#ANYWAYS they had a good deal on the moisturizer I wanted so. still worth it

[wewontbesleeping]

using ultas website is so hard that somehow I sent my package to my old address instead of my current one. oops!!!

[tossawary]

I'm rewatching "The Phantom Menace" for the first time in years and ??? It really seems like Qui-Gon Jinn could have bargained for both Shmi and Anakin's freedom from the beginning of his wager with Watto???

Qui-Gon later DOES try to bargain for BOTH Shmi and Anakin's freedom, by putting "his" pod up in a second, separate wager. (And I do love that they're lying about where the secret pod came from. Anakin built it, so legally, it's probably actually Watto's. Qui-Gon is being a little crafty!) But Watto insists that no pod is worth TWO slaves and rolls a dice to pick which one (which Qui-Gon manipulates with the Force so that he'll get Anakin over Shmi).

But it doesn't explain why Qui-Gon didn't bargain for their freedom with the initial wager! The Skywalkers are providing the secretly built pod to Qui-Gon and it was Anakin's idea for Qui-Gon to approach Watto about borrowing him as a pilot for the Boonta Eve Classic. This is apparently THE big race on Tatooine and the prize money is worth a LOT (unnamed amount). Watto suggests that they split the prize money 50/50, but Qui-Gon immediately forfeits that, promising that Watto can take ALL OF IT in exchange for the ship parts Qui-Gon needs and if Watto will pay the entrance fee up-front, AND Qui-Gon agrees to give up his own ship if Anakin loses.

This seems... unbalanced? It really feels like Qui-Gon could have leveraged that prize money plus his ship for both Shmi and Anakin. Watto is angry after the race because he bet on Sebulba and "lost everything", but what about the prize money that Qui-Gon forfeited almost entirely to Watto??? And then they sell "Qui-Gon"'s pod (a race-winning pod!) for more money! (And Padmé even says after the race, "We owe you everything, Ani.")

And narratively, I'm not sure what would be greatly harmed by Shmi being free? She's free anyway in the next movie, living on the Lars farm, from what I remember, and the story-important pain for Anakin resolves around her violent death more than her now past enslavement. The movie could have slipped in a brief appearance by the moisture farmer who wants to marry Shmi, but can't because she's not free and he can't afford her freedom, so Shmi once freed stays on Tatooine to get happily married. And Anakin would still be (sadly by Shmi) sent off with the Jedi for a better life than poor moisture farmers on an Outer Rim planet run by gangsters can offer!!! You could still make their separation really sad with some good writing!

I wish the movie had either freed Shmi or been more convincing about why she has to stay in slavery. It really does end up making Qui-Gon Jinn look unlikably careless. Which is, you know, a character flaw and character flaws are fine! But he does other careless things in this movie anyway!

And this also ends up making the Jedi Council look like ASSHOLES when they (a strange group of adults) pressure a 9yo about his fear for his mother's safety and Yoda, instead of offering any guidance on dealing with fear productively, essentially says that fear (perfectly reasonable fear over his future and his mother's future!) is a path to the Dark Side in some weird slippery slope proverb. HIS MOTHER HAS BEEN LEFT IN SLAVERY!!! If Shmi had been left to a happy marriage as a free woman, then MAYBE you would be better able to frame Anakin's attachment as more of a problem, but so much about this scene makes the Jedi Council look utterly unreasonable. And again, it's fine if they're flawed! They can be flawed with their other objections!

But just... LITTLE edits here and there would make a lot about this movie stronger or at least less grating.

[99pluto]

Seventeen as F1 drivers

So, my bestie and I are both into F1 and we’re carats, and this started as a joke, but I took it seriously. Tbh i don't even know how to use this website, anyway, i had fun with these. Don't take it upfront, it's silly and meant to be funny, not offensive.

Seventeen members as F1 drivers would be:

S.Coups: Michael Schumacher (Ferrari era). Huge crack that makes history ? Well kind of, just like Michael he’d get out of his car to go and beat the shit out of that one mf that crashed into him. No Javi would be in the team anymore, too scared for their life. Kimi Raikkonen type of radios (anger issues). Ultra competitive and would swear as much as Tsunoda.

Jeonghan: Christian Horner. Yes. He is a good tactician deal with it, kinda evil like Horner sometimes, but he’s got as much love to provide to his kids just like Christian with Max. He would start racing but find out he’s even better at managing a team.

Joshua: Sebastian Vettel (not Redbull era). Not Redbull era bc he was (unfairly) disliked (just like Max) at that time, and EVERYONE loves Seb. That’s it, it’s the rule, you like F1 ? You like Seb. You don’t like F1 ? You still like Seb. Unproblematic and engaged king. Also a fucking legend.

Jun: Valteri Bottas (Alfa Romeo era). Unbothered moisturized king that slays. He’s doing his things, he doesn’t care because he knows his worth, you saw him naked and didn’t expect that. Everyone praises him on how he owns his style and he fucking does. Is hilarious when you don’t expect him to be.

Hoshi: George Russell. Iconic, hilarious, massive talent, carried Williams, CARRIED WILLIAMS, nothing to prove cuz he’s one of the best altho the Mercedes is hard to drive, doesn’t complain cuz he’s EXCELLENT and races with an 8th world champion without looking ridiculous next to him.

Wonwoo: Zhou Guanyu. He’s calm and collected, doesn’t make much waves, he’s doing his things and looks good doing them. Good pics, insta feed slays. 

Woozi: Fernando Alonso. Dude will hit retirement age and still be talented, pisses me off. Rarely speaks but spicy and precise comments. Will sometimes mess with your mind, he is clever and knows how to handle himself.

DK: Alex Albon (Williams era). He’s EXCELLENT, is happy with what he has, he got treated badly when he was younger but now he knows his worth. Hard work, a sunshine, hella funny.

Mingyu: Charles Leclerc (Ferrari depressed edition). Huge ass talent (as in Max Verstappen talent, without the father trauma) but does silly mistakes, is also silly. Gets bullied by his own team, basically. Might look cute and all but can get pretty serious, like, fr, he’s talented and SMART.

Minghao: Lewis Hamilton (Mercedes era). Fashion icon, all about healthy soul in a healthy body, ICONIC. He’s just got the Lewis vibe idk like they would be friends i wouldn’t even be surprised.

Seungkwan: Daniel Ricciardo. The official sunshine of F1, the marketing face, everyone wants to meet him because he is so funny, iconic, adorable and he is talented. He carries F1’s image, he is still a sensitive person and can get hurt, so don’t, he has SO much to give and gives with pleasure, don’t hurt him (Br*wn if catch u). No one is more Dani coded than Seungkwan (kinda Seokmin too but had to choose).

Vernon: Carlos Sainz Jr. Mf isn’t part of this world, he’s seing things we don’t, chaotic in a calm way. Looks always hot in an unfair way (i might be biased). Aware of how people perceive him as weird, thinks it’s funny or doesn’t care. Unique laugh, why do they transform into seals when they’re laughing their ass out ???

Dino: Mick Schumacher (post H**s shithole era) or Oscar Piastri. He’s is the future of F1, the boy proved himself, teams literally fought over him. Give him a mediocre car he will still pull some good result although he’s a rookie, update the car and he’s a threat to experienced drivers that have been racing for years. Also Mick personality vibe, fr there’s something. Also very sweet then BOOM, he’s fucking hot.

[bitter-sweet-coffee]

Sonic Twitter Takeover fic prompt? Well, here you go:

Their breath was fogging up the glass. The wind which expelled from their lungs could not pierce that invisible barrier, so it clouded instead. How do pilots steer through clouds? Did it hurt when they flew through them?

Cotton candy is sticky, and it smells like blood.

"I don't think this is going to work Maria, we never heard back from them," the hedgehog mumbled, fidgeting with the girl's robin-coloured sleeve that hung from her stiff arm. Despite his concern, Shadow couldn't suppress the glimmer in his eye as he watched his sister tidy up the control panel that she had been toying with.

Maria simply laughed and shook her head, and faded gold strands of hair unwound from her scalp. The cleaning staff was always puzzled that the creature didn't shed, but the human girl manifested tumbleweeds that plagued the barren ARK like it was the wild west.

"They communicate with the planet all the time Shadow, it's definitely possible! I just had to rig this so it could transmit anywhere, and our shuttle is arriving tonight so we'll know for sure if it worked," she explained, before elaborating in words that her alien companion couldn't follow.

Instead of asking questions, he simply nodded as his mind wandered elsewhere. He would go on to regret this in about 50 years though, when his memories of her become sparse.

Maria continued to cover up their tracks, stifling a laugh at the visibly inattentive Shadow. She would never tease him for his lapses in focus, aware of how overworked the poor hedgehog was. "Let him rest," she had insisted with the project coordinators and grandfather but they seemed unconcerned.

"It's the Ultimate Lifeform, if it needs rest then the specimen can always withdraw and accept its termination," someone had told her. The cuts on her palm had yet to heal from the wrath of her jagged fingernails, and the insides of her cheeks were raw as always.

They'd leave, they just had to be patient.

Before Shadow could open his mouth to change the topic to something more comprehensible, an alarm began blaring from the intercom, startling the hedgehog into his sister's side. He was never a fan of loud noises, but Maria's hands were already over his ears— they were used to this series of events.

Just another few days weeks months never before they could get the hell away from this.

Maria was about to shut the panel off and deal with the intercom, but a rhythmic beeping was being transmitted that required her attention, head snapping back down to the source.

Unable to write things since her hands were preoccupied with muffling the shuttle alarm, the girl began tapping on Shadow's forehead, which made the hedgehog wrinkle his nose and squirm.

"Focus on this instead, I need you to double check with me, okay?" Maria whispered calmly, pulling Shadow a little closer to her side.

He did as she instructed and let the morse code beeping merge with her fingertips, the sound of the alarm fading away. When the transmission ended, the alarm truly was gone.

"No fucking way... it worked!!!" Maria cheered, scooping Shadow up and swinging him around, gripping him tight so he didn't get flung across the room like last time.

The hedgehog yelped from the sudden movement but it eventually devolved into giggling, his fists ramming into her back as he shook with laughter.

Shadow eventually regulated his amusement and pulled back to look at the girl, expression faltering when he saw the strain in her smile, eyes glazed. He quickly let go and landed on his feet, steadying Maria as best he could.

"You're not supposed to move that much Mar," he reminded, but she was a Robotnik after all— the stubbornness was genetic.

Maria shrugged and began stumbling out to the hallway, headed for the first floor; "Do you want your pizza or not? C'mon, I want to try cheese and the best way to have it is when it's still stringy!" she cheered, doing her best to mask the whistling from her lungs with her heavy footsteps.

When the hedgehog didn't budge, she looked back with a smug grin, "I know you're curious what crust tastes like, you're not subtle... I see you looking up toasters in the catalogue. If you want the crunch, then follow me, okay?"

Rolling his eyes and growling in defeat, Shadow followed the girl as best he could, their bare feet slapping the ground hard enough to warrant echoes.

Arriving at the main deck, the two snuck their way onto the shuttle that just arrived, taking note of the uncanny box that was haphazardly thrown on top of the better preserved food shipments.

The ARK had its own garden, so produce was never difficult to obtain. Meat seldom lasted and dairy was uncommon, so what was sent up would be primarily starches and other low-moisture foods for budget reasons.

Pepperoni pizza however, was not a dry, meatless, dairy free starch. However, this didn't stop the pair from contacting GUN before the food shuttle left to demand a pizza.

Shadow still worries about the poor intern that was spammed with morse code transmissions until they did what was instructed by the mad scientist and her loyal henchhog. They probably got fired, but that means they got away from GUN, so he considers it an improvement.

Maria snatched the box and grabbed Shadow's hand, ducking behind the pallet of saltine crackers; "Can you chaos control us back to my room?" she whispered, as the unloading team approached their hiding spot.

"I um, well I'm still not good at taking other people, are you sure it's safe?" the hedgehog asked warily, pulling away to adjust his inhibitors.

The girl shrugged, grabbing Shadow's hands back with her free one, "Let's go."

He nodded firmly, and with a quiet chaos control, they were safely pulled away from the crime scene and back in Maria's room, flopping directly onto her bed.

Shadow beamed at his success, but his sister was too busy melting into her comforter with glee, sighing.

She wasn't usually allowed in her room since it wasn't sterile enough according to her doctor. While usually kept immaculately, the duo would leave behind a never-ending generator of crumbs on that bed.

Shadow thinks they're still there today, but he won't go check. He hasn't been back in that room since.

After stuffing themselves with the foreign food, the siblings learned an important lesson on introducing new ingredients into their diet, and how having multiple things you're not supposed to eat at all or in large quantities... has unsatisfactory results.

"Do you think we shouldn't have done this?" Maria groaned, sprawled out and hanging halfway off her bed. Shadow was face first on the floor below her, and merely offered a pathetic thumbs up.

The girl giggled weakly, swallowing the fear that this would cause internal bleeding, and worried that if she cracked for just a second, the fun would be over and she'd be put in isolation again.

Fortunately, this wouldn't be the case, though she'd still bleed a week later as bullets were fired into her back.

"I'm sorry I asked for this, now we feel like shit," Shadow groaned, using his limited strength to roll over and stare up at Maria, a pained expression on his face.

The girl shook her head; "We've been so patient this whole time, what's the harm in waiting a little less for something?" She shifted back towards the wall and patted the open space on her bed, prompting Shadow to join her.

Smiling, the hedgehog crawled up and wiggled under the weighted blanket, sighing into Maria's lavender-scented pillow as she placed a hand in his quills, scratching gently behind his ears.

"Even if we feel gross now, we still had fun, and the pizza tasted good! Even if we're a bit sick now, it proves that sometimes waiting pays off," Maria assured, looking down at her hedgehog as he began to drift off.

The Ultimate Lifeform may have been too tired to say anything back, but both of them knew he agreed— they were used to waiting for freedom anyways.

"So... was it worth it?" Sonic asked, holding his slice of pizza between his fingers like a cigarette.

Shadow eyed his untouched plate, almost tempted by the still stringy mozzarella that he remembered throwing at Maria before remembering that it looked like her entrails.

"Should we keep ordering illegal foods until we can go down there for real?" he asked.

Maria laughed but shook her head, "No, I think we're done for now! We'll be experiencing the planet together soon anyways, I don't want to ruin the surprise. Plus, you never know if this stuff tastes better there, so I don't want to ruin everything with a space bias! We'll just have to wait a little longer, it'll be something to look forward to."

"No," Shadow admitted, "it wasn't worth it."

What he failed to communicate was that it wasn't the fact they did it, but the fact they never did it again.

[teacupfulofstarshine]

you're the pink in my cheeks (i'm a little bit soft)

summary: "and i know we'll never grow old together / cause you'll never grow old to me / you're the pink in my cheeks / and i love that it means i'm a little bit soft / you're the pink in my cheeks / and i love that it means i'm a little bit soft"

- "monster," marceline (adventure time)

(OR: 5.4k of soft domestic lesbian!analogical, featuring lesbian!moceit, trans male!remus, trans female!roman, and Gay Shenanigans)

a/n: huge thank you to dandie for beta'ing this fic!

i just wanted to write wlw is that so wrong of me? no. no it is not.

CW: alcohol mentions, a few sex jokes, swearing, one implied instance of potential sexual activity (although it doesn't go any farther than making out; if you want to skip that part, skip the section that starts with "Did you get the right kind of popcorn?")

word count: ~5.4k

read it on ao3!!

“I think I may be going insane,” Logan says, squinting at her laptop screen. Virginia, hanging upside-down in the armchair, looks up from her phone and blinks.

“And why is that?”

“Because I am starting to agree with Rosie’s anti-Florida agenda.”

“I didn’t realize that there was an anti-Florida agenda.”

“Rosie has one, and I have always thought it facetious. However, if this laboratory does not start sending me my requested samples and information in a timely manner, I will be forced to concede that Rosie may have . . . a point.”

“You, agreeing with a lit major? I never thought I’d see the day,” Virginia teases. Logan initially resists the urge to stick her tongue out or flip Virginia off, because that would be childish, but then she remembers that Virginia does not care about her childishness, so she sticks her tongue out. Virginia snorts with laughter, and Logan feels warm, fizzy pop-rocks bursting in her chest.

Her phone buzzes next to her, and she picks it up. There’s a new message blinking for her attention on the screen.

[from: snesbian (snake lesbian)]

a, b, or c

[to: snesbian (snake lesbian)]

. . . What?

[from: snesbian (snake lesbian)]

*rolls eyes*

[from: snesbian (snake lesbian)]

i need you to make a selection, logan. a, b, or c.

[to: snesbian (snake lesbian)]

I am confused. What am I selecting between?

[from: snesbian (snake lesbian)]

wouldn’t you like to know, weather boy

[to: snesbian (snake lesbian)]

Yes. I would like to know. That is why I asked you.

[to: snesbian (snake lesbian)]

Also, I am not a meteorologist. Or a boy.

[from: snesbian (snake lesbian)]

it’s a meme, i’m sure v will be happy to show you the og. but first: make a choice

[to: snesbian (snake lesbian)]

Option B, I suppose?

[from: snesbian (snake lesbian)]

vodka it is!

[to: snesbian (snake lesbian)]

Wait, what?

Her phone buzzes again, another text thread lighting up, and Logan abandons the now-fruitless conversation with Jan to see that her wife has texted.

[from: soda poppy]

y is jan fillin a thermos with vodka and sayin u gave her the go ahead? >:(

[to: soda poppy]

I am unsure. She texted me asking me to make a choice between “a, b, and c” with no context given. When I eventually selected “b,” she excitedly mentioned vodka and logged off.

[from: soda poppy]

her an remy r going 2 a pta meeting tonight an i guess they’re goin drunk

[to: soda poppy]

Is that a . . . normal occurrence?

[from: soda poppy]

sadly yeah

[to: soda poppy]

Wait, is she even allowed to attend PTA meetings? You two don’t have any children?

[from: soda poppy]

she’s on the school board so she has the right 2 attend. idk if she’s supposed to or not but its never stopped her b4

“Everythin’ good over there?” Virginia asks.

“I believe I may have just enabled Jan to attend a PTA meeting drunk.” Virginia snorts, swiping at her phone.

“Good for her, honestly. The only reason she and Poppy live in that neighborhood is so that Jan can flaunt her wife in front of all the capital-s Straight people, because she’s a petty fuckin’ bitch.”

“That is a strange word choice for your best friend.”

“I hate Jan, she’s a bitch,” Virginia says, smirking fondly at her phone. Logan knows her girlfriend well enough to know that this statement is disingenuous, so she stands up, stretching her arms above her head, and leans down to drop a kiss onto Virginia’s forehead.

*~*~*~*~*

Logan blinks awake slowly, feeling for the position of her limbs. She’s on her left side, left arm tucked up under her pillow to cradle her head, wrapped in the thick comforter of their bed. Her right arm is slung across Virginia’s body, and her girlfriend is pressed up against her, head tucked right under Logan’s chin and face nestled into her neck and chest. Virginia breathes, slow and deep and even, and Logan hums, huffing out a soft exhale.

She carefully wiggles out of bed, tucking the comforter around Virginia’s curled-up form. Virginia grumbles when the cool morning air slips against her skin, because she is a foolish woman who insists upon sleeping in short shorts and a spaghetti-strap tank top no matter the current weather patterns. Logan wraps her up, making sure that she’s shifted into the middle of the warm divot of body heat, and Virginia settles in, asleep again in a heartbeat.

Logan turns to the corner chair, where her early-morning outfit is already laid out: athletic leggings, a sports bra, a moisture-wicking quarter zip jacket. She changes quietly, lights off, and tugs on a pair of ankle socks before slinking into the bathroom. Once the door is shut, she flicks on the soft lights over the vanity and carefully undoes her sleep braid. Normally, Virginia does Logan’s hair, because Logan is not good at dealing with her wavy, tangled, curly mess, but she won’t wake up her girlfriend for that. She can, at bare minimum, pull her hair up into a high ponytail for running purposes.

They live in a small town only a short walk (and even shorter bike ride) from the beach, full of little two-story brightly-colored beach cottages. Logan steps off her front porch, pulls out her phone, and quickly shoots a text.

[to: ginny <3]

I am headed to the beach for my weekly run. I will likely return before you wake up, but in case I do not: I will be back before 9 AM.

[to: ginny <3]

I love you <3

Logan kicks up the kickstand on her bike, runs her fingers over the glossy dark-blue paint flecked with white and silver and gold to mimic stars, and swings one leg over the bike seat. She carefully pedals out into the narrow road and heads for the beach. The cool early-morning air whips past her face, and she chances a glance up at the dark-blue-turning-light-blue-grey sky and smiles.

She’s always been an early-morning morning person, anyway.

*~*~*~*~*

Logan’s sneakers dig into the hard-packed wet sand along the water’s edge as she runs. Seagulls scatter in front of her, and the podcast Virginia recommended hums in her ear. The sun creeps up, up, up onto the horizon, coloring the blue-grey into streaks of brilliant pink and orange and gold, light reflecting off the water in resplendent diamond sparkles.

Logan runs half a mile down the beach, turns around, runs back to where she started and then runs half a mile in the other direction before turning around and running back to her starting point. By the time she’s bent over, hands on her knees, huffing out breath while her legs burn pleasantly, the sun has emerged fully from the ocean, and Logan is beginning to wish she had worn a visor.

She takes a moment to appreciate the sensory experiences of being on a nearly-abandoned beach: the scent of salt water, the sound of waves crashing against sand, the errant cries of gulls squabbling over fish. Their little beach is not nearly pristine enough for a tourist attraction, and too far north along the Atlantic coast to be warm year-round. Still, Logan loves it, and cannot imagine living anywhere else.

