#we just live with a hole in the middle of our heart

[duahauuoplanh]

turns out lonely people are all the same.

[penguwastaken]

Nobody Understands Mukuro Ikusaba (aka Mukuro Character Analysis)

...except for the people that do (lol).

But first I want to clarify what I mean by this title and why I even wrote this thread in the first place. Mukuro is my second favorite Danganronpa character, only beaten out by Kyoko. There's a lot of reasons why I really like Mukuro, but one of them is her writing.

I think she's one of the best written characters in the series. But unfortunately, she also happens to be one of the most misunderstood characters as well. Not even by the people who don't like her, but also by her own fans.

"Mukuro has incestuous feelings for Junko" "Danganronpa 3 retconned her character" "Mukuro was just a plot device" These are all claims that baffle me because simply just consuming the media will say otherwise.

To many, Mukuro is either a one note incest freak or a pure innocent cinnamon roll who did nothing wrong and both of those interpretations are wildly incorrect. I've been meaning to write this post for a while, but we're finally here.

Nobody understands Mukuro Ikusaba (a ""🧵"") (Spoiler warning for the entire series)

Story Overview

We don't actually know too much about Mukuro's backstory aside from the fact that at a young age, she was separated from her younger twin sister Junko. Before being taken away, she claims that she was homeless and after she was taken she was forced to become a member of the military group Fenrir.

So clearly Mukuro never really had the chance to have a normal life, and more importantly: never had a chance to feel the care of another person.

Her sister, who Mukuro had not seen in years, suddenly got in contact with her and called Mukuro over to participate in her plan to overthrow Hope's Peak Academy (and the world). Mukuro, who already felt bad for losing her sister and was desperate for any kind of affection, accepted and began working for Junko.

Junko took advantage of Mukuro's desperation and had her basically work as a servant to her plans. She started by having Mukuro wipe out the entirety of a middle school in order to prove Mukuro's skills and how far Mukuro would go for her.

With that out of her way, Junko made Mukuro obey like her servant in order to overthrow Hope's Peak and cause the tragedy. Mukuro did so without batting an eye and disregarding any second thoughts she might have had, all while facing Junko's abuse.

During her time attending Hope's Peak, Mukuro met Makoto Naegi. Unlike most of her classmates, Makoto was friendly to her and showed her compassion. This confused her as we already established that Mukuro wasn't used to affection. Because of this and her tendency to latch onto anyone who shows her even an ounce of care, she began to develop feelings for Makoto (that even Junko acknowledged).

"In the past two years, Ikusaba had gained an interest in the world beyond her sister. And in that world, Makoto Naegi--the first person who smiled at her and bridged the gap between her and the world--had become like a sapling of sincerity taking root in her heart." -Danganronpa IF confirming Mukuro's feelings for Makoto

"Upupupu… I wonder what kind of fun you were having in the infirmary? Did you take care of your rival in love, or did you wish them a happy marriage? Either way, don't you think our nice guy Naegi standing side-by-side with Kirigiri makes for a wonderful picture? If this were a thriller, they'd be the last surviving couple!" "Upupupupu… Or how about just killing all of the others? If everyone but you and Naegi die, then the two of you can spend the rest of your student lives together! After all, we can't even hold a trial if there's only two people left. Maybe it'll be best if you just hole up here, safe in the building forever!" "And what're you going to do once he goes back to his old self? It's not as if you were dating Naegi, right? You were just watching him from afar all this time! Now this is a shock. You can shoot right through people's heads and hearts without even blinking, but you can't even steal away some skinny little boy's heart! You want me to tell you who Naegi had a crush on before his memories were erased? Upupupupu…" -Junko teasing Mukuro about her feelings as she aids Makoto in Danganronpa IF

Once the tragedy occured, Mukuro was locked inside of Hope's Peak with Junko and the rest of their classmates and she helped orchestrate the killing game. She disguised herself as Junko, under the impression that Junko would fake her death and they could spend the rest of the game together.

This is when the seeds of doubt began to sprout inside of Mukuro. I wouldn't say that she necessarily began to go against her sister, but she definitely was starting to get a little more hesitant.

"It was only recently that she began to question her mindset. Hearing about this plan from Junko and watching the world burn at the hands of people in Monobear masks did nothing to sway her, but when she heard that Junko was intending to plunge Naegi and the others into a game of murder, something within her began to move. The seed of doubt soon took root, sprouting into a thorny vine that twisted around her feet. And the moment she met her friends for the first time under the identity of Junko Enoshima and realized their memories were truly gone, the vines quickly tightened around her ankles." -Danganronpa IF describing Mukuro's feelings when the killing game began

To Makoto and the player who are under the impression that this is Junko, they assume that she's referring to not wanting to be a model anymore. But given her backstory of never being able to live a normal life and always having to fend for herself or follow the orders of others, we can infer what she actually means. She expresses disappointment in the fact that she never really had a chance to do what she wanted.

This all culminates in the moment where Junko was supposed to fake the death of Mukuro, but that isn't what happened. Instead, Junko killed Mukuro and betrayed her. To say that Junko felt no remorse from this action would be a lie, however. Junko only did this because she knew it would hurt both of them.

...but what if that wasn't what happened? What if Mukuro wasn't killed? What would happen then? That brings us to:

Danganronpa IF

Danganronpa IF answers the hypothetical question of what if Mukuro survived Junko's attack. Of course this means it isn't canon, but due to Kodaka being involved with its creation and its existence as an event that hypothetically could have happened, it is canon compliant. This means that while the events didn't happen in canon, they could have and things like characterization are all accurate. Think of it like an extended free time event. While the events themselves aren't canon, the things they say and imply are. I'll also be referencing Danganronpa IF a lot because since it's told from Mukuro's perspective, it gives a lot of insight on her thought process.

After regaining his memories, Makoto recognizes and rescues Mukuro seconds before her would-be death and he gets impaled by one of the spears. Mukuro rushes to save him, abandoning her disguise and goal.

During this time, Mukuro does a lot of thinking. Why did Junko try to kill her? For all the time they've been working together, Mukuro always assumed that her job was to prop Junko up and help her achieve despair.

It turns out that Junko didn't want Mukuro to obey Junko's every order, Junko wanted Mukuro to retaliate. She didn't want Mukuro to submit to her, but instead to fight back.

With this Mukuro changes her mind, choosing to fight Junko instead of assisting her. Not because she's on the side of hope, she never cared about hope or despair, but because she only wants what's best for the only person in her life who cared for her.

"'That's why… I'll take responsibility. I'll make you happy, Junko . I'll make youdespair. I'll save Naegi-kun… I'll make sure none of our friends die. I'll get them all out of here. And I'll kill every last one of the ones on the outside. You planned this for years and killed so many people to make this work… so I'll destroy every last trace of it.' She was not driven by resentment at the sister who abandoned her. Ikusaba would do all this for her sister's sake." -Mukuro changing her approach to making Junko happy in Danganronpa IF

Who is Mukuro Ikusaba?

Now this is the part where I finally exit the synopsis phase and finally get into the character analysis, explaining why Mukuro acts the way she does in all entries.

Now, I want to begin with a common critique of Mukuro's character, specifically one that's attributed to Danganronpa 3. The one that says that Mukuro's behavior is not only out of character, but also claims that she has romantic feelings for her sister.

First point out of the way, Mukuro's blushy and flustered attitude is nothing new when it comes to her character. It's been an aspect of her since the very beginning of her characterization.

"'I don’t know if… she attracts despair, or despair attracts her, but… she’s lived her whole life with despair by her side. She lived while immersed in despair. That’s why she began looking for despair in others; she began to enjoy pushing people into despair. But you know… that’s normal. It’s no different than someone cursed by misfortune falling into hatred for those who are better off than them. But what’s special about her was that… she learned to enjoy inflicting despair upon herself. That’s how the link to despair began: as she chased down despair, she pushed it onto others along the way. Doing so caused her to crave falling into despair even more… and because of that chain to despair, the Ultimate Despair was born.' While she spoke, it was like she fell into a fever; the expressions on her face slowly turned into ecstasy. It was so completely absurd that it would have been difficult for anybody to think of it as anything but a joke, but I could tell that this was real. It might have been the hazy memories of Junko Enoshima inside me that led to that conclusion. 'You don’t get it right? That’s fair, I don’t think anybody could… But you know, only I can understand it…' Consumed by ecstasy, even Ikusaba’s breathing had begun to turn ragged." -Mukuro describing Junko in Danganronpa Zero

The second (and more important) point to address is the one that Mukuro holds some kind of romantic feelings for her sister. Now, in all honestly, I can't hold this against anyone for thinking this even if I think it's a wild misinterpretation of her behavior. Danganronpa has a track record of using incest for comedic effect (to always poor results). However, Mukuro's relationship with Junko is not used to comedic effect and it's portrayed in a negative light. Not only that, we know that Mukuro does not enjoy behaving that way.

"'She hoped that, perhaps her sister on the screen would say something like 'Not! You seriously thought I'd say something that sappy? Jeez, you're annoying! Can't you just disappear forever or something?'. She hoped that Junko might criticizeher and call her useless. Ikusaba was no masochist, but she would have preferred to hear scornful laughter and be shot at rather than continue to endure this pain." -Danganronpa IF explaining Mukuro's "masochism"

Mukuro doesn't behave the way she does because she has feelings for Junko, she does so because she believes that's how Junko wants her to behave. Danganronpa Zero and IF makes it clear that Mukuro was wrong about how Junko wanted her to behave.

“'You don’t get it right? That’s fair, I don’t think anybody could… But you know, only I can understand it…' Consumed by ecstasy, even Ikusaba’s breathing had begun to turn ragged. 'Only I’m able to understand her… That’s why she needs me. She still hasn’t realized it, but… maybe she’s only pretending not to. Ufu… It’s because she’s so shy. Ufufufu…'” -Mukuro explaining that Junko needs her in Danganronpa Zero

"Ikusaba knew that not even she herself was her own ally. After all, despite the fact that Junko had betrayed her and very nearly killed her, Ikusaba still believed that she was the only one who could understand her little sister. And that was why she felt that she had to protect her. That's right… you were just being you, Junko. You just wanted despair, right? It's because you love me. You wanted to kill me and fall into despair. That must have been it" -Mukuro in denial in Danganronpa IF

"Ikusaba believed that she alone could understand the despair known as Junko Enoshima. It was a ludicrous notion. The moment Junko said, 'I love you', Ikusaba realized--to her agony--that she never truly understood her sister. Only now had she come to realize Junko's feelings." -Mukuro realizing that she didn't understand Junko in Danganronpa IF

Because of Mukuro's incorrect interpretation of understanding Junko, Mukuro believes that Junko expects her to respond to her abuse with acceptance and masochism. Even if she was uncomfortable to, as long as it made Junko happy, that's what mattered. Of course, we learn that Junko wanted Mukuro to respond her abuse with retaliation, and as soon as Mukuro realizes that her behavior immediately shifts. Mukuro holds a great deal of admiration for Junko, so much so that she only wants to do what would please Junko the most.

She does not have romantic feelings for her sister and to say so misses the point entirely. She isn't behaving that way because she's a masochist, she behaves that way because she believes it's how she's expected to, even if she's visibly uncomfortable. Once she learns this isn't what's expected, she immediately changes course.

Danganronpa 3 also has official relationship charts that depict the relationship between characters. In this chart, crushes or explicitly shown romantic feelings are labeled with a heart (as seen with Kazuichi's attraction to Sonia or Toko's attraction to Byakuya). Mukuro's relationship does NOT feature this heart. You would think that if Mukuro's very obvious admiration towards Junko was romantic it would have a heart, but it doesn't because it isn't. If what I said before didn't convince you, I think this itself is proof enough.

Mukuro's admiration doesn't extend to just Junko though. Due to her unfortunate upbringing, Mukuro has a tendency to get attached to anyone who shows her the affection she's desperate for. So much so that her behavior changes completely around the people she cares about.

"The mass of monochrome spun round and round, making it look as though they were projecting a hypnotic image from three directions, but Ikusaba remained expressionless. In fact, the bizarre sight unfolding before her compelled the Super High School Level Soldier to regain her focus. She was an entirely different person from the girl who had panicked at Naegi's injury in the gymnasium." -Mukuro while fighting in Danganronpa IF, behaving completely differently from when she panicked over Makoto's injury

"Not only that, if anyone who knew her as the Super High School Level Soldier and mercenary were to see her now, the difference in her attitude might even make her look like another person altogether. And Monobear continued to drive the girl into a corner." -Mukuro panicking over Makoto's injury in Danganronpa IF

"The mask of ice she wore around others was entirely unlike the face she showed her sister, making it almost seem as though she had multiple personalities." -Danganronpa IF explaining that Mukuro's behavior around Junko is different from her typical icey expression

This is why around most people, Mukuro has a pretty blank expression. However when she's around Makoto or Junko, the two people who she cares about, she displays a much more soft and emotional side.

That being said, an often overlooked aspect of Mukuro is that she actually has a slight ego and is proud of her skill. This is especially obvious in her fight with Peko in Danganronpa 3. Of course, if I spent years in the military without getting a single scratch, I'd probably have an ego too.

Mukuro is also capable of turning off her feelings and going into a "killing machine mode" whenever the situation demands it, mostly when she's carrying out some mission. It's not because she doesn't feel bad for what she's doing or isn't having any second thoughts, it's that she pushes any doubts to the side to focus on getting the job done.

"In battlefields, where she made her home, her main mission was to kill and survive. And in that setting Ikusaba was invincible. She could put her own emotions on a leash in order to become a killing machine." -Danganronpa IF explaining how Mukuro is capable of ignoring her own feelings

"With a single whisper that was drowned out by the sound of gunfire, Ikusaba went completely silent. Thanks to her status as a member of Super High School Level Despair, her heart was filling with joy. And as if to offset the sudden surge of emotions, the sparkle in her eyes disappeared." -Mukuro turning her emotions off while fighting in Danganronpa IF

So Basically...

Due to her upbringing Mukuro is someone who gets attached to people easily, particularly those who give her attention. Junko took advantage of this to make Mukuro essentially act as her servant. Believing that Junko expected her to return the abuse she faced with enjoyment, she forced herself to do just that. Even if it made her uncomfortable, making her sister happy at her own expense is better than being alone. She's capable of turning off and ignoring her emotions to following orders when necessary and is generally a proud and skilled soldier, though she has a softer side that she only shows to people who she cares for.

That is who Mukuro Ikusaba is.

Conclusion

There's a lot of reasons I really like Mukuro. I think she's silly and cute and I like her singing voice. But I also think her characterization is really good in all of her appearances. I think a lot of the critiques made towards her (especially towards her appearance in Danganronpa 3) are misguided or just a result of her being misunderstood.

She's not a plot device or a character exclusively there to act as an extension of Junko. She's filled to the brim with character depth and interesting writing and has plenty of characterization on her own. I'll admit that her presence in Danganronpa: Trigger Happy Havoc is a bit limited, however she doesn't just become an important character in four other entries without getting some kind of development.

Many think her characterization is inconsistent or different across entries, but I honestly think it couldn't be any MORE consistent. The only times where I'd say she acts out of character is in the comic anthologies, but those are non-canon media that's kinda known for flanderizing characters for the sake of comedy.

Basically, I like Mukuro. I hope I managed to change some minds or shed a new light on her to anyone who didn't before. And if you already liked her, I hope maybe I could make you appreciate her a bit more or just help you explain her in some way.

anyways follow me on twitter cough cough

Also special thanks to Twitter user @LKSixtyfour for their tweets about Mukuro's characterization, many helped me organize my thoughts to form the thread that you just read.

Edit: didn't make any changes to the post, just fixed some typos

[radawayghoul]

His Little Dove | Chapter 1

The Plan

Warnings: cursing, slight age difference, innuendos, height difference, ummm calling people names, angst, i think i switched from second to third POV at a certain point so..bad/subpar writing is a warning lol, 18+ only, MDNI

Pairing: Lee Russell x Reader (AFAB)

Word Count: 2,123

A/N: it's finnniisshheeddd!! ugh i actually am so insanely proud of this chapter!! thank you so much to everyone who has been waiting to read this!! i'm genuinely so honored and am starting chapter two as we speak!! the comments and stuff really motivate me so much 🥹

 Following behind Lee and Neal, Y/N listened in on their conversation, a bit confused as to why you’d been invited. 

“Oh, Jesus Christ, the bloodbath begins,” Lee said around a mouth full of smoke, “She’s got me off my rocker, Gamby. We gotta act quick,” Lee adjusted his hold on his cigarette, “Now, she’s tied up in teacher reviews for the next 72 minutes. That gives us some time.” 

Y/N arched a brow. “Time to do what, Lee?” You questioned him, “Who exactly are we sabotaging?” Y/N knew the name of Lee’s game by now. 

“Oh, great, Russell, why did you invite her?! She’s not even familiar with the parameters of our plan!” Neal exclaimed, yanking his toothpick out from between his teeth, pausing in the middle of the school parking lot. 

“Oh, for Christ’s sake, Gamby!” Lee whined, “Treat Y/N with a little respect! Ohhh, Y/N, darlin’, I’m so sorry for this fat fuckin’ losers disrespect, please just ignore him, okay, pretty bird?” Lee gave you a sickeningly sweet smile before turning back to Neal with a disgruntled look, “Loosen the fuck up or I will do this shit on my own motherfucker. Now, let’s go dig up some dirt on that grimy bitch.” 

Neal scoffed but followed after Lee begrudgingly, Y/N speeding up her steps to keep up. 

You had no idea WHO you were sabotaging but you weren’t one to say no to Lee. You never said no to Lee Russell. And you absolutely never fucking would. 

-----------

The three of them rolled up on a house that Y/N knew all too well. Lee’s house. This did little to lessen your confusion but you trusted Lee. 

“Is this where she lives? What a shit-hole.” Neal chuckled. 

Y/N snorted as Lee ripped off his sunglasses. 

“This is my house, motherfucker! It’s a mid-century sea ranch!” Lee yelled, huffing a sigh before continuing, “Now, stay here, I gotta go get somethin’.” Lee got out of the car and strutted towards his front door. 

“You should go easier on him, Neal. Really.” Y/N said, crossing her arms, leaning back into her seat. 

“Oh shut up, Y/N! God! Stop being so pretentious.” Neal groaned, rolling his eyes behind his sunglasses. 

Y/N looked over as Lee was followed out of the house by his screaming mother-in-law, Mi Cha, looking stressed to the heavens. 

“Shut up! Shut up! All I hear is gibberish from you, shut up! Go back in the house!” Lee yelled before turning to walk towards the car, “Like nails on a fuckin’ chalkboard.” He groaned, stopping when he got to the car, closing his eyes in frustration as the woman kept screaming, “GO BACK IN THE HOUSE!!!” He yelled louder this time, pointing angrily at the open door. 

“FUCK YOU!” Mi Cha yelled, finally walking back inside. 

Lee grunted as he got back inside the car, a noise that made the butterflies in the pit of your stomach stir, shoving a bag into the back of the car into your lap. 

“Y/N, would you be a dear and hold this?” Lee smiled at Y/N, always being so sweet with her, even if he was out of breath. His smile dropped, however, the minute he turned towards Neal. “Go.” Lee demanded.

“Everything okay?” Neal questioned. 

“Just go.” Lee sighed, leaning heavily into the passenger seat. 

Y/N’s heart hurt for Lee. He was always under so much stress. Ever since his mother-in-law moved in, he had not been doing so well. He’d been a bit…wilder than usual. Always wanting to get into something scandalous or cause some sort of raucous to relieve his stress. Was it always the best solution? No. No it wasn’t. But, Y/N wasn’t going to deny Lee any sort of stress relief…even if it did mean they���d have to cover for him. 

-----------

Neal cleared his throat as the three of them continued their journey to wherever it was that they were going. 

“So, uh, was that woman your wife?” Neal asked, looking over at Lee nervously. 

Y/N couldn’t help but giggle slightly. 

Lee looked at him completely disgusted. “Don’t be asking me personal questions. We ain’t fuckin’ friends, okay? This is business.” Lee scoffed. 

“Leeee..” Y/N said quietly, leaning up slightly to rest their hand on Lee’s shoulder, “Breathe.” Y/N massaged his shoulder, trying to help him relax. 

Lee relaxed a little into Y/N’s touch, taking a deep breath. Y/N was really the only one to have this sort of effect on Lee. She could calm him in almost any and all situations unless he was really, really stressed. 

“Friends?” Neal laughed, “I am not trying to be your friend.” 

“Over here tryin’ to make a fuckin’ friend and we about to do a mission.” Lee scoffed, leaning back into Y/N’s touch even further. 

Neal looked between the two of them with a raised brow, “You’re the one trying to make friends the most.” Neal challenged. 

Lee sighed, slipping his sunglasses back onto his nose. “Just shut up, Gamby, god!” 

Y/N shook her head at the two of them, pulling her hand off of Lee to sit back once more. 

-----------

The group of them rolled to a stop in a very well-off looking neighborhood. 

“Who are we here for, Lee?” Y/N questioned, peering out the window of the car. 

“Dr. Brown’s deep, dark secrets.” Lee smiled mischievously, chewing on his bottom lip. 

“Belinda?! Lee…honey, I need you to bring yourself back to earth for a moment. You know I support you in all that you do but this is a suicide mission, sweetheart.” Y/N told him sweetly, sighing a little. She knew this man was up to something scandalous. 

“Don’t start, Y/N. God, you both just really wanna piss on my parade, don’t you? Maybe you two should be fuckin’ butt buddies and I’ll do the work that fuckin’ matters.” Lee grumbled, getting out of the car. 

Y/N sighed, following after him while Neal awkwardly stayed in the car. 

“Lee, sweetheart, you know it’s not like that at all!” Y/N said, walking over to place a hand on his back, “Don’t get all grumpy with me like that, it hurts my feelings, doll.” Y/N frowned up at him. 

Lee scanned Y/N’s face with his famous sad puppy dog eyes before letting out a frustrated sigh. “Alright fine, fuck!” He exclaimed, looking down at his feet, “I’m sorry, okay? There I said it. Now, come help me take this dirty bitch to hell?” Lee looked at Y/N with a cute smile, batting his lashes at her. 

Y/N closed her eyes. “I’m gonna regret this..but fine. I’d do anything for you.” Y/N muttered, shaking her head. 

“Are you two weirdos finished? We’re running out of fucking time!” Neal grumbled as he stomped over to them. 

Lee rolled his eyes, grabbing Y/N’s hand to drag her towards Dr. Brown’s house. “Shut up, Gamby!” 

The three of them shortly arrived at Belinda’s house where Neal and Lee began digging their way through the woman’s garbage. 

“Ugh,” Y/N gave them a disgusted look, “Lee, I love you, but that is fucking repulsive.” 

“Oh, please, just pretend I’m digging in your ass, that’ll make the picture a whole lot prettier.” Lee winked at Y/N with a smirk.

Y/N’s breath caught in her throat, heat rapidly rising to her cheeks. “Lee fucking Russell, do not say that shit to me,” Y/N crossed her arms over her chest, feeling sheepish. 

“Don’t pretend like you don’t love it when I talk dirty to you, darlin’.” Lee’s smile grew as he took in her red appearance. 

“So..uh..I’m confused, are you two like..dating..or..?” Neal questioned, watching the pair with an expressionless face. 

“NO!” Y/N said much too quickly before steadying herself, “No, we’re just friends. Lee just doesn’t know how to shut the fuck up.” She grumbled. 

Lee placed an offended hand on his chest. “That no was a little too quick for my liking. What? Am I not good enough for you little miss honors English teacher? Huh? Not good enough for the little straight A, fuckin’ teacher of the goddamn year?!” Lee scoffed, his brows narrowed slightly. He looked genuinely hurt by her rushed response. 

“You’re fucking married, Lee!” Y/N yelled at him, eyes wide, “Why the fuck would I ever agree to someone asking if we’re dating, idiot?!” 

“Oh, don’t you start callin’ me fuckin’ names now, missy!” Lee pointed an accusing finger at her, scrunching his face up the way he does when he’s upset about something. 

“Right. Okay um, it seems like you two have a lot to work out and I really don’t care to hear the rest of this conversation because you’re both fucking stupid and I don’t care about either of you.” Neal ranted awkwardly before walking towards Belinda’s steps.

Y/N and Lee rolled their eyes at each other, following after Neal. 

“Oh..there’s no fucking way we’re breaking in here!” Y/N scolded, giving Lee a disapproving look. 

Lee shrugged, shooing Neal towards the door. 

Neal popped off his tie, wrapped it around his hand, and busted open one of the windows on the back door before sticking his hand through to pop the lock. 

“Jesus Christ,” Y/N muttered, shaking her head. She pinched the bridge of her nose with a sigh, “what are y’all getting me into?” 

“Oh shush.” Lee scolded, waltzing into Belinda’s house behind Neal. 

Y/N followed close behind. “Lee, we should not be doing this. You’re smarter than this.” 

Lee stopped and turned around to give her a cold gaze. “Am I, Y/N? Hm?” He challenged, walking towards her dangerously slow, “You don’t really know me all that well, do you?” He smirked, standing so close to her she could feel his breath fanning her face. 

Y/N gulped, trembling slightly as she peered up at him. “Stop it,” She said quietly, looking away from him, “You always fucking tease me and it’s not fucking fair, Lee, jesus.” She snapped, immediately turning and walking back out the door. 

Lee chased after her, grabbing her by her elbow. “Hey now. What's the matter with you?! Where the fuck are you going?” 

“Back to my fucking job, Lee. I am not doing this. Belinda hasn’t done shit to me. Look…I love you, Lee, I really do. You’re my best friend but this job is my fucking life. But you wouldn’t get that, would you? Because you’ve got fucking everything. You’re married, you’ve got a beautiful home, a nice car.” Y/N took a deep breath, trying to compose herself. She was overwhelmed with her feelings. His teasing usually never bothered her but today...today was different for some reason. She just couldn't go through with this any longer. “I understand why you’re doing this..and I want to help you, Lee, believe me, I do. But I can’t lose this job.” Y/N finally looked up at him, almost taken aback by the sincere look on his face. 

“Go,” He said, softly, “I’ll meet you back at the school..okay? For lunch. Like always.” Lee held out his pinky. It was their tradition to link pinkies when making plans as a promise to not let each other down. 

Y/N nodded, curling her smaller pinky around his larger one. “Like always.” She pulled her hand away, starting her journey back to the school on foot. It wasn’t far, she wouldn’t have any trouble getting there but leaving Lee behind like that when he had been counting on her to help him really broke her heart. But she couldn’t lose this job. It was all she had that kept her connected to Lee and she’d be the first to go if anyone found out about this scheme. She couldn’t risk it - couldn’t risk her livelihood and her job. Lee was everything to her. Everything. Lee was and always will be her livelihood. 

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Back at Belinda’s, Lee walked back into the house with a determined look on his face, now upset that his one and only friend bailed on him. 

“You’re a fucking idiot, you know that?” Neal said while scanning the wall of Belinda’s photos.

“What the fuck did you just say to me, Gamby?” Lee said pissily, narrowing his brows at him. 

“That girl loves you..and you’re just blind to it..I’m not good with women but you shouldn’t use her the way you do.” Neal shrugged. 

“Shut the fuck up, you ass face, you have no fucking idea what you’re even talkin’ about.” Lee scoffed, stomping off up the stairs of Belinda’s house. 

That couldn’t be right, could it? Could you really love him in that way? 

‘No,’ Lee thought, shaking his head, ‘There’s no way…right?’ 

Right? 

--

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[mattyssluttt]

Bad Idea!

Summary~Matt and y/n broke up nearly a year ago but it was a mutal break up as they knew they were toxic,what happens when y/n accidentally sent matt a few pictures on accident.

I softly hummed to the music that echoed through my room as i scrolled through the pictures in my camera roll,the nude ones,the non nude ones.

A messages appeared from the guy ive been speaking to.

I swiped onto my snapchat going into my eyes only,tapping the passcode into choosing my best photo and went back on to message typing up matt and pressing the first one.

Ping!!

My heart dropped slightly,why was matt texting me not the coffee matt, matt matt my ex.

I slowly pressed onto his message.

Shit..

My heart beat rapidly beated,my heart felt like it was in my throat.

What?

What the fuck!

I clutched onto my phone,my thumb grazing over the keyboard before texting back letting out a shaky sigh.

I threw my phone across my room,panic rushing through my body what have i gotten myself into. A simple ‘no im so sorry wrong person’ or ‘block’ could of been fine.. But no! Fuck fuck fuck. I jumped out of my bed throwing on some makeup,quickly ripping off my sweat pants and the oversized tshirt changing it to a lace lounge set so i didnt look a mess.

