#I had to add that wrench joke in @ Grace.

[asktheforgottenballerina]

Friendship [I couldn't think of a better title] | Hello Puppets and Hello Puppets: Midnight Show

A/N: tagging @graceandtheidiotsquad and @youreternallover but anyone can read }:). Basically my take on an episode of Mortimer's Handeemen.

Warnings: arguments, but that's basically it I think.

[The Mortimer's Handeemen theme song plays.]

[For the opening scene, we see a woman with messy, black hair and brown eyes. She wears a red sweater, casual leggings, and a black jacket, open. She seems to notice the viewers' presence, addressing us as if we were actually there.]

OLIVIA GUBBERSON: Oh, I almost didn't see you there!

[She chuckles, pulling on the neck of her sweater.]

OLIVIA GUBBERSON: Today we're going to be learning all about friendshi-

[Suddenly, a crash and a yell is heard from the other room. Olivia's expression suddenly changes to one of concern.]

OLIVIA GUBBERSON: Oh no...I'd better go and check that out.

[OLIVIA walks into the other room, to see her younger brother OWEN GUBBERSON holding RILEY RUCKUS back as she seems to still be attempting to lunge at NICK NACK. BELLA THE BALLERINA and DAISY DANGER are helping him attempt to break it up.]

OLIVIA GUBBERSON: What On Earth Is Going On Here?

OWEN GUBBERSON: ...I have this under control, Liv!

[he says, while clearly not having this under control]

[strangely, the puppets seem to be...moving on their own, almost? Neither of the humans question this.]

NICK NACK: You - You stupid wench! You wouldn't appreciate good art if it hit you with a wrench!

[RILEY RUCKUS manages to break free from OWEN and punches NICK NACK in the face. OLIVIA facepalms.]

[Once again music starts to play. Cue a musical number!]

OLIVIA GUBBERSON: So you've gone and called someone stupid-

BELLA THE BALLERINA: And in response, they damaged your eye-

[She gestures to her eye.]

BELLA THE BALLERINA: But here is where the conflict must end, lest you both end up blind.

OLIVIA GUBBERSON:

Sometimes the problems at play Are not all plain to see So we lash out at our loved ones Disregarding our bond sanctity

DAISY DANGER:

There are several sides To us that may seem abstract at first Until we discover where everything fits, and People can be like a half-missing puzzle set; As we find the pieces Things make more and more sense!

OWEN GUBBERSON: Nice Imagery, but I'm not sure I follow.

DAISY DANGER: Well, hon, I'll give you an example!

I had this problem where I'd Often hide my less-than-awesome feelings So when I would feel like sobbing, I'd just smile and crack jokes! I thought that that was coping, only joking Never showing sadness Hoping it would go away!

RILEY RUCKUS: Did that work?

DAISY DANGER: Nope! I felt bad!

NICK NACK: Aw, Daisy...

DAISY DANGER: It's okay!

OWEN GUBBERSON: How's that?

DAISY DANGER:

Everybody gets sad Even when you have people to care for And therefore You don't have to hide your pain Life without rainy days Is incomplete

RILEY RUCKUS: Or impossible, really. Rain goes to plants, plants feed animals, plant-eating animals feed animal-eating animals and humans feed animals corn and inject them with hormones until they can barely walk anymore!

OLIVIA GUBBERSON: Riley? How does all that relate to rain?

DAISY DANGER: Putting it simply, rain is a necessary piece of the puzzle that is life!

RILEY RUCKUS: So true. Are we done singing or is this just one of those musical interludes?

BELLA THE BALLERINA: On the subject of storm clouds... 'Cause, you know. You need. Storm clouds to make. Rain I'm just gonna get into it...

You once knew me as real gloomy This weird spooky, broody gal 'Cause I knew you'd listen to me As too scary to ignore I thought that I could take it All the hate could just be shaken But when you lo— care for someone! Not much hurts more than their scorn I also felt bad

NICK NACK: Come, now...

BELLA THE BALLERINA: In a different way!

OLIVIA GUBBERSON: Different how?

BELLA THE BALLERINA: By bad, I mean, well, bad, I did what I thought that I had to, which is bad too! I don't have to act all tough sometimes love is enough...

DAISY DANGER: Or what we need!

RILEY RUCKUS:

That was a quaint little review Of things that we already knew Now, can our discourse resume? There's pressing matters at hand

OWEN GUBBERSON: Actually, that was for your benefit.

RILEY RUCKUS: I don't see how that could be relevant.

DAISY DANGER: Riley, please!

OWEN GUBBERSON: Our goals benevolent!

RILEY RUCKUS: You know me, I don't care for sentiment.

NICK NACK: OMG!

OWEN GUBBERSON & RILEY RUCKUS:

This serves as a testament To the fact-

RILEY RUCKUS: That to me, you're negligent-

OWEN GUBBERSON: [at the same time as Riley] that you have a temperament!-

BOTH:

Which is FINE!

RILEY RUCKUS: It just works to your detriment-

OWEN GUBBERSON: you just haven't accepted it-

BOTH:

You not letting me finish is proving my-/if you let me finish they'd get to the-

BELLA THE BALLERINA: HEY!

[the two snap their attention in her direction]

BELLA THE BALLERINA: You're lost!

RILEY RUCKUS: I'm right here...

BELLA THE BALLERINA: It's okay!

RILEY RUCKUS: You're acting weird...

BELLA THE BALLERINA: I was lost once too, but thanks to all of you life sucks less now!

ALL: We're your best pals!

BELLA THE BALLERINA: No one wants to be a joke...

ALL: But a life free of jokes is incomplete!

NICK NACK: Guys do you mind if I contribute to this weird, vent-ey song?

OLIVIA GUBBERSON: Please, do!

NICK NACK:

I've got an issue That feels new-school; I don't wanna say I'm too cool But I'm just too fab for you fools And I feel like you don't get me!

OWEN GUBBERSON: You've insulted us while venting!

NICK NACK: ...Sorry!

OLIVIA GUBBERSON: It's alright, Nick, honestly it didn't hurt me, it's clear you're the one who's hurting.

NICK NACK: Huh?

BELLA THE BALLERINA: You feel low!

NICK NACK: That's not true!

DAISY DANGER: It's Okay!

NICK NACK: Don't Assume!

OWEN GUBBERSON: You don't have to save face!

BELLA THE BALLERINA: In almost any case we embrace you!

NICK NACK: [sarcastic] that's rich!

DAISY DANGER: No one hates you!

ALL: Everybody's got flaws!

DAISY DANGER: But with no you at all, we're incomplete!

OLIVIA GUBBERSON:

There! Now you see! Everybody goes wrong And we put it in song So it's easier To hear it!

OWEN GUBBERSON:

This puzzle's tough I'll admit But in time We'll find where everything fits!

[musical number end.]

OLIVIA GUBBERSON: So, do you too have something to say to each other?

NICK NACK: [heavy, dramatic sigh] I'm sorry I called you stupid. And a wench.

RILEY RUCKUS: [muttering, annoyed] sorry I hit you.

OLIVIA GUBBERSON: Well, I'm glad we got that one sorted out.

OWEN GUBBERSON: I could've handled it.

OLIVIA GUBBERSON: Of course you could, little brother.

OWEN GUBBERSON: Hey! You're only 12 minutes older than me.

[Olivia only chuckles and turns to the audience again.]

OLIVIA GUBBERSON: See you all next time!

[Once again, the theme song plays.]

[runningfrom2am]

achilles heel - II: I Figured She Was His Sarah

summary:

Grace is the very opposite of her brother in every way. when she finally moves onto campus at UNC Chapel Hill, she feels like she gets to be her own person, make her own friends, and hopefully start a promising career in the museum industry, and maybe, one day, get married to her high school sweetheart and live the American dream for herself. Rafe Cameron however, upon their very first meeting, throws a wrench in her very perfect plan.

tags/warnings:

rafe cameron x fem!oc, rafe is giving very much homewrecker, fanon!rafe (kinda), college!au, friends to lovers, slow-burn (maybe?), minimal oc description, drug and alcohol use, mostly unedited, (these tags are not exhaustive, lmk if i should add anything!)

wc: 1.9k

my master list

series masterlist

requests

January 5th, 2019

Rafe eyes the ball flying towards him from up above, stepping back a few paces and raising his leg, and lowering it quickly to cushion its fall and keep it from flying out of his control, giving it a gentle tap a few feet away so he can wind up for his shot. He nails it, and it lands right against the top left corner of the net in front of him.

He smiles in satisfaction with himself, placing his hands on his hips as he steps off to the sidelines to grab some water while his coach spouts off at the next player in line. He watches for a minute or so before his eyes drift upwards in the indoor field, landing on the looping track on the next level up.

The indoor fields at UNC are honestly impressive- and actually, were a huge motivator for Rafe to attend. Besides the fact that his dad would have had a conniption at the mere mention of him going anywhere else. Overlooking the indoor soccer field is a full-size running track, circling over top with a glass barrier. From up above you have a great view of whatever's going on down below, and lucky for Rafe, on this day, he has a great view of Grace walking laps around the track, right along the railing.

She didn't even realize her brother would be practicing at the same time she decided to take a study break and stretch her legs, but she's always enjoyed watching his sports games the same way Ben used to attend all her dance and violin recitals when they were growing up. It was a pleasant surprise to be able to look down and watch him practice while she listened to her music and got a good healthy break from her stuffy dorm room.

"Cameron- stop drooling over the track girls and get back out here." His coach calls him, pulling him out of his mind as he watched her walk about halfway around the track without even noticing a moment had passed. He's pretty sure she didn't look down for even a moment. Rafe promptly throws his water bottle back into his gym bag on the ground, jogging back over to join the next drill. Sprints- everyone's favorite.

*:･ﾟ✧*:･

"So, you into track? Or..." Rafe says, joining Grace's side as she continued to walk even when their practice was over.

"Huh?" She pulls out her headphone, looking over at him with a smile. "Oh! You're Ben's friend. I'm so sorry- you'll have to remind me of your name...?"

"It's- uh, my name is Rafe." He's taken aback by her response- he's never had someone forget his name before. "I was just wondering if you were into track or something." He repeats.

"Right, yes! Rafe. Sorry, I'm not the best with names," She explains, attempting to ease his mind. She understood it was rude to forget names, but honestly, his is a little bit obscure so how could she have remembered when she's only heard it once before? "And no, not really into track." Grace laughs slightly, shaking her head and looking down. "I just wanted to stretch my legs. My room is just so cramped."

"Ah, gotcha." Rafe nods, his duffle slung over his shoulder with all his soccer gear thrown inside hastily.

"I can't imagine it's as bad as the frat." She jokes.

Rafe laughs at that. "Yeah, no way. It's honestly the worst."

"Ben loves it, though. Just bros being dudes, all sharing a house." She shrugs. "Sounds like my own personal version of hell, that might just be me though."

"Well, that explains why I've never seen you there," Rafe replies.

Grace nods, reaching up and tightening her ponytail as it started to drop down the back of her head. "I just can't even imagine the smell."

"It's pretty bad." He agrees, chuckling at that as he shakes his head, his eyes trained firmly on the side of her face since she was no longer looking at him.

"What about your boyfriend? He live on campus too?" Rafe asks, trying not to sound like he's prying.

Grace nods again, clearly not reading into it. "Yeah, he lives a couple floors below me."

"Would I know him?"

"Probably not- unless you know a lot of the engineering kids. From the impression I get, they tend to keep within their own group." She explains. "He's also in his third year now, so that affects things too."

Grace has always been a little insecure around Nate's friends, more so now that she's in the same school. They're all just so intimidatingly smart- and she knows she's smart too, but engineering students have this annoying habit of looking down on other majors. Especially art- so they immediately treat her accordingly; as if she's an idiot.

"I definitely don't know any engineering students," Rafe says. "What's his name?"

"Nate- Nathan." She corrects herself quickly, remembering he doesn't like strangers calling him by his nickname.

"Cool." Rafe nods, and he's pained by the few moments of silence that follow.

"What about you? Do you have a girlfriend?" Grace asks, which shocks him. She didn't seem super conversational before, or really interested in him personally. "Or boyfriend, I realize I don't know you well enough to make that assumption.

"No, uh, no girlfriend." He replies, brushing past her second comment. "Relationships have never really been my thing."

"Fair enough." Grace nods. "I mean, fits into what little I know about Ben's teammates."

"Gee, thanks."

"That's not a bad thing!" Grace backtracks quickly. "Sorry, Rafe, I feel like I've made a shitty first impression." She admits, rubbing her forehead.

Rafe smiles a little at that, shaking his head. "No, you're fine." He promises her. He's honestly met handfuls of girls who have probably made way worse first impressions and he's still gone home with them anyways, but there's something about Grace that had her on his mind all day regardless.

"I'm glad you feel that way since we've got a whole semester of seeing each other twice a week ahead of us." Grace laughs.

"What do you plan on doing with a history degree, anyways?" He asks her.

"I'm thinking I want to be a museum curator. I've just always been so fascinated with all that stuff." Grace explains, shrugging her shoulders just slightly.

"That's cool- I never considered that like, people have to do that as a job." Rafe muses.

"Well, what's your plan then? With history?"

Rafe doesn't honestly have an answer. "Uh, I don't know. I just feel like the courses would be really interesting. 120 Is kind of a trial run for me."

"Well, I hope you like it! Last semester my history courses were the highlights. I hated my requirements." She laughs. "I don't understand why I had to take a science for a Bachelor of Arts degree, but at least it's done."

"Ugh." Rafe groans. "Maybe I don't want to take history then."

"Then you definitely don't want to take business- it's a surprising amount of math, and communications is such a drag." Grace explains, stopping off the track near the exit where she placed her backpack.

"Uh, do you want me to walk you back to your dorm?" Rafe offers, following behind her like a lost puppy, trying not to stare as she bends over to grab her bag, pulling her water bottle out.

She turns and throws her bag over her shoulder, taking a sip of water. "No! No, you don't need to do that. Thank you, though."

Grace smiles at him, and he just nods. "I'll see you tomorrow, bright and early?" She asks, and Rafe takes this as his cue to leave her be.

"Yeah, uh, yeah. I'll see you then." He replies, watching keenly as she waves and turns to leave. "Hey, Grace?"

"Hm?" She turns, slowing her pace as she walks backward.

"Maybe I could grab your number? I feel like if I get around to doing the readings tonight I may have some questions and I think you could clear those up." Rafe asks. Not his smoothest attempt at getting a girl's number, asking her to help him with homework, but at least it seemed relevant and not weird.

Grace couldn't hide her disappointment at this, but she tried to keep her smile. Of course, her brother's friend would also want help with homework. "Sure, ask Ben for it." She replies, pushing open the door to the stairs and promptly leaving him behind as it slams behind her.

Rafe sighs, dropping his shoulders. He knows Ben won't give it to him if he even decided to ask. There goes his shot, which for once, he wasn't sure he even had. He sulks to himself as he walks out of the building, unable to stop himself from glancing down the tree-lined road heading in the direction of the dorms. He sees Grace making her way down the road just as he gets on his dirt bike, watching her turn a corner and leave his line of sight behind a patch of trees.

*:･ﾟ✧*:･

"Rafe- hey, buddy, are you gonna help us prep for the opener this weekend?" His lifelong friend, Kelce, asks him as he walks in their front door.

"Another one?" Rafe sighs, throwing his bag down on the table.

"Well, duh, we had one last semester. We have to get back into the routine after Christmas break." Kelce explains, hardly looking back from his video games on their obnoxiously large TV.

"Okay, then yeah, I guess so." Rafe shrugs, striding over and falling back onto the couch next to him. "Who are we inviting?"

"Anyone. Everyone who will pay to get in- also the sorority girls." Kelce answers.

"Gotcha. They're annoying as hell." Rafe admits. He thought he'd be all over the idea of sorority girls- pretty girls who are nice enough to do charity events twice a week, but smart enough to maintain good enough grades to stay there. Surprisingly to him, he kind of dreads having to be around all of them at once.

His friend laughs, shaking his head. "True. They're hot though. That's what matters." Kelce drops his controller when the game over screen pops up, sighing and leaning back on the couch cushions. "Want to do a booze run with me tonight?"

"Uh, I mean I guess so. I've got some readings to do tonight so I probably should get that done first." Rafe agrees, mindlessly scrolling on his phone.

"Woah-" Kelce laughs, "You're doing readings now? Since when do you care?"

"I don't. Not really. I mean, it might be nice to actually understand what's going on." Rafe shrugs, not pulling his eyes from the screen in front of him.

"I mean, yeah? I guess so." Kelce agrees, eyeing his friend skeptically.

"Did you know Ben has a sister?" Rafe says, catching his friend off guard.

"I mean, yeah, he's mentioned her once or twice."

"She's in our class. They're straight up twins, I didn't even know he had a sister until yesterday."

"Yeah because your head is always so far up your own ass." Kelce laughs. "To be fair I didn't know shit about her. Or that he had a twin. I figured she was his Sarah, like, probably hated her guts so I never bothered to ask her name or anything."

"Yeah... true. It's Grace, though, if you wanted to know." Rafe replies flatly, shoving his phone in his pocket and standing up, grabbing his bag as Kelce picks up the controller again. "Hey- do you think we could ask the team if we should invite the engineering kids this weekend? I've heard they party pretty hard."

"Yeah, we'll ask. Can't see why they'd say no to more people."

Rafe nods even though his friend can't see him, and stalks up the stairs and towards his room. He sees no harm in having just a quick nap before starting the readings.

taglist: @madelynie @slut4drudy (message me or reply to this to be added!)

[wri0thesley]

Nat. NAT. I just saw your concept about naoya "training" his wife by just throwing her in the room and just watching her struggle to defend herself... Until she ofc breaks and begs him to protect her🙈 you have a MASSIVE brain, the biggest and horniest brain nat can you please write this concept for the event😭😭 maybe w 45 and any other dark or spicy add ons that you see fit!

traditional discipline - naoya x fem!reader (3.3k)

naoya has had enough of you, and resorts to an unusual method of discipline.

warnings: not sfw/minors dni. DARK CONTENT. unhealthy relationship/marriage. fearplay, dacryphilia, finger-sucking, cock-sucking, punishment, threat of violence and death. dubious consent. afab reader with fem pronouns. 

[a/n: this concept literally wouldn’t leave me alone. i’m sorry to all of the readers who are naoya’s wife i’m always so horrible to them]

The room goes quiet as Naoya hauls you out of it by your upper arm.

It’s an easy mistake, a simple slip-up; accidentally talking over your husband. But it’s one in a slew you’ve been making recently, despite Naoya thinking that you were polite and well-bred and knew your place. He’s sick of it, to be quite frank; he doesn’t have time to be correcting you when you should already know how to behave.

You’ve done accidental, small things since the two of you were married. Denying him when he rolled you onto your back at night. Not standing quite as far behind him as you should. Pouring tea for other people before him. He’s given you swift reprimand with both his words and his hands, but . . . it’s clearly not sinking into your pretty little head, is it?

He warned you about this.

“Next time,” he’d growled to you, when you’d laughed too loud at a joke that one of his brothers had made and not laughed at one of his, “I’m going to teach you a real lesson.”

He tells you about the ‘training and discipline room’ on the Zenin estate later that night. A room that the family use for honing cursed techniques, both for practising and for learning purposes, when someone needs to be brought down a peg or two. It’s full of cursed spirits – all the way up to grade two, which makes your blood run cold.

Of course, you have cursed energy. You even have a careful little technique; one that would wrap your enemies up in vines, if you’d ever been allowed to train to use it for anything other than keeping your well-appointed garden neat and orderly. Naoya would not have married someone without either of those things, lest they not bear him fruitful children--

But you have never been allowed to use it for anything more.

The women of your clan are pretty decoration, with no need to learn anything other than how to behave and how to please their masters-and-husbands. You would be useless, thrown into the den of the wolves like that.

“Please don’t,” you’d said to him, your voice all soft and gentle, trying to be appeasing. “Please. I promise I’ll try harder.”

Naoya had taken your chin between thumb and forefinger, the grin across his face very sharp as his light eyes took in the pleading in your own gaze. You remember how the light had hit his earrings, the look of satisfaction at your begging and having you utterly and completely under his thumb.

“Be good,” he’d breathed, all slow and drawling. “And I won’t have to, will I?”

And he’d bid you to get on your knees for him and show you just how good you could be. Starting with your mouth.

So you know where he’s dragging you, down the labyrinthine halls of the estate. You try and pull back, feet sliding on the tatami mat, your voice pitching as you say;

“Naoya, please, I’m sorry--”

“Women should be seen and not heard,” he says to you. “Don’t make a fuss like that. You earned this.”

Your eyes are filling with tears, hot fear clawing its way up your throat.

“I’ll do anything,” you say to him, despite knowing that it’s a dangerous bargain to give him. He almost considers it for a moment, pausing – but then, his fingers just dig harder into the softness of your bicep (you’re going to bruise), and he tugs you.

“You’re making a scene,” he says. “If you don’t stop, I’ll leave you in there even longer.” You try to wrench your arm out of his grip, all of your self-defense mechanisms going into overdrive as you recognise the door he’s leading to you too. You’re breathless, so frightened you think that your heart might stop.

Naoya opens the door and pulls you in. You almost stumble at the flight of stairs, but he clicks his tongue at you in annoyance.

“So clumsy,” he drawls. “And here I was, under the impression I was marrying a graceful, lovely, credit to her family--” More steps, until he’s gotten you in the middle of the floor. He gazes around him, and you hear the low hum of a hundred cursed spirit’s voices murmuring the same things, over and over again. “The only time you’re a credit to them is with your legs spread.”

“Naoya,” you whimper, torn between pushing yourself into him for the comfort and protection that you know he can offer, or trying to tear away from him and escape the room yourself. You know the second option won’t work – he’s far faster, far stronger than you – but it’s hard to think of anything when you feel like your very survival is teetering impossibly over your head.

“If you run,” he says, still in that cold, uninterested drawl, “I’ll break one of your ankles.”

You don’t think he’s bluffing. Naoya says a lot of things, yes – but he’s also reckless and proud enough to mean them. You stand there, next to him, feeling yourself begin to tremble.

“W-why aren’t they attacking yet?” You ask him, voice very small. He looks at you pityingly.

“They’re afraid of me, obviously,” he says to you, very slowly, like he’s explaining it to somebody very stupid. “I didn’t get this good at everything by not training myself, darling.�� He lets go of you, finally, a whistle escaping his pursed mouth as he rocks on the balls of his feet. He’s supremely unconcerned by your fear. “When I’m gone, they’ll come out for you.”

Your eyes fill with tears.

“What am I supposed to do?” You ask him, desperation leaking into your cracked voice. “I can’t—I can’t protect myself--”

Naoya narrows his eyes.

