#using an explanation mark to show my COMMITMENT to being Awake!

[faux-fires]

when ur so tired you sleep on and off for 13 hours straight

[bucky-bucky-bucky-bucky]

Burning the Midnight Oil | Bucky Barnes x Reader

Hi, friends! My love for Lana Del Rey knows no bounds and I feel like a ton of her music reminds me of Bucky.

If you like what you read, throw me a reblog so that others can find my stuff! 🥰

Wanrings: Bucky’s tragic past, PTSD/ nightmares, feelings

"You don't ever have to

be stronger than you really are

when you're lying in my arms, baby."

The biting cold nudged you awake, dragging you out of your peaceful sleep. A harsh shiver wracked your body as you snuggled deeper under the covers and rolled over to face Bucky, searching desperately for his warmth. Still half-asleep, you pawed at the sheets, but found them empty and cold. The sharp realization that Bucky wasn’t lying next to you stripped all exhaustion from your body and sent your heart pounding.

Discovering that he was absent from the bed in the middle of the night was never good. Sometimes, he rushed out the door for a dangerous, last-minute mission. Other times, he was lying on the floor in the midst of a panic attack, barely able to breathe. The sharp chill bit at your skin as you threw your blankets to the floor and flicked on your bedside lamp, finding the room empty. Bucky’s large form didn’t lie sprawled upon the ground, nor did he inhabit the en suite bathroom. Dread poked holes in your heart as you resigned yourself to that fact that Bucky had left on yet another middle of the night mission.

A disappointed huff echoed through the room as you scooped up your blankets and piled them on top of the bed, wishing he’d woken you to say goodbye. You reached for your phone, hoping that Bucky had at least sent you a text explaining the details of his absence, but a small sound stopped you. Someone quietly cleared their throat in the living room, catching your attention. You’d know that sound anywhere- it was Bucky.

Once again, you ditched your covers. A sharp inhale pierced your chest as you fled the warmth of your bed and high-tailed it in the direction of Bucky’s voice, the cold air nipping at your skin. In the dim living room, Bucky sat in his favorite armchair, quietly reading by the light of a solitary lamp.

“Buck...?” He lifted his head from his book and met your curious gaze, a small smile stretching across his lips.

“Sweetheart, hey. Did I wake you?” He gently folded the corner of his page, leaving a dog-ear to mark his place. He could practically hear your teeth grinding together at the sight of yet another folded page and couldn’t help but chuckle. “It’s not one of yours,” Bucky’s metal hand raised the book, showing you the cover, “I promise”.

You gave him a dramatic roll of your eyes and padded in his direction with a smirk- he knew you too well. He laughed once more as you fell into his lap and made yourself comfortable, your body resting perfectly against his.

“You didn’t wake me. I just…I woke up and you weren’t there- I got nervous, that’s all”. Your fingers danced through Bucky’s soft locks, your nails gently scratching against his scalp. His book landed against the floor as he ditched it completely, committing all his attention to you, instead. The strong arms you’d often referred to as ‘home’ wound around you, binding you to Bucky’s warm chest.

“I’m sorry, baby. I didn’t mean to scare you”, he nuzzled his face into your neck, pressing a light kiss to your pulse, “I just couldn’t sleep- came out here to read instead.” Alarm bells rang inside your head. Being tired was no longer a temporary state for Bucky- it was a lifestyle. He always fell asleep quickly, even if he didn’t stay that way for long.

“Did you have a nightmare?”

“No”, he said simply- no explanation, no elaboration. Your hands removed his head from your neck and brought his face up to yours, your eyes narrowing as you stared him down.

“Don’t give me that look”, he pinched at your sides, using your ticklish spots against you, “I’m not lying, doll. I haven’t had one in a while- it must be the adrenaline.” Bucky had returned from a particularly harrowing mission just a day earlier, and explained how his body was still full to the brim with the anxiety and energy that helped get him through. “I’m okay, though. I’m sure I’ll crash soon.”

A strong yawn overpowered you, forcing your head back as exhaustion crept into your bones. “Come on, let’s get you back to bed,” Bucky swept you up into his arms, but you protested- something you never did when he held you.

“If you’re gonna stay up, I wanna stay up with you. I don’t-” another yawn interrupted you, sending Bucky into a fit of laughter. He carried you to bed despite your pushback and got you settled under the covers, smiling as he watched you get comfortable. Bucky watched as your eyes fell slowly shut, losing the fight against sleep in almost record time.

“Come back to bed soon?” you breathed, reaching out for Bucky with your last stores of energy.

“Very soon”, he pressed a kiss to your hand, “promise”. With that, you were out. Bucky tightened the blankets around you just a bit more and left a kiss on your forehead, smiling down at his best girl. He flicked off your bedside lamp and padded quietly out of the room, but not before giving you one last look. He quietly shut the door and retrieved his book from the floor, resuming his place in his favorite chair.

A sharp ray of sun poked at you, rousing you from your deep sleep. A tired groan tumbled from your lips and you rolled over, hiding your face from the morning light. You reached for Bucky’s strong arms, but he was nowhere to be found. He was always waking up earlier than you on the weekends, cooking you breakfast and making sure there was coffee ready when you got out of bed- but the apartment was silent. The smell of coffee didn’t float through the air, nor did you hear Bucky clanging around in the kitchen.

Figuring that Bucky had gone for run, you hopped out of bed and headed for the kitchen. Since he was always making you breakfast, you figured it was time you returned the favor. But just as you turned the corner toward the kitchen, the sound of quiet snoring caught your attention.

Bucky’s limp body still rested in the armchair, his head slumped over to one side. His book lay sprawled against the floor, its pages crinkled against the hardwood. With silent steps, you crept toward Bucky and scooped up his book, placing it gently on the coffee table.

You knew his enhanced hearing would pick up the sounds of you mulling around the kitchen, but you moved as stealthily as possible to get the coffee started. His arms were around you in no time, holding you close as you got the coffeemaker going.

“Morning to you too, Barnes”, you turned around, meeting his lips with yours, “Missed you in bed”. He let his forehead fall against yours, allowing for a dissatisfied grumble to escape his chest. “I know…I’m sorry, sweets. I got way too into my book. I didn’t realize that I passed out until I heard you in here”.

“I know, Buck. It’s not a big deal”, you ghosted your lips over his, “I still love ya”. He landed a light smack to your ass and banished you to a barstool, promising that he’d make breakfast to make it up to you. His large hands worked quickly to prepare a cup of coffee for you just the way you liked it, delivering it to you in your favorite mug.

Bucky watched with a smile as you sipped on it casually, telling him all about the wild dreams you’d had the night before. “Yeah, and so then I had to coach the soccer team because the real coaches got arrested- but no one would tell me why! And you know who the coaches were? Trixie and Katya!”

Bucky looked up from his waffle batter, a silly smile toying with the corners of his lips, “the drag queens?” He threw his head back in a laugh at your emphatic “YES!” and felt his heart swell- God, you were adorable. He served you your cinnamon waffles with a bowl of strawberries and a second cup of coffee, another “I’m sorry” falling from his lips.

“You are more than forgiven, Sarge” you popped a strawberry into his mouth, wiping at the sweet juice that stained his lips. The two of you ate and did the dishes together, enjoying the lazy, stress-free Saturday morning.

The day passed without incident, the two of you taking a walk in the park and grabbing Thai food for dinner at your favorite local place. Bucky dragged you into the bakery down the street and bought you the macarons that you deemed “too expensive”, relishing in the smile that spread across your face as you tried each one. He, of course, refused to take a bite of any of them and swore that they were just for you- but folded like he always did when you gave him your puppy dog eyes. It was a perfect day and an even better night, Bucky slipping into the shower with you and making you see stars.

He carried you to bed afterward, your damp hair sending goosebumps across his skin. “I love you…” he snuggled in close to you, wrapping his warm body around yours, “I love you a lot”. It was clear to you that Bucky still felt a twinge of guilt about the previous night, but there was no need.

“And I love you, Buck. A whole lot.” You reached for the lamp and flicked it off, sending the room into a dark stillness. Bucky tightened his grip around you and listened for your breathing to steady, waiting for his best girl to fall asleep.

You stirred around 3:15am, the urge to pee ruining the perfect dream you’d been having. Quickly and quietly, you padded to the bathroom, only realizing on your walk back to bed that Bucky was missing.

“Not again,” you snapped your head in the direction of the bedroom door, discovering a soft, yellow light emanating from the living room. “Buck…” you muttered, dragging your body from the bedroom to search for your super soldier.

He sat in the same place as the night before, his nose buried in a book while his metallic fingers played absentmindedly with the corner of the page.

“Burning the midnight oil?” Bucky’s eyes left the words and met your gaze, an apologetic smile pulling at his lips. A slight shiver made your body shake, forcing you to cross your arms over your chest in an attempt to conserve your heat.

“Hey, sweets, what are you doing up?”

You padded over to Bucky and perched on the arm of his chair, staring down at him with disapproval. “I could ask you the same thing, Barnes. Are we gonna have a problem?”

When the two of you first got together, Bucky had an issue being honest. He couldn’t seem to open up to you when he was struggling, nor did he ever dare ask you for help. And his habit of suffering in silence drove him to a seemingly-apocalyptic panic attack that convinced him he was dying.

He’d shown up at your door looking like a ghost of himself, scaring you half to death as he gasped for breath. It took nearly an hour to get him calmed down, and several hours after that for him to finally spill his guts to you. He told you every detail he could remember about Hydra, and the anxiety that often plagued him.

And when everything was laid out on the table, you made him promise to be honest from then on out. You assured him that you loved him for exactly who he was, Winter Soldier and all, and that you’d much rather hear about his troubled past than have him suffer in such a state of panic.

He reached for your hand and left a few kisses on your palm before pressing it gently to his cheek. “No problem here, doll, I swear I’m okay…I honestly don’t know what the deal is- just can’t fall asleep”. His arms tugged you from your seat and landed you in his lap, his body heat granting you a welcome respite from the cold.

“Are you sure? Cause if there’s something eating at you, Buck, you can talk to me- I want you to talk to me”. You twisted your fingers into his hair, making an automatic smile stretch across his face.

“I know that, sweets…” his grasp around you tightened, burying you deeper in the warmth of his body, “but there’s nothing to talk about. I laid in bed for hours before I came out here- no luck.” He threw you a defeated shrug and trailed kisses from your forehead to your lips, just like he always did.

“You promise? I mean, you always used to swear that you were okay, and then-” Bucky took your face in his hands, silencing you. He could tell the worry that you’d locked away all those months ago was rearing its ugly head, threatening to break free and wreak havoc on your psyche.

“I promise- just excess adrenaline or something, alright?” he offered you his pinky, linking it with yours in an effort to grant you a little peace of mind. With narrowed eyes and a faux-frown you gave his pinky a gentle tug, sealing the promise in place. “I just care about you, Buck…” the lighthearted tone left your words completely, exposing your deep-rooted anxiety, “I don’t mean to bug you- I just worry”.

Bucky pulled you tighter against his body, enveloping you completely in the safety of his arms. “I don’t think anyone’s ever cared about me as much as you do- it’s never a bother, you could never be a bother, doll. I welcome it.”

You rested your head against his chest, listening to the steady beating of his super-soldier heart. The sound brought you more comfort than you ever thought any one thing could, and before you knew it, you were falling asleep. “Alright, back to bed you go” Bucky swept you into his arms and carried you to bed, gently placing you back under the covers.

“Buck, would you stay? Just for a minute…” you pulled your head from the pillow, catching Bucky just as he stepped through the bedroom door, “I miss you”.

Without hesitation, Bucky crawled back into bed and pulled you flush against his chest, dropping kisses on the top of your head one right after another. “Of course, baby. I’m here”, he squeezed you a bit tighter, “you can go to sleep”. With Bucky in his rightful spot in your bed, you drifted easily off to sleep- but the same could not be said for him.

For three subsequent nights, Bucky snuck out of the bed you two shared and planted himself in the armchair, diving into his book while you slept without him. And every night, you woke to find him missing, disappointment and loneliness slowly chiseling away at your heart.

On the sixth night of Bucky’s absence, you wrapped yourself in the cozy quilt that adorned your bed and trudged into the living room. It was 3:47am and exhaustion threatened to force you to the floor, but a fierce determination to drag Bucky back to bed kept you going.

As you crept into the living room, your quilt dragging along the floor behind you, you laid eyes on Bucky. His head rested in one of his hands and his eyes squinted down at the page before him as he clearly struggled to stay awake.

“Buck…?”

A sharp jolt rattled Bucky’s body, your voice startling him out of his stupor. He looked up at you slowly, exhaustion making every movement that much more difficult. “Sweetheart, hi” he rasped, his groggy voice clearly struggling to appear cheery. His crystalline blue eyes, usually clear and alert, were foggy and vacant, betraying just how tired he was. Dark circles lived under his eyes and the healthy color was drained from his face, leaving him lifeless and ghost-like.

“Don’t tell me you’re okay, because you’re not,” you dropped the quilt and marched over to him, taking the book from his hands.

“Buck, I need you to talk to me. Right now. You’re clearly exhausted-” a slight crack in your voice sent a sharp pang of anxiety to Bucky’s chest, “what’s going on with you?”

Bucky’s head fell back and he resigned himself to defeat- but an inkling of relief tugged at his heart. He hated hiding things from you, hated keeping up the charade of being okay when he was falling apart at the seams. With a labored groan, he sat up straight in his chair. His tired muscles ached and throbbed, his exhausted mind foggy as he tried to lay all of his cards out on the table.

“That first night that you found me out here…I’d had a nightmare”. Bucky watched you cover your face with your hands, a crippling sensation of shame clawing at his chest. “I know, I know- I’m sorry. I should’ve told you, baby. I know”, he waited for a moment, only continuing his story when you’d composed yourself a bit.

“I couldn’t go back to sleep after, so I came out here to read- that’s the truth. But then…” Bucky’s vibranium hand gripped his dog tags, forcing a quiet whine from the thin metal. “Then I just- I didn’t want to sleep…every time I closed my eyes, I saw that same nightmare playing on an endless loop- I couldn’t take it”.

You lowered yourself onto the coffee table, the weight of Bucky’s words forcing you to sit down. “So you’re saying that-” Bucky nodded, confirming your fear. “Yeah. We’d go to bed and I’d wait for you to fall asleep, then I’d spend the rest of the night out here- forcing myself to stay awake”. Bucky’s dark chuckle sent goosebumps over your skin, “I got through four and a half books, though”.

But it wasn’t funny. You didn’t laugh or even crack a smile at Bucky’s attempt at humor. “Buck, you can’t- you have to sleep”, you tensed your jaw, pushing the raw emotion aside as best you could, “this is serious”. He knew you were right, and he was certain that he’d thrown your anxiety into overdrive, but he didn’t know what to say. An uncomfortable silence pushed its way between the two of you, filling you with a strange sense of isolation.

A shiver crawled up your spine, making your body shake against the unwelcome chill. “Oh, sweetheart-” Bucky grabbed the quilt you’d left on the floor and wrapped it around you, banishing the cold from your body.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” you stared down at Bucky, watching him tuck the ends of your blanket around your feet. “You promised, Buck.”

His head fell forward. The utter brokenness in your voice, your seemingly hopeless tone shattered him completely. Shame twisted in his chest, making it ache and throb as he thought about what you said. He made a promise to you, but chose break it- something he swore he’d never do.

“I didn’t…I don’t like telling you about this stuff, baby”, he raked a hand through his hair and lifted his tired eyes, meeting your worried gaze. “I’ve told you all about Hydra and my missions and the anxiety, but I haven’t- I don’t like to tell you about the dreams…”

“I’m an adult- I’m a grown man…I’m a fucking Avenger. I shouldn’t be bothered by them, you know? It’s embarrassing…” He rocked back on his heels, allowing his butt to land against the cold hardwood. You slid from the coffee table to the floor, landing just a few inches from Bucky’s exhausted form. With a light touch, you placed a hand on his knee, ensuring him that you were there- you were with him.

A sudden, sharp cringe pulled his brows together, forcing the alarm bells in your head to sound at full volume. “Um, since I’m being honest…do you remember how I told you that I’d had fewer nightmares since moving in?” You looked at him expectantly, waiting for the other shoe to drop, only to feel your heart shatter.

“You’ve been hiding them from me this whole time…” You felt your chest tighten at the thought of Bucky suffering in silence- all alone.

“I didn’t hide all of them, not the-”

“Not the ones that woke me up?”

He nodded sheepishly, explaining that he couldn’t hide the nightmares if you were the one shaking him awake as he screamed. He could practically feel the anxiety rising in your body, the tension turning your pliant muscles into rock hard knots.

“Sweetheart, I’m so sorry- I never want to lie to you or hide things, but I-” With the raising of your hand, you silenced him. Nervous energy twisted in Bucky’s stomach as he sat before you, waiting for you to speak.

“I’m not mad, Buck”, you finally said, “I’m not happy that you kept all this to yourself, and I wish you’d told me like you promised you would, but…I just hate that you’ve been dealing with this alone- how can I help you? What can I do, babe? I just want you to sleep- I need you to rest.”

Bucky scooted closer to you and leaned his head against the crook of your neck, releasing a deep sigh. “I don’t think there’s anything you can do doll,” he whispered, “I’m so fucking tired…I’m gonna pass out soon, and then I’ll have the dream again- and the whole cycle will start over”.

Your heart broke for him, splintering and shattering into hundreds of sharp, tiny pieces. If anyone deserved rest, it was Bucky. But the ghosts of his past plagued him so violently, so aggressively, threatening to ruin his present and his future.

“Okay, how about this- let’s just get you into bed, alright?” Bucky tried to protest, but didn’t have the energy to put up much of a fight. “We won’t turn the light off and we’ll keep the tv on- I’ll put on something happy…and when you wake up from the nightmare, I’ll be right there. I’ll coax you through it, okay? We’re gonna get you some rest- I promise.”

He didn’t resist when you pulled him from the floor and escorted him to the bedroom, his hulking form leaning against you as he trudged down the hall. With the blanket wrapped securely around him, Bucky felt a sense of peace- but it was eclipsed by overwhelming anxiety. He didn’t want to close his eyes. He didn’t want to see the gory, bloody carnage that sat dormant in his brain. He started spiraling, willing his body to flee from the bed and find safety in his trusty armchair, but your voice brought him back.

“Why don’t you want to tell me about the nightmares?” you snuggled into bed next to Bucky, gently stroking his scarred chest, “I know you said it’s embarrassing because you’re an Avenger or something, but do you think that Steve never had nightmares? Sam? Nat? Tony? Everyone on the team has been through shit- you more than anyone else. Nightmares are a normal response…”

Bucky shrugged, his aching muscles protesting against the motion. With exhaustion taking hold of him and stripping him of his usual filter, Bucky dropped the truth on you all at once.

“I should be stronger than this…”

You stared at him, your mouth hanging slightly ajar. Bucky was the strongest person you’d ever known- mentally and physically. To have suffered so much, only to remain so kind, so grounded, was a miraculous feat.

“Buck, having nightmares doesn’t mean that you’re weak-”

“But letting them keep me awake does…” he breathed, “letting them torture me to the point of avoiding sleep simply because I’m too fucking scared to close my eyes- that makes me weak”.

