#there’s not a day that goes by anymore where I don’t have to vividly imagine my suc!d3 in order to escape from my shittty reality

[sensitivegoblin]

Vent pls don’t rb it’s weird to do that

[wandaslittleweirdo]

Liar

part 1: precious || masterlist

⋆⋆౨ৎ pairing: 𝚌𝚛𝚊𝚣𝚢!𝚐𝚏!𝚠𝚊𝚗𝚍𝚊 ༝༝ 𝚏𝚎𝚖!𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛

summary: The truth always comes to light, even if the liar has done everything in their power to try and keep you from it.

warnings: dubcon, smut, mind control, top!wanda, manipulation/gaslighting, drama tehe, strap usage (R recieving), voyeurism, strap blowjob (W recieving), reader sucks wandas fingers (can you tell I have insane oral fixation?), pet names, small mix of praise kink and degradation kink, dom/sub dynamics, overstimulation, strap referred to as dick, Stockholm syndrome, age gap > r is 20 w is 32

A/N: this is absolute filth. but fics r all about imagination and having fun, no one will ever stop me from sharing my disgusting thoughts with the internet

+

this is a dark fic. 18+. wlw. men & minors dni!

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It’s been two months since the night of your abduction. You’ve been staying with Wanda and have never been happier.

You remember the day you woke up in her cabin. You were frightened and confused, but she was patient and her peaceful nature soothed you. She carefully explained everything, why you were in her cabin, why you could barely walk, and why you had that cut on your cheek.

You were attacked and chased into the woods. She was your knight and shining armour who had found you laying unconscious in the crunchy autumn leaves while she was hunting. You also vividly recall saying you’d do anything to show how thankful you are, her lips pulling into a big goofy smile.

“Anything, you say?”

And it all just went up from there.

The thought of your life before Wanda never crossed your mind. She always kept you on your toes. One day you’re hiking up mountains with her and the next she’s teaching you how to shoot her shotgun.

“Bam! You got all of the targets first try! That was incredible, Y/N.”

But you didn’t need shooting a gun or slumping your way up mountains to feel like you’re on your toes. Cooking dinner together, watching new shows, going to sleep tangled in each others arms or swimming in the nearby waterfall was just as invigorating, because she made it so.

Wanda took you in and loved you. She feeds you, she shelters you, she protects you. She makes you feel safe and treats you like a princess.

Throughout your bliss, there was only one thing that constantly bothered you. A frustrated thought you kept trying to shove away, but would always float back at some point.

You weren’t allowed to leave the cabin.

Of course, the hunting and the walks were okay, but you could never see what was going on outside of the woods unless it was through the news or Wanda herself. You couldn’t step foot out of the house without Wanda following close behind. When you really acknowledge it, you describe the feeling as if you’re on display, constantly being spied on and never having the privacy every human craves.

Whenever you bring up the fact that she watches you or follows you at seemingly unnecessary times, she explains that it would be rude if you told her she’s being invasive when she’s just protecting you.

She also claims everything outside of the woods is disgusting and you aren’t missing out. She says people are cold and heartless, nothing but a bunch of soul dead blobs walking in their black and white reality everyday.

But in the most peaceful moments, like right now where your arms are wrapped around her torso and your legs tied around one of hers, imitating the position of a clingy koala, everything else doesn’t seem to matter. She gently rakes her hand through your hair and randomly pinches your cheeks, but both sets of eyes remain on the TV.

“You’re lucky, Y/N. We have so much fun together, no one ever goes out and does things anymore! Trust me. Nothing out there is as good as what’s here.”

You reminisce the conversation you had with her the other day, your heart warming as her persuasive words echo through your mind.

Wanda’s right. This is good… I don’t need anyone but her.

“Sweetheart, I have to go to the store. We don’t have any milk or bread.” She taps the top of your head gently, silently asking you to sit up but you only whine and clutch onto her harder. You rub your nose into her soft v neck sweater, feeling her stomach tense as she lets out a dry laugh. “Come on, angel. I’m just getting milk I’ll be home before you know it.”

“That’s what my dad said.” You murmur into the wool. She gasps playfully at your humour, a tiny smile on her lips as she flicked the back of your head in an act to scold you. “Don’t joke about stuff like that miss!”

“No! It’s how I cope.” You rub the back of your head and pout at her, reluctantly sitting up onto your knees while an unhappy crease sits itself between your brows. Her smile widens as she gazes at you, nothing but adoration swimming in those viridescent irises.

She pushes your dishevelled hair out of your face and leans in slowly, eyes fixated on your lips. Her kiss is as gentle as ever, her fingers curling around the back of your neck to pull you closer. Every complaint you were ready to throw at her suddenly slips your mind, and all you can think about is how soft her lips feel moving against yours. The hair framing her face smells of her green apple shampoo, a specific something you grew to obsess over.

“Oookay, have to go now.” She pulls back and swiftly puts herself on her feet. She happily escorts herself over to the door to grab her coat and slip her shoes on, the cocky smile never leaving her face.

You fall face forward into the couch while making various irritated and disapproving grumbles. She slides her arms through the sleeves of her jacket, her smile distorting into a sort of impish grin when she specifically hears the words,

“You’re evil, Wanda.”

“Maybe, but you love it.” She laughs softly before slinging her purse over her shoulder and opening the door.

“See you soon, princezná!” You huff at the sound of the door shutting followed by the click of the lock. You could continue to watch a movie… or you could go into your girlfriends closet and steal her clothes.

Excitement starts brewing inside of you as you spring up from the couch and run into your shared bedroom. You yank the closet door open, taking the sleeve of one of her hoodies and rubbing your face into it. The faint smell of sandalwood and a sweet-spicy cinnamon still lingers on it, and now all you can think of is drowning yourself in the mouth watering autumn scent.

You pluck out a red flannel shirt and a dark blue pair of jeans. But as you flip through her many pieces of clothing, a cardboard box in the corner of her top shelf catches your eye. You frown and push yourself onto your tippy toes, groaning and stretching your limbs until you could finally grasp the package.

The box is covered in a thin layer of dust indicating it hasn’t been touched in a while. You giggle excitedly, box in hand as you run over to your shared bed and make yourself comfortable.

We tell each other everything, she must have some dirty secrets in here..

You place your hand on the lid of the laptop, prepared to open it until a sting of guilt stops you. Your excitement fades into adrenaline as you nervously tap your foot against the carpeted floor.

She’ll tell me about this eventually, right?

But she’s had so many opportunities to say something…

Fuck it.

A puzzled expression takes over your features seeing the computer had only nine screens open. They’re all at least 360p, tv static glitching out a video every five or so seconds. Then you notice where the cameras were pointing too. One in Wanda’s room, one covering the area of her living room, one facing towards the kitchen and the others scattered around outside.

Security cameras?

Your eyes flicker to the red circle flashing in the top left corner of the screen, the capital letters “LIVE” typed in next to it. Then, just below that, an even smaller text with todays date. You click it and a list of options pop up, scrolling down and seeing she installed them in 2015.

You excitedly flip back to two months ago, the day you and Wanda met. You can watch your love unfold all over again but now from a different perspective.

You giddily scrub through the timeline and watch yourself wander around outside, then fast forwarding again until Wanda walks to the door and opens it to you. Your brows pinch together; you don’t seem hurt at all and you’re clearly not unconscious. In fact, you seem wary of her.

Your curiosity heightens as you quietly observe yourself take a seat on her couch and sit there, tapping your lap awkwardly. You skip further ahead and stop when you see Wanda jump onto you. Your hand flies over your mouth, the sickening realisation starting to dawn on you.

She lied to me…

How did I forget everything?

You drag the little dot further through the video, your heart thudding in your ears. A red glow in the darkness of her room causes the frown on your face to deepen and you to scroll back.

You almost forget how to breathe when you see red wisps escape the fingertips of your beloved girlfriend, the red seeping it’s way through the side of your forehead and infecting your unconscious mind.

She does this continuously for minutes, destroying every thought in your head. Your opinions, beliefs and judgments so she can start off with a clean canvas. Everything from your old life comes rushing back, your memories flashing at you like big bright billboards on 2x speed.

Your childhood, your parents divorcing, your bullies in high school and more specifically— the night you met Wanda. Surrounded by tall, thin, white bark trees as the echo of your own voice called after something or someone named Daisy. The disorientation and utter sadness you felt wandering aimlessly. The anxiety you felt in the pit of your stomach while walking up to Wanda’s cabin. Everything that happened that night, including her handing you the drink to then ordering you to put it down.

Clover-

Frankie?

Daisy…

Wanda.

“Y/N! I’m back!” You gasp, quickly blinking away the tears that rimmed your eyes. You slam the computer shut and shove it in its box, clumsily dropping the lid back on and running to put it back into her closet.

You just shut the door when Wanda’s voice startles you from the doorway.

“You okay honey? You look shaken.” You take a step back when she advances, almost like a reflex or a flinch, and it does not go unnoticed by her. She squints ever so slightly, her head tipping to the side.

I don’t know this woman. I need to leave. Now.

“Yeah I’m okay I just.. stubbed my toe.” She tuts, walking over to you and snakes her arms around your waist. “Aww, my poor baby. I bought strawberries though, will that cheer you up?” She whispers into your head and you melt, fingers twitching against the material of her soft coat.

My Wanda..

“T-Thank you, Wands.” This is Wanda. The loving, beautiful and generous Wanda you fell for. But she erased your whole life so she could cage you and keep you for herself.

Don’t get swayed by strawberries! Focus!

She whispers a sweet I love you before kissing your head and turning around. She picks up a thick knitted cardigan laying on the bed and throws it to you. “It’s cold, put this on and I’ll go light a fire.”

She waltzes out of the door and down the short hallway, leaving you a big, confused ball of nerves.

~

Wanda switches on the TV and invites you to sit next to her. You don’t say anything and accept, seating yourself by her no matter how on edge you feel because Wanda knows you. She can tell when you’re hiding something, and if you don’t want to sit next to her after begging her to stay home, something is obviously wrong.

Wanda watches the movie like she normally would. Laughing here and there, playing with your hair or placing a friendly hand on your thigh. You on the other hand have no idea what’s happening in the movie because your mind is racing with thoughts on what you should be doing.

Do I confront her? Do I run away? Do I stay and act like I don’t know anything?

“Hey Wands?” You say without thinking, immediately regretting your words and curse at yourself for acting so impulsively. She hums, eyes still focused on the tv.

“If I asked you a question… would you answer truthfully?”

“Of course, I always do.” She answers, her voice soft with a hint of worry as she pointed the remote at the television to shut it off. You want to believe her over what your own eyes saw, you wish you had never touched or opened that box. Everything would’ve stayed perfect. But sadly, you have to accept the fact that it was never perfect. You were played and life isn’t the paradise she pretended it was.

“I… I found the laptop.” You unwravel yourself from her hold so you can sit up and face her. Your mind so caught up on the anxiety rumbling around in your stomach, you miss the faint crimson flash behind her irises and the tiny tense of her shoulders.

“What laptop?”

“The one hooked up to the security cameras.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about, love.” She chuckled, shifting uncomfortably as she shook her head and avoided your frantic stare. You bite the inside of your cheek, gently taking her hand between yours and softening your tone of voice. The last thing you want to do is make her upset or start an argument.

“Okay, then just answer this… What happened the night we met?”

“I told you, I saved you-“

“No Wanda. What. happened?” You enunciate your last words, voice trembling as you desperately cling onto the hope that she’ll tell you what happened and explain why she lied. This is her chance to admit to everything, but she doesn’t take it.

“I’m telling you the truth, Y/N. Why are you questioning me?” You feel burning tears sit behind your eyes and your lips quivers, your patience worn into a thread as you pinch your temple.

This is the woman you love and trust most in the world, it breaks your heart that the foundation of your relationship was built on lies and manipulation. It breaks your heart even more so knowing that the Wanda you thought you knew could just be a fake persona, anything feels possible right now.

“I told you, I found the laptop and saw the security cameras. I know what actually happened.” She lets out a small laugh, your expression changing to one of disbelief watching her shrug as if what she did isn’t that bad.

“Okay… well it’s not a big deal-“

“You made me forget my entire life! I’m scared, Wanda. You lied to me. I want to know who I am, not who you want me to be!” You lose the composure you were holding on to, standing up and throwing your hands around.

She clenches her jaw when you yell these words at her, her nostrils flaring and her eyes poisoned with an ironclad rage. She slowly stands to her feet and you internally kick yourself—regretting how you spoke to her as she looms over you. Her tightened jaw and her slit pupils reminded you of a snake ready to attack, pointing a finger in your face before she speaks her next words.

“You came to me for help. And I helped you. I treat you like a fucking queen and that’s how you speak to me?” Shes not yelling, her voice is quiet but created purely of anger and disappointment. Honestly, you’d prefer yelling.

“But Wanda.. that’s not fair-“

“Don’t you talk to me about what’s fair. I’ve done everything possible to make sure you’re happy and now you’re scared of me?” Tears well your eyes as you stare at her, the salty drops blurring your vision and rolling down your face every time you blink. That familiar lump gets caught in your throat, forcing whatever you wanted to say right back down. You’ve never seen her so furious, and you never expected to be the reason for her to be.

“I know the life you lived before me. You lived alone with two bunnies, you hate your family, worked as a waitress and had one friend. You know I treat you better than anyone else ever has.” Your eyes dart to the floor, shame swelling inside of you.

Wanda makes me happy, why did I ruin it all?

“But if you’re going to talk to me like that after I’ve taken such good care of you, I guess there’s no point in being nice.” Your eyes fly up at her again, hoping to see some sort of playfulness in her expression. No matter how hard you searched there wasn’t a hint of that gentle gaze she always had for you.

“Get on your knees, Y/N.”

“What-“

“On your fucking. Knees.”

You let out a shaky breath before slowly sinking down to your knees. Your eyes stay stuck to your fidgeting fingers, anxiously waiting for her next orders. “You’re so pretty, it’s a shame you act like such a spoiled little brat.” She unbuttons her jeans and tugs down at the zip, pulling out a large red strap she hid inside of the denim.

“Open.” You hesitate before taking it into your hand, eyes looking up at her nervously before sticking your tongue out and teasing it. You take the tip into your mouth, bobbing your head and hollowing your cheeks around it, eyes begging for some type of approval. Her mouth opens slightly, quiet pants escaping her as she watches the end of the strap disappear into your mouth repeatedly.

She takes her bottom lip between her teeth, impatiently pushing her hips forward and forcing the rest of the length into your mouth. “You can’t act all tough with a dick in your mouth, can you?” She sneers. You feel her touch the back of your throat, the faux cock weighing heavy on your tongue as you gagged around it. You claw at her hips and pull at her sweater, but she doesn’t budge.

“Breathe out of your nose, baby.” You do as you’re told, breathing in through your nose while drool dripped down your chin. She picks up your loose hair with her hand and gathers it behind your head, using it as leverage to move your head however she pleases.

“I want you to touch yourself, touch yourself for me please…” She whimpered. Her hips start to move, pumping the toy into your mouth at a merciful pace. Your spit falls from your lips to the carpet underneath you as you slowly remove one of your hands from her to push into your shorts, not wasting a second before thrusting two fingers into yourself.

You moan around the strap while she forces your head back and forth by your hair and snaps her hips harder, breath hitching at the sight of you grinding your hips against your own hand.

She rams into your mouth, hot, breathless praises falling from her lips and raining down onto you. The material of the toy rubs perfectly against her clit, both of you impatiently chasing your highs with increasingly fast and sloppy movements. You feel your walls clench and as you curl your fingers, you notice her thighs start to shake.

“Fuck! Cum with me… let go, sweet girl.”

Her string of moans flow smoothly throughout her silent cabin as she bucked her hips up and further into your mouth. Your juices spill into your hand, your bodies pulsing and sweaty. She squeezes her eyes shut as hot-white pleasure surges through her, and you do the exact same, clenching your thighs together as your eyelids flutter.

She pulls out and you take a deep breath in, your chest heaving and head spinning because of the lack of oxygen. She watches you withdraw your hand from your shorts and your cheeks fade to a hot pink seeing your fingers coated in the sticky cum.

She takes your clean hand and guides you to lay on the couch. You melt into the soft sofa, legs twitching and your eyes shut. You weakly mumble protests when you feel her climb on top of you and immediately starts tugging at your shorts, pulling them down your legs and throwing them to the side. She moves her hand and massages your pussy, eagerly listening to all of your icky sounds. You squirm and try jerking away from her, but her hand pins your hips back down to the couch, forcing you to endure the intensity of her touch.

“Wands, I’m tired..” She smiles, your voice low and husked from your sore throat.

“Don’t you hear that, baby? You’re so wet for me, even when I’m mean to you.” She shushes your begging while using her hand to move your sticky panties out of the way. She lines herself up to your hole, slowly pushing inside and doesn’t wait before picking up her speed.

“You’re so tight..” You sob, feeling smothered and hot from her hands groping at you, her body like a chunk of burning coal hovering above you. She wipes some of your cum from your fingers with her own, then moving them towards your mouth and sliding them in. She exhales shakily and her hips stutter when you swirl your tongue around her fingertips, opening your eyes the slightest bit so you can catch her reaction.

“God, you’re so good like that…” She slams into you harder, adoring the whines that would muffle because of your stuffed mouth. She feels your walls clench around the strap again and her lips stretch into a smug smirk.

“Aww gotta cum already? You wanna make a mess all over my strap, baby? Yeah?” Her voice hitches higher, patronising you in a way she knew you loved.

She takes it all in. Your tits bouncing underneath your shirt from her thrusts and your hardened nipples peeking through. Your flushed cheeks. The sweat glistening off of your forehead and your inner brows perked upwards. You could only moan an answer to her question, legs writhing and eyes glazed over as you stare at her in your euphoric haze.

Then it hits you, the feeling that you’d describe as tasting a slice of heaven and hell at the same time. Your back arches and your muscles tighten. You gasp and pathetically attempt to kick at her when she starts to toy with your sensitive clit, but cease your actions when she shoves her fingers further into your throat as a silent warning.

The last thing you remember before slowly drifting off into your long awaited slumber, is Wanda’s hands running down your sides, the top of her head and your stomach flexing as she kissed her way down your stomach.

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taglist: @wandasfavv @sokovianbaby @hopelesslygaysstuff @ghxst-guts @maximoffsgirl @mrsmothermaximoff @themilfsland @slutm3out @immclovinmilfs @kimiisims-blog @halsnaksns

[nonbinaryproblems]

Feminism: Not Just For Lesbians, Hippies, Manhaters, Feminazis, and Angry Women

I was a freshman in high school when Trump won the presidential election and Obama left office and I remember very vividly how two girls from my English class reacted. They wrote “Obama” on their foreheads. Needless to say, the overall reaction wasn’t all that positive because 14 year olds are mean. And despite being a little bit judgemental - because I’m not excluding myself from the mean 14 year old description - I remember being really impressed. Because as much as I claimed to be a feminist, I was still more concerned about what people thought of me than what I thought of myself. I compromised on too many of my own values so that I could earn the respect - if you could even call it that - of my peers. I was already the first person in my grade to come out as loudly as I did, I didn’t want to give them anymore ammunition against me. bell hooks (2000) writes in her piece “Feminism is for Everybody”, “they find it easier to passively support male domination even when they know in their minds and hearts that it is wrong” (p. xiv). Feminism doesn’t always have to mean writing Obama on my forehead, but it does mean standing up for what’s right and I feel like I missed out on a lot of opportunities to do that growing up. This just goes to show that no one is immune to biases. I’m a nonbinary queer person and even I was afraid of identifying as a feminist because I knew the shame that came with that word. I like to think that I’ve grown as a person since then, and I know I’m growing each and every day. I just hope that I’ve done enough to make up for the way 14 year old Lisa let things slide.

For so many people, I feel like their issue with feminism comes from a place of misunderstanding rather than a place of sexism. They’re not malicious in their hatred of the word, they simply don’t understand what it really means. hooks (2000) says, “I believe that if they knew more about feminism they would no longer fear it, for they would find in feminist movement the hope of their own release from the bondage of patriarchy” (p. xiii). When you grow up in our world, you’re told from the moment you’re born that men are in charge and men are better than everyone else. If you’re lucky enough to have people in your life to tell you differently, then you can break the mold and fight for change. But if you don’t, you have almost no chance of finding your place in feminism - and everybody has one. You’ll live your life believing that feminism is just for straight, white, cis women and that you don’t belong. You’ll think that they all hate men and want to see the world burn. But those viewpoints aren’t always your own. That’s what hooks (2000) means by the “bondage of patriarchy” (p. xiii). It’s restricting, it’s damaging, and it limits your view of the world. But if people can find a moment to step back and look at feminism for what it really is at it’s core, they might look at the world a little differently afterwards. hooks (2000) asks us to “imagine living in a world where there is no domination, where females and males are not alike or even always equal, but where a version of mutuality is the method shaping our interaction” (p. xiv). She wants us to imagine living without that “bondage” and to ask ourselves if that’s a better world. Feminism is not about being better than someone else or being perfectly equal all the time, it’s about living in balance and harmony with one another.

Depending on who you ask, they’ll define feminism differently. Someone might say it’s “protecting and supporting women”, another might say it’s “full of man-haters”, and someone else might just give you the dictionary definition. I think that bell hooks does a fantastic job of summarizing all of those together. She defines feminism as “a movement to end sexism, sexist exploitation, and oppression” (hooks, 2000, xii). Feminism is - based on it’s name alone - about women, but that’s not all that it is. It encompasses everyone and everything in our world because we’re all affected by it whether we know it or not. Many men perpetuate sexism unknowingly and feminism could bring that to their attention and help them change their ways. Or they might not realize just how damaging masculine expectations are. Feminism isn’t about making women above men or about killing all men, it’s a matter of tearing down the sexist world we live in. And if a few men happen to fall with it, that’s no fault of the movement. While it may begin on an individual level, feminism holds no grounds if we don’t tackle the system.

Brene Brown once said, “people are hard to hate close up” (Brown, 2017). 14 year old Lisa wasn’t close enough to the feminist movement to really understand it. They just weren’t at a place in their life where they had been exposed to enough of the world and learned enough about how their actions affect other people to truly understand what it meant to be a feminist. So, as I try to give grace to my past self, I hope other people can join me in giving a little bit of grace to those around them. Instead of pushing people away for saying the “wrong things” or doing something “bad”, let’s bring them in. hooks (2000) dares us to “come closer to feminism [to] see it is not how [we] have imagined it” (p. xii). We’re not all a bunch of hippie, gay women who don’t shave, who burn bras, who hate men, and who write Obama on our foreheads. Feminism is a truly beautiful movement. It’s multifaceted and it has a place for everyone and their passions. There are branches focused on climate change, fighting toxic masculinity, fighting domestic and sexual abuse, supporting queer people, supporting people of color, anything you can imagine. The one thing that they all have in common is the desire for a better future. Our current system is just not cutting it anymore - I don’t think it ever has to be honest with you - and it’s time for change. The feminists who come after us will thank us for our hard work. There is so much to be done and so little time, so let’s bring in as many people as we can, as close as we can, and grow feminism as much as we can.

[rebeccccccaaa]

IᑎᖴᗩTᑌᗩTIOᑎ

_________________________

ʙᴜᴄᴋʏ ʙᴀʀɴᴇs x ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

ʀᴇǫᴜᴇsᴛᴇᴅ: (ANON) Hiya! Could you do smth where the reader is masturbating in her room thinking about Bucky. When then Bucky sneaks in your room hiding from Sam chasing him, he hears you moaning his name and gets flushed but instead of leaving he decides to help you out and show you that the real thing is better than imagining it ? :)) and maybe his POV too ? ☺️ thank you dear. I’d really crave some soft Bucky smut atm.

ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢs: Smut!! Minors dni plz, fluff, soft!dom bucky

ᴀᴜᴛʜᴏʀ’s ɴᴏᴛᴇs: thanks for the request; this was supposed to be a blurb but it’s like three thousand words omggg i can’t stopp nfviuapfgvaioufv

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“Where is he?” Sam grabbed the counter and shouted startling the people gathered in the kitchen. Steve spilled his coffee, Wanda threw her apples, and Tony choked on his cereal milk coming out of his nose.

“Who!” Steve said angrily. 