“You should have thought about that before you were such a pain,” he replies. And, without further ado, he turns around and begins to ascend the stairs again. You turn with him, moving forward, stumbling in your haste and ending up sprawled at the bottom of the stairs with your hand pathetically fisted into the hem of his hakama.

He looks down at you with a disgusted sneer on his face, and you hate that even with that expression his features are still unmistakably handsome.

“Let go,” he says. “Have some dignity.”

“Please,” you repeat. You can feel a fat tear spilling from the corner of your eye down the curve of your cheeks. You know the ‘dignity’ statement is a dig; the fact that you’ve heard his family members calling your clan power-hungry undignified gold-digging whores, but you can’t bring yourself to care when you can see the beginning of shadows spilling out too far into the main floor of the room. “Naoya. Please.”

He kicks out at your wrist, face twisted in distaste, and you let go to avoid it being stood on and crushed under his strength. You cradle it against your chest, looking up at him still all desperate and afraid.

“If I helped,” he said to you, “you’d never learn your lesson.” He takes a step up and turns away completely from you, as if you’re nothing more than an ignored child on the street. “It will be good for you, beloved wife. Character-building.” You hear the smirk in his voice and you hate him.

You want to strangle him. You want to beg him to protect you. You want to tear him limb from limb, but you want him to let you bury your head in his chest as he dispels the spirits with ease. You want--

The door slams shut behind him. He’s too cheerful as he throws behind him;

“Good luck!”

And you are left alone.

It takes a moment before anything slithers out from the shadows, and you clap your hand over your mouth to stop yourself screaming. The first cursed spirit is a hunched over creature with the face of a Pierrot clown, mouth stretched impossibly wide with gaping black abyss where eyes ought to be. It’s whispering something over and over to itself, but the wide mouth is so crowded with teeth that it comes out as an incomprehensible noise, dripping drool as it begins to move horrifically slowly towards you.

Oh, God. You’re not supposed to look at them, are you? You dimly recall something about many sorcerers wearing glasses so the creatures can’t tell where their gazes are, but this one has already got the scent of you; those dark pits staring at your crumpled form.

Everything you’ve ever been told in passing about jujutsu and cursed spirits and cursed technique just seems to flow out of your mind to be replaced by mind-numbing fear. You’ve not been trained for this; when your clan had arranged your marriage with Naoya, you know that they’d expected fine silken kimonos and traditional food and you being a pretty trophy on the arm of the future leader of their clan. You know they’d be horrified if they saw what was happening.

More of them are melting from the shadows, the whispering and moaning reaching a terrifying crescendo. You’re trembling. Your heart is beating so fast inside of your chest you think it might break free of your ribcage and sputter out onto the floor.

The Pierrot monster is close enough that you can see the six hands it drags on the floor are all tipped with claws that are sharp as blades. You scramble up the stairs on your ass, too afraid to turn your back on the creatures. You realise you’re shouting, but it seems just as blurred as anything that the cursed spirits are saying. You’re crying, too – howling, whimpering, so scared you’re surprised any noise is able to come out at all.

You’re going to die.

It hits you with cruel certainty as you reach the top and throw your weight at the door, only for it to not give an inch. You scramble at the heavy wood, not caring about your careful manicure (Naoya wants you to be a credit to him, and that means manicures and facial treatments and a fancy bathroom full of soaps and creams that he expects you to use and that he slathers, too, on himself). You hear a nail break but you can’t bring yourself to worry about that when the Pierrot monster is dragging itself up the flight of stairs, one step at a time. It makes a hideous sliding thump, like it’s both wet and heavy – and you notice, too, the scent of blood invading your senses.

Your tear-blurred eyes can see all of the other monsters, too – not quite as close, but still too close for comfort. Too many eyes and not enough eyes, too many legs, claws and teeth and misshapen bones and blood leaking from holes. What are you supposed to do?

Naoya has left you here, alone, to teach you a lesson. You hadn’t realised the lesson would culminate in your death, but with all of the spirits so close to you, you cannot see any other way.

All of the fight goes out of you and you sag against the door, a broken sob escaping your lips. Your throat is dry from hoarse screaming.

You are going to die. You hope it will come quick; you hope the Pierrot monster will tear you limb from limb and you’ll die in instants from the shock. Your voice whispers Naoya’s name one last, hopeless time.

Will he find another wife? Will they even bother covering up your death, or will they spin some rumour or lie to your family and the whole of jujutsu society that you brought it upon yourself?

You would do anything to be rescued right now. You would crawl on your hands and knees behind Naoya for the rest of your life, refer to him only as ‘Master’, fulfil every single thing he ever asked you with no more than a meek nod of your head. Pull out your tongue so you couldn’t make any more mistakes.

But the time for pleading seems to have gone entirely, and you are useless and stupid and weak as you run out of tears, eyes burning. All you can do, you think, is wait for death.

The door swings open behind you and you’re dragged backwards, onto tatami, by powerful hands gripping your shoulders as it closes once more with a massive clunk that echoes in your ears--

And you find yourself strewn out on the floor, face caked with dried tear-tracks, a trembling, pathetic mess looking up at your husband’s face.

He leans against the door, listening to you scream. He can hear his name mixed in with sobs and screams and pleading; saying that you’ll do anything, you’re sorry, you’ll never disobey him again you’ll take any punishment he metes out with a smile on your face, if he just helps you. He hears you call yourself weak and pathetic and useless around the tears clogging your throat; he hears the thump of you hitting the door and the sound of your nails scratching down the wood, uncaring of anything other than getting away from them.

Yes, he thinks as he opens the door for you and you fall, shivering and sobbing, in front of him. Yes, he thinks you’ve learnt your lesson.

You’re so pretty, he thinks, closing it once more (he sees the cursed spirits begin to creep back to where they came from at the very sight of him, now their preferred victim is protected), with your eyes all glassy and wet. You’re extra pretty looking at him like he’s a conquering hero who’s saved you from certain death – which he supposes he is.

You cling to his arm, pulling yourself up, burying your face in his chest as your hands cling to him like you’ve been lost and he’s the first familiar thing you’ve seen in months. Your tears soak his kimono, but . . . he finds himself not really minding, as big, lean hands pet you gently on the back.

“It’s alright now,” he soothes you, murmuring low. “Your husband has you.”

“Please, please, ‘m so sorry--” You’re mumbling into him, whimpering, your shoulders shaking. “Please never m-make me, again--”

“Shhh,” he continues, gently beginning to move towards his chambers. You cling to him, adrift in a sea of your own fears. “It’s better now. You’ll be better now, won’t you?”

He receives a fierce nod for that, your fingers twisting into his clothing. It’s nice, having you so wrapped around him; seeing him as the strong protector that he knows he is but you needed reminding of. You’re still mewling little pleas into him even as he unlocks the door to his bedroom and gently pushes you in. Letting go of him even for a moment seems to cause you physical pain--

Good. You should feel like that. You should feel incomplete without him at your side. Naoya rewards you with a rare, soft smile.

“You know why you had to be punished like that, don’t you?” He purrs to you, petting your hair and carefully drawing back so he can look at your face. Your lips are all swollen from crying and biting; he thinks you’ve never looked quite so kissable as you do right now.

“Yes,” you nod, fiercely. “I’m sorry. I’ll do a-anything, I promise. I . . .” You swallow, your eyes filling with tears again. Naoya has been hard since the moment he heard you call out his name from inside the training room, your voice filled with choked tears, and watching them well up again does nothing for the stricture against the fabric. “I needed you.”

“And I saved you,” he says, arching an elegant brow – to which you nod again, and your hands drift towards him like you’re aimless without him in front of you to serve. “I’ll protect you, darling, as long as you learn your place.”

“I will!” That’s said with such conviction that he can’t help the smirk that tugs at the corner of his mouth. “I will. N-Naoya . . .” Your voice trembles a little. “’m willing to do anything for you. J-just please . . . not again.”

“Shh,” he reaches out and deigns to touch you, to gently and soothingly rub his thumb over your cheek, where the tears have dried. “If you’re really going to be so good for me, I won’t have to, will I?” You stumble forward onto your knees and Naoya’s brows shoot up in surprise as your hands tug at his hakama.

“Please let me show you how grateful I am,” you whisper, your eyes wide and bright and desperate. “Naoya, please, please, please--”

Oh, there’s something so gratifying about you like this, begging to suck his cock. It stirs between his thighs again, reminding him that he’s painfully stiff; and you are here, a willing mouth, scared out of your skull and desperate to please him. He’s smirking at you but you do not register it as such; all you see is the smile of your rescuer.

Your protector.

Your husband.

“Say what you want to do to me, darling,” he tells you, keeping his voice as sweet as he can make it. “You’re a big girl. You can use your words. What do you want to do, to show me how grateful you are that I saved your paltry life?”

You’re pouting; your mouth is sweet, pretty. He wants to pry your jaw open and fuck the back of your throat, and his body roars as your fingers tug on the hakama again and your meek, soft voice whispers;

“Please let me suck your cock.”

“You have a dirty mouth,” he coos to you, leaning forward to brush a finger over your lower lip. “Not befitting of a woman of your station. I suppose that means that it’s up to me to keep you quiet, hmm?”

You obediently open it, letting his finger gently rest on your tongue for a moment.

Desperate to please, your mouth closes about it, your tongue gently swiping over the pad, your cheeks hollowing a little as you suck on the digit inside of them. Naoya’s smiling again, the victorious grin of someone who’s gotten exactly what they wanted. He pulls his finger out and thrusts back in with two, whispering to you;

“Do you think you deserve my cock, after what you put me through today?”

You shake your head, but you don’t stop lavishing attention on the fingers in your mouth, a string of drool falling from the corner of your mouth as he presses his third finger inside of it. So warm, and wet. He needs his cock to be inside of you or he thinks he may embarrass himself.

The fingers are pulled out, wiped on the hakama fabric, before he says (the carefully adopted tone almost disinterested);

“Take them off, then. Don’t make your promises empty words. I wouldn’t appreciate such thoughtlessness in a wife.”

You’re eager, stripping off his clothes. Your mouth practically waters at the sight of his cock; elegant, flushed, hard and straining with a light upwards curve that he knows will hit you in the right place at the back of your throat to make you gag.

“Wait,” he says, as you lean in to bring him to your lips. “What do you say, darling?”

Your eyes (still brimming with tears, he notices – and fuck, he loves how you look teary-eyed and pouting. He has to make you cry more often) meet his, but the look in yours is worshipful so he doesn’t chide you for having the insolence to meet his gaze directly.

“Thank you,” you breathe. “For saving me. For letting me suck your cock. For everything.”

Naoya is smiling.

“Good girl,” he says, placidly, as you place a delicate kiss on the head of his cock and slowly envelope it in the warmth of your mouth. “Very good.”

[dollslayer]

Champagne Problems

Bartender!Bucky x Reader

Summary: When your ex-boyfriend makes a surprise appearance at your sister's wedding you find help from an unexpected source.

W/C: 4,642

Warnings: NO MINORS, Smut, oral sex (f receiving), unprotected sex, swearing, alcohol consumption

A/N: Hey! I know it's been a minute (sorry), I wrote this for @saiyanprincessswanie's writing challenge using the bartender au! If you like this please reblog and comment and check out my other fics!! Cheers!

Main Masterlist

You sighed internally before slapping on a smile for yet another group picture. Your bridesmaid dress was itchy and you already regretted spending the entire night in it, as the reception was just starting. But it was your sister’s day and you decided that if what she really wanted was for you to wear this itchy monstrosity to honor her wedding then damn it, you’d do it. So you leaned in close with the rest of the wedding party and posed some more.

When the photographer had finished with his photos you were ushered to the family table and wedged between your mother and your aunt. You mentally cursed your sister for seating you with them because they were going to spend the entire night trying to set you up with someone while simultaneously lamenting that you’d dumped your boyfriend of 4 years just a month earlier. Your mother wanted grandchildren so badly, you didn’t know why she couldn’t just settle to get them from your sister.

“Sweetheart, you and Steve were so good together though! Remember when he surprised you at Christmas with that puppy? I don’t know how you let a man like that go…” Your mom chided.

You grabbed the attention of a passing server and grabbed the champagne off their tray. If you were going to have this conversation again you needed liquid courage to do so. You downed it in three sips and your mom scoffed at you.

“Mom, we've been over this. I didn’t ask him to do that, we agreed we weren’t ready for a dog. Ugh, oh my god, anyways, we just didn’t work together. Sometimes things don’t work out, Mom. You’ll still get grandkids, just not from me.” You patted her on the shoulder but she just pursed her lips and looked past you to your aunt.

You wanted nothing more than to get wasted but you couldn’t do that to your sister. You wouldn’t get blackout drunk, but you were definitely getting drunk tonight. The reception was being held in a hotel and the wedding party had a block of rooms reserved so it’s not like you had to drive. You just had one thing to do before you did that.

The moment you’d been dreading had finally arrived, the toast. You held your freshly topped-off glass of champagne and brought your fork to it to get everyone’s attention. Someone handed you the mic and you hesitated before taking it and nervously cleared your throat.

By what you assumed could only be the grace of God you managed to deliver the perfect toast about finding the right person and soulmates and anything else you might find in a hallmark card with only minor stumbles. Everyone clapped and your brother-in-law wiped a stray tear and everyone finally dug into dinner. You just hoped that would mean your mother would be quiet about Steve for the next 20 minutes and then you could escape to the open bar.

____

You almost made it through dinner scott-free and sat back to watch your sister’s first dance. Just when you thought you were in the clear it was your aunt that threw a wrench in your plans. She was three glasses of wine deep and had that glassy look in her eye when she grabbed your elbow and pulled you closer. She spoke to you in a low voice while trying not to fumble her words.

“Listen kiddo, I know your mom is hard on you about Stevie but she just wants what’s best for you. What you two had… it was so good even I liked him! I don’t like anybody y’know that. So.. so why don’t you jus’ give ‘im another chance, make your mom happy? Couldn’t be that bad, could it? Maybe he’ll even… surprise you”

You mentally blocked out her words halfway through her speech, hoping neither of you would remember it by the end of the night. Right now you just had to get her to stop so you could get away from the table. You didn’t think you could take one more second of being shamed for leaving Steve.

You smiled sweetly and nodded in understanding towards her words.

“I know, Aunt Linda. I know. Sometimes things happen, I love mom but I’ll find someone else.”

With that you patted her on the shoulder and took off in search of the bar.

There were two bars and you wanted to go to the less crowded one. Looking around you had spotted it just past the dancefloor and made a beeline. Weaving through the now open dance floor and escaping the invitations to join your family you finally made it and leaned heavily against the countertop with a sigh.

“Rough night?” Your eyes follow the gruff yet amused voice and find that it belongs to a very handsome man with a defined jaw, clear blue eyes, and long hair that was tied back.

You smiled and rolled your eyes.

“You don’t know that half of it. Nothing like a wedding to remind you how single you are” You joked.

“Ah. Yeah, that’ll do it. That’s rough. You look like you need a drink, what can I get you?”

“Dealer’s choice. Just no vodka.” You requested.

He smirked and nodded, perusing the lines of bottles that were in front of him. He bit his lip as he concentrated on what to make and you tried not to stare. You watched him get to work on your drink and couldn’t help but notice the way you could see his muscles move underneath his dress shirt.

He turned back around and proudly presented you with something fizzy in a highball glass.

“My own concoction, I even used the non-watered down liquor. Just for you” He says with a wink.

You try your best to hide your shy smile and accept the drink.

“Thank you, how sweet of you.” You tell him.

“It’s nothin’. So how’s a gal like you single? If you don’t mind my asking. Seems pretty impossible to me.”

You're caught somewhere between flattery and embarrassment and just hope it doesn't show on your face. You take a long sip of your drink and gear up to answer him.

“Well, I just got out of a 4 year relationship, actually. He’s really sweet but he always had a tendency to steamroll my needs and just do whatever he was going to do. Eventually that shit adds up.” You sigh.

“Like for example - last year we had talked about getting a dog and I said I wasn’t ready, we’re just both way too busy and then on Christmas day he shows up with this puppy! And then I’m the villain for telling him no! The puppy ended up going to a good home but he did stuff like that all the time. It just became too much. Anyways now my mom won’t get off my ass about leaving him.” You shook your head.

“A puppy? Wow, that’s… intense. That’s a lot, I’m sorry. You finish that drink and I’ll pour us both a shot” He laughed.

You nodded in agreement and downed the rest of the cocktail. He held up two shot glasses and extended one to you.

“A toast, to… wait. I don’t even know your name!”

His shoulders shook as he laughed and he answered you.

“I’m James but you can call me Bucky” You made a face at that.

“What kinda name is Bucky?” You asked before giving him your own name.

“Whatever, I’ve got two shots of tequila, you want one or not?” How could you say no?

“A toast,” You continued, “To you and your weird name, Bucky.”

He laughed and you clinked your glasses together, then against the counter before downing them in one go. You tried your best not to make a face and looked up at Bucky to find him extending you the lime chaser, which you took gratefully.

“Hoo… I could use like, 3 more of those to get through tonight. So, how’d you get into bartending?”

“I needed somethin’ to put me through school and I figured this beats stripping. Though, with some of the customers we get sometimes I’m not so sure”

You laughed at that and Bucky went on to tell you anecdotes of all the crazy people he’s had to serve, disastrous weddings, and the time he got a lapdance from the bride herself. You hadn’t even realized how much time had passed but you were enjoying talking to him, forgetting your mission to be drunk.

The two of you kept swapping stories and were getting to know each other a bit more. He let you vent about Steve and just listened, it was refreshing to talk to someone and not be told what it is that you should be wanting. When you pictured the night you didn’t picture yourself confiding in the bartender tonight but if you were honest you were enjoying yourself. It beat awkwardly dancing with your family and enduring more disappointed remarks from your family.

You had hoped you could hide out at the bar and spend the entire night unscathed when the double doors to the ballroom opened. Your heartbeat in your ears as time slowed down around you as a blond head of hair made its way through the archway. Your laughter died in your throat when Baby blue eyes found you across the room and you froze like a deer in headlights. No. Nononononono this isn’t happening.

Time has somehow come to a halt while simultaneously hurtling forward since you can’t get yourself unstuck from this moment yet fail to realize that Steve is now standing right in front of you. His hair is swept back perfectly and he flashes you that million dollar smile of his that shows off his dimples perfectly. You scold yourself for checking him out but damn did he always clean up nice.

“Hey, sweetheart” he says shyly, as if he’s not crashing your sister’s wedding to get with you.

“What…? What are you doing… here?” You ask quietly, trying to avoid a scene.

Before he can answer you your mom comes up behind Steve and squeezes his shoulders tight, all with a big, bright smile on her face. Of course. How did I not see this coming?

“You made it!” She exclaimed as she leaned up to kiss his cheek.

“Of course, sorry to have missed the ceremony but there’s still plenty to celebrate, right?” He asked with his signature boyish smirk.

Shock was still in full effect on your features as you stood stock still. But that shock was soon giving way to anger as you slowly pieced together everything that was happening. Your mom had brought back Steve to try and get you back together and Steve was steamrolling you again.

“I… I, can’t. I can’t-” You started

“Sweetheart, how many of those have you had? You need some water.” Steve motions to the drink in your hand and you feel the anger running through your veins about to take over. You have to move this out of the room. Now.

“Why don’t we move this to the hall?” You suggested quietly.

You didn’t give him a chance to respond before you started moving towards the exit but you did spare one last panicked glance towards Bucky. He looked confused and his brows were quirked in a way that made him look upset, almost. You sent him a pleading look before turning back around and preparing yourself to deal with this shitshow that had slowly unfolded before you.

Breathe in. Hold. Breathe out. Hold. You got this. Your hand begins to push the door open when Steve’s much larger one covers yours and gets the job done. An action that you once would’ve thought was sweet, one that you would’ve made you swoon, even, is currently pissing you off.

You two made your way to the hallway and you looked around before you started in on him.

“Okay, what the hell, Rogers? Crashing my sister’s wedding? Really?! I don’t give a shit if my mom put you up to this I-”

“Sweetheart, please. She thought you might be having second thoughts and maybe us seeing each other would… patch things up. We just want what’s best for you, sweetheart” Steve attempted to console you, reaching out to try and rub your arm but you pulled back.

“No! I am so sick of you running me over! You never listened to me or what I had to say and this is exactly why I broke up with you, Steve! You’re being so fucki-”

“Hey, babe, everything okay out here?” Bucky’s voice surprised you but not as much as his lips pressing a kiss into your hair and his arms wrapping around your waist.

You had to crane your neck to look back and up at him. It took all of two seconds for you to piece together what you’d hoped was the truth. Bucky raised his eyebrows at you as if to say “come on” and in all your desperation you went with it. You supposed that his formal uniform made him pass for a regular guest.

“I, ah, yeah, yes. Steve here was just leaving, right?” You asked him.

Steve raised his eyebrows in a stunned expression, mouth slightly open in disbelief. His hand reached out towards your shoulder but Bucky pulled you back gently.

“Doll, are you serious? Who even is this guy? Does your mom know about this?”

“No, she doesn’t. It’s… new…” You told him.

“Right,” Bucky cuts in, “It’s new so we weren’t telling anyone just yet but she figured I should at least be here for the reception”

“Seriously?” Steve scoffs, “Man bun? What does he have that I don’t? C’mon, you know what you and I have is real.”

“What you and I have is over, Steve. You never listened to me, always pushed me further than I was ready for. We’re done, it’s over. I’m sorry for whatever Mom told you”

Steve took a harsh breath inwards and you watched him try to decide whether he should walk away or blow up. Based off of the veins popping in his forehead, he was opting to blow up.

“Listen, I don’t know what you’re up to but-”

“She said it’s over, punk. Move along” Bucky cut in. He took a protective step in front of you and pushed his shoulders back, squaring up to Steve. Steve seethed quietly and you two exchanged very tense glances.

“I’m telling your mother about this. I doubt she’ll be happy to hear you brought some random person to your sister’s wedding.” Steve spat.

He walked past the two of you and bumped shoulders harshly with Bucky. Bucky’s jaw tensed and his grip on your waist tightened but he didn’t retaliate. Instead he took a step back to get a proper look at you.

“You okay?”

“Why did you do that? You didn’t have to.”

“I know, but you looked like you could really use the help.”

“Well… thank you. I appreciate it, more than you know. I don’t know what would’ve happened if you weren’t there.” You laughed to yourself a little and added, “We’re not even together 5 minutes and you already have all my emotional baggage”

Bucky laughed at that and shook his head.

“Don’t worry ‘bout it. I’ve got some crazy exes too. So what now? You going back in?”

You became a little flustered at that but moved past it with a sheepish grin.

“No,” You shook your head, “I think it’s best for everyone if I just go up to my room and avoid a whole scene.”

“Well at least let me walk you up. I wouldn’t put it past that creep to follow you.”

“What about the bar?”

“We’re overstaffed and the party’s winding down anyways. They’ll get on without me”

“Alright then” You accepted and started off towards the elevators.

