#I’m imagining you found an old picture of him looking really stupid but in a cute way

[gnawingonleonsbicep]

Leon walking in on you crying and he gets all concerned and worried because his sweet angel baby is crying and he thinks soemthing is wrong but you just found a picture of him looking really silly when he was younger and it was really endearing.

[amirasainz]

i really love this series sm and can u make baby!sainz and carlos’s cute moments from childhood with each other or with their parents. thank you!

Ohhh, this was so sweet to write. I really like the Easter part, because me and my siblings would do something like that as well.

I hope you have fun reading and please send some requests!

-XoXo

Childhood memories

The Arrival Young Carlos’s excitement about having a sibling—someone to share adventures with, especially karting—was palpable. But when he learned it was a girl, his disappointment was equally intense. Why couldn’t he have a little brother like he’d hoped? Blanca and Ana had each other for Barbie playdates; why couldn’t he have a buddy too?

His parents tried to console him, suggesting that maybe the new baby would share his love for karting. But Carlos remained unconvinced. It was the night before his sister’s arrival, and he sat with his Papá on the swings, contemplating his impending role.

“You have a really important job now, Carlos,” his Papá said, capturing his attention. “What job, Papá? Am I gonna be a Ninja?” Carlos’s imagination ran wild. But his father’s response was even better: “No, mijo. Something even more significant. With three little sisters now, you need to be their protector. Especially for Amira—she’ll be too little to take care of herself. Can you do that for her, Carlitos?”

Carlos’s promise was unwavering. “Of course, Papá. I’ll be the best big brother for Amira. Promise.”

And so it began—the moment Amira arrived home, she had her personal bodyguard. Carlos took his role seriously, watching over her with fierce determination.

The first Vaccination It was no secret that Carlos loved his little sister dearly. His baby sister, just six months old, had already wrapped him around her tiny finger. And Carlos didn’t mind one bit; in fact, their parents found it utterly sweet.

But when he heard Amira cry during their doctor’s visit, it shattered Carlos’s heart. As a six-month-old, she needed her vaccinations promptly. Like any other baby, Amira wailed when the needle pricked her tiny arm.

The worst part? Carlos felt utterly helpless. His Mamá explained that it was crucial for Amira’s safety to receive all her vaccinations. But he couldn’t bear to hear his sister’s heart-wrenching sobs any longer. Tearfully, he turned to the doctor: “Senora Doctora, can’t you give my sister something else? She’s in so much pain.” He cradled Amira in his arms, holding her like a precious teddy bear.

The doctor and his Mamá exchanged a knowing look. “I’m afraid not, little Señor Carlos,” the doctor replied gently. “However, when we’re done here, little Amira will be protected from all the illnesses out there.” Carlos’s eyes searched hers. “Promise?” he asked. “Promise,” she assured him.

And so, with that solemn vow, Carlos held his sister close, knowing that her well-being was worth every tear shed during those necessary vaccinations.

Stupid Boys Ah, the complexities of sibling dynamics and growing up! Young Carlos found himself in a predicament when his six-year-old sister, Amira, casually dropped the bombshell: “My boyfriend Diego colored me a picture.” Carlos’s reaction was nothing short of dramatic: “Wait, what? What do you mean your boyfriend? Gatita, you’re only six years old!” His protective instincts kicked in, and he couldn’t fathom the idea of his baby sister having a boyfriend already. Before he could say anything else, his sister ran to her older sisters.

Throughout dinner, Carlos attacked his peas with more aggression than necessary. His Mamá, ever observant, asked, “Carlos, what’s wrong, aye? What did the peas do to you?” Blanka, the family joker, chimed in: “Maybe he saw himself in the reflection.” Ana and Amira erupted into giggles, and their father had to intervene with a stern “Girls.”

But Carlos couldn’t let it go. “Amira, you don’t need a boyfriend yet,” he nearly whined. The simultaneous “Boyfriend?” from his parents revealed their differing perspectives. His Mamá seemed delighted, while his Papá sounded more serious. And his sisters? Well, they “uhhhh”-ed in unison.

Amira spilled the beans about Diego, and the whole family listened intently. At the end of her story, their father weighed in: “Your brother is right, mija. You’re too young.” A secret wink followed towards Carlos, and Carlos felt a surge of validation. His father had his back.

As his sisters continued to protest to Papá about the perceived unfairness, Carlos realized that if his sisters were a team with Mamá, he was definitely part of Team Papá.

Easter Bunny Each year his sisters and Carlos would have a sleepover the night before Easter. Carlos, the protective big brother, found himself in a delightful predicament. As he grew older, the magic of Easter began to fade, but for his little sisters, it remained alive and well. They still believed in the Easter Bunny, and their excitement was contagious.

So, when Carlos was abruptly woken up at 5 am on Easter morning, he found all three of his sisters staring at him with wide eyes. Panic filled the room as they whispered about scary noises—perhaps robbers invading their home. Blanca’s sentence hung in the air, unfinished, when another noise echoed through the house.

Carlos knew the truth, of course. It wasn’t robbers; it was their Papá, stealthily placing Easter presents on the staircase. But he couldn’t spoil the magic for his sisters. Instead, he played along: “Dios mío, it’s the Easter Bunny!” Their faces turned toward him, eyes wide with wonder. “Really?” Ana whispered. “Mhm,” Carlos confirmed, “but we have to go back to sleep. Otherwise, the bunny might hop away without leaving our presents.”

Ana and Blanca scrambled to his sides, burrowing under the blanket. Carlos gently lifted little Amira and settled her on his chest. “Now sleep, you three,” he intimated his best Carlos Sainz Sr. voice. And in that moment, surrounded by his sisters, he felt the weight of his promise—the protector of their childhood magic.

Carlos truly was the best big brother out there, weaving enchantment and love into their shared memories.

[peterpparkrr]

Banter (Ch. 2)

Series: Banter

Pairing: Roy Kent x f!Reader

Summary: You and Roy try to pretend your almost-date never happened.

A/N: Whoo! Really pleased that I’m getting this chapter up before the new episode tomorrow. Hope you enjoy it!

(Ch. 1) // (Ch. 3) (Ch. 4) (Ch. 5)

series masterlist

“Fuck.”

“Absolutely not,” You mutter as you grab your bag and pull it over your shoulder, moving to push past Roy and get out of this already embarrassing situation before it can become truly pathetic.

You are not letting this man embarrass you. Not any more than he already has.

God. You’d liked him so much. 

All for him to turn out to be someone that you despised.

You had no idea what she had done to deserve this kind of karma. Maybe it was all the Uber Eats. All those takeaways had definitely been bad for the environment. And now you were paying the price. 

“Wait,” Roy called after you as he followed you out onto the pavement.

“This is already embarrassing enough, okay?” You hiss as you whip around to face him. Your voice cracks on you ‘okay’ in a way that makes your face heat up.

Roy’s back straightened as he pulled his shoulders back.

“Can we just pretend this never happened?” You ask when Roy doesn’t reply. 

You’re desperate for this conversation to end so that this horrible night can end too. You can’t believe how stupid you’d been. An hour ago you’d been giddy. You’d been imagining an amazing date with a great guy that would lead to equally amazing sex. And maybe even a good, happy, healthy relationship. 

And now those hopes had been painfully dashed. You’d been rejected the moment Roy had walked in and realized you were his date. 

He’d hated you since he’d met you. That had been painfully obvious in every interaction you’d had since. And how he’d seen you in a vulnerable position. This was awful.

“Yeah,” He replied gruffly. “Whatever.” 

“Great,” You replied before you pursed your lips and nodded at him. “Goodnight.” 

“Erh,” Roy grunted before you turned on your heels and walked down the street as quickly as you could without it looking like you were training to flee. 

Roy sighed and rubbed a hand down his face before shoving his hands into his pockets and heading down the pavement in the opposite direction. Even though he was parked in the same direction as you.

But he’d rather take the scenic route back to his car than have to interact with you again. 

And he needed to take a walk to clear his head.

Roy Kent hadn’t wanted to get on a dating app.

He hadn’t wanted to date. Period. 

But when he’d made the mistake of complaining to his niece Phoebe about the insane dating app that Keeley was pushing on all the players she’d turned to him with that perceptive look that Roy found so disconcerting on his nine-year-old niece.

“Don’t you want to find someone who makes you happy?” 

“No photos and no names means you get to know people for their personalities, doesn’t it?” “You could find someone who you get along with.”

Roy had grunted in annoyance at Phoebe. 

But he hadn’t been able to brush what she said aside. 

So the next time he had to pick her up from school for his sister he’d hesitantly asked her what he should put on his profile.

And the way her face had lit up with delight was more than enough to convince Roy to give it a try.

He honestly hadn’t expected to meet anyone. 

But you’d messaged him. And then he’d replied and you’d never stopped. 

You were easy to talk to and with the anonymity, Roy didn’t need to worry about you just laughing at his jokes because he had a nice house, or because you could sell pictures of him to the tabloids. 

You actually found him funny. 

Roy had opened up to you. 

He’d told you things he hadn’t told anyone else. 

He’d thought he was ready to meet you when you asked.

He’d wanted to meet you.

And then he’d locked eyes with you when you walked through the door. Your thinly-veiled distaste wasn’t even hidden when you saw him. 

And when you realized he was your date and you were his. 

You’d looked so disappointed.

It had cut at a part of Roy that he didn’t even like to admit existed.

You’d said it was embarrassing. The idea of going on a date with him was so embarrassing to you that you’d almost cried.

What was Roy supposed to do with that?

And how was he supposed to pretend that tonight had never happened?

“Hiya babes, what were you up to this weekend? I didn’t hear from you at all,” Keeley greets you as you walk into the AFC Richmond building on Monday morning. 

She has too much energy for this early. And you’re not even hungover, but you’re suddenly wishing you’d worn your sunglasses this morning.

“Oh, I just needed a quiet weekend in, getting stuff done and all that,” You tell her. 

It’s not a lie. You did spend the weekend in your flat pretending you were dead to the world so that you could watch Love is Blind and cry about the relationships on the show (and definitely not anything to do with the state of your personal life).

“Yeah?” You knew that Keeley knew something was up. But she was also a good enough friend that she didn’t push you any further.

You would break down and admit everything to Keeley sooner or later. You both knew it. It was just a matter of if it would be tonight or eighteen months from now. And Keeley didn’t mind. She’d be there to listen whenever you decided you were ready. 

Keeley chattered along beside you as you moved to grab your equipment out of the storage closet that Keeley let you use to store it in. 

You’re lugging it all out into the hallway, Keeley still talking away, your camera bag in her arms, when you make solid contact with someone as you run into them.

“Shit, sorry,” You murmur as you try to maintain your grasp on the bags you’re holding onto and have tucked under your arms.

You look up to apologize further when you realize who you’ve run into.

“Roy!” You exclaim as your tripod drops from your grasp to the floor.

Roy mutters your name as he stoops down to pick it up and wordlessly hands it to you before pushing past you and continuing down the hallway.

You and Keeley turn to watch him walk away.

“That was…” Keeley mutters.

“What?” You ask as your head whips around to look at her, sounding way more defensive than you meant to.

“Even more awkward than last week,” Keeley replies. “I don’t understand why the two of you are so tense around each other.”

“Hmm,” You hummed in a non-committed reply. 

Today’s shoot was for action shots of the team so you were out on the field for Richmond’s practice. Granted, you were in the stadium and not on the practice field, but everyone was looking around nervously like they’d never been on the field before.

“Where do you want ‘em?” Ted asked as you made your way onto the field. 

“I want these to be as natural as possible, just run them through your normal drills, and I’ll move to get the shots. You won’t even notice I’m here.”

Roy muttered something unintelligible under his breath and you managed to hold your tongue as moved past him to find the best light. 

“I met someone,” You blurted out a few days later at one of your and Keeley’s coffee dates. 

So it would be sooner rather than later. 

Keeley shrieked as she nearly spilled her latte.

“Oh my god! Holy shit!” She hissed as she stared at you with wide eyes.

“On Bantr-” You start to explain when she nods for you to continue.

“I knew it! I knew you would! God, I knew it would be perfect for you.”

“I asked him out-” You continue.

“Yeah? How was it? It must have been amazing if you ignored me all weekend,” Keeley replied as she continued to pepper you with her questions in her excitement. “Holy shit, were you having wild sex all weekend? I knew you were too tired on Monday for it to have just been a chill weekend in!”

“No,” You reply with a sharp shake of your head. “It was Roy,” You tell her in a stage whisper.

“You had sex with Roy?!” She full-on screams, causing the entire cafe to turn and look at you.

“No! I didn’t! That’s what I’m trying to tell you,” You hiss at her through the mortification of all of these strangers now knowing your business. “The guy on Bantr turned out to be Roy,” You repeat.

Keeley paused.

“And you didn’t have sex?” She asks as her forehead pinches in confusion. “No! We obviously didn’t go on the date!” You reply in exasperation. Confused by why Keeley is being so intentionally dense. You know she loves to see the best in people. Just look at her dating history, but she’s got to understand why the two of you together was a no-go.

“Why?” She asks.

“Because he hates me!” You explain. “We both agreed to pretend it didn’t happen.”

“Did he?” Keeley asks, her forehead still pinched together. You’re tempted to reach out your hand and smooth out the wrinkles. Knowing Keeley she’ll complain about you causing them once she catches a glimpse in the mirror of them.

“Yes, he was clearly disappointed when we both realized what had happened.”

You could still see the permanent scowl on his face.

“He walked out on you?” Keeley asked as her eyes widened.

“Well, no, technically I walked out first,” You reply, causing Keeley to open her mouth. “But he followed me!” You add before she can interject again.

“And is that when he told you he hated you and never wanted to see you again?”

“Um...” You stall.

“Did you call it off or did he?” Keeley repeats.

“I did!” You admit. “But he never talks. If I hadn’t said it we would have just stared at each other in silence until one of us walked away.”

“What if he was just nervous?” 

“That’s definitely not what was happening,” You scoff. “Have you seen that man?”

“Yes, but you’re one of the sexiest, smartest, coolest girls I know,” Keeley replied. “Anyone would be a little intimidated by you, even Roy.”

“Yeah,” You reply. You know Keeley’s hyping you up the same way she hypes everyone up, and you appreciate the compliment, you always do, but even Keeley has to know that Roy Kent is out of your league. Along with being a complete and total ass.

“You don’t have to believe it, but you also have no reason to believe that he didn’t want to go on that date with you,” Keeley tells you.

“You have to talk to him,” She adds.

You groan loudly as you slump back in your chair. 

“I can’t do that.”

Keeley shrugs. 

“You have to.”

[whispering-radiance]

[Rc9gn OC] Goddess of Amber, creator of the Eye of Eternity |

Ladies, gentlemen and nonbinary folks, I’ve finally finished this introduction card for this gorgeous lady — Some of you might’ve already seen her on some of my drawings, but she didn’t have a proper introduction. As usual, you can read more in the section below : D

————————————————————————

Actually, the idea for this character popped to my head when I was rewatching some episodes, and I focused all my attention on the Eye of eternities. Like—woah! That’s a cool and important item, but … where did it come from? Like— it’s always “and the ninja had this magical stone and used it to do this and this” so he just had a powerful artifact in his back pocket? I didn’t question it 10 years ago, but now I have a power of imagination and ability to draw — So I played around with this concept

————————————————————————

As it’s written on the card, she’s the goddess of amber. Even though she’s one of the divine, she’s not really considered to be very powerful— and so she doesn’t really have lost of recognition anywhere.

As for her character— She has her own system and ways of doing things, she’s harsh and rarely accepts change. Things rarely catch her attention, only when something extraordinary happens, she will get interested.— And I get her, she’s old, very old— at some point you simply loose interest in the mundane, especially if you have seen it happen for thousands of years. Amber spends her days in solitude, away from noisy people and other gods — she prefers to focus all her energy on her craft rather than social interactions.

What she crafts? Well, mainly enchanted amber. With it she’s able to capture almost everything— but I’m not talking only about organic things— many essences can be kept in such form— Feeling, music, memories, spirit— It helps her relive the moments even from hundreds of years ago.

She’s also found of making jewelry— In the picture she’s holding a string of amber that will eventually become a necklace like this:

(My grandma has this bad boy— I have many found memories of playing with it)

————————————————————————

Amber met First Ninja on accident— After he was defeated by Tengu, he was badly injured and casted down from its mountain — Luckily his agonizing tumble ended in Amber’s garden— At first she was annoyed with the intruder, but seeing how he somehow survived all the suffering, sparked some attention towards him.

She patched him up and listened to his stories — Probably the tails of the sorcerer and the threat he posed, stirred something inside her— If chaos destroyed the land, she would lose her peaceful life.

So she helped him recover, and even taught him a few new moves. After defeating the Tengu she decided that she wants to preserve peace across whole land — finally she has found a new calling in her life.

—————————-

- I’ve tried looking into it, but I didn’t really find anything about the symbolism of the carp in the series— Seeing how it’s always connected with the Eye of Eternities— I might as well make a silly connection, that Carp is her symbol — Also, let me add this stupid fun fact — The sea in my country (Poland 🗣️‼️‼️)is known for its amber — So fish equals sea and that reminds me of amber.

- She probably looked less elegant while traveling and fighting with the Ninja, but I haven’t designed that yet

- When I’m referring to “Gods” or “Heavenly” I don’t have any of my characters in mind — I usually think about Japanese pantheon

—————————-

There are three words that might need some clarification, so here it goes:

- 古樹の女神 (Koju no Megami) - It roughly translates to “Goddess of Ancient trees” Amber starts as a sap from a tree, and takes some sweet time to form into its solid gem form. So this title is quite fitting

- 樹液 (Jueki) - It literally means sap — It’s kind of a pet name for her? Or a name you’d call your sweetheart— To be honest it’s only used by some of her closest friends— Others call her Amber or just refer to her as Lady.

- Naginata - is a polearm and one of several varieties of traditionally made Japanese blades (Wikipedia)

————————————————————————

“You’re putting a lot of work into characters for a teen show from 10 years ago”

Yeah— but it’s nothing compared to what I did for Generator Rex — Making characters and stories helps me enjoy the show 3x more!!

[mahs-dumpster]

"Happy 100th Anniversary."

a/n: this was SO FUN. But also. Floyd was incredibly hard to write. I hated every second of it. So it was fun but also not? Anyway. Also no oc x canon content can you believe this?? I didn't mention Kalim ONCE this feels wrong man

cw: maybe OOC Floyd but I did my best! Poor attempts at making this look like a translation post from a vignette

Template for the frames can be found here

Words: around 900

Jeanne: Ah… this place is gigantic, I feel like I'm never reaching the end of it. 

Jeanne: and I’ve yet to see any pictures of the– oh!

Jeanne: there it is! I’ve been looking all over for this one! 

Jeanne: it’s just as incredible as I’d imagine… 

???: Geez Codfishie, I didn't take you as the type to like art.

Jeanne: …and there's only one person in NRC who’d call me by such an irritating nickname.

Jeanne: Floyd. Do me a favor: stop with that habit. Either choose another nickname or just call me by my actual name, is that too much to ask?

Floyd: Who’s this guy? He has a funny looking face.

Floyd: Oh, look, he’s even got a hook just like you!

Jeanne: And now you’re ignoring me. *Sigh* That’s a pirate i’ve admired ever since I was young.

Jeanne: He’s been fighting a fae kid for ages, wanting revenge from the day he made him lose his hand. That’s why he uses a hook.

Jeanne: I know him because my dad used to tell me stories of this pirate, if I made a good job helping him out in his business he’d even give me a children’s book talking about him.

Jeanne: After I lost my hand, I’ve grown attached to his story. I related to his sense of justice, of wanting to make that kid pay for what he did.

Floyd: You never really told me how ya lost your hand, not that I care.

Floyd: But most importantly…

Floyd: A KID? SERIOUSLY?

Jeanne: H-hey! I said the little bastard was a fae!! He was probably years older than he looked!! 

Floyd: Right, right. Codfishie, I had no idea you admired such a loser! Losing his hand to a kid? What is he, an idiot?

Jeanne: Don’t speak that way about my childhood hero!! I’ll cut your throat open with my own hook if you keep that up!

Floyd: Oh? Codfishie wants to fight? Come at me!

Jeanne: You..! Ugh, whatever. When we go back to Octavinelle we will, just so I can make you swallow your words, dumbass.

Floyd: But that’s no fun…

Jeanne: Don’t look at me like that. If Azul catches us fighting in the museum it’s over for me and you so get over it.

Jeanne: I’l beat your ass soon enough.

Floyd: Oh, look at this one. The lighting is pretty intense, I like it.

Jeanne: It looks very pretty, yeah. Isn’t that the mermaid princess from the legends? Who’s the old geezer?

Floyd: I think it’s her father. This is probably depicting when he broke all her stuff.

Floyd: I think she was pretty dumb to go into a deal without knowing the consequences, but i guess she was desperate to leave after this. Doesn’t change the fact that she’s super stupid for that.

Jeanne: No, I get that. Desperate times call for deperate measures.

Floyd: That’s very uncharacteristic of you. You pity her or something?

Jeanne: I don’t, ok? But I was in a similar situation so I understand the thought process.

Floyd: Hm? You were? Why’d you let them detroy your stuff? Ya should've just squeezed them instead.

Jeanne: It was a punishment. I did something an authority figure didn’t like and they destroyed my toys in return.

Jeanne: I’m over it at this point, it’s been years since that happened. But I understand that, wanting to escape that situation. It’s hard to have a father like that.

Floyd: So it was your father?

Jeanne: …

Jeanne: Hey, look! It’s a painting of that warrior who saved her country!

Floyd: Where??

Jeanne: I’m so glad he has a short attention spam…

Floyd: This looks kinda cool. I like how the blade goes right in the middle.

Jeanne: Right? She looks so cool!

Floyd: You’re awfully excited for this one. You a fan of her too?

Jeanne: Hm… I wouldn't say I'm a fan, but she's super awesome, don't ya think?

Jeanne: She pretended to be a man to fight in the army in place of her father. Just the fact that she managed to make people believe she's a guy is incredible, and for so long too.

Floyd: That's not really hard for you.

Jeanne: Did you decide to wake up today and irritate me or something? 

Floyd: She also defeated that dude who tried to invade her country too, huh? Pretty bold. Who would’ve thought such a small thing like her could do all that.

Jeanne: That's because she's got something you men don't have: a brain.

Floyd: Hey now.

Jeanne: In comparison to men, us women have a biological disadvantage. Well, at least with actual humans, beastmen are a totally different story.

Jeanne: In terms of strength, she’d never defeat him, but in terms of wit… unfortunately for him she's incredibly smart.

Floyd: Stop, you're sounding like Azul now.

Jeanne: It’s the truth, physical strength isn't everything. At least one thing Azul got right.

Floyd: Ah, that sucks. Codfishie got boring all of a sudden.

Floyd: I’m leaving. 

Jeanne: Already? You get over stuff to quickly.

Jeanne: Don't lose yourself in the museum.

Jeanne: Ah, another painting of the pirate captain! And he’s fighting that kid too…

Floyd: Piss off.

Jeanne: he should’ve thought twice before he messed with a pirate. I'm sure he’s gonna make that brat pay for ever crossing his path.

[blackleatherjacketz]

I See You

Loki x Mobius

Summary: Mobius tries his best to get over Loki... until he sends him a sign on Christmas.

Notes: This is my very angsty, very early contribution to @sarahscribbles and their Christmas Loki Fic event. It's how I'm dealing with the pain of the finale. Enjoy!

Read more Loki!

--------------------------------------------------------------

The bright neon ‘Open’ sign flickers as Mobius sits down at the very first booth available, unbuttoning his suit jacket to get more comfortable in his seat. He gazes over the menu, glancing aimlessly over the words he’d seen dozens of times before in hundreds of different combinations, only none of them seem to make any sense to him at the moment. If he was being completely honest with himself, nothing had really made sense to him anymore; not after he left.