I let out a sigh of relief hearing my door bell go off my heart sank,i sprayed my perfume running around my room throwing stuff in my wardrobe to make my room look clean before rushing down stairs looking at my door before pulling it open.

“hi-”

I got cut off with matt pushing me against my wall slamming the door close smashing his pink plumbed lips against mine,fuck how i have missed this,his cold slender hands trailed down to my hips giving them a tight squeeze before turning us around to my couch pushing me onto it as he dangled over me his chain following swiping across my skin as our bodies moved in sync.

His swollen lips moved to my jaw giving to a soft peck then down to my neck,nibbling my sweet spot earing a breathy moan from me,sucking on my sweet spot making marks along my skin.

‘oh-oh matt’

He chuckled against my skin,the warm feeling of his breath hitting my skin made my breath hitch,a whine made its way out of mouth of desperation.

‘I know pretty girl hold on for me’

The urge of needing him became desperate, louder whine made its way out again,his index finger placed onto my lips as he shushed me.

His cold fingers grazed over my clothed clit as they traveled up to the waist band on my shorts pulling them allowing them to snap against my skin earning a wince from me,he tugged on my shorts with desperation,i lifted my hips up helping him as he slid my shorts off throwing them somewhere in my living room.

The pad of his thumb connected to my clit rubbing the bud softly while he slipped his index and middle finger into my leaking hole thrusting them in and out,curling them to my g-stop.

‘nghh-hh fuc—fuck fuck matt’

My legs shook as the knot formed in my stomach,i arched my back off the sofa unable to process the pleasure rushing through my body,i felt close as my legs shook harshly and the knot wanting to snap.

‘ima cu-cum..matt! nghh fuck’

He fucked me with his fingers harder leaning over to my face kissing me,slipping his tongue into my mouth exploring it,the knot snapped as i squirted all over his fingers i felt him smirk against my swollen lips as he leaned down to my wet cunt,his tongue licked a strip under agaisnt my pussy earning a hiss from me from feeling senstive.

‘so pretty..teasing me with your nudes hm?’

Words were unable to form from the amount of pleasure i just felt and the tiredness swarming over me,fuck..

Not fucking for ages really did have an effect on me,i was never this tired after we used to have sex my breathing was heavy,sweat trickled down my forehead as my hair was stuck onto it; a hand swept away the sweaty hair making me sigh.

‘mm stay here pretty girl’

I felt where his presence was once there disappear then come back,he had a towel in his hand wiping up my juices off me and the couch while i sat up he got up finding my shorts for me; helping me get them back on due to the weakness in my below part of my body.

He picked me up carrying me to my bed placing me on the bed,i pulled my covers up tucking myself under the quilts whilst he was shuffling around but i didnt know what with since i had my eyes closed,too lazy to even open them,i felt the bed dip next to me shirtless matt snaking his arm around my waist pulling me into him as his kisses my temple softly moving to turn my bedside lamp over so he wouldng move me too much then went back into his original place snuggling me,mumbling the words.

I love you..

As we both drifted off.

First fic since ages ago😝😝😝

ik this wasnt rlly good sorryy❤️

[peanutposting]

I am heartbroken to report that Peanut has passed away earlier this morning.

He was the best little buddy I could have ever asked for, and gave me more purpose and love than I ever could have imagined when I was picking him up at the shelter 4 years ago.

Peanut lived a long, chaotic and let’s face it– hedonistic life. Nobody told Peanut what to do, I think he listened to me as an act of love and charity, but not to anybody else.

He would pick a fight with any size dog or person, consequences be damned.

(The result of him barking at a large dog through a fence, which led to the dog subsequently grabbing his entire head through the fence and nearly ripping it off)

He ate better than most humans, frequently rejecting dog food for the finer things in life instead. He was probably one of the few dogs who has had filet mignon. But typically, his weaknesses were bacon and eggs, and chicken nuggets at McDonalds.

He loved belly rubs (but only by me), and gave his own nuzzles right back. I could tell he was happy when he started to make little piggy noises as I scratched his neck and stomach.

Peanut always had to be right in the middle of the action, He would step in the way of you moving furniture, get between you and your book or screen, and just generally work to make sure he was a part of anything vital you happened to be doing at the moment.

I love you buddy

Peanut and I traveled across the country together, more than once. He’s seen more than most people see in their lifetime. We were chased away from The Bean in Chicago (no dogs allowed), saw Zion and the deserts of Southern California, lived in Boulder for a month, and drove the long stretches of highway on road trips from CA to NY.

(By the way- Peanut was a TERRIBLE copilot. His main goal in the car was to be in my lap, and stand up with his paws on the steering wheel. and he was relentless, as he was with everything.)

I cannot emphasize enough how important Peanut has been for my mental health. He brought me through to the other side of some extremely challenging times in my life, and I hope I gave him even a quarter of the quality of life that he gave back to me.

I love you, my little buddy.

There will always be a hole in my heart now that you’ve left, but I will cherish our time together and the unconditional love you’ve given me for the rest of my days.

[buckyalpine]

Hiiii Loveeeeeeee

I am in LOVE with the Untouched AU..

and i was wondering, would Bucky ever suggest maybe some anal play?

maybe he brings the idea up to you, and you think he’s talking about your ass and when he sees you get all panicked he’s just “no no no, bubs, i wanna play around with mine”

maybe start with a plug… move up to fingers… then maybe a strap? 👀👀

I’m gonna see myself out-

18+ 

AY SEE YOURSELF BACK IN RN. I only changed a little here and there, build his curiosity a bit after some play time with you first. We love our inexperienced babies trying new things together. Also I didn’t mean for this to get this filthy or long and I deeply apologize for what you’re about to see if you decide to read this. 

Warnings: anal play (f & m), M masturbation, use of toys, All the smut and fluff with switch!College!Bucky, as always I love him desperate, needy, feral and filthy all in one. His mouth is a warning cause I live for horny desperate Bucky’s dirty talking. 

-

“Let me prep you baby” Bucky grabbed the bottle of lube, squeezing some onto his fingers. You shuddered while he hummed, his eyes trailing up and down your naked body while you laid spread out for him. Bucky had looked like a puppy when he first brought it up, too shy to even get the worse out until you some got it out of him and what he wanted to try. 

He’d wanted this for a while. Whenever he was wrapped up in your wet warmth, he couldn’t help but wonder what it would feel like if he filled you up there. How tight it would be, what it would feel like, how beautiful you’d sound for him.

You felt your body heat up like it was on fire; no one had ever touched you there, fuck you hadn’t touched yourself like that there either. Still, you couldn’t resist how badly you wanted it too and there was no one else you trusted more than him. 

You yelped at the feel of the cold gel, instinctively closing your legs while Bucky chuckled, his other hand soothingly rubbing your thigh, gently spreading your legs open again.

“It okay baby, open up for me” He rubbed gently circles on your tight ring of muscle while you felt your face heat up at the foreign sensation. “You feel okay?” 

“Keep going James Please?”  Your breath hitching in your throat feeling nervous. Bucky could feel you twitch against his finger, his cock jumping against his briefs. 

“M’gonna go slow, okay? Breathe for me baby” He slowly breeched your hole with his middle finger, stopping at the first knuckle to check on you. “Still okay doll?” You nodded, gasping when he pushed in a little further, pulling back slightly, the muscles in your body tensed. 

“Shhh, breathe, that’s it” He kept gently rubbing your thigh while he continued to gently push his finger in and out, “Relax for me sweetheart, doing so good for me baby, does it hurt?” 

“N-no, feels good” You whimpered, the strange feeling slowly melting into something pleasurable when he went a little deeper, slightly curling his finger “O-oh fuck” 

“Can I add another baby?” He continued to build up a comfortable rhythm till he felt your body relax, before he carefully slipped a second finger into you. You hissed at the slight discomfort which quickly went away with how gently he was being with you. 

“You’re so tight sweets, don’t know if I’ll fit in you” He breathed out, his own heart racing at the way you were wrapped around his middle and ring finger, your pretty little moans making his cock wet. He couldn’t help but moan himself at the way your hips squirmed on the bed, the way your back slightly arched off the bed, the way your jaw was slack. 

Angelic. 

“Buckyyy” You whined, your eyes dropping to where he cockhead nearly poked out of the waistband of his briefs, hard and desperate for relief. You clenched around his fingers, needing to be filled by him. 

“What is it angel” 

“I-I’m ready”

“Are you sure?”

You nodded, giving him grabby hands so you could slip his boxers off; it didn’t matter how many times you had seen him naked, he was always a sight to behold. He kneeled in front of you, having you sit up with him, pulling you into his lap for a moment. 

“I promise I’ll be gentle but we can stop any time if it hurts you doll” Bucky cupped your face to make sure your eyes were locked with his, he’d never do anything that hurt you. “Promise you’ll tell me if you want to stop?” 

“Promise bubba” You leaned up to kiss him before lying back down again while Bucky grabbed the lube again, spreading more on your ass before smearing it over the length of his cock. He gave it a few tugs before guiding you to on all fours, with your ass up and face against the mattress. The sight alone caused drops of precum to drip onto your skin. You bit your lip at the feeling of his blunt tip catch against your hole, rubbing the lube around more, his other hand resting on your hip. 

“Are you ready for me baby?” 

“Mhm” You wiggled your hips teasingly, both of your hearts beating erratically as he gripped his cock, pressing the head and starting to push inside. The second his tip breeched your hole, Bucky knew he was screwed, your sweet tightness nearly choking his cock and he wasn’t even fully in you yet. 

“Oh god” his head was thrown back, your body sucking his cock in, “your ass is so fucking tight, what the fuck-”

“Buckyy” Your voice was muffled, burying your face into the pillow, clutching onto the sheets, your body squirming at the unfamiliar sensation. 

“You okay sweets?” He stilled his movements, panting, his cock throbbing, desperate to spill into you. Bucky squeezed his eyes shut, hoping to calm the way he was twitching but he had 0 control over how badly he wanted to-needed to- cum hard and deep inside you. “You want me to keep going?” You nodded, relaxing your body, slowly started to feel the stretch melt into pleasure.

“Breathe for me doll, relax for me” His eyes rolled back, hissing as he pulled back slowly before filling you up again. He set a slow pace, letting you get used to the stretch, his hands bruising your skin with how hard he was gripping you.

“You’re so so fucking right, I-holy fuckk” His voice dropped to a whimper, stroking up and down your spine, soothing the ache from his thick length. “You’re such a good girl for me baby, making me feel so good” His head was thrown back, jaw slack, how the hell did you feel so good. “Y/n…s’too sensitive, m‘ not gonna last baby” 

“Its-it-s okay, cum for me baby” You were too turned on to care, the way he sounded was enough to make you feel satisfied. Your entire body buzzed with anticipation, feeling every throb and twitch deep in your walls, pulling him back in each time he pulled back. 

“M’gonna fill this pretty ass with my cum baby, I can’t stop”  He moaned louder, both hands grabbing your ass. “I-fuck it’s so tight, squeezing the fuck out of my cock doll, m’gonna cum okay? Fuck I promise I'll make you cum after but I can’t hold it right now-shitshittt I’m cumming, m’fucking cumming” You could feel him his warm cum pump you full, while he grinded his hips so he was still deep inside you, grunting each time more cum spilled from the tip.

“Oh fuck” Bucky whimpered, his pink cock overly sensitive and throbbing against his tummy as he slumped over on your bed, his body drained. 

“You feel okay doll?” Bucky rolled you over, brushing the hair that clung to your face, kissing your forehead and checking to see if you were in pain. “Did s’good for me angel, does anything hurt?” 

“M’okay” You whispered, your body still felt like live wire between the slight soreness you felt and your throbbing clit. Bucky smirked at the way you clenching your thighs together, crawling down you body until he was face to face with your dripping cunt. He placed a sloppy messy kiss onto your clit, tossing your legs over his shoulders. 

“Time for me to take care of you babygirl” 

A few weeks later

Bucky blinked, his unable to take his eyes off the video he had clicked onto, not realizing he was stroking his cock faster, breaths getting heavier. He wasn’t exactly new to porn but this was certainly something new to him. He knew people were into this, but he didn’t realize he’d be into it. Until now. He watched the girl wrap the guys thighs around her waist while she filled him up with a strap on, pumping his ass while stroking his cock. Bucky didn’t even realize he was moaning, feet planting on the bed, thrusting into his hand, blowing his load all over his chest, reality sinking in after his post orgasmic haze cleared.

He wanted it. 

He needed it. 

Bucky bit his lip, wondering how he’d bring this up with you, he knew you wouldn’t judge him but it still felt a little risky to bring up. 

A few days later

“Sooo...”

“Spit it out Bucky, you’ve been hiding something all week” You playfully rolled your eyes while he let out the breath he was holding, sitting on the edge of your bed with you. 

“I um...I saw something I wanted to try”

“Just tell me baby”  

“Would you-would you want to try more anal play...with.me?” Bucky played with his fingers, his cheeks blushing furiously, “Like...you play with me?” 

Your stomach erupted into butterflies, your pussy already starting to drip, why would you not want to try something that would make him feel good. You tilted his chin to look at you, kissing his nose softly, making him blush more. 

“Is that all baby, you want me to play with you there?” You cooed, your thumb caressing his cheek while he shyly nodded. Bucky had always taken perfect care of you and you were more than excited to give him the same love, care and pleasure he craved so badly (you may or may not have already read up on how to please a guy there because curiosity had gotten the best of you while you were reading a spicy article) 

You pulled him to lie down on your pillows, helping him strip his clothes off until you were both bare, kissing down his body while he felt his breath hitch his in throat, his leaky cock making a mess. 

“Just relax for me baby” You whispered, taking his cock down your throat, licking up his precum before pulling off and running your tongue down his shaft to his balls. You moaned at his salty taste, rolling them against your tongue, smiling to yourself as he spread his legs further for you. 

“Tell me if this is okay” You whispered, kissing below his balls, licking and pressing your thumb in soft circles around the area making his body jolt at the sensation. You smiled to yourself, applying more pressure. 

“Fuck-f-fuckk” he could only contain his whines for so long, each time you licked and pressed against his perineum was too much, he needed you there. “Need you doll, need it” 

“Open up for me baby boy” You cooed, your stomach clenching over the way his eyes locked with yours as he spread his thighs apart for you. You squeezed the lube onto your fingers, gently spreading it around his tight hole, loving the way you could already feel him clenching against your fingertips.

“Want it doll” He whined again, his bottom lip red from how much he’d chewed it. 

Greedy baby. 

“Shh, I’m right here baby” You pushed your finger in slowly, stopping at the first knuckle, giving him some time to adjust before going further. “You okay James?” You carded your fingers through his hair, stroking his forehead while he whined, his greedy hole begging for more. 

“Feels good baby, more”

“More?” 

He nodded, holding his thighs apart for you, letting out the breath he was holding as you pushed your finger in further, a throatily groan slipping past his lips. 

“Oh fuckkkkk” He closed his eyes, relaxing his muscles so you could move faster, the feeling of your finger pushing in and out of him was unmatched. He moved his hand down to grasp onto his cock, squeezing the base so he wouldn’t cum too soon. “Can you-can you add another finger baby?”

“Are you sure Bucky?”

“Stretch me doll” He shuddered, desperate to feel full with your pretty fingers. You grabbed more lube before carefully inching inside him again, a deep satisfied groan dripping from his lips. 

“That’s-fuck that’s it, fuck it feels good” Bucky started to lazily stroke his cock, barely applying any pressure because he knew he would blow his load. You licked your lips at the beautiful sight before you, his legs spread apart for you while he played with himself, with pretty moans he couldn’t contain. You wanted more though. You wanted to give him pleasure where he wouldn’t have any self-control or restraint. 

“What if I-” You bit your lip, pushing your fingers deeper in him, crooking them slightly, pressing and stroking his prostate, and-

“OH FUCCKKKKKKK”

Oh he liked that.

“GOD FUCK” 

He liked that a lot.

“YES”

“YESYES”

“Y/N RIGHT THERE, DON’T-DON’T FUCKING STOP” 

You moaned at how sexy he looked, massaging his prostate, bending down to take his swollen cockhead in your mouth. Bucky grabbed onto the sheets, his legs shaking, he couldn’t stop it even if he wanted to, the second your silky tongue licked over his slit, he was done for. 

“IM CUMMNG FUCK” 

Your eyes grew wide, swallowing the ropes of cum that kept throbbing out of his cock. You kept working your fingers faster to ride him through his high, gently suckling his tip to catch every drop. 

“It’s-its soo sensitive-too sensitive-oh my god” Bucky was a babbling mess, whining when he felt empty again, his eyes still shut as he lay on the bed panting. You quickly cleaned your hands off, grabbing a damp cloth to wipe Bucky down as well, careful not to touch him anywhere where he’d be too sensitive. 

“Bubba come back to me, are you okay?” You kissed his sweaty forehead, giggling over the way his eyes took a moment to focus again, his vision hazy. “Hi baby” 

“Holy. shit” Bucky breathed out, his chest still heavying. “That was...shit” He chuckled, still reeling over the most intense orgasm he’d ever felt, it was almost an out of body experience and that was just from your fingers. 

That started it. The absolute craving Bucky had for more. 

You continued to use just your fingers with him, getting him used to the stretch, sometimes using two fingers and when he was very relaxed you’d even try three. Eventually you asked him if he was ready to try toys to which he immediately agreed too. All shyness disappeared the second the cool metal slipped into his tight hole; just when he thought fucking you couldn't feel better, this increased every sensation he felt but 100.  

His orgasm nearly lasted minutes. 

Bucky slept like a baby for the rest of the day, comfortably cuddled up in your arms. 

He loved your fingers and the toy was nice but he knew what he really needed. 

*****

“Are you sure about this Buck?” You tightened the straps of the strap on, the toy hanging heavy between your legs. Your pussy clenched over the way it was just about the same size as Bucky, your thighs a sticky mess just looking at the way he had his legs apart for you. You wanted to give him as much pleasure as possible but you also wanted to make sure it’d actually feel good and not hurt him. 

“Very baby” He shot you a wink; he found your concern adorable and it just made his cock harder “I trust you angel” 

Bucky reached over, grabbing the lube and spreading some onto his finger, rubbing it around his tight hole, and pushing his finger in with ease. 

“See? All ready for you sweets” 

You nearly whimpered at the sight of him touching himself like that, making a mental note to suggest mutual masturbation later. You spread lube all over the toy before spreading a bit more over him, your other hand stroking his thigh. 

“You ready?” You pressed the tip of the toy against him, locking your eyes with his. 

“I’m ready baby” Bucky lifted his legs slightly while you started to push the toy inside him, your eyes still connected with his. You both moaned together; nothing was more gorgeous than the way his head was thrown back against the pillows, his brows furrowed, a deep flush covering his skin. 

“Oh god Angel what are you doing to me, FUCK”  You could see goose bumps erupt over his skin, his nipples hardening, muscles pulled taut. You pushed the fake cock about half way in, pausing to let him used to the feeling, “You okay baby?” 

“Yes, st-stretch me” Bucky groaned, his cock jumping against his tummy as you continued to slowly sheath yourself inside him, “Don’t stop, keep going, I wanna feel you fuck my g-spot baby”

You braced yourself, slowly moving your hips until you found a comfortable rhythm, thrusting in and out of him, watching in awe at the way he opened up for you. 

“YEah-yeah like that, that’s it, good girl, fuck baby you’re stretching me s’good” The stretch was unlike anything else he had ever felt before, his ass pulling the toy right back in every time you pulled out. 

“You’re so tight Bucky” You could feel the way he gripped around you, making you have to use more force to fuck in, his greedy needy hole begging for you to go faster. 

“Yeah baby, you like stretching my t-tight hole huh? You like forcing my ass open for you? My pretty angel stretching my tight ass so good” 

You were both moaning messes, desperate for different reasons. 

“M’so wet, fuck Buckyyy” You whined, getting off at how much pleasure you were giving your boyfriend, every moan making your clit throb, your slick starting to cover your thighs. 

“Shit, you like that doll? you like making me feel good?” He smirked at how focused you were, rolling your hips perfectly, wanting to make him scream.  “Cause you’re doing perfect princess, see?” He took your hand, wrapping it around his aching length, giving it a few soft strokes before letting go and letting it slap against his tummy “So fuckin’ hard baby, swollen, it’s so god damn sensitive, I’ll blow without you touching me” 

You swiped your finger over his soaked tip, sucking off the precum that pooled onto his tummy making him shudder, his cock throbbing again. 

“Baby touch-touch my balls” He whined, nearly crying when you gave them a gentle squeeze, holding onto them as you continued to fuck him. 

“You like that baby?” You panted, giving his cock a few tugs before focusing back on thrusting into him as deeply as possible, You angled your hips, gripping onto his legs to brace yourself, fucking him harder, the tip of the cock hitting his prostate. 

Bucky hooked his hands under the back of his knees, spreading himself wider for you, his eyes squeezed shut, tears streaking down his face as you pounded him, your stomach flipping when he let out the most pornographic moan you’d ever heard. 

“Oh FUCK I can feel it in my balls” Bucky could feel his balls throb, pulled tight to his body, spurts of precum starting to dribble down the sides of his stomach, onto the sheets. “You’re gonna make me cum baby, gonna make me cum without even touching myself”

You could see the ripple and tensing of his muscles, his cock swelling as you fucked him hard, barely pulling out, keeping it deep inside him. 

“Babygirl, pound me, c’mon, I’m gonna make such a mess for you” He forced his eyes open, blown with lust and teary from how turned on he was, no one had ever made him feel this good. 

“Make a mess Bucky” You moaned with him, not tearing your eyes away from his. 

“F-fuck, s’good, it’s so good, I needed this, keep hitting my g-spot baby, pleaseplaseplease, push your cock deep in my ass baby, fuck I’m gonna bust” You could tell he was close, finding it hard to move, his body gripping onto you with a vice like grip, clenching and sucking the cock back in. “FUCK YES, Oh god m’gonna cum on your cock doll, c’mon fuck me fuck my ass till I cum” 

You slammed into him, ignoring the way your pussy was screaming to be filled, your jaw slack at the way his cock bounced. 

“I-I’M CUMMING, HNNG, HNNNGG FUCKKK” Thick ropes of cum burst from his sensitive head, covering his chest and abs without you even touching him, his own hands still holding his legs apart for you. “Don’t-don’t stop baby, fuck me till my balls and cock are empty, there’s so much cum, I can’t hold it” 

Bucky had been reduced to a babbling mess, his head lolling to the side, tears soaking the pillow, his chest heaving while he continued to cum, his abs covered in his cream. 

“Oh fuck why won’t it stop, fuck me slowly baby? Please? I want it, just-m’so sesntive, slow down a little” You cooed, gently thrusting into him, his length jumping each time you pushed in. You made sure you didn’t go deep this time, helping him through his high. “That’s perfect” Bucky panted, his eyes hazy as he gazed at you, his body limp while you hardly pushed in and out of him, your hand gently stroking his thighs while he cock slowly dripped. 

“Fucckkk baabyy, look how much m’cumming for you” His legs dropped to his sides while he closed his eyes, completely drained. You carefully pulled out of him when his orgasm came to a stop, helping him clean off with a warm cloth and cuddling him close to you while he rested. You kissed his forehead as he nuzzled into your chest, humming contently.  

“You’re so good doll, come here” Bucky shifted so he was on top of you, showering you with kisses. Your eyes grew wide as he spread you legs open, his cock already hard again, nudging against your pussy, 

“James-

“shhhh”

“Oh fuckkkkk” You moaned, as he pushed his cock into your sopping wet hole, grinning at how wet you were. 

“You didn’t think we were done, did you?” 

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[the-kr8tor]

Where the River Flows

Pairing: Cowboy! Hobie Brown x Fem! Reader

Word count: 7.4k

Tags: Use of Y/N sparsely, no specific physical description of the reader (except for her clothing), CW food mentions, TW Blood and violence, TW death, CW injury, CW guns, CW alcohol. Old west AU, cowboy AU

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CHAPTER 4 >>> CHAPTER 5

You haven't slept this well in years, the last time you had was back when you've last slept next to him on the same lumpy mattress of his flat that you've once called home. Your eyes blink awake, cheek pressed against a pillow, it's soft, so soft that for a second you thought it was Hobie's arm. You stare at the ceiling, a carved magnolia tree stares back. Its branches are full of blossoms, perfectly carved just like the illustrations in your books. It's so vivid that you could practically see its pinkish hue. It's weird, you think, the carving, when the rest of the room is sparsely decorated; filled with drab oak, and cheap lamps. The room smells old, lived in by hundreds of travelers before you.

A creak echoes out at the far end of the bed, prompting you to look upon Hobie's bareback. Healed bullet wounds litter all over his flesh that you once held on. Raised scars dotted along his lower back like stars, stars that were once drenched in ruby. You wonder if it still hurts, the stars, like how the hole he left in your heart five years ago. You hope it doesn't hurt as much for him, you'll never wish agony upon him; even if a part of you thinks he deserves it.

Maybe you should tell him, tell him what agony has befallen you since he left. The pile of letters sewn into your skirt remains to be read by his viridescent eyes; its wax seal remains closed, the words of longing and hate are still scribbled upon the yellowed paper.

Your eyes dart along the expanse of his skin, frown getting deeper and deeper with every new scar you find. Hobie puts on his shirt, buttoning each one, the cloth hiding his own misfortune from your weary eyes.

“You talk in your sleep.” He finally breaks his silence. Looking over his shoulder, he regrets it immediately. The simple sight of your bed head and puffy eyes brings back memories of when you'd wake up next to him.

“I know,” I've been told. You grunt as you lift yourself off the pillow, elbow propping you whilst you watch him put on his cowboy boots and clinking spurs.

He blinks, hand pausing along the buckles. “It's new, you've never done that before.”

“Just like you said, a lot of things can change in five years.” Sitting up, you place your chin atop your knees, legs tucked under the covers, arms holding your legs in place. “What was I saying? In my sleep, I mean.”

“You were mumbling…” my name, he sighs at the thought of telling you the truth. “Someone's name I think, and egg soup for some reason.”

“I'm hungry.” You ignore whose name you might've been saying in your sleep. And you think it's not his.

“We need new clothes first, people must've gotten our descriptions by now. So we need to change.” Hobie puts on his leather vest, the metals of it clinking against one another. Then the hat comes after, he stands up, walking towards his gun belt.

“Okay, breakfast after?” You fight a yawn, palms rubbing harshly on your eyelids.

“Yes, breakfast after.” He secures his belt on his hip, silver guns shining in the early morning sun. “I don't think they have egg soup though.”

You crack a small smile. “It doesn't matter, anything will do.”

“The saloon has pumpkin soup I think, does that sound good?” Hobie has no idea why he's prolonging the conversation about soup out of all the things he could discuss with you.

You nod, staring at him through fond eyes. “Mm-hmm, sounds good.”

“Good, we need something warm to eat.” He realizes that he's been standing awkwardly at the doorway. Clearing his throat, you fight a smile. “Get dressed.” With the door shutting close behind him, he slaps his cheeks to wake himself. He needs coffee, or something stronger for that matter.

Meanwhile, you watch the space he just left with hope in your heart.

—

The dress shop smells nicer than the inn, it's elegant, looking like it doesn't belong in the middle of the dingy town. Every pile of clothing is neatly folded over the other, different outfits are displayed over the windows and display cases. Both leather and cotton are the most prominent ones, but there are a few chiffon dresses, lace and silks placed alongside the rougher fabrics. They're all wonderfully made, each having their own brand of beauty in every stitch.

You watch yourself in the floor length mirror. Dark trousers instead of a skirt hangs around your waist. A nice crisp white dress shirt on your torso fits perfectly on you thanks to the friendly tailor.

“You need a vest, or you'll get cold during your travels.” She taps your shoulder, genuinely smiling at you through the mirror. “Are you sure you don't want to wear a corset and skirt? You'd look just as marvellous.” Her eyes shine just like the dainty rings around her fingers.

“I'm sure, skirts and corsets are an inconvenience.”

“Well, you've given me a proper challenge then. But is it a challenge if everything looks good on you?” Her long dark hair sways behind her as she peruses her own shop, dozens of embroidered cloth folded neatly on tables.

“You're good,” you watch her sashay along her shop, colourful vests piled on her arm. “Just as good as the tailors back at home.”

