ll see.

[delusion-of-negation]

top 10 (ish) ridiculous or annoying FAQs:

(click at your own discretion)

1) "kids today rely on others to do everything"

ah yes, damn those participation trophies! if it wasn't for them my hands wouldn't be fucked, and I wouldn't need people to write for me. but seriously, stop reading boomer comics, and go outside to meet some actual young people.

2) "sus that a non-american says mom"

yeah, because it's clearly the superior version, and I'm not too patriotic to concede a defeat.

3) "sweaty, the victims of abuse by catholics are real people, stop appropriating their pain just because you want to hate catholics; plus teachers abuse people just as often anyway"

so firstly, I don't hate anybody. and secondly, regarding the fact that victims really do exist, [insert "of course I know him, he's me" meme here]; although I don't often talk much about the abuse I went through or what my religious beliefs are. but, more importantly, statements like "survivors are people" can be phrased like "some people are survivors", and when you're unable to act according to the latter (like when you don't even consider that somebody might be one) then you display a failure to recognise the former - you're projecting; a survivor can't be appropriating their own pain, but you can be appropriating it to silence one. and thirdly, teachers do abuse - the problem isn't and has never been purely religion, rather that abuse is often done by somebody in a position of trust, power, and familiarity; and that the lack of a global minimum enables totally legal abuse on top of the illegal stuff. people with access and respect have more opportunity to abuse than those without, and that goes for teachers too. but, once again, you can be appropriating the pain of survivors to deflect and silence people. please remember this before you say that shit.

4) "get help/therapy"

way ahead of you - years ahead of you. but it's not magic - people who say this often act as if you'll start behaving differently overnight. not only are some things simply beyond the ability of talking therapy to completely rectify, it also takes time and has to be selective. you've got to pick your priorities, and that's definitely not whatever ship or joke you're mad at me about today. therapy is a slow, arduous process that can't guarantee results - it isn't "anti-recovery" to recognise that, it's honesty. while I've been in therapy for a long time, it is not necessarily going to change whatever you don't like about me - whether that's because it can't, because my focus now is on more important or urgent things, or because I don't want to change that.

5a) "tell your family you ship incest, see how that goes; normal people find it disgusting"

actually, some know, and they're fine with it. in fact, one prefers sibling pairings in fiction to all other dynamics because, to paraphrase, "it's a deeper level of messed up co-dependence". so unfortunately for you, my remaining family (by which I mean those not dead or cut out of my life after abuse and so forth) actually are able to distinguish between fiction and reality. plus, my reasoning for caring if they find it gross or not pertains only to recommending books and such - their opinions do not dictate my tastes.

5b) "don't sexualise/appropriate incestuous abuse" and "I bet you enjoyed being raped" and other attempts to upset me over 5a

firstly, as I've already said here, survivors can't be appropriating ourselves. in addition, you're not owed people's history or trauma - it's not okay to require people's personal information, or else you'll send anon hate and accusations of appropriation. secondly, I'm not sexualising our abuse (not just because I write horror, and so a lot of my writing is intended to be creepy, not sexy); these stories aren't about us, they're not us at all. entire dynamics/people (fictional or otherwise) aren't all going to be applicable to us or identical to us, just because they have something in common with us; they're not us and they're not accountable to us. thirdly, the fact that people send this stuff (attempting to trigger people's trauma over ships) is so much more worrying to me than somebody making our communal imaginary friends kiss. you're trying to hurt people. and finally, to the "I bet you enjoyed it" crowd (if you're at all serious): do you think you'd enjoy being in a real zombie apocalypse, alone, afraid, and really at risk of being eaten alive? a fictional scenario does not feel remotely the same as a real one. this isn't rocket science - things that look like you aren't you; fiction isn't reality; don't send anon hate. (edit: comparable "just leave me alone, I'm not hurting anyone" sentiments for yandere stuff, and anything else you decide I'm naughty for.)

6) "you'll be sent off to do manual labour once your communist revolution happens"

while I don't know why people think that I'm a communist, a dictatorial regime probably isn't going to want me to do manual labour. they're more likely to just shoot me; I'm useless and a liability. call me crazy, but something tells me that "ah yes, we shall give ze deranged cripple ze power tools" isn't the communist position.

7a) "they/them can't be singular pronouns"

yes they can, and they're used as such in both shakespeare and the bible. but you don't have to say this - I'm also okay with he/him, so you could've just used those and chilled out. also, do I look like somebody who views the rules of grammar as fully immutable and imperative?

7b) "enbies/aros/pan/etc aren't valid"

do you really think that you're going to change any hearts or minds by putting that in my ask box or under my funny maymays? chill out, it's not worth the effort - you could be planning a party (in minecraft) and having fun instead. it isn't worth my time to rant at everybody who's saying something isn't valid, updating how I'm explaining it as my opinions grow and general discourse around it evolves; I'm just who I am, somebody else is who they are - why bicker in presumptuous ways about if that's enough? it ultimately is valid, in my opinion, but that isn't an invitation to keep demanding that I debate. (edit: old posts of mine probably don't phrase things incredibly, on this or anything... I tried.)

8) "what are your politics?"

my politics are informed first and foremost by the knowledge that I'm not cut out to be some kind of leader - I don't want to be the guy who tells everyone else what to do, I just offer what seem to me like valid criticisms of how we are doing things now, and general pointers on the values and ethics that I would prefer to move towards. things like individual freedom, taking the most pacifist route where possible, trying not to give excessive power to small groups of people (governments or corporations), helping those in need even when they're not palatable, and letting me suck loads of dicks. but please refrain from decreeing me something - there's not enough information in what I said, so you'll just be filling in the blanks with assumptions. (edit: workplace democracy seems cool to me; benefits are good; fair fines and taxes; and the "sperm makes you loopy" saga: 1, 2, 3, and 4.)

9) "you're a narcissist"

no, I don't meet the diagnostic criteria. joking on the internet that you're hot doesn't make a person a narcissist. the fact that I've chosen to keep my actual self-esteem issues to myself is not proof that they don't exist - you're just not entitled to that information about me. but it's also not narcissism to really like how you look. (edit: don't throw labels around carelessly too.)

10a) "kin list?"

the fabric of the universe, a zombie, dionysus, maned wolf/arctic fox hybrid, a comedian, big gay, big rock, ambiguously partial insincerity. (edit: kin list may or may not be incomplete.)

10b) "kin isn't valid/that's just being insane"

haven't we established that I'm deranged, and that sending stuff like this on anon is simply a waste of your precious time? besides, I do not care if it's invalid or insane - it's fun, I'm happy. (edit: see 7b for my opinion on sending me yet another ask with "that's invalid" in it; I'm not in the mood to discuss the nature of validity.)

bonus: "it gets better" and "trigger list?"

as I've said before, things just don't always get better for everyone - sometimes things can't be cured or even treated, sometimes they kill you; in some cases it could get better if not for a blockade or lack of time. the world is messy. it needs to be more normalised to reassure or comfort people without relying on saying that their issue will get better or be cured. it does suck to be this ill, but it also sucks to be made out to be a lazy pessimist, just because I have the audacity to not play along. and as for the trigger list, I don't like providing people with an easily accessed list of ways to hurt my feelings or harm me - upsetting me is supposed to be challenging, and thus rewarding. if you want a cheat sheet then you're out of luck, I'm afraid.

bonus #2: "FAQ stands for frequently asked questions, it doesn't need that s at the end!"

yeah, I know, I just enjoy chaos and disarray.

bonus #3 (edit): "what are your disabilities and how exactly are they incurable and/or deadly?"

again, I don't tell the internet everything about me, especially when it poses a risk, especially not as an easily accessible list for you to refer back to whenever you feel inclined to hurt my feelings. that is understandably a sore subject. (edit: that includes physical health issues btw.)

bonus #4 (edit): "so we shouldn't be critical?"

if it wasn't clear from my answer about politics or my post in general, you can have opinions about things, and you can voice that. it's just not realistic to exist at extremes: to think that you alone should dictate what exists in fiction, or to think that people shouldn't be expressing disdain or criticism of any calibur. say how you feel about things, that's fine, but it's also fine if people find that they don't value your input. plus we're all flawed, we can all be hypocritical from time to time, we all get bitchy, and we all make mistakes, or even knowingly fuck things up. that's important to keep in mind, whether we're talking about the one being criticised or the one doing the criticising - poor choices of words, imperfect tone, or contradictory ideas are inevitably going to happen occasionally.

congrats on reaching the end! if you have, at any point, said one of these to me, you owe a hug to your nearest loved one (once it's safe).

edit: might add more links/bonus points in the future when I think of things, but it's late now. (sorry for links where prior notes in the thread have my old url, that may get a tad confusing; also, not all links are my blog or my op, since it is to illustrate points/vibes, not to self-promo.)

[smutsonian]

I just read your works and they are fucking AMAZING!!! Idk if u already watched 'Knives Out', but if u did... can I request where Ransom and y/n are fuckbuddies but it ends with angst? idkkkkkkk... thank youuu x

‘fuck buddy’

Warning/s: smut, asshole ransom, angst, please read at your own risk, spoiler-free, nOt ProOfReAd, fluFf

masterlist

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

It was after another family reunion. You didn’t know why they keep doing that stuff when it turns into a messy fight every year but here you are with Ransom, serving as his “girlfriend” and date. But you know too well that you’re far from having that title. His girlfriend.

You’re pretty sure that Ransom is not capable of loving someone or anything but himself and maybe money. He only bought you to the reunion because he thought that maybe by bringing you there, his family would not think of him as a loser. Maybe they’ll see him as someone who’s capable of keeping something such as a relationship. Maybe they’ll think of him as someone who can actually find someone who loves him. 

Of course, all of that was just for show. You were just for show. You’re not dating Ransom. Although, you have a certain arrangement. You were fuck buddies. That’s what he calls it. You use each other in a time of need. He’ll be there for you when you’re needy and you’ll be there if he is. And one thing’s for sure, Ransom is really needy. You made a deal and so you kept your word. When he needs you, you come. But that’s all that. Nothing more. Just a body to use when needed. 

You can’t hide the fact that you find him attractive. Extremely attractive. If he weren’t such an asshole, you would’ve been in the gutter. But that’s the problem. Once you spend almost all your time with him, you get to know why he’s the way he is. When you get the chance to see how his family acts around him, you’ll understand why he became the way he is. You’ll develop a sense of pity for the guy. You’ll realize that he’s just misunderstood. He’s not asshole by nature. He became an asshole because of his nature. Because of the people around him while he’s growing up. If that makes any sense.

Back to the reunion where he introduced you as his girlfriend. It was all going so well. He got compliments. You got compliments. Something along the lines of:

“Ransom’s so lucky to have you!”

“What a pretty girl.”

“How’d Ransom score someone like you?”

Then it got progressively worse and they started targeting Ransom.

“I can’t believe Ransom would find someone like you.”

“Did he blackmail you?”

“Are you sure about him? You can do so much better.”

The way they talk so badly about him disgusts you. The toxic atmosphere was suffocating and you understood why Ransom was… Ransom. You understood why he is the way he is. Feeling nauseous from the words that came from his own family, you excused Ransom and yourself out of the living room and into an empty hallway. He was visibly shaking. Probably from anger. But his face held much more emotions. Embarrassment, sadness, and loss?

“We can go if you want… I haven’t taken any alcohol so I can drive us-” you tried to pull him towards the main door of the house but he stopped you by grabbing your much tinier wrists with his huge hand and pulled you deeper down the hallway and into a bedroom. He pushed you gently inside and closed the door behind him. “Strip.” He bellowed. 

“Ransom, we can talk about it.” You walked towards him, trying to soothe him by running a hand down his arm comfortingly but he grabbed it with his other hand and glared at you. “I’m not your fucking boyfriend. We’re not in front of them anymore so you don’t have to act like my fucking girlfriend.” He hissed as he pushed your hand away. You stepped back and nodded. Of course, you’re not his girlfriend and he’s most definitely not your boyfriend. He’s made that clear numerous times. 

“Are you going to strip or not? ‘Cause if not, you can just leave.” He hisses one more time. You sighed and began removing your clothes, him doing the same thing with his. When both of you were completely bare, he pushed you towards the bed, making you fall on your hands and your knees. He didn’t waste time and immediately settled himself inside your cunt. He started his thrusts with a slow tempo, having a tiny amount of consideration for you to adjust to his size. When he hears your low moans, he started thrusting faster pulling on your hair and using it as leverage. You groaned at the slight sting on your scalp but ignored it as the point of this night is to make him forget those filthy words that his family said about him not your pleasure. Tonight was all about him. All about his pleasure so he can forget the hurtful words.

You can feel his cock twitch against your walls and that’s when you know that he’s about to finish up. “Your pussy feels so good around me, slut.” He groaned as his hand released your hair only to push your head down the pillows, pressing your face against them and making you arch your back. It gave him better access and he started to go deeper, hitting you in just the right places. When he was able to hit your sweet spot, you couldn’t help the loud moan erupting from your mouth. 

“Little slut loves being fucked like this, huh? Let them hear how much of a whore you are.” He started ramming into you, making your knees shake as you reach your peak. You whined in pleasure as you felt your walls clench around him, earning a series of grunt from him as he chased his own release. 

“Fuck!” He groans as he pulled away from you, making you fall sideways on the mattress. You heard shuffling so you turned to lay on your back just to see him putting his clothes back on. “Put your clothes on, I’ll be waiting in the car.” And with that, he left the room. 

That’s him every time he would release his stress and frustrations out on you. Calling you names, making sure that you know your place. It can be his way of turning you or himself on but all it does is just slap you in the face with the reality. The reality that you will never be enough for him. It’s so fucked up and inconvenient to catch feelings for a person like him. For a person that is your fuck buddy. It’s fucked up because you keep staying even though your heart breaks every time he leaves after a session.

After putting your clothes back on, you went out of the room ready to go to the car but not without bidding farewell from the spiteful bunch in the living room.

Ransom rolled his eyes at you and told you the directions to a club he wanted to go to. So you drove him. Even if he’s such an asshole, you’re still a decent person and it’s just right to watch over him after a long day with his family. You have to make sure that he gets home safe.

—

Sitting beside him in a bar, you watch him as he sips on his glass of alcohol that you don’t even know the name of but it sounds fancy. He turns to you, raising an eyebrow and nodding towards the bartender. “She’ll have a margarita.” The bartender nodded and began to make your drink. “I can’t drink. I’m driving, remember?” You raised a key to emphasize your point. He shook his head as he made an eye-roll. “Don’t be such a loser. I can drive. I handle my alcohol well.” He smirked at you when you scoffed at him. “Whatever” you smiled at the bartender politely as he placed the margarita in front of you. You took a sip and turned to look at Ransom when you see him eyeing a girl just a few seats away from you. You sighed and downed the glass in front of you. It’s going to be a long night.

—

You’ve never been this drunk. Ransom has never seen you like this and it made him quite amused because drunk Y/N is quite entertaining. You’re really loud when you’re drunk. It made him smile to see you finally letting loose. You’re always so stressed and so quiet all the damn time. He tries to help you as you do with him but he feels like he wasn’t really doing a good job. He’s noticed how you’ve been so distant lately and it scares the fuck out of him. He knows he’s not good for you and the closest thing he could ever be with you is by being your fuck buddy. If he was someone else, maybe he could’ve had a chance with you. He knows his reputation. He knows that you deserve someone better. But he’s happy that he gets to be with you even if it was something casual. It was a mutual benefit type of thing but it’s starting to fade and he’s scared that you would realize it and would want out. He’s terrified of losing you and his family didn’t help by trash-talking him in front of you. It just made him feel unaccepted. His family’s rejection, that he can take. But what if you start to realize that he’s not worth your time anymore? 

Calling you names while he pounds into you is his twisted way of trying to make you see that you can be perfect for him. If he manages to make you feel a bit belittled, maybe you can see that you’re perfect for each other? Maybe you can make your arrangement more serious and turn it into a relationship? Was that too much to ask?

— 

In your drunken state, you had no morals left. That’s why when a gorgeous woman walked up to Ransom, you lost it. Your shit, it’s completely gone. The girl gave Ransom a pretty smile and turned to you with a questioning look. 

“Hey, gorgeous. Who’s this?” Gosh! Even her voice is gorgeous. That annoyed the fuck out of you. She’s here for Ransom. You completely don’t stand a chance against someone like her. 

“I’m his whore” you slurred, too drunk to hear Ransom’s shocked “what?” as he looked at you incredulously.

“What?” The girl’s eyes widened as she looked between you and Ransom.

“Is she okay?” She asked him genuinely concerned.

“That’s what I am to you, right?” You poked his chest and laughed dryly. “A whore. A cockslut. A fucktoy!” You hissed but then cried silently after. 

“Fucking asshole” You scoffed and stood up, slapping Ransom’s hands away when he tried to steady you. You wobbled away from him and tripped but the girl was nice enough to catch you.

“You should probably take her home” the girl tried to walk you towards Ransom but you were able to pry yourself away from her before she could even do that. “No, no, no! I’m pretty sure you’re the one that he wants to bring home tonight. You’re probably enough for him. You’re the one for him. You’re gorgeous and nice and pretty and gorgeous. You’re perfect for him!” You made gigantic band gestures as you drunkenly pushed the girl towards Ransom. “Hey, Asshole! I think we should end whatever this is between us. I-I think I’m ready to be in a relationship. You can go and fuck off.” You wobbled away from them and towards a man that was nearby. He caught you and steadied you, laughing at your drunken state. “You alright?” He asks. “Yeah! You want to be my girlfriend? I mean you want me to be your girlfriend?” You giggled as he smiled at you. Before he could even answer, you pushed yourself away from him, just in time to vomit all over his shoes. You were about to say sorry but you passed out before you could even do so. 

Ransom ran towards you as you puked all over the poor man’s shoes, just in time to catch you when you passed out. He ignored his beating heart as he thought of your drunken confession. He also felt his world crumble down when you asked that guy to be your boyfriend even though you’re completely drunk when you did so. He carried you towards the car and as promised, he drove.

—

He carried you into his apartment, shooing the maid away as he carried you to his bedroom. He cleaned you up and made sure to leave a glass of water an Advil on the bedside table and he went over to the huge couch on the far corner of the room. He’ll have to have a serious talk with you tomorrow.

Hopefully, it will all go well.

—

Waking up was a fucking nightmare. Your head hurts and the worst thing is… You remember everything from last night. Every-fucking-thing. That’s not how alcohol works. The universe just likes to fuck with you. Sitting up, you turned to your side to see a glass of water and an Advil. Wait. Why were you in Ransom’s bedroom? 

You looked around in panic and gasped when you saw him laying down on the sofa. You made a quick movement as you drank the Advil and downed a glass of water. Why the fuck is he sleeping on a sofa?

“Why are you in such a panic?” Ransom sat up, rubbing his eyes tiredly. “You’re not afraid about having done something with me, are you? I mean, we’ve done it a lot of times and-” his laughs were cut off by your glare. “Okay. I’m kidding. I’m sorry.” He coughed and took a seat beside you. 

“Do you remember anything from last night?” He asked you nervously as if he was a child who has done something wrong and his parents are about to punish him. 

“Sadly, yes” you admitted with a sigh. You ran a hand down your face with a groan. “Just forget it.” You try to dismiss it but Ransom wasn’t having it. 

“I didn’t know- I… I- Do you have feelings for me?” He asked after a lot of stuttering. He was really nervous yet blatant for asking. 

“Fuck off” you muttered, not in the mood for his mockery. He grabbed your hands with his big ones and looked at you. “I’m being serious. Please tell me if you do.” You were surprised to see him acting this way. He’s never one to beg. He’s never one to show weakness. He’s always so focused on looking high and mighty so this is completely new.

“I… Yeah, Ransom. I do. And I also mean it when I said that we should stop whatever we’re doing. I really don’t want to keep on torturing myself. I don’t want to be your fuck buddy anymore.” You pulled your hands away from his and tried to get out of bed and towards the door but he stopped you.

“Please don’t leave me” he sobbed. You swear your heart stopped beating right then and there. 

“Please don’t leave. I need you. Not just in a fuck buddy kind of way. It may not seem like it but I care about you. I really do.” He stood up and slowly walked towards you with teary eyes. He grabbed your hands once again and sniffled.

“You’re the best thing that ever happened to me. Even if it wasn’t anything serious, I loved every moment I had with you. It was the closest thing that I’ll ever have with you so I… I thought you’d never go for a guy like me, Y/N. Forgive me if I made you feel like shit.” 

It was silent for a moment. 

“Please say something… Anything.”

“You’re such an asshole. Why are you only telling me this now?” You scoffed and punched his arm playfully. His wobbling lips turned into a smile as he grabbed you and pulled you into an embrace. 

“Because I’m stupid. That’s why.” He whispered against your neck. 

“You really are,” you said, earning a little laugh from him. You stayed in that position for a while before he pulled away from you. 

“Can we try this again? Forget all about the fuck buddy shit and let me take you out on a real date this time?” He raised his eyebrows, giving you a hopeful smile. 

You laughed at him and nodded. “I really like this version of you.” You say as you wrap your hands around his neck, smiling up at him. 

“Don’t get too used to it.” He smirked at you. You scoffed and tried to push yourself away from him but he held you in place. One of his hands on your lower back and the other at the back of your head. He looked down on you with a smile as he leaned down to brush his lips on yours. You went on your toes to reach him and seal the kiss as he moved his hands to pull you up to him, putting you in a more comfortable position. 

“I’ll be the best version of myself for you, Y/N. Only for you.”

– 

“Hey… Whatever happened to that pretty girl at the bar?” you asked as both of you cuddled on the sofa, watching some rom-com on the television. 

“Oh yeah… She was upset but she was… nice.” Ransom laughed at the memory.

“What happened?” you asked, curious about what he found funny.

“Well, he wasn’t amused by me after you’re big revelation…” you felt your body warm up in embarrassment as the memories flashed in your mind. Ransom grinned at you cheekily as he continued.

“Turns out, she wasn’t into me. She was into you. I remember her telling me something like, “If you don’t step up your game, I’ll get her. Treat her how she deserves to be treated.”. She was really scary but nonetheless, nice.” Ransom chuckled at the memory and you just stared at him with surprised eyes. 

“She’s into me? That pretty girl was into me?” you let out a laugh. “Who would’ve thought?” 

Ransom smiled, seeing your face with a genuine smile. 

“Yeah. And so is the guy that you puked on. He even asked me to give you his number. Fucking asshole… I threw his number right in the dumpster.” he scoffed at the memory and murmured the last sentence.

“I threw his number right in the dumpster.” 

“Wow…” you breathed out. “You’re an asshole too, you know that right?” you chuckled as you playfully hit his arm.

“Hey! I’m just not a fan of others eyeing you up. I’ve got a lot of competition here, Y/N.” he gave you a nod of appreciation which you rolled your eyes at.

“And if I were you, I’m going to step my game up like that girl said,” you smirked at his priceless reaction that turned into a smirk. 

“I know, I know. I have a lot of tricks up my sleeves. ‘Gonna give what my girl deserves.” he moves his face closer to yours, giving you a peck on the lips.

“Your girl?” you raised an eyebrow at him.

“Yeah! Sooner or later, you’ll be my girl, darling. Why not speed things up?” he smirked.

“You wish!” you scoffed and stood up from the couch, squealing and giggling when he grabbed you by the waist and pressed you up against his front. He pampered you with kisses all over your face, making you breathless with giggling continuously. 

“Stop it!” you breathed out between laughs. After a while, he did stop but you stayed in that position. With you on his lap, staring at each other. He leaned down as you stared at him with a smile, capturing your lips in a sweet kiss.

