#*aggressively scribbles on phone screen*

[bannanner]

local vocaloid girl cuts hair rebelliously during self-deprecation phase, accidentally creates new gender. more news at 9 i'm super stoked to have this art trade / collab with @mspaint-flower ! we drew vflower in the failure girl covers we like, and this one's inabakumori's version . be sure to check the MARETU art version too !

[the1975attheirverybest]

Being Funny In A Foreign Language

Chapter 3- somewhere in your heart/ somewhere guaranteed

read all other chapters here

A/N: this was weird to write. Let me know what you think.

Warnings: smut? Kinda?

——-

“2:00AM” the digital clock on the wall announced. Matty rubbed the sleep out of his eyes, a small cappuccino in his hand, sighing loudly as he entered the rehearsal space.

The sound of his echoing footsteps and the smell of his coffee alerted Tobias to his arrival promoting him to rustle through some documents to locate Matty’s copy of the setlist.

“Yo,” Matty mumbled a general greeting around the room intended for all attendants. “Where’s Amelia?”, scanning over the setlist that Tobias had handed him.

Tobias sighed, knowing where this conversation was headed. He looked up at Patricia, who sat on the couch in the middle of the stage, scribbling notes into her notepad. She shrugged.

“She’s out with her boyfriend.” Tobias replied, cautiously. “And, Matthew, I know this is going to make you feel things. But can we please focus on this?”

Matty’s face deceptively hid the way that the word ‘boyfriend’ had shattered his heart. He took a long sip of his beverage. “Yeah. Okay. Focusing on this.” He said, calmly, his eyes fixed on the work presented to him.

He tried to keep his thoughts on the task at hand, but the empty chair where he’d expected Amelia to be sitting felt as if it was mocking him. Like it knew that the cup of coffee in his hand was intended for her. It made his stomach turn.

“I wasn’t sure if you wanted to change any of the visual backdrop along with the setlist so….i’ve prepared some options just in case…” Tobias attempted to begin the meeting, but, even as he spoke, it was clear to him that Matty’s mind was elsewhere. “Matty? Thoughts?”

“What?” Matty seemed startled. He cleared his throat aggressively. “Yes, anyway” straightening the setlist in his hand. “Right. Okay, so, we have a gap where ‘Then Because She Goes’ originally was,” Matty mumbled, more to himself than to his co-workers. He moved songs around on the board for a moment. “we’ve got ‘Me,’ as an alternative to ‘Bagsy,’ and….” His train of thought seemed to cut short. “Sorry, ermmmm.” He rubbed his eyes. “Shouldn’t George be here?” Tapping his phone screen and watching it light up and display the time.

“Texted him.” Patricia said. “He’s on the way. Said he overslept.”

Matty, once again, did not seem to be listening. This time, something on his phone had caught his attention. Even through sleep-laced vision, he could see a toggle of Twitter notifications, all of which contained his name. He slipped his phone into his pocket. Out of sight; out of mind.

He stared blankly at people’s faces, “Sorry, erm, just….just a moment. Smoke break.” He whispered, hesitantly walking away.

“Matty!” Patricia called after him. “You forgot your cigarettes!!” But he murmured something about needing to pee, instead.

***

Matty could barely hear the bathroom door close over the sound of his own heart pounding against his chest like a drumbeat. Honestly tight. His breathing shallow. He pulled out his phone, watching the notifications roll in. His stomach tightened as he scrolled through, quickly gathering that a ‘Pop Culture news source’ had just published a profile on him and revived the same old grievances that the internet has had against him for a while lately.

@Mattyfrnglomg have you considered that your jokes just aren’t funny and people hate them cuz you’re a racist twat?

Girlies, no. @mattyfrnglomg is not hot. It’s 2023 stop making being a n*zi ‘hot.’

Matty Healy is a racist, homophobic pos. Hope he ODs and fucks off.

Oh okay so I guess racism is ~high art~. Really needed an ugly white guy to teach me that. Got it thanks, Matty Healy.

This article is taking his words out of context. You don’t understand how much different he is once you actually take the time to find out what he means to say.

|___ You don’t understand how much idgaf. There is no out of context bigotry. Shut up and get a life.

He swiped out of the Twitter app and put his phone away, leaning against the sink and staring at his reflection in the mirror. He wondered if the reflection staring back at him was anything like what the internet says.

He’s been here before. Countless times, in fact. The internet turning against him every few weeks has become a constant that he can always count on. Whats the point of going through this song and dance every single time? Besides, on the other side of this bathroom door, there is a room full of people waiting for his direction. He doesn’t have time for wallowing.

He waved his hand underneath the faucet, triggering its sensors.

“Right.” He spoke to himself in the mirror, drying his freshly washed face. “Back to work.” He tossed the crumpled paper towel into the bin and watched it bounce and fall outside the rim.

“Fucks sakes.”

***

“Tobias! Swap out ‘Frail State of Mind’ for, uh, ‘Heart Out’.” Matty’s voice yelled out even before he was all the way back in the room. “Also, could we rehearse some Drive Like I Do bits?

“I must still be dreaming” George’s groggy voice announced his entrance, “surely you’re not suggesting we do Drive Like I Do songs…”

“Listen,” Matty jumped up on the balls of his feet, too impatient to wait for George to get settled, he met him at the door, handing him a copy of the setlist on which he’d scribbled some thoughts. “What if we just took out this bit, and instead did, like, Self-Titled, or DLID songs. The cyclical conclusion of the individual show would, sort of, mirror the trajectory of the tour as a whole.”

George wondered to himself if he’d simply spent too much of his life in Matty’s company or if what his friend was suggesting actually made perfect sense.

***

Matty’s leg bounced nervously under the table. He tugged at his sleeves every time that Amelia and Joshua got a bit too close to each other. He couldn’t help but look in her direction all the time. She’d burst into the room, hours late, but her smile and the fact that she’d brought food and coffee for everyone made it alright. she wore the same perfume that she’d had on the first time that Matty had ever undressed her. He caught a whiff of it when she’d zoomed towards him, setting down a pastry and a cup of coffee by his notepad and whispering “your favorites” with a playful wink. He was too overwhelmed to look her directly in the eyes. The scent is now forever intertwined with his memories of their first time together. Though it felt wrong to reminisce, a disrespect of her burgeoning relationship with Joshua, he couldn’t help but recall her trembling fingers, eagerly reaching for his belt buckle, the timid blush in her cheeks when he said that he wanted to see her touch herself first, and, of course, her breathily calling out his name when he guided her through her own self-pleasure. What he wouldn’t give to be back there now.

Being so close to her yet so far away, watching her smile at the man by her side, it all felt like a knife to the chest. The throbbing of his heart was impossible to ignore. Every time that someone had said anything clever, or funny, he would find himself turning around to check if she’d laughed too. If she’d had the same thought or reaction as him. When George had asked her how her night had been and she hinted that the reason for her late arrival had something to do with her and Joshua having a little too much fun, Matty couldn’t not watch as Joshua’s hand reached for hers, gently.

“So, what’d I miss?” Amelia asked, setting down her coffee. “You rockstars have weird business hours, by the way.”

George handed her a copy of the new setlist to get her caught up.

“Excuse me you took out ‘Bagsy’? What the fuck for??” Her outrage directed towards Matty.

He remained silent, so she returned her attention to the paper in her hand.

“‘Frail State of Mind’ too?? Are you insane?”

“We’ve already discussed it. Just….move on.” He mumbled, avoiding looking at her.

“ yeah, but I remember you saying this tour is meant to include more Notes tracks and now you’re axing half of them. Oh and I suppose you expect me to find ‘You’ totally self-explanatory, too?”

Matty scratched his forehead, irritated in silence for a moment. “Maybe if you hadn’t been late, you’d have been around for the conversation. Guess you’ll just have to schedule your dates around your work next time, won’t you?”

Amelia was stunned into silence, simply shaking her head in disbelief.

“Amelia, uhh, I wondered if we might place some lights around the door frame for the second half of the show?” Tobias asked, mostly to cut the tension. “If they end up doing 28, that is.”

“That makes no sense.” She said without a second thought. “28 pre-dates the box iconography.” Her response was to Tobias, but her eyes still watched Matty, astounded.

“Why don’t we take- uhh- take 5 minutes while I bring us copies of the apology speech.” Tobias rushed to escape the room.

“I was thinking,” Amelia mused out loud breaking the silence that had covered the room as everyone read Matty’s Better Help ad. “the sentence that starts with ‘there’s nothing wrong with wanting to better yourself’ how about we change it to-“

“No,” Matty stated, firmly.

“Beg your pardon?”

“I said ‘no.’” Matty kept his eyes on his paper.

“But you haven’t even heard what I think you should replace it with…”

“Don’t need to. Pretty attached to that sentence. Don’t wanna change it.”

Amelia stood out of her chair and walked, stiffly, over to Matty, slamming the paper out of his hand. “Can I see you outside for a second?”

He shrugged, following her out.

“What the fuck’s the matter with you?”

“Amelia-“

“How dare you speak to me like that in front of everyone?”

“You’re asking questions that you shouldn’t-“

“I’m doing my job! The job that you hired me to do, by the way.”

“Doing your job would’ve been coming to work on time. Leaving your boyfriend at the door. Being a professional. Having those conversations when it was the right time to have them. Not- not now!”

Amelia shook her head, looking directly at him. He took off his glasses, wiping them off with the end of his shirt.

“Maybe the internet is right about you.” She spoke after an uncomfortable beat of silence. “Maybe you have turned into an arsehole.”

***

At one end of the hallway, Amelia laid in bed in her hotel room, watching Joshua undress and get ready to slide into the empty space next to her. She crawled into his arms as soon as he laid down.

“You alright? You seem upset.” Joshua kissed her forehead.

She couldn’t stop thinking about the look on Matty’s face as she’d called him an asshole. A look that she’d only seen once before. At George’s house, two years ago, hours after his long term relationship had ended. He’d gotten drunk and cried himself to sleep on George’s couch. She wondered if that’s how she’d find him right now. If she walked over to the other end of the hallway, to the Royal Suite, would she find him in that same state?

“I’m okay.” She whispered into Joshua’s chest. “Kiss me please.”

***

George grew increasingly worried the more that his knocks went unanswered. He pulled out his phone, sending “anyone hear from Matty yet?” To Adam and Ross before deciding to go down to the front desk and ask for a spare key.

His heart sunk at the sight in front of him. Several empty bottles of wine around the room, Matty’s crying muffled by the pillow that he’d buried his face into, the notepad on the floor, Matty’s body shaking, his hands fisting the duvet. He was right to be concerned. He was right to come here.

“Matty,” he whispered, laying a gentle hand on his friends shoulder. “Matty, mate, c’mon. Look at me. C’mon, let’s g- please, sit up for me?”

***

“ I know this isnt what you want to hear, but…There are only two options, I’m afraid.” George said softly, his head dipping to the side. “You either tell her how you feel, or you move on.”

“But she’s got a- a- Joshua!”

George tittered, trying not to be too amused. “I know, but what does that matter? They’ve only just met. You should still tell her. Let her make the choice for herself.”

“Nothings really changed, though. She was crushed when she told me she loved me and I didn’t say it back. And-“

“Why, exactly, did you not say it back?”

“I’m not- I don’t think being together would be a good idea. I’m not good enough for her yet.”

“But, Matty, you’ve had this— thing— for her for ages.”

“Yeah, but I was a fuckin mess for the first couple of years. I mean; I was addicted to smack- and - and then she got a boyfriend. And I got a girlfriend, and th-“

“I know. I was there.”

Matty fell silent for a moment, looking down as his hands fiddled, nervously, with the end of his sleeves. “It’s just….when I’m with her….when we’re together….everything feels right. Everything feels good — ‘m not even talking about sex; not that the sex isn’t good. Cuz it is. It’s fuckin great but that’s not all there is to it— Doesn’t matter what it is that we’re doing, if we’re doing it together, then I’m happy.”

“I haven’t heard you speak about anyone this way in a long time.”

Matty smiled, a tired, defeated smile, shrugging, “right.” He looked up at George, “but….im still not the kind of person that she can depend on. I couldn’t even say ‘I love you’ back. And- she’s got someone who…clearly knows how special she is. Who’s willing to take a risk on her.”

“Matty, there is no perfect redemption arc or whatever the fuck you’re on about- you’re don’t have to wait to become a different person- she said ‘I love you’ to you. Not some….potential of a perfect version of you”

Matty wanted to remind George that she’s wrong about him. That all the reasons she loves him for are not real. Simply a product of her misplaced faith in him. A mistaken understanding that he’s a better and stronger person than he is. But he didn’t have to say all that. He had a shortcut right at his fingertips. “Look at this!” Matty held up his phone, displaying a vast number of notifications, all of which contained derogatory and disparaging attacks on him, available for the whole world to peruse through at any moment. “Do you honestly think a new relationship would be good right now?”

The glimmer of conviction in George’s eyes began to fade. “So….does this mean….you’re letting her go?”

They were silent for a moment, then, George got up and pulled Matty into a hug.

“About that stuff in your phone-“

“I’m fine.”

George knew he wasn’t fine. But he also knew he wasn’t ready for help yet.

***

The show was perfect. Amelia had to hand it to Matty. She couldn’t see the vision at first. Especially when he’d changed much of the setlist, but onstage, it made perfect sense. Watching the audience’s shock and awe at witnessing those lesser known songs be played live for the first time in years only made the night more exciting. Matty appeared to take in the positive, instant feedback as well. Thanking everyone and taking a bow before getting off-stage.

She meant to inform him of how impressed she was backstage, but he was instantly swarmed by techs, unhooking him from the equipment and checking with him about next show’s instruments. He disappeared into the dressing room shortly after, and in the chaos of the post-show action, she was distracted. Before she knew it, Matty’s driver —who’d been reassigned to her and Joshua as soon as they’re joined the tour— was driving them back to their hotel room.

***

The silence was deafening. Matty laid in bed, struggling to sleep, lonely, cold, and contemplating going downstairs for a smoke. He picked up his phone and scrolled through his Instagram messages, his finger hovering indecisively over a woman to message. The routine —something he’d done before, on many a lonely night— made him feel sick. He didn’t want that anymore. He buried his phone under his pillow and tossed to the other side.

Minutes turned to hours as Matty laid, wide awake, tossing and turning in bed. His hand slowly sliding down his body, wondering if he could relieve some stress and distract himself from the pangs of loneliness. He closed his eyes, dipping his hand into his briefs and grabbing himself. He worked himself to the memories of his best sexual encounters, trying to recall how he’d felt, what it had been like, how he’d made his partner feel. The pleasure, the intimacy of that deep connection, the rush of giving someone else overwhelming pleasure and hearing them moan and whine. None of it seemed to be working, only building his frustration. He turned to lay on his stomach, still jerking himself off. As his frustration continued, he decided that perhaps humping the mattress may help. And he really tried his best, getting closer and closer to feeling something, he dedicated all of his focus towards remaining in his body, working hard at shutting away any thoughts, his hips grinding against the bed. He groaned and whined into the bedding. Had he been quieter, or moved slower, he might have heard the soft beeping of the door lock as a spared key swiped into it, or even the footsteps approaching his bedroom. Unfortunately, he only heard “Matty?” When it was too late. Amelia was already standing in the doorway.

“Fuck! Oh my- Christ!” Matty jolted at the sound of her voice. “A-Amelia. Wha- what- what’re you- doing here?” He cover himself up with the duvet, sitting up against the bed frame.

She smiled, walking towards him. “Sorry. I clearly interrupted something.” She teased.

Matty’s lips parted. He wanted to speak, but nothing came to mind. He watched her approach him, reach out her hand, and cup his face gently. God, he needed this. A human touch. Amelia’s touch.

“Amelia I’m so-“

“I know. I know. You don’t need to say anything, Matty.”

She leaned in kissing his lips. Her hand dipped under the duvet. “Let me help with that.” Wrapping her hand around his cock. Matty stiffened to her touch, swallowing a gasp.

Her hand jerked his length over and over, she’d sat in his bed, settling into a persistent rhythm. Matty cried incoherently, fucking into her hand and desperately hoping for pleasure. Nothing helped. She noticed his hips moving more aggressively and heavily m as his frustration peaked.

“Hey, easy, easy, Matty. Not like that. You’re gonna hurt yourself.”

“It’s not working. I’m so sorry- I- it hurts….”

“It’s okay; it’s okay. You don’t have to be sorry.” She let go of him, moving her hand away.

Matty blushed the words left his lips before he could stop himself “please don’t leave me.”

His genuine plea caught her off guard. “Matty….” Perhaps hes been worse off than she’d imagined. “I’m not gonna leave. I’m just…can I ummm…can I hold you?”

He nodded repeatedly, a wordless and enthusiastic plea. She wrapped her arms around him, doing her best to tighten around his thick, strong muscles. Amelia kissed along the expanse of his shoulders as she shook and wept in her arms. Despite his massive build, he felt so small and fragile. She put all she had into those gentle kisses, hoping his skin would absorb her love, her care as she grazed it with her lips. They stayed that way until Matty had no tears left to cry. He fell asleep.

***

The sunlight felt harsh against Matty’s eyelids. He stirred in bed, not ready to open his eyes yet. As sleep weaned its hold on him, the events of last night came rushing back. He was filled with a mix of different emotions. Comfort, embarrassment, anxiety, and a sliver of joy. As he prepared to open his eyes and turn to the other side of the bed, he prayed to a god that he didn’t believe in that he would find her sleeping right next to him. He waited a moment for his heartbeat to come back down. Then, he turned around, slowly, and opened his eyes. She was gone.

[briefinquiries]

Luke Alvez x Reader: Haunted

Request: Anonymous wrote: Could you write something about telling luke about your past (sad angsty stuff I guess) thanks love 🥰’

Word count: 1.8k

Warnings: rape tw

A/N: Repost since being deleted, tw!!

It took a full month of you and Luke dating before he finally coaxed you into spending the night at his place.  With promises from him of Chinese take out, movies, and lots of cuddles (nothing more), you knew that you had nothing to worry about.  Luke knew little about your past, only that you preferred taking things slow, which he respected. Ever since the two of you met, he’d been patient, never rushing anything with you. 

Only recently had you begun thinking that maybe you were ready for more with Luke. And you knew that Luke was ready, probably had been ready since their first date– but was a gentleman, and had been patiently waiting for you to be comfortable.

The two of you were cuddled up close on Luke’s couch, having a movie marathon, already in sweatpants. All evening you and him had been equal parts watching the movies and ignoring the screen in exchange for kissing. All you could focus on was how Luke tasted like spearmint.  Luke slowed down and disconnected your lips, pulling you closer and pecking your head a few times before turning back to the movie. You suspected he stopped because he was just starting to get a little too antsy, judging by the way Luke kept fidgeting his hips. You wondered what would happen if you asked Luke for more right there out of nowhere. You opted to wait for another day.  For now you were content with being nuzzled into Luke’s side, your head resting in the crook of his neck. You found yourself dozing off somewhere between your heavy makeout session and the end of the movie, your head falling limp against Luke’s shoulder as you let your heavy eyelids rest shut.  

When the end credits rolled half an hour later, Luke nudged you awake. “Time to sleep.”

You nodded tiredly and looked up at Luke, offering him a groggy smile. 

Luke flicked off the TV and helped you up off the couch, his steady grip guiding you down the hall and into his bedroom.  

You shuffle to the side of the bed closest to the wall, knowing Luke liked sleeping so that he could be closest to the door. You don’t even remember him sliding in next to you, or flicking off his bedside lamp, twisting around to face you. “Sweet dreams,” he whispered.

“Goodnight,” you murmured back to him right before sleep took you away. 

You fell asleep with your legs tangled with Luke’s and a warm arm wrapped securely around your waist, your face pressed to Luke’s chest, inhaling his sweet scent. But your dreams weren’t sweet, as memories began reenacting themselves in your subconscious.

“Through here, it’s okay,” he had instructed, pulling you through a dark, dingy hallway, the pounding music still audible. We were in the back room of a club, your friends still downing shots in the main room. No one noticed you being disengaged from the crowd and being led off.

The man pushed you through the doorway of a tiny, grimy bathroom. Phone numbers and messages were scribbled all over the walls and the toilet and sink were rusted over. Condom wrappers and joints littered the floor.

“What are we doing here?” You swallowed. The man had convinced you to go someplace quiet to talk, an offer you welcomed in place of the noisy bar. But by the looks of the dingy room you’d been taken to, the sudden dread filling your stomach told you the man had something else in mind. “I’m going to go back,” you attempted weakly. You start to back towards the door, but fingers wrapping tightly around your wrist prevent you from leaving. You felt the dread twisting like a knife in your stomach; and suddenly you knew how much trouble you were really in.

“We’re just havin’ fun baby,” he said, covering your mouth with his own in a sloppy kiss. His hands traveled to your hips, groping you aggressively. You could feel his boner pressing into your hip.

You protested at first.   

“Please, no,” you tried, wincing in pain. “Please don’t.”

You turned your head away then used your hands to push against his chest. But with your drunken state, you knew you weren’t strong enough. The harder you fought, the tighter his grip around you grew, until suddenly, you weren’t fighting anymore.  

The man quickly undid your pants, pushing them past your bum before undoing his own. You felt his hands roaming your body and his hot breath everywhere. But the real horror came when he pushed himself roughly inside your tense body.

You were helpless, in pain, and completely unaware of what you should do, so you froze, letting the stranger continue to push into you with harsh thrusts. He grasped your jaw, moving his fingers down to wrap around your throat. You shook with anxiety under his grasp and cried out, hoping someone, anyone, would hear your pleads. 

“Shut up,” the man snarled, shaking you violently.  

You jolted awake, twisted in Luke’s sheets and your hair falling into your face. You were gasping, desperately trying to figure out where you were and what was happening. 

“Hey, hey, hey. It’s okay.” A soft voice soothed.  

That’s when you felt someone shifting next to you, and a couple of firm hands grasped your shoulders causing you to seize up and flinch away, the man from the bar still fresh in your mind.

The grip loosened, as you leaned forward, tucking your knees into your chest in order to hide your face. You slowly let yourself relax, your shoulders falling as you remembered your movie night with Luke.  

“Baby,” a soft voice said, causing you to flinch. Luke sat up and flicked on the lamp. “Baby, what’s wrong?”

He took in your face, eyes wild and forehead slick. You looked back at him, feeling leftover tears fall down your face. You roughly wiped at them, unaware until then that you were even crying until that moment. 

“I–,” you began, your voice raspy. You cleared your throat and began again. “Just, uh, bad dream,” you explained shakily.

Luke stared at you with concern. “It’s okay, you’re safe,” he whispered, grabbing your clammy hand in his own. 

You bit your lip and tried not to cry as you nodded, feeling so embarrassed for waking Luke up like this.

“Talk to me,” Luke murmured, his sleepy eyes becoming more and more alert. 

Suddenly, Luke’s gaze had you feeling increasingly self conscious. You looked down at the thin fabric t-shirt you were wearing and crossed your arms tightly, attempting to hide from him. You were exposed and vulnerable, you wished he would just shut the light off again. 

You continued to stare at the maroon sheets wrapped around your knees, the wrinkles like a sea of waves you wished you could get lost in.  

You didn’t want Luke to know you were raped. 