She hunts along the water’s edge as she walks, briefly, a cool-down before the bike ride home. She finds a few things worth photographing, a few crabs to shoo back into the ocean, and a few things worth gathering: an intact clam shell whose smooth curve runs unbroken from the heel of her palm to the tip of her index finger when she lays it flat in her hand, a light gray rock worn smooth by the waves that turns dark-gray-almost-black when wet, a small spiral shell that she thinks may have broken off of the top of a snail shell. Logan wraps all three things carefully in a small handkerchief from the little bag she keeps in her bike basket, pulling out her phone to note the time (8:37 AM) and the message notification flashing at her.

[from: ginny<3]

dunno why you insist on being a morning person. stop by the dunkin on your way back and get us breakfast?

[to: ginny<3]

You had Dunkin for breakfast three times this week. You should consume something healthy.

[from: ginny <3]

>:( >:( >:( >:(

[from: ginny <3]

counterpoint: you bringing me dunkin is better than me not eating breakfast at all. which is the alternative because i do not want to get up and prepare anything

[to: ginny <3]

Your womanly wiles will not work on me in regards to Dunkin breakfast.

[from: ginny <3]

bitch (affectionate)

[to: ginny <3]

Would you like me to make you breakfast on my return, beloved?

[from: ginny <3]

. . .

[from: ginny <3]

will you make me an omelette? with all the cheesy goo an shit?

[to: ginny <3]

I will make you an omelette with some degree of “cheese goo.”

Logan slides her phone into her pocket, huffing out a laugh at her girlfriend’s behavior, and hops onto her bike again.

*~*~*~*~*

“Your omelettes are always so much better than mine,” Virginia says, moaning as she sinks her teeth into an enormous bite of egg and cheese. Logan, calmly dicing bell peppers to mix into her own omelette, smiles.

“All food tastes better when it is prepared by someone who is not you.”

“You’ve clearly never had anything the twins have cooked.” Virginia takes another bite, pops a multivitamin into her mouth, and chases it down with a gulp of milk. “Besides, it tastes better because you made it.”

“I am not the most accomplished chef in the world, certainly, but I am glad you enjoy my cooking.”

Virginia laughs softly. “Lo, I like your food because it’s prepared by someone who loves me. I can taste the love in everything you make for me.”

Logan turns back to her peppers to hide her blush. “Love is not a measurable ingredient when cooking.” Virginia laughs again, louder this time; when Logan sets the knife down, she hears Virginia’s chair scrape out behind her as she stands, feels her arms wrap around her waist, feels the cool skin of her face press into her neck.

“Love you.”

*~*~*~*~*

“Stressful day at work?” Logan asks, hearing the door slam.

Virginia kicks off her flats, sending them flying into the wall with a clatter. Logan sets down her crochet project and moves toward the entrance of their house, where Virginia is shrugging off her rainjacket to reveal a mint-green Peter Pan-collared blouse and dark gray dress pants. “The stressiest.”

Logan takes the jacket and shakes it out on the tiled entranceway before hanging it on the hook. “I am sorry, beloved.”

“Lots of assessments, lots of parents who don’t understand why I’m assessing their kid, lots of parents insisting that there’s nothing wrong with their kid, or that there’s no way their kid could possibly have the deficits that I’m seeing. Like, I wouldn’t make this shit up, you know? Literally, let me help your child. You came to me, remember? I’m not in the habit of imposing myself onto people.”

“That sounds very stressful,” Logan says. She tries to picture a life where she spends all her time interacting with people she doesn’t know on a regular basis instead of her little corner of the university biochemistry lab where she only has to interact with three or four known people and her immediate supervisor, mostly by email. It sends icy fingers skittering down her spine.

“It is, I hate it. I mean, Kitty’s my supervisor until I get my C’s, so if I have problems I can consult with her, but like . . . why are people the way that they are.”

Logan stretches up and presses a gentle kiss to Virginia’s cheek. “I love you, Ginny.”

Virginia exhales and folds herself around Logan, draping her body over her girlfriend and going limp and boneless. “I don’t wanna be a real person for the rest of the night.”

“That can be arranged.”

“But it’s my night to make dinner.”

“I do not mind switching and having you make dinner tomorrow,” Logan says. “This is an acceptable deviation from the routine.” Virginia pushes her face into Logan’s neck, and Logan nuzzles the side of her head, and she sighs like the entire world has lifted off her chest.

*~*~*~*~*

(This is how it starts:

Logan, taking a class on British literature in her sophomore year because she needs to meet her core requirements. Logan, meeting Rosie, disagreeing with her on almost every single point she raises in class, hating when they’re paired up for their midterm project but earning the best grade in the class overall. Logan, seeing a text from Rosie about how her housemate needs people to participate in a research study for extra credit. Logan, making the long trek down to the health sciences building and seeing Virginia for the first time, thinking that she’s pretty and not knowing that she’ll be thinking that for the rest of her life.)

*~*~*~*~*

“Hello, gorgeous,” Virginia hums.

“Are you talking to me or to the mint plant?” Logan says, aggressively stabbing her pointer finger against the Delete key. It clacks loudly, and she mutters an insult under her breath. “I am going to set myself on fire. I swear to god, I am.”

“Obviously the mint plant,” Virginia says, turning and dropping a kiss on Logan’s head. “You okay, honey?” Logan grumbles more and shoves the laptop away from her with a disgruntled noise. Virginia moves the laptop away and leans over to kiss her forehead.

“I am trying to politely word an email whose essence boils down to, ‘If you do not send me my fucking samples in a timely manner, I am going to be forced to commit an Atrocity the likes of which this earth has never seen’,” Logan says.

Virginia laughs so hard that she sits down on the tiled kitchen floor, wiping tears from her eyes. “You are so funny,” she wheezes. Logan feels her irritation fade a little under the brightness of her girlfriend’s joy. “Let me see the email, I’m good at professional bullshitting.”

*~*~*~*~*

“Braid my hair!” Rosie says, throwing herself down onto the couch. Logan lifts her laptop up just in time to keep Rosie’s head from slamming into the keyboard.

“Ginny is your best bet for braids, Rosie. I have limited experience.”

“It doesn’t have to be fancy, It just has to be off my neck.”

Logan saves her document and sets her laptop on the coffee table, poking at Rosie’s ribs until she slides onto the floor and settles cross-legged between Logan’s thighs. “A comb and some hair-ties would be appreciated.”

“REMUS!” Rosie shouts.

“WHAT?”

“BRING ME A BRUSH AND SOME HAIR BANDS!”

“GET YOUR OWN!”

“I’m going to kill that man,” Rosie mutters, rolling to her feet. There are suspicious muffled thumping noises from the other room for a few minutes before Rosie emerges, victorious, hair somehow even messier than it was in the first place.

“You are the single loudest person I have ever met,” Logan sighs, taking the comb and the hair ties and beginning to drag it through Rosie’s curls. Rosie winces, just a little, at the pull of the comb, and Logan tries to be more gentle.

“Thank you!”

“I did not say that was a compliment.

“Hey!”

*~*~*~*~*

Logan tugs her sweatshirt sleeves down from where she’d rolled them up previously, shivering a little. Part of her wishes that she had worn leggings instead of capris as she drags the folding chair a little closer to the bonfire, toes dragging through the still-sun-warmed sand. The speaker set up on the food table blasts some sort of current pop music, and Rosie and Poppy dance around each other, chanting the lyrics at each other. They are both very loud and very off-key and, Logan suspects, fairly drunk as well. Remus is in the ocean (definitely buzzed, potentially naked) and Jan is standing at the edge of the ocean, watching to make sure he stays alive.

“Hey,” someone says, low and rumbling in her ear. Logan does not flinch (just barely) and turns to see Virginia, holding a plastic cup with a poorly-drawn sketch of the state of Virginia on it. Her hair is starting to come loose from its messy bun, and her sweater sleeves keep sliding down over her wrists and nearly dunking into her drink, and her breath smells sweet and alcoholic. When she lifts her hand to Logan’s cheek, her fingers are cool, and Logan shivers.

“How’s my girl?” Virginia asks.

“Cold,” Logan answers honestly. Virginia laughs, tipping her head back and exposing the long strip of her neck. Logan wants to lick it.

“You’re adorable,” Virginia says, leaning in and pressing her mouth against Logan’s ear. Her breath is warm and slightly damp. “So pretty, my Logan, and so smart. I bet you know exactly what chemical compounds are making the flames turn that color, hmmm?”

Logan can feel her face burning hotter than the bonfire, but Virginia just sits languidly in her lap, feet propped up on the armrest. Her toes are painted pale purple, and the glitter sparkles in the firelight.

“How many drinks have you had?” Logan asks.

“Enough to feel all tingly,” Virginia says, swirling whatever’s in her cup. “How many have you had?”

“None,” Logan answers honestly. Virginia leans her head against Logan’s shoulder, and her wispy frizz tickled Logan’s nose. She sneezes, and Virginia giggles in the high-pitched, superficial way she only giggles when she gets really, really drunk.

“You sound so cute when you sneeze.”

“I do not.”

“Of course you do,” and now Virginia is looking at her, eyes glowing warm in the firelight. “You sound cute when you do anything. You’re cute when you exist. You’re cute no matter what. I love you more than I’ve ever loved anyone.”

Logan hates the taste of alcohol, but she leans in and kisses Virginia anyway.

*~*~*~*~*

“Lo.”

“Hmmm?”

“Pick a color.”

“What?”

“I’m painting my toes again. Pick a color for me.”

Logan flops over onto her stomach, staring at the neat row of creme polishes sitting on their ottoman. Virginia’s bare feet are propped up in front of them, spread apart awkwardly with neon lemon gel toe spreaders, and she studies the nail polish like she’s trying to determine which vial isn’t poisoned.

“I like that one,” she says finally, pointing to a pale pink polish the color of the flowers Virginia brought her on their first date. Virginia hums, picking the bottle up and tilting it critically in the light.

“Not the one I would have picked, but I said you could pick, so I guess we’re doing it.”

Virginia tosses some bottles of toppers (or “tacos” as she calls them, slang from one of the YouTubers she likes) onto the bed while she paints her toes, and Logan sifts through them to settle on a blue-yellow iridescent one.

“I do not know how you can get behind wearing something called a Unicorn Skin,” Logan says. Virginia just shrugs and plucks the bottle from her hand. Their fingers overlap - Logan’s warm from where they’ve been tucked under her body, Virginia’s cool from where they’ve been gripping the glass bottle. Impulsively, Logan lifts Virginia’s fingers and kisses the tips.

“You’re going to smear the polish,” Virginia mutters, even though she painted her fingers earlier today and they’ve been dry for a while. She doesn’t bother to yank her fingers away, either, so Logan kisses them again.

*~*~*~*~*

“Logan!”

Logan is fully aware that the only thing keeping Poppy from crashing into her like a floral-sundress-covered cannonball is the casserole dish in her hands. She counts her blessings and steps aside to let Poppy in.

“Where’s Jan?”

“Getting something from the car! It’s my turn to drive us home, so she brought something to drink.”

Jan primly kicks the passenger side door shut with her heeled ankle boots, a bottle of wine grasped by the neck in each hand.

“I hope you do not intend to drink both of those in their entirety tonight,” Logan says. Jan rolls her eyes and offers one of the bottles to her.

“This one is a gift for you and Ginia. The other one is for me.”

“None for Poppy?”

“Poppy is the designated driver, so she will not be drinking. And I know she already told you that.” Logan rolls her eyes, and Jan flips her off. “Are you going to invite me in or not?”

“What are you, a vampire?” Virginia shouts from the kitchen.

“Only one of us dresses like the undead, darling, and it isn’t me,” Jan calls back, stepping into the house. “Are the twins here yet?”

“They cannot attend. Remus has orchestra practice and Rosie is teaching a dance class. You already knew both of these facts, because you are in the group text.”

“I am not.”

“You responded to a message in the group thread fifteen minutes ago.”

“That was the NSA agent assigned to monitor me.”

“You are a liar.”

“What else is new?”

*~*~*~*~*

groupchat name: be gay do crime

soda poppy: hey every1! DONUT 4get to make ur bakesale goodies and drop them off at r house by 7 am on fri!

lo tide: Please use normal words. I am begging you.

snesbian (snake lesbian): then beg.

lo tide: I do not recall asking for your opinion.

snesbian (snake lesbian): and yet i give it to you anyway. am i not generous

virgin: if you don’t stop making fun of my gf i swear to god

virgin: also remus if you don’t stop changing my name i’m gonna end you

virgin has changed their name to gin(ny) and tonic!

gin(ny) and tonic: much better anyway

violets are blue rosie is me: i believe you meant anygay

gin(ny) and tonic: i said what i fucking said

ace attorney irl: you changed your name :(

gin(ny) and tonic: every day the Lord regrets giving all of us mod powers in this chat

snesbian (snake lesbian): i have no such regrets

lo tide: Can we circle back to the bake sale, please?

soda poppy: Whatchu wanna kno???

lo tide: I assume it is school related?

soda poppy: yep!

soda poppy: fundraising 4 this year’s art club field trip! since im the faculty advisor im in charge of approving and setting up 4 the fundraisers

lo tide: I see. And why, exactly, is it our responsibility to make things for this fundraiser? Should it not be the students’ responsibility?

soda poppy: they r makin stuff 4 it but also i gotta make sure some of the stuff will b edible yknow

lo tide: I see.

gin(ny) and tonic: listen i know that jan is like. a professional pastry chef an shit. but i’m not making anything fancy like a cheesecake or smthn

gin(ny) and tonic: i’m making like. fuckin brownies

snesbian (snake lesbian): smh don’t you care about the Children at all?

gin(ny) and tonic: no. they’re not my kids

ace attorney irl: i will make cookies

soda poppy: u cannot make them inappropriate shapes

ace attorney irl: :(

violets are blue rosie is me: do not worry, i will make sure they are an appropriate shape

violets are blue rosie is me: i’ll make cupcakes!

lo tide: I believe I have a recipe for lemon squares that I can make. Will lemon squares be sufficient?

soda poppy: yeah! just keep ur stuff free of common allergens like tree nuts

gin(ny) and tonic: so my plan to just yeet you a bag of reese’s peanut butter cups and call it a contribution is out then

*~*~*~*~*

Virginia throws a box of brownie mix into the cart and dusts her hands off. “There. Done.”

Logan raises an eyebrow.

“Don’t give me that look, we have the rest of the ingredients at home. We have tap water, we have oil, we have eggs, we don’t need anything else. What do we need for your lemon thingies?”

“Lemons, presumably.”

“You’re a comedian,” Logan deadpans. Virginia flips her off, and then leans in to kiss her cheek. “I do need lemons, though. Lemons, more eggs . . . I have a list in my phone.”

“What phone?” Virginia says, dangling Logan’s galaxy-patterned case above her head. “I think you’re too short for this, Lo.”

“Give me my phone,” Logan says, rolling her eyes. Virginia wiggles it above her head, laughing.

“Maybe you should give me something in return.”

“Like what?”

Virginia grins. “Like a kiss, perhaps?”

Logan rolls her eyes again, but she leans in and kisses Virginia gently, swiping her phone back when Virginia lowers her hand to cup her face. “Thank you for paying the toll, sweetheart.”

“You are ridiculous,” Logan says. It doesn’t stop her from gently kissing Virginia’s cheek before pushing the cart down the aisle again.

*~*~*~*~*

groupchat name: be gay do crime

lo tide: What time did you want us to drop off the baked goods, Poppy?

soda poppy: if ur gonna b in the area, u can just drop them off at my house!

ace attorney irl: i made some of the shapes inappropriate but those ones r 4 u and jan

soda poppy: what did u make 4 the bake sale?

ace attorney irl: . . .

soda poppy: what did u make 4 the children, remus.

ace attorney irl: nothin’ too crazy! jan had some normal summer shapes - suns, flip flops, etc. etc. used those

soda poppy: :D thx remus!

ace attorney irl: made some fishies too! but the octopi are just for u an jan.

ace attorney irl: i . . . may have painted dicks on them

soda poppy: well at least u warned me right

*~*~*~*~*

“Did you get the right kind of popcorn?” Logan asks.

“If by ‘the right kind’ you mean ‘your favorite kind,’ then yes, I did,” Virginia says, coming into the living room with a large yellow bowl full of fluffy popcorn. “What are we watching tonight? It’s your turn to pick, isn’t it?”

“Gay fish,” Logan says.

Virginia sets the popcorn on the coffee table and blinks at her. “That is . . . quite the description of Finding Nemo, sweetheart.”

“Not Finding Nemo, Ginny. Luca. It’s new, and it’s not explicitly gay, but there is a very obvious queer reading. I thought we could watch it together.”

“Anything with you sounds wonderful.”

“Sap,” Logan mutters. She leans in to kiss Virginia’s cheek, but Virginia turns at the last moment and presses their lips together.

“Are you sure you want to watch a movie?” she says. “We could just make out instead, if you want.” She pushes gently on Logan’s stomach, guiding her to lay on her back on the couch. Virginia lays on top of her, gently sliding a hand to rest warm and heavy on her stomach. She leans forward, pressing a gentle kiss to Logan’s neck, and then her jaw, and then rubbing their noses together.

“Tonight is movie night,” Logan says. Virginia presses their mouths together, and Logan hums, gently pressing up into the kiss. “We should be watching a movie.”

“Are you sure?” Virginia says. “I think we should pursue this avenue a little further.”

Logan squirms a little. “I - I would not - um - no, thank you.”

Virginia’s eyes, which were hazing over with something, clear as she blinks. “Okay, sweetheart.” She leans back, sits up, pulls Logan into a sitting position. “Are you alright?”

“I’m okay,” she says. “I just - I am not in the mood for that tonight. If that is okay.”

“Of course it’s okay,” Virginia says. She holds out a hand, and Logan takes it. Virginia kisses the back of it before settling herself on the couch. “I am so proud of you for expressing a boundary and telling me you were uncomfortable. I know that expressing boundaries is something that we’re both working on, and you did a wonderful job. Tell me what you want, Lo. Please?”

“I would like a kiss,” Logan says. “Just one. And then I would like to cuddle, and - and I would like us to watch Luca together. Is that acceptable?”

Virgil nods. “Of course, love. Come here, hmmm?” Logan settles next to her, and Virginia gently cups her cheek and presses their mouths together. “I love you, Logan. So much. Of course we can watch Luca now.”

Virginia lays an arm along the top of the couch, allowing Logan to cuddle up against her and rest her head on her chest. “I love you,” Logan says softly.

“I love you too, sweetpea.”

*~*~*~*~*

Logan rolls over, yawning, and feels a small weight displace itself from her thighs. She blinks awake slowly, lifting her head and pushing her curtain of curls aside to reveal a black cat mewing at her grumpily before settling into a sushi roll beside her.

“Did I wake you? I am sorry, Galileo . . .”

Galileo settles against her, purring softly, while the ash-grey cat at the foot of the bed pads slowly up to curl on Virginia’s back. “That’s your favorite spot, isn’t it, Andromeda?” The cat emits a soft “mrrrp” before settling back down to sleep. Logan yawns, smiles, and gently strokes her hears. “What should we do, girls? Shall we stay awake and be productive members of society?”

Neither cat responds, and Logan looks at Virginia. She’s haloed in the morning light, eyes tightly shut, mouth hanging open, drool leaking into a puddle on the pillow. She snores a little - one, two, three snorts before settling back into a deep sleep.

“No,” Logan decides, “we shall not.” She lays back down, gently nudging Galileo a few inches over so that she can snuggle up to Virginia. Galileo stretches out, pressing a paw directly into Logan’s cheek. Logan shoves her, and she resettles onto Logan’s feet with an indignant noise.

“You can sleep by my face when you do not kick my face,” Logan mutters, curling into her love.

*~*~*~*~*

groupchat name: be gay do crime

soda poppy: r u all comin 2 the bake sale 2morrow?!

lo tide: I was under the impression that we were only providing the baked goods. Is it not for the students at the school?

soda poppy: we got waaaayyyy more stuff than we thought so we r havin a 2nd bakesale 2morrow 4 parents an stuff!

soda poppy: we r gonna need sum help with setup though . . .

lo tide: Poppy, please do not even -

soda poppy: 🥺🥺🥺 p l e a s e

lo tide: Poppy.

snesbian (snake lesbian): logan

lo tide: If I agree to stop and pick up coffee for everyone, will that motivate you all to turn out?

violets are blue rosie is me: i’m always a slut for free coffee

lo tide: I’m sorry, where did I say that this would be free?

violets are blue rosie is me: D:<

ace attorney irl: eh i’m down for it. where you swingin’ by?

soda poppy: there’s a panera p close 2 where the bake sale is!!! it’s gonna b at the morning girl’s basketball game

lo tide: Does anyone have any issues with Panera coffee?

violets are blue rosie is me: nah. large iced coffee, add three ounces of half and half, two pumps of sugar syrup, two pumps of vanilla, and caramel drizzle.

ace attorney irl: complicated bitch much?

violets are blue rosie is me: why must the cain instinct betray me like this

ace attorney irl: the cain instinct started when we stole each other’s genders in the womb

violets are blue rosie is me: this is true this is true but you’re still a bitch

ace attorney irl: large hazelnut coffee, two sugars, please

snesbian (snake lesbian): large dark roast, black

soda poppy: medium decaf coffee, two ounces of almond milk, and two pumps of sugar syrup!

gin(ny) and tonic: large caramel latte

lo tide: You . . . are going to ride in the car with me to pick up the coffee, we can order our own coffees. I do not need your order, love.

lo tide: But I appreciate the information <3 <3

*~*~*~*~*

“We come bearing gifts,” Virginia announces loudly. “And by gifts, I mean we bought a baker’s dozen of cinnamon crunch bagels for everybody.”

“Well, there are twelve cinnamon crunch bagels and one plain bagel, bagged separately, for me,” Logan corrects, expertly balancing two coffee trays with a bagel container. “Also, we made more brownies.”

Poppy looks up from where she’s instructing two high-schoolers on how to hang a sign properly and grins, waving brightly. Jan is leaning on the table, hand on her head, sipping at a water bottle.