“All jokes aside, I’ll do whatever it takes for you to be my girl. I’ll wait as long as it takes. I’m lucky enough to have a second chance…” he leaned down to give you another peck and smiled at each other.

“You probably wouldn’t have to wait that long. I’m a sucker for you, you asshole.” you pecked his lips and when you pulled back, Ransom was sporting that widest grin and gleeful eyes.

a/n: this was supposed to be a drabble but wtf. HI ANON HOPEFULLY THIS SATISFIES YOU SKSKKSKS

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[pikemoreno]

if you ever wanna be in love

Chapter V: Lightning Strikes

a/n: it’s startingggg. it might be good to read up on the events of the mentalist... to avoid any confusion for the next few chapters... i’ll just say that. also the lightning metaphor is a callback to chapter 1. it’s been a while so i wouldn’t blame you for not recalling

pairing: marcus pike x f!reader

word count: 4k 

warnings: none, and i don’t expect there to really be any serious ones in upcoming chapters either... well actually, there’s a wee bit of angst here...

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The sun was hardly over the tree-lined horizon when you pulled up to the Elizabet Ney Museum. It was a consequence of your team being requested to come before the museum opened, allowing business hours to go on as usual during the investigation. That was making you wonder exactly how busy they thought this place was going to get on a Monday morning during the school year-- and how they expected the investigation to be successful when they had guests tramping all over the scene-- but you didn't question it. 

Being a few minutes early, you took some time to traipse around the property to see if anything looked note-worthy. The sand-colored castle-like complex was bathed in soft early morning light and a haunting fog; the grass was dewy and squeaked against your shoes as you circled the grand building. The most likely entry and exit points-- the door and windows on the far side-- yielded nothing. Nothing on the wooden door nor the brassy knob was broken, and there was no sign of trampled dirt around it, nor was there anything amiss with the paned windows. However, the security camera just above the back-door threshold made you raise an eyebrow. They had full security cam coverage and couldn't determine how their stuff had been stolen? Odd. 

You were far too distracted with your thoughts as you walked that you didn't hear the car pull in out front or the person getting out of it or the footsteps coming around the side of the building. So when Marcus appeared right in front of you as he rounded the corner, he had to grab your arm to steady you as you almost fell on your ass in surprise. You almost ripped your arm out of his grasp as the electricity of the touch shot through your arm, surprising you far more than his sudden appearance. 

You almost did. But you didn't. It felt too nice in the end.

"Sorry," he laughed, "Didn't mean to scare you. Coffee?" He held out a drink carrier containing two travel cups. "Should be the one on the right." You took it. 

"Does it have--" you took a sip before you finished your question. 

It was exactly the way you liked it. You regarded Marcus with wide eyes. 

"You know my coffee order?" you gaped. He shrugged nonchalantly. You followed him as he made his way back to the front of the museum.

"Yeah. What about it?" he laughed, sipping from his drink.

"How do you know it?" 

"From when we were at Copper Coin last week." He looked genuinely confused as to why this was a shocking discovery. 

"And you remember what I ordered?"

"Of course." His eyes shone with sincerity and just a hint of something that said, "duh."

You wanted to ask if he knew all of his co-workers' coffee orders by heart, but you were interrupted by the arrival of Adrian, followed closely by Wendy. You blinked a little. 

Did they come here together? 

You'd heard nothing from her since they had "gotten together" a few days ago. Now, this little scene had you wondering exactly how "together" they had gotten. You shot Wendy a questioning look around Adrian's shoulder, and she mouthed "later" with what was quite possibly the biggest grin you'd ever seen from her. Her whole demeanor had changed in the days since you'd seen her. Even if your plans for getting them together didn't work out as planned, the result was the same. Standing in front of you were two people finding at least the tiniest bit of healing in companionship. And that is all the set-up was about in the end. 

Mission: success.

"Hey guys," Marcus greeted them, reaching a hand out to shake Wendy's, "You must be Wendy?"

"That's me," she shook his hand, smiling, "And you're Marcus." He nodded. "Hang on. How do you two know each other?" She studied the two of you carefully. 

Oops.

"Oh well, a couple of weeks ago, we were out of coffee, so I snuck over to their break room to get some. We talked for a minute. And now I just see him everywhere, I guess," you laid out as casually as possible. 

"I see." You couldn't tell if she actually sounded unconvinced or if your incredible paranoia just made her sound that way. "Well, this is Adrian, who I told you about already," she beamed, you shook his hand.

Be cool, be cool. I definitely haven't been interfering in your love life for the past two weeks.

"Nice to meet you, Adrian. You're on the Art Squad?"

Good playing dumb, me.

"I am."

"Great. Pleased to work with you."

The museum owner arriving saved you from further pleasantries. Adrian, being the one who had talked to her the most, ran ahead to greet her while the rest of you hung back. Wendy looped her arm through yours and started her quiet detailing of her night.

"So last night I went over to Adrian's place just for a little home-cooked meal and a movie," you nodded along, smiling at her excitement, "It was so great, you know? My perfect relaxed evening. Of course, then I accidentally fell asleep there-- thank God I keep an extra set of work clothes in my car. But what do I wake up to? Breakfast from Rick's!" 

"Very impressive!"

"Right?" she sighed, "He made sure he was up before me and snuck out for breakfast. Ugh, what a keeper! How did he know?" You shot a quick look over to Marcus but gave a nonchalant shrug to Wendy.

"Everyone likes Rick's, I guess."

"Either way. It was very sexy of him. Find yourself someone like that." With that, she patted your shoulder and stepped over to join Adrian and the museum owner.

Marcus laughed a little as he fell into step with you. You cocked your head as you watched him

"What?"

"I'm the one that told him to do that."

"Really? Been giving him pointers, oh great love master?" He put a hand to his chest, feigning offense.

"Ouch. Of course, I have. He was with his ex for so long he doesn't remember how to date anymore. I had to tell him all of my tricks."

"Oh, is that how you charm all the women? Surprise breakfast?"

"Sometimes. Sometimes other meals. But always breakfast food." You laughed. "Seriously. It's unassuming, comforting. Anyone can go out to dinner and a movie, right? Breakfast food is both more relaxed and more intimate. No one is putting on airs or trying to impress with diner breakfast food. No one is ordering healthy to look good. No one is on their best manners. They're getting their chocolate chip waffles, and they're piling the syrup on it no matter what you say about it, and that tells you way more about someone than how they act at a fancy restaurant."

"That's… Actually, really profound." 

There was an indiscernible look in his eye as you gazed at him and him back at you. Like he knew something you didn't, and he was just waiting for you to figure it out.

Remember when I took you to Rick's?

***

The case was a pretty difficult one. 

The robbery occurred on one of the busiest days they'd had all year. Guests had been pouring in for one last little family day before school started back, enjoying an educational experience and the beautiful weather the day brought as they walked the grounds. The security cameras were down for the entire business day. The only lead was that the Ney family members-- a distant cousin and niece who had donated the heirloom and the bust-- had come right before closing. They would've undoubtedly noticed that their precious items were missing. Therefore, the items must've been stolen after they left, after the museum had closed. 

But that's where things got tricky. The doors to the museum were locked, as were the windows, and there were, as you'd seen this morning, no signs of forced entry. The only suspects, then, were employees and volunteers who could've gotten access to the keys. That left the owner, a bunch of high school and college students keeping a summer job, and a couple of elderly art lover volunteers. Logically, you could pretty much eliminate the students immediately, though everyone would be brought in for questioning for the sake of process anyway. There was little reason for a student to steal those items. This wasn't a Monet and the Hope Diamond. They wouldn't have sold for much, certainly not enough to make it worth the risk of robbing their own workplace. Frankly, the motive was unclear all-around. The family was ready to sue the museum for their negligence, and the museum wouldn't last very long if it came down to a money battle. The owner probably wouldn't have sabotaged themselves like that, unless there was some sort of a deeper issue. And the elderly volunteers… You guessed could've done it if they were art fanatics, but, really: why? It didn't add up. 

The owner told you as much as she could as she led you through the property-- she wasn't sure either. You were able to eliminate her as a suspect as she spoke. She was outright begging you to find the thief, nearly in hysterics over the prospect of losing the beloved museum and her livelihood.

"We'll do our best, Mrs. Moa," Marcus calmed her, "Do you know anyone who would want to sabotage you or the museum or the family?" She shook her head weakly.

"Not offhand. You'd have to ask them as well, though."

"We will. Don't worry, Mrs. Moa. You have four of the FBI's best here, we're gonna figure this out," Adrian beamed.

It was a blatant over-promise and gross exaggeration, but as you looked around at your new-found little crew, you almost believed him too. 

You all shook Mrs. Moa's hand as you departed, telling her that forensics would be along shortly to do their thing, and you would start questioning suspects the next day. She once again gave her most gracious thanks and went back to anxiously prepping for the museum opening. The news of the theft and the subsequent lawsuit was spreading, and she was going to be getting a lot of hard questions thrown at her today.  Poor thing.

"Would you all like to come over to my place later?" Adrian started as you all made your way back to your cars, "I'll order pizza, grab some drinks, and we can maybe talk about this case?" His "maybe" was not particularly convincing. This was strictly going to be a social event, and you all knew it.

You all gave your confirmation that you would be there and headed back to the office to finish out the workday.

***

Despite the in-office workday being a mere half-day by the time you made it back, it felt like it was dragging on forever. You had plenty of other files to work through and close, but you couldn't get your mind off the Ney case. There was a missing piece, and you had to get your mind off of that sinking feeling before you could do anything else. Wendy had been on the phone since she stepped foot in her office, and you frankly didn't know Adrian well enough to be comfortable going to him. So that just left Marcus to go to.

You'd been thinking about him all day. Now that Adrian and Wendy were together, was that going to change your relationship too? Would you still talk like you do now? You certainly hoped so. You'd bared your soul too much at the coffee shop for him to turn into a casual acquaintance now. And honestly? You'd gotten sort of attached to him. He really did make you feel important and wanted and cared about, just as you'd craved back at the beginning of all of this. Some sort of feeling had sprung up. Not necessarily, feeling feelings. You don't fall that fast. But there was something. Enough that you didn't want him gone. You wanted to learn more about him, experience more with him beyond just being a co-worker... Whatever that meant.

You hopped up from your desk and got into the elevator before anyone noticed you'd left, finding him where you now knew his desk to be. You leaned a hand against the front of the mahogany, and he looked up curiously, waiting for your explanation he could see forming in your brain. 

"Do you feel like there's something missing in the Ney case?" You asked finally.

"Sure, a perpetrator," he responded in a deadpan. 

"Alright, then. Good talk, smartass." You took two steps away from his desk before he grabbed you lightly by the forearm to bring you back. 

"No, no. Come back. I'll be serious now, I promise. What are you thinking?"

"Doesn't it just seem like something's missing? I feel like there's no motive in any of the suspects we have."

"Well, that's what the interrogations are for, right?"

"Yeah, but--" you bit your lip for a moment, considering, "Do you think that the family would have anything to do with it?"

"How do you mean?" he folded his arms now. You didn't realize his hand was still on your forearm until he removed it. You felt the warmth leave as the overdone air-conditioning immediately chased the feeling away.

He did, of course. He knew his hand was still on your skin. And for every moment his hand remained there, it grew a little more difficult to not slide it down to where his fingers could fully intertwine with yours. But that would have been too much. His ex-wife-- and admittedly, multiple others-- had chided how he was too overbearing. He had been feeling that something as well, terrifying as it was. And it was taking everything in him to not fall into his usual, "overbearing" ways. Your mind towards him was completely indiscernible so far. Sure, there had been moments that it seemed that you'd be more than happy to have your hand held by him, but, more often than not, the friendly, playful banter you shared moments later completed nixed out those moments to him. He had no idea what you were thinking and was maybe a little hesitant to find out at this point. Right now, he needed to test the waters, play it cool, and maybe one day he'd feel he could do that without scaring you off. 

"Well," you started, "I guess I'll have to question the family too to confirm this, but wouldn't they maybe have something to gain from the lawsuit? Money? Power over the museum?" you tapped your fingers lightly on the desk, then your eyes widened with your 'aha' moment, "Maybe I'll research if they've had any past disputes with Mrs. Moa. Thanks, Marcus, you've been a big help." 

"I didn't--" you'd already run away, booking it back to your floor, "do anything." 

He shook his head fondly.

You weren't at your desk trying to dig into the museum history for very long before Wendy walked up and sat across from you. She did so incredibly coolly, taking a moment to look around the office and give the chair little half-spins before she finally spoke. 

"So, how do you actually know Marcus?"

You almost choked as you sucked in a too-quick breath. 

"I'm sorry?"

"How do you actually know Marcus?" 

"Exactly what we said earlier," you shook your head, "We met by chance in the breakroom a couple of weeks ago, I've seen him around, chatted occasionally, and now we're on this case together." 

"Sure."

"You think I'm lying?" 

How could she have possibly known about the set up?

"I do. But I don't know if you know you're lying." You gave her a questioning look, inviting her to continue. "I've never actually seen you truly smitten with someone. But I would imagine it'd look something like this."

"Oh come on, you've seen me with him one time." She laughed. Loudly.

"What? Do you think I don't have eyes? I've seen you two talking around the office. I've seen you laughing and looking nothing short of flustered. I've seen your phone go off with a text message when you leave it on your desk. It's from a 'Marcus' pretty damn often. Am I right in assuming you don't know two Marcuses?" It was rhetorical, but you shook your head anyway. "I saw that you were together when I came into Copper Coin the other day. I saw you both with the very same Copper Coin travel cups this morning. And I know for a fact that when you were gone from your desk right now, you were with Marcus."

"I mean, that's all true. But so what? It's not what you're probably thinking it is." She hummed, thinking for a moment.

"Do you want it to be?" That stopped you in your tracks.

What did you want from this?

"I--" you sighed, throwing your head back against the back of your chair, "Undecided."

"That's ok. Hey, it's only been two weeks. I just... I really have never seen you act like that with someone before. I had to ask." You nodded along. You had a strange feeling all of that actually meant: "You've been so ridiculously obvious that I had to make sure you knew how obvious you were being."

"It's not out of the question. I just don't know yet. It takes time. Do you think he… Feels that way about me?"

She sighed. "I can't say for sure. I'll have to keep an eye out tonight."

***

It was by total accident that you arrived to Adrian's at the same time as Marcus, but it happened nonetheless. The autumn air around you was finally cooling down. Marcus had his hands in his pockets, and you were kicking pebbles up the sidewalk as you walked down the parked-up street and up to the little yellow house. Its golden porch lights beamed brightly as the sun was falling behind the horizon so much quicker lately. 

"Kind of a funny turn of events," Marcus mused. "We've been casually interfering in their lives, trying to bring them together, making sure they don't know that we know each other. And now they're together in spite of us, and we're walking into Adrian's house together."

"Yeah… Wendy kinda already knew that we knew each other."

"She did?"

"She did. She saw us together too much, I guess. But  I don't think she suspects that we were up to anything."

"Oh good… So what did she say?"

"What do you mean?" 

"Well, she obviously brought something up to you. So what was it?"

"Uh, I-- I guess she thinks there's more to it. I don't know." He laughed.

It was a nervous laugh, but you didn't hear it as such. You moved on before any of the rest of that conversation could be discussed. 

"So has Adrian said anything to you about this little relationship of theirs?" 

"Just that he has no idea what he's doing and needs help." You laughed. "So, I've been helping him out a bit."

"So… The pancakes are a part of that. What else have you been telling him?"

"You know, some date ideas. I remember you saying that a walk around a museum would be more her speed? I told him to do that. He knows all about the art in any art museum and could talk her ear off about any of it. Do you think she'd like that? Him telling her about the art?"

"She would love that, I think. That's very romantic." 

"You think?"

"I do."

Is it something you'd love too?

There was no chance for him to ask. Wendy greeted you at the door with a raised brow. You didn't intend to arrive together, but that wouldn't convince her for a second. 

***

The evening went by without a hitch. Adrian and Wendy's budding relationship was genuinely adorable. Watching them dance around the kitchen as they warmed up slices from the already-cold pizza, they looked like they'd already been doing it for months. The conversation shared was breezy and comfortable.

Until.

"Oh, Adrian, don't forget. Floor renovation starts tomorrow. We're on the 5th floor with Special Crimes for a bit," Marcus reminded as you all sat around Adrian's kitchen table-- pizza long gone, finishing the last sips of your drinks.

"Good to know," you interjected. He looked at you quizzically.

"What do you mean?" 

"Well, what if I wanted to come bother you after finishing the interrogations? I would've gone to the 6th floor and would've never found you. Now I know." You grinned, taking a smug sip of your drink. 

"What a tragedy that would've been." His smile was fond. When you looked over to Wendy, she had a peculiar expression-- her "thinking face"-- as she looked between you and Marcus. Her expression shifted to express exasperation.

"What?" You shifted uncomfortably in your seat. 

Of course, you knew what it was. Once Wendy took off your blinders, you saw everything: the way Marcus interacted with you, the way you interacted with him. Every action tonight was tinged with nervous, flirtatious energy: from the way you laughed at every terrible joke of his to the way his arm was seemingly permanently fixated to the back of your chair.

You understood now what Wendy meant earlier, but you still didn't yet understand how you felt about it. 

"Will you come with me for a second?" she asked you. You got up with her, moving to the foyer, leaving Marcus and Adrian mumbling amongst themselves to figure out what the hell was happening. She didn't waste time in confronting you.

"I've been watching you two all night, and that does not look like nothing. It's clear that he is very into you. I know you said you need time on it, but if you don't feel the same way about him, you need to stop leading him on."

"I'm not leading him on."

"You are. You may not realize it, but you are. The joking and laughing, the gazing, everything."

You opened your mouth to speak, but closed it, crossing your arms. 

"You can't be wishy-washy on this. I'm not letting you run from this this time. So, once and for all: what's going on in your head, and what are you going to do about it?" 

"You know what? Nothing. And nothing." The words came out a little sharper than you intended, tired of this conversation and…

Scared. You were scared. You felt the distinct static tingle of lightning about to strike, and you were running from its impact once again.

"Nothing?"

"No. I know what I said earlier about needing time, but I don't. I've made up my mind. Nothing is going on here; there never will be anything going on here, alright?" You turned around to stomp back to the kitchen, but someone was standing there.

Marcus.

He heard you; there was no denying it.

His face was unmistakably downcast. You looked to the floor to avoid those ever emotion-betraying eyes of his.

He was sure the whole neighborhood could hear him swallow his hurt.

"Excuse me. I was just heading out. Have a good night." He brushed past you both coolly and stepped out through the front door behind you. You think Wendy said goodnight in return, but you couldn't hear through the fog. You said nothing. 

Lightning struck. 

But you ran indoors, and he was a lightning rod. 

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[comic-book-jawns]

London Calling Redux (Jamie’s POV)

Follow-up to London Calling: Flashback to Jamie’s first encounter with Maeve interspersed with their present-day reunion, so Damie content, too CW: panic attack; underage Jamie - nothing happens beyond a kiss but she mentions sex

“Oh, don’t be like that! You were so sweet. Why do you think I still remember you?” 

Jamie gaped at her. She’d been so mortified it hadn’t occurred to her until now. Maeve had placed her so quickly, recalled her name even.

“Can I tell her? Please?”

This situation was really getting away from her — it was like dejá vu. But this time, Jamie could make a different choice. She could stay in it.

“Fine.”

*****

For the record, it was Maeve who approached her.

“Don’t think I’ve seen you here before.”

On her third G&T of the night — gross as it tasted she had limited funds and wasn’t about to waste them on a weak pint — Jamie turned to find a woman approaching her.

It was surprising considering she was decidedly fit, rather tall, had a fairly posh accent and looked quite a few years older than her, probably 21 or so... and considering Jamie had purposefully chosen a secluded part of the pub, a back corner.

“Like what ya see?”

The response served a dual purpose. The woman would be intrigued, and maybe this would go somewhere; or the woman would be scared off, and she would be spared further small talk. Either way was fine by her.

“I think it’s a bit cold for shorts.”

Jamie felt her eyebrows rise. That was not a response she’d expected. 

She turned away, clenching her free hand into a fist as she felt her cheeks blush. The woman had a point — it was winter, and she was wearing jeans shorts and a raggedy jumper — but it wasn’t like Jamie had an abundance of clothes or a readily accessible means of washing them. Squatting was not exactly cushy.

Jamie decided to ignore the comment and redirect the conversation.

“Don’t think I’ve seen you here before either.”

Of course, she hadn’t. She’d only recently moved to London and had never been to this particular pub. But the woman couldn’t have known that, and yet Jamie heard her chuckle.

“You haven’t been looking very hard then. I’m here every night, almost. Live just around the corner.”

So maybe the woman had seen through her. But Jamie still had more cards to play. She turned back to her, smirking.

“That an invitation?”

The woman appeared taken aback, then contemplative, seemingly reappraising her. And then she smirked herself.

“Do you want it to be?”

It was Jamie’s turn to go wide-eyed. She hadn’t thought that would actually work. But she recovered as quickly as she could.

“And if I do?”

The woman’s smirk faltered, fading into something Jamie couldn’t read, though it seemed pretty clear she wasn’t interested. And why would she be? No one was ever interested in her, gossip about her maybe, but not her.

Starting to regret having talked to the woman at all, Jamie turned away, but just then, the woman shot her hand out.

“Maeve.”

Jamie couldn’t help cracking a small smile. But then she cleared her throat and turned back, trying for a more neural expression.

“Jamie.”

Jamie put her drink down and reached over. But before she could even give Maeve’s hand a proper shake, Maeve was dragging her out of the pub. With her face safely out of Maeve’s eyeline, Jamie smiled widely, feeling the happiest she had since moving to London — the happiest she had in years.

By the time they were walking up the stairs to Maeve’s flat, though, Jamie’s bravado was waning. She had known she liked girls for a while but had only ever kissed one, back home — a slightly older teen girl who’d tormented her for years.

There hadn’t exactly been other options, and it had felt nice in a perverse kind of way. She wasn’t used to feeling wanted. And she knew the girl must have wanted her because why else would have kissed her? Well, wanting her was putting it a bit strongly. At the very least, Jamie knew she must be a good kisser because the girl had kept coming back for more, despite treating Jamie no differently in public.

“You okay?”

They were now standing outside what must be Maeve’s flat because she’d stopped, and Maeve was looking at her strangely. Jamie followed her gaze and looked down to find she was biting her thumbnail. 

Cursing herself silently, she tried to play it off, even as she felt her cheeks flush. Lowering her hand, she snapped her smirk back in place, crossed her arms and leaned against the wall beside Maeve’s door.

“’Course. And you?”

Maeve chuckled, shaking her head slightly as she turned to the door and brought her key up. A moment later, she’d turned the lock and pushed open the door. She turned back and started to say something, at which point Jamie took control of the situation.

She pushed off the wall, leaned up on her tiptoes, grabbed at Maeve’s jacket, pulling Maeve down to her level, and cut her off with a searing kiss. Jamie had never once done something this impulsive — well, dropping out of school and moving to London, aside. It was... it was something else.

For once, her mind was calm, singularly focused, even as her body tingled all over, like she’d hit her funny bone and the sensation had metastasized.

With the other girl, she’d always felt a boost of confidence, immediately tinged with self-loathing, knowing deep down things would never change between them but that she also would never say no to her. With Maeve — well, she just couldn’t bring herself to doubt it already. And Maeve had definitely made a noise when their lips locked.

“Jamie.”

Jamie opened her eyes, breathing heavily. They were inside Maeve’s apartment now. Breathing a bit heavy herself, Maeve stood up straighter, so Jamie let her hands drop to Maeve’s waist. 