“Buck!” Sam growled. 

“We don’t fucking know!” Tony yelled as Pepper cleaned him up with a napkin. Sam bolted out of the kitchen down the hall scanning for the soldier.

“Where are you, you fucking metal-armed freak!” he screamed. 

Bucky on the other hand had slipped easily past your door; just barely cracking it to see an angry Sam Wilson stomping through the hall in search of Bucky. What for? Well, Sam has this fear roaches; he hates them, absolutely despises even the thought of a cockroach.

Bucky printed and cut out the silhouette of a huge cockroach and taped it to the inside of Sam’s bedside lamp so that when he sticks his hand under the shade, he’ll see the fake roach and hopefully scream in terror; well that was more than successful. Now Sam wanted to beat the shit of him for ruining his morning. 

Sam was soon out of sight and Bucky breathed out a breath of relief closing the door completely; locking it just in case Sam tries to come into your room looking for him. You and Bucky were very close, almost too close as Steve would say. He was found with you in your room a lot, whether it’d be playing video games, or eating lunch while watching TV, or listening to music that Bucky missed out on. 

He was in your room a lot so he knew you wouldn’t mind the unexpected visit. After you knew about his little prank; you would die of laughter if he told you about Sam’s reaction. Before Bucky turned around, he heard you.

“Buck,” you breathed out. 

Bucky’s brows furrowed and when he turned around…

“Holy shit.”

ʜᴏᴜʀs ᴇᴀʀʟɪᴇʀ

“He’s gonna kill you,” you grinned at Bucky. He sat next to you with a pair of scissors in hand cutting out the black silhouette of that god awful roach.

“So worth it,” he smirked. 

“You didn’t answer my question though, doll. Why are you up so early? Pretty girls like you need their beauty rest,” he nudged your arm with elbow, making you roll your eyes.

“I just couldn’t sleep. Was tossing and turning all night,” you told him. 

“You know my bed is always available for cuddles that'll put you right to sleep,” he winked at you.

“You wish,” you retorted.

“Every night,” he said, making you feel shy. 

Bucky smirked to himself knowing how his words affected you. It was no secret that was deeply infatuated with you; but you always declined his advances and he respected that always. But that didn’t mean he stopped his endless flirting; never failed to make you laugh.

“You’re so pretty,” he smiled at you.

“Shut up, Buck,” you shook your head, “I’m gonna head back to my room; try and get some shut eye for at least twenty minutes. Let me know how your little prank goes.”

“Will do.” 

You shut your bedroom door and crawled languidly into your bed. You close your eyes and in doing so you’re met with those gorgeous cerulean blue eyes that haunted you every night. You immediately pop back up.

Goddammit, Bucky. 

Fuck you and striking eyes. Fuck you and your perfect nose. Fuck you and kissable lips. And strong arms. And your hands, oh your hands… Stop!

Your body erupted into goosebumps and your stomach fluttered just at the thought of him. Fuck the things you’d let him do to you. Why haven't you, you ask? Well he asked you on a date and thinking it was some sort of bet with Sam, because men are assholes and it wouldn’t be the first that happened, you kindly declined. 

The next day, Sam and Steve both said they didn’t know he was gonna ask you and had nothing to do with it. So you bolted to Bucky’s room only to find another woman curled to his side in his bed. 

“Y/n,” Bucky’s eyes were wide with guilt. 

“Hey, uh- I uh, I just wanted to ask um- what you wanted… for breakfast. I’m buying,” you breathed out a nervous chuckle. 

“I’m ok-” As soon as you heard those words you bolted out of his room hearing him call your name. You weren’t particularly pissed off, or enraged but it kinda hurt. 

Since then however, you don’t think you have seen Bucky even talk to another woman; even at one of Tony’s galas. And he always flirted and joked with you, even more this time than before. You weren’t going to lie, you both loved it and hated it. It gave you confidence while also ruining your panties with just a smile. 

Speaking of ruined panties.

You tossed your sheets over and shimmied out of your pajama bottoms. You took your panties off too pulling one side back to shoot it into the laundry basket since those were going to be in desperate need of a wash. 

You licked your fingers before pressing them against your burning pussy. You bit your lip stifling your moans as you circled your clit. You imagined Bucky’s hand instead of yours and you imagined him whispering dirty things in your ear. 

Your other hand went under your shirt and kneaded your breast softly. You clenched your thighs together approaching your orgasm quickly when suddenly you were a loud scream echo in the building. 

You instantly retracted your hand for a second remembering that Bucky had his little prank; Sam clearly found out now. But you soon put that aside and continued thinking about Bucky. He was so perfect; how could anyone look at him and not fall in love? He was so handsome and charming. And his physique. Holy hell, you would give anything to run your hands all over his muscled torso. Kiss up and down his chest and tell him how beautiful he was. 

You wanted him pressed against you rutting his hips into you like there was no tomorrow. You wanted to feel his fingers touch you the way you're touching yourself right now thinking about him. You wanted to hear him groan and moan in your ear. You wanted all of him. 

“Buck,” you finally moaned out. 

“Y/n?”

“Oh god, Buck!” you shrieked grabbing your sheets to cover your modesty.

“Sorry, I uh- I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to barge in,” he stuttered covering his eyes. 

“Why are you in here?” you asked him.

“Sam is chasing me and I sought refuge here,” he said.

“You can open your eyes; I’m decent now,” you mumbled. 

Bucky slowly brought his hands down looking at you with a guilty expression. He walked up to your bed and sat hesitantly beside you. Your knees were tucked into you and your arms wrapped around them protectively. Heat crawled up your spine and you felt sweaty and embarrassed to be caught so vulnerably, especially by the man whose name you were moaning. 

“I’m so sorry,” you said, avoiding his gaze. 

“Don’t be, we all do it.”

“I know it’s- it’s still embarrassing,” you mumbled. 

“Because?” you stayed silent not really wanting to say it out loud.

“Because you were thinking about me?” Bucky crawled closer to you pulling the sheet from your bare legs gracefully. Your breathing quicken rapidly, your chest heaving up and down. 

“You know, I uh- I think about you too; all the time,” he whispered as he dragged his knuckles up your lower leg.

“You don’t have to imagine anymore. I’m right here. Just say the words and I’ll give everything,” he was so close; his fingertips ghosting the sides of your thighs. 

“Bucky,” you breathed against his lips, “No, stop.”

Bucky instantly backed away, retracting his hands. He looked at you with confusion and you avoided his gaze once again. 

“Buck, I know you just want to sleep with me-”

“Woah what! Did Sam tell you that? Fucking asshole, I’m gonna kill him,” Bucky got up but you pulled his hand back so he’d sit down again.

“No, you- ugh. When you asked me out, a long time ago, I thought you were doing a bet or something with Sam; so I said no to avoid any humiliation. I told Sam and he said he didn’t even know about it, that he had nothing to do with it. So I went to your room to tell you that I liked you back but you were… ‘busy’,” you explained. 

Bucky casted his eyes and head down remembering that day vividly. He knew exactly what happened. He asked you out and when you said no he was crushed. He asked Thor if he had any mead with him; it was the only thing that could get him drunk. And he got on a bike and booked it to the closest nightclub. 

Bucky finished Thor’s flask and he doesn’t even remember what happened that night. He woke up the next morning with someone in his bed and he freaked. He knew he fucked up and he regretted going out. Suddenly you barged through the door with a beautiful smile on your face but when you saw his unwanted guest, all the sparkle in your face died. 

He didn’t see you the rest of the day and it killed him. The woman was nice and actually was very understanding so at least he had that going for him. From that day on Bucky didn’t even look at any other women, let alone give them an ounce of attention. His eyes were simply set on you in hopes one day you’d give him a second chance. 

“I’m so sorry, Y/n. I didn’t mean for that to happen. I know I fucked up and if you want me to leave, I will.”

“I’m not mad, we’re not together and you have every right to do that. It just kinda hurt that you moved on so fast,” you chuckled a bit.

“I didn’t! I… I just fucked up. I still want you, not just your body; even though you’re so fucking sexy,” he reached out and squeezed your thigh making you grin, as hard as you tried not to. 

“I still think about you all the time. You’re so funny, and beautiful, and sexy, did I mention how sexy you are?” he said, making you laugh. 

“Maybe once or twice,” you giggled.

“I don’t want you thinking that I’m using you. I like you a lot. And I know you like me,” he raised his eyebrow making you sheepish. 

“Sorry about that again,” you chuckled.

“Don’t be. I can show the real thing instead, all you have to do is say the word,” he brushed his nose against yours. It was so tempting. He was just so irresistible. So all hell went out the window and you caved.

“Please,” you whispered.

Bucky pressed his lips languidly against yours, as if he’d done so a thousand times before. His hand slipped up your inner thigh and you gasped softly into Bucky’s mouth. He pushed his tongue in, swirling it around your and your neck craned back as he kissed you deeper. 

His knuckles brushed your wet folds and you shuddered under his touch. His lips trailed down to your jaw and neck as his fingers stroked your folds circled your entrance. You laid back staring up at Bucky who quickly got rid of his shirt before bringing his finger back down to your pussy. 

He slowly inserted a finger past your slick folds carfeully watching your face and the pleasure that was overcasted. You bit your lip staring into his eyes and Bucky grew hard simply from that. He pumped his finger in and out of you feeling your thighs wanting to press together from bliss. 

“Bucky, please I need more,” you whined. 

“Of course, my baby,” he smiled before adding another finger into your entrance. You moaned through gritted teeth feeling already full with just his fingers, you couldn’t imagine his cock. Your shirt had slowly ridden up exposing your belly. Bucky leaned down and kissed your skin, his lips feeling cold in contrast to your hot skin. 

Bucky breathed heavy at the sight of you. You were so beautiful and Bucky felt his heart swell. He’s been pining after you for so long and now you were finally here writhing under him in ecstasy. 

“You look so perfect, baby,” he whispered.

“Fuck, Bucky, your fingers feel so good,” you brushed your hands through his hair. 

“Yeah, you wanna cum? You cum all over my fingers?”

“Yes! Please let me cum,” you arched your chest to the air. 

“Come on, my baby. Let go.” You gushed all over his hand, your body spasming as you orgasmed. 

“So fucking pretty,” Bucky removed his fingers and brought them up to his mouth, sucking his fingers clean. You moaned at the sight of him licking his fingers and you pulled him into a kiss. You could taste yourself on his tongue.

Bucky stood up and discarded his pants quickly grabbing his cock. He walked to you and you replaced his hand with your slowly moving up and down his shaft. You circled your thumb over his swollen tip and you could feel his body tremble in your hand.

“Fucking tease, aren’t ya,” he grabbed your jaw and you smiled cheekily. 

He pulled your shirt off your body and his hands instantly went to your breasts, squeezing and pinching making you moan. His erection stood tall against your thigh and you grew needy for him.

“Please, baby. Please, I need you,” you held his face. 

“I gotcha, don’t worry. I’m gonna take real good care of my baby. I’m here,” Bucky whispered in your ear. 

He slowly pushed into you, his cock stretching you out. You whimpered at the feelin, never having felt so full before. Bucky kissed the skin below your ear as he slowly bottomed out. He stayed that way for a moment and soon you started wiggling your hips desperately asking him to move but he wouldn’t.

“Stop moving, doll. I just wanna feel ya,” he kept his face buried in your neck. 

“Bucky,” you breathed out.

“I know baby, you’re fucking tight. Squeezing me already too,” he chuckled.

You continued letting out whines and whimpers and Bucky’s heart nearly exploded. He propped himself on his elbows looking lovingly down at you and moved his hips back before pushing back in. Your eyes fluttered shut at the feeling. Bucky kissed you senselessly, moaning deeply into your mouth. His hips thrusted wildly in and out of you, making your toes curled.

“Fuck, baby girl. You’re taking me so well; such a pretty baby,” he praised. 

You couldn’t form proper words; everything fell from your lips when you tried. Bucky is completely ruining you. Rutting into your hips, surely to leave bruises, he grazed your g spot perfectly pulling loud moans from you everytime.

“Ya feel that? Feel how deep I’m fucking this perfect little pussy?” Bucky grabbed your hand placing it on your lower stomach where you could feel his cock poking your hand with each thrust. 

“Fuck, baby. You’re fucking me so fucking good, I’m gonna cum,” yoou whimpered. 

“Say my name when you do baby. I want everyone in this goddamn building to know you’re mine,” his hips became sporadic. 

“Oh fuck; James!” you chanted his real name, surprising Bucky. He wanted you to say ‘Buck’ like you always do but hearing his first name fall from your lips, he only ever wanted to hear you say it reminding him of this very moment forever.

“Fucking hell, baby,” he grunted before spilling inside you. He coated your velvety walls with his hot cum and that was enough to make you fall off the edge too. Your eyes rolled back and your nails dragged harshly down his back. You protruded your chest up to his and Bucky could feel your perked nipples on his skin. 

He watched you with pure infatuation. Your face quickly relaxed to a tired and bliss expression. You breathed heavily out trying to settle your breathing. Bucky looked at your lips and captured them on his own one last time before running to your bathroom to clean you up. 

“You are so beautiful, my baby,” he whispered.

“Fuck, that was so good,” you said fervorly, pulling his flush against your body by his neck.

“And it’s-” he was interrupted by your phone ringing beside you.

“It’s Steve,” you told him before looking at the time at the top left of your screen. You were twenty minutes late to your morning session with Steve. You gasped covering your mouth with your hand in shock. 

“I’m late to my early sesh with Steve,” you laughed hysterically.

“Here, let me,” Bucky grabbed your phone sitting up to talk to Steve.

“Buck no,” you crawled behind him trying to grab your phone but not having the energy to chase his hand.

“Hey, Y/n’s busy.”

You heard a muffled voice, “Doing what, Buck?”

“Sucking my dick,” he said with absolute no hesitation.

“Buck!” you snatched the phone from his hand. 

“Sorry, Steve. I got a bit… distracted. I promised I’ll make it up,” you told him. 

“First of all, gross. Second of all, I’m happy for you two; you’re good together,” he said.

“Thanks, Stevie. I’ll see ya later.”

“Stevie?” Bucky asked, unamused. 

“Oh shut up, Buck. You just embarrassed me telling him I was sucking your dick,” you nudged him.

“You don’t want to suck my dick?”

“Ugh Buck!” you buried your face in your hands.

“Of course I do,” you said, making Bucky tackle you down pressing kisses all over your face.

“Well, this was quite an eventful morning,” he joked.

“It sure was. What do you think happened with Sam?”

---

“And he put a roach in my lampshade,” Sam cried, actual tears. Nat was trying her absolute hardest to not laugh as was Wanda; gripping onto each other’s arms in hysteria.

“It’s ok, Sam,” Steve soothed him rubbing his back. 

“God, where’s Y/n? We were supposed to start training twenty minutes ago,” Steve grumbled, staring at his watch.

“Call her,” Tony said.

Steve stepped aside and Sam continued to cry telling them how he chased him and he knew he ran into your room but it was locked. Nat and Wanda looked at each other grinning like idiots hoping what they think happened happened. Steve came back with a soft proud smile on face.

“What happened with Y/n?” Tony asked.

“She uh, she had to cancel, but it’s cool,” he looked at the girls who smiled knowingly. 

“She’s with Bucky isn’t she,” Sam grunted.

“Yeah, yeah she is,” Steve said, making Sam cry again because he’s not gonna be able to beat the shit of Bucky anymore.

====================

ᴛᴀɢʟɪsᴛ: (For all my work)

@mathletemadison​

@buckybarnes101​

@l-sofiamia-l

[crescentsteel]

When in Brazil - Sunshine

pairing: Hinata x f!reader genre: SMUT wc: 6.6k warnings: fingering, oral, body worship, praise kink, hinata with big dik

[a/n]

I said to myself, lets make this quick and short. lol yea sure

No beta. This is Spartaaaaa 

My brain went bzzt bzzt after this. 

Let me know if you want to be part of the taglist for this mini series

Beach || masterlist

  “Are there any more deliveries for me, y/n?” The ginger asks while beaming at you like he hasn’t been delivering orders under the heat of the sun across Rio the whole afternoon. 

“We’re all good, Shoyo.” You smile back. He’s such an earnest part-timer that your mood just lifts up whenever you see him. You rarely find anyone like him. Even though he’s just delivering orders for the diner, he’s so dedicated to it. He’s not like one of your previous delivery guys who grumbles before and after work as if they’re not getting paid. Shoyo is different. His eyes are full of life, full of purpose.

You like seeing him around because his sincerity and politeness makes you feel like you’re not just some dumb waitress in some small diner. Aside from pleasing to talk to, he’s also pleasing to look at. He’s like a cute boy-next-door kind of guy.

“I’ll be going ahead then!”

“Wait!” He turns around with an inquisitive look on his face. You want to keep him around longer for tonight. It’s been a rough day for you and you could use some sunshine. “Actually, I’d appreciate some help closing up. I’ll serve you something for dinner in return.” His face brightens up at your request. There it is. Mr. Sunshine, indeed. 

“Sure, y/n! Just tell me what to do.” 

He’s an efficient help to have. What you usually do in 40 minutes or so was done in just 20. 

“Wow, I should ask you to help out more often,” you say jokingly. “No problem, y/n! I can help out after deliveries.” 

You wave your hand frantically. “Oh no no no. I was just kidding, Shoyo. I can’t always give you dinner. The owner would notice when we do inventory.” You laugh apprehensively.

“You don’t have to! I don’t mind staying for a few minutes to help out after deliveries.”

You stare at him with an appreciative smile on your face. Bless his pure heart. Boys in Brazil could learn from him. “Alright. I’ll be in the kitchen to prepare your food real quick.”

He seats himself in one of the vacant lounges, grinning at you as you enter the kitchen. Since it was just him, you get it done in ten minutes or less. When you get out of the tiny room, he’s like a puppy salivating at the tray you’re holding. 

“Here you go, sir.” You jokingly say.

He doesn’t respond as his eyes twinkle at the food you laid out in front of him. Poor Shoyo. He must have been starving or maybe he’s just glad for the free food.

You decide to clean up the kitchen and the counter while you wait for him to finish, but he ate so fast that he’s done before you are. 

When he sees you still occupied, he takes it upon himself to get his used cutleries and wash it. He easily finds where to put them and he even wipes the table he sat on. If ever he asks you for another job, you’d instantly recommend him to the owner to replace one of the staff who’s basically a sloth. 

You two almost finish at the same time. 

“Thank you so much for the dinner, y/n.” He bows. You’re thrown off at first, but you remember that he’s from Japan. 

“Thank you, Shoyo. Seriously. The help is nothing compared to the food.” You get out of the cashier and get your bag. You remove your apron and shove it there before leading him out of the diner as you lock it up. 

“I’ll walk you home, y/n.” 

You wave your hand dismissively. He’s done so much already. “No, it’s fine. You must be tired.” 

He shakes his head in disagreement. “Not really! I wanna walk a bit too, but if you’re uncomfortable with it, I-”

“It’s okay!” You interrupt him. You do appreciate it if he’d accompany you home. You just thought he’s doing it to be kind and polite. “It’d be nice to chat with someone on the way home.” You tell him. He keeps his bicycle at his right while you’re at his left. 

Even as the night is fully settled in, Shoyo’s energy is still soaring as he narrates why he’s here in Rio. No wonder his eyes are always gleaming vividly. He wants to accomplish something badly that he traveled halfway across the world in a foreign country. And as you get sucked in his story, you don’t notice you’re at your apartment already. 

“I live right here. Do you wanna come in for tea or beer or whatever?” You invite him, wanting to hear more of his Volleyball journey. He seems glad from your invitation. Maybe he wanted someone to talk about it too.

“I’m okay with just water.”

You open your door and hold it out open for him. “You sure?”

He nods sprightly which makes you smile at the pure innocence he exudes. He eyes your whole place when he gets inside. “Wow. You live all alone, y/n?”

“Uh huh. I don’t like having roommates.”

“I think I’d get more homesick if I lived all alone,” he remarks.

From being awed, you begin to feel bad for him. It must be really tough to be so far away. “Well, you can always come here if you feel like talking or stuff,” you offer earnestly. You don’t mind him visiting every now and then. He’s such a positive energy amongst the dread of your everyday routine that’s constantly draining you. Also, You can’t imagine him being one of those guys who just hang out to get a slice of action. 

Since then, he frequently came over. 

On the days when he had deliveries for your diner, he’d help you close up. Instead of getting him dinner from the small diner, you two would get something on the way to your apartment or you’d fix him a quick meal when you get there.

He’s a comfortable company. Because he’s quite the talker, he never runs out of things to say. He not only talks about his life in Japan, but also here in Rio. You practically know all his friends here just from his stories.

“Didn’t they say anything when you wanted to leave?” You prod when he opened up missing his family. “They did, but they still pushed me to do it. They know what’s it for, and they know I’ll be back.”

“What about your girlfriend?”

A soft blush surfaces on his cheeks as he chuckles nervously. “I don’t have one.”

“Oh? Who’s the cute girl in your wallpaper then?” You’ve seen it several times when he looks at the time with his phone.

“She’s our Volleyball manager and a really good friend,” he explains as he gets his phone to show you something. “She’s been with the team since I was a first year.” He shows you a photo of him, a black-haired guy who’s probably Kageyama, and the cute blonde girl. 

Your attention all goes to him, his innocent beam at the camera while his arms are sprawled in the air. “Oh my God,” you exclaim while staring at the photo.

“You were so skinny!”

You look back and forth from the screen of his phone to him, comparing how he looked like then and how he looks like now. You pull your chair closer to him so you can scrutinize him more. He looked so young and pure back then. Literally, just a kid.  

“Wow.”

You gape at him, marveling at how his features have changed so much. Even if he still has that baby face, his face has definitely gained structure. And the scrawny boy in the photo? You can’t find that anymore with the Shoyo in front of you right now. He even has a nice tan going on that suits him so well. 

Without thinking, your hands fly to his shoulders to grasp the muscle he’s built after high school, squeezing them firmly before trailing down to his well-defined chest. Damn, he really put some nice work to achieve this. You drag your hands down to see how his abs are and holy crap, he’s fucking lean. 

Your gaze drops further just below where your hands are and see a faint outline of what he’s hiding beneath his shorts. 

“Ah!”

You immediately remove your hands off of him and raise your palms in mid air. “I’m so sorry! That was so perv- I mean rude of me to do that all of a sudden.” You apologize in a panicked tone, hoping that he didn’t think you were being handsy, even if you really were. 

“I was just amazed because you looked so different from the photo and uh..” you laugh to make up for the missing excuses you were supposed to say. 

He laughs with you, a timid smile gracing his face.

“It’s okay, y/n. You can continue touching me if you want.”

You squirm as you put your hands to your lap, clutching your shorts from the sudden thick air that engulfs the room. He sounded harmless. Even his face is his usual good-natured facade. But those words meant something else to you, an invitation to touch him more.

You let out a tense tither before turning to him. “No no! Haha. I’m fine. It was just on impulse.”

In an attempt to hide the awkwardness, you gather his used dishes and cutleries. “Let me get these washed up.” You stand up and hurriedly get to the sink. 

What was that weird sexual tension? That over there in your dining table is just your nice delivery boy, Shoyo. You’re nothing but co-workers who are just friendly to each other.

You let the cold water run on your fingers and wrists while you wash the dishes. You need to get back to him composed and cooled off. You want your relationship as it is now. You don’t want to feel awkward and bothered.

So what if you just realized that he’s hot and nice and completely alone with you?

“Do you need help with anything, y/n?

You yelp at the sound of his voice so close behind you. You can feel his warm breath fanning your neck and his body hovering at your back. He’s barely pressing against your back but you can already feel the ends of your hairs prickling your skin. 

“Wah! Why are you having goosebumps, y/n? Are you cold??”

“Yeah. It is a bit windy tonight.” You lie with a tense chuckle as you hasten your task so you could escape the situation. To worsen things for you, he places both hands on your bare shoulders and caresses them up and down to create heat. 

“I hope this is warm enough,” he says concernedly. 

It’s more than just warm. He’s supposed to create friction by rubbing your shoulders, but he’s skimming so gently on your skin that it’s fueling a different kind of heat stemming from your core from the supposed friendly gesture he’s doing to you. You fight off the urge to clench your thighs together for he might notice it since he’s just a hair away behind you. 