No amount of coffee he drank could sustain him. The food he ate lacked its usual flavor as the air felt flat and stale against his face, even if he was out on the water and the sun was still shining. He couldn’t sleep, yet he was always tired; too exhausted to wear his body out during the day to fall into a restful state at night. Instead he found himself staring at the ceiling with a bottle of whiskey in his hand as reruns of M.A.S.H. played in the background. That theme song seemed to be the only real form of comfort he was able to find until his body finally gave in, and his weeping eyes fell shut.

He could have kept his old life back at the TVA, but the pain of being there, of walking the same halls and touching the same surfaces without him at his side was just too much to bear. There was no way he could have stayed with all those memories haunting him like a ghost that everyone else saw and heard, but refused to address directly. He tried taking on other cases to distract himself, to get back into the practice of helping others, but he was of no use to them while his mind remained elsewhere.

He’d never felt more alone in his entire life.

He was stupid enough to think that he could fix this empty feeling by simply visiting some of Loki’s variants before he retired. He thought that if he at least saw his face or heard his voice again, it would be enough to place a cool balm over the gaping wound his sudden absence had carved into his soul. But not one of his variants knew who he was. None of them cared about him or found an excuse to touch him instead of admitting that they desired human contact, that they needed that closeness they were so deprived of as a child. None of them would fix his tie or grab hold of his arm just to bring him near, or even brush an eyelash off his cheek as those icy blues of theirs stared at him for just a little too long. None of them cared about anyone else besides themselves. None of them were ‘his Loki’.

Seeing their faces as they spoke down to others only made the pain that much worse, tugging at his insides as the man he came to know and love seemed to be even further away than before. So, he thought that a change of scenery might help, that if he let time pass in a completely different part of the world that he’d somehow be able to forget about him. About all of it, and eventually move on. But no matter where he went, no matter how hot or how cold, he always seemed to feel that nagging sense of longing, that inevitable… void inside him.

He always found himself wanting to tell ‘his Loki’ all about his new experiences, about the things that he saw or the people he met, to see what his reaction might be. He imagined that he’d raise his eyebrows at him in a sly, amused manner like he always used to, holding back his laughter with a tilt of his head. Or maybe he’d…

“Ready to order, sugar?” The waitress approaches him with her notepad, pulling him out of his thoughts and into the present as he remembers to look over the menu.

“I think I’m gonna need a minute,” he tells her, eyeing a faded picture of a club sandwich on the laminated piece of paper. “But I’ll start with a cup of coffee.”

“Sure thing.” She scribbles onto her notebook and leaves him to his thoughts.

It wasn’t fair. Any of it. How he’d run down those stairs so quickly without saying goodbye, that look in his eyes wet with sorrow as his lips pressed into a thin fine line. Sure, he’d saved everyone in the process, but what good was that if he had to go on living without him? What was the point of going out into the world if he had no one to share it with? It’s not like there were people here on earth he could openly talk to about his experiences, that there was anyone on any of the timelines who could possibly understand his plight.

Mobius stares at the empty seat across from him, wistfully imagining Loki’s tall, slender frame cramped into the squeaky old booth as he sighs in reluctant acceptance. He wonders, just for a second, what kind of coat he would have chosen to wear in the bitter cold of December as the snow falls down from the blackened sky. He fantasizes about how gorgeous his raven locks would’ve looked littered with the thousand different designs of snowflakes falling onto them, wondering if he’d brush them away or simply let them melt onto his skin. He wonders if he’d fall down if he took him skating at an ice rink, those long legs of his betraying him. He wonders how he’d feel about cozying up and watching a cheesy Christmas movie with a cup of hot cocoa.

DING DING!

Mobius turns in his seat as the diner’s door bell jingles, opening to a young man with his hands stuffed into his pockets. He’s about eighteen or twenty years old, brown hair with deeply saddened eyes as he looks around the nearly empty restaurant before sitting down awkwardly at the booth directly across from him. He can tell that the boy’s been crying, his insistent sniffling giving away the fact that his reddened nose and cheeks weren’t just from the frigid cold outside.

Why would a kid like that be alone, like him, on Christmas?

The waitress hands Mobius his coffee with a plate of cream and sugar on the side before walking up to the stranger, turning over her piece of paper for a new order. “What’ll ya have, sugar?”

Oh, I guess she calls everybody that.

The boy looks down at the menu, squinting a little to see through his saline soaked eyes before they seem to flash a shade of green. He smiles and looks up at her, confidently setting the menu down on the tabletop. “I’ll have a slice of key lime pie, oh and uh… one for him, too, please.” He points directly at Mobius with a mischievous grin.

What the shit?

The waitress nods and walks away.

“I’m sorry, did you just order me a slice of pie?” It hurt him too much to say the full name of the flavor out loud. Stupid, he knows, but he’ll get over it eventually.

The boy shakes his head as if to rid himself of the snowflakes that have landed on top of his head. “Huh?”

Mobius leans forward in his seat as his heart skips an expectant beat, pointing at him accusingly. “Did you just order me a slice of pie?” He repeats himself.

“Did I? Yeah, I guess I did.” He looks just as confused as he is, looking out at the dreary holiday weather before glancing back at him. “Look sir, I’m sorry. I can’t really explain it, but something told me to come to this diner tonight and order that specific thing.”

Something? What the hell was he talking about? It couldn’t be…

Mobius just stares at the young man, his mouth agape as the waitress sets down each of their slices in front of them. They’re almost identical to the ones he and Loki ate together at the TVA, right down to the very color and the candied lime on top as garnish. “What?”

The boy puts his hands up in defense, twisting his face with worry as if he expects to be met with anger and aggression.

Mobius knew that Loki was out here beyond time and space holding their universe together, that their lives were literally in his hands, but he didn’t know exactly how closely he was watching, or if he could actually see him at all. He didn’t know if he could interfere with even the smallest of events, but now he knows he’d be remiss to think otherwise. How else would this boy know to order that exact thing for him? How else would he know to come here to find him, all alone on Christmas night?

There’s no such thing as coincidence.

“Yeah,” is all Mobius can think to say, shaking his head in disbelief. “Thanks, kid.” He picks up his fork and digs into the bright green triangle.

“Sir? Can I sit with you?” The boy asks, quickly standing up with his plate and doing so anyway.

“Umm, yeah, sure, I, uh…” he stammers, half wanting to stay in the dark abyss of his memories instead of being present with this stranger who seems to be a little… wait a minute. Mobius recognizes him from his file at the TVA.

He was no stranger to the multiverse at all.

His grief had blinded him to the suffering of this child, this lonely wanderer who had just recently lost all of his friends and family, too. Mobius was so down about losing just one person, that he didn’t notice this kid who had no one else left. His name was Peter something, Peter… Parker, if he remembered correctly, the spider kid. Their stories weren’t the same by any means, but they were definitely in the same boat, both of them trying to stay afloat in worlds that no longer knew them.

“I see you,” he whispers to himself, hoping that Loki can hear him.

“Thanks, Mister…” the boy trails off before taking a bite, tilting his head in hopes of getting his name.

Mobius thinks of giving him the name of his alias, of keeping up the ruse he’d put on for the rest of the world, but decides that Peter could be the one person he tells his real name to. That he could at least give him that. It is Christmas, after all.

“I’m Mobius.” He states confidently, holding out his hand for him to shake.

“I’m…” he begrudgingly finishes his bite, trying not to make it too obvious that he doesn’t quite like the flavor.

“Peter.” He shakes his hand without thinking about what he just called him, the first genuine smile crossing his lips since he left the TVA. “I know.”

The boy’s eyes fill up with tears, his lips quivering as he tries his best to press them together, still holding onto Mobius’ hand in a redundant shaking motion. “You know me?”

Mobius nods in silence, holding back his own tears as he allows himself to hold space for this kid who has to be even more scared than he is. “Something like that.”

“But I don’t remember meeting you, Doctor Strange said that no one else could…”

“I know.” He whispers, wondering if this is Loki’s way of comforting him until he figures out how to come back; someone to help him get through the pain of it all, and vice versa. “It’s gonna be okay, kid. Let’s just say that we know a few of the same people.”

[sarifinasnightmare]

The Legend

August 5-11: Alternate Universe

Rating: Everyone

Pairing: Sarah x Bucky

Author's Note: Inspired off a very old AU RP I did with a friend.

Summary: Bucky and Peter go for Greece for the summer and have a run in with a local and a legend.

“You know Peter when I imagined this trip to Greece, I was imagining clear blue waters, ice cold beer and delicious Greek food. Not climbing all over the mountains and cliffsides looking for a local legend on a hot July day!” Bucky complained.

Eighteen-year-old Peter climbed down the rocky mountainside with the enthusiasm that came with his age. “We can do all that later. Come on Bucky we’re in Greece! Ancient history is all over this place! And I want to see this statue.”

Bucky sighed, following after his friend’s nephew. May Parker was a sweetheart of a neighbor who begged him to go with Peter to vacation in Greece when she sadly twisted her ankle before their trip. There was no way she could do all the walking and climbing that was involved, so Bucky gallantly agreed.

“What’s so interesting about this statue?” He asked as they continued wandering down.

“So apparently, it’s a statue of a maiden or a nymph or something that’s dedicated to Aphrodite I think. It’s said that she disappears in the night and reappears in the morning.” Peter said breathlessly.

“And that’s it?”

“No! Well, yes, but the legend is during World War II she came to life and rescued all the children during a battle and that’s why the locals are reluctant to share her location.”

“So how do we know we’re going in the right direction?”

“Because one of the kids pointed it out to me.”

“So we’re going to see a statue that the locals are secretive about using the directions given to you by a kid?” Bucky groaned. “Peter, we’re going to piss off the locals!”

“No we’re not! I just want to see it. I’m not going to do something stupid like write my name on it or something.” Peter assured, then pointed to something. “Look! Facing the beach! There’s a cave over there!”

They made their way over, careful about rockslides until they reached the mouth of a small cave. It was a little dark so they got their headlamps and walked inside. They didn’t have to go in too far before they found the legendary maiden.

She stood on a small pedestal that had something written on it. Tall and in Grecian style dress she looked like any other statue created from ancient times.

“Oh wow, she looks well taken care of. She practically looks brand new.” Peter said, checking her out.

Bucky studied the maiden, at first not thinking much of her, but the longer he looked the more he realized how exquisitely detailed she was, as if the sculptor poured himself into making the most life like looking statue possible. “Is she really ancient? I mean it’s a beautiful piece. Why would anyone stick her in this little place?”

“Beats me. How soon until sunset?” Peter asked as he studied the words on the pedestal.

“Not long. You want to wait and see if she disappears?”

“Yeah why not?”

“I’m hungry Peter. I don’t want to wait around and nothing happens.” Bucky complained. “Let’s just take a picture and go back to our hotel before the locals chase us out of here.”

“Come on Bucky! Please? Just until the sun goes down!!” The teen pleaded.

“Peter-”

“I’ll buy you dinner…and a drink! My treat.”

He dropped his chin with a groan. “Fine, but I’m waiting outside. You can stay here with her.”

“Okay!”

So Bucky stepped out and sat himself down on a nearby boulder with a small groan. He dug through his backpack and luckily found a granola to snack on. He took in the view of the beach below and watched the sun slowly descend.

“Hey! Hey!”

He turned and stood up as an older man waving a rifle came toward them. “Oh shit,” he muttered under his breath. “Sygnómi, I’m just a stupid American.” He lifted his hands. “Don’t shoot.”

“You not allowed!” the man said in a rough accent. “Go! Go home!”

“Ναί” He agreed and looked over to the cave. “Peter! Get your butt out here before I charge you for the bullet holes this guy’s about to put in me!”

The man looked horrified. “More?? More?! He get out! NOW! I shoot!” He fired a round in the air.

Bucky cursed. “Peter, he means business!”

A soft sound like gentle crumbling of stones echoed and suddenly Peter was shouting.

“Holy shit! Holy shit!!”

Both men suddenly take off to the cave and Peter comes running out, his face white.

“Peter! What happened, are you okay??” Bucky grasped the teen who was heaving.

“It got dark and she moved….SHE MOVED!! She was peeling out of the statue like a…like a snake!”

“What??” Bucky couldn’t believe it.

A cocking of the rifle got their attention again. The man had them pinned. “You see her. You die.”

“No, no, no,” Bucky put himself in front of Peter. “He’s just a kid. Νέος! He doesn’t know better!”

“I’m sorry!” Peter said desperately.

Suddenly a hand rested on Bucky’s chest, startling him. A beautiful woman with skin like bronze and deep brown eyes smiled faintly at him before standing between him and the gunman.

“Αρκετά! Δεν θα ανεχτώ να βλάψει ένα παιδί. Ξέρεις αυτόν τον Linus.” She ordered. (Enough! I will not tolerate a child being harmed. You know that Linus.”)

He hesitated, nervous. “Είναι Αμερικανοί! Δεν θα κρατήσουν το στόμα τους κλειστό!” (They’re Americans! They won’t keep their mouths shut!)

“Αμερικανοί?” She turned to them. “English?”

“Yeah?” Bucky replied confused at who she was and why she was helping them. She was enchanting though, looking something out of a myth with gold and silver threaded into her hair and her black chiton. 

“I have been practicing speaking English.” She said with soft accent. “He says that you will talk about my home. So, he must shoot you.”

“Tell him that I promise that we will be happy to never come here again. We won’t speak about your home.” Bucky replied.

She turned back to the man called Linus and they had a heated discussion.

“She’s the statue.” Peter murmured in Bucky’s ear. “She moved!”

“Peter, swear to God, this woman is trying to help us. Don’t antagonize her!” He hissed.

“Okay…sorry.” He muttered.

After a moment the beautiful woman turned back to them with a warm smile. “He has agreed not to kill you, but he says you come back home with him. Come, I go with you.”

That was slightly reassuring. “We would rather just leave and forget this ever happened.”

A slightly sad expression touched her features. “You wish to forget me?”

No, no he didn’t want to forget her. In fact, he didn’t think he could. “I didn’t say that.” Bucky said softly.

She smiled kindly and offered her hand. “Come, it is safe. I promise.”

What he ought to do was tackle the man down, wrest the gun from him and run away with Peter as fast as they could. Instead, he felt compelled to take this beautiful woman’s hand in his and follow her lead.

[mollywog]

Looking at an upcoming chapter of a WIP and found this bit:

Thought it was fun and could stand on it’s own…

They were interrupted by a blonde whirlwind. “Katniss!” Delly threw her arms around the surprised girl. Katniss took a step back, wrinkling her nose at the smell of the fruity liquor concoction coming from Delly’s cup. “Oh my God! I didn’t know you would be here tonight!” She pulled back from the embrace, giving a mischievous grin “You two look cozy.” She shimmied her shoulders as she spoke.

Katniss turned to look at Peeta in time to catch his wince. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to detain your wingman.”

She shook her head, curls bouncing “Nothing to be sorry about, I’m fine all on my own.” She spread her arms out, sloshing her drink and nearly hitting a passerby with the motion. Peeta plucked the drink from her grasp, placing it on a nearby side table. “It was actually Peeta I came to assist.” She gave Katniss an exaggerated wink.

Katniss scowled, “Well don’t let me keep you.” She crossed her arms, leaning back against the wall. Delly’s words felt like a dismissal. He was the one who came up to her, it was his own stupid fault he was talking to her instead of groping some coed. She quickly surveyed the room trying to guess who Delly had in mind for him.

In her inebriated state, Delly didn’t pick up on the tension. “Oh my god! You know what I just realized?” Eyes wide she looked between the two expectantly “You two could have been siblings? Isn’t that wild? Could you imagine?” As if following a different train of thought, she scrunched up her face, waving her hands in front of her face as if clearing the air “eww, you know what, never mind, that would have been really weird”

Peeta gave a half hearted laugh “Good one Dells.”

Katniss leaned into Peeta, holding her cup in front of her mouth to whisper in his ear “How hammered is she exactly?”

“Wait! Don’t you know?” She stared at Katniss, waiting for an answer to a question Katniss didn’t even understand.

“Delly” Peeta warned, a flash of panic in his eyes.

Delly either didn’t hear this caution or chose not to heed it.”Your mom and Peeta’s dad were high school sweethearts. If they would have gotten married you two would have been related!”

Peeta’s features relaxed as he let out a breathy laugh “I don’t think that’s how it works, Dells”

disregarding Peeta’s words, Delly continued. “I’m on yearbook, we have all the old copies in the archives and were looking up pictures from our parents Senior years. When we got to the superlatives of one of the books, bam” her fingers pantomimed an explosion “Cutest couple is a picture of a girl who looks just like Prim and boy who’s obviously a Mellark: Lily and Bran. I showed Prim and she said it’s your mom and I already knew Peeta’s dad’s name.” She finished with a flourish, obviously proud of her detective work.

This was news to Katniss. She looked back and forth from Delly to Peeta. Peeta gave her a sheepish grin and shrugged his shoulders, “my dad may have mentioned it a couple times.”

she wasn’t sure how to respond to that. “Oh” It seemed impolite to say her mother had never mentioned the baker except to compliment his bread. She gave a tight smile.

Delly wrapped her arms around each of the pair’s shoulders hugging them towards her familiarly. “I’m so glad you’re not related” then she gasped, tightening her grasp in her excitement. She dropped her voice to a stage whisper “Wouldn’t it be something if you two were class couple this year?”

Peeta chuckled, “I think you’re forgetting something Delly; That would require us to be a couple first” Katniss saw his eyes shift to her, quickly darting away when he caught her glance. The lights were low but she could swear he was blushing.

“Well that could be arranged.” Delly lifted an eyebrow in Katniss’s direction, “What do you say, Katniss? Do you want to date Peeta?”

“To win a Senior superlative?” Katniss was utterly baffled by the turn of events and this new information.

Delly was about to respond when she was surprised by Peeta’s arm around her shoulder. “Alright Dells, I think you've had enough tonight. Let’s get you out of here.” She was about to protest when Peeta cut in again “you hungry? Taco Bell maybe?” Delly, smitten with the image of limp tacos, happily nodded.

Peeta turned back towards Katniss. “Hey, sorry to run off like this. I had a nice time talking to you… this was fun?” It was a statement but came out as a question. He was smiling, but not the easy confident smile she was used to seeing flashed at his friends in the halls. It was sweet with just the right touch of shyness that unexpected warmth rushed through her. Maybe there was a reasonhe had spent his time talking to her tonight.

It had been fun, but Before she could process how to proceed, Delly, impatient from waiting, reached for her discarded drink cup. Peeta cut her off, maneuvering them towardsthe exit “Oops, you don’t need that. Let’s get you out of here. See ya around Katniss”

“Drive safe.” She called after the pair. She watched as they weaved through the crowd. Before they could make their escape, Peeta looked back one last time mouthing a ‘sorry’ and shooting her a sheepish grin.

She wasn’t sure what the hell had happened tonight, but she couldn’t help smiling in return.

Part of Misadventures (Modern/High school AU)

[ridiasfangirlings]

elementary school sarumi put together a time capsule and post reconciliation sarumi find it

Aw this would actually be pretty adorable?  Maybe as a school assignment their class is chosen to make stuff to put in a time capsule, Fushimi obviously isn’t interested and Yata thinks it’s stupid because they’re just putting in boring stuff like newspaper clippings. Then he gets this great idea though, that how about if he and Saruhiko make their own time capsule of stuff they like and then when they’re old they can open it up again and look back on all the cool memories of their friendship. I imagine this being a bit of a foreign concept to Fushimi and little frightening in a way, like just the very idea that he would have something precious that would last long enough for them to dig it up again. Yata’s really into it though and Fushimi finds himself relenting, for a moment even letting himself think that maybe they really would still be together long enough to dig it back up.

They bury it in the corner of the yard by Yata’s place and basically forget all about it until years later post-ROK, maybe there’s some lawn work being done and it ends up getting dug up. Yata and Fushimi wrote their names on it so the lawn guys give it to Yata’s mom, who calls Yata to let him know. Yata’s really surprised when he hears, like wait really because he’d totally forgotten about it. The whole thing gives him a nostalgic feeling though, especially now that he and Fushimi have reconciled — in a way it almost feels like fate, like now that he was able to get Fushimi back they’ve found this thing that was a sign of their friendship. Yata tells his mom that he’ll be over to pick it up but he doesn’t open it, instead he takes it to his place and texts Fushimi to come over because Yata has something cool to show him.

Say this is just shortly after ROK so they’re both still kinda getting back into things and Fushimi feels a little awkward and hesitant as he shows up at Yata’s place. Yata grins when he sees Fushimi at the door though and drags him inside, proudly showing him the time capsule. Fushimi’s eyes widen as Yata says the lawn guys dug it up and didn’t we say we were going to open this one day together in the future. Fushimi gives this little ‘Together…’ and Yata blushes a bit as he adds that he was really glad to see it, because it reminded him of when they were kids and how happy he is that the two of them can still talk like this, that they’re here together and alive and can open this. Yata quickly recovers and is like okay so I’m gonna open it, I don’t even remember what we put in there. 

He opens the box and imagine inside are all these small reminders of their friendship, maybe there’s even like a cola bottle in there and Fushimi teases Yata about how I told you it was stupid to put this in I bet there are all kinds of bacteria in this. There are a few pictures of them in middle school and Yata’s like you still look just as gloomy, Fushimi counters that aren’t you the same height still Misaki. They put in a flier for some game they both liked and small odds and ends of stuff Yata was cool, Fushimi rolls his eyes like why did we even think these were worth putting in. There’s also notes to their future selves, Yata gets a little emotional reading ‘Future me you better still be with Saruhiko, we’re gonna be friends forever’ while Fushimi reads his in silence and then pockets it without a word, a small smile on his face.

[waitintheelevator]

To say that I’m impressed is an understatement, blown away is underplaying it, shocked is an under reaction. Your work over exceeds my expectations every single time. I think to myself “How can Mays writing get any better?” I don’t know how! It’s crazy! Mind twisting! I was hungry for an age gap relationship and you hand fed it to me with a golden spoon. I’ve climbed the highest mountains, tip-toed over quicksand, killed five women to find an age gap story as good as this one. Where did this begin? Where did this desire for old men to love me sprout from? This desire for a wise man to guide me has sprouted out of control. This story is a watering can that is watering overgrown weeds and turning it into a lush summer sunflower. My feelings and desire have grown exponentially since I read this story. I feel new again. Healed. I look at these old men in a different light. They aren’t just sex objects, they have feelings too. There is a seed planted in me that has brought empathy and wisdom. These old men have stories. Not only are they sex objects, but they are also damaged. I’ve gotten no better taste of this damage than from Victor Layne himself. You started off this story with his age, 17, about the same age we are now. Victor is a ripe banana waiting to collect dirt and mush. His father certainly has a way of doing that. My baby Victor was abused? Immediately I thought “this is a man who needs saving” I formed a sort of protection over him…Almost like a mother…BUT WAIT! HE HAS A MOTHER! Where is she? Oh….she left him……25!!! 25….what a time to be alive! I was wondering when a female love interest would be introduced. Now that it’s happened, I wish it didn’t. I hate this bitch cunt she’s so stupid and I’m jealous of her! Maybe she reads poetry and maybe shes gorgeous but she will never be able to satisfy him. I never knew a story could bring such anger to my heart, such passion for a man that isn’t real. 28 years old! He’s marrying someone else! Okay! “Partners for life, through thick and thin, through sickness and in health….” Part of me hopes the sickness overrules their marriage! 31 years old …She’s dead 🎉🎉🎉🎉 If I’m being honest, I already knew about her death, but that didn’t make the news any less sweet. That bitch had it coming. She gave him a lighter as a gift…is that not promoting his drug usage or what???? She needs to stay 6ft underground while Victor Layne is 6 ft deep in me!!!!! 35 years old.. I should feel bad for him and his spiraling and guilt, but the more damaged the better. He’s leaving london and coming home to mama🤷‍♀️ 38 years old… IN A SMALL TOWN IN OKLAHOMA LMFAOOO. TULSA BABY!!!!! T-TOWN!!!! I wish he was real like I actually need a man so badly I’d do anything to see that guy again 😞 trying to imagine what life would be like if I never saw him. We wouldn’t have this story! I love the detail of the salt and peppered hair. This is my type in a man exactly and the way you describe him is superb. I have to admit something…I have accidentally been picturing Matty Healy this entire time and i literally feel sick to my stomach about it. He’s just on the brain…ANYWAYS 38 years old….and he already wants us….if this were real life I literally would never linger after class and talk to him but this is why I LOVE stories like this. It shows the real possibilities of the world. I know a love like this exists out there, and I will swim through shark infested waters to find it. Still 38, and ready to JUMP HIS BONES! Kidding…he found himself grunting as he was pushing into my walls..I MEAN he was grunting as he pushed open the doors to the lecture hall😅 Your description of him really does bring me back to reality. I forget that he’s an old man who aches and breaks, I want him even more. This is kind of our first look at a playful banter between them, well he’s trying to banter. The idea of handing in a paper and touches lingering is CRAZY! WHO KNEW VICTOR STILL HAD THAT DOG IM HIM😹? Picturing him teaching psychology with a button down and arm muscles is literally a dream. I need this to be my life (pt. 1)

Ummmmm white man

“You shouldn’t be here… I’m fucked up, I can’t fuck you up too.” “Who else gonna take care of you on nights like this, Mr. Layne?”