Hell you didn’t even know if you were raped. 

Did it even count if you had never told anyone?

Did it count if you had never uttered the words out loud?

Did it count if you had never fought back?  

You felt your breathing increase the more you thought about it, your chest rising and falling rapidly as you struggled to calm down. 

Luke’s hand traveled to your back, where he was rubbing soothing circles with his thumb between your shoulder blades. He was too good, you thought, as you continued staring ahead.  You hoped you deserved him.

You closed your eyes and took a deep breath, you had to tell him. You wanted to, you needed to.  You could trust Luke. So why was this so scary? Would he think of you differently? Would he even want you anymore? You shake the thoughts from your head. 

No. 

This was different, this was Luke.  

You couldn’t look at Luke as you spoke, and at first you didn’t even recognize the croaked voice that escaped your lips.  

“I was… um–” You frantically wipe the tears still falling down your cheeks. “I was raped.” The word left your mouth harshly, like they’d been bottled up inside of you for years. You supposed it had been.   

You felt Luke’s hand stiffen on your back and a puff of air escape through his lips, but he didn’t speak. 

“I don’t know who he was,” you explained. “Or why he chose me–” your voice cracked on the last word as you choked on a sob that had been stuffed deep within your chest. As you leaned over to cry, Luke’s hands moved to grip your hips and suddenly, he was hoisting you back and cradling you against him.

One hand remained planted on your hip, grounding you in place, while the other traveled to cup your face. His thumb ran along your wet cheek as he swiped tears away. You squeezed your eyes shut, burrowing further into Luke’s arms and just let him hold you. 

“Shh,” Luke soothed, you feel his lips ghost across the top of your head. “It’s okay.”

You’re not sure how long the two of you sat like that, but when you finally pulled back, you found yourself wiping your puffy eyes. 

“Let me get you some water, okay?” Luke mumbled, he was already getting out of bed.

He pulled the sheets off of the two of you. “I’ll be right back.”

You immediately felt his absence, your skin grew cold, but your heart grew colder.  

Thankfully he returned shortly after with a glass of water.

You were handed a cup, to which you took a long sip of, before placing it on the nightstand. 

“Thank you,” you replied, giving Luke a grateful look.

“Of course. Come here,” Luke muttered, pulling you back into his lap. You didn’t hesitate, in fact, you warmly welcomed Luke’s arms. They felt like safety.   

All of a sudden, you jerked your head up, looking at Luke earnestly. “Luke? I love you.”

Luke stared back at you, frozen for a moment before snapping out of it and pulling you into his chest. 

“I love you, too. So much.” Luke promised. When was the last time you’d been told that so sincerely? 

Luke held you close and rubbed your back, whispering sweet things to calm you down. “I got you now.” Luke leaned in close and kissed around your ear before whispering, “Thank you for trusting me.” 

You nod just as a wave of exhaustion washed over you. For the first time, you weren’t afraid. You knew Luke’s tight grip would ward off any bad dreams your mind threatened to haunt you with. You knew you were safe. 

You let yourself relax against Luke’s frame, suddenly feeling calm enough to give in to your desperate urge to slip back into sleep.  

No more nightmares. 

[yesimwriting]

Resurgence

A/n this is a product of me going with the flow to get rid of some writer’s block, i originally wanted to write a jason x reader story but this became much more background heavy and turned into something else so i’m thinking maybe mini series! some found family vibes, idk though

Summary: After an impulsive attempt to run away with your best friend ends in an accident that alters everything about you (literally--like on a genetic level), you’re pushed into the Titan’s world. 

----

Earlier. 

I know it’s too early for total cynicism, but the note Jenna left out on the counter doesn’t allow for much else. A passive aggressive, vague scribbling reminding me that just because we went to bed and woke up doesn’t mean the fight is over. The note is taped to a box of cereal because she’s pointedly reminding me that there’s a reason she’s not here making me breakfast. Whatever. 

I pour myself a bowl before pulling open the door to the fridge. The nearly empty carton of milk is expired. Perfect.

My phone starts to buzz before I can get rid of souring milk. Violet’s contact name and picture takes up my screen as I pick up the device. “Hey.” 

“Do you remember yesterday? When you were talking about just getting in a car and driving anywhere and everywhere and never looking back?”

Intense way to start a before 8AM call. “Weird conversation starter... but yeah.” 

She sighs, the sound a puff of air into my receiver. “I took my step dad’s car, I’m about to pass your house, do you want to come with me?” 

Oh my god. She’s lost it. “Are you insane?” 

“Do you want to get out of here or not?” 

My eyes fall to the skirt of my uniform and then to Jenna’s note. Memories of last night’s argument hit with no warning. “Let’s go.” 

----

Present.

There’s light and then I’m plunged back into darkness. A nothingness that I can feel. A nothingness that aches. Get up. Get up. Get-- 

My body won’t move. I latch onto the only thing I can, the faint prickle of light from behind my eyes. It’s kind of...irritating. And I can hear a strange, flat ringing. I screw my eyes shut tighter, a touch of mobility returning. Slowly, enough of it comes back for me to open my eyes. 

Okay. I’m staring at a roof. Not at the sky...and not at Violet’s...The thought brings me back to the pain in my body. Everything is sore, but I’m resting somewhere that should be comfortable. A bed, not the side of the road...not the last place I remember. 

Wait--where am I? I sit up fully, the buzzing noise turns into a sporadic mess of beeping. Each bump of noise feels like it’s striking me in the head. My hands stretch forward to rub my face. The movement feels like mush and restrained. 

My eyes drop to my arms. There’s a tube sticking out of my arm, an object I vaguely register as an IV. A few other wires are sticking out from me, including a tube in my nose. Okay--this is getting weird. I sit up a little more before twisting my fingers around the oxygen tube. 

“I wouldn’t--” My body presses as far back into the cot as I physically can before snapping my head forward. There’s a guy standing next to one of two chairs lined neatly against a wall. “I don’t think you should touch that.” 

Has he been here the entire time? And--and what is ‘the entire time’? How long has it been since Violet? 

The question claws its way all the way to the tip of my tongue. I clamp my mouth shut to keep from asking it because I already know. After what I saw...what I felt...I know the answer. No one gets put back together after going through what happened to Violet and the last thing I want right now is to get into it with a stranger who may or may not be a danger. Speaking it into the world feels too real, too solid a vulnerability. 

All I can do is stare at the stranger. His neat brown hair and put together posture seem mature enough that he could be a doctor if I’m going with the assumption that this is a hospital, but that doesn’t feel right. He’s not wearing a lab coat and his clothing feels a little too casual. He also feels a little too young to have finished med school. 

“...You’re not a doctor.” 

He takes my analysis well, tilting his chin down quickly in some sort of nod. “No.” The stranger takes a small step forward, more of a shift in my direction. “What do--do you know where you are? Do you remember anything?” 

The question is a jab to already bruised ribs. Do I remember? Remember the car that came out of nowhere, that started chasing us at the gas station; the box Jenna pulled out from under the seats; the electric feeling of that liquid in my veins; waking up again and seeing the wreckage, seeing Jenna... 

I swallow it all down, eyeing the stranger a little more cautiously. The urgency is weird. There are only so many reasons for a stranger to be in a hospital room with me. There’s a small chance he’s just some kind of good samaritan, who found me bleeding out somehow. He could also be with the people from the car or--or something else. Something bigger. 

“Why do you care?” The words feel too raspy to have any real bite. “Actually, a better question--who even are you?” 

His eyebrows draw together briefly, almost reluctantly. “I’m Dick Grayson.” 

It’s a patient introduction, not exactly soft but politer than I expected. I don’t know what the appropriate reaction is, so I just nod. 

Something about the way he’s lingering tells me that this strange interaction hasn’t been enough for him. Dick is going to push his questions or ask something else or maybe even justify his presence, but before he gets to do any of that, the door is pushed open. 

A woman in a lab coat doesn’t even throw a curious glance in Dick’s direction. Does that indicate that he’s been in here for awhile? Or--or did he tell the hospital we’re in that I know him somehow? 

“Okay,” the doctor hums, extending the last syllable as she glances at a clipboard, “You’re looking a lot better after the scare you gave us.” Her eyes shift away from my chart and towards the heart monitor that’s now beeping steadily, “Hm. That last alert must have been some kind of system error.” 

Whatever that means. “Uh--scare?” 

She presses her lips together, briefly turning her attention back to the clip board. “You were rushed into treatment, your body has experienced significant trauma.” The doctor pauses to take a breath, “Maybe this would be better discussed later. With a parent.” 

“What happened after...the accident?” She still seems unsure. “Please.” 

The doctor lets out a hesitant sigh, “During your treatment, your heart briefly stopped.” I--I flatlined? “But after you restabilized, there were no further complications and you seem well on your way to making a full recovery.” I nod blankly. “Is there anyone we should call for you?” Ugh. Jenna’s so going to kill me. “Could you use a minute first?” 

“A minute sounds like a good idea.” Whoever Dick Grayson is, he has no issue over inserting himself. 

The doctor nods, being suspiciously unsuspicious of the random guy, “Alright, I’ll be back.” 

She leaves; Dick doesn’t. I turn my arm over, staring at the IV in my arm. Maybe if I’m quiet enough, he’ll leave. 

“You remember the accident.” Guess the assumption that he’d just leave was an optimistic one. 

My fingers twist the thin fabric of the hospital blanket. “Did you find me or something?” 

Dick pauses, thinking about the best way to answer what must feel like a fragile question. “Or something.” Weird. “That car you were in, it wasn’t yours.” 

Great, now I’m not only going to have to tell Violet’s parents what happened to her, I’m also going to get arrested for stealing a car. “No.” 

The confession has no affect on him. He seemed sure enough in his assumption, so maybe he already decided my answer wouldn’t matter. “Did you know what was in the car?” 

There’s a generalness in the question that I could use to my advantage--should use to my advantage--but the memories resurfacing make all rational thought impossible. The stuff in the car is what got me here. 

“No,” the answer is more honest than I should be, “Not until after.” 

His eyebrows pinch together, a hint of something less stoic bleeding into his expression. Maybe a touch of empathy. It’s not overbearing or much, but the shift is enough to make me feel exposed. Too exposed for some guy who I met through a hospital room and has only given me his name. A part of me wishes my phone was on me--a google search could potentially help. 

I flatten my hands on my lap. “How do you know about the car?” The last people that knew about the weird fluid rammed themselves into a car until it flipped off a bridge. He could easily be working for them--some nice enough looking guy to make sure I woke up without freaking out and alerting anyone.

“I’m not with them.” Dick provides his defense stiffly, like he’s aware of its lack of strength. 

The call button is only inches away from my hand. “Right, ‘cause the people that used a car to push my car off a bridge are for sure above lying.” 

He takes another mini-step forward. “I’m actually trying to help you.” 

Another thing he can’t prove. “Then tell me how you know about the blue stuff.” 

Dick tries to suppress a sigh. I can’t tell if he was working under the assumption that I’d just wake up and happily go along with whatever. “...Because I’ve been looking for it.” 

“That’s not sketchy at all.”

Something else tugs at his expression that’s different than before. Not pity or an apology, more like a general acknowledgement of how weird he’s being. “I saw the accident.” The words hit harder than they should considering the lack of meanness. “One of the vials was missing.” 

Right before the accident, I opened the small box to see what Violet was talking about. I took one of the vials out to examine it and then the car flipped. “So you have the other vials?”

My question isn’t appreciated. “Do you know what happened after the accident?” The first few minutes, I was still awake. Conscious enough to crawl my way out of the car, but everything after that is stuck behind a dark wall. He takes my silence as an answer. “The battery was completely fried, but the engine was still running.” 

That’s a fun fact? “Uh--cool?” I never did ask him anything that would reveal how mentally well he is. “I must have missed that while trying to crawl out of it before it exploded or something.” 

“I didn’t--” The corner of my mouth turns up a little at his slight unease. I wasn’t sarcastic with the intention of being mean or making the stranger uncomfortable, but I’m not exactly mad it happened. He seems to catch onto the fact that I’m only giving him a hard time because I can. “Cars need batteries to run.” 

Dick’s eyes stay trained on me after those words, analyzing my reaction to them. My first instinct is to dismiss it. I can’t imagine that car ever being fixed and car batteries are replaceable. That’s the least of its issues. Then it hits me--how was the engine running? “Oh.” He’s still watching. Why? “...What does a car have to do with me?” 

“The people that are looking for the vials are dangerous.” I lift an arm to gesture to my IV, a quiet way of saying no shit. “They’re going to come back.” 

My stomach knots at that. It’s not like I necessarily thought this was all over, but I hadn’t considered what could happen next. “I don’t have the missing vial.” As far as I know, he’s no one important, but the urge to get him to believe me hits hard and fast. “It probably fell and--and shattered or something.” 

His expression doesn’t give me anything to work with. “If you come with me, I can test if it had any effects on you--”

Okay, I know a kidnapping scam when I see one. “You’re kidding, right?” He keeps his blankness, his posture somehow straighter than it was before. Dick’s radiating a sense of authority that’s definitely practiced. “Are you asking or telling?” 

“I’m trying to help.”

“And if I don’t want your help because there’s no way some weird, lab goo did anything to me?” My hand shifts forward, reaching for the remote with the help button. “You seem nice enough, thank you for not leaving me to die in some underpass, but I think it’s time you go. Good luck with your goo situation.” 

Dick’s eyes drop down to my hand. In about two steps, he’s at the side of my bed. “Don’t.” 

I’ve never wanted to press a button more in my life. My thumb finds the trigger, but before I can press it, a strong grip secures itself around my wrist. He moved so quickly, I’m still registering the fact that he went to grab me. Who is this guy?

Before I can warn him that I have nothing against screaming bloody murder until someone separates us, I’m snapped out of my thoughts. My body feels disconnected, like it’s floating. 

A light flickers behind my eyes, glazing over my vision. Some strong, hard to name thing pulls at my stomach, an even stronger feeling settles in my chest. That one is easier to listen to as something flickers to the front of my mind like a hazy memory or unfinished dream. I can’t tell what it is, but my body knows to trust it. To believe it. Do I know him? 

The feeling is so close to familiarity that it feels like a physical hit. My fingers go slack, and the remote slips from my grasp and onto the cot. He lets go and moves back into place immediately. 

I know that deciding whether or not to let some random guy run some sort of test on me cannot be a choice so influenced by a vibe. But what I saw has drained most of the fight from me. Maybe it’s a side effect of the car accident. Like some type of internal bleeding? 

“Sorry, I don’t--” 

“You want to run some tests on me or--?” It’s more of a summary for me than a direct question for him. Ugh. Maybe if he had asked for anything less weird...then again, I can’t think of anything that wouldn’t be weird from a stranger that’s just in my hospital room. “How do you even know about this?” 

He hesitates, “Long story.” 

Helpful. I guess it is kind of comforting that he’s this bad at getting me to want to come with him, because no respectable kidnapper would be this openly weird. And that instinct is still at the back of my mind, urging me to trust him. “You get that you’re super sketchy, right?” If this is some kind of trap, I deserve what I’m going to get. “If I agree, can I borrow a phone to call someone?” Grabbing my phone wasn’t a priority when I crawled out of that car, and I really doubt it somehow miraculously made its way to the hospital with me. 

“Parents?” 

Jenna’s so gonna kill me. “Sort of.” I’m not in the mood to get into my living situation, so I just stare at my sheets before he can ask. “What? You’re the only that gets to be cryptic?” The attempt at humor surprises me. He’s still a stranger, but my head isn’t accepting that. 

“You can call them.” 

“Then...okay.” I’m going to end up on dateline and my episode will be so boring some girl with a true crime podcast will skip my episode. “But if you’re some kidnapping serial killer, I will fuck you up.” 

The corner of his mouth turns up a bit, like something about what I said is amusing him. Kind of rude, considering that I’m being completely serious, but I can’t decide if that makes me feel better or worse about my decision. 

----

This might be one of the nicest buildings I’ve ever stepped foot in. It’s not like the building Dick’s led me to is overly extravagant, but it’s definitely structured in a way that feels well off. Like it’s owned by the kind of rich person that’s so wealthy they don’t feel the need to prove it. 

“Dude,” I give myself a second to take in the space, “If you had led with how nice this place is, we could’ve skipped the whole hospital argument.” 

My presence here feels a little bit like a smudge. It’s not like I’m always put together or feel like I should be overly dressed up, but the hospital gave me back what I was wearing during the accident. Because Violet decided to runaway before school, I left the house in my uniform. It’s not the cruelest thing I’ve seen a Catholic school put someone in, but the plaid skirt and white button down don’t do much for my confidence, and they didn’t exactly hold up in the chaos of the accident...neither did my hair or face. 

“Really?”

I shrug, still looking around the space, “It definitely wouldn’t have hurt.” Tugging on the dirt smeared edge of my sleeve,  I turn back to him. “I’m Y/n, by the way.” It’s not information I really wanted to give, but I’m already here. It’s not like he can double kidnap me if that’s what this is, and knowing who I am won’t change anything. If he tries to use me for ransom all he’ll be able to get from Jenna is an IOU. “Felt weird that I hadn’t said that yet.” 

The car accident must have seriously damaged my self preservation abilities, or maybe it’s the fact that anything I can latch onto is a distraction from Violet, because I step further into the room, fully entering the space and seeing the full living room. 

Two heads on the side of the couch that I couldn’t see before snap towards me so quickly it almost feels like they moved in sync. The one farthest from me has a dark purple bob and the boy next to her has green hair. The stare off is a little weird and refuels my doubts. They both look a lot closer to my age than Dick’s. 

The girl breaks the silence, “Who’s this?” 

I’m not sure if that’s a question directed at me or Dick, but I answer anyway, “I--” 

“You wanted to call someone, right?” Dick steps up so that he’s next to me, handing me an unlocked cell phone. 

Weird place to jump in, but at least he isn’t being cagey and taking away my ability to contact someone. “Yeah.” I take the phone, already dreading this conversation. “Could I get some water?” 

“Kitchen’s that way, take whatever you want.” Looking through a rich guy’s fridge might take the sting out of being berated by Jenna. 

I start walking in the direction he gestured towards. “Cool.” 

After finding the kitchen, I dial Jenna’s number. She answers on the second ring. “Okay--don’t freak out.” 

“Where the fuck are you? Were you kidnapped?” 

“One, that sounds like freaking out. Two, why are you always assuming I’ve been kidnapped?” 

She sighs before getting my name out in a way that tells me to not mess with her right now. That makes me cut to the chase, summarizing majority of what happened and glossing over what I can’t get out or explain. She gets extra mad when I tell her that I followed a stranger home just because they said they found me. Jenna rightfully yells at me, and then finally asks me where I am. 

The realization that I have no clue makes me feel a lot worse about the situation. I paid extra attention on the drive here, but no part of this felt like any part of Gotham I’ve ever been to. Maybe it’s because it’s a richer area? 

I duck my head back into the living room, “Hey, Dick?” He looks up from the two in the living room, who I guess he was giving some context to. “I’m on the phone and someone wants to pick me up. Where are--” Jenna cuts me off in that way of hers, reminding me how much I suck at giving directions. “Uh--she wants to talk to you.” 

His eyebrows draw together, “Your mom?” 

Shrugging, I start walking towards him. “Uh--my Jenna,” I hold the phone out towards him, “That’s like having a mom, just...louder.” He eyes the phone oddly. “You’ll see.” He’ll have to, Jenna gets her way. 

Dick takes the phone, instantly catching on to what I meant and stepping away to talk to her. He throws out the part of stolen car, which would have been nice for him to keep to himself. Then he says...San Francisco, which makes no sense to me because Violet and I were nowhere near California. That’s where she wanted to go, but we barely made it out of Gotham before it all happened. 

I blink, sitting down on the couch in shock. My head then turns to the boy next to me, “Hi, I’m Y/n.” 

After a second, he smiles politely and says, “Gar.” 

“Nice to meet you,” a little awkward, but he’s looking at me so politely I can’t help but fall back on normal habits, “Are we not in Gotham?” 

He briefly looks confused and then a little apologetic, “No.” 

Great, I’m brain damaged. That’s the only logical explanation for how I got to San Francisco without even realizing it. “...Cool.” 

The girl sits up a little more, looking over at me, “Are you okay?” 

“Uh,” all of my potential answers make me sound insane, “I’ve been better.” 

Dick’s conversation with Jenna seems to be getting calmer, which bugs me a little. I can’t explain it, it’s just suspicious that he’s not only this super upstanding guy that helped me get to and from the hospital, he’s also capable of getting Jenna on his side. He ends the call. 

Before he can give any kind of update, I’m already up, “How am I not in Gotham?” I don’t give him the chance to answer. “You said you saw the accident, so that means you got me here.” 

“No.” I wonder how quickly I could get out of here. My body’s still sore, but pain’s something to worry about later. “I--exaggerated on how much I saw.” 

He’s not exactly helping himself, “So you've been lying this entire time.” 

“I didn’t want to scare you.” 

That sounds like something a kidnapper would be worried about. Panic rises in my chest and the room feels too hot, too charged. The lights briefly waver and that only adds to my stress. “Then how did I get here?” 

Dick’s looking at me the same way he did in the hospital. A hesitant sort of empathy. It’s restrained, but it feels so genuine that my stomach twists. If he’s not the one that dragged me here, then that means that--and how much time did I lose? 

It feels too naive to believe him just because of a look, but that would explain a lot. If he had seen the accident, he would have had more questions. He probably would have mentioned Violet. “How’d you find me? And--and why’d you say that stuff about the car battery?” 

“They had you, and the battery thing was a little different than what I said.” The confirmation is a punch to the gut. How long was I out? What did they do to me? Why did they take me when they had the vials? “Jenna’s flying out first thing tomorrow.” I must look like I’m about to snap, because he’s making a point of keeping his words even and slow. I don’t know how she’s going to fly out considering she maxed out her credit card trying to buy concert tickets. “We can get you something more comfortable to wear and something to eat before we get into anything else.”

He’s just trying to be nice, understanding, but it makes me feel too much like a little kid. Especially since there are two people around my age watching this play out. There’s still a chance this is some kind of trap, but it’s a little too late to decide if I trust him. I give in with a reluctant nod.

----

The shower pressure I just experienced is something that I can’t see myself forgetting. Before I walked into the bathroom the girl, who I learned is named Rachel, brought me something comfortable. Some elastic pajama pants and a black crewneck.

I don’t know how much of it is Rachel being genuine or if Dick told her to hang around a little, but she showed up a little after I got out of the shower and took me to a guest bedroom so I could put away my clothes. She then walked me to the kitchen, awkwardly admitted that they’re overdue for a grocery run before giving me some options. 

Rachel ends up making me a grilled cheese. It’s a little awkward letting a stranger do something for me, but it’d feel even weirder casually using an unfamiliar kitchen like I live here. 

My hunger felt all consuming until food was put in front of me. I keep thinking of Violet and all the hours I lost. But rationally, I know I should eat something and that it’d be kind of rude not to, so I take small bites of the edge of my sandwich. 

I’m still working on the first triangular half when Gar shows up, offering me another polite smile. I force myself to return it even though the day’s starting to catch up with me. 