He left you speechless. How Bucky could be so cold, so callous toward himself, lacking any fiber of empathy or understanding, broke your heart. “I don’t want- I don’t want you thinking less of me…this isn’t what you signed up for when we got together, baby,” Bucky’s eyes dipped once again, the unbridled humiliation forcing his gaze downward. “I want to be strong for you. I’m a fucking super soldier-“

“I know you’re a super soldier, but you’re human. Before you’re anything else- you’re a human being. It’s okay to be affected by these things, Buck. It’s okay to be scared.” You placed a hand under his chin, lifting his eyes to meet yours, “You don’t have to put up a façade with me- you don’t have to pretend. If you can’t be vulnerable with me, if you can’t let your guard down and be honest about what you’re going through- it’s only going to make things worse”. Bucky nodded- he knew you were right- but the humiliation still threatened to eat him alive.

“And hey, I didn’t sleep for a week after seeing the last IT- and that’s literally a movie about a spooky clown”, Bucky half smiled at your quip, looking more at peace than he had all night. “You’ve faced some real horrors- things that no one on this planet could even imagine. Your mind revisits them at night as a way to deal and cope- you’re literally reliving some of the worst moments of your life, of course it affects you”.

Tears stung at Bucky’s eyes. Emotion and exhaustion had his head spinning, a complete loss for words preventing him from even responding.

“Hey, we can talk about this more in the morning-alright?” you pressed a kiss to Bucky’s forehead and grabbed the remote, turning on Golden Girls at a low volume. “Okay, ya Girls are playing, the lamp is on- is there anything else I can do for you right now?” Bucky just shook his head, still too overwhelmed to say much of anything.

He freed his arms from their blanket burrito and tugged you against his body, holding you tight to his chest like he always did. “I’m always here for you, Buck. You never have to be embarrassed- I just want what’s best for you. Okay?” He nodded, finally feeling a sense of relief. With you there, Bucky could endure anything.

“Baby…I love you” he managed to whisper, squeezing you tighter as he let his eyelids flutter shut. With the uncertain darkness of sleep on the horizon, he prayed silently that he wouldn’t see the faces of those who tortured him all those years - but knew that if he did, you’d be right there to save him.

————————————

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[zodiakuroo]

Un(holy) Trinity

Pairing: Dabi x Fem!Reader x Shigaraki

Content: 18+ dubcon/noncon, threesome, manhandling, rough sex, corruption, degradation, humiliation, breathplay, stepcest, breeding, blasphemy and sacrilege, elements of mindbreak and god complex (?) 

Word count: 4.1k

Notes: my first threesome and idk how to feel about it but here it is! If it’s bad I can blame it on the fact that I just had my wisdom teeth extracted and am currently in a world of pain :) also i’m on bedrest and incredibly bored so if anyone has requests or thirsts or just wants to chat... yeah

also if this banner is shit i’m sorry i rushed and made it on my phone cause i just rly wanted to to post

This is part 2 to my other fic Love Thy Brother which you can read here 

Now the serpent was more cunning than any beast of the field which the LORD God had made. And he said to the woman, “Has God indeed said, ‘You shall not eat of every tree of the garden’?” - Genesis 3:1

Twelve days.

Twelve days since you lost your virginity.

Twelve days since you lost your virginity to your step-brother, no less. 

The night that it happened, you lay awake in your bed dreading the aftermath of the horrific incident. How could you face him again? How could you face your family? How could you face God? 

You were too cowardly to face the rest of your household. The Todoroki family welcomed you into their home only for you betray them by sleeping with Touya. Ever since you were little, your mother would say she had a sort of sixth sense that meant God would always tell her when you’d been up to mischief. It sounds silly but there was no explanation for how she would always catch out in lie or know things that you never told her. You feared she would take one look at you and know the sin you committed. And so you chose to make yourself scarce, taking extra shifts at work and choosing to study at the campus library rather than at home. Your siblings seemed to notice how busy you suddenly were, often remarking how they missed you around the house. That just made you feel more ashamed. 

As for God, you felt like you needed to do whatever necessary to prove your faith. You wanted Him to know the extent of your shame and remorse. You were weak in spirit, making you an easy target for someone as devious as Touya. You prayed and begged for forgiveness until your knees hurt but no matter what you did, the guilt was inescapable. You realized it was because, irrespective of the regret and remorse you felt, you couldn’t deny that you enjoyed what happened. You liked the way Dabi made you feel and you hated yourself for it. But no matter how much you liked it, something like that could never happen again. As penance, you banned yourself from bringing your hands anywhere near your groin. After all that temptation is what brought you to this point in the first place. But the thread of your self-control is thin and withered so at night when you’re certain everyone is asleep, you’re humping your pillow like an animal and biting down on your lip trying to keep from moaning his name. At least you weren’t touching right? 

Dabi, by some God-given miracle, made himself scarce as well. It wasn’t uncommon for the noirette to disappear for days at a time doing heaven knows what only to arrive back at home like nothing happened; so no one really questioned his absence. Perhaps he  felt the same way you did and was avoiding facing you and the other Todorokis.

Yeah right. 

Shame? Todoroki Touya doesn’t know the meaning of the word. 

In any case, you had become used to a Dabi-less house and so lulled into a false sense of safety, slowly but surely reverting back to normal. That’s why as you make your way downstairs, prepared to go to your church, the sound of gunfire and explosions from the living room doesn’t alarm you. Probably Natsuo or Shouto playing one of their video games, you thought. But when you get to the bottom of the stairs you’re met with unmistakable dark locks. Not just him. The back of another person’s head, one with pale blue, shoulder length hair. Before you can stop yourself, you let out a gasp. Neither of them react, seemingly too focused on their game. You don’t waste any time feeling relieved, choosing instead to make a silent escape. 

You could only dream of being so lucky. 

“Oi!” Your step-brother calls without turning around. He hasn’t seen you, you think. If you move quickly you can still get out of this. “I know you heard me, brat. Get over here before I drag you over here.” He still doesn’t bother to turn around but the sharpness in his tone lets you know that you’d be smart to listen. You take a second to steel your nerves and make your way over to the couch, trying your best to look as intimidating as possible. You scowl at both men but they are so engrossed in their video game, they don’t even acknowledge that you’re standing right there. “Aren’t you gonna say hi? We have company.” 

We?

The company in question is Shigaraki Tomura. He’s been to the house before although he’s never even so much as glanced in your direction, too busy with his phone or playing games with Dabi. Despite your hard expression you can only manage a meek “Hello Shigaraki.” 

He responds by finally looking at you, with a sleazy grin, a pair of crimson eyes, surrounded by creases meet your own. “Sup.” 

Beer cans litter the coffee table, one of them being turned into a makeshift ashtray while both have smouldering cigarettes perched between their lips. “You’re not supposed to smoke in the house.” 

“You’re not supposed to smoke in the house.” Dabi mocks you with a nasal voice. 

You simply roll your eyes, not interested in continuing this interaction any further.  “Whatever. I’m leaving now.” You state with as much firmness as you can muster. You spin on your heels but are kept in place by long, slender digits wrapped around your wrist. 

“Where are you off to anyways?” The game paused, both boys now looking at you. 

Out of habit, you answer truthfully. “Bible study.” 

Shigaraki and Dabi burst into raucous laughter. 

You should have lied. 

“Nah you’re gonna hang out with me and Shigaraki for a bit.” 

“Dabi, I have to leave.”

“You don’t have to do anything except what I tell you and I’m telling you to sit.” 

Before you can protest you’re being hauled on to the couch, squeezed between the two of them. 

“Nice necklace.” Tomura snorts, hand reaching out to grab at your crucifix but you swat it away. His gaze is unnerving. It makes you wonder if- no. He promised he wouldn’t. 

Just like that, their game is resumed, as if you were never there. A few rounds pass, no words exchanged between either of them, only curses muttered under their breath. “Dabi, can I please go. I’m bored.” 

Wrong choice of words. 

“You hear that Tomura? The princess is bored.” His fingers are still moving rapidly over his controller. 

“Really now? Come on then Todoroki, let’s show her a good time. I’ve seen how she likes to have fun.” 

His comment on your necklace suddenly makes sense, but you still can’t believe it. “You didn’t…” you whip your head back to look at Dabi. 

”Sorry doll, you made your Nii-san so proud, I just had to show you off.” Dabi smiles shamelessly, lighting himself another cigarette. 

“You’re fucking sick Touya.” Tomura says, however his tone is not one of disgust but rather of admiration. 

“You promised...” Your voice breaks. You’re humiliated beyond belief. 

Both of them laugh at you again, discarding their controllers. “Told you, it’s adorable how stupid she is.” Dabi remarks to his friend, as if you’re not sitting right next to them. 

You try to force your way off the couch but get pulled into Dabi’s lap, one of his arms hooking around both of yours, securing them behind your back. You squirm in his arms but he stills you with a hard slap on your inner thigh. “Be good okay? Don’t embarrass me.” He nuzzles into your neck. 

Shigaraki flips up your dress exposing your white lace panties. He runs his thumb up and down your clothed slit, he fabric slowly becoming even more transparent. One severe jerk to the top of your dress and the straps are torn clean off, revealing the matching bra. “Yo, Touya. I thought she was a good girl.”

Dabi peers over your shoulder to get look. “Who’s all this for babe? You screwing the preacher or something? Or were you hoping I’d do something like this?” He tugs down your bra until your breasts are spilling over the top of it.

“Dabi…” Your choke on your plea when he sinks his teeth into your neck. He bites down so hard you’re positive he’s left a mark.

“Who?” 

“T-Touya-nii.” You whimper. 

“Better.” 

Your destroyed dress is discarded somewhere across the room and you find yourself on your hands and knees with Shigaraki kneeling on the couch in front of you and Dabi behind you. 

“Go easy on her alright Tomura. It’s her first time sucking cock.” He chuckles. 

Your eyes go wide. “Wait...” you mewl but neither pay you any mind.

“And you.” Dabi yanks a fistful of your hair. “No teeth. No puke. Or I’ll let my boy ream your little ass as punishment.”

“Yeah. What he said.” Shigaraki mutters, pulling his semi out of his sweatpants, rubbing his tip against your lips. His is not as scary as your step-brother’s but him staring down at you like this, makes him seem every bit as intimidating. 

Pre-cum dribbles from the swollen tip. You’re not entirely sure you want that in your mouth but you’re also not sure if you have a choice so you open up hesitantly. 

Dabi’s right. It is your first time doing something like this. You don’t know what you’re supposed to do but as it turns out you don’t have to do much, not with the way Shigaraki starts thrusting his quickly hardening member into your mouth.

“Move your tongue slut.” The man in front of you grunts. You do your best despite the heavy intrusion to obey his command, moving from side to side, swirling around the head when he pulls out of your mouth. He looks down at you with cruel vermillion eyes, panting as he strokes himself in front of you, spreading your saliva across his shaft before sliding deep into your mouth again.

Behind you, Dabi spreads apart your cheeks, squeezing the flesh in his calloused hands. “Remember what I said. Be good and I’ll give you a reward.” He pulls your panties to the side and lets out a whistle at the sight of your dripping slit. “She’s enjoying it. Make her take it deeper.”

You can’t possibly fathom how much deeper he can go when his head is already nudging at your tonsils. You try to swallow the saliva building up in your mouth, making your cheeks hollow out around Shigaraki’s shaft. Seems like that was the right thing to do as his hand flies to the back of your head. “Shit. Shit. So good.”

Dabi’s breath wafts over your pussy. He spreads your lips apart and you feel his hot tongue lick up the juices leaking from your hole. You squeal around Tomura’s dick. You want to pull off but his spindly fingers hold your head in place.

“Told you angel. Good little sisters get rewards.” With that he takes your clit between his lips and suckles on it gently while one of his fingers circles your entrance. Knuckle by knuckle he slides into you, making you keen. You arch your back trying to shift your hips backwards against his hand, silently urging him to find that special spot he showed you last time. He establishes a loose rhythm. Hot wet muscle and cold metal of his piercing circles the sensitive bundle of nerves, before applying suction while his fingers work you open.

The sensation is overwhelming, a form of heavenly torture and your thighs quiver barely able to hold you up while you use your last bit of mental strength to focus on suppressing your gags. That mental strength all but evaporates when the digits inside you graze that rough patch embedded in your walls. It’s so pleasurable your reflex is to run from his fingers. Luckily for Shigaraki, that means you move forward, taking him further into your mouth.

“This where you want me? This your spot, angel?” Dabi taunts you. Shigaraki holds you in place while two of your step-brother’s fingers drill your cunt, hitting that spot over and over again. Garbled moans and cries leave your mouth and reverberate around Tomura’s cock, proving to be too much for him ultimately. 

“Shit Stop!” Don’t wanna come yet.” He pulls out your mouth so that a string of your drool drips down to your breasts.

“God! Touya-nii!” You sputter out.

“Still with the God shit?” He uses your hair to force you to look at him, neck twisted at an awkward, uncomfortable angle. “God ever make you feel this good?” His fingers thrust into you harder. Your whole body feels like it’s on fire.

“Ngghh-N-no –oh! Oh!” is your incoherent answer.

Dabi forces you back down, shoving you face first into the cushions. “See? Fuck him. Give up on god. Give up on everyone except your big brother cause no one else can make you feel this good.”

You’re so pathetic. The way you’re rocking yourself in unison with the motions of his hands. The way your tongue hangs out of your mouth, impeding any sort of intelligible verbal response. The way you’re mindlessly nodding along to whatever filth is coming out of Dabi’s mouth.

“C’mon Touya. Turn her around. Wanna try out that sweet pussy you’ve been bragging about.” You’re reminded that you aren’t alone. No, your brother’s best friend is right there to witness exactly how pathetic you are.

“Yeah in a minute. I’m still having my fun.” Dabi answers, face pressed against your mons before working you with his mouth once again.  

“Man! Come on!” Tomura whines.

 “I said in a minute.  Not my fault you can’t last.”

It’s amazing how they can bicker like this right now, as if you aren’t on your hands and knees for them, gummy walls still pulsing around his fingers. However, it’s not long before Dabi’s focus is back on you taking you to the brink of orgasm. He slows his fingers, keeping you balanced on that razor thin edge. “Should I make you cum angel?” His voice is dripping with fake concern. “Dunno… what’s in it for me?”

“Anything! Touya-nii please!”

“Anything? You gonna obey me? Do whatever I say like a good little angel? You gonna worship me?” You can’t tell if he’s being serious or if he’s mocking you.

Probably the latter. And you deserve it too.

Your faith was the thing you deemed more important than anything and anyone else but Dabi, all too easily, convinced you to disregard that. Made you lose all sense and give into lust by showing you mindblowing pleasure, only magnified by your awareness of how deeply sinful this all was. That’s the extent of the power he has over you. The story of Adam and Eve is one you know forwards and backwards and yet you were so easily tempted forbidden fruit and left completely corrupted.  Yeah, he’s definitely mocking you.

“Any- fuck- anything” You’re wiggling your ass, goading Dabi into finishing you off

“Cum in my mouth. Angel, give it to me” That’s the final straw. You explode around his fingers. Despite your walls, clamping around him, he manages to piston into you, hitting that squishy spot with astounding accuracy. His unyielding stimulation makes it feel as though the high won’t end. You’re not sure if that’s a good thing or a bad thing.

Eventually, it does end though, his fingers drag out against the pull of your swollen pussy. He licks you clean making sure he gets every last drop of your cum, both inside and out, on his tongue. The ball of his piercing catches onto your rim making you yelp. He soothes the sting with gentle laps of his tongue.

“Tastes so sweet angel. So sweet knowing I’m the only one to ever fuck this pretty pussy.” He snickers before adding “So far.”

“Yeah, can I fuck her now?” Tomura was turned on before but seeing the way you fell apart at the hands of your brother? His minimal patience has run out. All he can think of now is being inside you.

 “You heard him babe. Turn around.” He spanks your ass. You try to turn around but thanks to your shaky legs you nearly fall off the couch. Dabi catches you before that happens and he dutifully sets you up on all fours, held up by quivering limbs. You hear heavy breathing from behind you as Shigaraki taps his head against your puffy clit while you twitch in place.

“She wants this so bad. Had no idea your Christian little sister was such a whore.” Shigaraki mutters. He holds you still as he buries himself in you, breathing becoming more erratic with every inch until his hip bones are digging into your soft flesh. He’s so deep. You feel so full. You squeeze shut your eyelids, savouring the stretch. 

Calloused fingers press into your jaw, making your eyes shoot open. “Pretty angel, did you forget about me?” Dabi looms over you, making a show of spitting in his palm and using it to stroke himself. He slips his thumb into your mouth, pad pressing down on the plush pillow of your tongue. “Gonna stuff you nice ‘n full angel.” All you can do is blink up at him with teary eyes, pupils blown wide with desire. 

Shigaraki begins thrusting into you, hips moving at a brutal pace. Dabi isn’t far behind him, replacing his thumb with his cock and you don’t waste time waiting for him to tell you what to do. You close your lips around his shaft, engulfing him in the wet heat of your mouth.

Unlike his friend, Dabi starts off slow. His piercings drag across your tongue and you taste metal and the salt of his pre-cum. It takes some time for you to get used to taking him in your mouth, the jewellery an added obstacle. 

You feel so full. 

Shigaraki is bottoming out with every thrust, it’s so lewd the way it makes you squelch around him. Dabi’s shaft is rubbing your throat raw and still, you make an effort to take him deeper. He keeps one hand on the back of your head while he fucks you mouth.

He looks so ethereal, so euphoric, letting out little moans and whispered expletives. The sounds he makes are divine, so heavily contrasted by everything you know about him. It leaves you star struck. He recognizes the adoration in your eyes and responds in kind with a cocky smirk. He remembers how you looked at him when you first met. Disdain and judgment. Now you look at him like he’s your only salvation. 

It’s sad actually. How you’re so desperate for someone to tell you how to live. And what a sweet, adoring little follower you are. Wasted on religion if you ask him. So soft and pliant, perfect for your big brother to mould and corrupt into his personal fuckangel. 

“Angel, Nii-san’s gonna fill you up. And you’re gonna take it yeah?”

Your whole life you aspired to this holy standard of perfection in the hopes of escaping eternal damnation. But you’re beyond absolution now.

“All of it down your throat.”

It’s okay though.

If heaven doesn’t feel like this, you’re not sure it’s worth all the effort to get there. 

He holds your necklace behind you like a leash, twisting it around his fingers. Between the way he’s basically strangling you and the way your swallowing muscles contract around his cock means that you’re not getting much air into your lungs. Your head is spinning, from being both oxygen deprived and cock drunk.

“Your God doesn’t want you anymore.” The clasp snaps and he dangles the charm in front of your face. The mould of Christ nailed to the cross taunts you.  What was once a symbol of divine love and God’s boundless forgiveness and sacrifice is just a reminder of how far you’ve fallen into depravity, creaming around Shigaraki’s cock as he ruins your cunt while your Nii-san claims your throat “You’re filthy.” Touya sneers at you as he holds himself in your throat, watching you cry and choke around him. “Dirty fuckin angel.” He grunts as he floods your mouth with the taste of his cum. It’s not exactly pleasant but you try to swallow it all down. There’s just so much. That means he’s pleased with you right? You want him to be pleased. Good girls get rewards he said 

“It’s okay.” He muses as he pulls out of your mouth. “You have me. I’m better than God and I Iove you when you’re nasty like this.” He empathizes his point by dragging his wet, softening cock across your face. “Nii-sans perfect little angel.”