—————————————

17. Seventeen. Seventeen years old and enduring torture.

The smell of of smoke filled his lungs, mixing with the crisp, London air. Curled up on the seat on the balcony, he took a deep breath. Wind blew his loose, dark curls around as his father’s voice pierces Victor’s ears.

“You’re a fucking pansy, a cunt just like your whore bag of a mother-” Victor’s fingers shook, attempting to tune out his father’s abuse. What did a seventeen year old do to deserve this mistreatment? “You’re stupid, and you’re disgusting and worthless! You can’t even get a job, why else are you still alive?” Before the boy could flinch, a blazing hand struck him on the cheek, burning tears from his eyes.

He snapped, standing up, “What the fuck is wrong with you? Are you mentally challenged? Why do you have to be such a dick?” Victor’s voice cracked slightly, over the abuse. Years of torment by his dad fucked him up. His mom left after his dad put his hands on her, and his drinking only got worse. He would take it out on Victor, seeing his mother’s radiant life in his son.

His dad stayed quiet, a look of anger and a twinge of guilt in his eyes. “You don’t have to worry about me anymore.” He stormed inside, his dad stomping in behind him.

“You’re not gonna do anything you little bitch! You haven’t got half the balls your mother did, fag-” His words slurred, taking another sip of whatever battery acid was mixed in his cup. Victor didn’t talk back, simply shoving random clothes in a briefcase.

—————————————

25. Twenty- five. Twenty- five years old and working as a librarian in a town far from his childhood.

A beautiful lady walked up to the checkout counter.

“You like poetry?” Victor’s hand brushed up against the woman’s, their eyes locking.

“I do, I’m researching and looking for inspiration for my next book. I’m looking for a psychological yet spiritual-” Victor tuned her out stared at her, in awe of her beauty and passion for whatever she was going on about. He scanned the book, scanning her library card after. “Sorry, I ramble.” She shook her head embarrassed and red.

“Don’t be, I like your passion. I have a book you’d like. I could give it to you, if you’d let me of course.” Victor took his chance shamelessly, yet swooned the young woman. She obliged and made a plan to meet that Friday for drinks and books.

“I’m Angelica.” She held her hand out and Victor grabbed it.

“Victor.”

—————————————

28. Twenty- eight. Twenty- eight and marrying the love of his life, Angelica.

“I do.”

“I do!”

“You may kiss the bride.”

His arms wrapped around her corset- covered waist as he leaned her over for a kiss, a kiss he was specifically waiting for. Their first kiss as a married couple. Their first kiss as life long soul mates. Partners for life, through thick and thin, through sickness and health, for the rest of eternity, right?

“I got you a present, V.” She confessed, pulling out a stainless steel lighter in pristine condition.

“I’ve never met someone like you before.” Victor confessed while his head was buried in her neck while their bodies are tangled together, a thin blanket covering their bare bodies.

“Baby,” she giggled into the top of his head, wrapping her arms around him.

“I’m serious. Where would I be without you? I love you. I was lost when you found me.”

“Go to sleep, sappy boy. You’re drunk.” He smiled warmly cozying into her deeper, with not a worry in the world.

—————————————

31. Thirty- one. Thirty- one and numb at his soulmate’s funeral.

The casket was closed. It hurt him even more, not being able to see his best friend one more time. He didn’t get to say goodbye, their last words exchanged being “fuck you”. They were arguing the night before she died. Angelica hastily got in her car, driving away from him for some space. She was in an accident.

He blamed himself. It was all his fault. At least that’s what he thought. He blamed himself for everything, his mother, his father, his wife. He would never forgive himself for this.

—————————————

35. Thirty- five. Thirty- five and drunk on the side of the road.

Four years later and he still can’t forgive himself. He’s only spiraled. He couldn’t go on like this. Everything reminded him of her. The apartment with remnants of her existence, but no life to be found. It angered him, infuriated him that she didn’t have more time. Everything he touched broke, shattered and was destroyed. He couldn’t do it anymore. He needed a change. A change of scenery, a change of mind, a change of heart. He was leaving.

He left the country and went to the land of the free with nothing but a briefcase filled with cash, liquor and his gifted lighter. He was ready to leave it all behind, and he did. Except he couldn’t, he couldn’t leave behind her memory, the baggage going with him anyway.

—————————————

38. Thirty- eight. Thirty- eight and living in a small town in Oklahoma, teaching at the local college as a psychologist professor.

He was tired. He was tired and greying, salt sprinkled in his hair as a sign of aging and stress. He had a passion for psychology, but no interest in teaching it to unmotivated, newly turned adults. Unamused, he showed up to class everyday. He was bored, he was so uninterested until he saw you. After leaving behind his past life and coming here, he never interacted with people much. He never socialized in fear of what else he would destroy. He figured if he kept to himself, no one would care. That was enough for him.

Again, that was until you appeared in his class. After classes, you would linger for a moment, asking if he was alright.

“Mr. Layne, you seem tired. Long night?” You would joke, hinting at a hangover.

With not a hint of emotion on his face, he would always give a return. “Something like that.”

You always smiled at him before leaving, saying something along the lines of, you should smile more, or take a day off.

He would wonder if he was taking your interactions out of context, twisting them into something deeper, more taboo. But those thoughts would quickly leave his mind as he reprimanded himself.

—————————————

Still 38, he found himself grunting as he struggled to push open the large, heavy doors to his lecture hall. The ache in his shoulder presented nothing but a testament to his apparent aging.

8:30 A.M MONDAY, read the digital clock glowing red on the wall behind his desk. Huffing and puffing, Mr. Layne threw down his tattered, patch-covered briefcase onto his desk. He slumped himself into the chair, resting his head in his hands as he rubbed his face up and down.

His tired mind questioned him, wondering why he didn’t just quit his job to become a male stripper. Making himself chuckle dryly, he looked up at the seemingly never ending rows of seats and then back at the door as someone to have walked in. It was you.

“You’re here early. We’ve got over half an hour.” He questioned, with a faint touch of concern in his tone.

“Woke up early ‘cause of a headache, couldn’t go back to bed.” You replied with a half-assed smile, rubbing your left temple. He nodded in acknowledgement, before going to tend to whatever papers were on his desk. You glanced over at him before picking a seat in the second row up. You sat down, your eyes on Mr. Layne. Studying him, your eyes narrowed and your hands automatically supported your head up.

You wouldn’t lie, Mr. Layne looked great for his age, not that he was super old, but he exactly young either. Perfectly aged, like red wine. Pale skin implied he didn’t go outside often. His hair presented in dark, loose ringlets, yet sprinkled with white all over. They lay in a messy pattern, though it looked like he tried to tame it by combing it back. Not that it worked. His eyes seemed black with creases, with no shine or sparkle to them, it made him mysterious, made him alluring. It made you want to learn more about this inexplicable man. His nose was sharp, a light scar over the bridge, hinting to a rowdy past. He had an overgrown shave, not too thick or thin, his skin peeking through the white and auburn hair. He was attractive, sexy even.

To put a bow on it, his personality brought it together. He wouldn’t stand for nonsense, but he reciprocated jokes and light-hearted conversation to the best of his abilities. He was a great guy, but something about him was missing, that much you could tell. He didn’t seem to enjoy normal people activities, he would tell you how he doesn’t do much on the weekends and how he doesn’t go on vacations. You were determined to find out more.

“What’d you do this weekend, Mr. Layne?” You questioned, tilting your head and smiling as he looked up at you.

He thought for a moment to make it seem like he did something, even though he didn’t. “Nothing fun or important. I guess I learned a new dish.” He tried his best to give you a satisfying answer, even though he didn’t care much.

Your brows raised in amusement. “You cook?” He nodded. “Do you cook for dinner dates? Who’s the lucky girl, Victor?” You interrogated in a playful yet mischievous tone, hoping to exude some laughter from him. Even though deep down, you truly wanted to know if he had his sights on another woman.

He paused for a moment, looking down for a split second and then back up at you. “That’s Mr. Layne to you, miss. And no, no lucky woman,” He had a soft smile, a soft smile that you deemed superficial.

Your mind wandered, truly confused that a man this attractive, smart, funny, and talented is single. You jumped to the most simple and basic conclusions, he’s either divorced or deemed himself too worthy for anyone. I could change that, you thought.

The silence once again filled the room as more people began spilling into the room, just in time for lecture. As he went on to teach, you would find your eyes stray on him and not the board. You would watch him as he paced back and forth, watched the way his buttoned shirt clung tightly in some areas, like his arms. Occasionally, you would lock eyes with him, just as any professor would make eye contact with his students. But this wasn’t normal, this was longer. This was playful, at least to you. When he would look up at you, you would look him up or down, or bite the top of your pen, or put on chapstick, slowly.

He tried to keep composed, but you could see his brow twitch slightly before furrowing. He knew it was wrong and he shouldn’t give in. But it wouldn’t hurt to wonder, he thought. In his defense, he hadn’t held anyone in years.

Interactions like this would go on, hot and heavy. Sensual glances and a second-too-long hand touches while handing in papers. Once, you even stayed after class, attempting to ask him for help. Basking in the thought he would maintain solidity, he agreed. It was all innocent play at first. Arm touches and swats, flirty yet disguisable compliments. Arm touches turned into thigh caresses, and undercover compliments into blatant flirting, surprisingly from both sides. But he stopped himself before he had done something he regretted. These kind of days drove him crazy. It would make him stay up till 2 A.M, causing him to sip on his drink way past happy hour. It would make his cock twitch at 3 A.M, the thought of you shamefully turning him on in the best most taboo way. He couldn’t handle these contrasting emotions anymore, it was wrecking him.

—

That red glowing clock shone the numbers, 3:56 P.M. FRIDAY Mr. Layne strode around the front of the room, closing up the book in his hands. Sweat trickled down the side of his head and slipped down into the collar of his shirt, leaving its journey down his probably toned body up to your imagination.

His gruff voice snapped you out of your day dream as he spoke, “That’s all for today. Just read the last chapter in your textbook for homework over the weekend. You. Stay after class.” He looked straight at you with a large finger directing at you. He was duller than usual today. Dark half circles pulled at the bottom of his eyes. You gulped any last ounce of anxiety before nodding and picking up your bag to make your way over to his desk. He simultaneously walked to his desk at the same time as you, staring dead at you as you did. He stared at you, not looking away while everyone left the class. His expression was unreadable, just like every other time, except this time, his eyebrows were scrunched. Your heart thumped a bit harder than usual. You looked up at him through your lashes, still subconsciously attempting to seduce him, accidentally of course.

He glanced over to the side, making sure everyone has left. The second the last person left, he turned to you immediately, getting closer. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

You tilted your head, getting an idea of what he was talking about but decided to find out more. “What’re you talking about, Mr. Layne?” your face contorted into a façade of confusion, looking up at him.

“Just stop, stop. The looks, the conversations, all of it. It’s not right.” He huffed, now closer than ever. Even in his moment of anger, you couldn’t help but notice how good he looks with a bead of sweat collecting on his temple. His accent did a number on you as well.

“It doesn’t necessarily feel… wrong.” You shrugged, biting the inside of your cheek, holding back a smirk. You could tell you had an effect on him. What kind of effect? You couldn’t tell. His breathing matched yours, if not heavier than yours. He licked his lips unknowingly, still angry. He suddenly shook his head, as if he just snapped out of it.

He chuckled in disbelief at himself as he took a step back and turned around, in shock he would even think things like this.

“What are you afraid of? You can’t just sit here and blame me after you felt it too-” You ask, in hopes of a solid answer. This conversation had made you wonder if you just had created all the other interactions up in your mind, if you were just delusional and convinced yourself he wanted you.

He just shook his head with his eyes closed. “No. I’m gonna- no!” He stopped himself. “You need to go, I cannot deal with this. It’s my wife’s anniversary and I have places to be-” He stopped himself as the word of his wife slipped out of his mouth. If you recalled right, he had told you he didn’t have one. That gave you all the solidity you needed about him and you.

“You told me you didn’t have a wife. That proves me right, you lied about being single, why else would you lie?”

“Please just go.” He cut you off, turning back around. You both stared at each other, your mouth slightly agape. Huffing, you stomped out, rightfully embarrassed. It was humiliating, you thought you had misinterpreted everything and ended up looking stupid. You went home in shame. Mr. Layne however, began his descent to the local bar downtown.

His wife’s anniversary, he called it, wasn’t what you thought. He wasn’t celebrating their wedding, it was her death date. And every year on this day, he would get absolutely shitfaced in replacement of visiting her grave and mourning her death appropriately. Subconsciously, he had hoped that one day, he would get so wasted that he would hit his head and forget it all, all of it, from his dad to his deceased wife. He didn’t even know if he loved her the same, all the years of drinking corroded his brain and scrambled his feelings. But he liked to drink in her memory, out of respect of course. Because no matter how he decided to feel about her, whether that be love or no feelings at all, they both had a life together at some point and he owed her that recognition.

And so that led him here, in the local bar running on a couple glasses of whiskey with no intention to stop anytime soon. He had intended to get absolutely drunk. A song play softly in the background, something about romance and spewing love letters. It sort of made him sick to his stomach. He took a swig of his current drink and sputtered in anger, “Can we change the fucking song?” He didn’t even know what he was doing, it was like his body had a mind of its own.

The barkeep replied, cleaning a glass, “No, sorry sir. The songs are played randomly, it isn’t in my hands.” The boy-ish bartender shrugged with a crooked smile, hoping that the drunk man in front of him would not make a scene. He went up to piss, grabbing his belt and adjusting as he did. On his way there, he bumped into a blonde man holding a tray of beers. They bumped shoulders which caused the man to spill the drinks.

“The fuck man? Watch where you’re going!” the blonde spoke in a booming voice, but not enough to be considered yelling.

Feeling a bit tipsy, Victor didn’t even know what he was saying. “What’re you gonna do about it?” If he wasn’t irritated and in a haze of emotions, he would never act like this, he was a good man at heart.

The blonde pushed Mr. Layne, causing him to stumble backwards into a table. In a bitter, vengeful manner, he punched the man. That punch caused all hell to break loose. The other man began to punch him back and they started to brawl in the middle of this busy bar. The blonde man ended up jabbing him right in the nose and managed to cut him across his face, a single long cut splaying out across his cheek to his lip. In retaliation to that, Victor punched him right in the cheek, spit flying from the mans mouth with blood coupled along with it. He could’ve sworn he heard a tooth chip. They both got hits in before ending up on the floor shamelessly. Victor got on top of him ,straddling the man on his stomach while punching him. It wasn’t long before a couple workers and the owner of the bar showed up to break them apart. They peeled them apart as their limbs still flailed in a pathetic attempt to break free to hit once more.

“Are you fucking kidding me? Get out!” The owner yelled, practically throwing Victor out of the bar. The blonde man ended up right beside him. “Don’t come back!”

“Your bar fucking sucks anyway!” Mr. Layne yelled back as the owner shut the door. They both sat on the floor panting heavily as people turned their heads, peering at the spectacle. “Cunt.” Victor muttered out as he pulled out a pack of smoked from his pocket. He placed one between his lips before giving one to the bruised man sitting next to him. Pulling out the old, scuffed stainless steel lighter, he lit up his own cig and then he man’s. He got up, then held out a hand to the blonde man to help him up. And then he walked away and that was the end of that. He had hoped to never see him again. Nights like these messed with his head. He wasn’t himself. It was very out of character for him.

He didn’t know what to do, he didn’t want to go home but he was too tired and kind of in pain to go to another bar.

So he just walked downtown. He took a drag, pain taking over his bruised ribs as he inhaled and exhaled. He coughed while he exhaled the smoke, his whole torso throbbing. He sat down on some bench under a street light that was next to a club and just smoked. The muffled music filled his ears and his brain felt like it pulsed to the beat of the music. He could feel tiny drops of blood tricking down his body and his face but he just did not care.

Unbothered, he sat there, smoking. Until he heard a familiar voice from down the side walk. “Mr. Layne?” It was you. You jogged up to him, concerning swarming over your face as you see the beat up state he was in with crimson pooling at the corner of his mouth and the cuts and bruises. “What the hell happened to you?”

He wasn’t sure if he was hallucinating or not. It was like an angel was sent from heaven for him, as if the god’s knew he needed help. He looked up at you like a lost little boy who finally found his mother.

“Are you really here?” His hands reached out to grasp you, double checking your existence. You couldn’t help but chuckle a bit, seeing him in this state like a child. You took a seat next to him and you both faced each other.

“What did you do to your face?”

“Some idiot at the bar. Got him back though-” he spat, wiping off blood from his cheek. “Why are you here?”

“It’s Friday night. I’m obviously gonna be out-” you rolled your eyes somewhat playfully and you couldn’t help but notice his weight shift, like he was loosening up. But then you remembered the incident that happened only a couple hours ago. He didn’t seem to remember, it was the least of his worries. You both just sat there for a moment, thoughts ran through your head. You obviously couldn’t leave him here. “Um, are you gonna get home okay? Where’s your wife?” You ask, leaning your head down to look him in the eyes. When he heard you ask about his wife, he just ignored it. Odd.

He paused and nodded, imagining slugging himself alone once more. “I guess. Yeah I’m all good.” the cigarette butt fell under his foot and became squashed with a shimmy of his foot.

You thought for a moment, deciding he needed someone to clean him up. “No, can I help get you home? At least clean you up a little.” you questioned very quietly. Secretly, this was your attempt to see his home, but it would also be you helping him. Win-win.

He also thought for a moment, his brows scrunching up in an expression you couldn’t read. “Okay,” was all he said before you both got up. “We can walk from here.”

“Fine by me.”

And now you both were here, walking side by side in silence, yet surrounded with chatter from civilians on the street, yet the silence was still unbearably loud.

“What was the fight over?” you asked, in hope of an answer and also to rid of the silence.

“It’s so idiotic.” He chuckled dryly, shaking his head and looking down at his feet with his hands in his pocket.

Your eyes peeked over at him, noticing he was still in the same outfit he was in when you guys shared that moment. The top couple buttons were loose while his tie hung around his neck un-tied. Disheveled black and silver hair lay against his sweat ridden forehead. “I’m sure it was very… cut worthy?” You joked with an amused smile.

That earned you a light laugh. He pulled out another smoke from his pocket and placed it between his lips while he brought out his lighter. He spoke through his teeth with the cig still in his mouth. “Trust me, it was not.” You grinned.

Innocently, you looked over at him as he lit his up with that same old lighter. “Can I have one?”

He peered at you. “They’re bad for you, don’t you know that?” He asked, an almost non-existent smirk splaying onto his face.

You shrugged. “’S fine. Makes me feel good.” He raised a brow, an idea jumping into his head. He took one out and handed it to you and watched intently as you put it between your faded red lips. You both stopped walking so he could light yours up, he brought it up to the tip of it, the heat of fire radiating onto your face.

You took a drag. “Thank you Mr. Layne.” You smiled, once again very innocently. It was like a game.

The walk went on, hands ghosting against each other and silly peeks and peers. It was playful. But before you knew it, you both were at the doorstep of his apartment. The street light hummed softly as he unlocked the door and stepped in with you right behind him.

Immediately, the first thing you noticed was the smell. There was a faint scent of cologne swirled with smoke. He turned on the lights, a yellow-orange light lit up the living room. He had a corduroy sofa with an ashtray on the coffee table. He kind of stood there, it was an awkward moment before you decided to break the deafening silence. But then you looked around for evidence of a woman living here.

“Why aren’t you with your wife? I thought it was your anniversary?” You questioned. Once again no answer. In hopes of an answer, you asked him for his first aid kit. He pointed to a cabinet in the kitchen and you followed behind him. There was a small breakfast table in the corner and he took a seat there while you grabbed the kit and pulled up a chair in front of him.

You placed it on the table and opened it up, grabbing stuff to clean his face up.

“I’m fine really,” He sighed, rubbing his temples. Shaking your head, you pulled out a sterilizing pad to clean his wounds. You ripped it open with your teeth and tossed the wrapper on the table.

“You’re kidding right? You’ve got a black eye and gash from your cheek to your lip. And you’re probably bruising god-knows-where.” You brought it up to his eyebrow, wiping the little wound. He sucked in a sharp breath, shutting his eyes. “It’ll only hurt worse.” You continued to clean his face, but grabbed a new one after it got soiled. In the downtime, you could feel his burning gaze on your skin, heat rising to the top. You looked up, eyes catching his. You both looked at each other. It wasn’t awkward, but his face showed… guilt?

He took in a breath before he spoke, “This is wrong.” He shook his head “This is inappropriate.” You knew he wasn’t talking about cleaning his wounds, but the fact that you, his student, was in his home past hours, touching his face.

Face flat, you responded, “Listen, I’m not gonna sit here and convince you, but you just can’t deny that you didn’t feel.. something, anything. Because that would be a lie, not to me, but yourself. Victor you’re lying to yourself. But it’s fine, You’re right. I know it’s wrong now, you’re married and-”

He cut you off. “She’s dead.”

You paused and looked him in the eyes, which only made him look down. “Huh?”

“My wife, she’s dead.” You were confused.

Huh.. I thought he said…?

“I thought-”

“Well I didn’t say she was alive.” He closed his eyes and rubbed his forehead. “I said it was her anniversary, her death anniversary.”

You were shocked. “Oh, I’m sorry.”

He brushed it off as nonchalantly as he could, shrugging it off. “Nah, it’s okay, I’m okay.”

“You don’t look okay. Is it a coincidence that you got messy on her anniversary?”

“If I’m being honest, no.” You shook your head, expecting that answer. It went silent again. It seemed silence was a reoccurring instance between you two. But this time, the absence of sound was more mournful, more comforting, for him at least.

“You shouldn’t be here… I’m fucked up, I can’t fuck you up too.” He was lying to himself and you could see right through him. He wouldn’t stop you if anything happened…

“Who else gonna take care of you on nights like this, Mr. Layne?” You looked up at him through your eyelashes like you always do, fluttering your eyes and slightly wetting your lips. “You deserve care and love too.”

In all seriousness, you knew this was wrong. Seducing your professor on a day special to him? Crazy. But could anyone blame you? How could anyone resist the husky, beat up man who’s grunting and panting?

His eyes locked with yours as his tongue swiped against the corner of his mouth, swiping the somewhat dried blood away. Neither of you knew what happened, but an unknown force took over both of you. Something unnatural took over you, causing both of you to lean forward, lips touching.

It was absolutely electric. Shocking. Painful, for him at least. So wrong but so fucking good at the same time. The fact that it was so inappropriate made it feel even better. You deepened the kiss, testing the waters by pushing your tongue against his lips. Reluctantly, he obliged. From there on it only got better.

Your hands found your way into his unkept hair, tugging softly as your teeth clashed and your tongues fought for dominance. Your chairs ended up scooting closer together and your knees were touching, but it didn’t stay like that for long. Hands still in his hair, you both raised up and you ended up against his wall with a knee between your legs.