You saw him as a nice guy but his hands are making you feel otherwise. You had to bite your lower lip to suppress a whimper that was at the tip of your tongue. You can pass it off as a groan of relief, but with your current state, it might sound sexual. Since when were you this sensitive?

“Do you want me to prepare your green tea?” he kindly offers. 

“Yes, please,” you answer weakly. 

He takes his hands off you and gets you your green tea as he suggested to. You breathe a sigh of relief when he leaves. You feel like you’re about to break from how heavy his sexual pull is on you. Is he even aware? 

You dry your hands and saunter back to your dining table to take a seat and give your legs a break. Shoyo places the cup of tea in front of you and sits beside you. 

“Why do you always drink that, y/n? It doesn’t taste good.” 

“It’s to help me lose weight.” You draw the cup to your lips and take a sip. 

“Ehh? But you already look hot as you are.”

You almost choked on your tea from what he just said. You weren’t expecting such an adjective from him. With trembling fingers, you return the cup to the table. “You okay, y/n?” He asks worriedly. 

You clear your throat. “Yeah, I’m okay.”

He can’t help but notice that you’ve been on the edge since you felt him up. He believes that you did it with no malicious intent, so he really didn’t mind. He knows that all you think of him is a good help to the diner. That’s why you comfortably invited him to your home, but he can see right now that he’s made you uncomfortable for some reason.

Maybe you’re really embarrassed with what just happened even if he did say it was fine. He really was okay with you touching him, even if it was something more than just touching. But it’s not like you see him like that.

He likes you a lot, so he should just go so he doesn’t make you any more uneasy. “It’s getting late, so I’ll go now, y/n.” 

When he stands up, you immediately follow. “Oh? Already?” You ask with a hint of disappointment in your voice, which makes him a bit confused. Did you not want him to? 

“Do you want me to stay for a bit longer?”

You look at him hesitantly before shaking your head. He smiles amicably at you for the usual hospitality you’ve given him. “Thanks for the dinner, y/n.” He looks at the time and heads for the door. 

“Shoyo!”

He shifts his body to your direction while he waits for what you’re going to say “I- uhhh. Sorry about a while ago.”

He strides back to where you are and grabs your hand, slowly leading it to his chest with a faint grin playing on the corners of his lips. “It really is okay, y/n.” When your palm lands on his pecs, you just let it stay in one spot as you look at him differently than usual. You regard him with doe eyes gleaming with baffled curiosity.

With his grip still on your wrist, he does the work for you and guides your hand down to where you touched him just a while ago. Your line of sight follows your hand while his is completely focused on you, anticipating your reaction if you’re satisfied with just this.

He lets go of your wrist, allowing you to do as you please. You raise your gaze to meet his, your eyes asking him for permission.

“I really don’t mind, y/n.” 

Your other hand goes to his bicep, firmly grasping it before you take one step closer to him. Both 

your hands travel to his midsection, the feel of your delicate caress making his thoughts not as friendly as it used to be. Especially with how impressed you look with your hands all over him.

“Can I touch you too?” He blurts out without thinking. 

He instantly regrets it when he sees the surprised look on your face as you pull your hands away.

“No! I didn’t mean t-“

You silence him instantly by putting a hand over his mouth. “I didn’t say anything,” you mutter as you usher his one hand to your waist.

You remove your hand from his mouth and use it to lead his other hand on your neck. You don’t know what you’re doing. You keep your eyes on his neck while he languidly roams his left hand on the small of your back until his arm is wrapped around you. He doesn’t move his right hand away from your neck. He only strokes it tenderly with his thumb. 

“Y/n.”

You swallow the lump in your throat as you raise your gaze to him. “Can we do more than just touching?”

Instead of answering him, you yield to the heavy sensual pull that you’ve been trying to ignore earlier. You slowly reach for his lips, wanting to gradually settle yourself in the present situation.

But when your lips touched his, he didn’t share the same idea you had as he wastes no time exploring your mouth with his. All the hesitation he had is gone with his hand dropping down to your ass to give it a firm squeeze which draws you even closer to him, letting you feel his erection against your core. 

He doesn’t take his mouth off of yours as he leads you to the dining table, taking both of your ass cheeks in his hands and carrying your weight as he guides you to sit at the edge of the table. 

When you’re comfortably seated, he tugs the flank of your shirt and hurriedly takes it off you. You want to look at him to see what he looks like when he’s not being the nice Shoyo you used to see him as. But he gets back to your mouth in just a second, sticking his tongue out to let it wander inside your warm cavern. 

His hands immediately find the clasp of your bra and unhooks it with ease. That’s when he pulled away. His eyes are glued to your body as he removes the undergarment slowly, as if he’s unwrapping his gift with the slow reveal of your breasts.

His eyes glimmer with delight when he completely slides the clothing off your arms. It kinda makes you conscious with the way he’s staring at you, like his eyes are burning through your skin. You use one arm to cover your boobs, but he instantly sees through your plan. 

As soon as you lift your arm, soft panic sets off in his eyes. He immediately grips your wrist and slams your hand against the table.

“Don’t!” 

“But you were staring too much.”

His gaze drops down again to your unclad breasts with reverence. “Cause you’re pretty.” He leans down on you again, his plush lips just within an easy reach from yours. “So pretty that I can’t stop staring.” 

You expect him to kiss you again, but his mouth latches on your jaw instead, nipping the sensitive skin beneath it. A soft sigh comes out of your already parted lips while his palms trace the length of both your arms up to your shoulders. He kisses his way down to your collar bones, savoring any skin that his lips graze upon until he reaches one soft mound. 

His hands follow the trails of his lips, one finding its way on the curve of your hip while the other stops on your breast where his mouth isn’t latched onto.

He delivers sloppy kisses, sucking on your perk nipple and swirling his tongue on it like it was a treat. The other bud isn’t left out as he plays with it, tweaking it between his thumb and index finger. 

Your breathing starts to become shallow from the surge of desire spreading throughout your body. 

He cups both sides of your boobs and pushes them together before he continues on, letting his tongue toy with your nipples almost simultaneously. He’s so into it that his teeth accidentally scrape one bud.

“Ah!”

He immediately stops and looks at you apologetically, misunderstanding the moan that came from you.

“Sorry...”

“No. It felt good,” you feebly tell him.

His eyes brighten up and gets back to what he’s doing. He takes the hard bud in between his teeth, tugging it lightly as he looks up to you, his orbs eager for your approval. It spurs you on even more. You give him one nod as you feel your cunt throbbing from how your arousal is heightening by the minute. 

“Shoyo,” you call him weakly which he didn’t seem to hear. 

He lets go of your breasts and licks his way down right on top of your shorts, leaving a trail of saliva on your skin. He unbuttons your shorts, the sound of your zipper being rolled down letting you know what he’s planning. 

“Shoyo.” You call out louder this time, causing his hand to rest on your groin. “Let’s go to my room already.” You expect him to be glad, but he frowns. “But I want to taste you already. Please, y/n? I want to eat you out here.”

Your legs quiver from how much he wants you, his eagerness affecting you as you yourself get impatient and wonder how his tongue would feel on your pussy. 

“Do it.” He smiles at your approval as you lift your ass off the table to help him get your shorts off. You aren’t surprised that he tugs your underwear together with it as he peels it off you. You’re starting to get an idea how he is at bed - impatient, excitable, and eager to please.

A subtly smirk tugs up your lips when you realize you’re in for a fun night. 

He doesn’t notice it though. He takes a step back to relish the vision that you are. His eyes are completely focused on your bare body with keen hunger as he traces every curve in sight. You indulge him a bit by spreading your legs apart for him to see.

“Wow.”

His eyes don’t leave your cunt while he drags the chair he’s previously sitting on. He spreads your legs even further as he sits down. He places his thumbs on your inner thighs, gently caressing them before he stripes one thumb on your slit.

“You’re so wet, y/n,” he says right before dipping down and tracing his tongue where his thumb just did earlier. He continues doing so, licking up and down the length of your opening as you lean your head back to enjoy what he’s giving you. He eagerly slurps on your juices, lapping on your slit with his hot tongue.

He uses his thumbs to spread your folds that surround your clit, exposing the swollen bud for him to taste. When he gives it a delicate, languid lick, your one hand frantically grips his hair. He takes it up a notch and inserts his middle finger inside .

“Haaa,” you moan out loud which urges him on even more. He pumps his finger inside you, gradually picking up the pace when you start squirming within his hold. 

“Another,” you tell him breathlessly.

“Another what?” He asks cluelessly while his mouth continues ravaging your clit. “Add another finger,” you answer to which he complies immediately. He stretches you even more with the addition of one thick, calloused finger inside.

He looks up at you, parting his mouth away from your pussy to show you his two digits that are half inside you. “Like this?” 

You nod. “Yeah. Like,” He suddenly shoves the two fingers knuckles deep into you. “thathnnnnggg.” You clutch his hair tighter while your mouth gapes at the instant fullness you feel down in your center. His eyes don't leave your face anymore as he latches his mouth back on your hardened clit. 

You’re whining while grinding on his face, getting wetter even as he relentlessly drinks your lewd essence. He loves the look on your face, blissed out and completely lost in the moment. He loves how you keep trying to close your legs together even with his arm not allowing you to do so. He loves the desire glimmering clearly in your eyes as you meet his gaze while he feasts on your pussy. 

He already got aroused the first time you touched him. Seeing you unravel before him gets his cock throbbing painfully within his shorts. He’s so tempted to remove his arm and let you crush him between your thighs so he can palm his cock.

He doesn’t even know if you’d let him go any further than this. What if after you cum you change your mind and ask him to go home? There wouldn’t be anything wrong with that. He’ll just replay the scene before him as he jacks off in his own room. 

His one hand goes inside his shorts and takes out his cock, causing your thigh to waver without his support. He grasps the base of his dick, squeezing it firmly, easily distracting himself with his own pleasure as he moans in your cunt. 

You immediately notice. You see him firmly gripping his member, pumping it steadily up and down with eyes closed as he slows down his ministrations with you. You cup his face, forcing him to open his eyes and look at you again. “Stop fucking yourself. I’ll do it with my mouth after you make me cum.”

He stops like you asked him to. “Really?” His eyes pleading with lust to uphold your erotic promise. “Yeah. So make cum already,” you brazenly order him. He tucks his cock back in his shorts right away, using his arm once again to spread you wide. His mouth, lips, and fingers pick up the pace, thrusting swiftly in and out of your while flicking and sucking at your clit.

“Ooohhh fuck.” You claw on your wooden table from the rapid build up of pleasure. You can feel the heat in your groin, spreading quickly through your body. “Yes, yesss. Don’t stop,” you mindlessly whine. Everything he’s doing is pushing you further to your release - the friction and fullness provided by his fingers and the wild strokes of his tongue on your clit. He suddenly curves his fingers, hitting just the right spot that blurred your vision from how good it feels. 

“Cumming... am cumming, Shoyo!!” You trash helplessly on his face as the pleasure floods your senses, but he doesn’t stop. He only slows down, matching your post-orgasm state as you come down from your high. 

You tug his hair up while panting to catch your breath. “Come here.” He stands up and you reach for the back of his head to cover his mouth with yours, tasting your own fluids in his lips. “Help me get down,” you whisper to him. 

He effortlessly grabs the back of your thighs to get you to stand again. Once your feet reach the floor, you release his lips and drag him to your room. 

Once inside, you lock lips with him again as you scurry towards your bed. You get him to lie down as you straddle him, your wetness rubbing on the bulge of his shorts. You hurriedly remove his clothes, itching to see the delicious muscles you touched only with his shirt on. He helps you as he tugs down his shorts and underwear, his last piece of clothing thrown somewhere on the floor. 

You bite your lower lip as your eyes roam on his body. He should thank beach volleyball for the tan and the jaw-dropping build. Your gaze falls on his naked bulge that you saw a glimpse of earlier. Damn. You weren’t seeing things earlier. He really is packing down there. 

“Is something wrong?” He asks with a worried look, returning your gaze back at him. “Nothing’s wrong. Everything’s,” Your eyes get distracted with how he gulps, your gaze lingering down again on his gorgeous chest. “..fine.”  

You return the favor, starting on his neck. You plant your arms on his shoulder as you move your hips up, resting your cunt on his toned abs. You deliver soft kisses on the delicate skin of his neck, letting your tongue sneak a few licks as you go down on him until his cock is within the reach of your mouth. 

You position yourself in between his legs as you grip his shaft. His hips lift up from the contact. You watch his reactions as you start to drag your palm around his member up and down. He’s already heaving with lips parted as he takes the pleasure you’re giving him with eyes closed. You find it cute - how he’s this sensitive when you’re barely done anything yet. 

You gather your spit and let it drool at his cock, the translucent liquid glazing the tip down to the base. You trace his length with your index finger, from the tiny slit of his tip down to his balls. You go back up to the head of his cock, but you do it with your tongue instead of your finger. 

You peek at him again. He’s semi sitting up with his elbows on the cushion as he glues his eyes on your tongue on his dick. You grip him again, tighter this time before pressing one digit firmly on his tip. He throws his head back from the pressure and you use that chance to take his thick girth in your mouth

His thighs tremble as he lets out a euphoric moan while you sink lower and lower on his dick. “Your mouth -aahhh so gooood.” 

He really likes you and thinks you’re fun to talk to, but sometimes he’d catch himself fantasizing about you when he gets home and ends up masturbating at the thought of you sucking him off. But his right hand doesn’t even compare to the actual warmth of your lips wrapped around his dick at present.

He keeps his eyes on you, which is a bad idea for him since it’s only quickening the pleasure that was boiling at the pit of his stomach. But he can’t help but stare at you. You look so good, so pretty, with your ass up as you suck him even faster.

He can feel his cum threatening to explode already. He feels so lame, but your mouth just feels so magnificent that he can’t hold it in any further. “Stop, y/n. Please~ aah ahhh gonna cum already.” He doesn’t want you to be disappointed with him, but it’s as if you didn’t hear him. You even go deeper while quickening your pace.

He gives in to it, gripping your hair as the peak of his pleasure takes over. He expects you to pull away, but you continue sucking, letting him shoot his load at the back of your throat. 

You take all of it, swallowing every drop he let out in your mouth. You did hear him say stop, but the lascivious delight on his face contradicted his words. You had to let him finish even if that meant you won’t get to feel how his cock feels inside your already sopping pussy. 

You sit up as you wipe your mouth with the back of your hand. As for Shoyo, he covers his eyes with his forearm while he pants. You start to get up and head for your drawers when you feel him grab your wrist before you can even leave the bed

“Where are you going?” He asks. 

“To get dressed.”

“But we’re not done yet?”

You appreciate the thought. He really is such a generous guy, but.. “It’s fine, Shoyo. You don’t have to force it. You’re already soft??” Your statement becomes a question when you see his arousal still erect. 

You don’t know whether to be amused or amazed at that, so you end up staring dumbfounded at him who’s still lying on his back.

He grins at you as he sits up straight and goes for your lips. It wasn’t soft and gentle like you expect from someone who just came. He seems even hungrier, more eager for you. 

He guides your hand to his shaft, confirming that he’s hard and ready to continue with what you have in mind. You smile into the kiss, curious and excited as to how he feels inside your pussy. Horny as you are, you throw yourself at him which causes him to lie back down again with you on top of him. 

As your tongues clash against one another, you rub your moist slit against his erection, teasing both yourself and him while doing so. He’s groaning in your mouth while he keeps one hand on the back of your head and the other firmly gripping your waist. “Y/n, can I put in already?” He asks with hazy eyes even though his hand on your waist goes down to his cock and aligns it on your folds.

“Mmm, wait.” You lift yourself off of him and reach for your purse that was hanging on one of the metal bed frames. You quickly get a condom and throw your purse somewhere. You tear the packet and remove his hand from his shaft to unroll the rubber on it while he watches. You take over his previous attempt and position the tip on your entrance. You place a palm on his stomach to anchor yourself as you lower yourself on him. 

He stares at you mesmerized while you wince from how his cock is spreading you open. You ball your fist that was still on his abdomen, trying to get used to the discomfort even if he’s still not fully inside you. He recovers first and glances back on how you’re doing. 

“Shoyo, you’re-ughhh-big,” you tell him with a pained expression. “I- I am?” He asks with pink streak surfacing on his cheeks, flattered from what you said. You nod while sinking lower until you finally cover the last inch, taking him entirely inside you.

He whips his head back on to the pillow with his cock completely sheathed inside the tight warmth of your pussy. He thought your mouth was already marvelous, but the way your walls deliciously envelop his cock is way beyond his wet dreams. 

Your hand joins the other, supporting yourself as you slowly lift your hips up and descend back down with the same agonizing tempo. While you adjust to his size, he keeps his eyes on his cock disappearing each bob of your hip. 

From your pussy, he rakes his eyes up to your naked body glimmering with sweat. You look so beautiful with your eyes shut, gaping lips, and tits bouncing altogether as you speed up. “You look so fucking pretty, y/n.” Your eyes flutter open from the unexpected vulgarity he uttered. It wasn’t like him, but it wasn’t forced either. He regards you with lust swimming in his orbs, the courteous friendship you two have totally erased as of this moment. 

You still for a second before you remove your hands off him and place them on his thighs as you lean back. You spread your thighs and plant the soles of your feet on your bed. You see his eyes widen because of the view. Rather bouncing up and down, you gyrate on his cock. It’s supposed to be a show for him, but with his size, you feel his cock gloriously scrape your insides with the circular movement of your hips. 

“Shit!” You curse before you close your eyes again as you start grinding on him. You don’t start slow this time. You impatiently roll your hips against his, driving his cock deep inside you each plunge. You didn’t think it would get any better than this until you feel his thumb on your neglected cit.

“Oh ffffuuuck.” You can’t even open your eyes anymore while his two fingers replace his thumb and rub the sensitive bud frantically. You could feel the pleasure escalating faster and faster with every salacious thrust of your hip and his every flick of your clit..

“Are you gonna cum, y/n?” You hear him ask. 

“Yesss. Am gonna cuuuuuummmm.” You clutched his legs tighter when your orgasm hits, your vision blurry when you open your eyes as you ride it out. He pulls your panting self to his chest and tenderly caresses your back.

He sweeps your hair behind your ear and whispers. “Did that feel nice?” 

You nod weakly. “Did you cum?” You ask in return. You were so occupied in your own pleasure that you lost awareness of his. He chuckles lowly. “No.”

“Oh..” You lift yourself up a bit to meet his gaze and apologize. 

“Why are you saying sorry? We aren’t done yet.”

What he said as a question earlier became a statement. Something changed in his eyes, a spark of determination that isn’t there earlier.

“Let’s just continue next time, Shoyo. I’m kind of tired,” you explain.

“There’s a next time?!” His eyes shine with enthusiasm which makes you laugh softly.

“Sure. Why not?” You lift your hips up but his hands quickly go down your ass and crash you back down, shoving his dick back in you hard and deep.

“Gaah!” 

“Thanks, y/n. But don’t worry about being tired. I’ll move instead,” he hums on your ear as he spreads your ass cheeks and pummels his cock wildly into your sensitive pussy.

You moan on his neck at the savage pace he starts with. “Shoyo, pleaseee. Sloweer mmmmm.”

“But why?” He whines. You can’t answer with how ferociously he’s rutting against you, his dick consistent with its swift thrusts. “Shit, your pussy feels amazing. So good, fuck.” His crude words of praise fan your pleasure that was rapidly filling your senses again. 

He rams your hips down to meet one sharp thrust. You gasp from how deep his cock went inside you. “Aaah!” 

“Do I make you feel good, y/n?”

You nod weakly as you grind slowly on his cock, desperate to chase your pleasure but too tired from your earlier stunt.

“Please, move,” you whisper with exhaustion.

“Tell me first. I want to hear it,” he demands.

“Too good, Shoyo. Your cock feels too good. So please, fuck me again already,” you shamelessly beg as his cock throbs inside you. 

Instead of granting your plea, he takes his cock out and pulls you to lie underneath him. He parts your legs apart for him and jams his dick right back inside. That’s when he indulges you, thrusting his size in and out of you at an unforgiving pace. 

He leans down on you, intertwining his fingers with yours as he pins both your hands on the bed. “Do you like this, y/n?” 

“I love it. Please please pleaaaaseee. Don’t stop mmmmmm,” you babble messily as your impending orgasm overwhelms you.

He clumsily kisses you, his teeth grazing your lips as slips his tongue in before covering his mouth with yours. He’s groaning relentlessly on your mouth while drilling his dick in your cunt. “You gonna cum?” 

“Yeaass haaa.” Your moans become louder and louder each thrust. “Gonna cum like this? With-ugh-my cock inside you?”

His obscene words make you writhe beneath him. You arch your back from the intense pleasure. He dips down on one nipple and fervidly sucks it. “Gonna c-aahhhhhhh.” You thrash violently beneath him as your hands clench his to ground yourself from the explosive orgasm that he caused.

“Fuck, yes. Cum on my cock, uhhh. Like that. Shit.”

His thrusts become erratic as he goes after his own orgasm while he milks yours. You hazily open your eyes and watch him chase his high with eyes shut and parted lips, animalistic pleasure taking over his features. He delivers one swift thrust and stays completely still, his dick twitching inside you as he cums.

You both pant heavily with him on top of you.

— 

You open the door for him and bid him goodnight. Your legs feel like crap but you don’t want to just drive him away on his own.

“Thanks for tonight, Shoyo.”

You’re not sure what you’re thanking him for, the company or the sex. Maybe both. 

“Um, y/n?” 

“Yeah?”

“Will there really be a next time?” He asks apprehensively, totally different from his demeanor from your last moments in bed. It’s kinda amusing. You didn’t think he had that in him.

“You’ll still help me close up the diner, right?” You ask meaningfully.

He beams at you. “Of course.”

Beach || masterlist

taglist (those crossed out can’t be tagged)

@ameliaxo @suikrem​ @akaashisslavee @tsumurai  @celestialarchiveshq​ @loving-unicorns106 @flairlust @crescenttooru @yashuaaa @liberhoe​

[navegandoaciegas]

California Bound.

Pairing: Bucky x fem!Reader

Warnings: smut, yandere, homeless!bucky, stalking, home intrusion, obsession, loneliness, sad!bucky, disturbing thoughts, dubcon? This is a dark fic.

Words: 4k

Summary: You’re so lonely and isolate in this city that if you died your neighbours wouldn’t even notice, your colleagues wouldn’t care and your boss would probably be pissed that you didn’t put in your two weeks notice before you went to hell. Bucky is tired of being alone and invisible and he knows you are too. He knows you can mend each other's’ hearts. 

A/N: set after CA:TWS. I’m not a native speaker so forgive me for any mistakes. Please let me know what you think and like and reblog if you liked it :) feedback is always appreciated!

In the unstable state of his scattered mind he can vividly recall a woman in a red dress. 

Some memories are long gone, some are fragmented, and although the lines of her face have been blurred by the passing of time and decades of electrocution, her plump red lips are permanently burned in the back of his brain.

When he closes his eyes, sometimes, he can still see her smile. 

Only she’s not smiling at him.

She’s smiling at Steve, his brother, his friend, his mission. 

Not even seventy years of brainwashing and torture could get rid of the sadness that filled him when she walked past and ignored him as if he wasn’t there, as if nothing else in that room existed except for Steve.

In his memory she doesn’t see him, and nobody has since. 

Perhaps it’s in that moment that he became no one, in that moment he was condemned to an existence of pain, loneliness and invisibility.

He’s a ghost that haunts the dirty streets of Philadelphia, crouched behind the dumpsters of dark alleys, begging the ones who sneer at him for spare change in train stations, lurking in the shadows to pickpocket the rich passerbys of the city.

  The hormone suppressants HYDRA forced on him are wearing off.

He can feel himself slipping, his most primal instincts violently surging back after 70 years of being repressed. His brain goes haywire when he catches sight of a pair of legs clad in a short skirt, the blood draining from his brain and travelling straight to his cock, and he wills himself to restrain his urges.

Modern women are so pretty, and they wear so little clothes. They don’t see him, of course, but he sees them. 

He sees those tight little dresses, those high heels, those long lashes and bright lips.

In another life he could have been like one of the rich boys he often spots outside of clubs, well dressed and well groomed, and maybe those pretty girls would have fawned over him too.