“Uh-hey,” he walks into the kitchen, “I know I introduced myself earlier, but that was...” Gar brushes that train of thought away with a small breath, “Uh--are you feeling better?”  

I nod, turning to face him, “The shower helped.” I set my half of the grilled cheese down, “I picked so many twigs out of my hair.” Why would I say that? 

“Yeah, you look a little better.” He reaches the counter, tapping his fingers on the counter, “Not that you looked bad before! Just that you look like you’re feeling a little better.” 

The correction comes out like a knee-jerk reaction. Like he really thought he might have offended me. “I get it,” I can’t help but smile a little, “And absolutely no worries if you had meant it the other way, I saw myself in the mirror. I definitely looked accurate to my car accident.” I thought mentioning the car accident casually would make it feel breezy and normal, but it just feels sad. “There’s no non-weird way to say that.” 

“It’s fine.” Gar’s words come out so assured I almost believe him, “We’ve heard weirder.” 

Rachel nods, “A lot weirder.” 

I look between the two of them before taking another bite out of my grilled cheese. They’re both looking at me while trying to pretend that they’re doing something else. I guess I know how my 4th grade class guinea pig felt. 

A part of me wants to start conversation. Some of it is the awkward feel of silence and some of it is the urge to return their niceness, but I’m also tired and not sure how much of a point there is. Tomorrow, I’ll be back home and likely permanently grounded. 

“Do you feel like we’re hovering?” Rachel’s question takes me by surprise. Before I can instinctually tell them that they’re both fine, she continues, “We can give you some space if you want. I know it’s a little overwhelming.” 

What is? Showing up here? The accident? It shouldn’t matter considering that I’m leaving tomorrow. “Some quiet might be nice,” I admit, “Just because Dick’s probably going to show up and get me to--” He never did specify what he was going to check out about me. Do they know that’s why I’m here? Also--why are they here? “I don’t even know. Just something I’m not really looking forward to.”

“We get it,” Rachel hums, stepping away from the counter, “We’ll give you a minute.” 

The two actually leave, a part of me is surprised at how genuine that was. They didn’t even linger like I might at best steal something and at worse finally snap. I get two minutes of quiet before the sound of footsteps entering the kitchen puts me back into focus mode. 

I tilt my head slightly, expecting Rachel or Gar or maybe even Dick. It’s...none of them. The person I don’t know walks straight past me and towards the fridge. They open it, the small light illuminating their skin in a way that makes the sheen of sweat impossible to ignore.

He pulls out a bottle of water, shuts the door, and then looks at me. There’s no hint of surprise as his eyes briefly focus on my face before trailing downwards. Is he-- “Something happen to your face?” 

This again. Stupid car accident had to bust my lip and bruise my face. “Uh--” While Rachel and Gar were attentive and purposefully polite, trying to apply regular social standards to an abnormal situation, this guy doesn’t seem to care about that at all. The thought of just blankly stating the car accident thing again, especially to someone this forward, is so unappealing I just blurt out, “Drug deal gone wrong.” 

Oh my god, the more I interact with people, the more I realize there has to be something seriously wrong with me. Like brain damage. Like over-40-pro-football player lever of concussed. 

Before I can say anything, he tilts his head again, looking me over more openly than before, "Right, because you seem the type.” 

I can’t tell if he’s making fun of me or amused. Probably the first one. “The best drug dealers don’t seem like drug dealers.” 

“Really?” There’s a level of kind-of-there annoyance that throws me. Like irritated is his natural state and it’s miracle enough that I didn’t make it worse. But the confidence in his voice keeps it from being fully bitter. 

“No,” I tap my nails on the counter, “I just didn’t feel like getting into the car accident thing again.” 

He’s quiet for a second, “And you thought drug deals would be easier?” 

I shrug, feeling a little smaller. I can’t tell if I can’t stand him or think he’s a little funny. “Must be an early sign of brain damage.”

He tilts his water bottle in a vague gesture towards my face. “I’d believe it.” 

Rude. I know I just said it, but still. “At least I have an excuse.” 

His eyebrows draw together in offense, and it doesn’t make me feel great. He wasn’t that bad and that was sort of a jump, but I’ll probably never see him again, so... 

“What’s your--” 

Before he can get into any sort of rant, a voice cuts him off, “Jason.” Oh, it’s Dick. I turn my head enough to catch his tense look. “Leave her alone.” 

“She started it.” 

Okay, yeah, I think he annoys me more than I find him funny. “Nice come back,” I mumble, pushing away from the counter, “What are you? 12?” 

“If you want to find out--” 

Ah. I’ve been through too much today for this. "Like that line’s ever worked.” 

He isn’t swayed by my reaction, “Trust me, I don’t need--” 

“Okay,” Dick inserts himself into the conversation, and a part of me is glad for the excuse to leave. “Enough.” He then looks at me, “Are you ready?” 

At least it’ll be over soon. “As long as you don’t tell me that stuff turned me part alien or whatever.” 

He draws his eyebrows together, “Part alien?” 

“So magical science goo is real, but my thing’s unrealistic.” 

[deedeli-liveblog]

RWBY ReWatch Volume 7: PENNY!!! :D

Okay, so what do I remember from this Volume? PENNY!! She’s back. The Ace Ops were introduced here, Clover dies a stupid death, Robyn is here, Ironwood starts off crazy, calms down, and then completely loses his shit by then end.

Yeah, that’s about it. Broad strokes, but the finer details elude me. So let’s get started.

Oh, this was the volume they changed Qrow’s VA, ahklhdhka. It’s so noticeable.

This is the first Volume since 4 that the captions have functioned as they should.

They have such a large, colorful, conspicuous group now alkdhkjhfaksh.

qrow didn’t even need to punch those tigers but he did that for me

Oscar’s weapon is so funny, he is quite literally just aggressively poking things to death.

I’m that guy from ATLA that foams at the mouth and passes out, but for everytime Penny shows up.

Mmm, Clover’s introduction has him picking up the very weapon used to kill him later on. Nice touch.

Unlike the last two Volumes, I vividly remember the OP for this one. Mostly because I have the damn song on my phone, because I immediately fell in love with it. But also because that one image of Penny smiling that’s in the OP, because I love her.

Ironwood actually laughs a little bit when Ruby admits to stealing the airship.

Damn, I know Ironwood kinda falls off his rocker later, but RWBY and co., reaaaalllly made it worse. Like, he made a real, genuine effort to assuage their worries and make himself trustworthy. Opened himself up completely to them.If they were as upfront with Ironwood in the beginning as he was with them, maybe he wouldn’t have reacted so poorly.

Oh no, I forgot about Qrow and Ironwood’s hug. :c  That just makes it sadder that Qrow wants to kill Ironwood later..

I smile every time I see Tyrian, I can’t help it. 

I don’t think I had noticed before that Yang gets an actual gauntlet for her robot arm now, instead of using just built in guns.

We still don’t get to see Nora’s landing strategy.

Sorry, but you can’t make a fishing pole a cool weapon. It’s just not happening.

I noticed this volume has actual wording on a lot of the screens that can be read instead of indiscernible scribbles. Case in point: one of the earlier monitors mention a toilet being “decimated”.

Marrow is so funny, oh my god.

The second Jacques can’t get anywhere with threats he moves straight into emotional manipulation. Fucker.

Jaune being popular with the moms is too cute.

I’m so happy FNKI got a little cameo this season, I love them so much.

Robyn was really about to throw away her chance at winning the election over a single truck of supplies.

Oh damn. Winter was looking forward to being the Winter Maiden. She considered it as part of her destiny and it was a decision she was making her own. And then it was ripped out from under her. That’s gotta sting like hell.

Oh, right. Nora and Ren start having relationship issues this volume. Poor Ruby just wanted to go to a fun party with friends.

We get a bunch of cute Penny moments to placate us before we move into Sad Penny days.

It’s actually SO GOOD to see Nora put her foot down for something serious.

Ironwood saying that Salem’s lack of humanity is her greatest advantage actually makes his turn to outright villain make a little more sense. He’s out to win now, and if losing his humanity and restraint is what helps that, then so be it.

Oh, Klein was fired. Shame, he was a sweet character. Jacques couldn’t hire anyone else? Just gonna have his son act as the butler? Okay.

Watts and Ironwood fighting in a gravity arena is such a fun stage for their battle.

Pffft, Watts falls after shoving Ironwood’s arm into the hard light shield, but Ironwood didn’t do anything to him. So really, Watts just threw himself to the ground to be dramatic.

Tyrian is SO fun to watch when he’s fighting, he’s like a little tornado of knives and poison.

Damn, Qrow, Clover, and Robyn had Tyrian completely overwhelmed in that fight. That seems to be the way to beat him seeing as he’s usually the one overwhelming his opponents. If Clover and Qrow had focused on Tyrian after the crash they could’ve easily subdued him again.

Every scene with Salem is so well done. It’s always so ominous and chilling, she constantly feels like nothing but a threat.

If Clover dying is what it takes for me to get that amazing scene with Qrow and Tyrian fighting together, than so be it. Sacrifices must be made. U.U

Also, I never commented on what Tyrian’s doing when his hands are glowing with what I assume is his aura. He did that once before when he attacked Fiona and he cut straight through her aura. Then he does it again when fighting Clover. His eyes are purple, so it’s a subset of his poisoning, perhaps.

It’s kind of hard to see, but it looks like he retracts the blades on his wrists when he does it too. Huh...

Okay, I went back to watch A Night Off, and when Tyrian attacks Fiona one hand is purple and he uses that to tear straight through her aura and then uses the blade on his other hand, the one that’s not purple, to slice her. So Tyrian has the ability to just slice through someone’s aura temporarily. The poisoning must be just an aspect of his Faunus traits, and tearing through aura is his semblance.

oh no the whaaaaale

I didn’t really have a lot to say this Volume that I didn’t say during my first watch. As a whole it’s very well done, posing interesting questions and choices for all the characters and an overall consistent theme.

I will say that, having to constantly pause the show every minute to make commentary or screenshots, warps the pacing of the episodes in a certain way that can skew my first impression vs someone who just watches the episode normally. But I still really enjoy doing it this way, so that’s not going to stop me.

A quickie for the first 5 episodes of Volume 8:

I can’t believe i forgot about the fucking HOUND

So thinking about it now, I never really believed Emerald when she said that Cinder was her family because I don’t think Cinder has said one nice thing to Emerald the entire show. Beyond a generic “good job” or something like it. Like, Cinder has very clearly treated Emerald the same way she treats most everyone-- putting them at a distance, no affection or genuine attention. But Emerald acts like Cinder would be affectionate to her. She gets excited when she sees her and at one point it even looked like she was going in for a hug. I wonder if Cinder’s behavior towards Emerald is a new thing? Like Cinder was kind and affectionate (as much as Cinder is capable, anyway) to her before, but has recently needed to put on airs and treat Emerald different now? Maybe? I dunno. I don’t really see it, but it’s the only thing I can think of making sense. Cause I dunno why Emerald would keep acting like this towards Cinder if Cinder has always treated her so indifferently.

Annnnndddd, that’s it!

That concludes my rewatch of RWBY, now I’ll move into the next episode, Midnight, See ya then and thanks for reading!

[blueikeproductions]

One day, Movie Ronnie wakes up and finds herself in AU Westerberg. Movie Veronica: What the FUCK is going on here. Since when does the Snappy Snack Shack have a 7-11 built into it? I got lost on the way to school because the school is on the opposite side of town now, and I almost drove into the Ohio River that’s suddenly in its place! I… wuh… HUH?! Kurt and Ram are still ALIVE?! Are they… kissing? Oh gooooood. Whaddya mean Betty’s dead?! How’d she die?! She was a Heather?!! Why is Martha following me around? We’re friends now? Since when?! I mean… THAT I don’t mind, that’s the least weird thing that’s happening to me this morning…

Tracey: -leaning over to Dan whispering- Why is Winona Ryder here, let alone yelling at us?

Dan: …I’m not… sure…

Ram: Is it bad I’m kinda turned on by her aggressive confusion?

Tracey & Dan: Yes.

JD: -walks up behind Movie Veronica and gets her in a hug-Hey, Veronica! Check out the new Dinosaurs Attack! cards I- -gets viciously elbowed and his foot stomped on- WAUGH. God, Veronica…!?

Movie Veronica: GET AWAY FROM ME, YOU FUCKING PSYCHO. I told you we were THROUGH, JD!

JD: -extremely confused- G-good morning to you too, sheeeeesssh….

-The next day-

JD and Dan: -hesitantly approach Veronica-

JD: Are you… feeling better today, Veronica?

Veronica: -turns around and has a warped expression on her face that makes even JD look unsettled- So you gonna finally man up and join me in killing everyone in this school?! -holds up an already bloody kitchen knife and licks the blood off-

JD: -completely flabbergasted- I’m sorry, WUHAT?! -mutters- …kinda late now that I used my old Hawkins bomb… -mutters-

Dan: -visibly scared and starts backing away- Oh god no, it’s the Grace Victoria Cox version from Paramount Network! -pulls the fire alarm, grabs JD’s arm and runs-

Paramount Veronica: Mmn, I do like it when they run. -follows in the confused crowd of students making their way outside-

-In Paramount Sherwood-

AU Veronica: July 14, 198X -scribbles out the year- 2018 (?) Dear Diary. As you know, I woke up yesterday to find myself in what I think was a joke I wasn’t in on. Everyone just spontaneously singing. I didn’t see Dan or Jamie, I guess they were sick. Today I still don’t see my friends, but instead I think I somehow … uh what’s that show Jamie likes again… Quantum Jump? Anyway I think I’m having my own Quantum Jump dilemma because now I’m apparently forward in time where everyone is obsessed with little flat screen Jetsons computers. I don’t know why people call them phones, they don’t look like the phones I know… Betty keeps asking me about some murdered girl called Lucy McCord, and I keep telling her I have no idea who that is. Also apparently Martha’s cousin Shelby is here? I greatly miss the singing from the other day, Diary. At least it was kinda comforting…

SISSIISK HEY SWAP AU NOW

IN WHICH MUSICAL VERONICA WAKES UP AS MOVIE VERONICA IN THE MOVIE UNIVERSE

AND MOVIE VERONICA WAKES UP AS MUSICAL VERONICA IN THE MUSICAL UNIVERSE

[biggest-stupidhead]

Like Real People Do

Photo creds to Pintrest (@katiasbff)

AN: I literally cannot get Wanda out of my head, and I recently saw a tik tok pointing out that Vision had to leave Wanda alone for extended periods of time. Which in turn got me thinking about what she did with her alone time...So here you go :)

Summary: Wanda gets lonely when Vision has to leave her in Scotland, so she tries to find some solace in a dreary cafe.

Word Count: 2.1K

Warnings: mostly fluff and a little bit of angst obvi

It was a dreary day in Scotland, as most days tended to be. Wanda had hated the gloomy spring weather, the stubborn moisture that seemed to hang in the air. She couldn’t open the small bed & breakfast window due to the dampness, which only made her bedroom stuffier. She had only been at the B&B for three days without Vision, but it felt so much longer. Wanda felt like a ghost, roaming through the streets aimlessly, only to return back to her small room to pace there. If she sat alone with her thoughts for too long, all she could think about was the mess her life was.

It was suffocating, the weight of reality was hitting her hard in her solitude. Wanda wanted nothing more than to sink into the floor and disappear. She’d had enough, tired of her own company, she set out for her morning stroll with no particular destination. Wanda allowed her feet to carry her down familiar streets as she tried to focus on the present instead of painful memories. The sun was only just rising by the time she found herself in unfamiliar territory. The buildings around her were an odd collage of businesses and restaurants. A small cafe caught her eye amongst the squat buildings.

It was dimly lit, with dark green paint coating the walls, making the space gloomier. Music played softly in the background, and the seating was mismatched tables and chairs with a few booths tucked away in the back. Lamps were situated in a few corners, serving as lighting as opposed to ceiling lights. The barista was preoccupied, scrolling through her phone, her acrylic nails clicking against the screen. Wanda nearly turned heel and left, craving something warmer, more inviting. But before she could her eyes landed on you, sitting in the far corner, just below an eccentric lamp. Her head cocked to the side as she took you in. You were the lone patron in the cafe, tucked way into the back sporting a pair of reading glasses that reflected the warm glow of the lamp above you. A steaming mug sat in front of you as you squinted at a slew of papers and scribbled on them with a pen. 

Her pause was long enough for the barista to clear her throat expectantly. Wanda jolted in surprise, the vocalization only just loud enough to be heard over the soft music. The woman behind the counter raised a slitted brow, popping her gum with a loud snap. Wanda shot you one last glance before slowly stepping up to the counter. 

“I’ll have a lavender latte with almond milk please.” She reached into her pocket and produced a small leather wallet and retrieved some cash to pay. The barista didn’t bother to hide her disgust when she heard Wanda’s voice, it was something she had gotten used to by now. She wasn’t very good at masking her Sokovian accent, even worse at hiding the slight American accent she had adopted since joining the Avengers. 

“Americans,” The grungy college student grumbled as she accepted the cash, closing the register a bit aggressively. Wanda stepped back but kept a watchful eye on the barista as she prepared her drink, fearful that she would spit in her latte if she turned her back. However, she couldn’t help but let her eyes wander over to you occasionally, she felt this gnawing curiosity as she stared at you. 

“Here, go sit with your fellow scum bag.” The girl slid Wanda’s drink down the counter and Wanda snagged it. Her brows furrowed in confusion, unsure of what the barista meant and how she wanted to deal with the blatant disrespect. 

“Excuse me?” She asked, mounting frustration beginning to cloud her mind. The barista nodded at you in the back, brushing her dyed hair out of her face. 

“That one back there if a fellow American, I figure you’d feel more at home.” The barista’s voice was coated with sarcasm but Wanda still felt some relief. That was until your eyes lifted from your papers to shoot a glare at the barista. 

“Cut it out Gwen” You barely rose your voice, clearly you frequented this place. Wanda went rigid as your eyes found her, even from this distance she saw the not-so-subtle up and down you gave her. She wasn’t sure what to make of it, the slowness felt intimidating but your body language was anything but. You seemed loose and almost inviting, but maybe that was Wanda’s loneliness shining through. 

“Go on, she doesn’t bite.” Gwen shooed Wanda towards the back, towards you. She felt torn now, on one hand, you seemed expectant, watching her keenly. On the other hand, she desperately didn’t want to bother you, and she wasn’t sure she could carry on a conversation. 

“Gwen, leave her alone for the love of God.” You sounded exasperated, dropping your pen you gave Gwen a scathing look, gesturing for Wanda to come over. Panic set in as Wanda forced her feet to carry her towards you, throwing one last look at the door before she stood in front of your booth. You had gathered most of your papers, tucking them off to the side. Wanda hesitated before sitting down and you smiled at her warmly, taking off your glasses and placing them on the table softly. 

“Gwen is right about one thing, I don’t bite.” You laughed and it seemed to warm the room by ten degrees. Wanda shifted, wrapping her hands around her mug and smiling into the frothy coffee. 

“Lucky me,” Wanda said in return, her eyes fluttering from the boring rim of her mug to your face. Your lips curved into a broad smile, showing off pearly white teeth. 

“Yes, well maybe lucky me! It’s been a while since I’ve had company.” You were still smiling as you leaned forwards eagerly, but Wanda noticed a slight cringe cross your features. 

“That sounded sad.” You laughed and Wanda laughed with you, her chest constricting with an odd tightness. 

“No, I totally relate.” Wanda smoothed her hands over her jeans, her trimmed nails scratching at the denim. 

“So, what are you in Scotland for?” You asked, eagerly and Wanda felt her stomach sink. 

“Work.” She said vaguely, sipping her latte so she wouldn’t have to add anything, despite it still being too hot. 

“Ah me too, I’m a teacher. Hence all the papers…” You waved your wrist at the papers stacked haphazardly, some of them nearly slipping off the table as you did so. You scrambled to catch them, tucking them back into the pile. 

“Oh, a teacher that’s wonderful!” Wanda gushed honestly, and you sighed with a roll of your eyes. 

“It can be, but it’s also hell.” You sighed and Wanda nodded in understanding, but she felt something else stirring inside her. A feeling that she certainly hadn’t expected when she stepped into this conversation. 

Jealousy. 

“I’m sure.” Wanda managed to spit the words out past the rim of her mug. She wasn’t sure how well she hid her slight malice. But in true American fashion, you brushed it off if you had noticed and carried on. 

“And what do you do?” You asked as you slowly put your glasses back on, waiting patiently for Wanda to swallow her drink. Wanda cleared her throat, trying to buy herself some time to no avail. 

“Uh, I….am a journalist.” Wanda patted herself on the back for the quick thinking, feeling a small spark of joy as you sighed. 

“I envy you.” You pointed at Wanda playfully and she laughed as you shook your stack of papers. 

“It’s not as glamorous as it seems.” Wanda fought off the last few giggles to get her words out. You smiled and shook your head softly muttering something under your breath. 

“Do you mind if I do some work while we talk?” You asked, and Wanda shook her head. 

“No, of course not, I interrupted you! I can always go.” Wanda nearly jumped out of the booth but you yelped. 

“Oh no, you can stay if you want!” You grabbed your pen and began flipping through your messy pile. Wanda settled back into her seat, trying to maintain her composure. 

“Ok, I won’t leave you then.” She meant it to sound light, but it came out all too sincere. Again, Wanda blamed her inner conscious, regurgitating exactly what she wanted to hear from someone. You looked up from your work, your eyes shined behind your glasses, and a shocked look plastered to your face. 

“Well, if you insist.” You cleared your throat, quickly diving into your work. Your flustered state didn’t escape Wanda, who bit her lip as she pretended to busy herself on her phone. The comforting sound of your pen scratching the paper filled the silence between the two of you. Wanda tried not to stare as you graded your papers, but it was difficult not to. You worked so effortlessly, ticking off one question after the next. Your glasses would slide down your nose and you would diligently push them back into place. Your hair was slipping from the clip that was holding it off your face, and for some reason, the ghastly lamplight made you look so….golden. 

Wanda sat with you in silence for quite some time. You seemed perfectly content with her boring company as you hummed quietly to yourself or grumbled in frustration at the work on the page. Very few patrons dared to come into the cafe, leaving Gwen free to text. Not to say that she wouldn’t touch her phone while taking an order. It was the domesticity that Wanda had been craving, no yearning for. So little was said, and nothing needed to be said. The three of you simply existed, blissfully unaware of whose company you were currently in. 

While this entire interaction was unexpected and pleasant, Wanda still found that jealousy and sadness mixed in her chest. It was a rather unsavory cocktail of emotions and she wished that she could be as carefree as you seemed to be. It had been a full hour before you finished, sighing as you pushed the papers back into a folder, which you shoved into your bag. 

“Good God, I need a drink.” You groaned, stretching your legs and arms while still sitting. Wanda laughed, looking towards Gwen who smirked back. 

“Hey, at least one of us was productive today,” Wanda mumbled as you collected your things, dreading the moment you stood up to leave. You groaned and stood slowly, and Wanda reluctantly did the same. 

“Much to my displeasure.” You quipped as you adjusted your bag on your shoulders. 

“And mine too, I hope that we’ll run into one another again,” Wanda said, once again trying to put a joking tone into her voice, only to come out more serious than intended. You smiled back at her and dug your phone out of your pocket, a grin stuck to your lips as you produced a blank contact page.