Yuri, you learned her name just a few minutes ago, returns to you with her arm full of vests. “‘Just as good?’ oh sweetheart, I'm better.” She grins mischievously at you, red lips curled into a smug smile. Yuri would be friends with Hobie, you think, maybe in another life. “Arms up, my darling.” She holds up numerous different vests upon your body until she settles for a royal blue leather vest that has hydrangeas embroidered on it. “This is it!” Gasping excitedly, you let her help put the vest on. “Fucking beautiful! If I was your husband I'd be jumping your bones.” Grasping your shoulders, she places her chin atop it, smiling at you.

Your heart thumps loudly at the word ‘husband.’ “Thank you, Yuri.” You fiddle with the empty gun belt around your hips.

“Now for a coat or a jacket befitting a glorious woman like yourself.” She winks, twisting around in search of another dozen or so outerwear in her stock.

“Oh I think this is enough.” You don't want to use up all of Hobie's money, especially when he's still in the dressing room, none the wiser.

Yuri turns towards you abruptly, hand on her chest, feigning hurt. “Enough? Do you like prancing around town in your birthday suit?”

“No—”

“Then you shall have a jacket. The best one I've got.”

You bite your lip, a nervous tick of yours that Hobie once pointed out after kissing it off you. “I just don't want to spend too much.”

“You mean you don't want him to spend too much?” Yuri saunters over to you, boots clacking on the worn out floorboards. “What are husbands good for if not for spending their money for your own gain, hmm?” There it is again, your heart thundering loudly inside your chest. “Besides, you'd look marvelous in this coat. I'll give you a discount because you're the nicest customer I've had in years.” She leans closer to you, draping the leather coat on your shoulders for you to see. You beam at her, thankful. “It's similar to the one I gave to him, you'd be matching. Well, except this one is in a lighter shade.”

The coat reaches down to your knees, cream coloured with little fringes up front right where the front pockets are. It's beautiful with its white threads weaving around its seams. If you look closer at the bottom, you see that it gets darker as it gets closer to the hem. An almost brown shade that reminds you of the oak tree back home.

You inhale, staring at your reflection that you barely recognize in the new clothes. “Do you think it suits me?” Your voice is small, Yuri watches your expression, understanding what you truly meant.

Her playful voice lowers to a softer one, hands rubbing along your arms comfortably. “Of course, sweetheart. You're more than ready for the badlands.” You smile at her, nodding along to her encouraging words.

She twirls you around to face her, you chuckle at the sudden good hearted movement. “Now, my favourite part, the boots!”

—

You pick lint off the armchair while you wait for him to exit out of the dressing room. You're comfortable in your new clothes, it snuggles you cozily, you've never felt like this in any clothing at all; whether it be silk or velvet, all the dresses back home don't compare to what you have on. You look at your dark cowboy boots once again with a faint smile, its gorgeous spider web-like design has your heart bouncing in glee. It's a stark contrast to the threadbare shoes you had on. You make the shiny spurs clink on the floor, chuckling to yourself.

“Careful, don't scruff my floors.” Yuri appears next to you, handing you a small messenger bag.

“What's this?”

“A bag, every woman needs one to store her belongings.” She gestures towards the worn out skirt on your lap. “Especially the important ones.”

“I—”

“It's on the house, just this one though.” She chuckles before handing it to you.

“Thank you, Yuri. That's awfully kind of you.” The leather is rough against your bare hands.

“No worries, darling.” She shrugs, “after all the things you've bought it's only normal that I'd give you a little freebie.”

A door suddenly creaks open, and out comes Hobie in his new outfit. A light airy dress shirt fits perfectly on his torso, the same black bandana still hangs around his neck, hiding the large scar. He fixes the fit of his dark blue vest even though it clearly doesn't need fixing. It has a typical western embroidery on it, saved for the almost invisible peonies dotted along the buttons. His gloves are the same, lighter around the palms where friction is usually present. You flick your eyes over to his coat, Yuri's right, it's almost the same as yours. The length is shorter to accommodate for the warmer weather coming in. The shade is in this mahogany brown, warm in the eyes, a hue lighter around the hem, almost as light as your own coat. Frills are lined around the arms, the silver spikes placed atop the shoulders makes it more unique. His belt buckle this time is different, a spider trapped in amber in place of the deadly scorpion. It's cradled in silver, laurels weaving around the corpse of the spider like an elegant coffin.

Your eyes shine at his handsome appearance. “My, don't you look dapper.” You drink him up, every new thing satisfying your need. Roaming your eyes downward, you tilt your head at the odd material on his legs. His boots are the same, even the spurs, but you can't quite place the new fangled blue thing around his legs. “What's that?”

Both Yuri and Hobie follow your gaze. But Yuri seems to be the only one who could form a coherent sentence. “They're blue jeans, or work pants. Much more comfortable than the old pants. Looks nicer on the behind, eh?” She nudges you, winking at your flustered expression. “Or enhances what's lacking.” Her last comment trails off as you unabashedly ogle him.

“Fuckin' hell.” Hobie finally speaks, his eyes avoid your form. Especially the vest that cinches you right where it matters. “Why do you have a bag?”

You stand up, slinging the bag over your shoulder. Yuri watches the whole thing with amused eyes. “For my things.”

He furrows his brows, “you don't have things, Y/N.”

Eyeing the riding gloves on the table, you cross the small distance, taking it, but before you place it inside the bag, you spot a pretty pink lace ribbon next to it. You also take it for good measure and to annoy him further. Putting it inside your bag, you teasingly smile at him. “Now I've got things.”

Yuri gives you a nod and a thumbs up whilst Hobie takes out bills to pay for everything.

“Pleasure doing business with you.” She victoriously smiles, counting the money.

“Not a pleasure on my part.” Hobie grumbles, you clamp your mouth shut to prevent a laugh from coming out.

—

The saloon is bustling with people even though it's still early in the morning. Some drink their fill next to you at the bar, some are just like you, looking for something warm to fill their bellies with to survive the rest of the day. The whole place smells of hard liquor and broken dreams. You have no idea which smells worse, the sticky floors or the lavatory at the far end of the place. The wide windows help brighten up the place at least, sunlight streaming into the carved establishment. Animal heads stare down at you, an elk’s and a buffalo's empty beady eyes look over yonder the drunkard's solace.

A piano sits just behind you, its stool is currently empty, maybe you should put all the lessons drilled into you to good use. It's better to wait for your meal there than sit right next to a stranger who looks like he's about to expel his breakfast onto your new clothes. Besides, some good music could tamp down all the drunken mumbling and the annoying scrapping of plates.

Hobie notices your heavy look, abandoning his coffee, he taps your shoulder and you almost jump in your skin.

“You still play?” He asks, eyes flicking between you and the old piano.

“I dabble, but I'm a bit rusty. I prefer gardening nowadays.” You lock eyes with him, “and shooting.”

Hobie chuckles in his seat, eyes avoiding your own smile. “You should play, I'll call you when our food is ‘ere.”

“Are you sure?” A soft smile spreads across your lips.

“I’ll watch your back, don't worry.”

Hope weighs you down again. You leave the bar stool, walking the distance towards the familiar black and white keys. Sitting down, you wrack your brain for the notes you've made a long time ago. A song that you've written yourself for the man who watches your back.

Hobie watches you intently, ears perking up at the unfamiliar music. Your hands move precisely, fingers pressing quickly as the song quickens. He smiles, glass now lay forgotten on the bar to watch you play your music. The rest of the bar quiets down a smidge, even the drunkards pause their lips at the mouth of their glass to listen to you play. The song crescendos, from a fast happy beat to a tone that is slower, a forlorn one. All in all, you play it with grace, and weaved with so much emotion.

Hobie scoffs, yet the fond smile stays. “Rusty my arse.”

The bartender appears behind him, plates in hand. “Your girl plays well.” The man places your meals on the bar, pumpkin soup sloshing on the sides of the bowl. Hobie turns towards him, not fully so he could still see you in his peripheral vision. “Is she for hire? Our player retired a few weeks ago, the saloon has never been this drab.”

“No, we're just passin’ by.”

The bartender leaves with a nod. “Too bad.”

Hobie takes his sandwich, twisting around to continue watching you. His eyes zeroes in on the sudden presence next to you. The brim of the stranger's hat hides his face, yet, Hobie knows exactly who he is based on his confident stance. Or who he was before Hobie single handedly destroyed his gang.

You finish the song with a flair, chest heaving, grinning from ear to ear.

“Bravo!” The man leaning towards the piano claps, then a chorus of scattered applause follows right after. “Amazing, sweetheart! Where'd ya learn how to play?”

“A tutor.” You smile shyly.

“Ah, what's the song called? I don't think I've heard of it before.” His long beard moves while he makes casual conversation.

“I-I made it actually.”

“Oh? I didn't know we had a composer in our humble establishment.” He taps the old piano with his gloved hand, his other hand rests on his gun belt, golden pistol shining in the sun. “What's the story behind it, eh? My ears picked up some sad depressing story through the notes.”

“I'm not a composer, a-and yeah, I made it for somebody.”

“Well, I—”

“Culver!” Hobie's booming voice echoes out in the entire saloon, everyone stops what they're doing. “You want to talk to me? Come over ‘ere instead of pestering her.” He has had enough of the conversation, and the danger that you've unknowingly put yourself into.

“Mr. Brown.” Culver says through gritted teeth, standing up straight, flicking the brim of his hat to reveal his face. “Fancy seein’ you here. You're in my territory, spider.”

You notice every single patrons’ faces turning into something akin to a person seeing a ghost, or the reaper itself. Slyly, you move your eyes over to the man, Culver, his name is familiar, you're sure you've heard of it before. Inhaling, you look back at Hobie, whose hand is placed on his gun belt, ready to whip it out if needed. He silently communicates with you, run, his eyes says, but you're paralyzed by fear when you finally remember where you heard the name Culver. It was what that old man Arthur said back then, he's the man whose men were killed by Hobie in a single night.

Heaviness hangs in the air, tension so thick that you can't even poke a hole right through it with a bullet.

“Is she someone precious to ya?” Culver says, suddenly gripping you by the scruff of your blouse, your back hitting the piano keys harshly. You yelp, and Hobie abruptly stands up, eyes aflame. The bearded man smiles, blackened teeth in full display. “She is, isn't she?” He wiggles your head in his hand. You sit there frozen, unable to even breathe. “What if I do the exact thing you did to my men, eh?” You hear chairs scraping against hardwood floors and boots frantically running towards the back exit. It's just you three in the saloon. He taps his finger in between your eyes, flaking leather on your soft skin. “A bullet in between her eyes would look lovely on her, don't you agree?”

“Your quarrel is with me. Let's take this outside, shall we?” Like a strike of lightning, Hobie cracks his bullwhip towards Culver. Dust in your eyes, the high pitched sound ringing in your ears. You then see Culver getting dragged away from you by his arm. The whip wraps around his flesh, threatening to skin him from the force Hobie pulls him towards the swinging doors of the saloon.

You inhale the gunpowder like scent it left, standing up, you quickly follow Hobie out into the sun. As the light hits your eyes, you watch Hobie cracks his bullwhip again. Culver yells in pain as Hobie releases him in the whip's clutches before placing it neatly back on his belt. He stands ways away from him, just across the screaming Culver.

“Painful, innit? This is what you did to two of my mates.” You walk to Hobie's side, he spares you a glance, roaming his jade eyes over you to check for injuries. Satisfied, he then returns his attention towards his target. “Remember that fuckin' pain, because my bullet hitting your heart would hurt much more than this.”

Culver holds his aching arm, kneeling on the muddy ground, hat fallen next to him, revealing a shiny head. “You lettin’ me go?” He cackles, you don't hide behind Hobie. “Just like that? Oh that woman has softened you up, Mr. Brown.”

“D’you want to keep talking or do you want to fuckin' start?”

You knit your eyebrows, fear encompasses you. “W-what’s about to start?” Your hand finds his bicep, holding on to him tightly like he's about to leave you. Again.

“A showdown, go to the side, love, I don't want you ‘ere when the bullets start flyin’” He watches Culver slowly stand up in the corner of his eyes.

“A fucking duel? Are you crazy?” You grip tighter.

Hobie gives you a smile, the same smile he lets you see every night before you head home. It's a boyish smile, innocence hidden behind it. “Go, I'll be fine.”

“And if not? He looks like he's a gunslinger. What if he wins and you die?”

“Then I can't burden you anymore.” He whispers, green eyes glimmering in the sunlight.

“Burden—? What are you talking about?”

“Go, I'll win, don't worry about it.”

“Hobie—!”

“Go, Y/N!”

You move without question after he yells at you. Your hands trembles, knees going weak, tears brimming in your eyes, and he can't even look at you.

As the two men move further away without turning their backs towards each other, you hold onto the saloon's pillar lest you crumble from fear of losing him. Again.

Bystanders look on, watching the spectacle unfold right in front of their eyes. Some hide behind windows, children hide behind their mother's skirts. While you have nowhere to hide. Your nails dig into the wood, Hobie squares his shoulders, fingers brushing along his holster. You spare a look towards his target, his hand already resting next to his yellow-gold gun.

Silence hangs in the air. Death waits for the loser.

Hobie squints his eyes, attention fully on the man before him. He leans back slightly, right foot stepped forward, silver gun shining in the sun; you can even see your reflection on it.

With a single breath, it's all over.

Culver was too slow to quickdraw, probably from his still aching arm. He drops his gun before he could fully draw it out. Hobie's bullet has left a sizable hole in his dominant palm, a gaping, bleeding wound that you can see through if you stare long enough.

Culver screams, a gutteral shriek that worms into your mind. He drops to his knees, eyes wide in panic and shock, trousers drenched in his own blood. Gunpowder still lingers in the air when you run towards Hobie's side. Your hands grip his shoulders, breath stuck in your throat, as you check for any bullet wounds.

“Are you hurt?!” You scream, ears ringing from the loud shot.

“‘m fine,” your wandering hands find reprieve on his jaw. “Love, ‘m fine.”

He sees fear in your eyes like never before, not even when you get punished, cheeks stained with tears from whatever they've thrown at you. You've never looked like this terrified. Scared like a starving doe caught in a bear trap.

“Remember what I told you?” You can't speak or even think. “Breathe, Y/N.” Hobie takes your hand off his skin, there's a reluctance that you're not privy to. “Just breathe, inhale and exhale.” He holds your hand, squeezing once before leaving your side. “I need to finish the job.”

You exhale and he's gone, the golden gun kicked far away, aiming the still warm barrel against Culver's head. “No…” Running after Hobie, you refuse to see another dead man. “Stop! Please.” Gripping his gun once again, you plead with him. “Don't kill him.”

“Step aside, Y/N. If I don't—” he can't fathom what Culver would do to him, to *you if he doesn't end it right there and then. The cycle must stop, he can't accomplish it if you're standing in between his gun and Culver's soft head. “Don't get involved.”

“Please.” You breathe out, warm hands placed around his shooting hand. “Take him to the sheriff, let justice take its course. He's backing down, I don't want to see you kill another one.”

“The sheriff won't do shit. Just like now,” he nudges his head towards the man amidst the crowd. “Let me do this, or he'll follow us and hunt us down.”

“I won't!” Culver suddenly yells, even louder than his painful screams. “I won't follow! I'm tired, Mr. Brown. I don't want to do this no more.” He looks up at the two of you, remourse evident on his face. “I'm sorry about your friends, I really am! But we're already even, you've taken mine too. Every single one I've got.”

“Promise to never exact revenge,” you tell the groveling man as you watch his salty tears mix in with the warm crimson.

“I promise,” Culver cries. “I promise, miss.”

You look back at Hobie, your eyes meet his own. Anger subsides in those emerald eyes, face turning soft. “He promises, Hobie.”

“An outlaw's promise doesn't mean shit—”

“You’ll have to shoot through me to get to him.” You point the barrel right on top of your chest, its warmth seeps through you.

“He wanted to hurt you.” Hobie softly says, fingers wrapping around your own.

“I’m not hurt. It takes more than threats to hurt me, Hobs.” You both stare at each other, hearts beating together. “Can you holster your gun please?”

Together, you help him lower his gun. Together, you let Culver go.

—

You need to leave town immediately. Strawberry's sheriff might've been easily placated with a good duel, but other lawmen pursuing Hobie might not be. Bucky neighs loudly at the sight of you, moreso when he sees your intertwined hands.

“Hi, Bucky.” You start to place your foot on the stirrups but Hobie stops you halfway.

“You need a horse. Might as well put your new gloves to good use, hmm?” You smile as Hobie whistles for the stable hand for help. A teenage boy with worn out blue jeans appears. “She needs a horse. Anythin' fast, or hell, anythin' you have available. What do you have?”

Their conversation drifts into the background. Your attention and breath is taken away by the gorgeous mare that stands behind a stable door. Her shining blue eyes watch you as you approach, hair as white as snow, the same hue as her body, she glimmers in the sunlight that filters through the wooden cracks. She huffs, head leaning away when you hold out your hand. You could only wait for her to make the move, watching you with peculiar eyes like she's sizing you up.

The stable boy does a double take, “wait, ma'am, that's not—!” When he says it, the white mare leanes closer to your touch. “Well I'll be. She never lets anyone touch her except my boss. She's as fine as cream gravy that one is.”

“I think she likes me.” You tilt your head as she sniffs your hand.

“That's a fuckin' arabian, love.” Hobie says breathlessly, watching you and the hot tempered horse interact like you've been her rider for years. “Can't you pick another horse that doesn't cost three horses combined?”

You laugh, feeding the mare hay. “I could, but I really think she's the one for me.” Hobie scratches the back of his neck. “I can choose another one, Hobie.” As if understanding your words, the mare nudges your shoulder. Hobie feels like he's being robbed in broad daylight. But he'll spend a million for you if you ask.

The stable boy pipes up from the side. “You can't actually, ma'am, I was just tellin’ your husband here that we only have her available. The rest already have owners you see. She was abandoned six months ago.”

“How could anyone abandon you?” You whisper towards the horse, petting her head as she welcomes your touch.

“I think her last owner died, and no one has since picked her up, or bought her. My boss is more than willing to get rid of her now to make space.”

“We'll take her, on a discounted fee of course, since she's second hand. And a saddle too.” You grin at Hobie's words.

The stable hand sighs. “At half price too I bet?”

“Now you're speakin’ my language.” Hobie pats the boy's shoulder as he negotiates prices. The mare huffs again, asking for more hay while you are distracted by Hobie's wink thrown your way.

—

“She still doesn't have a name.” Hobie finally breaks his silence, he rides alongside your horse, making sure that your ill tempered mare doesn't buck you off. His hands guide Buckeye, but his eyes are completely on your form.

The road is long and empty, save for a herd of bison roaming just below the mountain you're both trudging. There are small graves littered around the road, worn out crosses, wood eaten by termites. Etched names forgotten, lives scattered in the wind amidst the dirt and blazing sun. You wonder how they died without getting to their final destination. The sun has completely risen, humidity making your lips dry, heat stuck in between your skin and the leather of your gloves. The canopy shields you from the rays, luscious greenery everywhere, trees and grass littered all over the mountain side. You can hear wild horses neighing far away from where you are, their hooves thumping freely on the soil.

You pause from braiding your horse's hair, securing the braid with the pink lace ribbon. Your eyes meet with familiar emerald eyes. “I've been thinking about it actually.”

“Well? What are your options?”

Your lips curl into a mischievous smile. “‘Blue jeans’”

“Oh fuck off.” He rides ahead to hide his growing smile.

You quickly follow, pulling the reins, clicking your tongue to make your horse trot alongside Hobie. “Why not? I like it, I think it fits her.”

“No it does not. You're fucking with me, lovie, and my blue jeans.”

You like him like this, bathed in the sun, in warmth as he smiles back at you; just like the days when you were still just friends, friends with lingering feelings that you're both too afraid to confess. If he doesn't love you back just as before, you'd settle for this, just friends who laugh and talk, and tease each other. It's better this way because friendship means that he still cares for you, that there's still a space for you in his heart no matter how small it is, that you're not forgotten.

“Oh you and your precious blue jeans!” Your laughter echoes around.

“Will you be like this the entire time?” You both turn a corner, where no trees shield you from the sun. He notices you narrow your eyes, palm above your eyes to see him better. “‘ere.”

“W-what?” There's suddenly a hat atop your head, his hat. “Oh!” You run your fingers along the brim that shields you from the light. The leather is soft, a few bumps here and there but you can feel that it's been taken care of. Hobie clears his throat, and your cheeks run warmer than the summer sun. “T-thank you.” You're not an idiot, you've been here for weeks so of course you've heard of the ‘hat rule’ in passing. But you don't know what to do, or what he wants to do when it's in reverse.

“No problem, you've already taken my money, might as well hand you my hat, eh?” Hobie inhales, the mere sight of you wearing his beloved hat sends his heart into overdrive. Maybe he shouldn't have given it to you.

“You make it sound like I'm robbing you blind. I was alright with my old clothes.”

Hobie has the opportunity to say either of the two things that popped up in his mind. One, tell you that you've only robbed him of his heart. And two, make a joke about how much Bucky disdained carrying you with your musty clothes. So he does neither.

“We had to, or we'll be recognized faster than a mother recognizes her child.” You both finally reach the foot of the mountain, successfully surviving without anyone shooting at you, kidnapping you; or hell, getting eaten by a bear. With both of your luck, it's possible.

“Weird analogy but okay.” Your stomach grumbles when you two come to a stop at a fork in the road. One goes to the right, the other on the left. There's nothing else distinguishable on either one of them. The signage is long gone, taken by strong winds, or just time itself. You wince, hoping that he didn't hear the sound your stomach made.

He raises a brow, chuckling deeply at the sight of you hiding your face with the brim of his hat. “I forgot we didn't get to eat. That sandwich smelt really fuckin' good.”

“I really want that pumpkin soup now.” You groan, leaning forward to rest your head on top of your horse who barely notices your movement.

“C’mon, I know a place.” He taps your boot with his own.

“Where?”

“On the left, it's not that far but it'll delay us on our journey.” It's not a bad deal, he thinks to himself.

You suddenly perk up, this is what you were asking for back in that cave, the road less traveled, the road where you get to just spend more time with him. And postpone your homecoming.

“What are we waiting for then, cowboy?” With a kick, and a laugh in your throat, you bolt over to the direction he pointed out.

“‘Cowboy?’ bloody hell.” He really regrets giving you his hat because now he doesn't have anything to hide his flustered face anymore.

—

“You said it was a restaurant,” you huff at the wide river before you, hands on your hips, stomach growling. “Not that we have to catch our own meal!”

Hobie can't help but laugh, a hearty, genuine one that also has you smiling. This suits him, just happy and without a gun in his hand. You like him in every conceivable way possible, even if you're still getting used to his new self. “I just said, ‘I know a place.’ I ain't no liar. Did you expect a café in the middle of nowhere?”

“Yes! And no— I'm hungry now, Hobs!” Your horse agrees, hoof digging into the dirt. Buckeye stands hitched next to her, eyes glued on her white mane. Weird, you thought. “Look, even blue jeans agree!”

“Instant gratification,” Hobie pulls his jacket off and places it on the saddle; he then takes out a folding fishing rod from Bucky's saddle bag. “You should work on that because it's not gonna work well ‘ere, love.” He walks towards the river bank, toeing off his boots, folding up the same trousers you love to see him in. And also folding the sleeves of his shirt to reveal his toned arms. “And her name can't be ‘blue jeans!’” Yelling back, he trudges the rushing cool water that goes up to just below his knees.

“Okay, fine!” You start to strip, taking off your coat and his hat— folding your trousers and sleeves, you follow him to the rocky river bank. “How about ‘trout’ then.”

He hears your voice closer, he laughs at you when you almost slip on a rock. “Careful, it's slippery. You can't name her ‘trout,’ she's too pretty for that.”

“Now you tell me,” you roll your eyes at him as he casts the line. The bait and hook plops in the deeper water, now the waiting game begins. “‘Too pretty?’ you once nicknamed me beetle just because it bit me once!” Warmth spreads across your chest at his laugh. You feel at home in that cold river.

“And? You callin' yourself pretty?” His smirk takes you back at that oak tree.

You have an urge to kiss it off him. You don't, it's not the time yet, or you may ruin everything. “Yeah, you did, I remember you calling me pretty…” you lean closer, face dangerously close to his own. Breaths mixing in together, but you still give him enough space to move away. He doesn't. You don't mention it. He thinks about your lips upon his. “And gorgeous, and then absolutely stunnin’!” You copy his drawl, but before he could even laugh at your teasing, the fishing rod starts to move, yanking him forward.

“Oh fuck!” Hobie reels it in, and you gasp in disbelief at the sheer strength the fish has. “Help me or we'll starve!”

“You don't have to tell me twice!” You embrace him from the back, arms squeezing him, face smothered by his shoulder. He feels warm, he still feels the same. You dig your heels in while he fights with lunch. “Come on, cowboy!”

He almost let go of the rod. “Shit!” You laugh into his shirt and he almost falters once again. “Come on you little—!” With one hard yank, he finally sees the fish fly up, the sun hits its scales, body frantically flopping around. But he pulled too hard, and down he goes on the river bank, with you catching him. “Fuck—!” With a splash, you get a face full of river water.

Hobie immediately jumps to the side to not squash you and drown you in two feet of water. His eyes are full of worry when you emerge coughing. He almost lets go of the rod to tend to you, but your smile and guffaw has relief flowing through him.

“How big is it?!” You ask, entirely drenched.

He gently wipes your face, calloused palms over your soft skin, fingers carefully wiping away a piece of grass stuck on your cheek. You close your eyes, letting him hold you.

Hobie inhales and drinks you in— he still loves you. It's always been there, his love for you, but he refuses to acknowledge it with what he knows just before he left, with what *he said before he took a slice at his neck. Hobie still dreams of you, still dreams of saying those three words again, he's a fool to bury the feeling, especially when you're in front of him again— close to him again, loving him again.

He has no idea what to do now, other than to stand up and give you a helping hand.

—

Hobie's been silent and you have no idea why. You warm yourself on the fire he built, the fish you both caught is now cooking wonderfully on the open fire. The river's currents are a lot stronger now, so it's a lot harder to catch anything without getting carried by it. Your clothes are slowly drying as you wring your sleeves free of water.

“Cherry.” You suddenly break the silence. “I think I'll name her cherry.”

Hobie sits across you again, gazing at you through warmer eyes. “Why cherry?”

“Because horses love fruit, and cherry is a fruit.”

“Brilliant thinkin’ love, horses definitely eat cherries.” He says in a sarcastic tone.

You furrow your brows, “wait, they don't?”

He blinks, “Huh, ‘m actually not sure. Maybe if you take out the pits and cut it in half?”

“That’s…that's plausible, they contain cyanide though.”

“Maybe we should ask them?”

“What?” You chortle, and Hobie cups his hands to yell at the horses.

“Oi! D’you lot eat cherries?” They only stare at him. “Guess not.” You laugh, he finds it infectious so he also does.

“Horses can't talk, Hobs.” You say in between giggles.

“You never know, I might be a horse whisperer.” His smile falters, and you frown at the sudden shift. “‘m sorry for yellin’ at you.” His voice is soft under the cackle of the fire. “I shouldn't have yelled.”

“Apology accepted.” Your nerves calm down, beaming at him, scooching closer to him until your knees grazes his own. He doesn't move away, even nudging your shoulder with a faint smile. “I'm sorry for making you spend so much. But thank you for the nice clothes, and being— just…kind.”

Hobie reaches for your hand slowly, your breath is in your throat, freezing you un place. His pinky brushes along your palm when a twig snaps Hobie quickdraws his gun.

“Who's there?! Show yourself or I'll fuckin' shoot.” Standing up, he hides you with his own body.

You also stand up, hand wrapping around the barrel of the rifle that was leaning next to you. Both yours and Hobie's hearts thump loudly with trepidation. The bush moves and out comes two men brandishing their own weapons. They dress like gentlemen, but their sneers say they are not.

“We came out to piss and we find the spider of the west, guess we're just lucky.” The one with a scar across his nose says, voice scratchy, nudging his companion. “And would you look at that?”

“You’ve found yourself a pretty companion, Hobart, one that has a very high bounty on her head.” The other finishes his partner's sentence. His mustache is all twirly at the end, golden tooth shining in the sun. “Y’know, sweetheart, the whole country's after ya.” You don't falter in your stance.

“With both of your bounties combined, we're aimin’ at ten thousand dollars right now.” The scarred man chuckles.

“Ten thousand?” Hobie whistles, “Can we bring ourselves in instead?” You snort, still aiming at the man's head.