He was panting you were scrunching your legs together. He looked so good like this, sweaty with his shirt half done and his belt ready to come undone. You could feel it between your legs, feel him.

“Tell me to stop.” He broke away from you, a roguish twinkle in his eyes appearing. “Tell me to stop, please. If I keep going, I’m gonna do something I’ll regret.” Your response to him was to grab his face and place your lips where they belong, on top of his.

He couldn’t even think straight anymore. He couldn’t even think about the magnitude of his actions, how much it would affect him the next morning, but none of that mattered at the moment. None of that mattered when he had a beautiful young woman ready to be putty in his hands.

Your hips rolled against his knee, subliminally yearning for some sort of friction. Your action didn’t go unnoticed by him. You could hear him mutter under his breath, something along the lines of, so needy.

It was almost as if he was scared to touch you. Scared that something would happen. He didn’t know why. It might have been the underlying guilt.

“I won’t break,” your words came out a soft pant, looking up at him.

A tiny smile snuck onto his face and you noticed.

He had guided you to his room, articles of clothing littering your bee line there. His tie, your shirt and his. You were flat on his bed and was on top of you, his face buried in your neck as he sucked and nibbled.

It has been practically forever since he got some, but he stayed just as skillful as he was in his 20′s. Thank god for that. You were seeing stars just with him leaving purple marks on your neck. He got up for a moment, eyes scanning all the way down. His chest was heaving up and down and just like always, sweat dripped down his temple. His eyes drooped low, you couldn’t tell if he was drunk off alcohol or you. His burning gaze made you feel small. It was almost predatorial, the age gap didn’t help. You felt controlled, but it turned you on. He wouldn’t lie and say he wasn’t turned on either, but he couldn’t help but feel a small twinge of guilt.

Eyes locked with yours, his hands found his way to the hem of your bottoms, ripping them off to reveal your white panties. His fingers fumbled with the edge of them, eventually pulling them down and exploring his way around your heat. His fingers teased, ghosting touches against your thighs just like you would tease him in class. The sight of him above you drove you wild. And your imagination was right, he was fit.

“Remember all those times you would tease me during class and get away with it?” A pathetic mewl left your mouth in response to his condescending tone, back arching in hopes of his fingers to touch you. God his accent was so hot. Everyday you thanked God for British people.

“Please..” the way he had you begging before he even touched you was filthy.

A scoff left his mouth, a finger softly caressing right above your clit. You couldn’t take anymore. He mercifully started to rub your bud softly, watching your face intently as he did. Gasps filled his ears as he picked up the pace. You could feel your skin burning as he slid in a finger, earning a sweet whine from your cherry stained lips.

“Shit, faster.” According to your request, he added another finger and pumped faster, his hand rhythmically rubbing your clit simultaneously. Everything about him was perfect and everything you learned about him only proved you right. He was hot, can cook, teaches, respectful, AND good with his hands? It only made you wonder what his dick could do. It only made you want to cum on his hand faster.

Praises fell from his mouth as he watched your face scrunch, he could tell your getting closer.  You squeezed around his finger. “C’mon baby, let it go now.” it only pushed you over the edge as you coated his fingers. You pulsed around him and he groaned. His cock strained through his jeans, hardened against his thigh. You whimpered softly as he pulled his fingers out, and you still clenched around nothing. He wasted no time, hands going straight to his belt.

He ripped it off and swung it across the room like a cowboy, letting his pants down and his cock spring free. You sat up on your elbows and watched him while he was perched between your legs, pumping himself.

The sight just made you salivate. His cock in his hands while he watches you writhe beneath him,  succumbing to submission. Who knew sleeping with your professor would be the best decision you make all year.

Your back arched, shamelessly begging for him. He knew what you were asking for and if he wasn’t so ready, he would’ve made you work for it. But he was willing to be nice. He positioned himself perfectly, and pushed himself in right when you least expected it. It made you yelp. His thrusts were perfectly, periodically timed.

Your legs wrapped around him as his head found its place in your neck, once again nibbling. He was big you wouldn’t lie, it made tears prick at your eyes. Loud whimpers and groans filled the room as well as the creaking of the bed.

“Fuck, Victor-” You panted out, head cloudy.

His pace slowed down dramatically and you, once again, whimpered pathetically.

“Mr. Layne.” Props to him for keeping it professional.

“ ‘M sorry, Mr. Layne, move please.” You pleaded, how could he say no to such a face? But it wouldn’t hurt to tease.

“God, always so fucking disrespectful, calling your teacher by his first name… do you really deserve it?” He made a domineering face, a fake puppy dog expression.

“Please, I’m sorry, please fucking move,” he enjoyed watching you squirm on his dick, he was a filthy man. You had no idea someone like him could be like this.

So he began moving, faster than last time. Vulgar noises of skin slapping grew louder as he snaked his hand down your body, toying at your clit. His grunts became groans and your whimpers became moans as you both creeped closer and closer. The noises were obscene. The room was filled with wet, slapping noises and breathless moans. The knot in your stomach churned and twisted tighter as his fingers rubbed merciless circles on your clit. You could feel him hit your sweet spot, harder and deeper every time.

“Fuck, so good s’ good,” he repeated his praises and breathed out your name like a mantra. One last rub of his fingers and thrust of his hips had you seeing white and your back arched higher than you thought it could reach. You pulsed and fluttered around his dick and that only pushed him over the edge. He pulled out and came on your stomach, spurting hot ropes over you.

Mutters of oh my god, and fuck came from both of you, still not sure of who said what. Your name fell from his lips like it was the last thing he’d ever say. He flopped down on the bed beside you and sleep hit you like a truck. Your eye lids pulled immediately, your body very obviously tired from fucking. You had thought to get up to use the bathroom, but you fell asleep.

Mr. Layne however, could not fall asleep at all. He got a rag to clean your stomach while you slept, it only soothed you into deeper sleep. After that, however, he didn’t know what to do.

He felt sick, psychically ill and guilty. Regret and shame flooded his mind as he slipped on a pair pajama pants made his way to the balcony in his bedroom, grabbing a smoke. The whole scene took him back, him sitting on a balcony on a windy night while the stench of alcohol and cigarettes filled his nose, like the night he left when he was 17. He looked over at you through the glass, body covered with his blanket and your hair all messy, yet still so pretty.

He hated it, he hated how he did this. He felt like a bad person. He took a drag and blew it out and rested his face in his hands.

“Fuck.” He didn’t know what he would do tomorrow morning. He wanted to tell you to leave and that this was a mistake, have you transferred out of his class. But subconsciously, another part of him wanted to stick his dick in your mouth first thing tomorrow morning. He would cross that bridge of shame when he got to it.

[nobodyfamousposts]

Chloe's Lament Part 2

Next part of Chloe's Lament. Chloe begins to learn of the changes to reality from her Wish.

She will not be happy about this.

____________________

When Chloe woke up, the first thing that struck her was the loud banging sounds from somewhere below her.

The second thing was pain.

“I have a headache!” She called out, laying an arm over her sleep mask-covered eyes. Her butler would hear her and respond accordingly, of course. He always did.

“And get them to stop that racket down there!” She flopped on her bed with a huff, waiting for the help to return with aid.

Really, the things she dealt with!

Normally, her butler would arrive immediately, with painkillers and fruit-infused water being presented to her within a minute.

But to her growing frustration, that minute came and passed.

Then two.

Three…

Not that Chloe was counting.

Eventually, it had been five minutes and there was still no word from the man. And to make matters worse, that damn banging from below was only getting louder and increasing her suffering.

“Ugh! Do I have to do everything myself?!”

She ripped off the sleep mask, only to wince at the level of brightness in the room. She was on the top floor with the best visibility but the windows were supposed to be tinted and covered to prevent this very thing!

Once her vision cleared, several things should have stood out as odd.

But the first thing to attract her notice was the sleep mask she had just removed—some cheapo dime-store brand. She tossed the rag away with a shriek.

“Is this a prank?!” She demanded. “That is not my personalized diamond-studded satin custom made facial mask! Jean? Jean!”

There was a ruckus from below. The sound of something being dropped. Footsteps—loud and fast and getting closer. Then the opening of a door.

“Precious! Is everything okay?”

She sneered at the sound of her father’s voice.

“No! My sleep mask was stolen, it’s too bright, my head is KILLING me and no one is getting me anything to help!”

He looked confused at that. “Are you out of Efferalgan in your bathroom cabinet?”

She gave him a look. Why would she have to get up and go to the bathroom for some painkillers when there should be someone to hand them to her?

He gave her a strange look in response. Like he was confused his daughter would expect someone to do something as simple as bringing her painkillers and water.

And water.

Preferably cherry-infused.

Was that really so much to ask? Or even require asking?

“Just…hang on a moment.” He said and left her her bathroom.

Finally.

With nothing to do but wait, she glanced around, noting that…this was not her room.

Not the one she knew, anyway.

The light that had blinded her before was from a central window overlooking the room that so obtrusively settled on her bed. In addition, there was a skylight placed above a nook set behind her bed, which brought more light into the room.

She vaguely recognized the room. Well, by its floor plan, at least. The layout and decor threw her off though. The furniture and items were clearly cheaper than her usual high end designer brands. But she saw aspects that were suited to her tastes. Minute indications of her own touch in the assortment of objects around her. Yellow and white as the themes. Black cushions and aesthetic.

It was…decent. But so beneath her it was embarrassing! These were cheap models! Practically plastic! The bedsheets were…ugh…cotton of all things! The lamps were dim! She was missing her boudoir! And her shoes! And her jewelry! She didn’t even want to imagine the nightmare that was her closet—it was practically a hole in the wall! There was no way it would fit everything!

“Here you are, dear!” Her father said, returning from her bathroom with a glass of water and a pill in hand.

She fought the grimace.

Was this tap water?

Gross!

By his expectant look, he clearly meant for her to drink it.

With her continuing headache and no better option for fast relief, Chloe reluctantly took the proffered items. She was unable to help the slightest grimace before she downed them both.

“Well, if that’s all, I’ll be getting back to setting up for the morning rush. Come downstairs to the bakery when you’re ready.” He looked almost relieved to be leaving.

Chloe barely took notice now that she had what she needed. Instead, she took to contemplating her situation and her new surroundings.

All the furniture aside, this room looked familiar. Not really well known, because Chloe was sure she had never been in such a place before. But…like she had seen it somewhere…TV maybe?

And her Daddykins was here. That meant…wherever she was, it was apparently expected for her to be here.

But where was here?

The last thing she remembered was…

She closed her eyes, straining to think past the pain.

That’s right! Hawk Moth’s offer! The Bee! She was Miracle Queen! And she had just won! She had Ladybug beaten…

Her fists clenched.

Marinette Dupain-Cheng…

It hit her.

This was just like her room!

She had only seen it a couple of times. Once for sure when Sabrina had snuck into her room per Chloe‘s instructions for blackmail material. She happened to glimpse a picture of the room here or there from other people’s phones of times that they had spent in this room—that she had really cared. It was a small and dingy room that had nothing on her glamorous abode at the hotel, which of course, was superior in every way.

She was vaguely reminded of that one show that Marinette hadn’t stopped talking about which had also apparently shown Marinette‘s room, but Chloe honestly hadn’t been bothered enough to watch it, so she didn’t have that to go on. But with what she did know, it was a safe bet to assume that this was some knockoff of Marinette‘s room.

So why was Chloe here? Why was her dad downstairs?

She… she had made the Wish, hadn’t she?

…

…

…

What…is this it?

She turned up her nose at the environment around her, completely unimpressed.

Was this dinky little room with its weird setup and tacky decor what the Wish gave her? Why would she be in any copy of Dupain-Cheng’s room layout anyway?

The Wish should have changed reality, that much was clear. There was no way she would be caught dead in Dupain-Cheng’s room otherwise—much less sleeping there like it was her own room!

…unless…it was her room?

Was it?

She had found some aspects of the room to her taste, but did that mean this was hers?

It would explain why she was there. And why her Daddy had come up. He had mentioned her bathroom earlier, then had gone through the nearby door to get a tablet and water from what she could only assume was the bathroom he had spoken of.

…he had mentioned a bakery.

Eyes wide, she stumbled out of bed and to the window. Sure enough, the school was just across the way. And there was a sign out front.

“Bourgeois Bakery”

Chloe stared.

Suddenly, it clicked. The banging from downstairs. Her Daddy talking about a ‘morning rush’. And to come down to the…

…no way!

This place was a bakery! Her Daddy was operating a bakery!

And given her location, it was the same bakery that Marinette’s parents owned originally!

This…

…wait…

…did this mean she was supposed to be Marinette?

She threw her pillow in a fury.

Stupid Wish! This wasn’t at all what she wanted!

You would think all-powerful Wish-granting artifacts would do it right!

“Where are those kwamis?!” She demanded, jumping out of the bed and looking around for anywhere she would keep such important jewels. “I’m going to give them a piece of my mind!”

She had a boudoir along with the various jewelry pieces kept there ranging among a variety of gold and diamonds—all fakes, much to her disappointment. And not a single Miraculous among them.

She slammed the final drawer in with a curse.

Nothing!

If she had the Miraculous, shouldn’t they still be with her? Do they just disappear after being used?

Ugh! Those things really were useless! Utterly useless!

It was when she stood back to full height that she noticed the monthly calendar. There were the standard holidays, but also a weekly appointment every Friday evening with some ‘Bridgette’. What was that? A spa day?

She shot a glance to her reflection in the mirror and grimaced. She definitely needed one. She could just feel all the oils on her skin!

But more to the point, there was one day circled on the calendar.

‘Start of School’

She grabbed her phone—an older, obsolete model with a glittery but fake casing—and checked the date.

That…

That was today.

It was the first day of school. A…

She checked the date again, and sure enough, it was a year ago!

Had the Wish taken her back in time?

She froze, realization hitting her.

This was the first day of school. The same day as the first akuma attack.

And when Ladybug first appeared.

That meant…she was sent back in time to the day Marinette would become Ladybug.

It was a year in the past. She wasn’t at the hotel. Her room was in a bakery. Her father was working as a baker. She was Marinette now.

That meant…

She giggled, feeling a giddiness rise within her.

Today was the day she becomes Ladybug!

It looks like the Wish did something right, after all!

Chloe grinned, spinning away from the mirror and to her closet.

She had to get ready! She had to prepare the perfect outfit! Something for the day she becomes a hero!

No. THE hero!

She knew how the Ladybug worked. Hell, she knew the akumas to come. With her prior knowledge and skills, she would know how to use the yoyo and how to use the Lucky Charm better than the old Ladybug ever did! She’d have every akuma in the bag!

Hell, maybe she could force the Ladybug kwami to tell her where the Guardian is so she can get the other Miraculous, too! That way, she could have both the Ladybug AND the Bee again.

And her Adrikens would be her partner! To support her! To stay by her side! Just as it should be!

She paused, something niggling at the back of her brain. There was something she was forgetting.

A glance around the room as she wondered

Of course, the full extent of the change and just what that meant didn’t really hit her until she went downstairs and actually saw her father.

The poor man was in the middle of retrieving a pan lined with croissants from the unbearably hot oven, his hair contained in…fishnet? Latex? Whatever the cafeteria cooks wore when she had no choice but to eat from the school’s lunchroom.

Gross! He looked like a lunch lady!

He didn’t seem to notice her, too busy dancing around the kitchen and checking over the…whatever pastries those were and just looking proud of himself.

Daddykins, no. You’re better than this! How could you be reduced to such a state?

He seemed to notice her staring. “Are you feeling better?” He asked, looking concerned.

“Er…yeah.” She replied. She wasn’t, really, but she couldn’t tell him that. He could try to have her stay home and how would she get to see the fruits of her labors from there?

“Ah good!” He said cheerfully. “It is the first day of the new school year, and you certainly want to…” He hesitated, “…start off on the right foot.”

A pause. He looked at her expectantly, but she had no idea what he was getting at.

He shook his head and turned away for a moment to grab a box before coming back and presenting it to her.

Clearly he wanted her to take it, so she sighed and took hold of the box. A peek inside revealed a number of macarons.

For her? Now this was what she was talking about!

“Oh, Daddykins! You shouldn’t have!”

“Yes,” he said with a nod. “I figured it would be a great way to start off the new year by sharing them with your classmates.”

Ugh. Seriously? All happy feelings vanished in an instant and she shot him a petulant look.

“Why should I have to share?” She demanded.

He hesitated.

She glared, tapping her foot in a clear indication of wanting an answer. Or preferably for him to just say they were all hers.

“It’s a new year and a new start.” Andre said, smiling nervously. “Maybe it’s time to just let bygones be bygones?“

It was a stupid question and she sure let him know it. She stared at him flatly, causing him to wilt.

Andre sighed.

“I know you don’t like her, but…” he hesitated. “Please, just try to get along?”

She blinked.

“Her?”

Wait.

Wait…

It suddenly struck her.

If she was Dupain-Cheng now…

That meant Marinette was in her shoes!

She grinned.

Marinette would be her bully! She’d be the rich bitch daughter of the Mayor and loathed by Paris while Chloe would be—

The one everyone rallied around.

The one Adrikens adored.

The one chosen as Ladybug!

She would have it all!

Part of her hoped the other girl would know about the previous reality…just so she could shove it in her face!

“Just take it slow,” he continued, unaware of her true thoughts. “And then you can report about it to Bridgette at your counseling session on Friday.”

Wait—counseling?

Seeing her expression, he held up his hands in a gesture of peace.

“I know you don’t like it, but it was part of the agreement. You need to make a better impression this year, sweetie.”

“What?”

“She’s the daughter of the Mayor. I’m not sure we can take another…” He trailed off before shaking his head and looking at her imploringly. “You understand, right?”

Oh.

Oh.

She got it!

“Of course, Daddykins!”

Clearly Dupain-Cheng was abusing her influence, just as she thought!

She had to hand it to the girl…a part of her hadn’t been quite convinced that she would go quite that far. But that just proof that Marinette Dupain-Cheng wasn’t so perfect and that even she would be the same as Chloe once in her position!

Chloe knew she would have to bear with the mistreatment for now. No matter how much it would grate her. It would suck to have to have to accept it for any period of time.

Still, it would be worth it! It just meant even more ammunition to use against her once Chloe was Ladybug!

She didn’t even notice the look of concern he gave her or his weak goodbye as she left the bakery with the box in hand. She was too wrapped up in her own thoughts. Particularly her plans.

And what plans they were!

So what if Maribrat had Chloe’s wealth? It wasn’t like she knew the first thing about status or being a symbol. No, Ladybug did that for her and she didn’t even use it right! Not like Chloe would.

She smirked to herself, imagining the future.

Well, as soon as she got the Miraculous, taking the pigtailed down a peg would be the first thing on her list. Maybe a dip in the Seine? Or ‘accidentally’ getting her hit by an akuma or two?

Why limit it to her personally? If Ladybug spoke out against the mayor, who would vote for him? From what she remembered of Marinette’s dad, that oaf had no business being in politics anyway! Then there was the hotel, which would no doubt be a mess with him in charge anyway.

And best of all, she thought with glee, with a word from Paris’s favorite hero, Dupain-Cheng could be implicated as an ally of Hawk Moth.

Who wouldn’t believe it? If Marinette was in Chloe’s place, that meant she had to be a brat despised by Paris. Everyone would likely jump at the excuse to run her out of the city!

It was slightly disappointing that the former Ladybug wouldn’t know why the new Ladybug was so against her or that she had even been replaced, but she didn’t deserve answers anyway.

For once, Chloe was getting everything she wanted. It was like the Universe itself was on her side! Chloe would be the hero with all the Miraculous and status just as she’d always deserved. And everyone would automatically see it and love her while they would already recognize Marinette as the selfish bitch Chloe always knew she was!

It was a win/win for Chloe and all her fans—which was the best kind of win for Chloe.

Sure, it meant she would have to suffer the loss of her basic comforts like a butler, the latest in fashion and accessories, and easy immediate access to a luxury spa for now…but it would be worth it in the long run.

…maybe not the luxury spa. She would kill for the hotel’s oils and masseuse. But she would just have to deal with, ugh, scheduling with a four star locale in the meantime.

It’s for the greatest good, she reminded herself, looking mournfully at her chipped nails.

And besides, she didn’t have to suffer for long.

Today was the first day of school, which signified the first appearance of Ladybug! This was the day she achieved her destiny! Once she became Ladybug, she would be back on top!

So what if her dad was a baker instead of a hotel owner this go around? Who said it had to stay that way? Just as she could use her position to defame the Dupain-Chengs and ruin Marinette, she could endorse the bakery for free publicity. Do special promotions and deals for money. Or even better! She could make the city pay her for her work!

After all, how much was her Miracle Cure worth, really? How much would the city be willing to pay for her to fix the damage caused by akuma fights? It was only what she was owed; the least they could do is compensate her for her time.

Really, it was Marinette’s own fault for not taking advantage while she could. She could’ve been an idol or the city’s star. She could have used the Miraculous to create an army. Hell, Hawk Moth should have been nothing against her! And instead, she just…wasted her potential. On things like loose zoo animals or out of control helicopters, no less!

Chloe wouldn’t make the same mistakes.

And now that Chloe was set to be the city’s hero…

Even if Marinette was rich (for now), it would be nothing compared to what Chloe would have. She would be Paris’s hero! The BEST hero! And unlike that has-been, she at least would use Ladybug’s power and status right!

She didn’t need to be the daughter of the Mayor! Her Mother was still THE Style Queen, Audrey Bourgeois. Adrien Agreste was still her best friend. She was still Chloe Bourgeois, the best thing to happen to Paris! And now as Ladybug, she would still be back on top and ruling Paris in no time!

And it would all start once she got to school.

“Get out of my way!” She exclaimed, shoving some old fart taking his sweet time walking, sending him to the ground and out of her way.

Move aside, peons!

Her destiny awaits!

Back at the intersection, Chloe never noticed the way the elderly gentleman cast her a judging stare from his position on the ground. Or his muttering.

“No, definitely not.”

“Are you okay?” Came a voice.

“Ah, yes!” He replied, accepting the offered hand and taking stock of the girl it belonged to. She was young. In college, likely. “Thank you, young lady!”

“Of course!” She smiled, handing him back his cane. “Do you need help getting home from here? That looked like quite a fall.”

“But don’t you have somewhere to be?” He asked.

“Just school, but I can spare a few minutes if you need…?”

“There is no need for that.” He shook his head. “I will be fine, thank you for your concern.”

Yes, he decided with a smile as he watched her go, this one will do.

_________________

Ugh, walking. Who invented such a thing? She couldn’t wait until she had a personal limo again. This was so not good for her!

Chloe continued plotting as she walked, magnanimously choosing to consider this as part of the reason for revenge instead of its own thing.

And speaking of revenge! Let’s see…

She scrunched her face, trying to remember the events of the first day of school.

There had been that fight with Marinette over her seat. ‘My seat now’, she realized with glee. ‘Which means I’ll be back next to Adrikens!’

Where she should be.

And if she and Dupain-Cheng were now supposed to be switched, that meant ‘the horrible bully Marinette’ would be picking on ‘poor sweet little Chloe’.

She couldn’t wait!

‘Let’s see how you handle being in my shoes, Dupain-Cheng!’

She giggled to herself, ignoring the weirded out looks she was getting from some passing students.

Or the way the other students in general seemed to give her a wide berth.

As they should for the real Queen Bee of this school!

She was already imagining how this was going to go. And with the classroom only a few feet ahead, her vindication was already so close she could taste it!

Except when she finally arrived at the class, it was immediately clear that something wasn’t right.

Dupain-Cheng was there as expected. With her same kiddie pigtails and her pink and grey ensemble with polka-dots—what kind of designer was she anyway?

What wasn’t expected, however, was that Cesaire was already was there as well.

Originally, Cesaire defended Dupain-Cheng and they became friends. If things played out the same, shouldn’t Cesaire be coming in late? Or standing up to Dupain-Cheng here? If anything, they already seemed to be friends.

Unless Cesaire was Dupain-Cheng’s tool like Sabrina had been for her?

It made sense that this new reality would swap more around, she reasoned.