As Maeve leaned back in and closed the door behind them, Jamie leaned up on her tiptoes again. But before she could close her eyes, she felt Maeve press a hand to her chest and gently push her back down.

She may as well have punched her in the gut. Jamie couldn’t breathe and even started to feel a little nauseous, though that could’ve been the alcohol catching up with her — food, too, was hard to come by, and Jamie had discovered if she drank on an emptier stomach, she got drunk faster.

Maeve had stopped her, which meant she had to have been bad, really bad. Otherwise, why would she have? Dropping her hands off Maeve’s waist, she scrambled back, right into the door. She grunted and reached up to rub the back of her head. Maeve gasped.

“Are you all right, love?”

Without even realizing it, Jamie slowly dragged her hand from the back of her head to her mouth and bit down on her thumbnail again. 

She knew it was just something people said, didn’t mean anything special. But still, people had rarely addressed her as such. Those who had had mostly been old men, and they’d never said it like... that — like they actually cared.

“I’m sorry.” It came out mumbled. Her thumb was still in her mouth. Christ. She saw Maeve’s brow furrow and cleared her throat as she threw her hand back down to her side. “I can, uh, do better.”

Maeve’s eyebrows rose. Then, she was looking at her with something resembling pity, and Jamie felt anger start to rise in her.

“You didn’t do anything wrong.”

Jamie clenched her hands. She didn’t appreciate being lied to. As she looked down, she felt Maeve’s hand on her shoulder.

“If you were a few years older - ”

Jamie whipped her head back up.

“’M 16.” She nearly was... save ten months. Maeve smirked. “I am!”

Maeve sighed.

“Even if you were, that’s too young to drink and too young for me.”

At that, Jamie felt her anger boil over.

“What the fuck?!” Maeve jumped slightly. “So you were just leadin’ me on, then.”

She said it as a statement. She should’ve known. 

“No, no, I just... ” Maeve trailed off, seemingly at a loss for what to say. Glaring, Jamie shook Maeve’s hand off her shoulder and turned around. “Wait!”

She saw Maeve press her hand against the door a few inches above her shoulder. Jamie turned back around, laughing darkly.

“What’re ya playin’ at?” Maeve cocked her head. “Ya won’t shag me, but ya won’t let me leave?”

“No!” Maeve went wide-eyed, apparently only just processing that she’d literally pinned Jamie in. She removed her hand and leaned back. “Sorry. You - you can leave, if you want.”

“Right then.”

Jamie turned around once more.

“But don’t go back to the pub.”

Jamie laughed again as she reached for the doorknob.

“Don’t think you’re allowed to be jealous considering we didn’t - ”

Jamie stumbled back as she yanked the door open, tripped over her own feet and fell right into Maeve. Already feeling her face flush, she tried to stand but ended up falling down even more. She felt Maeve catch her by her underarms.

“I have a couch.”

Good for you? That was her first thought, and then she settled on something cheekier. But when she opened her mouth, she hiccuped. She heard Maeve laugh softly, and cheeks now burning, she tried furiously to stand.

This time, Maeve helped her. And then she didn’t let go.

“I have food, too.”

Jamie shook her off but didn’t turn around.

“What d’ya want?”

“What?”

“If it’s not sex, what d’ya want?” Jamie turned around, clenching her hands again. “Why’m I here?!”

For a moment, Maeve gaped at her, and then she sighed, her face once again settling into an expression Jamie couldn’t read. It felt like pity, but different, deeper. Maeve bent down to her level.

“Just looked like you could use a friend, kiddo.”

Despite Jamie’s best efforts, her anger dissipated. No one had ever called her that before — either of those terms, actually. No one had ever spoken to her like this, period, even non-strangers. It was... bizarre. 

After a few moments, Jamie realized Maeve was still talking, calling her name.

“What?”

Maeve smiled, amused.

“What do you want to eat?”

Maeve started listing things off again. But Jamie found herself tuning her out again, still processing. Next thing she knew Maeve was stepping toward her, and Jamie found herself backing into the door for a second time, though not as hard.

“What’re ya doin’?”

It came out higher-pitched than she’d intended.

“You’re shaking.”

“What?”

Jamie looked down at her hands to find Maeve was right, and then she felt it. Her whole body was quivering.

“Here.” Jamie looked up. Maeve was holding out her own jacket, holding it open for Jamie to step into. “You can keep it, if you like.”

It was a bomber jacket. Jamie had always wanted one.

“Why?”

Maeve shrugged.

“It’s a bit small for me, anyway.” She smiled warmly. “It would look cute on you.”

Jamie felt her jaw drop.

“But it’s - it’s yours.”

Maeve’s smile widened.

“And now it’s yours.”

Jamie didn’t move, save for bringing her thumb back to her mouth. After a moment, she saw Maeve’s smile falter and then she saw her calling her name, but she couldn’t hear her. She saw Maeve drop the jacket and step closer, then felt Maeve cup her face.

“Jamie? What’s wrong?”

She could hear her now, but it was distorted, like she was far away. Jamie shook her head and broke away, stumbling toward the other side of the room. Her legs felt like rubber, though how much of that was the alcohol versus whatever was happening right now was beyond her. She made it to a window sill, gasping.

She tried to pull the window up, but it wouldn’t budge. As she felt tears stinging her eyes, she suddenly felt Maeve behind her. She saw Maeve turn the lock, and then she tried again. But with her arms also feeling like rubber, the window only opened a few inches. Blinking away tears, she let her arms fall back down to the sill. And then, she felt a rush of cold air.

She opened her eyes to find the window fully open, then felt Maeve’s hands on her shoulders, turning her around.

“Stay here, okay?”

She sounded distorted again. A moment later, she was dragging the couch over. Jamie felt Maeve take her wrist, gently pull her forward. She disappeared again for a moment. And then her hands were back on her shoulders, gently pushing her down. She felt the air on the back of her neck as she perched on the couch.

“I’m gonna get you some water, love. I’ll be right back.”

She disappeared behind a wall before Jamie fully processed what she’d said. The kitchen had been visible from the other side of the apartment, but not from this side.

When Jamie reached the door, she looked back to see Maeve turning on the faucet, holding a glass below it. For a moment, Jamie’s hand froze on the doorknob, only for a moment. She’d been fine, and now she was... She didn’t even know what. She had to go.

But as she turned back, something caught her eye. The bomber jacket was at her feet. She didn’t even know why she was hesitating. Maeve had literally offered it to her, willingly. 

But somehow, that made it feel wrong to take — which was rather absurd, considering how accustomed Jamie was becoming to stealing. She wasn’t proud of it, but she hadn’t exactly left home with a lot of money or much of a plan.

She heard Maeve turn off the faucet. It still didn’t feel right, but she also wasn’t stupid enough to turn down free clothes. She grabbed it, opened the door and took off.

*****

Jamie felt Dani squeeze her hands — both of them this time. Jamie tried for a smile, but she knew it didn’t show, so she squeezed Dani’s hands in appreciation as she found herself contemplating how close she’d come to screwing things up with her, to not being here with her now. 

What if she hadn’t turned back that night, halfway through her drive home? What if she’d kept pushing Dani away, even after Dani had put herself out there again to break down her walls again? What if she’d run after Dani...

“Anyway, I ought to get going... It was nice seeing you.” Jamie finally snapped out of it and looked up at Maeve, trying for a smile. “You look good.”

“Thank you.” Fuck. She hadn’t registered Maeve’s last comment, already thinking about what she wanted to tell her. “I mean... I never, uh... thanked ya for... ”

For what she hadn’t done? For what she had done? Both?

“No need to thank me, love. Wish I could’ve done more.” 

But Jamie hadn’t let her. How different would her life have been if she had? As she looked down, she felt Maeve squeeze shoulder.

“Seems you turned out alright, though.”

If only Maeve knew. Still, if Jamie had stayed that night, if her life had taken a different track, she wouldn’t have met…

“Dani.”

Why was Dani introducing herself again? 

“I’m sure Dani here would agree.”

“Better than alright. Perfectly splendid.”

At that, Jamie finally, truly snapped out of her funk. Dani was here. This was real. She’d really just said something that lame. She looked up at her, rolling her eyes, but couldn’t help chuckling as she felt her heart flutter. 

“Well, there you have it. You know what you could do for me, though, love?” Jamie turned back to Maeve. “Never got a goodbye kiss.”

A what? She couldn’t be -

“Your face!” 

Jesus. How many times was she to be humiliated in one chance encounter? Chance re-encounter? 

“Oh, I am so glad I ran into you. You’re adorable.”

One more time, apparently. 

“Can I get a hug at least?”

Well, that wasn’t really her call. But she felt Dani’s hands pull away, even before she turned to her. Smiling, Dani nodded toward Maeve. Huh… Wow.

So now it was her call. It was the least she could do for Maeve, really. But she still didn’t have to go out of her way to make it happen. Once she’d nodded, though, Maeve came to her without complaint, bent down until her chin was on her shoulder and wrapped her arms around her.

It was nice, Jamie had to admit. Then again, it wasn’t like she had many hugs to compare it to. All the more reason not to waste this one, so she slowly brought her arms up, gingerly wrapping them around Maeve’s back. Maeve didn’t pull away, and Jamie felt the tension that had consumed her since she’d spotted Maeve finally melt away.

“Cute jacket, by the way.”

Maeve whispered it in her ear. When she hadn’t commented on it, hadn’t even mentioned a jacket in the story, Jamie had assumed she must’ve forgotten about it. She’d been relieved, but also, pathetically, a bit disappointed. But Jamie realized now that she’d omitted the detail on purpose, not wanting to embarrass her in front of Dani. 

And even as she brought it up now, her tone wasn’t teasing. It was… fond, like it had been when she’d offered her the jacket. Jamie heaved back a sob and immediately felt Maeve tense up, then felt her hands start rubbing her back.

“It’s, uh, it’s okay, Jamie.”

A moment later, Maeve pulled back, and Jamie started to panic. Maybe she’d finally pushed her too far. Maeve finally saw her for what a complete wreck she was. Why did she care so much what Maeve thought?

She felt someone else pulling her in. Dani. She threw her arms around her without a second thought.

A moment later, she felt a hand patting her head.

“Bye, kiddo.”

She remembered. She remembered everything. And her tone was unchanged. 

Jamie wanted to say something, but she didn’t know what. All that came out was a whimper. Maeve, even still, was practically a stranger. And yet, she was her... friend. There was no other word for it. It was the word Maeve herself had used. 

“Jesus! I - ” 

She’d bawled on Dani’s shoulder about another woman. She’d bawled on Dani’s shoulder — she’d never done that before.

She looked down at her feet, wiping her face as she cleared her throat. 

“I’m sorry.”

“Jamie, there’s nothing to apologize for.”

Of course. Of course she would say that. Jamie just shook her head. She couldn’t bring herself to say anything else, but then she felt Dani gently take her right hand.

“Fuck!” She’d literally taken up smoking in part so she would stop putting her thumb in her mouth like a child every time she got upset or stressed. “Haven’t done it years and, now when I finally have a girlfriend, I can’t... ”

This day. Could she not catch a single break? But Dani smiled softly at her. She felt Dani rubbing her thumb along her knuckles.

“You don’t have to call me that if you... ” Nope, not a single break. “I mean, you can.” Oh? “I want you to call me whatever you want.”

Oh. Jamie felt her eyes watering again as she smiled at Dani in awe. She brought her free hand up to rub her eyes as she sniffled.

“Thanks, Poppins... I, uh, I think ‘girlfriend’ suits ya quite nicely.”

She saw Dani’s smile widen as she felt her squeeze her hand.

“Sounds good to me... and, for the record, as coping mechanisms go... ” She felt Dani lift her right hand slightly. “This one’s pretty adorable.”

She wanted to be annoyed, but Dani was impossibly endearing.

“Not you, too.”

Dani shrugged and then her smile faded.

“Also... you’re allowed to care about other people, and they’re allowed to care about you.” 

Dani was right. She knew Dani was right. But still. This was her reaction, immediate reaction, to meeting her almost first one-night-stand? Dani being her girlfriend, her best friend, her...

“I don’t mind. In fact... I strongly encourage it.”

Dani stepped even closer, and Jamie felt her cup her cheek. Jamie leaned into it slightly, swallowing hard against the lump forming in her throat, then nodded.

“Uh, same... same goes for you.”

Dani’s lips were on hers — soft, tender. Jamie could feel herself smiling again as Dani pulled back a moment later.

“So... food?”

Jamie laughed. 

“Right.”

That’s why they’d left their hotel room in the first place. She turned toward the sidewalk, but then realized there was something more she needed to say. She turned back.

“You’re not a bad kisser, either, for the record.” She felt her heart flutter again as Dani grinned, her cheeks pink, and then she smirked. “Don’t let it go to your head. Only room for one confident person in this relationship.”

There had only ever been one. Jamie winked for good measure and led them back to the sidewalk. 

She did like herself better when she was with Dani, though, liked herself more than she ever had. It still paled in comparison to how inexplicably much Dani liked her, but it was something. It was a beginning.

[depressedoverdrawings]

Can you hear the tumult of our youth?

KazeKi is the first romance I’ve ever enjoyed, or rather, that I emotionally connected with, as “enjoy” is a funny word choice for a work that made me feel so miserable. Personally, I’ve never enjoyed media that focuses on relationships and love, were they movies, TV, or literature.

But after I discovered KazeKi, I found myself drawn to it, almost involuntarily so. It was as if a spell had been cast. I suppose what superficially drew me in, at first, was the art. It had the charm of retro manga (I absolutely love retro manga/anime looks, IMO they have so much more character than most modern anime and manga), the nostalgic elegance of the idealized upper-class XIX century, and the unrelenting beauty and cuteness of all the boys.

It was mildly surreal and highly entertaining to witness the seed of so many shounen-ai visual tropes: The flower motifs, the flowery poetry, the impossibly pretty boys in dramatic embraces and breathy kisses, the aggressive frenchness of it all. Even it was shocking to me how these elements, instead of striking me as the tired, sappy tropes I saw them as, were now all genuine and beautiful, somehow. Even those silly sparkles around pretty boys seemed fitting. I realized these weren’t tropes back then, but elements of a sincere artistc vision. However, while the art was mesmerizing to me, I came to realize that what drew me in deeper, and kept me anchored to KazeKi, were the themes explored, and the character-based drama, the very stuff I had always avoided.

Without getting far too personal about it, Kaze to Ki no Uta was the first romance that struck something within me, somewhere personal. Now, I certainly have never faced trauma and pain anywhere near to what poor Gilbert and Serge face in their absurdly depressing story, but I definitely wouldn’t call myself emotionally and sexually resolved and healthy, and once upon a time I was a closeted boy in a catholic school, so I guess there’s space for a little bit of self-identification. My coping mechanism to my personal woes had always been to just bottle them up and distract myself with entertainment and art. And that was exactly what I was doing, browsing music on YouTube, when I stumbled upon the KazeKi OVA’s soundtrack.

I found myself listening to this gorgeous arrangement of a Chopin piece, and thought to myself, staring at the angelic figure looking back at me, across the screen: “Gee whilikers, that’s sure is a pretty drawing of a pretty girl”. Then, after reading the comments, I found out that was a boy. As much as the “draw a girl, call it a boy” school of drawing pretty boys makes me groan, I could still feel it, that first hook of interest, stabbing me. As the slideshow enticed me with pictures of Keiko Takemiya’s gorgeous art, I found myself enamoured by it. It was a particular drawing that made KazeKi finally snatch me: that same boy, lounging angelically on some sort of abstract architectural design; in the background, a neoclassical vase flanked by two neoclassical girls, and, above and below, this stunningly beautiful vegetation. So much care, skill, and good taste, concentrated in just one image! I’d have it as a poster, if I could. So, I googled “Kaze to Ki no Uta”, unwittingly throwing myself in a rabbit hole I could not have prepared myself for. Trying to read it was in itself a journey, but, to sum it up: I managed to read it about as well as one can, if they don’t speak japanese and have no access to the spanish and italian translations.

It had been years since I had started feeling emotionally numb. My most extreme displays of emotion came in the form of quiet, teary eyes, reserved for those rare, impactful pieces of art, and those rarer moments of despair-inducing introspection that I couldn’t manage to suppress, but even those lasted little, as I fought to recover my composure. By the end of Kaze to Ki no Uta, I was a sobbing wreck, doing my best (and failing) to contain my ugly crying. Ugly crying, for god’s sake. I was ugly crying, actually sobbing like a kid, because of an yaoi manga. Crying in the shower, even! What kind of weeb had I degenerated into? It hurt. It deeply hurt, in a way I hadn’t been made to hurt in a long, long while. KazeKi had impacted me to the point that I wasn’t just sad, I was scared too, as the waterfall of emotion opened the path for that deeper, personal darkness to come out. And it did.

Now, I admit I’d been a little bit more emotionally fragile than usual right before I read it, due to the effects of the quarantine and the previous consumption of a highly depressing piece of media: Les Amitiés Particulières, which is probably even more depressing than KazeKi as it deals with a much more grounded homophobia-induced tragedy based in real life. Somehow, it didn’t impact me as much as KazeKi, however. Also, it was definitely what influenced my personal YouTube algorithm to recommend me the KazeKi soundtrack, so I wouldn’t know of KazeKi if it weren’t for Amitiés. But even then, it felt unnatural to, well, feel so much. I hadn’t felt this invested in and attached to fictional characters ever since I was a little kid, too young to realize those people in the TV weren’t real. In the following couple of weeks, I was crying over these boys, spending whole days feeling like trash, feeling mild anxiety spikes whenever I remembered about KazeKi, having (even more) difficulty falling asleep, and utterly failing to avoid thinking about my deep-seated intimate issues, all because of these dumb, pretty anime boys. Not even my trusty prayer of “they’re not real people, stop being stupid” worked. In an attempt to stop wallowing in this shounen-ai hell, I decided to consume a whole lot of escapist media while I deliberately avoided any activity related to KazeKi, be it reading the manga, listening to the OVA’s soundtrack, looking at fanart, or even just thinking about it. It “worked” for a month or so, but now I’m back here, wallowing in KazeKi’s painful beauty again, stalking the other seven people in the western world that seem to care about KazeKi, and distilling my thoughts in this bizarre textwall, in an attempt to work it out. If you’re one of those seven people, please don’t refrain from talking to me, if you feel like it! I’ve had just one opportunity to have a conversation about KazeKi, and it was in YouTube comments, for heaven’s sake. I’ve come to the conclusion that I’m this afflicted by KazeKi due to its unrelenting, merciless, cruel beauty. Everything about it is presented in this assembly of pure beauty and lost perfection, this painful nostalgia that is present in its aesthetics of an idealized Europe which lives only in its surviving art, that is present in the story which ultimately tells us of the loss of love, and is present in the fact that the whole story is a broken man’s reverie about the past. Tragedy might make me sad, but tragedy with beauty will destroy me. Bittersweetness is just so more cruel than bitterness. And it was this masterpiece of sadistic bittersweetness that permanently broke something in how I deal with my emotions. Kaze to Ki no Uta touched me deeply, to the point of leaving a permanent impression, I’m afraid. I can count in one hand the pieces of art that have punched my soul in the face like KazeKi did. I am honestly flabbergasted over the effect it had over me. At first I felt embarrassed over being emotionally obliterated by a freaking shounen-ai, but I’ve since come to the conclusion that KazeKi is a work of art, a genuine, sincere work of art, deserving of the title. Now I just hope I’m not alone in being emotionally obliterated by this freaking shounen-ai. After everything they went through, the personal fights, the shaky development of their relationship, the undeserved ostracism at Lacombrade, Auguste’s demonic persecution, the escape; how could it be that Gilbert’s life would end in such a horrible way, and that Serge would be left alone to face the full, unbearable weight of his grief! Why?! Keiko Takemiya, you’re a vile sadist. You’re a genius, too, of course. But you’re a vile sadist.

I knew that a happy ending wasn’t going to happen. The horrible ending was a pretty early spoiler, really. Unfortunately for me, I couldn’t stop myself from reading on anyway, and I couldn’t stop myself from having an inkling of illogical hope. Even if my logical self knew a happy ending wasn’t gonna happen, it couldn’t prepare me for just how tragically their love would end, and how awful it all would feel, once I knew their full story.

It’s all the more bitter because of how close Serge came to saving him, too. Having escaped together to a place where they could’ve built the nearest thing to a normal life a gay couple could have, back then. But in the end, not even Serge’s love could mend Gilbert’s mutilated soul. Those boys deserved so much better, especially Serge. Serge, you sweet angel! You were created to suffer.

KazeKi really is a masterpiece in how it explores its extremely heavy themes and the minds of its characters, and how it flawlessly meshes that with perfect art. There are many moments in KazeKi that haunt me: Serge letting that bird go, Serge’s vision of Gilbert at the Lacombrade grounds, Gilbert running into the carriage, angel wings behind him; Serge laying alone on the bed in Room 17. I cannot look at those pages without tearing up and feeling this horrible feeling in my heart, and this feeling is literal: My heart actually feels heavy and constricted when I think about it, it can’t be healthy. Up until now, I thought “cri evrytiem” was just a meme. KazeKi has woken me up to the fact that bottling up one’s own personal issues will inevitably end with them exploding out, leading to something much, much worse. I am scared by the prospect of facing my personal issues. To me, they are horribly strong, and seem incredibly hard to solve, if they’re even solvable at all. I’m horrified by the prospect of facing them, working to solve them. I’m so scared, that simply thinking about it, right now, gives me this awful weight in my chest, and makes me want to cry, again. But I know now that I have no choice in this matter, as the only alternative is that abyss I dare not speak of, and one cannot return from. Melodramatic? Yes. But I did just read Kaze to Ki no Uta.

Thank you for getting this far, whoever you are.

I’m forever haunted by Serge’s words to his long-gone Gilbert, right at the beginning:

“Gilbert Cocteau, you were the greatest flower to ever bloom in my life. In the faraway dreams of youth, you were a bright red flame, blazing so fiercely… You were the wind that stirred my branches. Can you hear the poem of the wind and trees? Can you hear the tumult of our youth? Oh, there must be others who so remember their own days of youth…”

[better-angels-tempered-sins]

Hacy Ramblings

Even though Macy and Harry’s relationship (friendship and otherwise) has spiraled this season (and I hate to see it), the more I think about it, the more it makes sense to me.

Harry and Macy have so much in common but they’re at different parts in their lives. Macy, though a bad-ass scientist with a brilliant mind, her accomplishments in academia, her career, her role as the eldest Charmed One, doesn’t mean that she has everything figured out when it comes to love.

This is someone who didn’t have a real relationship until she was in her late twenties; someone, who for most of her life, felt extremely lonely and doesn’t do well when the people she loves leaves her, either through their own volition or through death.

The show would’ve benefited a great deal by delving deeper into Macy’s life before she met Mel and Maggie but, even without knowing a lot about where she comes from, everything that has happened to her throughout the first season, especially, gives us insight into why she isn’t opening up to Harry about the way she feels.

For one, her relationship with Galvin was a disaster. Not only did he tell her that he was afraid of her and wasn’t the most patient with her (because, as we know, Macy is the type of person who thinks before she leaps), but he made the decision to sacrifice himself for the greater good. A noble thing to do on his part but in Macy’s mind, Galvin became yet another person in her life willing to leave her.

A lot of people’s complaints about the writing this season in regards to Macy’s character it doesn’t portray her as the strong person that she is and...while I am all for strong female characters, I do believe that it is important to not put women in a box. Strong women are not strong all the time. This doesn’t mean that they are weak every other time but...it does mean that they don’t always have to carry the weight of the world on their shoulders.

