#Memory Loss tropes always break me

[theprettiestlamb]

JEDIKIAH WINTER SOLDIER’D JOHN

[ddejavvu]

Love to Lie - Bradley 'Rooster' Bradshaw x Reader (Part 4/FINAL PART) / Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3

Summary: Your worst fear is recognized when Bradley’s jet goes down with him in it. You’re not sure why you’re still his emergency contact, you’d broken up two weeks ago, but when you rush into the hospital room, you discover that you have a chance to fix the mistake you’d been cursing yourself for. The only problem is, you have to lie to Bradley, and you discover that you love doing it if it means you get to be with him again.

Contents/Warnings: fem!reader, Mitchell!reader, angst, angst with a fluffy/happy ending, amnesia trope, hospitals and their subsequent medical details, memory loss, goose and carole are still alive because i say so

WC: 4.1K / navigation / inbox

A/N: the real last part! i sincerely hope you enjoyed this series, it's very dear to my heart and so is all of the wonderful feedback you've given me on it. I love hearing what you think, it keeps me motivated to write more for you and I'm just so happy that I got to share this with you all. Thank you to anyone who's enjoyed this, I'm privileged to have shared your time and gotten your love in return. <333

feedback is greatly appreciated! comment, reblog, talk in the tags, send me a message, tell me what you think!

You feel like he’s gutted you. Like he’s plunged the hand holding the ring right into your stomach, twisted it so that the gem inside slits your insides into ribbons, and wrenched it back out dripping and glistening in crimson.

He looks so hopeful, eyes earnest and shining as he stares at you, that damn ring held between you like a life preserve. Like if you let him toss it over your finger, reel you in with his tender heartstrings, you wouldn’t drown. You’d escape the dreadful ocean of grief that’s been slowly filling your lungs since you’d left, you’d give your tired legs a break from treading water if you could just say yes. The word is on the tip of your tongue, and your achy heart begs you to say it, but you can’t.

Not when he doesn’t know.

“Bradley,” You whimper, reaching out to lay a gentle touch over his hand. You wrap your hand around both his own and the ring, squeezing tightly, “I have to tell you something.”

Bradley’s enthusiasm wanes. He hadn’t waited long enough. You’re not in love with him yet; he rushed into things just like he had before and he’d ruined it. How did he manage to ruin it two times? The best thing in his life, and he’s fucked it up twice in a row now. 

You’re looking at him with eyes full of sadness, and he catches a flash of pity in them; just like he’d feared. His stomach sours and he balks, spooking like a startled horse.

“No, no. No, it’s okay, you’re- you’re not ready yet, sweetheart, that’s okay. We can wait,” He babbles, wrenching his hand out from your own and jamming the ring back into the drawer, like if he can just get it into a safe zone, it’ll hit undo on the entire fiasco.

“No, baby,” Your face screws up, a barely-withheld sob behind your frown, “Baby that’s not- we really need to talk. Okay? I promised we would today.”

“I- I know, but-” He stammers, trying to evade your gentle touch as you pry his hand back from his dresser drawer, the ring still clutched inside and lining his palm with a layer of sweat.

“Let me talk,” You plead, “Brad, I need to come clean. Please?”

He’s sure you can see his Adam’s apple bob in his throat as he swallows what little saliva there is in his mouth, “Okay.”

“Two weeks ago,” You start, and the words feel leaden on your tongue; impossibly heavy. “-before your crash. You- you remember Javy’s crash, yeah?”

“Yeah,” His breath catches in his throat, visions of his teammate's poor girlfriend swimming in his mind. Visions of the woman he never wanted you to have to be.

“That really-” You choke on a sob, “That really freaked me out, Bradley. I realized that you could go down like that. I- I’ve always known, y’know, ‘cause of your dad. But I just- I was so young when that happened, and it wasn’t fresh, so when Javy went down… I had this revelation. That I could-” Your voice tampers down into a weak whimper, “I could lose you, Brad. I could say goodbye to you one morning and not get to say hello again in the evening. I just- lost it,” You admit, brushing away stray hair from over your red-rimmed eyes, “I’m sure you noticed I wasn’t the most pleasant to say goodbye to in the mornings. But- but baby, I was always so happy when you came home, because it meant I had more time. It felt like some awful time bomb,” You recall, “Like every time I said goodbye to you would be the last, and I couldn’t rest until you were back home. I’ve never felt like that before, I’ve always had confidence in your abilities. Even on deployment, I know you’re working with people who have your back,” You sniffle, “I’ve always known you could die, but it’s never felt that much like you would before. But then- Javy wasn’t the one who crashed,” You explain, voice thick with blubbering tears, “I mean- that was just his jet malfunctioning. And then all of a sudden I- it was like I remembered that I could lose you in some freak accident. Like it wouldn’t have to be your fault, it could just happen, and you could die. Like your dad, Bradley, I- I didn't wanna lose you like we almost lost your dad."