“Vodka or whiskey?” Logan asks dryly, handing over Jan’s black coffee. Jan blinks at her, flips her off, and drains a long swig from her cup.

“Water. Partied a little too hard with Remy last night, and now I’m hungover as shit.”

“We suspected as much, which is why we brought you an extra coffee.”

“Lifesaver,” Jan says, knocking back another long drag of coffee before taking a sip of her water bottle. (Logan suspects the bottle is actually Poppy’s, due to the sun-shiney stickers plastered all over it.) “You and Poppy both. But if you tell anyone that, I’ll gut you like a fish."

“No, you won’t,” Logan says, turning to hand Rosie and Remus their respective drinks. “You never do.”

Jan flips her off, but Virginia comes up behind her and leans her forehead against her shoulder. Logan turns, kissing her forehead, and smiles.

Life is good today, she thinks. Life is good.

(screen names!

virgin -> gin(ny) and tonic; ginny <3 = virginia (virgil)

lo tide = logan

snesbian (snake lesbian) = jan (janus)

soda poppy = poppy (patton)

ace attorney irl = remus

violets are blue rosie is me = rosie (roman) (thanks to @rosesisupposes for letting me borrow your screen name for this!)

[puppypeter]

These are all dark fics, READ THE TAGS before reading the fics. It is your responsibility to check whether what you are about to read is something that you can stomach. While most of these fics are based around trauma, recovery etc many feature triggering scenes or flashbacks as well as darker themes. Please be safe and don’t read them if they can be triggering for you! Proceed with caution! Most of them are Hydra Trash, but still not just the ugly bits as I like there to be a plot. Hiding them below the cut:

between scylla and charybdis | 21590 words

Sam Wilson has been witness to a lot of things he wishes he could unsee. Civilian families shot dead in their cars because of miscommunications at checkpoints. Riley’s body spiralling to the ground in a smoke-plumed plummet. His own face in his bathroom mirror after waking up hung-over as hell at two in the afternoon, the day after the anniversary of Riley’s death, year after year after year.

And now, in an abandoned bunker on the outskirts of Boston, a seemingly unremarkable manila folder at the bottom of a filing cabinet.

Berceuse | 10730 words

There are strange, new things Bucky needs from Steve.

Dreamers Often Lie | 11040 words

As far as Bucky remembers, sex is something that is painful and terrifying if you wake up while it's happening. As the Asset, sleeping through sex was a rare treat. When Steve lets Bucky know he's interested in a sexual relationship, what Steve doesn't know is that they have fundamentally different ideas of what that entails.

despite the threatening sky and the shuddering earth (they remained) | 71532 words

“They really didn’t want the mask to come off.” Hill thumbed through the scans, and pulled out a film that she then handed over to Sam, face mostly expressionless but for the flat line of her pursed lips.

Sam accepted the film and held it up to the light, angling so both he and Steve could see it, squinting at the outline of the Winter Soldier’s skull, and the blips of unnatural white that showed up, God, in his brain, not to mention about half his teeth, plus the mask, with its thin protrusions—

“Those are pins,” Steve realized. He looked over at Hill. “The mask—it’s nailed to his face.”

Hill’s face was as unmoved as ever. “Like I said. They really didn’t want it coming off.”

Fire And Water For Your Love | 77084 words

When the Avengers investigate an abandoned HYDRA base on behalf of S.H.I.E.L.D., they unexpectedly encounter a dark-haired man with a torn metal arm, who leads them to an even more shocking discovery deeper inside the base. The Avengers must reconcile what they have found with the lies S.H.I.E.L.D. has been telling for decades.

Give An Inch | 5070 words

The Captain has a warm smile and clear, open eyes. The Soldier knows these are tricks. He's fallen for them before and he won't do it again.

Humans As Gods | 4818 words

"HYDRA's scientists had been delighted to find their serum-reversal procedure had worked. Their jubilation was dampened by the discovery that Steve's smaller self might no longer be Captain America-sized but was still 100% Steve Rogers, and Steve Rogers was now mad enough to spit nails. A minor oversight in the design of the containment area meant that smaller-Steve had simply wriggled out of the now ridiculously-oversized restraints like an angry ferret escaping a paper bag, and punched the nearest technician in the nuts.

Chaos ensued."

HYDRA scientists successfully de-serum Captain America, only to discover that they are utterly unprepared for Steve Rogers. Meanwhile, the Winter Soldier follows his instructions to the letter. This works out just great.

The Only One That Needs To Know | 6571 words

Bucky can't control his body. He can only control what secrets he keeps.

I Was Wearing My Blue Coat | 11503 words

Following exposure of his past as the Winter Soldier, anonymous postings of explicit video footage, 63 charges of murder and the wrath of the Internet, James Buchanan "Bucky" Barnes finally steps into the limelight and tells his story to Zenat Patel of the New York Times.

Compliance Will Be Rewarded | 4767 words

Someone told him once: "Compliance will be rewarded," and he remembers pressing his head against a man’s leg in open supplication. He remembers hands in his hair, and a gentle grip on the back of his neck. He remembers a man telling him "so good, so good for me aren't you?" And he remembers nodding his head in a desperate attempt to be exactly as good as he was supposed to be.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Bucky Barnes is physically free from Hydra, but the hold on his mind lingers still. All he wants is to go home, and he'll do anything he can to get there.

To Burn Your Kingdom Down | 12370 words

The Avengers go after a Hydra splinter cell with a nasty habit of brutalizing their prisoners. Steve has some ugly history with them, and when a rescue mission gone wrong leaves him and Sam in enemy hands, the situation gets uglier still.

Worth The Wound | 7709 words

The asset knows that maintenance is better than punishment. But with Steve, maintenance becomes more pleasant, soft and gentle and everything he could dream of. It was only natural that he decided to prolong that maintenance a little longer.

The Spaces In-Between | 6971 words | Part 1 of What We Tried So Hard To Hide Away

"Memories are like buckets of water: they weigh on the heart and the brain until the body fails. You're blessed to stay forgetful and young, Soldier."

Sometimes blessings feel like curses.

Illuminate The Scene | 7086 words | Part 2 of What We Tried So Hard To Hide Away

The doctors had wanted to keep the Soldier. Shock him and freeze him until he was fixed, or tear him to scrap if he couldn’t be repaired so that he wouldn’t be an entirely wasted investment. Steve is the only thing stopping them.

When the Soldier can't trust his own body, how can he trust anything?

All These Riots Of Broken Sound | 83790 words | Part 1 of Forever Is A Close And Honest Friend

When Steve and the team return to Avengers tower to find Bucky gone, they must venture into B.A.R.F. to figure out what triggered him to leave and hunt those who wronged him. Trapped in a simulation of Bucky's worst memories with rogue HYDRA agents waiting to strike, 100 years of secrets, lies, pain and love drive the team to their limit and push Steve towards a realisation that is a century in the making.

I Was Lost But Left A Trace | 3585 words | Part 2 of Forever Is A Close And Honest Friend

Disorientated, the Asset reached up to wipe at the moisture on its cheeks and was shocked to find it clear, instead of the crimson it has been expecting. It didn’t understand why this misidentification had caused uproarious laughter from the technicians.

“It is not blood,” the Asset told him, “but it is still a malfunction.”

This sobered the technician a little, and he nodded tightly.

“Yes. It is. But we will fix you.”

I’ll Always Be Blamed For The Sun Going Down | 9907 words | Part 3 of Forever Is A Close And Honest Friend

He knows he’s in the right place. He has heard the guys at the docks laugh and joke about the queers who come out after dark, looking to earn a little extra cash. He has seen the johns, when he’s been out late enough, skulking in the shadows like predators hunting for their next meal, looking for something in particular. Sometimes they look at him.

A small, rusty pen knife that his father had picked up in Europe during the Great War sits heavy in the breast pocket of his jacket. Just in case.

Book Of The Moon | 16019 words | Part 4 of Forever Is A Close And Honest Friend

In 1929, Bucky Barnes falls in love for the first time and resigns himself to never telling a soul, let alone Steve, the object of his affections. In 1943, half a world away from the man he can never have and fighting for his life and his sanity, something new begins to bloom.

Habeas Corpus | 18054 words

An unexpected incident in the field leaves Steve Rogers facing the infiltration of a Hydra base and retrieval of important intelligence, all while pretending to be the Winter Soldier. Unfortunately, there are important aspects of the Soldier's past that Bucky hasn't disclosed, and Steve has no idea what he's really walking into.

Bullies | 14979 words

Written for the MCU trash meme prompt:

I wanna see Steve being messed with by his secretly-HYDRA coworker buddies. I want them generally fucking with him, "accidentally" doing terrible things to him or getting Steve into awful situations, telling jokes that aren't really jokes, gaslighting, performing sexual-assault hazing under the guise that "that's what people do now," pressuring him into other sex shit, anything, just fuck Steve up.

Steve isn't failing to fully catch on because he's dumb or oblivious: it's just that he is Steve, so he wants to believe the best of everybody, and he doesn't want to believe that he could be working for/with bullies and that (as Natasha says) he essentially died for nothing.

Not Unwanted, Not Unloved | 50320 words

They'd resigned themselves to never becoming parents - until Bucky gets pregnant and drops off the grid without even a whisper to his mate about his condition. Steve will still raze the earth to find him, but that doesn't mean he likes what he finds.

The Tones That Tremble Down Your Spine | 13889 words

Tony tells him they’re planning a party for Steve’s birthday. He knows how parties are supposed to go.

Lacuna | 62875 words

The Winter Soldier doesn't remember Steve Rogers, but he needs Rogers' help.

OR: The one where Bucky doesn't remember Steve, but falls in love with him anyway.

Not A Perfect Soldier | 93354 words

In a world where HYDRA was wiped out in the '40s, Steve is found by the Army rather than SHIELD. General Thaddeus Ross wants a perfectly obedient super-soldier at his command, and to that end, he sets out to break Steve to his will. As Steve struggles to come to terms with all he has lost, his life in captivity is only made bearable by the presence of another prisoner-- another super-soldier known only as "Soldat". Then the Avengers strike a deal with Ross to "borrow" him for missions, and Steve is faced with a team who dislikes him, an organization he doesn't trust, and the question of what he's willing to do to escape Ross's clutches.

For Want Of Him | 103174 words

It's the twenty-first century, and Steve Rogers has never been more alone. Everything he knew, everyone he loved, is now gone, and a dark, bitter loneliness claws at him, raking bleeding gashes into his heart. And then there's Brock Rumlow. Rumlow is like salt in his wounds; vicious, and cruel. But his dark brown hair and teasing smirk reminds Steve of someone long dead, and his New York accent sounds like home...He's a soldier like him...he understands. And Steve makes the fatal mistake of trusting him.

The Same Measure | 4943 words

The Winter Soldier was never allowed to stop unless an injury was too grievous.

To Be Unmade | 5114 words | Part 1 of Alexander Pierce Should Have Died Slower

For the asset, things only ever get worse. The external scars fade quickly enough. The internal ones dig deeper and deeper.

But the internal scars are called love, and doesn't that make them worth the hurt?

Do Not Put In The Icebox | 7143 words | Part 2 of Alexander Pierce Should Have Died Slower

When the asset malfunctions on a mission, Rumlow and Rollins learn more than they ever wanted to know about Pierce's hobbies.

And then everyone has pancakes.

The Knowing Makes It Worse | 4130 words | Part 3 of Alexander Pierce Should Have Died Slower

No is a bad word and invites punishment.

Or, Alexander Pierce is a very bad man who delights in manipulating and degrading the asset.

Love Is For Children | 5303 words | Part 4 of Alexander Pierce Should Have Died Slower

Bucky understands how the game works. He can't understand why it makes Steve cry.

But Natasha and the other Avengers are there to help.

I Just Wanted To Be Sure Of You | 4461 words | Part 5 of Alexander Pierce Should Have Died Slower

Bucky has Bucky Bear; it's only fair for Natasha to have something of her own.

Visiting a toy store wasn't strictly necessary, but if Tony wants to throw money around, no one's going to complain.

“Till The End Of The Line | 6069 words | Part 6 of Alexander Pierce Should Have Died Slower

It's hard to take a friendship right back up when so much has changed over seventy years.

Particularly when HYDRA's conditioning resurfaces.

*if you feel that any of these fics shouldn’t be in this list please just send me a message! :) I have read them all but over the past 1+ years so some of them I might not remember all the details of :)

[multifandom-girlie]

𝐓𝐞𝐧𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧

Imagine requested by @theshyprincess​: Your his girlfriend and he is trying to train you to be a hunter but the sexual tension becomes too much

Pairings: Jeremy x Reader

Warnings: Smut

Do you know what it's like to have a undeniably good looking, incredibly strong vampire Hunter boyfriend ? No. Well let me explain it. It's like that sweet boy you date in highschool that's had sex alot but still asks if your okay continously all through out having sex with him. Yes it's sweet but it get's a little annoying after a while. That is what me and Jeremy are like. He's the sweetest guy on the earth but he's so overprotective. I mentioned the fact it was a little irritating him being so protective all the time and luckily it went well for me.

4 Months Ago-

“Jer ?”

“Yes baby ?”

“I just wanted to talk.”

“Okay..?”

“It's nothing bad, don't worry.”

“Okay. Stopped worrying, what's up ?”

“You know we promised when we first started dating how we would always be honest with each other about how we felt ? Even if it's how we make eachother feel ?”

“Yes..? Y/N, have I upset you or something ? I'm starting to worry again.”

“Jer, stop..it’s nothing bad. It's just that your really overprotective.”

“Well yeah, I know I'm a little protective over you but that's just cause I love you and I would do anything for you.”

“No Jer, you don't understand. Your too protective, sometimes yes it's very cute. You know when you get protective in front of other men but when you stop me going out the house after certain hours or how I always have too be around you. You literally stand outside the door when I'm peeing. I'm not saying I don't appreciate, I do. It's nice to know someone cares so much, but sometimes it's too much. I need my own space. You know I love being around you but I'm going crazy Jer.”

“That was alot to hear. I'm sorry Y/N but I didn't know I was so bad. It's just I care about you alot and you know why I'm so worried all the time. I'm a Hunter you know I can protect myself, you can't.”

“Well how about we make a deal ?”

“It depends.”

“If you let me have my own space, you know let me hang with people who aren't you all the time and dump my curfew....I will train with you, like you wanted me to months ago. I will activate my Hunter gene.”

“You promise you'll actually train ? Your won't just say this, so you can go for girls night or hang with Stefan ? You will actually train, if I back off a little ?”

“Yes, of course not and yes.”

“Okay. Deal.”

“Deal, I love you Jer !”

Present Time-

So here we were in the woods, getting ready for another session. We’ve been having 4 hour sessions with 3 five minute breaks...everyday for the last 4 months. I'm glad we are sticking to the deal. You know he has backed off, I've been for a year's worth of girl's nights already and me and Stefan even went on a road trip and couple times, without Jeremy. 

The only down side to sticking to the deal though was we weren't really as lovey dovey as usual. We haven't had many dates or movie nights. All our conversations are either us arguing-which although is very rare, it still happens-or it's talking about our sessions or what he's going to train me to do next. Also I think I'm going crazy. I love him for doing all this but god I'm so frustrated. We haven't had sex in 4 months and it's bloody killing me.

I'm just glad that our anniversary is approaching because I'm hoping he will halt for one day. I guess we'll see.

Anyway so last session there was a bit of a problem when we got home yesterday my pants ripped as I was putting them on...so I had to wear an old pair of joggers, let me tell you now it was scorching. It was not good, so after our session I showered and headed to the mall with Caroline. Who helped me find some new gym wear that wouldn't rip because my ass and hips were to big to fit into my bloody pants. I also decided to get a new sports bra aswell because my other ones too tight anyway.

Yesterday-

“How are you and Jeremy then ? Are the sessions going well ?”

“Yeah they are actually but that's the only thing that is.”

“What are you talking about ? Oh sweetie, no, I can smell the frustration all over you.”

“I haven't had sex in 4 months Care.”

“Omg sweetie. Oooo, I know what we can do. Get the sexiest gym wear we can find. See if that will make him lose concentration. If he doesn't even flinch, you need to tell him. There's no way he can look at you and not want to shag you.”

“Shag ? Care I think you've been hanging out at the Mikaelsons too much.”

“Shut up.”

15 minutes later-

“This is perfect !”

Present time- 

I changed into my new outfit I got. I'm going to be so pissed if he doesn't take the fucking hint.

I went outside to the car and we drove off. Jeremy didn't even spare me a glance. God he's lucky if I don't “accidently” punch him today. We got out the car and he immediately go into position. I jogged over. Nothing. 

Obviously I'm not going to make the cut for Baywatch anytime soon.

We walked towards eachother and I threw a punch only for it to be dodged. He grabbed my wrist and span me around so my back was to his chest, I elbowed him and jumped on his back surprising him. He fell on his stomach but lifted himself up, even with me straddled on his back. He flipped so I was on my back and held me down. At this point I knew he was distracted, he could taste the tension just as much as I could but I was determined to win this. So whilst he was admiring how submissive I most likely looked under him.  

With my knees bent, I flattened my feet on the ground. My hand gripped his hips and I thrusted my hips upwards. He flew forward and caught himself by propping his hands up above my head. I still had a tight hold of his hips and I twisted my own, so I could thread my knees in-between his legs. I wrapped my legs around him and rolled us over, so I was now on top.

Now I couldn't hide the smirk on my face, showing I was proud of myself. He had a proud grin on his face, that was the first time getting out from under him-minus in bed-and it wasn’t using a technique he taught me. I just thought it was a logical solution. 

His eyes projecting his admiration and mass of lust into mine. His hands reached up to cup my face and pulled me down into a loving kiss. As I pulled away, he caught sight of my breasts peeping out my bra. I felt one of his hand loosen on my hips and trail up my body. I grabbed his wrist pushed it away and walked to the car. As soon as I was about the open my door, I was grabbed and pushed against the back door behind mine. 

My breath caught in my throat, a little surprised at the action. He leaned down and kissed me on the lips ravenously. I wrapped my arms around his neck whilst one of his were raising my legs from the ground. I clenched them around his waist and tangled my feet together. Now above him a little, I continued to kiss him whilst tugging on the short locks of his mousy hair. 

He still had a strong hold of me as he stepped back and felt around the door for the handle. When he found it he jerked the handle and opened the door with ease. He gently laid me down in the back seats and got in closing the door.

I hoisted myself up and perched on his lap. He leaned in but instead of kissing my swollen lips again he bombarded my neck with sloppy kisses. He directed his mouth to my collar bone and starting sucking slightly aswell as kissing. I threw my head back in pleasure and huffed quietly. He then moved to my boobs and started to kiss the tops of them and down my cleavage before peeling my bra off and circling my nipples with the tip of his younger and gradually enveloping them with his mouth. 

I felt that he wasn't undressed enough for my liking so I lifted his shirt off his body over his head and threw it beside us. I will never get enough of this man's body. Damn. He placed his hands on my ass but a couple seconds later pulled away from my boobs.

“When di-how is it th-woah.”

I giggled a little and started blushing a little. 

“It’s thanks to your workouts.”

He grinned and tugged the waistband of my pants but struggled to slip them off my ass. I pulled them off myself, since I knew he didn't want to break them. He saw my white thong and groaned whilst throwing his head back. I giggled and pulled down the elastic waist shorts he had on. I palmed him through his boxers, earning a slight puff. I smirked and pulled down his boxers, down to his ankles.

I kissed up his thigh closer to his thick cock. A slight breath brushing his member. My lips hovering around the tip of cock and gradually wrapping around them, gently tightening the grip. 

The moisture of my lips making it easier to inhale is big member. The nib of my tongue orbiting the head of his penis and whilst doing so gathering the pre cum, he'd let discharged. I continued this action for a couple of minutes before driving his whole cock down my throat. I did this repeatedly for a minute or so. The head hitting my throat with every jolt.

He was getting closer and closer, I could tell because of the giddy pulsation his cock was performing in my mouth. He couldn't help but nudge his hips in my mouth a little more so I could finish him off. After he started that process my little hand began to pump the base of his cock whilst my tongue was toying with the tip. Instantaneously, a smooth white liquid shot down my throat.

I lifted myself up a bit and let him taste himself on my lips. He ripped the white thong I had on but apologised straight after. I giggled and kissed him lovingly again. I raised myself a little and positioned myself comfortably on top of him. His pink tip stroking my clit in upwards motions before seeking my entrance and slipping himself in.

I bit my lip and threw my head back in pleasure. Whereas his head fell into my chest and groaned. I started to raise myself and rapidly force myself back down again. Once he was fully encased in side of me, I hoisted myself up and forced myself back down getting faster and faster with every movement. 

Steam painting the windows. The heat compelling us to break a sweat. The moans, groans and slapping of skin the single things to be heard for miles. My own pace was becoming moderate, I didn't know how long I could keep going for especially since the work out we did not 15 minutes before.  He could undoubtedly sense that I was lacking energy, most likely because of the early start each morning too. So to murder the sense of guilt he was feeling, he grabbed a tighter hold on my hips and rammed his hips in an upwards motion. Pounding into me relentlessly.

“I’m so close Jer !”

“Go on baby.”

I promptly delivered my juices at a rapid speed. They drizzled down his dense cock and chased his second orgasm down. It didn't take long before he unleashed his orgasm. We sat there for a minute or two.

“I love you Y/N.”

“I love you Jer.”

Nothing could be more perfect in that moment.

Except that was truly wrong. 

No protection.

He didn't pull out.

We are both human.

Shit.