But not in this life.

In this life he’s been alone for 70 years, and his loneliness consumes him so intensely that some nights, when the cold is unbearable and the streets are empty, he wishes he hadn’t been born at all.

In this life he doesn’t shower and shave for weeks on end, and his hair is so greasy and matted that even if he wasn’t in hiding he’d have to wear a baseball cap anyways. When he looks at himself in the mirror he barely recognizes the handsome soldier in a blue uniform he saw at the Smithsonian. The man who stares back at him in the mirrors of soiled public restrooms has deep frown lines on his forehead, dark circles under dull eyes and a patch of white hair on his beard. Only the startling blue of his eyes has stood the test of time.

Those pretty girls wouldn’t spare him a second glance.

 He’s tired of the loneliness that plagues him. He just wishes to be seen.

He wants someone to look at him, really look at him, in anything other that pity or disgust. He wants someone who could hold him at night and take care of his battered soul.

He wants a companion to spend his time with, someone he could talk to; when was the last time he uttered a single word? When was the last time someone touched him tenderly?

You’d think after all he’s been through that being alone would be a walk in the park in comparison, but the emptiness that eats him alive is the most unbearable torture he’s ever been subjected to. It took HYDRA 20 years to break him, it only took the loneliness a couple of months.

  He just wants someone.

Someone who sees him.

And you do. You see him.

 He’s hunched over in a recess in the wall of an alley, violently shaking. The ground beneath him is frozen, the strong winds are like a slap in the face and the heavy-duty winter jacket he was able to steal isn’t doing much to protect him from the harsh weather. Maybe he won’t survive tonight, he almost dares to hope.

He’s still crying when he spots a pair of crisp white sneakers coming his way, and he looks up. He’s seen you around a couple of times, you’re one of the pretty girls who short circuit his brain.

You’re wearing a bright yellow winter jacket and black jeans. You look young, but he can’t tell how young. People nowadays age different than they used to back then. You’re probably way younger than him, although he has no idea exactly how old he is; he was 27 when he went to war, how much has he aged? How young is too young for a man with no age?

The light of the lamps behind you diffuses a soft halo around your body. You shine on your own light, brighter than the sun; you’re an angel so beautiful, so perfect that he doesn’t know if you’re a figment of his imagination.

You crouch down and hand him a bunch of blankets and a warm cup of something, maybe tea? When he grabs it his fingers brush against yours and it sends a jolt of electricity down his spine. He expects you to grimace in disgust at his touch, but you don’t. You smile.

You smile at him.

Suddenly he doesn’t feel the cold anymore, he only feels the warm tingling in his stomach. 

He smiles back, or at least he tries. He hasn’t smiled since World War II, as Nazis didn’t give him a lot of reasons to, to be honest. 

And just like you appeared, you’re gone in a heartbeat.

But he can’t simply let you go like that, so he resolves to summon back the Asset’s stealth and gets up to follow you.

That night when he closes his eyes the smile he sees belongs to you.

-

   They say even your worst day only lasts 24 hours; too bad your worst day has become your worst year so far.

They also say when you reach rock bottom the only way to go is up. They lied about that too.

Somehow today you’ve been scraping the bottom of the pit you’re in and have dug yourself even deeper than the lowest you could get.

You want to say your day can’t get any worse than this, but you know there’s always room for worsening.

The feeble March sun shines through the clouds and you’re dreading the flight of stairs that awaits you since your landlord categorically refuses to have the lift fixed. By the time you get to your door you’re exhausted and can’t wait to shower the day away and lounge on your couch.

 You open up the door to your apartment and get inside in a rush, only to stop dead in your tracks when you notice something is off about your home. There’s an eerie stillness about the open space, and maybe you’re going crazy but it seems like some of your things are not where you’d left them.

Apparently you just unlocked a lowest level to rock bottom.

It takes you a couple of seconds to register it, but when you do the hair on the back of your neck stand up and your brain screams danger at you.

There’s a smell inside that is not yours. It’s the strong, manly smell of sweat, and it wouldn’t be entirely unpleasant if it weren't for the fact that you live alone and don’t usually have men over.

 You never think it’s going to happen to you until it does.

You took self defense in college, you carry pepper spray with you, you always thought if you were in danger you’d be able to defend yourself, or at least bolt away.

They never tell you that fear is paralyzing. They don’t tell that the anticipation of pain roots you on the spot, that your legs feel like they’re made of lead and all you can do is wait for the impact to come. They don’t tell you that the dread that chills the blood in your veins can break the most primal of mechanisms humans have, and the fight or flight response you were counting on to save you abandons you too

When it happens, you don’t even hear it coming; there’s a prickle at the base of your neck and, before you descend into the darkness, two arms envelope you, and you feel the ghost of a kiss on your shoulder.

-

  You try to peel your eyes open when a hand delicately caresses your cheek and lingers on your lips. Your eyelids are heavy, your head is pounding like you’re having the worst hangover in you life and your whole body is aching. You want to speak, you want to shake that hand away, but you are unmoving. 

It reminds you of the medicine induced hallucination you used to have, which were an inconvenient side effect of the same prescription drugs that were supposed to help you sleep. It feels like a sleep paralysis, minus the demon sitting on your stomach. 

-

 You’re slipping in and out of consciousness when you hear it. There’s a voice speaking.

You suppose whoever it belongs to is talking to you. You strain your ears and will yourself to concentrate real hard, despite your brain pulsing in your skull and threatening to burst out.

The voice definitely belongs to a man, and whoever he is, he sounds very soft spoken and polite. Too bad he broke into your house and drugged you.

“So pretty, so perfect for me.”

“We won’t ever be lonely anymore, I promise you that.”

“...cleaned up real good for you...”

“...can’t wait for you to wake up.”

It’s all you can make out in your drowsy state. He peppers your forehead and the crown of your head with soft kisses. There’s two strong arms holding you. You fall back asleep.

-

  The sun shines brightly through the curtains of your bedroom and you want to flip the universe off for lining up the morning rays directly onto your face, and yourself for forgetting to draw the blinds.

You almost cuss yourself out for being yet again late for work when the events of the previous evening rush back to you. You wake with a jolt and you feel terror enveloping you when you see him. 

Fear grips your throat and you want to scream, you want to thrash about and punch him, and yet all you can do is look at him with wide eyes.

You feel your chest heaving but it’s almost like it doesn’t belong to you, it’s not happening to you, it can’t; you breathe but the air won’t reach your lungs. 

The man detects your distress and sits next to you. He carefully reaches for your hand and places on his chest, over his heart.

You are immobile.

You hate yourself for it. You wish you could do something about this but your stupid brain refuses to cooperate.

“Calm down baby, I’m not here to hurt you.” says the guy who gave you morphine. “Concentrate on my breathing, ‘kay? Inhale, hold your breath- good, now exhale, and again.”

He guides you through a breathing exercise that suggests you it may not be the first time he’s had to calm himself or others from an almost panic attack. The steady beat of his heart calms you down.

“Don’t cry, please.” he pleads with you.

You’re back at it again with the inappropriate thoughts for someone who’s been kidnapped and might get killed in the next few minutes, but you can’t not think how handsome your captor is.

He’s got dark hair gathered up in an elastic at the nape of his neck. His jawline is sharp and his cheekbones high. His eyes are the bluest you’ve ever seen, his lips look soft and pink and his nose is small and cute for a man so chiselled and intimidating.

“I promise I won’t hurt you.” he tells you, and smiles almost shyly at you.

There’s a look on his face that should reassure you, because it means that you won’t die today, but it can only mean you’re doomed to something maybe worse than death. 

His expression is tender, like you’re the most precious thing in the world. He seems so affectionate, so loving, that for a moment you wish this was real, you wish your former partners would have looked at you so devotedly.

He takes your hand in his again and traces soothing pattern with his thumb. 

Finally you seem to snap back to reality.

“Who are you?” You manage to squeak out. Your throat is on fire, and you’re grateful for the water bottle he hands over to you.

He frowns and seems to think about it until he manages to mumble a “My name is Bucky.”

He hesitates over his name like it doesn’t really belong to him.

You’re puzzled as to why you’re so calm. You’ve never been a feisty one, that’s true; you spent your life conforming to rules, you always complied to orders because you like to be praised and you hate to disappoint. As a child you feared punishments, being grounded, the look of dissatisfaction on your parents’ faces more than anything else in the world.

But you never imagined you’d be striking a conversation with the intruder in your house like it was an everyday occurrence. 

It only takes a look to understand that you can’t outrun the guy, nor overpower him. He’s built like a bulldozer and his biceps are bigger than you. He said he wouldn’t hurt you, and as absurd as it sounds you believe him, but it doesn’t mean you’d come out unscathered if you tried to fight him.

Maybe you could outsmart him? Comply until he trusts you and then take off?

“I’ve been watching you.”  Oh shit . “You saved my life.”

You can’t stop the remark from escaping your lips. “A thank you would have sufficed, you know, no need to kidnap me and all.” 

You weren’t feisty, sure, but that didn’t mean you weren’t a snarky bitch.

The guy chuckles, and it seems like his own amusement surprises you both alike.

“Two months ago, back in January. I was freezing to death. You came and gave me blankets and tea. It warmed me enough to survive the night. I knew back then you were perfect.”

Oh, God . The one time you decided to be a good citizen and gave the blankets you hogged in your cubicle at work to the homeless guy that was always crouched in the back alley of your office building, then one you’d see when you sneaked out the back to smoke on company time.

You almost don’t recognize him. 

“You’re just like me in a way. I saw you so sad all this time, you hate your job, you’re always alone. I saw you cry because you feel so lonely. I know that it feels like. I’ve been alone for so long.” He whispers the last part softly, and your heart clenches because it’s true, you’re so damn lonely, but you can recognize the loneliness in his eyes too. He cradles your face in his hands. “But I promise you won’t be alone anymore. You got me now.”

“I don’t know- I-I don’t even know you. Please just let me go, I promise I won’t tell anyone. Please don’t hurt me.” You start to plead with him and your words get swallowed by the sobs that shake you. Your heartbeat picks up again. 

You know fear now, the real one, but it pales in comparison of the one you feel when the implication of his words starts to sink in.

He just smiles at you. 

“What do you want?” you manage to whisper.

“You. We’re going to be happy I promise. I read the notes on your phone where you wrote you wanted to travel, remember that?” You nod weakly, recalling the depressive entry about how stuck your boring life is and the bucket list of all the places you’d want to visit.

“We’re going to travel, I’ll take you wherever you want. Just don’t leave me please, be with me.”

You almost ask with what money since you’re homeless my guy, but then a thought strikes you.

You won’t miss your boring life the moment it will slip away from you; you won’t miss being stuck alone in a city you despise doing a job you hate. You won’t miss the homesickness. You won’t miss berating yourself for accepting a job immediately post grad in a city on the other side of America, just because you were scared of being left behind, of being that one person who ends up with no job after college and has to move back to their parents house.

Maybe, had you stayed in your hometown, or accepted that other position in Austin, maybe this shit wouldn’t have happened to you. You’ll never know.

He pulls you into a hug and you’re so startled your crying subsizes. 

He shushes you and coos you while rocking you in his arms. “It’s okay baby, I promise you’re going to like it, you don’t have to worry about a thing, I got it all sorted out for you.”

You’re shocked.

He pushes you down on the bed and as your mind elaborates the worst case scenario possible and as you’re on the verge of another panic attack, he simply envelops you in his arms and puts his head on your chest. 

You’re stunned again.

Almost on instinct you wrap your own smaller arms around his shoulders and he sighs contentedly. You’re so touch starved and desperate for affection that even hugging your stalkers feels kinda nice.

You haven’t touched anyone and no one has touched you in such fondness in almost a year. Hook-ups don’t count. 

You’re so lonely and isolate in this city that if you died your neighbours wouldn’t even notice, your colleagues wouldn’t care and your boss would probably be pissed that you didn’t put in your two weeks notice before you went to hell.

 Lost in thought you only notice he’s about to kiss you when it’s too late.

At first he hesitantly pecks your lips, and then he’s trying to pry your mouth open with his tongue. You don’t know what possesses you to do it but you part your lips.

He’s uncertain on how to move around, like he doesn’t know how to kiss or he’s forgetten how, he has absolutely no idea where to put his hands, and it’s honestly kind of awkward.

You imagine this is what it’s like to kiss a middle schooler.

He pulls away and blushes. “Sorry, it’s been a while.”

You’re stunned yet again.

He’s not apologizing for stalking you, breaking in and drugging you, but because he’s a bad kisser?

He slants his mouth against yours again, this time more forcefully than before. And after almost choking you when he pushes his tongue so deep it would have reached your tonsils hadn’t you had them removed, he seems to get the gist of it, or maybe the muscle memory kicks back in, because even if you won’t admit it to yourself, it feels nice.

You feel sick and twisted but it’s good to have someone desire you, touch you so tenderly, kiss you so passionately. The guys you use to entertain yourself in your solitude never kiss you while they fuck you into oblivion. You forgot how comforting the weight of a warm body on yours is.

You don’t push him away until you feel your t-shirt rip.

His hands explore your body ignoring your pleads to stop.

He’s nowhere and everywhere all at once. One hand squeezes your ass and the other kneads your breasts while he leaves open mouthed, hungry kisses down your throat, until he reaches the soft skin between your neck and clavicles and starts sucking in like a man possessed. You automatically jerk forward and buckle your hips until they touch his and he lets out a groan that travels straight to your already dripping core. 

You hate yourself for it, but you’ve never been this aroused.

You hate yourself for giving in so effortlessly, for being so damn weak, so damn lonely.

It’s mortifying how easy you’re making this for him. 

Your mind tries to will your body to push him from you, but instead of shoving him away your hands grab his shoulder and pull him closer.

You hate yourself because when he dips his hand in your soaked panties as he suckles on your nipple, your body doesn’t even try to protect you. 

You’re at his mercy as he pushes his long fingers through your folds and smears your arousal around, before dipping them inside.

“All this for me, pretty girl?” 

Cocky bastard.

He moans in your mouth as he grinds his hips on your leg and you feel the extent of his manhood. 

“So pretty, so perfect, so good for me.”

It shouldn’t feel this good, but again you’ve been a slut for praise since you came out the womb. You moan and whine in pleasure and he’s clearly very proud of himself for being the one who elicits these sounds from you. His thumb finds your bud and massages it, sending jolts of unadulterated pleasure down your spine.

You’re trembling under his touch. Your legs are shaking, toes curling, and you can’t stop yourself from moaning louder what you ever have. You can feel the familiar tightness in your core that precedes an orgasm, but you need more.

“Please Bucky, please. Faster.” you whine, ashamed of yourself for pleading like that. 

You’re so lost in your own pleasure you don’t notice the look of hunger that crosses Bucky’s face at the mention of his name. He never thought he’d be able to give you so much, he never knew his hand could bring anything other than pain and destruction, but his name sounds so sweet on your tongue.

“Cum pretty girl, cum all over my fingers for me, I know you can.”

And you do. You cum so hard your vision goes black for a second as you lose yourself to the pleasure that travels from your core to the rest of your body.

You’re floating, so dazed that you barely notice he’s undressed you and taken off his pants. When you feel something prod at your entrance, you look down in horror only to find him already lined up with you.

He’s got the prettiest cock you’ve ever seen, and it’s so big, so thick you’re scared he’s going to rip you apart. He doesn’t give you time to react before he’s slamming inside of you.

The scream that rips out of you is animalistic, and he stills.

“God you’re so tight, clamping down on me.” He grunts in you ear as he sets a slow pace.

The pain soon subsides and gives place to more pleasure than you’ve ever felt in your life. He picks up the pace when you stretch around his girth painlessly, and rolls his hips around.

“So good for me.”

“Mine, only mine.”

“My good girl.”

“Taking me so well.”

“Gonna fill you up so good.”

“Fuck, you feel incredible.”

Your pussy clamps down on his cock with each praise he grunts in your ear. You’re so overstimulated and he’s so vocal that you feel like you’re about to burst when you cum again and again for what feels like an eternity, before his movements become sloppier and messier.

You cum once more when he swells inside of you, and you feel the tell-tale sensation of fullness when he fills you up with his cum.

He collapses on you, panting. 

You’re both satisfied and spent.

He kisses you once more, on your lips, and it’s so sweet and tender that you almost cry because you know deep down you couldn’t take one more day of solitude.

His voice is deep and hoarse when he speaks again.

“How ‘bout we start with California?”

[nooneelsecomesclose17]

I saw my love walking down the aisle

So I don't think Robert would do this fresh out of prison, because he'll feel like he really doesn't deserve Aaron anymore, but let's just have fun because reality is boring.

(AO3 link)

"...if anyone has any objections to the marriage, please state them now."

Ben winked at him because who would? His family were almost giddy with happiness and he's sure if he turned round his Mum would be crying while trying to keep hold of Eve who had recently decided that being held was bad and tried to escape at every opportunity. Ben's family were all smiles when he'd met them earlier.

There was no one who was going to object to the marriage.

It was just a whisper and he thought he was imagining it, nerves getting the better of him, but then it got louder and then he heard footsteps on the ballroom floor, gasps following them.

"I do. I object." He'd known, from the first whisper, that voice would never be strange to him, he heard it in his dreams almost every night.

If he turns round he might not be there. Maybe he's dreaming now, perhaps that's what all of this is, just a dream and then he'll wake up back in his bed, familiar blonde hair tickling his chest as Robert fidgets in his sleep.

He couldn't be here, he just couldn't.

"I don't know who you think you are, but you're in the wrong place."

"Aaron." He almost smiles at the fact that Robert's clearly just ignoring Ben completely but then he remembers what's actually going on and he turns around, hands balling into fists.

"Why are you here?" He almost gasps because even though he's different, there's lines on his face that weren't there before, he's thinner, and his hair is a mess, but he's still Robert, the man he loves, the man he married. "I don't understand."

"They let me go."

It's like there's no one else in the room and it's only Ben's hand on his arm that drags him out of that fantasy.

"This is Robert?" The way he says his name sets his teeth on edge, a hint of disdain, like he's better than him. He just nods, eyes not leaving Robert's, can't get his brain to hang onto a single thought. "You need to go mate."

"I'm not your mate."

"Whatever. Me and Aaron are getting married."

"Well we'll see won't we."

He isn't fast enough to stop him, Ben's fist flying out, catching Robert's chin, and he comes round enough to drag him away before he can do any more damage. Robert, the bastard, just laughs and it makes him shiver. It's a laugh of someone who's been punched too often, that it just rolls off him now.

"What the hell are you doing?"

"You're asking me that? He's the one bursting in on our wedding!"

He turns to look at him, still holding his chin, eyes dark but staring right at him. "If you tell me to go I will."

The silence goes on because he knows he should, Ben's been good to him and he likes him he does, and how will it look to everyone if he just runs off.

"Well? Are you going to tell him to go? Aaron?"

"I..." He should, he knows that, it's the right thing, they only end up hurting each other, but he can't find the words.

"He left you, he threw what you had away and then he cut you off, divorced you without a word. Where was he when Liv was struggling? When you needed someone? He was nowhere. I was there, I was the one helping you."

"I know." Another look at Robert sees him looking ashamed, and it kills him. "Can you just...I need a minute." Ben looks furious but he nods. He daren't look at his Mum, probably the only thing holding her back is Cain because he can't believe she hasn't tried to bundle Robert out all on her own. "Come on."

Robert follows him, leaving a buzz of noise behind him. He finds an empty room along the corridor, slamming the door shut behind them.

"What the hell are you doing?"

"Stopping you from making a mistake."

"What would you know about it? You don't know anything about my life anymore. That was your choice! You can't just come in here and...how did you know about it anyway?"

"Vic. She doesn't know I'm here, she would've killed me. I heard her and Diane talking this morning." He'd invited her, and Diane, feeling weird about it but he'd known them both long before Robert, but a couple of days before they'd both cried off, telling him Harry wasn't well, which was obviously a lie. "So, Ben seems..."

"Don't."

"Boring. Or maybe he just makes a bad impression?" Of course he can't help himself. At least he's not half cut this time, and singing badly. "All of this was his idea I suppose?"

"Robert just shut up! You don't know anything!"

"I know you. I know that fancy hotels, tons of guests and I'm guessing tiny little canapés aren't you. I know that when you're happy, truly happy you can see it in your eyes. They shine and they're an even deeper blue than normal."

"I love him." It sounds fake even to him and he doesn't know why he's bothering.

"Do you? Honestly?"

"That's none of your business." He can't help himself, reaches out to touch the bruise on his chin, already angry and red. "You idiot."

"I've had worse."

"Don't." He doesn't want to think about it, can't let him in because if he does, that'll be it. "How are you even here?"

"I got out on appeal." He's staring out of the window now, but Aaron knows he's not here anymore, he's back there. "Some solicitor friend of Vic's wrote to me. Seems like Luke had a fight with his brother the same day I hit him. He said it was a really small chance but he owed her...found someone who said it couldn't be proved which blow actually killed him." He can barely take it in, will ask him more later, his mind still catching up with itself.

"Did Vic know?" Robert nods. "When?"

"I called her the day of the hearing. A week ago."

"You've been out a week? And you didn't tell me?"

"She said...well I wanted you to move on didn't I? Live your life. When she told me I accepted it, I did, but when I woke up this morning I couldn't just let you go without giving it one more try. Was going to try and find out but then I heard her." Aaron sinks onto the arm of a chair, overwhelmed with anger, at Luke, at Vic for not telling him, and relief that Robert was out, not in that place anymore. "I meant what I said, if you tell me to go I will."

"You'd let me marry him?"

"I'd let you be happy. That's all I've ever wanted for you. I would've done anything for that to happen." He comes back over, sits in front of him. "I mean it, if you really are happy with him, if there's no way you and me can ever happen then I'll go, I'll move away, whatever you want."

"You'd leave your family, for me?"

"I...I don't think I can stand seeing you and him. Vic would understand."

There's no question, he knows that, has known it ever since he'd heard Robert's voice. Ben's right, he has been there, has helped him, but if he's truly honest with himself there's always been this feeling of guilt, or an obligation, like he should be grateful that Ben's interested after everything. He'd thought it was just reluctance on his part after Robert, but now he knows different.

"You'd really let me go?"

"If it's what you want, yeah." He looks stricken at the thought however much he tries to hide it.

"I want you." He whispers after what feels like ages. "I've always wanted you, even when I was hating you."

"Yeah?" It's a whisper and it has him on his feet, holding onto Robert for dear life, for whatever's happened to him inside. He's never letting go again.

"What did you tell me once? It's you and me, always has been, always will be."

"You remember that?" The look of embarrassment on his face makes Aaron smile because it really wasn't one of his finest moments. Despite that it was probably one of Aaron's favourite moments because even though they were broken up and Robert was making a holy show of himself, the words had meant everything to him.

"Vividly." Robert laughs and then he's kissing him and not stopping until there's a quiet knock on the door, then Cain's poking his head round the door.

"Right then. I guess that answers everyone's question." Robert's laughing against his shoulder and he slaps a hand against his arm to shut him up. "Your Mum is about to storm in here so..."

"I suppose I should talk to Ben." He really didn't want to, didn't want to face him because he was the one at fault wasn't he, for going this far when he'd known deep down it wasn't what he wanted, but then he'd thought he couldn't have what he wanted.

"He, uh...he left." Cain look uncomfortable, scratching his chin and looking back out the door.

"Oh. Right, well...I best explain to everyone else then."

"There's just our lot, and well most of us knew the minute that lump turned up."

"Cheers Cain., nice to see you too."

"You hurt him again and they'll not find a trace of ya, got that."

"I won't." With that Cain goes and the two of them fall into hysterical laughter.

"So, what now?"

"Well...I'm guessing Mill is full of all his stuff?" Aaron nods. "Vic's is full of...well Vic, and I can't help noticing that we're in a very fancy hotel."

"Very fancy. Very pricey. Especially the honeymoon suite." He's smiling though.

"I do like a good hotel if you remember." He shakes his head at him. They need to talk, they're not fixed just because of this and he knows Robert's putting on a front, but right now he doesn't care. He just wants Robert.

"Be rude to let it go to waste then, wouldn't it?"