"Well thank god for technology then. Here put your information in and we can grab coffee whenever you'd like!" Wanda felt her heart clench in her chest as you passed the phone to her.

She took it with clammy hands, knowing full well that she couldn’t give you her real phone number, that she couldn’t rope you into her messy lifestyle. So she made up a phone number, and she put a small smiley face next to her name. Wanda handed your phone back to you as a rock sank into the pit of her stomach. You beamed at her and pointed at her name on your screen. 

“Wanda.” Her name rolled off of your tongue and Wanda nearly leaped out of her skin. It came as a sudden realization, that was the first time you had said her name. 

“Nearly two whole bloody hours spent together and not once did you idiots exchange names!” Gwen was leaning on the countertop, smacking her palm against it as she howled with laughter. You smiled sheepishly at Wanda, who could feel the redness creeping up her neck and tainting her cheeks. 

“Oh my god.” She buried her face in her hands and groaned as you threw your head back and joined Gwen, bubbly laughter bouncing off the walls. 

“I am so rude! I cannot believe-” 

“It’s fine! I noticed way too late, it would’ve been…awkward to ask once I realized.” You said through a fit of giggles. Wanda groaned and shook her head as she raked a hand through her hair.

"W-What is your name?" Wanda asked as she used both of her hands to pull her hair back off of her heated cheeks. You laughed like the good sport you were.

"It's (Y/n)." You told her and shared a look with Gwen who sighed in contentment and disappeared into a back room, leaving the two of you alone. 

“Anyway, I’ll see you around…Wanda.” You winked at her as you slipped past, giving a gentle squeeze of her arm as you passed. Wanda stood dumbstruck as you left, the soft bell on the door announcing your exit. You waved at her one last time as you passed the front windows and Wanda felt that guilt stir inside of her. She swallowed thickly in an attempt to gather herself before she stepped back into the real world. Before she left the comfort of the dreary cafe in Scotland, and before she tried to wipe the memory of you from her head before you could take up permanent residence there.

[epiphany-of-a-madwoman]

Out of the Woods P.5 | Peter Parker

Part 5 | Right Where You Left Me

P.1 | P.2 | P.3 | P.4 | P.5 | P.6 | P.7 | P.8

Pairing: TASM!Peter Parker x Stark!Reader

Genre: Angst

Words: ~6k

Summary: Life moved on after you mysteriously found yourself at the Statue of Liberty, yet you couldn’t shake the feeling that something was missing; more so that you were missing someone.

Note: Okay okay okay, so maybe we didn't get to meet the second character this chapter, I thought it best to cut the chapters in half as to not have it be so bogged down. But Bucky!

“I can see the end just as it begins, my one condition is…”

The music loudly played in your ears. It was quiet in your apartment, unbearably so. The silence made your skin crawl, making you very aware of just how alone you were. And every time you closed your eyes, you were haunted by brown eyes that would’ve loved you for a lifetime.

So to cope you blasted music at every second, doing anything and everything to stay distracted so you don’t have to be alone with your thoughts. Your thoughts and the never ending silence. And you couldn’t remember it always being this way. You’d just woken up, right around the time you found yourself at the Statue of Liberty, and couldn’t stand to be alone.

That was the frustrating thing though, you didn’t just want company. Because you’d surround yourself with people, mindlessly chattering to your heart's content, but that never fixed it. It was like there was a hole in your chest and no matter what you did, it wouldn’t be filled.

You sat on your wooden floor, right by the large window in your bedroom. It had the best lighting in the apartment. And it was the only place you could think clearly enough to write. A journal rested on your lap, a ball point pen in the center. Dozens upon dozens of papers were scattered in front of you, each one less comprehensible than the last. The edges were unevenly torn from when you had aggressively ripped them out of the notebook. Frustration plagued every sentence, the determination to write the perfect sentence falling short. They were scribbles of all the emotions and thoughts you’ve had the past five months. That coincidentally also suddenly appeared after you woke up at the Statue of Liberty.

And if someone from the outside found your notebooks and papers, they’d think you were trying to cope after a tragic love story. A tale of two lovers who were doomed from the beginning. But you weren’t some star-crossed lover, you’d remember something like that.

“None of this makes sense,” you muttered, shutting your journal with a resounding smack. You sighed and rubbed your eyes. You were exhausted, mentally and physically. And as the current song playing ended, a feeling that you were forgetting something ate at you, only to disappear once the next song started.

You stood from your spot, the floor quietly creaking under the weight. You lazily walked across the room, tossing your journal on your desk. Cold feet padded from the bedroom and into the kitchen, desperate for another cup of coffee. And as you prepared it, you did everything in your power to not look at your couch. You used to spend hours of your free time lounging on it; mindlessly fiddling with anything you could find. But now that portion of your apartment was a ghost town. It was just another mystery to the pile of ever growing ones.

Buzz

Buzz

You paused, staring at the screen of your phone that rested atop the kitchen counter.

Happy (Grumpy)

You pressed the answer button, setting the phone to speaker.

“What’s up, old man?” you said, dropping a cinnamon stick into your mug, a quiet ding filling the room.

“Hey kid, I -- wait, who are you calling old?” he asked. You could perfectly picture his scrunched up face, phone firmly pressed to his ear. There would be a deep line across his forehead. He was too easy to bait, falling for it every single time. It was one of the few things that still felt normal to you.

“You. I’m calling you old,” you said, pouring a spoonful of vanilla syrups into the mug.

“That’s not a very nice thing to say, you know, I’m your elder. You should respect me,” he said, indignation flooded his voice.

“Pass,” you said. You turned around and opened your refrigerator, grabbing the oat milk and shutting the door behind you.

“I’m serious. What are you gonna do if I die huh? This could be our last conversation. You gonna be able to live with that huh?” Happy said. You rolled your eyes, a small smirk on your face.

“Oh sure. I’ll even go up to the stand at your funeral and tell everyone just how much you hated when people made you acknowledge your age. I’d even bring up that black hair dye you’ll use, and claim innocence when people point out you dyed your hair,” you said.

“That’s disrespectful, you little shit. Who needs DNA tests with you Starks, you’re just like your dad,” Happy grumbled, annoyance covering every word spoken.

“So did you call me just to guilt me into being nice, or did you actually need something?” you asked. You shook the carton of milk and then poured it into your cup. He began to mutter under his breath and then sighed.

“Actually it was you who needed me.”

“Oh?” You raised a single brow.

“I did some digging into that picture of yours, you know, the polaroid one with the boy with the brown hair--”

“Yeah yeah yeah, I know which picture you're talking about. It’s the only one you're looking into,” you interrupted him.

“Hey, just making sure we’re on the same page. I don’t know how many strangers’ pictures you have,” Happy said, any of the previous aggravation cleaned from his tone.

“Just the one. But continue,” you said, pouring the hot coffee over everything else in the cup.

“Right anyways. I didn’t find anything. There’s no system in this world that has a person matching the photo. I even triple checked every Peter P. with brown hair, I even checked blondes just in case he bleached it - but nada,” Happy said.

You continued to stare at the wall as you brought your mug up to your lips. A heavy sigh blew from your mouth, a bit of condensation hitting yours face, then you took a quick sip and set it down.

“It was worth a shot I guess. Thanks for looking into it, Happy,” you said.

“Anytime kid. Hey, you still coming to dinner this Sunday? Pep says that Morgan wants to show you her latest project,” he said.

A small smile appeared on your face as you gently set your glass down.

“Yeah I’ll be there. Talk to you later, Happy.”

“Bye kid.”

And then it was quiet again.

And a hopeless feeling washed over you.

You abandoned your coffee and walked back into your room. Heading straight to your bed, you got down on all fours and reached under your bed. The cool metal of the box touched your hand and you pulled it into the light. Reverently, you clicked it open and took off the top. Carefully, you pulled out two polaroid pictures. The first was of a man, with messy brown hair and brown eyes that were wide in shock, clearly not anticipating the picture. He was attractive, a small part of you fluttering whenever you looked at the photo. The second one had you and the mystery brunette boy in it; both of you smiling brightly. And written on the back of the second picture, with messy handwriting was a short message. You didn’t understand the context, but every time you read it, you felt like you’d been hit by a bus.

“The rest of the world is black and white, but you are in screaming colors.” - Peter P.

Tears fell from your eyes, droplets of water distorting the sharpied message. You sniffled and quickly wiped them away. You set the photo back into the box and clicked it shut. Back under your bed was where it went as you stood from the ground. In the blink of an eye you vanished from the room, the music in your ears playing extra loud, as you tried to busy your mind and hands.

This was all too much.

OoO

Sleep was always elusive to you. Your mind was always working, and no matter how much you tried to shut it off, it wouldn’t. Which led to many sleepless nights, fiddling with your next big project until you finally passed out at 4am. You’d wake up and swear it wouldn’t happen again while drinking copious amounts of coffee, only to repeat that cycle the very same night. But instead of fiddling with a new invention or perfecting a sourdough bread recipe, you were staring at your ceiling.

Another dream that felt like heaven, only to turn into a nightmare when you woke. It was the same man from the polaroid pictures. It was always him. Every. Single. Night. You’d never remember the dream when you woke, every memory eluding your mind the second you were conscious. The residual feelings and emotions however would linger. You wanted to scream and cry, the urge to toss a chair out the window growing with every second.

It was muddling and confusing and infuriating. You were painted every shade of blue; mourning something you don’t even remember losing. And you couldn’t tell if you prefer that or spending every waking moment thinking of your dad and Nat. Their deaths were painful, more so than this empty feeling you had, but at least you knew why you were upset. You understood where every single emotion was coming from.

This though, you didn’t understand any of this.

It was like trying to finish a puzzle when you’d long since lost the final piece. You’d find different ones collected from other puzzles and try to force them to fit in the spot. But it would never work. Everything around you was in hues of grays and you desperately wanted to see color again. And once again, you found yourself trying to remember if life was always like this. Maybe it really was this never ending blue, but you just never noticed it.

Your phone buzzed two consecutive times, blue light faintly illuminating a corner of your room. You rolled over, eyes squinting from the sudden light. You looked at the text, reading it once and then a second time to make sure what you read was right.

“We can talk now if you’re up. I know this 24 hour cafe by where I live.” - Bucky

You didn’t expect an answer, never mind one so soon. But you were thankful, desperate to escape this lonely silence.

The next message was the cafe’s name so you could punch it into your map app. You exhaled a breath. If anyone would understand the feeling of missing something but not knowing what, it’d be an ex brainwashed Russian assassin.

A frustrated groan dissipated the silence. Covers thrown on the ground, you got out of bed. You threw on a pair of jeans and a sweatshirt. Brisk footsteps padded from one end of the apartment to the other. Car keys dangling in your hands, you slipped on shoes and grabbed a jacket.

Before you could think you were out the door. The cold air smacked against your face as you left the heated building. Normally the cold air would unravel your muddled thoughts, but not this time. Determination filled every step as you stormed through the parking garage.

Beep.

Headlights flashed in the dark. You opened the car door and slid onto the cool leather seat. You pressed the On button for the car and connected the Bluetooth, then you were off, disappearing into the night. The roads were busy, as was usual for New York, but you paid no attention. Your mind was a million miles away.

It only took thirty minutes before you reached the small, run down looking cafe. You parked your car, and locked it as you walked to the entrance. The air was freezing, biting at your skin, leaving icy stings behind. Every breath taken was visible in the short walk from the side walk to the door.

Ding.

The small bell attached to the front entrance rang as you entered the building. It was almost entirely empty, except for an older woman who was working behind the counter. She was wiping the counter down, paying no attention to your entrance. A radio played jazz music, too quiet for you to discern the exact song. It smelled like black coffee and burnt toast mixed with sickly-sweet floral air freshener.

Eyes scanned the room, pausing on the large man sitting at a table in the farthest corner. He was wearing a black leather jacket, a dark t-shirt and jeans. One hand wore a black glove, the other hand wrapped around a dingy white ceramic mug that had faint black spider web marks. His face was blank as he stared into his drink. Previously long and unruly hair was cut short with slight stubble on his face.

Your sneakers squeaked against the floor as you crossed the room. His gaze didn’t move from the drink. It wasn’t until you were pulling out the chair in front of him that he acknowledged your presence.

“Hey,” he said. His tone was awkward, he tightened his grip around his mug just a tiny bit. He looked at your face, but wouldn’t look directly into your eyes.

“Hi,” you said and simply stared at him. Both of you waited for the other to speak.

“You want some coffee?” he asked, shoving a second cup of black coffee towards you. Steam rose from the mug and onto your face as you breathed it in. You extended your arms to the end of the table, grabbing exactly two packets of sugar. You dumped them in the cup, taking a spoon and stirring it exactly three times.

Ding.

Ding.

Ding.

You tapped the excess liquid off the spoon then set it down. The bitter burnt coffee was sour on your taste buds the moment it passed your lips. But you drank it anyway, needing a momentary distraction.

“So, what did you want to talk about?” Bucky asked. You looked at him and his eyes finally met yours. “I didn’t even know you had my contact information.”

“I didn’t,” you said. He raised a single brow. “But Sam did.”

He nodded, a quiet ‘Ah’ leaving his mouth.

“Figures,” he muttered, scratching the back of his head.

“You cut your hair, it looks nice,” you said. The corner of his mouth lifted into a small smirk, muted amusement in his blue eyes. “The whole homeless man thing wasn’t really the vibe.”

“I appreciate the grooming tips, but I don't think that’s why you wanted to talk,” he said. You cleared your throat and took a deep breath. You set down the cup and folded your arms across the table. “What do you need?”

No point in prolonging it anymore.

“After you escaped Hydra, before you remembered everything, what was that like?”

He sputtered, some of the coffee he was drinking falling back into his cup. His eyes were wide, lips downturned, not expecting the question.

“What?” he asked.

“What was it like? Trying to remember everything,” you asked again. You leaned forward, face set in a serious expression. He searched for a hint of a joke, but there was none there. Your eyes were steel, determination outlining your face.

“I uh -- I don’t know. Can you be more specific?” he asked, using a napkin to wipe his face and the spilled coffee on the table.

“How did it feel when you still had those gaps in your memories? Because you’d known there were memories there you just couldn’t…remember them,” you said, hoping the clarification would be enough. He nodded, chewing his bottom lip as he mulled over your question.

A few moments of silence passed.

You simply watched Bucky, anxiously awaiting his answer. Finally, your anticipation came to an end as he opened his mouth.

“It was like… when you have a dream, right. You wake up, and you know something happened, but you can’t remember what it was. And no matter how hard you try, it’s just…blank.”

You nodded, attention locked onto the tiled flooring you could see out of the corner of your eyes. The anxiety in your chest returned, hands mildly shaking. And you weren’t sure why. You swallowed, thickly, mouth suddenly dry.

He put into words everything you’d been feeling.

“Why?” he asked. Your attention snapped back to his face, brows raised. “Why do you ask?”

“I just--” you looked around the room, unsure of what to say. He’d understand, better than anyone, what you were feeling. Plus you owed him an honest explanation for dragging him out of his apartment at 3am. It might feel nice to get it off your chest, to verbalize just how you’ve felt this past year.

“You know last year, how the Statue of Liberty was destroyed and they’ve been doing construction on it?” you asked. He nodded his head.

“Yeah, it was all over the news. They still never found out what happened. Why?”

“Well I was there the day it was destroyed. Except I don't remember what happened. It was like, I blinked and then suddenly, I was on the ground at the statue,” you said.

“Like you were sleeping?” he asked. You shook your head, fingers tapping on the side of your glass.

“No, it was like I’d been in a daydream and finally came to with no recollection of even leaving my house the night before.” He nodded, motioning for you to continue.

“I don’t remember how I got there or why I was even there. And ever since then I’ve felt like I’m missing something. And when I got home, I found these on my counter,” you said. You reached into your pocket, and pulled out the two polaroids. You set them on the table and slid them to Bucky.

His attention was zeroed in on you, gaze flickering to the photos. He picked them up, carefully inspecting every corner of each of them. He flipped them over, scanning over the message that was written on the back.

“And you’ve never met this guy?” he asked. You shook your head and shrugged.

“Not that I can remember. But get this. I had Happy do some digging for me. And he couldn’t find any trace of this guy existing. He’s not in any systems anywhere,” you said.

Bucky raised a brow and set the photos down.

“Maybe he’s an agent?” he proposed.

“No, there’d be some trace of him. Even if it was from years ago, there’d have been something,” you said, tone confident. “He went deep in the search.”

“Hmm.”

“Plus,” you reached your hand across the table, pointing at the bottom of one of the pictures. “The pictures were taken the night before all the weird stuff happened.”

“So you think he’s involved?” Bucky asked.

“Yeah I do.”

“And that he either wiped your memory or had a part in your memory being wiped?” he asked.

“Also yes,” you said, firmly nodding once.

Bucky sighed, slouching into his seat. “There’s always something,” he muttered, rubbing his hand across his face. He was exhausted, you could see it in his eyes that were outlined with heavy bags. A pang of guilt hit your gut, you shouldn’t have pulled him into this mess. And you wanted to laugh, tell him it was all a big joke and leave. But it was too late to take it back now. There was a sharpness in his gaze, deep creases on his forehead from concentrating too hard. He wouldn’t let it go even if you tried to force it.

“Either that or I just really really need to start paying more attention to my surroundings.”

He smirked, hiding his face in his mug. He took a sip, then set it on the table.

“Have you tried going back to the Statue of Liberty?” he asked. You sighed and shut your eyes. Embarrassment hit you like a train. As per usual, you over complicated everything, when the solution could’ve been so simple. “I’ll take that as a no,” he said, subtle mirth slipping into his words.

“No, I didn’t even think of that,” you said. He nodded, a small smile appearing on his worn face.

“Anytime,” he said.

You gave him one last smile, delicately placing the pictures back in your pocket. You reached into your pocket and pulled out your wallet, setting some money on the table. Then you left.

Tomorrow, you decided, tomorrow you’ll go back to where this all started.

OoO

Stepping out of your apartment at 10am, you were invigorated. You finally felt like you might get somewhere with this whole mystery. The past year had been nothing but dead ends, it would be nice for some success. It was chilly, but not unbearably so, your jacket and jeans warm enough to stave it off.

With your car keys in hand, phone in the other, you turned around to lock your door.

“Took you long enough.”

The voice was sudden, breaking you from the trance you were in. You jumped, whipping around, instinctively falling into a defensive stance. It quickly relaxed however, when you saw the source of the voice.

Bucky stood at your front door, leaned casually against the wall directly across from your front door. He wore similar attire to last night, fewer bags around his eyes however, and with a black cap on his head. He smirked, eyes flickering down the empty hall before returning his gaze to you.

“Did you follow me home?” you asked, eyes narrowing, a suspicious glint reflecting in your eyes.

“No,” he said, offense lingering in his voice.

You raised a single eyebrow at him, placing a hand on your hip.

“Then how did you find my apartment,” you asked. He nonchalantly shrugged, turning his gaze away from you, suddenly interested in the paint on the wall.

“I looked it up on the Google,” he said, trying to feign innocence, but failed miserably.

“My address isn’t on Google.” Your voice was deadpan.

“Then I got it from Sam,” You raised your eyebrows, creases forming on your forehead. A mixture between a scoff and a laugh passed your lips.

“Sam doesn’t know where I live either,” you said, mindlessly fiddling with your keys, the quiet jangle echoing in the empty hall. It was amusing to watch him struggle to come up with a simple lie. This man is a trained assassin, he should at least be able to come up with a quick lie on the spot.

“Then he asked someone who does,” he said. He looked back at you and sighed. “Look, that's not the point. I’m here, don’t ask how.” He straightened his posture, pushing off the wall he was leaning against.

“Well can I ask why? Should I be concerned?” you asked, hands falling to your sides, shifting most of your weight to your left foot. The tips of your right toes delicately tapped on the hard, glossy flooring.

“I’m coming with you,” he said.

Your brows went higher, nearly touching your hairline, and motioned with a hand for him to continue.

“To the Statue of Liberty.”

“Why?” you asked, your brows relaxed and eyes narrowed.

“Because, something is clearly going on, and I want to help solve it,” he said.

“Why,” you repeated.

“To be a good person,” he said, shrugging his shoulders.

You scoffed and crossed your arms.

“Or you just want to get out of your court mandated therapy,” you said.

“How did you--”

“Oh so you get to follow me home, but I don’t get to know about your therapy?” you asked.

“I didn’t--”

“Yeah yeah yeah, you Googled it, I know,” you said, rolling your eyes, interrupting whatever he was about to say in defense of himself. “Does your therapist know?”

He sighed and looked around the hall. It was still empty.

“Already did my session for the day,” he muttered.

“Good, I don’t want my Memory Tour to be ruined by police coming to arrest you,” you said. You swung your keys upward, catching them in a fist and began to walk down the hall to the elevator. The sound of every step was magnified by the empty hall, echoing in the depths of your mind. Bucky stood there for a moment, before running to catch up with you.

“So I can come?” he asked.

“Well, you didn’t give me much of a choice,” you replied, a slight grin on the corner of your lips.

“Sorry about that,” he muttered, rubbing the back of his neck, an awkward air surrounding him. A light laugh left your mouth, the two of you reaching the elevator. You pressed the down button, a quiet ding signifying its arrival. Bucky motioned for you to enter first and then followed behind. You pressed the lobby button, the doors closing, and the elevator descended.

“It’s fine. The company might be nice,” you told him and shrugged. He nodded, faint laughter leaving his mouth.

The silence filled the elevator.

Ding.

It reached the lobby. The two of you stepped out, a small group of people entering afterward. Quickly, you exited the lobby into the attached parking garage. You found your car and then you were off.

Music softly played in the background, but the car ride was mostly silent. You stopped to get coffee on the way, Bucky only talking to inform you that your latte with vanilla was in fact, not real coffee. Yet those few words were all he uttered, black coffee mostly untouched in your cup holder.

“Not a fan of Taylor Swift,” you asked, taking your eyes off the road for a second as you glanced at him before promptly returning them frontwards.

“No, this is fine. I’m just curious,” he said.

“Oh, about what?” you asked, curiosity starting to eat away at your mind.

“I didn’t think you of all people would ever reach out to me,” he said, looking out the window, watching the city flash before his eyes.

You laughed, eyes bright with amusement. “And why’s that?”

“I killed your grandparents,” he muttered.

Your grin fell, eyes dimming ever so slightly. Your posture melted as your grip on the steering wheel tightened.

“That--that wasn’t you. You didn’t want to,” you muttered. Countless birthdays and Christmas�� during your childhood were spent wondering just why you didn’t have grandparents like all the other kids. You never got extra gifts, homemade treats, or any of the other stuff that came with them. You moved on, at some point accepting that sometimes life happens and there’s nothing you could do. But the pain still lingered some days, your seven year old self with tears streaming down her face.

“But I did.”

“No, you idiot, Hydra did. You were just the gun they decided to use,” you said, keeping your voice firm and steady.

“But--”

“One more word about it Barnes, and I’m kicking you out of the car. Now shut it, we’re almost to the ferry,” you interrupted. He simply nodded, taking a drink of his coffee.

“This is really bad, by the way,” he said, face contorting into a grimace as soon as the liquid touched his tongue.