Except…

Chloe frowned. Now that she was actually close enough to the classroom, she could see the classmates gathered into a sort of half circle around Dupain-Cheng and her follower. And as she reached the doorway, she could more clearly hear what they were saying.

“—at the Le Grand Paris.” Marinette said, gesturing to Alya with a smile.

“Wow!”

“So cool!”

“That’s awesome! So you’ve just been staying at the hotel until you can get settled in?”

Alya nodded, smiling. “Yeah. At least for a little while until we could get our own apartment. Mr. Dupain-Cheng was really accommodating. Luckily, we didn’t need it for long before Mom found something. She didn’t want to take advantage of his generosity, but it’s just really amazing that he was willing to offer us room and board just to have Mom as part of his staff!”

Chloe raised a nose in disgust.

Who ever heard of such a thing?! What hotel made any profit letting people stay for free?

“We met when I was cleaning rooms and she offered to help!” Marinette explained brightly.

Chloe nearly gagged.

Cleaned?

Marinette…actually cleaned the hotel?

Why do something that gross?

That’s what the help was for! And Sabrina.

Speaking of, where was she?

Chloe glanced around, but Sabrina was nowhere to be seen amongst the classmates.

Maybe the Wish had done more than switch her with Dupain-Cheng? Maybe Cesaire and Sabrina had been switched as well? So that meant Sabrina should be the new transfer, right?

No wait, that didn’t add up. She had just walked in on Cesaire being introduced.

Sabrina was probably just her best friend, then.

She nodded.

That was good enough, she supposed. At least if she couldn’t have her necessities from the hotel, she still had Sabrina to take care of the more mundane tasks for her.

Unaware of her thoughts, Marinette had continued talking to the others unhindered.

“—said she would be coming to Francios Dupont, and I knew I had to introduce her. She’s new, so be nice.” She instructed, giving a stare to Kim in particular. “Kim.”

The taller boy raised his hands in surrender. “Fine, fine. I’ll give her a week before any challenges.”

Alya raised an eyebrow. “Challenges? Dare I ask?”

Everyone groaned.

“No dares.” Nino begged, covering his face with his hat. “Please. Kim is bad enough every year. I still can’t look at the hotel without remembering what happened last time…”

“Yeah, your dumb dare got us banned from the hotel’s pool for a month!” Alix said, pointing at Kim, who shrugged helplessly.

“Speaking of the hotel!” Marinette cut in, pulling out her tablet. “I convinced my dad to let us do this year’s work study at the hotel.” She tapped her tablet. “I have a little bit of influence over what they’ll choose as assignments, so we can try to come up with roles everyone will like.”

“Hey yeah! That sounds awesome!”

The classmates crowded the desk, chatting excitedly.

“So where will everyone go?”

“Maybe Kim and Max in security? Or Alix and Max in security, so Kim could work the pool area.”

“As a lifeguard?” Kim asked cheerfully. “I’ve done some training, after all.”

Marinette sent him a wry look and pretended to be thinking it over. “Hmm, I don’t know. Maybe as a pool cleaner?”

Kim pouted. “No fair, Mari!”

“Hey, it would do you some good to learn the cleaning process for the pools you use so much.” Mylene said, half jokingly and half pointedly, making Kim lower his head and groan.

Marinette giggled a little. “Well at any rate, I’ve set up a list of all the different jobs at the hotel so people can mark their top preferences. Between all the options, everyone is bound to find something that’ll suit them best.”

She sent Adrien a knowing look. “And of course Adrien will be in the kitchen.”

Adrien beamed at that.

Not that Chloe noticed.

“Kitchen?!” Chloe squawked. “You’re going to make my Adrikens work in a dirty old kitchen?!”

She had known Marinette would be bad, but how dare she punish Adrikens like that? She could just see it now! Her poor Adrikens, forced to slave away in a room meant for servants like…like he was a servant! Where he could get covered in grime and burn his precious skin!

Everyone frowned at her, as if she was the one being ridiculous!

The boy in question raised his hand.

“But I want to—”

“That is a flagrant abuse of power!” Chloe shouted, slamming a hand on the desk. “She’s making Adrikens work like a maid! What if his father hears about this?!”

Adrien wilted in on himself.

“The kitchen isn’t dirty or old.” Marinette said, sounding annoyingly calm with a terseness in her tone that Chloe had heard some service workers use when dealing with particularly difficult customers—though why they used it with her was beyond her. It was as if Marinette was acting like she the reasonable one dealing with an unreasonable customer or something. “They just finished the remodeling three months ago, we clean it regularly, and all of our utensils and equipment are taken good care of.”

“That’s not the point!” Chloe shouted. “How could you use my Adrikens in such a way? Gabriel Agreste would never approve when he hears about this!”

Because he would be hearing about this! Chloe would make sure of it!

“I could just explain to Mr. Agreste that this would be for good publicity.” Marinette suggested. “I’m sure he would allow it.”

She knew it! There were really no lows she wouldn’t go to!

“You’re really pushing this! And you call yourself Adrikens’ friend!” Chloe pointed at Marinette accusingly. “Just because your Daddy’s the Mayor doesn’t mean you can treat people like they’re lesser than you!”

Marinette frowned, looking uncertain as her gaze flickered between the others.

Hah! Even in Chloe’s position, Marinette still wavered easily and she couldn’t hide her insecurities to save her life. It was why she always gave in in the end! Anyone would roll over someone showing such an obvious weakness!

Hell, she may not even need to wait to see her taken down. This was a perfect opportunity to lead everyone in rising up against her tyranny.

After a few seconds, she turned back to face Chloe, no doubt to attack her for challenging her and show her true colors—

“Chloe, are you okay?”

Huh?

“My Dad just runs the Hotel. He isn’t the Mayor.”

What?!

“My Mom is. You met her at your…” She hesitated, sending the others a glance before lowering her voice, “…meeting, remember?”

She had to bite her tongue regarding the ridiculousness of Dupain-Cheng’s mother being the Mayor. Was that woman even a French citizen?

But it was the other part of Marinette’s statement that concerned her. What meeting? What was she even getting at? Why was she trying to be quiet about it.

Nevermind! She’d worry about that later!

“It doesn’t matter!” Chloe shouted, forcing Marinette to back away. “The fact is that you can’t just throw your weight around to get your way and treat people however you like! And I’m not the only one who feels that way!” She exclaimed, turning to the classmates in expectation.

…only to get a number of blank or confused stares in response.

“Um, what are you even talking about?” Alya asked incredulously.

What?

“Yeah, dude! Marinette doesn’t treat anyone that way.” Nino added.

What?

“The only one who pulls that sort of thing is you.” Said Nathaniel bitingly.

Since when does that loser talk?

And also, what?!

“And aren’t you supposed to be leaving Marinette alone?” Alix asked, giving Chloe a pointed look.

What even was that about?

“I thought that was the agreement.” Mylene said quietly.

Seriously?! Was everyone on her side?

They were supposed to be silent! Or judging the Mayor’s brat! That’s what they did with Chloe! Instead, they were jumping to her defense!

“Are you serious?” She demanded. “Like she doesn’t abuse her power and authority to push people around!”

“Of course not!” Marinette insisted. And then to Chloe’s rage, seemed to draw herself up even more, actually looking confident and self assured in a way Chloe herself had never felt in her place. “As the daughter of the mayor, I have to set a good example.”

Ex…

Example?

What even was that?

Unaware of Chloe’s short-circuiting, she continued. “And Chloe, I wouldn’t force anyone to do a role that they don’t want. That’s why I brought the list here for the class to review first.” She gestured to her tablet. “That way everyone has a chance to pick what roles they want and we can avoid the ones no one wants to do. How is that a bad thing?”

It wasn’t, admittedly. But Marinette wasn’t supposed to be the one doing it! That was the problem!

“And who put you in charge?!” Chloe demanded of Marinette. “Why are you deciding where we’ll do the work study? What, are you using the Class Rep position to flaunt your family’s hotel?”

It would make sense. Chloe had been the Class Rep for years originally. If Marinette was her…

Marinette just gave her a strange look.

“No. I’m not Class Rep, remember?”

Chloe balked.

“What?”

“Chloe, did you hit your head?” Marinette asked, sounding worried. She held a hand out in offering. “Do you need to go to the Nurse’s Office?”

Chloe jerked away from the girl’s outreached hand. Why would Dupain-Cheng still be acting…nice?

Clearly she must still be pretending!

“Nevermind that! If you aren’t the Class Rep, then who is?”

“Your benevolent dictator is here!” Came a voice. A familiar voice. The last one Chloe expected.

“Hey, Class Rep.” Marinette said, giving Chloe a pointed look while waving to the person behind her.

Chloe turned slowly. She had to force herself to move. The strain made it feel like her bones were creaking.

Behind her, Sabrina stood tall with a tablet in hand and looking…surprisingly well for a new reality as a lackey of someone other than Chloe. She almost didn’t recognize her.

Chloe stood straight, expecting the standard greeting.

To her shock, Sabrina didn’t even look at her, instead moving past her to…

“Wow, Marinette! Nice jacket!” Sabrina said first thing in greeting as she moved over to the other girl in interest.

Marinette blushed at the praise. “Thanks! My dad got me some new fabric and I was inspired to try this style!” She gave a wink. “Now this is just a test run to see how it works out.”

“It certainly looks comfortable.” Sabrina said in awe.

Were…were they ignoring her?

“I have some of the material left.” Marinette said. “I could make you your own for your birthday if you want?”

Oh gag! Why would anyone want Marinette’s tacky creations instead of the latest in season creation?

And there was Sabrina looking like that was something to be excited about!

Oh no! Without Chloe to guide her, she had lost any sense of fashion! No matter how much fuller her hair was or how she no longer looked like a strong wind could blow her away!

Clearly, her life was a tragedy without Chloe!

“And I checked like you asked.” Marinette continued, unaware of Chloe’s glare. “My Dad said we could do the work study at his hotel.”

“Thank you!” Sabrina cheered. “That’ll be one less thing to worry about.”

“Yeah, we were talking about that when you came in.” Marinette explained.

Chloe glared pointedly at the girl over the way she was blatantly ignoring that they had been in the middle of Chloe calling her out! Seriously, what was the point of getting to tell people off for their flaws if they were going to ignore you and pretend it never happened! Really! You can’t just ignore the truth like that!

“We were discussing what positions everyone wanted.” Mylene said. “Even if we can’t get the exact ones we’d like, there’ll at least be options.”

“Juleka and I can clean the ball room!” Rose exclaimed. “It will give us a chance to check the acoustics of the room. We’ve been wondering about the effects and what to expect if our band ever plays in such an area.“

Nino looked intrigued at that. “Hey, that does sound like a good idea. Maybe sign me up for that as well?” He asked, turning to Marinette before mumbling to himself about the echo effect on his beats.

Marinette gave him a nod before turning back to Rose. “I heard you guys just started, didn’t you?“

Rose nodded, beaming. “It’s so much fun!”

Marinette smiled and marked it down on her list. “Then I’ll suggest that for you.”

She paused for a moment, hesitating in clear unwillingness to continue before giving a strained smile.

“And Chloe...”

“How about trash cleanup?” Alix snarked, giving the girl a dark look.

“Excuse you?!” Chloe shouted in outrage. “Do you know who my daddy is?!”

The looks she was given were completely unimpressed.

“A baker?”

“And not even a good one.”

"Hey, his croissants are all right."

Chloe blanched, remembering that her father wasn’t the mayor in this world.

He wasn’t even rich.

He was just a baker now. A simple ordinary not even very good baker who was barely keeping his head above water trying to maintain his business and manage his teenage daughter.

And that made Chloe…

Nothing.

Her go to tactic now had no power.

But…but Sabrina! She realized in a flash that her minion was apparently the Class Rep! She could have her back her!

But when she spun around to look, the girl had actually just abandoned her and the gathering altogether to sit next to Mylene of all people! Mylene! And they were just…chatting! Since when did those two spend time together! And why wasn’t Sabrina there for her?!

“Chloe!” Came the only voice worth listening to.

Oh, Adrikens! Of course you would always be there for her!

She spun to him in expectation. Because of course her Adrikens would be on her side! Her savior! Her only ally against such cruel tyranny—

But he didn’t look happy. Or in any way amicable to her. “Don’t forget!” He whispered sharply to her. “You’re still on probation! You can’t start another commotion before the first class of the school year has even started!”

Chloe blinked.

Pro…

Probation?

…

…

…

Her?!

“How am I on—?!”

It was impossible! She had never had a criminal record! She’d never even committed a crime! Or anything that warranted getting in trouble over!

Regardless of what Ladybug said, since she clearly had it out for her.

“Just leave Marinette alone.” Adrien whispered, turning her away from the rest of the group and…her. “Please.”

She didn’t want to. There were so many questions and so many things she wanted to demand right now. She was very well inclined to make demands regardless, because she didn’t know what was going on and she needed answers.

But it was her Adrikens asking.

And she didn’t have much chance to say anything else as Bustier had chosen that time to arrive.

“Welcome back, everyone!” The woman greeted cheerfully. Her arrival cut off all other discussion as the students made their way to their desks. “I hope everyone had a good break and that we’re all ready to start the new year.”

A chorus of affirmations followed as everyone took their seats.

Everyone except Chloe, who was glancing around the room in confusion.

None of this was right.

She had expected to fight with Marinette over her seat to get to sit behind Adrien, but he was sitting at the back next to Nathaniel. And Marinette was sitting in the mid row on the other side from him, pulling Alya to sit next to her. But if she wasn’t sitting behind Adrien, what was even the point of challenging her for her seat?

…where even was Chloe’s seat?

She would have sad next to Sabrina, but that traitor hadn’t moved from her spot next to Mylene and left no room for Chloe! And nobody else was calling Chloe over—so if someone else had taken Sabrina’s place as her best friend, she had no way of even knowing who it was!

“Chloe,” Bustier called to her, ever so gently. “Your seat is up at the front, remember? As we discussed the last time we met.” She gestured to the bench at the front.

It was across the one Chloe had sat at previously, being the front desk closest to the door. And to her frustration, there was no one sitting with her! How else was she supposed to get her assignments copied? And wasn’t that the seat that loser, Nino, had been put in because he got in trouble? Chloe wasn’t in trouble though!

Adrien’s words about probation hit her, making her wince.

…was she?

She wanted to ask. She wanted to stomp her foot and demand the answers she deserved.

But Bustier was staring at her expectantly. And she could hear some giggles and snickering from behind her the longer she waited. She glanced back to Adrikens, but…he wasn’t even looking at her! He was conversing with Nathaniel over something on his sketchbook!

How could a sketchbook be more important than his best friend?!

With little other choice, Chloe slid into the front desk, blushing furiously in humiliation and trying to ignore everyone behind her.

It didn’t matter.

None of them mattered!

None of this would matter once she got the Miraculous and put Dupain-Cheng in her place! Then everyone would know SHE was the Queen Bee!

She was sure of it!

[turtle-steverogers]

i was thinking but do you know the unsent project? it is this website where you can write a message to your first love that you never sent to them. now imagine steve writing one (or multiple) to bucky after he came out of the ice after nat told him about it... yeah

hello hi anon this broke me and it was too perfect not to turn into a ficlet klafjldskjfalskf thank you

-

Unsent Letters

To:

Steve’s fingers freeze over the keyboard, the cursor blinking at him. It feels like it’s taunting him-- teasing him with the burden of choking out a name. What should he even say? The sender is anonymous, but how many people are named Bucky out there? Would anyone even care?

To: Bu

Steve huffs and backspaces, his hands trembling as he curls them into fists. He isn’t sure what provoked Natasha to tell him about this website. It’s a cruel tease to everything he wishes he could say-- wished he could say before Bucky slipped through his fingers. And now his only option is yelling into an abyss. The text box is black and daunting. He turns it yellow. No, too happy. Green. Yes, that’s fine. Bucky’s favorite color was always green.

His gaze wanders away from the screen of his hefty Dell laptop and out the window of his apartment. DC’s low rising buildings span out in front of him. His gut aches; he misses New York already. But he knows being there would only mangle his soul further, seeing his already alien home torn to shreds by literal space whales. He huffs, thinking of Bucky’s comics. His stories came to life after all. Bucky would have probably vibrated out of his skin if he knew there was other life out there.

To: My astronaut

How’s space treating you? It’s treating me pretty badly, if I’m being honest. If only you could see what it’s done to Brooklyn. I think you’d be pretty mad at it if you knew…

Steve hesitates, reading back over what he’s typed. It’s stupid as hell, and he cringes, but he doesn’t backspace. His fingers find the keys again.

I miss you something awful. I don’t think that even encompasses how much I’m hurting without you. I feel so lost right now-- space is much bigger and scarier than you’d think. I know you’d love it. I wish you could see bits of it, but god, I just want to go home. I want you to come home.

Steve freezes again and finds the screen blurry where tears have welled in his eyes. His jaw clenches as he pictures the way Bucky would laugh at him-- teasing him for his dramatics and ruffling his hair. He wishes he could be there now, rolling his eyes and nudging Steve’s shoulder.

“What’re you upsetting yourself for?” He’d say, gently closing the laptop and coaxing Steve into his arms. “I’m right here, pal.”

And if Steve closes his eyes, he can almost feel Bucky’s warmth enveloping him. But he’s not there. He’s dead, and Steve’s a goddamn ghost, drifting through a future that doesn’t know him.

He opens his eyes and stares at the text box, then clicks submit.

The screen loads, and his message is gone, his pain forever documented in the abyss.

-

For someone who fought aliens two weeks after waking up from his impromptu seventy year sleep, Steve’s life is pretty monotonous. He contemplates this unfortunate fact as he stands in front of his toaster, hair sticking up on the back of his head as he nurses a mug of coffee and waits for his toast to pop.

It’s 5:45 in the morning and he tries to remember a time when he didn’t rise this early. Before the war, perhaps. Though, he’s always been a bit of an early bird. His home life was sporadic to put it lightly and he’d learned from an early age that the sooner he was awake, the better it was for everyone. Vigilance is not a new concept for Steve.

He hasn’t always stayed up late, though. That’s certainly new, and he feels this fact viscerally as he catches sight of his reflection in the microwave. There are bags under his eyes that will be gone by mid-morning thanks to the serum. Dermatologists hate him, Natasha says. Steve thinks he’s pretty lucky that the serum more or less equipped him with a built-in anti-aging agent. His father had started balding by thirty.

His toast pops and he starts a little, blinking blearily at the slightly burnt bread as he pulls it out of the toaster with his thumb and forefinger. He spreads on the same raspberry jam and butter that he uses every morning and tries not to think of how bland it tastes in his mouth as he eats it standing at the counter. Another routine.

He tries not to look at last night’s dishes in the sink as he stacks his plate and silverware on top and doesn’t bother sorting out his hair before pulling on his sneakers and slipping out of his apartment. The sun hasn’t quite risen yet, only the beginning tendrils of light sneaking over the low tops of the DC buildings, and Steve vaguely regrets not grabbing a sweatshirt before he left. It’s not quite Summer yet and the mornings could still get pretty cool.

He’s about to take off down the street when he freezes. Natasha is sitting on the steps of his complex, wearing a pair of pink tinted sunglasses and tossing up and down the keys to her car. Steve blinks, rubs his eyes, then blinks again. Nope. She’s still there.

“Nat?”

Natasha looks up at him and smiles. “Hello.”

Steve shifts, uncomfortable. “Hi. You need something? Is there a mission?”

“No,” Natasha says lightly, standing. “You’re not running this morning, though. Come on, I’m taking you to Starbucks.”

“What?”

“Starbucks. You’re going to try it.”

“I don’t want--”

“Steve, you do the same thing every day. Step out of your comfort zone a little.”

Steve frowns, but Natasha’s right-- he really doesn’t ever stray from his routine.

“Fine,” he says, and twenty minutes later, they’re strolling into the nearest Starbucks.

He’s only been in one before, and that was to use the restroom while on a run. He’d bought a water bottle in an attempt to not be rude and use their facilities without giving them any business, but he hadn’t even considered the expansive menu. All the fancy names were too daunting.

They’re just as daunting now as he stares up at the board, heart hammering out of his chest as he’s faced with indecision. Natasha takes one look at his face, and reaches out to squeeze his arm.

“I’ll order something for you,” she says. “What kind of coffee do you like?”

Steve gives her a pained look. “Um… just coffee?”

Natasha quirks a smile and orders him something called a caramel macchiato. He’ll take it, he guesses.

The drink is too damn sweet and sugary and he almost gags. Still, he was always told to finish what he was given, so he drinks the whole thing.

-

To: Mr. Sweet Tooth

You’d fucking love it here. Everything is packed with sugar and sweetness-- enough to make even my teeth rot. I had something called a caramel macchiato today and it tasted like someone took your ma’s caramels and condensed them into a cup. I couldn’t stand it, but I know if you were here, you’d want at least twelve. I hope you’re enjoying all the sweets you can up in space.

Love, Mr. Boring

-

Steve’s fingers are stiff and frozen as he works at the straps of his stealth suit. The tangy taste of saltwater still sits heavy on his tongue, and he clenches his jaw to keep his teeth from chattering too harshly as he finally peels off his suit. It’s not much better, being naked, but at least the wet fabric isn’t clinging to him anymore.

The mission had been pretty straightforward until some alien tech managed to blast the quinjet to kingdom come, and they all free-fell straight into the freezing Atlantic.

Steve had managed to keep it together as they took down the goddamn mad scientist that fucked them over, but now that he’s home and alone, he can feel the adrenaline crashing.

He’s shaking from more than just the cold as he draws himself a warm bath, and he pulls his knees up to his chest, trying to breathe through the panic that wants to engulf his entire being.

He loses time for a bit, and comes back to himself lying in his bed, burrowed under several thick layers. He feels so cold, down to his very soul-- a chill that he can never seem to truly shake, even when he’s warm.

Not for the first time, he wishes Bucky were there to hold him. He slips off to sleep thinking old, comforting thoughts of Bucky rubbing his hands between his own, coaxing his head under his chin to engulf him in that natural warmth of his. He always was a fucking furnace.

But when Steve wakes an hour later, shaking hard enough to move the bed with the force of the nightmare he’d dropped into, Bucky is not there to soothe away the ice.

-

To: JB

im so cold and i cant breathe ever and nothing feels right. I dont know what to do, u were always the problem solver between us and i cant think straight right now and i just want you here please. I cant do this anymore, im so tired please come back. I need you please

-

The Winter Soldier file sits in front of Steve-- a horrifying nightmare wrapped up in a neat brown folder. Residual nausea swirls around in his gut as he comes down from the horrible high of reading through the contents. His hands shake where they grasp the thick paper. His heart clenches hard in his chest.

Bucky is alive. Bucky is alive, and he’s been unmade.

Steve doesn’t know where he is-- if he’s escaped, or if Hydra found him again. It’s been three weeks now since the helicarriers, and he’s only just gotten the courage to sit down and wade through the shit that is Bucky’s reality.

He just hopes he’s safe. God, he hopes.

Sam says he’ll help him look, and Steve needs to know he’s at least out of danger, but he barely knows where to start.

And he’s sorry. He’s so fucking sorry.

Blinking out of his reverie, Steve looks at his laptop. He feels strange and detached as he reaches for it and logs in.

To: Bucky

And yes, that feels right. He should use his name, since he suspects no one has for a long, long time.

I’m so sorry for what happened to you. I’m sorry that you’ve been hurting so quietly for so long. I understand if you’re not ready to come home-- I understand if you never are. I just hope that you know that there will always be a place with me that is safe. I love you so much and I’m here, forever and always.

Love, Steve.

He’s not naive. He knows it would be dangerous to submit that particular message, so he doesn’t. But that’s okay. That one’s just for him-- for them.

-

“Steve? What is the… Unsent Project?”

Steve frowns and pokes his head out of the kitchen. Bucky is sitting on the couch in the living room, using his laptop, because his own is having storage issues.

Bucky looks at him. “It’s one of your saved tabs. What is it?”

And oh, fuck. Steve had forgotten to remove that from his homepage-- it really wasn’t needed anymore. He blushes all the way to his ears.