[bumbershots]

LOVEFOOL

Author’s note: HELLO! This is my part for the Valentine’s Day challenge that @1dffchallenges put together. Make sure to keep an eye out for any other pieces published by other authors. Enjoy! And happy Valentine’s weekend! (:

Summary: Harry agrees to go on a blind date set up by his friends in hopes that it will help him move on from an unrequited love.

Word count: 3K

Challenge prompt and dialogue: blind date set up by friends. “I don’t want this to end...”

There’s a first for everything. Harry’s had his fair share of them at the age of twenty-seven. First time on an aeroplane at the tender age of six for a family holiday in Rome. First kiss on his home town’s park with someone he deeply cared about. First time in a recording studio. First time going on tour. The first night spent alone in his new and barely furnished home. The first morning he laid eyes on the girl next door. The ugly heartbreak after she got married, certainly felt worse than his first one.

Life is full of firsts, Harry knows that, and he wishes to have been the first to sneak his way into Jane’s heart, all those years ago.

"You love her" it almost sounds like an accusation coming from Jeff, though the last thing he wants is to make Harry feel guilty. The musician doesn't reply, he shrugs, eyes never leaving her no matter how deep into the ocean she seems to be. "Does she know?" Harry shakes his head in denial. "Did you bring her along just so you could tell her?"

"I enjoy writing music with her, that's why she's here," his tone leaves no room for more questions, the manager knows and sighs defeated. Harry stands from his spot on the beach and heads back inside the house, alone.

Is he being that obvious?

He reviews the past few days and wonders where he slipped, nothing rings any bell. Harry completely and conveniently forgets how he doesn't nag her for having a smoke after dinner, instead he just opens the window and stands close to it, or how he's been making her a cuppa everyday at noon. But it was the time when Jane asked him to help her French plait her hair when something clicked in Jeff's brain, the way Harry beamed at such a simple request left no room for questioning. Yet he asked him, because there was that tiny chance of it all being part of the manager's imagination, but when he looked back on it, the little things now made more sense to him and in a way he always knew.

They've been in Port Antonio for two weeks now and everything was going just dandy, Harry was writing more than ever, the first week he had a new song every day, he even polished the old ones and had a tune for his favourites, thanks to Mitch's help. When Jeff Azoff got there earlier this week, he spent a good two hours talking to Jeff Bhasker about how much of a good idea the trip was.

"Harry is on a writing spree." He complimented Azoff's client, it was nothing but the truth. However the reason for it all, was now heading back to the house to join the others after a good surfing session.

Jane went straight to take a shower, ready to rinse all the ocean's saltiness from her body, thinking how wonderful it would've been if her own worries could be washed away with her tangerine shampoo. In contrast to Harry's good spirits and excellent mood, her own cloud of trouble seemed to follow her all the way from London. She still hadn't heard from her husband, so it is safe to say he was still upset about her going away to work in Harry's album. It was impossible for her to forget the argument they had, at first thinking it was a joke on his side, insinuating that they were ‘shagging behind his back’.

After her shower, wearing comfortable clothes, Jane joins the others for supper but keeps to herself, still with the dichotomy about calling Alex or letting him be. He will eventually come to his senses and apologise. 

What if he doesn't? 

The thought alone of her clothes being packed in boxes by the time she gets back home almost makes her cry, perhaps she can call or text him just to test the waters. It is ridiculous how she seems to be more mature about this than him.

"Penny for them?" Harry's voice brings her back to the now empty dining room, the voices from the rest of their party can be heard from the living room.

"God I'm sorry H, lost myself out there for a moment," she is embarrassed, with him, the others and herself for letting this situation get under her skin. And she's also avoiding talking about it, with Harry or anyone. "I was just thinking about the tempo for Sweet Creature."

"Liar," he hates to be shut down by her more than anything. "Is it because I didn't let you eat the last peanut drop the other day?" It would've been easier for her to say it was, than to address the actual reason. But Harry hasn't lied to her, ever.

"No love, although I was a bit hurt because of that, it's actually this thing with Alex we are, I don't know, he was upset with me and said some things," Jane couldn't finish, her speech was cut short by a quiet sob and Harry was quick to pull her from the chair onto his lap and hold her tight. His own heart speeding at the sight of her distressed.

"When was the last time you spoke to him?"

"Two weeks ago." Her voice barely whispers on his chest, "he's being a wanker to be honest, just because he's not going on tour with any of his bands I'm supposed to be a stay at home wife!"

"Why don't you explain this to me, from the beginning, please?" He asks rubbing her back soothingly, and she spills it all, the having kids now or never argument, to her wanting to have a proper wedding party and finally the latest fight where Alex suggested an affair going on between her and Harry, the latter had to do his best not to put the option on the table, since her husband so kindly suggested it. Might as well, he thought. "It all sounds like a big misunderstanding, I know you're a great communicator sunshine, so it baffles me that you've let this go on for so long." He's got a point.

"You're right, but I feel like it's his turn, you know?" Jane's done weeping, but remained on her friend's lap and arms, head resting on his shoulder. "He's always forward, mature, a proper thirty year old except when it comes to arguments where we ought to reach an agreement," she plays a bit with the cross hanging from his neck, a scowl on her pretty face. "Like with the children thing, we only stopped arguing when I said that maybe in two more years we could have one instead of, you know, my early thirties." It's good that she can't see how upset Harry is.

"You gave into that one, he should do the same but it's his choice," Harry sighs and can't believe what he's about to say. "Take the day off tomorrow, call him or FaceTime, Skype whatever you choose, but have a proper conversation with him." She wants to argue and say it's not necessary to be absent the whole day, she can spare a few hours. But she will need time to think about what to say, make her point clear so they are on good terms until she goes back to London.

"Fine, but if he is still acting like a dickhead afterwards, I'm not going to let it into my head anymore, we will continue to bask in this great work environment going on here." Jane states, pulling away from his embrace just enough to give him that stern look she uses when trying to make a point, and Harry nods with a warm smile, the one she never gets tired of seeing. "I'll call it a night now, gonna be asleep in seconds now that I've got that out of my chest." She stands from his lap, missing his warmth instantly. "Thanks for that."

"Anytime honey pie." Harry says before leaving a kiss on her left hand that burns her skin from then till morning.

Jeff joins the musician in the dining room right after the girl walks away to her room, he takes a seat across from him and scrutinises the look of adoration his friend still sports once she is out of the room.

"She'll never know, if you never tell her." Jeff is right, but the thought alone of going through that again scares him to death. Or so he says, because there's a part of him that is fond of the thrill it makes him feel.

"It's not like I haven't tried, just last year I told her," Harry remembers that night vividly, how pretty she looked even with her makeup all smudged under her eyes. "I'm not sure if she heard, it was too loud like where we were at the time." He was also pissed out of his mind.

"H, there's nothing wrong with being in love."

"I'm not saying it is, but even if she did love me I– I would find a way to hurt her. Anyway. she's happily married now, it's too late." Saying it out loud doesn't hurt him any less like he thought it would. Harry sighs in defeat before rising from the chair, "she's everything to me, I wouldn't mess with her head by confessing my feelings, deep down I always knew she deserved better and now she has it and that's good enough for me." The musician disappears through the corridor where his everlasting love did just a few minutes ago, he paused for a moment outside her room, pondering whether to barge in and just follow his instincts, kiss her like he should've done after winning that award back in 2014.

Harry shakes his head and goes straight to his room, he reminds himself that it was time to let her go. It's for the best. He is not good enough for her, he can't even write a song for her, about her. He mustn't love her that much then.

What Harry doesn't know is that he can't write a song about her because he loves her too much, the poor lad can't even figure out where to start. But he's about to get rid of that curse in a day or two, he just needs to be patient.

The reward for it came, all of a sudden Harry wrote too many songs about her until she inevitably became aware of the situation they were in. Harry vowed to stay away from Jane’s life after recording the album. He dated people that didn’t remind him of her, and even moved temporarily to Japan. But despite all his efforts, four years later Harry still finds himself thinking about her, everything seems to be tainted by her. The music he adores, the new dinner recipes he cooks, the books he chooses to read.

Completely out of options he agreed to this blind date his friends set up for him.

He arrives at the modest restaurant they so kindly chose for the occasion. “All you have to do is wear something nice and show up.” Alexa reminded him over the phone last week.

This is a new first for him, it is also exciting, to take a seat at a table for two conveniently placed at the back, pretend to pay attention to the menu but let his green eyes avert to whoever approaches. Harry is having a great time, he knows that soon his date will arrive. He wonders what they’ll be like.

According to Alexa and Pixie, the person arriving is the perfect match for their young friend. Harry can only hope they like Vietnamese cuisine because that’s apparently this place’s special offer this week. If he’s lucky enough the date will agree to share a starter and perhaps two main courses, that way he doesn’t have to choose between one or the other.

“Here’s your table.” Harry hears the waiter speak and his gaze meets a very familiar figure standing beside him. It can’t be.

“Excuse me, there must be a mistake, I’m waiting for someone else.” Harry protests.

The waiter shakes his head and shows him the notepad with some specifications written down. “Nothing wrong, got specific instructions from Miss Chung, a lady will come in to say is here for Geldolf’s blind date, you are sitting at the table they reserved. I’ll be back in a few minutes to take your order.” He is quick to explain and disappear.

Jane sits because there is no way she can stand any longer, her legs are about to give out from the commotion. This was not the blind date she was expecting either. It’s been at least four years since she last saw Harry. The night after he finally admitted being in love with her, waiting for a reaction, anything from her, after what seemed like hours but was only ten minutes later, he walked out of her house and entire life, leaving her confused and upset.

“How’ve you been?” she asked after confirming that Harry wasn’t going to up and leave.

“Pretty fantastic, until you arrived.” He’s never spoken to her like that before, with so much affliction in his tone. “What are you doing here?”

“I was set up on a blind date by Pixie—

He interrupts her. “That’s fucking convenient, did you all went to this much trouble, just to mock me? I thought they were my friends, you know, that even after everything, they cared about me.” Harry stops, his voice breaks, he’s so angry, hurt and confused by the situation. “Did your husband come along, to witness my humiliation too?” He looks around, trying to find the man of Jane’s dreams.

“I wouldn’t know if he’s here, haven’t seen him since we got divorced three years ago.” She snaps before hiding behind the menu from a gobsmacked Harry.

The words he’d been waiting to hear were finally out of her mouth. Unlike the million times he dreamt about this happening, Harry is not sweeping her off her feet and running away into the sunset holding her hand. Instead he reaches out to touch her arm, testing the waters. He waits for her to lower the menu and surprisingly there are no tears in her eyes. Perhaps only a bit of sorrow that is quickly replaced with confusion, at how fast her heart raced after Harry’s touch.

“Do you want to talk about it?” His voice is back to oozing the tenderness he reserves just for her. Jane nods.

“But can we share a rice bowl and Pho noodle soup?” 

“Yes, and dessert too!” Even after four years Harry’s sweet tooth hasn’t changed, Jane sighs before the waiter is back to take their order.

Keeping a conversation between the two of them is not hard at all, even if it is an awkward topic —her not so recent divorce. “We didn’t have anything in common anymore, there were so many fights every single day. When I finally suggested the separation, he seemed relieved and I felt like a complete fool.” Jane remembers the sigh of comfort that came out of the man she once loved with all her heart before that rainy afternoon, when she finally decided that she’d had enough. “He left that night, hadn’t seen him since, his lawyer took care of everything,” a sour laugh escapes her lips, Harry’s eyes are full of sympathy for her. “I’m sorry for ruining your blind date, I know you’ve never been to one before.” Of course she did, she knows him better than anyone.

“This has to be the greatest date I’ve ever been to.” He speaks without a second thought. 

All those years Harry spent away from Jane were not going to be in vain. He was not going to neglect the feelings he still had for her. That affection he felt for her, only her. Harry shifts in his seat, this is not at all how he planned it, in a restaurant full of people on fucking Valentine’s day. It almost seemed like a tacky move.

But after all this time of pining for her, hating her and himself at times. Harry was brave enough, it was now or never, he didn’t want to wait any longer, not after his friends schemed and executed this soppy plan to bring the two soulmates together. Before she could take the final bite of dessert that Harry kindly left for her. The world stopped.

“I don’t want this to end...” Harry says with a dimpled smile she can’t look away from. “I’d like to take you out on a second date, a third, fourth, fifth. Believe me when I tell you, I have planned up to a thousand of them.” He takes her hand in his and can feel her pulse race along his own. The smile splits his face again, because he knows, he feels, he sees it in her beautiful eyes. “Janey, you’re the first person I’ve ever wanted to hold on to. I know there is a name for this emotion, I’ve written songs about it, but now I don’t think it’s a word big enough for us.”

She squeezes his hand and breaths out a laugh, tears of joy brimming out of her eyes. “Let’s call it love, until we come up with a better name for it.” Harry agrees and just then, Jane brings up his hand to her lips. 

His skin tingles where she kisses him for the first time and he beams at her.

There’s a first for everything, and although it feels like it for Jane and Harry, this isn’t by any means the first time they confess their love for each other. It was always there, in every laugh they shared, every song they wrote together, every touch. It was on Harry’s unwavering devotion, on his impatience and selfless actions throughout the years.

They were bound to be together, their story didn’t begin on that initial blind date, it did years ago after he caught a glimpse of her shiny black hair on the morning she moved into the house across the street.

Harry drives her back to her new flat on the other side of the city, enjoying every minute of the long ride, happy to hear her ramble about her newest obsession with romantic novels and burst out laughing after Jane confesses that sometimes she doesn’t finish reading books she likes, just to pretend the story keeps going. With a quick kiss to the back of her hand he completely agrees.

No tale is more compelling than one that never ends.

[fuckyeahisawthat]

some thoughts on jerusalem, 1099

Today I’m thinking about how the particular event in which Yusuf and Nicolò most likely met each other during the First Crusade, the conquest of Jerusalem, was very much not a battle from which you can extract your standard epic medieval high fantasy grandeur. (I don’t really know how much this was intentional on the creators’ part, but it seems thematically appropriate.) There are other battles during the Crusades which can be made to fit that epic template better, if that’s what one is looking for, but not the conquest of Jerusalem. Not at all. It was a grinding siege that culminated in a mass slaughter of civilians that horrified witnesses on both sides at the time. And I think it would have been a defining life event for both of them even if it wasn’t tied up with their immortality, but it becomes even more so because it is.

(I don’t know if I’ll ever develop this into a full fic, but I have thoughts on this, so have this half-meta, half-fic situation. Putting this under a cut because we are talking about a massacre here and some bits get gory.)

There is a conventional battle during the siege of Jerusalem in which Yusuf and Nicolò could have met, fought, and killed each other, which I’m sure they would have done quite eagerly and without remorse at that point in their lives. That battle takes place on July 14 and 15, 1099, when the Crusaders finally breach the city walls after five weeks of siege. And it’s dramatic! There are siege engines and flaming arrows and close combat on top of the walls! The kind of thing a newly-minted holy warrior should consider himself blessed to be part of! (He does not, but he’s not going to think about that right now while he’s concentrating on not dying.)

Once the Crusaders get inside the city, though, we are in an entirely different landscape of violence. This isn’t a battle anymore; it’s a massacre. The city is full of civilians and the invaders proceed to slaughter as many of them as they can get their hands on. They kill a substantial portion of the Muslim and Jewish population of the city, including many, probably thousands, of people sheltering in houses of worship. It goes on for at least a day, maybe longer. (It takes time to kill that many people.) Eyewitnesses describe walking through blood up to their ankles and having to pick their way through streets filled with piles of bodies (and piles of body parts) and while some of the descriptions may be hyperbole, the point is, they kill a lot of people. And it goes beyond the level of soldiers entering a city and opportunistically killing anyone who gets in their way. To kill that many people there has to be an element of continued intention (which is not necessarily the same as premeditation, but a sustained desire to keep finding people to kill) because any reasonable civilian at that point will flee or hide. So this is where you have reports of soldiers going house to house and pulling out whoever they find and killing them. Today we would most definitely call this an act of ethnic cleansing.

While I’m sure Yusuf and Nicolò would have both heard all kinds of things about the rumored barbarism of the other side...neither of them would have been expecting an atrocity of this scale. That kind of indiscriminate and sustained mass killing of civilians would have been far beyond the norms of warfare they would have known at the time.

If you know a little bit about the urban landscape of Jerusalem you can imagine quite vividly what flavor of nightmare this would be. What we today call the Old City of Jerusalem would have been just the city back then. And a lot of things are different now (the current walls are not the same walls that Yusuf and Nicolò might have crossed swords on and several layers of architecture weren’t there yet) but the bones of the city are the same. It’s an old, old city that has been conquered and destroyed and rebuilt on those bones many times.

It’s a dense, close-hunched city, full of twisting, hilly streets, narrow alleys and overhanging buttresses. It would probably feel less claustrophobic to a person used to medieval cities than it might to someone living today, but it would still be a terrifying place to try to survive a violent event in. It’s a city built mostly out of stone. It probably echoed. In peacetime those twisty, narrow streets invite wandering and lingering by market stalls and discovering tiny coffee shops tucked into secret courtyards that you’ll never find again. In the middle of a massacre they get choked with corpses, stone steps treacherously slicked with gore. In the Old City today you can still find streets where the pavement is slightly slanted toward the middle, so that rain and grey water run into the center of the street and not into people’s houses and front courtyards. You really can imagine the streets running with blood.

What might our two characters be doing within this horrorscape, assuming they probably had been killed at least once in the fighting by this point? I think Yusuf would be doing what would seem to be the only logical thing to him, having just cheated death and woken up to find death everywhere: he’d be running around trying to kill as many Crusaders as he could, quite understandably feeling that they absolutely deserve it, but slowly growing more despairing as it hits him that whatever he does, it isn’t enough, the city has fallen and so many people are already dead. It isn’t even his home city, but the horror is overwhelming and it would stay with him for a long time. And even though he knows he is just one person--one person with a gift, but still only one--I think that thought would always be at the back of his mind, each time they throw themselves into a new conflict, of maybe this time you can do more, maybe this time you can make the crucial difference.

As for Nicolò...well, there are a few options, but the one that feels right for his character to me is that he would be frozen. Not participating in the atrocities inside the city, but certainly not stopping anything either. He might actually be sort of hiding; maybe he goes into a house (trying a few before he finds one without a pile of bodies in it) because the only thing he can focus on is finding some fucking water. Eventually he finds a house with a cistern in the courtyard and drinks until he pukes; dry-heaves for a while, listening to the sounds of carnage all around him and trying not to think about how it really felt like he died this morning but that can’t possibly be true; finally gets it together enough to drink some more and keep it down this time. After that he just kind of...stays there, in shock, for who knows how long, sword still bloody up to the hilt from the battle on the walls because he hasn’t bothered to clean it. Utterly paralyzed because he didn’t sign up for this, he didn’t sign up for this, but even he knows that’s a pathetic excuse; you signed up to conquer the city, didn’t you? You don’t get to wash your hands of what happens afterward. (I think Yusuf probably yells some version of this at him at some point when they’re not-quite not-enemies, and he can’t offer a single word in his defense.) And he is not about to raise his weapon against a civilian but he can’t quite get to the point of trying to stop any of his brothers-in-arms from doing so. So he does nothing.

I think it would take him years, maybe decades, to fully process this experience. But I think whether he is conscious of it or not, a lot of his behavior becomes driven by having been the person who’s paralyzed in the middle of an atrocity, and never, ever, ever wanting to be that person again.

[blessedarethebinarybreakers]

Journey with Joseph: Solidarity amid Uncertainty

A church invited me to preach for them on the first Sunday after Christmas -- and because I knew this church is composed mainly of white cishet folks who are pretty centrist in their views but open to learning, I decided to focus my sermon on Joseph as an ally (or co-conspirator)! I imagine Joseph as a powerful role model for those who strive to be in solidarity with marginalized communities to which they do not belong and whose experiences they can never fully understand. Let me know what you think :D

For the sermon transcript, go to this google doc.

And for more on the concept of Joseph as a role model for allies of trans folk in particular, check out my podcast episode 32, "A Queer Nativity: God's transition; Mary's trans-gressive yes; and Joseph's trans-formation into an ally.”

_______

Sermon Excerpt: 

When I hear of Joseph’s plans to cut things off with Mary after she goes against his expectations, what jumps to my mind is the myriad of stories I have heard from queer friends about reactions to their coming out. I have some such stories myself: loved ones who respond to our hopeful joy, our vulnerable news, with tears, anger, dismay.  “I feel like I don’t even know you anymore!” “If you follow this path, you aren’t welcome in my life.”  There is often the same sense of betrayal that Joseph must have felt. “How could you do this to me?!” parents or partners will demand...as if we have decided to be gay or trans or bi just to spite them, just to hurt them.  But the good news of our queerness is no more about them than the good news of Mary’s pregnancy was about Joseph -- it was news she longed to share with Joseph, to delight in with him…..but he felt he couldn’t be part of it. He did not believe her when she said it was all brought about by God.   He assumed God’s will was for him to cut her out of his life, to leave her by herself. But of course, God’s will isn’t always what we, any of us, assume it is.

As Reverend Tim vividly preached on a few weeks ago, God sends an angel to visit Joseph wrapped in the soft darkness of dreams. This holy messenger tells him not to be afraid to take Mary as his wife, because her baby was conceived -- queerly enough -- not with any man involved but through the Holy Spirit. Mary is the faithful young woman he had known her to be -- this transformation does not change that. Indeed, she is as faithful as any a human could be -- daring to say yes to God even if it meant disgrace in the eyes of the world. 

What makes Mary extraordinary is that she is immediately on board with God’s plan -- after just a couple clarifying questions, she immediately sees and understands what role God is asking her to play in God’s revolution, an unfolding that will lift up those who like her are poor and oppressed and pull down the rich and powerful to the same level as everyone else. 

What makes Joseph extraordinary, meanwhile, is that when he incorrectly assumes the will of God, he is open to changing his mind. 

...I can only imagine how awkward and anxious he felt when he approached Mary to ask her if she would still have him, after what he’d said to her in response to her coming out, her good news. He likely admitted he still didn’t really understand, that he still had a lot of questions, but that he’d like to try, if she could find it in her to forgive him.

And Mary, being truly very full of grace, does welcome him back into her life. And from that day onward, Joseph is as good a partner as anyone could ask for!  

When his little family needs shelter, he knocks on every door in Bethlehem and will not be turned away until a stable is finally offered for them to crash in. When Mary is in the throes of labor pains with no midwife to be found, I imagine that Joseph scrambles to gather water, and clean straw, and he kneels beside her, lets her squeeze his hand till it hurts as she gives birth to the Creator of the Universe. 

And then the shepherds come to worship -- worship! -- the newborn infant that Joseph wiped the blood and gunk away from!  They worship Jesus, and Joseph wonders what on earth he’s gotten himself into -- but whatever it is, he is ride or die now. He is not going anywhere….

...Except, of course, to the temple! We’ve made it back around to today’s reading at last. Joseph is, above all else, a good Jew -- and that matters; that must be emphasized, in our own time that is still rife and rotten with antisemitism, where hate crimes against Jewish communities have risen yet again this month.

Joseph was a good Jew, above just about anything else we could say to describe him; the parents of Jesus Christ obeyed God’s instructions for their people as laid out in the Torah, and for them that meant ritual washing and sacrifices. Note one interesting point, however, about the ritual washing -- here’s the part in the Gospel reading: “When the days of their ritual washing were fulfilled according to the torah of Moses, Mary and Joseph brought Jesus to Jerusalem to present him to the Lord.”

“The days of their ritual washing,” plural. Mary’s and Joseph’s washing, together. The Torah of Moses, specifically Leviticus 12, requires only the one who gave birth to ritually wash themself. But Joseph joins Mary in this ritual. Why?

Perhaps it’s a show of solidarity with Mary -- a way for Joseph to show that whatever she underwent, he would go through too. When she goes through the pain of childbirth, he is there to ease her along, providing shelter and a hand to squeeze. When she goes through her ritual washing, he joins her, because her needs are his needs, her faith is his faith. ...