You two were standing in the elevator waiting for the doors to close when you spotted the doors to the ballroom open. Your mother was looking around, her face a picture of anger. Lucky for you the doors closed before she could look in your direction and you let out a sigh of relief.

“You know as far as fake boyfriends go I’d say you’re pretty good”

“Just good? C’mon I had that guy on the ropes.”

“Yeah alright,” You relented with a grin.

You exited the elevator car and made your way down the hallway until finally you reached your door. You fished your keycard out of your wallet and turned to Bucky.

“Hey… do you wanna… maybe come in? Hang out? I know you’ve got work but if you’re overstaffed maybe…” You trailed off. There was a beat of silence and you felt regret instantly, thinking you’ve asked too much of him. “Y’know what nevermind, you don’t have to, I’m sorry I-”

“I’d love to hang out with you, if you’re okay with that. Plus it’s probably better I wait to get back until the wedding’s over. Can’t really show my face as your boyfriend and then get back behind the bar, can I?” He said with a soft smile.

“Suppose you’re right,” You swiped the card and cracked open the door.

You stepped inside and felt like you could finally breathe again. You kicked off your heels and went to turn on the lights. You reached back to get the zipper of your dress but couldn’t quite get there.

“Will you get my zipper?” You asked Bucky. He nodded and came closer to you.

You could feel his warmth radiating from him when he was this close. Your nostrils filled with the heady scent of his aftershave. He smells so good. He unzipped you halfway and left the rest for you.

You thanked him and grabbed your change of clothes and headed to the bathroom. Relieved to finally be free of the itchy monstrosity of a bridesmaids dress you sighed and put on a tank top and pair of shorts. You realized the tank top showed a little more of your cleavage than intended but you shrugged it off and exited the bathroom.

Bucky’s eyes landed on you and he took a sharp breath in but tried to play it cool. It half worked, you caught him staring a little bit and giggled to yourself. When you looked at him again he was undoing his tie and the first two buttons of his shirt. Wonder what he’d look like if he unbuttoned just a few more… You stopped yourself in that line of thinking and joined him on the couch.

“I think your phone’s gonna zap itself into an early grave with the way it’s been going off” Bucky said as he pointed to your phone on the table.

You picked it up to find you had several missed calls from your mother, one from Steve, and one very long text message from him that was already inducing a headache. You opened it, forgetting you had read receipts on. Oops. You weren’t going to read this now in front of Bucky, so you shut it off and put it aside.

“So how are you feelin’?” He asked.

“Better now that I’m out that damned dress. As for my family, they'll get over themselves. I don’t know why who I’m dating is such a big deal to them anyways.”

“You do look more comfy now that you’ve changed. If you don’t mind me sayin’ you’re just as gorgeous now as you were all dolled up”

You felt heat flood your cheeks instantly and eked out a thank you. You and Bucky talked for an hour more or so and in that time you’d found yourself nodding off with your head on his chest. On instinct he brought your whole body closer to him and put his arm around you. If you were less sleepy you’d be embarrassed but right now you didn’t care.

Bucky had moved slightly and inadvertently jolted you awake. You shot up and realized that you’d cuddled your way into Bucky’s side and now the embarrassment was catching up with you. You instantly scooted back to give him some space.

“Sorry, I uh, didn’t mean to cuddle you” You said while avoiding his gaze.

You felt a hand on your thigh and finally looked up to find him smirking at you.

“I didn’t mind it. It’s getting late though, I should get back.”

You were slightly disappointed but nodded your head. You rose and followed him to the door. He went for the handle but turned around when you grabbed his hand. He stepped away from the door and was in your personal space. You looked up at him with a shaky breath.

“Thank you, again, for what you did. It was really sweet of you.” He smiled down at you and brought one hand to your face. Oh God, I didn’t prepare for this. Your heart was beating just a little harder as you looked into his clear blue eyes.

“For you? Anytime. I had a really fun time with you tonight.”

“Me too.”

With that his other hand came up to cup your face and he kissed you sweetly. It wasn’t until you kissed him back that he pulled away.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to, I don’t wanna make you uncomf-”

You grabbed him by the shirt collar and brought him in for another kiss. This time more demanding but just as sweet. He let out a small moan and you swear you could’ve melted. His tongue explored your mouth while his hands moved their way down your body and brought you even closer to him. You could feel that he was hard and it only made you want him more.

Without breaking the kiss you started to move backwards towards the bed until finally you were just at the edge of it. You broke apart for air and searched his eyes only to find his pupils blown wide in lust. You cupped him through his pants and he groaned. He was big. Maybe even bigger than Steve.

“We don’t have to do anythin’ you don’t want to do,” He breathed out. You shook your head and kissed him again.

“I want you, I’m sure.” You panted out.

“I don’t have a condom”

“Doesn’ matter, I’m on the pill” You told him. With that his hands were up your tank top and you’d helped him to remove it. He worked on his shirt next and while he fumbled with the buttons you took off the rest of your clothing.

Bucky was every bit as devastating as you’d thought he’d be and you let out a genuine sigh. His toned muscles rippled throughout his arms and torso and you watched him remove his boxers and you’re not entirely sure your jaw hadn’t dropped. He noticed you gawking and chuckled as he leaned down to join you on the bed.

“See somethin’ you like?”

He didn’t give you the chance to answer though, he pushed you backwards onto the bed and kissed you again, this time trailing his kisses all the way down your body. He stopped and took his time to admire each of your breasts, licking and biting your nipples. You’d gasped in surprise and pleasure. He moved his way down finally to your pussy and looked up at you.

“Can I? You could only nod and let out a shaky breath as you sat up on your elbows and watched him get to work. He kissed and caressed your thighs until finally his fingers were prodding at your entrance. He groaned at how wet you were and pushed two fingers in. You let out an obscene moan and your hands went into his locks. His tongue lapped at your clit before he sucked on it, all the while pumping his fingers in and out of you in search of your G-spot.

You’d pulled his hair out of his bun and guided his tongue where he needed to be. Finally getting the right angle you were whimpering in pleasure, back arched almost to a point of pain. He’d finally found the spot he’d been looking for and your eyes shut closed in pleasure.

“Please,” you begged, “Please don’t stop I’m so close”

You pushed his head harder against you and his fingers sped up. It was only a matter of moments until your toes were curling in pleasure and you writhed on the bed in the aftershock of your orgasm. Bucky continued to lap away at you until you pushed him off. He came back up to eye level with you and had a wolfish grin.

“Who knew you’d make such noises? God it was so hot”

You pulled him in for another kiss and reached down to grab his cock. You pumped it a few times before you moved down to return the favor when he stopped you. You looked up at him with brows pinched in concern.

“Don’ worry about me, I just wanna feel you”

He moved you beneath him and you spread your legs apart for him. You were still sensitive in your post-high when his tip brushed your clit but you didn’t mind the bolt of pleasure. He aligned himself with your entrance and looked you in the eye as he pushed all the way inside of you slowly. You let out an involuntary moan, trying to accommodate his full length.

“You good?” He asked.

“I’m good, you’re just...big” He smirked at that.

“Can I move or do you need a second?”

“No, you can move, please move.”

One hand on your hip and the other on your breast he started thrusting in and out of you at a steady pace. You swore you could feel every bump and ridge of him with every inch he put into you. His pace picked up and he kissed the column of your neck, finding the one spot that drove you crazy. Your small mewls turned to full moans and he began fucking you harder.

“‘M not gonna last much longer” He told you. You didn’t say anything in response, just brought him in for another kiss and grabbed a handful of his ass to push him further inside you. He chuckled at that and took the hint.

He was going the hardest he had so far and you were holding on for dear life and loving every minute of it. His panting breaths were heavy in your ears and you reached down to toy with your clit so you’d cum together. His thrusts were getting a little sloppier and your hand moved faster, quickly approaching both your peaks. He let out an almost pornographic moan as he came, He fucked you through his orgasm and not a moment later you came for a second time. Your bodies melded together as you rode out the last waves of each other’s orgasms.

Finally Bucky stopped and held himself with one hand, trying to catch his breath. You were slightly dazed, trying to compute how your night had ended up like this. Bucky rolled over onto the bed and you felt the mess between your thighs. You looked over to him with a hazy smile.

“So, I know we’re doin’ things a little backwards here but, maybe I could take you out some time? If you want?”

Your smile grew even wider and your heart felt so light in this moment.

“I’d like that”

You didn’t know what tomorrow would hold or how to even begin cleaning up the mess with your family. You’d deal with it all in the morning, for now you’d just bask in the afterglow with your fake boyfriend and be grateful for chance meetings.

[ameliora-j]

before i fell // dm x reader

words: 2.8k

warnings: angst, talk of a breakup, mention of loss of virginity, mention of not eating, mention of not sleeping, pansy is kinda ooc and so is draco, the slytherins are assholes

a/n: i used a lot of olivia rodrigo lyrics bc i listened to SOUR while writing lol. lmk if i should add other warnings and happy reading babies!

you would be cliche and say that you fell in love the way that you fall asleep. slowly and then all at once. but you couldn’t because you didn’t. it wasn’t a john green novel and you weren’t hazel grace lancaster. falling in love wasn’t simple, and that description of it truly… didn’t describe anything. falling in love was more complicated than that. there were more layers to it than that. falling in love was rather… quick and unexpected. unexpected like snow in the middle of march. or rain when there’s not a cloud in sight. quick like waiting months for an event and finally when the time comes, it feels like you blinked and then it was over.

falling in love with draco malfoy was all of these things and more. falling in love with draco malfoy brought upon more layers than that. falling in love with draco malfoy brought pain. not just any kind of pain, no… horrible, heart wrenching, gut twisting pain. pain that began by bubbling itself in your chest right at the center of your heart, then slowly but surely worked it’s way outwards. encapsulating your entire body and making every inch of your body ache. pain like when you get attached to a character and the author kills them off. pain like when you finish your favorite book and you realize that you’re not truly in that universe and none of that actually happened. pain like when you’re two hours, fifteen minutes, and twelve seconds into avengers: infinity war and peter parker says “mr. stark, i don’t feel so good.” pain that you’ve never felt. pain that can’t be described. pain that you felt for days. pain.

you thought it was strange when the platinum blonde slytherin sought you out. he came to you one day while you sat silently at the black lake. you were alone, but only because you liked to be. you had friends of course, many actually, but you chose to be alone. the black lake was your place of solace. then along came draco. he sat beside you, a good distance away, but his presence was known. you looked to him for an explanation but he offered none. just smiled at you and turned to his notes, so you did the same. the second time he came, he sat closer, but still in silence. the third time is when he struck up conversation.

“yln, yeah?” he questioned.

“yn, actually. but yes, yn yln. and you’re draco malfoy?” you asked.

“i am,” he smirked at your knowledge of his name and then you returned to your studying. after that, the two of you talked every time he came and sat with you. short discussions about the weather or the potions assignment. you don’t know when, but soon they became longer. discussions of your day and your family. your interests and how you got your name. how you loved the rain and the stars and how you loved hogwarts, but you often missed home. draco knew you inside and out and you knew him—and before long, you called the tall, skinny blonde your boyfriend.

you walked the halls of hogwarts together, hand in hand. draco walked haughtily with a hard scowl and you with a bright smile. while you walked cheerfully and waved to your friends and to first years while draco glared at anyone who dared look at the two of you. he took you to parties in the slytherin common room and you wore his jersey proudly at quidditch games, even when he played against your house. he bought you lavish gifts at all of your trips to hogsmeade and he showered you in kisses, praise, and affection. you were whole heartedly smitten with the sole heir to the malfoy fortune.

it was one fateful day in the common room when your heart absolutely exploded. that was the day you knew that you fell in love with draco malfoy. you had been a thing for about two, going on three, months. you were sitting in the slytherin common room, reading in silence when he asked. you were pressed against his chest and he pressed a soft kiss to your head. “‘ve been meaning to ask you something,” he murmured gently. this caused you to close the book and turn your full attention to him. “want you to wear this,” he said, holding out a ring. “it’s the malfoy family crest.”

your stomach and your heart exploded into billions of butterflies and you launched yourself forward, straight into his chest. millions of emotions overcame you as you squeezed his neck as tight as possible. you nodded into his neck as a few stray tears fell. he kissed your head repeatedly as he slid the ring onto your finger before pressing his lips to your’s gently. you giggled excitedly as you stared down at the ring on your finger. “do you like it?” he asked you.

“i love it, dray. i love you. thank you s’much,” you confessed for the first time as you cuddled back into his chest. you don’t know what it was that made the blonde boy seek you out, but you’re glad he did. if only you knew the true nature of his intentions. but alas, you were oblivious.

it was the beginning of the school year, on the train to hogwarts. in the compartment of what was labeled as “the slytherin squad.” there sat theo nott, pansy parkinson, blaise zabini, and—your now boyfriend—draco malfoy.

they were all sitting around, taking the piss out of draco for all of his past failed relationships when it was brought up. “i’ll bet malfoy couldn’t get a girl to fall in love with him if he paid her,” theo spoke.

“i’ll take that bet,” draco countered.

“alright. but we get to pick the girl,” blaise decided.

“what?” pansy asked as theo began to look around the compartment. it was a few minutes before he found the victim. it was then that your fate was sealed. there, sitting in the back corner, head tucked deep into a copy of the fault in our stars, was you. you. awkward and quiet. you with seemingly no friends. poor little unsuspecting you.

“that one,” nott smirked evilly.

“what the weirdo?!” draco exclaimed incredulously. “no way!”

“so then you forfeit?” blaise asked, causing draco to release a frustrated exhale.

“alright i’ll do it,” he rolled his eyes.

“then we give you five months. make yn yln fall in love with you in five months and we’ll do your homework for the rest of the year,” theo posed.

“and if i don’t?” draco asked.

“and when you don’t… thennn,” blaise taunted as he searched for a deal that was fair.

“then we get two hundred galleons each and you have to apologize to potter for making his life hell,” theo smirked. draco scoffed at this and rolled his eyes, but nodded nonetheless.

“and what are my conditions?” he raised an eyebrow.

“she has to say it first. you can do anything you want or need to get her to say it, but you cannot say ‘i love you’ first,” blaise spoke.

“this doesn’t seem fair to yn,” pansy piped in.

“shut your mouth parkinson. no one asked your opinion,” theo growled with a roll of his eyes. but it was too late. there was absolutely nothing the girl could do to get the three to change their minds. she just had to sit idly by and watch draco malfoy break your heart as she said nothing. she wished that she could stop it, but their minds were made up. and the three of them were very stubborn.

it was a few days after draco gave you his ring when your bubble came crashing down. you were walking to meet draco at your spot at the black lake when blaise and theo intercepted you. you knew who they were, of course you did. they were your boyfriend’s best friends, however why they were currently speaking to you, you had no idea.

they told you it would be quick. that they just wanted to show you something in the slytherin common room and left little room for argument, so you had no choice but to follow them there. they sat you on the couch and began to discuss your relationship with draco. you were very confused and had no idea why you were here. “so… draco hasn’t told you?” blaise mocked a gasp of shock.

“no?” you raised a soft eyebrow as you stared on. this made theo smirk evilly as he pulled up a projector and pointed his wand at it. a picture appeared, it looked like a memory. “what’s this?” you asked before the boys urged you to ‘shh.’ you sunk further into the couch as you idly watched on.

you truly weren’t paying attention untill you heard the voice of your boyfriend. the words he spoke stung. you were soft. emotional. the way he spoke about you absolutely crushed you. it would crush anyone, but it shattered you especially. “she’s so fucking weird!” “i’ll take that bet.”

‘s all you were. all you ever were. just a stupid belt. another notch in his belt. it was that moment that draco had barged into the common room. but by then, it was already too late. the tears had already sprung to your eyes and you were preparing for a torrential downpour as you heard his voice. “i’m out!” he announced breathlessly. he froze in his run as his eyes fell on you and what was playing on the projector currently. “bunny…” he whispered softly as his hand touched your shoulder, but you quickly jerked away as if his hand had burned you on contact.

“don’t call me that. don’t touch me,” you demanded as the tears began to fall. “that’s all i was? a bet?” an involuntary whimper sounded from the depths of your throat. “i feel so stupid.” you shook your head.

“no, bunny please listen to me,” you didn’t allow the boy to finish as you wrapped your arms tightly around yourself.

“don’t call me that!” you demanded. “in fact don’t call me at all. don’t… don’t talk to me draco. ever again. i can’t believe i fell for your stupid joke. i feel so… i feel like an idiot,” you spoke. you shook your head, hastily wiping at your eyes untill you saw stars. it was then that you decided to walk away.

“YN STOP!” draco yelled. “LISTEN to me,” he demanded.

“NO!” you shouted as you turned to face him finally. “godric draco, i wish you would’ve thought this through before i went and fell in love with you,” you sniffled as you wiped your snot on your sweater sleeve.

“yn please just let me explain. please listen to me, please,” he begged.

“i feel like you betrayed me,” you shook your head. “i told you everything. you were my everything. draco i loved you. i actually loved you. i thought you loved me too but i guess you’re just a really good actor,” you sniffled once more. “i hate you draco. i really fucking hate you. i don’t want to hear your bullshit explanation because i know that you’ll never feel sorry for the way i’m hurting right now.”

“it was a bet!” draco shouted as you walked away, hand on the door knob. you scoffed as you muttered a sarcastic, ‘no shit.’ “that’s how it started yes, but then i got to know you. i figured out who you were. i learned that your favorite color is yfc and that you prefer night over day because you love the stars and that your favorite star is scorpius and you would name your son after that star one day. i learned that you love to read and you love when it storms but you're afraid of the thunder. you only dance when you’re drunk and you giggle when you’re nervous and i love that giggle. with everything in me i do. your favorite book is yfb and you choose to be alone but you let everyone be your friend. you’re gorgeous. inside and out and while it may have started as a bet, somewhere along the lines i fell in love with you so yn please. please don’t leave,” he whispered the last part as his voice came out broken.

you took a deep breath in before you began to speak. “you couldn’t have cared less about someone who loved you more. i’d say you broke my heart but you broke much more than that,” you shook your head as you furiously wiped at your eyes again. “i gave you my all draco. you were my first everything. i gave you my virginity for merlin’s sake. all to find out that i was just some stupid bet,” you scoffed.

“yn please believe me when i say that you’re so much more than that,” he begged again. “i came to tell them that they won. that i wanted out because i fell in love with you too!”

“it doesn’t matter if you don’t see me as a bet any longer. the fact is that you did. i’m worth so so much more than that.” your breaths were ragged as you spoke. “i really wish that you had thought this through before i went and fell in love with you.” you repeated with a small sniffle. “don’t you think i loved you too much to be used and discarded? don’t you think i loved you too much to think i deserve nothing?” you were openly sobbing at this point.

“yn please believe me when i tell you how sorry i am…” he spoke softly.

“don’t tell me you’re sorry. feel sorry for yourself. because someday i’ll be everything to somebody else,” with this you turned away from him. you hastily opened the door and practically ran out of the common room and away from him.

at that moment you decided to forget about it. draco, and the bet, and love, and everything. like in the vampire diaries, you decided to turn your emotions off. you laid in your dorm crying for hours before you made that decision, however. your dorm mates checked on you often, but you never offered more than merely a half hearted shrug, letting them know that you were still alive, but barely breathing. you skipped classes and meals. you were a mere shell of yourself. it was about two weeks before you could face draco again. and even then you couldn’t truly. you went into the great hall and found “the slytherin squad” sans draco.

pansy looked at you sympathetically while theo and blaise basked in the glow of their new victory. you pulled the ring off carelessly as you stopped in front of them, hair disheveled and uniform askew. you had dark bags under your eyes from the lack of sleep you’d gotten in the past fourteen days and your eyes were rimmed red with the weight of your emotions. “c’you just give this back to malfoy,” you murmured half-heartedly as you dropped the ring on the table in front of the three. just speaking his name brought you pain.

your shoulders were sunken in defeat and you were but a shell of your usual cheerful self. you don’t even know when the last time you saw daylight or had fresh air was. “wait yln,” pansy called hesitantly. you turned to face her, still staring down at your mary janes as you pulled and twisted your fingers untill you heard your knuckles pop. “you… you really love him, don’t you?”

you just shrugged your right shoulder as you used the heel of your palm to wipe the snot from your rapidly reddening nose. “i was just some stupid bet,” you replied as tears begin to spill rapidly over your waterline.

“if it’s any consolation… it was those two bozos’ idea,” pansy told you as she pointed to blaise and theo.

“doesn’t matter,” you murmured. “he’s still a traitor,” you answered as you walked away, forgetting all about the slytherin prince and his stupid friends. forgetting all about how he hit you with a train of his “love.” forgetting all about how for three months he was your everything. forgetting all about how he wrote to his mum about you and you wrote to your parents about him. forgetting all about draco malfoy. the platinum blonde boy with stormy grey eyes who had a long story buried beneath his haughty exterior. the boy who you called your first. your first kiss. your first time. your first love. forgetting all about the boy that made you fall in love just to tell you it was all a bet.

attempting to revert back to how you were before you fell.

add yourself to my taglist :)

nani’s 100 followers celebration

taglist: @hellounicorn @mollysolo @i-love-scott-mccall @veela-essence

[realcube]

haikyuu!! boys when you come out to them as bisexual  🏳️‍🌈

characters: yamaguchi, tsukishima & kenma

part two!!

tw// fem!reader, fluff, coming out, 

Tadashi Yamaguchi

ok so hot-take but i think yamaguchi is straight

(or maybe bi but with a heavy preference for females)

but rn he identifies as straight 

but like..he’s so supportive of the lgbtq+ community

like tsukishima gives off ‘gay but homophobic’ energy

but yamaguchi has ‘straight but a strong ally’ energy

and this is hugely bc while tsukishima fell down the alt-right pipeline, yamaguchi was going through that ‘women 😍����💕’  phase which i think every WLW has went through at one point

like while tsukishima was watching ‘sjw get rekt compliation #125′ , yamaguchi was watching those heart-wrenching lgbtq+ short films on youtube 

and on tiktok his fyp was probably originally cottagecore (bc it’s his ideal lifestyle ofc) and somehow he is now kinda on sapphic cottagecore tiktok 

like not to fetishize them or anything, just bc he’s awed by how in love they are and that’s kinda what he wants for himself

(also he uses them as date inspo for you and him DFBZVAYUL)

anyway this was just my lengthened explanation as to why - unbeknownst to you or anyone - he was an ally to the lgbtq+ community (if not apart of it)

you didn’t really expect him to be disgusted or unsupportive of it tbh - i mean, it’s tadashi ffs! 💞 you know he’d never break up with you or judge you for something like that, but that didn’t stop you from being slightly nervous

but he was ten times more nervous when you texted him, asking for him to meet you by the local park’s fountain bc you had something important to tell him

mans thought you were dying ngl

he almost burst out crying on the walk to the park bc he imagined a whole scenario where he was sitting next to your fkn death-bed 

but you seemed healthy enough so his next assumption was that you were going to break-up with him

so when he approached you by the water fountain and you noticed that his eyes were glossy and his hair was damp with sweat, you were quite worried for him now

‘tadashi! are you okay?! your eyes are all puffy and red! do you have hay fever?’

yamaguchi rapidly shook his head, hastily escorting you to a nearby park bench so you could sit down beside him, ‘it’s nothing; what is it that you want to tell me?’