And it seems that, even before Macy found out she was a witch, a Charmed One, an older sister, she has always felt like she had to be the one to save the world. I mean, come on? Who becomes a scientist, if not someone who thinks that they find the Next Big Thing that will help or advance humankind in some way? Macy has not gotten a chance to exist outside of that narrative, so to see her be vulnerable in her own way, and experience romance and heartbreak, is important.

As frustrating as the romance and heartbreak is, I like that Macy is getting a chance to have experiences that she didn’t get to have when she was younger.

This leads me to my next thought...

Macy is pushing 30 years old, so a lot of people are saying that she’s an adult and should be more open about her feelings and let me just say...that age does not dictate when someone is ready to be honest with themselves and other people about what’s in their heart. I’m almost 26 and I would rather run away from a guy than talk to him about how I feel. Call it immature but so many people are afraid to put their hearts on the line, regardless of age.

That said, Macy has gone through a lot. She found out that she died at birth, the true reason her mother had to give her up, found out that she had demon blood in her, and lost Galvin because of it. Macy has had to make so many decisions in such a short period of time about the person she wants to be, and a lot of that decision-making centered around what it means to be good and evil, a witch and a demon.

No one knew what she was going through and just like everything else, she had to deal with the changes alone.  While she has reconciled both the light and dark parts of herself, the people that she loves and are closest to her, have not.

At least that’s part of what’s going through her head when she’s the Source. For a long time I couldn’t understand why all of the realities Macy made did not star Galvin. She didn’t even interact with him after she brought him back to life. And then it clicked.

Macy cared about Galvin. She didn’t want him to die saving the world and she didn’t want him to leave her BUT as the Source, love wasn’t enough to placate her. Because love, in her experience, eventually leaves. And she hates being abandoned. So I think the true motivation behind her bringing him back was because she didn’t want him to be able to make the decision to leave her.

The Source is just raw power. It’s not rational. It’s all instinct and impulse, all things that Macy isn’t. Source Macy wanted Galvin alive simply because she had the power to make it happen. I think, more than anything, her time as the Source made Macy realize what love is and isn’t. Love is being able to accept all of who someone is without question and Maggie and Mel, even if her relationship with Macy was rocky, do.

The writers could’ve given Galvin a better send off but...I understand the purpose he served in Macy’s life. He taught her that she deserved to be desired, respected, and understood by the person she chooses to be in a relationship with. When Macy didn’t make a move or kept brushing him off, Galvin’s first instinct was to get in a relationship with someone else. He didn’t push Macy or pursue her. And I think, deep down, that’s what she wants.

This is a woman who has spent her entire life making decisions and thinking long and hard before she leaps. For once, she just wants someone else to take the wheels, so to speak. And be open to pursuing her (which is why I think she was drawn to Jimmy and Julian, but more on this later).

It feels wrong to use Galvin as a plot device but how many people can honestly say that their first relationship didn’t teach them anything about who they are and what they want?

Speaking of wants and desires...Macy is the type of person who still keeps a journal. This means that she is a private person, not just with other people, but with herself. She is not used to voicing what she wants and the one time she went after what she wanted as the Source (i.e. her mom), everything blew up in her face.

Macy is still learning how to talk to people about how she feels and though at the end of season one she told her sisters that she would try to be more open with them, that is easier said than done.

Every time Macy wants something, something goes wrong and just as the Source. She wanted to use her demon powers for good, but that resulted in her hurting Mel. In the first episode of Season 2, she wanted Harry to come back to her, which resulted in her knocking her defenses down and leaving her even more vulnerable to Jimmy’s mind invasion. In the episode where Abigael was introduced, Macy was so excited about meeting someone like her (half-demon, half-witch) that she didn’t realize the snake she let slither into the command center.

There are other instances big or small that we can think of where things didn’t go right for Macy. Needless to say, I get why she doesn’t just go to Harry and tell her how she feels about him. The first time she meets Jimmy, she thinks it is Harry. Full disclaimer, I do not ship Jimmy/Macy (that’s a post for another day) and I don’t understand why people think Macy likes Jimmy for who he is as a person. For one, Macy doesn’t know who or what Jimmy is. Like I said, she thinks he’s Harry. The “you seem different, Harry” scene, is Macy thinking that she’s seeing another side of her Whitelighter and liking it. She likes the idea of Harry being bold and seductive with her.

She wants him to desire her and Jimmy gives her access to the part of Harry that she wants. Even the scene where Harry asks Macy if she had feelings for his Darklighter, Macy admits that she did because Jimmy was apart of him. But of course Harry is too distracted by not feeling whole to think about what Macy was saying.

Macy is very smart but I could imagine trying to reconcile the fact that Jimmy is a different person and yet apart of Harry has to be mind-boggling. Macy is a scientist. She likes being able to understand things and even if she can’t at first, she works at it, until she has a breakthrough. Whitelighters and Darklighters are things she can’t explain. Though Jimmy looks like Harry, she knows it’s not him, and yet, there is something about him that reminds her of Harry (which is why I think it was easy for him to kidnap her in the first place even with the safe word).

Macy loves shows like Heaven’s Vice. She spent years thinking of ways she wanted the show to end which leads me to believe that Macy is no stranger to fan fiction. Regardless of whether she writes or reads it, Macy loves having something to escape in, a forum to express the way she wants things to play out. Having dinner and dancing with Jimmy allowed her to play out her fantasies. Because, let’s be honest, Macy could’ve come up with another excuse to get out that didn’t involve changing into a red dress.

She could’ve tried going out the patio doors. She could’ve climbed out a window. She could’ve went to her room and tried escaping without changing her clothes. But part of her...wanted to stay and live out her fantasies. The rational part of her wouldn’t let her do that.

People complain about how Charmed doesn’t revolve around the sisters as much as it should and I would argue that even with scenes where they’re not all together, this show is always going to be about their love for each other. Macy put what she wanted on hold, to get back to her family.

Seducing Jimmy was the only way she could gain his trust and get her powers back. But...Macy isn’t a spy. She might be good at it, but that doesn’t mean she leaves her heart in the door at the process. Imagine trying to seduce the twin of the guy you like who doesn’t give you the time of day. That could get really confusing, don’t you agree?

Macy does not want Jimmy. She wants what he represents. When she admitted that she was drawing him, she said she was intrigued by him. Intrigued means to be curious or fascinated by something or someone. That doesn’t sound like romance does it?

No, this sounds like Macy recognizes Jimmy for what he is: a piece of Harry.  And she’s fascinated about this side of Harry that she doesn’t get to see. But not enough to risk it all to be with him, because if that were the case she would’ve stopped Harry from killing him.

Jimmy is not whole in Macy’s eyes but Harry is. She doesn’t know how to express that to him though but I am sure, in her mind, she thinks that she is. And Harry is having this internal struggle, thinking that he’s not whole, and that he’ll never be enough for Macy, when really, he is.

These two are so afraid of how the other will react to each other’s feelings it is literally keeping them apart and making them run into the arms of people that say all the right things, but are all wrong for them.

I don’t have anything against Julian and recognize that he makes Macy smile and they’re able to talk about science and other things that Macy is interested in BUT...he was ready to drop his aunt to be with her. Sure his aunt was rude to Macy and that is unacceptable but that woman raised him. Macy would never let a guy get in-between her and her family. It’s why she was able to drop Julian in a heartbeat.

Macy doesn’t realize what Julian just did because she’s never had anyone pursue her the way Julian has/is and right now it’s what she wants. It might not be from the man she wants but she’ll take it from anywhere she can get it. And Harry is the same way with Abigael.

And another thing...Harry telling Macy that she knows how he feels about her isn’t enough. Galvin told her he loved her and still left her, still couldn’t accept all of her. Macy’s mom loved her but still left her (and yeah she knows the reasons why but it still hurts). Harry told her in so many words that he loved her and then he walked away. So, as I much as it frustrates me, I can see why she went to Aspen. And why Hacy is in the mess that they’re currently in.

This long post really could’ve been condensed to this one line: Harry and Macy are not together right now because they are still hurting from their pasts, have sucky communication skills, and are afraid of taking a leap without knowing where they are going to land first.

[bread-elf]

DWC 2020 - Day 11

May not be suitable to some readers, viewer discretion is advised.

Passion

Post Warlords of Draenor, pre Legion prepatch

Curled up on the floor at the foot of her bed, wearing the same rags she's been in for four days, she didn't want to cope anymore.

A soft rap at the door to her cabin on the Greyshield's ship, Drax'ara Duskrunner sighed softly to himself. "Jiroki, it's me, I'm coming in."

The tall Kaldorei, with deep blue hair pulled back and swirling blue eyes, pushed his way into the room. She had secluded herself in here after her supposed wedding date with the Highborne Sasil, yet he never showed to claim his bride at the altar. Most of the other Shields in the mercenary group were too hesitant to approach, but Drake had volunteered to try and keep her under his watch, but more for personal reasons than for the Greyshields.

The room was a mess, Jiroki having spontaneous tantrums and having thrown and broken things, food on the desk he had last left previously remained untouched. At first he was startled not to see her right away, then realized where she was.

"You haven't eaten in days. I'm going to force feed you if you don't eat this now." The man had brought with him a plate of bread, cheese, and bacon, trying to entice her hungry she kept denying but also bringing something light. Jiroki gave no response, something he had learned for some time now she's prone to do when upset, and he got down on his knees beside her.

"Come on, up and at em." Setting the plate down he reaches over to help sit her up, Jiroki shifting slightly but for the most part unresponsive. He raises a brow, but thinks she must be exhausted, letting her body lean against his as she slumps towards him.

"Jiroki?" Something seemed off, and his gut clenched as it agreed with him. Bringing a hand to her cheek she tilts her head up, hearing the very faint of gasps breath, and beside her body he notices a small empty pouch.

The hairs on the back of his neck as shock starts to settle in, recognizing that pouch. Quickly he scoops Jiroki in his arms and tilts her around, setting her down on her back. He sees her face then, silver eyes half lidded and glazed over, her body overdosing. No no no-" His first instinct is to get it out of her, a bit familiar with drug usage. Quickly he rolls her onto her side and shoves two fingers down her throat. To his luck her body reacts as intended, her body gagging and starting to heave up the contents in her stomach. A grisly task, but Drake immediately scans the contents for any of her ‘medicine’ that he learned she frequently takes, and abuses. He could spot some of the white capsules she had recently swallowed that had barely started to dissolve, but there were bits that looked like she had taken some earlier… “How many did you fucking take?!” Drake growls out angrily as he starts fishing for his communication device, Jiroki coughing and remaining laying on her side while he access a specific frequency. “Draxia?! Draxia! I need you!” ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Jiroki felt dull, out of her skin, not of this world. Did it work? She couldn’t tell, but slowly she was fading back to consciousness. Something cool soothed her skin, her whole body, and she felt weightless. That feeling became more physical as she can feel gentle laps of water touching her skin, being held aloft by someone as there were the faint mutterings of the Darnassian tongue. Slowly she peels open her eyes, a Kaldorei man with purple hair having a hand hovering over her body, and she could see the weavings of druidic magic around the hand. Not only that, she could see a luminescent glow from the waters she floated in. Turning her head she could recognize she now floated in a Moonwell, but how did she get here? “Drax’ara, she’s waking up.” His voice calls out, and Jiroki can start to recognize this druid as Draxia, one of Drake’s brothers. To the side she can hear some movement, and Drake himself comes into view as he peers over the edge of the Moonwell. “Gods, praise Elune…” Drake lets out a heavy breath, relieved that she seemed alright. Jiroki felt her head swim and she reached up to grab hold of it, feeling droplets of the water run down her face. “Can you sit up?” Draxia moved his hands to help her, having her sit upon a rock in the well so that she could keep her head above water. “That was certainly a close call. You need to stay in these waters for a time.” “How… How did I get here?” Jiroki knew for a fact she had been in the Swamp of Sorrows, where her ship was docked in Marshtide, yet the area around them felt like home. “Drax’ara brought you here, we are at the well in Duskwood.” The closest portal to the Emerald Dream, of course, Jiroki should have known. Drake continued to stand nearby, a hard look on his face as he stared at Jiroki, and Draxia noticed. “Brother, come and help me, would you?” Draxia asks. Drake gets taken aback by the sudden question, but he kicks off his boots and climbs into the well. The healing waters slosh a bit from Drake’s body submerging, but he comes in and gingerly takes Jiroki from Draxia, helping keep her steady. Once Draxia is freed from his burden he moves back, letting out a tired sigh and looking exhausted. “I need to rest…” Draxia says as he starts to climb out of the well. “That was very taxing. Watch her for an hour, make sure she doesn’t get out. If she doesn’t next hurt herself by getting an aneurysm…” Jiroki and Draxia didn’t exactly clash well, already the female starting to get riled up by his words and leering towards him, but she felt weak and remained put. Soon enough the druid had left, and she sat alone with Drake in the pools. “What were you thinking?!” Drake starts to scold her in a hushed whisper, she having anticipated it. “You could have been killed!” “That’s what I was trying to do before you came along!” Jiroki snaps back, glowering at him. “How dare you interfere! You had no right to!” “Bullshit I had no right to!” Drake snaps right on back, not afraid to yell at her in turn. “You’re the most selfish person I’ve ever met! Did you even think about how this would affect the Greyshields?! How it would affect me?!” “Why do you keep interfering in my life?! This isn’t what I wanted!” She hits his chest as she tries to pull away from him, but he keeps a firm grip on her shoulders, and her strike had so little power behind it anyways as her body recovers from her ordeal. “What do you want then?! Come on, Jiro! You can’t just… You mean so much to people!” His words falter; it was no secret between the two that he had deep feelings for her. “Is that why he didn’t even show up?! Because I matter so much?!” Jiroki couldn’t stop the sobs from coming. She had cried so much already the past few days, but it came wave after wave. “All this time I been- I been w-waiting for him and, and hanging on, j-just to not show up, on a day that HE picked?! What the fuck?!” Her fists hit his chest again but he just takes it, watching her carefully and with pity as she breaks down before him. “A-And you, you just k-keep getting in the way! Y-you even tried to t-take me from him! But-” It all seemed so silly now, his little pursuits for her while she remained engaged, diligently brushing him off in hopes of something she thought would be better. “Y-You don’t have the right to interfere!” “I think out of everyone I most certainly have that right.” Drake also had a stubborn streak like Jiroki, which resulted in his romantic pursuit of her in the first place. He liked a challenge. But as time went on he got far more than he bargained for, developing deeper feelings for her then he could say he’d had for anyone he’s ever met. His hands come up to cup her face as she cries. “You still have so much to live for. I’m sorry he did that, he’s the most insane person to leave someone like you at the altar, I would kill to have you. But please don’t do this to yourself, I know you’ve lost a lot, but we’d be losing so much if you killed yourself. I’d be losing so much. Look at me, please.” Her gaze had stayed downcast, but he gently coaxes her to look up, and her shimmering eyes do as such while her face is scrunched up in sobs. “I-It hurts s-so much…” Jiroki hiccups, his thumbs wiping away fresh tears that come down. “I know, I know it does…” Leaning forward he rests his forehead against hers, and her eyes shut too as she sobs some more, though his hands don’t leave her face. They sit in silence in the healing waters of the Moonwell as she lets out her emotions, though the waters slowly give back her strength as their Mother Moon resides high in the sky. “Y-You’re stupid…” Jiroki hiccups once again, and once more diverting some of her anger at him. “You c-could’ve gone for, for anyone, a-and you had to bother me…” That makes him chuckle however, his blue eyes half lidded as he grins softly at her. “What can I say? I’m a stubborn man.” His thumbs gently run back and forth over her tear streaked skin, and soon enough her own eyes open. For a time they stare at each other, unable to pull their glances away. But something lures her in. Perhaps his charm, his looks, his personalities that’s a little similar to hers. Or perhaps it was his devoted passion to her that ignited her own, and she begins to lean in. Already having been holding himself back, he takes the cue right away and meets her, their lips meeting for a tender kiss. And the kiss deepens from there, Drake gently pulling him into her lap to hold close the woman he had almost lost, and they stay tangled together for the rest of the night. (( @daily-writing-challenge​ ))

[imagine-avenger-imagines]

Lifelong (I)

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x (Fem) Reader

Summary: Sam Wilson and Bucky Barnes lead a manhunt for someone who could help.

Word Count: 2.1k

Warnings: violence, language

AN: Here’s the start of part 1 for this series. Enjoy!

Florence, September 2023

From the outside, one would say Sam Wilson stood tall in front of the secluded building facing him. The sharp suit made him exude confidence, but on the inside he felt anything but.

“Buck?” The comm that sat silently in his ear didn’t make him feel any better, and he rubbed his sweaty palms on his long slacks. This was one of the biggest operations Fury had put him on since he took up the mantle of Captain America. He had been put through many nerve wracking situations, and he didn’t think this would be any different. His accelerated heart rate said differently.

Him and Bucky had been following a group that was heavily involved with criminal activities and that S.H.I.E.L.D. followed since the mid eighties. They fled from sight after Steve took down Hydra, not to be seen until now. There was a crackle in his comm before hearing a familiar voice.

“Yeah, I’m in place. Took me a bit longer than I planned to get up here.” Sam breathed a sigh of relief as he heard the assassin’s voice. Unfortunately, his relief didn’t last long because of the gang of hollywood style mobsters arriving in a blacked out Mercedes.

“I have eyes on Matteo. 4 guards on all sides.”

Sam could’ve taken them out right then, but the immense crowd of people probably wouldn't appreciate that.

“Remember, in and out. Then we’re through.” He could practically see Bucky nodding behind a sniper scope.

In that moment, Sam watched as his target walked through the giant marble doors and into the lobby of the beautiful hotel. The gala was being held mainly for the purpose of thanking some charity for their reputable donation. Behind closed doors, Sam knew what the actual purpose was.

The main players within a huge chain of sex trafficking were meeting tonight to discuss some trades that were to be made.

“I’m heading in.”

Bucky sat in front of a small apartment window with his sniper pointed in the direction of the Gala. His dark locks of hair had been pulled behind his head into a small bun. His cerulean eyes stayed glued on his scope, watching as his partner walk quickly through the body guards at the doorway. Once his tall figure was gone, Bucky laid back, resting his metal arm against the top of the weapon.

Fury almost hadn’t let him come on this mission. Steve was the only one who grounded him before, and now that he isn’t as easily accessible, Fury was wary of him. A ticking time bomb. Bucky wanted to believe otherwise, but he knew there was always the possibility.

Those ten words held the detonation code to his bomb.

He had seen numerous people about it. Scientists, therapists, professionals. People who were supposed to know what they were talking about.

Bucky’s attention came back to the situation in front of him.

That’s when Sam’s irritated voice came from the other side of the comm.

“Buck? They’re gone. Right from under me.”

Of course they fucking did. If Fury thought he was incompetent before, he’s gonna laugh at this joke of a situation.

He slammed his vibranium hand against the cool metal of the gun, watching it crack with the amount of force he put in. He watched Sam safely leave from the Gala before packing up.

They headed back to headquarters both with a mixture of worry and irritation.

“I don’t know what happened. One second they were there and then they just vanished,” Bucky listened to Sam ramble on and on as they walked down the long hallway. The conference room they’d been summoned to was approaching, and so was his anxiety.

He didn’t feel like he deserved to be here. He looked ahead at Sam watching as he walked stiffly towards the room. He’d served for this country.

So had he. Look where it got him. Eighty years later and he still looked the way he did then.

Before he knew it, they were both seated at a large conference table. Fury wasn’t here yet, but Bucky could feel his presence.

Not two seconds later, in walked Fury with a new assistant. She was tall with ginger hair, she stood just like any of his other minions.  

“So, may I know why two of my best people couldn’t take down one of the easiest targets? A rookie took them down the first time.” Bucky just sat with his eyes glued to a small vase in the middle of the table.

A rookie.

“And that was in the 80’s. Please tell me you got something?”

Silence was his only answer.

“Well, since you can’t even bring some people in, how about I send you on a little manhunt. You think you could do that?” Fury’s voice was mocking. Bucky felt his anger flare, but he knew better than to do anything.

“Yes sir.”

Fury sat, rubbing his temples in some poor attempt to relieve the pressure that was building. There was only one person who knew enough about these people to actually get some information.

He hadn't seen her in years. He knows she’s still alive.

“Look, I know a person. She worked on this case for a while before everything went south. I’ll get in touch with her and I’ll let you know. Baker, get me everything on case number 782736.” With that, he stood and flew from the room. Bucky and Sam sat staring, sinking deeper into their own thoughts.

Sam stood, Bucky looking in his direction.

“C’mon. Let’s get a drink. I have a feeling it’ll be our only night off for a while.”

The two of them took off in an issued car, heading in the direction of the bustling city.

It was the only time off they had for a very long time.

The next day, the ginger assistant found Bucky in the gym running around the track. She stood in the middle of the track, her stance wide and a smirk on her face.

“Barnes?” His eyes watched her wearily and once he approached her, all he replied with was a grunt.

“Man of few words I see. Here’s the file Fury requested. He said he wants you and the Captain out by tomorrow.” Bucky could feel his muscles starting to cool off, so he nodded his head and prepared to start running again.

“Got it.” When he started, a small hand grasped his metal arm. The action took him by surprise. No one was brave enough to look at him, let alone touch him. It borderline irritated him.

He roughly pulled his arm away, and gave her an up and down glance.

“The name is Kim.”

A piece of his dark hair fell into his face, and he quickly pushed it back behind his ear. Bucky was sure his eyes were flared with irritation, but she didn’t seem to budge.

He said nothing else, instead choosing to continue running.

Him and Sam took off the next day in a jet. Apparently the agent was in New Orleans.

Bucky had never been. Well at least from what he remembers.

Fury gave them a vague description before they left and that's all they had to go off of. The encounter with Fury’s assistant kept replaying the back of his mind. Something felt off about it. He knew how to read body language and her’s screamed “set up”. The two of them walked through a doorless frame into a small, swanky bar. Some form of alternative music played from above them and the place itself seemed a bit busy. Sam led the two of them deeper into the bar, and sat at the bar to their left.

Bucky’s searching eyes caught onto a figure standing in front of a dart board, sinking dart after dart. Her shoulders were stiff, but her arm threw each dart loosely and with precision.

Bucky nudged Sam with his elbow after he was done talking to the bartender. Sam followed Bucky’s eyes and nodded.

That was her. The description matched exactly what Fury told them. There was a pit in the bottom of his stomach. Something telling him this whole thing was off.

Sam stood and walked in her direction, Bucky following him quickly.

~

You knew the exact moment the two of them walked through the door. The first screamed “Fury” with his walk and wandering eyes. He was the one you believed to have taken over for Rogers and man, did he look the part.

Nothing Fury said could have prepared you for what you saw next.

It was him. You turned quickly before either of them noticed. Those eyes had haunted you for many years. The same eyes that killed people you loved were now glued to your back.

You hadn’t felt this nervous in many years. The nerves made you want to run, something that you were normally against.

“Y/N Y/L/N?” Your ears hadn’t heard them approach, but when you turned, the breath was knocked from your lungs. You tried to hide your emotions and you were hopefully succeeding so far.

You couldn’t help but stare at him, you’d lived too long to care.

“Yeah, Fury’s men I’m guessing?” Your voice was strong, thankfully. It would take some getting used to, but for now, you’d have to look at the man you hunted for years.

“That’d be us. Sam, Bucky. He said you’d have some information.” The nod of your head made Bucky sigh in relief. He watched as your calculated eyes threw your final dart and landed a bullseye. With a motion of your fingers, you walked over to an empty booth.

“Fury said you're dealing with the Matteo’s?” Once those words left your mouth, you noticed three men sit down at the bar and begin laughing together.

Fuck.

They had been followed, and by the exact people in question.