[pleaseleavemetowrite]

All my troubles on the burning pile | Tomas Shelby

warning! I don’t know all that much about the show, I’ve seen a total of 1 season so if anything is wrong please just ignore it for the sake of the fic

this also takes place before the events of the show, like significantly before. Also Tommy is probably ooc but idk i like it 

Also if (Y/n) is annoying at some points just please keep in mind that during some parts she’s literally a six year old 

———————————————————————

Small Heath remembered the day the men got sent away for war vividly. Boys were swept away from their families arms far too young, Fathers were dragged away from their children, and lovers were ripped away from each other some old and some young. It's hard to forget a day like that. But that is only increased when a roaring fire illuminated for what seemed to be miles from the old field where it originated.  Some would tell you it seemed like hellfire, nothing but retaliation from a stupid teenager who felt too much and didn't have enough discipline. Others would tell you it was a heartbreaking scene, a pitiful display of how everyone felt to some capacity. But only (Y/n) would be able to tell you how it really was, an explosion of too much yet not enough. Like being in a limbo where nothing feels real but the consequences do. 

She remembered her friends telling her to go as it looked dreadful but she told them to simply get lost if they didn't like it, then telling her youngest brother to just go home and tell mum that she'll be back soon. Then as pitch black settled in the sky, she remembers Ada Shelby approaching her, the fire building in intensity and height, and simply pulling her close. Hugging her. And (Y/n) broke. All the rage bubbling up became still and transformed to immense despair, tying her insides into knots and clouding everything. She felt cold despite the building heat of the flames that danced in the air. 

Ada rubbed circles in the older girls skin, soothing her slightly. Ada already missed her brothers dearly and couldn't imagine how (Y/n) was feeling. With the idea of marriage going from a realistic event to something that couldn't even be guaranteed, (Y/n) was going to have a few rough years ahead of her if she carried on the way she was. 

"Always the firebug, eh?" The nickname easily slipped out the younger girl's mouth. (Y/n)'s mouth slightly uplifted at the familiar nickname. (Y/n) had known the Shelby family ever since she was young with her being the same age as Tommy and seemingly clinging to the boy like glue it was inevitable she would grow attached to the rest of the family like they did to her in return. However, that doesn't mean that they were exempt from the surprise that was her impromptu fire starting but after knowing (Y/n) for a while to became easy for them to guess when a fire was upon them. And because of this, the nickname of firebug seemed to be obvious. 

The Shelby family remembers the day that (Y/n) started her first fire in the abandoned field. She was no older 6. Having grabbed a hold of a lighter from god knows where and gathering as many sticks as she could and setting them aflame. However, it also turns out that children don't know a lot about how lighters or how fast a fire can spread. So, (Y/n) accidently sprung the lighter to life again and burned her hand, dropping the lighter and setting the dead grass alight a long with it. And while (Y/n) couldn't stop the screams that escaped her she also couldn't stop the excitement she felt from seeing the flames lick at the ground. And coincidently, Tommy had gone looking for the girl as she had been gone for around an hour which wouldn't have been strange for other people their age, but (Y/n) wasn't normal. She practically wouldn't leave him be until the sunset and they were called to their respective houses, so her sudden absence was a little worrying for the young boy. And he ran as fast he could once he heard the familiar shriek he had grown to know in the short time he had known her. 

There she was, the lighter on the burning floor as she backed away from the flames that seemed to follow her until she bumped into someone. She was startled and feared being in trouble so she quickly turned around and seemed relived to find Tommy, her new best friend. She quickly hugged the shorter boy, "My hero! It's too bad I'm taller then you." Tommy rolled his eyes, "What is that!?" He nodded at the fire.

Despite her previous comment, (Y/n) suddenly felt quite small. The fear of losing her new friend gripped at her, making her small limbs lock up. "It doesn't matter ok! It's alwayyys rainy so it will be gone soon anyway, so stop being stupid." (Y/n) suddenly became defensive, gripping her burned hand but stopping once she remembered how much it hurt. And suddenly, (Y/n) began to cry as she realized it may not rain and she will in fact get in trouble and damn did her hand hurt. Tommy became alarmed at her sudden tears, and noticed her hand. "You don't need to cry! Can't your mum just help your hand." "But Tommy! What if it doesn't rain." Tommy was now confused he didn't see what the rain had to do with the burn on her hand. 

But that didn't matter either, as with seeming perfect timing, it began to rain. Heavily. This relieved the girl, seeming to not care about her injury anymore. Tommy however, did still care and insisted on walking her to her house despite his house being on the other end of the street. This then lead to (Y/n) having a bandage on her hand and Tommy having a cold for a week. It was then that the Shelby's and (L/n)'s knew it wouldn't be the last time something like that happened. 

One incident that not everyone knew about was yet another fire that was caused by (Y/n) at around 15. She had once again decided she wanted fire but this time Tommy was by her side, holding a box of broken items. Some of them belonging to the pair some it being something neither of them seemed to fully recognize. "You can't keep at this you know, someone will catch you one day and doubt they will forgive you so easily." Tommy said, his voice even, he wasn't mad at her. He just knew of what may happen if she is caught by someone other then him or his brothers. (Y/n) nodded as the fire sprung to life, and gestured for Tommy to throw the box in. Wordlessly, Tommy threw it in.

However, due to the density of some of the times, not everything in the box was catching fire. So carefully, Tommy began to kick the box trying to make it catch. But he didn't seem to see that it worked and that the flames were growing. (Y/n) panicking, pulled Tommy back and watched as the fire grew right where he was previously. Tommy looked down at her in gratitude as she looked away, as although she would never say it aloud she had been harboring feelings for Tommy for some time now. And before she could say anything, Tommy said, "My hero! too bad I'm taller then you." A grin tugging at his lips as he saw (Y/n) begin to laugh in disbelief at the vaguely familiar statement. "Thomas Shelby! you tosser." She gently pushed him, laughing lightly.  

"Well there goes all my troubles on the burning pile." (Y/n) said smiling, as Tommy wrapped his arm around her shoulder, tugging her body towards his. "And if you catch fire?" Tommy asked, despite the statement being extremely hypocritical from him because of what had just had happened. "Then I'll change my aim and throw my woes at the world instead." (Y/n) said gazing into the flames in front of her. "I wouldn't expect anything less." Silence followed Tommy's statement. It was comforting, as the cool summers evening began to start its slow conclusion, the warmth of the fire fought any possible cold breeze and the two teenagers stayed close and unaware the other was trying to ignore their feelings. 

However, it seems that their feelings were too much to simply move aside as that very night the pair confessed, much to their friends and families' relief. 

(Y/n) was pulled out of her reminiscent daze when Ada asked, "What are you burning?" "My troubles." Ada seemed to understand the vague statement. "I assume soon you'll be burning letters that "aren't quite right" soon?" Ada asked a light teasing tone in her voice in a hope to lighten the mood. It seemed to work as (Y/n) replied, "And you expected anything less?" Ada lightly shook her head as she smiled at the woman she'd grown to see as a sister. "He'll be back one day (Y/n)" "Well I sure hope so the tosser still has to make me his wife." 

The two young women laughed, still worried for the future but feeling better then they did before. 

[alwaysablossom]

Fic: 365 Days of Knowing You

Summary: Everyone has learned to tune out Probie for the most part, because they are all used to him not shutting up. So that’s what TK is also doing, until he hears Mateo mention, “Can you imagine it’s almost a year since we all started here.”Or: The 126 celebrates their 1st anniversary and TK tries to show Carlos how much he means to him.

Notes: So two days ago, I posted my first Tarlos FF on AO3. I thought I might share it here as well. Hope you all like it. Please do let me know if you do. 

Here goes..  

TK has been mindlessly scrubbing the firetruck clean, half listening to Mateo and Marjan’s usual banter. Everyone has learned to tune out Probie for the most part, because they are all used to him not going on and on. So that’s what TK is doing, until he hears Mateo mention, “Can you imagine it’s almost a year since we all started here.”

He shouldn’t really be surprised really. He has been carrying his one-year sobriety chip for a few weeks now. But the realization that he has been with the 126 for almost a year brings another realization, that he has known Carlos just as long. And although they didn’t officially start dating till a few months later, he can still remember the first time he laid his eyes on Carlos, that rainy night of their first shift, the dancing at bar and the sexy times which followed.

“Hey TK, coming?” he hears Marjan says, breaking him out of his thought. Paul and Judd are setting the table for the lunch that Paul has been making for the previous hour. TK nods, jogging up to catch up to her. “Dreaming of Lover boy?” Marjan teases. TK huffs as his ears tinge pink, and Marjan laughs reaching up to ruffle his hair.

Once they are sitting at the table, they all start talking about how to celebrate the one year anniversary of all of the new 126 and decide to do a party the day before at the firehouse because all of them are not working the day of.

The one-year celebrations at the firehouse starts at the end of a 24-hour shift, but there is laughter, food and family. His mother, Grace, and Tommy’s family as well as Carlos join in on the celebration. His dad gives a speech, and they all have cake which is shaped like a firetruck this time.

He moves next to Carlos, wrapping his arms around Carlos’s waist. Carlos automatically wraps his arms around TK’s shoulders, pulling him in closer, pressing a kiss to the crown of TK’s forehead.

“It’s been a year huh?” Carlos asks him softly. “Yeah”, he answers softly, tilting his head, to press a kiss to Carlos’ chin. “Thanks for coming, even if you have a shift in an hour”.

“I wouldn’t have missed it, we kept missing each other this past week, I wanted to be here.” TK moves to stand in front of Carlos, wrapping his arms around his neck. Carlos adjust himself, his arms coming to rest on TK’s hips. “I have missed you” he says. “Well, I get done with my shift at 10 and nothing unexpected happens, I should be back before midnight. Then we have two days free.” TK nods, they have discussed this before. “Will you be there, tonight?” Carlos asks him, worrying his bottom lip. And before TK can answer he adds, “You need not be, I mean you have to rest, you are just finishing a 24 hour shift and- .”

“Hey, Carlos,” TK interrupts. “I will be there, I have all of your shift to rest. Maybe even bring some pancakes for a midnight snack from the diner, for a midnight snack.” He moves his hand, his fingers, caressing at the edge of Carlos’ lip, where he has been biting it. “I would love that” Carlos answers. “We could have a slow morning, I could make breakfast” “Hmm..” TK replies, his lips finding Carlos’ and although the thought of what they are going to do tonight or in the morning tomorrow make him want to deepen the kiss, he is reminded he is still at his work place, even though they are having a party, so he keeps it light.

“I know you are having brunch with your parents tomorrow, but do you think we could spend the afternoon together?” TK asks him as they part from the kiss. “I would like nothing more.” Carlos replies, going once more for a kiss when they are interrupted by Marjan.

“Lover-Boys, come on. I know you haven’t seen each other for more than a few minutes this past week, but you can suck faces later. Right now, I want photos.” She says loudly. Paul and Judd snicker in the background and Carlos hides his face in TK’s shoulder as he feels the blush rising, TK pulling him forward towards the group. “How did you know we haven’t seen each other?” He asks Marjan, but it’s Paul who answers. “Your boy never shuts up, and it’s worse when your shifts don’t line up.” TK pinks up at the comment, and Carlos feels all warm. He knows both of them rarely hide how they feel for each other, but it fills him up with some sort of undeniable comfort, when someone else points it out. “Now come on, the celebration demands pictures before you have to leave.” Carlos has known them for a year now, and knows not to protest, that he is not a part of the fire-family or he is going to get an earful from all of them. So, he joins in.

“I’ll see you tonight” Carlos tells TK as he gets ready to leave. “You bet, I love you. Stay safe.” TK tells him. Giving him a small kiss. “I love you too.” Carlos whispers back, squeezing TK’s hands before getting into his car to drive to work.

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

After leaving the firehouse, TK decides to take a nap at his own house, and prep a few things that he needs for tomorrow. The rest he will do when Carlos is with his parents. He packs a duffel for the weekend at Carlos’ although he has enough of his stuff there. He is back at Carlos’ before dark. Changing out of his jeans, he slips on a some sweats and Carlos’ APD hoodie, he relaxes on the couch, switching on some mindless TV waiting for Carlos to get back.

TK is waiting for Carlos when he gets home from his shift. Carlos had texted him when he was almost done with his work and was wrapping up. And in the meantime, TK had gone out and grabbed them the pancakes that he had promised. Once Carlos gets home, he got changed and joins TK on the couch.

“I can’t believe you have pulled me into the dark side” Carlos says, taking a bite of the pancake. “Pancakes at midnight is the best comfort food there is Carlos.” TK argues. Carlos, smiles at him, moving forwards, kissing the pout on his lips. TK tastes like the syrup and the blueberries from their mid-night snack. “I have to admit, I am enjoying them. I was a bit skeptical when you suggested it the first time.”

“My dad and I used to have pancakes at night. Sometimes after his late shift and I just couldn’t fall asleep, because that was the only time, I could spend with him. There was this diner, near his apartment in New York, we would go there and eat pancakes.” He admits softly.

Carlos’ heart breaks for TK, when he listens to him speak about times like that. He knows TK isn’t complaining, but he just wishes he could go back and hold the teenage TK in his arms all the time telling him he is not alone. Instead, he puts his plate down on the coffee table and gathers him up into his arms. “Thanks for telling me.” He murmurs to the crown of his head. “I didn’t mean to make this depressing.”

“Not depressing, okay?” he tells TK, pressing a kiss to his lips. TK hums in reply, moving his plate out of the way, to deepen the kiss. Carlos, lets out a soft laugh when they part for air, “Not in the mood for pancakes anymore?” He asks, smirking knowing where this is going. “Later,” is the only reply he gets, before TK is kissing him once again. They don’t think about the pancakes for a while.

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TK putters around the house once Carlos leave to meet his parents. He washes the dishes from the night before and this morning from the breakfast that Carlos cooked them both. He puts in the laundry as well. They have both been busy this past week, with nigh shifts and overtimes. Once that is done, he moves on to preparing for the date he plans for Carlos.

He decides to stick with his strengths, not attempting to cook anything big, but he does make something of an evening snack for them and puts everything into the basket he finds in the kitchen, along with all the other stuff. He puts everything in the back seat of his car.

TK opens the door when he hears the Camaro pull in with a bouquet of bright orange gerberas in his hand, before Carlos can use his keys to come in. “Hey” he greats him softly. “Hey, that for me? What’s the occasion?” Carlos asks, taking the flowers into one hand, and the other wrapping around TK’s waist, titling a bit to give him a kiss. “Baby, you are always the occasion” he says, with a smirk. “Smartass” Carlos replies with a chuckle, rubbing their noses together.

“Go on a date with me?” TK asks instead. “Flowers and a date, Ty?” Carlos smiles in question. “Will you?” TK has his lower lip between his lips, brows furrowed. “Of course. I’ll go on a date.” Carlos replies and TK. “Okay then” He replies, pulling them both towards his car in the driveway.

“You meant right now?” Carlos asks, “Of course.” He replies. “You didn’t have any afternoon plans, did you?” Carlos shakes his head no but stops TK from pulling him “Then at least let me put these in water, I don’t want them to get spoilt.”

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

They drive for a little while, a bit outside the city and TK pulls up to the side of the road in the middle of nowhere. “Why are we here in the middle of nowhere, Ty?” He asks, puzzled. “This is where we met, a year ago today…” TK starts slowly, “The car accident and the baby in the tree” Carlos remembers them meeting as vividly as if it happened yesterday, but he hadn’t remembered that this was the exact spot he had laid his eyes on the person who has now become the most important person in his life.

“Happy one year, ‘Los” TK whispers, bending over the console to give Carlos a lingering kiss. “I know we didn’t start dating till a few months after but meeting you that day is the best thing that happened to me in a long time.” He explains. “Happy one year Ty!” Carlos replies softly, as if speaking a bit louder will break the spell. “You are the best think that happened to me too.” He holds TK’s face in both his hand, pressing their lips together once again.

“So our date is here?” Carlos asks, although it is sentimental, it feels kind of weird to have a date at the edge of the road where they first met. “No” TK laughs. “I just wanted to bring you here, to tell you how much you mean to me, I guess. Now it kind of feels silly.” TK feels his cheeks tinge pink in embarrassment. This all seemed better in his head. “Hey, babe, not silly okay. It means a lot to me too. So, what was your plans?” he ask, gently running his fingers on TK’s neck.

Instead of answering, TK tilts his head a bit, kissing the inside of Carlos’ wrist, before taking the car out of park. They drive a bit more, before they reached the field where they spent the night of the solar flare. This time because Carlos is more aware, he catches up faster.

“The night of the Solar flare, when I decided to give us a real go.” TK says, although he knows that Carlos understands the significance of the place. “I know the sky is not all blue and green, but I thought we could have a picnic and watch the sunset?” he asks. “Yeah” Carlos breathes out.

In all his relationships, Carlos has been the one who has planned dates, made the grand gestures, he did that with TK as well. He never expected anything in return. “Come on” TK says getting out of the car and grabbing a basket and a rug from the back. He should have seen that he is a police officer, he is supposed to notice things, but he was paying attention to his gorgeous boyfriends. Carlos shakes his head, following TK out of the car.

They find a tree; below which TK spreads the rug out and puts the basket down. “Come here” he tells TK once he is sitting with his back to the trunk and looking at the horizon. TK goes willingly, settling between the V of Carlos’ legs, leaning into the chest. They are quiet for a few moments, just enjoying being with each other soaking in the calm and the quiet. Carlos occasionally tilting his head to press a kiss to TK’s head or TK pressing some kisses to Carlos’ jaw and neck, wherever he can reach, without moving too much.

After a while, when TK starts feeling a bit hungry, he shifts out from Carlos’ arms, but Carlos tightens his arms, whining a bit and nuzzles his nose into TK’s neck. “I thought we could eat something” TK tells him with a chuckle, indicating to the basket. With another kiss to the base of his head, Carlos lets him go. TK does not go far, pulling the basket closer and settling right next to Carlos, their shoulders and thighs touching this time. “Please tell me you didn’t cook?” Carlos asks teasingly. “I didn’t want to kill us both and burn your kitchen, but I made some sandwiches and I have some drinks.” TK says defensively. “So it’s a school picnic, then?” He asks, a teasing tone still in his voice. “Carlos” TK pouts. “Sorry sorry. I was just teasing” Carlos raises his arms up in surrender. They finish food TK has brought in comfortable silence.

It’s almost time for sunset, the colors in the sky are changing slightly when TK brings out a box from inside the basket. “Happy one year Carlos” he says handing it over. “What’s this?” He asks opening it, inside it is filled with scraps of paper.

“The first anniversary is the Paper Anniversary, these are our memories from last year” TK tells him softly. Indeed, inside all types of paper, which some people would have thrown out thinking they are scraps. The tab from their date at the bar, tickets stubs from their time at the drive through, post it notes that Carlos has left TK when he had to leave early, a card from the flowers he sent over among others.

“Ty…” He starts, not knowing what to say. He looks up from the box in his lap to TK’s face, beyond him the sky is a pretty shade of pinks and purples and oranges, but he can only see the pink on TK’s cheeks and his green eyes.

“Carlos, last year when I came here to Austin, it was because my dad dragged me here. My life was all grey and cold. Each day this past year, you have added color and warmth into my life. Last year all I wanted was to get through each day, but now I look forward to not just the next day but the years to come, with you, if you will have me.” TK holds both of Carlos’s hand in his. Carlos’ eyes fill with tears.

“Move in with me?” he says instead. “What?” TK asks, surprised by the question. “My life may not have been grey before you got here Tyler, but it is only in this past year that I knew there were so many colors. You changed my life. I know you stay over like most of the time, but move in with me officially, lets make memories at home?

“Yeah…” TK breaths, moving forwards, capturing Carlos’ lips in a bruising kiss. “Yes, yes, yes” he breathes out, punctuated by kisses. Carlos, returns the kisses just as enthusiastically, both of them smiling through the kisses.

Carlos has filled his life with so much joy and warmth, TK can’t wait to show him how much Carlos mean to him. And he is going to do just that, everyday until Carlos lets him.

[pandoraborn]

BORN TO RISE

Chapter 7 (AO3 Link)

Content: Injuries, hospital visit, drugs, mention of bruises, self doubt, SBI family fluff, mention of kidnap Characters: Philza, Tommyinnit, Wilbur Soot, Technoblade Word count: 3521 words

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It’s the feeling of fingers in his hair that has him stirring. He’s still half in a dream, and he can imagine those fingers to be from some long-forgotten parent that no longer exists. Tommy imagines a mother singing to him, but the voice whispering to him is too deep to come from a woman. The voice does have the benefit of sounding familiar, so Tommy struggles to blink his eyes open. He’s still far too sleepy to really move around much, but he focuses a blurry gaze on the figure sitting by his bedside.

“Hello, Tommy.” It’s Phil. He’s wearing a gentle smile, and the setting sun coming in behind him is still too bright to be allowed; Tommy’s squinting and turning his head away.

“Phil?” Tommy’s own voice is still too groggy and weak. He’s trying to remember how he ended up here. It’s clearly the hospital, if the sterile aura is anything to judge. He wishes he were at home in his own bed, but at least the hospital bed is comfortable enough for him to stay put for now.

“How’re you feeling, son?” Phil gets up to close the blinds, providing an instant relief. “You’ve been asleep for some time now. Your brothers will be happy to know you’re finally awake.”

Oh. He remembers now. He’d gotten seriously hurt in a training session with Dream. The entire past few days is nothing but a large blur, but Tommy does remember vividly how determined he’d felt toward the end, and how much he still wants to prove himself. It shouldn’t have ended like that.

Flinging an arm across his eyes, he lets out a heavy sigh, not sure what to feel anymore.

“Tommy?” Phil gently moves his arm to the side, and Tommy’s vision blurs again when he sees the concerned expression on Phil’s face. “Are you hurting anywhere?”

“No.” It’s mostly true. Aside from minor, vague aches, Tommy can’t feel much. He assumes it’s because of the drugs in his system, and he knows there are drugs. One does not get admitted to the hospital without being dosed with a plethora of painkillers.  “What happened?”

“I was hoping you’d tell me that,” Phil says. “George called me after you and Dream were admitted, and I came as soon as I could.”

“How long was I even here?”

“About a day or so,” Phil responds. “You’ve been asleep. Sedated, I think. The doctor said every time you woke up you cried out of pain. I heard you took a heavy fall.”

Tommy breathes out slowly. He remembers the fall too well. Falling into a ravine, having to tend to Dream, venting his frustrations... “Yeah. It fucking hurt.” He tries to manage a grin, but it feels lopsided, and Tommy can feel the sluggishness weighing him down again. Tommy doesn’t want to sleep though, he wants to stay awake and talk to Phil. After days of not seeing his family, he wants to spend as much time with them as possible.

“Phil, can I ask you something?” Tommy asks. He watches Phil for a reaction, and gets one in the form of a tilted head and a curious hum. “Why did you let them take me?”

“I think this is a line of questions and answers that’s best left for when you’re feeling better.” Phil’s too good at keeping his voice gentle. “I will tell you though, I am proud of you. I heard from Bad that you did great for your first run. I know how much you’ve been wanting a chance to prove yourself. I’m very proud of you.”

Tommy’s eyes water. It’s the words he’d been wanting to hear for ages, but it feels so hollow right now. Like Phil is only proud of him for doing something big, and not just proud of him in general. There’s no energy left to clarify what Phil actually means, but he can guess what the answer is. Tommy realizes that Phil probably wants to hear ‘dad’ just as much as Tommy wants to hear ‘I’m proud’, but Tommy can’t bring himself to say the words.

“I should go to sleep.” Tommy turns away again, letting depression settle over him. Instead of wishing he was back at home, he’s now wishing he could go back out into the plains and practice speedrunning again. His fingers are itching to craft tools and see how fast he can run this time. It’d be far easier now with all that experience and knowledge under his belt; it’d probably even be easy to accomplish it with all three members of the team chasing after him.

“Tommy, listen.” Phil reaches over and pats Tommy’s shoulder. The teen scoots closer unconsciously, not wanting that comfort to end. “I mean it. I’m proud of you, alright? You’re my son. It doesn’t matter what you do or what you don’t do, I’m always going to be proud of you. I don’t say that enough, and you need to hear it.”

“Thank you.” Tommy’s voice is cracked and hushed. Tears are forming, and he hastily tries to wipe them away, telling himself it’s just the drugs in his system, and not actual emotions. “I just…” The words trail off there. His mind blanks out as soon as the words are out of his mouth, and that’s when Tommy knows he needs to go back to sleep. A pitiful expression is thrown toward Phil, who laughs. Phil goes back to threading his fingers through Tommy’s hair, sending the teen into a more relaxed and sleepy state of mind. For the first time in days, Tommy feels safe and comforted.