“If only that was possible, Hobart.” The man gives you a twisted smile.

“Are you lawmen?” You ask, “Or pinkertons? You two don't look like either of them.”

“What do we look like then, sweetheart?” The mustachioed man taunts with a toothy smile. “A couple of handsome cowboys?”

“A bunch of dead men.” You push Hobie away, kicking hot coals in their faces, embers flying, smoke filling their lungs. While they're both distracted and yelling at the searing heat— Hobie fans the hammer of his gun, shooting all six bullets into each man's bodies until their lifeless corpses fall atop each other.

“I've seen better.” You stand next to Hobie as he checks for something in their pockets. Their blood slowly spread to the tips of his boots. “What are you doing?”

Hobie rubs a hand across his face, “Lawmen,” he raises the identification papers he found. “We need to go. Pack the fish.”

“But they're dead?” You ask but you still do what you're told.

“Lawmen are like rats, if there's two ‘ere, there's a dozen more near us, hidden under the crevices.” He walks near the banks, head downturned, eyes scanning the plants. “And they've got their noses on us now.”

“Where are you going?” You stand, wrapped fish in your arms. “Hobie!” You start to yell when he has walked a few ways away from you.

Hobie crouches down, hunting knife digging into the soil. You watch him take a bushel of grass, he walks back and now you get a closer look at what he's carrying. You thought your eyes are deceiving you, instead of the familiar green hue, the plant is pink, a very bright shade. There's still dirt clinging to the stems when Hobie carefully covers it with a handkerchief.

“That's oleander, Hobie.” You stare at him, concerned. “And that many could kill a fucking elephant.”

“I know, you taught me, remember?” You nod as shoves it inside your messenger bag. He pauses at the sight of the bundle of letters, then he dismisses them, closing the bag. “It might come in handy.”

“What's your plan?” You're terrified.

“We head to a train station.” He sighs, completely winded, and worried for your safety. “Bounty hunters and outlaws I can manage, but them?” He points at the two bodies. “They've got more resources than either group, and more people in their pocket.”

“Wouldn't that be obvious? Riding the train? We can handle them, just like we always have—”

“They hate my guts more than anyone, Y/N, and they don't fear me as much as bounty hunters or outlaws.”

“But a train…” you shudder. “We'll be in the south in a few days instead of weeks— that's quick, too quick…I don't—” I don't want to leave. “I can't.”

“You wanted the scenic route, right?” He starts to unhitch the horses. “It's the last place they'll look for thinking that we'll be traveling by our lonesome out on the backroads.”

“Yes, but—”

“Nothing’s more scenic than a train ride. C’mon, love, get on Cherry. Before more come out of hidin’”

You nod, tears threatening to spill out. Walking around the corpses, you get on Cherry with a far away look in your eyes. “To the train station then.”

[beom-pyu]

baby blues ☆⋆｡𖦹°‧★ choi yeonjun + choi soobin

choi yeonjun + choi soobin x fem!reader , tags; poly relationship!! , hard dom!yeonjun , soft dom!soobin , sub!reader , soobin is so sweet , yeonjun is so mean , but they both love you sm!!! , nsfw , established relationship , fluff and lots of aftercare at the end!!!!

warnings: smut (minors dni.) , vibrators , masturbation , fingering , finger sucking , praise , degradation , spanking , punishments , dom/sub dynamics , reader calls soobin "daddy" and yeonjun "sir" , subspace

a/n: this is so messy and all over the place cuz i wrote this in my notes app but i just had to get this thought out i have no idea what this is i just know im losing my mind thank you (not proofread so pls be lenient with any mistakes!!!)

wc: 2.2k+

thinking about a domestic polyamorous relationship with hard dom yeonjun and soft dom soobin aaaa!! 

you're home alone all day because of their busy schedule, lonely and bored. they had let you sleep in that morning, so you didn't get the chance to kiss them goodbye before they left for practice! of course, you had called them a few times that day, texted them to let them know you ate breakfast and lunch, kept them updated about what you were doing throughout the day... but it wasn't enough!! it's late now and since soobin has an interview to do and yeonjun has a solo live, they wouldn't be home for another few hours. 

but you're so so so needy. you know it's against the rules to touch yourself when they're not here… but as long as they don't find out, it'd be okay, right? 

you go to your shared closet to find your favorite pink vibrator, excitedly taking off your clothes before hopping onto the king sized bed. you waste no time in pressing the vibrator to your clit, soft moans filling the room as you grip the sheets beneath you. it just feels so so good, you can't help yourself!! your boyfriends haven't touched you all day, so it was only fair that you get to do something about it!!

you're so lost in the moment that you don't hear the front door of your apartment opening, and the footsteps nearing the bedroom. your eyes are squeezed shut as your body shakes from the intense vibrations, unable to control the moans and whimpers leaving your lips.

"what do we have here?" the deep voice catches your attention as you startle, your eyes opening to see soobin standing in the doorway with a hand on his hip.

he looks so gorgeous---with his black hair pushed up and back off of his forehead, a button-up sweater with the first couple buttons undone tucked into dark jeans that frame his figure perfectly.

he looks so good that you can't help but to moan out and grind your sopping cunt against the toy, stretching your hand out towards him.

"help, please daddy," you whimper and soobin never has it in his heart to tell you no!! so he makes his way over to sit on the edge of the bed, smiling down at you softly as he strokes your cheek.

"what do you need me to do, princess? use your big girl words," soobin coos, his hand brushing over your soft belly. 

"want your fingers," you whine, a pout sitting on your lips. soobin gives you a pointed look, waiting for you to finish. "please?"

"that's my good girl," he praises as a smile overtakes his face. "must've been so needy… enough for you to break a rule, hm?"

you nod quickly, a soft moan leaving your lips as his thick fingers rub your entrance to collect your slick, dipping into your hole teasingly. 

"missed you both so much, couldn't help myself," you whimper as he pushes his fingers into you, your pussy dripping onto his hand. soobin hums in response, bringing the hand stroking your cheek down to circle his pointer and middle finger over your lips. you instinctively open your mouth, closing your lips around his fingers.

"you can't just break our rules whenever you want, princess," soobin speaks slowly and gently as you moan at the mix of the vibrator and his fingers hitting that spot inside you oh so perfectly.

you try your best to listen, but your brain is completely foggy as white begins to fill your vision, whining around his fingers as your hips stutter, cumming so hard tears begin to roll down your cheeks. soobin continues to pump his fingers in and out of your tight entrance as you ride out your high, praising you for cumming so nicely. 

once you're coherent enough, he slowly pulls his fingers out of your sensitive hole before removing his other fingers from your mouth.

"come here, princess," he stretches his arms open wide and you waste no time climbing into his lap as you sniffle. he holds you tightly, stroking your hair to help you calm down.

"'m sorry for breaking the rules, daddy," you hiccup and soobin smiles down at you with so much admiration, leaning in to kiss your wet lips.

"you know i'm not mad at you, princess," he starts. "but you also know that we have to tell yeonjun, right?"

you whine, shaking your head quickly as you clutch his sweater in your hands. "can't we just keep it a secret, daddy? i said 'm sorry! what more do you want?!"

"that's not how things work around here, princess. so i advise you to get rid of that attitude right now or else your punishment will be even worse. got it?" soobin gives you a stern look and you pout in defeat, nodding slowly.

you both hear the front door click open and your stomach drops. yeonjun is not going to be happy at all.

“on the bed, princess. ass up,” soobin orders and you scramble to your position, cheek squishes against the sheets and your hands behind your back like you were taught. you feel soobin’s hand run down your back and over the curve of your ass comfortingly, a small noise of approval leaving his lips.

“good girl. now wait here, and do not move.”

“yes, daddy.” you nod obediently, anticipation filling your gut as soobin leaves the room and shuts the door behind him. you listen anxiously, hearing soobin speak to yeonjun through the walls, guilt and fear mixing in your stomach. you should have known better!!

it doesn't take long for the bedroom door to click open, and heavy footsteps enter the room. you hold your breath as the figure doesn't speak, walking slowly toward the bed. your heartbeat drums in your ears, unable to see what's going on behind you in your current position, but you know better than to speak right now, so you stay silent.

“i've had a long fucking day…” yeonjun’s voice enters your ears and the fear in your bones increases at the anger in his voice. “and i come home to find out that this fucking whore can't go a few hours without breaking my rules.”

you feel the tears pool in your eyes, your mind clouding up at the words. “‘m sorry, sir! you both were gone for so long, i just—”

“shut the fuck up, bitch,” yeonjun sneers, coming around the bed to kneel in your field of vision. the words go straight to your core, whimpering a bit at the dark look in his eyes, a few strands of his dark hard falling in front of them. “i don’t need your excuses after you blatantly disrespected me.”

yeonjun moves to stand up, completely unphased by your whining. he walks slowly and your head spins in arousal and fear. 

“seems like you know how to listen to your daddy,” yeonjun comments on your position, one of his warm and big hands coming to rub your asscheek before the warmth quickly disappears. “but can’t follow a simple rule?”

a loud cry leaves your lips as his hand heavily comes down onto your skin, the loud smack echoing off the walls. your entire body jolts at the pain, feeling your pussy throb at the feeling. yeonjun spanks you again, and again, making sure that you don’t lose count with each hit. your ass feels like its on fire and your cunt feels so so empty and your mind is fuzzy.

your body wracks with sobs as his strong hand abuses your delicate skin. it’s all too much!!! you’ve learned your lesson, you swear!! but yeonjun doesn’t stop until he’s sure the message has gotten through your head. 

you’re completely gone by the time you reach 30, your body limp against the sheets as your pussy clenches around nothing, your ass surely bruised by now. yeonjun’s hand comes down on your ass one last time before he rubs the sting away, his hand trailing down to your soaking heat.

“of course a dumb slut like you would enjoy this,” he breathes out a laugh in disbelief and you whine in response, wiggling your ass a bit.

“‘m sorry, sir!!! please, please, i need you” you mewl into the sheets as yeonjun trails a finger down your slit, his other hand massing your sore asscheek. you hear yeonjun chuckle softly at your desperation.

“do you really think that i’m going to let you cum again tonight, slut?” yeonjun’s words are slow and harsh, and you weep into the sheets, trying to press into his faint touch. 

“‘m sorry, ‘m sorry, ‘m sorry, please, sir, please,” you cry, working yourself up into a fit as you fall deep into your headspace. you feel yeonjun’s hands leave your body and you sob again at the loss.

the touch isn’t gone for long before you feel a weight kneel onto the bed, pulling your body into their lap, a gentle hand rubbing your back. you inhale the scent, yeonjun’s cologne filling your nose.

“come back to me, angel. you’re okay, just breathe for me,” yeonjun speaks softly as one of his hands softly strokes your back, the other coming to rub your sore cheeks. you copy his breathing, trying your best to come down from your headspace with his coaxing, whimpering quietly into his shoulder. “you did so well for me, didn’t you?”

you nod in agreement, nuzzling your face into his shoulder as your breathing slows down. “th-thank you, sir.”

you feel sleepy as your eyes flutter shut in exhaustion, your body spent from your punishment. you know you deserved it, and you understand yeonjun and soobin always do what’s best for you!! they just want you to be their good girl.

“is the bath ready, soobin?” you hear yeonjun speak. he sounds far away in your ears, but you know you’re safe, letting yourself be carried to the bathroom by strong arms. you feel your body enter warm water, leaning back to feel a hard chest pressed against your back.

“i’m so proud of you, princess,” soobin gently praises as he washes your body, pressing small kisses into your hair, his gentle hands massaging your body. you open your eyes when you feel ready, tilting your head back to see soobin watching you with a careful gaze. 

“thank you, daddy. i love you,” you mumble with a tiny smile, his hand resting on your tummy. a smile overtakes his face as he sees your sleepy expression, leaning down to tenderly kiss your forehead.

“i love you more, princess. you did amazing, my pretty baby.” you preen at the praise, letting soobin finish washing you up before getting out ouf the tub. he wraps you up in a fluffy towel, gets you dressed into pajamas (some panties and one of yeonjun’s big long-sleeved shirts), and helps you brush your teeth.

you head back into the bedroom while soobin finishes getting ready for bed, smiling once you see your lovely boyfriend sitting on the mattress with your favorite snacks on the bedside table. he catches sight of you and opens his arms up for a hug with a wide smile on his face—and you don’t hesitate to throw yourself into his arms, wrapping your arms around his neck before pressing sweet kisses onto his lips. yeonjun laughs a bit at your enthusiasm, holding your waist as you stand in between his legs.

“how are you feeling, angel?” yeonjun asks, his thumbs drawing small circles onto your hips. you smile down at him before landing one last kiss on his lips.

“i feel good, very good,” you respond with an eager nod and yeonjun’s eyes bunch up sweetly at your words. 

“i love you, baby. always. even when you’re being a brat.” your face heats up and you giggle, hiding your face behind your hand that is covered by the long sleeves of the shirt. “how about you get comfy and pick out a movie while i go wash up, hm?”

you nod quickly, flopping onto the fresh sheets of your bed before grabbing the remote to turn on the t.v. you hear yeonjun laugh at your actions before walking out of the room, his presence soon replaced by soobin who climbs into the bed next to you, wrapping an arm around your waist. 

“what are we watching?” he asks, resting his head on your shoulder. you’d never say it to his face out loud but he is such a baby when he gets sleepy. you think it’s the cutest thing ever.

“how about an animation?” soobin nods in response to your suggestion, but his eyes are already shut and you know he’s going to fall asleep before the title screen even comes on. 

everything is perfect as the movie plays for a bit, yeonjun coming back to the room with a freshly washed face and wet hair, scooting into the bed on the opposite side of you, his hand finding yours under the sheets. you allow that warm and safe feeling to override your senses, letting yourself drift off nestled in between the two boys you love most in this world.

reblogs are highly cherished!

masterlist

©️BEOM-PYU

[sugar-plum-writer]

A Heian Era Affair

Paring: GojoSatrou!ModernEra x FemReader!HeianEra! Tags: Fem!Reader; Gojo!imagines; slight!mention of violence; 18+ as more chapters come; slow burn [I want to have a good build up~ just like my Sukuna series fic~]; An ancient Japan romance through time with reader Text: Gojo ends up in the Heian Era through unknown reason (will be reveled later on) and meets reader and hence journey begins both of adventure and romance~ [If you all like it, please heart and reblog the post! to know you want to read more~ and follow for chapter updates! or leave a comment to tag you when I put out new chapters~ I will do my best to roll out UPDATES ASAP!]

CHAPTER - 1

The bamboo trees rustled as the cool wind blew, almost hauntingly as if carrying a message from another side of the world. Wiping your sweat with a ragged cloth, you stumbled and walked while carrying a bucket of water to your old wooden house.

It was hard to make a living, the minister of your area was evil, exploiting the people to death, and raising taxes beyond what people could pay. It was a nightmare- no worse at least you could wake up from nightmares but what about reality? can you wake up from it?

Sometimes you wanted to barge in and rip his head off. Too bad you could not, the guards were too strong, and with your strength you doubt you could ever survive.

Sighing, you returned to the river to fill your bucket again.

You had just bent over when a strong gust of wind started blowing out from nowhere, the trees shrieked as the water rippled- throwing you back 10 feet away with a slam- making you hit a tree. The sharp pain made your back go numb. As you tried to get up staggering- the wind kicked up a notch increasing it's speed and power like a cyclone. Your eyes widened in horror as you looked at what was happening- a big black hole appeared in the middle of the river; with water distorting around it and floating up defying gravity.

"What on-"

Before your brain could comprehend what just happened, a white-haired man flew out of the hole towards you, slamming into you-

Bang

Opening your eyes, you tried to get up, but- found the man on top of you, your legs intertwined together, he groaned as he tried to stand

"Ugh"

His voice was deep causing you to freeze a moment, but you came back to your senses and pushed him off

"Who are you!? You demon!" you screamed as you looked at him

"Me? Ah I am Gojo Satoru and no I am no demon, it's the first someone has called me a demon! sure I might be tall but it does not mean I am a demon haha~" he smiled as he looked at you helping you stand up

"What-!? but you j-"

"Do you know where this is? I am a bit in a hurry"

"This is Mizushima village…."

He paused

"What?…. since when did we have a Mizushima village in Japan? Isn't Mizushima an Island!? which prefecture even is this?"

"Prefecture? Our village is part of the Minamoto Clan on the West side"

He paused longer this time

"Minamoto Clan?…"

"Yeah"

"eh?" he froze as he cocked his head to the side

"For real?"

"Yeah"

"I….what-what era is this?" his voice trembled a bit

"This is the Heian Era…the year is 1185…" You looked at him as he stood grounded on the spot contemplating the meaning of his life

Now that you observed him, he was wearing weird clothing the fabric was also very different from what you had ever seen, it was so smooth and very different from cotton- almost otherworldly

"Is he a noble? from Heian-kyo?", you thought to yourself and backed away a bit

"I am…1000 years in the past oh shit"

"Shit? What does it mean? which part are you from? your Japanese is very weird" You looked at him even more confused, even his accent was weird and some words he used were different

"Ah…." he looked at you struggling to explain

"You see…I am from the future more than 1000 years from the future, I know it sounds absurd but..it is the truth" he looked at you seriously meaning every word he said

"Huh? What-what bullshit are you saying? Are you a psycho? possessed?" you looked at him bewildered

"What is bullshit?" he looked at you confused

"I-I am leaving; good day to you, to ask what bullshit means I- you should find a priest" Picking up your bucket you hurried away wondering why you always met weirdos

"Wait-!" he yelled but you turned deaf to his words and ran as fast as your feet allowed you to.

You ran as fast as you could but he appeared in front of you almost like magic

"Please listen to me! I am not lying!!" he grabbed you by the shoulders frantically

"I really am from the future!"

"You freak let go of me!! AHHHHH!" you punched him doing little to no damage and screaming

This continued for some time, you running and him teleporting wherever you were it went on for a few hours and soon both of you sat panting on the ground

"Man…you sure got some stamina.." he wiped the sweat off his forehead simultaneously removing the blindfold

You froze- his eyes- were breathtaking; looking into them your heart exploded like fireworks, so serene, it felt like you were looking at the sky itself. You had never seen such eyes ever

How can someone be this good-looking?

"What? too captive by my looks~ Ah I guess even in the Heian Era I am attractive~" he leaned in with a smirk causing you to look away blushing crimson

"Who would!? you demon! Get away!"

He pouted a bit disappointed

"H…How do I believe you are from the future? And your powers? What are you?"

"I am a sorcerer from the Gojo Clan and…as for how I am from the future…" he scratched his head

"Got it!"

He smirked and took out a weird looking box and opened it

"Here try some, I bet you have never eaten something like this! It is a cheesecake that too from a very famous shop"

With swift movement from his hands, he put the cake in your hands, its scent was sweet, it was jiggly- even a bit liquid-y making you wonder if it was poison

"You...you sure humans can eat this?" your hands trembled as you held the plate

"Yes, it is! here~" he took the fork in his hands and ate a small bite of the cake- grinning

"Ah it really is good~"

Seeing him eat it and look so elated you also wanted a bite- how bad could it be? with a gulp and sharp breath you took a bite- a bite so good it made your eyes light up-

The flavor was exploding in your mouth, it had a rich and creamy flavor with a slightly tangy and sweet taste. The texture was smooth and dense melting in your mouth it felt like heaven.

"It must be so expensive....even in death I doubt I could eat something like this.."

He paused for a moment but then a smile crept up his lips

"Eh it was nothing just enjoy~" he winked

"You should see your reaction~ now that's a nice expression! It makes me wonder what other reactions you can make if I gave you other things~" smirking he leaned in his breath inches away from yours

"So...Do you believe me now?"

"....Yeah" nodding you took another bite

"Yay! Thank you~ please look after me from now on~"

[Link to my master list~ enjoy!]

[mulders-too-large-shirt]

s3 episode 23 thoughts

the previous episode was SO good. but, it is true, i was distracted by the dog. it was SUCH!! a perfect episode. EXCEPT for that one thing. so i hope that today, i can face this episode with a clear head, free of judgement based on the fate of little dogs.

well, boy, i did face this episode with a clear mind, and wow. wowza. another AMAZING ep... and i will keep the angst from this episode in my heart forever and bottle it and take a nice long swig when i need my msr feels, which is basically always. wow. an exclamation point doesn't even feel APPROPRIATE, it just needs to hang in the air for a bit. (wiping tears away) wow....

let us go back to yesterday's notes, which shall commence below:

reading the episode description... so this one features murders linked to a device that alters television signals… huh. man, too many people i know don’t even have cable anymore. this simply would not work in the modern era. imagine if hulu or tubi or something made you kill people though lmao that would be silly to imagine.

we open with a guy digging a hole in the woods. always a promising start. seems he’s in an orchard of some sort? and the music is very very creepy. 

okay, so just as you suspect, this dude is burying a dead guy. sometimes your gut instinct is correct and tropes are not meant to be subverted. but the dude who is burying him says “your killing days are OVER” so is this actually a justice arc??? hmm. it is not clear. man, it would be hard to dig a hole like that.

shovel murder man is at home washing the blood off. but then someone else approaches him and he kills THAT GUY TOO WITH THE SHOVEL?? huh? what is going on. 

police at da guy’s house. everyone has the same face as the dude he just killed??? so they tase him. and then the faces go back to their REAL faces. now what is going on here!!!!!!!!!!

as the real faces return, the man realizes he killed someone named sarah!!! and he seems sooo upset by the fact that he killed sarah!!!! poor sarah :(

so does the tv make you see other people’s faces on the bodies of random people….? omg that’s insidious...

we now shift to a different scene, one where mulder is sitting in his car at 2 am. doing what???? waiting for some guy!!! he was waiting TWO HOURS for this guy!!! who is this guy...? it's giving blind date/drug deal.

the man who enters his car gives him a newspaper clipping about the murders we just saw. and mulder came here after getting AN ANONYMOUS EMAIL in the middle of the night??? this is crazy because literally so many people want him dead and this would have been a very easy way to accomplish that goal. wow. seriously, no self-preservation instincts on this guy.

mystery man says he has no obligation to explain what is going on, but if mulder walks away from it, more people will die. so no pressure!! xx

cutscene to a hospital, where mulder is watching our murderer through glass, while scully comes in saying that she is sorry she is late, but “the beltway was a parking lot”. beltway refers to interstate 495! thank you wikipedia i love your services!

murderer is named joseph. and he claims to have been killing the same guy over and over again, and that he wouldn’t die. which seems pretty awful.

OH! and the week before, in the same town, a babysitter attacked the kids she was watching because she thought they were WOLVES??? omg that is horrific??

they’re talking to the physician, dr. stroman, who says perhaps this was provoked by amphetamine abuse. then joseph starts SCREAMING. he sees a guy on the TV- miriskovic- sorry y’all idk my post-soviet history 💔 (update: i googled it, i don't even think that guy was real because all the results are links to wikis on this specific episode... reveals how little i truly know)

anyway, seeing that guy's face on the TV seems to have triggered the screaming situation. does he have trauma from the country he used to live in and seeing references to it makes these things happen…? that would be a wild episode. put me in the writer's room and let me cook.

scully quickly picks up on the fact that this case is Weird, and mulder admits it came from some random guy, which makes her suspicious. but they go to the crime scene, and, like always, he lifts the crime scene tape up over her head, and it’s very charming despite the lack of sensibility in going down this whole rabbit hole.

the minute they get in, they hear screaming and a gunshot! but it’s just some kids watching TV??? eating popcorn in a crime scene??? LMAO WHAT?

mulder kicks them out and scruffs one of the boy’s heads... ohhhh he needs to be a father so bad huh... like i have been saying this since s1 he just has a Need to tease and spoil children. well, we can unpack that another time. there's crime afoot.

so he watches the tv and it starts to go all static-y because a guy outside is fixing the wires. scully finds a TON of tapes and they’re just shelves and shelves of cable TV shows!!!

“there must be hundreds of videos here”, she says, to which he asks “anything good?” <- idk why this made me giggle. it sounded like he was gonna put one in and chill for a bit lmao

scully starts to wonder if seeing the cable news, like joseph had recorded, was what triggered his episode back at the hospital. ooooh! a theory!!! 

cut to mulder watching a tape in the bed of his motel, making an absolute pile of sunflower seeds- this dude is gonna attract mice or something someday omfg- and also he has a cola which is peak american culture. LMAOOOO he has a HUGE pile of tapes on the floor i’m crying... my type A self could NOT deal with him!

he says he watched 36 hours of bernard shaw and bobbi batista and is now also ready to kill someone as scully welcomes him into her room, which also has cola but is much more nicely organized! she found something weird on the tapes from late april, each a night when he committed a murder 

AND WHY DID MULDER GET ALL COZIED UP ON HER COUCH?????? hooooooly fuck i have never seen such a baby girl of a man

OMFG??? all the reports from the murder nights feature that miriskovic guy!!!

so did seeing violence make him violent? mulder says no, and that theory assumes that “americans are just empty vessels, ready to be filled with any idea or image that’s fed to them like a bunch of pavlov dogs, and go out and act on it” oh if only this man could see the news lately……… insert ben affleck smoking a cigarette image here to describe the things we see in our current age. mulder you would not believe.

he’s really bashing her theory, but she’s saying maybe he was high and seeing these things sent him on a spiral- makes sense to me

he is leaving to go get some sleep (after admitting he can’t explain what is going on!!! which always endears me) but scully says she is going to watch the rest of the tapes… a herculean task for our girl

middle of the night and it’s still tape time for scully, but she hears the phone ringing. she hears mulder having a conversation. and he says “no, she doesn’t” which is weird… that is suspicious… what doesn't she...

scully chews her ice which is so funny because me too sometimes. she has chewed all of her ice and must fetch more. and get a cola ofc!!! nothing more american than a cold soda iktr!

but she sees mulder in his car??? lighting up with cig man???? HUH??? and handing over a tape? omfg this is crazy. i assume she is hallucinating though, because no way….

cutscene to a lady named helene watching “the price is nice” (lmaooo) and washing some dishes. but the soap in the dishes starts to look funny- and everything is glitching around her!!! she sees a man outside in a hammock… kissing a woman!!! and oh, she is furious!! she gets her SHOTGUN?? this has escalated very fast. and we hear some shooting!!!

scully is still very visibly disturbed. mulder is reporting the murder, but she seems like a shell of herself. she checks the ash tray in the car, and there is no ash… she notices the car has been moved and he says he got a paper…. why do you ask…. “nothing. it’s nothing” OHHH THIS IS JUICY

so the crime scene has a very bloody hammock. and a dead man, who the wife claims he saw in the hammock with a blonde. but the only other creature at the scene was a dog!!!

OH!!! the hammock man wasn’t even helene's HUSBAND??? this really is LAYERED!! she killed the NEIGHBOR thinking it was her husband, who wasn’t even in town!!!!!! how do you mess this up so badly?

despite the fact that scully is clearly suspicious of mulder, she is sharing the umbrella with him in their usual fashion, and the sense of tension this produces is delicious 

they go to investigate the crime scene and mulder finds some sort of bike and immediately climbs upon it while proclaiming that television does NOT cause violence (LMAOOO HE IS SO WEIRD i need him.) 

they find a bunch more tapes and AGAIN the same guy is messing with the cables outside while they're investigating!!!! mulder is in chase mode!!!! but he cannot chase this dude in the van!!! no man, even a track star such as him, can outrun a van carrying secrets!

scully is trying to fast forward the TV and she looks out to see mulder climbing the pole…. average day for a man like him. he finds a weird cable scrambler in there. she wants to send it to the crime lab, but he says he’ll do the analysis, and she should go interview helene the murderer. OH... she is so suspicious, she just wants to go home…. scully :((( mulder is deeply confused as to why she is being so weird 

so he takes the thingy to the lone gunmen, who say it looks like it’s used for blocking premium cable channels, which i didn’t even know was a thing, you learn so much with this show. but it doesn’t block anything!!! HOWEVER, if you compare a tv with the machine and one without it, the one with the machine is slightly different. hmm...