“Oh and the coffee from last night was gourmet,” you said. He chuckled and you mimicked the sound.

“Yeah you’ve got me there.”

OoO

The early morning sun barely managed to peek through the heavy clouds that littered the sky. There was a cold wind in the air, the chill creating shivers all over your body. You pulled your jacket closer to your body, desperate to stave away the cold.

You stared up at the large statue, still in the final process of being rebuilt after it’d been severely damaged. How could you be there when that much damage happened, and you don’t even remember what happened? Now more than ever, the explanation of memory wiping was the only one that made sense.

Your heart was racing, anxiety tightening its grip on you with every breath taken. You needed to move forward, to at least try and see if coming to the spot would give you a flicker of an idea about what happened. But it was terrifying, fear locking you into place. This was your only lead, what would happen if it didn’t tell you anything?

Or what if it told you everything?

And somehow the thought of receiving answers was terrifying. You’d no longer be able to hide behind blind ignorance. You’d have to face the metaphorical music, and you were never good at dealing with your problems.

In; you took a breath.

One step forward.

Out; you exhaled deeply through your nose and took a second step forward.

“You ready?” Bucky asked, standing beside you, posture rigid as his hawk-like eyes darted around the surroundings. His hands were stuffed in his jacket pockets, feigning an air of nonchalance. But you knew better, he was on edge, prepared for anything and everything. It was comforting.

“As ready as I’ll ever be,” you muttered, hands also resting in your pocket. You took another breath, and then moved forward. Bucky followed behind, allowing you to lead. You weren’t thinking, just allowing your body to guide you to where it needed to be. It was almost as if you knew exactly where to go.

That was how you two ended up a little ways away from the statue, closer to the water than anything. There was a small bench that wasn’t always there, built during the restoration process. Your hands lightly traced the edge of the wood.

“So now what,” you asked, turning to face Bucky. He simply shrugged his shoulders. You sighed, shoulders slouching.

“I don’t know,” he said.

“What do you mean, ‘I don’t know’ this was your idea,” you said.

“It was a suggestion, I didn’t claim to be an expert at regaining memory,” you said.

“Then what jogged your memory?” you asked.

“Steve hit me a few times,” Bucky said, a chagrin grin on his face.

“Great,” you sighed and rolled your eyes. “Let me just find mysterious Peter and let him hit me.”

“Not what I was suggesting,” Bucky said in a monotonous voice. No humor was glinting in his eyes.

“Could’ve fooled me.”

“Look, just try closing your eyes and concentrating,” he said, pulling his hands out of his pockets, forcibly turning you to face the water.

“On what?” you asked, allowing Bucky to move you like a ragdoll.

“I don’t know, just something,” he said, annoyance mildly seeping into his voice.

“So helpful.” But you closed your eyes anyways, arms crossed like a petulant child.

“Stop being a brat,” he muttered.

“No.”

Bucky merely snorted, falling silent after.

Eyes shut, you took a deep breath through your nose, holding it for a moment, then releasing it.

You did it again; in and out you continued to breathe. Concentration solely on keeping any thoughts out of your mind. Blank, empty, blackness was all you focused on. Your eyes twitched, fingers tapping against your legs.

Nothing.

“It’s not working,” you said in a sing-song tone.

“Then keep trying until it does,” Bucky muttered.

You sighed, and repeated the process all over again. Deep breath in, then out. Then another one in, and out again. Still nothing happened. You grew frustrated, nostrils flaring as a scowl began to etch itself onto your lips.

And just when you had almost given up, a sarcastic remark on the tip of your tongue, a tingle surged through your body. Your body stiffened, anticipation building inside of you. You tried to replicate the feeling, the hone in on the sensations.

And…

“Still nothing,” you opened your eyes, a small pout resting on your lips.

“Well, I’m all out of ideas,” Bucky muttered, rubbing his hand over his face. “I thought for sure that would work.”

“Whatever, let's just go back to my place.”

The two of you left, no light banter and sarcastic quips exchanged. Not even the silent hum of the radio echoed in your car as you drove back to your apartment. You were dejected and frustrated. That was all you had, and it led to nothing. Like everything else.

OoO

As you entered your empty apartment, you slipped off your shoes, tossing the keys into the small bowl that sat near the entrance.

“You can just put your shoes there,” you muttered to Bucky, who followed behind you. Light footsteps echoed in the room, a small frown resting on your normally chipper face. This thing was draining you, the contrast questions leaving you empty.

Like clockwork, you walked into your kitchen, opening the refrigerator to get out the ingredients to throw together an iced coffee. Your body was already jittery, a slight shake in your hands from the excess caffeine. That didn’t stop the overwhelming desire to drink another cup.

Bucky stood in the center of your living room, looking around like a lost puppy, jacket in hand. He was quiet, careful to not break the silent aura you’d curated. He didn’t ask, because he knew better than anyone. Trying to remember something that’d been erased from your mind was a losing game.

“Want anything?” you asked.

“I’m good,” he said.

You shut the refrigerator door.

“You can take a seat anywhere,” you said, setting everything on the counter, and pulling out a spoon and a cup. You began mixing everything together, having the process down to a science. Within a few seconds, with a mug in hand, you were sitting on the couch - Bucky exactly three spaces away from you.

Neither of you spoke, the minutes ticking by. Your coffee was halfway gone as you fidgeted in your spot.

“Well on the bright side--” Bucky muttered. You looked away from the ground, eyes boring into him. “At least we can rule out brainwashing.”

You scoffed, looking away from him. You stared at the blank screen of your tv. Mindlessly, you stirred the metal straw in your cup.

“What makes you say that?” you asked, tone low and even.

“If it was similar to me, you would’ve gotten at least something, but there was nothing,” Bucky began to say.

“So that only leaves magical influence,” you finished. “Well Strange was there,” you mused.

“What?” Bucky said. “You never mentioned that the wizard was there.” He looked at you, eyes wide and a frown resting on his face.

“You never asked!” you exclaimed. He sighed, running a hand through his hair, glancing to his side and muttering to himself.

“I didn’t know I needed to!” Bucky said.

“Well I’m not a mind reader! Plus, it just didn’t seem important,” you said, nonchalantly shrugging, immediately taking a large sip of your coffee. Bucky narrowed his eyes, a single brow raised at you.

“Have you talked to Strange?” Bucky asked. You rolled your eyes, an exasperated sigh escaping your mouth.

“Of course I did! He didn’t know what happened either,” you said, refusing to meet his eyes.

“Jesus kid, still would’ve been nice to know,” Bucky said, leaning his head back to rest on the top of the sofa.

“Whatever.”

It fell silent again.

Your eyes moved to a photo that hung on the wall. It was all the Avengers huddled together to all fit in one photo, you in middle with a wide grin on your face. You carefully looked at each and every face. Melancholic thoughts filled your mind as you momentarily reminiscence on when everything seemed so much simpler.

Your eyes locked on Wanda, smile wide and eyes bright as Vision awkwardly stood beside her. While her start with Avengers had been rough, you immediately took a liking to her and the two of you became fast friends. Her unique magic mesmerized you, the way she could control reality on a whim, getting into people heads and--

“Mind control,” you whispered. Bucky looked over at you, brows slightly furrowed.

“What’d you say?”

“Wanda, we need to find Wanda,” you stood from the couch, walking over to your phone and car keys that were resting on the countertop.

“Why?”

“When I first met her, she’d used her magic to go into the minds of each Avenger, making them see something,” you said, turning to face him. He was nodding along, then suddenly he shot out of his seat.

“And you think she could maybe recover the lost memories!” he said.

“Exactly!” you yelled. “Come on, let's go.”

“Wait to where?” Bucky asked.

“Sokovia.”

OoO

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[straw-kid]

FNaF Headcanon

♡ His Real Identity ♡

It’s been around five days since Springtrap and you started to live together.

in fact something that was missing between you was conversation. Sprintrap can’t speak, something that resembles a voice box, it’s totally damaged, and his windpipe is only for breathing, there are no more useful vocal cords in his body.

Today you woke up early, it was almost eight o'clock in the morning, you were tired, you hadn't slept so well, but that didn't take the smile off your face when you saw Springtrap in the kitchen, he was always there when you woke up.

You sat at the table, made yourself some coffee, and your beloved rabbit walked slowly to sat with you. Springtrap picked up a phone book near you. It's been a long time since you used one of those, it wasn't usable anymore, it was just a bunch of paper.

In the other hand, he holds a pen. His hands were huge compared to the pen, he couldn't hold it in a way that his fingers could move it, he rocks a little off balance in the chair.

He gives you a deep gaze. 

"He has something to say" You think with yourself.

You stare back, he seem to have a distant thought, was he going to write in the phone book?

He looked down and started writing. He held very awkwardly, Springtrap no longer had mobility in his fingers, he was not skilled at writing. He was squeezing the pen, scribbling a little aggressively, nothing looked readable and that started to piss him off.

One sheet... two sheets... he ripped out the pages that had lines and shapes that didn't look like letters.

You look at him.

“Springtrap, dear” You catch his attention. 

“Try this.” You pass him your phone.

He takes a deep breath and holds your phone gently. 

Springtrap stared at the cell phone light for a while and then started typing, the next moment he grips the cell phone with some anger, the screen cracked in the corner due to force, you take the cell back quickly before his mood gets worse. Why did he do it? Well, the touchscreen didn’t recognize his finger as a finger. 

Doesn’t have fingerprints.

You have an idea.

There's a computer near the living room, you decide to turn it on. You quickly opened Word so Springtrap could write on the platform.

You give him space so he could approach the device. He stares at the screen for long seconds, thinking about something and slowly he starts typing on the keyboard. Key by key he sank his fingers in, it took a while for him to finish whatever he was writing. When he finished, you leaned in curiously to take a look, you come across this:

You are surprised. You didn't expect that. You were happy for your lover's attitude, you lean on his torso and say "thank you William". That was an important step for your relationship, communication had never been so important before.

After that you never turned off the computer again, if William wanted to say something he would write to you. However, William was really a person of few words, he doesn't talk much, he is use to be quiet, but he leaves some notes for you to read during the day.

“morning gorgeous”

“you are my little bunny”

“good night my sweet cupcake” 

[eternalsimp]

Cursed Fears

Genre: Hurt/Comfort

Word Count: 3096

Warnings: aged up Megumi, use of female pronouns, swearing, mentions of violence, spoilers for episodes 5 and 6, mention of character death, slight sexual themes toward the end, angst, minors dni.

The sound of the rain steadily increasing was the only sound in your apartment as you waited patiently for your boyfriend. Your laptop displayed that it was midnight as you lazily scribbled statistics solutions onto the notes app of your tablet. Once you felt you reached a stopping point you got up to find a long sleeve to stave off the cold that seeped into the apartment from the storm. Striding over to your closet to pull out something to remind you of him. As you grabbed his signature grey shirt, you were immediately hit with the soft scent of cedar-wood. It was thin and soft from years of use. It hung loosely and brought you a sort of comfort as you counted down the minutes ‘til he got home. You weren’t a sorcerer, but you were well aware of the dangers that your friends went out and faced, and the panic in the back of your mind grew louder as the hours passed since Megumi had walked out of the door.

You stifled a yawn as you finally heard the lock to your front door click open and shut. You closed your eyes and stretched your back to loosen the knots that formed from doing your homework on the living room floor. As you made your way to the door to greet your boyfriend, he was frantically kicking his shoes off and stripping himself of his jacket.

“Hey love, how was it?” you said softly while reaching for his rain-soaked torso. He flinched away from your touch, eyes wide and afraid. His blue eyes scan your confused face before he blinks slowly and takes a shuddering breath.

“Sorry, I didn’t expect you to still be up.” He pressed a quick kiss to your forehead before retreating to the bathroom. The smell of blood, dirt, and god knows what else isn’t lost on you as he tries to pass you quickly. You bend to pick his jacket off of the floor where he had tossed it in his haste, and walk to your shared bedroom to put it in the laundry basket. You open the drawers to his side of the dresser to pull out his favorite sweats and a plain white tee-shirt, before gently placing them on the bathroom counter where he is aggressively scrubbing his face. 

“You’re gonna get sick if you stay in those wet clothes much longer,” you say oh so matter of factly before pushing up on your toes to kiss the corner of his jaw. Your movements take him slightly off guard, which you use to your advantage to nudge him to a sitting position on the bench next to the shower. You run a washcloth under the warm water of the sink, move to stand between his legs, and gently brush the cloth against his temple. He closes his eyes and leans into your touch. You both sit in silence as you wipe the remnants of sweat and blood off of his face and neck. You notice the way he's holding your waist, hands so light his touch is barely there. Like he’s afraid you'll break if he makes a wrong move. After you finish wiping his face and neck, you tug at the hem of his soaked shirt and he complies with your wordless command to take it off. You step back out of the bathroom to toss it into the basket with his Jujustu Tech jacket.

When you walk back in, his head is leaning against the cool wall, letting you fully take stock of the bruises and cuts adorning the top half of his body. The worst of it looks like a slight split at the corner of his bottom lip and a shallow cut above one of his brows. You stride over to him and run your fingers through his black hair. “Baby,” you crooned softly. He gave a soft hum in acknowledgment as you nuzzled your nose into the top of his head. “I love you but you smell like a sewer, can you please shower before you fall asleep?” He sticks his tongue out playfully as you back away from him so he can stand up and move towards the shower. 

Though his normal stoic behavior wouldn’t concern you, you still can’t shake the terrified look on his face when he first entered the apartment. How tense he’s holding himself and the way that he’s obviously trying not to worry you. His eyes linger on your face like he’s trying to memorize every aspect of it before he drops his gaze and shakes whatever thought he had out of his head.

You settle back on the living room floor between the coffee table and the couch and turn your attention back to your college notes. You only have time to pick your stylus back up before your phone starts vibrating in your pocket. You look down and see Itadori’s name scrawled across the screen along with a picture of him smiling next to your grouchy-looking boyfriend.

“Hey Yuuji, what’s up?”

“Hey y/n, I know it's late but I just wanted to make sure Fushiguro got back okay.”

“Yeah, he’s in the shower. Do you want me to have him call you when he’s out?”

“No… I just… did he seem okay when he got back?”

You chewed on the corner of your mouth for a second, “I mean, he seemed kinda unsettled but that’s not unusual for when he comes back from your guys' missions.”

“Yeah… yeah you’re right. I don’t know, he just seemed off after everything. Never mind.”

You hear the water shut off in the other room and quirk a brow. “Yuuji you better spit it out or else I’m gonna come over there and start cutting your fingers off! What are you not telling me?”

“On that note, I gotta go. Just talk to him, okay?”

“Wait Yuuji-” the line goes dead before you can press him with more questions. You stuff your phone back into your pocket and tap your stylus on your tablet for a couple of minutes. Just talk to him. Gore and violence are nothing new to Megumi, and he isn’t easily fazed, so what would shake him so bad that even Yuuji is worried?

You’re pulled from your thoughts both literally and figuratively when you feel a pair of muscular arms lift you onto the couch behind you. You are once again settled between your boyfriend's legs as you’re pressed against his strong chest. You yelp and try to wiggle out of his grasp but his years of training with the other Jujustu Sorcerers, even after graduating, leave him with an iron grip on your hips. 

“Hang on let me grab my notes,” you protest. He presses his face into your neck and whines. After a few moments of struggling against him, you manage to snatch your tablet and pen off the ground and open it to your last question. You adjust yourself so your shoulder is against his chest and you can lazily drape your legs over his thigh. He rests his cheek against the crown of your head and readjusts his arms around you so he can still hold you tightly while not blocking your view of your classwork. You scribble notes for a few more minutes before deciding that him falling asleep in this position will mean him complaining of a sore neck in the morning, what with the awkward way it's twisted to lean against you. You could feel his body getting heavier against your own. You remembered what Yuuji had told you, and in an effort to keep him awake, you decided to ask what had been nagging you since he got back home. 

“Are you okay?” All you get in response is another hum from your barely awake boyfriend. You shift again and reach up to run your fingers through his still-damp hair, “‘Gumi, baby, you shouldn't fall asleep here. Let’s go to bed.” He chuckles lightly at the nickname you gave him way back when you first started dating, and how you save it for private moments like this. 

“I just wanna hold you for a bit longer, I promise we’ll get up soon.” Megumi finally murmurs. You don’t miss the way his jaw clenches as you try to fix your gaze upon him. You sigh and set your tablet down before turning to straddle Megumi’s lap and force him to look at you. 

“What’s wrong, you’re more distant than usual?” You rest your hands on either side of his face and turn him to look at you. He avoids eye contact and suddenly you’re looking at the guarded 16-year-old boy who refused to open up to anyone when you first met. You lean to rest your forehead against his as he focuses his gaze somewhere between your jaw and the base of your throat. “Please talk to me? What happened out there?”

Megumi struggles internally on how much to tell you. You mindlessly stroke his cheeks with your thumbs and he finds himself settling his hands back on your waist again, with the same feather-light touch that you would use with glass. Finally, you get his answer in the form of a whisper.

“I’m scared I’m gonna lose you…”

You immediately pull your head back to look at him straight on only to be met with a faraway gaze. You furrow your brows together and squeeze his face just enough to get his attention. His eyes snap to yours and you can see the tears starting to prick at the corners. “I’m not going anywhere ‘Gumi.” You smile at him before pulling him closer to you and he buries his face into your neck.

“Fuck, that’s not what I meant. I’m scared I’m putting you in danger,” his voice is starting to waver, “You didn’t ask for this, any of this. I’m gone all the time, always on missions constantly putting both our lives in danger. I can’t even imagine what would happen if one of the special grades were to find out about you. It’s bad enough Sukuna knows you.” His voice cracked at the end of his sentence and you feel his chest shudder.

He wraps his arms around you and pulls you closer to him. You nudge his face away from your shoulder and see the tears he’s been holding back finally fall. The only other time you can remember him crying like this was when he thought Yuji died. You go back to stroking his face and shushing him but it's too late, the dam is broken and he can no longer hold back the sobs. 

“What if I can’t protect you?” He continues to choke out his fears while you keep stroking his face lovingly and whispering soft reassurances to him that everything is going to be okay and you’re both safe. You let him cry into your chest until his strangled sobs slowly turn into soft sniffles.

“Feeling any better baby?” You gently push at his shoulders and lean him back again so you can look at him. He nods hesitantly and lets you wipe any remaining tears from under his now puffy eyes.

“Yeah, I’m sorry, I’m just tired and I guess everything kinda boiled over all at once,” he sighs. You lean down to press a soft kiss to his lips and he instantly melts into it.

“Don’t be sorry Megumi, you can talk to me about anything.” You press another kiss to his forehead and continue rubbing small circles into his jaw to loosen the tension there. After a few moments of holding each other silently, you pipe your voice up again. “Yuji called, he seemed worried. Did something happen tonight?”

You felt Megumi go stiff underneath you before quickly relaxing into your touch again. “Itadori started to lose control and Sukuna was just being a dick, per usual.” You inhale sharply and try to remove yourself from his grasp, you are gonna kill those two one of these days. As if he could read your mind Megumi quickly grabbed your wrists effectively pinning you against his chest once again. “Okay no, stop it. Nothing happened, he was just being mouthy and trying to wind me up. Obviously, it worked...”

“I don’t give a shit what Sukuna says and neither should you. If by some miracle he is able to get out of their pact, Gojo and Yuji would never let anything happen, and neither would you.” You press your forehead against his again since he still has a firm grip on your wrists to keep you from moving away from him. “I don’t care what you think, the safest place for me is right here with you. Sukuna is just bitter that he’s in a cage so he’s decided to make it everyone else's problem.” Megumi chuckles lightly again before releasing your hands and replacing his arms around your waist. 

“We should go to bed, you have class in the morning.” He sighs. You crane your neck to see it’s well past 2 am, you stretch again to release the last couple of cracks in your spine and your boyfriend takes the opportunity to nip at your collarbones and make you squirm against him. 

“If you stop doing that I’ll stay home with you instead, deal?” He jerks his face away from your chest and gives you the biggest puppy dog eyes you’ve ever seen. 

“Are you sure? You have exams this week right?” 

“There’s no point in going to a lecture if I’m just gonna fall asleep. I’ll study for my exams tomorrow after I wake up, but I’m planning on sleeping in tomorrow. Both of us need it.” He hums in agreement before trying to lift himself off the couch with you still in his arms. You gasp in surprise as you feel him wobble and stumble back into the couch cushions, tucking you into his neck with a hand to the back of your head to keep your faces from colliding. 

You look at each other and let out a chorus of laughter. You shake your head before pinching his nose gently. “For someone so smart, you are so fucking dumb sometimes.” He scrunches up his face and swats your hand away as you peel yourself out of his arms and off his lap.

“You know, I’ve done it before and I was confident I could do it again. Also, I gotta keep my pretty girl on her toes.” This time it was your turn to swat his hand away as he grabbed at your thighs and rear. You rolled your eyes comically at him and moved towards the bedroom. He jumps up, throws you over his shoulder, before unceremoniously plopping you on the bed with a speed you’ve only ever seen him possess. He hovers over you as he presses his mouth against you in a rushed, teeth-clashing kiss. You push at his shoulder so he can dramatically flop on his back and open his arms expectantly. 

“Give me a sec to change, I’ll be right back.” He whines like a child when you grab your pajama shorts and a tank top from the top of the dresser and stride into the bathroom. You’ve never known anyone to be as handsy as Megumi. He hates PDA and would never in a million years let strangers see through his cold, tough exterior. In the comfort of your home though, you quickly learned that he can never keep his hands to himself and they tend to wander on their own. He always wants to be touching you when you’re home together and he’ll whine and pout if he can’t. You can never find it in your heart to turn down his affection, especially on nights like this when he is feeling vulnerable and needs reassurance. Those nights are few and far between but you indulge your boyfriend in anything he needs whenever his facade starts to crack and you get glimpses of the version of him that he keeps carefully tucked away. 

You pull your jeans and his sweater off and quickly throw your pajamas on. You toss your clothes into the basket from the door and find your boyfriend sprawled on your side of the bed scrolling through his phone. You poke the middle of his back and yank the blanket, covering him from the waist down, to what's supposed to be his side of the bed. His jaw drops in mock offense before he's pulling your front flush against his chest once again. 

His lips latch onto yours again as he's tangling his legs with yours and threading his hands through your hair. You bring your hands under his shirt to stroke your fingertips lightly against his sides as his kisses grow needier and more urgent. One of his hands leaves your hair to grip your hips as he rolls his own into you desperately. You bring one hand to press against his chest lightly and move away from him for air. 

“Baby please…” he looks like he's on the verge of begging. His heart pounds heavily under your fingers on his chest. You press a quick kiss to the tip of his nose.

“‘Gumi, you’re exhausted and very emotional right now, just go to sleep.” His bottom lip sticks out in a cute pout and you lift your hand to run your thumb over his protruding bottom lip. “I promise I will be here in the morning and we have all day tomorrow to hang out and do anything you want.” 

His brows quirk up and his mouth pulls into a smirk. “Anything?” He drops his head to try and catch your lips again but you evade him.