MASTERLIST

[brighteyewrites]

Words as Weapons

With a part of me gone And it’s hard to hold on to the person that I used to know And it kills me inside I am buried alive I am nothing but flesh over bone - The Drug [Egypt Central] Angstember Day 11 | Fandom: Overwatch (Pre-Fall) | Angela / Gabriel

AO3 | FF.net | Works

“I’ll see you tomorrow, Angela,” Dr. Port said as she rose from his couch. Angela didn’t think they had made much - if any - progress, but he didn’t seem to be concerned about it. He’d insisted on daily appointments for the foreseeable future; since this was his area of expertise, and she wasn’t really in a position to argue, Angela had agreed. “Tomorrow,” she replied quietly, before making her way out of the office. Angela stayed close to the wall as she made her way down the hallway, keeping her distance from others and ignoring their confused - or pitiful - looks. The sound of something thudding against the wall had her jumping, automatically putting some distance between herself and the noise. Quickly, she realized the sound had come from the opposite side of the wall - partially because there was nothing there, but mostly because of the raised voices she could hear. The words were muffled, but she would recognize Gabriel’s voice anywhere. He and Jack were fighting. Again. Before, she’d barge in there and do her best to mediate - or at least separate them. But, as she was now, she didn’t think she was in a position to manage either. She’d already had bad reactions to their raised voices; she didn’t particularly want to have another. But, if things were slamming into walls, she might just have to, anyway. Things had never gotten physical between the two men - at least, not to her knowledge. Oh, they could be absolutely vicious with their words sometimes, but the damage was always verbal or emotional. Angela approached the door carefully, doing her best to assess the situation before involving herself in it. As she got closer, she realized that the door wasn’t completely closed - between that small opening and how loud the men inside the office were, she could make out their conversation. “—ell me to calm down,” Gabriel’s voice snarled from the right, making her tense. That partial statement, mixed with things slamming into walls, made it easy to guess what they were arguing about. If they were fighting - physically - Angela could assume that Gabriel was the aggressor and that she - or, rather, her kidnapping - was the topic. Despite her reservations and the absolute terror it inspired in her, she knew that this couldn’t go on. The last thing she wanted was for them to fight about her capture - to allow it even more power than it already had. Angela took a deep, steadying breath; if she was going to go in there, it wouldn’t help anything if she were a wreck when she did it. “I trusted you.” His voice was still an enraged snarl, but it cracked with something sad - grief or despair, she wasn’t sure. After a moment, probably of him composing himself, Gabriel was shouting again. “You were supposed to keep her safe.” Before, Angela might have bristled at the words - she had come a long way from needing a dedicated protector, or so she had thought - but now, a small part of her couldn’t help but agree. “I should have known better,” Gabriel snapped, spurring her into action. The words were accompanied by another thud that had her wincing even as she reached out for the door. “You couldn’t even protect Ana; I never should have believed you could protect Angela.” Angela froze, eyes wide, as his words chilled even her. That was a targeted, vicious attack and a horrible insinuation. “What happened with Ana has nothing to do with this,” Jack snarled, matching Gabriel’s anger with his own. “We took every precaution with Angela. We did everything possible—” “It’s not enough. Have you seen her?” Gabriel’s voice demanded, cutting him off viciously. “No, you haven’t,” Gabriel answered his own question before Jack could even try to respond, “because she’s barely left her rooms. She’s terrified.” Angela frowned, even if she couldn’t refute the fact; she was terrified. Hands balling into fists, Angela reached for the door again - it was time to put an end to this. “They broke her,” her hands froze again as she took a shuddering breath. It was one thing to think they thought that about her, but it was another to hear it aloud - and from Gabriel no less. “There is no ‘enough.’” He’d continued, unaware that she had heard him - but his continued speech made it possible for her to move. It was fortunate that all she had to do was push the door open - Angela didn’t think her shaky hands could manage an access card or doorknob. “Get ou—” Gabriel’s voice cut off abruptly as he realized who had walked into the room; it was an act of pure will that she hadn’t ducked back out of the door, but it was a very near thing. Silence fell, thick and heavy, as she stood in the doorway - Angela had barely managed to take the two steps it had taken to get her just inside. She could feel their shocked gazes on her, though she didn’t turn to look at them. “Angela?” Jack was the one to break the silence. “Is every—” He cut himself off swiftly, changing the question. “Do you need something?” His voice was cautious and far more gentle than she’d expected him to be capable of, considering Gabriel still had him pinned to the wall. Angela balled her trembling hands into fists, trying to build up her courage to speak - and feeling foolish for it. She had been the one to force herself in here, after all. She could have left them to it; this new Angela was far more okay with avoiding conflict – with easy – than the old one. “I—” Angela swallowed, trying ineffectively to bring moisture to her dry throat. Instead of addressing the more painful words, the ones that cut just as deeply as anything her captors had done, she forced herself to focus on why she had come in here in the first place. “You need to stop.” It should have been a declaration - the old Angela could have shouted it at them, glaring with arms crossed as she dared them to argue. This new Angela could barely raise her voice louder than a whisper, incapable of looking in their direction as she gestured at the two of them with shaking hands. “Angela,” Gabriel started, voice notably softer as he addressed her. This wasn’t the first time she’d barged into one of their arguments - but she’d never been as fragile back then. That Angela could stare them down, hands on her hips, as she gave as good as she got. This Angela could barely keep from bolting out of the door at her back. “You didn’t need to come in here,” Gabriel told her carefully; he could clearly see her terror in her shaking hands and haggard breathing. Angela shook her head, a silent argument that was far less effective than her words. There were so many things she could say, but she couldn’t seem to get her voice to work. “I’m alright, Angela,” Jack offered into the silence. Angela glanced their way, eyes briefly resting on Gabriel and then Jack. Gabriel looked frazzled, but he had put some space between the two of them. Jack was straightening his shirt as if nothing had happened. “I’m not hurt.” Assured that they were both whole, Angela dropped her eyes back to the floor before her. Neither looked any worse for wear from what she could tell; hopefully, she had stepped in before any physical damage could be inflicted. Angela knew she had been far too late to defend any of them - herself included - from the psychological blows. “This fighting…” Angela started, voice quiet as she tried to figure out what she wanted to say - and what she could say. “It isn’t helping.” Angela hated to play on their pity, but she could handle it if it kept them from each others throats; the fighting was far worse and would be more than she could bear for long. Besides, it was close enough to what the Angela of before would have said - their fighting really wasn’t helping anything. All the arguing did was make it harder to work towards their common goals; their pride made them nearly impossible to work with some days. Angela wasn’t sure how Ana had managed them for so long, but it was exhausting. “Angela, you don’t understand,” Gabriel said, some of his previous anger tinting his voice. She bit the inside of her cheek and forced herself to remain still; he wasn’t yelling at her. It was fine. Instead, her eyes flashed back to his as anger filled her. “I understand what happened to me far better than you do, Gabriel.” The words were ice-cold despite the tremor in her voice. Gabriels’ jaw clenched against the reminder - as if he wasn’t the one who had started the fight in the first place. “Just,” Angela sighed heavily, the anger leaving her just as quickly as it had come, “please.” The plea in her voice had them both looking away from her shamefully. “Fighting about it will not fix anything.” Angela doubted anything could fix what had happened to her - especially if Gabriel thought she was broken. The two men were silent. Neither was willing to offer a promise of a ceasefire to her, not when they knew it would probably be broken. It was a courtesy they may not have extended to her before, but they both knew she was far too fragile to deal with broken promises on top of her wounded heart. Angela’s shoulders slumped. It had been worth a try, even if she had known it was fruitless. “If you must argue,” Angela muttered darkly as she turned towards the exit, “at least do it where no one can overhear you.” The last thing she wanted was for other people to hear those vicious words Gabriel had snarled at Jack. It was bad enough that she had heard them. “Angela,” Gabriel’s voice stopped her before she could leave the room. “What did you hear?” There was a quiet desperation in his voice. It hadn’t occurred to him until now that she might have heard what he had said. “I heard enough,” Angela replied, voice heavy with far too much emotion. Before he could offer any kind of apology or excuse, Angela stepped through the door and closed it firmly behind her.

One | Two | Three | Four | Five

[mymoonagedaydream]

Lullaby

Summary: You’d learned to live with your nightmares, never expecting to find any kind of remedy

Pairing: Bucky x y/n

Word Count: 2k

Warnings: Language, mentions of parent death

Author's Note: Back on it, ploughing through some lovely requests :)

---

You couldn’t believe it when you got the call.

Tony Stark had chosen you to be his new secretary, effective immediately.

Your flight to New York left the same day, but that wasn’t no issue at all, because you had very few belongings to pack and ever fewer goodbyes to say. No heartache or sentimentality, it was finally time to get away from your past and everything that reminded you of it.

Even though America was huge and bright and terrifying, it felt like your promised land, and you were eager to absorb every last drop of its mystifying beauty. You could barely stop yourself excitedly fidgeting in your plane seat.

Unfortunately, you’d greatly overestimated your capacity for adapting to sudden change. Your first day of work was really overwhelming.

You spent the entire morning just trying to familiarise yourself with the insanely complicated computer system, and a great deal of the afternoon doing the same, only getting a “break” during the hour or so you spent sitting in Tony’s meeting with Steve Rogers, Sam Wilson and Bucky Barnes.

They were all huge, incredibly intelligent and intimidatingly attractive- you’d really been thrown right in at the deep end.

Steve and Sam didn’t take much notice of you, giving polite smiles when they arrived but nothing more than that. You figured that, with this workload, Stark probably cycled through a new secretary every couple of months, so they’d have no real reason to learn your name or engage you in conversation.

Bucky, on the other hand, seemed a little intrigued. You felt his gaze land on you a few times, but whenever you mustered the courage to look back, his eyes immediately flicked away.

It was unbelievably difficult to focus on note-taking whilst being repeatedly studied by this statuesque, mountain of a man.

It was also unbelievably difficult to shake him from your mind even after the meeting had ended. When you finally finished for the day, you were completely exhausted and ready to just collapse.

Thankfully, your bed was only an elevator ride away.

Stark had given you a bedroom in the compound while you were looking for an apartment in the city. You told him you were struggling to find a place you liked but, truthfully, there was no way you could afford a deposit until you got your first pay check through.

You whiled away the evening hours watching some crappy shows and reading, eventually bumbling through your night-time routine and slipping into bed, hoping so much that tomorrow would be just a little easier.  

---

A long, dark hallway stretched out before you. No doors, no windows, no turns, no end.

The soft padding of your bare feet against the ground echoed off the walls as your legs involuntarily marched into the darkness before you.

You focused more intently on the sound. It began to split, a distinct new set of footsteps detaching themselves and moving out of time with yours.

A cold wave of dread trickled down your spine. There was something behind you.

You couldn’t stop, couldn’t run, couldn’t turn. All you could do was carry on walking, forced to helplessly listen to the increasingly fast approach of your pursuer.

Hot, heavy breath brushed against the back of your neck. A set of long, dark claws crept their way into the corner of your vision, twitching manically, before clamping down on your shoulder.

‘Y/n!’

You bolted upright, eyes shooting open as you tried to gulp in deep breaths, heart thumping inside your chest like a jackhammer. Still struggling to separate the residual fragments of your nightmare from reality, you instinctively jerked away the hand firmly gripping your shoulder.

Bucky took the hint and stepped back from your bedside. ‘Are you alright?’

‘Jesus.’ You roughly wiped some of the cold moisture from your forehead. ‘Why the fuck are you in my room?’

‘I’m really sorry, I know this is weird but I heard you freaking out in here and I just wanted to make sure you were alright.’

Your gaze flicked towards him, the intense concern in his face confusing you a little.

He didn’t know you at all, why did he care?

You took a few deep breaths and collected your thoughts. Maybe cursing him out like that was a little harsh, he was just trying to help. Besides, if there was any face you wanted to shake you out of a nightmare, it was definitely that one.

‘I’m okay, thank you.’ You swung your legs over the side of the bed, perching yourself right on the edge as you shot him a faint smile. ‘I appreciate you checking up on me.’

‘Anytime.’

He lingered for a few seconds, rubbing his thighs nervously, before giving you a quick nod and heading back towards the corridor. Just as he reached your doorway, he paused, quickly spinning back around.

‘I’ll be in the living room for a while. Y’know, if you struggle to get back to sleep.’

You felt your smile grow into a wide, bashful grin as you watched him disappear down the hall. Your usual post-nightmare routine consisted of splashing cold water on your face and crying for an hour, so hanging out with Bucky was immeasurably preferable.

You debated how long you should wait before joining him, not wanting to miss an opportunity to get to know him better but also worried about coming across overly keen.

Ten minutes seemed reasonable.

Slipping on a sweater, you tiptoed past the other bedrooms on the corridor, hoping to god you wouldn’t wake any of the others and accidentally make a bunch of powerful enemies before you’d even spent your first night here.

Bucky was slouched on the sofa, watching TV with the volume so low that, at first, you thought it was muted. An open but untouched bottle of beer was standing on the table in front of him.

‘D’you have super hearing or something?’

His head snapped towards you, the corners of his mouth curling into a pleasantly surprised smile.

‘Something like that, yeah.’ He patted the seat next to him as he clicked the screen off. ‘There’s never anything worth watching on at this time anyway.’

‘You make it sound like you’re always awake at 4am.’

‘Mhmm. It’s nice to finally have some company.’

Chuckling weakly, you planted yourself next to him, as close as you could without invading his personal space. As soon as you were settled in, you felt him shift towards you.

‘You get nightmares often?’

‘Most nights since I was a kid.’ His mouth fell open slightly. ‘It sucks, but I’ve learned to live with it. They’re not nearly as bad as they used to be.’

‘Really? You were thrashing around like a fish out of water.’

Your face heated up a little when you noticed his playful smirk. ‘Trust me, that’s nothing. When I was eight I dislocated my aunt’s shoulder. Didn’t even wake up when she screamed.’

‘Jesus. You could’a warned me that I was risking my life earlier.’

‘Yeah, sorry. It’s just that, usually, people wait a few days after first meeting me before they come into my room while I’m asleep.’

He cocked a mischievous eyebrow at your teasing. ‘I’ll knock next time.’

‘Good plan.’

You pressed your hand to your mouth to stifle a deep yawn, feeling incredibly drowsy all of a sudden, like you could drift off right there on the couch. The adrenaline from your nightmare must’ve finally worn off, it just never usually happened so quickly.

‘You good?’ Bucky obviously noticed your abrupt decline. ‘You can rest on my shoulder, if you want. Not as comfy as a bed but I can give you a hard shake if you start freaking out again.’

‘Thanks, I’ll try my best not to.’

You didn’t want to intrude too far, so you just leaned over and perched your head on the very edge of his shoulder. Without missing a beat, he shifted himself towards you, causing your head to slide neatly into the crook of his neck.

‘Did they start for a reason?’ You didn’t answer right away, needing a second to figure out how best to word it. ‘It’s alright if you don’t want to talk about it.’

‘No, I don’t mind. They pretty much started right after my parents died. They probably would’ve just stopped on their own after a while if I hadn’t had to move in with my aunt and uncle, pair of fucking assholes.’

He let a low chuckle escape his lips, sliding an arm around your shoulder and squeezing them lightly. ‘Well in that case I hope you did much more than dislocate her arm.’

‘I wish.’

You yawned again, unconsciously nestling your head further into Bucky’s neck and your body into his side, the soft motion of his hand stroking over your shoulder just making you all the more drowsy.

‘It’s alright, you can go to sleep.’ His soft, low voice was like a lullaby. ‘I’m not going anywhere.’ 

As your eyes fluttered closed, you felt your breathing fall in time with his, and you slowly drifted off into the most peaceful sleep you’d had in years.

---

It was a little embarrassing when Steve came across the two of you in the morning, fast asleep on the couch, tangled together like electrical wires. Bucky explained the situation, but Steve didn’t look too convinced by his tale of nightmares and innocent chat.

Even Tony gave you a knowing look as he walked past your desk.

This wasn’t exactly the reputation you’d hoped to build in your first week, but nothing that could’ve shaken your good mood that day. Every time you thought about the night before you couldn’t help grinning to yourself like an idiot.

You even felt more optimistic about your future in the job, everything just seemed so much more straightforward and intuitive.

It was incredible what a difference some good, deep sleep made.

As you were getting ready for bed that night, your heart jumped at the sound of a soft knock against your bedroom door. You inched it open to see Bucky, looking a little nervous, his hands buried deep in the pockets of his sweatpants.

‘Hey, I uh- I was just wondering-’ He paused for a second, narrowing his eyes at you slightly before chuckling and taking a step back. ‘Never mind, it was stupid.’

‘Go on. I promise I won’t laugh.’

You waited as he took a deep breath and steeled himself. ‘Well, I don’t know about you, but I slept better on that couch than I have in years. So I thought-’

‘Do you want to come in?’

You were a little surprised at how easily that’d fallen out of your mouth, and he looked pretty shocked too. ‘You sure?’

‘As long as you’re still willing to give me a cold, hard slap when necessary.’

He chuckled, nodding firmly. ‘I can definitely do that.’

You stepped aside and let him pass, quickly ducking your head into the corridor to check for witnesses before softly pushing your door closed.

After that night, you and Bucky fell into a routine of sneaking between bedrooms after everyone else had gone to sleep.

It was inexplicable, but the two of you just seemed to sleep so much better in each other's company. At first, Bucky had to wake you up and calm you down a couple times a night, but it really wasn’t long before you started sleeping through the night.

Between having him in your life, having your dream job and having the brand new feeling of being consistently well-rested, everything in your life finally felt like it was falling into place.

---

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[smol-and-grumpy]

Golden Cage - Chapter.11

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Summary: She’s a spoiled little princess — at least that’s what people say. Her father is the King of all Kings, the man who everyone fears. Then, along comes Dean Winchester, the one guy who manages to see into her soul, but — — is Dean really who he says he is?

Chapter Warnings: Teasing, violence, angst

WC: 5607

Beta’d by: @deanwanddamons​​ <3

Series Masterlist ~ SPN Masterlist

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Y/N’s in Dean’s bedroom, getting herself ready while Dean talks on the phone. It rang after he came out of the shower and he walked into the living room. She doesn’t know if it’s to give her privacy or if he doesn’t want her to hear. Either way, she doesn’t have time to dwell on it because she has to get herself ready for a meeting. The first outing that she’s allowed to have in the name of the family. 

Her clothes are all laid out on the bed and while she applies moisturizer to her body. She puts the outfits together in her mind, thinking about what would suit her best, what would be the best outfit that’ll show that she means it. An outfit that shows that she’s a woman who can keep up with the men. Nothing too revealing, she guesses, but something fierce enough to make them gasp. Her mind’s setting on the pencil leather skirt, now she just has to see what blouse would fit best with her skirt and the shoes she’s packed.

Dean’s still talking outside and she hears that he’s trying to keep his voice down. She slips into her panties. The fabric of the little garment rubs a little too hard against her sensitive clit. She thinks about ditching them later, wonders if it would matter. Nobody will know if she’s wearing panties or not, right? Also, there’s chafing from Dean’s scruff that doesn’t support the argument of her having to wear panties. She’s sensitive all over, feels like her nipples are raw from his sucking, too. God, that man will definitely be the death of her, but it’s not like she minds. 

Everything is super sensitive now because they did it again in the shower. Dean’s shower is not as spacious as the shower at her home, but they made it fit and he fucked her standing up against the wall, pressing her back into the tiles and hooked one arm below her knees, lifting her leg up while he rubbed at her clit.

Blood rushes to her head again when she thinks about it. 

So now, she’s standing here, and debates between two blouses. One’s white with long flowing arms and the other one’s red, sleeveless, with a bow around her neck. 

She can’t possibly make up her mind because she likes them both, so she decides to ask Dean. He knows exactly where they are going, he would know what would fit, wouldn’t he? 

Still in only her panties, she clutches the blouses to her chest to hide that little modesty she still possesses, even though she knows that Dean’s seen it all already anyway, and he probably likes her best without any clothes on at all. Knows it, because he had stated it a couple of times, and it always makes her flustered all over.

Dean’s standing at the dining table and her cheeks get hot again thinking about what they’ve done on there. He’s not dressed either, a towel hanging dangerously low around his hips, making him look absolutely delicious with damp ruffled up hair. The scars on his body have a certain edge to them, but the freckles round the edges up. He’s devine and that’s not really fair. He has no business being so perfect.

Biting on her bottom lip, she approaches him, but he’s not paying her attention. He’s looking down to the hand that fidgets around the back of a chair. It’s as if he’s a little nervous, a little on edge.

“Hey,” She hisses and Dean frowns, but still he doesn’t look.

“Dean!” She tries again and he only holds a forefinger up at her to shush her while he concentrates on listening to the conversation. He still doesn’t look up at her. It’s as if he tries to avoid her at any cost.

Rolling her eyes, she tries to think of a way to get his attention, grinning when she gets a flash of an idea. 

Y/N drops the blouses to the floor and shows him her boobs, “Hey!” She hisses again, louder, while she squeezes them together and jiggles them around. 

Well, she gets his attention now, but he’s looking less than amused. Dean frowns, and waves at her to stop. 

Then she hears it. 

“Yes, sir, goodbye.”

Fuck.

He’s talking to her dad. 

And she just flashed him.

Dean hangs up and sets the phone onto the table and exhales deeply before he rubs a hand over his face.

He turns to her after and speaks. His voice is loud and he sounds annoyed, “Jesus fucking Christ, princess!”

Oh, so now she’s back to being princess. She guesses that when he’s upset with her, she’s forever going to be princess to him.

“You can’t just show me your tits when I talk to your father! Fuck, now every time I talk to him I’ll see them in my mind!” He growls low.

She’s smirking and tries not to laugh because honestly, that is a little funny?

Dean begs to differ though, because he strolls closer. One hand goes below her chin, fingers cupping it and turns it upwards to meet his eyes while his other hand cups around one of her tits, palms kneading, fingers pinching at her nipple, she squirms.

“What is it that couldn’t possibly wait until I’m finished with a call?”

“I don’t know what to wear,” She mumbles and Dean groans out in frustration before he bends down to kiss her. 

“You know,” He says when he parts, his hands leaving her completely to pick up her blouses from the floor, “One day, you’re going to kill me with your bratty behavior.”