“Oh, it’s-- nothing. Not anything important--”

But Bucky has already clicked on the tab.

“The Unsent Project,” he reads aloud. “A collection of unsent text messages to… first… loves…”

He trails off as he processes what he’s looking at, and Steve can’t quite read his expression when he looks at him again. His eyebrows are furrowed, and he’s looking at Steve like he’s some sort of kicked puppy. Steve shifts, uncomfortable.

“Were you sending me… messages? While I was dead?”

Steve swallows. “Um…” and now that Bucky says it out loud, it really does sound quite sad. He shrugs. “It’s Natasha’s fault?”

Bucky shakes his head, clicking on the search bar. He starts to type his name, but Steve shakes his head.

“I didn’t use your name.”

“Oh,” Bucky says, then frowns at him again. “What did you use?”

Steve blushes harder, sitting next to Bucky and taking the laptop from him.

“Um…” he hesitates, then types what he was sure he used as his first alias.

My astronaut

The screen buffers and loads, then fifty or so messages pop up. Steve scrolls down-- it doesn’t take long to find his.

They’re both quiet as they read, and Steve cringes. Jeez, he really had been pretty dramatic. Next to him, Bucky makes a hurt noise.

“Oh, honey,” he murmurs, taking the laptop back from Steve. He reads the message again, then once more, and reaches out for Steve. “Aw, I’m here now.”

Steve huffs, embarrassed. “I know,” he says. “That was way back, like, three weeks after I woke up.”

Bucky stills. “You fought aliens three weeks after you woke up?”

“... More like two.”

Bucky hums. “Are there others?”

“Yeah,” Steve says, reaching out to type on Bucky’s lap, because Bucky is holding him now and he’s quite reluctant to move. He thinks for a moment, then types in the next one he remembers.

Mr. Sweet Tooth

Bucky laughs, and Steve finds himself smiling.

“I find this funny,” Bucky says. “Because caramel macchiatos are definitely one of my favorites now.”

Steve laughs, too, and butts his head against Bucky’s shoulder.

“If only I could tell that to myself back then-- he’d be thrilled.”

“I’m sure,” Bucky says. “Any more?”

Steve hesitates, thinking of the one he’d sent after that nightmare-- when he was low and hurting. Incoherent. He isn’t sure he wants Bucky to see that particular side of his soul, but Bucky has been more than generous in letting him in on his pains nowaday, and it’s not like Bucky hasn’t witnessed Steve’s own current nightmares.

He bites his lip and types in JB. That seems to yield a lot more results, and it takes a while for Steve to find the message.

He hides his face in Bucky’s neck as he reads. Bucky’s arms gradually tighten around him, and a moment later, he feels him kiss the top of his head.

“Honey, I hate that you were hurting so bad,” Bucky mutters against his hair.

Steve shrugs. “We both were,” he says, and it’s true. There’s something to be said about the guilt they both feel for not being able to save the other person at their lowest, but life hasn’t been kind to them. The vitriol, Steve thinks, should be directed at the goddamn universe for keeping them apart, not themselves for fucking dying. They’re working on it.

Bucky’s quiet for a long time. “Yeah, I guess you’re right,” he says. “Is that it?”

Steve shakes his head. “But I never sent the last one.”

“Why not?”

“I wrote it after DC.”

He feels Bucky squeeze him again, and he squeezes back.

“Oh.”

“I just-- I wanted you to know that you didn’t have to come home. That I just wanted you to be safe; needed to know you were safe, but it was up to you. I just needed you to know I was here, if you needed me.”

Bucky pulls back then and cups his face, kissing him soundly. Steve’s surprised for only a moment before he’s kissing back.

“I did know that,” Bucky says against his lips. “I needed time-- I was lost-- but the first thing I knew when I remembered who you were was that you were a safe person, because you’d never force me anywhere.”

Steve kisses him again, then pulls him into a hug. “I’m glad you knew that.” It’s warm, where their chests meet, and Bucky is solid beneath him. Real. He isn’t speaking into an abyss anymore.

-

There’s a sticky note on Bucky’s pillow next to his head when he wakes up the next morning. Steve’s side of the bed is already vacant, and he can’t hear him downstairs. He must have already left for a run.

Propping himself on an elbow, Bucky plucks up the sticky note.

To: My Bucky

Thank you for choosing me to be your home, and thank you forever, for being mine.

I love you with everything I have.

Love, your Steve

Bucky smiles, heart light as he folds the notes. He’ll keep that one with him, he thinks. A little bit of home to bring wherever he goes.

-

anyway yeah fslkjflaskjfls i-- ouch. anything to do with letters w these two hurts me immensely

[dragonmuse]

Hello, I hope you're having wonderful evening. Your stories are enormous source of happiness for me. I'm not only one who especially loves Izzy's journey. It's really satisfying to read about unhappy person having support and putting their life together. May I have kinda silly request, please? As you I think young Con was 100% dreamboat and It would be funny to see queens' reactions to for example photo of young Eddy and Izzy. If you not feel this, it's ok. :)

(hello anon! Thank you so very much! I love this request and while it's not exactly what you'd asked for, I hope you like it anyway!)

“I have a present for you.” Stede bounced eagerly across the bar to where Lucius was making a pitcher of margaritas. Not for the patrons. The bar was remarkably empty. This was purely for himself, the Swede and apparently now Stede. 

“Is it the Wallace novel you keep promising to return?” 

“No!” Stede grinned. “You’ll like this more.” 

“Okay,” he dried his hands on a dishrag. “What is it?” 

“Eddy was doing some rearranging to fit some new things and they knocked over one of their old boxes. They let me take this and you have to see it.” 

Stede slapped a photo on the bar. It was in lurid color, the softer tones faded with time. 

“Holy fucking shit,” Lucius grabbed it up. 

“I know!” Stede hopped onto one of the stools. “Amazing, isn’t it?” 

The photo had been taken in someone’s messy kitchen. There was a sink full of dishes in the left corner of the frame. There was a table, laden down with blueprints. On the right side, a man Lucius didn’t recognize was leaning over and pointing to something. 

Seated beside him was Eddy, and next to her, Izzy. They were unmistakable despite the years. Eddy’s beard wasn’t yet where it had been when they’d met, but it was already full and pitch black. Their hair hung in their face, spilling over familiar cheekbones. Their expression was unreadable under the hair, but their eyes were focused on the unknown man. 

Izzy’s eyes were on Eddy. He was in black already, a dark smudge of a t-shirt with sleeves rolled. His face was smooth, entirely free of the lines that Lucius loved to trace. There was no tattoo yet on his cheek or his neck, just the small one on his right arm. He wasn’t smiling, but there was a hint of smirk in his lips. 

Turning it over, he found Eddy’s scrawl ‘1997-Before the Big Job’.  

“So Iz was 19. Eddy was 22?” Lucius turned it back over, studying their faces. 

“Children,” Stede agreed, leaning over to look at it again. “Can you imagine?” 

“Not really. Can I take a picture of this?” 

“Go ahead,” Stede said with evident delight. “I’m going to show everyone else.” 

Lucius snapped the shot, poured himself a margarita and sat down. He texted the image to Izzy. 

 Lucius: Look what got uncovered. 

He sipped his drink as he waited for the response. It took a few minutes. 

Izzy: ask where you got that, but i already know. fucking magpie.  

Lucius: What job was it?

Izzy: fuck if i know. 

Lucius: I don’t buy that for a second. You remember everything. 

Izzy: i signed an nda 

Lucius: Like twenty years ago. No way that’s still valid. 

Izzy: maybe it is. 

Lucius: Ok fine, keep your secrets. You look cute as fuck btw. 

Izzy: i was not cute. 

Lucius: You really were. Look how floppy your hair was. Very 90s chic.

Izzy: it just did that 

Lucius: Sure. Did your sleeves roll themselves up like that too? 

Izzy: can we talk about eddy’s stupid fucking vest instead?

Lucius: No, I’m not done cooing over baby Izzy yet. 

Izzy: that’s not a baby, pup. Don’t let the skin fool you. 

Lucius studied the phone again. How riveted Izzy was on Eddy’s face, how he already held himself ready. It was hard to divine much from a single image. Lucius was probably just reading in the things he already knew. That Izzy at 19 had been depressed and furious. That Izzy at 19 was better prepared for a punch then a hug. That Izzy at 19 was a stranger he’d never met. 

With a sigh, Lucius scrolled through his camera roll and found the picture he’d taken of another photo some months ago. Bored at his mother’s house, he’d snapped it and then regretted doing that much. Except that Pete had gotten a kick out of it in the end and he figured now he owed Izzy a little. 

Lucius: Fair play, goblin. Try not to laugh your entire ass off.   

He sent the picture of fifteen year old Lucius in a stiff looking suit. He’d been trying to look cool, posed in front of their little house with his arms crossed over his chest and leaning against the wall with one foot behind him. It was a pose he’d studied from a magazine and looked great if you were a model. Less great if you were an awkward teenager with hair that stuck straight up all the time and permanent blush like all of life was out to embarrass you. 

Izzy: what was happening here 

Lucius: Homecoming dance. Mom made me go and bought me the suit.  

Izzy: thought those things were fun. you look like you’re going to cry. 

He had been about to cry was the thing. He’d forgotten, but looking at the picture again, he could recall the overwhelming thought of having to go to that stupid gym and stand there alone, pressed to a wall. The heat had prickled behind his eyes and he’d only staved it off to keep smiling for his Mom’s camera. So she wouldn’t ask. So he wouldn’t have to tell. 

Lucius: I wasn’t thrilled to go. Not exactly the belle of the ball. 

Izzy: i didn’t get to choose one. why would you pick this? 

Lucius: it was the best of a bad bunch

The phone rang in his hand, startling him. He put it to his ear, 

“Hey.” 

“That was the best one?” Izzy rasped over the line. 

“I know, hard to believe, but I used to take a real bad photo.” 

“Luc,” he said softly.  

“I don’t know what you want me to say. Are there photos of you smiling back then and meaning it?” 

“No,” Izzy conceded. “Not sure there were any of me smiling at all.” 

“What a pair,” he said dryly. “Pete has some nice ones. He and his Dad would go fishing sometimes and they’re both falling over each other to see who smiles bigger. It’s really nice.” 

“Yeah,” Izzy breathed out. “So we’ll take more new ones. I can do that.” 

Lucius covered his face with his other hand, choked up for a brief second at the very thought. 

“One of us together,” Lucius said firmly.  

“Yeah, pup. Together. Do a few of you and Pete too if you want. Whatever you want.” 

“I’d like that,” he smiled helplessly. “Fuck, I love you.” 

“Mutual derangement,” Izzy agreed and there was a laugh in his voice. 

Maybe the boys they had been didn’t know how to smile quite right, but they’d figured it out well enough now. 

[fanficimagery]

When Enough is Enough pt. II

Imagine being let down one too many times by your best friend, only to end up making some new ones in the process.

Words: 8.5K Author’s Note: Okay so some of you asked to only be added to part 2 of this while others asked to be added everything Bucky.. and a few others weren’t exactly clear. So if you want to be tagged in any future Bucky related imagines please let me know so I can get your blog name written down on my list.

Tags:  @aya-fay @70s-chic @sipsteacasually @kaitlyn2907 @scarlettwitch99 @thingsforimagination  @mimilh @felicityofbakerstreet @eternalharry @eliwinchester99 @intothesoul​ @wintershadowkat  @b1sexualtonystark  @meredeph @miszswan

The Sunday before you are to return to work, you sleep in until nine in the morning. Your thoughts are immediately on Bucky's impending arrival and you couldn't help the butterflies that took flight in your stomach. He's a friend, just as all the others are, but you couldn't help but notice just how attractive this new friend of yours is. But not only does his attractiveness draw you in, his easy-going teasing and protectiveness does too. However, Bucky Barnes is still a man trying to find his footing in this world after all that's been done to him and finally getting his name cleared, and if he finds comfort with you then you're going to try your best and be the friend he needs.

So since you're not dressing to impress, you dress in your favorite lazy outfit after your shower- leggings, sports bra, a faded sleeveless band tee with the arm holes having been cut down to around your ribs, and a pair of socks. Damp hair gets gathered up into a messy bun and you walk around your apartment to pick up some things you had unknowingly left out.

You've skipped breakfast, so when there's a knock on your door and you open up to find Bucky standing there, you groan in relief. He raises both hands with paper bags hanging from each. "I come bearing sushi. Wanda let it slip how much you love it."

"Yesss." You step back, quickly taking in his own comfort outfit of sweatpants and a plain black t-shirt under an opened jacket. "Did you bring plenty of wasabi? And you can just kick off your shoes anywhere."

"Of course." He hands you the bags so he can kick off his shoes and strip out of his jacket before hanging it up. You don't know why, but seeing him in a short sleeve shirt makes you happy, knowing full well he was weird about his metal arm being out in the open. "And plenty of dipping sauce as well. Wanda was more than happy to give me advice."

"Wanda, huh?" You chuckle, leading the way to your kitchen. "You actually told her where'd you be?"

"Apparently I looked very pensive this morning. She asked and I figured she was a better confidant than Steve or Sam who would have made a big deal about us hanging out."

"True." Setting the bags down, you let him empty them while you head to the fridge. "Beer?"

"Yeah."

Grabbing him a beer and yourself a can of Cola, you return to the table and your eyes widen at the sight of all the sushi. "Damn, Barnes. That's a lot of sushi."

"Don't act like you won't eat half of it."

You laugh as you take a seat, handing him his beer and pulling a few trays to your side of the table. You take a container of wasabi and dipping sauce for yourself, and grab a pair of chopsticks to start digging in.

You moan in delight at your first taste, happily shimmying in your seat before taking another. Eventually, you ask, "So what are you going to do when I'm back at work and I can't keep you entertained by getting shitfaced?"

Bucky grins around his mouthful of food before chasing it down with a swig of his beer. "We actually got a mission comin' up so I'll be leavin' around mid-week."

"Well that sucks." You sigh. "Now who am I going to send random pictures to when I have downtime at work?"

He grins. "You can still send them to me. I just won't get back to you until after the mission's complete."

"Yeah, yeah."

The two of you continue to eat- Bucky dodging Steve's texts about where he is and when he's coming back, and you sending the middle finger emoji over and over to Wanda who keeps wondering how your date is going. Then once most of the sushi is gone and Bucky puts what little is left into the fridge, the two of you head to the living room. You immediately flop onto the couch as Bucky takes the plush recliner, only for you to hear him moving the chair into its reclined position seconds later.

"Oh. I definitely need to get one of these."

You laugh as he snuggles down and you pick up the remote to bring up your streaming services. "Anything you've been meaning to watch?"

"Not really. Just show me your favorites."

You start off with some humor by playing the Goonies. It's a movie that no matter how many times you've seen it, it always seems to make you laugh. And it seems Bucky is not immune either when they make Chunk to the truffle shuffle. Titanic plays afterwards, but only after making sure Bucky found it somewhat interesting after reading the movie summary to him. He is interested from beginning to end and doesn't even laugh at you when you shed a few tears for the old married couple who opt to stay in their bed as the room floods.

When a break is needed, you head off towards the bathroom as Bucky finishes off the leftover sushi. Both of you check your phones and read each other the missed text messages from Steve and his worrying behavior.

"Wanna tell Steve to fuck off via video message?" Bucky takes a moment to think on it before he grins and nods. "Excellent. Sit in the recliner. I'm gonna crawl up all in your business. That okay?"

"Yeah."

As Bucky gets comfortable in the recliner, you sit on the armrest before sliding down sideways onto his lap. You bring up the camera app on your phone and switch it to video, sliding your right arm behind Bucky's neck while holding your left arm out to capture the two of you on the screen. "Ready?"

"Sure, doll."

You chuckle quietly and then smirk mischievously as Bucky relaxes his expression into his best resting bitch face. After you hit record, you say, "Hey Rogers, stop being a little bitch and sending us text after text. I'm tryin' to fuck your best friend here." Bucky's expression cracks as he barks out a laugh and you turn to face him while grinning. You share a laugh with him before facing the camera once more. "Only joking, but seriously stop buggin' us. I promise to send him back in one piece."

As you prepare to send the text to Steve, Bucky says, "You're terrible."

"Whatever. Admit it, you adore me."

"Occasionally."

You huff another laugh as the video message finally sends. You and Bucky both watch as the delivered status turns to read, and then those three little dots appear as Steve starts typing his reply.

"Tell Bucky to wrap it before he taps it." You burst out laughing at Steve's text, Bucky's rumbling laughter only fueling yours even more. "God I hate your best friend sometimes." And before you climb off Bucky's lap, because honestly you were getting a little too comfortable, you send Steve a few middle finger emojis before deciding on a third movie to watch.

The third movie you choose is one that never fails to make you laugh- Bridesmaids. You had a moment of hesitancy because of the sex scenes, but you figured they were ridiculous enough that it wouldn't be awkward. Thankfully you're correct and you get the added bonus of hearing Bucky's laughter again during Megan's scenes, especially when they get food poisoning and are all fighting for the bathroom.

You and Bucky take yet another break after the film, just stretching and finding something to drink.

"So what's the verdict, Barnes? Are you enjoying the films?"

He grins. "Your taste is all over the place, huh? That last one we watched was raunchy."

"But hilarious! You need to watch the Hangover trilogy, but you definitely need to watch that with Steve and then watch him squirm at the pictures that roll with the credits."

"I'll keep that in mind."

Jurassic Park holds his attention and he can't help but comment how stupid one has to be to replicate dinosaur DNA and then open up a park with live dinosaurs. You laugh, but don't bother commenting. You'll tell him later there are more movies involved, with yet another idiotic man who felt he could get the park up and running once more.

It's getting dark, but it's still a little too early for dinner. One more movie and then you'll order or go out and pick something up.

"So this last one for the day is a movie that's directed more towards the female viewers, but you did ask for my favorite films and Practical Magic is my absolute favorite."

"Well put it on, doll."

As you press play on Practical Magic, you quickly grab a throw blanket and snuggle in. Instead of watching Bucky, you watch the film and mumble certain quotes to yourself. The magic scenes always bring a soft smile to your face just as Gary's confession to Sally of I wished for you too breaks your heart, and Sally and Gillian's heartfelt sister moment makes you cry.

Afterwards, Bucky hums in thought. "So that's your favorite?"

"Absolutely." You tell him. He's watching you curiously and you grin. "If I show you something, you promise not to laugh?"

"I'll try."

"Whatever. That's good enough for me." Standing up, you walk towards him and kneel, and tell him to pull your shirt sideways by the armhole next to your left arm. There on the back of your left shoulder and forever etched into your skin is a salt shaker, a rosemary plant, a lavender plant, and a heart. You then rattle off one of your favorite quotes to him. "Always throw spilt salt over your left shoulder. Keep rosemary by your garden gate. Plant lavender for luck and fall in love whenever you can."

Bucky chuckles as you get up, retaking your spot on the sofa. "You really are a fan of the movie."

You nod. "As a little girl, I was fascinated by magic. I thought I'd grow out of it, but I only grew more fond of it. And then I found Practical Magic and it had a bit of everything I adored."

"So what's the one scene that just gets you every time?"

"Ugh. You're making me choose?!" You feign being distraught and he grins. As you think about it, you keep coming back to two scenes in particular. "So there's two," you tell him, "and I'm not choosing between them." Bucky nods, awaiting your answer. "Gillian's possession. When Sally calls together the other mothers who were mean to her in order to make a temporary coven to save her sister, and Gillian begs Sally to just let her ghost ex have her."

Bucky hums. "That was a bit sad, doll. I saw you shedding a few tears over that."

"Mhm. And the other scene is when Sally comes clean to Gary and admits that she did a spell as a child to call forth her perfect love thinking it wouldn't exist, only it did. When Gary tells Sally that he wished for her too, it just breaks my fuckin' heart."

"Let me guess, you were one of the girls who cast her own spell after seeing that scene." You stay quiet for a moment and the second you feel your face heat, Bucky laughs. "What did you wish for?"

You groan quietly. "If I tell you, you can't laugh!" He only smiles in response and you know he won't drop it until you tell him. "Fine. So even though I knew it would never work, I gathered the weirdest objects and wished for a significant other with dark hair and colored eyes. He had to be protective and funny and love me for me. Simple."

For some reason you can't seem to meet Bucky's gaze then and you feel awkward the longer the silence stretches on.

"So dinner?" He asks.

"Oh god, yes please. Pizza and wings?"

"Sounds good."

You have the nearby pizza place on speed dial, so after finding out Bucky's preferences you make the call and place the order. It's going to be about a thirty minute wait, so you fill the time sending Steve pic after pic of Bucky who's none the wiser as he scrolls through his own phone and adding the most asinine comments to each picture. Steve thinks it's absolutely hilarious.

Then when the pizza and wings arrive, you beat Bucky to the door and thrust several bills at the delivery boy. He's more than happy with his tip and you hurriedly wave him off before shutting the door. You laugh at Bucky's disgruntled expression and then place everything on the table while gathering a beer for both you and him.

"Don't let me have more than two," you tell him while handing him his own bottle of beer.

Bucky agrees and the two of you dig into your own personal pizzas and boxes of wings once you're situated around the table. As you're eating, Bucky asks about what other movies you hold near and dear. You fill him in on a few others and he hesitantly puts it out there that he'd be up for another movie marathon when you both have a day off. You agree that that's doable.

Halfway through dinner, as you and Bucky are chuckling over the thought of making Steve sit through Bridesmaids, there's a sound of glass breaking from your living room and a muffled curse. The two of you immediately cease making any type of noise and Bucky is up with a gun in hand.

"Where the hell did that come from?! You hiss.

The telltale sound of a window then sliding shut can be heard.

"Shut up and get behind me."

The authority in his voice makes you freeze and your heart flutter at the same time, and you have to mentally scold yourself before you quickly do as he says. You follow Bucky towards the living, ready to duck at the ready, only to sigh and roll your eyes when you see who it is.

Bucky stands tall and lowers his gun. "Parker." You can practically hear the annoyance in his voice.

"Mr. Barnes?" Peeking around his shoulder, you raise your eyebrow at your best friend who's been too busy for you and is now frowning at Bucky. When he catches sight of you, he asks, "What's going on?"

"Uh, well we were having dinner until we thought someone was breaking in."

"Alone?!"

Your brow furrows at Peter's incredulousness, only for him to realize you're not impressed with his tone. You raise an eyebrow at him and cross your arms over your chest. "Did you need something?"

"Oh, um, yeah." He shifts from foot to foot, gesturing to his face where there's a scrape on his cheekbone. "My ribs took a beating too. Can you patch me up?"

"Sure." You sigh. "Why not."

Before you can leave to go to the bathroom to get the supplies you need, Bucky says, "I'll just get out of your way then."

You stop and face him. "What? But we haven't even finished our food. It won't take me long."

"It's fine, doll." He grins when he realizes you're trying to get him to stay. "You gotta hit the hay early anyway. We'll talk soon."

You hold his gaze for a moment longer, sighing when he won't budge. "Well at least take your food with you. No use in it going to waste."

Bucky nods and heads back to the kitchen, collecting his food. You watch him and then follow him to the door, holding his food while he bends over to lace up his boots. Once he retakes his food and you open the door, he thanks you for the time away from the tower and disappears down the hall.

Shutting the door and then heading back into the living room, you tell Peter to get back into his regular clothes so you can get to his ribs while you go gather your medical supplies.

Meeting Peter back in the living room and setting everything down on the coffee table, he says, "So you and Bucky-"

"Don't." You pick up the peroxide bottle and soak a cotton ball in it. "Bucky and I are friends."

Peter manages to keep his mouth shut as you clean the scrape on his cheek and place a small bandage on it. Then when you've checked his ribs and tell him he just needs to ice them, he mumbles, "Friends who apparently lick each other." You snort and think nothing of his sullen tone, but when you look at his face you see he's actually being quite serious. There's no chuckle or boyish grin and for a moment you're absolutely floored at his attitude. "I don't think I'm comfortable with Bucky being alone with you in your apartment."