“That is,” You collect yourself, swallowing a heavy sob that leaves your throat achy and gutted, “My nightmare, baby.” You tangle your fingers with his where you’re still clutching his hand, squeezing tight enough to probably bruise the guy, “I don’t know what I would do if I lost you. I would die if I lost you, Brad. Even if I was alive, I’d be dead inside. I need you, I need you in my life, Bradley.”

What you’re saying sounds good to him. Terrible, of course, if he didn’t come home one day. But he is home, and you’re telling him you need him, and he can’t figure out why in the world you’ve said no twice to putting on the ring. 

“You have me,” He vows, squeezing your hand right back, “Honey, you have me right here, right now. Why won’t you let me keep you?” He presses the ring into your palm, and you both feel the metal band burning your skin like it’s been superheated.

“You asked me to marry you before you crashed,” You blurt, and even though slamming a wrecking ball into your reverie of late feels like stabbing yourself in the chest, there’s something gratifying about telling the truth. About finally coming clean, about telling him exactly why you can’t say yes.

“You sat me down, and you gave me the sweetest speech in the world,” You recall with tears thick in your voice, “About how you loved me, and how you wanted to spend the rest of your life with me, and- and you proposed, and I said no.”

He chews on the inside of his cheek, analyzing the grief in your voice. You sound anguished, like you’re upset with yourself for saying no, but you didn’t say yes this time around, so he can’t believe what he hears.

He takes a deep breath, cutting off whatever you’re going to say next, “I know.”

It feels good for him to come clean, too. Even if he's dreading what'll happen, even if he thinks there's a good chance you'll march out the door, he's glad to be done with the lies. He'd loved them while they'd lasted, but they went down in flames just like his jet.

“-and-” You stop, blinking twice, “What?”

“I know,” He admits, “I- I remember, honey.”

“You- what?” Your eyes widen, and you lean forwards, gazing imploringly at Bradley, “Brad, you- you remember? You remember everything now?”

“Yeah,” He nods, watching as you process the information.

You feel sick. You’re not sure why, because you’ve already told him the truth. But memories are different than retellings, and you both know that. No explanation on your part would have conveyed the crushed, betrayed look in his eyes when you’d declined his proposal; there’s not words in the english language suitable to describe how desperately he’d pleaded for you to stay, even in just the simplest of touches to your waist, trying to pull you back to him that night.

Now he remembers that, now you’re on the same page, and when you turn it, you’re not sure what you’ll see. 

The end of a chapter? The beginning of a new one? Or the blank back cover of a book, perhaps, if your luck has run dry. 

“When did your memories come back?” You ask, your voice sounding faraway and dazed in the back of your mind. You’re not even sure you’ve really said it, you’re too wrapped up in worrying about what he’s thinking. If your confession had spurred on his memories, you’re not sure you’ll ever get a chance to put on that ring.

Bradley swallows what little saliva is in his mouth, “A while ago.”

“How long?” Your brows furrow impossibly deeper, your brain running circles trying to figure out what’s real and what isn’t, “Like- like since this morning?”

“Since I woke up,” He confesses with a heavy heart, because lying to you hurt even if he’d loved the outcome,  “In the hospital. I- I didn’t remember at first, but they came back, uh, in a few minutes.”

You feel like you’ve walked into a cloud of smoke. Everything around you is foggy, and your brain can’t process what he’s told you. It feels like he’s lying to you, like he’s tricking you and pretending that he’s known the entire time just so as not to feel foolish. But that’s not Bradley, he doesn’t need to be smarter than you, or faster than you, or better than you, so you know he’s telling the truth.

“But- why did you lie?” You stare at him with tears glimmering in your waterline, and he’s sure this is what he looked like when he’d asked you not to go that night. Betrayed, confused, heartbroken.

“Because you did,” Bradley whimpers, wanting nothing more than to swipe a thumb under your eye and gather the tears there on his skin, taking the burden away from you.

“You came in and you asked to kiss me, and- and I wanted you to. I didn’t want to talk about what had happened, because I didn’t want you to walk out again, so I just- I lied. And I let you lie to me, too.”

You think back, and you remember how you’d walked back into the hospital room, on the verge of tears with nerves rolling in your belly. And you’d asked to kiss him, you’d given him the perfect opportunity to lie, and he’d taken it. And you can’t be mad at him, because you’d lied, too. You’re slightly hurt. It doesn’t feel good knowing that your lover- or, ex-lover lied to you. It feels even worse to know that Bradley lied because he thought you’d leave him if he told the truth. Like you’d turn tail and run, whooping through the parking lot about being free at last. But you’re the one that put that thought in his head; you’re the one that ran away. So you can’t blame him for keeping you on a short leash.