She grins as he hands the blouse to her, “You like it, though?”

At least she hopes he does. Like, he knew what he had gotten himself into when it all started, so he really can’t blame her for acting the way she does.

He rolls his eyes briefly, but it’s all fake because he’s grinning now when he bends down to peck her lips, “Love it.” 

Smiling, she holds up the blouses and lifts her eyebrows. 

“White.” He nods toward the white blouse, “Although I would love to see the red on you, but I think white would suit better tonight. Makes you look more like someone to take seriously and not some eye candy hanging off someone’s arm.”

“Thanks,” She says and thinks that’s what she likes about Dean. He says things like it is, doesn’t sugarcoat it and he’s not just babbling to shut her up. 

“Go get dressed before I can’t hold myself back from taking you all over again.” He smacks her ass on his way to the bathroom.

“Who said I would mind that?” Y/N calls after him and Dean chuckles.

  She almost threw him off his balance with her jiggly tits. It’s not really fair. And really, he hopes that her tits won’t be the first thing that comes to his mind when he sees Azazel’s caller ID.

The boss had informed him that Benny would be at the meeting too and that rubs him the wrong way. What’s so fucking important for Benny to be there anyway? Azazel made it clear that Benny’s not allowed to interfere with Dean’s business, but Dean will only believe it when he sees it. 

He’s gnawing on his bottom lip as they drive towards Atlantic City. 

It’s a two hour drive and they made it halfway when she turned in her seat. The leather underneath her ass makes a loud sound. That’s right, she’s wearing leather. He almost choked on his own drool when he saw it. 

Dean gets weak for leather. Especially for her in leather. The skirts so tight it accentuates her round ass. He couldn’t help but spank down on it a couple of times while they walked down the stairs from his apartment. Every time she would stop and stare at him with a rolling of her eyes and every time, Dean would giggle like an idiot. 

It’s good between them. They’re relaxed. He likes that. Would like to keep it that way, but he knows that it’s just only the start of a hardship he might have to go through. She might have to go through. 

After they laid in his bed for a while, with her in his arms, he stroked her back, with neither of them speaking. Sometimes there’s just nothing to say and he liked that the most. The comfortable silence. There were no sorry excuses, no thoughts of having made a mistake, no small talk just to get over the awkwardness of the situation after the lust has worn out. And that was the moment that he thought about the future for the first time. That he could just grab her and run away. Nobody would know, nobody would find them. It would be good, he just knows it. It’s only — Dean doesn’t know if she would want it. If she was even ready to leave everything behind, and the last thing he wants to be is selfish. But yeah, maybe he would do it all for her, leave everything behind and screw up the Bureau for a woman. Which is really a stupid thing to do, but it would probably be worth it. 

They drive past a big advertisement for Roman Empire. It’s the biggest and apparently the best casino in Atlantic City. Of course, it is. The Roman’s wouldn’t settle for second best.

“We’re going to meet the Roman’s?” She asks curiously, and Dean can hear it in her tone of voice that she’s not really keen on meeting them. 

“Yeah, they have some proposals.”

“They’re dicks.” She mumbles under her breath.

Dean has to chuckle at that, because she’s not wrong. The Roman’s are the number one mob family in Atlantic City. They are the equivalent to the Lehne’s. They own every casino, hell, they even own New Jersey. Their wealth is immense. 

He cocks an eyebrow at her, “You’ve met them?” 

“Yeah, at gatherings where Dad allowed me to attend. Dick is a real big dick. I heard he moved to California, set up his own thing there. His father is a sleazeball.”

“I know,” Dean reaches over, takes her hand in his, “Just, don’t let your emotions overrule your head, okay? We’re there to make deals.”

“Ugh,” She groans with an eye roll.

“That’s the spirit,” He smirks and takes her hand, places it to his lips to kiss it quickly. 

She sighs, “What if he touches me?” 

“Who?”

“Zachariah, Dick. Both of them.”

Frowning, Dean looks over to her, “Have they done that before?”

“Yeah,”

Dean’s grip tightens around her hand. Jesus, he feels like punching something all of a sudden. 

His voice is deep, and he growls a little when he speaks again, “Does your father know that they have touched you inappropriately?” 

“He was right there.” 

Fucking Christ, now he really wants to shoot someone. His heart absolutely aches for what she had to go through growing up in this family. Growing up in a world reigned by men. It’s not a great environment for a girl to grow up.

“I’ll put them in their place if they do,” Dean says. It’s the only thing he can say, really. He can’t erase the past, but he can make sure that he’s here in the present.

“What if you aren’t there?”

Dean catches a glimpse of her little pout when the street light illuminates up the inside of the car.

“I’ll always be beside you.” He assures her, because yeah, after finding out that piece of information, he doesn’t really have the urge to leave her unattended at all.

“Promise?” 

He places another kiss on the back of her hand, “Promise.”

 *

 They arrive and Dean gets out of the car, walks around to open up the passenger side for her, and holds out a hand to help her out. 

“You know they have valet parking, right?” She asks before she takes his hand.

Dean shrugs, “I feel better knowing where my car is and can reach it at all times.”

She only frowns a little as she gets out.

“Remember, no weapons.” He says as she’s standing before him.

She waves her clutch around, “Duh, how can I fit that into my clutch?”

“Y/N,” Dean looks at her sternly. She thinks he’s joking but really, he’s not. It’s the rule. No fucking weapons when they come in peace. The Lehni’s have the same rule and it’s only fair that they play by the Roman’s rule, even though Dean hates the rule himself. He looks at her again, cocks one eyebrow because she’s still looking at him like she’s innocent. Dean hates that look because she’s not. She’s not innocent when she grins up at him while she licks at his asshole, she’s not innocent when she moans for him to fuck her harder. No, she’s not and he shouldn’t get weak, “Put your gun back. Now.”

Rolling her eyes back dramatically, she lets out a loud sigh. Dean has to hold back a chuckle. He watches her lift up her leather skirt, watches her take out her gun from her holster, and turns around to put it into the glove compartment of his car. 

“How did you know?” She whines when she turns back to him, bracing her arms across her chest and fucking pouts. 

“I’m just good like that,” He grins cockily before he weaves an arm around her waist to help steady her in her heels as he guides her towards the entrance of the casino.

 *

 They are led into the back of the casino, where there’s a strip club. Dean has since taken his arms from around her waist because it’s back to acting like they aren’t more than what they are. It pains him a little. Irritates him a whole lot. And from the way her body’s drawn to him, leaving him no space, he can see that she’s not entirely happy about it either. 

He leans closer, nose brushing against her temple, “Just this, okay? I’m right here.” 

She seems to nod. Dean can’t really see it because she’s following the employee who’s walking ahead and he waits a couple of seconds, walking a safe distance after her. 

The door to the strip club opens and loud music spills out of it. The room is dark, neon lights everywhere. It’s a tad over the top, he thinks. A little cheap, like who the hell uses neon lights nowadays anyway? It makes him feel like he’s in a dingy strip club and not a high-end one. 

Dean seems to be the only one who thinks it’s tacky because the club is packed. There are girls dancing on stage, girls grinding on men’s lap and he notices Y/N stalling by the door. She doesn’t look comfortable at all. 

He reaches out, touches her arm, “I’m going first,” He whispers, “Follow me,” 

She does, follows him and catches up to him pretty quickly. They are walking beside each other now and she takes glances left and right while they still follow the employee around. 

“You've been to a strip club before?” She asks underneath her breath. 

“Yeah,” He chuckles.

“Huh,” 

“Not lately, though.” Dean tries to talk himself out of his mistake, but he knows that he’ll probably get an earful when they’re alone. 

“Huh,”

She crosses her arms over her chest while they walk and he thinks it’s adorable how she’s jealous. It makes him a little proud to know that he’s not the only one feeling the things he does. 

The employee leads them along across the club, and there were a couple of girls who gave him the eye, some of them make themselves known by bumping into him. Dean tries his best not to look. Tries to fucking stay focused and walk on because he’s here to do his job and well, maybe it’s also because he doesn’t want to upset her. It’s not like he’s interested anyway. Not when the girl he actually wants sitting on his lap is her. 

Y/N only rolls her eyes as she sees him trailing along, and Dean smirks, which earned him another eye roll. He thinks it’s cute. She’d deny. 

They were led onto the second floor where there was a group of chairs sitting around a table. They spot Benny and his two right-hand men Ed and Nick. Nick has risen up in his ranks, as Dean can see. What Dean didn’t account for was to see Azazel sitting with them, his two bodyguards standing behind him. Women in skimpy bikinis are serving them drinks and there’s one sitting on Nick’s lap. 

“You didn’t tell me they’d all be here,” Y/N whispers through her gritted teeth, loud enough for him to hear.

“I didn’t know about your dad, okay?” 

“But you knew about Benny?” 

“Yeah, from the phone call which you flashed me your fucking tits.” Dean hisses while they walk over slowly, so they can have this exchange of words. 

They both try to smirk while not letting people see that they are talking to each other.

“Oh, please,” She chuckles, “You love them.”

“I’d love them more if I wasn’t associating them with your dad,” He says and nods at the waitress who just walked past him. 

“I wish you would have told me at least about Benny.”

“Why? Would that have changed your mind?” 

“No, but I would have worn fucking panties.”

Dean stops mid-stride and she looks back at him with a grin. He watches her walk up to her people, greeting them and taking a seat next to her father. 

He wished that she would have kept that fucking detail to herself, though. Now he won’t be able to think of anything else than her sitting there with nothing underneath her fucking leather skirt. And she’s probably still dripping his cum while she looks her father straight in his eyes. 

This is pure torture and he’s been tested, he knows. 

This fucking girl.

  Y/N greets her dad with a kiss to his cheek and sits down, only nodding to the other men around. 

“I think you should leave,” She says to the girl in Nick’s lap, even before Dean sits down and the stripper looks at her in bewilderment. She smiles politely, “You heard me.” 

“I’ll tell her to leave whenever I want,” Nick snarls.

“And I’m telling her to leave now. It’s not a fucking party, Nick. We’re here for business.” She says firmly, stands by her point that nobody should listen in. They can’t be careful enough with possible snitches around. 

Dean sits down next to her, rights his suit jacket and nods towards Nick, “You heard the lady, man. Ditch the stripper,”

Nick gasps and looks over to Benny for some back up but Benny ignores him completely. Reluctantly, he pushes the stripper away and the girl stands up and struts away angrily. 

“Since when does she call the shots around here— Ow!” Nick yelps out and everyone knows that Benny kicked him under the table. 

God, her dad really works with an immature bunch of men, doesn’t he? 

Her dad leans towards her, whispering in her ear and she tunes out all the other ramblings she hears from Nick, “You’re doing good. It’s a whole new side I see. I like it. Did Dean explain to you and teach you what tonight’s all about?” 

“Yes, he did.” She tries to not think about other things he taught her about, the things that make her whimper in pleasure.

“Good,” Her dad nods.

Five minutes passed until a big bulky bodyguard walks in and calls for them. Zachariah is ready to meet. 

They have been led through another door where they step into an elevator. The eight of them, plus the bodyguard, stand close, chest to chest and she’s glad Nick and his filthy hands were far away from her, glad that it’s Dean who’s next to her, not so glad that her dad is on her other side of her. 

Y/N feels something warm between her legs, feels Dean’s cum trickling out thickly, has to squint her eyes and frowns a little. Of course Dean notices, looking down at her and raises his eyebrows. She doesn’t say anything, can’t possibly talk when everyone can hear her.

When they arrive, everyone scrambles to get out of the confined space pretty quickly, but Dean stays.

He looks down with worried eyes, “You okay?”

“Yeah,” She says, “Your cum dripped out. I might need some tissues.” 

“Jesus,” Dean mutters under his breath and shakes his head as he steps out of the elevator.

She can’t help but grin as she catches up with the lot. 

  Goddamnit, he’s really being tested right now. How can he sit still and concentrate when he knows she fucking leaks him while sitting next to her fucking father? 

She’s going to be the death of him, Dean just knows it. 

They arrive at a heavy door, which is held up by two other big bulky men and they step in, where Zachariah is already waiting, sitting at a big round table with his son. The table only fits six, so Azazel takes a seat, beckons for his daughter and Dean. Benny takes a seat too and Dean still hasn’t figured out why the hell the dude’s here.

“Do the two losers need to be here?” Zachariah asks into the round, pointing his chin towards Ed and Nick and all eyes are on Benny. 

“Uh, no, they don’t.” The man says and Dean has to hold himself back not to speak that Benny too, doesn’t have any business to be here. 

“Then they should leave. Go to the club. My treat.” Zachariah says with a sleazy grin. 

Y/N was right when she said that he’s a sleazeball. Dean has to smirk a little thinking back on how she said it. 

The two men’s faces light up and they immediately disappear, muttering something about a lapdance while Benny shakes his head. Benny’s probably questioning his entourage right now. A bunch of unprofessionals is what they are.

“Why are you here?” Zachariah asks and he stares at Y/N, his tongue darts out to lick his lips and Dean balls his hands into fists. God, he would just love to punch that fucker for looking at her like that. 

“She’s dipping her toes into the business, Zach,” Azazel says, and maybe Dean’s mistaken, but he can hear something in the tone of his voice. Something that says that Azazel’s a little proud.

“Sweetheart, you shouldn’t be doing this,” Dick, who hasn’t said a word until now says, smirking a little, “Don’t you have somewhere else to be? Spending daddy’s cash or organizing some catering for parties?”

Dean’s lips are already parted, he already wanted to put Dick into place, but Y/N cuts him off.

“I actually do have better things to do, yes. But you wanted a meeting and that’s why we’re here. Can’t choose where you’re born into, can you, Dick? I bet you have better things to do in California as well.”

She says it with a calm voice, but he knows that she’s not. Her hands are shaking a little and he knows that she wanted to say so much more. She wanted to run her mouth, put Dick into place, but she chose to stay professional. He absolutely admires her. Dean lays a hand on her thigh under the table, some kind of a reassurance that he’s here. A way of telling her that she’s doing great so far.

Dick looks at her father, a frown on his face and Zach just clears his throat, “Right, so shall we? We want to get this over with before we go to the next part which is more relaxing to me.”

Dean doesn’t even know that there’s a next part, but he agrees that he too, wants to get this over with. 

“We’ve been in contact with Winchester before,” Zach nods at Dean and Dean nods back, “We have not one but three shipments on their way over from China. It’s the biggest deal we’ve ever made with the Chinese. All we need are some old warehouses where we can set up labs.”

“You don’t have enough of this in New Jersey?” Azazel asks and Dean knows why. Azazel is keen on dealing but not keen on cooking the drugs himself. 

Zach laughs heartily and elbows his son who starts to laugh too, “No we don’t. Not for that amount of goods,”

“How many are we talking about?” It’s Benny who asks. 

“About sixty to seventy warehouses.” 

Azazel whistles under his breath, “That’s a lot.” 

“It’s a lot of money we can make.” Dick chimes in.

The King clicks his tongue and exhales loudly, “What’s our cut?”

“We will provide the infrastructure, provide the cooks and the people manning the warehouse. We will pay you rent.” Dick says, and adds, “But we know that you don’t like to have your fingers deep in cooking so we’ll reward you for renting it out to us. 30% of the profit.”

“That’s how much?” It’s Y/N who asks. Dean’s a little proud, a little stunned too that she followed the conversation. Well, he knows that she’s not dumb but they don’t. Everyone is looking at her now and notice that she’s still here.

“Roughly about $600k a month,” Zach says proudly. 

“So, say, we let you rent seventy warehouses and you make $30k a month per warehouse. That would mean you make over $2m a month and will give us our $600k cut,” Y/N calculates it in her head, “How can you be so sure that you’re going to make that much money?”

“Girl can do some math, congratulations!” Zach shouts out in mockery and really, Dean has to fucking hold himself back, “We know this because it’s not the first time we’ve cooked, sweetheart.” 

“And why only 30% then? We have more risks, people are disposable, warehouses aren’t. If they find a warehouse, it will somehow lead back to us. We have more risk than you do, I’d think we need to raise the stake.” She drums on her notepad with her ballpoint pen while she cocks an eyebrow at Zach and Dick. 

Christ, Dean finds that side of her highly attractive. It turns him on when she has them by the balls. 

“What do you suggest?” Dick looks at her with a smug grin on his face. 

“50%,”

“What?” Zach spits and Dick has to calm his father down, laying a hand on Zach’s arm. 

“What’s your guarantee for us?” Dick asks as he feels his dad calming down enough. 

She looks into the round and Dean just knows that she has something in mind. He can see from the glint in her eyes, sees it in how her lips curve up into a smile. 

Tonight before they left, she wanted to look at the files and she sat there for an hour, looking through what little information Dean had, and when she finished, she started to smile and that’s when Dean knew that she wanted to lead the deal and he knew that he’d gladly let her. It’s also for her to show her dad that she’s capable, that maybe Azazel doesn’t have to tighten the leash around her as much as he had. That maybe, when this deal is a success, she’ll get to have more rights, gets to have her own car, gets to have a little freedom. Dean fully supports it.

Dean hands her the documents with a nod and she smiles at him. Her dad cocks an eyebrow while Benny frowns. They have no idea what’s going to hit them. Well, he doesn’t really know either, because she wouldn’t tell him, but he trusts her. 

Y/N rolls out the map of the city where she had circled warehouses they own in red circles. She stands up and braces her hands on the table, “As you can see, we own 120 warehouses and counting.”

“Did you know we own that much?” Azazel whispers to Dean behind her back and he shrugs. 

He did, Azazel doesn’t have to know it, though.

They sit in silence when Y/N continues, “My idea is to move production around. Never stay in one place for too long. That will be less suspicious for the neighborhood of the warehouses. That way, the chance of getting busted is as good as zero.” 

“But that’s a lot of moving infrastructure around.” Dick states.

“Would you rather you get busted?” Dean chimes in, he just had to, “When they get us, they’ll get you.”

“No, of course not.”

“Here’s my offer,” Y/N says and sits down, folds her arms on the table while she looks Zachariah straight in the eye, “120 warehouses to do as you please. Only seventy will be occupied at the same time, not more, not less. 50% of your profit.” 

They are all holding their breath as they watch Zach and Dick turn in their chairs to whisper something into each other's ears. Dean reaches over under the table again, squeezes her thighs and she looks at him, grins a cocky grin. Jesus, maybe he just fell in love a little more than he already had. 

Azazel leans back in his chair and over to his daughter, “You did your homework, princess. I’m proud.”

Her face beams.

It’s adorable really how she longs to be recognized. How she wished to be heard all those years. It’s really sad too, and there’s the thing Dean feels in his gut again that makes him nauseous. Makes him want to protect her at all cost and show her that she’s worth fucking everything. 

“Okay,” Zach says after clearing his throat, “Congratulations, Y/N, you got yourself a deal there. Our lawyers will be in contact.”

Her smile grows wide, and he can see that she’s all giddy. Dean really wants to take her into his arms but he knows that it’s uncalled for. That he shouldn’t act like he’s closer to her than what he is. 

Azazel nods his approval, smiling a little and it’s creepy. Dean had never seen the man smile before. 

“Great, onto the next part, the weapon deal, are you involved in that too?” Zach asks, and Dean knew that he missed something because he wasn’t involved either. 

“Nobody knows, because we just only talked about it briefly last time, Zach,” Azazel says. 

“Okay, then please everyone who’s not involved may leave the room.” Zachariah announces and Dean can only look at her. 

She has to leave and she knows it, even though he doesn’t want her to, but it’s not a made deal and she has no clue, she can’t stay, not when her dad is here, too. Subtly, she nods at him, as if she understands. 

“You can go to the club, Y/N, my treat!” Zach says, it’s more mockery than anything else and Dean really really wants to punch that fucking dude square in the face. 

 *

 The meeting is over quicker than he thought it would be. It’s just talks that bore him to death with weapon deals that aren’t even fixed yet. Dean really doesn’t know why she had to leave the room and he feels so fucking bad because he promised her that he’d be by her side. It’s a good thing that he had control over Dick and Zach, though. So at least they couldn’t have come on to her and touch her inappropriately. 

Everyone is making their way up the elevator, with Dick and Benny in deep conversation and Azazel and Zach. Apparently, Dick and Benny has some other issues to work through which Dean shouldn’t know about, but as hard as Dean tried to eavesdrop, he can’t make out a word because Zach was raving to Azazel about the casino and the strip club, inviting him to show him around because they have this new spa in the newly build wing where you can even gamble while relaxing. It’s ridiculous really. 

When they get out of the elevator, Azazel taps Dean on his shoulder, falls into step beside him, “Can you take my daughter home? I’ll probably stay the night and I don’t want her to wait and stay with me. I know she doesn’t like to be around them.” 

Dean knows who he means by them. So the little detail didn’t slip Azazel’s eyes and Dean’s actually quite glad that the man knows how uncomfortable the men are to his daughter.

“Of course,” Dean answers, has to fucking try not to show too much emotion. 

“Thanks,” The King nods, and places a hand on Dean’s shoulder, giving it a squeeze of approval. 

God, Dean doesn’t know if he’d still be thanking him if he knew that Dean’s already fucked his daughter not once but three times.

They make their way down the stairs to the club and already something seems off. The people are talking in hushed tones, the strippers aren’t stripping and the girls aren’t dancing.

Dean spots it then, spots her at the back, where Nick has pinned her against the wall, his hand around her throat. People around them watch in horror and Ed tries to talk Nick out of it, but the dude already lifts his hand and slaps her across the face. 

Chapter.12

[seasonsofeverlark]

Thanks, Covid

Author: @hutchhitched​

Prompt: Autumn wedding [submitted by @katnissandpeeta125​]

Rating: M

Summary: A pandemic changes everything except how much Peeta and Katniss want to get married.