“you know how television works?” “yeah, you click it on, you have a picture” <- the man who said that line went to oxford btw

it seems that this cable blocker thingy is adding some sort of frequency, but they can’t tell what… hmm.

mulder on the road. scully calls and only asks “where are you” in this very flat and creepy tone and OH i’m scared!!!!

he tries to explain that there is some sort of signal being introduced to the tv- he even says she might be right about the tv inducing violence theory! but she isn’t answering… she hears a clicking, like they're being listened to, and she says he never went to the detective…. let’s wait and talk on a landline, he says.

despite being in his car many miles away, he can tell that there is something very wrong with scully. he says don’t go anywhere, he’ll be right there, and redials after she hangs up. it's very much echoing when she said something similar to him in his crazed gargoyle quest.

but she is so scared, she rips the phone out of the wall and takes it apart!!!! and then the lamp too, and the table. she is checking everything for any sort of bugs!

holy hell, we have never seen her like this before... but i’m actually gagged because she is usually relatively stoic and seeing her paranoid is so different, but it also feels very natural??? she is acting her ass off here as she rips up everything in this motel room. big shoutout to GA, i love your work.

and the static that set in helene's vision earlier is setting in hers now!!! she hears a car pull up and drops to the floor…. she hears a man say “she’s in here” and a pounding on the door. 

OMFG someone tries to open the door and she FIRES 4 SHOTS RIGHT AWAY??? but it’s mulder!!!!

(author's note: i was thinking after i finished the episode, and we know that she is a good shot- remember how she hit just the right angle to knock mulder out but not kill him at the end of s2? so she is either SO out of it that she cannot even aim straight, or there is a tiny tiny tiny part of her that still thinks that mulder isn't worth killing. please mull over which option brings you greater angst)

he’s coming in with his gun and his hair is blowing in the wind and he can’t FIND HER!!!!! it was really very dramatic. hair blowing in the wind has this effect.

cutscene to scully’s mom’s house, and we see a picture of young scully on the table... AWW stop she’s so cuuuute and one of missy as well 😭😭😭

OH! it’s mulder on the phone calling mrs. scully in the middle of the night!!! NOOOO he has to tell her that he doesn’t know where she is :( NOOOO poor mrs. scully has gone through too much. he feels SO bad breaking this news, that he even apologizes for hanging up right away, something he never ever does. he must be in deeeep distress to do such a thing.

and why does he hang up?? because SKINNER IS HERE!!! he’s leading a manhunt for scully, and mulder is saying she shouldn’t be hunted like a convict… but skinner says dude SHE FIRED FOUR ROUNDS AT YOU AND SOME RANDOM GUY last night!!!!

despite this, mulder insists that he can get her to listen to him if they just keep her safe; she’s suffering from some sort of paranoid psychosis. skinner is being quite patient as he tries to explain that the video tapes made her do it. skinner says well... you better find her before these guys do.

GASP!!! he’s putting up the x on his window! and doing that thing where he bounces his basketball because he cannot relax!!! stop i'm emotional!!!!!

the lone gunmen call to say they found something on the tape…. and it induces electrical activity…. MIND CONTROL???

but why wasn’t he effected?

! MULDER LORE REVEAL ! HE’S RED-GREEN COLORBLIND???? THIS IS AN INSANE LORE DROP TO GIVE NEARLY 4 SEASONS IN??????

wait, is this just for plot purposes, or is DD actually colorblind and they decided to roll with it? because now i’m gonna be looking at all the red-ish things we see on screen (like his tie he is grabbing to emphasize his point) and wonder, can he see that? how does this impact his tie selection process....

okay that really threw me off guard. man, i was getting to think we'd never get another lore reveal, which is a shame because i quite like formatting those facts in that way. good to know we could get more at anytime!

he gets a phone call from maryland state police. the lone gunmen ask if she’s okay and he says no, he has to go and ID the body. WHAT!!!! WHAT!!!!!!!!!!!! he is trying to keep composed. holy fuck………..

(heavy breathing as i grab your shoulder and squeeze) hey man. hey. he was trying so hard to be strong.

so he pulls up to the morgue and stops before he gets out of the car, and holds his head above the wheel STOP I’LL CRY???? i’ll cry… what are they putting him through??? losing her again……..

(i mean i have SEEN gifs of scully in seasons past this one, so i know she's gonna pull through, but HE doesn't know that, and must be reliving the worst days of his life AGAIN, and aughhhhh!)

but the mystery guy from the start of the episode that give him the info on the muders pulls up and says get in right now!!!!!! mulder is furious, he says he’s busy. in a shocking display of insensitivity, mystery man says he does not give a fuck. mulder is yelling that this is all his fault. mystery man says “they” are destroying the evidence, and they’ll finish it by tomorrow if he keeps searching for her, but he kicks the door shut and ignores him.

(omg…. he loves her enough to break him out of his bloodhound mode… the dogged ahab-like quest for answers and revenge… i’m getting flashbacks to his conversation with missy in one breath…….. realizing he needs to put the ones he loves before his need for revenge sometimes..... wow)

so he walks into the morgue, and the dude in there says they found a body nude and shot in the forehead.

he closes his eyes to try and brace himself before taking a peek, to prepare to see her lifeless, probably reliving those many hours by her bedside when she was in the hospital, trying to imagine her shot in the forehead, the scully he knows and loves with her dry humor and her teasing smile and caffeine dependency, the her that is so full of life, lifeless…

but it isn’t her. PHEW!

despite this being good news that he has to share- she's not dead! her mother isn’t answering her phone…. so he goes to her house. and i'm thinking, oh my gosh, did she do something rash in her grief?

but mrs. scully answers the door and claims dana isn’t here. he bursts in and says he needs to see her right now. omg, he saw right through her lies.

(also, it always feels weird to refer to her as dana, but moving on)

NO!!!! she has him at gunpoint and says he’s here to kill him!!! poor guy looks so flabbergasted… and her mom is trying to get her to please put down the gun, and he’s trying to explain what is going on!!! he is so singularly locked into her…. 

“he’s lied to me from the beginning. he’s never trusted me” “scully, you are the only one i trust” AUGHHHHH (rips my clothes off of my body in biblical levels of grief) 

“you’re one of the people who abducted me” AUGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH (rips off not only my clothing but also my hair as i experience emotions that rival what job from the bible went through)

she’s CRYING, and saying he killed her sister while her mom gets between him and the gun… and she’s saying she knows she’s safe here, that’s why she came here, and to put the gun down. and she falls into her mother’s arms sobbing. 

WHAAAAAAAAT. and he had to watch all that… oh my scully oh my goodness my poor scully…

timeskip a little bit. he shows up to the hospital where scully is with her mother, and mockingly puts his hands up in surrender, because he is so STUPID and he always has to make a joke, and i love him so terribly, so so so terribly, because he loves HER.

she's laying in the bed, and he shuts off the tv and asks how she’s feeling. she says she is ASHAMED- as if being a victim of mind control was a personal failing. scully, i want to yell, you have NO REASON to be ashamed, let me take all the shame from you and carry it elsewhere. she says it was like the world was turned upside down.

and he makes ANOTHER stupid joke about the world being out to get him, and now she knows how he feels-

before leaning in and explaining how joseph, the first murderer on this case, became convinced he was killing the bosnian war criminal who people called “the modern hitler”, which was especially important to him because both of his parents survived the holocaust. hence his line about the killing days being over!!!

and helene was scared her husband would cheat on her. so somehow the TV signal turned their worst fears into a living nightmare. 

OHHHH HER WORST NIGHTMARE IS HIM BETRAYING HER. HIM BEING RESPONSIBLE FOR HER GOING MISSING AND LOSING HER AUTONOMY AND MEMORIES... wails into my shirt. 

(this reminds me of that episode in s2- irresistible- when we learn her biggest fear is that humans are capable of terrible horrific things and grasping to trust despite that knowledge. we’re seeing that again right here. how uncertainty seeps in)

THEY CALL HIM THE CANCER MAN!!! wow very official canon recognition of the name (yeah it’s happened before but it happened again so that is cool) anyway she says she saw him giving cancer man the tapes and reporting.

he says that maybe cancer man was behind this, but then he whispers “why don’t you try and get some rest?” and there is something in me that melts so entirely as he leaves her to sleep.

(perhaps it is the fact that hurt/comfort and whump are my favorite tropes. because is there anything more intimate than letting someone see you at your most vulnerable, and them choosing to love you at it? is there any feeling more cutting than seeing your loved one suffer and knowing you’d stop the world for an instant of their relief? the terrible desperation of both parties, the wordless connection upon recovery, someone being the last thing you see before everything fades to black and then the first person you see when you return... yeah. it’s cathartic. but also it makes me want to yell and cry. pls give me all the hurt/comfort content)

so the doctor found high serotonin levels in her that maybe can be associated with mania, but now they’re back to normal. he asks if someone in her situation would be diagnosed with amphetamine abuse, and she says no. then he quickly calls the hospital where joseph is staying… what is he cooking in there…

he wants to talk to joseph's doctor, dr. stroman, who left behind only a number from the motel…. and he had JUST checked out…. so he’s going through his stuff. and asking about his calls. and he DOES find a cigarette in his room but a lot of people smoke so… try not to jump to conclusions juni… but the cigarettes mean one thing in this show!!! was this innocent-looking doctor behind such a cruel experiment?!

he calls and has the last number the doctor called get checked from the folks at the lab… so he goes to visit the place of residence and creepy music is playing. the dude from the cable company we saw before rolls up!!! he walks right inside the house, so mulder peeks inside. it seems the people in the house set up a trap of some sort, as they are talking about “him” showing up at 7.

he bursts in after hearing gunshots and both of the men in there are dead!!! shot in the head!!!!

who is there... but X???? X says he HAD to kill those men- he just hoped mulder would get them first. and oh, mulder is YELLING AT X!!! he is letting him HAVE IT!!! he says he is a coward, he was too scared to unveil the situation with the mind control TV murders himself….. he says X NEVER risks his own life, but he sure does make him risk mulder and scully’s.

OH! he is holding X at gunpoint. all X is saying is that he failed, and that mulder needs him. so he walks out, confident he won't pull the trigger. and he doesn't. 

WHAT! i need to kind of just let that sit for a second. i need to figure out this X fellow, but i get the sense i never will…. he failed… because he chose to try and save scully…….

cutscene to skinner’s office, where mulder is giving him a report. and scully walks in and says that dr. stroman DIED IN 1978!!! when skinner asks about the killer, mulder jumps in and says he remains unknown… oh, skinner is def gonna pick up on that….

so now we see X in a random back alley. getting into a car…. WITH CANCER MAN?????? X REPORTS TO CANCER MAN??? he asks if he has completed his work, and X reports that he has cleaned out all the personnel, everything is removed, but mulder still has a device. and mulder’s source has been eliminated. but the source’s source remains unknown. oh, he’s def lying through his teeth.

OOOOOOH this episode was SO good.

oh man, my brain is racing in a bunch of different directions. scully breaking down and sobbing into her mother’s arms…. scully convinced that mulder is a traitor, that he did those terrible things to her…. mulder so scared that she was gone, bouncing his basketball, getting a call from the police department that he had to go identify her… choosing her, even in what he thought was death, over following the Truth… the sick and twisted relationship he has with X, and X with Cancer Man, and Cancer Man with the world… it’s making me think of how mulder broke into his house that one time, was going to kill him over what he did to scully, and cancer man had the nerve to say he liked mulder… OOOH my brain is just racing racing racing. 

poor scully… how scared she was, how horrified afterward… 

other things that are on my mind, in no particular order: the bond between scully and her mother; mulder being all babygirl on that couch; mulder hopping on that bicycle and picking up some random doll from the murder victim's house; how haunting scully's voice was when she asked him over the phone where he was; their cola drinking; mrs. scully trusting mulder no matter what; how he tried to cover the grief in his voice when he told the lone gunmen he had to go identify her body; how he kicked the door shut of the mystery man, damning the investigation to pay his respects; how his head hovered above the wheel of the car before he got out to do that; how X uses and uses him to no clear end, and what is HE doing reporting to cig man, and what was that random doctor doing conducted fucked up experiments on random people; and scully's miraculously bad aim; mulder's conviction he could talk sense into her (spoiler: he could not); her shame at being convinced he had been the one who abducted her; how terrifying that must have been; and his stupid jokes when he walked into her hospital room, with the sincerity he tries so hard to outrun and outfox breaking through in his whispered why don't you get some rest?

so needless to say, i see why this one is a fan-favorite. this is certainly one i will be revisiting in the future when i need something strong. i have a million things to think over that will stick with me Forever, and i am in no rush to move on from this. in fact, i took these notes yesterday, but in the process of editing them tonight, i have decided i am not ready for the season finale and will have to save it for tomorrow because i'm still feeling So Many Things. so stay tuned to see how that goes, because whew!

[yandereunsolved]

In Death & Life

Pairing: James Patrick March x Fallen angel gn reader Summary: You preform a necromancy ritual on your fiancé to bring him back from death. The both of you reminisce and connect with each other on the mortal plane. trigger warning(s): none word count: 674 a/n: Just a short little thing. I lost determination to write it all the way so I gave it a satisfying end.

Ceremonial crimson candles cast an ominous shadow amongst the room that hides the secrets of a killer. The wicks slowly burn towards their inevitable end, the ritual already underway. Room sixty-four lies bare of any of its previous furnishings. A salt ring lies in the middle. Nothing lies within the ring; not even the light from the candles dare touch it. For it is crowded with the souls of the damned. The demonic entities praising the one that helps their master rise from his grave.

A bowl of rose water lies right outside the ring. A figure clad in cloth blacker than the hearts of men. A veil covers their face as they mutter ancient incantations only known by a chosen few. They mutter them fervently, almost obsessively. Again and again in a seemingly never ending loop.

Their knees ache from kneeling for so many hours. Their heart aches more—your heart aches more. Your heart beats for the man you are resurrecting: James Patrick March. Your James Patrick March. Your beloved fiancé. The one you saved from that wretched woman. The Countess may have felt nothing for the darkness, but you feel everything. You slit her neck and her tower of power crumbled beneath your feet. You filled the hole in his soon beating chest.

You coat your numb hands in the rosewater. One of the final steps in his resurrection. Having an affinity for death and necromancy since childhood finally came to fruition. Without his original body, you had to haggle a few souls in the Cortez for a demon to create a new one for him. In that moment, it was all worth it.

You stand as your hand reaches into the salt circle. The shadows receded as the flames of the candles cast them away. The dance between the devils and the darkness intertwined into both of your souls. He calls out to you like a spellbinding siren's song. From the depths of the shadows comes your true love.

His body was exactly that while in his ghost form. His ravenette strands still ever slicked back. The trimmed mustache of his sitting proudly above this top lip. His toned body was proudly suited to those three pieces. His neck slit is now healed, but the scar is apparent.That charming smile, goddesses, it looks even better now. 

"You are reborn as a warlock, my love. Immortal. Alive." Your words are hoarse and barely escape your cracked lips.

Your shaking hands are struggling to listen to the commands that your mind is giving them. Your left thumb barely touches his cheek before he has dragged you across the circle, separating the salt circle and making it incomplete. You couldn't even begin to care, as the ritual is complete. You are held in his deathly, loving grip once again.

"Indeed, darling. I am now the most famous serial killer both alive and dead." He whispers fervently as he places feather light kisses on each of your knuckles. "We shall wed in a few days time. Our consummation will finally be with the both of us living."

Your frayed wings and broken halo appear for a single moment. After all, you cannot risk using your abilities too often. Lest the angels hunt you, or the devils wish to make deals for your power. Once a mighty angelic being is now only the shell of one. Your wings are nothing more than bone, and your halo floats above your head in pieces. More fragments of your once-heavenly halo chip off and fall every day. Further tethering you to the mortal realm. 

You wrap the bones around his body as tears fall from your otherworldly eyes. His oddly tender hands wipe the tears away. He brings each finger up to his mouth as he tastes your sadness. A pleased smirk appears on his features as he places a teasing kiss on your delicate temple.

"You taste absolutely divine." He purrs gently as he tugs your waist closer towards him. "I cannot wait to taste you even more after our dinner tonight."

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈

.ೃ࿐ -ˋˏ ༻❁༺ ˎˊ- .ೃ࿐

⟿ taglist: @coentinim @bluerthanvelvet444 @cxndiedvi0lets @lacucarachapisser @etheral-moon @fear-is-truth @slutforgarlogan @newwavesylviaplath @violet1737 @marchsfreakshow

.ೃ࿐ -ˋˏ ༻❁༺ ˎˊ- .ೃ࿐

[rambleonwaywardson]

Clegan Astronaut AU - Part 16

Masterpost Read on AO3

Definitions post has been updated

AU Summary: the boys as modern day NASA astronauts. Taking place in 2025, Bucky is about to head to the moon as mission commander of Artemis III while Buck is CAPCOM at NASA. Established relationship (obnoxiously in love).

Author's Note: “He’s the heavens and the Earth and the depths of the sea. He’s the entire universe, settled into stardust, at the center of a single beautiful soul.”

---

I will love you.

Even if this life tries to tear you limb from limb, plaguing us both with nightmares that clutch at our throats and bind our hands in iron shackles of a memory that might never leave us in peace. I will love you even if you come back to me a changed man, an echo of who you thought yourself to be, the remnants of someone who dared to fly too close to the sun. I will love you in life, and I will love you in death, and I will love you in every infinitesimal point between the two. I will love you.

In any way that you are.

I will love you even if you don’t remember me. If your eyes should find mine and not recognize within them the life we lived, the way your hands held mine and the way your voice forged the foundation of my life, I will still love you. If your fingers shake and your voice breaks and your lungs give out, I will hold you up with every last bit of strength I have. Because I will love you, even if you can’t say it back, even if you can’t feel it the same way, even if it will bring me to pieces every damn day… I will love you, even if you don’t come home to me.

You’ve come so far, and I need you to come just a little farther. It won’t be easy. It will hurt. I’m selfish, I know, but as I wait for the tides to bring you home, every time my heart beats, it’s beating for you. Every breath I take is to remind you to breathe, too. I hold my head high and I speak with the certainty of the officer, the leader, that they tell me I was born to be. I grit my teeth and I tear my hair out and I wear holes in the floor as I pace to the ends of the Earth, acting like I’m fine when everyone knows, I’m still standing because I have no choice. To sit down is to give up, and I will not give up on you.

I will love you. With everything that I have. I will love you. From the heavens above to the sea below. I will love you. From the dawn of time to the end of time. I will love you. Because I don’t know who I am if I don’t. 

I will love you.

So please, come home.

—

November 26 Low Earth Orbit

Helen: “Rosie? Do you copy?”

Helen: “Rosie?”

Rosie: “Huh?”

Rosie reaches a clumsy hand up to rub at his eyes, and he squints into the sterile darkness of the cabin. It’s quiet, everyone asleep, the Earth looming large out their window. So close he feels like he could fall right into it, but they aren’t ready yet.

Helen: “Can you check on John? His heart rate and breathing are elevated.”

Rosie takes a deep breath, closing his eyes for a moment to gather strength. It’s the middle of the night, and he feels like he hasn’t slept in days. Because he hasn’t. But he makes a noise of acknowledgement and releases himself from his sleeping bag, drifts away from the wall it’s strung up on. When he makes it over to Bucky, the commander is fussing, making sounds of distress. Rosie has found him like this several times in the last couple days – he always seems most confused, most agitated, at night, when it’s dark and he’s alone. When Bucky’s eyes meet Rosie’s, sure enough, there’s little comprehension there. His hair is matted to his forehead with sweat.

“Shit, shit no, don’t do that, John.” Rosie lunges forward to grab at Bucky’s hand, which is tugging weakly at the IV taped to his arm. The skin around it is extremely irritated and the catheter rests at an off angle that makes Rosie’s heart drop. “Fuck. Oh god, John…”

Helen: “What’s going on, Rosie?”

Rosie pushes away from Bucky to get the lights turned on, unable to move fast enough in this little cabin when there’s no gravity to scramble through. His other crewmates groan at the brightness. Waking to Bucky trying to injure himself in some new way every night is not all that different from the faulty alarms they dealt with on the way to the moon, except now it’s their friend that’s malfunctioning.

When Rosie tells Helen “He’s dislodged his IV,” everyone wakes up that little bit more and starts to get moving.

Rosie unzips Bucky’s sleeping bag and pulls him upright, the commander fighting him the entire time. When Rosie tries to grab his arm to get at the IV, Bucky whines and shakes his head, pulling away.

“I need to get that out of there before it causes serious damage, John,” Rosie explains. “You’re gonna need a new one for the morning.”

Bucky shakes his head again, going so far as to block the catheter with his other hand. Rosie reaches for his hand and clamps clammy fingers between his own.

He grips his own hair with his other hand, trying to stay patient even though his own heart is beating too fast and he feels half delirious from exhaustion. “I know you don’t like it,” he says carefully. “But you need all the strength you can get before we go home. It’s only for… about six more hours, okay? That’s all I’m asking for. Let me fix this, and I’ll take it out in six hours. Deal?”

Bucky shakes his head, but the motion makes him so dizzy that his eyes go wide and he groans in discomfort, seeming to lose all sense of orientation in the zero g. His nose scrunches and he closes his eyes against the sensation. Somehow, he ends up with his head resting against Rosie’s shoulder for support. Rosie sighs and wraps an arm around him, holding him close and rubbing his side soothingly. He half expects Bucky to ask for Gale, seeking that safety again, but he doesn’t. He just stays there, tucked against Rosie’s side, too sick to move or care or comprehend any of it, wanting nothing more than comfort and someone to take some of the pain away. He won’t remember any of this, save for uncomfortable snapshot moments.

Rosie lets him stay there for a good few minutes, by which point Alex and Curt have both snapped into action, communicating with Helen about what’s happening. Curt makes his way to Bucky’s other side, brushes back his sweaty hair, offers him his water pouch. Bucky sips weakly, but struggles to swallow and makes no move to try again. His progress and regression occurred in whiplash increments as it was, but the fever has sapped any strength he was regaining right out of him.

As Curt convinces him to take another sip, Alex brings over the necessary supplies to remove Bucky’s IV so Rosie can replace it.

Rosie squeezes Bucky’s shoulder. “I’m gonna take out your IV, alright?”

Bucky protests weakly, wordlessly. As Rosie is about to shift around to his front and get to work anyway, Bucky points at the far side of the crew cabin. “Bear.”

Rosie follows his finger, and sure enough, Beary Egan has floated away, clear to the window of the capsule, where he seems to be looking out at the Earth below them. A quick little laugh pops out of Rosie’s mouth. “Is that what’s got you so worked up? Trying to tear out your IV because you lost the bear?”

Bucky doesn’t answer, but his eyes follow Alex as he retrieves the stuffed animal, and he reaches for it. Once Beary Egan is in his hand again, he gives Rosie no issue about cleaning up his arm and replacing the IV.

—

Johnson Space Center. Houston, TX

“Your husband’s a sassy little shit, you know,” Benny says when Gale arrives in Mission Control. Red Shift doesn’t start for another couple of hours, but Gale insisted on coming in early as the crew preps for re-entry, mostly in case Bucky needs him for any reason. Marge was coming in regardless to speak with reporters about the re-entry process, and she was all too happy to shove Gale off on Benny when they arrived.

“You’re driving me insane, Gale,” she told him when he wouldn’t stop shaking his leg or tapping his fingers or biting his lip. The depressed, tired grief that Marge has been worried about for days has been replaced with an anxious energy as Gale awaits Bucky’s safe return. She gave him a tight hug before he entered Mission Control, taking a minute to help him regulate his breathing. “Calm down, and keep your head on this planet.”

“That’s not news,” Gale tells Benny now. John’s always been a sassy little shit.

“Even when he’s sick, sitting on death’s door…” Benny throws his hands out in exasperation. Gale swallows the pressing need to say don’t say that. Because Bucky is going to be fine. He has to be fine. 

Instead, he asks what happened. And Benny tells him about the IV ordeal, which makes Gale rub a hand over his eyes because it’s too damn early to be told that Bucky keeps finding ways to almost kill himself. If he came all this way only to die by air embolism…

“We’re all pretty sure Rosie caught it before it caused any damage,” Benny reassures him. “Replaced it with a new one for the morning, and Rosie’ll take it out before they get him suited up.”

An equally demoralizing thing to hear is that Bucky’s fever isn’t getting any better, and, among other obvious ailments, it’s left him confused, uncomfortable, and lethargic all night and for much of the morning. He started refusing food again last night, complaining of nausea and extreme pain. He hasn’t been very lucid, and his strength is pretty much shot. But he’s started talking more throughout the morning.

“Any time I try to talk to him, he just says ‘fuck you,’” Benny reports. “I know he can say other words. I’ve heard him talking to the guys. But for me, all I get is a fuck you.”

Benny rolls his eyes in irritation, muttering something along the lines of “what the fuck did I do?” But it makes Gale smile for the first time since he left JSC yesterday, because if nothing else, that sounds like John. He accepts the spare headset that Benny grudgingly holds out to him.

Gale: “Good morning Artemis 3. I hear my husband is being a handful.”

Curt: “Benny’s just a wuss.”

Gale: “Is John there?”

Curt tells him to wait a moment, then there’s crackling as headsets turn on and off on the other side of the transmission. Gale exhales a breath he didn’t realize he was holding when he hears Bucky’s voice.

Bucky: “Hey doll.”

Gale: “How are you?”

Bucky: “... pretty bad.”

Gale nods, biting at his lip. A dumb question. He resists the urge to tell his husband that everything’s gonna be okay, that he’ll be okay.

Gale: “You’re coming home today, you know.”

Bucky: “Mmm.”

Rosie: “Heads up, Buck, he’s speaking well but he’s still pretty out of it. Can’t focus for shit. Keeps getting confused and disoriented.”

Gale: “Thanks Rosie. John, I’m here at the space center for the day, okay? I’ll be right here with you if you need me.”

Bucky: “Mkay.”

Gale: “I love you.”

Bucky: “Mhm.”

Gale shakes his head and ignores the way Benny is trying not to laugh beside him.

Rosie: “Sorry, Buck. He’s just up here kinda existing right now. Looking out the window. I’m gonna take the headset off of him, but I’ll let you know if he needs you.”

Gale thanks Rosie, shoves Benny’s shoulder, and goes in search of coffee. 

—

On TV, a live broadcast has already started hours before Orion is scheduled to land back on Earth. A news crew is stationed outside of Johnson Space Center, where the sun has yet to rise.

“The eyes of the whole world have been on NASA for the last week, since American astronaut, Major John Egan, suffered an accident on the lunar surface that left him unconscious and in unstable condition. The Director of the Human Spaceflight Program, Colonel Neil Harding, cited a faulty rover wheel as the cause of a driving incident that ended with the rover tumbling down the side of Shackelton crater, crushing Major Egan beneath it.

“The Artemis 3 commander is said to have suffered a traumatic brain injury and a tibial fracture in addition to decompression illness after his oxygen regulator was compromised during the incident. Egan remained in a comatose state for more than two days, suffering seizures and decompression symptoms. Starship pilot, Curtis Biddick, worked tirelessly to keep Egan alive until they could rendezvous with their other crew members in the Orion crew capsule.

“Egan continues to endure TBI symptoms, but is said to be steadily recovering. The crew has spent the last three and a half days on an emergency return trajectory from the moon, and will splash down off the San Diego coast later this morning. We’re here outside of Johnson Space Center, where NASA’s Mission Control has worked nonstop to bring Major Egan and the rest of the Artemis 3 crew home alive.

“Yesterday, we spoke with Major Egan’s husband, Major Gale Cleven, who is a flight controller and fellow astronaut slated to travel to the moon on Artemis 4. This is the first time we’ve heard from Major Cleven since the incident occurred.”

The broadcast cuts to a clip from the day before, when the reporter jumped Gale and Marge as they walked into JSC. Gale is dressed in his typical Mission Control work attire, his hair is styled perfectly, and dark aviators hide the exhaustion in his eyes. It’s obvious that talking to this reporter is the last thing he wants to do, but when she asks him about re-entry and John’s odds for survival, he turns and flashes that cocky pilot’s grin. Major Buck Cleven.

“We’re gonna bring our boys home safe,” he assures her.

“Including your husband?”

His smile falters, but he nods and runs a hand through his hair, somehow managing to look calm and sure when he’s anything but. “Yes.”

She asks about failure, what it could mean for the space program.

Gale looks at her for a long moment, works his jaw. He starts to turn away. “Failure is not an option,” he states, an Apollo-era motto that still rings true. He walks towards the Mission Control building, head high, back straight. He doesn’t look back.

—

Bucky starts showing more signs of life as the morning goes on and activity picks up around him – cabin housekeeping, communication with Houston, calculation checks, general mayhem. As they prepare for re-entry, even Bucky’s sleeping bag has been rolled up and stowed, leaving him floating in the middle of the cabin with nothing to keep him in place for the first time since he came back aboard Orion.

Curt pats him on the shoulder and releases a mostly empty packet of soup into the air to float across the cabin to Rosie, who discards the trash. Bucky swallowed a good three quarters of the soup and seems comfortable enough, no immediate signs of spitting it back out.