“Go to sleep Toms. You’ll be able to go home soon. Your brothers will be happy to see you, alright?”

“Mm.” It’s all Tommy can manage now, and before long, he’s asleep. He doesn’t remember his dreams, but that’s alright. He’s with his dad, and that’s what’s most important.

 Whump.

“Tommy, oy.” A finger prods at his cheek, and Tommy swats at it irritatingly. He’d been having a dream about doing parkour in a swimming pool, he’d like to go back to that dream. “Tomathy, wake up.” The finger prods at him again, forcing Tommy to blink his eyes open.

Wilbur’s standing over him. He’s wearing an annoyingly bright smile on his face, the kind that makes Tommy want to shove his brother’s face into a pillow. Groaning, Tommy rolls over onto his stomach, still too out of it to remember he’d already been checked out, and had fallen asleep waiting for a ride.

“You can sleep at home, you know. I’ve come to take you there.” He can hear Wilbur leaning in closer, lowering his voice as well. “This is a dream, Tommy. You’re asleep, and you’re having a dream. You’re dreaming of… of ice cream! You want ice cream. Maybe if you cooperate with me, I’ll buy you some on the way.”

This gets his attention. Pushing himself upright brings a new wave of pain, but Tommy grits his teeth and keeps silent about it. If Wilbur knew Tommy was still hurting, he’d probably try to keep Tommy here a lot longer. Home is far more ideal than the stupid hospital. It’s been what, close to two days now?

“What was that thud earlier?” Tommy grunts. Sitting up makes him feel dizzy. At least Wilbur is nice enough to offer a hand out for him to grip onto. “Did you trip over your own feet again?” He takes the offered hand and tugs on it, pulling himself to his feet. The head rush has Wilbur tightening his grip on Tommy, because he’s dangerously close to falling to the floor.

“It wasn’t a bang, Tommy. I was setting something down on the nightstand.” Wilbur chuckles. “You’re alright, yeah?” The expression on his face is more concern than amusement. Tommy nods without saying anything, though he glances toward the door to indicate where he wants to go.

“Alright.” Wilbur nods in response. He picks up the phone he’d set down. That’s probably the whump he’d heard, it only sounded loud because he’d been asleep. “We’ll get you a milkshake on the way home, alright? You look like you need some.”

“I barely remember anything while here,” Tommy grumbles. “I remember changing a little while ago, and then I guess I fell asleep again.” Oh yeah, his nurse had checked him out already.

“You’re on...I think Phil said a few different painkillers. I’m not surprised you’re feeling loopy right now.” Wilbur puts a hand on Tommy’s shoulder to steer him out of the room. “Also, I already grabbed everything that belongs to you. All that’s left is to go home.”

“Where’s Phil?”

“He had to run a few errands today. He should be at home by the time we get there, so don’t you worry.” He guides Tommy out of the room, down the hall, and toward the exit. Wilbur only lets go of Tommy to open the doors for him, before guiding him out to the car.

Tommy sits and stares at himself in the rear-view mirror. He’s still a mess: covered with bandages and bruises that are fading, but still visible. He looks high, clearly still on pain medication and it visibly shows in the way his eyes are drooping and bloodshot. Turning the mirror away, Tommy resigns himself to staring out the window during the drive.

As promised, Wilbur does stop to get him a milkshake. It’s chocolate, which is okay with Tommy, though he would have preferred something more fun to drink. At the very least, it’s something he can remember putting into his mouth. By the time they arrive home, Tommy’s already mostly finished drinking it. It’s not solid food, but Tommy’s not feeling very hungry anyway. He’d rather go to bed and sleep off whatever drugs are still in his system.

It takes a few moments for him to get out of the car and inside the house. He stops right in the entry, glaring at the house in general. Everything comes rushing back to him; he’d gone to bed one night, and woke up in the middle of a forest. No one had bothered to come looking for him? Had all three of them known where he was the whole time?

He remembers the strange looks he’d gotten from Wilbur and Techno his last night here. Of course they knew. Phil had known. Phil had given permission for Dream to kidnap him. Did that mean his brothers had given that same permission?

Anger rushes through him, stronger than any exhaustion or pain. No longer is he leaning against Wilbur, now he’s pulling himself away stiffly. His trust in his own family is shattered; they’d put him in danger.

“Tommy?” Wilbur sounds concerned. It seems to click a second later, because he clicks his tongue. “Shit. Phil?”

“I’m here!” Phil calls out. He appears in view a second later, wearing a grin on his face. The smile wilts when he sees the furious expression on Tommy’s face. “Hi, Toms. Welcome home, are you alright?”

“You let them take me,” Tommy says flatly. “You knew what they were up to, you knew they were going to kidnap me, and you didn’t tell me.”

Phil lets out a heavy sigh. “You just arrived home. Come sit down, please. I owe you a conversation.”

“I don’t want to have a conversation,” Tommy mutters. “I want to go to bed.”

Wilbur makes the decision for him, by pushing him toward Phil. Tommy stumbles, but Phil is quick to grab at him. “Wil, don’t push him around like that. Tommy, please sit and talk to me.”

Tommy tries to pull back, but Phil tightens his grip on him, guiding him toward the sofa. Sitting down, Tommy squeezes himself into the corner of the couch, glaring at the ground.

“I knew you wanted it,” Phil starts off. “I don’t have any other way to excuse my actions, but we all knew you would want it. You like trying to prove yourself.”

“So you let him kidnap me?”

“The focus shouldn’t be on that,” Phil says. “You’re right, I should have talked to you before it happened, you should have been able to go willingly. We know you though, you’re too afraid to take risks when we all know you’re dying for a chance to rise above us. We can tell it’s got you down.”

Hunching forward, Tommy scrubs at his face. His breathing is quickening, causing his chest to tighten, and he knows he’s on the verge of tears. “I’m never going to be better than any of you,” he admits. “You three are legends. I’m just some dumb-”

“Hey.” Wilbur’s speaking now, Tommy can feel him drop on the couch next to him. “You’re not a dumb kid, alright? You never give yourself any sort of credit, so yeah… we messed up by not talking to you about Dream’s hand beforehand. That’s entirely our fault.”

Tommy grips the edge of Wilbur’s sleeve, realizing he desperately needs some sort of comfort. All his defenses are starting to break down, leaving him feeling vulnerable and helpless, and he doesn’t know how much longer he can keep the tears at bay.

“I just… I just want to be good,” he whispers. “I’m useless, I’m reckless, and they...I hurt Dream. He’s never gonna talk to me again.”

Wilbur responds by wrapping both arms around Tommy. “Hey, you’re not useless, you’re a damned prodigy. You’re my brother, Tommy. You’re so much better than you’ve ever given yourself credit for. You work hard, you play harder, and you’ve had so many shining moments in the championships. Why are you so hard on yourself?”

He curls into his older brother, letting the dam break. It’s hard to speak for the longest time, though Wilbur is helping by rocking him back and forth. There are so many ways to explain where he went wrong, but the words aren’t coming easily.

Though Phil seems to understand well enough to take a very accurate guess.

“Is it because you feel like you have to compete with us?” Phil asks. “Something about not being good enough, because I adopted you?”

“Oh, Tommy’s home?” Techno’s voice drifts down from upstairs. Tommy immediately pulls away from Wilbur, wiping at his eyes. He can be soft around Wilbur, but Techno is even more of a legend. They love each other, sure, but Techno’s name is the biggest in the league, Tommy still feels intimidated by him, even now. “Heyy, Tommy!” Techno appears at the bottom of the stairs, wearing a thin-lipped smile on his face. “Heard you were coming home from the hospital today… are you crying?”

“Shut up Blade,” Tommy mutters, turning his body away. “You wouldn’t understand.”

“He’s having an inferiority complex,” Wilbur stage-whispers. Tommy swats him in the shoulder for that, earning a giggle for his efforts.

“I am not,” Tommy snaps. “We’re talking about how you all fucked up and betrayed me.” He shoots his tongue out at Wilbur, but wilts at the look Phil is throwing at him. “...maybe a little talk about how I’m not good enough for this family.”

“Bruh, you got Dream’s attention,” Techno points out. “Dream doesn’t up and recruit just anyone. I had to chase him down at one of the championships to get his attention.” He rolls his eyes, but sits on the floor in front of Tommy. “If you’re good enough for Dream, you’re good enough for us.” He sounds so confident. It’s so easy for Techno to be confident, he’s a god among gods. There’s no hope of Tommy ever coming close to catching up to his level of skill. At least, that’s what’s currently on his mind.

He rubs at his eye with the heel of his hand. “It’s my fault Dream and I ended up in the hospital,” Tommy reminds him. “Everyone says it behind my back, when they think I can’t hear them. That I don’t listen, I’m too loud, too reckless. Or worse, even too bossy. I’ve heard people say I talk over all three of you too much and that’s why I drag everyone down.”

“Are you seriously taking all that to heart?” Wilbur asks. “Tommy, everyone talks crap about everyone else.”

If this is meant to be reassuring, it’s not working. Tommy buries his face in the arm of the sofa with a dramatic wail.

“Okay no, that’s not what I meant. Let me backup a few sentences.” Wilbur chuckles, but grabs at Tommy’s arm to pull him upright. “Tommy, look at me. Are you looking?”

Tommy faces him, then looks past him at Phil, then finally turns his gaze down toward Techno. All three of them are here, and whatever Wilbur’s about to say has to be important, because they’re all here, and they’re all being so nice to him. It’s overwhelming, because he can’t remember the last time the four of them had sat down for a serious conversation like this.

“Tommy. You’re our brother, you’re Philza’s son. You have to stop comparing yourself to us, you have to stop trying to live up to an impossible standard. It’s impossible to reach because not even we are up there. Not even Dream is up there. You know us, you know us more than you think you do. You know Dream, and Sapnap, and Bad and George now. What have you learned from your time with us, and with them?”

“...Sapnap was kind of a dick,” Tommy mutters, once he thinks everything over. “Bad was annoying, and like...Dream was... “

“They’re human,” Wilbur finishes for him. “We’re all human. We’re not super gods or unreachable. You can’t keep trying to measure up, because there’s nothing to measure up to. You’re already there.”

“Yeah, like. Tommy, c’mon.” Techno starts laughing. His approach seems more lukewarm than Wilbur’s, but Tommy can hear the care in his voice all the same. “You’re really good in the championships. You brought up all the negativity surrounding you, but you’re completely brushing over what good things people’ve said too. You’re a great leader, you fight hard, and you’re really good at taking people down. You’re seriously a force to be reckoned with. If you were really that bad, I don’t think Dream would have picked you out of the crowd.”

“It’s not Dream, is it?” Phil asks quietly.

Tommy shakes his head, confirming their suspicions.

“Oh, Tommy.” Phil breathes lightly. “Of course we love you. You’re more than enough for us. There is no ‘good enough’ or whatever you’ve gotten in your head over the past few days.”

“I want to prove myself.” His voice is shaky, but he’s not crying as hard anymore. “You…you’ve never said you were proud of me. I never knew why you adopted me, I just felt like I had to go into competitions and... and I just…”

“I adopted you because I liked the charisma you had,” Phil says. “And still have. You were a little boy who laughed in spite of the hardships in life, and I wanted your spark to brighten my own life. I never intended to force you into anything. I love you as you. Whatever you do with your life has to be your decision, I’ll be proud of you regardless.”

“You mean it? All of you?” Tommy sits up straighter now. A weight feels like it’s been lifted off his chest and shoulders, and while it’s a nice feeling, it doesn’t change the fact that Dream probably won’t talk to him again.

“Of course. And if you’re still worried about Dream and his team, I can give them a call for you. Perhaps we can arrange another training session, with your permission this time. I’ll not make that same mistake again.”

Tommy nods, finally. He’s ready to go to bed, feeling wiped out all over again. “Yeah. Thanks… dad. I love you too.”

“You called him dad!” Wilbur cheers. “You actually called him dad!”

It takes a minute for Tommy to remember he’d always avoided that word for whatever reason. This conversation had been more therapeutic than he’d expected, so he slumps back against the couch. He’s too tired to really pay attention anymore. Phil’s reaction is hard to miss though; the man looks surprised and near tears himself.

Phil’s clearly happy about the sudden shift in mood though. He’s doing a good job of hiding it as he gets to his feet, moving around Wilbur and Techno to reach for Tommy. “You seem sleepy,” Phil points out. “Why don’t you have a sleep and relax for a few days? We’ll get in touch with Dream and see if we can’t try again?” Tommy nods at the offer. Getting to his feet, he leans against Phil, letting his father guide him upstairs and to his room.

This time, Tommy doesn’t have to worry about waking up somewhere strange. He feels whole and light, much better than he remembers ever feeling. With his family behind him and cheering him on, he’s pretty sure nothing can drag him down again.

[shesawriter39049]

|THE PLUG|M| 5|

(I picked this because he looks genuinely happy here...once you read you’ll see why)

SMUT/ANGST/FLUFF

Pairing: Jimin X Reader

About-Post sex come down...a little pillow talk..some feels...and maybe another orgasm or two....

**Your local plug aka your weedman is now offically your boyfriend....

2K SNEEK PEAK

WARNINGS: For this part? Praise kink/Light edging/ Grinding/Non penetrative sex/ Kissing/ Overstiumlation/ FEELS OH THE FEELS/mentions of subspace (1st time) OH breif mentions of previous physical abuse

NOTE- This is a series but you can read this part and not be totally lost...however all the emotions running through Jimin’s body will hit you a little diferent if you later go read the others!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Hey” He coos, low, warm, a little concerned, as he soothes his palm down your back, feeling the way you try and arch up into his touch no matter how weak your body is! So he grips one hand around your neck, the other at the small of your back, and slides you up further. Bringing your forehead flush to his where you can feel a deep, slow exhale leaves Jimin’s tattooed chest as if he’s been holding his breath the entire time.

“How you feelin’ baby?” There’s slight hesitation behind the question and honestly, that was understandable, this wasn’t something either of you expected. You don’t respond, or even fully acknowledge him right away, just blinking slowly, lashes fluttering, eyes trying to readjust, feeling, and looking somewhat disoriented. Yet no matter how confused you initially are, something that’s clear the moment you regain consciousness... it’s how safe you feel in Jimin’s arms right now. I mean yeah, your a little sticky, and need a long-ass shower, but you feel good, you feel secure! Reaching up to scratch his fingertips through your scalp almost as if you’re a cat, and you find yourself smiling, eyes fluttering shut as you tilt your head into his hand.

Honestly, your not sure how to process what you currently feel washing over your body! I guess because the couple times you ran through how this scenario may play out in your head, it didn’t go anything like this! It wasn’t this warm and comforting afterward….it all just felt a lot darker, scarier..almost belittling. You’re independent by nature, maybe even a female alpha by some standards, so the thought of giving yourself over to anyone in that capacity, giving them full control...As much as you’ve always wanted it, realistically it always felt scary, intimidating, even a little embarrassing in your mind! Whereas this, this right here, felt natural it felt right, your body felt loved, sated, you personally felt empowered, it was nothing like what you imagined in your head. The weight behind it was so much heavier, the connection felt deeper and more liberating than you ever thought it would. Which is what makes you endlessly grateful that you saved this for someone like Jimin. Someone who would actually appreciate the notion, and understand the mental and physical side of it all, the parts that make it more than just a kink.

Of course, we can’t disregard how you feel physically, this level of exhaustion after sex is somewhat foreign to you. Your body feels sluggish and weak, your eyes are heavy, and you already know your voice is fucked. But mentally which is where your biggest concern came from, your good, you’re at peace with it all.

Lashes fluttering up in his direction, offering a faint hum in response, nodding softly against his chest. “Jus’ tired…” giving him the best smile you can muster hoping it reaches your eyes so he believes it.

He nods, slow and understanding, “Take your time baby, sleep…you were perfect” The words smiled gently into your hair, as his fingers trickle up and down your spine. Jimin knows he told Yoongi an hour, he also knows the topic of Dom being out of jail is a serious situation and needs to be addressed. However, he can’t and won’t allow himself to pull away from you until your in a stronger state than you are right now. He just can’t, so he reaches for his phone sending the elder a quick text, essentially explaining that he’s not sure when but they will talk at some point tonight.

Eventually, he feels your breathing completely even out, and your lashes still against his skin. Indicating your exhaustion has officially washed over your body and you’ve drifted off into what he hopes is a peaceful night's sleep.

Jimin’s not even sure how much time has passed and to be honest he really doesn’t care, the silence is comforting just laying in bed breathing as one. He’s far from tired, though he has every reason to be exhausted, there’s just way too much swirling around his head right now. The only sound in the room is the faint hum of the fan and the occasional playful banter he can hear from his boys downstairs. His heart feels... full, it feels complete as you lay here with him, your body feeling completely at ease against his own. After allowing him to have you in your most vulnerable state of being, after trusting him to take care of you the way you needed, even if you didn't really know what that was!

He’s not sure why or when but his eyes start to burn again and this time he lets the tears gently stream down his face. Reclining his neck, staring up at the ceiling, securing his hold around the nape of your neck and the small of your back. As if he’s reminding himself that you're here, right here and you’re not going anywhere! Jimin knows these are happy tears, and they are, he can’t even remember the last time every aspect of his life has felt as though it’s come together at once. Yet he also can’t help that ache in the back of his heart when he thinks about Dom...he’s not scared of him by any means. They use to be boys, but it’s not a secret they’ve always road slightly different waves until they eventually crashed into one another! What he is scared of is the person Dom might turn him back into if he oversteps his boundaries, especially where you’re safety’s concerned. Jimin told you that night in the car about the situation that eventually led to him leaving his parents for good. About how abusive his dad was to his mom and even after he helped her move she still let him come back. About that one night, he walked in on his dad on top of his mom and completely blacked out! The way his mother had to physically pry him off his father or he's not sure if or when he would have stopped on his own.

Jimin never thought he’d meet someone else that could get him to that point if need be, to the point that he’d do any and everything to keep them safe! Maybe it’s fucked up repossession for the fact that he feels like he couldn’t really keep his mother safe...But as he looks down at you, laying so pliant and trusting on his chest, he vividly recognizes that sense of protectiveness streaming through his veins! A feeling he hasn’t felt in years, he just prays, he never has to go there with anybody where you’re concerned, because what’s evens scarier is he knows he will, in a heartbeat!

Jimin’s not that reckless 16-year old with nothing to lose anymore, and that’s what he has to remember when his mind goes off the grid like that! He’s a  grown-ass man! A man that has so much going for him regardless of how others may feel about is life choices, he knows he’s doing well for himself! He also knows he has so much to look forward too, and more importantly he has so much worth keeping! Including the beautiful woman laying on his chest that’s choosen to walk head first into a hurricane with no fear...because she knows it’s worth it. She knows Your worth it ….

He opts not to fight it and just let it be, and continues to allow himself to feel everything he needs to, trying his hardest not to wake you in the process. Periodically wiping his face so his tears don’t trickle down his neck, trying to keep his body at ease so his abdomen dosen’t tense the more he cries. Allowing his mind to wander continiously flowing from thought to thought. The overall consensus of it all though, is he deserves this he deserves to be happy, all he can hear is Tim telling him at the end of every day they spent together…

“It’s worth it kid, it may not feel like it right now but it is, trust me one day it will be!” And he was right because right now, everything he’s ever been through feels so minuscule in comparison to how overwhelmed and happy his heart is. He almost wants to feel like he doesn’t deserve to feel this overflow but he won’t allow himself to sink there be he dose! He fuckin does….Jimin’s eyes are cloudy and heavy it hurts to keep them open at this point and he’s sure he looks like a damn blowfish. That’s when his phone beeps in his hand and his body stills praying you don’t wake up, instantly turning the phone on silent. Glaring at his phone through clouded vision to see a text from Yoongi that simply reads.

“Whenever you’re ready”

And he can’t help but smile and cry a little more because he swears the elder has a sixth sense when it comes to him. Always knowing exactly when to push and when to just ease up, Yoongi’s been a friend, a big brother, a shoulder, hell even a father in some instances since Tim’s past. Honestly, he really wonders where he’d be right now if it wasn’t; for Yoongi cheering him on, and being his right hand whenever he’d needed one! Jimin’s also very acutely aware that he does owe his “Hyung” (which is a name he’s never called Yoongi in his life mind you so, he still can’t get over the fact that he reffered to himself as such. ) A thank you, for making sure you came over here tonight because fuck if he didn’t need it! Whipping his eyes somewhat agressivly as if to say he’s gotten frustrated with himself from crying so damn much!

“Go, I’m okay…” The words muffled low and horse against Jimin’s chest but he heard you loud and clear. Eyes wide and a little disoriented at your sudden response. I mean he obviously knows what you’re referring to he just- I guess didn’t think you were fully conscious when Yoongi called initially to even know what was going on!

“What baby?” Fingers playing idly in your hair, as he felt you shift against him, head tilting in his direction, trying to let your eyes readjust to the now pitch-black room.

“That was Yoongi earlier right? Go I’m’ fine, I prom-”

‘Baby” Tone a little sharper than before but the concern is overtaking any authority he’s attempting to have right now!

“Stop,” Gently pressing your palm against his chest as if to slow him down “ I know this weekends crazy for you, I wasn’t nexpecting your undivided attention when I stopped by…I just needed to see you.” Reaching out into the dark to stroke his jaw, gently thumbing along his plump bottom lip. “Plus...mm..kinda hungry” Ohhh and the beauiful moment has now ended...smooth transition...smooth.

You could feel Jimin’s face split into a smile beneath your fingers which quickly transitioned into a full-blown cackle, loud, airy, and just fuck relieved...so damn relieved that you genuinely did seem to be okay…

“Ohh so that’s what this is about? Just trying to use me for my car huh? I see how it is…” A blatant pout laced within his delivery though it was clearly playful.

Shifting against his lap slightly, leaning down to search for his lips, which didn’t take long to find. Jimin flicked his chin up to meet yours immediately, sighing out the minute you made contact. “Yup, just wat you for your car...oh and your weed lets not forget your weed” 

A stated smile playing on your lips, as you kissed him,honestly the two of you were smiling so hard at first it took you a minute to even get into a groove! It started off slow, and chaste, initially, until Jimin reclined his jaw to allow you to lick your way back into his mouth for the umpteenth time tonight. The kiss was slow, deep, heavy, the gentle slide of his tongue against your own, as you swallow each other moans triggered by faint touches on the edge of your fingertips. Tattooing goosebumps along the soft planes of your skin after every featherlike touch…Jimin’s hands moved through you like an ocean. Ravishing every inch of you he could reach, gently massaging your aching body between his strong nimble fingers. You could feel the heightened sense of urgency within every kiss that fell of Jimin’s lips, he was kissing you as if he was afraid to let you go. As if he was trying to say something he really wants’t ready to say quite yet, but needed you to feel...

“Thank you” Pants from your lips and brushes agaisnt his, thumbing at the hinge of his jaw “For taking such good care of me, for keeping me…”up” as they say. I know at some point will need to talk about it. But right now, I’m tired, really fuckin hungry...and honestly, I feel good baby, I’m good…” Nuzzling against his nose, a faint smile playing on your lips.

You could vaguely see him nod, though even in the darkness you could sense the hint of concern and hesitation within his eyes as he pulled you back down.  So you reiterated it one more time, only there seemed to be a hint of something more than excitation dripping of your tongue once you realized the way your man was looking up at you.

“I’m good” Nipping his bottom lip between your teeth gently....

“Mmm, yeah, you are good, so damn good...” Placing another lingering kiss along your lips, hands moving down to massage the swell of your ass. which eventually leds to him rocking his hips up into you, causing you to subconsciously grind down against his lap.”Your fucking perfect”

 Panting and moaning lightly against his mouth at the sudden stimulation,within seconds he had you feeling like you were burning from the inside out. Hands gripping down to guide your hips, so you don’t have to move, rolling them even harder against his length which is now rock hard. Well aware that he’s grazing your clit every time which is exactly what he’s aiming to do. Your pussys dripping down his cock, lips spread apart giving him the perfect slide to rip you apart all over again. And your just hanging on for the ride, tt’s not long before your thighs are shaking, and your clits rock hard against him. Your bodies still overly sensitive from your two orgasms barely an hour prior, lets also not forget to mention your body still recovering from its first subspace on top of it all.