‘oh’ you choked, quickly averting your gaze from his kind, damp eyes. ‘it’s- um, i don’t-’ you cut yourself off, mentally cursing at yourself as you had practised what you were going to say to him hundreds of times before he arrived yet you still couldn’t stammer it out

yamaguchi was hanging on each word you uttered, but once he noticed that you were struggling, he placed his hands upon yours and shot you a reassuring smile

you let out a sigh in hopes to relieve your nerves while rehearsing what you were gonna say one more time in your head before blurting it out,

‘babe, erm, i’ve been questioning for a while and i’ve concluded that i’m bi - as in bisexual; and i just thought i’d tell you bec--’

you genuinely thought that you might have to explain to yamaguchi what bisexual means so IMAGINE your surprise when he simply replies, ‘you’re bisexual? is that all you wanted to tell me?’ and once you hum in agreement, he lets out a heave of euphoric relief

‘(y/n), please don’t make fun of me but on the way here, i was almost gonna cry because i thought you were going to tell me something horrible.’ he clutched his chest, breathing heavily - usually he’d never admit to something like that but right now, he felt that it was appropriate

you snickered at his rather exaggerated actions, ‘awh, baby. i’m sorry.’ a pout formed on your lips as you soothingly rubbed his back.

yamaguchi rapidly shook his head before turning the tables and rubbing your back instead, ‘nonono, it’s fine! i’m fine!- and i’m glad you’re fine too.’ he stumbled, hastily placing a kiss on your cheek before whispering in your ear, ‘i’m so proud of you. congratulations!’

although you couldn’t see his face, you could tell from his light voice that he was beaming 

after that, he buried his nose into the crook of you neck and snaked his arms around your waist to pull you into a hug, which you both stayed in for a good 5 minutes

Kei Tsukishima

let’s be honest, tsukki’s definitely part of the lgbtq+ community but in deep denial

like if you ask him, he’s not even questioning his gender or sexuality, he’s just ✨straight ✨

so when you just randomly joked one day ‘oi, four-eyes, turn this shit off. she’s too much for my lil’ bi heart to handle.’ while y’all were watching a movie and you instinctively made an off-hand comment about how gorgeous the female lead was 

upon realising what you just said, you turned to him with the most awkward grin plastered on your face, ‘tsukki, i’m bisexual, by the way.’

‘no shit, sherlock.’ he hissed at your use of that little nickname 

you turned your head to look at him as you blinked rapidly, finally  mentally processing his response 

while he did the exact same thing simultaneously, dramatically turning his head to meet your gaze before muttering, ‘was that you coming out?’

your eyes widened as you realised, then nodded slowly

tsukishima smirked, shifting his attention back onto the movie, ‘congrats.’ he spoke in a mellow voice, a slight sense of amiability laced into his tone 

‘thanks-’

‘have you told your parents yet?’ he quirked a brow, his eyes remaining glued to the screen

you hesitated before shaking your head, ‘no.’ 

‘what about your friends?’

‘yeah, i came out to my friend group a few months ago - along with yamaguchi.’

tsukishima couldn’t help but frown at the fact you came out to yamaguchi before him but honestly, he couldn’t blame you - he was aware that his bitchy exterior probably discouraged you from telling him sooner, so he was just glad that you had the confidence to tell him eventually  

‘so how long have you known that you’re, like, y’know, bi?’  he inquired further

‘a while.’ you hummed, biting your bottom lip, internally so relieved that he wasn’t being too awkward or weird about it

‘good for you.’ he pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose, not a hint of sarcasm or irony detected in his voice for a change, ‘oh, and good luck with coming out to your parents’

‘thank you.’ you murmur, happily shifting your attention back onto the movie

 tsukishima honestly doesn’t mind/care tbh

like he’s supportive and will beat a bitch up if they don’t accept you - but in general, he thinks that it’s none of his business who you love

as long as it is him (ಥ _ ಥ) 

Kenma Kuzome

ok so fun story 

you were both chilling in his room on a saturday, he was playing on his nintendo switch as always and you were on your phone

you had been meaning to come out to him for a while now but every time you tried, it seemed as though something happened to prevent you from doing so 

for example, you tried to come out to him while y’all were chilling at the park but then a bunch of geese started terrorizing y’all and it completely ruined the mood

so you thought that now you were in his room - where there was less of an abundance of geese - it’d be a better time than any to just lift the burden that had been weighing on your chest

you were as nervous as any one would be but you kept on trying to reassure yourself that kenma would be supportive 

however, he had never discussed any lgbtq+ related issues with you so you had no idea where he stood with that sort of stuff but tbh, he doesn’t give off homophobic vibes 

after a while of staring at the wall and working up the courage, you finally spoke up, ‘hey, kenma. i think i might be bi.’

you mentally cursed at yourself as you didn’t ‘think’ that you are bi but rather you knew that you are bi, yet you felt the need to add that filler just in case things went sour

he perked up upon hearing this and turned to look at you, a small smile gracing his lips, ‘okay, that’s cool. congratulations.’ 

you couldn’t help but beam back at him, ‘thanks, babe.’ you almost whispered, gladly going back to whatever you were doing on your phone

honestly, you were happy to leave the interaction at that - i mean, his brief and calm response was satisfying beyond expected, as it was probably the least awkward way that could’ve possibly gone down

however, what happened next filled you with endless amounts of euphoria 

‘oh, and (y/n).’ kenma said to grab your attention, ‘i’m bisexual.’

you did a double-take 

your instincts told you to throw yourself into his arms and rave on about how proud you are that he had the courage to come out but after a moment of reflection, you had a better idea

‘okay, that’s cool. congratulations.’

kenma automatically pouted at how you used his own words against him when he was clearly expecting a hug, ‘(y/n)..’ he whined lowly, shifting his gaze back onto his game

but you were weak so ofc you pulled him into a hug as you both muttered sweet, reassuring things into each other’s ears

‘i love you so much, (y/n) no matter what.’

‘i know.’ you snickered.

‘bitch-’

‘i love you too. and i’m so proud of you for coming out - you’re so brave.’

‘aw, thanks. so are you, babe.’

‘i know’

kenma playfully nibbled at your neck for being such a clown during a sentimental moment

but anyway, you helped kenma come out so- yeah :))

[cazimagines]

Slipping through my fingers

Synopsis: While waiting for Bucky to arrive Zemo reflects on the past, remembering time he spent with his family and when he found them after the Sokovian attack

Warnings: Mention of death, blood, guns, dark imagery, this is a very sad fic, includes a scene from episode 5

Word Count: 2.2k

Author's note: This isn’t a fic that involves a reader this time, I wanted to write about scenes with Zemo and his family as every time I think about it; it makes me sad and I haven’t seen anything like this done yet. Recommended you listen to sad music while reading if you want to feel even more pain. Sorry if this makes you cry.

Masterlist

Screams echoed throughout the hospital room, bouncing off the walls. Nurses rushed around grabbing towels and rushing towards the bed. A man paced back and forth. He ran his hands through his hair in stress as he kept looking over at the hospital bed.

“Helmut” she whispered

Instantly he was by her side. She raised out her arm, palm open wide. He clasped it, giving a tender kiss on her knuckles. “I’m here, my love” he confided as she clenched her eyes. She let out an ear-piercing shriek, clenching his hand tightly as she squeezed.

After a few minutes she exhaled, and the sound of a baby crying filled the room. The nurses wrap the child up in a clean towel, wiping away as much blood as they could before handing it over to the women.

“A boy!” they say

The woman smiled down happily as the baby wriggled in her arms. She lifted her arm to tickle him as her husband wrapped his arm around her shoulders, smiling at his son. She looks to him and holds up the baby, offering him to Zemo. He carefully picks up the child, holding him as if he was the most fragile thing in the world.

“Your heir” she whispers as she watches them, a sweet smile gracing her lips.

Tears of happiness slip down Zemo’s face as he looks at his son, his smile as wide as it could be. He leans down and places a gentle kiss on his son’s forehead. Turning back to his wife, he presses a kiss on her forehead as well and hands their son to her.

“Our son, my beautiful baroness,”

Sirens echoed in the street. Though it was days later since the attack, dust still fell as if a reminder of how everything has crumbled. Fallen down.

Footsteps thudded across the pavement. His eyes scanned the wreckage of once his summer house, away from the city. He could feel people staring. They recognized him. The baron. But in a matter of a few days, he had lost any power he had. Now he was one of them, suffering because of the attack, desperate to find his family.

He called out their names. His father, wife, son. There was no answer. Just people staring at him.

He asked them if they had seen anyone else. They shook their heads.

Angrily he walked forward, grabbing the rocks, determined he would find them alive under the rubble.

They had to be alive. They had to be.

“Tonight I am a father!” Zemo declared, sitting down on the lavish seat next to his father.

“And I am a grandfather. I think a drink is in order” his father chuckles, pouring out whiskey into two glasses, placing the bottle back into the glass cabinet. He hands the drink to his son and they give a toast.

“To a long and healthy life for your son,” his father exclaims

“Cheers!” Zemo shouts, clinking his glass with his father’s then eagerly drinking.

His father sits back in his armchair, getting comfy and exhaling happily. He glances at his son, smiling warmly.

“What name have you chosen?”

“Carl. After Grandpa,”

Zemo’s father’s eyes glossed over with tears after hearing that name. His smile tightens as he reaches over to embrace his son.

“Your mother would be proud,”

Zemo hugs him back tightly, burying his head in his father’s shoulders, enjoying the comfort the embrace brought to him, as if he himself was a child again.

“Thank you” he whispers to his father, “Thank you”

After hours of searching, he could see them. The breath leaves his lungs, an inhumane noise falls out from him. He rushes to his father’s side, not caring at how the dirt clung to his clothes, the blood staining them.

His father was hunched over, his arms wrapped around two bodies. Blood stained his head. It trailed down the side of his face, tinting the floor and a rock. A piece of ceiling that had fallen down.

A sob was pulled from Zemo, his eyes clouded with tears he could hardly see. His hand was raised to his mouth, trying to keep everything in. His other hand brushes over his father’s head, wanting to feel his warming embrace one last time, but the skin was cold, clammy. Dead.

His eyes moved further down.

Zemo walked into the kitchen, grinning as he saw the situation before him. His son sat in a baby chair, the remainders of his breakfast split all over the table. His wife was also covered in parts of his breakfast. She held a rag in her hand, attempting to clean up the mess Carl made.

“I see we’ve had quite the disaster this morning” Zemo jokes, walking over to his son, placing a kiss on his head. He pulls out a tissue of his coat pocket and wipes the rest of the breakfast off Carl’s lips.

“Carl has decided he now hates porridge,”

“I don’t blame him. Why have porridge when there are so many other things you can have for breakfast that taste much better,” Zemo says, stepping over to stand in front of his wife, “Like for example, you,” he adds quickly giving his wife a peck on the lips.

“Helmut!” his wife exclaims, looking around the room flustered. “Not in front of Carl”

“I had not realised he suddenly understood the whole English language” he said glancing back to his son who was staring at them, his eyes sparkling and a giggle coming from him.

Zemo turns back to his wife, a smirk on his lips. He raises up the tissue and rubs the porridge off her face. Her eyes flicker to his thin lips, then back to his warm chocolate eyes.

“Oh Helmut” she purrs, warmth flooding her.

Zemo raises his hands to cradle her face, pressing a longer, passionate kiss to her lips. Her arms wrap around his abdomen, tugging him closer to her. He draws back from the kiss, instead burying his head into her neck, kissing it as he wraps his arms around her back, resting on the back of her head, gently stroking her hair.

“I love you so much darling” he sighs, inhaling the sweet smell of her strawberry tainted perfume.

“I love you to Helmut. For forever,”

Her hair was matted with blood, her skin deathly pale. Bruises ran down her arms, down her neck.

Zemo pulled her out from under his father. He whispered her name, shaking her.

“Please,” he begged, “Please wake up,”

But she didn’t.

A scream wrenched from his throat. Hot tears spilled from his eyes. He buried his face into her hair, letting all the pain out. His heart plummeted, shattering inside his chest. He didn’t care who was watching, who was taking photos, videos. He just wanted her. But she was gone.

“Come on, it’s bedtime for you,” Zemo declares, gripping his son’s hand and leading him to his bedroom.

Zemo helped Carl into his pj’s then settled him into his bed, tucking him in.

“Dad, I’m scared of the monster under by bed,” Carl whispers

Zemo tilts his head looking at his son, “The monster under your bed?” he whispers back, leaning towards his son

“Yeah! I think it’s going to eat me,”

“Well, we can’t be having that can we,” Zemo claims, “I’ll look under the bed to see if I can spot anything,”

Carl holds his breath as Zemo dips his head down, searching under the bed. He stays under there for a few moments till,

“ROAR” Zemo shouts suddenly jumping up and at Carl, maintaining his hands in claw shapes and opening his mouth wide to look scary. His son shrieks and Zemo instantly goes to tickle him, making Carl laugh hysterically.

Finally, they settled down and Zemo rested his head on the side of his son’s bead, leaning on his side on the floor.

“That was mean dad!” Carl claims, crossing his arms as he glares at Zemo, but he struggles to keep a smile off his lips.

Zemo chuckles, smiling warmly at his son, “Sorry Carl, but I can confirm there is nothing under your bed,”

“But what if it comes back at night?”

“I’ll always be here to protect you, son. You know that,”

Zemo glances around the room and his eyes land on the pile of his son’s superheroes action figures. He leans over and picks up Iron Man off the heap and hands him to his son.

“But while I am not in the room Iron man here will protect you,”

Carl smiles, hugging the toy tightly.

“Do you think I’ll get to see the real Iron man one day?” he begs.

“I’m sure I can arrange something,” Zemo says, “Now you need to go to sleep or mummy will be upset with us”

Zemo leans over and tenderly puts a kiss on his son’s forehead. He walks away from the bed and glances over one last time at the bed, watching his son gently fall to sleep. He smiles to himself and presses the light switch off.

His little hands were still clutching her body. His once smooth dark brown hair was messy, unkept. His favorite t-shirt, with the dinosaur on, was torn. Stained. Zemo clung to him tightly. He gripped his son in his arms, but his son wasn’t there anymore.

Zemo didn’t even try to suppress his shrieks of agony. The sound burst from his throat. The sound of complete and utter grief.

“Carl,” he wailed, “My son. Please,”

He didn’t even know what he was asking for anymore. For time to go back? For revenge? All he felt was the pain. His eyes squeezed closed, not wanting to see the ghostly face his son still had. He crumpled on the ground beside his wife. His son still cradled against his body.

Slowly he opened his eyes, wiping the tears away. Something red caught his eyes. Beside the bodies was an Iron Man action figure.

Zemo reached a hand out and picked it up. His jaw clenched in hatred as he glared down at it. Using the last bit of strength he had, he threw the toy to the floor shattering it into a thousand pieces.

Years later, Zemo found himself at the same spot where he had lost everything he cherished. Before him stood a statue. The memorial sculpture to all the lives that were lost. His family. There were no flowers by it. He should have brought flowers.

An exquisite landscape surrounded it. Though if he reflected back on it, Sokovia had always been beautiful. He’d just taken the scenery for granted.

He was waiting for the end he knew was coming. Any minute.

He was grateful in a way. He got to appreciate life for one last time. Enjoy what it was like being a Baron again just for a moment. And now he has to go home. Soon to join his family. To see them again.

As he stared at the statue, he could hear footsteps approaching. They finally stopped beside him.

“I thought you’d be here sooner,” he says, taking one last look at the memorial before him. He turns his head slightly towards Bucky, then looks down to the ground to gather his words.

“Don’t worry. I’ve decided I’m not going to kill you,”

“Imagine my relief,”

Bucky moves the gun as Zemo turns towards him, but Zemo already knew he had it. It was Bucky, after all. The winter soldier is still inside of him.

If these were his last moments, he could at least provide some advice to Bucky, though he doubted Bucky would listen. He’d grown fond of Bucky and Sam with the time they spent together and he knew them well enough to know they wouldn’t listen, but it was the least he could do to help.

“The girl has been radicalised beyond salvation,” Zemo says, stepping towards Bucky.

“I warned Sam, but he didn’t listen to me. He’s stubborn as Steve Rogers before him. But you…”

Zemo studies Bucky for a second, curious about his reaction, but Bucky remains impassive, expressionless. ‘One thing they had trained him for’, Zemo thought.

“They literally programmed you to kill. James, do what needs to be done. Karli has people everywhere and there is only one way to make sure she cannot continue her mission.”

“I appreciate the advice. But we’re going to do it our own way,”

Zemo chuckles slightly, looking away from Bucky. A slight melancholy in his voice, “Yeah. I was afraid you would say that”

There was a moment of silence between them, They both knew what was coming. What had to be done.

Zemo’s eyes flicker down to the gun as it clicks again. He perceived what was to happen, but now the moment was here, he could feel fear creep up on him. It crawled into his broken soul. He let out a shaky breath as he brought his gaze back up to Bucky as he raised the gun.

Zemo started down the barrel at Bucky, his gaze unwavering. Though he feared it. It was what he wanted.

He nods at Bucky signaling. It was okay. He would see his family soon.

Bucky pulled the trigger.

Taglist: @sinister-sleep @cable-kenobi @faustlyaccused @chipster-21 @icarusinstatic @yallgotkik @montypythonsholysnail @bunniwritesx @checkurwindow @huntheimpossible @jayxkelsi @avgravy @prestigious-tea @wonderwoman292 @there-goes-thefighter @multiyfandomgirl40 @freyjasamael @ineffablebean

[max-the-d0g]

“So like that then...”

Audrey Tindall x reader 

Audrey gets the ending she deserves I think

Being Sidney’s assistant is a nightmare, on normal days. But having to go back to the Roanoke house is The nightmare. Being on the set wasn't too bad, nothing too weird happened. You were surprisingly close to the actress, Audrey Tindall. She was sweet and hilarious, and you loved her but would never let her know. You loved being near her, so going back the Roanoke house wouldn't be extremely bad. The only downside is, you won't be in the house with her, you would be in the van with the monitors with Sidney. The schedule you had been given told you that your arrival would be at dawn. So, you couldn’t see the gorgeous blonde or the joyful smiles. Which she sends you whenever you were in the room. she would always greets you with a bear hug during your set hours.  

You were driving on the dirt road in the direction of the van that Sidney had sent  earlier in the day. In the seat next to you, you acquired some takeout for the guys in the van and some coffee you kept sipping from to keep you awake on the journey, it was Audrey favourite. She told you about it when you went to a cafe with her. Which was the most exciting times of you life. When you arrived at the destination of the van, everything seems off, like someone was telling you to leave. The vibe feels uneasy, making you second guessing coming here. 

Hopping out of the car, your eyes zone in on the body on the grass. Scrambling to the body, you see Sidney's covering the grass and a camera beside his head. “What the actual fuck!” You voice raises slightly, gagging at the sight. You look around seeking any sign of what could caused this, blood splats on the van, all over the grass and a few specs on you hand when you rolled the body over. The grass coated in blood.

You fish for your phone in the glove box of the car, “ Shit. Shit Shit. What the actual fuck.” After frantically typing in 911, you get hold of the police. Telling them what you have just encountered. You stay on the phone with them, they inform you not to disturb anything and to stay where you are. You place your hand on your forehead   trying to think what evil shit could do this, turning your head slightly to the bushes you see another body. “ Are you shitting me? There's another body? Oh shit, it's Jill.” You say to no one, but the operator replies telling you to keep calm and look for shelter. You look to the van then your car. The van you decided. 

Walking in you look around and to see the cameras still on and working fine. Studying one you see Shelby. Dead. “Oh shit,” you mumble. You look at the one in the corner and see Matt in the basement with his head smashed against the concrete floor. “Fuck.”

 “Is it safe there, hello Y/N? Is everything okay?” The operator says.“No... I am not fine. Shit, I think they are all gone.” 

“Okay, keep where you are. If you hear anything, grab some sort of weapon and hide. I will keep on call until the police arrive. They are 20 minutes away.”

---- After 20 minutes you heard the sirens. A knock is heard after a couple of minutes. “Police! Is anyone in there. Come out now.” “Oh thank god... they are here. Thank you, Dana.” “You are welcome.” she hangs up. “There is a house. There might someone alive.” You mumble to them. Getting into the front of the police car. The rest of the police are already at the scene when you pull up. Some officers near a trap door on the ground and some in the house. Peering towards the house, you see Lee leave. Oh shit, she survived whatever bullshit that has happened. “One survivor.” The officer declares next to you. Where is Audrey? Oh god, She can't be gone. Shit please no, if there's a God up there. Audrey better be alive. “Another one. Two survivors.” You look to the right and see Audrey. You get out of the car and step to Audrey. She doesn't see you, her eyes are zoned onto Lee. “You.” You hear Audrey say. You see Audrey looking at Lee and then the officers gun. No! “Audrey!” You yell, her hand grabs for the gun on the officer, officers around begin to react.“Audrey!” You yell louder. Her eyes find yours and her hands flops at her side. You manage to run to her, gathering her into you. “Oh my god, what the hell happened? Don't answer right away. Ok. Let's get you out of here.” She hugs you back. You capture her soft face looking for any marks and scraps that may litter her face. “That fucking bitch.” She mumbles into your side of your exposed neck, her warm breathe tickling you. After you let go of her face, she pulls you tightly to her. Her body trembles as she steps away from the officers and into a clearing. 

 An officer gives you a blanket. You wrap her into it, covering her shoulders. “What? Lee... What did she do?”A soft sob leaves Audrey's mouth,“She killed Monet and she tried to kill me.” She mumbles incoherently, her shaky arms tightening around you and a hurt rasp leaves her mouth. “Let's get you away from her and to the ambulance, okay?” Your eyes land on Lee who looks in shock, the police around her try to ask her what allegedly happened. But, she seems not to recall anything.

---

 The past couple of days she has been staying at house. Most days she is okay, she is still her bubbly self, making jokes and making you laugh.The night, however, are what hits her worse. She wakes most nights from nightmares, screaming and thrashing around on the bed. The scream are the thing that wakes you up, the gut wrenching screams fills the empty house. You rush to her side to aid her. Always there to comfort her, once she is settled down and calmed you usher her out of the bed to the kitchen for a cup of tea. She snuggles up to you, keeping contact with you. You then, usher her to your room with a warm smile. “Your presence always helps.” She will mutter before she falls to sleep, a content smile gracing her lips. 