It’s so pitiful how the small praise makes your heart bloom and makes your hole flutter.

You’re coughing up Touya’s cum while your body shakes with Shigaraki’s thrusts.

“What about me hm? I’m fucking you. What? You don’t like it?” Tomura’s going harder now, determined to get his fair share of your attention.

“Shig-Shigaraki – shit. Slow down!”

You’re ignored by both of them once again. If anything, Shigaraki starts fucking you harder

.”Yo’ dustpot. You better pull out. That hole still belongs to me.”

The warning falls on deaf ears, Tomura is too far gone. “So warm, she’s squeezin’ me. Fuck. Fuck.’’ No thoughts, just your tight cunt.

“Gonna do whatever I tell you?” Dabi’s talking to you now, cerulean eyes boring into yours.

You nod still staring at him with absolute devotion.

“Touya-nii’s will be done? Huh? Has a nice ring to it.”

When you don’t respond he grabs you by your cheeks forming an open mouthed pout. “Say it.”

“Touya-nii’shhh will be done.” The words come out distorted but he’s satisfied

“Oh yeah? Then be good angel slut and come on his cock for me.”  

You’re pushed over the edge, coming for the second time. Your walls clamp down around him as you sob out both their names in the form of incoherent babbling. It hits you as hard as the first one. You’re so caught up in your high you barely register the vice grip on your hips, the frantic humping against your ass. “Tight. Fuckin tight! Gotta breed! Breed this fucking hole.”

His hot, sticky cum floods your walls with, your throbbing cunt milking him for everything he’s got. He ruts against you a couple more times before removing himself completely.

You hear the familiar click of a camera. He’s sorry (not really) but the sight of your fucked out hole leaking globs of your cream and his cum was too hot for Shigaraki to not add to his spankbank. 

“Thanks for that little sis.” Dabi is resting on the couch, head thrown back smoking a cigarette.

“Yeah thanks sweetness.”  Both men, tuck themselves back into their pants

Everything feels so surreal. You cautiously move you hand between your thighs. Feeling your sore abused cunt in an attempt to grasp the reality of what happened.

Wait a minute. 

It’s too much, that too sticky to be just your arousal down there. The more you squeeze, contracting your pelvic floor, the more it seems to seep out of you. 

“You… You came inside.” You murmur as your eyes well up with tears. Whatever daze you were in seems to be broken by this revelation. Instead it’s replaced by fear of what the consequences of this might be. 

Dabi smacks his friend upside the head. “You fuckin’ dumbass. I told you not to.”

Judging by his grin, Shigaraki doesn’t register the insult. He’s too busy basking in the afterglow. “Aw, don’t cry babe. You were gripping me so tight, I thought you wanted it. ‘S’okay, your Nii-san will get you a plan B”

“Fuck no. That’s your jizz inside her.” He scowls, eyes focused on the cum that’s leaking out of your spent pussy.

“C’mon Dabi don’t be like that. I’m broke right now.” Shigaraki pleads.

Touya huffs and rolls his eyes.  “You can get yourself a morning after pill right? Tomura will pay you back.”

“Yeah babe. I promise.” He gives you a dopey smile.

It doesn’t take a genius to figure out he’s lying. Yeah, you know better now. You just nod as you pull up your panties, cringing at the sticky, wet sensation against your cunt.

 “Me and Tomura are heading out. Make sure you clean all this up before anyone gets home.”

“B-but Touya-nii-“ you snivel.

“No buts. Clean up or you won’t be sitting comfy for a week. Are we clear?”

“Yes Touya-nii.” You reply defeated.

“And do it properly. Fuyumi has 3 brothers, she knows what a cumstain looks like and I don’t wanna have to do any explaining to her.”

You only nod, trying (and failing) to blink away tears.

Dabi rewards you with a chaste kiss to your cheek. “Best little sister in the world.” And he leaves you with that.

[raleighcarrera]

parry

foreign affairs | m!blaine hayes x mc (kennedy monroe)

after the polo match, kennedy sneaks out to see blaine. bonus scene from the end of chapter 5.

catch up: knockout (E) / on the ropes (T) / outpoint (T)

tagging: @pixeljazzy ; @zigtheeortega ; @pixelsandkink ; @writinghereandthere ; @choicesarehard ; @natesewell ; @blainehellyes 

~4.7k words | E

just let me know when you decide you actually want to be in control of your own life.

the words play on a loop in her mind as she stares at the ceiling, tossing and turning in bed. 

after all the time she and blaine have spent together, where the hell does he get off talking to her like that?

who does he think he is, being right?

kennedy huffs, flopping over onto her stomach, shoving her face in the pillow on her bed. go to sleep, she scolds herself, squeezing her eyes shut tight and doing her very best to at least try. she has class tomorrow -- assignments to turn in, things to do. she can’t be awake at...

a glance at the clock on her nightstand makes her balk. two-thirty in the morning?! 

her hands rub her eyes in frustration. this is all blaine’s fault.

before she’s even aware of what she’s doing, kennedy’s rolling onto her side and grappling for her phone, squinting as the light from the screen illuminates her otherwise pitch black bedroom. she hesitates, thumbs poised over the keyboard.

what is she supposed to say? 

it’s all so confusing -- where she stands with blaine after last week and how she’s supposed to reconcile all the things she’s learning about him with the person she’d read about online before they ever met, how her mother’s campaign intersects with what she wants and whether or not she should be allowed to have something, for once, after going without for so long. 

are you awake? she settles on finally, sent before she can take it back.

blaine’s reply comes within moments. no way did i just get a u up text from kennedy monroe, it says.

her eyes roll, though she’d be lying if she said she doesn’t immediately start to feel a little bit better, just like that. even when she doesn’t know what to say to him, she knows she wants to talk to him, and... maybe that’s enough.

you could just say yes, you know.

where’s the fun in that? before she’s even done reading blaine’s first message, the second appears right below it. is something wrong?

a loaded question. she knows she isn’t mad at blaine, not really. her anger’s meant for her mom and he’s unfairly caught the misdirection. though maybe the reason why his observations about her always seem to sting so much are because they hit unnervingly close to home, time after time. no.

liar, blaine says, and then, come over, then.

kennedy’s eyebrows lift. it’s almost three o’clock in the morning, she reminds him, as though he somehow hasn’t noticed.

so? betters your chances of not being seen with me. 

her behavior at the polo match had poked at a sore spot, then. she sighs. 

the front door is out of the question. she knows the second she slips out of her bedroom tatum will wake up and catch her in the suite’s living room, and that’s a complication she isn’t keen on dealing with, if she’s doing this.

is she doing this?

as softly as she can manage, she slips to the side and plants her feet on the floor, standing and stretching. her hair’s in a topknot, piled on her head -- that’ll have to do, there’s nothing she can do about it now -- but she should probably put on something more decent, especially if...

her phone lights up in her hand again. yes or no, rutherland?

yes, she writes back, so that it’s out there and she’s committed, her heart starting to race as soon as she sees her message is marked delivered. okay. okay, she’s doing this. there’s no going back now.

her hands shake as she slides open the window in her bedroom, less confidently than blaine had lifted the one in the living room just a few days before. for some reason the drop looks steeper and scarier than it had with him grinning up at her, but all it takes is a deep breath and the reminder of her mother’s expectations before she makes the leap, slinking off through the courtyard without a look back.

the back entrance to blaine’s residence hall is unlocked, and she counts off the numbers on each door down the hallway silently to herself to try to ease her nerves as she makes her way to the wing where she knows his and peter’s room is.

though she draws up short as she emerges from the stairwell; blaine’s waiting for her outside the suite, leaning half out of the open door frame. his arms are folded across his bare chest, and there’s sweatpants slung low on his hips where she does her very best not to stare, setting her eyes on his smirking mouth instead. “well, well, well. you actually showed.”

“shhh,” she instructs reflexively, looking around before following him inside, reaching out to smack his shoulder when blaine laughs just a touch too loudly for comfort. 

her back leans against the front door as soon as it’s shut behind her. kennedy sighs heavily, scrubbing her hands over her face. part of her wants badly to throw up.

when she opens her eyes, blaine’s shaking his head at her indulgently. his hair is tousled like he’d been in bed while they were talking, too. “you teach a girl to sneak out one time and suddenly she’s all about it. it’s like you’re a different person.”

“oh my god, be quiet,” kennedy scolds, half because he’s already annoying her to her breaking point and half because -- “isn’t peter asleep?”

“a jet plane landing on the quad couldn’t wake peter up if it tried,” he snorts, sliding his eyes down her body slowly. “but we can talk in my room, if you want. shut the door and everything.”

it’s an offer she probably wouldn’t be able to say no to even if she wasn’t feeling vulnerable; seeing blaine’s room presents an opportunity to know a part of him he seems hellbent on keeping guarded. 

and then there’s the other reason she’d come over, the innuendo underlying why she’s at blaines at three o’clock in the morning in underwear she definitely hadn’t been sleeping in.

kennedy nods. blaine’s grin is sharp in the dark living room, and he leads her wordlessly to the back bedroom in the suite -- the one that’d be dionne’s, if they were at her place.

but it’s not like dionne’s room at all. the bed is messy and unmade, dark sheets hanging half off the bed. blaine bypasses the overhead lights for the lamp at his bedside, and then the room is bathed in the dim coolness of a low blue bulb, just enough that she can see him perfectly, even though the curtains are drawn tight across his window.

blaine flings himself back into his bed like it’s no big deal at all that she’s here, the mattress bouncing in its frame. he wiggles pointedly over towards the wall, and without him inviting her closer, she toes off her shoes and falls into the space at his side, laying down on top of his outstretched arm.

there’s the briefest moment of silence before he exhales and curls his fingers around her shoulder. “i hope you left the warden a note,” he murmurs.

“after the earful i got the other day? no.” blaine’s chest is warm under her cheek when she turns her face to look at him. it’s weird how being so close to him isn’t weird at all, how natural situating herself in his bed and his arms feels and how much more relaxed she is, the crushing weight of the conversation she’d had with her mom easing up enough that she can finally let herself breathe.

“tell me about it,” blaine hums, “jacob totally ratted me out to my mom. she went nuclear.”

kennedy winces, sympathy softening the expression on her face. “i’m sorry.”

“don’t be,” blaine shrugs, “i don’t give a shit. besides, it was totally worth it.”

there’s something warm in his gaze when he meets her eyes -- something that makes her feel safe enough to admit, “my mom laid into me, too. before the polo match. it was the same as always, she just... everything is always about her campaign and how what i do affects her. and she expects me to be, like, this ideal daughter who never does anything wrong or has a life or an independent thought, and sometimes i feel like it’s impossible to live up to her expectations. i mean, no one could.”

blaine makes a noise of disgust in the back of his throat. “i know what you mean. like, yeah, our parents forced us to come here, but we should still be able to get something we want out of this experience, too.”

“exactly,” kennedy agrees quickly, struck by his understanding, “and just once i’d love to be able to make friends or date someone without having to worry about what it’ll do to my mom’s campaign, and i wish she’d give me that freedom, too, instead of trying to make me promise that i won’t be seen with you in public anymore. it’s ridiculous.”

a sudden silence from beside her makes kennedy turn her head curiously. of course, the smirk on blaine’s face is a mile wide. “i’m sorry, did you say date?”

“shut up,” she huffs, kicking his shin where their legs are half-tangled together on top of the yanked out sheets on his bed. “you know what i mean.”

“i don’t think that i do,” he says innocently, “really, you could go on --”

“oh my god, i can’t stand you. there’s seriously no --”

“i mean, i don’t think i’m asking for much. just a little explanation --”

“-- talking to you, you just interrupt me with some stupid jokes, and i’m trying to -- hey!” her voice turns up indignantly as blaine suddenly pushes up onto his knee, pivoting until he’s leaning over her on the bed. the abrupt movement makes the sheets beneath her slip, pushing her dangerously close to the edge of the mattress.

but all she can focus on are blaine’s eyes in the dim light of his room and the way he’s looking at her with them, his gaze almost adoring. 

he’s obviously waiting for an answer she’s all too eager to give up, so when he arches his eyebrows questioningly at her, she nods so quickly her bun bobs precariously at the top of her head.

blaine dips down to kiss her without hesitation, his hands braced on either side of her head, off-center from the pillow. his stubble scrapes against her jaw and she sighs, parting her lips as she melts back into the mattress, reaching out for his arms to tug him in closer. 

it’s slower and softer than his kiss at the carnival had been, more meaningful than how they’d kissed at the party at the start of term. there’s something there, in the way blaine kisses her, that she’s never felt before, not with any of the dull up-and-comers who’d so formally asked to take her to dinner in the past and kissed her goodnight politely before never calling her again.

his hand skims down her side innocently, fingers toying with the hem of her top. for all his bravado, blaine is always uncharacteristically cautious when she manages to get him alone, and fuck her, but she finds that hopelessly endearing, too. 

kennedy spreads her legs out wider on the bed in encouragement, urging him closer with a hand at his back. the bare skin of blaine’s chest seems to stretch on for miles, broad shoulders flexing under her fingers when he bends at the elbows to bring their bodies closer. his own wide palm ghosts over her stomach, spanning the expanse of her ribcage.

“i missed this,” she admits, because it’s true, her voice turning up at the end into something breathy and embarrassing when blaine’s hips roll forward in a slow grind between her legs.

to her surprise, his answer is genuine -- no sarcastic quip or smart remark to be found. “me, too,” blaine mutters lowly between kisses that start to travel across her face, over to her jaw and down her neck. “it’s ridiculous how much i think about this.” he pauses with his teeth just above her collarbone, and then amends, “about you,” and bites.

she moans, teeth digging into her bottom lip to try and stifle the sound. regardless of blaine’s insistence, peter’s asleep in just the next room, and the walls in her suite are thin enough that she can hear dionne blow drying her hair in the mornings, so --

“come on,” he needles, the rough rasp of his voice sounding so good it makes her own hips twitch forward, desperate to get closer, “i told you he won’t wake up.”

“we shouldn’t risk it,” she murmurs, sliding her hands down his chest to settle at the waistband of his sweats.

“there’s no way peter doesn’t know,” blaine says, lowering his voice to match hers, speaking the words directly into her ear. his hands push her shirt up higher and higher while he talks, until the fabric’s tucked beneath her chin and she’s shivering under his gaze. “if he didn’t figure it out, dionne totally told him.”

he’s probably right about that. dionne had seen straight through her easily, and kennedy knows she’s almost definitely well aware of every single thing that’s happened between them, even despite her best efforts to keep it quiet and skirt the topic of conversation whenever it comes up.

“i can still be quiet,” she returns finally, angling her head up and kissing blaine again before he can argue further, forgetting everything other than the lush safety of his mouth as soon as their lips meet.

“we’ll see,” blaine warns, breaking away abruptly and leaving her gasping to catch her breath while he slides down her body, finally kicking the messy sheets to the floor.

she pushes up onto her elbows, watching blaine slide her pajama pants down to her ankles. her eyes widen as she realize what he’s doing, though she hardly has time to say a word before he’s reaching for the delicate lace thong she’s wearing, pulling it carefully to the side.

blaine grins at her. “you sleep in these?”

kennedy huffs. “maybe.”

his smile turns crooked, the tilt of his lips endearing all over again. “cute,” he murmurs, leaning in and lowering his mouth between her legs, pressing a sucking kiss to the crease at the top of her thigh. 

she exhales, trying not to tense. the truth is that none of the other guys she’s ever dated were into this -- that sex before blaine had been largely perfunctory, that the way he makes her feel is totally and completely new and terrifying to her --

warm eyes find hers and pull her effortlessly from her meltdown. “hey,” blaine says gently, “stay here with me, okay?”

“okay,” kennedy returns, and then blaine bows his head again and he settles between her thighs and she forgets to panic in favor of how good it feels, each swipe of his tongue winding her up tighter until her back is arching up off the bed. “blaine,” she groans, all thoughts of being quiet following her nerves and reservations swiftly out the door, “god, fuck.”

she reaches down and pushes her fingers into his hair, anchoring herself to the moment. the little doubts that make her want to spiral are still there, in the back of her mind, but they’re much quieter with her gaze locked on the sight of his head dipped in low at the apex of her thighs, the warm pressure of his mouth slowly working her over.

sparks of pleasure sing down her spine, making her toes curl where her legs are splayed out wide. needlessly, blaine’s taking his time, like he has something to prove -- like he doesn’t already know how much she’s risking every day so she can prioritize him, like he isn’t aware of how little she cares about the trouble she’s in once they’re alone together.

she’s so caught up in the way he’s making her feel that it takes her by complete surprise when she tips over the edge, trembles shaking her body and making stars explode behind her eyes. 

it’s when she floats back to earth that she realizes how loud she’d gotten, and she can feel her face heat with embarrassment, her grip on his hair loosening until blaine can bounce back up and shake his head out, his tongue dragging along his grinning lips. “pretty good, i guess?”

“come here,” kennedy directs, still working to catch her breath. she’s dazed and not bothering to hide it, her gaze unfocused and hazy before blaine’s face crowds into her field of vision and she can narrow in on the way his obnoxious smile softens at its edges before they’re kissing again.

her body tangles around his and she sighs into his mouth as blaine lets her taste herself, his lips sliding over hers with purpose. every last one of her stressors fades away as she loses herself in the warmth of blaine’s kiss, their limbs twining together while they roll around on the mattress until she comes to a stop with her pants kicked off, perched in blaine’s lap, straddling his hips.

“nice view,” he comments hoarsely when they separate, each rough exhale underlining how affected he is. “but --”

she reaches down and pulls her top off before he can finish, drawing a laugh from blaine that sounds unnaturally loud in the otherwise silent stillness of his bedroom. “better?”

“oh, she reads minds now, too,” blaine murmurs, reaching out for her hips and pulling her in closer, groaning when she slides over the noticeable stretch at the front of his sweatpants. “is there anything you can’t do?”

“fuck you with your pants still on,” she answers breathlessly, emboldened by the way blaine’s looking at her -- by the way he hasn’t stopped looking at her, since she first showed up at his suite and maybe even before that, too.

her pulse stutters when he laughs at her again, more warmly this time. if she reads too deeply into it, blaine sounds both surprised and pleased by her forwardness, and something about thinking she might’ve impressed him makes her feel a little more confident -- like there might actually be something to this whole doing-her-own-thing and being-herself project she’s evidently excelling at, despite its newness.

“well, we can’t have that,” blaine smiles, and then his hips lift and he’s bare, too, looking up at her smugly like he knows he’s the best thing she’s ever seen.

irritatingly, nothing else comes to mind as even being close.

but his expression shifts as she draws closer for another kiss and he looks at whatever emotions are playing out across her face, reading her as effortlessly as always. something in his eyes gets a little more serious, his hands intentional when they slide down her back and his fingers fan out over her ass.

“you’re gorgeous,” he mutters angrily between quick kisses, like it’s ruining his day, somehow. 