Author’s Note: I’ve been cautious about including the current global crisis in any of my writing, but this seemed like an opportunity to turn it on its head. I hope this bit of fluffy/angsty/slightly smutty Everlark helps us all get through another day. Much love, and stay safe! <3

____________

“That. Was. Amazing.”

Peeta Mellark’s face splits into a lazy grin as his fiancée pants next to him, attempting to recover her breath after their marathon session of athletic sex. He’d feel bad for blowing off work and spending his Friday afternoon in the bedroom, but 2020’s been a shit year. He deserves something good, and making love to Katniss Everdeen is about as wonderful as it gets.

“Thanks, Covid.”

“Covid, huh?” he responds. “Not your man who just gave you the dicking down of your life? I’m wounded.”

“Dicking down… Lord,” she snorts. “So romantic.”

“Nothing’s too good for my lady.”

She smacks him lightly on his chest with the back of her hand, too exhausted from what they’d just done to pack any punch. “What I meant was that we’d already be an old married couple if this damn pandemic hadn’t happened. We can thank the delayed wedding for the great sex of the engaged.”

“I think, sweetheart, that we’d still be in the honeymoon phase and fucking like bunnies, so maybe I want to blame the pandemic for keeping us from having more sex.”

“I would die if we were having more sex. You’re insatiable.”

Peeta rolls over and leans down to kiss her. Brushing hair back from her sweaty forehead, he kisses the tip of her nose before brushing against her lips. “I’m madly in love with you, and I can’t get enough. I can’t wait to marry you.”

Katniss responds by opening her mouth and allowing him to sweep inside. They make out for several minutes, losing themselves in wet heat and breathy confessions and bared feelings. Peeta’s considering ramping things up again when Katniss ends their kiss and tucks her face into his neck. He’s in serious need of a shower.

“Why are we waiting, anyway?”

Peeta cuddles her against his chest and kisses the top of her head. “Why are we waiting for what?”

“To get married.”

“Well, I don’t know if you remember this, but we’re in the middle of a global pandemic. Destination weddings in the Caribbean don’t really work when there’s an international travel ban.”

“Well, yeah,” she sighs. “The dream wedding might not be in the cards, but maybe just getting married. I hate not being your wife. We should be seven months married by now, and there’s no end in sight to this thing. Do you really want to keep waiting? I don’t.”

“I think that depends,” he muses.

“On?”

“On whether or not we keep getting to have this amazing sex.”

“Peeta Mellark!” she screeches. “You are the absolute worst.”

When she attempts to wriggle away from him, he tickles her sides and laughs as she squirms against him. He ends up on top of her, holding her down and marking her neck with open-mouthed kisses.

“Would I still be the worst if I said we should get married next weekend?”

She freezes and blinks at him. “Are you serious?”

“As a global pandemic.”

“You’re okay without your family being there?”

“I hear there’s this thing called Zoom now. Or facetime. Or…I don’t know. A recording of it. Whatever. I really just want to be married to you. You’re right. I’m absolutely done waiting.”

“Then yes,” she breathes. “Yes, yes, yes. I do. Forever and always and twice on Tuesday.”

They sealed the deal with another kiss (and maybe a little bit more) before they turned their attention to planning their wedding. Again.

****

Peeta shifts from foot to foot and adjusts his tie for the hundredth time. He’s nervous, which is stupid, because he loves Katniss Everdeen with every fiber of his being. They’re madly in love, almost a fairy tale story, and they’ve lived together after a respectably appropriate engagement and a long-term relationship. There is no question they’ll make it, absolutely no doubt in his mind that they have what it takes. There’s no reason to be nervous, but he’s still anxious. It’s a pretty big day.

“You ready?”

Peeta turns to Judge Undersee, the man who’ll perform the ceremony, and nods. Following him out to the space between the trees, Peeta takes off his mask and shoves it in his pocket. Katniss and Peeta will be the only two without them, but they had decided it was important to see the other’s faces when they exchanged vows. Taking his place, Peeta blinks a few times at the riot of fall colors, the leaves ruffling in the breeze and occasionally dropping to flutter in the air and settle on the ground at his feet. The Caribbean’s got nothing on this.

Soft classical music wafts from a stereo, and he holds his breath. Katniss steps into sight, her dark hair tumbling over her shoulders under intricate braids on the crown of her head. The dress, a vintage cream lace gown she’d found in a thrift shop drapes over her frame, accentuating her breasts and hips in a way that heats his insides. She strips off her masks and beams at him, and he thinks his heart might explode. She tucks it under her bouquet, a colorful bunch of autumnal flowers they bought at the floral department in the grocery store the night before and tied with a spool of orange ribbon. She’s a vision, and he’s so grateful she wants to marry him more than desiring a perfect ceremony.

He hears the murmur of comments from those on the computer screen where their family and friends are gathered to watch them pledge their lives to each other. Prim is openly weeping while his mother has a pinched look on her face. His older brother has a sign that says, “I’m the hot one,” which caused him to chuckle when he first saw it, but now his eyes won’t leave the sight of his fiancée drifting toward him.

“You look beautiful,” he breathes when she stands before him. She reaches for him with her right hand, and they chuckle over her awkwardness with the flowers. They hadn’t thought about that part when they decided to do this without her sister attending. He’ll just take them when she needs both her hands to put his ring on him. It doesn’t matter, as long as they both have gold bands when the ceremony finishes.

Judge Undersee speaks, but Peeta doesn’t hear a thing. He’s too caught up in the moment. He takes in the feel of the sun warming his shoulder as it filters through the trees, the smell of the heat of a late fall afternoon, the sound of her voice as she recites her vows, the feel of his throat clogging with emotion so that he can barely get out the words promising to bind his life to hers. They exchange rings, shifting the flowers back and forth, and then he leans in, reaching for his wife and lowering his lips to hers.

They’ve kissed a million times, but this one… This one is something special. Their first as a married couple. He deepens it, and he can hear their family and friends cheering them on as they lose themselves in each other.

“I love you so much,” he says when they break apart, his eyes blurry with moisture. “Thank you for marrying me.”

“Thank you for being someone I want to marry,” she replies softly, and he knows exactly what she means. She’d been hurt too much before he’d met her, and it had taken months before she decided to give him a chance. He’d been stubborn and eventually broken through her reluctance to open herself up to someone, and it had been worth every frustration and wound he’d experienced to get to this moment.

He dropped his forehead to hers, closing his eyes and breathing in her scent, woodsy and feminine in a way that made his skin tingle. “You sure you don’t mind missing out on all the fanfare? No cake, no toasts, no dancing, no tossing the bouquet?”

“Too late now,” she teases and shakes her head. “No, I don’t mind. I’m your wife now, and I’m over the moon you’re my husband. Besides, you make great cakes. I expect one later this week.”

They need to address their friends and family soon, but that can wait. For now, the only thing he cares about is sharing this moment with Katniss. As he leans in for another kiss, the wind blows and a shower of leaves falls around them. It’s better than rice or birdseed or bubbles or anything else because it’s theirs. Thanks to Covid.

[jj-5656]

🎄Fa-la-la-late🎄 With; Diego Hargreeves

A/N:Ummmm...hello? First off, thank you all so much for the love on my last couple imagines. Sorry for the hiatus, what can I say junior year is as hard as they say it is. Anyway, I was supposed to be sleeping last night but I was writing this instead. Leave it to me to become inspired at the worst times. This is for everyone celebrating a holiday this year without your family because of the pandemic (which is still a thing btw.) Also, this is very long but I love it. Okay enough talking, enjoy!

TW: None except...Well, Klaus is Klaus. And more random POV change bc I can!

He’s running, sprinting really, brown bag tucked haphazardly under his arm as it’s contents jostle around inside with his movements. Filled with last minute groceries for the evenings event. Never in Diego Hargreeves’ life had he thought he’d be rushing home in preparations for a Christmas party, in a red sweater for that matter. But what can he say, a year into his relationship with her and he’s officially whipped. Ever since the two of you met you had introduced him to an enormity of things he’d never considered important. Whether it be birthdays, holidays, anniversaries, you’ve added so much more to him that he could never really repay you for. So, he figures making a very last minute trip to the ever so crowded grocery store on Christmas Eve is worth it. Having to deal with other crazed and unprepared city people for three types of cheeses, four types of crackers, and a particularly expensive bottle of wine.

Apparently a Christmas party, or any get together for that matter, is simply incomplete without an assortment of appetizers. Right, Diego Hargreeves hosting a Christmas party for his siblings. The same ones who only learned about holidays in their World Culture textbooks during hours sectioned off on their daily regimen instead of actually celebrating them. The biting cold reminds him of the lonely Christmas’ throughout his life, which was at the time any other day of the year to him. He snaps out of the dark thoughts when he realizes he’s made it up the stairs and to the front door, a chorus of clanging pots and curses coming from inside.

He fumbles through the door, reminding himself he’s supposed to be rushing, but the beautifully decorated apartment distracts him from the task at hand. The warm feeling he’s still getting used to fluttering through his stomach as he recalls when you first surprised him with the holiday decor.

“It’s not too much, right? I know you never really celebrated Christmas, and neither of us are religious but my family always made the holidays a big deal and I thought-”

“You did all this?” His brown eyes are wide, gazing up at the assortment of twinkling lights aligning the interior of your shared home, a beautiful tree full of red and green ornaments in the middle of your living room. It’s stunning, to say the least, and Diego’s sure he’s never felt so much at home as he does now.

You’re gazing up at him, eyes nervously darting between your boyfriend and the assortment of ornaments. He walks forward from the entryway to admire the garland above the fireplace and the evergreen that just barely scruffs the top of the ceiling. It’s all new to him, and a bit overwhelming, and suddenly Diego realizes the resentment he’s held toward the holiday ever since he was a child was completely misguided. Because the joy he feels now, the warmth tingling throughout his body is foreign but so comforting.

“You hate it, don’t you? Listen, I just thought maybe I’d try and show you Christmas isn’t all about consumerism and selling shitty-”

“It’s beautiful.” He interrupts again, and you swear there’s a moisture begging to leave his eyes as he finally looks to you with an awed expression.

“I don’t, I’ve never...I always hated Christmas. I guess because I never had a real family as a kid. But this, this is j-just...Thank you.”

*End Flashback*

“You’re late!” You shout as the front door bursts open, a familiar thud of boots kicking snow off their bottoms and then walking towards the kitchen. Diego walks in with hands full with groceries, hair wet and messy with flurries of snow littering the raven strands. You narrow your eyes at the sight of him, dopey smile on his face as he sets the bags down on the counter.

“What’s gotten into you? I thought you’d still be grumpy at the fact that we’re hosting.” You’re less than presentable at the moment, having been cooking all day and leaving getting yourself ready for last minute. You puff a stray hair out of your face as he responds.

“Nothing, and actually I am still upset that my siblings are coming over.” He leans against the counter as you unpack the groceries, eager to finish up so you can look a little less crazy when the remaining Hargreeves arrive. Diego is still staring at you, grinning fondly at how flustered you look. And although he’d rather not have you meet his brothers and sister, you deserve to know why he’s keeping you from meeting. After all, it’s been a year since you’ve been together, and he’s met your family already.

It’s different though, because although they too have their issues, your family isn’t a dysfunctional pack of emotionally-stunted freaks. He’d much rather protect you from their intrusive antics. The warm feeling fades as he realizes what’s to come. He appreciates your optimism, truly, but he suddenly can’t shake the feeling that they’ll manage to upset you and ultimately screw up what you’ve been preparing for all day.

“A little help please?” You ground him once more, gesturing to the bags beside the both of you and the assortment of trays of food on the counters. Diego grabs onto your sides when you try to brush past him to check on the turkey, ignoring your incredulous look as he presses his body against yours.

“There’s still time to call this all off, you know. We can watch all the cheesy Christmas movies you want, and have dinner all to ourselves.” His eyes are hopefully looking into yours, the persuasion in his tone hinting a part of him isn’t really joking.

“Absolutely not. Di, we’ve been together for a year now. I want to get to know your siblings. Besides, you met my family and they loved you!”

“That’s different y/n, you’re family is...Well, they’re not like mine! You guys are normal! My brother is a moon-obsessed, half monkey moron and my sister is a mind-controlling movie star.” You can’t help but giggle at his words even though his frustration is adamant. He backs away from your embrace and runs his a hand through his hair in an effort to calm himself down. The sudden thought of one of them being too pushy or making you upset is overwhelming him now. If it’s one thing he’d like to keep you from, it’s the bad side of him his siblings tend to bring out.

“Diego.” Your voice is soft now, you’re using that love-laced tone that always makes him feel like he’s melting. He shivers as you get closer to him, still somehow getting used to the effect you have on him. And although you don’t notice, you seem to be aware you’re calming him down. “I’m scared too, I don’t want to mess something up or embarrass myself in front of them. Hell, your little-or...Older brother is a time traveling assassin who’s kind of a genius. It’s intimidating definitely, but they’re your family Di. I know you hate to admit it, but they’ve played a huge role in who you are. And even if a lot of times you resent each other, it’s clear you love them.”

He’s gotta admit, you’ve always had a way with words. “Fine, what can I do to help beautiful?”

“you can start with setting the table so I can get ready and actually look beautiful. And use the good China!” You plant a quick kiss to his cheek before rushing off to the bedroom, silently praying the anxious won’t drop a plate or two in the process.

****************************

“Baby, does red or white wine go with tur-woah.” You’re doing some finishing touches on your makeup when Diego walks in, honey brown eyes shamelessly looking over your figure with a smirk as he now leans against the door frame.

You roll you eyes at his ogling, but can’t help smoothing down the silky olive green fabric of the dress your wearing with a pleased smile. Gold jewelry adorns your neck and ears, with matching gold heels to bring the look together. The red of his sweater (he so stubbornly obliged to wearing) compliments the green you're wearing beautifully. A year ago, Diego wonders just how much it would take him to put on anything other than black.

“Cmon, they’ll be here any minute.”

As if I’m cue, the doorbell of the apartment rings. You rush to the front door, Diego trailing behind as he reminds himself how important the evening is to you.

“And remember, no knives.” You whisper to him, turning back around and opening the door.

“Fröhliche Weihnachten!” Klaus pushes through the entryway excitedly, tackling you in a hug in greeting. Luckily, you’ve already met the most eccentric sibling of the bunch. As he often crashes at your place, much to Diego’s disliking (or so he says).

“My my my, that dress is to die for! I’ll be borrowing that soon. And those heels! Please tell me we’re the same siz-”

“Alright bonehead, you can steal her stuff later. Take yourself and the booze to the kitchen.” Diego interrupts, shrugging when you slap his shoulder at his bluntness.

Greeting the rest of the family goes better than expected. Allison and Luther arrived together (an innocent carpool of course) whilst Vanya had come just a few minutes after Klaus, happy to see she wasn’t the first to arrive. She brought along with her a homemade dish, Allison with a top notch bottle of champagne, and Five with a box of Griddy’s  donuts and...Coffee? His odd choice of food making the perfect ice breaker, to his confusion of course. 

“Alright, enough small talk. Diego, how much are you paying this lovely lady to pretend to be your girlfriend?” Klaus interjects your conversation about current events as the rest of the table looks to the pair of you and laughs. 

“Seriously, Allison couldn’t even rumor someone to be this good of a cook,” Luther chimes in. Not having looked up from his plate for a majority of the meal.

Although slightly offended, Diego realizes his siblings have a valid point. You’re blushing crimson as you laugh along, shaking your head and nervously rambling on about when you just last week almost burnt the apartment down trying to perfect said recipes. He’s entranced as you speak, admiring the way you seem to capture all of them with unknown ease. Unknown, truly, because you’re still too modest to see how perfect you are. He doesn’t deserve you, but he’ll spend every day trying to even out the impossible score. It's known he can be quite the competitor. 

“I’m just shocked he’s out of black for once.”

“Says the 45 year old in a school uniform!”

                                          **********************

“Alright, I’ll clear up dinner so we can start dessert.” Y/n announces, just in time to halt a three-way argument between her boyfriend, Luther and Five about some Academy mission from when they were kids. The evening has been lighthearted for the most part, with a majority of the conflict being steered off by Allison or Vanya. The two practically experts at distracting their egotistical brothers. You catch on as they do so, the three of you having shared a few sly smirks between one another a few times throughout the meal. 

“Please y/n, let me. You’ve done more than enough tonight. Besides, I need someone to test out that wine for me.” Allison assures, kicking Diego’s shin and motioning to the kitchen when you’ve given her an appreciative smile and inquired Vanya on her violin skills. 

Allison’s knife wielding brother shoots her a look of shock at her actions, trailing along confusedly after her. Your empty plate and his own in hand as he sets them down in the sink. 

“What the hell? Why-where-you-hiding-her-from-us!) The curly haired woman emphasizes each word with a smack of a stray dish towel to his arm, sure nobody can hear them over Klaus’ obnoxious storytelling back in the dining room. 

“Quit it! I wasn’t hiding her I-I was protecting her from you shitheads.” Diego defends, once again bewildered by his sister’s playful outburst. 

“Diego! She’s amazing, you should’ve introduced us forever ago.” 

“Right, she’s amazing. What do you not get by the word protecting? If you all had met her any sooner you would have scared her off!” He flails his arms as he speaks, unaware of his flushed cheeks as his sister smiles fondly at him. 

“What now Allison?”

“You loooveee her.” She poke his side as she teases, chuckling again when he swats her arm away. The scene is childish, but something about the heat rising through his neck to the tips of his ears makes Diego feel like a kid again. Allison teasing him about girls, just as they had when they were young. 

“Wh-whatever. Yeah, I love her. Can we go back to the table now, or should we paint our nails and giggle about how totes adorbs Luther Looks in that coat?” They both laugh at his mocking, leaving the room and too giddy to remember the discarded plates left behind. 

                                      ***********************

“An espresso machine? Wow, Columbia-brewed K-cups too! You shouldn’t have y/n.” Five is beaming at the gift in hand, wrapping paper still hanging off the side of the box as he admires the machine. His siblings stare confusedly at his jolly demeanor, and he immediately clears his throat before giving said girl a curt nod. “Thanks.” He deadpans, and you laugh with a nod at his change in demeanor. 

Luther and Allison have already opened their gifts, the burly man pointing to his miniature moon replica and lecturing about the craters and valleys to an extremely bored Klaus. Allison has already put on the elegant gold charm bracelet you’ve given her, rolling charm with Claire’s initials and birthstone on it with glossy eyes. Beside her, Vanya delicately peels the wrapping off to a freshly polished violin case, her name inscribed in cursive on the top. 

“It’s beautiful. I-I’m so sorry we didn’t get you anything. If I had known-”

“Nonsense V, I’m just glad you could all make it tonight.” You reassure with genuine smile, glad to see her positive response to the nickname. 

“I still can’t believe you got them gifts.” Diego mumbles from behind you, having climbed over the back of the couch you’re all sat on to have you sit between his legs. He kisses your temple and wraps his arms around your middle, softly humming when yo lean into him. The fireplace is crackling, and the record payer you love dearly quietly plays a Perry Como Christmas album. You close your eyes, taking in the warm feeling and relaxing in Diego’s touch. The two of you jumping when a shout comes from beside you.

“My turn! My turn!” Klaus claps loudly to grab your attention. You chuckle at his childish ways, leaning down to pick up the wrapped present at your feet and handing it off to him. Unlike the others, he eagerly rips apart the wrapping, gasping dramatically when he lifts up the skirt. 

“You’re a bit hard to shop for, there’s a gift receipt if-” The excitable man scrambles up from the floor tug on the fabric, twirling around in it in a fit of giggles before you can finish your statement. 

“Great, he’ll never take that off.” Diego mumbles in your ear, you shake your head with a smirk at his teasing before you’re reminded of something.

“Oh! And one more thing.” You note suddenly, climbing out of Diego’s hold as he huffs reluctantly. You pull a a final present from under the tree, secretly handing it to Klaus to make sure the others don’t see. Though they’re too enveloped in conversation to noticed.

“Another one for me?” He whispers happily, eyes furrowing when you shake your head. Sitting back down in Diego’s arms before you explain. 

“No, well...Yes, sort of. You’ll see.” You ramble, gesturing to the box in his hands as he apprehensively chuckles. You feel Diego’s eyes on you, deciding to place a peck on his jaw instead of elaborating. 

Klaus pulls out a pair of books, readig the well-known titles before looking up at you. You motion to the box once more, biting your nail as he sets them aside and reaches in once more. He pulls out  picture frame with a sharp intake of breathe, hand going over his mouth as he looks up at you once more. Your boyfriend, eager to see what has silenced his rowdy brother, takes the frame to inspect it. 

It’s a picture of him, Klaus, and Ben on the front steps of the academy. Having to be only five or six in the photo. Klaus has an arm around Ben, smiling big for the camera as his brother offers a smaller, but no less genuine grin to the lens. Diego sits a step above them, mouth frozen open in a laugh as he must of been reaction to something only Klaus could make him react so much at. 

“I remember Di telling me Ben read a lot. And...Well, it felt wrong to get everyone else a gift but him. Those are two of my favorit-”

“Wh-Where did you find this?” Diego whispers, arms encircled even tighter around you as he holds up the frame in shock. 

“When we were moving in. I found it at the bottom of one of the shelves at your room at the gym. It was under a bunch of old books you had, I figured it could use a frame.” Just as you finish, Klaus practically tackles you in a hug, a soft hiccup coming from him when he pulls away. 

“Geez Klaus, it’s just a skirt!” 

“Can-it Luther!”

                                     *************************

“You think he’ll be alright?” You mutter from the bedroom hallway. You and Diego leaning against the wall, looking at Klaus whose passed out on the sofa. The others having left hours ago, but you simply couldn’t wake him at seeing how peaceful he was. The picture frame still tucked to his chest as he snored softly. 

“Trust me, he’s fine. I think he’ll be sleeping in that skirt every night from now on.” Diego pulls you to your bedroom door as you laugh, the exhaustion from today finally setting. 