---

A couple of weeks later, both of you hear that Lee has is been put on trial for murder of at least six people, but she walks free somehow. This issue pisses Audrey off, but also frightens her, knowing a murder is walking free and especially one that tried to kill her and that killed her castmates and friends. She plagued with the though of Lee stalking her and killing her. Lee haunts her thoughts most days, and not leaving when she sleeps. These thoughts keeps the British woman awake, afraid to closer eyes only to open them in a nightmare where she dies brutally. Audrey has began to fear the dark, scared of what lurks there. She's afraid of what lurks in the shadow, most nights she will leave the lights on and try to sleep, only to fail and take a nap whilst you are in the room. 

---

Audrey was reading the news of a new court case that Lee has been put on trial for this one being her ex-husband murder. “If she walks free, I'm going freak out. She killed him. It’s apparent.”Audrey mutters,“Her daughter is testifying against her... That is a mum from hell. She witnessed her mother kill her father with a rock.” She adds.“Is she going to prison?”You peer over her shoulder placing your head softly on her shoulder. Audrey looks to your side of your head,“Are you joking me? She blamed her daughters imagination? She walked free again...”Audrey places a soft kiss to your cheek.“She has to be in prison soon.” Looking at her with shock, she looks away and carries on reading. Touching the place, she kissed you feel yourself fall deeper for her. Well, that was unexpected.  Lana Winters had asked Lee for an interview after the trials, unbeknownst to the both of you who enjoyed watching her shows.  “Y/N, it’s on. Come on, I need to see it. You know I don't miss an episode of Winters.” She yells, you run and sit next to Audrey, her face falls when she sees that Lee is on her screen. “Are you joking me? Her? She's a murderer. Lana could've asked me, Y/N.” She says, a little dramatically. “She might after, who knows maybe you might be her guest next week. Do you wanna keep watching? We could rewatch Billie’s show again if you want?” she ponders for a bit and shakes her head no. Nothing new was heard, other than Lee lying about her encounters and who massacred them. Lana asks her a few questions, “Why did you agree to come to this interview?” Lee believes that they have something in common. Rolling your eyes at the irony, “Yes, killing her son who tried to kill her isn't something you have in common.” Audrey yells at the screen. A question that shocks both you and Audrey is Lana asking Lee, “Where her daughter is.”  Lana says she has been missing before the show even started. Audrey looks to you, the shock is written all over her face. She comes closer to you, almost on your lap. “She wouldn't, would she? Kill her daughter? ”You mutter. “If she killed those people and her ex-husband in front of her daughter of course she can.” When she says this, someone bursts through the door on screen.“That's one of them hillbilly incest fuckers, that took me.” She mutters, her voice wavers a bit. Tensing a bit at the mention of it, he knocks Lana out and when he is about to kill Lee he is shot down by an officer. The screen blacks out and text comes up, saying there's a ‘slight problem we will return in a few minutes’. “What the hell just happened?”

You both decided to call it an early night. Walking to your separate rooms you feel Audrey clammy hand around you wrist. “Can you sleep with me tonight?” Freezing a bit, not knowing how to reply. The silence gives Audrey the impression she overstepped, asking too much of you.  “Never mind that was foolish. Goodnight, Y/N” “Yes, I will sleep with you.” Relief washes over her after you say it. She grips your hand and ushers you to the bed. “You can take this side. I’ll take the other side.” She points to each side. Both of you are settled in you respected sides, laying there stiff a little stiff. Audrey shuffles closer to you, she rolls onto her side. “You look a bit stiff there y/n. Relax it's just me, we’ve done this before” she whispers. “Sorry, didn't realise.” Rolling over to her, to face the gorgeous woman, you see conflict. A concern expression, almost. “Is there something on your mind, Audrey?” She doesn't look directly into your eyes. “If you didn't shout my name that day, I would have probably either have killed Lee and gone to prison or died,” she mutters. “And I wouldn't be here with you. Someone who makes me content and someone I love dearly. Not like a friend. Knowing you could’ve seen me shot and killed, kills me inside.” Love dearly, not like a friend. Probably like a family member. 

“It frightens me that if I didn't have you here. How would I handle anything?” She tears up and chokes on a sob.“Hey, come here,” she scoots into your neck. “Well, you don't have to think about that. I’m here for you that's all that matters. You will get through this whole mess, and you won't be alone. You have me.”You push her closer, your hand rubbing light circles on her back, until her both relaxes.“But I don’t have you.” You frown slightly at this.“What do you m-” You are silenced by a pair of lips, caught off guard at first you don't react. she starts moving away at the lack of reaction, thinking it was rejection. You capture the side of her face pulling her closer to you and kiss back. “So like that then...” You mutter against her lips. She hums in reply deepening the kiss. 

[gallickingun]

who i am today will love {whoever you are tomorrow} || s.k.

SUMMARY: Sugawara Koushi has managed to get you to fall in love with him once. He will not let a simple case of transient global amnesia keep him from sweeping you off of your feet time and time again, until he has you enraptured once more.

PAIRING: Sugawara Koushi x Fem!Reader RATINGS: T+ WARNINGS: angst. literally just all angst. a little fluff here and there. but mostly angst. some language, a little bit of relationship struggle, but nothing too intense! WORD COUNT: 6k+

AUTHOR’S NOTE: I’m not very happy with this, but this is my post for the Haikyuu Headquarters SFW collab centered around the prompt Amnesia! Please check out all of the other rad fics HERE! I haven’t written a full length fic for Sugawara yet, but apparently my first one is going to be Angst City. I hope you all enjoy 💔

Sugawara knew from the moment he saw you that you were going to be the puzzle he was trying to put together for the rest of his days.

He would spend moment after moment trying to piece together the parts of you that created this wonderful masterpiece, the prettiest picture he could never have even imagined would grace his life. He is careful with your sharp edges, the pieces of you that have been forged by years of difficult situations you have had to claw yourself out of.

There were pieces of you that fit into place easily, of course. The softest sides of you which you bared to him from the day you met him. Your smile, the color of your eyes, the way your cheeks lift when you grin. He knows these parts by heart, has run his fingertips over them countless times, until he has memorized the exact curve of them, until he can put them into place without looking.

You are like hieroglyphs from a long-lost language, something incomprehensible if only because you are so cryptically enticing, hiding pieces of yourself for him to discover throughout the years that you develop your friendship and eventual love.

There are days where Sugawara could spend every waking moment between the blinks of his pale lashes purely studying you, irises narrowed as he watches the way your body moves, the way your hands tense at your sides. He notices the quirk of your lips and the curl of your toes when you get anxious, how you gnaw on the inside of your cheek, and how your forehead wrinkles. At times, he breaks himself away from his study long enough to press a warm, gentle kiss to the crinkled skin of your forehead, coaxing you from the prison of your mind, begging you to relax under his ministration. You will reach out, fisting the fabric of his shirt as timidly as you can within your knuckles, and he feels your skin go lax.

When he pulls away to gaze down into the beautiful shade of your irises, Sugawara feels safe, like there is a nestled home tucked away in your pupils that he can retreat to when life becomes too much, too overwhelming. His heart patters within his chest and he knows that if you were to peel his shirt away, you’d find a bruise in the shape of the organ outlined in bright purple and blue on his porcelain skin, like a small galaxy of pain that represents the intensity of his love for you.

Koushi’s hands reach for you in the dead of night, his head resting on your shoulder so he can breathe in your familiarity, and the closeness of you settles in on him as a weighted blanket would. Your presence alone calms him, and the feel of your skin beneath the pads of his fingers only adds to the reverie. His fingerprints dance underneath the thin fabric of his tee shirt that is clad on your body, your body second nature to his touch, and he can map out your ribs and hips with ease. He kisses your shoulder and his eyelashes flutter shut, the awareness of your proximity making him feel safe.

Every day is a new day to find a new piece of your beautiful puzzle, Sugawara thinks as he drifts off into the realm of unconsciousness. And he cannot wait to wake up to discover the next, most unique piece in the morning.

Only, when his eyes peel back as the sun rises the next morning, his perfect puzzle has been ruined, torn apart and left for scraps, and now there is a piece missing.

“Wh-Who are you?” Your voice is a stutter, eyes bright and wild, feral in the worst way. You cower away from him, holding yourself together as though you might shatter if you breath a moment longer, “Why are you in my bed?”

Sugawara laughs at first, if only because he cannot believe that this is something more than a prank at best. He reaches for you, fingertips barely grazing the hem of your shirt sleeve as you skitter away from him. Your body falters as you fall from the bed, and the last thing he sees before you plummet to the floor is the way your irises are engulfed by your pupils until your orbs look inked out with darkness, a void quality to them that makes his heart wrench within his chest.

“Love, c’mon,” Sugawara crawls across the mattress so he can get a look at you, still clinging desperately to the idea that this is a sick joke that you are playing on him – where are the hidden cameras? What will Daichi and Asahi think of this when you send them the video?

Your jawline is trembling, your teeth clenched together so tightly that the muscles are quivering, and you shake your head, “I-I don’t know you, wh-who are you?”

Koushi clambers from the bed to stand near you, arms crossed over his chest as he looks down where you are still a mess of limbs on the floor, a blanket you found discarded beside the bed wrapped around your partially bare body. He shakes his head, his chin wobbling as reality sets in, “Sweetheart, this isn’t funny. Cut the crap. What’s going on?”

When you shout, voice in a frenzy because you do not recognize the man loitering over you like a thundercloud, Sugawara feels lightning strike his heart and shatter it into a thousand pieces. Shards of emotion lodge into his chest as you speak next, “Please d-don’t hurt me!”

He was unaware to the tears building up behind his lids until he feels the wetness of a saltine droplet drip down his cheek, collecting on his jaw before dripping onto the floor. Sugawara’s hands shudder and he reaches down for you, “I think we need to take you to the hospital.”

“I-I’m not going anywhere with you,” you are biting in your tone, a resonance to the fiery personality you have shown him all your natural born life.

You have known him since you were a child, infatuated with him since you were teenagers, encapsulated in love with him once you turned twenty-two, and now you have been married for three wonderful years.

And yet, the frightened look in your eyes, the tears that make your irises glassy, tells him that there may be no coming back from this, that he cannot rely on the years before this very moment to build back what seems to have broken. Sugawara’s hands shake and you can tell, but that does not keep your breath from shuddering in your lungs, busting open your teeth as you release the pent-up oxygen.

“Please, love,” Sugawara’s voice is broken, each syllable grating against his esophagus as he forces them through his throat, but you cannot notice past your own panic, “let’s just get in the car, okay?”

Your body warms at the sound of the pet name, but you cannot place the fondness he has for you with the devoid space in your heart, although there is a quiet voice in the back of your mind telling you that he cares for you, and you for him. Even still, you have been birthed into this place as a confused creature, someone who does not know their purpose or intentions, and the only thing on your one-track mind is to find some answers to the intimidating list of questions percolating in your subconscious.

You know that he will not rest until you listen, and so the fight or flight response in your mind begins to flare until you tame it, stoking the fire down to embers as you rise to your feet. You grit your teeth and shake your head, signaling your defiance, but stumble towards the car nonetheless. You are not sure just how you knew where to go, like a blueprint has been embedded within your mind, but somehow you find your way despite the confusion clouding your thoughts like a raging storm.

Usually, Sugawara would reach across the console and buckle you into the front seat. Only now, as you shy away from his hand that reaches for your elbow, flinching when he gets too close, he realizes that so many of his second-nature tasks will have to be stubbed to a halt until you remember that you are a piece of his heart. He recoils from you, drawing his wrist back against his ribs, as if capturing himself, “It’s okay. I won’t do anything you don’t want me to do.”

You should hear the sincerity in his voice, but everything is a lie to you, even his kindness. Your body trembles as you pull the belt across your body, securing it into the latch with a gentle sound. Sugawara watches you closely, trying urgently not to seem like he is hovering over you, but the mission to keep you safe is still rooted firmly in his spine and he will not waver from it, even as you sit before him unknowing to all of the times he has done this very simple action for you.

There is this insatiable desire that sits in Sugawara’s gut, bubbling beneath the surface like a grotesque acid, tumultuous enough that he is steadily reminded of it’s presence, of it’s hungering need to keep you safe and happy, to keep you reliant on him. In the smallest of ways, such as holding your hand as you climb into the car, or buckling your belt for you, it makes him feel important, necessary. He has spent too much of his life feeling like he has been sidelined to warrant other’s have their moment to shine, and you allow him to stand center stage every day, even if the platform is only your heart.

It makes you feel special and it makes him feel strong, like a protective alpha animal. Your generous reliance on him allows his pride to swell, to balloon until his chest is held high and his chin is tilted upward. It may seem silly from the outside, but the way his torso sinks into a concave position as you shy away from him creates a void cavity in his chest that Sugawara is sure nothing else will ever fill.

He has never seen you resemble a frightened animal before, like you were too afraid he would throw you into a cage given your pensive stare and shaking limbs. Sugawara could not hunt you even if he wanted to, and the idea that you believe this is his intent makes a fresh wave of tears well up behind his lids, the heat of it all giving his face a dark flush, easy to see against his pale skin.

As you close your door, Sugawara thinks of how Daichi would handle this. He stalks from one side of the car to the other, the gears of his mind turning so loudly that he startles. A thick gulp rakes against his throat, making his neck bob as he imagines the advice Sawamura might give him in a time like this.

Daichi would not falter, would not crumble. No, the captain would not have tears in his eyes and fear in his heart, rather he would bolster his shoulders and steady his feet, holding his chin high as he did whatever needed to be done to ensure that you were taken care of. And so, Sugawara tightens the chains around his heart that have your name engraved upon them, guaranteeing the organ will not float away or sink down until there is a hole in the floor of the car.

Your newfound independence mocks him, even as you take charge in the hospital and tell the front desk nurse exactly how you are feeling. How can you be so articulate when you are so far gone from the woman he knew just the night prior? Have you truly turned into someone else? Will you ever love him the same as before?

Doubt digs into the base of his shoulders and rips his dark crows wings free. The appendages stand slaughtered at the ground, his eyes unable to waver as the doctor takes a pacing step back and forth at your bedside while he reads your charts. The part of Koushi that longs to keep you safe mocks him as his wings lay crumpled beneath his amber irises, pupils dilating to try and focus on the metaphor that has manifested in front of him in his delirious state.

He reaches out and his fingertips scrape linoleum where he expects to find wings, and he realizes that he truly is a clipped little thing, fallen to the ground with nowhere to go, no way to fly.

“It is a rare form of amnesia,” the doctor’s words reverberate in his mind relentlessly once they are spoken aloud for the first time, “she has forgotten everything prior to approximately fourteen hours ago.”

And oh, Sugawara has never wished more to be able to fly.

You are surprised as ever when he looks up at you, broken irises seeking you for answers, “Would you like to go home with me? Or I can always drop you off at your mother’s.”

The room goes quiet, and Sugawara swears he could hear a feather drift to the floor.

Your voice is trembling when you answer, “I want to go home…with you.”

It would seem the glittering diamond on your left hand, in tandem with the records the hospital has found regarding you and Sugawara Koushi, has given you some semblance of relief. At least enough to be willing to ride in the car with him again, to find solace in the home you two have built.

You toy with the ring as Sugawara looks at you with his jaw unhinged slightly, just enough for you to see the pink muscle of his tongue twitching on the bed of his mouth. You giggle, the first time he’s heard you laugh since this whole escapade began, and your eyes crinkle at the sides just how he remembered, “Well, the house is half mine, is it not?”

Sugawara cracks a smile and stands to his feet, shoulders creaking as he feels his barely-there wings begin to molt into something new. Not the same, no he will never be the same, not after this, but possibly still a semblance of the old thing, a reminder that maybe life can return to what it once was.

And so, he walks you to the car, hand hovering at the base of your spine, but not touching; he does not want to push away the small amount of progress that has been made in such a short amount of time. He treats you like a glass box, opening the door and shadowing you as you climb into the front seat. You feel the ghost of his fingertips, a heat along your spine, and you do not flinch, not this time.

“I’ll order dinner,” he says when the door has shut behind the both of you. “Do you want from that dumpling place you li-”

The words reverberate in the small space of your living room, a recollection of what once was casual between the two of you that is now something far-off and forgotten. You swallow thickly, your throat bobbing as you look away from him so you don’t have to face the fallen expression on his face when he realizes that he will have to rework his entire existence around your new condition.

Your heart freezes, clogging up your lungs and making it harder to breathe. Sugawara shrugs off his jacket and slips on his house shoes, forcing himself to move toward you, “There is this dumpling place I think you’ll like. Want to try it for dinner? I doubt either of us feel like cooking.”

Licking your lips, you turn to find him quite close to you, his hands hovering by his side. You wonder if he aches to touch you, if his fingers burn with the desire to reach forward and brush your hair away from your face. You take a short breath, collecting yourself before glancing up into his amber irises, warmth seeping from them directly into your bones through what feels like osmosis.

“Y-Yeah,” your voice catches in your throat once you take him all in. “That sounds, um, that sounds nice.”

Your body screams at you to either run away or hold him closer, and you’re not sure which part to listen to. You grit your teeth to bring yourself some clarity in the form of pain, but it only serves to make your head dizzier.

Sugawara Koushi is handsome, borderline pretty, and you are enraptured by the sight of him. You can feel the warmth radiating from his body, and the irrational side of your brain wants to succumb to the heat, to be engulfed by the flames. Instead, you tuck your arms around your midsection and pray for patience, “I’m going to go take a shower, Sugawara. If that’s okay?”

He winces at the sound of his formal name coming through your teeth, turning his head so he doesn’t show you the dismay that tugs on his features. He chuckles, but the sound is forced, “Of course, the bathroom is, uh, just through the bedroom and on the right. Towels are in the closet on the left.”

“Th-Thank you,” you nod your head, stepping past him to walk toward the bedroom. Out of what must be pure instinct, you reach forward and rest your hands on his hips to guide him away from your path.

Simultaneously, you both breathe in sharply, the oxygen piercing your lungs like a dagger.

Your eyes meet amber and for a half-second, you are overwhelmed at his closeness. You breathe in the scent of his cologne and shampoo and it brings you back to some place that was previously tucked far away in your mind. You wrap your fingers around his shirt, if only to push him away.

Before Sugawara can ask you what is going on, you have blown past him towards the bedroom, the door closed and locked behind you.

You press your back into the door, relishing in the coolness of the surface, praying that it will help to bring your mind back down to this realm from where it is floating somewhere between this universe and the next. You cannot make sense of any one stream of consciousness, begging every thread of yourself to return to the nucleus so you might take a moment to collect all of your thoughts and press them back into your head.

Clambering forward on your knees, you start the bath water, flipping the level to turn on the shower. Your body is so disconnected from your brain that you almost step into the tub fully clothed, but seeing your sock clad foot makes you pause before you soak your clothes. You swallow your inhibitions, trying to keep the tears locked behind your lids, and step out of your undergarments.

You have barely stepped underneath the steaming water before you break down into sobs and tears. You crumble to the bottom of the tub, your arms around your knees, your head tucked beneath your biceps, and you release every pent-up moment from the day in the form of salty tears dripping down your cheeks to mix with the streams of clean water from the showerhead above.

“Is this my life now?” you whimper to no one in particular, your voice muffled by your forearm. You sniffle and rub at your face, although it doesn’t much matter, given the water running down it in rivulets to hide your tears. You look at your palms, stretching your fingers in front of your face, curious if you’ve always looked like this, or if there was something different from when you woke up this morning.

The knowledge that you have no knowledge of who you were before this morning makes a fresh wave of nausea and tears roll through your body, making your spine shudder as you cry into your own cocoon of a body. A sob tears through your shoulders, and you feel like your eyes might fall out of your skull, they’re throbbing so intensely. You press the heels of your hands into your sockets until you see a full galaxy of inky planets and stars behind your lids. The pain was what you were hoping would bring you back to the present, merely multiplies the devastating hole in your chest.

This is not the first time you find yourself curled up in the bottom of the shower, your head leant against the tile wall as the water runs from searing to freezing while you contemplate your entire life existence.

Of course, Sugawara has been nothing but accommodating during this strange period of time. He has moved his items to the spare bedroom, even though most nights he favors the couch, given he finds it tough to fall asleep on his own. You have woken in the middle of the night to terrible dreams only to find the television playing a show that is trying to sell a rare set of jewelry or a stellar non-stick frying pan.

There is one night, a few months after your first visit to the hospital, when you gather enough confidence to carefully step into the living room and turn off the television. Sugawara stirs at the sudden change in light, his eyes barely cracking open, irises hardly peeking from behind his lids, but he is still able to spot you from where you are stood in front of him. He sits up as best he can, forcing his stiff body to straighten when he makes limited eye contact with you.

“H-Hey,” his voice is gruff, as if it were stuck in his throat, and you can’t help the flush of embarrassment that makes your cheeks burn at the sound. “What are you doing awake?”

You run your palm along the back of your neck, rubbing at your vertebrae anxiously, unable to keep your gaze narrowed in on him when he’s making you feel this way. Your toes curl in on one another and your socks find friction against the carpet, “Just another nightmare.”

Sugawara is at full attention now, the warmth in his irises tripling at your small voice and nervous posture. He sits so he is facing you, his palms on his knees, fingertips itching at the hem of his shorts to keep himself from reaching out to take you by the hands. He licks his lips and looks upward to try and make eye contact with you to no avail, your pretty orbs still hidden from him as you look away, “You’ve been having a lot of those lately, haven’t you?”

There is a beat of silence that passes between you before he adds, “I’ve been hearing your screams.”

This is all that it takes to crumble what little resolve is left cementing your heart together. You crumble to your knees, your hands covering your face so you do not bare your pitiful, glassy eyes to him. Sugawara is quick to react, catching you before your knees can find the carpet, pulling you close to cushion your fall. You do not care that you cannot remember what his hold felt like before you lost your memories, all that matters is how safe you feel now.

He is like an anchor to your flighty soul, keeping you bound tightly to this earthly plane instead of allowing you to float away to whatever universe your subconscious has been visiting since the day your whole world was rearranged. You cling to his shirt, your fists bunching up the fabric of his tee when you lean in closer until your temple is pressed to his neck.

“It’s okay, honey,” Sugawara’s voice is warm, like honey, and you wonder if it might seep into the cracks of your broken soul and seal you back together, “I’m right here, it’s okay.”

For a moment, you pretend that this is what you are used to. You allow your mind to believe that this is your normal, that this has how things have always been. And, in some sadistic, twisted way, you might be right. Maybe before you forgot what he smelled like and how he kissed, this was how he held you – firm and secure, sturdy as a rock and kind as a beam of sunshine. Your heart hammers in your ribs and you can’t stop the tears from flowing, from the feel of both of your hearts breaking in the small space between your bodies.