“you, too,” she returns more sincerely, because -- it’s just true. he is. and despite every challenging complication, she’s glad she’s here with him, even if she’s headed down a path that’s going to make things with her mom impossible and the rest of her life a living hell. what’s happening now is independent of all of that, something she’s not ready to share with anyone else just yet.

anyone but blaine, that is.

his dark eyes skim slowly down her body and back up again, the curl of his lips tilting into something resembling wonderment. he seems just as amazed by the fact that she’s here as kennedy is, and for the first time, she doesn’t have to second guess how he feels about her. for once, she can read him perfectly, and all it makes her want is more. 

their lips meet in a kiss that’s uncharacteristically tender, so searching and sweet it leaves her short of breath. though they’re both eager to move things along there’s no rush, tonight, and she revels in their ability to take their time and enjoy themselves in private, away from the rest of the world. 

when she finally gets her hand around blaine and moves to connect them he looks lost, his eyes fixed on her face with something reminiscent of confusion lurking in them. as her hips sink down slowly, she remembers what he’d said to her on the ferris wheel before they’d kissed: this is new to me.

there’s something so comforting in knowing that, making her feel warm all over in a way that has nothing to do with where their bodies are joined and how she’s rocking her hips in his lap, gasping as they come even closer together.

her body leans down over his and their foreheads tip together; blaine lifts his hand to gently brush a lock of hair that’s dropped loose from her bun out of her eyes, and then there’s nothing between them at all -- nothing to stop her from staring at him when his hips thrust up to meet hers, nothing but the springs in the mattress bouncing and the sound of their breaths and one soft exhalation of her name that reads like something between a curse and praise. “kennedy. jesus christ.”

blaine’s hand cups her jaw and his thumb brushes over her cheek with a gentleness that makes her tremble, something she’d never expected and couldn’t have possibly prepared for. 

it feels like more -- like the more she’s been wondering about and wanting -- and if it’s not she has no idea how she’s ever going to recover. 

“i love this,” blaine murmurs against her lips, still touching her all over in an almost absent-minded way, his words thoughtful as his hips buck to meet her each time she rocks down against him. 

“me too,” she gasps, “i -- i’m -- god, blaine. feels good.”

“yeah?” there’s some urgency in his movements then, a new speed to the way his hips move. “tell me.”

“i’ve -- ever since the party, i’ve wanted to...” it’s too much. she screws her eyes shut tight, bracing her hands on his chest. 

it’s only when blaine’s thumb and forefinger squeeze her chin that she opens her eyes again, blinking at him imploringly in the hopes he’ll understand.

by some miracle, he does, rocking his hips up with a groan that leaves her lightheaded and again emphasizing, “i love this.”

“yes,” she breathes back, effortlessly reassured and tilting her head down for another kiss to try and express some of the overwhelming gratitude she feels for the way he just gets her, “yes, yes, blaine, i’m --”

it’s more intense than she expects, when he brings his hand between her legs and nudges her over the edge. stars explode behind her eyes and all she can focus on is blaine and the way he’s holding her, the grip of his free hand laced in hers a tight safety she leans into while she chokes back a loud moan of his name.

distantly, she can hear blaine echoing her with his own curses, his rhythm stuttering and then faltering until he tugs her into a desperate kiss, his groan muffled into her mouth when his lips slide sloppily against hers.

it takes her longer than she’d care to admit to catch her breath, and though she knows she’s dead weight on top of blaine’s chest she can’t quite bring herself to move, nuzzling her nose into the side of his neck with a sigh. 

blaine’s still for a long moment before he lifts his hand to her back and draws lazy circles between her shoulder blades, the rough pads of his fingertips skimming over her skin. “you good?”

“very,” kennedy yawns into his ear, laughing when he jerks to the right and shoves her off of him, back into the curve at his side that seems to be perfectly sized for someone her shape. 

with how she’s pressed up against him, the walk back across campus seems daunting. class in the morning is an even more miserable prospect.

“i’ll get up and fix the sheets if you sleep here,” blaine offers, like he can read her mind. the words make her freeze immediately, and she can’t help but notice how suddenly tense he is beside her, too, like he hadn’t intended for it to be a thing but now it is and there’s nothing he can do about it. the hand he has on her side tightens and relaxes abruptly. she can hear him clear his throat, and when he speaks again, it’s in the same forced-casual tone of voice he seems to love. “if you want.”

kennedy stares at the ceiling, unblinking. it looks exactly like the ceiling in her room, except that she feels eons closer to sleep here with blaine than she had back in her suite, for some reason. “okay,” she murmurs finally, reaching out and prodding his calf with her toes, “fix them.”

blaine rolls to his feet, and she takes advantage of the fact that he’s still naked to shamelessly ogle him, waiting until he’s got his back to her to whistle from where she’s curled up in his bed.

a pillow from the floor hits her in the head and makes her laugh, and then the sheet’s thrown over her hastily, followed by the blanket and the comforter in quick succession. 

a warm body launches itself at the bed and wriggles chaotically under the covers with her, effortlessly displacing the slight semblance of order he’d just organized. “i can’t believe you live like this,” kennedy says as blaine shifts in close, “next time you’re coming to my suite.”

“sorry it’s not up to your standards, first daughter.” blaine has to stretch to shut the bedside lamp off, and again she finds herself staring, admiring the way his muscles flex when his hand fumbles for the switch behind his back without twisting his body around, his refusal to take his eyes off her clear. “but i don’t know if i could get it up with your childhood boyfriend listening in on me.”

“oh my god, tatum is not -- we never -- jesus, you’re awful.” but her protests are half-hearted, bisected by another yawn. they have class in just a few hours.

and she has nothing to wear. 

though it’s hard to worry about anything with the way blaine is grabbing her and tugging her into his chest, folding her in along his body and tucking his head overtop of hers. kennedy starts to grin against his bare chest as they both curl up together under the covers.

“you never told me you were a cuddler.” 

“i’ll throw all these blankets back on the floor,” blaine threatens, “don’t think i won’t.”

she lifts her head and squints at him in the dark, still smiling. blaine’s eyes are shut peacefully, and she’d wager there’s not a thing in the world that could get him to move, just then. she slumps back against him with a laugh. “yeah, right.”

“i’ll do it,” he promises again, though his voice is fading fast. he sounds more relaxed and honest than she’s ever known him to be. “when you least expect it.”

well -- that was kind of his process for everything, wasn’t it? “shut up.”

“you shut up, i’m sleeping.” judging by the even rise and fall of his chest under her cheek, he’s close to it, and she’s just about there, too, soothed by the fact that she’s not alone for the first time in as long as she can remember.

“night, then,” kennedy murmurs softly, finally letting her eyes slide shut when his lips brush over the top of her forehead at her hairline, blaine’s fingers squeezing her shoulder one last time before they grow slack against her.

she winds up sleeping through four alarms, two classes and ten phone calls from tatum, but it’s all kind of worth it to wake up well-rested beside blaine in the morning -- so much so that even a nasty phone call from her mother can’t drag her back down to earth from where she’s floating happily on a high the kiss goodbye blaine had gifted her before she’d left to go back to her suite and shower had catapulted her up to without a prayer of coming down anytime soon. 

[bybibucky]

We Do It All – Everything – on Our Own

All That I Ever Was – Chapter I

Bucky Barnes x reader Series – post Captain America: The Winter Soldier (WIP)

    You are a damsel in distress, not matter how much you don’t want to be. Bucky Barnes is your knight in rusty armor, lost in his own head, trying to figure himself out. After having found each other, you go from there, accidentally fixing what shouldn’t be broken in the first place.

   – song fic based on “Chasing Cars” by Snow Patrol

    warnings overall: language, slow burn, angst, violence, mentions of death, injury, mentions of rape, prostitution, physical abuse

    word count: 4.3k

    author’s note: and so the journey begins. I’m hella excited, are you?

In a way, he should have seen this coming. Wandering around New York City, trying to relearn the ins and outs of the place, he was bound to run across something he wasn’t supposed to see. Usually, he was good at ignoring things that didn’t concern him, and he was by no means a vigilante of any sort, but that helpless, muffled scream that perked up his ears wasn’t anything to walk away from.

“Please.” The way just that simple word held so much fear was enough to make him grind his teeth together. Someone was in danger, helpless in the hands of a bad person, that much he knew and he also knew that, somewhere deep down, even though he didn’t want to allow himself to admit it, there was a part of him that was better. Maybe, this would take him a step further to rediscovering that person he had once been.

So, he briefly checked whether his gloves were still in place, and then walked towards the noise all the way down the alley. Every step made your whimpering that much easier to discern, his heightened senses always on high alert, and he could make out the unmistakable sound of fruitless struggling. When he saw you, he knew for sure.

“Stop fucking trying to escape.” The man, large but not muscular, had one hand tightly fisted in the fabric of your flimsy dress, one on the back of your head, pushing it against the rugged brick wall. Bucky knew from experience that it would leave a burning mark on your skin and he already wanted your attacker to feel the tenfold of that sharp pain.

Your voice was muffled against the stone when you tried to beg again. It wouldn’t go anywhere, and Bucky decided to make himself known. Taking both you and the attacker by surprise, he grabbed the latter by his collar, yanking him backward. He hadn’t even used his metal arm, but the man still lost his footing and tumbled to the ground. Weak. Bucky followed suit and you could do nothing but watch. He straddled the guy’s legs to keep him still and, this time, used both hands punch to him black and blue, using some of his hidden fury that always seemed to be there to really make it hurt. But contrary to what everyone he knew thought, he was able to stop himself before he’d commit another murder. Watching his victim for a second, making sure that he’d stay down, he looked up to see you cowered against the wall, hands cradled to your chest, wide eyes leaking tears that had to sting in the fresh cuts on your cheek. You were favoring your right foot.

He stood up, hands raised to show he wouldn’t hurt you, and waited for you to react. He’d anticipated for you to scream or run away, to tell him he’d made a mistake, but what he hadn’t seen coming was for you to just, well, collapse. Bucky was just barely fast enough to catch you from where he had stood. You were limp in his arms, helpless, and he was looking around as if the dark alley had answers, running his mind to figure out what to do with you now.

:::::

You woke up on a mattress. Not a bed, but a mattress. And that alone made you sit up way too quickly, the blood rush forcing out a hiss between your teeth. But you pushed it aside, fingers rubbing your temples, and took in your surroundings. None of the things you saw belonged to either you or your roommates. Not any of the books scattered around the tiny apartment, not the piles of clothes on the floor, some neat, some carelessly dumped there, and not the small kitchen counter with the dirty dishes in the sink. The windows were covered by thick black fabric, basking the place in darkness which was only broken by the one window that didn’t have a makeshift curtain, and this told you it was already morning. Where the fuck were you?

“You’re awake,” came a deep voice from a corner of the room and you almost jumped out of your skin. Moving your hands to cover yourself on instinct, you noticed that someone had put a sweater on you.

“You were shivering,” was all the explanation you got and you chose to be okay with that. You were still wearing your dress and there wasn’t that unmistakable feeling between your legs that you weren’t wearing any panties. So he probably hadn’t raped you.

And then the memory came back. The way Dylan had pushed you against the wall, how he had threatened to kill you, once again, how his fingers had dug into your skin. You shook your head to clear it. “Where am I?” This guy had apparently saved you from Dylan but that didn’t mean that he wasn’t dangerous himself.

“My apartment.” He slowly moved out of his corner and when you finally saw him, your first thought was that he was absolutely gorgeous. The kind of guy you used to joke about with your friends that you would let him do anything to you. Besides the fact that he could use a shave and maybe a different outfit, he was beautiful.

“I brought you here when you passed out,” he said, “I don’t know where you live.”

The more he spoke the more it became clear that he didn’t converse with strangers very often. The pauses in between his sentences he used to figure out what to say next, and his voice was deep but not loud like you were used to. He might have beaten Dylan to a pulp but, from what you knew, he hadn’t laid a harming finger on you. You nodded.

“Thank you.”

The man flinched. You didn’t know what to do with that.

He changed the subject. “Are you hungry?” he asked, “I think I have something in the fridge.” And he pointed towards the old, crammed kitchen space.

You shook your head. “No, thank you.”

“Water?” He looked weirdly hopeful for a yes and you realized he probably didn’t get a lot of guests.

You nodded and the man hurried to the small kitchen. He emerged with a bottle of water that he handed you with a gloved hand. You chose not to ask. Thanking him again, you took it and screwed off the cap. The seal was still in place so you were sure he wasn’t trying to poison you. He watched intently as you brought the bottle to your lips and, finally realizing how parched you were, gulped down half of the liquid in seconds.

“Okay?” he asked and you nodded.

Something about his careful, almost shy demeanor made you feel like he was nothing like any other man you had met. While clearly being strong – you had watched his strength in person and even all the layers he wore couldn’t hide his muscular build – it hadn’t made him cocky. It was a nice change.

“Are you in pain?” he piped up again, softly and in the same deep rumble you had sort of gotten used to already.

You wanted to shake your head once more, but now that your adrenaline had subsided, you were starting to feel the events of the night. “A little.” There was no saying what he would do with that response and you wouldn’t have thought that you’d get to watch him ball his hands to tight fists by his sides before he walked out to a room you deduced must have been the bathroom. When he came back, the small first aid kid was comically tiny in his gloved hands that held it out to you. You had no idea what to do with it.

He gestured toward the bed, silently asking for permission to sit. You scooched over a little to give him more space on the small mattress. Silently, he got to work. Opening up the plastic box, he rummaged through its contents for some disinfectant spray that he applied on a cotton swab.

“This’ll probably sting,” he warned, before he carefully began to dab the area around the cuts on your face. You winced because you couldn’t help it, it really did sting.

“Sorry,” he mumbled but you shook your head.

“It’s not your fault.”

He was silent again, after you had spoken, and neither of you could deny the tension in your words. You suddenly felt the need to talk about it.

“Thank you for stepping in,” you said. He was avoiding your eyes, but you couldn’t keep yours off of him. Up close, he was even more beautiful, although his face was unreadable. The useless, almost frowning expression told you nothing except that he was probably concentrating. You didn’t know him well enough to place his behavior. But for some reason, and you found yourself scared of the answer, you weren’t scared of him. “He always threatens me,” you continued, “but this time I really thought he was going to kill me.” It was the truth. Last night had not been the first time Dylan had cornered you like this, and it hadn’t been the only time you had needed to be saved. Only the first time someone had actually intervened.

“This is going to bruise,” the man in front of you informed you, and you scoffed bitterly.

“Wouldn’t be the first time.”

His frown deepened. “Why would anyone hurt you?”

That made you laugh. “Isn’t it obvious?” you asked, “that was my pimp. I’m a prostitute.”

He was taken aback, putting down the cotton swab. He knew about prostitutes. It wasn’t some new twenty-first century invention, but he had never met one. Not that he knew of. “Oh,” he said.

“You seriously didn’t realize?”

He shook his head, and suddenly, he looked so innocent. When he had first seen you, you had been wearing nothing but a thin negligée, panties, and heels, and that in mid-November air. Now, the only difference was the lack of heels that he had probably taken off for you and the additional sweater. This man was a puzzle to you.

“Do you like what you do?” he asked then, and instantly realized what he had said. “No, sorry. You don’t have to answer that.”

You smiled. “It’s no big deal,” you assured him, “I did at first. It felt so empowering. But the years went by and this guy – the one in the alley – took me under his wing and he turned out to be real asshole.”

The man nodded, clearly deeply in thought at your words, but you didn’t want the pity.

“What’s your name?” you asked to change the subject but it didn’t seem to be the right one.

His eyes widened just barely, mouth open like a fish. “I’m not sure,” he confessed, and you were about to ask what the hell that meant, when he added, somewhat unsurely, “Bucky.”

That certainly had been weird but you weren’t perfect either. “I’m Y/N,” you replied, and it felt odd to have your real name on your tongue for once. These days, you only ever introduced yourself by your stage name.

“Nice to meet you, Y/N.” It was a simple line to portray politeness and it felt a little forced but with good intentions nonetheless. “Does anything else hurt?”

It did. Your whole body ached, in fact, but his little first aid kit wouldn’t be able to help with that. So you shook your head.

Bucky narrowed his eyes, briefly scanning your body. “Your foot,” he said, “and I’m guessing you might have a bruised rib or two.”

You gasped just barely, suddenly found out. No one had ever been this observant.

He shrugged. “I saw the foot thing in the alley and you’re taking really shallow breaths.”

You hadn’t even noticed.

“I can take a look to make sure nothing is broken, if you want.” He said it carefully, making sure he didn’t seem like a pervert. “Your foot.”

It hadn’t been the first time you’d had to lick your own wounds but you had no medical experience, he probably knew more than you. “Sure.” You pushed the thin blanket off your legs and held out your right foot. Brows knitted in concentration, he gently ran his hands across your calf down to your toes, stopping to apply pressure at certain points, waiting for you to wince or whimper. He placed his hand on the back of your heel, the other against the ball of your foot, rotating your ankle slightly. On instinct, because that really fucking hurt, your tried to pull your leg from his grasp and he let you.

“Sprain,” he deduced, before carding through the first aid kit again. He dug out a bandage of some sort and looked at you questioningly, silently asking for permission to touch you again.

You extended your leg toward him once more, and felt something weird swell in your chest that wasn’t the pain coming from your ribs. This man respected you. You observed as he began to bind your foot starting at your toes, the stretchy fabric putting a relieving pressure against the pain.

“Too tight?” he asked and you shook your head. Bucky snapped off the band with his teeth before tugging the end under the wraps.

“Thank you.”

He gave you a curt nod, standing up. From your low vantage point, you watched as he moved around the room, gathering some books and a few shirts from the neat pile. Wordlessly, he arranged them in a tower beside the mattress, and you were confused until he carefully lifted your leg and placed it on top.

You couldn’t help but feel bad for him. This man was so… kind. Each movement deliberately thought through, each word chosen with care, you found yourself wondering why he was alone. It was obvious that he didn’t spend much time with other people, even though you thought he deserved to. What had happened to him?

“Would you like to take a shower?”

The question surprised you. A shower hadn’t really crossed your mind, but now that he had mentioned it, you started yearning for one.

“Only if it’s not too much,” you said and Bucky’s eye twitched.

But he walked over and stretched out his arms, offering you help. You took them gladly, your small hands almost getting lost in the large leather gloves as he pulled you to your feet. Instantly, you shifted your weight onto your good foot.

“Can you walk?”

You didn’t like the thought of him carrying you again, so you proceeded an awkward wobbling dance towards the bathroom, leaning on Bucky’s forearm for support. It must have looked ridiculous but luckily, his apartment was tiny, so it didn’t take you too long to get there. Bucky leaned you against the wall like a broomstick, briefly gesturing for you stay put, before he disappeared into the living room and reemerged with a plastic stool.

You were ready to cry at the thoughtfulness, the small gesture bigger to you than anything that had happened in your life before last night. Unbelievable, how people like this actually still existed. To you, it seemed like that generation had lived a hundred years ago.

“Clever,” you admitted, “thanks.”

Giving you a quick run-down of the shower settings, offering you everything in his supply of cleaning products, which literally only was a bar of soap, but you’d make do, he handed you a rather rugged towel that you gratefully accepted. Why he was being so nice to you, you couldn’t wrap your head around.

He left you to your own devices, then, softly closing the bathroom door behind himself. You, in turn, fumbled around with the settings on the shower until you liked the temperature enough. Eager to get under the stream, your clothes were shed in a hurry, though only as quickly as possible with your injuries. You were glad that Bucky didn’t appear to have a mirror anywhere in the apartment, meaning you didn’t have to look at yourself. The extend of the bruises, you imagined, wasn’t something you wanted on your mind. You hoped Bucky wouldn’t see.