“Anything, if you go to sleep right now and wait ‘til morning.” He scrunches his nose up and huffs pathetically before moving to tuck one arm under your head and wrap the other around your waist protectively. You nuzzle your face into his chest to breathe in the usual smell of cedar-wood and a lingering scent of rain. One of your hands is tucked under his jaw while the other slips back beneath his shirt to keep tracing patterns up and down his sides. He shivers at the featherlight touch of your fingertips but melts into the hand you have on his face.

You can feel his breath growing more rhythmic and you glance up to see his eyes fluttering shut. You press one last kiss to his jaw before murmuring a quiet “I love you” into his chest. He squeezes the arm that's around your waist to pull you impossibly closer to him before you drift to sleep.

“I love you too baby. I promise I’ll always protect you.”

[dancingintheraindreamingonday]

You will always be the winter soldier - Chapter 5

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4

Author’s Note: 

This is a flashback of your past with Bucky. Somethings weren’t witnessed by Bucky or you because I just want to give more details about the thoughts of other people as well. So this is definitely written in a third person perspective. This chapter is really long but I hope you’ll enjoy it anyway. 

Bucky sits in a plane to Munich. Sam got information that the leader of the Flag smashers are currently working there. 

Bucky remembers the last time he was in Germany. It feels like an eternity ago.

„Tell me why I need to watch this series again.“, Bucky looked absolutely annoyed. 

„Its a classic. Everyone knows this series. It’s like general knowledge.“ You answered while scribbling something on your paper. 

„ And why aren't you watching this series?“ 

„Well my love, I know this series by my heart.“, you smiled at him and then saying the exact same thing the actor said on the screen proving him that you really do know this series.

Minutes later you closed your math book with a loud thump and throwing it on the ground. 

"I'm sorry. I don't want to torture you with this series. Maybe I can make it up to you." You winked at Bucky and kissed him on his right cheek. 

„Probably you will find a way.“, Bucky smiled mischievously and kissed you right on your lips with both of his hands on your cheeks. 

You and Bucky weren’t virgins but you both never had sex with each other yet. It made you nervous. 

And Bucky was nervous as well.The last time he had sex was an eternity ago and women changed through the times. Now women are so much more emancipated and strong-minded.

You kissed him. On his face, throat, neck and down his torso. You wanted him as much as he wanted you. 

In this night you and Bucky didn’t have just sex- you made love that night. It was something absolutely soft, and warm and caring about it. 

There was no much of talking and there was no pressure- it was just pure love without saying the word itself. 

Everything changed from that night on. From that day on you both were a couple, without labeling it.

Two weeks later Bucky accompanied you to university. It was something he did regularly and you enjoyed it. It gave your the feeling he was just a normal guy spending time with his girlfriend. And James from Bucharest was  indeed almost a normal guy. While you were bubbling about a math problem no one except math students could understand, he noticed a man.

Bucky knew when he was being followed and it agitated him. 

Now that he wasn’t just concerned with his life but also concerned with your safety it made him anxious. 

He grabbed your right arm and pulled you in a small alley.

You looked at him confused and scared. „What’s going on?“, you asked not understanding his sudden behavior. 

„I wanted to give this to you.“ Bucky pulled out a small mobile phone from his pocket. You looked confused because you already had a smartphone in your trouser pocket. 

„It’s a safe line. So, if you’re in danger or you just think you’re in danger- call me and I will come and get you.“

„You’re scarring me. Are you in trouble? Are WE in trouble? Do we need to run?“ You looked at him, touching his face to make sure he calmed down.

„No. Don’t worry. Everything’s alright.“ Bucky lied. „I’m just taking precautions.“

You doubted this reassurance.

„I can ditch university. I can come with you.“

„No. It calms me down to know that you’re safe at university.“ 

„Okay. But don’t forget: If you jump, I jump, remember?“ You quoted the movie you both watched last night. 

„You’re stuck with me. Where you go, I go.“

He kissed the palm of your left hand. „I’m not going anywhere.“, Bucky lied again. 

And with that he accompanied  you to university. As he left, you walked into your class and you took out your phone and your homework. You checked the latest news. The day before there was a bombing in Vienna but on this day there were breaking that there’s a picture of a suspect. The picture showed no other than Bucky himself. Your heart stopped for a moment and you couldn’t think clearly. This explained his behavior and fear. You knew he was innocent- no doubt about that. You knew the man you fell in love with and James would never do such thing. The only conclusion was that he was being fraud by someone else. You decided to skip the class and go home to find James. 

When you arrived outside, the campus was quite empty because the majority of the students were already in their classes. As you walked to the gate a man was calling you.

„Hey! Wait!“ He jogged to you. 

„You’re working with Bucky, aren’t you? You’re his accomplice.“ The man in front of you assumed. 

„None of your business.“, you muttered. You wanted to pass him but he stopped you by grabbing your shoulder. 

„My name’s Sam Wilson and you really need to come with me.“, he said, scarring you with his words.

His grip was so tight that you couldn’t break free.

„Im not coming with you. Who do you think you are?“

„I’m working with Captain America.“ He said. You could hear the pride in his voice.

„So? That doesn’t make you an authority. I don’t trust you.“

„You saw the picture, didn’t you? You saw the picture of him in the newspaper. You don’t strike me as a dumb person, yeah? You know what this picture means. They are after him. They are already here. So I need your help.“

„Why do you need my help? He’s innocent. That picture is fake and I know it. But do you? Do you believe in his innocence or what aim do you really pursue?“

Sam didn’t answer but he also didn’t let go of you. So the only thing that you could do was to kick him between his legs. But your head start wasn’t for long. You can’t outrun an athlete. He caught you with his hand which made you stumbled and you fell face forward on the ground. Your lip was bleeding. 

„Im sorry. I didn’t intend to hurt you.“

As you looked around you saw police officers pointing their guns at you and Sam. 

„You called the police?!“ You asked unbelievably.

„Ey. They’re pointing their guns at me too. So no- I didn’t call the police.“ 

They handcuffed you both and took off. Sam talked with someone via earpiece: „I’ve got her but the police got us both. I’m sorry.“

At the same time, Bucky, Steve and King T’Challa were also handcuffed. Steve looked at his childhood friend and shared the information Sam just gave him: „I’m sorry, but they’ve got her.“ 

To say that Bucky was furious was an understatement: He would burn down the whole city if they’d hurt her. 

When you arrived at the office in Berlin you couldn’t stop all the questions that were floating in your mind. „Why are we here? Since when is Germany responsible for crimes that happened in Vienna or Bucharest? Why were German police officers in Romania? What the heck is going on?“ You asked but everyone was ignoring you. 

Minutes later a man entered the room and you realized that this was Tony Stark. „Who is that?“ He asked, pointing his finger at you. You didn’t bother to answer him. You just turned your head away. „Alright. Kinda mean but we will get the answers anyway.“ He sat down next to Steve. „Is the thing you have with him even legal?“, he asked you again.

„You tell me. He was born in 1917. I was born 80 years later.“

Tony scrunched up his nose. 

The screen was turned on and you saw James. „Why is he in a cage? Why is there no lawyer? Is this how Germany practices its law now? Did you tell him his right to silence?“ You asked almost aggressively 

„You’re audacious and naive.“, said a man in a suit. 

„Stop insulting me. James is as innocence as I am. He wasn’t in Vienna and I told you that from the beginning. And no one in this damn room is listening. You’re just looking for a guy to take the blame. I don’t know how America treats their suspects but here in Germany they have human rights as well. They have dignity and they are still treated with respect and decency. All people have rights. We learned that 70 years ago and we will never ever forget it, understand?“, you spatted. „You imprisoned and treat him as if he’s a monster.“

„My dear child, do you know what he just did today in Bucharest? The damage he caused?“, the man screamed. 

„But it were you with the loaded guns, right?“

„He’s not just a suspect. He’s the delinquent.“

„In some countries there is a trial for this question to be answered, but you seemed to be hangman and judge in once.“ You provoked him. This was so unlike you that you really couldn’t understand the anger that was inside you. 

„I like her.“ Tony said. „She’s loyal like a golden retriever.“

„Stop insulting me even more. I’m defending the man I love that doesn’t mean I’m a puppy wagging its tail.“ 

Before anyone could say anymore to worsen the situation the power was gone for merely seconds but the power was back, Bucky disappeared from the video. Everyone in the room turned around and looked at you. 

„How are you going to explain this.“ Tony asked you 

„Kid, you stay here. Don’t even think about leaving this room.“ As Tony walked downstairs he asked himself if you’re related to a woman he met over 20 years ago who happens to have the same last surname like you did. No, unlikely. Almost impossible. 

Bucky, in his winter soldier mode only had one aim: to kill as many people as possible. But something was off. He hasn’t been the winter soldier for quite some time and the impact you had. The thought that you were hurt made him even more lethal. His priority was to find you and made sure you were okay. So everyone who fought him was a threat, an enemy.

It ended in a cafeteria where Bucky held a gun to the head of a seemingly important man. Bucky was circled with dozen of agents, all pointing a gun at him. 

„Where is she? Where is (y/f/n)?“ Bucky asked

„She’s okay. You don’t need to worry about her.“, Steve assured Bucky

„I don’t trust you. I need to see her.“ 

„We can bring her here. So you can see it for yourself.“ Steve suggested while Bucky just nodded. 

Steve and Tony ran upstairs and Tony grasped Steve by his arm. „What the fuck do you think you’re doing? You can’t bring her downstairs to him. He’s dangerous and she’s just a kid. You can’t control him.“

„He isn’t dangerous and I don’t think he would hurt her. After all they are something like a couple. She knows him. And we will be there as well. Trust me, Tony. Nothing will happen.“

So they both accompanied you downstairs. 

You’ve got nervous, shaking uncontrollably. „You don’t have to do this.“ Tony said. 

„And I’m really sorry that I compared you with a golden retriever. I just think that loyalty is a great character trait.“

You smiled at him. „It’s alright. I’m sorry too. For being so angry and impulsive and arrogant.“

„Are you scared?“ Tony asks. „No, I’m not. I trust him. I trust the man I love. He isn’t the winter soldier anymore. And that he remembers me in this moment- that’s a good sign, isn’t it? So I had a little impact on him.“

Steve opened the door. You felt all the eyes of the agents on you. Thats really made you uncomfortable but you tried to ignore and only concentrate on James. You tried to relax. Your hands where cold as ice- something that always happens when you get nervous. You walked towards him. „You need to let go of this man, James.“, you pointed with your eyes at the man. „I’m alright. I’m safe.“ You approached him. „You really need to let go of him.“ Your voice was firmer. „The agents here are scared of you. They see you as a threat. So I’m begging you: let go of him.“ 

And Bucky let go of him. „They hurt you.“ He stated looking at your bruised lips. „No, they didn’t. I stumbled.“ You reassured him. „James, you need to put down the gun as well. The avengers aren’t the enemy. We can trust them. I do. I trust them and I think we might need their help.“ And you kissed him. Right in front of anyone. You heard the thump of the gun greeting the ground as James let go of it. 

You broke the kiss and caressed his cheek. But before Bucky could say anything you looked to your right and something you saw made you so scared. You pushed Bucky with all the strength you’ve got, making him stumble a few steps backwards. But that was enough to take his spot. 

Bucky saw the redness on your shirt before he heard the bang of the gun. Steve and Tony screamed „NO!“, but it was already too late. You looked at it and all the color of your face vanished. You started to fall but Bucky caught you, laying you softly on the ground. Soon you lost you consciousness.

Steve used the chaos to get Bucky out of there. „They will help her. But you need to come. It’s not safe for you here.“ 

During that time agent Sharon Carter kept Steve and Bucky informed but Bucky had a really hard time. „She’s still sleeping. You are not missing anything.“ She assured him. 

When you woke up you were greeted by non other than Tony Stark itself. He read a German magazine. „Do you understand what you’re reading or are you just looking at the pictures?“ 

He looked up and grinned. „Really nice pictures. But I also get help with the translating.“ He pointed to his high technology-glasses. 

„How do you feel?“

„Exhausted but okay.“ 

You looked around and you saw James standing in the door frame. „James“ you whispered, reaching out for him. „I’m so relieved that you’re fine.“ Bucky looked at Tony who faintly shook his head indicating that you were still oblivious about the fight in Leipzig and the separation of the avengers. 

„What happened after I passed out?“, you asked

„You mean after you got shot.“, Tony corrected you. 

„Why did you pack?“, you ask James, forgetting the last question you just asked. 

„I’m leaving for Wakanda. They offered me to free me from the mind control and I’m gonna take that chance.“

„Take me with you. I want to be with you. I can’t imagine a life without you. Please, James.“ 

He looked you deep in your eyes. You could see how he’s debating on the inside. „Okay.“ And he kissed you passionately. 

Tony didn’t like that idea at all. „Okay, lovebirds. We better should look for a doctor to sign the release papers and you can rest a bit more.“ He ushered Bucky out of your room and when the door closed he let go of his facade.

„You can’t take her with you. Thats really selfish of you. She’s kid. She can’t throw away her life for you. She is not your psychologist. You know exactly what you are. You’re a murderer. Nothing will ever change that. You’re destroying her life. And you don’t care because after all you will always be the winter soldier. Nothing will change that.“

Bucky looked at Tony like he just got slapped. „I know who and what I am. I will never be good enough for her. Yeah, maybe I’m selfish taking her with me but I can’t imagine a life without her. I love her and I will protect her. I promise.“

„But can you protect her from yourself?“ 

As you packed your belongings James waited outside your room. „You don’t have to go with him. You don’t need to throw your life away. You don’t owe him anything.“, Tony stated. 

„I’m not throwing anything away. He’s my future. He’s anything I’ve ever wanted. Wakanda will be an adventure and I’m ready to take it.“

Tony suppressed all the things he wanted to tell you. He hugs you and said instead. „If he hurts you in anyway, call me. I’ll come and get you.“ He caress your hair and without noticing he took a single hair of you. He needed to know who you were to him. He couldn’t ignore his curiosity anymore. 

Chapter 6

@inlovewith3 @jackiehollanderr @homesicam @dreamydreamerwriting @losers-club6 @gengen64 @agentsofsheilds @crimson-darling @akkinda10 @xemine @bubblegumholland @chipilerendi @iamasimpingh0e @bbmommy0902 @madddiiee26 @teenagedreams-bucky @aya-fay @idontknowwhatthisisfam @w-wolfhxrd @useless-creature-213  @angywritesstuff @supernaturalcat7 @harrys-stan @geek-and-proud

[softomi]

now accepting boyfriend applications.

based on my fic idea: you’ve just become newly single, in a drunken fit, you posted a status indicating you’re accepting applications for your next boyfriend. Oddly, three boys take you up on that; sending in their most professional resumes for the position. It seems there’s some fierce competitors. 

next up: literature

It hurt, why wouldn’t it hurt. Your boyfriend of almost two years dumped you over text message with no warning and his reason? He just wasn’t feeling it anymore, what the fuck. Well, twenty phone calls, a hundred text messages sent to him, and a pretty nasty voicemail. The moment you realized just how crazy you were being was when you began pounding on his door at almost ten at night. His neighbors poking their head out to stare, and it really smacked you in the face how stupid you were being.

So you threw caution into the wind. it’s a Wednesday night, your first class tomorrow didn’t start until noon and you’re literature teacher was more of a lecturer so she probably won’t notice if you’re hung over. If anything, you could always ask the guy next to you for the notes.

Thus, you decide to throw back shots to your heart’s desire, sitting in the middle of your tiny studio apartment, on your bed to scream and cry at the romance movie. Love is dead. You groan loudly when your neighbor knocks against the wall, trying to tell you to promptly shut the fuck up.

Halfway through the movie, your mind is already swaying. Your throat stings just momentarily and you sip your cheap wine in hope it’ll dull the shots you had taken previously. When the male protagonist kisses the beautiful female of his dreams, you promptly chug the rest of the wine in your glass. Upset at their love, you wrap your lips around the tip of the wine bottle, drinking straight from it.

“I can find someone better.” You’ve reached a different point in your post break up sadness, you were mixed with anger, sadness, and an overall feeling of I’ll find someone with a better dick.

It’s never a good decision to post on social media while drunk, but it’s a great decision right now. You were going to post a ‘newly single’ status. Just to be nice and not spam everyone, you think you’ll just post it to your private account for your five friends to see. You’ve clearly neglected that step when you press post and it uploads to your public twitter account.

The urge to hurl takes priority over the sudden notifications on your phone. Your hair disheveled as you’re trying to hold onto the toilet, hold onto your hair, and throw up at the same time. The romance film comes to an end once you’ve fully emptied your stomach. You shove all the things off your bed, food falling onto the floor, empty bottle of wine rolled under your bed, remote lost somewhere. You fall asleep despite your cell phone going off.

The alarm jolts you, it causes you to scream, your palm slapping the snooze button and you aggressively pull the wire so that it comes out of the socket. Your head is throbbing and your cell phone is ringing at the same time. Annoyed, your hand stretches along the bed trying to find your cell. When you come emptyhanded, you sit up. Your hand steading the pulsing of your brain and you spot your phone ringing and vibrating on the ground.

“What?” You spit out, not bothering to look at the contact as you try to block out the sun.

“What do you mean what?” The voice snaps at you, “You post about boyfriend applications all of a sudden, did you guys break up?”

Of course he would be the one calling you, the person who loves gossip more than you do, “Tooru, can you like shut up for a second.” Your brain is dying and he’s over here trying to get the latest dish on your love life, “He dumped me okay.”

“That asshole.” He gasps, “Do you want me to come over?”

You look at the time on your cell briefly, “No. I have class all day. If you’re free later?”

“Of course!”

The phone call ends and rather than getting ready for the class you have in an hour, you’re checking your notifications. You have about twenty missed calls from Oikawa, another thirty text messages from him, he even left a voicemail; god he must have been desperate. Facebook is bland, you spent most of your time on Instagram deleting the photos of your now ex, and rarely do you ever get Twitter notifications. Oddly, you have fifteen notifications; all coming from your public account.

haha, boyfriend applications are official open. only taking serious apps lol

“No.” You sit up.

It wasn’t your post that freaked you out, it wasn’t that somehow it ended up on your public account, no you could delete it and pretend as if no one saw it but people saw it.

Is she serious?

If she is, I’m down.

What does serious applications mean?

Three comments, five likes, and four retweets.

And three unread messages.

Your finger rushes to delete the tweet before it can be retweeted even more by random classmates. All was good now. Your finger presses onto the message icon, you’re confronted with the icons of three of your classmates.

The most recent is from Miya Atsumu, a terrible flirt in your biology class. He chose the seat next to you in lab when his friends ditched him and hoarded their own table. He spun around in his chair, shooting you a cheeky grin when you briefly looked at him.

His first sentence was, “Hey you’re cute.”

And yours was, “I have a boyfriend.”.

You skip over his message upon spotting his use of sweetheart in the preview.

The next icon is of the guy in your intro to business class, Kuroo Tetsuro. The first time you saw him was outside of the classroom, you two ended up accidentally reaching the doors at the same time. He lets you go in first and the both of you chose the seats farthest from the board, and closest to the door. Despite his bed hair that made him look like he was going to sleep the entire class, he was a rather studious guy; chill but smart, he was a business major after all.

“Did you understand anything he was saying?” You murmur to him as you grab your bag.

“Of course!” He states, “I don’t look at twitter on my laptop when he’s lecturing.” Ah, he caught you.

Your eyes briefly scan the preview, he’s saying something about a resume and you think he’s talking about the homework assignment. You’re about to click on his first when the last catches your eye.

It’s from Akaashi Keiji. On the first day of class, you were late due to waiting in line for coffee. You awkwardly opened the door to the classroom, everyone turning to stare, and you lower your head, choosing a random seat that now you’re stuck with for the rest of the semester because that’s just how college works. The professor goes over the syllabus and suddenly announces that the person sitting to your right will be your revision partner for the semester.

“Hey.” You stop him and for a brief minute you feel your heart skip a beat because he was absolutely pretty, “Sorry, I’m Y/n. Since we’re going to be partners, do you want to exchange info?”.

“Uh. Sure. I’m Akaashi Keiji.”

“I’m going to be late for my business class. Do you have twitter?” You were never a fan of giving your phone number out. Before he can answer, you’re scribbling your username onto a piece of paper, placing it on his desk before running out to catch your next class.

His message is brief: Did you get my email?

You click his message first; it must have been urgent if he messaged and emailed you. There’s nothing else to his message, his previous one dates almost a week before his current one, telling you that he finished reading the book you recommended and that he enjoyed it.

The screen is pulled up with your finger, alternating apps to your personal email. The subject of his email simply reads Application.

Curiously, you click the attachment he’s sent with no body text. Your jaw dropped, hand placed over your open mouth and a small scream emitting.

“Is he fucking serious?”

His name is displayed at the top, along with his birthday, star sign, zodiac sign, age, even the pronouns he uses. There’s a short sentence under it. I am submitting an application for the position of Boyfriend. You’re internally screaming, blinking fast hoping that this was a joke but his ‘application’ reads like a resume. It lists his education from middle school to his current, his previous jobs, his skills, and his own personal goals for the future.

Your blushing profusely, you want to pull your hair, scream, even throw your phone but you shove down the feelings that want to have you die of embarrassment. You don’t have the energy to sadly explain to him that you were drunk and weren’t serious; ugh and you’re going to have to continue seeing him for the rest of the semester.

You revert back to twitter; your heart suddenly drops when you think about Kuroo’s message. Quickly, you pull up the messages, clicking his and suddenly you want dig yourself a grave because he’s sent a link to a pdf and it’s simply titled Resume. He probably used a resume template and never changed the title.

And sure enough, it’s a fucking professional resume declaring the certain skills he has to be your boyfriend. In fact, like the professional business major he is, he includes a letter of intent; indicating his reasons of interest for the position. It details the little quirks he finds cute about you. You want to break your phone in half with how red in the face you feel.

As you exit his message, you’re slowly praying that Atsumu’s message is just a random flirty comment that he occasionally likes to throw you once in a while or perhaps you’re hoping that he fell in a ditch and you won’t have to work with him for the rest of the semester since he almost blew up the lab station last time.

Nope, it’s a link to a google document. Oddly, you click it. Your heart has sunk to the pit of the earth because when you open the document, you see his fucking name in the upper right corner indicating he’s still on the stupid document.

Fuck fuck fuck. You’re running away from the document, aggressively leaving the page but it doesn’t help that when you end up back at your twitter messages, you can see the three dots, telling you he’s typing.

Morning sweetheart hope you enjoy the app

He sends it with a flirty wink and you stare at it for five full minutes. Curiosity gets the best of you and you click back onto his link, he’s no longer on the same document and you sigh safely. For someone who’s barely passing biology, his document was rather professionally detailed. Damn, he’s on the school’s volleyball team? Weirdly the page cuts off halfway, you continue to scroll until the next title page boldly states: Bedroom skills.

It didn’t help that you were scrolling a little too fast and caught sight of an image showing off his toned upper body. There goes his professionalism.

Your phone suddenly blares low battery, your screen turns black and now your anxiety is through the roof. You jump on your bed, trying to plug in your phone and you’ve just now realized that it is thirty minutes until your first class starts and it is literature. You’re scrambling to find your laptop, you trip on the bag of chips from last night, awkwardly trying to stand as you reach for your school bag.