“Orange juice?” he asks. He frowns and scrunches his nose, closing his eyes as his hand drifts up towards his head. Rosie took the gauze off when Bucky woke up this morning to make the com cap he’ll have to wear more comfortable. But he gave a strict warning that if Bucky scratched at the wound for so much as a second the gauze was going back on. No one could tell if he understood, but he hasn’t made any move to bother the gash since. He’s been shivering all morning, his cheeks bright red, and he keeps complaining about his head hurting.

Rosie sends a packet of orange juice drifting towards Curt, who catches it and gets it open. “Don’t let him have too much,” Rosie instructs. “I need him to keep it down this time.”

Bucky sticks his tongue out, and Curt does it back to him. “You heard the doctor. Just a few sips.”

Curt lets him drink about a quarter of the packet before pulling it away and handing it back to Rosie. Bucky wraps his arms tight over his chest, Beary Egan secure over his heart. His body shakes as he leans his forehead against the capsule window, letting the cool glass press against his forehead. His fever’s running at 101 degrees now, his face burning as chills rack his body.

Curt faces him, putting a hand on each of Bucky’s arms and rubbing at them gently. When Bucky looks at him with a pained expression, eyes wet and dazed, Curt pulls him against his chest. Bucky rests his head against Curt, looking for comfort or relief or something to make this go away. He can’t focus, can’t think, can’t move. The shivering is making his whole body tense up and everything is sore or broken as it is. The pounding in his head isn’t getting any better and he feels like he might throw up all the damn time even though he hasn’t in a little while now.

“You’re alright,” Curt tells him. “Just think, in a few hours we’ll be floatin’ in the middle of the Pacific. Sun shining. 72 degrees. The sound of the waves, the birds. Blue sky overhead.”

Bucky nods against Curt’s shoulder. “Home.”

“Yeah, we’re goin’ home. We’ll get you all fixed up. Gale’ll break down every door on the planet to get to you, and he won’t leave your side. And you’re gonna be alright.”

Bucky whispers a muffled ‘Buck’ into Curt’s shoulder, and Curt holds him tighter, willing everything he said to come true.

“Alright boys,” Rosie says, coming up beside them. “Let’s get that IV out. Time to suit up.”

—

Alex: “One minute to re-entry interface.”

With the Orion capsule returned to it’s launch/entry configuration, all four astronauts sit in the center of the cabin. They’re clad in their OCS suits, preparing for re-entry into Earth’s atmosphere. Bucky gave them some attitude about it, but he eventually conceded his seat to Alex so that Curt could have a consistently coherent co-pilot. It breaks Bucky a little bit inside, but it’s the only option. He sits in the back row with Rosie, his head turned to the side so he can see out the window. They can no longer see the entire Earth, just the curvature of its horizon and the storm systems rotating across the vast oceans, the continents outlined in browns and greens against the dark blue of the water. 

Alex: “Thirty to RRT.”

Curt: “36,076 feet per second. Comin’ in hot boys.” 

Bucky tries to read the numbers on Curt’s screen, the ones that he, as commander, should be aware of, keeping track of, and calling out. But trying to focus on the text as they hurtle full force into the planet’s atmosphere makes his vision swim, making him feel sick. He sips water from the straw in his suit’s neck ring and looks out the window again, focuses on the Earth, the stars. The feeling of flying faster than any man on Earth. He smirks a little bit. 

Bucky: “Almost as hot as you, Buck.” 

Everyone groans. Alex mutters something about preferring when Bucky couldn’t talk, even though everyone knows he doesn’t mean it.

Gale: “Save it for when you’re on land, Major.” Bucky can hear the smile in his voice, though.

Alex: “Six seconds. Five, four, three…”

Curt: “Mark. RRT. The clock is running.”

Gale: “Artemis 3, we have a dropout in telemetry. You’re passing through the atmosphere.”

Bucky’s brain latches onto the sound of Gale’s voice. The sound of home. He’s heading towards it, and he’ll make it even if it almost kills him. He tries to ignore the sharp pain ripping through his head and every part of his body, the way his vision doesn’t want to work right, the way his ears ring.

Curt: “Hundredth of a G… a tenth.”

They are officially no longer in zero gravity. Beary Egan, resuming his duty as zero g indicator, has been tied with a string to Bucky’s seat so he doesn’t get in the way during re-entry. Bucky watches him drift to the floor, no longer weightless.

Alex: “We got some glow up here.”

Curt: “Oh shit look at that.”

The exterior of the capsule is engulfed in a fiery glow as it interacts with the upper atmosphere, cutting through its layers like a bowling ball through a stack of paper. The blunt force of the capsule and the friction between it and the air causes a build-up of ionized gases, creating plasma that glows hot orange and blue. The heat shield on Orion’s exterior is the only thing protecting the crew from burning alive.

Bucky: “Fuckin’ fireball.”

Curt: “0.27 Gs… 0.65… 1.23”

Gale: “Comin’ up on 1 minute.”

Curt: “2 Gs. Comin’ up on blackout.” 

At one minute and 20 seconds, Orion hits its maximum heat load of nearly 4,500 degrees fahrenheit, a fireball hurtling through the sky half as hot as the sun itself. The plasma interferes with the signal between the capsule and the ground, causing a routine communications blackout. Around 1 minute and thirty seconds, they encounter the maximum gravitational force of their return trip, roughly 7 Gs that press them into their seats with such force that it’s nearly impossible to move, making them feel like they weigh seven times more than usual.

Bucky tries not to scream in agony at the feeling of his broken leg being crushed under the excess weight it puts on his body, gritting his teeth and groaning against the intense pain. His vision gets darker and darker around the edges and his hand tries to fumble around for Rosie’s arm, searching for something to ground himself, but it’s too hard for him to move. Rosie notices and finds his wrist, squeezing it. 

Rosie: “You’re gonna be alright, Major.”

Curt: “Gonna get you home, Bucky. Just hang on.”

Bucky: “... Can’t…” Bucky feels his heart rate going up, so fast he thinks it might burst out of his chest, but he doesn’t understand how that would be possible when his whole body is pinned to the seat.

Rosie: “Hang in there, John.”

Bucky: “Gale?”

Curt: “We’re in blackout. Hang on and I’ll get you back to him, okay?”

But the way the world is crushing his body – digging spears into his brain and twisting his leg like a wet rag – tears a scream from his lungs that no one but his crew can hear. His eyes watch the bright blue of the heat licking at the windows, like a gas stove that’s as hot as a literal star. He wonders, if the window broke open, would it vaporize him fast enough to make the pain go away? An Icarus on Earth, this capsule his wings.

His vision goes almost completely black as he watches the firestorm, listens to Curt and Alex rattle off readings. “5 Gs… 2 minutes… Look at this baby fly… 4 Gs… Pressure good… roll… She’s doin’ her job real well…”

The blaze outside starts to recede, but the one in his head doesn’t go with it. He doesn’t stay conscious long enough to hear Gale’s voice searching for his after the blackout ends. His heart feels like it might just give up. 

Rosie: “He’s out. Whole lotta Gs for him.”

Gale: “Don’t tell him that when he wakes up. He’d be embarrassed that he couldn’t handle 7 Gs.” There’s the slightest hint of nervousness to Gale’s voice, and they all know he’s trying to hide it. 

Alex: “I can’t even lift my head. Don’t wanna imagine the hell it was for him.”

Gale: “Coming up on five, boys. How’s she doing?”

Curt: “Smooth ride, Buck. Smooth as anything I’ve ever flown.”

Gale: “Can’t be too smooth then.”

Curt: “You’re full of shit.”

As the gravitational force on the capsule begins to decrease, slowing down to only a few hundred miles per hour, they can actually see the oranges and pinks and dark blues of an Earth-bound daybreak out their window.

Alex: “It’s beautiful, Houston. We’re riding at 3 Gs. Look at that sky out there!”

Gale: “We’re getting some data back now. Everything’s lookin’ good.”

Curt: “Think we’re just about at the transonic region.” Over 30,000 feet above the surface, they’re finally slowing down to Mach 1, the edge between subsonic and supersonic, the sound barrier itself.

Alex: “Let me know when we reach 30k.”

Gale: “Bring it home, boys.”

—

Red Shift took over thirty minutes before re-entry, and Gale stands behind his console with a headset over his ear, pacing back and forth with such intensity that his shoes leave scuffs on the old carpet floor. He can see Marge repeatedly glancing over at him even as she tries to focus on relaying information for the public, but he can’t deal with her worry right now. He has a crew to bring home.

He bites at his thumbnail and watches telemetry readings start to fill his and Croz’s screens once again. The capsule is performing as hoped, no major concerns yet. The heat shield survived the inferno of the upper atmosphere, protecting the crew from a fiery death. That’s what space travel is, after all – designing ways to survive one deathly hazard after another, shoving the human body past the limits of where it was meant to be. Intense gravitational forces, zero gravitational forces, star-level plasma blazes, decompression, toxic atmospheres, vacuums that suck the life out of everything that dares to enter... The list goes on.

And yet they do it anyway. They can’t get enough.

Gale knows John won’t regret this mission, no matter how much it hurts. It’s who he is. Who they both are.

“What are John’s vitals?” Gale asks, forcing his voice to stay measured. It’s only the second time he’s asked since they began re-entry over six minutes ago, and he feels like he deserves an award for that. He’s been standing here, jaw clenched, trying desperately not to request an update every thirty seconds. Gale may be a husband, but he’s also a flight controller, and there’s four astronauts on this spacecraft, not just one. He tries to convince himself that if something went wrong, Dr. Huston would inform the room immediately. If Bucky’s heart gave out, if his lungs stopped working, if his brain shut down…

Bucky passed out before the blackout ended due to the force of 7 Gs on his body, something he could ordinarily handle with no more than a little discomfort and a wild, daring grin on his face that just begs the universe to throw something more challenging at him. Here they are, talking about the man that passed fitness tests and astronaut candidate training with flying colors. The man who would laugh while his simulators spun out of control before getting down to business to stop the roll. The man who thinks the reduced-gravity aircraft they use to simulate weightless environments – lovingly nicknamed the vomit comet due to its pension for making passengers sick to their stomachs – is nothing more than a time-of-your-life carnival ride. Bucky would take that ride over and over if he could, playing weightless volleyball with Gale and Curt every time they reached the zero-G point of their parabolic flight path. 

No big deal. None of it.

And now he’s passed out because he can’t even handle 7 Gs with no rotation at all. And Gale is sitting here, wondering if he’ll survive it. 

“Heart rate is elevated,” Dr. Huston replies. “Blood pressure… elevated. Temperature high. Respiration rate is a bit low.”

“How elevated and how low?” Gale all but growls.  He glances back at Dr. Huston to gauge his level of concern.

Dr. Huston meets his gaze, his stare hard, giving away nothing. “As long as it stays where it is, he’ll be alright, Gale.” It’s not an answer, but it’ll have to do.

Just keep breathing, darling. 

Curt: “Approaching 30k.”

Alex: “ELS Logic. ELS Auto… stand by.”

Orion’s Earth Landing System, activated at 30,000 feet above the surface, will pop the forward heat shield and automatically deploy the drogue chutes and main chutes to decelerate the capsule at predetermined intervals. Generally speaking, this prevents the capsule from smacking into the Pacific at Mach 1 and flattening the crew like a pancake. Gale holds his breath as he waits for confirmation that ELS is functional.

Curt: “Goodbye heat shield.”

Rosie: “There go the drogues!”

At seven minutes and 46 seconds after re-entry, Croz reports, “Drogue chutes deployed.” Gale forces himself to take a breath.

On the screen at the front of Mission Control, their first visual of the capsule pops onto the screen. Orion, its scorched heat shield having been jettisoned into the waters of the Pacific, falls through the dawn at 300 miles per hour, 25,000 feet in the air, slowing down with every millisecond that passes.

Gale: “We got you on TV, boys.”

Curt: “We’ll give you a good show.”

Croz reports that the main chutes have deployed.

Curt: “There’s the mains.”

Rosie: “Felt that one for sure.”

On screen, three red and white parachutes blossom up from the capsule. Each 265 feet long, 116 feet in diameter. They’ll reduce Orion’s speed to just about 25 miles per hour.

As Curt and Alex run through their final command module checklist, turning off propellant and getting the capsule ready to power down once they land, the recovery teams start reporting visual on Orion. The helicopter that will lift the crew from the water, the sniffer boats that will conduct hazard checks before egress, the swimmers that will assist with egress, and finally the Navy LPD ship that will retrieve the Orion capsule and house the crew temporarily.

USS Portland: “Artemis 3, this is Portland, we have visual.”

Alex: “3200… 2800.”

Rosie: “Looks like we could just land right on them the way we’re comin’ down.”

Curt: “Hear that? We’re comin’ for you, Portland.”

USS Portland: “Copy, Artemis 3. I think you’re gonna miss, though.”

Curt: “We’re a good couple miles off target… Marco.”

USS Portland: “Polo?”

Alex: “Fuckin’ helicopter out the window.”

Curt: “Nice to not be the only ones flyin’.”

Gale watches the capsule descend towards the ocean, closer and closer and closer. He knows the whole world is watching, waiting, willing the crew to land safely in the water. America holds its breath for Major John Egan.

—

The capsule hits the water of the Pacific at 17 miles per hour, splashing into the waves about 2 miles off target, 500 nautical miles off the American coast. The oranges and pinks of the sunrise reflect off the battered exterior of Orion as the self-righting flotation system inflates, keeping the craft upright. 

“I’ve always wanted to swim in the middle of the goddamn Pacific,” Curt says as he flips up the retractable visor on his helmet. 

“Don’t think you’ll be doing much swimming,” Alex tells him as he stretches his arms forward. He feels weak, a little unsteady as they rock with the waves. “That sure is some gravity, there.”

Rosie reaches over to flip up Bucky’s visor. “John, can you hear me? Bucky?”

Bucky mumbles something unintelligible, but his eyes open, wet and glassy. “Fuck.” He groans and reaches towards his broken leg, hand pressed against his knee. “Fuucckkkk.”

“Glowing reviews about planet Earth,” Curt teases, and Bucky sticks his tongue out as he closes his eyes again and tries to stop everything from twisting in funny directions around him. 

“Artemis 3, recovery’s got eyes on you.” The voice of the recovery team lead crackles over the coms. “Swimmers deployed at main chute two… second and third teams deployed.”

Curt: “Roger, recovery. We’re just here enjoying the view.”

Bucky: “Just fuckin’ water.”

Alex: “That is what an ocean is made of, Bucky.”

Bucky: “Fuck off.” He chokes on a breath that doesn’t quite want to make it to his lungs, and he winces as his ears ring and his whole body protests the way the atmosphere presses down on all sides. His heart still feels funny. “Gale?”

Gale: “I’m here, sweetheart.”

Bucky doesn’t say anything else. He just needs to know his husband is there. 

Curt: “Powering down now.” Curt shuts down the Orion capsule.

USS Portland: “Artemis 3, this is Portland requesting astronaut condition, over.”

Rosie: “We got three of us in good condition, ridin’ the waves. Major Egan is… awake. Runnin’ real hot, in and out of consciousness but seems coherent if his sass is anything to go by. Can’t be too sure what this did for the TBI, and with the tibial fracture… Have you been briefed, Portland?”

USS Portland: “Roger. We’re ready for him here.”

Bucky: “Get me back up there. Gravity sucks.”

Rosie: “No way cowboy. We’re gonna get you on that ship, then straight to a hospital.”

Bucky: “No.”

Rosie: “Yes.”

Bucky: “No.”

Gale: “Yes.”

Bucky: “...no.”

Recovery: “Waves are 12 knots, sea swell running about 3 feet. Orion is riding nicely. Artemis 3, we’ll conduct our hazard checks and get you secure, shouldn’t be long before egress.” 

The crew waits for 40 minutes, bobbing in the waves as small sniffer vessels deliver a team of navy divers to the capsule. They check the air and water for any leaking ammonia or hypergolic gases, fatal if consumed and yet critical components for capsule functionality. Once the area is determined to be safe, one of the divers climbs up the side of Orion. He knocks on the window to let the crew know he’s there, and Curt smiles and waves back, giving a thumbs up. The diver returns the thumbs up and goes about his work attaching cables to the spacecraft. 

Once the capsule is secure in the water, ready to be towed into the Portland’s well deck, the diver leaps off the top of Orion, splashing into the water before climbing aboard one of the small boats. Another team of divers finishes deploying life rafts alongside the capsule as a helicopter hovers overhead, ready to receive the crew and transport them to the Portland. 

When the hatch opens, the crew breathes in fresh air for the first time in three weeks, the smell of salt and sky. Bucky smiles as the breeze drifts into the crew cabin, and Rosie laughs, shaking him by the shoulder. “What d’ya think of that, commander?”

“Nothin’ but blue skies…”

Rosie hums the tune of Blue Skies for him while Alex and Curt egress, the Navy divers dragging them out through the hatch and onto the orange life raft bobbing alongside Orion. They grin up at the cloudless sky above, letting the rising sun hit their faces. From inside Orion, Rosie helps Bucky maneuver to the hatch. All of them are a bit weak after three weeks in space, but Bucky had little strength even in zero gravity. He winces at the pain in his leg and his head, but manages to grab weakly onto the diver who has crawled half inside to help Rosie guide the commander out of the module.

The diver settles him in the middle of the raft. “How are you holding up?”

“Like shit,” Bucky groans, but he says it with a smile on his face as he feels the warmth of the world, the sway of the waves. The diver pats him on the shoulder before he helps Rosie out of the craft.

Rosie: “Recovery, Artemis 3 is going off coms. Houston, see you soon.”

Recovery: “Recovery, roger.”

Gale: “Copy, Rosie. See you on the other side. John… behave. I’ll see you soon.”

Rosie egresses the capsule, and he grins at the sky along with the others as the diver helps him onto the raft. He crawls over beside Bucky, whose eyes are blinking slowly against the bright sun climbing higher above the horizon. Rosie settles next to him as Curt crawls back over to the edge of the raft to ensure the hatch is closed. “Lieutenant Biddick is ensuring the Orion hatch is fully closed,” he hears one of the divers say.

“Here’s what’s gonna happen, Bucky,” Rosie says. “Curt and Alex are gonna head up first. Then I’m gonna send you up. A recovery team member is gonna come down to make sure you’re alright in the net, and they’re gonna lift you up into the chopper. I’ll come up after you. Sound okay?”

“Don’t feel great,” Bucky says. His eyes drift away, towards the edge of the raft that’s bobbing up and down with the sea swell.

“I know. Look at me, lookin’ down there’s gonna make it worse.” Rosie reaches into Bucky’s open helmet to tap him on the cheek, getting his focus back on him. “We’re gonna get you on the ship, and they’re gonna take care of you. All the fluids and meds you need. It’ll feel like you’re floatin’ on a goddamn cloud.”

Bucky nods and attempts a smile, but it falters as nausea rolls through him and his vision fades in and out.

The recovery net drops out of the helo, and the divers help Curt climb in. He sticks his tongue out and waves as he’s lifted out of the raft, and all three other astronauts stick their tongues out back. Curt looks to the sky, holding his arms out to the sides as he ascends towards the recovery chopper. Then they send the net back down for Alex.

The recovery team and the crew of the Portland ran a just-in-time training a few days ago, when Navy crews were officially assigned to the Artemis 3 recovery. Using an Orion mock-up and a stand-in Artemis crew, they ran through the crew recovery protocols in order to simulate the end of the mission. They practiced a couple different methods of pulling Bucky up into the helo, unsure of what his condition would be and whether or not he’d be conscious. With the commander awake and in considerable discomfort, they do just as Rosie said they would: they send the rescue net down with a recovery team member, who ensures he’s secured in the net. 

“Not gonna lie,” he tells Bucky. “This is probably gonna suck for you.”

Bucky gives a sort of thumbs up that only makes it halfway, and he nods. He bites back a scream as the divers lift him into the net, trying – and failing – to position his leg in a way that won’t hurt like a bitch. The recovery team member keeps one hand on Bucky’s shoulder the whole way up to the chopper, making sure he stays steady.

The world falls away below as they’re raised into the air, and the clouds spin as the sun shines into Bucky’s eyes. He breathes deeply, feeling that salt water air that he missed so much fill his sore lungs, and he wills the nausea to go away (it doesn’t). When they pull him inside the helo, he hears voices talking to him. He manages a smile and another thumbs up, and then he’s out.

—

Much of the country is currently watching the same exact video feed that Mission Control has displayed on the screen in the front of the room. There hasn’t been so much public interest in a crew recovery since Apollo 13, but there’s something about a risk of fatality that makes people invested, pulls people together to hope and pray for a man that many are calling a national hero.

They all watch with bated breath as the crew is pulled out of the hatch; they watch Rosie speaking to Bucky; they watch them all stick their tongues out at each other; they watch Bucky, mostly limp and dazed, get loaded into the recovery net. They see him wince in pain. They see him look to the sky, watch his eyes close. Marge, as public affairs officer, narrates what’s happening for the public to understand.

“Lieutenant Curtis Biddick is the first astronaut inside the Recovery… Astronaut Alexander Jefferson is being hoisted into the Recovery… A recovery team member is ascending with Major John Egan to ensure his safety… Major Egan is unconscious, but appears stable…”

Gale watches the same feed as he stands beside Croz, one hand on his hip and the other over his mouth. Croz puts a hand on his shoulder. With Artemis 3 off coms, there’s nothing to do for Mission Control but wait for confirmation that all astronauts are aboard the helo, then that they’re aboard the Portland.

Recovery: “Major Egan is safely aboard Recovery.”

When the announcement comes, the entire room cheers – the entire country. It’s another milestone that marks John’s long journey home.

Gale feels his legs give out as he collapses into the CAPCOM chair. He rubs a hand through his hair, already a mess even though it’s still early in the morning. Croz pats him on the shoulder, and Gale would be smiling if he wasn’t just so damn relieved.

—

The Navy doctors pull Bucky into the Portland’s med bay, which is far larger and far better equipped than the one on Starship or Orion. They try to talk to him, try to ask how he’s feeling, but he can hardly even keep his eyes open. He drifts in and out, people swirling around him in a blur. He groans and winces when anyone does anything that causes pain, be it touching his leg or speaking too loud or generally existing beside him. He throws up over the side of the stretcher they have him on. He weakly tries to fight someone who tries to touch his head. 

They stick another needle in his arm, making him squirm away in protest. And he passes out again.

It will take the USS Portland a good day and a half to cross the 500 nautical miles of Pacific Ocean between Orion’s landing zone and Naval Base San Diego. Curt, Rosie, and Alex are comfortably walking around within a couple hours of being wheeled into the med bay and undergoing initial medical examinations. They spend most of their time on the ship chatting with the recovery team and making friends with the Navy crew aboard the vessel.

Curt – an Air Force pilot – and the Navy guys give each other shit all day, throwing insults back and forth like they’re long lost siblings with a life-long rivalry. The astronauts pose for pictures and regale everyone with stories about the moon and traveling through outer space, some a little embellished, though most don’t need embellishing at all. They play cards and engage in a fan-favorite practice of trading NASA and Navy gear, challenge coins, and patches.

The three astronauts spend a lot of time sitting beside Bucky’s bed. He’s receiving an appropriate amount of IV fluid now with a high dose of some strong drugs that they hope will reduce the pain and, if they’re lucky, the fever. He opens his eyes here and there, expresses discomfort or confusion or simply looks around or stares at the ceiling, never really seeming present. The doctors tell them that it’s likely he’ll be out for most of the trip. But, never one to miss out on the fun, Bucky fully wakes up early the next morning, about 8 hours from the shore.

The doctor keeps telling the other astronauts to be quiet and quit disturbing “Major Egan,” but they don’t listen. It’s Curt’s laughter that Bucky wakes up to, blinking tiredly and tilting his head to follow the familiar sound.

“Hey, astrofag!” Curt exclaims when he sees Bucky’s eyes on him. Bucky sticks his tongue out and raises a weak but no longer shaking hand to flip him off. He manages to get his other fingers most of the way down, middle finger out straight, to get the point across.

His cheeks are flushed, and he’s still sweaty, his body tensing with chills, but he tries his best to grin at them. “What’d I miss?”

Over the next hour or so, a stream of Navy sailors stop by to visit Bucky as he sits up in his med bay bed, supported by Rosie on one side and Curt on the other. He’d protested at first, but both astronauts pulled away to let him support himself, proving a point, and he immediately felt dizzy again. So he reluctantly accepts the help.

He listens as the sailors chat with him and gives fist bumps and gentle high fives. He banters back and forth with them as much as his muddled brain and scratchy throat can allow. 

“You might’ve fared better if you were in the Navy instead of the goddamn Air Force,” one guy quips.

Bucky laughs and flips him off in the same half-accomplished way he did to Curt. “The goddamn Air Force got me to the moon.”

The picture that gets sent to Houston that morning – the picture that will show up in the news and on social media within the day – is one of all four astronauts dressed in blue NASA flight suits, Bucky in the middle, looking sick but ecstatic, with Navy officers gathered around the bedside. They’re all beaming at the camera – crew secure, Major Egan safe, a time for celebration.

It’s officially Thanksgiving in America.

—

November 27

While most Americans spent Thanksgiving watching parades and football, eating turkey and pumpkin pie and spending time with family, the Artemis 3 crew spent half the day on the USS Portland in the middle of the Pacific. They celebrated with their new Navy friends, eating surprisingly good turkey and pie of their own at lunch time, before arriving in San Diego. John managed a bite of pumpkin pie, but otherwise stuck with soup.

At the naval base, the astronauts were loaded onto another helicopter and taken ashore. From there, Alex and Curt boarded a NASA GV to fly back to Ellington Air Force Base in Houston, where they’ll be welcomed home by their families and housed at JSC for the night so they can undergo further medical evaluations and meet with the Mission Control team the next day. Bucky was boarded onto a medical transport plane, Rosie at his side, and taken straight to the hospital, as Rosie promised. Bucky, for better or worse, is unconscious for much of this process, saving everyone the grief of him complaining about going to the hospital.

Dr. Huston meets them there, and he and Rosie discuss Bucky’s condition with the doctors and nurses, who whisk the Artemis 3 commander away for tests and treatment.

Gale forgets that it’s Thanksgiving until he turns on the news late in the morning – his first morning not working a Mission Control shift in nearly a month – and sees the Macy’s Day Parade on the screen instead of a news story about Artemis 3. He doesn’t know if it’s a relief, or if it makes everything feel worse. He’s thankful as hell, don’t get him wrong. John is back on the same planet, safe, on his way to Houston for evaluation and treatment. And yet so much still seems unsure. So much is unsteady. Like he’s teetering on the edge of a cliff and could be pushed either way depending on the direction of the breeze.

He didn’t sleep last night any better than he did any other night. His hands shake as he drinks his coffee – out of a ceramic mug that reads “World’s Best Astronaut” instead of out of a cheap paper cup. His breathing comes in unreliable bursts. He feels edgy and jumpy and nervous. Dark circles rest beneath his eyes and his hair is a disaster. He shrinks into the Yankees sweatshirt and tries to convince Pepper to eat even though she won’t give him more than a few bites. 

He turns off the TV. He can’t stand the good mood of New York City and parade floats and giant balloons making their way down a crowded street. 

Instead, he, Marge, and Benny go on a walk with the dogs. They stare at the sparkling water of the bay and Marge holds his hand and they all quietly think about everything that happened in the past few weeks. Gale tries not to cry. He lowers himself to the ground, sitting on the boardwalk, and he lets his feet dangle above the water. Pepper and Meatball sit beside him, Marge and Benny at the ends. 

It’s been 21 days since the SLS rose off pad 39B on Cape Canaveral, forging Artemis 3’s path to the stars above. It was a perfect launch. But even then Gale knew, there’s no such thing as a perfect mission.

It’s been 36 days since Gale last held his husband’s hand. That day back in October, when they were just newlyweds saying goodbye, ready for the adventure of a lifetime. 

864 hours. 51,840 minutes. Over 3 million seconds. Not a single one of those numbers feels like enough.

What’s just a few more hours?

Some of the flight controllers gather at Croz’s house for Thanksgiving, a late lunch or early dinner, no one knows. But it’s complete with turkey and mashed potatoes and stuffing and pie. Gale keeps losing himself among the chatter of his friends, pushing his food absently around his plate. At some point, Jean leans into his space and says “Honey, I know you’re not pushing that food around cause it’s not good. Eat up.”