The hot water loosened your tense muscles instantly. A blissful sigh left your lips like it had been aching to for ages, and you relaxed against the back of the chair. You had needed this desperately. You couldn’t remember the last time you had taken a hot shower. This was a luxury you didn’t feel like you deserved.

Forcing yourself to keep the whole ordeal as short possible – you didn’t want to strain your gifted resourced by any means – you went through a quick cleaning routine. The truth was, you were dreading the moment you’d have to leave this place. Yes, it was cluttered, undecorated, and frankly a little dusty, but the company was nice and you didn’t expect any respect relative to the one you were receiving now to be there once you said goodbye to Bucky. You lathered yourself up with the soap quickly, mindful of the bruises and keeping your injured foot away from the water. It was a difficult task but you didn’t want Bucky to have to patch you up again. Once was definitely too much already. The soap didn’t do a lot for your hair, but clean was clean.

After you had dried yourself off with the towel, you realized that you would have to put your old clothes back on. Or maybe you didn’t.

With a soft knock, Bucky squeezed a set of folded somethings through a tiny crack in the door. You took it, thanking him. Unfolding the garments, you discovered he had brought an arrangement of sweatpants, shirts, and boxer briefs. Grateful for not needing to wear your panties again, you chose the pair of underwear that looked the smallest, otherwise opting for a set of plain sweatpants and a sweatshirt. All of it was comically large on you, but so very comfortable. You couldn’t remember the last time you had felt this at ease. It was a stark difference to your work uniform.

Bare-footed, you tiptoed – ignoring the pain in your ankle – back to the rest of the apartment, finding Bucky by the sink.

Without facing you, he asked, “okay?”

You nodded, before realizing that he couldn’t see you. “I really needed that, thank you.”

He didn’t respond further, busy cleaning the dishes. Oddly enough, he still wore the gloves and that was weird enough for you to ask.

“What’s with the gloves?”

Bucky tensed barely, but you noticed. He shrugged.

“I’m guessing you don’t want to talk about it?” you asked. “That’s okay. You don’t have to.”

And Bucky relaxed. So it was a touchy subject. That was fine. He hadn’t pushed the topic of your profession once he’d realized you were uncomfortable with it. It was only respectful to treat him the same. Besides, it really was none of your business.

“Hungry?” he asked, this time, turning around. He had put the last plate on a folded dish towel next to the sink, letting it dry.

You were about to decline once more, but your growling stomach stole the show. Both of you breathed out a shy laugh. Most of the tension caused by the foreign nature of your relationship dissipated then, and something else, something slight and easy settled in its place.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” Bucky teased, though somewhat still careful that any word of his was in danger of being the wrong one. You wondered whether he had always been this way, or if someone had hurt him. He opened the fridge. “I have bread and, uh, eggs. Those should still be good.” The inside of this fridge resembled the décor in his apartment. Scarce and only the bare necessities.

“Wait,” he said, taking in your appearance, and suddenly gasped, “why are you standing?” He took one large step and was directly in front of you. “May I?” he asked, and even though you didn’t know what he was talking about, you nodded.

Bucky, then, wiped his hands on his worn jeans and sneaked them under your armpit, lifting you gently but efficiently so you were sat on the counter top. He nodded, apparently satisfied, and brought his attention to the stove to make scrambled eggs.

You watched every move. The way he broke the eggshells with a single tap against the side of the small pan, how he placed the spatula so it was exactly parallel with the edge of the stove, and how he stared down at the cooking meal, as if that would make it go faster.

He stuffed two untoasted slices of bread with the scrambled eggs before handing you the plate. Bucky didn’t have a dining table, so he stood opposite you as you both ate right there in the middle of the kitchen area, your legs dangling off the counter top. It felt strangely intimate, like you had been doing this for years, eating in a comfortable silence. To your surprise, the sandwich was quite delicious, too, given his limited resources. When you told him so, Bucky beamed a shy smile that warmed your heart.

“It’s not much, I know,” he said but you had to disagree. The gesture alone was worth more than any fancy meal you had ever eaten.

Once you were finished and Bucky had taken the empty plate from you, he spoke again. “Your phone rang while you were in the shower.” He was avoiding your eyes.

“Oh, thanks. I should probably check that.” But you were kind of stuck on the counter. “Could you, um…” You trailed off, hoping he would get what you meant.

Your idea had been for him to get your phone from the bed, but you let out a surprised shriek when Bucky sneaked his arm under your legs, the other around your back and carried you over there. Scared he would drop you, you clutched his shoulders, but he walked as if you weighed nothing.

He went down on one knee, setting you onto the mattress carefully, before he stood up. “I’ll, uh, I’ll give you some privacy,” he said, awkwardly looking around the apartment for a place where he’d be out of earshot. When you saw him glance toward the bathroom, you put an end to it.

“Wanna sit with me?” you asked, patting the space on your right.

Not hesitating, and you decided to jot that down as some sort of progress between the two of you, he pushed the scrunched-up blanket away, plopping down. You bounced slightly from the force of it, and found yourself giggling.

“Okay,” you said, “give me a sec.” One look at your phone, however, dampened your improved mood drastically. The cracked screen was littered with dozens of missed calls, hundreds of furious text messages. You were in big trouble. Sighing deeply, you gathered enough courage to call Dylan back.

“Were the fuck are you?” came his voice screaming through the speaker right after the first ring, “you have clients waiting for you! If you’re brave enough to come back, you better have your affairs in order because I am going to fucking kill you! You little bitch! I should have kicked your head in yesterday when I had the chance!” After that, you toned out his words. You’d heard them before countless of times. But still, because you really were weak like he always told you, there were tears in the corners of your eyes, threatening to fall any second. What if this time, he’d be true to his word?

You’d completely forgotten about Bucky, who still sat next to you, able to hear everything Dylan yelled at the other end of the line. But he reminded you when he reached out to pull your phone from your grasp. Your breath hitched, suddenly looking at him, and from the force of the movement, a tear quickly rolled down your cheek.

“You can’t go back there,” he said, and his voice held something foreign that you couldn’t name.

You shook your head. He was right, but if there was any other way, you didn’t know it.

“He’ll hurt you again.”

You bit your lip, nodding. But if this was to be your fate, then so be it.

“Stay.”

There was a tiny gasp and it took you a second before you realized it had come from your own throat. “I couldn’t–“

“Please, don’t say no right away. Hear me out,” Bucky insisted, “I know this shitty apartment isn’t what you deserve, but I can make it better. I could get another chair or something. And I’m out most of the time anyway.” He paused. “But he hurt you. He’ll do it again and I–I can’t let that happen.”

“If I don’t go back, I won’t have any money.” This was ridiculous. You didn’t know each other and he was asking you to move in?

“Let’s make a deal,” Bucky said and he was the most energetic you’d ever seen him. Granted, he still was quiet and reserved, but he seemed genuinely determined. “You cook and maybe help me make this place livable and I let you stay and get us food and everything.”

“I can’t.” But Bucky, in a moment of bravery and probably desperation, grasped your hands.

“Y/N.” The word held everything from a plea to a promise, and something in his eyes told you he was trustworthy. So you yielded.

“Only until I can get something on my own,” you said pointedly, and Bucky nodded. Satisfied, he was back to his shy self and you wondered whether you’d get him to come out of his shell one day, whether you’d tear his walls down at some point.

[dianapana]

SasuHina Month 2020- Day 18

Prompr 18-Movie Stars AU

Initially I wanted to do this in the same universe as the fake dating one. It’s based on pretty much the same idea I guess. I wrote this a few years ago and I wanted to use it; hope yall don’t mind. Love ~Dia

<<Their break-up was the kind of thing that filled front pages for days, it was the talk of the internet, much like their first hook-up was, much like their first meet-up was. Despite working on the same set for a few months, their schedules never matched, they never had a scene together, they were never even in the same building, yet once the movie hit the screens, the unlikely couple picked up fans and speed like a snowball rolling down a hill.

It didn’t matter to the fans that the two raven-haired young adults were never on screen at the same time, the only thing that picked their interest was one of Sasuke’s character line which mentioned something that had an indirect reference to Hinata’s character. That was all it took for the ‘SasuHina’ fan base to blow up out of proportions.

The ‘sasuhina’ tag grew bigger each day on all social media platforms, until it received the attention of a few small magazines, then bigger ones which led to several questions asked to both celebrities about the other.

On a red-carpet interview, a reporter from ‘KonohaNow!’ Asked Hinata what was her first impression when she met the Uchiha heartthrob, after a small laugh caused by the subject of the said question, Hinata stated “No, but really, I never even met Sasuke. Once the trailer launched, I noticed a few posts about me and him, but I honestly never expected it get this big. You’d be surprised how many rumors I heard about the two of us, despite us never actually being in the same room”

The said declaration set the fans on fire, making it their top priority to get the two of them to formally meet, of course in a public way. So, a few months later, both of them stood on a chair across from each other live on ‘The Akatsuki’, while Deidara couldn’t help but grin at the two. Once the show was live it was ranked as one of the most viewed talk-shows in the past years.

After Deidara finished his usual introduction, the two of them got up and officially shook hands and introduced each other. The gesture was a bit awkward which did not escape the public eye, making them come up with reasons such as they were shy to meet, or nervous. If the fandom was big before, after their ‘meet cute’ it had tripled, making both of them rise on the popularity ladder quite a bit.

Even so, the moment that it was certain that SasuHina was real, was a year after their meet, when without any promoting, a trailer for a movie was launched, with the two of them as the main characters that made a deal to help each other commit suicide. The movie was the most expected one of that year, despite no one knowing anything about it but those 50 seconds showing both of them in front of their laptops writing mails to the other. The title was vague “50 Days” and there were no promoting methods, from posters of the movie, to short interviews about it, none of those existed.

Every talk show host that asked to make an interview about the said movie was shut down, critics were confused by the secrecy, since directors tend to do as much advertising as they can, but it turned out that doing nothing, was the perfect method to make everyone talk about the movie. Once it hit the screens a few months later, the fans that expected it purely based on the actors playing were pleasantly surprised with a well written plot, and marvelous filming and editing. The ending of the movie, was one that left its mark on the YA movie industry, making everyone wish that the heroine would have found her partners in crime affection enough to make her wish to live, but sadly it didn’t. The ending broke the world’s heart, but no one seemed to mind at all, since the film featured a couple of shared intimacies between the Hyuuga girl and Uchiha boy. From kisses to, warm hugs and even the dramatic final scene, of Sasuke’s character walking away crying after Hinata’s character funeral, all the tragedy was forgiven.

After finally all the secrets of the movie being spilled, the two actors had the freedom to share everything about the making of the film, from the easiness of working together, to their fast friendship. Pictures of them together on and off set started filling the internet and newspapers for a period of time, only to die down for a couple of months.

Their radio silence was picked up as a sign of their relationship, which was in the ‘hiding’ at that moment. As crazy as it seemed at the time, the theories were proven somewhat right when a picture of them kissing was featured on the front page of a magazine, followed by a video posted on Hinata’s Instagram with her and Sasuke doing a silly dance which ended with the pair hugging and sharing a small kiss.

The fandom could not hold their excitement back, their relationship was labeled as ‘goals’ for the duration of 3 years, the length of it. But a couple of weeks after Sasuke’s 25th birthday their relations suddenly ended.

The media and fans were confused, since they never once made any statement of not getting along, their last picture together was barely a week before the break-up and they seemed content. Everyone was expecting a marriage, not a break-up!>>

It came hard for him to read about his failed love life on every magazine and news site in the world, but whenever he saw anything with her name, he couldn’t help but read, because maybe one of these writers would say something remotely close to the possibility of their break-up being fake, or them getting back together, yet none did that.

“You’re sulking again”

Gaara, his friend and bodyguard told him. The redheaded man was sitting on his sofa as well, switching between Tv channels, to anyone he would have looked like a friend only, not like the man in charge of the safety of his life. Sasuke sighed and put his pad on the coffee table.  

“She’ll be back.”

The Sabaku man reassured him, he had been saying that every day since the break-up, and each day it seemed more of a lie. At the beginning he was certain Hinata would turn around and run back to his side, but as weeks passed, he was starting to doubt the possibility.

“You put too much faith in her”

The black-eyed man said while walking into the hallway leading to his bedroom, he was tired and needed sleep. His bed was the only comfort he still had. It was their bed for 3 years. The bedsheets still smelled like her even after being washed a number of times, the mattress still held her body shape.

The last phrase from the article he just read sat heavy on his brain. << Everyone was expecting a marriage, not a break-up!>> He sure had too. He had asked Hinata to marry him, and she dead-pan rejected him, not only did she say no, but she had actually got up and left him.

He knew that she must have had a good reason to leave, he just couldn’t figure out what. Before the said incident, she had been dropping hints here and there about getting married. Subtle hints from sighing happily at the end of rom-cons when the couple got married, to straight up forward questions such as whether he would be alright with a western-type wedding rather than a Japanese one.

He was so fucking certain they were on the same page. Every time she asked anything regarding marriage, he sat a little straighter since the ring sad untouched hidden in their bedroom for a little over 2 weeks, before the hints started. He just needed the time to be right, and when he thought it was; apparently, she didn’t.

He took out his phone and looked at his messages, he had plenty of those but none from Hinata. When she left, she only asked for time and space and he was hell bound to give her whatever she wanted, but the more time passed his hope of her returning with an explanation grew smaller. Being a person in the public eye, he learnt a few important lessons such as not to read the comments to Drama-articles, but he caved this time.  Every comment was full of speculations or just straight-up angry for the way things ended between the two of them.

Finally, he put his phone on the nightstand and sighed. Since they started dating 3 years ago, he was so used to her being at his side almost every day. Sure, they were busy with filming their own movies or tv series, with photo shoots, interviews, talk-shows and everything else their agent scheduled. But everyone liked to take advantage of their relationship and of their common fanbase so most of the times they played in the same series, they were called for shows at the same time, there was not a day to go by when they weren’t together for at least a couple of minutes.

Sasuke moved onto her side of the bed and buried his head in her pillow. He kept wondering if she missed him as much as she did him. Her smell still filled their bathroom and there were still days when he’d wake up confused over the empty space in his bed.

He knew Hinata loved him, their love life was full, he would catch her staring at him with a smile on her face, without even realizing it they were always touching, holding hands, their shoulders pressed together, her hand on his knee, his arm around her waist, so without her there he felt somehow incomplete.

He must have fallen asleep at some point because he was jerked awake by a loud crash in the living room. He could hear Gaara talking to someone, not sure who could have caused all this chaos he got up and went to see what was happening. Getting closer to the ruffle he recognized the man talking.

“I don’t give a shit that he decided to give her space. Just because that’s what she wants doesn’t mean it’s what she needs”

His breath sped up. Neji, he was talking about Hinata. He never expected her cousin to come seek him out. The older Hyuuga saw him and started moving towards him, Gaara made a move to get in front of Sasuke before Neji could reach him.

“Out of my way Sabaku. He has to come with me”

“Do you know where she is?” Sasuke asked and he moved around Gaara.

“I do, and she really needs you right now”

That was all he had to hear. If Neji thought it was a good idea for him to go to Hinata it had to be, he would never do anything to harm his little cousin. Sasuke only nodded at his red-headed friend and they were on the move.

They took Neji’s car, the plan was to get Hinata and if all went well Neji would drive them both to their home if not…he’d still drive Sasuke. He only hoped things would turn out good.

“Do you know what happened?”

The Hyuuga clenched his hands around the wheel tighter. “I do” Sasuke opened him mouth to ask what but couldn’t get the words out before Neji talked again. “I really don’t think you should hear this from me. Granted you were supposed to be the first to find out after her but we all make mistakes, don’t be mad at her, she tried her best”

They parked the car across the street from a hotel, Sasuke followed Neji and Gaara was just a step behind him. They didn’t stop in the lobby to ask for the hotel room, Neji walked straight to the elevator and pressed the button for the 12th floor. They didn’t talk, the people that got into the elevator on the 4th floor kept staring at Sasuke but they didn’t say anything either. Finally, when they reached their destination, they marched down the corridor to room 127. The Hyuuga male sighed before softly knocking on the door.

“Hina..it’s me open up” when nothing happened he knocked again but no movements could be heard from the other side of the room. Being fed up with the wait he got his wallet out and took a key card and opened the door.

The room was dark but Sasuke recognized her scent, he noticed her clothes on the floor and finally his eyes rested on her sleeping form on the bed. He took a few steps forward and felt his mouth dry when he realized she was wearing one of his shirts and clenching another one in her hands.

He heard Neji sigh again and he whispered something to Gaara, the two made their way to the hallway but not before telling Sasuke to call for them if anything happened. He nodded without really registering what they were saying, nothing mattered but Hinata at that moment.

He walked up to the bed and sat next to her caressing her check and then her hair, she stirred in her sleep but didn’t wake up. The need to touch her was immense, it physically hurt him not to bend down and kiss every inch of her skin.

He didn’t stop caressing her face and hair for another 30 minutes until finally her eyes opened, she looked up at him and her smile was so wide he felt his heart bust. She was still sleepy and he wasn’t sure if she thought he was real or just a dream but when she sat up and hugged him, he didn’t stop her, nor did he stop her when she started kissing him or when she sat herself in his lap.

He knew they should talk but he missed her so fucking much his brain wasn’t working right. He forgot just how perfect she fit in his arms.

She was the one who stopped the kiss, her breath was shallow, and her eyes were dazed with lust. That look alone would have been enough to make him hard, but her weight on him and the feel of soft curves in his hands only made his pants feel even tighter.

Hinata looked at him for a moment before kissing her way from his jaw down his neck. Her hands wondered all over his chest and back, she started rocking her hips and he couldn’t help the deep throaty groan that escaped his lips. She seemed pleased with the effect she had over him and only started moving faster.

“Hinata…o fuck”

Hearing his voice everything in her stiffened. She stopped moving, stopped kissing and looked up at him like a deer caught in head lights. She was about to get up and flee but Sasuke reached back for her and pulled her into his lap and held her close.

“Y-you’re real” her voice was only a whisper. He wanted to kick himself for allowing things to go that far when she obviously thought she was dreaming. Her shoulders stared shaking and soft sobs filled the room.

“Shh, it’s okay. Everything’s going to be fine”

After a few minutes she stopped crying and moved her head to look up at him. “Why are you here?”

He only smiled at her and kissed her tears away. She didn’t push him away which was a good thing. “I asked for time, for space…” her voice was soft.

“I know, I’m sorry I thought I could give it to you, but…”

After looking at him once again she rested her head on his chest and finally returned his hug, her hands fisted the back of his shirt and her legs wrapped around his middle it felt like she was trying to bring herself closer to him, as close as it was physically possible.

“I’m sorry”

“It’s fine love” He said into her hair. He didn’t know why she apologized, but he didn’t care at that moment, all it mattered was that she was in his arms now. Her soft sobs broke his hear and he couldn’t help tightening his grip, bringing her as close as possible.

It took her a couple minutes to calm down, her face was on the crook of his neck, his hands buried into her hair, they were both breathing in the other, almost like their need of the other was what fueled their lives and the past weeks they’ve been working on empty tanks.

Hinata was the first to push away and look up at him, her hands were trembling as she reached out for his face. She cupped his cheeks and ran her thumbs under his eyes taking in the bags, Hinata leaned towards him and kissed his lips softly, just a few pecks nothing more.