You wonder if his chest feels as tight as yours, as if your ribs are the only thing keeping your hearts from bursting directly out of your skin. The beating is loud, thunderous in your ears as you cry into his shoulder, staining his shirt dark with your tears. You sob and snot and cough, but never once does he judge you or push you away. All you hear is the gentle hush of his voice in your ear, reminding you that he is here, reminding you that everything will eventually be okay.

And for a split second, you believe him.

And without inhibition, you allow your heart to speak, your throat but a conduit for the emotions bubbling within your belly like lava.

“I don’t want to be alone anymore,” you admit, your chest splitting open as the lava sprays through your teeth, burning your mouth to ash, but somehow you still speak, “please, Koushi, I-I think- I think I need you.”

When you look up at him, the absolute adoration reflected back to you in shades of tawny brown, dark and light swirling within his irises until it is overwhelming you like a storm cloud. You suck in a deep breath and dive back in, tucking your head underneath his chin and wrapping your arms around his shoulders until you are conjoined, unsure of where he ends and you begin as you become a mess of limbs on the sofa.

“I’m right here,” he repeats in a whisper against the crown of your head, holding you around the waist and beneath the thighs as he stands with you still in his arms. You latch onto him tighter, curled around him like a frightened animal, and your place against his neck makes it so you cannot see the way his lips stretch into a smile.

This has been what he has craved for the past few months – a genuine closeness that you chose; you choosing him. Sugawara cradles your body as tightly as he can without hurting you, walking towards your bedroom with careful steps. Your toes curl as he settles back against the mattress, slowly guiding your body down with him so you are both laid out horizontally on the bed, your knees dug tightly into his sides and your fingertips still clutching his shoulders relentlessly.

Sugawara runs his fingers through your hair, ruffling your tresses in a soothing manner as his chest begins to rumble with a melody. Your whole body buzzes as his lips maneuver in the tendrils of your hair surrounding your face, mouth pressing warm kisses to your scalp as the humming grows louder, more confident. Tears are flowing silently down your cheeks, staining your skin and his shirt, but neither of you seem to care, rather paying attention to the way you soak one another in like you have been a person starved for water and this is your first sip after days without drink.

It takes you a few minutes, but his humming in tandem with the ministrations of his hands soothes your mind into a dreamlike state. You release your grip on his shirt, smoothing the wrinkles in the fabric, if only to give yourself something else to pay attention to other than his searching eyes. Sugawara allows you a moment of exploration before his index finger is crooked underneath your chin, tilting your jaw upward so he can look you directly in the eyes.

“Stop being so hard on yourself,” he murmurs, voice kind despite the circumstances, “you’re still learning, adjusting. It won’t happen overnight.”

“And if it never happens?” Your tone is curt, words biting. You grit your teeth together and the creaking of your molars makes your bones shudder. A wobbling chin gives way to another bout of tears, but you do not falter this time, rather looking him in the eyes than succumbing to the exhausting heave of another sob, “What if I’m never the same? What if I can’t- what if you don’t love this person?”

Sugawara’s hand drifts from your chin to your cheek, his thumb brushing along the apple of your face, swooping downward to trace your jaw. A gentle smile tugs on the corners of his mouth and you want to scold him for laughing at your pain, but the faraway look in his eyes suggests that he is thinking of another time, possibly one much more simple in nature where you were sitting on his lap just like this, but there was a stream of knowledge, of combined thought, that flowed between the two of you. You knew one another, backwards and forwards and inside out, but now there is a barrier built, one that has kept him from teaching you who you are and from you allowing him to take the chance to do such a thing.

He is kind, something you suspect he has always been, when his mouth unhinges to let his words out of their cage, “Better or worse, angel. And if this is the worst life has to throw at us, then so be it.”

There is a hesitancy in his gaze, but he leans forward to brush a kiss against your cheek despite it, “I would rather go through this with you than be in a picture-perfect situation with anyone else.”

The sight of him in tandem with the brutal, raw honesty of his beautiful words overwhelms you, like a wave crashing along the shore, suffocating the sand. You want to be the beach, to be greeted with his kissing crest each time he chooses to seek you out despite the call to the sea, and it is that thought alone that ignites your need to seek purchase with your fingers in his hair, pulling him closer. Sugawara’s eyes go wide, if only because he does not want you to do this out of desperation or obligation, but out of choice and choice alone.

You can tell that he wants to say something, but before you lose your nerve and before he says something that will make the both of you overanalyze, you have crashed your mouth to his in a bruising kiss.

His fingers are hesitant to clutch at your sides, but once he realizes that you are not going to pull away, a familiar desperation sinks into his movements and he has you caught by the waist to anchor you to him. Your thumbs press into the pulse points on either side of his neck, like you were checking to make sure his heart is still beating. Sugawara’s breath stutters and he tilts his head so your chins bump to tear you apart, “Honey, I-”

“Kou,” your voice is quiet, seeking out solace in his silence.

Your tone is exploratory, and the sound of his given name shortened in the way you have said it a dozen times makes his head spin, but you sound awkward when you say it, as if you were taking it for a test drive and it’s not the car you were comfortable driving. You swallow and try again, “K-Kou, I want you to stay here tonight, with me.”

The edges of his thumbs slip beneath the hem of your shirt, and for the first time since he pushed his lids back earlier to take you in, he realizes that you’re clad in one of his old college tees. It was one of your favorites, a staple in your sleeping collection, a comforting item you sought out when you were distressed beyond measure. He wonders if your subconscious held on to this thought, and brought you this tattered, worn piece of clothing to give you some semblance of healing in your despondent time of need.

“As you wish,” Sugawara whispers against the bow of your lips, your mouths brushing with every syllable. He smiles, a gentle pecking kiss nestled on the corner of your cheek before he speaks again, “Now, we both need to rest.”

His words are accented by his body curling around you, turned to the side so he can wrap you up in the quilt that has been strewn across the bed in your haste of sleep. Your body is encased in warmth, a mixture of his natural body heat and the cocoon the blanket creates. The two of you tuck into one another as if you were built to be together, your pieces perfectly slotting into the spaces his body creates.

Silence stretches for what feels like hours, nothing but the sound of your beating hearts and quiet breaths to fill the air. You run your thumb along the stretch of his collarbone, gnawing on your lower lip as you work up the courage to speak.

“Go ahead,” his voice is gravelly with the desire to succumb to sleep, muffled from his position of being tucked into you, lips in your hair. “What’s on your mind?”

“I don’t want to be a burden,” you whisper in fear, unable to recognize even your own voice. You swallow, the heat of tears welling up behind your lids already overwhelming enough without the stumble of your words to accent your anxiety, “And I’m scared I can’t be who you want me to be.”

Sugawara surprises you with a chuckle breathed into your hair, a light, lilting sound making his throat hum, “Oh, angel. You’re my everything, how could you ever be a burden to me?”

“I-I dunno,” you can feel yourself starting to panic, the darkness closing in on you until it’s choking you from the inside out, “Wh-What if I don’t laugh the way I used to? O-Or what if, uh, what if I don’t like the same foods? What if-”

You are hushed by the warmth of his mouth on yours, stealing your frightened, nonsensical words straight from your throat as you gasp against his teeth. A firm palm tilts your head upward, fingertips grazing the curve of your jaw and neck, soothing you with a simple touch. He massages his digits into your shoulder as he pulls away, watching carefully as you chase after him for another display of affection, as if you were searching for even more reassurance.

“Hush now, love,” he settles back into you, circling you in his arms and tucking your head beneath his chin. Your knee presses between his thighs and you find your hands nudging underneath his shirt, seeking out the skin-on-skin contact. Sugawara litters kisses in your hair, almost like he were planting a garden of affection, begging it to grow as he encourages it with kiss after kiss.

You are on the precipice of sleep, your body worn down from your anxious efforts of before, when you hear his next words mumbled into the skin of your neck, barely audible even in the utter silence of your bedroom. The few syllables make your heart press stiffly against your ribcage, begging to be let free, like a caged dove sitting pretty within the confines of your chest.

“And to think,” he whispers, “I get to fall in love with you all over again, every time. How exciting, right?”

You want to laugh, to indulge him in his monologue, but your body is heavy, weighed down from the tears and the pressure of all the time before this that you can remember. Finally, you feel like you are floating, the only thing keeping you tethered to this dimension is the cuff of his arms around your waist, circling you and holding you tight, piecing back together every broken part of your soul.

Sugawara’s breath tickles your ear, and you swear you hear him snore. And you might be making up the last few words that he breathes before he is overwhelmed by unconsciousness-

“I can’t wait to fall in love with whoever you are tomorrow.”

But you pray to whoever is listening that it’s the truth.

-

a/n: wow i wrote most of this while delirious and drinking yoohoo so please don’t come for me if it doesn’t make sense. 

my original plot idea was to have reader have continuous amnesia where she forgets her memories every few years, and sugawara always manages to get her to fall in love with him every single time, but that fic would have been upwards of 20k and i didn’t allot myself enough time to write it, which i’m upset about. maybe i’ll do an extension of this fic sometime, but i just feel like it won’t be as impactful. u g h. alas, here we are. i hope that you enjoyed it! i plan to write more sugawara in the future. and thanks again to the hqhq for putting on this collab! the nsfw one is next -- i have daddy daichi for that one! 💕

[frunbuns]

Fics that punched me in the face and stole my lunch money

one more time with feeling by Soulykins (Not rated, 4009 words)

When Five Hargreeves is four-years-old, he discovers his power.

He also discovers a whole lot more than that.

They’re all figuring out their powers, and as a consequence they all move out of the nursery into their own rooms after a somewhat unfortunate incident regarding the discovery of Six’s powers. Regardless, Five isn’t very fond of the new arrangement because he’s lonely.

He can’t sleep without the sounds of his siblings around him. One’s sleepy whuffling and Four’s random exclamations, Six shuffling around and Two kicking his blankets off in the night. It’s too quiet.

That is, of course, when the man falls into his room.

Probably one of my all-time favourite fics. It hits hard and is honestly the reason this rec list was made. I swear the ending knocks the breath out of me every time I read it.

little white lies by Soulykins (General Audiences, 3750 words)

The first time Five lies, really lies, he's four-years-old and taking the blame for something he didn't do.

And then he doesn't stop.

--

Five lies to everyone. He lies to his father, to his siblings, and even to himself.

(Five has broken himself apart and put himself back together so many times over the course of his life. When you're broken, you use whatever is at hand to glue yourself back together. Love and loyalty and determination, of course. But hate and spite and fury all work as well.

Five never noticed when he started gluing himself together with lies. Lies are not very good glue, they come apart too easily.)

Five protecting his siblings? Angst and hurt? Yes. It hurts, but in a good way. Like all good angsty fics do. The ending? My god. A very nice way to end all that angst. Thank you very much.

Delusions of a Practical Nature by KnightNight7203 (Teen and Up, 5045 words, 3 chapters)

This wasn’t how today was supposed to go. He was supposed to get through the next layer of his equations, finally narrow down the limits he’s been searching for for the past month and a half. But maybe he should sit down with his family more often. For the first time in a long time, he feels something akin to peace.

In which Five doesn’t always have to make it through an apocalypse alone.

You think this is nice. A few things that make you go “That’s weird”, and then it punched you in the gut with the ending and you realize; “oh shit” and it’s actually really sad. This is yet another one of the fics that made me make this list lol.

Don’t waste your time (or time will waste you) by rosewitchx (Teen and Up, 4408 words)

He was an old man. He is sixteen. Ben dies next week. How does he know that? “I think I broke it,” Five stutters, and for the first time in her short life Vanya sees absolute terror in his eyes.

- Or, Five travels back again. Something goes wrong.

Heartbreaking in all the best way. This one hurts, but it wraps up nicely at the end and I like that in a fic (or anything tbh). It kinda feels like one long gut punch at times.

losing you to the gutter by tiesmp3 (Teen and Up, 2328 words)

fire, it burned my skin but i still want to play with it. - “baby boy”, mother mother

or, five is teetering on the edge of a very steep cliff—or, maybe he always has been, but no one’s ever really cared about it, anyway.

Hurt and comfort. Five’s PTSD being adressed. Getting the help he needs. All the good stuff.

and i'll be back (again and again and again) by artfulacrostic (Teen and Up, 3560 words)

Five stumbles to his feet and looks up at his family.

They seem so...startled. Staring, like they can't believe he's back, even though he's been back over and over and over.

Of course, they don’t know that. They never do.

//

Five relives the eight days before the apocalypse over and over again in a whirlwind of equations, alcohol, and failure.

This one’s a ride, y’all. Oh my fucking god. It’s so good. The feels, holy shit. I have no words. Just read it. This was also one of the fics that made me make this list.

Bolt from the Blue by TheArchaeologist (Mature, 84665 words, 39 chapters)

When they were sixteen Klaus successfully escaped for the night, and to celebrate went to the disco with a girl he barely knew. He was young, terribly misguided, but overall the night had been amazing.

He just didn't expect to have a baby dumped in his arms nine months later.

Or,

The author takes a throw away joke in the show and runs with it.

This is a looong one, I have to be honest with you all. It really is. It’s so good and heart wrenching and sweet and oh so sad. In an Alternate Universe Five is Klaus’ son and we follow him and Ben as they try their best to raise him with the little they have, until it all goes to shit. It’s part of a longer series and let me tell you; It’s a wild one.

And I Will Run Fast, Outlast by beastboy12 (Teen and Up, 27345 words, 7 chapters)

Five is fine. Getting his siblings to see that is a different matter entirely.

In which Five has a very difficult time accepting that he may not, in fact, be okay.

This one’s also on the longer side, but not terrifbly so. It’s another fic where Five struggles with his trauma and gets help. Some recovery. A very nice read. Make sure to read the warnings though, as it covers some difficult things. Be aware of that when reading this.

Side Effects May Vary by CivilBores (Teen and Up, 6565 words)

Allison crosses her arms. “Five,” she says firmly, “when was the last time you slept?”

“I don’t know,” Five says honestly. At Allison’s expression, he quickly adds, “But it doesn’t matter. I don’t know what it’ll take for all of you pea-brained idiots to realize that.”

“We may not be as intelligent as you, Five,” Allison says, “but at least all of us are smart enough to know how to take care of ourselves.”

OR

A week after the world is saved, Five convinces himself that he is still experiencing lingering side effects of paradox psychosis. His family has something to say about that.

Five’s falling apart and he thinks it’s paradox psychosis. The siblings try to help him. It takes some time, but eventually they get through to him. Turns out it’s not that serious, but Five is a disaster so what do you expect?

we are alive, here by pilotpoison (General Audiences, 1364 words)

The Apocalypse was diverted, and Five finally gets to feel.

Probably one of the shortest ones on the list. Five has a bit of a breakdown after finally stopping the apocalypse for good. Angsty with a hopeful, nice ending.

(i heard a rumor) i put a band-aid on a bullet wound by telm_393 (Teen and Up, 3220 words)

Allison tries to figure out who she really is. Allison tries to calm her brother down. There are no quick fixes.

Allison centered fic where she struggles with the loss of her voice and powers. It delves into Allison’s feelings towards the sitauation and her siblings (mostly Vanya). Basically she kinda learns how to live without the use of her voice, which has been such an imprtant part of her before and she also has a nice moment with Five where she calms him down after a nightmare. It’s also an interesting look at what Five’s trauma might look like from an outside perspective.

Derivation by obvious_apostate (General Audiences, 3199 words)

Grace wants to give the children something special for their birthday. She succeeds for six of them.

Your typical fic of the siblings recieving their names, expect in a slightly different direction. Grace sends out letters to the sibling’s mothers to ask what their names should have been and Five’s the one that never gets one. It’s sad and it hurts, but it’s so good.

[runningfrom2am]

achilles heel - III: getting a head start

summary:

Grace is the very opposite of her brother in every way. when she finally moves onto campus at UNC Chapel Hill, she feels like she gets to be her own person, make her own friends, and hopefully start a promising career in the museum industry, and maybe, one day, get married to her high school sweetheart and live the American dream for herself. Rafe Cameron however, upon their very first meeting, throws a wrench in her very perfect plan.

tags/warnings:

rafe cameron x fem!oc, rafe is giving very much homewrecker, fanon!rafe (kinda), college!au, friends to lovers, slow-burn (maybe?), minimal oc description, drug and alcohol use, mostly unedited, (these tags are not exhaustive, lmk if i should add anything!)

wc: 1.9k

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January 6th, 2019

Grace pulled herself out of bed three hours before her eight am class the next morning, giving herself ample time to have a shower and get ready to go eat breakfast with her brother before class. Today was a bit of a treat, because Nate had an eight-thirty class in the building next to hers, and had the chance to eat with her and walk her to class.

She knocked on his dorm door when she was all ready, holding onto her coffee mug and stepping back a little bit in anticipation of the door opening. It's only a few moments before it does, her boyfriend smiling down at her. "Good morning, my love." Nate smiles, leaning down to kiss her forehead as he closes the door behind him.

"Morning!" Grace smiles, admiring how his dark eyes compliment his messy brown hair.

"What's on the menu today?" Nate asks as they make their way to the elevator, hand placed low on her back.

"The usual." Grace shrugs, taking a sip of her coffee while they wait for the elevator.

They make their way down to the caf, hand in hand most of the time as Nate goes on and on about his classes, hardly letting Grace get a word in until Ben joins them at their table, internally cursing to himself over having to sit across from this guy that he's never liked.

"Hey, Ben, how are you, buddy?" Nate asks as her brother sits down.

"Fine," Ben replies, clearly already bored as he takes a bite of his cereal.

"What class do you have this morning? You never get up this early." Nate jokes.

"Uh, history 120? I'm in Grace's class. Figured you'd know that." Ben grumbles, looking down at his phone.

"Oh! Right. Yes." Nate nods, looking over at his girlfriend. "How's that one going?"

"It's good! We're talking about some really interesting stuff already, we've got this one book to read and I'm already on-" Grace starts explaining excitedly, reaching into her bag under the table to grab it out to show him.

"Oh, Ben, I heard engineering got invited to your frat's opener this weekend. I think it'll be fun." Nate interrupts her, and Ben freezes as he looks between the two of them. Grace looks disappointed, but like she wasn't going to finish anyways. She's used to this, her boyfriend just gets distracted so easily. Most times she finds it cute, but not so much as of late. She always just figured it was a symptom of his high IQ, which he does love to talk about as well. It drives Ben up the wall, and it always has.

"Dude- she was talking to you." Ben says, pointing his spoon at his sister. "But yeah, fuck it. I guess it'll be fun." He shakes his head as he speaks, hunched over with his elbows on the table as he continues to eat.

"Oh, yeah, sorry, Love. Continue." Nate smiles at her and watches her eyes light up again, holding the book out to him and he takes it, quickly skimming through it.

"So, yeah I'm already about halfway through it. It's incredibly fascinating, being able to look into one person's life on such a deep and analytical level when their world was so far removed from how we live today." Grace grins, and Ben rolls his eyes. Not because he's upset with her, but because he's frustrated that she doesn't see that this guy is a dick to her.

"Oh, yeah. I read this in high school. It's quite interesting." Nate agrees, handing the book back to her. "They're teaching this in university? Seems a little juvenile."

"Well, it is a first-year course." Grace shrugs, putting the book back in her bag. Ben is practically seething at this point. His sister is so smart- it frustrates him to no end that she doesn't, at least noticeably, understand that her boyfriend is talking down to her.

"Let's go, we're gonna be late," Ben grumbles, chugging the rest of his milk out of the bowl and standing up.

Nate looks at his watch, furrowing his brow. "Ben, we have like half an hour before your class starts and it's only a twelve-minute walk away." He says but Ben is already walking off to put his dirty bowl away.

"I'll just grab a refill on my coffee and we'll go." Grace smiles at him, standing up and kissing the side of his head. "I'll be right back."

*:･ﾟ✧*:･

They make their way to class, with Grace struggling to keep up with the two taller boys who just tend to walk a lot faster. She does notice, though, that Ben is moving quicker than normal.

"This is us," Grace says, stopping in front of the door while Ben just walks straight in, sitting in the back row that is almost empty since they still have fifteen minutes before class starts. He blocks off the two seats next to him with his bag and his coat, waiting for you to come in and for Rafe to show up.

It's a few minutes of Grace and Nate chatting in the hallway before Rafe shows up, brushing past them and saying a quick 'hi' to Grace before joining her brother in the back row.

"Morning." Rafe yawns, handing Ben his coat and sitting in the now empty seat.

"Morning," Ben mumbles back. "How'd you sleep? You sound tired."

"Alright." Rafe shrugs in response. "I was up late doing the readings." He explains, making his friend raise an eyebrow at him.

"You did those?"

"Well, yeah. I figured I'd at least try to keep up with the workload this semester." Rafe replies, digging his laptop and books out of his bag.

"Did you hear we invited the engineering guys to our party?" Ben asks, pushing his tongue against the inside of his cheek.

Rafe adjusts in his seat and shakes his head. "No, uh, I didn't know that." He clears his throat, grabs his water bottle, and quickly takes a sip.

"Yeah. Nate said he's coming. Which fucking sucks." Ben whispers, leaning closer so Grace or her boyfriend can't hear from the hall.

"Why?" Rafe asks. "I mean, I know you don't love that guy but I don't know shit about him so fill me in."

"He's fine." Ben sighs, shaking his head and glancing back towards the hallway. "He's just such a dick. I don't even think Grace can see it because he's like, brainwashed her into thinking he's a gift from God or some shit. It's annoying. He is like, only physically capable of talking and thinking about himself. It's actually impressive."

"Sounds like an asshole." Rafe looks back at the door as well, seeing Nate kiss Grace goodbye as she slips in the door. ‘Maybe he should ask Ben for her number after all, if he hates her boyfriend so much’ Rafe thinks to himself as she walks up, and he can’t help but admire the way her black jeans are hugging her thighs just right and her orange sweater drapes over her almost like a blanket. She looks comfortable.

"Hey!" Grace smiles at the two, way too cheery for eight am. Ben quickly moves his books and she sits down on the other side of him.

"Hey, Grace." Rafe smiles at her. "Was that Nate?" He asks, sharing a brief look with Ben as she pulls everything out of her bag and places her coffee on the desk.

"Yeah, he's got a class in E building at eight-thirty." She explains.

"He seems cool." Rafe says, nudging his friend who just rolls his eyes.

"Yeah, he's sweet." Grace agrees, nodding. "We've been together for... almost four years now. He's just my person, you know?"

He tries not to laugh as Ben rolls his eyes pretty much into the back of his head, deciding not to say anything. "That's crazy, that's a long time."

"Mhm." Grace nods, looking pleased with herself.

"So, he's coming to our party this weekend, hey?" Rafe asks.

"Yeah, he mentioned it." Grace says, turning to lock eyes with her brother. "You be nice to him, by the way! And I'll find out if you're not."

Ben raises his hands defensively. "When am I not nice to him?"