“Yeah, almost had them a couple days ago. Slipped out right from under us.” Bucky was the one to talk this time. His voice was so much different than you had expected. It was soft, but with a sharpness to it.

“No you didn’t.” The words caught Sam off guard almost causing Bucky to chuckle.

“What?” Your eyes caught Bucky’s cerulean ones and it caused you to flinch away immediately. They flew to the men sitting at the bar, the ringleader watching your every move. You knew this wasn’t going to be pretty.

“No, you didn’t almost have them. Otherwise, three of them wouldn’t be sitting twenty feet away from us,” Bucky’s eyes flew open and hesitated before taking a glance back there.

Son of a bitch.

“So boys, you want to continue this party here or outside?” The two of them both watched your face, stunned. You continued in a whisper. “There’s an alleyway right next to us. Follow me.”

Moving your body from the booth, you stand and walk towards the back of the bar and towards the restrooms.

They followed from a distance and watched as you pulled a set of keys from your pocket. The large iron door at the end of the hallway gave way once you unlocked it.

Bucky watched your lithe frame move quickly and suddenly something came to his mind.

He’s seen that walk before.

The thought knocked the breath out of him almost as hard as the punch that landed on his kidney. He turned quickly, seeing the large man behind him. Almost just as quickly, a bullet landed in between his eyes. Bucky’s eyes whipped to where it came from, seeing your right arm holding out a smoking gun. A silencer was screwed on the end and the look in your eyes watched the door where any of the other men could’ve come through.

“Let’s go.”

Bucky’s eyes wandered to yours and then Sam’s, realizing this trip just took a dark turn.

You led them to the alley and noticed your black Audi sitting by itself.

“Who has better aim?” Bucky and Sam looked back and forth before you interrupted them.

“You, back seat.” You motioned to Bucky and he nodded. You knew he was a great shot based off of the almost fatal scar on your chest.

The three of you piled into the car and you’d just gotten the ignition started when you started hearing the familiar sound of gunshots pounding into your windshield.

“Fuck.” The other two men from the bar were standing in front of the alley, pistols pointed in your direction.

“Pull down the left side of my back seat. Pick something and get started on them while I get us out.” You spoke to Bucky through the rearview mirror. He nodded obediently and got to it. You couldn’t force yourself to say his name.

Bucky pulled out the backseat, suddenly a whole showcase of weapons was presented to him. He quickly grabbed a M-15 and opened the door.

With two quick shots, both of the targets were taken out and you felt nauseous.

You never thought you’d be killing enemies with the monster who took your best friend's lives.

[petertingle-yipyip]

Idle Worship - Thomas

Part Two - Hard Times

// IW1 // Series Inspo: @writingsbychlo // Series Tags: @writingsbychlo​ @dylinski​ @moongoddesskiana​ @technolilly​ //

Pairings: Thomas x Reader

Word Count: 5080

Summary: WICKED is working with two very promising subjects, A2 and B2. Although they are set for separate Mazes, a deep connection forms between the two. Sneaking around the Compound, training together, and working together leads to many good times and even more Hard Times. How did Y/N and Thomas meet and fall in love?

//Quick Formatting Note: This chapter is set before Thomas is sent into the Maze. The current time for the chapter is regular type and flashbacks or rewinds are italicized. Enjoy!!//

“Tell me, Thomas.” Janson said as he sat in front of Thomas. “What was your relationship like with B2?”

Thomas waited at the table, his arms resting on the cold aluminum surface. Mere days had passed since you were gone and he could already feel the emptiness in his chest. He volunteered to monitor your Maze often, watching you specifically. He knew it wouldn’t make the separation any easier. He knew it was driving the stake in his chest deeper and deeper every day he saw you. But he couldn’t help it. You were the only thing that mattered to him.

“She has a name.” Thomas said simply. “Her name is Y/N.”

“Right… Y/N.” Janson nodded carefully. “She’s excelling in the new setting. Have you noticed?”

“Of course she is.” Thomas said, biting back his proud smirk. “Did you really think she wouldn’t? She was the best damn thing that ever came out of this place.”

“What was your relationship like with her?” He pressed.

“Wh-what do you want me to say?” Thomas asked suddenly, knowing what the Assistant Director wanted. “You want me to say that I miss her? That I loved her? It doesn’t matter anyway. You sent her away.” Thomas sat back in his chair, crossing his arms over his chest. No matter what he felt for you, he wouldn’t tell WICKED anything. “You know, she hated this place… Planned how to get out a hundred different ways..”

“Yet she never left.”

“No” Thomas agreed. “She didn’t.”

“B2- I mean, Y/N, just couldn’t see the bigger picture. You’re all a part of something that will save everyone. You see that, don’t you?”

Thomas didn’t have an answer. Teresa would tell him that Janson is right, that what WICKED was doing would help people. Teresa would swear up and down that WICKED is the good guy and that they’re there to help. But Y/N told a different story. Y/N saw what things were on the inside. It was manipulation, isolation. Y/N saw the kids losing their identities, becoming just another test subject, and being scared as hell because they remembered nothing. How could WICKED be the good guy when they do things that bad guys in books do?

“Why’d she stay, Thomas? If she hated us so much..”

“She stayed for me.” He admitted, a slight tug in his chest. He felt a tad guilty now that you were in your Maze and he was still at the Compound. You could’ve been safe from all of this if he had agreed to go with you. But at that time, he was convinced that the right thing to do was to stay. After losing you to WICKED’s twisted, oversized game, it didn’t sit right in his gut to be there.

-

“You must be the new girl.” Thomas greeted you with a wide smile.

You were taken back by his effortless good looks. The dark brown hair that fell onto his forehead, the hopeful and welcoming smile, the deep hazel eyes that quickly scanned your figure. You were stunned into silence, only able to nod and grin. You felt the heat creeping up your neck and to your ears.

You chuckled nervously as you heard the man say something about this boy showing you around the Compound. Everything else was muffled, white noise that didn’t seem to make sense. It was like all your brain let you focus on was the boy in front of you. He made your stomach tighten, your breath shallow, your heart beat fast, your fingers tremble. You had barely laid eyes on him and you were already in love. You started to wonder if soulmates were a thing.

“Hi.” You managed. “I’m Subject B2, I guess.” You shrugged sadly, already tired of the number you were assigned. You wanted more than anything to use your name, but it seemed like that didn’t belong to you anymore. Given names weren’t protocol at WICKED.

“I don’t care about that.” He waved a hand to dismiss your introduction. “What’s your real name?”

“My real name?” You asked, eyebrows furrowed. Everyone else in the Compound only cared about your number or your subject title. “Uh, it’s Y/N.”

“Y/N..” He nodded, holding a hand out for you to shake. “I’m Thomas.”

“Thomas..” You smiled softly, taking his outstretched hand. “I like that.”

After that first day, you never seemed to let go of his hand and he never let go of yours. Whenever you walked the Compound with Thomas, you held his hand. When you snuck into his room because yours felt too cold since you were alone, you held his hand while you slept on his chest. When you two were having sex, he held your hand. When you were working together in the lab or filing paperwork, you held each other’s hand. Until the day you got caught.

“And what do we have here?” Janson asked from behind you, clasping a hand onto one of each of your shoulders. “Hand holding? In the cafeteria?”

“We should probably run.” You told Thomas, who simply nodded with a mischievous smile on his face.

You two slid under the table and out of Janson’s grip. You both crawled out over the feet of the kids at your table and ran through the cafeteria. You heard the thump of boots chasing you, the yelling of your subject numbers, the sound of the alarm. But Thomas simply grabbed your hand and ran through the halls, you easily in tow. You laughed out of pure joy, genuinely having fun in that moment, and realized that you really did love Thomas.

“We’re surrounded.” You said between breaths when you and Thomas came to a hallway where guards were coming at you from both sides. “I’ll take the fall this time.”

“What?” Thomas asked with a small chuckle. “It’s my turn!”

“Too late.” You shrugged, putting your hands behind your head and dropping to your knees. “I’ve already surrendered.”

“I love you.” He laughed.

“You owe me.” You winked as you were hauled to your feet and dragged away.

Your punishment was a night in the Hole. That wasn’t what it was actually called, but it’s what all the kids called it. It was a small room, smaller than your individual rooms. It had an old cot and no windows. There was no light and the room was practically soundproof. It was intended to be a room of reflection, to think back on how your actions don’t help the cause. But for you, it was just a weekly change of scenery.

“These actions are… unbecoming of such a promising candidate, B2.” Janson sat you down the next day. “You cannot continue this behavior.”

“A promising candidate?” You laughed. “I’ve yet to be fully compliant. I spend at least one night a week in the Hole. I misspell words on my paperwork so they’re invalid. I sandbag my physical fitness tests. I hardly respond to my subject number. Tell me, Rat Man, how am I a promising candidate?”

“Trust me, we’ve noticed the fitness numbers.” He replied simply, waving his hand to dismiss your confession. “We’ve seen the way you run these halls. You keeping pace with A2 tells us all we need to know.”

“And what exactly do you need to know?” You lean forward onto the table, head tilted in curiosity and eyebrows lifted.

“Just how cunning you really are.” He replied lowly, as if it was a secret. “And now that your confession is on camera, you’re going to be a bit more compliant.”

“Why should I?” You challenged.

“If I give this video to Ms. Paige, she’ll have you sent in much sooner than we’d like.” He threatened.

“So I either follow protocol more or I lose everything?” You sat back and nodded slowly. “Alright, fine. You’ve got yourself a deal, Rat Man.”

“Director Janson is how you will address me from now on.” He said firmly, standing from his chair. “That is all, B2. And I expect to see no more PDA between you and A2.”

“Sure.” You nodded, pressing your lips to a line. “You won’t see us holding hands any longer.”

“I’m glad to hear that.”

“You’re wrong, by the way.” You added as he stood to leave. You tapped your finger against the table, staring at the rhythmic movement of your hand. “All of you are.”

“About what?” He asked with a sigh.

“All of this.” You said, clenching your other hand into a fist. “You don’t want to save anyone but yourselves. We aren’t here for a cure for the world. We’re here to make a new commodity that no one will have access to. I’m guessing the currency system went out the window by now, so what? You want people to pay with their first borns?” You paused, faking an epiphany. “That’s how we all got here! WICKED told the world if they give up their kids-”

“That’s enough!” He shouted suddenly, slamming his palms against the table. You shot up quickly, knocking the chair away from you in the process. You pressed your palms flat against the cold, aluminum surface, leaning into them.

“You know I’m right.” You said simply. “The only people that will have access to the cure is in this building.”

“You don’t see it yet, B2.” He replied, shaking his head in disappointment. “But you and the rest of those kids are going to make the world a better place.”

“It’ll be better once you’re dead and WICKED is gone.” You scoffed, standing tall.

“Is that a threat?” He cocked his head, straightening and fixing his jacket.

“Not at all.” You smirked. “It’s a promise.”

From then on, you didn’t hold hands with Thomas where anyone could see. Instead, you would subtly hook two fingers around his. You walked a bit closer to him in the halls, hiding your hands from the line of sight. If anyone wanted to catch you, they’d have to look very closely.

Janson kept you, Thomas, and Teresa on tight schedules. Breakfast at 6AM. Labs at 7:15. Psych evals at 8:30, but only every other day otherwise it was reaction tests. Stretching and yoga at 9AM, and fitness training at 10:30. Every Friday was a fitness test instead of training. Lunch at noon, followed by Clinic Meetings at 1PM. Paperwork at 2. Leisure time until dinner at 6PM. Reports and briefings at 7, then leisure until lights out at 10PM.

During your time at WICKED, you learned the guard rotation. You learned which guards they kept posted where, when they switched shifts, how long was the gap time. You watched the codes to the doors, which were fingerprint locks and which were keypads. You mentally noted elevator shafts and stairwells, always knowing what level you were on. You, Thomas, and Teresa had rooms on Sublevel 2 but the rest of the kids stayed together on Sublevel 3. Your programs never intertwined unless you were training.

The gym was on ground level. You didn’t know what the level below that contained everyone else, but all you knew was that the kids that went down there didn’t come back. You had yourself convinced it was Hell, and the Compound was a facade for the Gates.

You often wondered what the outside world had come to. What did the Cranks actually look like? Were they like the zombies you saw in movies? Were they something else completely? You wondered what happened to the kids you went to school with, the ones you grew up with. Were they alive? Was your family alive?

“Hello?” Teresa said, waving her hand in front of your face one morning while you waited for your psych evals. The psychiatrist was talking to Thomas, which left you and Teresa in the waiting area. There were two guards posted by the door, their weapons were aimed down but their eyes never left you two. “Are you paying attention?”

“No, I wasn’t.” You shook your head and offered an apologetic smile. “What were you saying?”

“The groups are progressing nicely. We’ve begun sending in members of Group A. And Group B deployments are scheduled to start next week.” Teresa said proudly.

“Can’t wait till I’m out of here.” You mumbled, letting your head fall against the wall behind you. “Who was sent in for Group A?”

“The only one I know for sure was a boy named Nick.”

“Nick?” Your head lifted for a second before letting it fall again. You tried to remember Nick, but your mind was blank. You felt bad for not really knowing him, but the three of you barely interacted with the rest of the kids. “Poor kid.”

“George is next, I think. Then Al-”

“I don’t want to hear it.” You cut her off. “Those boys are our friends and we’re watching them lose everything and get sent into an oversized children’s game. And for what, Teresa?”

“You’re supposed to call me A1.”

“A1, sorry.” You rolled your eyes. “I’m tired of this. All the other kids live in dorms and we’re separated. Why? Cause we’re special? It’s bullshit!”

“Keep it down.” The guard ordered.

“It’s bullshit.” You said in a quieter voice. “Te- A1, you can’t tell me that you’re okay with all of this. What about when it comes to Thomas? Or me? What happens when we get sent in?”

“You just don’t see the progress we’ve made, B2. WICKED is good.” She nodded.

“Right…” You trailed off.

“B2? Your turn, sweetheart.” The psychiatrist said as she opened the door to her office. Thomas quietly walked by you, shooting you a quick wink. You blew him a kiss and followed the psychiatrist into her office.

The tension only grew in your body. Every day that you had to wake up in that place, fake compliancy, and help WICKED made you feel sick. You hated your life, your routine. You had begun to wish there was nothing special about you and you could’ve been left with your family. You had to constantly remind yourself that you had at least one good thing. You had Thomas. And you had made a couple of new friends in the general kid population, Newt and Minho and Alby.

“How’s it going, A5?” You greeted him as you turned on the treadmill next to his.

“Since when do you follow protocol?” Newt laughed, not breaking stride.

“Since I got threatened with deployment over a week ago.” You shrugged. “Only way to keep what I got is to do what they want.”

“Keeps us alive, doesn’t it?”

“You really call this living?” You scoffed, beginning your run. “It’s a fucking nightmare.”

“At least you’re not bunking with a million other guys.” Newt shook his head. “They’re great and all, but they stink!” He joked.

“It gets lonely on Sublevel 2, believe it or not.”

“I bet you have something that keeps you occupied.” He teased.

“Oh you mean T?” You replied casually. “He definitely keeps me occupied.” You winked.

“Gross!” Newt laughed, almost losing his footing on the treadmill.

“Focus, A5!” The trainer yelled. “Another half mile!”

“Yes, sir.” Newt replied before glaring at you. “Thanks a lot.”

“How about I run it with you?” You offered. “I’d run it for you, but I have to follow protocol now.”

The desire to tell Thomas that you wanted out burned you every second you spent with him. The thought bounced around your head constantly, begging to roll off your tongue and be free. But after the way Teresa responded, you were scared that Thomas would give you the same response.

“Y/N?” Thomas noticed you weren’t paying attention one day during early leisure. You were laying in his bed with him, talking about things you missed. “What’s wrong?”

“Have you ever thought about what’s left? Like outside the Compound.” You said idly, drawing small circles on his chest.

“No..” He said gently, lifting his head from his pillow to look down at you. “Why? Do you?”

“I want out, Thomas.” You admitted suddenly. “I want to get back into the real world. I don’t care if it’s turned to shit. I don’t care if I die within a few days up there.I just can’t be here anymore.”

“Where is this coming from?” He sat up slightly, now very concerned.

“My family. I wanna know if they’re alive. I want- I want fresh air and I want to feel the sun. I miss looking at the stars and feeling the trees. I want to feel the grass and sit on the roof to watch the sunset. I want to stare at the full moon just so I can see the craters. Thomas, I want my old life back, or as close as I can get to it.”

“It’s not safe up there.” He began carefully. He didn’t want to seem like he was dismissing you. That was the last thing he wanted to do. Thomas wanted to comfort you, remind you why you were with WICKED. He wanted to remind you that without WICKED, you wouldn’t have met. “Besides, it’s not all bad down here… You have me.”

You smiled softly, leaning in to place a sweet kiss on his cheek. “Maybe that’s all I need.” You said honestly, hoping to convince yourself that was true. But no matter how much you wanted it be enough, not even Thomas could replace the freedom you longed for.

You thought WICKED made the mistake of training you. You were in the best shape you could’ve been in, able to run farther than you ever thought possible. You were able to lift more weight than you ever thought you would’ve. They taught you basic self defense and weapons handling. Why a teenager needed to know how to shoot an assault rifle was beyond you, but the hand to hand was always fun.

You sat alone, watching the live footage from Group A’s maze. Group B had its first few entries and you watched those girls too, a tug in your chest knowing that could’ve been you. Group A had its first dangerous Griever encounter. Nick had placed himself in charge, and Alby had to kill one of the others. Janson called it “collateral damage”, said that all of the higher ups expected some deaths within the Maze and that’s why they were going to send so many. You called it a crime.

You watched your friends more than the others that you didn’t recognize. It was biased, you knew that. You knew your reports always contained those names, but Janson still put you on footage review and you had yet to be thrown in the Hole for insubordination so you figured it was okay.

You were making notes in their subject files when you came across something that scared you. Newt’s file said he wasn’t immune to the virus. Newt could catch the Flare. You quickly printed the screen and folded the paper, tucking it into your pocket. You knew there’d be a notice that a file was printed so you quickly left the room to find Thomas. You found him a couple doors down, watching the footage from other cameras, cameras from within the Mazes.

“Check this out.” He said, waving you over when he noticed you.

“I have something you need to see.” You said as you sat in the chair next to his. “Some of us aren’t safe.”

“Is this about wanting to leave again?” Thomas asked, gently placing a hand over yours. “Y/N, I thought-”

“It’s not about that!” You cut him off quickly. “Look.”

You pulled out the file and unfolded it, flattening it out against the table. You watched his eyes scan the paper, going wide when they saw the checked box that stood out to you too.

“This doesn’t make sense.” Thomas muttered.

“That’s why we can’t access our own files and why the three of us can’t get into each other’s.” You said, tapping your finger against the paper. “So we don’t know if we’re immune or not.”

“What do we do?” He asked quietly.

“I don’t know.” You answered honestly.”But this, it changes things, Thomas. I think it’s time we find out what we’re really up against.”

“Yeah, maybe...”

“B2!” Janson’s voice boomed through the hall.

“Shit.” You sighed. You leaned over, leaving Thomas with a quick kiss before entering the hall.

You had the paper in your hand as you dropped to your knees, raising your hands to be above your head. The guards came to you quickly, locking your hands behind your back with cuffs and hauling you to your feet. They snatched the paper out of your grip and gave it to Janson.

“You lied to us.” You sneered. “You said we were safe! That we were all safe!”

“You are safe, B2.” Janson answered calmly as he looked over the paper he was handed. “This is the safest place for you. For all of you.”

“How many of them are at risk, hmm? How many don’t know they’re not immune!?”

“Take her to Sublevel 4.” Janson told the guards. Your heart stopped. “Prepare her for deployment.”

“What?” You panicked. “No, no, that’s not your call! No, please!” You screamed as you were being dragged down the hallway. “Please, don’t do this! I want to talk to Ava! I want to talk to Ms. Paige, please!”

But it was no use. The guards ignored your pleads. When you struggled in their grip, they only held you tighter, tight enough to leave a bruise you were sure. When you kicked out or used your feet to keep you out of a doorway, they yanked your legs down. They talked about sedating you to make it easier, but Janson said just to use whatever force they had to.

“What’s going on?” Teresa came out of her room and saw the fuss.

“You still think WICKED is good?” You scoffed, trying to free your arms.

“Where are they taking her?” You heard Thomas from behind you. “Director Janson, where is she going?”

“Don’t you worry about it, A2.” Janson said in a fake soothing voice. “She’ll be fine.”

“Thomas!” You shouted over your shoulder. “Thomas, I’m sorry! I love you!”

“Wait!” Thomas yelled to the guards, hurrying to try to catch you. “Hey, wait!”

“Hold on.” Janson said after a hesitation.

The guards stopped, roughly pulling you to turn you around. You came face to face with Thomas who only looked at you with sad eyes. You offered a smile, but you both knew there was no joy or even hope in that smile.

“I’m sorry.” You whispered, leaning into his chest. His arms came around you instinctively and held you close. You cried lightly against him. “I’m so sorry. I tried to be good and follow the rules. I tried. I really did.”

“Hey, hey.” He said softly. “It’s okay. Don’t apologize, alright? Hey, look at me.” He leaned away enough so you could lift your head and look at him. He gently wiped your tears away with his thumbs, holding your face between his hands. “You’re gonna be alright.”

“I’m being sent in, Thomas.” You confessed. His face dropped. “I won’t see you again.”

“We’ll figure this out, Y/N.” He kissed your forehead gently. “It’s alright.”

“There’s nothing we can do now.” You said sadly as you felt the guards grip your arms again. “Be safe, please. Don’t die, and don’t do anything stupid and end up like me.”

He chuckled sadly. “I always was the smarter one between us.”

You had been right about Sublevel 4. It was Hell. You kept in total isolation. You had no visitors. No psychiatrist, no trainer, no friends, no guards, not even a worker to bring your food. The tray was slid through a slot at the bottom of the door, and you were supposed to slide it back when you were done with it, even though you barely had it in you to eat. The thought of losing everything you had made you feel sick. It made you physically sick twice during your prep period, and you didn’t even get a doctor visit to check your health.

The Iso Chamber was the Hole, but brighter. There was a fluorescent light above you, and a camera in two of the four roof corners. There was a hospital bed on the back corner, a sink and toilet were behind a paper screen. There was nothing to keep you occupied so you slept often.

You lost track of how many days you were down there. You knew that it would come eventually, being sent into the Maze. You just hated the anticipation that sent in in isolation. You wanted it to be over with, just wipe your memories and send you in.

-

“You can’t blame yourself, A2.” Janson tried to console Thomas. “She knew the consequences.”

“Consequences?” Thomas laughed. “I thought WICKED is here to help, that me and every other kid in those Mazes are supposed to help. How are there consequences if this isn’t a punishment?”

“A2, listen.” Janson tried to explain.

“My name is Thomas.” Thomas muttered.

“Don’t exhibit the same behaviors B2 did.” He warned. “You’ll end up the same as her. You know us, A2. WICKED is good.”

-

“B2.” A voice boomed through the room. “Director Janson has requested to speak to you. Please, seem presentable.”

“Well I haven’t had a shower in however many days. I’d like to request access to the showers before the meeting please.” You replied towards one of the cameras.

“A staff member will be down momentarily to guide you.” The voice answered and you were left in silence once again.

After another eternity of silence, the door opened and Teresa stepped in. She offered a polite smile and motioned for you to follow her.

“How long have I been down here?” You asked casually, trying to ignore the tight feeling in your chest. You were feeling a bit anxious to see Thomas again, but part of you doubted it’d be possible.