“I’m so sorry baby” Her voice broke and he wished he knew what was wrong, so he could fix it.

“What’s wrong Hina? You have to tell me so I know how to fix it.”

Her eyes filled with tears and she kissed him once more “What if you can’t fix it? If we can’t fix it?” her voice was barely above a whisper.

She bit her lip and got off of him and walked to the far end of the room. Pacing back and forth, she did it a couple of times before suddenly stopping. “A few weeks ago, I thought I was pregnant”

Sasuke was stunned, her being pregnant never crossed his mind, but it would have been the best news ever, but the past tense filled him with anxiety.

“I didn’t want to tell you until I was certain. So, I took a few pregnancy tests 2 of them came off negative but one was positive so I was confused. I scheduled an appointment to check. I-I never had issues with my cycle or infections so I didn’t visit my gynecology doctor quite as often as it is recommended” She stopped pacing in front of him and took his hands into hers. “I told her I wanted a pregnancy test and when that came out negative, she suggested we do a few more tests and I said sure…” She was crying again. Sasuke freed his hands from hers and instead placed them on her waist and pulled her next to him. The silence overtook the room.

“I’m infertile” she finally confessed “the chances of me getting pregnant are very slow, I can’t give you the family you deserve. How could I do that to you? The day you asked me to marry you was the day I just got the results back” Sasuke silently cursed himself for not noticing the fact that she was upset, he had planned it and was so nervous about it, he did not pay attention to her.

“Hinata, it’s fine, everything is ok” He whispered against her hair and placed kissed on her temple. Of course, he wanted to have kids with her, and he would later mourn the loss of that idea but only after he was certain that she would be in his arms. “We’re already a family Hianta. we could also always adopt later on, but all I want now is you.”

Her eyes were watery and red, her expression was so broken. “You don’t hate me? You don’t think I’m broken?”

“I love you, you know that, there’s nothing that could change that, plus you’re not broken love. There is absolutely nothing wrong with you” Sasuke assured her. He couldn’t imagine how Hinata felt. “Let’s go home ok?” He asked to which Hinata only nodded. He picked her up and walked to the door, opened it and looked at Gaara and Neji who were on the hall away from the door; probably to give them privacy. Neji looked relieved to see them together while Gaara’s eyes fell to Hinata and his composure changed from his normal expressionless to sadness. Gaara walked in front of him and Neji was behind him. The walk from the lobby to the car was done in a rush just in case there were paparazzi around.

Neji started driving. “I’ll come back and pack all her things tomorrow” Sasuke nodded. They were together, that’s what mattered. Everything else would fall in place later.

@sasuhinamonth

[staytheb]

Like Oh 2.0 - Merry Christmas

Previous Chapter: Change of Plans Word Count: 3,997 Summary: It’s Christmas and Mark and Jaebeom have something they wanna say to Serena and Melanie, respectively.

Like Oh 2.0 masterlist

it’s getting there! just four more chapters and Like Oh 2.0 is complete (here on tumblr that is lol) but yeah, it’s been fun revising this and sharing it one here. so just await the next chapters and happy reading and kthxbai, Admin Lia~

It was close to midnight when the sisters got done face timing with their parents, their aunt Julisa, the twins, their so-called brothers and relations, as well as with Chloe and Taesuk, and everyone else for the rest throughout the day in celebration of Christmas Eve. It was because they knew that everyone else would be too busy on Christmas day to do their own holiday things. As for the sisters they were going to sleep in until the afternoon, eat while opening presents, probably check out the Christmas lights, and then turn in for the night. Both of them knew that there was nothing else for them to do when they were so far away from their loved ones.

Anyways, both Serena and Melanie tiredly crashed onto the sofa once they ended their last call with James who was the only one not celebrating it with a significant other. "I wonder if James just loves his single life to be tied down and committed." Serena mused with a yawn as Melanie nodded also letting out a yawn. "Probably. I think it's just him being hella picky though." "I know right." Serena agreed with a laugh as she closed her eyes. "Gonna sleep right here. Too lazy to go to my room." "Me, too." Melanie said as she made herself comfortable on the couch opposite of her sister.

Melanie and Serena were about to fall asleep into a sweet dreamland when both of their phones rang. Melanie's phone's volume was on low, but the light was flashing indicating activity. Serena's phone just continued to vibrate against the surface of the coffee table as she had muted her sound to vibrate mode instead. Melanie didn't budge as she didn't hear it, but she also didn't care for it. Serena on the other hand heard it and tiredly reached over to grab hers while lightly tapping Melanie awake with her foot to get hers as Serena had also picked up her sister's phone and threw it onto her sister's chest. "Answer your phone. It's ringing."

"Ugh, just leave me alone, Rere." Melanie groaned before actually looking to see who was calling her. She clumsily sat upright while staring at the image of Jaebeom calling her. "Why is he calling?" She mumbled as she answered his call. "Hello?" As for Serena she was debating on picking up Mark's call or not when she saw his name flashed across the screen, too. Serena let the call go through as she didn't feel like talking to him right now. She was about to set the phone back onto the coffee table when she felt the vibration first before the device lit up with Mark's name showing up again. Serena gave in and answered his call. "Hello?"

Both sisters answered the idols' call, but eventually got up and walked towards their room to talk in a more private manner when both idols requested for Serena and Melanie to go somewhere else so they could converse in private although it wouldn't really have mattered since neither sisters were loud or obnoxious to one another. Anyways, the sisters rolled their eyes while looking at one another and mouthed what the boys had said before silently chuckling and doing as what they had said and were now in their own bedrooms and lying upon their beds. "Could you meet me at the JYP building?" Both Jaebeom and Mark had asked the pair.

~~~~~~~

"Right now?" Serena questioned in disbelief with a laugh while staring up at the ceiling nonchalantly not really expecting Mark to actually think she would see him at this hour and weather condition. "Yeah." Came Mark's reply which caused Serena to frown and furrowed her eyebrows together. "You're serious?" "Yes, I'm serious." "Um, but why? It's so late though." There was a pause on his end as Serena waited for his explanation on why he wanted her to meet him at his company. "Mark?" "I have a few hours to hang before our next schedule and I just wanted to spend the early Christmas hours with my home girl." Mark simply replied, but to Serena it had caused her heart to tightened upon hearing his words. Before she could say anything, Mark spoke again. "So, do you think you could meet me at JYP soon?"

~~~~~~~

"When?" Melanie asked as she played with her bed sheets believing that he wanted to meet her later in the week or something like that. "Right now." Jaebeom stated as Melanie stopped fingering her blanket as she tried to process the idol's words. "As in right now? But it's late, JB. Why do you wanna meet you at the company, anyways?" She cautiously asked as she rolled onto her stomach and waited for his answer. It was silent for a while and Melanie spoke again. "Hello? JB? You still on the line?" "Yeah, I'm here." Came his response as Melanie waited to see if he was gonna say more. "I just wanted to hang out with you, Chaewon, before our next schedule. I have a few hours to kill and I thought we could spend the early Christmas morning hours together. Do you think you could meet with me?"

~~~~~~~

After agreeing to meet with the idols both sisters told each other about what their GOT7 bias had said about hanging out and agreeing to meet the two idols at their building. The duo went to change into warmer clothes for the cold airy night and grabbed their things before heading out. They decided walking to JYPE would help get their blood circulation moving and the fact that it wasn't that far away of a walk. The sisters texted the boys about their whereabouts and found the two already waiting outside for them in their get up. Before the duo could asked about the meeting both Mark and Jaebeom had took the respective sister's hand in theirs and led them in different directions.

Jaebeom had thought on taking Melanie down the Luxury Fashion Street which was only about an hour or so away so that he and Melanie could enjoy the Christmas lights he remembered her mentioning about several days ago. Mark decided to take Serena to the park as he knew that Serena always went there to do her nightly walk and maybe they could watch the night sky as well. To get there though both pairs took the bus in different direction and sat in a silence. Both pairs enjoyed the quiet comfort of each other as well as the night time scenery as it sped on by while still holding hands.

~~~~~~~

Once Melanie and Jaebeom had stepped out of the bus and began walking down the empty, but still lit street of Cheongdam Luxury Fashion Street, Melanie couldn't help but noticed all of the high end brand stores. She eyed the idol suspiciosuly. "You're not planning on buying me clothes or things from here when it's day light or something, right?" Jaebeom laughed. "No." He answered as Melanie still questioned him still not assured. "Then why are we here?" "The Christmas lights." "Oh." Melanie actually assessed their surroundings and took in the lights that decorated the dark streets. "It's so pretty." "I know." Jaebeom meant something else though.

The duo continued to stroll the streets as Melanie took pictures of the scenery with her free hand and Jaebeom took notice of it. "Do you wanna take pictures with the lights, Chaewon?" He casually asked as Melanie heard how he said her name for the second time tonight. "Did you just call me without the 'noona' part, again?" "Maybe." Jaebeom mused as Melanie stopped walking causing Jaebeom to stop walking. Melanie let out a slow breath before speaking in a calmer tone as possible despite her heart beating against her chest heavily. "You usually respect the whole age thing, JB. So why are you dropping it all of a sudden?"

"Because I was hoping you'll start calling me Jaebeom only instead of JB, Chaewon." Jaebeom explained while using Melanie's Korean name without the 'noona' part on it again. "Okay, Jaebeom, I can do that, but I still don't get why though to be honest. It doesn't explain on why you wanna drop the honorifics when you're so set on the whole age thing. You won't even let Jackson call you just JB or Jaebeom." "I like you, Chaewon." Jaebeom confessed as Melanie smile not really comprehending at first what he meant by it. "Okay, I like you, too, but h-" She paused as she realized what he had just admitted and needed him to repeat it. "I'm sorry?"

"I like you, Lee Chaewon." Jaebeom confessed for the second time, but frown. "Or should I call you Melanie?" Melanie laughed at his confusion. "You can if you want to." "But I want you to call me Jaebeom. Do you not want me to call you by your real name?" "It's fine, Jaebeom." He still looked unsure, but continued on. "Now you know that I like you, Chaewon, so please don't make me repeat myself." Even though she heard his confession and was just okay a while ago, but now that it set in her mind went totally blank. Jaebeom was growing unsteady upon her continuing silence and he wondered if he had just ruined the good friendship between them.

"Chaewon? Noona? Melanie? Lee Chaewon?" He repeated seveeral times until it snapped Melanie out of her daze and her attention focused on the male before her. "What? I'm sorry, Jaebeom, but I don't believe it." "Ugh, seriously? You're killing me, Chaewon." Jaebeom let out in an exasperated tone, but he held her firmly by the shoulders as he stared into her eyes. "This is the last time that I'm going to repeat this confession to you, Chaewon, but yes, I really do like you. Like a whole lot and for a while now." He confessed for the third or maybe it was the fourth time and Melanie smiled causing the idol to relax as she slowly admitted her own feelings, too.

"I know you're an idol and all and I don't know what you see in me to even like me or whatever, but I like you, too, Im Jaebeom." He grinned as he pulled Melanie in for a hug to which surprised her, but she soon wrapped her arms around him and returned the gesture. "You're such a cutie." She stated with a smile already knowing how he may respond. "I'm not cute. I'm sexy." Jaebeom said as pulled away first but then frown afterwards. "Wait. Um, does this mean that your bias is still Mark hyung though?" "Probably." She shrugged with a teasing smile as he groaned and she laughed at his childish reaction. "Hey, now. The important part is that I actually and really like you, Im Jaebeom. Not your group member, Mark Tuan. That's unnie's job now." She mused.

"Oh right. Jyongri noona's bias is me, right?" He recalled before smiling. "Mark hyung does like her." He then pondered on that and Melanie's previous words and nodded satisfied with whatever he was thinking about while pulling Melanie in for another hug with an even more satisfied grin. "That's true, Chaewon, that you like me out of the other six and your sister can have Mark hyung." "Technically, Jaebeom, I still like the other members, too." Melanie mumbled against his chest as the male pouted with a slight growl. "Why?" "Because GOT7 is still GOT7 so I like every member as I'm still an ahgase, duh." Melanie stated as she moved her head so she could look at him and not at his chest with a smile. "But, JB, I like you the best, Im Jaebeom. The one and only GOT7's leader. Is that good enough?"

"Yes." Jaebeom said as he went in for a kiss and at first it threw Melanie off guard, but she slowly returned the kiss and felt the idol smile against her lips. He pulled away first while cupping her face and rubbing tender circles with his thumbs against her cheekbones. "You don't know how long I've wanted to do that, Chaewon." She regarded him with a curious look. "And how long have you been wanting to do that, hmm?" "Since you came back from your summer holidays." "Wow, so you were jealous and salty." "I was not." "Whatever you say." Melanie tugged onto Jaebeom's hand so that they could continue their walk down the street again.

"Oh, yeah, here." Jaebeom pulled something from out of his pocket and handed her an envelope. "What's this?" She asked taking the item after putting away her phone and letting go of Jaebeom's hand so she could open it and read it. "A Christmas present." Jaebeom answered with a slow smile. "I thought you confessing your feelings to me was the Christmas gift?" She teased as she happened to pull out a ticket for GOT7's GOT7 Loves IGOT7 3rd Fan Meeting for February on the fifth of next year. She held up the ticket confused. "I'm not part of the fan-club thing though." "I figured, but I wanted you to go." He said in a shy tone. "Will you come?"

"I mean I can, but I don't know how these things work though." Jaebeom took her hand in his and gave it a reassuring squeeze. "I'm sure you'll be able to figure all of that out, Chaewon, because I don't know either." Melanie laughed as she held his hand tightly. "Yeah, I figured that much, too." She leaned towards him to give him a quick peck on the cheek. "Thanks." Jaebeom looked over at her startled. "What was that for?" "My thanks." "Do you think I could get another one? This time on the lips?" He playfully asked her while tapping a finger against his lips. "No." Melanie deadpanned with a smile.

Jaebeom pouted as he remained silent beside Melanie who laughed at his continued childish behavior. She brought out her phone to take more pictures of the night scenery that the Cheongdam Luxury Fashion Street had to offer. Melanie was too distracted that she didn't see Jaebeom eyeing her a few times before he tugged her hand a bit roughly against him which of course caused her to bumped shoulders with him. Before she could ask him why, Jaebeom had told her 'Merry Christmas', before running off with a laugh causing Melanie to yell, 'Merry Christmas', back and that she was going to leave him there. He came running back and took her hand in his again before she could do as she said and continued their walk down the street happily with her beside him.

~~~~~~~

When Serena and Mark stepped off the bus Mark happily led Serena towards the park as she wondered why they were here in the first place. "What are we gonna do here at the park, Mark?" Serena asked him as he looked over his shoulder with a grin. "Stuff." "Like what kinda stuff, Mark?" "Lots of stuff, Serena." He told her with a laugh as his head turned to the front of him again as Serena rolled her eyes although a small smile graced her lips. She continued to let the idol lead her with really nothing else to do as she figured the idol wouldn't let her out of his sight. "I swear, if you're pulling a prank on me, Mark, I'm not responsible for what happens next." Serena threatened as Mark laughed while she grumbled at his behavior. "This guy."

"I swear on my life that it's not a prank, Serena." Mark assured as he continued speaking. "Just enjoy the night air with me." "I know a better place that has the same air than here and not so far away from home." Serena mumbled as Mark stopped walking and she ran into his back. "Oof. Sorry, but why did you stop?" He shrugged as the two of them stood in the middle of the park. "Y'know, Mark, I really do love my night time adventure, but it's seriously too damn cold for any of this." After she had said that Serena suddenly felt herself being pressed up against the idol's chest as Mark took her hands in his and then put her hands into his coat pockets before he actually wrapped his arms around her.

"Um, what are you doing?" Serena asked almost in a panicked tone as they stared at one another with the idol smiling at her in the process. "I'm keeping you warm." Serena tried to back away, but Mark kept he in place. "Yeah, but like why?" "You said it was too cold for this." "I-" She opened her mouth to counter, but closed it as she had no response as it was true. Serena suddenly grew shy, cautious, flustered, and totally aware of their close proximity. She tried to back away again, but Mark wouldn't let her as he chuckled as he swayed the both of them under the twilight sky. "Y'know, Serena, you're quite cute when you get flustered by me and wanna run away." "Am not." "Don't lie." "I'm not. This is just awkward and unexpected." She answered, but kept her face away from his view. "Plus you won't let go of me."

A moment later Serena felt Mark stop swaying them and his hands were now cupping her cheeks so she would look at him. She stared, but went blank upon what to do as the two stared into each others' eyes. "I have something to confess to you, Serena." Mark broke the silence first as it snapped Serena back to reality. "Confess what, Mark?" "That I like you." He admitted with a soft gaze, but Serena didn't believe him. "Yeah, right." She laughed it off while placing her hands on top of his to remove it so that she could pull herself away, but Mark held onto her hands instead and still kept her at bay. "I'm being completely honest with you here. I like you, Serena." He actually admitted his feelings properly. "I really like you, like you."

Serena stood there shock by his words as she didn't think that an actual idol would like her back. No less, her sister's bias. Also, this just boggled her mind as she never intended to fall for anyone in her lifetime. Eventually, Mark's confidence seemed to dwindled by Serena's lack of response. "Serena?" He called as she focused her attention back on to the idol coming out from her daze. "Hmm?" "Did you not hear me?" Mark questioned with a soft tone as Serena turned shy while speaking. "I did hear you, but I'm still trying to process if this is really happening. Because to be honest with you, Mark, I can't believe it." A relieved look graced Mark's face as he chuckled before speaking his next words. "Then do you want me to show you another way that this is really happening?" "How?" "Like this."

Before Serena could question the idol about what he meant Mark had leaned in to softly kiss Serena who at first wanted to pull away, but Mark's hand found itself at the back of her head keeping her from doing so. This caused Serena to respond back by returning the same gesture and a few seconds later Mark broke the kiss. He leaned his forehead against hers. "I'm glad you like me back." Mark stated with a tender smile. "I didn't even say that I like you though." Serena answered once she processed the whole thing and deciding to be a tease about it which caused Mark to cast her a look of disbelief. "Why did you kiss me back?" "I got caught up in the moment." Before Mark could respond back, Serena upon impulse leaned in to steal a kiss before running away laughing.

Mark stood there shock for a quick second before he ran after the female who at that moment turned to look over her shoulder and saw that the idol was coming up fast and she panicked. She was about to break into a full on sprint, but Mark caught Serena from behind. "Got you!" She let out a weird squeal as the two tumbled to the ground in a tangled mess. The duo laughed at their situation as they lied on their backs and stared up at the night sky while their laughter die down a moment later. Both Serena and Mark continued to gaze at the sky until Serena broke the silence by confessing her feelings for the idol as well. "I like you, too, Mark."

Mark smiled as he looked over at Serena, then down at his hand to find hers, and he held onto it tightly while returning his eyes back towards the sky with a satisfied grin. "I knew you did." "Maybe I should it back." Serena remarked as she tried to free her hand from him, but Mark held on to it firmly while laughing. "I'm kidding." He pulled something from out of his pocket and waved it in front of her face. "Here." "What's this?" "Open it and you'll find out." "Obviously, Mork Too Anne." "That's not my name, Serena whatever your real last name is." He rolled his eyes and turned to look over at Serena who managed to open the envelope with one hand while speaking. "You don't need to know my real last name, Mork Too Anne."

Mark groaned, but was now curious about her name. "So, why did you go by a Korean name upon living here when you could've gone with your real one?" Serena contemplated if she wanted to explain it or not before answering him. "It was out of necessity. Plus, it was easier to go by a Korean name instead of the hassle of my last name since it's longer than a common Korean surname." "I see. How come yours is different from Melanie's?" "Oh. Mel likes Lee and Lee didn't flow with Jyongri, so I went with Park because it flowed better." The idol was gonna ask further, but Serena stopped him. "Now stop asking me about my name." "Fine." He grumbled as Serena laughed before frowning.

She tried to read the paper that he had just given her a while ago, but couldn't make out anything due to the limited lighting. "Alright, I give up, Mark." Serena said as she put the ticket back inside the envelope and into he pocket. "I can't read it. I'll read it later." Mark laughed while resonding. "I'll just tell you what it's for. It's for GOT7's third fan meeting in February next year on the fifth." "Okay, but why are you giving it to me?" "Because it's my Christmas gift to you and I want you to come." "I thought you liking me was your gift?" "No. The ticket is and I want you to come, Serena." "What if I say no, Mark?" "Then I'll be sad." "But what if I give it to another ahgase who really likes you guys?" "Then I'll still be sad because you still didn't come."

Serena sighed in defeat. "I guess I can go." Serena reluctantly agreed as Mark laughed before reassuring her. "If it makes you feel any better Melanie's gonna go, too." "How?" She turned to face the idol as he grinned widely. "Well, if you and I are like this, then what do you think the other pair are doing right now?" "Seriously?" Honestly, didn't expect it, but it is what it is." "Are you disappointed?" Mark asked with a curious gaze as Serena shook her head with a soft smile. "No." She returned her eyes above to the dark sky as she remembered what today was. "Merry Christmas, Mark." "Merry Christmas to you, too, Serena." Mark returned his attention to the night sky as well as the duo continued to lie happily on the ground still holding hands.

[cancerianprincess]

Birkin Bag (1)

Alright peeps! This started as a cute and corny imagine based off a line from this song (2:06), and evolved into an idea for a mini-series for Erik that no one asked for 🙃Heads up: it might start off a bit slow in this one but it picks up later. Feedback is always appreciated & I hope y’all enjoy it!

Summary: Erik finds out he might’ve rubbed off on his best friend a tad too much and that she’s really with the shits 

Warning: Language, Mild Drug Use

~~~~

“I bought my bitch a Birkin Bag so she could hold my fucking strap..”