“Hey, would you look at that? Mistletoe.” Your head trails upwards to gaze up at the fruit being dangled above your head as you grin.

“Those are grapes Di.”

“Are they? Hmm, must be from that stupid cheese board I had to run across town for.” 

“It’s a chacuterie, actually. Didn’t you learn French Hargreeves?”

“Yep, but I only seem to remember two words.”

“Oh really? And what might those be?”

“Embrasse moi” He finishes as he connects his lips with yours, holding your face as if you might slip away when he lets go. 

“Smooth, knife boy.” You pull away softly, wrapping your arms around his neck and hugging him tightly.

“Merry Christmas Di.”

[felidaefighter]

Fears To Ease And Flesh To Mend

Ranboo and Tubbo find out that unzombifying a piglin is a bit different from unzombifying a villager, and they start off parenthood with quite a few complications and in a little over their heads. For the sake of their child, they may need to put awkwardness aside and ask for help.

[Sick fic, canon divergence, Phil and Techno meet Michael, lots and lots of piglin lore headcanons] ~20,000 words per chapter

Chapter Two of Four

     “Hey Phil,” Ranboo said carefully as they were coming back from trading with the local villagers, who gave good deals since they were grateful they’d been cured after being zombified, “What’s the difference between curing a zombie villager and curing a zombie piglin? Aside from the obvious.” Phil looked curiously at Ranboo while they walked. “That’s an interesting question. It is a little bit different, yeah. Technically the process itself is the same but ahhh there’s always some difficulties. Usually not worth the trouble.” Ranboo pondered this for a moment. “Huh. How do you mean?”

    “Well, because of where they’re from, piglins tend to have a bit of a resistance to magic. So the rotten flesh doesn’t really heal fully or automatically the way it does for villagers. The whole process is easier in the Nether, because the lack of moisture keeps the rot slow and less likely to spread after they’re healed.” Ranboo listened intently, opening his book and scribbling notes so he could keep track. “It’s just a rare thing to see happen, is all. Adult piglins especially, they’re such a warrior-based society that waking up hurting and confused just means they’re more likely to attack the person who healed them than be grateful. Not to mention they’re still going to have infections and rot. It’s just so uncommon because you’d never try and heal a piglin that you didn’t know beforehand. It requires so much aftercare and pre-established trust, like from before they were zombified, that without it it’s just bound to lead to the piglin dying anyways.”

    “Oooh interesting, interesting. But the dosage ratio of potions and apple and stuff is the same, right?” Phil nodded. “Yeah, between piglins and villagers and the little rascals, too.” He cackled a little. “General consensus tends to be it’s better to overdose on magic than underdose, because worst case scenario for inhaling too much of the weakness potion is you feel a bit queasy, and worst case scenario for eating too much golden apple is that you get a stomachache, but if you underdose the worst case scenario is they aren’t healed at all and can never be properly healed.” 

    They were just about at their houses now, and Phil shot Ranboo a look with raised eyebrows. “You don’t know any piglins aside from Techno though right? You aren’t worried about Techno are you mate? You don’t need to be-- he’s already gone through that process. He doesn’t need to do it again.” Ranboo stopped short. This was news to him, but also, it made for an excellent cover. For now at least-- admittedly he was still a little lacking on information for how to treat the infections properly. “Wait, really? Techno was zombified?” 

    “Ah, yep.” Ranboo nearly jumped out of his skin, spooked at Techno’s voice. The piglin must’ve come out of his own house to greet them as they arrived, and overheard the last bit of conversation. “An interestin’ way to enter a conversation, but yeah, I was.” Techno shrugged. “Just for a few seconds though. Happens with any piglin that wants to be able to traverse the overworld. Phil and I planned it ahead of time, so there weren’t really a lot of sores to deal with or anything. Definitely not where most of my scars come from,” Techno said with a bragging smirk. 

    Ranboo laughed a bit. “Of course, yeah. That’s so cool though, ‘cause I didn’t know any of that. It does make sense though, I think, yes.” Ranboo was desperately trying to sound normal and not allude to anything else at all. He really hoped it was working. “Ranboo, you good mate?” Phil asked. It was, apparently, not working. He tried to stay steady and even with his voice. “Yeah, no, of course. Why wouldn’t I be?” Techno kind of squinted at him, and Ranboo nervously curled in on himself just a bit, despite being slightly taller than the piglin.

    Techno looked like he was going to say something that surely would’ve made Ranboo explode with anxiety, but instead, he just shrugged. “Alright. We won’t pry. Will we, Phil?” Techno said, looking pointedly at the man, who very much looked like he did in fact want to pry, but conceded with a bit of a grumble and a small sigh. “Let us know if you’re curious about anything else though. Techno and I have gone around the bend with this one, we know the ins and outs.” Techno elbowed Phil (knowing this was his way of trying to subtly pry), who lightly smacked him back. Ranboo, in turn, nodded at them. “Mhm! I will, thank you.”

    Ranboo pretended not to notice as the two of them exchanged a knowing glance with one another, instead giving a wave and heading off to his own house for the night. He let out a long, shaky exhale once inside. “Okay, could’ve gone better, could’ve gone worse. Should’ve kept Michael in the nether while healing him, but we did it as soon as he was safe at Snowchester in a baby-proofed room so… Overall… not... as bad as it could have been? I think we did okay, I think we did okay,” Ranboo muttered to himself, trying to calm himself down. 

    Unfortunately, he didn’t learn anything about how to heal an infection, but he supposed that was typical. He didn’t ask about infections. He asked about unzombifying piglins. He did have more resources at his house than Tubbo had, though, so he went to his basement and started rummaging around in his chests to see if he could find anything of value. A little difficult with how disorganized he tended to be, but that was okay. It gave Tubbo time to respond to him after he sent him a quick message. 

    Secretly, Ranboo wanted to involve Techno and Phil; he knew that they and Tubbo had a bit of a rough history, but the two really seemed to know what they were talking about. And Tubbo had changed and Phil and Techno had changed, and Ranboo didn’t think they would try to hurt Michael. If there was a chance they could help Michael, he was considering risking it. He’d do anything for his son. But he wouldn’t say anything unless Tubbo was okay with it; after hesitating, he sent Tubbo another message. 

<Ranboo> techno and phil might know how to help with michael’s infection <Ranboo> but i don’t know how to ask without telling them about him <Ranboo> and i won’t tell them if you’re worried <Tubbo> i don’t trust techno <Tubbo> but he is a piglin also <Tubbo> and i trust you <Ranboo> i just worry that it’ll get worse if we don’t do it right <Tubbo> it’s your call big man

    Ranboo stared anxiously at the messages, thinking of his next step. He was so focused on it that he almost didn’t hear the knock on his door from upstairs. Startled, he shouted up. “Coming! I’ll be there in a second!” Giving one last glance at the conversation, he tucked his communicator away and rushed up the ladder. He opened the door and stepped outside a bit, his house being a bit too cramped to have a decent conversation. “Phil!” He exclaimed, utterly confused. “What’s up? Everything okay?” Phil was standing at the door next to a very disgruntled Technoblade, who looked like he had tried everything in his power to stop whatever conversation was about to happen and, upon failing due to Phil’s Old Man Stubbornness, decided to tag along. 

    “So, hypothetically,” Phil started, and Techno groaned. Phil sent one of his typical jokingly exasperated glances at Techno in response, and started again. “Hypothetically, if you were curing a zombie piglin, you’d probably want someone around who’s done it before to make sure everything went okay.” Ranboo stared at him for a moment, processing. “That’s true! Hypothetically, if I’d already cured a zombie piglin, I’d also want help with it to make sure nothing went wrong.” Phil now wore a knowing smirk, triumphant in the fact that his suspicions were confirmed. Techno sighed. “See, Phil, what you’ve done now is you’ve made a lot more work for us. Ranboo could’ve got it all done on his own and probably would’ve been fine, but now we gotta go help.” Phil turned to him as he spoke.

    “Techno, you don’t have to help mate, I’ve done this on my own before--” Techno interrupted him. “Nahhhh nah nah, you can do it on your own sure, but you see I am a certified actual piglin, so you’re gonna want my help regardless. It’ll be easier with me there. I’m comin’ with you.” Ranboo just stood there, baffled, trying to gather his thoughts. They were both asking way more than he initially thought and also way less. Was this a good thing? Regardless, they had offered to help and apparently nothing could convince them not to. “Th-- Thank you…?” Ranboo said, then corrected himself, “Thank you. I uh. Hoo boy. It’s a bit of a story,” he admitted nervously.

    Phil placed a hand on Ranboo’s upper arm, given his shoulder was a bit too high up for comfort. “Let’s walk and talk, then. I’m assuming this piglin you know is elsewheres, at least.” Ranboo nodded. “Yeah. Let me just, uh--” he sent a quick message to Tubbo saying they were on their way as they started walking-- “Yeah. But first uh, we already healed him. Sort of. We cured him, but he’s not healed. He’s got some really bad infections and we’re worried that some of the issues are internal. It doesn’t seem like it, but we want to be safe.” Phil’s face shifted to a look of deep concern, and mentally started making note of what they would need, as Techno looked rather thoughtfully at Ranboo, having picked up more than just the medical details that Phil was so focused on. “‘We’’? Who’s ‘we’?” Techno asked. 

    Ranboo stiffened, and then took a deep breath. Well, here went nothing. “So you know Tubbo? --Please don’t get mad at me,” Ranboo started, and Techno held his tongue. “When I first joined and Tubbo was giving me a tour of New L’Manberg, we found a. Uh. We found a baby piglin who had been zombified.” Something seemed to click for both Techno and Phil as a look of realization passed over their faces, and Ranboo prayed that it didn’t turn to anger or aggression. They had no reason to feel that way, he tried to reassure himself, but he knew their history with Tubbo.

    “We… made him a little shelter in the Nether to protect him from ghasts and wandering off. Until we’d made a baby-proofed room for him at least in Tubbo’s house. And last night we brought him to the overworld, to Tubbo’s house, and cured him.” Ranboo waited for the backlash, and while Techno looked like he had something he wanted to say, Phil spoke first. “Keeping him in the Nether in a shelter was one of the best things you could’ve done. Most of the area around the main portal, which is what I’m assuming you used, is wasteland, so it’s really dry and that would’ve protected him as well as anything can from decaying. Techno?”

    Techno, after having been given the go-ahead, was finally free to speak his mind. “Ranboo-- Ranboo I’m not really so sure about Tubbo, I mean he is one of the big government guys that hunted me down-- are you doin’ this as like, a favor to him? What’s the relationship there?” Ah. Ranboo had been prepared to talk about Michael, but this, now this was a little awkward. Instead, he decided to first pipe up to correct Techno and defend Tubbo. “Actually, that was Quackity’s idea. He kind of talked everyone else into that. I’m pretty sure at least. I think I wrote it down. He was definitely the one who organized it though. I think he was gonna do it whether we agreed or not?” Techno was very clearly making mental notes. “Interesting,” he said. Ranboo continued in his answer. “And relationship, well uh, it’s not a favor per se, it’s more like… we adopted him? Together. We adopted him together, like, as our son? And we’re married.”

    “What?” Phil squawked. Techno just blinked at Ranboo, and chose his words carefully, trying to hide his shock. Actually, if it wasn’t so nerve-wracking, it would’ve been hilarious. “Well. I won’t say anything as to your choice in spouse, but this is definitely new information.” Phil, despite his ruffled feathers in both a physical and metaphorical sense, gathered himself and decided to push the other two to do the same. Quite literally-- he put a firm hand on Techno and Ranboo both and started urging them towards the portal. Ranboo let out a startled noise that was intermingled with a confused, small laugh. “Right, well, infection’s not gonna get better on its own, we can deal with this situation later. I will talk to you and Tubbo about this,” Phil nearly scolded, and Ranboo could only nod under Phil’s determination. Techno, of course, deferred his judgement to Phil.

[hunflowers]

maybe i’m the worst writer and/or person on this website because i can’t even remember the last time i posted a writing on here so here’s something else in the mean time while i’m still writing part 2 of femme fatale. and whew! it gets hot *nose boops*

You were pissed.

Pissed wasn’t even the proper word to explain how you were feeling, but something along the lines of pissed. And maybe you were being irrational, because it wasn’t the biggest problem but again, you were still mad at him.

It had been three weeks since you last saw him. Three weeks. You missed him immensely and for all of the three weeks that he had been away, you longed for him to be back in your arms. Every morning you woke, you wanted a small good morning kiss, through out the day you wanted to squeeze him, and before you went to bed you wanted him to cuddle you.

Not to mention, you had three weeks worth of pent up sexual frustration buzzing through you. You had promised him that you wouldn’t touch yourself the entirety of his departure, but to be fair, when you made the deal he had say he would only be away for a week. Then a week turned into two, then three. You were aching to be touched and you couldn’t even give yourself that satisfaction.

You had expressed this concern to him over the phone a few times but he laughed it off and reminded you that you had a deal. And the only reason you had made the deal in the first place was because he said imagine the sex when he’s back, and the thought of how he would ravage you made your mouth water.

So, when he finally walked through the door of your home and you were giddy to see him, not because you finally got to squish his cheeks and kiss him whenever you wanted, but you were beyond excited to feel his hands on you and his cock inside you.

He got home pretty late that night so you let it slide and just assumed he’d have his way the next day. But then another day went by of nothing, and then another, and then another. You had insinuated something a few times but each time he found an excuse to post pone it. And the last time he denied you, you saw the faintest smirk settle on his lips before he went back to his stoic facial expression.

So, yeah you were angry, and you finally exploded.

It was ten in the morning and you were fed up with his antics, so you waited by the front door when you knew he would be coming home from his daily morning run. Your arms were crossed over your chest like a child, a scowl practically set in stone on your face.

When he finally walked through the door, he was a little surprised to see you there standing, but then you saw his mouth perk up into a not so subtle smirk this time. He knew why you were angry, he was practically proud of how worked up you were, so he smiled and kissed the top of your head quickly before walking away and to the kitchen to grab a drink.

You pursed your lips and held back a growl and stomped your way after him, meeting him in the kitchen with your arms still crossed over your chest. Finishing pouring himself a glass of orange juice, his eyebrow rose in wonder, waiting for you to say something.

And when you continued to stare him down, he decided to be the one to speak up. “What’s up, baby?”

Not your dick, and that’s the problem, you thought.

“Isn’t there something you want to do? With me? Y’know, your girlfriend?”

He looked up to the ceiling in fake thought, pursing his lips in concentration as he thought of an answer. He first shrugged his shoulders and shook his head but then followed up with, “Oh! I’ve been meaning to ask you if you want to try this new restaurant in town. Couple of friends went there the other night, said it was pretty good, figured we could try it out.”

You were stunned. Stunned at how cryptic he was, because dinner together sounded lovely, but that was no where near what you meant and you knew he knew that. So, then you dropped your arms with a sigh, your scowl being replaced with a pout as you tried to work over his emotions. Maybe now he’ll feel bad and fuck you over the island countertop. You could only hope.

“Anything else?”

Again he shook his head, finishing off the remainder of his orange juice before putting the glass in the sink to clean later. “M’gonna take a shower,” he announced, walking past you a giving your hip a small squeeze before he took two steps at a time to get upstairs.

You nearly screamed.

Nearly.

Fine, if he didn’t want to do anything, then you’ll take matters into your own hands. The deal was while he was away you couldn’t please yourself, but he’s home, so deal’s off.

You followed after him and to your bedroom, rolling your eyes at the trail of clothes that littered the floor before they disappeared behind the closed ensuite bathroom door. You heard him humming under the stream of water, and you couldn’t help but let your mind wander to the vision of his naked body glistening as water trailed down every muscle and over every inch of soft skin.

Lying on your back on the king sized bed, you quickly tugged off your pajama bottoms and underwear, kicking them off the edge of the bed, hearing them fall against the wood. You pushed your tank top up your abdomen and over your boobs, not fully taking it off as your one hand began to tweak at your nipples and the other trailed down your stomach, fingers ghosting over your clit and sliding between your folds.

It felt so good to finally have contact, even if it was your own hand. You felt wetness already seep out of your hole, coating your fingertips. Dipping one finger into your pussy, you moaned at the feeling while your thumb began to gently work slow circles on your bundle of nerves.

Harry was right, three weeks of abstinence had your mind swirling in pleasure at just the faintest of touches, and you planned on letting him know that. You let out a loud and drawn out moan as you pushed in another finger, pumping them faster against your walls while your thumb continued to rub against your clit.

And maybe it was a bit dramatic, but you heard the shower turn off not even ten seconds later and you figured you’d done your job right. You heard his feet patter against the tile floor inside and you smirked to yourself before letting out another moan, this time not for Harry’s sake, but genuinely as you curled your fingers inside of you, petting your walls like he would.

Then you heard the door open feverishly and his feet marching across the wood before stopping to where you assume to be right in front of you since your eyes were closed. Just as your toes curled into the sheets and your mouth opened to let out a string of curses, you felt his hand wrap around your wrist, halting your movements.

Your eyes fly open in fake shock, quickly taking in his naked, wet, heavenly body. You wanted to whine but he was quick to leave you speechless as he took your ankles and pulled you to the edge of the bed, legs now off the bed and pulling you so you were sat upright. His stature loomed over you and if you weren’t angry at him, you’d be beyond nervous at his pissed off look. Droplets of water dripped off the tips of his hair, falling down to your face, stomach, and legs as he looked at you with squinted eyes, jaw clenched and lips pursed.

“And what, do you think you’re doing, darling?” He seethed, hand wrapping into your hair and tugging your head back forcefully so you were looking directly up at him. “Thought I made it clear you weren’t to touch yourself without my permission.”

You squinted your own eyes at him, glaring daggers at him that didn’t seem to faze him as he just pulled the roots of your hair harder. “Well, if you won’t touch me, figured I have to do it myself.”

He let out a petty laugh, shaking his head slightly as he clicked his tongue in disapproval. Then in one very quick motion, Harry sat himself on the edge of the bed and threw you over his lap, your tits squished against his broad thigh, as your hips rested against his other.

His fist remained wrapped in your hair while he delivered the first blow to your ass, jolting you against his thighs. You whimpered at the contact, but on the inside you were jumping with joy that he was finally giving you the attention you craved.

“Think you’re being a bit of a brat. I’ll touch you when I want to, not when you want me to. Now count,” and then he delivered a harder slap to your opposite cheek.

When you didn’t count as quick as he wanted, he slapped your pussy with almost as much force as your butt, and you cried at the pain. You tried to squirm away from the sting but he he held you in place.

“Count.”

You were quick to respond this time, not daring to receive another slap to your sensitive center. He continued the punishment until you received ten hits on each cheek, your bottom feeling like it was on fire. You could only imagine how red it was.

By the end, one tear managed to escape your eye and you let out a small sniffle but you were far from upset. It was just your body’s natural reaction to the pain. But, really you were thriving and you couldn’t wait for what was next.

He pulled you off of him by your hair, shoving you to the floor in front of him so you rest on your knees. And you had wood flooring too, but you imagine Harry wasn’t going to give you the benefit of the doubt and wouldn’t give you a pillow to kneel on.

He noticed the trail the one tear left on your cheek, and he cocked his head to the side as his thumb quickly swiped away the moisture. But you knew he wasn’t in anyway ready to be nice to you again.

After a few moments of staring you down, eyes roaming over the features of your face. His thumb traced over the soft skin of your cheek and then your lips before pushing into your mouth, to which you immediately began sucking. Harry admired the way you were quick to be obedient even if you did put yourself into trouble. Almost as if you were apologizing for being a brat even though you would never formally apologize for that.

And that made this all the more fun for him because now he felt less bad about putting you in your place.

“You want me to touch you?” He murmured, enjoying the feeling of your tongue flattening against the underside of his thumb, like you do his cock. You nodded your head softly, eyes looking up at him wide and eager.

He cooed at you, pulling his thumb from your warm mouth but keeping it on your lips so your mouth was slightly agape. If he had his phone on him, he would love to capture the sight in front him. All of this time his dick had been sitting proudly, hardening even more every time you blinked up at him and looked at him innocently through your lashes.

Wrapping his free hand around his cock, he hissed at the feeling, his thumb skimming over his red tip that leaked with precum. Gesturing down to his cock, you knew what he wanted as his hand removed itself from your jaw and back into your hair. Closing your mouth to build up saliva, you spit onto his tip, watching as he gathered it and slid his hand up and down his shaft.

“Been leaving you hanging for almost a month, must be desperate, hm?”

You nodded quickly, humming in agreement as your eyes continued to watch the movement of his hand, wishing he was buried deep inside your walls. Harry wished it too, but he couldn’t let you get what you wanted this simply.

Pulling at your hair so your eyes met up with his again, he smirked at you with a sinister look in his eyes before whispering, “Too bad. Now, open that pretty mouth, darling.”

You obliged, opening your jaw as far as you could before he pushed your head down until you were halfway down his length. You tried to breathe in rapidly through your nose as he pulled you off to his tip before thrusting his hips so you sank farther than halfway.

Harry groaned at the feeling of him weighing down your tongue, enjoying the way you choked around him, your throat contracting against him as each thrust he pushed himself further into your mouth.

Keeping your head still with his hands, he lifted his hips off the bed repeatedly, gaining a steady rhythm as he fucked your throat. Your eyes watered as you felt his tip hit against the back of your throat again and again, but again, you were actually quite enjoying this rather than being in pain like your body insinuated.

His velvet skin slid past your lips continuously, each time coming out shinier as your saliva coated him. He let out numerous hisses and curses, eyes screwing in euphoric pleasure as you gagged and choked.

“Shit, fuck, that’s my good girl. You’re taking me so good.”

You wanted to cheer in triumphant because even though he was fucking you, you still felt this sense of control as he lost himself in the warmth of your mouth. Your hands gripped his thighs, nails digging into his skin and most likely leaving indents but you needed something to take your mind off the burn of your throat.