“Jimin” You whine out low and shaky, eyes barley ajar “Fuck, your gonna-”

“Yeah, I know..I know...you can do it for me, baby, I know you can...come one more time for me before I go...” There's this slight whine laced within Jimin’s voice right now, as if he’s truly saying he, needs you to come..he needs it. There a silent “please” placed within his delivery that has your toes curling into the sheets. Lips ghosting against yours, as he slowly slides his tongue back into your mouth hot and heavy. Continiously guiding your hips in a deep, hard wave  until he feels you crying against his tongue, body going completely ridget on top of him, as he edges you through it. “Yess” Slurs off his tongue over and over againas he feels you come undone, as if hes cheering you on. Nails digging into his bare chest, and he doesn’t let you breathe he doesn’t give you an inch he just kisses you right through it. Smiling against your lips as you fall completely limp against him…moaning against your tongue as he feels you driping down is cock. ‘Good girl.....my good girl” Gently rolling his hips into you, as he eases you through your comedown, body jerking in oversensetivity the entire time.

“Fuck” Panted from your lips and into the side of his neck, chest still rising and falling against his own. 

Jimin chuckles low and pleased against your lips “I just had to make sure you fell right back asleep once I leave… “ Feathering an array of kisses against your lips that you were far too spent to reciprocate but you appreciate nevertheless.

“I’m gonna assume you want Taco Bell?”

Only offering a faint hum in response I’m not sure what else he really expected you to do at this point, nuzzling your face into the crook of his neck. Gently soothing his hand up your back, giving you a moment to fully come down before he tenatively shifts you off of his chest. Reaching over for his phone with his oppisite hand, shooting Yoongi a quick text

Jimin: Come ride with me to get food for Y/N, we can talk about Dom then, I’ll be ready to leave in 15!

Jimin: Oh, have Tae or Kook go to her car it’s unlocked and bring her bags in, leave them outside my door.

Jimin: Thanks hyung ;P

__________________________

HEYYYYYYY,

If you guys are excited for part 5 show this some love and come talk to meee!!! I’ve been playing with this chapter for about a month now....

Also, CH.5 is the rest of 4:20 weekend...which hint, hint does involve Yoongi and Jimin meeting with Dom, and some other little domestic-esq moments! This also obviously isin’t the only smut in the chapter I actually wanna have them have sex in a fun location I just dont know where yet. Yoongi and Tae are in chapter 5 a little more as well! 

Part 6 is where it Jumps ahead to the wedding she and Jimin attend in miami btw!

PART 4 :

[stars-are-just-ghosts]

Supernatural Isn’t Just A Show

I started watching Supernatural fifteen years ago, just like many of you. I followed the paths of two young men who hunted the evils in the world that the rest of us couldn’t have imagined on a good day. Vampires and demons and monsters. Greek gods, angels, Lucifer himself. The stories were heartfelt and humorous and dark and tender. They challenged us to see that monsters could be good, and being evil was a choice. They brought us into a reality of hope and fighting the whole world if it meant that your family was safe.

That’s what the show was really about, you see. The hunting and the laughter and the dark and everything in between was just the icing on the cake. The real story? That was family. Two brothers who came together and saved the world, again and again. Two brothers who fought side by side, and sometimes with each other, and always for what was right, even if the drawn line was hard to see. Two brothers whose devotion bled into the world around them and brought other amazing people into the fold. Two brothers who grew to have a circle of people who were the epitome of family, because ‘family don’t end with blood.’  Castiel and Charlie and Bobby and Kevin and Crowley and Jack and the list goes on. A list that extended beyond the characters, beyond the actors, beyond the show itself. One that includes you, me... JoAnn and Steven and Jeffrey.

Let me tell you about JoAnn.

Her daughter and I went to school together, a beautiful young woman named Sarah. Over the years I spent so much time at their house and with JoAnn that it was beyond easy to see them as family. And JoAnn became incredibly special to me. My mother and I have always had a strained, tumultuous relationship with very little in the way of affection. JoAnn, however, became the emotional mother I’d never had. We would laugh together (she had a killer sense of humor,) I would call her just to share something or vent (there was never a moment she wasn’t willing to listen,) she was able to hold all four of my babies after they were born (and they lovingly called her Auntie JoAnn.) And I even managed to get her addicted to Supernatural. 

She loved Dean, especially Dean’s rear end. (-wiggles brows-) 

Shortly before her first and only grandson was born, JoAnn became terminally ill and passed away. She never got to see her grandson, or hold him, or watch him grow up. I think about that all the time, especially when I see a picture of him that Sarah has posted. When I’m watching Supernatural, and Dean says something familiar or I remember a moment in the show that JoAnn particularly loved, I think about JoAnn and how much I wish she could have seen her grandbaby. And how much I wish her daughter, the lovely Sarah, could have experienced that, too. I wonder if JoAnn would have shared this show with her adorable little grandson. I miss that woman every day.

Now, let me tell you about Steven.

His father, Steve, is one of my best friends. I’ve known him for over twenty years. And when his three children were little, I used to babysit them. His son, Steven, was born with severe Cerebral Palsy. He was nonverbal, wheelchair bound, and was tube fed. But he was also the funniest, brightest, most happy boy I’d ever met. He had the most brilliant smile, and the greatest laugh. And whenever someone he loved or really liked walked into a room, his eyes would light up like stars. 

When Steven hit adulthood, I would help his Dad out when Steven was at his house. We liked to watch movies and tv shows together. And I offered up the suggestion of Supernatural. It became like tradition after that. We would all be there in the living room, Steven on the floor with his Dad, and we’d watch the episodes in order. It always made me happy, to be able to share that with them. 

About four years ago, Steven became ill, landing in the hospital. While there, his heart gave out. He passed away without ever having finished the show he had grown to love. Since then, his Dad hasn’t been able to watch anymore. It’s too painful. Too hard to think that Steven isn’t there to watch it with him. I understand completely. Because I’ll watch an old episode and remember Steven’s unabashed laughter. And I wish he was still here to watch it with us. I talked with Steve about giving it another try. He heard the show is ending soon, and I think he is finally ready to see it through, to finish it for both himself and his son. Let me tell you about Jeffrey.

Jeffrey has lived in NYC for over 20 years now. He is my big brother, and was diagnosed with different mental illnesses, including Borderline Personality Disorder. He’s still made a life for himself that makes him happy in a place I know for sure I would never survive in. (I’m a small town girl, through and through.) And it was because of my brother that I found out about GISHWHES. 

You have to understand, my brother doesn’t open up to people easily or step out of his comfort zone for just anyone or anything. But in doing this scavenger hunt? My brother walked around NYC in a robot costume, including taking the subway and walking crowded streets. He also wore a bikini made of lettuce, and not once was shy about it. He dove right in and gave it his all in order to help other people, and to this day I am still insanely proud of him for it. 

After everything he went through, from living on the subway for nearly two years (and never telling us) to going from corporate work (which he hated) to doing something he really loved (comic books, baby) to being hospitalized for suicidal tendencies to finally being diagnosed with things he had struggled with all his life but never had taken care of, and finally having a sense of mental health in a new job as a live-in dog nanny, this amazing man is finally happy. And when I think of that, I think of the video of him wandering around dressed as a robot because of GISHWHES.  Now, if you’ll bare with me... let me tell you about myself.

I am a pansexual woman married to my best friend with four amazing children. 

I have depression and anger issues that I have struggled most of life with. 

I have spent a good chunk of my adult life being a stay-at-home-mom and only now am going back to school to learn a new career. I have rescued and taken care of animals since I was 17, something my children have grown to love as well. And I am happier now than I have ever been. But it wasn’t always that way.

I had my best friend die in my arms when I was 12, that being my first experience with death and grief and unchecked anger. And I grew up a lonely kid who spent most of my time hiding how depressed I was, doing everything I could to take care of everyone else in my life, the majority of them never knowing how much I actually struggled with just living. The first love of my life was killed in a car accident when I was 16. My parents divorced when I was 17 and I dropped out of high school, working three jobs just so I wouldn’t be home with my mother. 

I was married to a selfish and controlling man at 18, had my first child at 19, second at 20, third at 23, and divorced at 23 with three small children and no job. I was terrified and didn’t know what I was going to do. Everything was up and down and inside out.

But I have a very clear memory of sitting down one night, after the kids had gone to sleep and the apartment was quiet and I was alone with nothing but my thoughts and the television… and a repeat episode of Supernatural (Season 2, Episode 16 – Roadkill) was on. (Spoilers ahead if you, by chance, have not seen this episode.)

In that moment, I was barely paying attention to it. I was a wreck, filled with guilt and fear. My face was covered in tears, and I was sobbing as I sat there and rocked with a pillow held in my grip (I oddly remember that pillow vividly because it had rough edges.) But as the episode progressed, I began to quiet. I remember listening intently to Sam and Molly as they sat on an old bed in Greeley’s home, looking at the letters he’d written to his wife. 

“It’s a love letter he wrote her… my God, it’s beautiful… I don’t understand how a guy like this can turn into a monster.” Molly said to Sam. I mirrored that sentiment, in my own way. (I know my situation wasn’t the same.) I’d married a man I’d thought I’d loved. A man I thought loved me. But his actions and selfishness lead to the downfall of our marriage, our family, and my (then) situation. But I had been the one to make the decision to end things, right? After everything he’d done, I couldn’t be with someone I couldn’t trust. And it wasn’t just about me… it was about our children. They needed a mother who was happy…

At the end of the episode, Molly is faced with the reality that she has been dead the entire time and that her husband David had already said his goodbyes, moving on without her.

“What am I supposed to do?” Molly asked, in tears.

“Just… let go. Of David. Of everything. You do that… we think you’ll move on.” Sam responded gently.

Isn’t that what I should be doing? I thought. Because by that point, I’d been stuck in grief and fear for months. I don’t think I knew it until that point, but I’d been holding onto it like a security blanket because it made sense, it seemed like I deserved it.

“But you don’t know where…” Molly responded, her voice still soft with tears.

“No... Molly, you don’t belong here. Haven’t you suffered long enough?” Sam asked. “It’s time… it’s time to go.”

I sat there in stunned silence. 

As odd as it sounds, it felt like he was talking to me. Because for years I’d tried to keep our marriage together because I thought I had to for our children. For years, I’d practically raised those three children alone. For months, I had sat in a holding pattern, waiting for my shoulders to finally break under all the weight from the failure I felt and the misery I was drowning in, doing everything I could to be a good mother with nothing to fall back on. But then I watched Molly walk into the light, tears streaming down her face, a smile ghosting across her lips, and I realized… I really had suffered long enough.

“You really think she’s going to a better place?” Dean asked after Molly moved on.

“I hope so.” Sam replied.

“I guess we’ll never know, not until we take the plunge ourselves, huh?” Dean said with half a smirk.

“Doesn’t really matter, Dean. Hope’s kind of the whole point.” Sam said.

And there it was. What I’d been missing. Hope. 

This show, these two actors, those two brothers opened my eyes to something that had been right in front of me the whole time. I didn’t know what the future would bring, I didn’t know what I was going to do next. But I was certain I had suffered enough. I was certain I needed to move on, for my children, for myself. And as the episode ended, I wiped my tears off my face, shut off the tv and kissed every one of my sleeping children a few dozen times. And I went to bed thinking about the depiction of that light, that hope.

Two years later, I married my best friend – the love of my life, a good man who never lies, never hurts me or my kids, lifts me up when I feel down, makes me laugh every day, treats me far better than I will ever think I deserve. We had a baby boy together, bringing our family to a total of four amazing kids who all call him Dad. We have our own home which we work so hard for, we have a plethora of animals who make every day adventurous, and I am finally on a career track I feel excited about. All because I decided to stop living in my suffering, and move on.

That is why this show is not ‘just a show.’ For me, anyway. Because of JoAnn and Steven and Jeffrey. Because of the hope I found with the show itself. And I know I am not alone in at least this sentiment.

Every season since, I have watched the episodes. I have followed the stories and witnessed the amazing things this fandom has done for each other and complete strangers. I have seen people’s lives changed by the show and the actors, I have been able to connect with other people I never would have known, and get closer to those I already did. I have shared this series with my children, who all love it and the main characters as much as I do.

And right now, as we get near the end of the series, I am not ashamed to admit that I am hurting. I feel a genuine heartache. A genuine loss. I feel like a part of my history is coming to a close. But like at that moment when my world was inside out and I was trapped in my own little hell, I have hope. 

I don’t know what waits for me. I never have. I don’t know what awaits any of us. But this show will never really die. The connections we’ve made, the way the stories and people have touched us… that never really goes away. 

Whether we watch Supernatural on repeat on a bad day, or follow the actors as they move on to new adventures, or get someone in our life to start watching it, this show will always be around. Just like hope. And… isn’t it like Sam said? “Hope’s kind of the whole point.”

So, hold on to hope. And message me if you’re grieving, if you need an ear from a fellow fan, or just someone to shoot Supernatural memes back and forth with. We’re a family. You, me, all of us. And I’ll always be here for you.

(P.S. I will ship Destiel till the bitter end.)

Love,

QuietDarkness (stars-are-just-ghosts)

[bellatrixobsessed1]

Protea (Part 13)

She avoids Mohi’s if only to avoid distressing Kaz any further. She pretends like she is busy and overwhelmed by her very first job. That she needs to focus on it so she doesn’t mess it up lie the last few jobs she’s had. Mohi and Zenyul trust her whole heartedly. It hurts terribly. She doesn’t deserve that kind of trust.

She knows it. Kaz knows it.

And so she spends most of her time at the palace and with Mai, hoping that Mohi doesn’t resent her fro growing distant. She thinks that maybe it is some sort of defense. To create that distance. To show herself out before they can show her out.

Working with Mai and tending to the flowers is a welcome distraction. Mostly she doesn't think too much about Kaz.

Mostly she doesn't think about him until he enters the shop. She is at the back of the shop, poking seeds into soil when Mai calls, "your brother is here."

For one small moment she thinks that Mai is referring to Zuko and her heart gives an anxious leap. She finishes patting the soil over the seed and wanders up to the front.

"Oh. Hi Kaz." She can't even manage to feel slightly enthusiastic to see him.

"Did you guys have a fight or something?" Mai asks in a whisper.

"I think."

"How can you not tell? Either you had a fight or you didn't."

But she isn't good with feelings, isn't good at understanding them. "I'm not mad at him." She replies.

"But he's mad at you?"

Snapdragon nods.

"I can finish planting the seeds if you two need a minute or you can step outside."

Snapdragon nods again.

Mai finishes handing her last customer his flowers and disappears into the back of the shop. Snapdragon brushes her fingers over nearby petals. "I made a bouquet for Mohi's birthday.” “And?”

"I want to come home for Mohi's birthday."

"Is that a demand or a question, princess." He sneers.

"A...request?" Snapdragon replies. "I made an arrangement with her favorite flowers." She holds up a bouquet of fake jasmine, daisy, clover, and yarrow. She will replace those with genuine flowers on Mohi's birthday. Around the boy she has tied a few yellow and white painted beads and brown and white bird feathers that she had found in her hoard. "Can you give it to her?"

"Give it to her yourself when you visit on her birthday." The way that he extends the invitation is anything but kind. It makes her think that, maybe, a silly bouquet might not be good enough. That maybe a pouch of gold coins would be a better gift. Mohi could start reclaiming the life she had sacrificed for Snapdragon. For the woman that shouldn't exist.

She watches Kaz sulk away. She never finds out what he had come there to tell her.

.oOo.

With the passing of several days, her mind has mostly sorted itself out. Snapdragon and Azula coexist well enough with Azula--as per usual--taking dominance. She attributes this mostly to the stresses and sorrows that Azula is prone to coming back in full force. They stir about in her mind until Snapdragon’s joy and enthusiasm is swept away.

But Azula finds that she rather enjoys the freedoms that Snapdragon has found for her. The ability to speak as she will and do what she will without the fear of tarnishing an immaculate reputation. She still very much enjoys being around Mohi. Mohi who ruffles her hair and gives her the affection she wishes that her own mother would afford her. Her own mother who she has seen about the palace several times now. Her own mother who loves Snapdragon more than she could ever love Azula. She is just one more reason to feign ignorance and keep up her facade.

Really, it isn’t too hard. She thinks that Snapdragon is everything and all of the freedom that she had yearned for. And now she has it. Maybe all along Snapdragon, minus eating flowers and rolling in dirt, has been the real her. The real her that she has buried so deeply. The real her that has been hindered and bogged down by crushing expectations and loneliness.

She is terrified that this loneliness will come creeping back in. Kaz hasn’t warmed up to her any and Zenyul always sides with his brother.

She is more desperate to keep their affection that she would like to admit. Desperate to keep the family she has found and the little joys. She supposes that she wasn’t thinking clearly. Had she been thinking clearly, she wouldn’t have gotten caught. Had her mind not been so fixated on salvaging her relationship with Kaz. Fixated on keeping everything from falling apart completely.

.oOo.

It is Kaz who opens the door and he tries to shut it in her face. But she didn’t walk all of that distance just to be shut out. “I said you can come for Mohi’s birthday, no other day.” Kaz grumbles, he gives the door another heave. Azula holds her ground.

“Just let ‘er in, Kaz.” Zenyul sighs.

He releases his hold so suddenly that she nearly loses her footing.

“What’s goin’ on ‘tween you two anyways?”

Azula shrugs while Kaz grumbles, “don’t worry about it.”

Mohi makes her way into the foyer, apron tied tightly around her waist, face smeared with flour and dough. Azula mood lifts if only slightly. “Where ya be at chil’.” She frowns. “Ya git yerself a job ‘n we don’t never see ya.”

“Kaz doesn’t want me here anymore.” She doesn’t particularly want to cause problems for him but she also doesn’t want Mohi to think that she has forgotten about her. “He was here first so I’ve been staying with Mai.”

Zenyul scoffs, “you’re talkin’ like one’a them nobles.”

Her tummy flutters, how is it that he can manage to make the extravagance of palace life sound so ugly and foul? “I brought a souvenir.”  She slips her hand into her pocket and draws out a small coin pouch. She holds it out to Mohi. “It’s enough to buy a place in the…uh, in the less rough area of Caldera.”  

Mohi’s eyes go wide and she clamps her hand around Azula’s wrist.

“Oh chil’ no. Ya didn’t steal this did ya?”

Technically she didn’t. It belongs to her whether or not the palace guard recognizes her. But it doesn’t belong to Snapdragon and right now she is Snapdragon. “They won’t know.” She thinks that they have so much wealth anyways that a couple of coins would go completely unnoticed.

“Chil’ ya swiping hands is gon’ git ya in trouble.” She looks terrified. “Why ya go ‘n do this?”

She shrugs. “You were supposed to live well. You were doing fine until I got here.”  She notices Kaz grimace.

Mohi cuffs Kaz on the back of the head. Kaz and Zenyul both. “I oughtta give ya a good swat too, girl! Ya should know betta then takin’ from the royal family!” She slaps the coins back into Azula’s palm. “Ya go ‘n take this back.”

“But you need it.”

“Not as much as we need ya here ‘n safe.”

Azula’s lower lip quivers. Even when she tries to do something good, she hurts people. She is beginning to recall more vividly why she had sought out the Mother of Faces to extract her memories, her face, her essence--everything that made her Azula.

“Kaz!”

The boy goes rigid.

“Why’d ya go ‘n say them thin’s to ‘er? Don’ tell me ya don’ wan’ ‘er around?”

Kaz seems to chew on his lips. “I were mad, okay?”

The imperial firebenders don’t knock. They just enter. Just as they have been trained to do. Azula feels absolutely sick. She thinks that one of the servants, likely Ami, had seen her slip out of the treasury. She wasn’t careful. She was foolish and impulsive. She has made things worse.

“I don’ think it’s okay.” Mohi shakes her head. She squeezes Azula’s hand. “Oh chil’, ya didn’t have ta do that.”

.oOo.

They handle her roughly. More roughly than even Snapdragon is used to. Snapdragon may have been lower class filth but she was never a criminal. She is a criminal now though and they have very little regard for her comfort. Her wrists are bruised from their grip and her knees are bruised and scraped from having been shoved to the floor of her new cell.

“I’ll admit, it takes nerves, a certain fire, to steal from the royal family.” One of the guards sneers.

“Never liked that one.” Says the other. “Never liked the glum one either.”

And she is left in darkness, with metal clamped around her hands and feet. It weighs them down so heavily that she thinks they may break. She lays with her cheek pressed against the chilly dirty floor.

She can tell them who she is, but she can’t imagine that they would believe her. They won’t let her show them her fire.

She believes that two or three days pass before she sees anyone aside from the guard delivering her sorry excuse for a meal.  It is so terribly lonely and so dreadfully cold. She misses her freedom. At night she dreams of her factory, of making it to the very top.

She misses the wind in her hair as she leaps from building to building. It dawns on her that she hasn’t done parkour in a good long while. She had taken the simple life for granted. And now she is more restricted than she has ever been. She feels horrible for thinking so, but she wishes that she had never run into Mai again.

At one point she hears Mai arguing for them to let her see her girlfriend and she feels guilty twice over. “Wait until Zuko gets back, wait until he hears about this!” She had vowed. Azula can’t name another instance where Mai had been this passionate. It earns her no prize. No prize save for, “oh I’m sure he’ll be thrilled to hear that you brought a thief into the palace.”

Her stomach is rumbling softly by day five. They have neglected to feed her for the past few days. She begins to wonder if they plan on leaving her to die. She doesn’t remember any laws that punish thieves so steeply, but then she hadn’t really paid attention to exactly what penalties thieves, traitors, and murderers received.

The door to her cell opens. She doesn’t move. Even if she wanted to, the shackles keep her tethered to the floor. The light that spills onto her face is blinding after nearly a week without any light at all.

She doesn’t try to get up, even when the shackles clunk to the floor and away from her wrists and ankles. When she doesn’t move at all, the figure comes closer. She flinches as hands pull her to her feet. These hands are very gentle. Very caring. Those hands pull her into a little hug. “The coins were returned, I don’t see the point in keeping you in here.” Speaks a very familiar voice. “And treating you like this.” She detects a scowl in the woman’s voice. The same sternness that she usually addresses Azula with. But Snapdragon, as far as Ursa knows, is not Azula. And so her voice becomes light again, “let’s get you cleaned up and something to eat.”

Azula winces with each step. But she is very intent on simply walking it off. Walking it off, at least until her ankle twist and she buckles to the floor.

Her mother catches her and gives a wince of her own. “We’ll get you to the infirmary and then get you something to eat. We can get you cleaned up later.”

She scoops Azula up and Azula shakes her head. “I’m fine, I can walk myself.” She insists.

Ursa purses her lips. “Your ankles are very swollen, I shouldn’t have let you walk so soon.”

“I can walk, I’m not weak. I can…”

“Maybe you can.” Ursa smiles. “But you don’t have to. The sooner we get you to the infirmary, the sooner you will get to see Mai and--what was her name--Mohi?”

Azula nods, “Mohi isn’t in trouble, is she?”

“Mohi and her sons are safe.” Ursa replies as she lays Azula upon a vacant infirmary bed. She beckons for a doctor. “Why did you steal from the treasury, Snapdragon?”

“Mohi needed the coins.” She replies.

“Zuko is a generous Fire Lord, you could have asked him. You could have asked me.”

Maybe if Azula hadn’t resurfaced, she would have considered those to be options. Maybe if she didn’t forget that Zuko doesn’t have anything against Snapdragon… Maybe if Azula didn’t exist at all.

She closes her eyes.

Ursa sighs, “you like your independence, don’t you?”

She nods, supposing that, that is a part of it. Even if it is a small part.

And Ursa gives a small laugh. “I guess that, that’s a firebender’s curse. We can never just ask for help or talk about how we feel.”  She takes Azula’s hand.

“I don’t know how to ask for help.” Azula admits. She knows that she needs it so badly and for so many reasons. But she doesn’t know how to request it. Even Snapdragon didn’t really know how to reach out…

Ursa gives her head a sad and small shake. “You’re quite different than her, but you remind me of my daughter.”