You feel too many things at once. You feel like a monster, like a cruel heartbreaker that had shattered Bradley’s to pieces. You feel confused, because you’re still processing that the past few days were entirely fake on both ends. You feel slightly betrayed, like you wish Bradley would have just told you. But you didn’t tell him either, and that makes you feel like an asshole. Too many feelings are bottled up inside, and they gush forth in a messy round of tears, one worse than Bradley’s ever seen from you.

It sets him in a panic, and he’d already been misty-eyed before. Now his own tears roll in fat droplets down his cheeks as he muscles down his sobs for your sake, dropping your hand only to take up your waist. He drags you closer on the bed, but it’s uncoordinated and a struggle as your limbs don’t cooperate. You’re limp like a ragdoll, and once he finally has you positioned in his lap he buries his face in your shoulder to soak his tears into your shirt.

“I’m sorry,” He whispers, his chest heaving and shaking with sobs, “I’m sorry I lied. I shouldn’t have, I- I know it was wrong. I just- I wanted you to stay, honey. And I thought it would be okay if we were both lying, because then I could make you fall in love with me again, and- and it was a stupid plan, I’m sorry. I should have told you, I’m sorry, I- I never wanted to make you cry. I’m sorry, honey, please don’t- please don’t cry. I love you, please, don’t cry.”

He thinks he’s allergic to your tears. His chest hurts, his face burns, and the front of his shirt is slowly sticking to his chest where you’re crying against it. He’s not sure he can handle much more of this, he can barely breathe and if you don’t stop crying soon, his lungs might collapse. He doesn’t like that you’re crying; even though he knows its a messy situation, even though he knows it’s complicated beyond belief, he’s worried that lying to you fractured your trust in him, and that won’t look good on his permanent record, especially not when he’s waiting on a yes or no from you regarding marriage.

“Honey, please,” He knows he’s not the only one at fault, he knows you’re just as guilty for lying as he is, but you’d done it out of pity, and he’d done it out of greed. You’d played pretend with him so that he didn’t lay alone in a hospital bed, but he’d lied to you so that you wouldn’t leave. He’s kept you trapped, and he’s worried you’ll break free from the cage and run.

“I’m sorry,” He cries, clutching tighter at you when you try pulling away, scared you’re on your way out, “No, honey, please, I’m so sorry-”

“Stop apologizing!’ You beg, a raw quality to your throat that bleeds into your voice. You can’t take it anymore, you can’t let him blubber out sorry after sorry for something he’s not at fault for. You wish he’d been honest, sure, but you couldn’t possibly blame him for continuing the game that you started playing.

“Just- stop, please,” You breathe, quieter now this time. “I- You’re not the one that has to be sorry.”

“But I am,” Bradley gushes, clinging tight to you, still nervous you’re trying to leave. But you’re stationed to stay in his lap, smearing away tears with the skin of your wrists.

“Well don’t be.” You huff, frustration swirling in your chest, all self-directed, “Don’t- don’t apologize for my mistakes! Bradley,” You whimper, rubbing at your eyes hard enough to see swirls beyond your vision, “I left you. I rejected your proposal, and I left you, and then when you almost died, and forgot I left you, I lied to your face. You had amnesia, Bradley, and I lied to you, in what world should you be apologizing? You should hate me,” You decide, stomach churning at just the thought, “I’m so sorry, Bradley, I- I’m so sorry! You should be throwing me out, you should kick me to the curb, and-”

“I don’t hate you.” He says, his voice gruff. He says it plain and simple, like it’s easy. Like there’s no hard feelings, like he’s not perturbed at all by your dishonesty, your betrayal.

“I love you,” He continues, and oh, does that drive the nail into the coffin you’re trapped in, “I love you so much, honey, I just don’t understand you. Why did you leave?”

“I was so scared,” You’re getting tired of saying it, but you know you have to, “Javy crashed, and I realized you could, too. Brad, I’m so sorry, I was so selfish, I didn’t wanna go through that. I left you because I didn’t wanna get hurt. I- I left to save myself from mourning your loss. But it didn’t work, and- and you still crashed, and I still almost had to mourn your loss, and it still hurt, so- so bad, Bradley. It hurt so bad,” You blubber, and he pulls you back into his chest.

“I know,” He murmurs, and you can’t fathom why he’s still comforting you, why his large, calloused hand is rubbing sweet, soft, soothing circles over your back like you’re not a traitor, “I know, honey, I can’t imagine. I’m sorry you had to get that call.”

“Come on,” You plead, your fists clenched in Bradley’s shirt, nails digging into the fabric, “Bradley, this- this isn’t fair. You should be mad at me. Even if you-” You can barely say it, the thought sounding like a fantasy; too good to be true, “Even if you love me, you should be upset. That I left, that I- that I lied, you can’t do this. You can’t comfort me, and you can’t apologize.”