"You're not coming?" Rafe asks before she gets the chance to berate her brother about it anymore.

"No, no. Frat parties aren't really my thing, believe it or not." Grace says, smiling at him, at this point forgetting about lecturing Ben. "Besides, I've got way too much homework and stuff to do. Oh! Speaking of which, Rafe, did you end up doing the readings?" She asks, wanting to move on and not face any weird pause in the conversation.

"Uh, yeah, I did them." Rafe nods, avoiding Ben's eyes as he looks quickly between them, a confused look plastered over his face.

"I assume it went well since you didn't text me?" Grace smiles. "It wasn't anything complicated luckily, they tend to keep it pretty easy for the first couple weeks."

"Well, actually, I would have, but I didn't end up getting your number." He replies, shrugging.

"Oh, well, here, give me your phone." She holds her hand out, gesturing for him to pass it over.

Rafe opens his phone and opens a new contact, then passes the phone over.

Grace quickly types in her information, handing it back to him. "There. You're all set now."

"You gonna tutor his dumb ass or something? Good luck." Ben scoffs, shaking his head.

"At least he plans on doing the readings himself. You're the one who just asks me to relay everything for you."

"Yeah. At least I'm trying." Rafe laughs, shoving his friend's shoulder.

"Yeah, whatever man." Ben rolls his eyes, leaning into his elbows on the counter.

"Seriously, though, Grace, you should come this weekend," Rafe says, leaning back so he can see her over her brother's hunched shoulders.

"I'll think about it." She relents. "I don't know if Nate will like that, though. I'll talk to him."

"Woah, wait- why wouldn't he?" Rafe asks, raising an eyebrow at her. 

"Because he just worries about me, you know?" Grace says and Ben mouths the words along with her, rolling his eyes again. They're getting a workout in this morning, apparently.

Rafe rolls his eyes as well this time. "Respectfully, that's a load of shit."

Grace laughs as her jaw drops. "What? Why? It's sweet!"

"He doesn't think you'll be safe? At a party where him and your brother will be? Please." Rafe says, smiling at her, his eyes scanning over her shocked face. This is the first time he's seen her smile like that- he could sit and watch that all day. Not in a weird way, though. Definitely not. He just takes note of how pretty she looks when he makes her laugh. "Sounds to me like he doesn't want you there." He shrugs.

"No way," Grace shakes her head. "It's not like that- he actually likes it when I drink. It's just an environment he knows I'm not super comfortable in."

"Oh, he likes when you drink. Gotcha. Honestly, you're not making a strong argument. All boys love drunk girls." Rafe says, laughing as Ben punches his arm. "Which is another good reason you should come; because there's going to be sorority girls there and you'll need to keep an eye on him." 

"He's not going to cheat on me, Rafe. He would never do that. Especially with a drunk sorority girl- gross." Grace scrunched up her nose as she speaks, shaking her head fervently.

"Okay, fine. Just like, don't tell him you're coming! They're almost always packed- you probably won't even see him." Rafe suggests.

"You really want her to come, huh?" Ben chuckles, shaking his head at his friend. 

Rafe raises his hands defensively. "Listen- I'm just a fan of women doing what they want, not what their boyfriends say they can."

"Don't make this a feminist thing. You're so full of shit."

"Am not!"

"Well, we'll see if I get ahead on my homework. Then maybe I'll come." Grace interrupts their childish argument, opening her notebook as their prof pulls up the first of the slides. 

Rafe mentally applauds himself as Ben stares at his sister in shock, who is already getting a head start on writing down every last word on the screen.

taglist: @newbooksmell777, @tahliac11, @slut4drudy, @madelynie, @angelw33dz, @mutual-mendes (as always reply or message me to be added or removed!)

[container-of-apple-juice]

So I wrote something for “The Worst Three-Legged Race.” Because, ykno, queer baiting. I’m queer, I took the bait, I wanted them to experience genuine feelings instead of a shitty joke-kiss, yadda yadda here’s some awkward genin feelings.

This is immediately after the episode ends, their hands are stuck together in a chakra ball, you know what’s up.

(1,825 words)

[[MORE]]

It wasn’t going to get easier any time soon, this Sasuke was sure of. Naruto had managed to settle down after their mission report once Kakashi Sensei and Sakura had taken turns feeding him ramen (Sasuke still had use of his dominant hand and, frankly, wouldn’t be caught dead being spoon fed).

But now, alone in Naruto’s apartment past sunset, came the upheaval of just how awkward things were destined to be for the next three days together.

Three. Whole. Days. AND nights.

Sasuke sighed and closed his eyes, feeling his brows scrunch together and downward for what felt like the millionth time since the crook had sealed their hands together with his unique (and frustratingly solid) chakra.

Kakashi sensei had the good grace to walk them back to Naruto’s apartment (Sasuke had yet to have another living soul join him on his family’s compound following the massacre and he’d be damned if NOW of all times was going to be the time he broke that trend) but once he disappeared from the scene in a flash of smoke, the boys were left alone in the entryway of the dark apartment.

“So, uh, usually I just leave my shoes over here-“ Naruto began to move down the small corridor, already knowing well enough to wait a brief moment for Sasuke to catch on to his movements so as to not send the other boy jerking along behind him.

Once they rounded the corner, just a few feet away from the door Naruto removed his shoes and waited for Sasuke to follow suit.

After that, well…it became very clear that Naruto had absolutely no plan for the evening. Which didn’t surprise Sasuke in the slightest, seeing as this whole bound-at-the-wrist thing was an admittedly new development. Had they been at Sasuke’s home, he was sure that he would fare no better than the blonde.

“Well it’s a good thing we already ate because I’m pretty sure my 24-hour-store produce wouldn’t be up to your standards.” The attempt at light banter was followed by something akin to a huff of breath mixed with an awkward chuckle, as well as with a shuffling of bare feet inches from Sasuke’s own and a barely noticeable tug on their joined hands.

Sasuke suddenly felt an unexpected and immense sympathy for the bewhiskered boy in front of him. So much so that it shocked him, but he was struck with the realization that Naruto likely hadn’t shared his space with another human being in his entire LIFE and that this was a completely foreign and embarrassing situation for the both of them.

“I don’t think instant noodle snacks count as produce, dobe.”

This earned a more genuine bark of laughter from Naruto, who undoubtedly appreciated the reciprocation of their casual-yet-teasing banter that always came so naturally.

“Shut up, teme, or I’ll just have to plan a little ‘grocery’ trip over the next couple days. I’m sure you’d LOVE a tour of my local convenience store. The clerk would LOVE you.” The shit-eating snickers that followed this threat left sasuke almost curious to find out just what kind of person this shop keeper was.

Instead of asking, Sasuke simply rolled his eyes and looked around the small living room. Naruto seemed content chuckling to himself over his seemingly-genius hypothetical scenario, while Sasuke properly took in his new surroundings.

Sasuke’s attention snapped back to his begrudgingly bound companion when the ridiculous giggles turned into an intense yawn.

“We should get to bed. The sooner we get through tomorrow the better.” Sasuke knew the bitterness of his statement was unwarranted, but as he spoke he became acutely aware that he wasn’t in control of this situation. He knew he was better off here with Naruto than with Kakashi or (god forbid) Sakura, but Sasuke wasn’t a fan of situations outside of his control- or at least his willfully consenting participation.

“Yeah, I’m beat. Tomorrow’s gonna be a nightmare.” The shorter boy’s whole body slumped forward as he finished his sentence, shooting Sasuke a brief, sidelong glance before trudging off in the direction of what Sasuke could only assume was his bedroom (please let it not be the bathroom, please let it not be the bathroom, please let it-)

Sasuke had to hold back his sigh of relief as the bed and sparse furnishings (most notably the lack of a toilet) filled his view.

“Huh.” Naruto had stopped in the middle of the room.

“What is it?”

“I mean, I guess changing into pajamas is sorta outta the question isn’t it?”

The hand that wasn’t stuck to Sasuke’s in the chakra ball reached up to scratch the hair behind Naruto’s left ear as he spoke.

“Yeah, unless you want me to cut them off you.” His Kunai knife made a dull sound against his palm through the holster as he brought his free hand down to pat against it in accordance to his threat.

However, what was meant to be a clever and sarcastic threat toward his rival instead left both of their faces burning in the dull lamp light that Naruto had turned on upon entering the room. The blood pumping in Sasuke’s ears did nothing to stop the mantra of regret filling his mind as Naruto began to splutter briefly, tripping over his words.

“S-shut up, bastard, that doesn’t even make any sense. How would I get my pajama shirt on then, huh? What, are you gonna cut it ON to me?”

“That doesn’t make any sense either.”

“None of this makes sense! Let’s just go to bed!” Naruto raised their joined hands into the air in frustration along with his own free hand.

Sasuke simply offered up a “Tch” in response to the admittedly true statement from his team mate. He anticipated Naruto’s movements and began moving toward the bed at the same time that the blonde spun on his heel.

Stopping just shy of the edge of the bed Naruto turned partly back toward sasuke, not quite facing him and blush still firmly in place. Sasuke thought maybe it had actually gotten worse in the three feet they had traveled, not that he was paying attention to that sort of thing.

“I’ve always just slept in the middle, so, I donno....do you have a preference?” The words were spoken in the softest tone Sasuke had perhaps ever heard the younger boy speak, and he found himself taken aback for the second time that night.

Of all the things to be embarrassed by in their current circumstances, choosing which side of the bed they would sleep on hadn’t crossed Sasuke’s mind as one of them. Though he supposed it made sense. Closeness of any kind was a particularly vulnerable experience when all of those close to you had been taken away. Or if you’d never known closeness to anyone at all.

At least Sasuke had experience with sharing a bed in the past. As the younger sibling, he’d not really been allowed a choice, Itachi had always instinctively taken the side of the door to protect him in case of intruders.

Sasuke clenched his jaw at the uninvited memory and felt his hand pull minutely at their joined chakra ball as he tried to physically retreat into himself on impulse.

“Sas-“

“I’ll take the left side.” He looked directly into Naruto’s eyes as he cut him off. His eyes were cold and sharp, daring Naruto to question his brief hesitation and the bodily twitch he had definitely noticed in the dark haired boy.

Naruto’s face sobered immediately in response to the challenging expression.

“Sure, fine by me.” It was mumbled and Sasuke barely made it out as Naruto turned fully toward the bed again, bringing Sasuke with him by association.

The dark haired boy knew immediately that Naruto had misconstrued his reaction to what had clearly been a vulnerable question. But he only felt angrier at this fact, trying to shove his frustration down deep as he climbed into the bed. No point trying to fix it now. He just needed to get through the next three days.

“Please tell me you at least sleep under the covers.”

“Of course, Dobe, it’s freezing at night.” Sasuke gave him a long-suffering look, wrenching the covers aside and forcing Naruto to shuffle out from on top of them.

Once they had settled beneath the covers, bound hands laying between them on the pillow, Sasuke felt himself fighting the urge to squirm under Naruto’s concentrated gaze. It was one he’d met countless times in class or on the training field or even on a mission- but he was caught off guard by the intensity of the bright blue eyes as they watched him through the darkness of this foreign space that Naruto called home.

Sasuke hadn’t dared to share the single pillow with Naruto (although it seemed more than big enough) so he was met with only half the blonde boys face, smooshed into the pillow and blocked partially by the chakra ball. It was decidedly the most vulnerable position he’d been in with Naruto to date so he closed his eyes determinedly.

He needed to sleep. Tomorrow was already going to be difficult, he was not about to add sleep deprivation to the list of road blocks.

Sasuke felt Naruto’s toes brush against his shin as the boy shifted slightly and Sasuke flinched back minutely on instinct.

“..Sorry.” Came the mumble across from him in the darkness.

“..It’s okay.” He whispered back.

Okay. So maybe sleep wouldn’t come as easily as he’d hoped, but he’d dealt with worse nights. Way worse. At least he wasn’t alone this time.

Wait, no, hold on. Wasn’t that the whole problem?

You know what, forget it. He’d deal with these thoughts tomorrow. Or never. He just needed to sleep.

Naruto started to snore softly beside him, but the volume didn’t stay quiet for long.

It was going to be a long three days.

[scarletnerd05]

For @the--sad--hatter  Weird and wonderful writing challenge. Hope you enjoy it *hides face behind hands and peeks through fingers*

Prompt No.7:   "I’m just like any modern woman trying to have it all. Loving husband, a family. It’s just, I wish I had more time to seek out the dark forces and join their hellish crusade.”

You sit and watch as the bard travels between tables and people alike, in a graceful dance he seems to have done a thousand times. The song he performs today tells of epic battles between the Witcher and whatever monster of the week he had taken down this time. 

While his reputation has vastly improved since before the Witcher, it seems not everyone appreciates his lyrical genius, as even now, people boo and throw food, which, well the bard doesn’t seem to be bothered as he gathers fallen rolls and returns to the table in which the man of the hour sits. After cursing at the ungrateful patrons of course.

You have been following them for a while now,  never close enough to gain notice, but just enough so you could observe safely and wait for the opportune moment to approach. A choice that seems to have been taken out of your hands now as you see the bard - Jaskier gets up once more and heads towards your table in the back.

“so , it seems while everyone else had no problem sharing their meals, and opinions, showing their frankly lacking taste in music during my performance, you were strangely silent. So come on. Share what you think” he states by way of introduction with a determined air that you know means he will not leave without getting what he came for. Only adding his name as an afterthought. 

“I think” you say, watching as Jaskier leans forward in your brief pause “that your stories are inspiring. But something seems to be missing” 

“And what's that” Jaskiers pleased expression at your compliment transforming into a pout.

“Maybe a daring female heroine to accompany the white wolf, and dashing bard” you add for his benefit.

“You wish to accompany us?” Now Jaskier seems to be withholding a smile.

“What can i say?” you spread your arms as if sharing in the helplessness of your situation with Jaskier. "I’m just like any modern woman trying to have it all. Loving husband, a family. It’s just, I wish I had more time to seek out the dark forces and join their hellish crusade. ” 

“And well”  You continue when Jaskier lets out an amused snort . “I don't have a husband, and the dark doesn't seem to pay what it used to, so thought maybe i would try join your band of merry men instead”

Jaskier is silent for a moment. You’re not sure if he is taking you seriously but you hope he can see the truth in your eyes. While you may joke, this is something you desperately want.

It seems Jaskier does see something in you as he softens before saying “I’ll go consult Geralt, it would be his choice ultimately”.

You let gratitude shine through your eyes as you watch  him walk away back to the Witcher, who you notice is watching you.

The longer you sit however, the more you lose hope in ever being granted a chance, as neither men move to join your table or beckon you to theirs for the rest of the night.

Eventually you give up. Clearly you would not be given even a chance to prove yourself. 

You leave the tavern, hoping to find a safe place to camp for the night soon, as you did not have the coin for a room. Gathering your horse, you begin trailing down the road for a while before you feel a prickling on the back of your neck. Someone is following you. 

You continue to walk as if you noticed nothing, slowly reaching across your body to grip your sword handle. You whip around suddenly, blade out, only for another to catch it before it hits its mark. You don’t have time to realise what is happening, suddenly you are fighting. Swords clashing through the closing night, only flashes of white hair and glowing eyes clue you into your attacker. The Witcher. 

You feel despair because you know, as hard as you trained, however desperately you fight, you are no match for him. And moments later your thoughts are proven true as your blade is wrenched from your hand, the Witchers blade at your throat and you at his mercy.

You stand, your eyes burning into his as you refuse to show fear in your last moments. You had stood against the Witcher for as long as you could and all you can do is be proud of that, as you wait for the Witcher to strike the final blow. 

You are shocked into motionless then, when instead, the blade at your throat is removed and the Witcher only lets out a distinct and rough “Hmm”

Taking a moment to catch your breath, heart still pounding, you finally take notice of your surroundings, of Jaskier in the background seemingly bouncing on his toes, and of Geralt retrieving his horse and giving you an appraising look.

It dawns on you then. That was a test. An opportunity to show if you could indeed keep up with Geralt or if your wanting to join them was just a silly maids dream. You can only hope you had done enough to convince him.

“You said you didn't have a husband” Geralt growls out in what you could assume was his default tone, not even a bit breathless from the fight. “A family?”

You’re not sure if Jaskier had repeated your words at the tavern to Geralt, or if he had simply overheard them personally with his supernatural hearing, if the rumours were to be believed, but you answer just the same with a halfhearted gesture behind you, arms still feeling like rubber from the unexpected assault they had just undergone.

“Only my horse” you say somewhat self consciously stepping aside to reveal the very creature, who had stood by your side through many trials, carrying you faithfully and safely wherever you lead, but had apparently seemed happy to stand aside while you were set upon by the Witcher, and instead chews on some straw which you have no idea as to where it came from.

Geralt only lets out one more “Hmm” before walking past you, leading into the surrounding forest you had initially been heading in to make camp, his horse at his side. You’re not sure if you were imagining it, seeing as his expression was near stone like, but you can almost have sworn that you saw understanding in his eyes when you said your horse was your family. 

You stand still, only stirring when Jaskier makes to pass you, gently bumping your shoulder with his as he does, offering you an enthusiastic thumbs up and smile. A smile quickly mirrored on your face as you follow. With one last thought, you head into the canopy of trees.

You had found your own hellish crusade to go on and you would fight with everything in you. Maybe one day, there would be songs sung about you. 

And just maybe, one day, you will find the monster responsible for setting you on this path in the first place.

[osomagine-san]

I don’t want to go completely inactive while it’s hard for me to post, so here’s a self-insert I wrote a little while ago! Thank you for reading!

He assured me that once we really got going, we would gradually warm up, but I’d heard the same thing when I was young and first tried ice skating. The evidence had never presented itself, then, so I kept my coat on, with my chin tilted inside of the taller neck (with apprehension, not just from the cold, I might add, considering how badly I’d bruised my wrists right before I’d dropped out of ice skating lessons).

Dancing through the bleachers to offer myself to the ice is no big deal; we aren’t far, and can hold onto one another until it’s time to touch our blades to the frost beneath. It was never the balance of it all that was trying-- it is when the gliding is to commence that I find most of my protestations.

Once we reach the rink, he does a quick lap without me. Graceful and poised, like he was born for ice skating, unlike me, who was not born for any kind of skating. I smashed my wrists pretty awfully while, more recently, attempting roller skating, too. I am in good hands, I know, that would never let anything bad happen to me (“Or your wrists,” he teased), but that does little to curb my fear of falling and eating shit.

I step onto the ice, clinging to the half-wall like a lifeline. My feet slide underneath me, but I pull myself along until I’m beside him, again. I do not make any motion with my legs to move, instead relying on my faithful upper body strength. I greet him with a smirk.

“I guess I’m, like, a skating god,” I joke.

My feet unwillingly slide underneath me, and I’m sure I look panicked in the moment as I tense in an attempt to stop. He reaches out and places his hand on my back, though keeping a bit of distance between us so that I don’t notice the chuckle he lets out.

“Oh yeah, big time.” He rolls his eyes.

He traces his arms up mine and takes my hands.

“Now, come skate with me!” He pulls at my hands, which are, again, holding the only thing keeping me upright.

“Totty, I can’t-”

“Sure, you can!” He finally manages to wrench me away from the wall, and stands me up straight. “Just hold on to me, okay?”

“I’m gonna fall,” I state. Not in fear (though, admittedly, that is the emotion in my voice), but it is a fact. 

I adjust my grip so that I’m holding onto his forearms, and he’s holding mine. His grip is much more gentle.

“I won’t let you,” he promises.

“Please, Todomatsu, please don’t lie to me,” I say, focusing more on my shaking legs than on anything else.

“Okay, then I won’t let you fall alone.” I look up at him. He’s got a grin on his face-- he’s amused by this. I roll my eyes and offer a smile in return. “Sound good?”

It sounds better than falling by myself.

I let him pull me slowly away from the wall. My heart is racing.

My boyfriend, the one and only person I love more than anything else in the world, is laughing at me. I’m more embarrassed by the eyes this draws more than the actual act of him doing that.

“You don’t have to squat like that,” he giggles.

“Please don’t tell me how to not fall over.”

He laughs at that. Again, I manage a small smile at him, though I wobble in my hubris.

But he’s got me.

I’ve got him.

He slowly starts to speed up, and my position holds steady. Despite this, the speed is not something that I control, and I let out a panicked,

“Wait, wait!”

And he does. He slows down gradually.

Still, my legs slide uneven, and before I can get the chance to say anything, I fall. And I take him with me.

[thegoldenavenger]

While i work out the logistics of the naruto au, i offer this. Sorry if you dont know kimetsu no yaiba, I did my best. 3000 ish words. Mobile beware of cut. Unbetad we die like mne.

Content Warning for violence, gore, blood, at the beginning. If youve seen/read demon slayer then canon typical, if youre a marvel only fan then it’s more like iron man 1 or winter soldier levels of violence vs the bloodless avengers films.

Tony Stark wants to be a Demon Slayer. But, born into the Sword Smith Village's head family, he was supposed to craft the finest nichirin demon slaying swords there were, and while Tony likes sword smithing he chafes under his father's strict parenting.

He admires the demon slayers he makes swords for and, quietly, teaches himself the Way of Iron, hoping if he excels his father will let him join the Demon Slayer corp. Unfortunately, his father is not amenable to this, and the two fight until Tony runs off in a huff.

When he makes his way back to the hidden village, he smells blood. In the time he was away a demon had found the sword smith's village. He pulls his sword and joins the fight, trying to evacuate those he can while making his way deeper into the village.

It gets quiet the closer to his home he gets, and the door stands wrenched out of its frame. He can hear his heart beat as he crosses the threshold.

The first thing he notices are the carefully sculpted masks usually displayed on the walls are littering the floor carelessly.

The second thing he notices is the thick trail of blood. His eyes unwillingly trace the blood to the crumpled figures of his mother and father, demon slaying swords shattered on the ground. Standing over them is a demon, the moonlight glinting on the number 5 in his right iris.

Tony's grip on his sword tightens and his inhales, too sharp to be disciplined. It sends a pain through his chest but he sets back into the first form of the Breath of Iron naturally. The demon smiles and Tony throws himself forward, his left foot leading as he pushes as much force as he can into the piercing jab.

The demon's eyes betray a hint of surprise, it could never have encountered a style like this before. Iron Breathing First Form: Piercing Ray is a thrusting move and demons are more used to the graceful arcs of slashing forms designed to take a demon's head off.

Tony's sword hits the demon's collarbone and he can feel it slide home. Blood slicks down the blade and Tony imagines he can feel a heart beat through it. He flexes his wrists but the sword doesn't twitch. The demon scoffs, low and ugly, "You missed."

"Not quite," Tony says, flicking the little hammer in the hilt of his sword. It causes a spark, and Tony is quick to abandon his sword for a few feet of distance as the spark ignites the black powder in the sword's hilt.