“Shit!” You scream. You suddenly remember letting your stupid ex-boyfriend borrow your laptop.

You fall to the floor, fingers pulling your hair as you suddenly think about the deep shit your in. First, your boyfriend dumped you, now you randomly have three guys who sent you applications to be your next boyfriend and you’re still going to have to see them for the rest of the semester if you reject them. Lastly, you’re going to have to go to your ex’s place to get your laptop after having made a scene yesterday, and your phone is dead so you can’t cry to Oikawa about the deep shit you’re in.

[agentnico]

The Mitchells vs. The Machines (2021) Review

This new film warns of the dangers of tech consumption yet it appears on a streaming service that’s entire business model is based upon screen addiction with their endless binge worthy content. As they say the irony is most definitely present!

Plot: A quirky, dysfunctional family's road trip is upended when they find themselves in the middle of the robot apocalypse and suddenly become humanity's unlikeliest last hope.

A new animated film produced by Phil Lord and Christopher Miller who are yet to make a miss, having made a career out of taking familiar formulas and turning them upside down on their heads, whether it be 21 Jump Street that took the idea of the original TV show and gave it more energy and modernistic humour, to The Lego Movie that took the excuse of squeezing more money out of a popular children’s brand and actually made a well made movie and then there is Spider-Man: Into the Spider-Verse which basically went and created its own animation style inspired by graphic novels. These guys have a very original voice in Hollywood and they prove it time and time again. Their new Netflix animated venture The Mitchells vs. The Machines is no exception. 

I watched this film with my girlfriend and the most recent animated feature we watched together was Soul, which was one of my favourite films last year for its emotional heft and good hearted message, and I am not at all sorry to embarrass her and report that my girlfriend balled her eyes out at that movie. Well wouldn’t you know the same thing happened here with The Mitchells vs The Machines. And honestly it caught me off guard, as this movie is really funny and has that fast paced high-energy load of constant jokes being thrown at you right from the get-go similarly to The Lego Movie that when the dramatic scenes do strike they surprise you and so one moment I’m chuckling away and the next I’m staring at my girlfriend who’s eyes have turned into Niagara Falls. Would have taken me nothing to get a canoe and go down that stream whacking her cheeks with my paddles! However her tears were well founded as behind the comedy and the central plot revolving around this alien invasion is a tale about a father and his daughter and them reconnecting and it reminded my girlfriend of her with her dad but even in itself this is a plot point that many audiences can connect with and this element is handled super well in the film. Also helps that the voice actors for these two characters - Danny McBride and Abbi Jacobson - share great chemistry, or do I call it VOCAL chemistry?... Is that a thing? Can I say that? Do I make sense or am I a fool? The likelihood is the latter, but I digress. Nevertheless with this emotional thread I bet Disney is gutted they didn’t acquire the rights to this movie as it would have fit perfectly in their Pixar catalogue. 

Typical to other Phil Lord and Chris Miller produced animated projects, the animation in this film looks super unique. The blend of CGI with 2D motion drawings scribbled over many shots make it look as if the lead character Katie, a tech-heavy arts college student is literally doodling on each frame, just like with filters and captions that appear on our phone screens in real life. Overall the film is directed really well and the comedic timing is spot on with so many highlight sequences, whether its the goofy short films that Katie makes from documenting her family’s disastrous road trip that includes traffic jam road rage and a seven hour mule tour gone wrong where we unfortunately lose the unsung hero that is Prancer to the canyon, to then the weirdly intense scene where the classic childrens toys Furbies are turned into monsters that act like gremlins, or Olivia Colman’s villainous Siri-type phone AI passive-aggressively being furious and cranky in her evil robot lair that looks like it was designed by Pink Floyd or Daft Punk. There’s so much attention to detail packed into this film and a lot of it is just random additions that are added for the sake of fun, and the entire thing reminded me of the new co-op video game that me and my girlfriend have been playing recently called It Takes Two (which I highly recommend!!) which to be honest shares a lot in common with the spirit of this film. It’s all so CONNECTED!! Honestly the only reason I referenced It Takes Two is cause me and my girlfriend have been enjoying it immensely and I needed to find a pointless excuse to share some non-paid unnecessary advertising for this game.

The Mitchells vs The Machines is an exciting and hilarious family adventure that has something for everyone, and to be honest is a welcome treat for our current pandemic times. I loike it a lot, it’s noice! 

Overall score: 8/10

[1plus1kiyoomi]

Chapter 5: 3-day free trial Day 1

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Day 1

A very rare day off. Usually, Sakusa would spend it cleaning his whole house, but this time Kia is around. Does he ask her to help? What does a 30-month old know about cleaning?

The night before, it was chill. Kia slept immediately after eating dinner and bathing, probably because she was tired from the flight. Plus, his parents were there to help him. He starts to think not to let the toddler nap so she’ll sleep immediately.

You are still in Tokyo, processing some papers for work and will arrive 3 days after. Which means, Sakusa has to take care of Kia alone for 3 days. He really has no idea on what to do. You gave him a schedule of Kia’s routines, but he thinks it’s systematically ridiculous. He has no free time at all.

6:30 AM: wake up (don’t let her stay in bed for a long time or you’ll suffer tonight)

7:30 AM: breakfast (she eats solid food and isn’t allergic to anything. she also isn’t picky. just make sure you cut her food into small pieces)

8:00 AM: bath (she loves playing with water. watch her carefully. she might slip and hit her head.)

8:30 AM: household chores (she likes helping with the chores, especially folding clothes and hanging the laundry)

11:30 AM: lunch

1:00 PM: nap time (give her milk. make sure you let her help you with the chores or she’ll not sleep. she has a lot of energy. also, this is your alone time. spend it wisely.)

3:00 PM: wake up. (give her snacks)

7:00 PM: wash.

8:00 PM: dinner.

10:00 PM: sleep.

She’s not as messy as other kids, but she’s still a child, she can’t help it but make mess. Go easy on her.

“Is this how she spends her time?” Sakusa stares at the piece of paper disappointedly. He checks the clock on the wall it’s almost time for Kia to wake up. “Right. Her mom said she’ll call any minute now.”

Sakusa goes to the room and opens the blinds, waking Kia up. She sits up, looking around the unfamiliar room. She sees Sakusa and raises her hands, a sign to lift her up, but he doesn’t understand. “What?”

Kia starts crying, confusing the hell out of Sakusa. He gives her a bottle of milk but she rejects it. She continues to raise her arms, her cries getting louder. Sakusa wants to throw her out of the window, but that would be murder and you will definitely kill him for it.

Kia stops crying then stares at him with teary eyes. They look at each other as if they are competing on a staring contest. And he wins, Kia says what she wants. “Carry.”

“We have to change your diaper first. Then, I’ll carry you.”

“Okay.”

Kia jumps out of bed and runs to the bathroom, Sakusa following behind her in a safe distance. He puts her on the changing station, lying her on her back. He changes the diaper in horror, but Kia is just enjoying the lights in the bathroom.

Not long after having changed her diapers, you call Sakusa. He puts Kia on the high chair, then answers your call. He takes a phone stand and leans his phone on it, so you can talk to your daughter properly. “Mama!” Kia cheers upon seeing your face.

“Baby!” You coo on the other line. “How are you? I miss you!”

‘Already? Pfft. It hasn’t even been 24 hours since you last saw her.’

Sakusa continues to make rice balls. First he makes his, since he is unsure of how much Kia can eat. He puts his finished onigiris aside, then stands behind Kia’s chair to see ask you.

The moment you see him on screen, a blush creeps on your cheeks. He is wearing a loose maroon shirt that shaped his shoulder way too good for your liking. You stare at him without realizing. ‘Has his shoulders always been that broad?’

“Hey, I’m asking you something.” He calls and you snap out of your thoughts. You clear your throat and answer with a hum. He rolls his eyes and repeats his question. “Is this enough rice for Kia?” He tilts the plate of rice, showing it to you.

You act as if you are examining the plate but you are actually too busy staring at his toned and veiny forearms. You nod at him and he leaves the screen again. You pout and forget about Kia who is staring at you. After a while of assessing your face, Kia finally concludes on why you look upset.

“Kyo, go back here. Mama’s sad. She wants to see you, too.”

The room falls silent, and your apartment that is hundreds of kilometers away from them does too. Sakusa, to save you from embarrassment, pretends not to hear Kia’s statement. Then, he hears you speak, “Kia, baby. I have to go to work now. Bye!”

You end the call immediately. Sakusa on the other hand still looks unbothered, but deep down he is smiling like an idiot. But Kia saddens upon seeing the black screen on the device.

“What’s that?” Kia asks out of curiosity and boredom, pointing at Sakusa’s hands that are molding the rice into tiny balls she won’t choke on.

“Your food.”

“What food?”

“Onigiri.”

“Why?”

“What do you mean why?”

“Why Onigiri?”

“What do you want to eat?”

“Onigiri.”

“Then, shut up. You won’t get to eat if you don’t keep quiet.”

“Why should I?”

Sakusa groans, then puts the plate of rice balls down on the counter rather agreesively. Kia’s lower lip quivers, staring at him in guilt. He takes a deep breath in before continuing to shape the ham and cheese as he prays for more patience.

Sakusa places the finished food on her tray, then lifts Kia up of her chair to bring her to the sink. He helps her wash and dry her hands before returning her back to the table. She bows her head, mumbling a soft ‘itadakimasu’ before holding onto her spoon. She attempts to put a piece of carrot on her spoon, but fails miserably.

“Feed me!” Kia announces in which Sakusa responds with a sigh. He leaves his food to feed her. He takes the spoon from her hand and attempts to feed her. He honestly wants to shove it in her mouth, but he doesn’t want a child to die in his house because of choking.

“Don’t make a mess,” Sakusa warns, and she nods. He continues to feed her and she is calm to his surprise. On her last rice ball, Kia looks at Sakusa in anticipation but only to be rewarded by a stare.

Sakusa puts Kia down before he cleans her seat and wash her plate. He continues to eat his and tells her to go to her room. She runs to her room and start playing with whatever toy there is in there. She spots a marker and takes the lid off. She runs to the wall and starts scribbling on it in delight. Sakusa finishes eating and washing with the dishes so he checks up on Kia.

“What are you doing?!” He shouts, seeing the markings on the wall. Kia looks at him in shock, dropping the pen to the ground. She starts crying as Sakusa marches towards her. “Why did you draw on the wall?!”

“I’m sorry!” Kia cries, feeling guilty of what she has done.

“You better be because you just made a mess on my wall!” Sakusa scolds, picking up the pen she just used. He takes the other pens on the table and throws them forcefully in the trashcan. Kia cries even harder which irritates Sakusa. “Shut up!”

Kia stops crying because of his words. “Do you not like Kia?” She asks innocently.

“I don’t like messy children like you,” he answers in a stern manner before he aggressively wipes the ink off the wall with wipes. He looks at Kia, expecting her to cry but she is only staring at the wall.

“I thought papa loves me...” Kia mumbles before sitting down on the floor. Sakusa didn’t hear her words due to the stress that is filling him in. Preoccupied with cleaning, he doesn’t realize Kia staring at the wall unhealthily.

Sakusa finishes and grabs clothes from her drawer and the baby bag you prepared in case they go out. He changes Kia then leaves the room. He places Kia in the highchair again so he can change into his practice clothes.

“I won’t be able to survive being alone with you for anymore time.”

-------

The two enter the gym, Kia garnering everyone’s attention. He instructs her to sit at the bench and not to move unless it’s necessary. Everyone is quiet, confused as hell, and cannot believe what they are seeing. Sakusa Kiyoomi with a child, a child that resembles him way too much.

“Is that your daughter?” Bokuto excitedly asks, the other members are so thankful and ashamed of him for asking the question they all want to ask. “She’s taller than I thought!”

“Did you think she was 1 foot tall or something?” Atsumu remarks, walking closer to the child with Hinata. Kia’s eyes glimmers as she sees them.

She stands on the bench, looking up to them. The volleyball players put their hands on their knees, crouching, to level with Kia’s height. “You’re very tall!” Kia exclaims excitedly.

Hinata blushes at her statement, “I am?” He giggles, lifting Kia up. “You’re so cute!”

Atsumu examines her features silently, glancing at Sakusa to do some comparisons. She smiles at the faux blonde and captures his heart immediately. He clutches on his chest exaggeratedly, making Kia giggle.

“You look like your papa but cuter!” Atsumu coos at her, pinching her cheek.

Kia’s eyes widen in excitement upon hearing the word ‘papa.’ She jumps to Atsumu’s arms, which he luckily catches her. “You know my papa?”

Everyone in the room becomes silent with Kia’s question. Atsumu tilts her head to the side, then looks at Sakusa. He is looking at the court, obviously not paying attention to Kia or what she is saying. “Isn’t he your papa?” Atsumu asks, pointing a finger at Sakusa.

“My mama said papa is tall and handsome with curly hair. He also has black hair and black eyes and fair skin! He is also very tall!” Kia rambles.

Isn’t she describing Sakusa? Everyone in the room thinks.

“But Kyo!” She points at Sakusa who is now staring at her. “He’s a monster!”

Sakusa grabs a volleyball and the team members stop him from hitting Kia with it. He shouts in frustration, leaving the gym. Kia starts crying in fear again and the boys help her quiet down. Atsumu hands her to Hinata before chasing after Sakusa.

Atsumu spots Sakusa at the lockers, sitting quietly on his spot. The blonde sits a bench away from him, giving him enough space. Sakusa looks at him and sighs. “I can’t believe you’re the one I’m talking to.”

“If you prefer to talk with Hinata or Bokuto, I’ll go call them.”

“Please, no. You’re the most sane out of the three.”

“Thanks?” Atsumu chuckles, then waits for Sakusa to say something again. He’s aware of how blunt Sakusa is with his words, but Kia just seem to shut him up. He can’t say anything to her.

“What seems to be the problem?” Atsumu starts, knowing Sakusa won’t say anything if he doesn’t.

Atsumu is seen as asshole by everybody, but he is definitely not a bad friend. Sakusa may not consider him as one, but he does. And he’s more than willing to listen and talk to him.

“Kia. I just don’t really like children.”

Atsumu takes a deep breath in before asking Sakusa a question that can get him killed by the ace. “So why are you trying?”

Sakusa processes his question then laughs. Atsumu is getting scared. He has always seen Sakusa as a psychopath and he is showing signs right now. He is about to flee the room but Sakusa answers him.

“Because I want her mom back.”

But he doesn’t want Kia.

--

After their practice, Sakusa, Bokuto, Atsumu and Hinata decide to eat dinner together. Atsumu lowkey scared for Kia. What if he doesn’t feed her dinner? He’s even thinking of bringing her home until you arrive.

They arrive in Miya Onigiri, the only place Sakusa trusts to dine in. They get seated in the private room, Osamu well-aware of Sakusa’s hate towards crowds. He got surprised about seeing Kia, too, but he didn’t say anything. He gives her a highchair and she thanks him gleefully. He ruffles her hair before helping her up in the chair. After taking their orders, he goes to the kitchen to make it.

Kia sits between Sakusa and Atsumu, while Bokuto and Hinata sit across them. Kia is busy chatting with the boys when Sakusa’s phone starts to ring so he checks it and see that you’re calling. He answers it and hands the phone to Kia.

“Mama!” Kia cheers. “Look! I’ve got new friends!” She shows Hinata and Bokuto on the screen, and your eyes widen. Bokuto quiets down and stares at you in shock as well.

“Akaashi’s cousin!” Bokuto says. “Kia is your daughter too? She’s Omi-kun’s daughter as well!” You chuckle awkwardly until they grey hair boy hits realization. “You said Kia’s father is dead!”

“I never said that!” You reply in defense. Upon hearing your exchange with Bokuto, Sakusa gets bothered. Did you really say he was dead to other people?

“Bokuto don’t shout at my mama like that!” Kia pouts. You call her and tells her to use polite terms with the three since they’re her uncles.

Atsumu laughs at your statement and his deep laugh catches you off guard. Kia shows herself in the camera again and Atsumu is seen too. “We’re at the age that we’re considered as uncles already, huh?”

“Yes, you are.” You clarify and Atsumu scoffs.

“I’m Miya Atsumu by the way,” he introduces and you introduce yourself back. The three of you, with Kia, continue to call as they wait for their food. Atsumu asks questions about you which is annoying Sakusa every time you answer it with ethusiasm. The food arrives so they say their goodbyes, then you end the call as soon as Atsumu says bye, not giving Sakusa the chance to talk to you.

“You can’t use spoon well yet?” Atsumu coos, taking Kia’s spoon. He feeds her as he eats as well, the irritation in Sakusa’s body growing even more.

After eating, it is time to say good bye. And Kia isn’t letting go of Atsumu.

“I wanna stay with you!” Kia cries, clinging onto Atsumu’s neck. Having enough of Kia being way too attached to Atsumu, Sakusa grabs Kia out of the blonde’s grasps, leaving her to cry. She throws punches on his chest which obviously has no effect, but she’s trying okay?

“He’s my papa! Not you!”

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Random Facts:

Before Kia left for Osaka, Akaashi told her that Kiyoomi is her dad. She didn’t believe him.

Meian now has the baby fever.

Taglist:  @elianetsantana aoi-turtle ptv-hades  aquzairus a-applepi  justoneofthefangirls arianna-r13 morenabambinii

[1994sunflower]

You mentioned that sometimes Michael and Y/N would get sexual during zoom classes. Could you maybe write about one of those times?

this was just....so hot I-

in which michael distracts you during zoom class

It wasn’t something that was easy to get used to. Even months into the new reality. Because still, having your computer in front of you with several little boxes that held your classmates and professors with your notes in your lap as you sat on the couch, felt strange. Especially when, not being in the usual classroom, left you feeling a little less like you were learning something in class and more like you were watching a video with little motivation and the little attention span needed for it. 

Michael’s presence wasn’t exactly helping your attention to stay on class either. Especially when he had you situated comfortably in his lap. You loved being so close to him and while at any other time you would be enjoying the feeling, melting back into his chest, you couldn’t right then as you moved your pencil to what your professor was saying. No matter how much you wanted to. 

Your classmates could see the dangerous man behind you though you couldn’t be sure how many of the wide eyes, pointed fingers and gossiping moving lips were due to them watching your screen and recognizing the big body you were sitting on or the intricate tattoos of the arm that was in frame, wrapped around your body. 

Shocked at who they were actually seeing in their class, being so passive and seeming so normal, with you being in his arms without looking the least bit scared or intimidated. Almost looking happy and accustomed to this side of him. Shockingly distant from the cruel and aggressive man they knew him to really be. Only half of him was visible, the other half just out of frame so they couldn’t see his face in its entirety. Just the recognizable stoic expression as he looked blankly at his phone or at you, fingers trailing your skin absentmindedly, while you listened to class.

Or maybe it wasn’t recognition at all and it was only acknowledging just how jarring it was to see your little body so completely eclipsed by the figure behind you. 

It was the same reactions it was since the beginning of virtual learning. Ever since you and Michael were provided your first opportunity to feel like you were actually living together, alone, as a couple. Sure you had practically lived at his house for years but it was never anything official. You had your clothes there, a toothbrush, essentials and you nearly always slept there. But you still had your apartment and you would go back at least once a week.

Now however, you were together 24/7 every day, for months on end. Where you saw each other from morning to night, yet never getting tired of each other. Feeling comfortable because it felt so natural. Even in the uncertainty that was the world, you felt safe in your bubble with him. It was new and it felt titillatingly like the start of a new life with him, one that could continue on even after everything went back to normal. A future, a family. 

It always felt as comfortable and right as it did right then when he was right with you even as you listened to your class. The professor droned about the structure of proteins, chemical transportation. All things you were familiar with. But still, you listened with rapt interest, trying to get as much integrated into your permanent knowledge as possible. That’s why you didn’t think twice about Michael sitting up slightly, making you move with him. You didn’t even care when he put his hand on your inner thigh.

But, it was kind of hard to ignore when he leaned forward and kissed your lips. Your eyes widened and you gasped against his lips, eyes drawn away from the screen and to your boyfriend. You ended the kiss quickly, planning on going right back to paying attention but Michael pushed your chin towards him and sealed your lips again. 

You mumbled against his lips in surprise, kissing back for just a moment. It was hard to deny him completely, especially when his lips felt so good on yours. Each second you slowly moved him out of the camera range, just so that if any wandering eyes landed on you, they’d just see your side profile. Nothing else. Maybe see your lips moving.

But eventually, you pushed against his chest and glanced back at the screen and, still on, camera. “Michael!” You chastised, but a small playful smile still playing on your lips.

You were blushing when you turned back to the screen, hoping no one had seen anything, too busy paying attention to the professor’s lecture. You should’ve turned off the camera for a second. And you were proven to be so right on that front.

Even when you were trying desperately to catch back up to what your professor was saying, scribbling down the key words you managed to hear, whatever had gotten into your boyfriend never let up. He had been so silent, in his own little world and paying little mind to what you were doing, but that was gone. Whatever it was, had him in no way content with not feeling you like he wanted in that moment.

The hand resting on your inner thigh trailed up your skin until it was completely under your the hem of his oversized t-shirt you were wearing. The feeling of his rough grip on your thighs to your pelvis had you straightening up, your breath caught in your throat. His hand spread your legs slightly, just enough for his hand to fit, with an expertise only he had with your body. One arm was around your waist, preventing you from getting up as he moved your thin panties to one side. His lips at your ear, the one outside of the camera range, mumbling how much he loved you wearing dresses that had such easy access, even when you have class at home.

You still dress up daily for your classes, because it would keep your productive. Obviously Michael appreciated it too, just for a different reason. 

Everything was so sudden, abrupt. One second, he had been silently staring at his phone, lost in his own thoughts and the next his fingers were on your pussy. Regardless, as his pushed his middle fingers down your slit, he felt you start getting wetter, coating his digit. 

Your grip on his wrist was tight, “Michael.” You said through clenched teeth. You didn’t want to alert anyone that something was going on that shouldn’t be. Your face never left the camera and you may still seem completely normal expression wise, but your breathing was shallow. And yet still, you did nothing to move his hand or close your legs.

Besides it wasn’t abrupt, not really. Not for Michael at least who for the past 20 minutes, since your class had started had nothing but you running through his mind. And it was your fault. You were the one that, as soon as you sat on his lap when class started, had kept wiggling your hips. Each time you tried to get more comfortable, or didn’t understand something so your entire body moved in frustration. Each slight movement went straight to his hard cock straining against his jeans. Granted, he was the one that had made you sit on him, preferring to feel you rather than to have you on the opposite side of the spacious couch. Worse that you did all this while wearing his shirt that was so long on you, it qualified as a dress with nothing but your panties on underneath.

It also didn’t help that he noticed the same reactions you did. How your classmates were surprised at how a good, shy girl in their class, a bright student, could be in his arms. And then the flashes in his mind, memories of how that same girl they were looking at was also the one he could absolutely break with his dick and begged for it. How he had ruined you, marking you permanently as his, and they had no idea. 

Even when his fingers were stuffing themselves in your cunt just out of their view, thinking your face was just scrunched in confusion at the material, looking down at your notes instead of down at his tattooed fingers knuckles deep inside of you.