"Are you- are you kidding me?" You huff and take a step back from him. When Peter just continues to frown, you shake your head at him. "First of all, I'm an adult woman who can make her own decisions."

"I know, but-"

"I'm not finished!" You snap. Peter's eyes widen, but he smartly ceases talking. "I am allowed to have friends whether you like them or not. We have a pact, Petey, and since I'm still abiding by it I would hope that you would too."

"Yeah, but that's for significant others!"

"Significant others or friends, it doesn't matter. And you should be grateful I've kept my mouth shut when it comes to you and Leslie because let me tell you, I've been biting my tongue a lot these past few weeks. Bucky and the others have stepped up since you've abandoned me, so you have absolutely no room to tell me that you're uncomfortable with him or any of them being around me."

"Leslie isn't that bad and I have not abandoned you." You snort, but don't bother opening that can of worms even further. He finally gets annoyed with your quietness. "I'm here, aren't I?"

"You're here because you needed a bandage. Tell me, Peter, where are you going after here? Where are you going after making five minutes of small talk and calling it a night?" He opens his mouth and then snaps it shut, shrugs, and you shake your head at him once more in disappointment. "Exactly. Just go, Peter. I'm so over this conversation right now and I have work in the morning."

"Wait, but we promised we'd never leave a conversation where we were still annoyed with each other!"

"And we also promised we'd never judge who the other decided to spend time with, but here we are." He frowns at you. "Go to your girlfriend, Peter. We'll talk again in another few days or weeks or whenever. I don't care right now."

Peter stands there, gaping, before he pulls himself together and makes his way back towards the window he had crawled through. He glances at you one last time, but you merely keep staring until his mask encompasses his head once more and he lifts the window before taking his leave.

As the window shuts behind him, you sag in on yourself and your breathing stutters in your chest as your eyes fill with tears. You've never been this angry at Peter and the fact that he thinks it's okay to ignore you until he needs something and then has an opinion about who you hang out with was just too much for you to let slide.

You quickly gather everything from your coffee table and return it to its rightful place in your bathroom, and throw away the trash. Your appetite is long gone, so you put up what's left of your food and then head to your room to gather some clothes so you can shower and get into bed.

By the time you've crawled into bed, you're still a bit annoyed. So grabbing your phone, you pull up your text messages and click on Bucky's thread.

To Bucky: Well that was a shit show. I don't think I've ever made Petey leave my apartment while we were still angry with each other.

From Bucky: I'm sorry, doll. Anything I can do?

To Bucky: If he gives you attitude, get a non-serum individual to punch him. You, Steve, and probably Nat will send him flying into the wall.

From Bucky: If I remember..

To Bucky: Well I mean if you forget, I won't complain. I'll probably laugh when he comes crying to me.

From Bucky: You're a terrible human being.

To Bucky: Whatever. You adore me just the way I am. And now I should get some shut eye. I'll talk to you soon. Night, Sarge.

From Bucky: Night, sweetheart.

For the next couple of weeks, you keep yourself busy with work. Bucky and a few others do go on a mission as he said they would, so you keep your texts to a minimum of three each day- a good morning, a random story from that day, and a good night. They're gone for four days and in those four days you've not heard from Peter. The only reason you know he's not completely done with you is the fact he likes your posts that you put up on social media.

But since you're not currently speaking to your best friend and are too exhausted to hang out with anyone else, you're in a bit of a funk and completely caught off guard one evening when the patient a police officer brings in smacks you right across the face. You had been trying to insert an IV into his arm when he completely lost his shit, and then you were hit so hard that you were strewn across the gurney behind you. And in your vulnerable position, a fistful of your hair had been grabbed and yanked right before the police officer had intervened and pulled the patient off of you.

You had been given a bit of time to ice your cheek before you had to get back to work, but your face and scalp were hurting you the entire time.

On your way home, however, you're surprised to receive a call from Pepper. You're heading towards your apartment complex when she invites you to dinner there at the tower since Darcy is finally back in town, and you hate to do it, but you're not exactly up to be around such a rowdy bunch. So you apologize to Pepper and ask her to apologize to Darcy for you, and take a rain check. Immediately she knows something is wrong, but you only tell her you had a rough night at work and all you want is a hot shower and to crawl into bed. She hesitates but wishes you well, and the call ends moments later.

When you get home, you waste no time in locking the door behind you and heading straight for your bathroom. You strip down and take the hottest shower your body is capable of handling, and let yourself relax in the steam-filled room. Afterwards, as you're drying off, you gently dry your hair since your scalp is still sensitive and then get dressed in some of your comfort clothes.

Then heading out into the kitchen, you find some leftovers in your fridge and heat those up, tiredly sitting at your kitchen table and digging in. Just as you're done with your food and heading towards the living room, someone pounds on your apartment door. You sigh, hoping they go away, and have only plopped down onto the sofa when a familiar gruff voice speaks through the wood.

You quietly groan as Bucky tells you he knows you're there and you get up to open the door for him. He's on the verge of knocking again when you swing the door open. "Hey. Pepper said-" He trails off as he takes in your appearance, expression going slack before his jaw clenches in anger. "Who?"

You shake your head, gesturing him inside as you turn around and walk towards your sofa. You hear your door click shut before the footsteps follow you. "Work got a little hectic. No need to hunt down anyone, Barnes. I'm fine."

"Half your face is bruised, doll. You are not fine."

"It's all part of my job." You shrug and plop down onto the sofa once more. Pulling a blanket over your lap, you stare up at your friend. "There will always be a drunk and disorderly patient. I was just lucky he didn't do more damage."

Bucky frowns, but he doesn't push you on it. Instead, he walks over and sits next to you, angling his body towards yours when gentle fingers grasp your chin to angle your face more towards him. "What exactly happened?" He asks as his eyes dart over every inch of your face.

"Some petty criminal did some damage to his head in the back of a patrol car. Police officer brought him in and he seemed pretty docile up until I jabbed him with the IV. He got the drop on me. It happens." Gentle fingers brush along your cheekbone and you flinch. Tears sting your eyes as you sniffle. "I'm fine."

"Just because you keep sayin' that doesn't mean it's true."

Your bottom lip wobbles at his words and you lose the battle with keeping the tears at bay. The moment they fall, Bucky pulls you into a hug and you cry into his shoulder. "Dammit," you mumble. "See what you started!"

Bucky chuckles and he holds you a few moments longer, rubbing a hand up and your back to offer a semblance of comfort. When he lets you go, you fall back against the sofa cushions and wipe the tears away with your blanket. "So what are we watching?" He asks while settling in next to you and draping an arm behind your head.

"Shouldn't you go back to the tower and have dinner with the rest of them? I'm-"

"If you say you're fine one more time, I will drag you back to the tower and let Steve motherhen you."

You sigh. "Low blow, Buckaroo."

"And for that horrendous nickname, you've lost the privilege of choosing what we're going to watch."

You laugh and don't bother arguing with him about it as he leans across you to snag up the remote. When he settles back down and you snuggle into his side, you huff a small laugh when he settles on TLC which is showing 90 Day Fiancé.

"Why this show?" You ask.

"Because it blows my mind that some people are so oblivious and can't see that their chosen partner is only in it for the green card."

As you let his reasoning sink in, you can't help but giggle as you picture Bucky sitting in his own apartment and bad mouthing the TV because he didn't like the decisions the people were making in their love life. You watch along with him, cringing at the more obvious couples that are only headed for future divorce and smiling when one of the couples is actually in it for love.

You manage to almost watch a complete two hour episode when there's a knock on your door, but you're too comfortable to get up and answer it.

"You get it," you say as you nudge Bucky.

He nudges you back. "It's your apartment."

"Yeah, but I don't feel like getting up."

"You could have at least come up with a better excuse."

You grin, finally taking your eyes off the screen and glancing up at Bucky. "M'too tired. Brain's not working fast enough." He continues to give you a deadpan stare until you jut out your bottom lip. "Please?"

The second Bucky's lips twitch, you know you've won. He huffs and roughly pushes himself up off the sofa as if answering the door is a hardship, and you go back to watching TV. At least until you hear a familiar voice stammer, "Uh, h-hey Mr. Barnes. Is Y/N home?"

Your gaze snaps towards the door where Peter is standing out in the hallway, hands in his pockets as he sheepishly stares at Bucky. The man in question turns and raises an eyebrow at you as if saying what do I do and you give him a terse nod to let him know it's okay. Bucky steps aside and Peter readily walks in.

"I should be getting back to the tower," Bucky suddenly says. "You kids have fun."

This time it's your turn to give him a deadpan stare and he smirks right before slipping his boots back on. Then as soon as they're laced up, he's walking out the door and shutting it behind him. Peter, who hadn't stopped staring at the intimidating man, finally turns to look at you. And when he does, his eyes widen.

"What happened to your face?!"

You sigh. "I'm fine. Just had a little incident at work."

"And Mr. Barnes was what? Comforting you?"

"First of all, can you stop calling him Mr. Barnes? You two avenge together and what not. I'm pretty sure that means you're on a first name basis." Peter grins as he takes a seat on the recliner near you, shrugging. "And Bucky was here because when I turned down dinner at the tower, Pepper figured something was wrong. Bucky took it upon himself to check in."

"So are you two like a thing or something?" He wonders.

"We're just.. friends," you say. "For some unknown reason we clicked and we're comfortable in each other's company."

For a moment Peter doesn't say anything, nor will he meet your gaze, but then he's looking at you and sighing. "I'm sorry." You blink at him, surprised to hear the apology. "I shouldn't have freaked out that one night. Who you are friends with and who you decide to date is your business."

You finally smile, even though it's rather small. "Thank you. And don't get me wrong, I know you meant well, but you should have dropped it and just trusted my judgment."

"Yeah. I know," he mumbles.

"Soo.. are we good?" You ask.

"Yeah."

"Good. I was getting tired of you liking my posts and not commenting on them."

Peter snorts. A moment of silence passes and then he says, "So you'll be glad to know that Leslie and I aren't together anymore. I broke it off earlier tonight."

You wince. "Sorry."

"Nah. Don't be. She was totally using me for access to the tower." You're torn between being smug about being right and being sad for your friend who just ended his relationship. "I only realized it earlier when she got upset because Mr. Rogers posted a picture of you and Mr. Barnes together, and she had a few choice words to say about it."

"What? Steve posted a picture of us?" You quickly pull out your phone, checking social media for any notifications. There are none, but as you get on Instagram you check Steve's page and sure enough there's a new pic that shows Bucky staring fondly at you as you laugh at something on your phone. "That little shit didn't tag us!"

As your thumbs move furiously to give Steve a piece of your mind and to comment how adorable you and Bucky look, Peter can't help but say, "You're attracted to him."

Your texting falters and you quickly glance at your friend to gauge his reaction, but when he just looks amused, you shrug. "I mean have you seen him? How could I not be attracted to him?"

"Does he know?"

"I have a feeling he does. Asshole likes to fluster me every now and then."

"Well if it makes you feel any better, I'm pretty sure he likes you back." You snort and go back to finishing up the comment on Steve's post. "I'm serious. When we stopped talking, he threatened me. He was pissed that I made you cry and said I was lucky. He's actually really scary when you're on his bad side."

It takes a moment for his words to sink in and when they do you can feel your ears heating up, followed by your cheeks. Peter starts to laugh and you groan in embarrassment. "Why is this so weird? Dating should be easy!"

"Well he is an Avenger.."

"I don't care about that! He's just- he's really, really hot. It's intimidating."

"Wait, what?" Peter huffs. "So you're intimidated by his hotness and not because he's a super-soldier with a metal arm?"

"Well yeah."

Expression melting into one of confusion, your friend eventually shakes his head at you. "You're on your own with that. Good luck."

You hadn't realized how much everyone had known about your and Peter's brief falling out until the two of you were laughing together once again at the tower. It seemed like everyone had sagged in relief now that the two of you were poking fun at one another once more, and you had to apologize for apparently making it awkward for them.

And now that your best friend knew of your crush on a certain super-soldier, there was lots of teasing material. Of course you kept him in line when you could, but there was no stopping the force of Peter, Wanda, and Darcy combined.

It's a random Tuesday night when you've driven over to the Tower, Bucky having called you over for dinner with a few friends. You had the day off so you didn't mind heading on over, but as the elevator doors slide open after having ridden up to the communal floor, you yelp in surprise as the small gathered crows that shout, "Happy birthday!", at you.

Steve, Wanda, Sam, and Peter pop confetti poppers as you step out of the elevator, eyes wide as you glance between each of them. "My birthday is not until tomorrow!" You hiss.

"But you work tomorrow." Wanda frowns.

"Mhm." Your eyes then narrow, glancing behind them at the streamers and balloons hanging from the ceiling. "And how'd you guys even know?"

Everyone glances at Peter and he takes a step back when your gaze slides to him. He chuckles sheepishly. "I might have hid your birthday cupcake here and Steve found it."

"Petey," you groan. "Why couldn't you just hide it at aunt May's like usual? You know I dislike birthday celebrations."

"You don't dislike them. You just dislike all the attention being on you."

"Whatever. Where's Barnes? He's the one who lured me here under false pretenses. I got a bone to pick with him too."

Everyone turns around and Bucky's head appears from around the corner. He smirks and you glare at him. "Not false pretenses. We are having dinner," he says. "It just so happens to be a birthday dinner. And it's running a little bit late, so until the food gets here you get to open presents."

"You guys all suck."

Peter and Wanda each take a hand and drag you further into the room, heading towards the kitchen. Bucky fully steps out from behind the wall and you aim a kick at his shin as you're walking by. He laughs as he easily dodges it and then you're standing by the kitchen island that's been cleared of everything other than birthday presents.

You huff a small laugh and shake your head fondly at them. "I love you guys, but you do know you didn't have to get me anything, right?"

"Shut up and open the presents," Bucky says.

"Open mine first," Sam says, reaching into the small pile and pulling out a white envelope. "Unlike the others, I was literally told within the last thirty minutes we were doing this so yeah. It's not the best present, but I think you'll enjoy it."

You smile at Sam as you open it, chuckling at the plain birthday card and his brief personal message written inside. But it's what else that's inside that makes you meet Sam's gaze once more, smiling fondly at him. "Thank you. I can't get enough of bubble tea and I'm sure I can do some damage with this gift card."

"You're welcome."

"Mine next." Peter reaches in for a medium-sized box and hands it over to you. "I know you're not a fan of presents, so I got you something I actually knew you'd enjoy."

Raising an eyebrow at him, you pull the lid off of the box. Then glancing down, you snort before pulling out a bottle of Patron Silver Tequila. "I knew we were best friends for a reason."

Steve groans. "Please drink responsibly."

"Please. Responsible is my middle name, Rogers." Everyone snorts and instead of trying to remain serious and feign offense, you end up laughing. "Sam and Buck are good babysitters. You have nothing to worry about."

"That's to be determined," he says. "Here. Open mine. I honestly had no idea what to get you, but Peter assured me you'd enjoy this."

Putting the bottle of tequila back in its box, you accept Steve's gift. Pulling off the ribbon, you can't help but laugh when you see what's inside. "Cards Against Humanity." Peter cheers. "We're playing this the next time I have off," you say, grinning at Steve.

"What is Cards Against Humanity?" He wonders. "I just picked it up and boxed it."

"It's possibly one of the most confusing card games or raunchy card games you'll ever play," Sam says. "I, for one, am looking forward to it."

"Thank you, Steve. I seriously can't wait to play it."

"You're welcome."

Wanda claps her hands. "Mine and Darcy's next. She ordered online and I had to pick it up earlier. But, um, I'm not sure you want to open it up in front of everyone."

"Oh god. Don't tell me it's a vibrator."

Sam laughs out loud as both Peter and Steve start blushing. Bucky looks rather amused and intrigued as Wanda slides two boxes over to you. She shakes her head, giggling. "Not quite."

For a brief moment you're relieved, but then her answer sinks in and you're hesitant all over again. You groan. "Is yours safer? I feel like it is. Which one is it?"

Wanda only smirks as she pushes her box towards you. You open it, marvel at its contents, and then put the lid back on much to the boys' displeasure. Trying to keep a straight face, you look at Wanda. "How many sets did you get?"

"There's four. All in colors that will look amazing against your skin tone."

"Thank you. I'll send you pictures when I wear them."

"Yes please! Natasha wants to know how they fit as well. She was the one who suggested them."

"I'll send them to the ladies group chat then."

"Well that's not fair," Sam complains. "First for not showing us what's inside the box and then you guys have a ladies only group chat. I wanna be in the ladies only group chat."

"But then that defeats the purpose of it being a ladies only group chat," you muse.

"Come on," Peter then whines. "What was the present?"

Your gaze slides to Peter, but instead of outright saying what it is, you say, "Think back to that one Halloween night where you wouldn't let me out of the dorm until I switched costumes."

It takes him only a minute to understand and when he does, he snorts. "That wasn't a costume! That was lingerie."

"Whoa, what?" Sam exclaims, grinning.

"Lingerie can be worn as a costume?" Steve wonders.

"I was actually a Victoria's Secret Angel, complete with the most amazing set of wings, and Petey forbade me from leaving the room. It was a sad, sad night."

"As much as I wanna get into that," Sam says, "I wanna know what Barnes got you more."

You chuckle and glance at Bucky, smile faltering when you see him tense. But then he seems to shake himself out of it and offers you a grin. "Open the bigger one first."

Wanda clears away the other presents as Bucky slides his two towards you. You feel giddy as you grab the bigger box, untying the black silk ribbons and lifting the lid. There's tissue paper you open up and you gasp, happily giggling. "You didn't?!"

"Well you did say it was your favorite movie, sweetheart."

"Yes!" You glance up, beaming at Bucky, and your heart swells at his own smile being directed at you. "I really, really love this. I can't wait to hang it up."

"What is it?" Peter wonders, trying to peer across the island.

"It's a quote from Practical Magic," you say and Peter huffs a laugh, knowing full well your love for that movie. You carefully pick it up and turn it around so everyone can see it as you read it off by heart. "Always throw spilt salt over your left shoulder. Keep rosemary by your garden gate. Plant lavender for luck and fall in love whenever you can."

"Aw," Wanda coos. "That's adorable."

"I made Bucky watch this movie a while back," you say. "I need to show it to you one of these days."

"I'm looking forward to it," she says.

With nothing else to say, you place it back in its box and set it aside in favor for the second box. It's a little smaller, but you're excited for it nonetheless. Untying the ribbon and lifting the lid, you immediately laugh at the white petals scattered atop the tissue paper.

"Barnes, you smooth sonuvabitch," Sam mutters.

Steve and Peter laugh, but you're so focused on the notecard that's under some of the petals. Lifting it up, you read the note to yourself because immediately you know it's personal. My better half has to be funny, get along with my friends, won't judge me for my past, and has decent taste in movies.

Heart fluttering, you bite the corner of your lip when it feels like you're smiling way too much.

"Well what does Prince Charming have to say?" Sam asks.

"That's none of your business." You close the note and then tuck into your back pocket, chuckling when Sam and Wanda complain. When you meet Bucky's gaze, you immediately flush and mentally curse yourself when you see him smirk in return.

Inhaling and exhaling deeply, you center yourself and then part the tissue paper. You look at the second portrait and gasp after you read it.

"What? What is it?" Peter wonders.

This second portrait is of a hand drawn bowl with a tipped over salt shaker, a small bundle of lavender, a small bundle of rosemary, and a heart beneath it. Above the bowl is a swirl of flower petals and inside the swirl of petals, in very pretty cursive writing, are the words I wished for you too.

Did he just- did he confess his own feelings by using a Practical Magic quote? Or was this just you overthinking his present? You glance to meet Bucky's gaze and at his gauging expression your eyes fill with tears.

"What did you do, Barnes?!" Sam scolds him. "You made the poor girl cry at her own birthday celebration!"

But Bucky isn't paying him any attention, instead he's solely focused on you. You set the present aside and walk around the kitchen island on shaky legs, and Bucky readily reaches for your waist as you grab his face and pull him down into a kiss.

You can't believe you're kissing Bucky, but then he squeezes your waist and returns the kiss, and you know you made the right choice.

Someone gasps, but then the following words let you know exactly who it is. "Darcy is going to be so angry she missed this." Wanda. That is Wanda.

"What the hell is going on?" Sam wonders. "What type of present can cause this type of reaction?"

You smile against Bucky's mouth, pressing a chaste kiss to the corner of his mouth before falling flat on your feet after having been on the tips of your toes in order to reach his mouth.

"It's my favorite quote from my favorite movie," you say. You turn around to address your friends, but Bucky doesn't let you go far. He wraps one arm around your waist and tugs you back so you're resting against his chest and tucked beneath his chin. "It's a movie about witches," you explain. "These two little girls are being raised by their aunts and they see them performing love spells for a local woman. Basically, one of the young girls refuses to fall in love after witnessing a love spell gone wrong and she does her own spell to call forward a love that would be impossible to find- a man who's favorite shape would be a star and who had one green eye, one blue. Years down the road, the sisters accidentally murder a man."

Sam snorts. "How the hell does one accidentally murder someone?"

"Shush." Wanda admonishes him. "I want to hear the story behind the gift."

You and Bucky chuckle, and you continue to explain. "Anyway, they send in an US Marshall to investigate the disappearance and the one who had done the love spell at a young age starts to fall for this man. She ends up telling him about the murder, but he doesn't quite believe her. Then they're on the verge of hooking up when she gets a good look at his eyes- one green eye, one blue."

"Oh my god. That's so cute!" Wanda says.

"It gets cuter. And sadder," you say. "So she explains to this man about her family, the murder, and how she can't be with him because he's only attracted to her because of a love spell she did when she was just a little girl. At first he's skeptical about this spell bringing him to her, but then he ends up believing her. And as he's walking away from her, he stops to tell her I wished for you too."

"So you made out with Barnes because of that?" Sam shakes his head, chuckling. "Wow."

"It's fuckin' adorable. Stop ruining the moment, Samuel!" Bucky laughs at your words and pulls you closer to him.

"So while I'm happy for Buck," Steve says, "I'm still really curious about what Darcy's gift is."

Peter nods. "Same."

Wanda giggles, but says nothing as she grabs the box and slides it over to you. You groan because you know it can be nothing good, but you still open it since everyone is watching and waiting. As soon as you part the tissue paper and read the box, alongside taking in the picture on the box, your face flames as you shove the lid back on. Wanda cackles.

"I hate her."

"She said to give the remote to-"

"Don't!" You cut Wanda off, blushing even further. "I know who she means to have control of that."

"They- they make underwear that does that?" Bucky muses and you die a little on the inside in embarrassment. You elbow him as he starts to laugh behind you.

Sam instantly knows what the gift is now and starts to laugh, but Steve and Peter apparently need some help.

"Lewis got you vibrating panties, didn't she?"

"Oh my god, Sam, if you don't shut up I'm gonna punch you in the throat."

Steve is torn between laughing and trying not to make you even more uncomfortable, but his amusement wins out. "Given Y/N's flustered state, I'm assuming Darcy wants Bucky to have the remote."

"I mean this seems like it could make for an interesting night."

Everyone laughs at Bucky's sudden interest in the box you're doing your damnedest to keep shut, but luckily Peter steps in. "As much I love watching Y/N squirm, can we get ready to eat? I'm starving."

"Yeah, yeah. Let's go wait downstairs for it, kid."

Sam and Peter head for the elevator to take them down to the lobby, and you turn around in Bucky's hold. "Help me take this stuff to my car so I don't have to do it later?"

"Sure thing, doll." He grins. But instead of stepping away, he pushes you further into the kitchen island. You smile as he cages you in and then huff a laugh when he reaches for the box behind you. "So exactly how long do we have to be dating before we can test these out?"

You slowly lean upward so your lips brush his as you say, "I'd say very, very soon if you would put your ass into gear and help me move these presents like I asked."

Bucky laughs and presses a quick kiss to your lips. "Then let's get to it."

The telltale sound of a phone's camera goes off and you turn your face towards the sound. Wanda is beaming, her phone pointed towards you and Bucky. "Darcy wanted evidence I wasn't lying. She's going to be so happy."