Gale blushes and says “Sorry ma’am,” before shoving a bite of stuffing into his mouth. He doesn’t finish the plate, but Jean pats him on the shoulder and takes it away so he doesn’t have to look at it anymore. He does happily accept a small piece of pie and a cup of coffee while everyone sits around, talking and laughing and trying to heal, all while avoiding the elephant in the room.

They wait anxiously for news. They wait for the Portland to reach the naval base. They wait to hear that the crew is safely on their way home. They wonder what kind of shape John is in.

When Gale’s phone buzzes in his pocket, he pulls it out and immediately covers his mouth with his hand. A photograph – Bucky, awake and sitting up in the Portland’s med bay. He’s surrounded by his crew and the Portland sailors, and despite the paleness of his skin and the sweat matting his hair and the red tinting his cheeks, the grin on his face is so quintessentially him that Gale nearly gasps when he sees it. Bucky Egan: wild child. 

Gale passes the photo around, and Croz raises his mug of coffee in toast, in thanks, to Major John Egan. American hero.

—

By the time Gale is finally allowed to see his husband, it’s been almost two days since Orion splashed down in the Pacific. 40 hours. 2,400 minutes. 

150,000 heartbeats.

Bucky’s heart is still beating. Gale tries to remember that.

He arrives at the hospital at 8pm, his hands shaking so bad he can barely pull out his ID as he tries to explain to the front desk that he’s Major Egan’s husband. Marge comes running up behind him as the nurse explains that John is still being examined. 

“W-When can I see him?” Gale tries to ask, but he isn’t sure that the words come off his tongue right.

The nurse takes pity on him and makes the effort to find out John’s exact status while Marge leads Gale over to a chair. She gets him sitting down, tries to tell him to breathe, but he’s back on his feet before she can even get the words out. He doesn’t pace. Just stands there, eyes darting around the waiting room, running his thumb across his wedding band over and over and over.

It’s another three hours before the nurse – who has very patiently answered Gale’s periodic requests for updates – informs him that Bucky has finally been set up and settled into a room. A doctor comes out to see him, and she explains that there is still inflammation in Bucky’s brain. They’re hopeful that it will continue to heal over the coming days and weeks with the right rest and treatment.

The gash on the back of his head has become infected, but they aren’t overly concerned about it right now, treating it with antibiotics. His leg was adequately set – kudos to Lieutenant Biddick – but became slightly displaced again during re-entry, requiring them to set it again. They can’t be sure about the cause of the fever, which isn’t responding to medication but doesn’t quite align with criteria for neurogenic fever, particularly since neurogenic fever doesn’t usually cause sweating. They’re trying him on drugs cited as showing success in treating neurogenic fever anyway, and they are working to keep his temperature down manually. On the other hand, the shivering he’s been experiencing can increase intracranial pressure, and they’re working to reduce chills through medication and warming of Bucky’s hands and feet.

Gale can’t help but find that last part a little funny, considering Bucky is always complaining that Gale’s hands and feet are too cold.

Lastly, the nurse tells Gale what he’s so used to hearing in recent days: Bucky is currently asleep; he’s been in and out of consciousness all day; he at times seems confused and agitated; the first thing out of his mouth when he woke up in the hospital, other than the word fuck, was Gale’s name.

Gale’s head is spinning as he’s led down the white, sterile hospital halls. He hopes Marge thought to write all that down or remember it because there’s no way he’s going to. She’s going home for the night, though. Said she’d be back in the morning. And for the first time in days, Gale is left alone to remember how to breathe on his own. He presses his wedding ring to his lips and doesn’t even care how wrecked and exhausted and terrified he looks, because he’s about to see his husband and his heart doesn’t understand what it’s supposed to do anymore. It beats too fast, and he doesn’t even know if it’s out of anxiety or relief or fear or love or excitement or need or simply a pulse of the universe alerting him that his other half is just on the other side of this door, waiting for him.

The nurse holds the door open for Gale and he trails in behind her. She tells him that the couch beside the bed is all set up for him, and insists that he let her know if he needs anything, but he can barely even nod because everything he needs is right there, laying on a hospital bed.

Bucky lays propped up on the bed, his broken leg raised and freshly adorned in a light blue cast from knee to foot. His head is wrapped in white gauze, his curls tucked away beneath it. A cooling blanket rests over top of his still body in an effort to cool him down, and different sensors are attached to all different parts of his body, connecting him to machines that read out his vitals. They reassure Gale that Bucky is alive, lungs breathing, heart beating, blood pumping. An IV is sticking out of his forearm, held in place with excessive amounts of tape, no doubt at Rosie’s prodding. Beary Egan is tucked against his side, having been retrieved from Orion after the capsule was towed aboard the Portland.

Gale can’t even move at first. All he can do is stare at this man, sick and broken but by far the strongest and most beautiful person he has ever seen. He wonders if this is real, if he’s actually standing here, staring at his husband. He waits for some cruel figment to pop out and tell him it’s all a sick joke or a hallucination or a dream, that Major John Egan actually died next to Shackleton Crater, crushed beneath a moon rover.

But it doesn’t come. 

The room is dim, the world dark outside the window. It’s quiet but for the beeping of the machines proving every second that Bucky is alive. Gale runs a hand through his hair before pressing his fingers to his lips, holding his breath so he doesn’t break down at the foot of the bed. 

He doesn’t really comprehend that he’s doing it, but he’s suddenly putting one tentative foot in front of the other, walking around the bed to Bucky’s side. He worries his heart might beat right out of chest. It jumps as he gently takes Bucky’s hand in his, feels the warmth of his skin. He stares down at their fingers, trying to remember what it felt like the last time he held this hand in his. Trying to remember what they said, the look in John’s eyes, the exact expression on his face.

He kneels on the hard floor for a hell of a long time, wordless and still. He thinks about the better days they spent before quarantine, that chaotic but rose-colored time when they were not only newlyweds, but also astronauts on the cusp of something unimaginable. He thinks about Bucky wrapping him in his arms. Kisses in the darkness of their bedroom. Their hands finding one another, holding tight just to feel the closeness, the care. He thinks about late nights and early mornings. Shared cups of coffee and exhausted hugs. Certainly not for the first time, he thinks about their wedding.

He fiddles with Bucky’s fingers in the same way Bucky so often does to him, and he sings softly, pushing past the gravelly emotion coating his throat and the tears welling up in his eyes. Their song. Their first dance. “Wise men say, only fools rush in. But I can’t help, falling in love with you.”

Bucky always tells Gale that he has a beautiful singing voice, begging to hear more of it. It makes Gale blush and hide away, but now he thinks about the way Bucky watches him when he sings, like he’s the most beautiful work of art he’s ever seen.

He’s finishing the song, staring down at Bucky’s hand in his, when he hears it.

“Hey, angel.”

Gale’s focus shoots to Bucky’s face so fast it makes his vision blur. Bright blue eyes are staring right at him, and Gale wonders how long they’ve been open. The corner of Bucky’s mouth is quirked up in the smallest, tiredest smile. His eyes are glassy with fever, but they’re locked onto Gale with a fierceness that he didn’t expect to find.

“I love when you sing,” Bucky says weakly. But Gale has suddenly forgotten every word.

He falls into that gaze, feels the universe spinning around him, weaving back together, becoming whole once again. He squeezes Bucky’s hand and can’t even speak because those eyes are on him and all the emotions he tries so hard not to feel crash into him all over again.

John is here, in Houston, where Gale can touch him and hold him and never let him go. The love of Gale’s life. The other half of his soul. His reason for existing on the surface of this planet. He’s right here. He’s alive. He’s breathing. He’s looking at Gale with those damn blue eyes like he doesn’t know which of them went through hell but it doesn’t fucking matter because he’s here.

He’s… 

God, he’s everything.

He’s the beating of Gale’s heart. He’s the breath in his lungs. He’s the tides rolling in and the stars in the sky, the gravity that keeps the world turning on its axis. 

He’s the heavens and the earth and the depths of the sea. He’s the entire universe, settled into stardust, at the center of a single, beautiful soul.

And Gale can do nothing but press his forehead to Bucky’s hand, both of them trembling. He squeezes his eyes shut even though he doesn’t want to take his eyes off his husband, and he feels the tears drip off his nose, stream down his cheeks. When he looks up, Bucky is still watching him, and Gale can’t figure out the look on his face. A face that he can usually read like a book.

Pain and joy and longing. A pressing need to fix whatever is making Gale cry even though Bucky’s the one in a hospital bed. 

“It’s okay,” Bucky whispers.

Gale laughs wetly, and he reaches his free hand up to cup Bucky’s cheek. “You scared me to death, John.”

Bucky blinks slowly back at him, the smile widening before it falters again. “I’m the one who almost died,” he mumbles.

Gale recognizes it for the joke that it is, but it makes the breath catch in his tight throat, and he closes his eyes again, causing more tears to fall, splashing onto Bucky’s wrist. He bows his head, holding tight to Bucky’s hand. After a moment, he feels shaking fingers stroking his hair back away from his forehead, and it makes him hiccup softly, like every touch from John is a bolt of electricity that shocks his system into reassembling itself from the pieces left in Artemis 3’s wake.

“Don’t cry, angel,” Bucky says, letting his hand rest against the side of Gale’s head. They’re the same words that Gale imagined days ago, when Bucky was still comatose on the moon. The words that kept Gale going when he had no idea if he could. Spoken aloud in that warm, perfect voice that he was terrified he’d never hear again. It’s the most beautiful sound he’s ever heard. 

Don’t cry, angel. “Just breathe.”

…

…

Part 17

[kissagii]

Yo! I have a doozy of a request >:)

Okay mha, aizawa, with an adult son/daughter (idk the gender neutral term. Child?? I think it's child?) Who is a hero overseas and one day DIES.

Aizawa hears it some how, goes into grieving, and then...

Reader just shows up... in his house... raiding his fridge (but make it funny)

It turns out reader had to fake their death to go undercover to kick some villans butt and they needed to lay low for a while so they came back home.

Comfort angst-turned Crack!

got it! i loved this concept, it's so amazing <3 <3 <3

i don't think i went crazy enough with the comedy because for some reason i felt like a more wholesome route would work better

safe and sound

aizawa x child!reader ; wc. 0.9k

cw: cursing, reader is presumed dead, it's a lil graphic, not proofread

There were times when Aizawa Shota regretted becoming a father. This was one of them. He knew that his profession put his child in danger of losing a parent at any moment, but he promised himself every day that he would return home safely for their sake. It was what kept him going. But what he had never expected was that he would be the one to lose someone so dear to his heart in a hero mission.

Aizawa was in the middle of a nap when Kaminari shouted the news. “OH MY GOD, THE X-TEAM VANISHED!”

Aizawa knew that team all too well: it was your team.

“Give me that,” He muttered, taking Kaminari’s phone from his hand and skimming through the article. 

X-Team… heroes sent abroad… villain ambush… notorious killers… location unknown… heroes vanished… presumed dead. He reread those last few words. “All heroes presumed dead.” It couldn’t be - it just couldn’t. You had to be alive… you had to.

In that moment, as he sobbed on the floor of his classroom, Aizawa Shota wished he had never encouraged you to be a hero, never let you join the agency known for taking on the most brutal internatonal missions, never taken in a child with such immense potential only for that potential to be cut short in such a terrible accident.

Weeks of searching were to no avail. Try as they might, international heroes could find nothing regarding the X-Team’s location, not a piece of clothing, or a message, or a villain that might spill. Until they found the bodies. Three of them, young adults, disfigured beyond identifiability. But one of them lined up with you - same height, build, gender, age… and clearly the victim of the villains you were chasing. For all Aizawa knew, it was you.

Aizawa Shota is a tired man. He always has been. But weeks of sleepless nights, long days of worrying, and the nightmares… it took a toll on him. He was barely functioning as a teacher and as a hero. Only pure exhaustion would make him sleep, and what little rest he got would never last. So it was no surprise when he, having not slept in days, hallucinated a person in his house.

Illuminated only by the light of the fridge (which, he noticed, had been largely emptied of its contents), the imaginary person turned to him and waved, mouth full of food.

“‘Ello!” They said, grinning. Aizawa knew that voice. That was your voice.

“Oh god… I’m losing it,” He muttered to himself, “I’m fucking hallucinating.”

“But you’re not though? Waittt are there two of me? Or a shadow demon in the corner? HI SHADOW DEMON!!” 

Perhaps it really was you - his child, the little creature he raised from nothing, his reason for living and the most amazing person in his life. 

“Ah, shit, you probably think I’m dead, don’t you? Long story short it was a whole scheme, our cover got blown so we had to hide for a while, the villains wanted to make it look like they killed us, we got in undercover with some reinforcements and they took forever to get to us, then all of a sudden we get out of our hidey hole and everyone thinks we’re dead? I dunno, it was pretty wild though. Sorry for spookin’ you… but we got the job done so it’s fine, right?”

Your father collapsed into your arms. Your very solid, very real, very alive arms. For weeks it had seemed hopeless, like he’d truly lost you. But all that time… all that time you were working diligently, making the best of your situation, the dedicated child he loved so much. Home at last, safe.

“Dad? Daaaaad. There’s really no need to cry, I’m fine! Yeah it was messy, but hey, it all turned out fine! It always does, doesn’t it?” Though you complained, you missed your father. Two months away from home, one of which was spent cut off from most of the world, took a toll on you too.

“Kiddo… you can’t just scare me like that,” Whatever strength he had left was put entirely into the rib-cracking embrace he gave you, tears soaking into your shirt, “I thought you were dead. I thought I lost you.”

“Hey dad, do you remember what you told me when I was little?” He nodded. “How I wasn’t allowed to worry about you when you went on missions because you’d always find a way back to me? Well, now that I’ve gone pro, I think it’s time that bargain went both ways. Because our silly little family - Auntie Kamaya, Uncle Yamada, those other kids you adopted from UA, you, and me - we’ll stick together.”

Aizawa let go of you, placing his hands firmly on your shoulders and looking into your eyes, “Yeah… I’ll try not to worry. Now I’m going to sleep… and you’d better have the fridge reorganized by the time I wake up.”

“Reorganized, restocked, and breakfast on the table. For all the stress I caused you,” You promised as he trudged to his room. Now, there was only one issue between you and seet, sweet sleep - how the hell were you going to get groceries to make breakfast if the whole country thought you were dead???

©king-of-dreamers 2022

[mcflymemes]

MISCELLANEOUS SENTENCE PROMPTS *  collection #6

i'm sipping wine in a robe.

you look like hell.

i tried to warn you.

it's hard to let you go.

i can't sleep without you.

this life is still worth living.

was it good for you?

when will our eyes meet?

i threw it out the window.

i get by, but i'm tired of myself.

so many things were left unsaid.

i want to spend my life with you.

you seem very well.

i'm much too young to die.

i told you not to get lost in the wild.

you're tired of me.

in my mind, you're mine forever.

if you're leaving, i gotta know why.

come on over. i'll adore you.

put on the dress you wore the night we met.

i had to close down my mind.

they'll never understand.

i told you i could never love somebody else, but i lied.

did you ever like it then?

i will never be set free.

darkness brings evil things.

it's out of my control.

i know what it takes to move on.

they're dead wrong. i know they are.

i'm a shoulder you can cry on.

am i not the one you're dreaming of?

i told you i'd be coming back again for you, but i'm not.

every word that i say is coming straight from the heart.

there's so much love we could be making.

yeah, i'm drinking again.

don't laugh. you'll make me cry.

i've got something to say.

when can i touch you?

you smell like death.

i never thought i could act this way.

take me back to the night we met.

just wait until i catch my breath.

you can run but you can't escape.

go on, baby. hurt me tonight.

shut the door, baby. don't say a word.

i can't forget this evening.

i am coming for you.

i'm here just waiting for you.

you've got holes in your clothes.

what the hell am i supposed to do?

i had a vision tonight that the world was ending.

i would stand in line for this.

i don't even know who i was last night.

i'm not trying to be your hero.

what if the world dies with the sunrise?

just you wait and see. believe me.

anything you want. any place you want.

people love it when you lose.

i didn't have much to say.

i'm leaving this place behind.

if you ever get lonely, please let me know.

now it's only fair that i should let you know.

how i hate to see you like this.

i know how it feels to lie.

you make me feel so brand new.

i hate to bug you in the middle of dinner.

i wish nothing but the best for you both.

every time you try to fix me, i know you'll never find that missing piece.

there is no way you can deny it.

those days are through.

it's a lovely day today.

you don't want to know how far it's gone.

soon i will be free.

i can't live if living is without you.

this is not what i had planned.

all we need is a little time.

this is not the end.

put your arms around me.

things look peaceful.

you changed the game.

this was never meant to last.

i know it's crazy, but it's true.

can you feel it?

i feel brave and daring.

i had to close down everything.

i'm so in love with you.

won't you believe me?

wish i had the strength to stand.

when will this strong yearning end?

they say i won't last too long on broadway.

show me where you've been.

you were always sure of yourself.

i thought it felt right.

after last night, i think i'm in love with you.

i can't forget your face as you were leaving.

the best that you can do is fall in love.

i lost friends along the way.

there are rules.

the hardest part of ending is starting again.

when will i hold you again?

if you ever want to see my face again, i want to know.

[716chr]

Chihiro Natsuyaki Novel - “Choose Me!”

Track 2 - 2nd Round

Sunlight filters through the window of the small apartment. 

The shadows of the window’s lattice frame cast striped patterns across the room.

Toys for girls, all of them old and worn, some cheap makeup kits, hand-me-downs from my older sister and two younger sisters, along with my mother’s flashy dresses.

I rummage through them for something I can wear and practice my dance moves on the tatami mat.

Humming along to the idol song playing on TV, I try to mimic the dance moves shown on the screen.

I love dancing.

Because when I dance, I can make people smile.

—— Chii-chan, you dance just like a pro.

That’s what big sis said.

—— Chii-nii, can you do the dance from that one MK55 song? We wanna see it!

That’s what my little sister would request.

I’ll do whatever it takes if it means everyone can clap and be happy.

When I dance, even this small, cramped, shabby apartment becomes my stage.

Sometimes even Mom smiles when she sees me dance.

—— I bet your dancing could make us some money.

When I told her that I got a solo dance part in my elementary school play, she laughed in response.

Right. If I could make money, would that make Mom happy….?

Would she be proud of me?

I wonder if she will finally love me this time…..

—— Wipe that smile off your face right now!

Shortly after graduating from middle school, these words were suddenly thrown at my face.

While I was juggling multiple part-time jobs to help make ends meet, my mother came home furious one day and started yelling at me. Each of her words hit me like a slap in the face.

—— You’re just like your father, nothing more than a lowest-of-the-low scumbag. If you keep this up, you’ll surely become just like that man.

….I was aware that I’m becoming more and more like my father.

Because I didn’t bear any resemblance to my sisters at all.

My dad walked out of our lives when I was too young to remember, and my Mom has always described him as a scumbag.

If I were to dance, my Mom might see me as an even bigger burden. She might not want to come home ever again.

With my mom’s frequent absences and my sisters constantly on edge, I can no longer dance within these walls.

I’ve been sneaking off between work shifts to dance in the alleyways more often. But I can’t change my face, and I can’t stop my body from growing.

….I really don’t want to keep growing.

If I become an adult, I might end up looking even more like my dad than I do now.

——Hey, big sis, how can I change my face…..?

Plastic surgery? But we don’t have that kind of money.

When I couldn’t take it anymore and finally asked my sister, who was living in the same apartment with me at the time, she looked at me with a momentary sadness.

She then said, “I’ll teach Chii-chan about makeup”.

It was able to change my face a little bit.

Cosmetic tools felt like magic wands.

Since Mom has those slanted, cat-like eyes, I tried lifting the corners of my eyes to accentuate them more…..

See? I look a bit more like Mom, right?

As I danced in the corner of the street, my face reflected on the edge of a shop window, I finally felt like I looked the part with my makeup on.

——Becoming a different person like this is fine.

Suddenly, in that moment, I had a realization.

It’s okay for me to not be the real Chihiro.

It’s fine if this Chihiro is made of lies. It’s fine as long as this “me” I’ve created is loved.

I want to be someone who is loved.

Deep inside my heart, where I always felt like there was a cold, gaping hole. If I’m loved, then I’m sure even that place will become warm.

That’s what I thought.

The voices of 133 people can be heard.

Today, the contestants were asked to put up childhood photos on the walls of this lavish TV show set.

We were also asked to write our aspirations by hand and put them next to the photos, so they could be introduced during the program breaks.

There were hardly any photos of me at home.

My big sister, who now lives separately from us, somehow managed to find one and brought it to me, so I made it work.

“Chii, is this your photo!? So cute! Look at you dancing~”

Komu-kun sticks close to my side and leans in to take a closer look.

In the photo, I was dancing with an innocent smile.

I wonder who took this photo.

Maybe it was the father I’d never seen before? Was my mother by his side?

Was she smiling at me in this moment?

“What about your photo, Komu-pi?”

“Yeah, this! ……And this, and this, and this….. Which one do you think is best?”

Komu-kun pulled out a dozen photos. The other contestants around us praised them, saying, “They’re all great!”

In every photo, little Komu-kun was undoubtedly very cute. He was smiling happily in all of them; many were taken of him sitting on his parents’ laps.

“Komu, you sure got a lot of photos.” Another contestant, who was putting up his own picture, chuckles.

“I really tried to pick out the best ones…. But there are still hundreds of photos from when I was little. Pretty crazy, right?” Komu-kun says with a laugh.

Someone else jokes, “Is your house a photo studio or what?”, and everyone started laughing.

But all I felt was a coldness settling in my heart.

……Kids who are loved have it different, even in things like this. For me, it was hard finding even a single photo.

“Chihiro, your smile hasn’t changed at all.”

“You look so happy.”

The people who were teasing Komu-kun also commented on my photo.

I made a dumb joke in return, “Yeah, I’ve got that manly charm now, right?”, but deep inside, my heart hurt.

……I haven’t changed at all, huh.

It’s true that I looked happy in this photo.

Because I didn’t know this happiness I had would soon crumble away. 

——But at this moment, maybe I was truly happy.

“This happiness didn’t really last for long, y’know” I swallowed down the words that threatened to escape me.

Tomorrow is selection day. After the mission song evaluation, the show was aired. 

Many viewers are deciding who to vote for, sorting us out. The number of contestants will be reduced from 133 to just 66.

“Let’s definitely make it through tomorrow.”

Komu-kun said, pressing his shoulder against mine.

Seeing his worried face made me want to comfort him.

So I took his hand, and squeezed it tightly.

“Yeah, both me and Komu-pi will surely make it. Let’s become idols together.”

For that, I was even willing to cut down on my own practice and sleep time in order to teach Komu-kun how to dance.

Komu-kun is an honest person, and he keeps improving steadily, so I’m sure it’ll be fine.

As for me…… As for me?

Can I still make it?

I really want to.

For just a moment, I closed my eyes tightly and prayed.

Track 1 | Track 2 | Track 3 | Track 4 | Track 5

[donaweasley]

A Mischievous Mistletoe

Pairing: Loki x Fem!Reader

Plot:

Like most rom-coms, our reader has to fake a date for a Christmas with her relatives. And who can be better than her best friend? A classic best friends-to-lovers plot. Again.

Warnings: None, just cheesy, clichéd fluff with a little angst in the middle.

Read time: ~36 mins

Note: This was part of a drabble request that was made in October. 🙄 I know! I’m slower than the slowest sloth! And it ended up much longer than what a drabble should be. I’m so sorry, @muddyorbsblr , I just…IDK how to defend myself!!

It was a languid afternoon - one of the few that the residents of the Avengers Compound could tell a tale about. The afternoon sun slid in through the open window of a certain room, caressing in its wake, the line of pothos spilling off the windowsill, the bench right next to it, and the handful of decors and furniture that it could find in the minimally but strikingly furnished room.

In the process of colouring everything gold, the rays of the departing sun painted a certain prince - or should we call him king? - in its glorious shade, making his appearance even more ethereal, more regal than he already looked. With a book in hand, Loki lay on the bench, relishing a few lazy moments stolen from time. His eyes darted across the pages, consuming the content, like a lover’s eyes would feast upon their beloved.

But moments like these, where one remembers nothing but their simplest desires, are usually short-lived, aren’t they?

A slow, unsure knock on the door whipped Loki out of his solitary bubble. There was only one human who would dare to disturb this particular Asgardian during his alone-time.

“Hey, Loki!”

Standing at the threshold of Loki’s room, (Y/N) barely poked her head inside as she greeted him with a sheepish and tiny voice. Her friendship with the trickster went far enough for her to admit herself into his room without waiting for his permission.

With a heavy sigh, the God of Mischief shut the book, but not before sliding a bookmark between the pages. The pages of the hardbound cover met each other with a muffled thud.

“What did you do now?” He asked her with an air of indifference.

Her sheepish grin morphed into a grimace as she wondered how to unveil the Gordian knot that she had tied.

When she did not respond but kept wringing her hands, Loki raised a brow at her. “Do I have to dig a grave?” He asked in a monotonous tone although bubbles of laughter were threatening to erupt within him. His grip on the book tightened to keep these mischievous little things imprisoned inside.

“Yeppp! Mine,” she mumbled.

“Hmm.” With a swift and graceful manoeuvre, he slid his long legs off the window bench. The careless tail of his robe tugged at a stray cushion, causing it to flop on the floor near his feet.

Standing tall before her, he held the book close above her head. Knitting his brows together and pursing his lips, he looked her up and down, and hummed to himself. A confused (Y/N) traced his movements with questioning eyes as he placed his hands on both sides of her but a little away.

Once realisation dawned upon her, she clicked her tongue and swatted his hands away. “Not mine, you smartass!”

“But I am sure I heard you requesting a grave for yourself!” Loki’s eyes betrayed his tight lips that were trying to suppress the surge of amusement boiling inside him.

“Okay! I did something…stupid,” she finally brought herself to confess.

“Amuse me.” He strode back to the bench, and lay down with his hands behind his head, the book now finding refuge on the coffee table. The cushion that lay on the floor was now being stroked gently by the hem of his parted green robe which, in turn, revealed a long leg - clad in soft trousers of a darker green - crossed over the other.

Exhaling deeply, she began, “Well, umm…you know my cousin, Laura? The one with a snob for a nose and daggers for a tongue and…and a large black hole for a heart?” She described with a dramatic roll of her eyes.

“Hmm,” Loki sported a mischievous smirk. “Are you speaking of that cousin of yours with skin like molten gold, with eyes like a doe’s and with a mouth that is too luscious to not be kissed? Yes, I remember her.”

(Y/N) didn’t realise how hard she was clenching her jaws or how obviously she was glaring at Loki until the latter shot back a knowing grin.

“Are you jealous?” He purred like a proud cat who had successfully cornered his victim.

“Hah! Why the hell should I be? I just…don’t like her. That’s it,” she dismissed his accusation with a wave of her hand. “She’s vile!”

“She’s attractive,” he defended.

“What the-? I can’t believe you’re on her side!”

“I am simply stating the facts,” he shrugged nonchalantly.

“Fine! Just...float in her thoughts. I won’t disturb you!”

She was quick to turn her back and stomp away. But Loki was quicker. He got off his seat and caught her wrist just as she was about to grab the door handle.

“Wait,” he whispered.

Whether it was Loki’s magic touch or his Silvertongue or his ability to control thoughts, she could never figure it out. But she was always surprised by the way he could pull the strings of her heart, how he always managed to get his way. Of course, he was one of her closest friends, her confidante, the person with whom she fought but also shared her best moments. But there was something about him that was…magnetic.

She found it mildly frustrating how, without even a single word of protest, her entire being immediately agreed to stay back. Loki gently ushered her to the window bench, the sun now finding a new figure, somewhere else in the room, to paint its hues on.

“Tell me. I promise not to utter a single word about your gorgeously desirable cousin. Not until you have told me everything,” his teasing tongue erupted a small fire within her, and he enjoyed it immensely.

She sighed, “Well, where do I even begin!”

Loki was waiting patiently through the long pause that she rested upon. But when it looked like she was lost in her thoughts even after a minute, he cleared his throat.

“Ah!” Slightly startled, she looked at him apologetically. “I’m sorry. I just…”

“What happened?” Loki placed a comforting hand over hers. “I shall do my best to fix it.”

“I know! And that is why I came to you. But now I think it was a bad idea. It was a bad idea from the beginning!”

“Would you please tell me?” He insisted.

“Well,” she sighed again, “Laura is hosting a Christmas party at her place this year. And she has invited me. Obviously!!” She rolled her eyes at the last word.