_______

Plopping down into the passenger seat of Erik’s car, you slammed the door behind you with all the attitude you could muster.

“I done told you about slamming my door like that, lil girl,” he uttered, skipping right over the formalities of a normal greeting. He didn’t even bother to look in your direction, keeping his attention on the unfinished backwood in his lap.

You simply stared at him, pausing momentarily at how much his warning mimicked the voice of somebody’s mama, waiting to see if he would provide any explanation about dragging you out your bed in the dead of night. When none came, you finally addressed the statement as he flicked a lighter to seal the blunt.

“Nigga, you woke me up out my sleep at damn near two in the morning, remember,” you snapped at him. “And now you wanna fuss at me for being grumpy when you was blowing my phone up just to have a damn session?”

Erik clutched at his imaginary pearls and feigned an expression of false hurt.

“Damn shawty, I come back from overseas after three weeks and it’s like that?” He shook his head dramatically as he sparked the weed and took the first inhale.

“That’s cold,” he exhaled. “A brother can’t get no kinda love around here.”

You rolled your eyes at his dramatics, while Erik took another hit and passed it off to you. Despite glaring at him through sleepy eyelids, you accepted the peace offering, figuring there was no point in turning down a free smoke since you were already awake now. He grinned when you did, displaying his gold canines in knowing his best friend like the back of his hand. Taking notice, you kissed your teeth skillfully so that the blunt wasn’t at risk from falling out your mouth.

“Whatever,” you started. “Don’t think one wood is gonna make up for disrupting my beauty rest.”

“Well I woulda been here sooner to kick it with you if them white ass crackers at the airport knew what they was doing. They the reason my connecting flight got delayed so if you wanna blame somebody, you can blame them.”

As Erik launched into the tale of his troublesome journey back home, you couldn’t help but feel amused by the fact that he had suffered in some form or another tonight just like you did. You also felt a tad bit sorry for him, but mostly amused. Initially, he scowled at you when the snickering began on your end, but eventually he joined you, his nagging turned to clownery as the haze of loud filled the atmosphere. The two of you joked on into the early hours of the morning, bopping to the radio and swapping details of the events in your lives that had taken place during the redeemed Wakandan’s trip back to his true origins.

“Oh yeah, speaking of that, I almost forgot about ya shit.”

Erik was right in the middle of recounting the heated argument he’d gotten into with one of the residents from the Merchant Tribe when an afterthought struck him. You threw his form a puzzled look as he reached his arm into the backseat, causing all kinds of commotion in the floor behind you.

When he re-emerged, in his hand was a white, narrow, rectangular box. Different markings of the Xhosa language covered the package in shiny metallic grey letters, and was bound together by a gold ribbon tied off in a bow. He tossed it into your lap as he extinguished the remnants of the burnt out blunt in a nearby ashtray.

“What’s this?” You eyed Erik suspiciously, careful to be on your guard in case it was another one of his tricks.

“That,” he began, “is so you can stop getting on my nerves every time my ass go out on on these relay missions.”

Any time Erik alerted you he was flying out to handle business on behalf of the Wakandan Outreach Center, you poked at him here and there about bringing something back for you, but only out of fun, not really expecting him to follow through on the requests. Now, your gaze shifted from him, over to the giftbox, and back to Erik once again, peering past the curtain of dreads and into his eyes to search them for any trace of legitimacy. He noticed the inspection, and smirked as he spoke up again.

“I mean if you don’t want it, I can always give it t-”

But the rest of his sentence was lost among the crunch of gift paper being torn apart, sending Erik’s head back in a howl of laughter at how fast your doubt had been flushed away. You made quick work of the box’s lid and decorative ribbon, showing your best friend he had another thing coming if he even dared to pass your present off to one of his dusty ass hoes.

Finally reaching the object inside the cardboard container, your red eyes grew wide when they fell on its contents. Laying across your lap, was a gorgeous new purse, accented with gold trimming along all its edges to match its chain. You lifted it from the box, discarding it near your feet, and ran your fingers over the sleek material, absorbing the coolness of the metallic jaguar pin. Only when your thumb grazed over it, did you notice the minor pulsations the purse gave off, beginning to glow dimly upon doing so.

“I saw it and thought about the time you lost your old one at the club that night on your birthday,” Erik explained, breaking the warm silence. “So I went back to pick it up in my free time, had my little cousin tweak it for me in her lab.”

You blinked at him a few times, processing what he said as an explanation for its mystic illumination, before an ear splitting grin spread across your face with a quickness.

“Yo, E, this is dope as fuck, like I legit don’t know what to say!”

He draped his arm over the back of your reclined seat and sat back in his own, clearly pleased with himself and his present-selecting abilities.

“Yeah, well you’re welcome. Even though I ain’t get no kinda thank you or nothing like that,” he shrugged.

You cut your eyes at his theatrics once again, thinking that for him to be such a ‘thugged out soldier from Oakland’, he sure was a big ass diva on the low. Still, that didn’t stop you from leaning over and hugging his neck to express your gratitude.

“Seriously though, Erik, thank you for this,” you muffled into his ear.

He flinched at the vibration of your voice, but quickly concealed it by engulfing you with his free arm, and closing the gap with a light squeeze at the small of your back. The gesture held a particular surge of warmth to it, conveying every single emotion you held for each other.

Something about the hug made you want it to never end, and if you hadn’t known any better, you could’ve sworn Erik felt the vibe too. You were aware of his lack of verbal expression concerning his feelings, even after he’d started his life down a new path it was a struggle for him. But you never pushed him on it. Not then, and not now. It had manifested into an unspoken rule as time went on, and as long as Erik had your back like you had his, you were perfectly content with it staying that way.

It could’ve just been an after-effect of the weed in your system, but each passing second was spent basking in the hold, discreetly taking in his scent and committing his hold to memory. It was odd that Erik let the contact go this long, but if he was okay with this level of vulnerability, even for a limited amount of time, you refused to deny him of it.

“Wait,” he cut into the moment. “You thought I did this for you?”

This caused you to draw back partially, enough to assess his face quizzically but still remaining in the embrace. One of your eyebrows shot up expectantly, prompting Erik to go on with his interjection.

He continued on in an amused tone. “Oh nah, see, I said I thought about you when I saw it. That don’t mean I necessarily bought it specifically for you.”

The smile you’d been wearing dropped into a flat line.

“What?” He questioned, trying to act innocent. “It’s true. I figured if I got Shuri to add a Vibranium lining to it, I’d have a better hiding spot for my strap, y’know?”

You tore away from his hold and merely retreated to your on seat, regarding him as best you could while attempting to maintain your composure.

Erik kept going playfully like you weren’t on the verge of smacking his block-headed ass.

“Y’know...because Vibranium doesn’t set off metal detectors…and guns are made of metal...”

That sentence had been the last straw, for you indeed, smacked him upside the noggin, and proceeded to go off on his block-headed ass.

“Nigga, don’t you think I know that witcho’ ain’t-shit-ass!?”

“Ain’t nobody ‘bout to carry your raggedy ass gun around like some slave!”

“Had me all excited for nothing, got me sitting here thinking you cared about a bitch!”

“YO ASS DON’T CARE ABOUT ME-”

You threw blows at him half-heartedly every couple syllables, sending Erik into a fit of laughter so great that he was too preoccupied to even fight you off. At first you slumped down in the seat, finally giving up on the assault and resorting to pouting, lip poked out and arms folded. It didn’t last long, though, because eventually the outburst became contagious, causing both of you to cackle like two high ass hyenas as the sun gingerly crept over the horizon.

That was one aspect of you and Erik’s friendship you valued the most: being able to kid around all the time but still realizing where your loyalties lied at the end of the day. Other than  extremely rare occasions, it was how the pair of you exhibited affection, rather than having the typical sappy exchanges. You both knew that majority of the words thrown amongst you meant nothing, letting deeds truly define the bond you held.

And actions would soon be the true test of that commitment, starting the day you learned that Erik had been kidnapped.

|Part Two|

~Taglist~

@iamrheaspeaks @princesskillmonger @eriknutinthispoosy @wheredidallthedreamersgo @thotyana-in-this-hoe @sonofnjobu

(This is just to mention my usual peeps plus others but if you want to be added/removed just let me know!)

[navigatorwrongway]

No-longer Secret Sherlolly Santa Gift

My assigned giftee was the lovely @mychakk, for whom I wrote a primarily Molly-centric wing!fic. Very sorry that it took this long, but I do hope you enjoy it!!

Molly is 13 years old the first time she grows a feather. She is woken up in the middle of the night to the unpleasant sensation of something tickling her upper back on the left side. She figures it might be the monthly shedding of the uterine lining they were warned about in Health Class, but truly confounding brush down of her lower self reveals no blood. Still, a shower might do her some good. It’s only after looking in the fogged-over mirror does she see it – thin and cream colored, like the one that’s framed in the living room, a memento from the doves released at her parents’ wedding. After the obligatory panic attack at discovering that she’s broken just about every rule of biology she can think of (Some sort of strange mutation? Is she the first of a new species? Homo Avies? No, evolution takes time. One minute change in DNA does not turn a perfectly normal teenage girl into a giant budgie. Or something), she lies awake in bed for number of hours before dashing for the library. Thankfully, it’s a Saturday, so she’s able to lurk in the biology section of the public library that will become her usual haunt without interruption. The next month is spent scouring book after book for information, maybe even an explanation, because, hello, humans are not supposed to suddenly turn into birds.

By the time summer vacation starts, she has two dozen or so feathers that cover the raised mounds that seem to be attached to her scapulai, and has only gotten more confirmation that whatever’s happening to her shouldn’t be. Since her inability to wear any loose tee or tank top with her new appendages really limits ways to spend hot summer days, Molly holes up in her room with every anatomy book she can get her hands on (in the long, lonely hours of her self-imposed exile, she decides that she’s going to be a pathologist).

Mid-July, her best friend calls her, presumably to invite her to come over. Molly lets the phone ring out.

When her friendship with Katlyn dissolves after 9 years of fantastic adventures and later, shared confidences of crushes and hopes for the future, it feels like her world collapses around her. Her father notices, too.

At first, Tobias Hooper is ecstatic that his daughter has decided to follow in her mother’s footsteps, judging by all the science textbooks she’s been hoarding. Then he finds her curled in a ball in the bathtub surrounded by torn-out feathers, spattered with blood and sobbing because it’s all too much and why can’t she just be normal and it hurts it hurts ithurtsithurtsithurts. He holds her until they fall asleep, his beloved daughter cradled in his arms once again. He joins in her quest for an explanation then – two heads are better than one and all that. He helps her organize a system to keep track of how the appendages grow and how to monitor her caloric intake; before she sprouts more feathers, she gets very, very odd cravings. In secondary school she’s the quiet, pale bookworm that wants to study the human body, of all things.

When her advanced biology class begins dissecting fetal pigs Molly is partnered with a tall, lanky boy who declares her to be “slightly less incompetent”. For some reason, the way his eyes (Blue? Green? A mixture of both, she decides, with a splash of grey thrown in) skate over her, pulling her entire life into the light for all to see (he either misses the fact that she has wings [proper wings now, she can move them a little, if she tries] – which is unlikely – or ignores it – even more unlikely), makes her feathers tingle in a way that’s not entirely unpleasant. They aren’t friends (“I don’t have friends, Molly.”), but he tolerates her. He gets bored to the point that he’ll deduce complete strangers for her amusement and she’ll quiz him on decomposition rates or the implications of different types of striations that can be found on corpses. She finds that her wings grow faster when she’s in close proximity to the ornery genius. She can’t say that it’s pleasant, but she’s willing to bear the discomfort for his company.

Once, she grew three feathers in a day while helping him try to convince the police that Carl Powers hadn’t committed suicide. Despite their best efforts, the investigators were unconvinced, and Sherlock had retreated into what he termed his “mind palace” for hours on end. Therefore, her near-constant shifting and stifled whimpers went unnoticed. After that he starts using his skills to solve local mysteries and disappearances, dragging her along with him more often than not. This comes to an end when they go to different universities, though she texts him occasionally with any observation of particular note. He never replies. She tells him the address of her matchbox of a flat in one of the last messages, with an invitation to drop by sometime (she’d be happy to have a roommate, flatmate, whatever, but certain things rule that out [Those certain things are about ten and a half feet across by now, with more joints than any bird wing she’s ever seen. Makes them a bitch to unfold, but admittedly does help conceal them under layers of baggy jumpers with the backs cut out]).

She never actually expected him to show up at two in the morning, looking (and smelling) like he hadn’t seen the business end of a showerhead in a month, pupils the size of dinner plates, and telltale track marks along his arms. As shocked as she is, she simply pulls him into the relative warmth, and goes to her room to see if there’s anything he could wear. One of her dad’s old shirts and sweatpants from when he last visited in hand, she steps back into what serves as her living room to find him… Pissing in her hall closet. Perfect. Wonderful.

“Um… Hey, Sherlock? What are you doing?” He glares at her in the isn’t-it-obvious-you-idiot way he’s mastered. Its effect is lessened, however, by the glazed, unfocused quality his eyes have taken. Oh, god, how is she supposed to deal with this? What took her closest non-friend, her ornery, brilliant, gorgeous non-friend and brought him this low? First things first, Molly-girl, an internal whisper that sounds (almost disturbingly) like her dad tells her. Right. Personal hygiene, then.

She steers Sherlock into the bathroom and leaves the clothes on the toilet seat. Get food, pipes up the voice. A grilled cheese is always good, right?

Bread? Next to the instant ramen. Cheese? Fridge, under the lettuce. Butter? Butter dish. Can of tomato soup? With all the other cans of soup. Can opener? Unemptied dish drainer. Pan? Already on the stove. Where you put it not five minutes ago, Molly, you dolt.

So focused (sort of) on her task that she didn’t hear the opening of the bathroom door, Molly only becomes aware of someone watching her when her feathers fluff up of their own accord as if to make her appear larger – ridiculous, yes, but instinct was instinct.

And then he’s lurching towards her, very little of his typical catlike stealth and grace evident (or is this clumsiness his new[ish] usual? Oh, god. How could she not have at least checked up on him? Then she would have known earlier, and she might know what to do now…) in his movements. Whatever he’s taken (Morphine, Molly suspects) has made him sluggish, allowing her the reaction time to dart out of reach from the hand that’s grasping at her wings.

Wings.

Oh, bollocks.

In her feverish panic regarding Sherlock, she’s completely and utterly forgotten that her sleepwear (a tank top and fuzzy pajama pants with little penguins) really don’t help conceal her feathered friends. At all. Which obviously poses a problem. Because wings. Is it too much to hope that he wouldn’t mention it? Probably, but that didn’t change the fact that Molly would wait until he (inevitably) brought the topic of her additions up.

Damn near miraculously, Sherlock doesn’t question her wings for his entire visit (if that’s the right word. She’s not quite sure). In fact, he barely speaks a word while he’s there, just staring at her with those ohgoditssowrongforthemtobesohazy eyes of his. He collapses on her ratty foldout sofa-bed, having been borderline force-fed soup and half a sarnie, about two hours after he first turned up on her porch. She keeps vigil over him that night, in terror that him might drown in his own vomit if she doesn’t watch him, after she cleans up the repurposed wardrobe. She must have dozed off at some point, though, because he’s long gone when she wakes up with a crick in her neck from sleeping in her beaten armchair. She can’t stay to see if he’ll be coming back – she has an interview with a Dr. Stamford at St. Bartholomew’s Hospital.

She gets the job. It’s just a position as an underling in the mortuary, but she can’t imagine working anywhere else. Her supervisor isn’t Mike, but a sexist, nasty, crotchety old toad whose hands shake to the point that she has to physically restrain herself from ripping the scalpel away from him before he cuts himself, her, or parts of the body that aren’t supposed to be cut. The hospital makes up for it, though, particularly the roof. On long, empty night shifts she can sometimes sneak up to the roof and spread her wings without fear of being seen. As long as she keeps low enough, she can glide and practice staying aloft and work on carrying increasingly heavier weights for longer when she feels the need.

Her co-workers notice her odd fondness for the place, and it officially-unofficially becomes recognized as ‘Hooper’s Territory’. At least, that’s what Molly gleans from overhearing Meena warning a new lab assistant away from the space. She can’t say she’s displeased.

It all goes very smoothly, until she’s called on by Scotland Yard to assist on a case that has their usual pathologist stumped. Once she finds a piece of evidence that eventually puts the nail in the case’s proverbial coffin (Seriously, why didn’t anyone think to check inside the upper lip?), the dubious honor of being one of the main contacts is hers. Over time, she strikes up friendships among the force, particularly with a charming older Detective named Lestrade, and to a lesser extent, Sally Donovan. Phillip Anderson was summarily banished the day he tried to tell her how to do her job (as if she doesn’t outrank him in pretty much every category except maybe socialization skills).