“A week.” She replied casually, more pep in her step than you remembered. “I’ll take you to the showers so you can clean up and then I’ll take you to Director Janson’s office.”

“What does Rat Man want with me?”

“Director Janson-” She emphasized. “-wants to discuss your deployment with you.”

You hummed in response as she stopped at the door to the showers. You were allowed to clean up without supervision so you took your time, enjoying the warm water against your skin. You knew it’d most likely be the last real shower you’d have for a while, so you savored the moment. After you were cleaned and dressed in clothes left by the door, you followed Teresa to Janson’s office.

“Ah, B2!” He greeted, motioning for you to sit. “Come in. Have a seat. I hope your stay downstairs wasn’t too bad.”

“You deprived me of all human contact, mental stimulation, physical activity, and even showers for a week straight. It felt like I was losing my mind.” You replied angrily. “I was told you wanted to discuss my deployment.”

“Yes.” He nodded. “I wanted to offer you one last chance. Ava is not thrilled about sending you in so soon and has ordered that you get an offer, one that you can’t refuse.”

“I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t intrigued.”

“We start over.” He said simply. “We noticed you started acting out worse recently, so we’ll just readjust you to before that.”

“You’re gonna wipe me..” You realized. You almost didn’t want to say it out of fear.

“A very minor wipe, but yes.”

“No.” You said with finality. “I’d rather lose everything than be a puppet.”

“I think A2 could convince you otherwise.” He commented, wagging his finger as if it was a new idea. Janson left the room and Thomas soon entered instead.

You jumped from your seat and ran into his open arms. He held you tight, so tight that you felt that you would fall apart as soon as he let go. You prayed that he wouldn’t because once he let go, you’d lose him.

“I’m scared.” You mumbled into his shoulder.

“Yeah, me too.” He admitted.

“I’m gonna lose you.” You whined. “Thomas, I can’t lose you.”

“You’ll never lose me, Y/N/N.”

“The worst part is that I- I- I won’t even know what I’ve lost.” You sobbed, your breath coming in heavy pants. “I don’t know if I’ll ever see you again. And if I do, I won’t know it’s you. You won’t know it’s me. We- We’re gonna be strangers to each other.” You ranted, your voice broken and raspy.

“Don’t cry, alright?” He said gently, rubbing your arms in an attempt to soothe you.

“But how will I know it’s you? They’re taking our memories. I can’t- I can’t lose you too. Not after everything that’s been taken already. They can’t take you too!” You pouted. You knew better, but maybe if you said it enough times - if you said that they couldn’t take him away from you - that they wouldn’t.

“You won’t.” He cut in once your jumbled words slowed. “Hey, they won’t, alright? You mean everything to me, Y/N. You’ll know it’s me once you see me. Trust me.”

“I love you so much.” You whispered.

“I love you too.”

“Be safe, Thomas.”

He leaned down and kissed you softly. It wasn’t the kind of goodbye kiss you used to see in movies, the heated and passionate kiss. It was soft and gentle, promising and hinting that it wasn’t the end. His hands roamed intently, hoping to memorize the curves of your body one last time. You had your hands balled in his shirtfront, clutching to him as if he was the only thing you needed. And he was.

The guards tore you apart. Once you were away from him, you were numb. You were completely compliant. You answered every question, did every little task. You knew your fate was inevitable. Fate had come to collect.

The only thing that felt real was the fear. The panic and the utter blackness that surrounded you as you shot upward in a rickety metal box.

You didn’t know where you were. Where were you going? How did you get there? Who were you?

[nightskyhoseok]

Channel Eden: Live! (3) (M)

Summary: Welcome to Channel Eden, a live broadcast where your sessions are recorded live and shared across the space station Illume, where all human life is located. During this time, you will be paired with other Kiwanos and Roses for private time, allowing you to rise up in the ranks and gain more attention. Remember, consent is our #1 priority!

Pairing: Seokjin x Black Reader

Genre: Smut

Warnings: unprotected sex, exhibitionism, live cam sex, broadcasted sex, blindfold usage, fingering, creampie

Word Count: 1.9K

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✴ 1 ✴ 2 ✴ 3 ✴ 4 ✴ 5 ✴ 6 ✴ 7 ✴

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Even though you had racked up nearly 1600 credits during your session with Jungkook yesterday, you decided to skip the shop today, instead waiting outside, watching flashes of previous broadcasts from other sessions on the television screen embedded in the wall. 

Highest on the charts was a red headed woman and a black man using some sort of advanced penetrator machine. You could definitely see why it was the highest ranked currently. They moved with such passion and fluidity, you’d think there was something more going on underneath. Channel Eden never really said anything about forbidding relationships between Roses and Kiwanos, so perhaps they were a couple, or just fuck buddies.

 Your face flushed a deep red when the screen suddenly flashed the broadcast of you and Jungkook from yesterday. Although, your eyes wandered back up to glance at Jungkook’s face. His eyebrows were furrowed in concentration as he thrusted into you from behind, grip tight on the handcuffs. You then realized you were getting flustered watching your own broadcast, but millions of other people have watched it too. And then, out of nowhere, you laughed. You laughed loudly in the middle of the hallway. A few other people looked at you like you were insane, but you paid them no mind.

 Suddenly, your wristband buzzed, indicating time was ticking down, and you had a few mere minutes left until your next session. You glanced over at the door to the shop which whizzed open, and out came walking a familiar face. Yoongi smiled when he saw you and walked over to you, greeting you.

 Yoongi leaned down to kiss your cheek, and you did the same, then pulled back to look at him. In his hand was a bag from the shop, something heavy inside from the way the paper was being pulled down. He wore a tight-fitting crewneck sweater, shaded full black. Yoongi noticed your eyes roaming his figure and he couldn’t help but smirk and snap his fingers in front of your face, pulling you out of your trance.

 “Still there?” Yoongi laughed, and you huffed to yourself, turning your head away embarrassed. “How are you?”

 “I’m good,” You answered, looking back at him with a small smile.

 “I saw you yesterday on the channel.” Yoongi smirked a little, making you duck away again, hiding from his intense gaze. Why were you so nervous around him - you already had sex with him. “Makes me wish I could’ve joined in on the fun.”

 “Well, maybe you’ll get another turn.”

 Your wristband buzzed again, your next location flashing on the screen. Yoongi did the same, then lowered his arm to look back at you with a smile.

 “Guess I’ll see you another time,” Yoongi said, waving goodbye. He headed down the hallway to the elevator, looking back at you to throw you a quick wink before turning around the corner. You laughed to yourself and looked back at your wristband.

 Floor 4, Room 26…

 You followed Yoongi’s trail and headed to the elevator, where one was ready and empty for you. You stepped in and pressed the button corresponding to the fourth floor and waited for the doors to close. Your stomach flipped as the elevator suddenly took off and went up to the fourth floor at lightning speed. No matter how many times you rode the elevator, you never would get used to the speed.

 The elevator reached the floor and you exited, walking down the hallway, passing by a few people who were searching for their rooms as well. A young woman with dyed red hair recognized you from yesterday’s broadcast and waved to you, squealing to herself. You waved back, and got back to your searching. Luckily, you were only a few steps away from the room. 

 You moved in front of the lock pad and did the same old routine, lifting your arm to hold the wristband to the device, which in turn unlocked the doors, providing access to the private room. You entered the room, which turned out to be empty, unlike you had expected. You sighed and sat down on the bed, staring at yourself in the monitor on the wall.

 After a few minutes, the door opened, and in came a man with broad shoulders and a perfectly sculpted face. Your jaw nearly dropped from his sheer presence. Oh my god, how many hot Korean men were in this program?

 The man smiled and entered, the door closing behind him as he walked over to set his bag down on the counter, then turned to you. 

 “Hi. What’s your name?” The man asked, his plump lips curving into a smile.

 “Y/N,” You managed to say, still distracted by his beauty. “Y-Yours?”

 “Seokjin, but you can call me Jin,” He chuckled, noticing your flustered state. “I know I’m handsome, but there’s no reason to be nervous around me.”

 You snorted at his confidence, even though it was definitely well-placed. Jin laughed at your response and glanced at the camera briefly.

 “Just so you know, I’m a lot more gentle than most Kiwanos, if you care for that,” Jin explained. You hummed and looked up at him with curious eyes. 

 “It would be nice to go at a different pace today,” You said, nodding. 

 “Good. Are you okay to move forward?” 

 “Of course.”

 Seokjin reached into his bag and pulled out a silk white blindfold, letting it drape across his slender fingers. He walked over to me and dropped it on the bed beside you, then leaned down to capture his mouth with yours. His kiss was sweet and gentle, much more different than Yoongi and Jungkook. Though, it was a nice change, to be handled like a human being. 

 Jin’s tongue slid past his lips and into your mouth, your hands delving into his hair as he pressed you against the bed, hovering over you. He trapped you between his arms and tilted his head to the side, deepening the kiss in seconds. His hips gently grazed over yours, a jolt shooting straight down to your core. 

 Jin suddenly pulled back and hooked his fingers underneath your shirt, pulling it off and throwing it on the floor. He then unclipped your bra and threw it in the same direction, immediately attaching his mouth to your nipple. You gasped, hands tangling in his hair as he sucked around your bud, nipping it to tease you. The stirring beneath his waistline had become too severe to ignore.

 Seokjin stood up and pulled down your pants, letting them drop onto the floor before he moved onto your panties. After placing a quick kiss to your navel, he gently pulled down your panties, letting them hook around his finger as he dropped them with the rest of your clothes. He then rid himself of his own clothes, soon standing before you bare. 

 His length was long and thick, to say the least. It stood proudly against his abdomen as he crawled over you, kissing your lips once more. He then reached for the blindfold and quirked up his eyebrows as he looked at you, asking for permission.

 You nodded, and Jin nodded back before taking the blindfold and wrapping it around your eyes, obscuring your vision. You felt his fingers gently tie the blindfold on the back of your head, and he whispered to you.

 “That’s it.”

 He lifted your leg and wrapped it around his waist, then moved his hips to rest comfortably on the inside of your thigh. His cock was pressed up against your core.

 You gasped and turned your head downward, trying to look in the direction where Jin had slid his hand to rub your clit with his fingers. With a whimper, you gripped the back of his neck, mouth falling open as he slid his two fingers into you, scissoring your walls to stretch them out. 

 Jin was so much more gentle than anyone you’d ever been with, but the way his fingers were curling as they thrust deeper into you had you thinking he would be changing his methods very soon. 

 Seokjin’s cock touched your heat, making you jump slightly at the sudden contact. You heard him laugh slightly, and by the next second, he was sliding into you, his size a pleasant surprise.

 “Ah- Jin…” You hissed, throwing your head back as he kept slipping into you until he was buried to the hilt. Seokjin wrapped his arms around you, kissing your shoulder as he dug his nails into the flesh of your ass. 

 Jin then whispered a warning before pulling out just to slide back in again. Dear god, he was moving so slow, but it felt so fucking hot. The way he was so careful with each of his movements, making sure that we were both getting the best out of it.

 Then, he began to set a slow pace, slipping in and out of you as he lifted your leg, allowing him to slide deeper into you. You whined, relishing in the feeling of your walls being stretched out so deliciously. 

 “Jin, Jin please go faster,” You begged, nails dragging across his broad shoulders. Seokjin laughed wryly and kissed your neck, then slid his hand down to the small of your back. 

 Suddenly, he began speeding up the pace of his hips, now thrusting into you quickly but steadily. You let out a half gasp, half moan and wrapped your arms around his neck, bracing yourself.

 Every thrust of his hips sent his cock deep into you, hitting a sweet spot that had you crying out his name and profanities of all kinds. Jin gripped your ass, holding you in place as he kept grinding into you, small grunts matching his thrusts.

 His lips attached to your neck, sucking and biting at the skin as he continued his deep thrusts, laying into you with long strokes of his hips. You moaned loudly when he rammed into you once, hitting your g-spot. 

 “You close? Hm?” Jin whispered, pushing you down onto the bed as he stopped the movement of his hips for a second to adjust your legs. He then entered you again, pressing your back further down into the mattress as he held your arms down on either side of you.

 Your thighs trembled in pleasure as you felt yourself nearly spilling over the edge, his continuous thrusts and deep grunts carrying you to salvation. Jin then moved one hand down your clit, rubbing it quickly with his thumb.

 “Cum, baby.” 

 As his words left his mouth, you felt yourself releasing all the tension you had collected in your body, your walls pulsating around his length as you came. Seokjin moaned and thrusted into you a few times when he suddenly twitched and spilled his seed inside you. 

 Seokjin and you both took a moment to catch your breaths, then the blindfold was off, and you could see Jin above you, smiling. He slipped out of you gently, then reached over for the tissues to clean you up. 

 “How was it?” Jin asked. You smiled and sat up, your fingers roaming through his hair. 

 “Amazing. Thank you,” You whispered, raising yourself to allow your lips to meet his. 

 You smiled to yourself, mind going through all the possibilities and opportunities you may have in the days to come at Channel Eden. Whatever it may be, you were ready.

───✱*.｡:｡✱*.:｡✧*.｡✰*.:｡✧*.｡:｡*.｡✱ ───

Masterlist • YouTube • Instagram • Discord

[stories-sometimes]

Taking Him Down (1/?)

Steve Rogers x Reader, Sam Wilson x Reader

Summary: Cop!Steve Rogers works with the mob boss’s daughter to take him down.

Word Count: 1917

Masterlist

He had to make sure none of his colleagues ever found out. It wasn’t allowed, he had been taken off the case. But when has that ever stopped him before. A more corrupt captain replaced him, one who worked with Birling too closely. Everyone else was too far up that man’s ass to try to stop him. So that’s why he was waiting in a secluded corner of a sketchy dive bar on the outskirts of town for Birling’s daughter to show up - the only other person who wasn’t trapped in his pocket of influence.

“Rogers.” She finally greeted him. She always looked weird to him, not in a bad way, it was just that she had such an innocent face, as though she didn’t belong to the world she was born into. However if you noticed her for long enough you could see the darkness in her eyes or the little scars across her knuckles from years of fighting. She intrigued him.

“Took you long enough.” He replied as he sipped on his whiskey.

“Do you want my help or not?”

“You know I do, just sit down.” She did, instantly grabbing his drink and finishing for herself. “You could’ve just asked you know.” She sneered at him.

“I can find someone else to help me, push it too far and I’ll leave and take all my information with me.”

“I’m your best option.” He snapped back.

“Unfortunately.” She sighed as she reached down into her bag to pull out a series of files. “There’s a massive shipment of cocaine passing through here in a week, busting it will be a good place to start. If we frame it to look like the police captain was in charge of it my dad will lose faith in him. He’ll get more insecure, start second guessing everyone around him. After that we can start to cut off more and more of his ties until he’s vulnerable enough for us to really strike, take him down for good.”

“I doubt Birling’s gonna freak out that much if one shady police officer betrays him, he’ll just move onto the next easy to bribe guy on the force.” Steve stated. He’d seen this happen time and time again, for every one good cop in the city there were at least two secretly working for or along with the mob.

“Well then you obviously don’t know the first thing about their relationship.”

“Enlighten me.” He perked an eyebrow up.

“They go right back, they’ve been friends since the moment they were born. The captain only ever joined the force to help the mob, he’s the real number two of the whole organisation. I’ve seen how the two of them interact my entire life, if he trusts anyone, truly trusts them, it’s the Captain. He’s who we need to target.”

“Well other than you.” Steve said, looking closer at the files, exact, intricate details of Birling’s next heist.

“But he has to keep his faith in me. I would him no wrong.” She smiled sarcastically, barely concealing her disdain for the man.

“Of course not, you’re his precious little princess, ain’t that right sweetheart.” She wanted to wipe that smug look off his face, he loved to rub that fact in her face. That she had to keep up the act of Birling’s perfect daughter, the innocent face of an evil group.

“Don’t call me that.”

“What princess or sweetheart?” He was really pushing his luck.

“Either. Take a look over these, we’ll meet again tomorrow, bring your people.” Steve nodded. He went back to his flat, continuing to flick through the pages and pages she’d prepared. She was smart, he could be sure of that, the plans were solid and so were the people he was bringing onto this job. 

The next day she walked into Steve’s apartment. Behind her stood a fiery looking redhead who had the same stoic look as others who’d grown up in the mob.

“Natasha Romanoff, she’s part of the shipment, she’s gonna be our girl on the inside.” She introduced the two of them.

“Nice to meet you.” Steve said, stepping forward to shake her hand.

“Pleasure’s all mine.” Natasha smirked back at him, a slight smirk on her painted red lips.

“She’s the one of the best agents I’ve ever seen, if anything goes wrong she’ll be the one to drag whoever your guys are out of the situation.”

“Trust me sweetheart, my guys are perfectly capable.”

“Well are you ever gonna show me them?” She asked. He nodded quickly, leading the two women further into his apartment. They were met with the sight of two men bickering on Steve’s sofa, they soon stopped upon seeing the others, standing to attention.

“This is Bucky and Sam, they’ll pose as the buyers. Both are well trained soldiers and spies.” The two men stepped forward to shake her hand, Sam’s gaze lingering on her for longer than Steve liked. He shook the thoughts out of his head, he had to stay focused on the case, he couldn’t let himself get sidetracked at all. 

“So, let’s go over the plan one last time.” She instructed them as she pulled out all the visual information for the plan. “Natasha’s going to be with Birling’s men, she’ll keep us updated, inform us if anything goes wrong. Sam and Bucky will be posing as the buyers, they’ll wait by the west side of the pier, when you guys meet up Nat will send me and Steve the signal. I’ll tip off the captain saying a rival mob has a deal going on. When the police bust the sale Steve will go to pick up you three. Nat, you then tell Birling about the captain breaking up the big deal, he’ll confront him, breaking ties with the police.“

“What if the captain tells your father you tipped him off?”

“Like my dad would believe I would ever do such a thing to him.” She smiled, purposely making herself appear more innocent. “Memorise these.” She handed them each a file switching back to her more authoritarian look. “Now if you’ll excuse me I have dinner with my dearest father. You coming Nat.” With that they left leaving the other rereading the plan, ensuring that it was ingrained in their brains.

“Wouldn’t mind taking her out to dinner.” Sam said offhandedly earning himself a subtle glare from Steve.

“Keep it professional Wilson.” He replied, feeling oddly protective over her.

“Course I will, but who knows. If she’s interested, who am I to deny her a date. Dinner, a movie, a nice walk through a park, end it with a few rounds between the sheets and those goddamn thighs, sounds like a perfect night.” Sam wiggled his eyebrows suggestively. Steve scowled at him, hating the way it was making him feel. They were working together and that’s all it should be, mixing business and feelings during this gig would be a mistake, it could only end in smoke - that’s what Steve thought at least. But he’d be damned if he let anyone else try to get with her. 

“Just read these, we can’t fuck this up. You gotta think with your head and not with dick.” Sam’s only reply was a smirk.

“Darling, how are you?” Birling said as she sat down at the dinner table.

“Hey dad, I’m doing good.” She said, fading back into the sugary sweet act she held around her father.

“Did you book that hotel for next week?”

“I did. But why do I have to be gone next week? I was thinking of meeting with some friends.” She asked, pretending to be clueless of the reason he was trying to get rid of her for a while, he always wanted to keep her away from the crime, at least it gave her a good alibi.

“Just thought you should have a break from the city.” He responded. She nodded, throughout the night she tried to pry little pieces of information out of him, but in the end it was useless.

Steve on the other hand left for the police station, he knew there was some evidence against Birling hidden away somewhere in the precinct. He rooted around the evidence locker, the captain purposely mislabel pieces of evidence so it would have to be disregarded. If he could get it and correct it he could pin it on the captain, more reasons for Birling to lose trust in him.

“Rogers.” He heard his name and froze in his tracks.

“Captain.” He answered, keep calm he thought, don’t slip up.

“What are you doing here so late?”

“Just finishing of a case, just that mugging you assigned me.” He picked up the bag he had left in here earlier. The captain seemed to buy it.

“Good work.”

The next day she was back in Steve’s apartment (although it was currently only her and Sam in home) hitting the punching bag he had hung up.

“Why aren’t you wearing gloves?” He pointed to her hands, only a flimsy layer of bandages protecting her hands.

“I wanna feel it. Get my anger out properly.”

“Wanna practice with me?” He asked, placing some pads on his hands. “I always get more anger out if I’m punching somebody else.”

“Sure.” She shrugged, turning and switching to punching Sam’s hands. He was right it helped and the little jokes cheered her up a bit.

“Come on, is that all you’ve got. Harder!” Sam said after a while.

“Oh you like it hard.” She teased.

“You know it, I like it hard and rough. If these isn’t a few bruises after what’s the point.” She blushed a little at his answer, pushing any thoughts of that out of her head.

“Good to know.”

“What about you?” The punching had all about stopped by now.

“What about me?”

“How do you like it?” He enjoyed the deeper shade of red her cheeks turned.

“At the moment I definitely need it nice and hard.”

“Good to know.” He echoed her word, moving closer to her, wrapping a hand around her waist. The other went to cup her cheek making her giggle.

“You should probably take the pads off first.” He laughed along with her as he quickly took them off, throwing them to the other side of the room. He raised his now bare hands.

“Better.” She nodded, lightly biting her lip. He leaned down to lock lips with her. Quickly he deepened the kiss, running his tongue along her bottom lip, she immediately allowed him access, opening her mouth so he could slide it in. They carried on like this until they heard a not-so-subtle cough from beside them. “Steve.” She said sounding shocked, feeling oddly guilty after being caught. She was allowed to kiss Sam, there was no reason she should feel so bad as Steve kept his eyes locked on her.

“Wanted to tell you I got the milk.” He said awkwardly. He walked out of the room.

“Alright man.” Sam replied.

“Steve! Wait!” She shouted, pulling out of Sam’s grasp. “Steve, I can explain, I -”

“It’s fine,” He interrupted her, although his clenched jaw suggested he thought otherwise. “Just make sure that doesn’t interfere with taking Birling down.” He didn’t like the way he felt when he saw her kissing Sam. He didn’t like the proud look on Sam’s face when he pulled away. He definitely didn’t like the idea of her being anyone else’s.

[keeroo92]

Hunger Ch4

@dmcvvitale @tehrevving Here’s part four! Other than hints of necrophilia and a quick murder, this came out surprisingly vanilla. Enjoy!

Word count - 4,048

Part 1 --- Part 2 --- Part 3

___________________________

The city was quiet, subdued in the darkness of night. Only bars and nightclubs remained open, all other businesses unlit and hidden behind protective grates. Old newspapers skittered across the pavement in the breeze, accompanied by the thumping bass from the warehouse across the street. The streetlights offered periodic refuges from the shadows, a place for his prey to feel safe.

She was anything but.

The vampire crouched on the lip of a brick building, watching her every move as she pulled her phone from her bag. He’d been waiting for her to leave the club for hours, keeping himself occupied with memories of you, but at last his prey was in sight. Slim fingers tapped at the screen and the foolish woman forgot to pay attention to her surroundings. A mistake she would not repeat.

He licked his lips, running his tongue over his razor-sharp fangs. Her scent was a pale imitation of yours, her flesh several shades too dark, but the same silent need emanated from her like a siren’s call. It would have to be enough.

He slithered down to street level, keeping to the shadows until he was ready to make his move. His prey remained clueless.

Fool.

He crept closer, waiting for the familiar thrill of the hunt to flood his senses. This was his purpose, as a predator. To hunt and feed and kill those unfortunate enough to be his prey. What a perfect example tonight’s prey was, in her revealing mini dress and heels. A night of fun and revelry, only to end in blood and death. All that she could’ve become, could’ve done with her life was his to take. His to ruin.

Yet he felt no excitement, no anticipation or lust. He was empty.