Bucky turns his face to look at her then, his cheek brushing against yours where he's yet to back off from you. "Tell Lewis I said thanks for the present. I'll give her my review of them in a few weeks."

Wanda's eyes widen and you immediately blurt, "Don't you dare!" But she's already texting and you know the group chat full of ladies is going to be full of messages that you'll have to reply to later. Quietly groaning, you slap your hands against Bucky's waist and push him back. Looking up at him, you shake your head but the corner of your lips turn up in amusement. "You're terrible. I would threaten to withhold sex, but I've been looking forward to that for a while. I'd just be punishing us both."

"Just tell me when and where, sweetheart, and I'll be there."

"Oh no. You guys are going to be that couple," Steve complains.

And without missing a beat, you face him and say, "Fuck off, Rogers!" Bucky snorts.

"You're cranky when you haven't gotten laid."

You gasp as Bucky bursts out laughing right in your ear, but he quickly catches you as you try to lunge for his best friend. "You know what, I was going to be discreet when banging your best friend, but now I'm going to tell you all the filthy things Bucky likes to do just to annoy you. I will go into excruciating detail about the look and taste of his dick!"

Steve blanches as it's Wanda's turn to burst out laughing. "You've done it now, Steve."

And as Steve looks to Bucky for help, he merely shrugs. "You brought this on yourself, Stevie. Hope you enjoy the play by plays."

Relaxing in Bucky's hold and moving so you're hip to hip with him, you slide your arm behind his waist and hook your thumb into the belt loop of his jeans. "We're going to have so much fun."

[hime-memes]

                    * Danny Gonzales Sentence Starters *

God, I’ve been watching Danny’s content since the vine era and he’s super fun & goofy in his youtube videos, so I’ve compiled a list of dialogue starters from a couple different videos he’s uploaded. 

As always: These have been modified for cohesive and sensical use. Feel free to change anything within these that you see fit to make it work for your muse & the receiver’s muse !

Recommended For: Any muses/plots/timelines.

Trigger Warnings For: Swearing & slight innuendo.

“ I keep seeing this dude on tiktok who’s pretending to be a vampire, using special effects ... and, like, everyone believes him ! “ “ ... or you know, everyone would be thirsting over him because he’s a boy, and ... he’s not ... wearing a shirt. Or, he is -- he’s just wearing it wrong. “ “ ‘ He could actually be a vampire & no one would know ! ‘, uh, no, he couldn’t. He could not ... because vampires aren’t real ! “ “ Imagine if vampires really were real and this is how we found out ? From sorta like a thirst trappy tiktok of a guy just casually being like: ‘ Oh, I heard we were showing off our teeth ... Here’s mine ! ‘. “  “ What if they had to put this picture in every history book form now on ? " “ So, this is when we found out vampires existed, they’ve been around for thousands of years and we didn’t find out until this guy made a tiktok video without his shirt on ... because he wanted to show off his teeth. “  “ Still to this day it is the only evidence that we have of vampires, but I mean, you can’t dispute this ! “  “ Look, I don’t believe this yet, alright ? I’m not that stupid ... but, I swear to god, if you do this one more time -- I will believe you, I’m serious ! Post one more edited tiktok of you showing your fangs & I will spend the rest of my life believing vampires are real. “ “ ... and it’s not because you’re cute either; I don’t wanna kiss. I’m gonna spend the rest of my life trying to track you down and impale you with a wooden stake ! “  “ I like that he’s not just a vampire, he’s a cocky vampire ! “ “ Watching everyone I love die time and time again because I’m an immortal ageless being ... drifting through time becoming further convinced that nothing matters and life doesn’t mean anything because I sold my soul to the devil 200 years ago ??? Uh, it’s ya boy ! “  “ I like to think about this one and what it would look like without the effect. “ “ He jumps over his house ... so, don’t skip leg day ! “  “ I know a lot of people commenting on these tiktoks saying they think they’re real are either joking, or are literally one year old. ” “ I don’t think his intention was to deceive people into thinking vampires were real ... “ “ Welcome back to another episode of how to be a bad boy ! “ “ Don’t worry if you’re not a boy, because this applies to anybody ! You don’t have to be a boy to be a bad boy ! “ “ Bad Boys ... who doesn’t love a bad boy, am I right ? I mean, they’re strong, masculine, angry, violent ... what’s not to love ?! “ “ His IG stories are full of the worst, most painful to watch cringe tiktoks from super obscure accounts. “ “ I’ve noticed this uptick in bad boys. “  “ That’s a great question: Why do good girls like bad guys ? “ “ I mean, look at this dude: He’s clear bad as all heck ! “  “ One moment, you think he’s a doctor and the next moment he’s just a normal dude ? In normal clothes ? What the fuck happened to him ?! “ “ This is a bad boy right here guys, this doctor doesn’t play by the rules. “  “ I would not want this doctor to be my doctor cause he is a bad boy ! You can tell because his hair isn’t as neat as it was when he was just a doctor ... and he’s wearing a ring with a skull on it ! “ “ It’s possibly the skull of one of his patients who died because he was too busy making tiktoks to operate on them. “ “ What’s the opposite of swooning ? I just did the opposite of whatever swooning is ... “  “ Okay, so it looks like there’s this nerd and we’re roleplaying as his girlfriend, who left him or something to be with somebody else ? “ “ What could you possible have to show me that could change my mind now, you little dweeb ... that I used to date for some reason ... ? “ “ Now he’s some kind of ... kind of ... well, I don’t know what he is, but he looks different now ! “ “ Alright, it’s time to make her jealous ... “ “ Well ... look at me now. I’m a vampire ... so ... I bet you’re jealous of that ! “ “ Oh, you think I want you back now ? Well, I got news for you, bitch: I’m immortal & I can turn into a bat ! “ “ What is he at the beginning ?! An old man or a very stressed teen ?! “ “ Is this a tiktok or is this the plot of an early 2000s rom-com ? ” “ One day his silly old ass tripped into the fountain of youth ... “ “ I’ve fallen for you, ( and I can’t get up ). Coming this summer ! “  “ Did you just dress like an idiot all the time on purpose ? “  “ You think I’m a wrinkly old man ? Guess what bitch - I’m a greaser form the 1950s ! “  “ Are you just intentionally looking like shit to get her to break up with you ? “ “ ... Because nothing wins back girls like saying something badass really quietly into a microphone because you’re scared someone will you ! “  “ The bad boys on tiktok have values ! ... and one of those values is protecting women. “  “ He looks like he’s got absolutely no joint mobility ! “ “ Everyone knows that the badder the boy you are, the more your walk looks like a fuckin’ whomp, from Mario 64 ! “ “ It’s funny how this whole video was about respecting women, but then his girlfriend gets in the way and he’s like: ‘ Fuck off, babe ! I gotta go fight this asshole ! I have to protect your honor, babe. So, how ‘bout you get the fuck out of my way, you dumb bitch ’. “ “ This would be kind of menacing, if this dude wasn’t wearing the cutest tiny little cast on his pinky finger ! “  “ Dude are you really in any condition to be protecting women ? “  “ What the fuck ? This dude just barked ?! “  “ If you push a girl, you can catch these hands by all means. “  “ You couldn’t think of any less gruesome way to take care of this ? “ “ What are you ? A horror villain form the 80s ?! “ “ I don’t know what it is about grown men lip-syncing and then punching the air because they’re so mad ... “ “ The phrase ‘ asswhoopin’ in the parking lot ‘, I don’t know it just sounds like you’re not beating someone up, you’re just ... spanking them. “  “ You’re just, like, at the club - minding your own business and you accidentally bump into the girl standing next to you, and her boyfriend puts his hand on your shoulder and you turn around, and it’s fuckin’ Justin from Wizards of Waverly Place ... wearing what can only be described as the upper body version of a loin cloth ... ? “  “ He’s got that ‘ whispering because I’m recording a tiktok in my room and don’t want my parents to know ‘ vibe. “  “ Then he strangles you ? Is ... is that how you make a deal with the devil ? “  “ Is this, like, a sexual thing, or -- ? ... No one knows, it’s just what I do ! “  “ ... What I don’t understand is this creepy laugh followed immediately by that very weird moan. “  “ In what way is this supposed to be appealing to me as the viewer ? ”   “ I just feel like if I were a girl ... If that’s what this is guy is into: I mean, girls or guys ... demons or imps ? I don’t know what he’s into ! “ “ I feel like if we got into any small argument, he’d Darth Vader my ass ! Strangle me and then lift me up in the air by my throat ... just because I didn’t want to go to Chili’s™ ... “

[ncssian]

A Favor: Part Twenty-Eight

Nessian Modern AU

Masterlist

a/n: the beginning of the end :,) if u made it this far i think ur cool

***

“Where do you see yourself in five years?” Lana asks.

Nesta closes her eyes, letting the picture swirl and take shape in her mind.

This time last year, she would have imagined nothing. Nothing but a desk in a busy law office, and maybe a nice apartment if she was lucky. That would be it. But now she sees…

“Somewhere with good food and good music,” she muses. “Maybe a sea breeze.” The sun-faded buildings of Portofino fade into the foreground of her imagination. “There are lots of people with me,” she hears the sound of children shrieking and Cassian’s rumbling laughter, “but it’s okay, because I love every one of them.” Her eyes open. “Is that a good answer?”

A near invisible smile tugs at the corners of Lana’s lips. “You tell me, Nesta. Do you like what you see?”

“It’s a little too cinematic if you ask me,” Nesta says nonchalantly, picking up her bag from the ground, “but I suppose all dreams are that way.”

“It’s a good dream,” Lana says. “A worthy dream, and one you deserve to chase.”

Nesta shrugs lightly, not too worried about the burden of the future for once. “Maybe I will.”

“In that case, congratulations on completing your final therapy session,” Lana says, setting her notebook aside. “You’ve made some amazing progress this year.”

Nesta gives her therapist her signature what’s-wrong-with-you look. “I’m going on vacation, not firing you for good. I’ll see you again in two months.”

“Two months can be enough to lose all your progress, if you forget everything you went through to get here.”

Nesta isn’t stupid. She knows that she isn’t suddenly desperate to make babies or be maid of honor at her sisters’ weddings or some bullshit. She knows that the image she just dreamed up, with Cassian and kids and her unburdened heart, is likely more than five years away. If it happens at all, it could be ten, even twenty years of hard work away.

She’s not nearly finished growing yet. “I’ll see you in two months, Lana,” she repeats.

Lana smiles at her fully this time. “Enjoy your summer, Nesta.”

***

The air is different in the Smokies.

Nesta rolls the truck windows down so she can inhale it, relish it. Wind whips her hair every which way as they drive down the winding freeway cutting through the lush mountains, and something about the look on her face makes Cassian chuckle and press down on the accelerator.

Nesta watches the red needle on the speedometer cross ninety, then one hundred. She can barely feel the June heat with how fast they’re going.

In the end, it was Feyre and Elain that reached out and invited her to the Tennessee summer home. Cassian had made it obvious that he wouldn’t push her to go if she didn’t want to, and at first she really didn’t want to. But Feyre had looked so hopeful when she asked Nesta to come with them, and even Elain had revealed a glimmer of eagerness that Nesta would say yes.

So against all odds, she agreed to go.

Exchanging one mountain home for another isn’t much of a getaway, but Nesta can’t help but be excited. Even with the unhappy memories of her childhood, she loves these hills more than any other.

The pure exhilaration of being back in Tennessee overcomes her at some point during the drive, knocking her out in the passenger seat where she sits. In her drowsy state, she distantly hears the windows being rolled up, before feeling Cassian’s hand guide her head to rest against the glass. The rest of the drive is warm and sunny, enough to lull her into a deep sleep.

The next thing Nesta’s aware of is the crunch of gravel and the feeling of the truck tires slowing to a stop. Fingers brush against her heated cheek, and then Cassian is murmuring at her to wake up.

Blinking her eyes open, Nesta twists around to see their destination.

For a moment, she thinks she’s still dreaming.

“Welcome to Holly House,” Cassian says with a grin. The house in question is quaint and sprawling at the same time, the way most upper class Southerners like their houses. The whole thing gleams with a fresh coat of white paint under the afternoon sun, complemented by a sky blue wraparound porch. Colonial style windows and proud columns decorating the facade of the building makes it look like the setting of a fairy tale.

Beyond it, Nesta can see cherry blossoms. Pink, fluttering cherry blossoms that fly off their branches and swirl through the air, some of them disappearing into the thick woods behind the house. Woods that Nesta has walked countless times before.

“The rest of the guys won’t get here until tomorrow afternoon,” Cassian is saying to her, “so we have the whole place to our—”

Nesta isn’t listening anymore. She unbuckles her seatbelt and shoves open the truck door, hobbling outside on unsteady feet to make sure she isn’t hallucinating things. But no, this is…

“Cherrywood,” she breathes, eyes wide in disbelief.

Cassian gets out of the truck, coming up beside Nesta to slip his hand into her shorts pocket. “What’s wrong? You okay?”

“This is Rhysand’s summer home?” Nesta points at the house. “This place?”

Cassian looks around at the building grounds in confusion. “Has been for the last two decades, yeah.”

It’s been eleven years since she last stepped foot on these grounds.

With wonderment in her voice, she utters to Cassian, “I’ve been here before.”

At his puzzled look, she explains, “I lived just on the other side of those woods.” She points to the trees. “There’s an old cracked road that hasn’t been maintained since it was first paved, and you can follow it straight to the poor side of town. Whenever I wanted to get away, I would come down that road and trek through the woods, and I’d end up here. I stopped coming because…” she trails off.

Because she got caught that one time.

Cassian seems to realize it at the same moment as her. His hand slips out of her pocket. “You…”

Nesta remembers a tall boy with shocked eyes and shaggy hair, and she shakes her head slowly in forceful denial. It can’t be true. It’s too much of a coincidence.

But he points at her, then her feet. “You—with the size six Converse,” he sputters. “It was you.”

Before Nesta can confirm or deny it, he grabs her by the wrist and starts tugging her along, up the porch stairs and inside the house.

Even with Rhysand and Feyre’s renovations, it looks undeniably the same as all those years ago. The living room is to her right and the farmhouse style kitchen and dining area is to the left, though she speeds by it all as Cassian pulls her farther inside the house, to the closet beneath the curving stairs.

He lets go of her hand to search the small closet, muttering, “I know they were here somewhere.” But the closet looks like it was stripped empty for renovations, with only bolts in the walls indicating that shoe racks used to hang there.

Cassian turns and heads for the stairs, and Nesta blindly follows him. She also wants to go upstairs, wants to see if the bay window looking out onto the garden has stayed the same.

Like he read her mind, he leads her straight to the room she used to spend hours reading in. It’s smaller than all the other bedrooms in the house, but it’s always been her favorite because of the view.

As Cassian keeps looking for whatever it is he’s looking for, upturning boxes and checking beneath furniture, Nesta drifts toward the bay window. She looks from the cherry blossom trees outside, to the full-sized bed, to Cassian, and a weight drops even heavier in her gut. She has to reach out and grip the edge of the dresser for support.

Finally, Cassian pops out of the closet victorious. In his hand are a pair of ragged shoes that Nesta hasn’t worn in a long, long time.

He comes over and drops them with a thud at her feet.

“Whose room is this?” she asks with a rough voice, still staring down at the shoes.

“Mine,” he answers simply.

“Oh.” She met him before. She met him before.

When Nesta dares to look up and meet Cassian’s eyes, what she finds there nearly robs her of breath: wonder, astonishment, and unwavering fealty. He breaks into sudden wholehearted laughter, which dazes her even more.

“What’s so funny?” she demands.

Cassian gets out between laughs, “What was it Rhysand said about Feyre? When they found out they were close to crossing paths when they were younger?”

Nesta’s earth-tilting shock slowly slips away, replaced by a stern look. “Don’t say it.”

He pretends to remember. “I think it was fate.” A wicked smirk pulls at his lips at Nesta’s resigned sigh. “But I have another word for it, too.”

“Don’t say that, either.” She pleadingly holds up her hands, only for Cassian to snatch one out of the air and intertwine his fingers with hers.

“Soulmate,” he says quietly, now less amused.

Nesta swallows thickly, not having any words for him. All she knows is that he is never going to let her live this down.

“Imagine if we’d gone to the same high school,” Cassian says to her later that afternoon as they lounge in his old room. “Fuck, I could’ve saved myself so much time with all those random girls.” They’ve been swapping childhood stories for the past hour, as if they might find more instances in their history of a red string tying them together.

Nesta doesn’t need coincidences or fateful run-ins to know that a string has always been wrapped around her ring finger, pulling her to Colorado and to that cabin. But for Cassian’s sake, she’ll gladly amuse him. “I would have been a freshman while you were a senior,” she says matter-of-factly. “It never could have happened.”

He hums in thought, head propped up in his hand, elbow propped up against the bay window seat. “Maybe if you were older. You would have been the smart, quiet girl, and I’d have been the player jock, and as soon as we locked eyes in math class, I’d be head over heels in love with you.”

Nesta cackles from where she sits in the window seat above him. “Now you’re just writing fanfiction.”

Cassian grins up at her but doesn’t send a rebuttal her way. The conversation falls into a lull, until Nesta has to reach out and ask, “What are you thinking?”

His smile turns a little sad. “That I wish we weren’t doing this right before I leave for another country.”

Right. That’s what’s been hanging over them the entire trip to Tennessee: that as soon as they get back to Colorado, Cassian is going to be on a plane to Milan.

Getting Keith O’Connell to quit—how exactly Cassian went about accomplishing it, he still won’t tell Nesta—left Rhysand at square one with his search for a team leader for his overseas venture.

When Cassian brought up the idea of taking the job to Nesta, he sounded like he hoped she would shoot him down, talk him out of it. He both wanted to go and was reluctant to leave, like his very soul was glued to his home and he didn’t want to unstick himself.

So Nesta, being his home, had to do the unsticking for him. She nearly accepted the year-long Milan position herself for Cassian’s sake, and it took weeks of coaxing and convincing to put him at ease about the whole thing.

“But we promised to go together for the first time,” he kept saying.

“We’ll still go together one day, and it’ll still be our first time there with each other,” she reassured him.

Eventually, he relented to her and Rhysand’s pressures with a single condition. “I’ll do six months. Not a year.”

Only Nesta knows deep down how much Cassian needs this opportunity. Though Cassian must know it a little bit too, because he wouldn’t have taken the job if he didn’t.

Nesta might have needed him in order to come out of her shell, but now he needs to get away from her in order to find his own shell. Something he can call his own, unburdened by his loyalties to the people he loves. So he can find who he wants to be for himself, without always being attached to her hip.

Rising to her feet, Nesta raises her arms in the air in a full body stretch. Her back and legs ache with being curled up in that window seat for so long without movement.

Dropping her arms, she holds out a hand to Cassian still sitting on the floor. “Come on,” she urges him. “Let’s go outside. I haven’t seen a Smoky sunset in years.”

“But it’s not evening yet,” he argues while taking her hand.

Outside, they explore the garden that leads into the woods while waiting for the sun to slink down the sky. Cherry blossoms ride the summer breeze wherever it takes them, resulting in Cassian sniffling and scratching at his neck as they walk hand in hand.

“Rhysand wanted to take these trees down and replace them with a flower garden for Elain,” he tells Nesta as they walk. His sinuses sound clogged, but he’s refused to go back inside until he’s explained every inch of the land to Nesta. “I convinced him not to because it would ruin the view from my bedroom window. Didn’t I make the right choice?” He throws a grin in her direction.

Nesta’s swallow is tight at that grin. “The view from your room was always my favorite part about the entire place. So yes, you did good.”

His eyes widen at that tidbit of information, and she can almost see him tucking it away as more Soulmate Evidence.

They stroll through the woods for a while, and Nesta points out the path she would take to get to Cherrywood—she still insists on calling it Cherrywood, even when Cassian argues that the house’s original name has been around since the sixties.

“Show me the rest of the way?” Cassian asks her, face lit up in boyish hope. “Show me where you ran away to that day I found you.”

Nesta almost expects the memory of the rundown apartment complex she grew up in to feel like being shoved into sludge: dirty, cold, and slimy. Instead, she finds she has no problem with looking back at her old home, no matter how many ugly memories she holds from there.

However, the dappled sunlight streaming in through the trees overhead has turned from yellow to dark gold, and she shakes her head in apology to Cassian. “Another day,” she promises him. “It’s almost sunset.”

They walk back to the house, rounding it until they reach the front. At the bottom of the hill that the house is perched on stands a pier that leads all the way out to the lake. Green mountains frame the lake from both sides, creating the perfect cradle for the sun to sink into.

They go all the way out to the edge of the pier, as if they’re trying to get as close to the sunset as physically possible. Dragonflies lazily swoop by as the lake is gradually painted in a hundred different colors.

Once there’s more darkness than light in the sky, Cassian nudges Nesta with one of the arms he has around her. “Look.” He points.

Along the shoreline of the lake, little dots of light have lit up to welcome the evening, their blinking glow so small that Nesta almost doesn’t catch it. Fireflies.

Nesta watches the insects flit in and out of the long grasses of the lake shore, getting tangled in the weeds and wildflowers. In that moment, she remembers something Cassian once confessed to her not long after his birthday.

I want to see more beautiful places with you.

Nesta ticks this beautiful place off the long list in her head—the first place out of many that she plans to see with Cassian.

More beautiful than the scene before her is the man in her arms. The man who was kind enough to understand a woman who barely understood herself, and to be her friend when she had none. The man who is extending his kindness right now by not having made any breaking-and-entering jokes about Nesta so far, though she’s sure he’ll pull them out eventually.

Discovering that she once found Cassian, just to let him slip by running away from him, only to find him again over a decade later—it comforts the tiny part of her that’s loath to say goodbye to him in two weeks.

Like Cassian is thinking the same thing, he murmurs into the dark, “I can’t wait to come back to you.”

Nesta huffs in amusement. “You haven’t even left yet.”

“I know.” After a moment, he adds in a low voice that not even the fireflies can hear, “Thank you for convincing me to go.”

She reaches up to squeeze his bicep. “Always.” And then she adds what she really wants him to hear: “Don’t come back until you find what you’re looking for.”

“I better find it quick then,” he jokes. Still, he nods in promise against the side of her head.

The only sound after that is the chirp of cicadas and the occasional lap of water meeting the pier beams. Nesta and Cassian stay outside in the June heat long after the sky turns ink blue.

***

a/n: next chapter is just some ic bullshit so take all ur bittersweet sentimentality here and go

tagging: @sjm-things @thewayshedreamed @drielecarla @valkyriewarriors @superspiritfestival @aliveahaahahafuck @cupcakey00 @sayosdreams @rainbowcheetah512 @claralady @thebluemartini @nessiantho @missing-merlin @duskandstarlight @lucy617 @sleeping-and-books @everything-that-i-love @cassianscool @swankii-art-teacher @wannawriteyouabook @arinbelle @awesomelena555 @julemmaes @wickedqueenoffantasy @poisonous-bloom @observationanxioustheorist @gisellefigue08 @courtofjurdan @theoverlyenthusiasticwriter @wolfiixxx @cass-nes @seashade @royaltykxx @illyrianundercover @monstrousloves-explodinggalaxies @humanexile @that-golden-lyre @agentsofsheilds @mercy-is-alive @cassiansbigwingspan @laylaameer01 @verypaleninja @maastrash @bow-dawn @perseusannabeth @dead-on-the-inside666 @jlinez @hungryreadingaddict @anidealiveson @planet-faerie @shallowhighwaters @ghostlyrose2 @chosenfamily-valkyriequeens @rarephloxes @readiajin @nessiantrashh @live-the-fangirl-life @ifinallygavein @xoblivisci @sjmships @jungtaekwoonie-is-life @lysandra-tiara @lanyjoy-13 @post-it-notes33 @loosingdreams @fromthelibraryofemilyj @18moneytoad @dontgetsalmonella @champanheandluxxury @togreblog @ladygabrielli1997 @meridainthedisneyland @moodymelanist @pixieelea @teagoddess99 @mystic-bibliophile