A year goes by, and nothing goes overly horrifically wrong, save Meena’s one and only attempt to set her up with a friend of a friend (she adamantly refuses to talk about why a documentary on Ireland’s Hooper swans sent her into peals of hysterical laughter, and everyone except for Caroline eventually lets the matter rest). And then Greg tells her that he’s bringing in a consultant – a private detective, outstandingly brilliant, apparently. As it turns out, she probably should have asked for a name.

[sheusedtobesassier]

Day 10,321

Welp. A very very very very rough sequence of dreams surrounding Omar. Woke up and laid in bed a good little while to cry a little. Nine o’clock in the morning tears are so specific. Mm.

It’s been like five hours since I woke up so a lot of the dreams have faded. Uh mostly it was like, a look at what he’s potentially been up to since he left. Which. It wasn’t real, lol. All figments of my imagination. But. The dream was him hooking up with lots of other women. Carefree physical relationships. And getting a long letter from him that like, I guess it was sort of apologetic but mostly expressing that being with me had been the hardest year of his life and like, he wished for a take back. Like it read like a “oops my bad.” As if it had all been one big mistake, the being together not the leaving. A regret. Time wasted. And like, I was half awake in the dream so I was literally struggling to read the message (it kept changing, it had no permanence) and I was thinking “This isn’t even real. Why are you trying to read this? Don’t torture yourself.” I was most of the time aware the whole thing was a dream and that I could come out of it but I wouldn’t. Mm there was another portion where I was falling asleep in a bed with some friends of ours. The man next to me realized I was dozing off so he quietly got up and left, but then suddenly it was just Omar and I. It suddenly started getting sexy physical and I was into it, but was very confused because nothing had been said. Then I had this certain feeling of like, “Wait. He’s with someone else now and things must be bad. That’s why he’s turning to me right now.” (Which. That’s some Brandon bullshit just mixed in. But whatever.) Then I was in a quaint little apartment with two super duper hip white girls. I knew one was his girlfriend but I didn’t really encounter her. Just knew she existed here too? The friend kept talking to me. Telling me the falling in love story between this new girl and Omar. Showing me printed photos from trips they’d all gone on together. Ocean shore and pink sunset? She was making it sound like it was so easy, so good for him. Telling me about it as if they were all strangers to me. I was a guest. I was somebody he didn’t know well and didn’t desire to know me. So.

A lot of it was just, like, my wounds/insecurities/fears all mashed up into a subconscious clusterfuck. So. I could dig that all up out of it and I honestly want to but. It’s probably not good for me? Just. Damn fuck I just started crying again. I think today will just turn out to be a hard day I guess. I’ve had like a month of good days! Maybe even two whole months! It’s been a very good stretch! I mean it! I swear. So. One hard day. I can get through a hard day. I know I can.

Fuck. That cry was really unexpected. Writing this up sitting next to Ally. They had a couple over last night for dinner, friends about to move away to Germany. And. I ran away. Ate some dinner and drank one beer. Then spent the rest of the evening hiding in my bedroom. Ally txted me at one point sweetly inviting me down and I refused. So she brought it up just now, how her friend was bummed I ditched. And I. So I began to explain how ever since the break up I’m like Extremely Jealous when I’m in a context that’s just couples, but I didn’t get even one sentence out because I was immediately choked the fuck up??? Jealous is kind of the wrong word. It’s more like. Um. Maybe this is fucked up? I feel like a burn victim who won’t ever be the kind of physically beautiful I used to be. And that everybody else can tell, but isn’t gonna say anything about it. Or even if they do bring it up I’m not going to have the right words for it. Besides they’ve never been on fire like I have and I wouldn’t like it if they pretended they understood. And then also there’s like, this pain around couples that are together and are a bad match lol, but have making concessions and putting in the necessary effort to stay together. That hurts me so much? Because like. Idk. Yeah. I could write why but it’s too raw I think because I’m already crying again. I’ve gotta knock that off. Breathe in, breathe out. Clearly whatever this is does not want to be communicated.

I think of him a dozen times a day. That’s a low estimate. Anything happens and it reminds me of something I know about him and I consider saying it out loud But I Never Do Anymore. I fight it every damn time now. Nobody wants to listen to me go on about my ex. I don’t want to hear it come out of my mouth. So I swallow it. Choke on it. I tell me to shut the fuck up.

He just. He actually wants nothing to do with me. Or like, even if he does IT DOESN’T MATTER because he chooses to have nothing to do with me. He makes that decision every day. Or like, even tougher to accept, the choice never even comes up for him. I am out of sight out of mind. I am regrettable. I am stories he has no interest in telling anybody. Something he has smoothed over. Very fine with the past being the past. Uninterested in anything more.

I just. Look, I don’t believe I’m unlovable. I don’t believe it. I know that I have such good ones in my life who love me and enjoy me. I’m sure of it. I don’t need to be convinced, okay? But. I do very much believe that I’ve become unlovable to Omar. I’m someone he has decided he is better off not loving or enjoying. And like. I earned that. Somehow. Our collective experience not only qualified for a break up, but also for a complete erasure from his present. “The removal of all traces.” I’ll just keep writing it because it’s what I remind myself in my head over and over and over, HE WANTS NOTHING TO DO WITH ME. Access denied. He’s shut me out and seemingly lost all interest. And my only way of understanding why is by deciding on a narrative by myself and committing to it. He has no input. Nothing to add. No desire to offer up an explanation. No urge to defend himself. HE’S MOVING THE FUCK ON. ALREADY MOVED. Lol. Whatever variety of special I was to him, I am no longer that. And I might not like it, but that doesn’t change a goddamn thing.

I just. I’m gonna make the effort to not feel stupid for writing this on a Thursday afternoon. Especially because I’ve had so many healthy and happy weeks in a row. Because I haven’t been moping and succumbing. I’ve been present. I’ve been reading. I’ve been learning. I’ve been sleeping a reasonable amount. I’ve been drinking less and not alone. I’ve been going on long exploratory walks almost every damn day. I’m taking it easy. Slow and sweet times. I’m doing well. So I can write this after some particularly upsetting dreams. I can cry a few times about what didn’t actually happen and also (to be fucking fair) about what actually is still happening. I can put it down and not feel like I’m some wreck. I’m not an obsessed fool. I was in love and it hasn’t been easy figuring out how to not be that. And like. That’s not humiliating. It fucking feels like it is for sure, lol. But. I think I’d rather be the way I am than the way he is. I’d rather be fucked up than unfazed. Let it leave marks on me.

Oh and I wanted to mention that Heavenly by Victoria’s Secret is what we smelled like. It’s what it smelled like after we’d been all over each other. What being tangled up smelled like. Dirty and panting. Laughing and high fiving if it’d been particularly good. Tracing naked lines. It smelled a lot like that.

Amber asked a while ago if I feel like the physical aspect of our relationship makes it harder to move on than it would be otherwise. Which? What? But also. I get it I guess. I told her it’s not like I had any other break up to compare it to, lol. But. When I miss the touching each other it’s just like, a totally different thing than everything else ever I guess. Like sometimes I literally involuntarily grunt at a sudden erotic memory. Audible remembering, lol. And there is like, look it isn’t shame. But there’s like an awkwardness that I’ve done such incredible things with a person that now wants nothing to do with me. That the only person who has ever had his way with me now like. Now we have no connection. Now is just the knowing what happened and moving through the world completely separately. Politely not mentioning it? Idk. I’m not explaining it well. I don’t miss what he’d do to me, but I do miss the delicious knowing he wanted to do it to me. I don’t miss doing what I did to him, but I do miss having a hold on him. To remember it is like um. It’s like it’s two other people I don’t know. It isn’t us. Or like maybe that’s it. It’s US, and US no longer exists. So remembering when I’m remembering it as just me, me without any him? That’s like. It’s hollow. There is nothing to it. It’s like it doesn’t even belong to me, not to whoever I am now. Am I making any sense?

Look. I just. I know I’d take a weekend in his bed in a heartbeat and I just really fucking hope that at some point that won’t be true of me. I either want it or I want out of it. I want him and HE DOESN’T WANT ME. So I need one of us to switch. Soon.

[itsjustkaotikme]

NaNoWriMo 2019: Someone - Day 3

Marge woke up at least five times before her alarm went off the next morning. She'd barely slept despite all her best efforts to calm her active mind. She'd read through the A's in her old school dictionary, drank hot tea, had a warm bath, but none of her usual tricks helped. She eventually settled on watching a light comedy until she was exhausted and distracted enough to doze off around 3 am. Even asleep, the day's events had worked their way into her dreams, causing her to jump awake only to drift off into another troubling dream. She rubbed her bleary eyes and checked her sleep log on her phone – 3 hours of sleep, 1 hour restless. Ugh, she grumbled, Definitely not a great start to my first, err, second day of work. She figured she may as well get up and start getting ready though.

The room was still dark, that was the worst part about this time of year, the sun taking so long to come up in the mornings. She wasn't used to having to leave the house this early, or deal with the sun being so lazy when she woke up. Even with the distraction of getting ready for work and pondering solar cycles, Marge couldn't stop her thoughts from drifting back to everything that happened the day before. Two days ago, she'd bemoaned her boring and jobless lifestyle; now, she'd very much like things to calm down just a bit. An attempted robbery, a new job, and now this strange ordeal over a simple envelope.

Ever since she got home last night, she'd been kicking herself for not opening it before she took it in to the police. When she saw it amongst her things yesterday, she'd been terrified, but by now she was certain she'd overreacted and felt very embarrassed she'd made such a fuss about it. In fact, after thinking about everything over and over last night instead of sleeping, she realized it *could have*, *maybe*, *possibly* been one off her new coworkers slipping her a friendly note. She was certain she have have noticed if someone had gotten that close to her, but maybe they'd been really sneaky? Surely this was far more likely than a sinister stalker message from a random career thief? There must be a reasonable, non-threatening explanation, right? She really needed to lay off the true crime podcasts and tv shows. She tended to gravitate towards worst-case-scenarios in general, so she really didn't need to give her overactive imagination any more material to work with.

Just the thought of getting a phone call from Officer/Detective/Whatever-His-Title-Actually-Is Luke made her feel nauseous. Had he been thinking she was being overly paranoid the whole time? If he calls just to tell me it's a welcome package from the office, I will literally crawl into a hole and never come out ever again, she silently resolved. Or maybe I should just not answer if he calls? she shook off the line of thought for the umpteenth time. Focus, Marge! .. or else you are going to be late! she chided herself as she chugged the last of her breakfast smoothie and grabbed her keys. Her roommate likely wouldn't be up for another couple hours, so she locked the door behind her when she left.

--

"Welcome back!" It was the manager that hired her yesterday, he greeted her cherrily as he opened the door. "Remind me before you leave to give you a keycard so you can get in and out on your own."

Marge was pretty sure his name was Mark, but didn't want to risk getting his name wrong. She smiled warmly and replied, "Thank you, and good morning!" She had decided on the way over that she should ask him about the envelope and here he was, but she couldn't seem to form the words fast enough before he started speaking again.

"I believe you got your desk and computer all set up yesterday, all your work accounts created and operational too - correct?" He asked as they walked towards the the desk she couldn't tell believe she could call hers.

"Yes! and Lucy from HR sent me some paperwork and the handbook as well," she replied. He nodded, distracted by a notification on his phone. This gave her a perfect opportunity to plan her question, she tried out a few options in her head while she traced the faux wood grain on her desk with her fingers in effort to calm her nerves.

"Sorry, had to deal with that right away, now where were we?" he asked.

"All good! I was just saying that I'm all settled in," she took a quick breath as she worked up the courage to ask, "I do have sort of a strange question," she paused to gauge his reaction, then rushed on when she saw his concerned expression. "Do you know if anyone would have put like, a welcome package, or something like that in my purse yesterday?"

He seemed surprised, then puzzled, "I don't think so, why do you ask?"

"You remember I told you about my bag getting snatched yesterday?"

He nodded.

"Well, I found an evelope in the bag when I came home, and I thought maybe the guy who snatched it put it in there, but then I wondered if maybe it somehow it came from here.. somehow..?" she trailed off her question.

"I can ask around, what was in it?" he asked.

"I don't actually know, I was pretty freaked out after everything yesterday, so I ended up taking it to the police." she replied sheepishly.

"No worries, better safe than sorry, right?" he said kindly. "I'll ask around the office and let you know if anyone here knows anything about it. What size and color was it? And did it have any markings?"

"It was.. you know what? I actually took a picture of it." she pulled out her phone and opened the app with her photos, "I can email it to you, if you'd like?"

"Sure, that's even better," he nodded as he pulled his phone out of his pocket as well. "I've got to get going, but stop by my office if you need anything. Tyler and Kate are going to help you get up to speed today, I think you met them yesterday?"

"Yep, I'll let them know I'm here," she answered. He gave an absentminded thumbs up and started walking away. "Sorry, I know you need to go, but I don't think I have your email address," she called after him.

"Oh, yeah. I keep forgetting you're new!" he grinned as he turned back. She smiled bacc while tapping the side of her phone in preparation to type his reply as quickly no accurately as possible to appease the the blue line blinking impatiently in the address field on her phone. "It's Mathew at SMSolutions dot com," he said pausing after each part to let her typing catch up. She repeated it back, and he nodded.

"Okay, sent!"

"Got it," he said a few seconds later.

"Thanks for checking into this, Mathew!" she was so glad she avoided using names earlier, mentally reprimanding herself for getting his so wrong.

"Yeah, anytime," he smiled, then made his way to his office.

Mathew the manager, she thought while picturing him in her mind. She'd read about this strategy to commit faces and names to long term memory somewhere online one sleepless night a couple months ago, and now she was hoping it was based on something scientifically sound. She now has a whole company's worth of faces and names to keep straight, after all. Tyler and Kate were easy to remember, since she'd spent most of the day working with them yesterday. Maybe one of them put the thing in my bag? she wondered.

[thesenseofwonder]

On Learning the Life of Another

What is the most we can understand another human being? What is the greatest depth to which we can penetrate, the most empathy we can feel? Most humans, Alain de Botton reflects, disregard the rich layers of the lives of their fellows—“their chronologies and earliest snaps, their letters and diaries, the locations of their youth and maturity, their school bench and wedding parties.” What if we dedicated ourselves to really learning the life of another?

Kiss & Tell (1995), the third book published by Alain de Botton, is, along with The Romantic Movement, part of the early writing which he has since disavowed. But the book is a cache of inspiring thought, and one which shouldn’t be overlooked. Similar in style to his first two books, this is what I’ve called an “expositional novel,” a book of ideas using the format of storytelling as a base from which to leap into speculation.

Accused of a lack of self-awareness while at the same time being self-obsessed and blind to others, the narrator of Kiss & Tell responds to the criticism as a challenge, and comes up with the idea of writing a biography about a total stranger. Flouting many of the conventions of biography, he does not a famous or culturally significant person, but an ordinary woman he meets at a party named Isabel. Instead of eliminating himself and writing an impersonal biography, the narrator includes his own thoughts and impressions, one of the most valuable aspects of the book, and one which he says has been missing since Boswell—a noble biographical tradition which he would like to see regain popularity. Reflecting on Heisenberg’s Uncertainty Principle, he concludes that an honest biography must arise from the relationship between author and subject.

Beginning in a conventionally linear fashion with a description of Isabel’s childhood, the narrator pauses, feeling the dishonesty of this approach, and instead breaks into dialogue of early conversations he has with her, in the manner of a novel. Privileging “the early dates over the early years,” he chooses to write about his first dates with Isabel, and allows her past to rise naturally to the surface of the present. There cannot be, he asserts, a definitive biography of Isabel or of anyone, but only a series of perspectives, impressions, and memories. Instead of aiming toward the impossible goal of definition, the narrator celebrates subjectivity and imperfection—and this is the deeply valuable merit of De Botton’s approach.

In a wise and memorable passage, the narrator reflects that “it is not ignorance which damages the clarity of our portraits, but the accumulation of knowledge. It is the length of time we spend with others which muddies our schemas…” It is our familiarity, and our rapid acclimatization to another, which blinds us to what is unique and wonderful about them. The narrator describes this as “the paradox that the more one has a chance to talk to someone, the less one in fact will… By virtue of sharing a life, the upheaval of a grand enquiry may be avoided. Knowledge implies a degree of possession… Moreover, the longer one has known someone, the more shameful it is not to have grasped things about them.” In addition to this, the desire for love also blinds us to the freshness of vision we may need to really see a person and listen well to who they are: “We never misunderstand people as extravagantly as in our emotional life, for never are we more committed to a person’s aptness that when we have fallen in love with them, never do we seek to forget with such vehemence their more inconvenient evils.”

An analogy is offered of “cracking open a novel and at once forming an idea of the characters.” To read a novel well, we must not leave it on the shelf and assume its contents; we must not project our own desires onto its contents and assume we have understood it; we must not rush through it, hoping to glean the most pertinent information in a flurry. Instead, to really get to know the characters of a novel takes time and patience.

___

In biographies, there is often much information which even the subject of the biography may not have been aware of. For example, what if instead of designing a family tree including all of Isabel’s relatives, the narrator could instead construct a family tree from her memories of her family, and the details and memories associated with those family members? In other words, there might be some question marks on the tree, some misremembered names, and some associative details that have stuck most in Isabel’s mind. If we really want to understand a person, part of that task, the narrator suggests, is seeing the objective facts of their life through the subjective lens. Here again, the imperfection of the record is celebrated, as it brings with it the more genuine and personal account of a life.

Later, the narrator also reflects on how memories and stories change depending on present circumstances. A very different autobiographical tale is woven when one is happy and when one is sad. It is notable that even from the subjective point of view, the details of the story will move and sway in the ocean of present experience. Despite the fact that “prompting someone to remember their past is akin to forcing them to sneeze at gun-point,” the patience of the narrator’s approach, and his increasingly close relationship with his subject, allows him to catch her in unguarded moments, like the scene where she lies awake sleepless remembering her past relationships, and due to the loose connection between the narrator and his subject, these shared tales of love and mishap are fascinating, and keep them up late well into the morning.  

Finding that much of the intimate lives of subjects are left out of biographies, the narrator structures his story around the events which most consume Isabel’s life. He includes in this list the food Isabel likes and the songs she listens to, which serve as Proustian involuntary memory triggers for her. Instead of getting frustrated with the time she spends doing her makeup, he asks her to show him what she does, and, with delight, she gives a step-by-step explanation of the techniques she uses.

Kiss & Tell is a book of experiments. When we meet others for the first time, or find them again after weeks apart, we can see them with fresh vision, and we have a chance at recognizing their irreplaceable qualities. So with the vigor of a wind of fresh air, the narrator plunges wholeheartedly into really trying to see another’s life, chasing the ideal of “understanding a human being as fully as one person could hope to understand another, submerging myself in a life other than my own, seeing the world through new eyes…” The book is a collection of ways to go about that process. It is a valuable lesson in attention, in remembering, and in loving. 

It might do us good to practice the art of dedicating ourselves to the life of another in the way of a biographer, but without distancing ourselves or needlessly eliminating ourselves from the equation. Listen with everything you have, watch closely, notice the details, taste the life of another human being. 

(Images 1, 4, and 5 courtesy of Dana Ocker at DO Media: domediaart.com)

De Botton, Alain. Kiss & Tell. 1996. Reissue edition 1997. Picador, New York. 288 p. $17.00