Your hold on your pencil was tight, trying to keep it from falling out of your grip. But writing was downright useless. You couldn’t keep it still for long enough to actually get a word out, but then again, it wasn’t as if you really heard anything your professor was saying anymore. 

You chanced a glimpse of yourself on the screen and didn’t miss the flushed look on your face, the way your mouth was open in a silent moan. But you tried to school your features back to a normal expression. Which didn’t work, especially not when Michael began moving his fingers in and out of you in a vigorous pace, seemingly relishing in the filthy sounds of your wetness. 

Hopefully, you could pass your gasp as nothing more than a yawn. Your hips bucked against his hand, from pure reflex. “M-Mikey.” Your strict voice turned out to sound much more breathy and whiny than you intended for it to sound.

“Pay attention to class, little one.” He observed you with cold eyes, almost cruel teasing eyes. You closed your eyes to prevent them from rolling back at the sound of that name you loved so much. But then you snapped them right back open, terrified at how your expression could be interpreted by others, if they so happened to look at your little box.

Michael watched your face through the screen with twisted interest. Loving the way you tried so desperately to appear concentrated in class but each second you would bite your lip, scrunch up your face, drop your mouth open, or even look away entirely when you couldn’t control your lewd expressions. It sent a jolt of pride through him to know he was the one that was making you so weak and uncontrollable.  

Your handwriting in your notes, which you had already long abandoned earnestly, was squiggly and broken, the words having nothing to do with what your professor was actually going through. Your thoughts felt blurred as only deep pleasure registered. Your mind was hyper-fixated on each of Michael’s movements, all his touches on your skin. The way his long fingers reached so deeply inside of your clenching hole. His fingers were dripping with your wetness, down to his knuckles and palm. His pace was brutal and you already felt the coil in your tummy. Your movements as his fingers curled inside you were subtle and the small moans you allowed to slip from your only slightly open mouth were imperceptible to the camera, just like his your shirt being hiked up to your waist.

Sure, you’d done something similar with him before. But never this brazenly, watching yourself trying not to fall apart on the very same camera that everyone else could see. They saw you as a good, sweet student. Not like this, not this girl who was letting her big, mean, boyfriend use her body in front of her class. Both of you realized that, just how differently they viewed you. And Michael was just spurred on more by it. 

His thumb came up to your clit and moved in circles on your sensitive nub of nerves and your nails digging into his arm was enough to let him know you were going to cum. You didn’t want to say it out loud, even if they couldn’t hear you, it’d be too humiliating. To see your mouth move to say those filthy words in front of everyone, the way you no doubt would be unable to stop moaning as soon as your mouth opened.

And when Michael took your cue, stopping you from getting to that point, and moved just enough, just subtly enough that it wasn’t picked up by the camera, to free his hard dick from his jeans, your fingers, shaky and curled up from the pleasure, moved as quickly as you could to turn off the camera. 

They wouldn’t have seen anyway, they could only see to just above your waist. But you were sure Michael wouldn’t try to hide the way he bounced you on his cock. And you wouldn’t have been able to hide the way your face morphed into one of a loud, screaming, cock-hungry slut when he finally split you in half. 

With the camera off, you finally had more freedom. Enough to finally be able to yell at him, but you didn’t. You couldn’t when all he did was chuckle meanly as he raised you by your hips easily. Just enough for him to align himself to your entrance and just enough from him to lower you down to impale himself in you.

“Oh my…fuck” You threw your head back, unable to do anything but that. He was so big. Your class was long forgotten, just a droning voice in the background. You didn’t care about the notes you were missing, about what you were supposed to be learning. 

His hold on your hips never went away as he thrusted up into you, bouncing your body up and down as he did. You felt his muscles flex each time. He moved your little body almost effortlessly. His thrusts weren’t fast but they were deep and rough, his balls slapping against your skin. 

Your gaze was on the screen as he did so, but any attempt at focus and attention was useless.

Beta sheets

Hemoglobin

Oxygen Affinity

It all meant nothing to you right then.

All at once, with your panties pushed to the side as he drove into you, groaning behind you, your small body felt so full of his girth. Your walls felt pushed apart and you felt him everywhere, especially in those crevices that he filled as if you were made to fit him. Each time he rubbed against your walls, you let out moans worthy for a porn shoot. 

With your back to him, you were forced to do nothing but watch your professor still talking and all your classmates listening like you should be right then. But instead, you were watching it all happen while you bounced eagerly on your boyfriend’s cock.

“That’s right, clench around me just like that.” One of Michael’s hands pushed their way up his large shirt adorning your body from behind you and kneaded one of your tits. “You like this, don’t you?”

You tried shaking your head but there was no use in lying. 

His other hand came to rub your clit as his thrusts sped up. You were crying out, letting him keep bouncing you with your legs holding you up with as much support as you could muster. Your legs were spread almost completely for him, though facing your computer, baring yourself to your entire class, giving them an undisrupted view of your completely filled cunt.

Leaning forward, you placed your hands on his clothed knees to support your hips riding him to take him in and out of you at a quicker pace. “Yes, yes, yes” 

You were whining out for more, your head thrown back to rest against his shoulder, forgetting the way you had been so chastising with him for trying to pull this just a few minutes before. With the way you were moaning, relishing in the way you felt so full with his big dick and how each thrust hit stimulated your walls and pleasurable spots just right, you were surprised you heard it.

“Let’s see….Y/N! You seem a bit camera shy today. So, what do you think?” Your professor’s voice cut through the chorus of moans, skin slapping and grunts filling the room.

No. You gasped as you heard your name being called, stopping your movements on his lap immediately and cutting off your filthy whimpers and moans. Michael slowed down too, but you weren’t sure if it was equally surprise or if it was to hiss in pleasure when you accidentally clenched around him too hard from the surprise. But he didn’t stop. His thrusts never ceased rutting into you.

It wasn’t a big class so your professor sometimes did cold calls. No doubt you suddenly turning off your camera just put more attention on you. But you were filled with dread almost immediately at the circumstances. There couldn’t be a worse time, not when you were currently being railed by your boyfriend. You hadn’t even heard the question.

You were already thinking of how you could play it off as a microphone issue that prevented you from answering, how you would apologize after class that your computer was acting up and that’s why you ignored her question.

But before you could even wrap your frazzled find around those options, Michael had already reached out and unmuted you. He wasn’t helping you in the least and by his tightened grip on you, it was clear he didn’t want to.

It almost felt like your heart dropped down to your stomach. Your face was burning with the embarrassed blush adorning you. They still couldn’t see you but you felt exposed nonetheless. 

“Be a good student, little one.” His voice was almost mocking. It was worse when you felt him start thrusting harder, just enough for them to be unable to hear but for you to really feel it. You wished you could glare at him right then, so he could see the deer-in-the-headlights look in your eyes. But if anything, that would’ve just turned him on even more.

“I-I’m sorry.” You managed to get out, your voice shaky. You closed your eyes and you weren’t sure if it was in mortification or in trying to control your sounds as the tip of Michael’s cock hit you just right. “Co…oh, Could you, um, repeat the question. Please?” You squeaked.

“Sure!” If your professor noticed anything, her chipper voice didn’t give anything away. Michael began bouncing you on his lap again, impaling you entirely each time he brought you back down on his dick and you were helpless to do anything except this time try to pay attention to the words coming out of your professor’s mouth as you rode your boyfriend’s big cock. Even when you were on top, he had completely control. “Based on protein function, why do you think Carbon Monoxide is so toxic for the human system?

You took a deep breath. You knew the answer. You knew that you did. It was something you’ve already been over, you had found so interesting you memorized it by heart. But yet, with your mind just blurred by not only the circumstances of what exactly was happening and just how good Michael was fucking you right then, you couldn’t think of the answer. It was evading you entirely, your brain just blank.

“Is it be-” You cut off abruptly from one of Michael’s especially hard thrust and by his tongue’s exploration of your neck, you were sure he did it on purpose. He was enjoying this. It was almost painful when Michael began rubbing your clit in fast circular rotations until he pinched it. To keep that silent, to open your mouth and force yourself to be silent even when a scream of ecstasy threatened to rip from you as you clenched around him.

Fuck. It was all you could do, to say it in your mind to prevent from screaming for him to fuck you harder out loud. You couldn’t get caught. “Because of inhibition? Competitive?”

You were babbling out breathy responses, unsure if they even made sense together. But you couldn’t stop yourself. You needed for this to be over, so you can finally mute yourself again. But it seemed the universe wasn’t on your side, even when Michael took your legs, bending them so you had no support for yourself. Instead, only he controlled the pace as he held you nearly midair as he drilled into you. And you forced down a scream. He was so strong.

“Not quite.” Your professor responded and you saw her frown, it was wrong. How much it looked like she was looking directly at the lewd sight in front of your computer even with knowing your camera was off. Thinking she was staring at you but really staring at your boyfriend fucking you raw. “That can be a reason but certainly not the main one. Do you want to try again?”

You were shaking your head even when you knew she couldn’t see you but nonetheless you tried again. Only because Michael’s grip on you and the way he was whispering nothing but curse words in your ear convinced you that he wanted you to. “Fuck….shit, yeah, be a good girl while you’re getting fucked.”

“Th-h-he, um, the” You only let out a breathy little moan before you slapped your hand over your mouth, closing your eyes in alarm. Michael had such control of your body, you couldn’t even stop the sounds escaping you. 

“Are you okay?” Your professor asked and you felt just a little more mortified because of it. 

“Yes!” Your answer was a bit too forced but you trudged on, just trying not to get caught. “Sor-rry I’m just not feeling well.” You took a deep breath, “Affiinity! It locks h-hemo-ah-globin in R or T state. I can’t actually remember right now, sorry...”

You trailed off, already pushing your mind in that state past its limit. Just forcing yourself to be stable on that last sentence was a lot. Your body was moving by Michael’s hand a lot faster now.

“Just stop right there at R state, but you’re right.” You were already leaning forward, rolling your eyes back at the feeling of the change in angle with Michael inside of you, blindly clicking the mute button again. You barely had time to see the red line dash across the microphone drawing before Michael moved from under you.

The t-shirt dress you had been wearing was torn from your body so fast you wondered how he had managed it. Now, you were completely exposed. But then, he had you on all fours on the couch, your chest to the cushions below you and your hands balled up in front of you. He was behind you in an instant but his thrusts had stopped. You almost whined in frustration before you felt your laptop being placed directly in front of you. Your eyes widened as you glanced up, a perfect view of the class that was still happening. 

Michael took your hair in one of his hands and pulled back, forcing your head up and gaze directly on the screen in front of you. His other hand was pulling your panties further to the side, giving him a better view of the cunt he was vigorously plowing into and holding you still enough for him to thrust into you from behind. You were so small, you didn’t extend that much further from where you two were connected.

“You’re such a fucking slut, getting fucked in the middle of class.” Michael moved over you so that your entire body was engulfed under his. You whimpered, back arching more at his words. The swear words leaving your mouth as you moaned and let out small screams, no longer trying to hide your sounds now that you hadn’t gotten caught. His hips were moving expertly each time they snapped against your body.

“Look at your classmates.” You felt his grip on your hair tighten and you moaned at the feeling. “They all think you’re such a good and innocent student, they have no idea how you’re letting me fuck you, right in front of them. When you should be learning. What would they say if they knew I ruined that good little girl just like they all expected me to, turned you into my submissive cocksleeve that begs me to do whatever I want with her. Even during communal class time.”

And you did, look. You looked directly at the screen with all your classmates faces and your professor who was going over the last portion of lecture materials. Even as Michael rutted you further into the couch. As you were letting your boyfriend fuck you during the learning period, while your professor talked and students asked questions, even having him inside you as you answered out loud with them, thrusting up, balls deep into you.

It was so sloppy, your wetness leaking all over the back of your thighs and his. Some spilling on your couch. But you couldn’t help it. Not when you were caged under Michael’s big body, just a click away from showcasing it to your entire class. Just how weak you were for him. Just how good he fucked you. How much he had corrupted you.

“You look so pretty like that,” Michael finally let go of your hair just to push your head into the couch, groaning at the way you got tighter from how much you liked it. “So stupid for my cock couldn’t even fucking answer the question right.”

But he couldn’t lie. He felt pride at rendering you so brainless.

Instead of you, now he was the one that appreciated the view in front of him. Having the student even your professor held at such a high regard bent over during class. Watching all the students that had watched you with worried eyes at having him beside you and proving them right. Because of this, he wondered how many had an inkling of what he was doing to his precious, delicate girlfriend. Screwing you like the whore he had made you to be for him. Defiling you, tainting you right in front of their unsuspecting eyes. He had you naked and on all fours right in front of the video call. Willing and begging for him to continue.

Never would they have thought such a sweet thing like you could allow yourself to be taken by a guy like him, more so in such a filthy manner. He was ruining you. Because he could, because you were his. And the innocence they see had long been tarnished into nothing. Destroying your care for the class or its knowledge because right then, all you wanted was his cock and your release.

“I’m gonna cum, daddy, I….gonna cum.” He felt your body tense, your arms stretched out to try to deal with the pleasure in your body. Small, cute moans escaping your moan. “Fuckmefuckme, fuck me harder.”

Your mouth was open and he thought of how easily he could spit into it. Seeing you take something else of his inside of you. A low groaned out curse escaped him. Your entire body moved forward with each thrust as he pounded into you mercilessly

Without doing it on purpose, your hands had landed on the sides of your computer and Michael held you down as his thrusts sped up. He was wrecking you. He heard your breath hitch before your moans turned into screams. It was a lot and he knew it. But watching you basically reach out to your class, to where tens of students were staring forward, making it seem like at you, as he rawing his little girlfriend’s pussy, his girlfriend who, in their eyes, represented nothing but purity. 

Yet here you were, creaming around his cock with no care in the world about doing it in front of them. Nothing could get you off like him. Your relieved and blissed out moan was evidence of just how much being in class didn’t even enter your mind anymore. Even more so when he came right after you. After holding it in for so long, it felt so good to find your release. Filling you up as you closed your eyes to the feeling. Letting him paint your walls, tainting you inside out. Even while your classmates and professor were present, right in front of you, when it was happening.

So good. It was wrong, to let him pound into you like you were nothing but a hole while you listened to class. But you didn’t care. Didn't care how much he was destroying your innocence, knowing doing something like this would have ever crossed your mind without him in your life. And you loved him for that. You felt thrilled just as much as you felt dirty, in the best way.

Your face directly in front of the screen as if you were listening like a good student, instead of milking his cock like the cumdump you actually were. What he had reverted you to. He owned you.

When he finally let go of your body, you tried to hold yourself up as much as you could in a sitting position. It wasn’t until a few seconds later that Michael realized you were uselessly trying to listen to the very last sentences your professor said before class was over. Your notes had becomes messy until they abruptly stopped, you missed too much of class. It was for nothing. But yet, you tried to be responsible, even as your mind felt like static and as your body shook with the aftershocks of your intense orgasm. 

He loved online classes.

Michael’s lips found your neck, leaving hot, open mouthed kisses from your jawline to your shoulder as he watched his ‘wholesome’ girlfriend try to pretend you cared about the class. Even after you completely disregarded it as you let him use your body, even after you spoke to your class while he drilled into you. As you sat there, his cum trickling down your thighs. Maybe getting caught wouldn’t have been such a bad thing.

[me-and-your-husband]

together || a. barber

Summary: You and Andy spend your Valentine’s Day together, basking in the glow of each other.

Warnings: none, just fluff :)

Pairing: Andy Barber x Reader

Word Count: 1.7k

Note: I wrote this for @drabblewithfrannybarnes @chrissquares and @amythedvdhoarder 's Hoelentine’s fic swap! This is a gift for the extremely deserving @trashywritestrash !

The blinding sunlight peeked through the translucent white curtains and brought life into the room. The warm glow on your skin roused you, and your eyes fluttered open to look at the man beside you who was radiating such an ethereal energy that he was almost glowing. The golden light shone on his bare chest and highlighted the few grays in his beard and hair. The rhythmic rising of his chest up and down as he breathed was rather calming, and the faintest creases showed at the corners of his eyes, evidence of many years of laughter. 

While you were busy memorizing his every feature, the hand that wrapped around you subconsciously pulled you closer, burying your face in his neck. He still smelled of his cologne even after he showered last night. You smiled softly against his neck when you realized that even in his sleep, his subconscious knew that he wanted you close. 

Hours passed and the sun rose in the sky, brightening the room further. It was a Sunday, and Andy had the weekend off. He knew he wanted to spend the day with his girl on Valentine’s Day. When the birds stopped chirping and the streets became busy with a Sunday morning buzz, Andy stirred. Lifting your head from his neck, his eyelids fluttered open to reveal his gorgeous blue eyes.

Resting a hand on the side of his cheek and softly scratching his beard, you took a moment to admire him further as he rubbed the sleep out of his eyes and blinked to adjust to the light. 

“Morning, honey,” he said, his voice low and rough from sleep. “How did you sleep?”

His hands moved to rest on your hips. “You know I always sleep perfectly next to you,” you hummed. He huffed out a small laugh, before pulling you back into his chest. 

“Y’know what day it is?” He teased.

“Of course I do, it’s National Organ Donor Day,” you smirked, lifting your head off his chest. 

He chuckled, “Very funny, Y/N.” He pushed you off his chest playfully. 

“I’m kidding, I’m kidding! It’s Valentine’s Day,” you laughed.

“Oh really?” He said, words dripping in sarcasm. Leaning down, he brought his lips to yours in a chaste kiss, only parting when air became insufficient. 

You groaned, though the dazed smile on your face contradicted you. “We should probably get out of bed. It’s almost ten thirty,” you gestured towards the alarm clock on the bedside table. 

“Right. Wouldn’t wanna waste such a special day. We’ve gotta give thanks to the organ donors of America.”

The day continued as normal. Andy believed that spoiling his girl and showing her an abundance of affection shouldn’t be a one day a year thing. You and Andy ran a few errands and did a few things around the house, and in the late afternoon you slumped onto your couch after helping Andy carry the grocery bags through the door. 

Finding your exhaustion quite amusing, Andy chuckled. “If you’re tired, you can go have a nap, honey.”

You let out a noise in between a whine and a groan. “No, it’s Valentine’s Day and I want to spend it together. Besides, we’ve got that reservation-”

“Forget the reservation,” Andy professed. Feeling the couch dip with his weight, you felt his large hand rub soothingly up and down your back. “I’m happy wherever you are. And it’ll be way better if you aren’t exhausted. Go sleep, I’ll make dinner.”

“Ngh, are you sure?” You asked him softly, to which he nodded his head solemnly. 

He pressed a kiss to your forehead before you got up and threw yourself into your bed, falling asleep almost immediately.

In the kitchen, Andy was busy trying to boil pasta, cook chicken, cut vegetables and make sauce all at once, all while trying to be quiet as to not wake you from your peaceful slumber. Of course he succeeded, because it was Andy. 

An hour and a half later, Andy scribbled on a bright green sticky note and placed it right on the screen of your phone so that you couldn’t miss it when you checked the time. Taking a moment to admire your sleeping state before creeping back out of the room, Andy couldn’t help but feel a little anxious. What if you said no? What would he do without you? It was so unhealthy to live for another person other than yourself, it was unhealthy to be so obsessed with someone else’s love that you wanted to be in their immediate vicinity at all times, and it was unhealthy to give your entire self solely to someone else. Andy knew it was unhealthy, and before you he reminded himself of that every day. But then you came along, with your glowing smile and radiance, and Andy couldn’t help but follow you like a lost puppy and bend his morals to fit you into his life completely. 

It wasn’t like you did it on purpose. It wasn’t like you pranced into Andy’s life, took his whole heart in your hands, and forced him to trust you with it. No, he did that willingly. Who wouldn’t, though? You were anything but malicious with his soul. You guarded his heart like it belonged to the best man in the universe. Which to you, it did. 

Andy was the person who you wanted to shield from everything wrong and harmful in the world. Together, the two of you could create a little opaque protective bubble in which you could dwell in together, blocking out the rest of the world and the world not bothering you. Loving Andy was not a decision you made, but it was one you were thankful for nonetheless. 

The ringing of your alarm sounded, pulling you from your sleep. Stretching momentarily, you picked up your phone and aggressively tapped it to get it to stop ringing. When it didn’t, you opened up your eyes and after they adjusted to the light, you were met with the presence of a neon sticky note on your screen. You recognized Andy’s cursive:

Put something nice on, and come out when you’re ready.

You had to admit that you were curious, but you rolled out of bed and ruffled through your closet. After some indecisiveness, you settled on an outfit that you knew was Andy;s favorite. You put your hair up neatly and put any makeup you wished to wear on. It wasn’t long until you were ready, and when you were you opened your bedroom door and your ears were met with the soft hum of classical music. Walking down the hallway, you could tell that the house was dimly light, likely by candles. 

You finally stood before Andy at the kitchen table, who was pouring a glass of wine for you and placing it next to your plate. It was filled with all sorts of foods, and your mouth watered at the display. Andy gestured for you to sit, so you did so. He had changed since earlier, he now wore his usual slacks and a dress shirt, but no tie this time.

“Andy,” you breathed. “You didn’t have to do all of this!” You gawked as you looked around. Grabbing your hands from across the table, Andy assured you that he did, that he needs to show you how much he loves you. 

“Andy, you show me that every day. It’s laced in the little things you do like a drug.”

“And you’re addicted?” He asked smugly.

“And I’m addicted,” you confirmed. 

Andy took a deep breath as his mind wandered to the small velvet box in his back pocket. Looking at you, he realized that he wanted to do this now. Grabbing your hand, he led you to the back door. 

“Andy, where are we going?” You laughed. 

“You’ll see.”

Sliding open the back door, Andy led you out and shut it again. He let go of your hand when you spun around to take in the scene. Strings of lights were strung across the yard, illuminating the area. They created a box around you. You looked up towards the sky. The stars were almost clear tonight, the city’s pollution making them harder to see, but they were still as clear as always. 

Looking back down, you saw the man who held your heart in his hands, now holding a velvet box. Your breath caught in your throat and you let out a sob, hands flying up to cover your mouth. 

“Andy…” you choked out. He only let out a shaky breath.

“Y/N,” he began before he cleared his throat. “God, I pretty much recite speeches for a living and now I’m blanking on everything I practiced. Alright, I’m going to wing it,” he announced and you laughed with watery eyes. 

“Y/N, darling, love of my life, it’s quite a ridiculous notion that someone would follow another person to the ends of the earth, but here we are. I would travel anywhere just to keep you within my reach. I want to be able to call you Mrs. Barber, to wear your wedding band and for you to wear this ring. I want to grow and have a family with you and grow old with you. You’re like my air. I need you. And I know you don’t need me, because you’re the most independent woman I know, but even thinking about you makes my chest hurt. So please, Y/N, before this kills me, will you marry me?”

“Yes, Andy! Of course I’ll marry you, you idiot! I love you, I love you, I love you!” You gushed, hurling yourself into his arms. Burying his face in your neck, his beard felt scratchy against your skin. You could feel the hot tears on his cheeks, as you were sure he could feel yours.

And the two of you stayed like that for a while. Just holding on to each other. You relished in the confirmation of your everlasting bond and the next step you’d be taking together. But really, you two just revelled in the notion of feeling so safe in your lover’s arms, knowing you’d protect each other from the world. Together.

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