Harry’s head rolls back as he lets out his loudest moan yet, retracting himself from your mouth fully for a brief moment, giving you a second to breathe again. But, then he just pushed himself past your lips again hitting against your throat roughly, causing you to choke harshly.

He removes himself again, a trail of saliva connecting you to him before it falls against your chin. You gasp in deep breathes as he’s quick to grip under your arms, tugging you up from the floor and onto the bed, stomach down. You didn’t even realize how painful kneeling against the floor was until you felt relieved to be on the soft sheets of your bed.

“You’re okay, right?” He murmurs in your ear as he hovers over your back, and you weakly nod your head against the mattress. He waits a moment for you to catch your breath before you feel his fingers drag down the back of your thighs, pushing them further apart.

“You’re soaked, baby. You like having your throat fucked, don’t you?” He asked in astonishment, one finger pushing into your dripping hole before exiting just as fast.

Then he slapped your thighs, making you jump at the contact. “Answer me.”

“Y-yes,” you stutter, shuttering at the feeling of his fingers ghosting over your pussy.

“Cute.”

And the next thing you know, he’s thrusting himself to the hilt in your cunt, a groan of pleasure leaving both of your throats. You cried as he fastened his movements, hips thrusting at a faster pace than when he was buried in your mouth.

His chest rested against your back, face planted in the crook of your neck while his hands held your hips up so he could get as deep as could into you. His one hand wrapped around your front so it held you up while he rubbed furious circles on your clit, leaving no room for mercy.

“This is what you wanted, hm? Waited so long for me to wreck you, baby?” He asked, hardly waiting for you to answer before he pounded his hardest thrust into you.

Then he sat himself up and pulled you up with him so your back was still connected to his chest. His one hand against pulled at the tips of your hair, your head laying against his shoulder as you whined at the feeling of him pushing himself even deeper inside of you – if that was even possible at this point.

“H. . . please,” you choke out, hardly knowing how to form any words with the continuous attack on your body.

Connecting his lips to yours, you moved your mouths together feverishly and sloppily, tongues moving in sync as best they could while your body continued to jolt forward with each snap of his hips.

The tension in your tummy continued to grow and you were itching for a release, desperately wanting to feel the coil finally unwind. When your walls clenched down on his cock, Harry knew you were close and that’s when he separated your lips and halted his movements inside you. But, his fingers didn’t stop their mind numbing strokes against your clit, and instead they seemed to move faster.

“Wanna cum, Y/N?”

“Plea–”

“Not yet.”

He snapped his hips against you harshly, the squelching sound of your bodies connecting sending you into a frenzy. You whined at his denial, trying your best to keep yourself together but it was proving to be difficult as he kept hitting that special spot inside of you.

You felt him twitch inside of you and you knew he was just about ready to explode too, and when you felt his hot breath hitting against the shell of your ear, and he stilled himself inside of you, you knew it was time to come undone.

“Next time, you won’t get to cum at all,” he hissed, before delivering one final thrust that sent the both of you over the edge.

You both let out loud curses and moans as you shook together, your bodies falling forward and giving out as you rode out your highs. You let out deep pants as your eyes fluttered shut in exhaustion. It was just the morning yet you felt the need to fall asleep into a deep slumber.

For a couple of minutes, neither of you exchanged words as you tried to regain your composure. You felt so happy as Harry’s forehead laid against your shoulder, gentle breaths fanning over your skin.

Just when you think you’ve fallen into a peaceful sleep you hear Harry mutter, “Think m’gonna have to have another shower.”

[fanfic-corner]

Bisexual Dean

9/12/20 - Is Dean canonically bisexual? That’s a fun question (it depends on where you live, I suppose). Anyway, nothing is stopping you from reading these beautiful fics involving a very bi main character.

Tabula Rasa by Dangerousnotbroken on AO3. (78,340 words).

Tags: Writer!Castiel, Bartender!Dean, Past Relationship, Magic, Canon Typical Violence, Mentions of Alcoholism, Mentions of Past Child Neglect, Mental Illness, Witches, Ghosts, Bisexual Dean, Bisexual Castiel, Angst, Slow Burn, Memory Loss.

My Rating: 5 stars.

Description: Once upon a time, Castiel Novak had everything. He had a happy home life, a full scholarship, and, if he played his cards right, a promising journalism career. And on top of all of that, he had Dean. Then tragedy struck, as it tends to do, and Castiel lost everything. At thirty six, he’s got none of those things. He’s got no family to speak of. He’s got a job investigating purportedly true tales of the supernatural for a magazine no one reads. And worst of all he hasn’t seen Dean in nearly twenty years. So when research for an article turns him on to a witch who apparently grants wishes in exchange for stories, Castiel figures it’s worth the risk. If making a deal with a witch can get him Dean back, what has he got to lose?

Notes: This was absolutely amazing; written beautifully, with a fantastic plot.

Take You To The Country by almaasi on AO3. (18,987 words).

Tags: Historical AU, Propositions, Eloping, Newspapers, Fluff, Forbidden Love, Misunderstandings, Pining, First Kiss, Established Relationship, Running Away Together, Moving In Together, Childhood Friends, Marriage Proposal, Businessman Dean, Farmer Dean, Emotional Dean, Bisexual Dean, Domestic Dean Winchester, Clockmaker Castiel, Autistic Castiel, Frustrated Sam.

My Rating: 5 stars.

Description: A Dean/Cas 1950s AU. Dean reads an elopement proposal in the town's local newspaper, written by some old soul in love with their best friend. He's mid-way through expressing to his brother how beautiful he finds it when Dean realises the proposal is for him.

Notes: I love Sam’s subsequent letters to the newspapers at the end, it was just a really good idea done really well.

A Little Slice Of Heaven by onamelancholyhill on AO3. (112,265 words).

Tags: Slow Build, Friends to Lovers, Falling in Love, POV Dean Winchester, POV Third Person, POV Castiel, Bakery and Coffee Shop AU, Episode: s4e17 It’s a Terrible Life, Alternate Universe - Human, Explicit Sexual Content, Bisexual Dean, Idiots in Love.

My Rating: 5 stars.

Description: Jim Morrison once said, “The most important kind of freedom is to be what you really are.” That was Castiel Novak’s motto in life, and the reason why he accepted his grandmother's inheritance and took the responsibility it implied. Dean Winchester, a remarkable accountant at Sandover Bridge & Iron Inc., however, had other priorities. He lived to serve, hidden in a mask that didn’t allow him to be honest with himself, but lonesome and boring. When destiny made their paths cross, in a less than promising way, with Dean as the instigator and Castiel as his victim, Dean’s mind started wandering, in between pies and cakes, coffees and muffins... What if Mr. Morrison was right? After all, as the guy used to say, "there can’t be any large-scale revolution, until there’s a personal revolution first."

Notes: This was so cute and I adored the plot! It’s making me want to rewatch It’s A Terrible Life but I’ll live.

Just Like You by imherecauseimnotallthere98 on AO3. (35,717 words).

Tags: Homophobia, Homophobic John, Hurt Dean Winchester, Protective Dean Winchester, Established Relationship, Protective Castiel, BAMF Castiel, Protective Sam Winchester, Angry John, Angry Dean Winchester, Angry Sam Winchester, Protective Bobby Singer, Awesome Bobby, Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Scared Dean, John Being an Asshole, Swearing, Bisexual Dean, Pansexual Castiel, Past Child Abuse, Accidental Outing, Death Threats, Fluff and Angst, Implied Sexual Content, Sharing a Bed.

My Rating: 5 stars.

Description: When John shows up at their door in the middle of the night, the Winchesters and Cas start looking into who or what could have brought him back. Meanwhile, Dean struggles to keep his relationship with Cas a secret from his father, with some help from Sam. The tension rises between the Winchesters as Dean shows John that he is no longer the obedient little soldier he once was, and tries to establish himself as an equal with his dad.

Notes: Bobby and Sam are icons in this and should have followed through on their threats. That will be all.

Walk Through Fire For You by purple_charlie on AO3. (2,332 words).

Tags: John Winchester’s A+ Parenting, Angst, Pride, Marijuana Use, Polyamory, Gay Cas, Bisexual Dean, Bisexual Gabriel, Everyone is Queer.

My Rating: 4 stars.

Description: Boyfriend. The word still feels foreign in Dean’s mouth, still brings back echoes of John Winchester’s thinly-veiled (if even that) homophobia. "Man up, don’t be a sissy, I didn’t raise a fairy". It’s a swollen blister in the back of Dean’s mind, throbbing with pain whenever a stranger’s eyes linger too long on Cas’ hand in his, whenever a waitress double-takes at how close they sit in diner booths. But here, dirty dancing with Cas in a warehouse full of other queer folks, Dean wants to shout from the rooftops- I’m Dean Winchester, I drive the baddest car in town, I lift heavy things for a living, and this is my boyfriend.

Notes: This was so sweet it nearly made me start crying - Cas deserved to be told that he was loved!

Bottom’s Up by mnwood on AO3. (28,103 words).

Tags: Fluff and Crack, Wing Kink, Domestic, Smut, Bisexual Dean, Resolved Sexual Tension, Established Relationship, Wedding Planning, Partying, Weddings.

My Rating: 4 stars.

Description: Sam could’ve kissed them both when he got to the bunker one day to find a string of clothing (his heart nearly burst with hope when he saw the abandoned flannel and trench coat) leading to a very naked pile of limbs tangled on the couch. Just kidding. Of course it wasn’t the couch. Sam always imagined it as the couch because the fact that he actually found them on the dining room table had tainted the happiness of the memory.

Notes: Jesus, I did not need that level of detail into Dean and Cas’ sex life (but it was very funny).

Stories Are Made Of Mistakes by wildhoneypie on AO3. (4,942 words).

Tags: Human Castiel, Diners, Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Bisexual Dean, Sharing a Bed, Slow Burn, Slow Build, Case Fic, Domestic, Didn’t Know They Were Dating.

My Rating: 4 stars.

Description: In which Cas is human and doesn’t understand basic concepts like: clothing, Mythbusters, moisturizer, and Greek food. Dean is…Dean and doesn’t understand basic concepts like: boyfriends, language, how to tell your friend that he’s a walking miracle, and when not to quip.

Notes: This was so cute and I live for human Cas. I also love the recurring ‘no fucking quipping’ joke in this, although the idea of Cas swearing broke me a bit!

And this one, which has no Destiel content but a very bi Dean:

Uniform of a Winchester by monsterfuckerdean on AO3. (20,591 words).

Tags:  Canon Compliant, Missing Scene, Bisexual Dean Winchester, Bad Parent John Winchester, Young Sam Winchester, Young Dean Winchester, Pre-Season 1, Episode: s5e2 Free to Be You and Me, Angst and Feels, Queer Themes, Character Study, Diners, Sibling Love, Family, Friendship, HBO SPN.

My Rating: 5 stars.

Description: We all know the story of the amulet Dean wears around his neck. But what about everything else he wears?

Notes: Okay, I have to admit that I am loving the HBO SPN vibes even though I am fully aware that if it was a real show I wouldn’t watch it. This is so good though, and the writing is gorgeous!

My friend came out to me as bisexual this week, and paired with the mess that is the Spanish dub, I thought this would be nice as a little reminder that it doesn’t matter how the show ended, because the fans will always be here and we will always be supportive. Anyway, enjoy!

[silvormoon]

Anathema

Yubel likes flowers. The flowers do not necessarily like Yubel.

They were attracting some looks.

Juudai had been exploring the monster worlds for the past three weeks or so, partly out of a desire to see that things were settling down to some kind of normalcy now that the threat of the Haou was over, and partly just because they were interesting and he hadn’t really had a chance to enjoy them before. He’d spent a day or two visiting Misaawa and Taniya, explored a city full of robots, gotten acquainted with some dragons, gone fishing on the high seas, and had nearly been eaten by some sort of giant snake in a jungle. All in all, he considered that it had been a good trip. For the last two days, he and Yubel had been wandering over the foothills of some forested mountains, during which time they’d seen some spectacular views but had not encountered another sentient species. Juudai was glad to be back in something resembling civilization.

The village was populated primarily with plant-based creatures, ranging from the ones that were little more than flowers with eyes on up to elfin creatures with leaves and branches growing from their hair. All of them were giving Juudai and Yubel strange looks. No, that wasn’t quite right, he realized - it was Yubel that most of their interest was fixed on.

Well, whatever their deal was, they would just have to cope. Juudai was tired and hungry and in need of a bath. Yubel had kept them both alive in the wilderness by their knowledge of what plants were wholesome, which inedible, and which were downright dangerous. Juudai had a vague recollection that in their human existence, they had worked in the castle garden, and still retained a knowledge of, and fondness for, plants of all kinds. That was all very well, and had kept him from starving, but now he wanted a proper meal.

The first thing to do, however, would be to get hold of some of the local currency.

“Hey,” he said, to a friendly-looking acorn. “Do you know where we could...” But the acorn had already cast a terrified look at Yubel and scuttled away.

“Huh,” said Juudai. “I didn’t think you were that scary.”

“I wasn’t trying to be.” Yubel sounded a little hurt, and Juudai didn’t blame them. It seemed to him that a person like Yubel ought to be able to be themselves in a world of monsters.

“You’ll have to forgive him.” The voice came from one of the more humanoid monsters, a young man with green hair and pointed ears. “This is an isolated town. We mostly see plant-types here. We know about humans from those of us who have partners in the human world, but we rarely see Fiend-types here. In truth, we discourage them.” He gave Yubel a disapproving look. “They tend to bring trouble.”

“Well, Yubel isn’t going to cause any trouble,” said Juudai. “So anyway, is there anywhere I could earn some money around here?”

“There’s a job broker at the center of town,” said the elf, “but I doubt...”

But Juudai had already started towards the town center. After a bit of poking around, he did indeed find a building where a man sat at a window with a cork board behind him, stuck all over with slips of paper. A few people were hanging around, investigating the offerings. They gave Juudai and Yubel dirty looks when they approached, but Juudai ignored them. He sauntered up to the desk and grinned his friendliest grin.

“Hi,” he said. “We’re looking for a job.”

“We don’t give jobs to that one’s kind,” said the broker.

Juudai frowned. “But we...”

“It’s all right,” said Yubel. “I can go away.”

Juudai opened his mouth to protest, but Yubel’s voice in his mind said, You need a place to rest and something to eat. My job is to protect you. If the best way to do that is for me to duck out of sight for a little while, then that is how it must be.

But these people are being stupid.

Then let them be stupid. Take their job, take their money, and enjoy knowing that I will be reaping the benefits along with you in spite of all they’ve done.

And that was Yubel all over: putting his interests above their own, but with an edge built in. He supposed they were probably right.

“Fine,” he said. “Leave town. I’ll catch up to you later.”

Yubel nodded and left. Juudai turned back to the man at the counter.

“Now have you got a job for me?” he asked testily.

The man scowled. “You’re just going to meet back up with that fiend later.”

“Then give me a dangerous job - one you wouldn’t want to give to someone you liked,” Juudai suggested.

“Hmm...” the man pressed his lips together thoughtfully. “Well, there is one...”

He fished around among the slips of paper until he found the one he wanted, and pushed it across the desk to Juudai.

“Here,” he said.

Juudai read the paper. Someone apparently wanted him to bring them the juice of some kind of flower.

“The heck is an anathema flower?” he asked.

“Highly poisonous,” said the broker. “Even to touch it with your bare skin can kill you, but if it’s treated the right way, it can be made into a medicine that treats a lot of the infections us Plant-types are susceptible to. Just one blossom is worth a thousand times its weight in gold.”

Juudai thought a thousand times the weight of a flower probably still wasn’t very much gold, but he said, “Sure, no problem.”

“Fool,” said the broker. “You’ll kill yourself even trying to get near it.”

“I’ll manage,” said Juudai. “See you later.”

He wandered back out of town and found Yubel loitering under a tree.

“Well, I got a job,” he said. “Should be right up your alley.”

“Oh? Do tell,” Yubel said.

“I’m supposed to find something called an anathema flower,” he explained.

“Ever hear of it?”

Yubel considered. “Low-growing vine. Prefers low light and high moisture. Commonly found growing around the base of the common or alpine nectarpine tree. Its sap is toxic and can cause chemical burns just by touching it. Inhaling its pollen can cause respiratory damage if too much is ingested at once.”

“Wow, they sound pretty nasty,” said Juudai.

“Which is probably why someone is willing to pay for someone else to do it,” said Yubel. They smiled. “Fortunately I have had dealings with it before. Come. Let us find some plants.”

They set off into the forest. Juudai wondered if they would go straight to the place where this anathema flower grew, but that didn’t seem to be Yubel’s goal. They rooted around by the edge of a streamlet until at last they found a cluster of plants with soft stems and thick, rounded leaves.

“This is what we want,” they said, ripping up a handful of the stuff and passing it to Juudai. “Rub the juice of this into your eyes and nose, then eat some of it. It will sting and taste unpleasant, but after about fifteen minutes, it will take effect and the anathema plant won’t be able to harm you for the next day or so.”

Juudai unhesitatingly did as he was told. After all, Yubel was doing it too, now, so it couldn’t be that bad. The stuff did indeed taste unpleasantly sour, and made his eyes itch and burn so much he began to wonder if the anathema flower might have been preferable, but after the plant had been allowed a few minutes to do its work, Yubel permitted him to soak his handkerchief in the stream and press it over his face to cool the itch. He took a long drink to get the foul taste out of his mouth.

“Geez, what was that stuff?”

“It is called pennyleaf,” they said. “It is an antidote to many of the common plant-based poisons.”

“So why don’t they know that?” Juudai asked, getting up from where he’d been kneeling by the creek.

Yubel shrugged. “Probably because it tastes so foul that many assume it must be poisonous itself. Come. Let us find an anathema plant.”

They began to walk. Yubel checked to make sure they knew what direction they were going, and then struck out for a stand of pine trees in the distance. They looked like any other pine trees to Juudai, but Yubel assured him that they could tell by the way the branches were arranged that these were nectarpines and nothing else, and Juudai wasn’t going to argue. As they drew nearer, he began to smell a distinctly sweet aroma on the air, and asked about it.

“No, those aren’t the anathema flowers,” they said. “Those are the pines you’re smelling. They get their name from the sweet smell and taste of their sap. That is another reason why so few people know the connection between pennyleaf and anathema flower poison. If everyone knew how to get past the trees’ defenders, all the nectarpines would soon be cut and boiled for their sugar, and then there would be no more.”

Juudai nodded. “You sure know a lot of things.”

“I have had a lot of time to learn them. And I like plants.” Yubel paused and pointed. “Look, you can see them now.”

And so he could in a thick carpet around the base of the trees, Juudai could see a layer of glossy green leaves. Speckled against the green were a number of flowers, their petals white but dappled with purple and red. They were rather pretty, and if he hadn’t already been warned they were poisonous, he might have thought that this lovely, sweet-smelling grove was a fine place to lie down for a nap. As it was, he took a few steps closer and then paused.

“It’s all right,” said Yubel. “The antidote has had time to work.”

“Yeah, but what if I get the sap on my clothes?” Juudai asked. “Your antidote will wear off by tomorrow and I’ll still have poison on me.”

“A good thought,” said Yubel. All right, allow me.”

They took to the air, drifting carefully beneath the overhanging boughs of the trees until the nearest blossoms were within reach. Yubel picked a handful - half a dozen or so in all - and passed them to Juudai. He took them gingerly, but they didn’t seem inclined to do him any harm. The stems had an oddly prickly, sticky feel, as if they were trying to cling to his skin like velcro.

“Ick,” he said, and wrapped them up carefully in a few dry leaves. “Thanks, Yubel.”

“You are most welcome,” they assured him.

Within a few minutes, they were back in town. The broker looked surprised to see them.

“I thought I said...” he began.

Juudai placed the flowers on the desk like a gambler laying down a winning hand.

“Here’s your flowers,” he said.

The broker’s eyes bugged. “How on earth...? Never mind, I’m not sure I want to know.”

“Good, because I wasn’t going to tell you,” said Juudai.

“Well, a deal is a deal,” said the broker, as he began filling a cloth bag with coins. “And I won’t say I’m not glad to have these. We have sick people in this town who could do with the medicine these will make, so thank you for that.”

“Thank Yubel,” said Juudai. “They were the one who did all the real work. I wouldn’t have been able to lay hands on these in a million years without their help.”

“Huh,” said the broker. He looked at Yubel, who smirked. “Well, I suppose I might have been a little bit hasty, at that.”

“I think you were,” said Yubel. “But I will be gracious and accept your apology.”

“Hm, well,” said the broker. His greenish skin went even more green. “I do apologize, then. I can see I was being closed-minded.”

Juudai got the feeling that Yubel was thinking, “Yes, you were,” but had decided not to say so.

“Glad that’s settled,” he said aloud. “So, where can a couple of hungry flower-gatherers find lunch in this place?”

A short while later, he and Yubel were sitting at the town’s common room, enjoying a meal of dumpling soup. The broker had come with them and exchanged a few words with the innkeeper on the subject of an ailing mother, the uses of flowers, and the benefits of being nice to the people who fetched them. After that, the innkeeper couldn’t have been more pleasant, and had given them the best room in the building without charge. Word seemed to be getting around, because the looks Juudai and Yubel were getting now were curious but no longer hostile. Juudai got the feeling that a lot of people were going to feel they owed him and Yubel favors after this. He smiled as he slurped his soup. It was nice to be appreciated.

“They seem to like me now,” Yubel observed, with some amusement.

“They should,” said Juudai. “After all, you’re the best.”

“I don’t really care what anyone but you thinks of me,” they said, but they seemed to be pleased anyway.

“Well, it’s nice to have friends,” said Juudai. “Who knows? Maybe we’ll come back here again one day, when they need more flowers.”

Yubel looked around thoughtfully. A small girl wearing a dress made of flower petals waved shyly at them.

“Perhaps we should,” they said. “After all, I always did like flowers.”