Bored.

He shook himself, trying to recapture the joy of hunting. What a masterpiece she would be, eyes glazed in death with her own blood splashed across her frozen limbs. She was a canvas, and he the painter. A statement of broken dreams and stolen possibilities, begging to be realized.

V sighed.

He didn’t care.

She was nothing, a boring and plain human. Her lack of attention made hunting her too easy, child’s play. It left so much to be desired, and he was nothing if not a creature of desire. Perhaps she’d scream, beg for her life? He did so enjoy it when his prey begged…

“Please, Master…”

The vampire smirked. Your begging was sweeter than all others. Just remembering the whine of your voice sent surges of need coursing through his veins, a flood of endorphins only you had the power to summon.

He needed to decide. Were you worthy? Would you truly be his equal, or would you fall short? You had yet to disappoint him, in all the months of lustful and hungry experimentations, but the possibility still echoed in his mind. What if he turned you and everything changed? What if you lost your appeal?

A sharp pang of hunger twisted his stomach; he needed to feed, pondering your future could wait.

He flitted into the light and covered his prey’s mouth, other arm tugging her into the darkness. She tried to scream, her throat vibrating in terror as her eyes darted around, but barely a whimper slipped past his tight fingers. The cheap plastic of her heels clicked on the pavement as she struggled, desperate to free herself.

Her panic did nothing for him. If anything, it felt like he was taking the trash out. A chore, dull and tedious. What once brought him immense joy and satisfaction now barely required his attention.

Unacceptable.

He shoved her against the wall and leaned in, taking a deep sniff. The aroma of blood was enough to pique his interest, but only just. It was maddening; where was the thrill? Where was the excitement, the overwhelming rush? What was wrong with him?

Frustration pooled in his belly and he growled. His fangs sank into her flesh with no mercy. The moment he once drew out as long as he could was now only a task to complete. The crimson gush was flavorful and satisfying, but it tasted muted. Like a watered-down soda, lacking the body and decadence of the past. He had to force himself to keep drinking.

Venom dripped onto his tongue and he forced it into her wound; he didn’t care enough to keep her mouth covered any longer. She reacted quickly, pressing her body against his and humming as he slurped. What a pathetic creature. So utterly inferior, his cock twitched out of habit alone.

“Fuck me, Master…”

He snarled. Even thinking of your voice caused more of a reaction than the mewling chaff he was feeding on. Images of you flooded his mind, sprawled out and drenched in blood and ropes of his cum with that blissful afterglow. No matter how he tried to focus on his prey, you refused to leave his thoughts.

So lovely, such a good pet…

His meal moaned and tried to grind against him, lost in the grip of his venom. She tugged at his clothing, clumsy fingers scraping on his shoulders. It annoyed him and he sank his fangs even deeper. The river of scarlet flowing into his mouth quickened and the girl keened, arching her neck to give him wider access. As if he needed permission.

The thudding beat of her heart was fading. Even the knowledge that she was almost spent did nothing for him and he bit deeper still in irritation, tasting cartilage and gristle. Her arms fell away to the sides and her head drooped, her weakness growing every second. The torrent slowed to a pathetic drip and he reluctantly held her up as the last dregs passed his lips.

The girl went limp and he pulled away, watching as her features froze. What a disappointing meal, barely adequate to quench his hunger. She was so ordinary, truly a dinner to forget. He frowned and lowered her to the ground before turning away, wiping his face clean.

As he headed home, he pondered his dilemma again. You were the only one who held his attention now, the only meal he craved and yearned for. If nothing else, the girl in the minidress proved that much.

Yet you would die, and he would be left to return to old habits. It wasn’t a matter of if, but when. While turning you wouldn’t eliminate the possibility of your death, it would halt the aging process. You would gain considerable strength and power and no longer be at risk for several common ailments.

He already knew you’d embrace the dietary changes, and the idea of sharing a meal with you sent lightning racing up his spine. You always looked so delightful with blood smeared on your skin. To see you feed would be marvelous; how enticing it was to picture you making your first kill, looking back to him with blood dribbling from your reddened lips. The possibilities were endless.

You’d be more than his pet; you would be his equal.

The only potential downside was he would lose his dominance, but perhaps you were worth it. Never had a human held his attention this long, nor had he ever considered turning someone. Throughout the centuries, he’d met numerous remarkable people, yet you stood alone above them all. Unique. Irreplaceable.

Worthy.

It’s time.

Within minutes, he arrived at your door and knocked. Your car sat in the parking lot and a dim glow of illuminated bulbs made it clear you were home. He shifted his weight and peered through the glass, spotting your approaching form with ease. He stepped back to make room for the door to open.

“V? What are you doing here?”

He raised an eyebrow and stared at you until you remembered to invite him inside. Easily his least favorite side effect of his condition. You led him to your living room and sat beside him on the small couch, angling your body to see him better. The tasteful pajama set you wore brought a smirk to his lips.

“I have a proposal for you,” he began.

You leaned back, a startled look on your lovely features. “Uh, what?”

“You enjoy our time together, yes?”

He had to choose his words carefully. It shocked him to find how nervous he was, butterflies in his gut and palms clammy. He wanted this, more than he’d known. To have a companion, someone to soothe the loneliness of his existence, to share in his hunts and meals… and you were perfect for it, already acclimated to his needs and discovering your own. Though it was obvious to him how perfect a sanguisuge you’d be, convincing you would take some effort. He couldn’t afford to miscommunicate.

“Of course! Isn’t it obvious?” you replied with a light blush.

He smirked. “Indeed. But have you considered the long-term aspects?”

“What do you mean?”

He rested a palm on your knee, tattooed fingers rubbing circles in your flesh. The next few minutes would change everything, for better or worse.

“You are human, I am vampire. You will age and die, yet I will not.”

He stared deep into your eyes, letting his earnestness shine through. It wasn’t easy. He hated being vulnerable and to do so made his skin crawl. He was a predator; never should he feel so exposed.

He swallowed. “I can change that.”

The spike in your pulse was audible, going from a normal rhythm to a pace that would alarm anyone in the medical field. Your eyes went wide and you stiffened, frozen like a deer in headlights. He didn’t speak, letting you process his offer before explaining any minutiae.

“You mean… you can make me a… a vampire?”

He nodded. You stood and began pacing, arms crossed and brow furrowed in thought. It was a good sign that you didn’t dismiss him outright, yet as you turned around for the fifth time he grew annoyed. Surely you had questions? Why didn’t you speak? He licked his lips.

“I do not make this offer lightly.”

You hummed in acknowledgement but kept pacing. The vampire sighed and leaned back to wait, rubbing his temples to ease the first twinges of a headache. Another ten minutes passed before you broke your stride and came back to the couch with a sigh.

“I don’t know. Don’t get me wrong, I’m interested. But there’s so much you haven’t told me about what you are.”

He nearly growled. He was offering you the gift of eternity, and you didn’t know? Perhaps he’d overestimated you after all. “What do you want to know?”

You brought your legs up and turned to face him fully, cross-legged like a child. Glimmers of curiosity and excitement shimmered in your eyes as the questions poured out. “Can you die? I mean, are we talking total immortality or just invulnerability to certain things? How old are you? What’s the best thing about being a vampire?”

He smirked. Where to begin…

“I am three-hundred twenty-six years old. Quite young, for my kind. Barring an accident or a rare illness, I will live forever.”

He paused. What was the best thing about being this way? It wasn’t something he’d thought about before. There was the power, of course. The heightened senses. Longevity. Supremacy over all.

But the best part?

Freedom.

He met your eyes again with sparkling eyes. “The best thing about it is the freedom. Not a soul can command me, and I have all the time in the world to achieve whatever I wish. I never feel rushed, as I did before.”

He fell silent, waiting for the next round of questions. Perhaps he should’ve told you more before now but sharing his secrets did not come naturally to him. With an internal groan he scolded himself, struggling to remain patient instead of tackling you and turning you right then and there, just to get it done.

Three hours passed before you ran out of questions and fell silent, considering all he told you. Again he stifled the urge to take what he wanted and turn you, but he knew from personal experience how toxic an unwilling change could be. If he was going to have you for eternity, he couldn’t afford to start off by forcing you into it.

Don’t think of her as something to hunt, think of her as a comrade.

It was odd to realize how differently he saw you now. No longer were you just prey, or a pet to be used whenever he pleased. Weak as your body was, your mind was formidable. How else had you survived his attentions without breaking? Not to mention you kept coming back for more.

“I… I’ll do it,” you said, breaking his thoughts.

The vampire’s lips stretched into a feral grin. You were so perfect, why had he ever doubted you?

“Lie down, then.”

Your eyes widened. “Here? Now?”

“Why wait, pet? Are you going to change your mind?”

You glared at him and crossed your arms. Even petulance looked lovely on you and he smirked as you stammered a comeback, already scooting into a prone position.

“No way!”

He barked out a laugh and crouched, brushing your hair aside and dropping his fangs with a click. A glance at your eyes showed him how sure you were and he hummed in approval, lowering his mouth to your neck.

“Wait!”

He leaned back with a quizzical look. Your hands were at your belt, pulling away the denim with a bit lip and tinted cheeks.

“Can you do it while we’re… um…”

He smirked, a knowing twinkle in his gaze. “Yes, but why?”

Your flush deepened and you looked away, unable to hold his stare as you answered. “I… I want my last moments as a human to be… with you inside me.”

Truly, you were a delight. Such a perfect complement to his perversions, it sometimes seemed as though you read his mind.

He trailed his fingertips down your stomach, dipping under your top to caress the soft skin and leave goosebumps behind. Blood flooded his cock and he leaned down to kiss you, a rare treat for your honesty. Your lips opened to his without preamble and he flicked his tongue forward, teasing you.

He pulled away to tear off his clothes, impatient to feel you around him again. What would it feel like, when you changed? Would you massage him or go limp? If he timed it right, maybe you’d change mid-orgasm.

He smirked.

Your fingers stroked his naked thigh and he refocused his attention; you had undressed while he was distracted and already had yourself on display for him. Such a good girl.

He grabbed his belt and used it to tie your wrists over your head, draping them over the armrest. You whimpered at the sight of his hardened length and he arched his hips forward, allowing you to taste him. Your lips looked so lovely, wrapped around his cock.

He fisted your hair and forced your head into the right angle, rolling his hips faster and deeper as you started choking.

“Look at me,” he commanded.

You moaned, the vibrations echoing up to his balls as you opened your eyes and met his gaze. What a vision. He rolled forward again, tilting your head so he hit the back of your throat with a muttered curse. The things you were doing with your tongue had him panting, reeling at the glorious wet heat. The resistance of your gagging was bliss, knowing how easily he could force his cock further despite your body’s revolt.

“Good girl,” he sighed.

When he felt his peak approaching, he jerked your head with such force it felt like he was taking you from behind. Your neck was straining to take him, muscles spasming as tears leaked from your still open eyes. He knew you couldn’t take much more and pulled away, using his hands to stroke his saliva-covered length into ecstasy.

You were still gasping for air as he climaxed with a deep groan, hot ropes shooting into your open mouth and across your face. The gooey white mess complimented your skin perfectly and he shot the last few strands across your collarbone to drip onto your breasts as you swallowed.

But he was only getting started.

He climbed onto the couch and lowered his hips to meet yours, his still hard cock coming to rest against your folds. With a subtle motion he had his head teasing your clit and you whined, begging him to send you over the edge as your arms reached up to scrape at his patterned sides. His earlier recollections of your pleading were nothing compared to the music of your cries.

Just this once, he did as you asked, bringing you to a shuddering climax just as he sheathed himself. It always felt incredible to be inside you, but to have the very first thrust feature your quivering walls was sinfully decadent. You massaged him well, like you were made for him. Arcs of lightning danced across his nerves. Fire trailed after your nails as you clawed at him, red trails mixing with the black of his tattoos. He leaned down and rested his weight on one arm, using the other to rub at the bundle of nerves between your legs.

“Are you ready?” he asked, popping his fangs with a sharp click.

You nodded, determination coloring your eyes alongside the arousal.

He slammed into you as his teeth descended onto your sternum, right over your heart. The blood that flooded his mouth tasted like honey and strawberries, so much more delicious than his earlier meal. He suckled as his hand drew lazy circles around your sensitive core, his cock still plunging deep inside and making you curse between moans.

He gorged himself, slurping away until he knew you were almost dry. Years of practice made it easy to know the exact moment to strike. Your arms fell away to rest by your hips, even the flush on your cheeks muted from blood loss.

As the flow slowed, he increased his pace and dripped a dose of venom in your system. The last few beats of your dying heart were thunderous as you clenched around him and wailed, hands twitching feebly as if you wanted to touch him but lacked the strength.

Three seconds after your heart stopped, he bit deeply into his cheek and laved his own blood over your wound. His hips slowed as you went completely limp, internal muscles sagging around his length. For a few seconds, he couldn’t help but worry he’d done something wrong. What if it didn’t work, what if he killed you?

Come on, come on!

He gave you more of his blood, siphoning off every drop that leaked from his cheek. How long did this normally take? To lose too much of his own blood was unacceptable, but how much did he have to spare?

I should’ve called Michael before attempting this.

But then he felt it.

A single thud under his lips.

He stopped breathing and focused. Another thud.

Then another, and another. A steady rhythm; you were coming back.

---Reader---

The first thing you noticed was sound. A wet slap, panting breath and creaking furniture. A delicate hum in the background, electricity flowing through the walls. You heard the wind outside, the flies in the next room buzzing over the fruit bowl. Everything, all at once.

For a single heartbeat, it was too much. An overwhelming storm of noise, too much for your mind to comprehend.

Then V spoke.

“Keep your eyes closed for now,” he murmured. “You’ll get used to it.”

Every fiber of the couch beneath you was a copper wire, scraping at your sensitive skin. Flames of arousal licked at every inch of your skin, begging for his attention and release. His weight hovering over you was like the sun itself as he rolled his hips. Your nerves sang a heady opera at his touch, howling glorious ecstasy to the skies as you instantly shattered. The slick fluid leaking from your body tingled on your skin, the white lines on your face and chest radioactive in their intensity.

Holy fuck!

You keened his name, wrapping your trembling arms around his body and pulling him closer. All you wanted was more contact, more stimuli, more, more, more. Every ridge of his length inside you was so detailed you could’ve drawn it with your eyes closed. The hairs on your arms stood on end as waves of energy pulsed through you, a torrent of wanton delight. You arched your hips and met his pounding thrusts and felt your ass reverberate with each slam.

The sweat on his skin and yours, the taste of his breath and the scent of the air freshener in the next room left your nostrils twitching, hungry for more input. The dishes in the sink, musty rain on its way, plastic and cotton. You smelled everything.

I need to see, need to look at his face.

You opened your eyes slowly, a millimeter at a time. Dim outlines of V’s body and the couch seared into your mind, the light so bright you wondered if you’d go blind. You waited for what felt like years as your eyes adjusted, instantly staring at the vampire above you in awe.

His skin was breathtaking, alabaster streaked with onyx. The planes of his shoulders dipped and shifted as he brushed the damp strands out of his eyes, and his eyes…

Shades of emerald and jade mixed together in filaments, a line of hazel here and there. A ring of dark pine surrounded his pupils, a frame for the mesmerizing gaze half-hidden by dark eyelashes. It was like you’d never seen him before, so many facets and details never even hinted at with human senses.

You knew you were staring, but you didn’t care. Every inch of his flesh was brand new, smooth and sculpted and beautiful.

He looks like a Greek sculpture come to life…

Fangs popped out of your canines, piercing your lower lip in a flash of sweet agony. He grinned down at you and twitched to scrape at your walls, tapping at your cervix. It was too much and you crested again, gripping him with all your new strength as pleasure rolled through you. You cursed and went rigid, turning to ash and basking in the scorching light. His hips stuttered against yours, following you into paradise and making a deliciously lewd noise as he spewed his seed deep in your body.

His grunts were a beacon and you smirked as you reached out to pull his shoulder to your lips, sinking your new toys deep into his flesh and getting a taste of his blood. He threw his head back and hissed as the fluid filled your mouth, the flavor so much more intricate than ever before. It was a fine wine, notes of cinnamon and something you couldn’t identify that fit him perfectly blended together.

“Not too much, pet. Wouldn’t you rather go hunting?”

Hunting. Right. You struggled to focus through the euphoric haze clouding your mind, releasing his shoulder and lying back on the rough couch. Your nerves were jangling, exhausted and energized by everything they’d endured so far. A deep ache of hunger tugged at you, demanding satisfaction. You licked your lips, savoring the last taste of V’s blood.

“Yes, please…”

He pulled out with a wet shlorp, smirking at you as he stood. A smear of red decorated his shoulder where you marked him and your hunger howled for more. Only the knowledge that his blood would do nothing to ease the gnawing emptiness kept you from pouncing.

“Get dressed, then.”

You pouted and fought your way to vertical, legs trembling as fluid leaked from your core. When you looked down to find your clothes you smiled as you spotted the two black dots over your heart, a mark of your new existence. It was a thrill to know you had eternity to spend with your vampire. Forever to dwell in bliss and euphoria, time to explore all the possibilities.

Your hunger screamed for a meal.

First things first.

Time to hunt.

Part Five

[amabiliaaa]

Of Devils and Angels Chapter 7

The Things I do to Piss you Off

word count: 1264

Previous

!!!! it’s out it’s out it’s out fucking finally lmao 

“I swear, if this pizza isn’t greater than the American Revolution, I’m gonna riot.” Sadja pulled the pizza oven and set it on the counter. “I ruined my nails for this.”

Kira rolled her eyes. “Oh, please. You only got some sauce under them. You’re fine, princess.”

“Whatever. So. Is your boredom cured, Your Highness?” asked Sadja in an obnoxious British accent.

In an even snottier accent, Kira curtseyed and said: “Quite. Thank you for your services, Lady Innocentes.”

“Of course, Queen Kira.”

“Now, if you would be so kind as to indulge in this delightful meal with me?”

Sadja bounced up and snatched two plates from the cupboard. “Oh, fuck, yes. My blood, sweat, tears, and demon magic went into this pizza. I’m not moving from this spot until we eat all of it.” She conjured up a pizza slicer and cut into it. “Two slices or three?”

“One, please.”

“Ugh. Boring.”

“Well, excuse me for not wanting to throw up by overeating.” Kira grabbed the plate from Sadja’s outstretched hand. “Thanks.”

“Cheers.” The two dinked their pizzas together and grinned. Before either could take a bite, a knock was heard at the door. “Ugh. Kira, did you invite someone over?”

“No. Did you?”

“I don’t think so?” She pulled out her phone and scrolled through it. “Nope. Nothing in here about inviting people to enjoy our pizza.”

Kira sighed and took a bite of her pizza. “You think it’s your ex again?”

“If it is— Ugh, I swear to you, if it is, I’m gonna hurl him off a cliff.” She looked at the door. “Yo! Libidine! We’re done. Over. Go away.”

A voice came from the other side of the door. “Sorry to disappoint, but Lusty isn’t here. You gonna open up or what?”

~✵~✵~✵~✵~✵~✵~✵~✵~✵~✵~✵ ~✵ ~✵~✵~✵~✵~✵~✵~✵~✵~✵~

Sadja dropped her pizza on the floor. “No. Is that..?”

Kira pinched the bridge of her nose and put the pizza down. “Yeah, I think it is.”

“No, it can’t be.”

“It totally is.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know.”

“D’you think that if we just, I dunno, not answer, he’ll go away?”

The voice laughed. “Nope!” The locked clicked, and the door opened.

Sadja ran a hand over her face. And picked up the other piece of pizza on her plate.“Oh, fuck me.”

Dominic winked at the demon. “Name a time and place, sweetie.”

Sadja sputtered. “You—I. Wh- ew. Don’t call me that.”

Kira put down her pizza. “What are you doing here? And how did you get in?”

“Can’t a guy visit his friends?” Dominic threw himself on the couch and sighed.

“We’re not friends. And get your feet off the couch.”

Dominic only nestled deeper into the cushions. “Since when?”

Kira walked to the living room and pushed his feet off the couch. “Since you decided to turn into a dick.”

“Whatever. So, what are you two lovely ladies doing here?”

“How did you get in?”

Dominic used his magic to summon the pizza Sadja dropped. A golden shimmer surrounded it, and it floated into his hand. “A magician never reveals his secrets.”

“Dominic.”

Dominic grinned and held up his hand. A ring of keys was looped around one of his fingers. “I got the keys to the castle, baby.”

Sadja dropped her pizza again. (it fell on the plate this time, much to Kira’s relief) “Are you kidding me? What the actual fuck. Bitch, this is the sixth time that we’ve changed our locks. How do you keep getting access to our apartment.”

Dominic merely pocketed his keys and took a bite out of the pizza. “I’m God. I can do whatever I want. Also, this pizza is shit.”

“Say that to my face, you egotistical bastard.”

“Ugh, you’re gonna make me move? But I’m so comfy.” He took another bite. “Ugh. Yep.” He sat up and looked Sadja dead in the eye. “This pizza is shit.”

Sadja’s eye twitched. “Ok. Nope. I’m done. Fuck this.” She stretched out her wings, and the pink Baphomet Pentagram materialized beneath her. “I’m leaving, and I’m taking my delicious pizza with me.” Grabbing the pizza tray, she glared at Dominic and flipped him off before she completely faded away from view.

~✵~✵~✵~✵~✵~✵~✵~✵~✵~✵~✵ ~✵ ~✵~✵~✵~✵~✵~✵~✵~✵~✵~

Kira sighed while Dominic cackled. “Alright, where’s Gabriel?” she asked.

Dominic scarfed down the rest of the pizza. “I don’t fucking know. I don’t fucking care. The bitch is probably crying in some library bathroom or something. Such a fucking wuss.”

“Dominic. You have a vocabulary. Use it. You don’t need to cuss in every sentence.”

“Such a wet blanket. Loosen up a little, will ya?”

“Do you...do you really not have anyone else you can bother?”

“Oh, I have tons. You guys were closer, though. Also, Sadja is so fun to rile up, no?”

“No.”

Dominic smirked. “Apage, Satanas. You gonna eat that pizza?”

Kira clenched her fist. “I live here; you can’t tell me to go away in my own home. And no. I’ve lost my appetite, thanks to you. Besides, didn’t you just say it was terrible?”

Dominic summoned the pizza off the plate and watched as it lazily floated to his waiting hand. “Oh. I lied. It’s not that  good, but I’d probably eat it again.” He took a bite and made a face. “Ew. It’s cold.” He held his hand over the (very clean and very white) carpet and dropped the pizza.

“Dominic!” Kira shot out her hand and just barely caught it with her magic before it hit the floor. “Alright, that’s it. Get out.”

“Aw, but I just got here!”

“You’ve overstayed your welcome. You weren’t even welcomed in the first place. You— Just— Anguis in herba.”

“You compare me to a snake? I’m offended. You know, in the Bible, a snake represents Satan. That’s you.”

“The Bible is complete bull, and you know it. Now get up, and get out. Please.”

“So polite. Because of that, I’ll leave. I’m bored again anyway. Peace.” He got up and stretched. Walking toward the door, he looked over his shoulder. “Tell Sadja that her hair looks stupid for me, ok? Thanks.”

Kira turned around and walked toward her bedroom. “I will not. Aeternum vale, Dominic Christus.”

Behind her, Dominic scoffed. “We both know that’s not true.” 

~✵~✵~✵~✵~✵~✵~✵~✵~✵~✵~✵ ~✵ ~✵~✵~✵~✵~✵~✵~✵~✵~✵~

Once she was in her room, she waited carefully until she heard the click of the door opening and closing before collapsing on her bed. Minutes later, Sadja walked in. “Kira?” she asked.