The demon grabs the smoking sword, then, through a sharp boom, screeches as the gunpowder propelled blade rips it's way the demon's toughened flesh.

Tony squints after the flash of bright light, the demon's body torn in half and crumpling. Tony has a moment to think: he wasn't much for a twelve moon demon. And then he's kneeling next to his parents, hands flickering over their bodies. He hadn't noticed, but his mother is still breathing, gasping under wounds. He presses his hands to her, trying to stop further blood loss but her skin is already ice cold.

He feels tears well up in his eyes, he's so stricken. He'd talked to her this morning. She chokes on something, but Tony keeps shaking his head. No, don't speak, stay quiet until the clean up crew arrives. There's no way the Demon Slayers aren't here already, there's no way they wouldn't send a doctor to the sword smith's head family.

His mother will be okay.

"Tony, oh, please--" she gurgles as he tries to shush her. Her speech is indecipherable. Through his pleas and the blood in her lungs he can barely make out syllables, but he thinks he hears shield, fury, heart. He shakes his head.

His mother makes a mournful, bleating noise and her eyes widen in fear and it's the last thing he hears from her as a high pitched, shrill siren pierces his ears. He'd wince but he's frozen, and then his chest feels open and cold and hollow.

He can't look down, but he knows there's claws in him. Through him. Whatever.

Behind him the demon laughs, affably, like someone seeing the punchline of a well set up joke. "You should've made sure I was finished. What a shame the Starks end here, I really was hoping one of you would show some promise. But really what can one expect of such worthless beings. Too much trouble in the end."

Tony's vision starts to blank. It's not that black creeps into his peripherals, it's simply that he stops being able to comprehend pieces of vision. Like a blind spot slowly encroaching on his whole field of perception, there is just nothing there.

The shrilling noise quiets and Tony's body reflexively fights for breath. It burns and freezes all at once. He can hear a whistling noise.

Then, footsteps thundering on the floor, he can hear because he's lying down now, somehow. He can hear the singing sound of nichirin steel drawn against sheath, and shouting. The demon slayers are here.

A shape hunches over him, as his vision narrows. Maybe it's the demon, or a doctor. No, he thinks, if it was a doctor it would be reaching for his mother.

He ceases to be able to see, but he hears the shape anyway.

"Breathe. You are not finished, today."

Tony wakes up at the Wysteria Estate, in what looks like a hospital. Dr. Yinsen is by his side.

He explains: you parents are dead, your home destroyed, the demon that attacked you escaped.

He says: The demon used a Blood Art on you, you're lucky to be alive.

He says: the damage was extensive and your insides are scarred irreparably.

Tony yells at him.

"She was alive! Why didn't you help her, you could've helped her!"

Dr. Yinsen's eyes are sad, but his voice is not gentle when he says, "You and the demon were the only living things in that room."

After Tony is done shouting and screaming and then coughing because something in his chest feels like breaking, the doctor sets him back against some pillows. He pulls at the bandages on Tony's chest, and Tony lies there, unresistant.

"Do you understand what I mean when I say the damage was extensive?" He asks as he unwinds the bandages. They stick to Tony's skin, but Tony doesn't flinch.

"I mean, your lung's capacity is down by 12%. The scarring in your chest means you cannot breathe well, if at all."

At this Tony blinks. He's breathing right now, isn't he?

"No, no, young man. Any sword techniques you know that are supported by Breaths. It would cause too much strain on your body. You'd be cough up blood before you could breathe your first kata."

"That's--" Tony starts, then starts coughing. The doctor tips Tony's head back and rubs a cool ointment over the scars on his chest.

"Your heart is in a similar condition. Any activity too strenuous will cause it to fail. At best you'll get light headed and wheezy, at worst you'll tear something inside, you're heart will stop and you'll die."

Tony narrows his eyes at the doctor. "Then what can I do?"

"Heal, for now."

"Will I be able to slay demons, again?"

"It's not likely."

"Then why did you save me!" Tony lashes out again, hissing in grief. "If there's nothing I can do but sit here, and try not to breathe too deeply!"

Dr. Yinsen lets Tony have his moment, before firmly grabbing his shoulder. Tony automatically turns his head to look him in the eye. The hand on Tony's chest feels warm now, almost hot.

"You shouldn't have lived through that attack." Dr. Yinsen says. "I shouldn't have been able to stabilize you. You shouldn't have woken. Yet, here you are anyway.

"Stark, who am I to tell you what can happen in the face of that defiance. You are the one who made it here to today. You are the one who will determine where you will be tomorrow."

His village, though beaten, lives on. Evacuated to a safer area, Tony has heard his kin have started to rebuild. He has not returned.

The Wysteria Estate has acknowledged him, and after he healed enough, allowed him to join the ranks of novice Demon Slayers. Nicolas Fury, a retired Pillar of the Demon Slayers, vouches for him even when Tony struggled to maintain a grip on his sword.

Speaking of his sword, it's a poor excuse for a weapon. Nichirin steel it may be, it's nothing like the blades Tony made. Use to make. He uses it reluctantly, as Fury bullies him into training.

Tony's lungs ache whenever he wakes, like they forget how to breathe during his sleep and they're stretching anew. Sometimes he is so cursedly aware of his own heart, each pulsing beat it like a vice squeezing him tighter and tighter.

He forges on.

Fury is the retired Mist Pillar of the Demon Slayers, and thus, Tony starts to learn the forms of the Breath of Mist. He doesn't take to it well. Even after strengthening his lungs to the point where he can Breathe again, even just a little, most of the Mist Breathing forms eludes his mastery.

He's never been one to fade into the background.

But the training isn't for nothing. Even if he is limited, he can use Breathing techniques again, and his heart doesn't feel like exploding quite so early in exercises. He starts training with his own Iron Style again, wondering if he could add a third form inspired by the Breath of Mist Sixth Form: Moonlit Mist.

Deemed healthy enough, he meets other Demon Slayers. Because Fury is nominally his mentor, he is introduced to the current Pillars as well.

He gets on particularly well with the Rock and Flame Pillars: James Rhodes and Pepper Potts respectively, both of which whole heartedly teach him their techniques.

Tony loves the solid forms of the Breath of Rock, especially the third form: Stone Skin, though he is much better suited towards the nine forms of the Breath of Flames style. Pepper is an efficient teacher.

Natasha Romanoff, the current Mist Pillar is more stand offish, but when she does speak it is with a tongue sharp with wit.

Thor is the Pillar of Thunder, but he also Mastered the Breath of Wind style. Watching him fight, even just to spar, is thrilling.

Clint Barton is the Flower Pillar. He seems like the quiet type, but only because he speaks through his hands. Once Tony picks up the language he is consistently delighted by Clint's keen observation and even keener sense of humor. He's unique among the Pillars for his preferred choice of weapon: a bow.

Bruce Banner insists he is not a pillar. He says he's barely a demon slayer. He studies pharmaceuticals, he's working on something to help curb demon blood lust, he's a gentle soul. He doesn't have the strength to lop off a demon's head anyways, he says, he practices Insect Breathing only as a last resort, he says.

An ill-mannered low rank rookie makes the mistake of using a squirrel for target practice and the twisting, barreling movement Tony sees Bruce slip into before Thor sweeps him off his feet do not look like the gentle piercing forms of the Breath of Insects.

Janet van Dyne, the Insect Pillar, pulls Tony into a hug and thanks him for her custom sword request. He grins because her designs for The Stingers were brilliant when he had first seen them and brilliant now, watching her dart around with them, slickly coated in Wysteria Poison.

T'challa, the Panther Pillar, carries himself with a regality Tony half falls in love with. His Breathing style is self made and his successor, Shuri, is the only other who knows it.

Sam Wilson is the Wind Pillar, he's gentle but firm, yet Tony knows he and Clint and Natasha goof off when no one is looking. He doesn't have proof, but he'd bet on it.

Finally there's Peter Parker; younger then them all he's the newest, most eager Water Pillar Tony is sure there ever was. He's bright eyed and takes a liking to Tony pretty quickly.

There's an empty Pillar, Tony realizes. There should be twelve, to reflect the twelve moons of the demons, yet even including Bruce in the count there are only ten.

Tony is idly curious about this, but he lets it sit in the back of his mind as he pesters the pillars to help train him. He worms his way under their skin, whether it's Rhodey and Pepper always grabbing him for lunch, or Natasha flyting with him in their spare time.

It takes him wholly by surprise when they tell him he's being nominated to the eleventh pillar position.

He can't in good conscious say yes. He can barely Breathe properly. A good knock to the chest might take him out. He isn't a master of any style. There are too many reasons to shake his head, and it takes Rhodey and Pepper both before he even listens to the offer.

"You're worried you're not good enough," Pepper says.

"Of course I am,"

"Take a breath," Rhodey instructs.

"I am breathing! If I breathe anymore I'll tear a lung!"

"Have you tried?" Pepper asks.

"Have you even noticed?" Rhodey asks.

Tony blinks, caught off guard. He's not sure what they mean, but he focuses anyways. On the breath in his lungs, the taught feeling of them expanded. The way the air flows through him.

"You've been Breathing this whole time." Pepper sounds smug.

"And you're fine training on top of that." Rhodey says.

Tony takes a second to blink up at them, for the first time in a long time confused.

"I keep forgetting you weren't trained properly," Pepper says, "You pick up on things so fast. Full Focus Breathing is the very fundamental basis of Breathing Styles, but it's difficult to master. It's a full concentration breath, and Pillars are as strong as we are because we use this technique for every breath we take."

"It's what helps us be on par with upper level demons. You must have picked up on us doing it and copied it without instruction."

"That sounds... plausible."

"It's more than plausible. Listen, you've gotten training from all of us Pillars already. Fury is in your corner! It doesn't really matter if you say yes or no, you're pretty much our acting eleventh pillar anyways." Pepper assures him.

It takes Tony some time for this to sink in, but his friends are right. Dr. Yinsen was right. He shouldn't have been able to get this far but here he was. He was in a place where he could help people again, he'd be a fool to run away now.

He found that low level demons were nothing to him, any longer. He developed his own Breathing Style, quietly taking the information his friends taught him, and applying them in the field with his own twists.

He learns that the scars in his chest can still give him trouble, if he's too hard on himself, but he stops worrying about it. Everyone dies at some point. As long as his body holds together long enough to help people that's good enough for him.

Traces of the Demon King, the father of all Demons, had been sighted in the middle of some patch of nowhere. Though Tony has never seen the Demon King he knows him well enough.

His blood is what creates new demons, he is who founded the Twelve Moons, the high ranking demons that often cause the Demon Slayers trouble. The demon that killed Tony's parents was a Demon Moon.

No one is expecting Tony to run into the Demon King, just clean up any messes and find as much information as he can. That's all he's expecting out of this. But as he steps through the snowy night he hears heavy snarling.

As he draws closer he can smell blood and hear panicked words.

He draws his sword and approaches.

There's a demon attacking a human in the woods and Tony leaps forward.

He follows the ninth form of flame breathing, using it's speed and force to bulldoze into the demon, dragging it away from its prey. There is no blood in the snow, it hadn't gotten a chance to feast yet.

He changes his grip on his sword, to the second form of Flame Breathing. Enough strength to decapitate this demon without losing hold of its struggling form.

He's stopped by a desperate shout.

"Stop! What are you doing?!"

He looks at the human.

"This demon was attacking you." Tony says, as the blond man pushes himself up out of the snow.

"He's not a demon! He's my friend!"

A string of sympathy pulls through him. Still, Tony must do his job. He looks at the snarling creature in his grip. "He's not your friend anymore, look at him." He shakes his wrist and demon jerks at him his blue eyes piercing.

"Stop, please, I know him! He's just scared. He wouldn't hurt me."

"Listen, I know it's rough but you don't know him any more. He is a demon. Demons eat people. It's not complicated."

The man scrunches his face up, and Tony is worried he's going to cry before something is flying straight at him.

He dodges on automatic, frowns when he sees it was just a book, then hisses in alarm as the man runs straight for the demon.

Tony lunges into the sixth form of Rock Breathing, Arcs of Justice, as the human sprints forward. He is ready to throw his sword in desperate hope to pin the demon before it can attack the stupid guy throwing himself at it, when something altogether strange happens.

The demon stands as the man reaches him, lunging forward. But instead of tearing into soft human flesh the demon spins the man around and behind the demon.

Drool slips down the demon's chin. Tony didn't notice it before but the demon's left arm is missing and the tax on it's healing must be doubling or tripling its newborn hunger.

Yet it's still protecting the stupid guy instead of taking a chunk out of him.

He keeps his sword drawn, because he's not dumb, but he lowers it.

"Bucky, stop!" The man hisses, gripping onto the demon's sleeve.

"What's your name?" Tony asks.

"Steve. Steve Rogers. And this is my best friend, Bucky. He hasn't killed anyone, he might-- he might be a demon but he's still good! He, this happened because he was trying to protect us from the real demon that attacked our family!"

Tony's grip on his sword shifted.

He's never encountered a demon who didn't relish at eating humans at the very least. Tony's experience with them started with one standing over his dead parents and didn't improve from there.

But all demons were humans, once, and even Tony had gotten a second chance. He sheathed his sword.

"You cannot let him eat a human." He says.

"Of course he wouldn't!" Steve says, disgusted.

"Shut up. You can't let him eat a human, and if you want him around for any length of time make sure he doesn't get exposed to sunlight."

Steve's furious expression shifts into confusion, then wonder.

"What do you want Steve?"

"I--I want Bucky to be okay. I want the demon who did this to not be able to do it anymore."

"You don't want revenge?"

"I don't like bullies."

Tony huffs a small laugh. He thinks about Nicolas Fury, who had moved out of the Wysteria Estate to a mountain nearby. He thinks about Bruce's research and his mother's last words, and examines the way the demon... Bucky. How Bucky is still anchored, inexorably, in front of Steve's body.

"I'll take you to someone who can help you." Tony says.

The growling from Bucky has died down, now that the threat has passed. Steve's blue eyes bore into Tony as sharply as any knife.

"Thank you," Steve finally says.

Tony laughs. "Sure," he says, "You might be taking that back when you meet him."

Tony wonders if maybe seeing this, seeing a demon who chose not to give in, seeing a human save his friend, if this was why he was still alive. If, maybe Tony couldn’t save his family but he can help someone else save theirs.

He walks past Bucky and Steve, away from the upturned snow of their aborted battle. As he passes he notes the surety of Steve's grip on Bucky and something in him hems and haws.

Tony thinks, instead of a sword, he'll try making a shield.

Read Everything | Read Chapter 2

[be-ready-when-i-say-go]

Falling From Grace- Part 2: Deleted Scenes

Calum, Ashton, Luke, and Michael have a prophecy to fulfill. They might not have always been Calum, Ashton, Luke, and Michael but they have always been brothers in the fight. Mythology!sos. Each guy is a God reincarnated from various mythologies. 

See the full story. 

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_____________________________

He’s known the museum sitting there for years now. He’s just never step foot into it. Felt way too close to home knowing that statues of people he actually knows sit about. But Ashton walts in this time. It could be fun he figures. It’s not like anyone knows him, knows his connection. So with his hair tied back for the moment, Ashton pays admission and starts about the exhibits. Most of the place is way too pristine. The white walls look more like a hospital and it feels like one too but much less sorrowful. He keeps his hands tucked into the pocket of his pants, restricting the yearning to touch some of the frames. 

He misses the frill, the extravagant gold accents on his usual robes. The frames are the closet he’s going to get right now. Ashton follows the line down before rounding the corner and finding him at the door of another exhibit. Busts line the walls and he grins to himself. He recognizes these faces, knows them all too well, even if they are in white marble. Some are chipped, the wear and tear of time never being the most merciful force in the universe. 

Ashton poses in front of the first statue, mimicking the facial expression. He sends the photo to the group chat. This guy was a dick. Or is a dick, still, I guess is more correct. He moves down to the second bust, pulling a face similar to the one sculpted. Less of a dick, he types, grinning to himself. He takes a photo with the last bust, furrowing his brows, and pulling down the corner of his lips. Less of a dick than the first two. Guy’s still not my favorite. 

A couple of minutes later his phone buzzes. Michael’s replied, I’m saving these for evidence. You’ve been warned. 

They hate me anyway, so good luck with that.

Damn it. Why do all the Greek Gods hate each other so fucking much?

Because we do. It’s our Brand™. 

Alright Meme Lord. 

Ashton chuckles, pocketing his phone. As he walks through the rest of the museum he ponders what else to do with the photos? Should they just sit forever in the groupchat? What’s the real harm in posting them? He doesn’t have to put a caption. If he’s going to live in this life then he’s going to live it to its fullest. 

As Ashton settles back onto the cushions of his house, he hovers over the post button. He’s had the pictures sitting for ages in the post. Nothing’s going to happen to him. The Gods aren’t going to smite him, for all their seriousness, humor is not lost on them. Just post it, he thinks to himself. It is not the end of the world. He’s all acquainted with how that goes. His thumb twitches, the posts loads before the screen changes. There, staring back up at him, is his own face next to faces he’s always seen in the flesh. 

Maybe it’s a bad idea. Panic starts to hits his chest. His phone buzzes. It’s Calum. I know you, mate. Saw the photos. They’re funny. Don’t worry. Ashton starts to draft his response, tell them how he needs to delete the photos before another messages comes in. If you delete them, it’s more suspicious. Leave them be. We are human right now. What’s the point of having this humanity and not using it.

Calum is right. Ashton exhales, deleting all the panicked message and replacing it with a simple, Thanks. 

_________

Michael finds himself as the next one in a museum. This time not as accidental as Ashton’s trip. He decided to go out for the day, see some sights, to get away. They need a break. Recording and writing, more writing, more recording. He just wants to shut his brain off for a moment, just enjoy his time while it’s still mostly his. As he’s walking through the exhibits, awestruck by the use of colors and the line work that’s still incorporated into the final details of the piece, he jokingly poses in front of some pieces. He’s only doing it for the jokes, the giggle behind the camera. 

But at the conclusion of his journey through art, he realizes that some of those poses were pretty spot on. He posts the set of recreations with the caption, Immerse yourself. Become art. He wants to add more. You are art. Everyone is art. Everything is art. There’s an art in just existing, in just breathing when everything feels like it’s telling you not to breathe, to not exist. However he figures it best to stay positive, to keep it light and funny. He’s becoming art and that reminds him, even in all the struggle of making this album he still has a duty to himself. 

So he leaves it at just that. Become art. Becoming is the best part of existence. He can become anyone. He can become anything, even if in some ways he is still restricted by another’s diction. He will always becoming something in this human form. He hopes he never stops becoming either, even in the old age when bones are more brittle. 

__ Everyone’s buzzing about Marvel. It’s always somewhere in the corners of the internet the correct way to watch the movies. Calum’s never been one to delve head first into this. But Michael enjoys it and rather than tune out his friend’s interest, he suspends all he knows and finds the action scenes and the comradery admirable. Even if people are robots made out of blue scraps, and someone’s a purple giant, and there’s two green people. But only one’s technically the alien and the other deems himself an abomination.

It’s not very amusing when the interviewer jokes about potentially spoiling the movie. Calum can tell Michael’s a little on edge. So he jokes, “Is Spiderman in it?”

“Yeah, I haven’t even watched the trailer because I don’t wanna spoil it,” Michael replies, looking down at the slight furrowed brow of the brown man slouched, picking at his nails. 

“Is Spiderman in it?” Ashton echoes. 

Calum speaks up again, “Is it Toby?” HIs face in deadpanned. He knows Michael will think he is serious. 

Michael for a second is shocked, voice dripping with disbelief. “What? No.” He watches the very faint smile that overtakes Calum’s face and then laughs. Of course Calum would ask that. He knows it’s not Toby but it got a chuckle out of Michael. 

Calum faces forward, staring directly into the camera, like in The Office. Not too many people will catch onto the joke, the play that just happened. But it’s fine. It’s for Michael anyway. The stab about spoilers wasn’t funny to anyone and rather than let that tension grow, Calum knew he had to break it somehow. This then spurs Ashton onto a rant about how Toby is better. 

Calum interjects, mostly at Michael, “I like Tom, but I like Toby more.”

Later on, after all the interviews are done, they settle into the dark of the theater. They laugh, they gasp, they admittedly cry. Though it only maybe only a couple of tears and no one would admit it, it’s still a shock. Calum pulls out his phone, Why is Gamora? He decides to focus on the positive, on the laughs. Though the question itself is still a very valid one. Why is anyone? Why the question purpose, and sometimes the most difficult one to ask. Why anything? Why the four of them? Why is it so humid in Singapore? The t-shirt, that Calum figured would be thin enough, does not provide much circulation. His pits feel like a swamp, the leather to the couch they’ve been sat on for the last two days takes no prisoners either. 

Calum has learned, however, that he can question why until he turns blue in the face? He could analyze every interaction, every word in existence and it would still only lead him to more questions. He doesn’t let that stop him from question some things but he tries not to question too many things. There is some, while it is scary, serenity in knowing that one does not have all the answers. He is allowed to question Why is Gamora and it is nothing more than a funny piece of dialogue from a widely accepted heart wrenching movie and it will provide answers of its own accord, at its own pace. All he simply must do is walk into a dark theater. 

________

“So we can see, Calum out there has had a long day,” Luke starts, shirtless, watching out onto the balcony where Calum, “on the treacherous waters.”

“He was fishing for Tilapia,” Ashton interjects. 

“Catch Calum on the newest season of Deadliest Catch,” Luke concludes. He doesn’t find himself to be the funniest guy, but every so often he likes to get in a joke. 

Ashton opens the door, “You okay, buddy?” Calum’s earnest glance back makes all three men laugh on camera, including a small chuckle from Andy, who’s behind the camera. It makes Luke happy, that just for a moment, they aren’t too serious. Even though this is work, steaming his voice before a show, and he’s currently unsure of what he’s going to wear tonight, there is some play. 

Later on, after the adventure in Cream Soda, venturing down the dark streets, Luke pulls Michael to the back of the group for an ‘interview’. It quickly goes down south. They continue on down the street. The saying all work and no play makes Jack dull is right. So they make sure to have fun, even if it’s in the backseat of the car, shakily hitting a falsetto about Shake Shack. It reminds them all, but Luke especially to try and shake the bad times off. 

The whole year creating the album broke, and maybe in some ways, created chains and burdens. Expectations is the worst thing they’ve ever faced. They’re always expected to restore balance to the cosmos. That is an old cross they bear. But it is strange now to be so far into the limelight, to be told that they are expected to work almost endlessly day in and day out without allowing themselves the truth of the situation. They grow tired. They grow weary. 

They sing in falsetto though. They make sure to have these small moments to be strange and to be weird to remind themselves they are bound to humanness. They are not exempt from doubt even with the expectation to be superheros in the eye of the music world, even though they know normally they are able in deity form do miracles things, that are incredibly human right now. And it’s okay to have this tender moments. They’ve earned them.