“So?”

“So,” (Y/N) gave an exasperated laugh, “I can’t go without a date!! I know it sounds clichéd, like some stupid plot from some stupid Christmas movie, but it’s freaking real!!”

“Darling, you will go ultrasonic in a few minutes!” Loki grimaced. “Please calm down!”

“I’m sorry! I’m just furious!! She’s always been bragging about her stupid boyfriend who’s always wrapped around her finger like a band-aid, and constantly mocking me for being single. I mean, it’s my choice that I’m single! It’s not like I’m averted to the idea of having someone in my life, it’s just that I won’t just say ‘yes’ to anybody who comes my way! And I know very well that she has invited me to vex me in front of the entire family!”

“Then do not go,” Loki suggested calmly.

“If I do not go, she’ll spread stories about how I chickened out because I’ll turn up alone, without somebody around my arm. Again!”

“Hmm,” the raven-haired prince pressed a long finger to his lips. “How do you want me to help? Should I change her mind? If you know what I mean.”

His mischievous smirk succeeded in breaking a small smile on her otherwise angry countenance.

“I wish, but no!” (Y/N) shook her head. “I… Well, I already told her that I’d be going. And…”

“And?”

She bit her lip. “And I said that I’d be bringing a plus one.”

“And you wish me to be that plus one,” Loki summed up.

She gave a meek nod of her head.

“No.” The god got up and strode across the room, leaving her with an open mouth and wide eyes.

“No?” She jumped up on her feet. “What do you mean ‘no’?”

The moment Loki shot her a glare, he tone changed into a humble one. “Please don’t say ‘no’!”

“I have already said it.”

“Then please change it! Loki, I really need your help!”

“There are so many attractive men in this compound; get one of them!”

“Look, it’s not like I haven’t tried. No one’s available!”

He eyed her doubtfully.

“I’d asked Steve but he said that he won’t be able to constantly lie to my family,” she reasoned. “I don’t know if Bucky would be comfortable under all that pressure. I don’t trust Thor with his big mouth. No offence!”

“None taken,” an amused smile toyed on his lips.

“And then there’s Sam…” A thought crossed her mind. With furrowed brows she continued, “Wait, I didn’t ask Sam.”

“There you go,” Loki gestured towards her with a snap of his fingers, “your problem has been solved.”

After assessing a few things in her mind, she spread her arms, “Nope, not Sam.”

“Why not?”

“Because he would be going out with someone else! He had said this long back. I knew there was something, some reason for which I didn’t ask him but just couldn’t put my finger on it!”

The trickster pinched the bridge of his nose. “And why would I do it? What would I get in return?”

(Y/N) looked at him disbelievingly. “I thought I was your friend!! The closest one, in fact! You won’t help a friend in need?”

Deep within, Loki knew that he would help her as soon as she had uttered one word. But it was the social gathering that he wanted to avoid. He had endured enough scepticism on this planet; he did not wish to attract more.

But (Y/N) was persuasive.

So, it was with utter displeasure that Loki ultimately found himself standing in front of Laura’s door on the eve of Christmas.

Beside him, (Y/N) was fidgeting with her hair and her coat. Despite the chilly air, a paleness veiled her face, and her usual cheerful persona was replaced by a quiet one.

“Are you alright?” Loki gently touched her shoulder.

“Yes. Yes, I’m alright. I just...” She shook her head. “I hate people poking their heads into my private life. And now I’ve dragged you with me! I’m sorry!”

“You do not need to do this if you do not want to.” His tone was so kind that it almost made her cry.

“It’s not that I don’t want to, it’s…” She trailed off.

Once again, Loki waited for her patiently, searching her eyes for all the unsaid things. He could relate to her. He knew how it felt when one had to smile their way through people who did not like them, when one had to constantly fear the sharp daggers of words stabbing them any time. And he felt bad for her.

“Let us do it!” He took his hand in his and squeezed it.

The sudden touch and the sudden command from Loki surprised her. “What? No, no, it’s alright. We can head back. Let’s head back. We don’t need to-”

“We need to!” Loki cut her off. “Let us show them who you are: a fearless, confident, beautiful woman who does not need anyone else to validate her life for her.”

She stared at him with awe.

“Who is this man?!”

Loki had always been supportive but this was on a totally different level! And all the adjectives that he laid down for her - they were enough to make her want to wrap her arms around him.

Before she had the time to react or to have second thoughts about her second thoughts, Loki rang the doorbell. A few seconds later, a woman, clad in a short red dress that hugged all her curves deliciously, opened the door. (Y/N) noticed the way Loki took in her appearance.

“Oh my God, (Y/N)!” The said woman threw her arms around the guest who, in turn, rolled her eyes.

“Hey, Laura!” (Y/N) patted her back.

“And you must be her plus one,” the way Laura eyed Loki made (Y/N) want to gauge her cousin’s eyes out.

“I am Loki,” he took the hostess’s hand and lightly touched his lips to it. “You look gorgeous!”

“You are not so shabby yourself,” Laura grinned like a Cheshire cat, “and what a gentleman!”

Their actions made (Y/N) slightly sick. She hated her cousin. And now Loki - the person she was the closest with - was shamelessly flirting with her. 

“It’s kind of chilly out here,” (Y/N) interrupted. “Mind if we go inside?”

Laura wrapped an arm around Loki’s and tugged him inside.

“Where’s your fiance?” (Y/N) asked her cousin with a hope to divert her attention from her friend.

“He had to go abroad for a meeting. You know how busy these high profile businessmen can get!”

With a fake smile, (Y/N) nodded and asked for a glass of water hoping, once again, that her cousin would let go of Loki.

As she walked away, Loki leaned slightly towards his companion and whispered in her ear, “Are you sure a glass of water will work or should we call the firemen?”

“You don’t get to talk!” She almost shouted but Loki shushed her. “You don’t get to talk,” she whispered this time. “How dare you flirt with her!! And you have the audacity to joke about it! Outrageous!”

“What can I say,” the god gave his famous smirk, “I’m just trying to blend in.”

“Blend in shit!!”

When (Y/N) saw Laura walking back with a glass in hand, she quickly grabbed Loki’s arm, surprising the god in the process.

“Ooh! I didn’t know you were so possessive about me!” He whispered.

One glare from her was enough to silence his mouth but the mirth remained in his eyes.

"Just play along, will you?" She gritted through her teeth. “From afar.”

Loki and (Y/N) walked amidst her relatives, arm in arm, presenting themselves as the happy couple that everyone was delighted to see! No questions, no arguments, no pitiful looks, no sarcastic comments - (Y/N) was finally beginning to feel the triumph in her seemingly “stupid” decision.

But fate seemed to have other plans for her.

Loki suddenly stopped in his tracks, a bewilderment shielding his beautiful face.

“What in the Nine…” Loki's voice trailed off as he gaped at one particular decoration. He tapped (Y/N)'s shoulder. "What is that bunch of twigs doing here?"

"Which one?" Her eyes searched the place until it followed the trail that Loki’s long finger pointed at.

“Ah that! That is a … mistletoe." Much to her annoyance, a faint blush crept up her cheeks as she uttered the name.

While she was praying that Loki doesn’t notice her embarrassing state, the latter was busy spiralling down his own thoughts.

“I know what it is!” He “whispered” loud enough for people within at least six feet to hear him. “I demand to know what it is doing here!”

The blatant lack of his usual calm demeanour alarmed her. He was not the kind to act inappropriately in front of people, especially strangers, and especially the ones who were related to her.

“Did it trigger some old memories?... Maybe he had some bad experience with a former…girlfriend?”

The word “girlfriend” tasted like vinegar, even in her thoughts. But being wise enough, she was able to swallow it down quickly.

“It is a tradition, Loki,” she explained. “Loki, are you alright? Is something wrong? We can head back if you are feeling unwell.”

It was the concern in her voice that pulled him back from his rumination. A swift lick of his dry lips, a subtle clearing of his throat, followed by a deep breath, and the lines on his forehead were gone just as quickly as they had appeared.

“No. I am absolutely fine.” His hands ran over his jacket in an attempt to smoothen out the non-existent wrinkles. “Shall we?”

Unwilling to poke any buried feelings, she decided to let the matter go, and happily looped her arm into the one that Loki had so politely extended towards her.

—

Sitting in a far corner of the living room, with her third drink in hand, she observed the room. Or maybe it wouldn’t be very wrong to say that she observed one particular person and the interactions of the rest of the family with him.

The fact that everyone believed her lie about their relationship made her feel relieved.

The fact that Loki was able to smoothly blend in with the family made her happy.

The fact that he was unashamedly flirting with the very cousin who never missed an opportunity to make her feel like shit made her miserable.

But even amidst the pile of various emotions, she did not miss how Loki’s eyes failed to shine as they usually did, how those smiles never reached his eyes. And it had all begun ever since he had laid eyes on that damned mistletoe.

Chugging her drink down, along with her despondent thoughts, she pushed herself off the chair and strutted towards him.

“He’s my friend. To hell with the world!”

Her throat was still burning from the alcohol when she reached him. When Loki looked up at her, he had a flirty smile stuck on him. But something about her expressions evaporated that mask away. He got up from the loveseat he was sharing with Laura, much to the annoyance of the latter.

“Are you alright?” Just a second ago, he had been using his coquettish voice, and now it was gone in an instant; his words were dripping with concern.

“Are you alright?” She asked him back. “You look like you’re in desperate need of a rescue!”

“Where is this coming from?”

She couldn’t believe her own words! Three drinks shouldn’t have been enough to make her tipsy but they had surely tore her inhibitions down. All this time she had swallowed her jealousy down, and allowed him to do whatever he pleased. But the boldness that voiced itself now came as a surprise even to her slightly foggy mind.

His mouth slightly parted in wonder. Loki looked between his “date” for the night and the cousin who was clearly furious. Clearing his throat, he smiled, “I would love to take a walk, if you are willing to accompany me.”

He was further surprised when (Y/N) extended an arm towards him, just like he had done a couple of hours ago. Taking it rather happily, he whispered to her cousin, “I shall be right back.”

“No, he won’t!” (Y/N) shouted over her shoulder, making the trickster chuckle.

Once outside, the chilly night air seemed to clear her senses a bit while also pulling her out of the suffocation she felt inside those walls.

“So,” Loki began in a soft voice, “are you alright? You seem a little…tipsy.”

“Yes, I am, your majesty, a little tipsy!” She replied with an air of royalty, making Loki laugh. “And I like it!”

“Is there any place where we can sit?” Loki looked around the snow-covered lawn.

“The bitch has a swing somewhere in here,” his companion slurred. “Ah, there it is!”

What she had called a swing turned out to be a porch swing. Loki had noticed her lips quivering in the cold. So, once they settled down on the seat, he wrapped a careful arm around her and pulled himself closer to her. Drunk on both alcohol and the closeness of Loki in the winter night, she did not care as her head rolled comfortably on her teammate’s shoulder.

For a few heartbeats, neither spoke. The chills of Winter - accentuated by the snowflakes flying past them - and a hypnotic silence enveloped them in one of the most calming moments of their entire lives. And Loki had already lived a rather long life, compared to (Y/N).

(Y/N) was the first to pop the bubble. “When we stepped inside, you…well, the mistletoe bothered you.”

She paused to gauge Loki’s reaction. When she found almost none, she continued. “Why was that? I mean, you need not tell me if you don’t want to. You know I won’t force you, right?”

She trod on the topic gingerly, afraid that any rash word might crack the proverbial glass beneath their feet.

With a sigh, Loki stared at the veil of white covering the ground. “It is a long, morbid story.”

“And I’m in no hurry,” she added softly, “but only if you’re okay with sharing it.”

“I…” Loki began but soon became unsure as to which words to use. There was no easy way to say it aloud. It was something that he would rather keep buried in him with the hope of eventually forgetting than sharing with someone who might understand.

“I had a brother,” he resumed after a pause. “A brother other than Thor.”

“What happened to him?”

“Apparently, … I killed him.”

(Y/N) sat up with a jolt. For a moment, Loki could not help but believe that she was disgusted by him, just like people always have been most of his life.

“You did not, did you?” Her question stunned him. No one had ever asked him this. “You said ‘apparently’. People presumed that it was you. Wasn’t it?”

A taunting laugh mingled with the cold air to form a wisp. “Why? I am the worst, am I not? Always plotting against everyone and wishing nothing but everybody’s ruin!”

There it was. The hurt was spilling through his words. She regretted having asked him about the mistletoe in the first place. Well, never in her entire life would she have thought that the story would take such a turn.

(Y/N) fumbled with her words for a while before resuming her composure. “Loki, I know you. Probably better than anyone else does. Which is why I know that you won’t kill your brother. Not unless it was necessary.”

“Necessary?”

“You know, like he went all crazy and started killing people or something.”

Her words made him laugh, even though it sounded rather sad.

“No,” he replied, “he was not crazy. Well, he was, if you ask me…but not a cold-blooded murderer.”

There was a stillness in the air as Loki ruminated on the past, interrupted occasionally by the scraping of the swing on the metal bar.

“Baldur was a good man,” Loki resumed. His eyes were lost somewhere in the distance. “He was the god of war. People loved him. … When he was born - and I have heard this, of course - mother was warned that he would die in a way that nobody would anticipate. So, she asked everything - living and non-living - in fact, pleaded with them not to harm her beloved son. They all agreed. All except the mistletoe. Mother assumed that it was so harmless that she need not persuade it for an oath.”

(Y/N) was listening to him with wide eyes and parted lips.

“So, a feast was arranged where Baldur was showing off his immortality. Everyone was throwing things of different kinds at him - sticks and swords - and everything simply bounced off him.”

Loki’s lips opened but words refused to come out of him.

“I-I… I had to do something different, of course. The god of mischief!” There was a bitterness in the way he described himself. “So, I brought in a branch of mistletoe. A twig, if you may call it. Hodr wanted to throw something at Baldur. He was blind, this fellow. So, I offered him my mistletoe. It was so fragile; what harm could it cause! I directed Hodr so that he would aim at Baldur’s arm. But it hit him in his chest. … And it…it went right through him. He-he died. Right there. Just…”

His voice had started breaking. (Y/N) wanted nothing but to hold him in her arms and soothe all his pain away. But she held herself for she knew that Loki was not very fond of hugs.

“Everyone simply assumed that I was jealous of him because of all the attention that he was getting! They accused me, imprisoned me, made me suffer a punishment that was worse than Hel!”

That was it. (Y/N) could not resist further. So, she took his hands and cocooned them in hers.

“Believe me, (Y/N), it was only a prank. Nothing more! I never wanted to kill him. Never!”

“I know, Loki, I know. I believe you.” Her arms wrapped around him as she brought his head to rest on her shoulder.

The god wept on her shoulder. All the unshed pain that he had been carrying with him for all those years finally found their way out. His arms looped around her of their own accord as she ran a soothing hand over his back and whispered comforting words in his ears.

It took him a few minutes to calm down. Or maybe more. When he did, he realised how close he was to her…how his arms held her snug to his chest…how his lips were pressed to her scarf…how his lungs yearned for her smell with each breath…and how this scent soothed his entire being.

His initial thought was to jump away, for he believed that it must have been embarrassing for her. It had to be awkward, hadn’t it? But then, a moment later, he allowed himself to realise how good it actually felt. And she was in no hurry to let go of him either. Oddly though, it felt right. A warmth spread through him, melting the chills of the night air and of the past that he had been burdening himself with.

So, they remained in each other’s arms for a while more until their seats on the swing started becoming uncomfortable. With hesitant hearts and shy eyes, they slowly untangled themselves.

(Y/N) reached out to wipe his eyes. Loki looked so vulnerable that she wanted to take care of him despite what anybody including the trickster himself might think. But her fear whispered that she might scare him away. So, she ended up cradling his face with one hand.

Loki himself was caught in a strange trance. It was like no magic that he had ever encountered before. The greatest sorcerer in the Nine Realms was unable to take his eyes off the mortal before her.

Whether it was the grief or the weather or simply his long-suppressed feelings for her or all of these, he was not sure of. All he felt was that her touch warmed him to the deepest corner of his being. All he was aware of was that they were both leaning towards the other. All he knew was that this moment was inevitable, this kiss was inevitable. That they must act on it before the moment was gone.

But they took too long.

The light creak of the front door of the house, and the sharp call of a woman’s voice startled them. When they had been missing from the party for quite some time, the hostess herself came out looking for them. Of course, she had assumed that (Y/N) had ditched the party, not that she minded. Her only concern for the night was the charming date that her cousin had brought along.

Imagine her satisfaction when she understood what she had interrupted upon! While (Y/N) jumped off the swing, Loki took a second to dry his face and present a smiling facade before the woman.

“I thought you guys had left!” Laura exclaimed with a faux worry.

“No,” (Y/N) replied, “we were enjoying some nice time. But that’s in the past now., thanks to you,” she murmured the last few words.

“Let’s go inside,” the hostess suggested, “you will freeze out here!”

“We were actually thinking of leaving,” (Y/N) replied. She knew better than to push Loki back into that crowd after such a vulnerable moment.

“What? No! You must stay!” The other woman insisted. “And I need to know more about this handsome stranger you have brought!”

Her sly smile made (Y/N) want to kick her in the crotch. She opened her mouth to protest. But Loki cut her off. He agreed to go inside, to put up that mask again. And before (Y/N) could say anything more, Loki had wrapped a comfortable arm around her waist and was already tugging her inside.

This time Loki did not allow himself to be hijacked by Laura. He kept himself busy with the other guests while secretly enjoying the indignation that he caused her. Amidst all the smart words and fake smiles, his eyes kept floating towards his teammate - the teammate with whom he had just shared one of the biggest sorrows and shames of his life, the teammate with whom he had just shared a special moment. And who knew what more that moment could have morphed into had it not been trampled upon.

(Y/N) was constantly being swept away by one relative or another. But her mind was still seated on that porch swing, basking in Loki’s warmth, burning in the touch of his breath on her lips, anticipating something that was probably never possible. And maybe that’s why God sent her cousin outside at that precise moment. Because that kiss was never possible.

An unhappiness veiled her countenance, making many people ask if she was feeling unwell. Taking advantage of their concern, she excused herself, and isolated herself in a far corner of the large living room.

This did not escape Loki’s notice. His eyes trailed her movements, her expressions and her gradual change of demeanour. All after the incident outside.

As his focus shifted from the guests to her entirely, a string of words drifted into his ears - incomprehensible at first but then they gradually started taking proper shapes. And then he realised it. They did not reach his ears, they floated into his mind! And the voice was a very familiar one. (Y/N)’s!

“She must have zoned out.”

He had promised never to dive into her mind unless she asked him to. But this was different. Her thoughts came to him; he had nothing to do with it, and so, he wasn’t breaking any promise!

Loki listened to her intently. He listened to her confusions, her sorrows, her lack of faith in herself, her acceptance of defeat, her curses as she reproached herself for not being able to confess her immense love for him…

“Wait, what?”

Loki was dumbfounded. There was no way he could have heard wrong but how could that be true anyway? Or could it be? He couldn’t believe his own mind for the first time!

There was perhaps a way to know.

Excusing himself, he approached (Y/N) with a mischief in mind.

“Should we head home?” He placed a soothing hand on her shoulder.

(Y/N) was startled. But the sight of the man rolled a wave of happiness within her.

“No, I’m fine,” she smiled. “I just…I needed a break from all the talking!”

Loki nodded. Lost in her thoughts, she did not notice the trickster subtly - and gracefully - stir the wind with his slender fingers.

“That is one odd place to hang those twigs!” He suddenly remarked with amusement coating his words.

(Y/N) followed the direction of his eyes to find a mistletoe hanging above their heads. Immediately, a panic arose in her. She did not want Loki to go through all that pain again.

“Shit! I…I didn’t see it hanging there. I… Let’s sit somewhere else. You don’t need to see this.”

“Hey,” he held her arm as she sprang to her feet, and gently pushed her back on the chair. “It is alright. Believe me. It is…I am actually feeling better after letting everything out before you… Thank you!”

The gratefulness and adoration in his eyes were obvious. It touched her very soul. Cradling his hand in hers, she whispered, ”You deserve nothing but love. All of it!”

“Which reminds me…” Loki spoke, “are you not supposed to kiss when underneath this treacherous bunch of wild leaves?”

(Y/N)’s face first turned pale and then crimson. There was no way Loki could have known that! Or maybe she had left him in unknown waters for too long.

Prior to the party, the Asgardian obviously knew nothing about any modern traditions regarding the mistletoe. But his companion was right; he had spent enough hours with Laura and other giggling ladies to know a mistletoe’s purpose on Midgard.

Before (Y/N) could protest, someone answered Loki’s question, “Of course, you should kiss! (Y/N), what are you waiting for?” That was her childhood friend.

He was loud enough to draw the attention of others, many of whom were now urging them to seal the deal. At the other end of the room, Laura was fuming, mentally cursing the decorator who had put the mistletoe up there.

“This is not a movie, guys!” (Y/N) stood up straight and shouted. “C’mon! Stop behaving like kids!”

“Are you two even for real?” One of the hostess’s friends shouted back. “How can you not kiss a boyfriend who’s this hot!”

“We do not like PDA, that is all it is,” (Y/N) reasoned.

Loki gently took her fingers in his. It was his tender touch that grounded her anxious emotions. “I would not mind it if it is what it takes to convince your folks,” he rasped in a voice so low that one she could hear him.

How could she say no to those green orbs staring right into her soul! But…it would be wrong to coax him into something which he did not want.

If only she knew!

She never realised when Loki had leaned in until she found it hard to focus on anywhere but his lips. “It’s okay,” she whispered to him. “You don’t need to do this. You could always refus-”

The god did not allow her to finish that line. He had already pressed his lips to hers. A round of cheers and applause rang through the room. But everything was muffled against their ears. The sounds felt like floating from afar. Loki kissed her gently, sweetly, taking his time to show her what he really felt for her. Trying to understand what she felt for him in return.

Although she was stunned initially, Loki’s warmth seeping in through her made her relax. She started mimicking his actions. She allowed her feelings to flow through them. Loki’s arm around her waist and his hand behind her head anchored her to the ground, refraining her body from collapsing under the overwhelming love that Loki was bestowing on her.

But they had to breathe. And it was in their moment of separation that reality sweeped down upon her.

Loki was glowing! But she did not notice that. She was too busy drowning in her insecurities to understand the emotions working behind Loki’s recent actions. She was scared that their relationship would never be the same again, and not in a positive way. She was afraid that they would forever be fumbling around one another because they had crossed the boundaries of friendship, regardless of the fact that she wanted exactly that.

Her eyes apologised to him but he was ecstatic. He could not see past the love that she reciprocated on his lips. But when he finally saw the frown shadowing her features, he placed a caring hand over her cheek.

“What is it, love?”

“I’m so sorry, Loki! I-I know this is awkward for you! I…I’m so sorry! I don’t want to lose you. I-I mean, you-your friendship. This…Loki, promise me you won’t be angry!”

The god stared at her dumbfounded. When he finally did manage to form a coherent sentence again, he commanded her but softly, “Come with me.”

Unwilling to make a scene out of the confusion, he managed to smoothly pull her aside, away from prying eyes and curious ears, without raising any suspicion.

Once they reached a safe corner, he simply gasped, “Since when did you become so dumb?”

Too embarrassed to reveal her watery eyes but too curious to know the meaning behind his accusation, she took only a fleeting glance at him. Focusing hard on the buttons of his shirt, she asked timidly, “What do you mean?”

Loki huffed. He could not understand how someone as smart as her could turn out to be so witless when it came to matters of the heart.

“Do you not understand?” he asked her, slightly annoyed.

“Okay, I have a confession to make. I wanted to kiss you. Did you not feel it? Did you not realise that… Norns! There was no mistletoe up there initially!” Observing her blank countenance, he continued, “It was me- I…” He threw his arms up in the air. “(Y/N)! I put the mistletoe there above us! For us!...For you, you fool!!”

Slowly the gears in her mind started ticking into place. Loki could almost hear them as he watched her expressions morph from confusion to realisation to astonishment to ecstasy.

He smiled. In a voice as soft and gentle as freshly fallen snow, he asked her, “Do you understand now?”

Still in a state of shock, the poor girl stumbled through her words, “Me? But…why? You- Since when?”

A few minutes earlier, when she had voiced her disappointment and uncertainty about the incident with the mistletoe, Loki’s confident demeanour had slipped off a bit. Although he was sure of what he had heard in her thoughts, her weary state had made him wonder if those thoughts were but only smoke trails of a passing moment.

But now, with regained confidence, he stepped forward and took her hands in his, cocooning them in his large ones.

A soft chuckle left his parted lips. “‘Why’ - I do not have the answer to that, believe me. ‘Since when’ - well, I do not really know but I think it might have been somewhere between our annoyingly long talks, our late night affairs of tea, our banters, our reading sessions…maybe somewhere amidst the laughs and the pains that we shared…mingled with the love and care that you have always showered on me, unconditionally… I do not know, (Y/N)... All I know is that…I…” He took a deep breath, “I love you. Yes. And that is why I put the mistletoe up there. I did not know how else to convey my feelings to you. I had thought that you would understand when… I knew I would fumble with words but… Please tell me you are not upset about this entire situation!”

The confession hit her like a freight train. It took her some time to gather herself back together. All this while she had been watching Loki with eyes that radiated nothing but pure adoration. With a small smile on her mouth, she absorbed every single syllable, every single emotion that Loki pronounced.

“Mr. Silvertoungue fumbling?” She let out a breathy laugh which caused a tint of pink to bloom on the trickster’s ears and cheeks.

“No,” she continued, “I’m not upset… You did the right thing…putting that mistletoe up there. I’m absolutely confident that I could have never gathered the courage to tell you how I feel.”

A small chuckle of relief left Loki.

“But that was a lot of talk for a confession. Do you realise that?” She asked with a teasing smile.

The God of Mischief laughed and scratched the side of his nose. “I have been told more than once, yes.”

“But I loved it all,” she took a step closer to him.

“I am glad tha-” Before he could finish his line, (Y/N) had placed her hand over his mouth, taking him by surprise.

“Shh! Do you think,” she removed her hand and resumed with a sigh, “you can conjure that little piece of mischief back…above us? Now?”

A wicked grin spread on Loki’s lips. “Any time! As many times as you want, darling.”

With a small gesture of his slender fingers, a mistletoe appeared above them once again. This time (Y/N) wasted no time in pulling Loki down by the collar of his shirt and placing a promising kiss on his eager lips.

They felt the same fire as the previous time but better. This time neither was in a rush to douse the flames but ready to surrender to them, to become one with the raging fire and burn bright until there was nothing left but the glowing love and passion that they felt for each other.

But even in the middle of a searing moment like this, (Y/N)’s mind couldn’t help but wander off to other thoughts. Barely separating herself from Loki, she tried to ask him but the Asgardian wasn’t willing to let her go, “Wait, how were you…mmh…so confident about…mmh…wait! About how I felt for you?”

“Later”, was the only response that Loki was able to manage as he pulled her closer and chased her kiss-swollen lips with his hungry ones.

She tried hard to pry herself or at least her mouth away from the impatient man but kept failing until she squeezed his jaw firmly in her grip. It wasn’t like the god could be stopped by this little human but he respected her wish and sort of enjoyed it when she bossed around.

“How?” She raised a brow while demanding her answer.

“I hurd yur thughts,” Loki managed to utter through squeezed cheeks and puckered lips.

“You heard my thoughts? You read my mind?!” She released his face only to hit his arm. “How dare you?”

“Love, I did not mean to! But you were sitting there all by yourself, looking so sad, and I was completely focused on you, trying to understand what was hurting you, and they just floated towards me - your thoughts! They were so loud that I did not even have to try! Forgive me for breaching your privacy. But believe me, darling, I never meant to!”

Here was Loki trying to convince her of his unadulterated intentions, but she had lost him the moment he called her ‘love’. Everything else was a blur, a beautiful but muted music floating through the air from a distance, spreading like mist, on a quiet winter night.

“That’s alright,” she smiled giddily. “I’m glad you read my mind.”

But Loki needed further assurance. “You are not angry?”

“Nope! Not at all.”

Upon hearing her confirmation, he let out a long breath.

“Now,” she toyed with the sleeve of his shirt, “where were we?”

A small laugh, mingled with both relief and joy, escaped the trickster. “In the middle of the first of a zillion kisses, I believe?”

“Hmm,” with the most ecstatic grin possible, she balanced herself on Loki’s strong frame and stood on her tiptoes to finish what a mischievous mistletoe had started.

***

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