“In my room,” was the response. 

Sadja’s head poked in through the doorframe. “Hey. You ok?”

“I need a nap.”

“I felt that. Anyway, I brought you something.” Something jingled, and Kira looked up to see the demon grinning and holding up a ring of keys. The very same keys that Dominic had shown them earlier. Kira sat up. 

“Where did you get those?”

Sadja’s grin widened. “From his pockets.” Each word was soaked in smug satisfaction. “I got home a few minutes before he left. I heard he was still here, so I waited outside. Made myself invisible, followed him out for a few minutes so he wouldn’t suspect you or me, then I snagged ‘em. Surprised he didn’t notice me, honestly. I could’ve sworn he said something about my hair, though.”

Kira coughed. “Nothing. Where did you go?”

“Shopping with Serena, Aswang, and Lilith.”

“Lilith? Don’t you hate her?”

“Oh yeah. Total bitch. But she’s fake, and I’m fake, and it’s fun being fake together.”

Kira rolled her eyes. “You’re not fake towards me, right?”

Sadja shook her head fervently. “No. Never.”

“That’s good to hear. I’m...I’m glad.” Pink dusted Kira’s cheeks and Sadja smiled fondly.

“Good. Now...about that nap…”

Taglist:@extraisthmus @sergaku 

and i noticed that i  got a few new followers so if yall want to be added to the taglist, let me know! i’ll be more than happy to add you! ^^

Latin translations!  Aeternum vale - Farewell forever, Anguis in herba - A snake in the grass. A treacherous person, Apage, Satanas- Begone, Satan

um. hi. it’s been a while since i last updated, huh? 

long story short is that i just kept doubting my skills and i ended up spiraling into an out-of-control unhealthy thought process about my writing. i kept procrastinating, and i just lost all motivation, honestly. it’s not fun. i hate when it happens and it happens often. but it’s posted and i’m happy about it. i think i’m gonna give myself a limit of one chapter per month and just increase my update time from there. so. see you next month!

[heartshapedcreaturefromcriptoon]

The deal with my deer tail: Continued from the last tagged post (MENTIONS OF EX’S AND OHS OFF THE PORT BOW).

Like, I’m very painfully aware that this is %200 a trauma/coping thing that I’ve developed for myself now because deer were … My exe’s absolute favorite animal of all time ever and he associated with them deeply in regards to certain aspects of his personality and hobbies and this kinda plays a little bit into why I was attracted to him in the first place because it was such unique interest for someone to have and then ….Of course his favorite film ever was “Bambi” like, to the point of having the plushies and the original ORIGINAL book by Felix Salten along with it’s original sequel book and everything and it’s like …So odd for me because I live right by the woods in the middle of nowhere anyway and not a day goes by without discussion of these creatures in my house or without an offer to go “deer spotting” or “Bambi Spotting”… And I don’t have much room to say “no” because who would say “no” to deer sighting so I typically just go along with as if it doesn’t effect me because I have no choice…..  And anyway outside of my home life I know tumblr typically loves deer and deer aesthetics as well and while I thought I’ve been trying to go out of my way to avoid this particular animal (at least on social media if I’m unable to in my home life) for the longest time because I associate them so deeply with my ex … Because deer were *HIS* thing … I’m slowly coming to terms with this creeping realization that I’ve had that I’ve not only been surrounded by the actual animal since before I met him …. But I’ve also just … Been surrounded by just …. All these deer characters and deer aesthetic since he left me…. And that also hurts me ….Because ….Since he’d been trying to find ways to get back in contact with me for the better part of the decade yearly since then, without ever apologizing, and since 2017 I’ve only had two years without receiving something from him in order to fully process how he’d been in my life for a near full decade like, wether I wanted  him to be or not … That sort of just … devolved into this odd habit of me projecting unto certain characters with these kind of aesthetics and relationship dynamics to help cope because he never gave me anything else and it’s weird because I started to seek out these things and look at them in context to my relationship with this person and I just felt ….. bittersweet but okay because I would think of him and I would think of the way that he used to make me feel and feel and I would feel sad but because of the nature and narrative that I was projecting toward I would also feel comforted in a way and validated and calm? Which is also the way I’d start to feel whenever I’d see an actual deer or mention of deer or even see clips or concept art from “Bambi” or a baby deer …

But ………

So back in 2018, just a couple days after what would have been one of our “anniversaries” had past, and I hadn’t even keeping track of how many at that point but like, basically something happened that triggered me into a remember the time that in 2013 he had found my tumblr and followed me without warning, context or permission, without even speaking to me after finding me the year before this just to let me know how much he couldn’t care less about me, apparently ….. which, sure, Jan.

But … This time he was freaking me out because he was just following me silently on a blank account out of nowhere and I kind of managed to find what could’ve been considered my first ever girlfriend within the six months to a year that he’d been out of my life and it is me and this new girl had only “official” for 3 days after like, 6 months of slow burn flirting with each other and then this other cowardice arsehole who didn’t even have the dignity to speak to me proper was … Someone who had known for me for 3 years and someone whom I had once shared the most intimate parts of myself with.

In short I could already foresee this becoming a pattern after he’d managed to contact me the last time so I ended up breaking down and having a panic attack.

I didn’t know what to do and I felt sick to my stomach and I didn’t want him putting me in a spot, so…  I made a screen cap and a post and kind of explaining who he was and how he hurt me and how I didn’t want him hurting my girlfriend or anyone else so just PLEASE don’t talk to him etc. And then I blocked him and threw up. And would-be-girlfriend blocked me the next day because of this…

A couple weeks later around New Years, I decided to log into the old hotmail account that I had just because I was curious….

The first email that he sent me was to let me know that he was going to follow me on tumblr and he was asking how my Christmas was and inquiring how I was doing, he wanted to know if I was “fine”. His version of pet names all included as if nothing had gone wrong between us ….

The next three emails, sent within minutes of each other, each only sentences long, were all responding to my reaction to his following me on tumblr without a word, without context, and seemingly without context …. These emails all of which I did not end up saving or screen caping because…. I’m pretty much 99% freaking. Percent. SURE! That he stated something passively along the lines of: “ If I REALLY wanted to *BLANK* , I would have done so… >.>” cause I distantly remember his little side eye emoji that he placed after the words “done so”  and like, it’s really easy to kind of place the words “HURT YOU” in the middle of that, because that’s what I was talking about him doing in context, which would lead to at least vaguely remembering this in a full sentence as: “If I REALLY wanted to hurt you, I would have done so … >.>”

So yes, I’m at least 99% sure that he had threatened me, like that …  

And of course I didn’t respond, but I do remember feeling threatened enough that it made my heart race and it made me cry and I needed to ask my mom for champaign to calm and I also remember that the whole reason why I didn’t save those emails was because if I did it would make the threat real and would need to tell my parents and I just didn’t want to think of him that way or what he’d meant by that and because this was already becoming a pattern, I didn’t want to spend another entire year of being paranoid he was planning something …

And he also kept going about what a nice guy he was and told me to have a nice life and told me he was gonna check up on me anymore and said that I treated him like shit …

So I just took a sip of my champaign, told myself I’d see him in a year, and deleted his emails… This was in 2013.

In 2014, I caught him spying on me through the visitors page of an account I’d already gone out of my way to block him on, and I noticed that, even though it been two years, he still had the icon that I had personally picked out for him as his avatar, an odd memory to keep from someone you claim to not care about, constantly ….

In 2015,  he sent me a silent skype request…

In 2016.. He found my tumblr again …Actually saying something where I could access it this time … He sent me like, 7 IM’s and for the most part was back to being nice as pie, back to his version of calling me pet names and everything …  claimed that he just wanted to say Hello …

He said that we could talk someday if I wanted to and that it was up to me … I still didn’t answer, because for one this was past midnight on Friday The 13th and when I saw that I had 7 IM’s and a new follower I just …. I got this sinking gut feeling that I knew that it was him and then I told myself that I was being paranoid again and that he couldn’t possibly because I’d already blocked him and so I opened up the messages just to prove to myself that I was wrong and got met with his username and a single smiley face emoji like:

:)

“:)” Was the first thing I saw when I opened his messages…

And I immediately closed them out again and I closed tumblr out and I just sat there …. for awhile … Because the last thing he did say to me verbally was to threaten me and tell me that I treated him like shit …  And I had no way of knowing what could be behind that smiley face …

But I needed to know … So I opened the messages and read them …

And that’s when he went back to being as nice as his own pie recipe and seemingly pretending like those emails and the spying didn’t happen …

Like, I don’t know if he knew I knew about them, but I have an inkling he must’ve otherwise he wouldn’t have been that cocky … “:)” is not a friendly smiley face, nor will it ever be.

And in the middle before all that he was like: “Let’s hope you don’t bite my head off this time …. xD” referring back to only the 2013 incident when I said something indirectly and that scared away the girl I was about to maybe start something with, again as if that didn’t happen ….

So, I didn’t answer him, because he didn’t earn it.

So like yeah, back in 2018, due to …. certain contexts of certain things which would also lead into me having anticipated myself getting caught up in an over abundance of people’s appreciation for deer, due to something that I not mention, I’d also been triggered/hit with a sharp realization that, October 27th, 2019 would have been the 10 year anniversary of having met that person in the first place, if he hadn’t discarded me after 3 years and then spent like, the better part of the decade trying to get in contact with me, upon the deeper realization that, even as of now, I’ve only really officially had this person out of my life for two years, and on top of that, he’d still find a way of showing up in my life Every. Single. Year. For the past four years. And now I would have to be dealing with an over abundance of deer and ‘Bambi’ references and puns, even more so than I obviously did and still do now, in my home life…

So my reaction was to laugh. REALLY fucking hard. And then I realized that deer might actually just…. LEGIT be my trigger always and then I started crying laughing cause I was just like “OH dear GOD… (and I can’t even like, say that that or type that without it already being a pun without it being a pun …which only makes it FUNNIER …) I might LEGIT have Bambiphobia!”

And then I broke down. Because I didn’t know how to feel about this or how I was gonna deal with it.

I’m still figuring out how I feel about this and how I’m dealing with it ….

My ex  …. Was….He wasn’t a very complex boy but, he had always been more ,… In touch with things like femininity and sensitivity, or at least made a show of it, but I’d like to think he was genuinely like that considering what his interests were and he might’ve been autistic too just, looking back on things in context?

(His absolute FAVORITE music to listen to was also Owl City and he loved Adam Young, and considering Adam Young is self diagnosed and my ex’s special interest in deer, and Bambi and the books and the plushies and the the way he could just …talk and talk to me about anything for hours and hours and hours and we’d never we’d never get tired of each other…. I’ve just been doing all this math in my head I’m not trying to imply anything bad about these things and they all play into factors of why I was originally attracted to him to begin with).

He openly identified as Bisexual before I even knew what that was for myself and still kind of considered myself “Straight but not Narrow TM” or whatever kind of definition I saw on Television.

He wrote poetry as a hobby and of course knew how to play the piano while I did none of those things.

He was 17 when I met him but due to cultural difference of where he lived… he enjoyed wine and opera.

He was extremely well spoken and charming and articulate, and he also loved Mr. Rodger’s and Albert Einstein to the point of just having just … One big black and white poster of Albert in his room and one time, he was going on about his admiration for Rodger’s and so innocently told me how he intended to write and send him fan-letters one day and then reasonably became extremely upset when I informed that Rodger’s passed away, and I felt even more so helpless to comfort him when he asked me if I could tell him a little bit more about Rodger’s life to make him feel better and I knew absolutely nothing about the man aside from vaguely remembering that I used to watch his show when I was small …

So yeah my ex’s personality could essentially be summed up as: “ Eccentric, Silly “Smart” boy”, if I needed to …

He once excused himself when I told him that I needed to eat soon and came back, all decked out in a tuxedo to “have dinner together”, and I was about to eat a taco…

This one time he noticed that I was super uncomfortable and upset because I just watched this disgusting ableist film that had like incest in and shit and I didn’t wanna tell him but he got it out it out of me and HE KNEW WHAT FILM I WAS TALKING ABOUT AND THEN WANT ON BIG RANT AND ESSAY ABOUT HOW VILE IT WAS AND HOW I SHOULD PAY IT NO MIND AND AFTERWARDS HE WAS LIKE: “You know what? We need some music to wash the taste out of our mouths…” and then he just started playing the piano to calm me down further.

And I’m only saying it like this because incase no one has noticed it’s been a little bit more… Confusing? For me to try and throw a man like this into everyone’s typical “FuckBoyTM” box and call that “Healing”.

I wouldn’t even wanna put labels on him …  

I genuinely feel as though I would need to think back to olden times in order to find a way to insult him that would accurately combat and deconstruct the amount of passion we brought out in each other, if it is appropriate to speak of my feelings for him in this context.

His mistreatment of women that he did not like …. Left much to be desired in regards to his attitude. Though his comments were mostly reserved for his half sister, my half sister, and fictional characters and I’m not bringing this up to try and say that this was justified or frame it into a: “Well, he never did that to ME sort of picture …” Though, the odd thing is that, for all the things that my younger self had shared with him, after his abandonment, ever year for four years I’d kept on waiting for the shoe to drop and for him to call me names and slurs and for the verbal abuse to finally commence and he just …

He wouldn’t do any of that. He never did. Not once. Not even during times he would get angry with me when we were together.

So when HE DID, lose his patience with me, he never resorted to name calling, so when he said and did things that hurt me, that he should’ve known better for doing, that meant he was really fucking harsh ….

So harsh, that one night….. It would be the final night I’d ever thought I’d speak to him again. Or at least begin to test him to see if he would come back and apologize and therein lies the the issue: HE ALWAYS came back, HE NEVER apologized.

Perfect. Gentleman. (Of course I’m using sarcasm).

Seriously, you know that new chat post about Male Victorian Novel Protagonist has fucked by his Lady Love and Knows This, BUT is Too Proud to admit this though still pines for her so when he speaks to her now he just: *sweats*…Is your family in good health?

Legit triggers my PTSD cause for the past four years with me it’s been just: Hey mate. Wanted to see how your X-mas was. Is your family okay? Are you fine? I’ve got some time off… Okay fine, I won’t check on you anymore, it’s not like I still love you or anything, baka! >.<  *cue two more  years of silent bating before* Hey kiddo you doing okay? I know it’s late but my days off today and if you wanna talk someday you can I’ll leave you alone now! :)

Like I know I’m paraphrasing but that’s pretty much it (and I know I know I’m sorry for the “baka” joke, but he WAS a huge otaku nerd to a certain extent and all the anime that I would watch before I really started interacting with AMV editing community on YouTube was recommended him so needless to say I do not watch Anime so much anymore but I couldn’t resist making a “baka” joke in my own mind while reading his poorly veiled passive aggression and it’s written down and out of my system how I’m gotten to properly share one of the ways I’ve teased him for this if only in my own mind.

The thing that makes me feel weird/guilty about all this though is despite his behavior suspicious as shenanigans, he’d only ever attempt close contact once per year (as far as I know) and as far as I know aside from that one time I’d caught him spying on an art group from an account I’d already blocked him on which I don’t really know how he found (which okay, still a little shaken up about that one every time I type about it) his way of always popping up in my life somehow never really strayed from his ordinarily open way of trying to do it, and he’d never verbally abuse me or call me names or slurs while this was happening, despite how condescending or ominous he was while trying to get a razzle out of me …

MEANWHILE, because I let him get a razzle out of me, no matter how long ago it was before I found cpunk, I ended up deliberately calling him an extreme ableist slur just to send him away from away from me, over what was nothing more than a silly misunderstanding and classic case of miscommunication because I couldn’t see his first email and didn’t think to check before I went off on him, regardless if the misunderstanding could’ve been prevented if he communicated directly or not.

And I was too caught up in my reaction to him choosing being ominous and condescending when once he finally decided to try to speak to me again after two years of silent lurking after the last time he tried to speak to me he passively threatened me, that I didn’t get to take back the use of my ableist language toward when I had the chance. Which is the only thing that I’d ever apologize for before his, if he ever gave me one, and of course not conditionally for the both of us.  

My ex’s most sensitive spot has always been his mental health and I’ve always known this because I found out once in the early stages of our relationship when we were roleplaying and I went a little too far with my character, so that’s in 2013 when I panicked I decided to say something…like that to upset him in hopes that he would leave me alone but I was really more hurt than I was scared and I would have confronted him directly but again I had a putting it quite bluntly flakey rebound “girlfriend” at the time and I had no idea where she was and I was freaking out and I didn’t want him putting me in a spot and I didn’t know what would happen if he left me alone. And this was at a time when I was taking the “stealth” mode about being disabled. Partially because of him (Gee I WONDER what could’ve happened).

The only person who knew this about me, very intimately (not intimately enough), was him and of course at the time I would NEVER tell my silly abled-bodied brit of a rebound girlfriend.

So, I did what I did and I said what I said.

At the time I only became slightly afraid when I read his reaction in those emails, and then the next year when I caught him spying on already blocked account and the blocking system worked both ways so I had no way of confronting him about it even if I wanted to ether way.

Though, I was admittedly slightly comforted knowing that he never changed the icon I’d picked out for him ….enough to kinda calm me down a bit…… Is that weird of me? It was weird of him.

Now because of this trigger and the context of certain things as to WHY this was such a strong trigger and in context of certain things that we both said… and in regards of the way he handled trying to get back in contact with me for four years and responded to the one reaction he got out of me and proceeded to continue the pattern for 3 years when he couldn’t just used that time to apologize like I’d been waiting for him to do and meanwhile I’m still… confused  and guilty … because the first and final reaction he ever got out of me was …that.

For the past year now…. I haven’t been able to stop myself from crying and I just don’t feel like I can let it be like this anymore because I already felt awful about everything before but relating everything in context of the trigger which is another case where I could actually use it help cope is just making me feel so much worse.

What makes this even worser though is that this particular trigger is not only very popular and very public and with this substantial involvement of deer and deer aesthetics and then certain aesthetics  and even names …. That I feel like only the two of us would get that it’s just ouch… But like, this thing is also interconnected with Owl City, like not officially but in it’s own way? Which is one of the first things that I thought of once I let the trigger settle because one of the FIRST questions that my ex asked me the day that I met him was wether or not I liked Owl City and I had never even heard of them before so I looked them up and my heart melted and I just knew I had to keep this God Damn Fucking Ray Of Sunshine in my miserable life and never let him go….

And I like to think obviously that the tables must have turned a little bit since then which is another part of what makes using my triggers as coping mechanisms if I can, so cathartic and funny to me and why people can pry this method from my hysterical hands …..

But what I’m getting at here making the Owl City mention even though I hadn’t had myself listen to a single Goddamn thing of theirs for 7 years up until this FREAKING. YEAR (because the tears were already flooding, my honey’s, so I figured MIGHT AS WELL! And yes I did end up crying my eyes out like I knew that would happen if I’d ever let myself listen to Adam Young ever again …) is that… This this thing….. That I love….. Is also a thing my ex would love ….And the reason that all my projectional coping mechanisms work so well is because the dynamics that remind me of our relationship tend to work both ways and is probably part of the reason how I was able to keep (at least reasonably) calm through the 4 years he kept tabs on me was because I felt like I had this very specific trope-y outlet to project my feelings onto and I know that he was a nerd so, if he was … paying attention and absorbing the same media I was …(he would’ve already learned how to apologize…)

No, but seriously, the difference is with THIS media though… Is because it has so many ties to so many of his own aesthetics and things he enjoys …..I just know ….. That he was seeing exactly what I was seeing. I was DREADING the concept of knowing that I was going to fall in love with this thing from the very beginning and it got to the point where I’d be reminded of certain elements I’d forgotten or I’d see certain things play-out for the the first time and, my breath would hitch in my chest …. and I feel guilty (You cannot be attracted to this you cannot be attracted to this you cannot be attracted to this. Not THIS time. Not again. Never again.  Stop it …. Stop it…Stop it.  Because ether way this is bad. This is terrible. This is going to be by far the WORST one because you know it involves the actual THING now for both you instead of just elements of the thing why are you subjecting yourself to this?!  You know he’s seeing this right now….If he watched the Owl City thing that we’re not watching, then he’s watching this. And YOU shouldn’t be watching this ether!

And so, I would discipline myself to disassociate: You will NOT project THAT relationship onto these two characters, they haven’t even interacted yet!

And then …. that happened. They interacted. And it obviously felt so much worse then…. I prepared myself two seconds in for how it was gonna play out. But I wasn’t prepared that it would end ….or even be that close to home. And then I reminded myself that he was probably watching the same thing that I was, as I’ve always done because it was fun being reminded I was right, my only solace really because projecting myself through these characters was the closest I’d ever get to an apology, but the time that the first viewing was over, everything just felt so wrong and I just felt so uncomfortable about everything and I started to cry cause I knew my reactions to this dynamic were gonna be the most intense from here on out and ………I was so confused and afraid of my own emotions at that moment… And I was feeling a lot of them.  

What concerned me the most here though,  was being almost certain of the fact that that, if I was watching and it triggered a reaction, HE was most likely watching and it triggered a reaction.... And given the context of the trigger that I’m talking about .... I mean, if it hit close enough to send me into a freaking emotional whiplash and make ME breakdown and make cry and make sick enough to tell my parents and they didn’t even care ... because they said that they already “knew”...(not even discussing the fact that a year later, I would be assaulted by the one man in my family who should have never been the one to guide me through something so awkward but who “helped” me through this emotionally but, again would beat me a year later while my useless mother watched and laughed and would tell me it was it was my fault and I would end briefly removed from my home because of this because he’d left me with bruises and a permeant physical scar    ... over food) 

...then, I can’t help but think of how my ex would ....Ether be absolutely disgusted with himself or... be... very entertained by all of this. Or both. I know I’ve been both.

And oh, remember all that emotional whiplash I just mentioned in the above paragraph? Well it’s only gotten worse as time went on. Right now I’d say it’s at it’s peak.

Funny this thing is ....I’d been trying to fight back against this temptation to reach out to my ex since this whole thing started and like .... Once we were well into 2019 I just .... realized that fighting this wasn’t going to work anymore if certain circumstances were going to be what they were and things ended up cutting so close to what I feared that it almost doesn’t matter anyway and it still hurts me just as much if not now more so, because of other certain happenings that I will not mention.  

And now I can openly admit why the entirety of 2019 has just felt like a ticking time bomb to me. Like of course there are plenty of other factors adding into why .... I’ve been preparing to go through with reaching out to him now but ,like... My paranoia has been like, trying to tell me that this has all just been one big long game or a test and has been making me feel as though he had somehow pre-planned this all and is he currently anticipating me contacting him before 2019 is over.   

And that notion is driving me just as bananas as the idea of actually letting myself go through with contacting him.

So I might as well.

I mean ....

Our relationship was taken extremely seriously by the the both of us for the most part... up until the end.

And we were technically each others first times. 

We weren’t even dating, really... I just refer to him as my “ex” to make things less complicated..... But for those three years.... We were each others partners....In a way. It just makes things easier to say He Vas My Boyfriend.

I’m suggesting it that would make sense if he would want to try getting back in contact with me and check on me but feel shy and not know how to make it better since he’d have to understand how he fucked up that badly. And for a time... he was the only one who kept extending the invitations for contact.

At least this way I can check to see if he’s okay. 

Everything is so fucked up. I know this.

Though Christmas might be the right time to except his last open invitation, all things considered.

I would’ve originally had more time to plan this out had it not been for everything that happened.

My coping mechanisms are as bitter as wormwood and as sharp as a doubled edge sword. 

I’m just a creature. That’s it. I cannot change this.

I might not be online for a while.

Another Friday the 13th.

Well fancy that.