“I can, too.” He argues, his brows furrowed and his mustache turned down with his frown, “Sweetheart, I know you’re sorry about all those things, you told me yourself. I know you’re sorry you left, I know you’re sorry you lied, it’s okay. It hurt when you left, but I never hated you. I wanted you back,” He admits with a shaky voice, “I wanted to fix things. And when you asked to kiss me in the hospital, I chose to let you lie to me even though I knew the truth. I liked it, baby, I loved it, because I had you back. You’re sorry, and- and I’m sorry, and we’re both sorry, so let’s do something about it. Let’s fix it, baby, please.”

“I want to fix it,” You sob, “I really do, Bradley. I- I wanted to pretend forever,” You confess, “Because it felt like it did before I left, and- you have no idea how much I wanted that back, Brad.”

“Me too,” He agrees with a rough sniffle, “I- I wanted you to pretend forever, honey. I really did, I- that’s why I proposed again,” He cringes at the memory, at the second time he’d asked to no avail, “Because I just wanted you to keep pretending, and say yes, and I thought- I thought I might be able to make you love me again, so I went for it, but I shouldn’t have. I should- I should’ve talked to you first, I should have told you the truth, but I just- I was scared, and-”

“Oh, Bradley,” You gush, grabbing the back of his neck and tugging him down into a hug. You might be smothering him, you’re not sure if he can breathe where he’s buried in your shoulder, but he doesn’t care. He’s clutching you like you’ll disappear if he doesn’t, and you’re horrified that he might really think that, but you understand why he does.

“Marry me,” He begs, “Please, honey, marry me. I’m not mad at you, I love you, please, just- just marry me, please. I can’t lose you again.”

“You won’t lose me,” You promise, tears flowing steady down your cheeks, “Honey, I promise, I won’t walk out unless you want me to.”

“I don’t,” Bradley shakes his head, his arms encircling your waist even tighter now, “I don’t want that, honey, please- please don’t.”

“I won't,” You promise, “But Brad- do you want to marry me for love, or because you’re afraid I’ll leave if you don’t?”

“I love you,” He croaks into your shoulder, and you know he’s not lying to you now, “I mean- I mean of course I’m scared to lose you. But I’m scared because I love you, and I still wanted to marry you even before this happened, before I was scared. I’m not trying to tie you down so you can’t leave, I’m trying to love you forever. It’s love, honey, I love you.”

“I love you too,” You wail, unperturbed by your messy, tear-stained, snot-streaked faces as Bradley lifts his head out of your shoulder to kiss you. It’s desperate, sloppy, and uncoordinated, but it’s the first real kiss you’ve shared in a long time, and you wouldn’t change a thing about it if you could. It’s all desperate, grabby hands and quivering breaths as you familiarize yourselves with each other again, remember what it’s like to be honestly, truly in love with each other. You’ve thrown the lies away like a hardened cast, and the bones beneath it have mended, still tender but whole again. You can’t get enough of him, you can’t take your hands out of his hair and you can’t press your chest up against his enough. He feels the same, he can’t possibly tug your hips further against his own, and he can’t dig his nose any further into your cheek or he might poke a hole there. But he wants to, so he tries.

You’re ravenous, not with desire but with love, the purest and sweetest form of it. You’re so glad to have him back, to really have him back, that you can’t care about your leg falling asleep where it’s bent awkwardly against his lap, or the stickiness of his tears on your cheeks. All you care about is Bradley, all you know is Bradley, all you ever want to know is Bradley.

He reaches for your hand while still engaged in the kiss, and you swear you feel your heart crack when you pull yourself away to stop him in his tracks.

“Wait,” You pant, wondering why he’s doing the same when he’d practically stolen the air from your lungs, “You’re absolutely sure you want to marry me? Even though-”

“Jesus,” Bradley huffs, keeping the ring in one hand and reaching for your face in the other. He squishes your cheeks together, until your lips are puckered and he can brace his forehead against your own, eyes wide and grin exasperated, “Yes! Yes, I really want to marry you, even though you left, even though you lied. I lied, too, honey. You left because you were scared, and that’s why I lied. I get it, okay? I’m not gonna turn on you, I love you. I want to marry you.”

“But- but we should work through this,” You propose, pointedly not swatting him away when he poises the ring over your marriage finger.

“Okay. We can work through it in marriage counseling,” He promises with a breathless smile, the expression wholly genuine because for the first time in three weeks, he’s confident you’ll say yes, “Because I want to marry you. Do you want to marry me?”

You’re not fucking this up a third time.

“Yes!” You gush, and you squeal when he jams the ring onto your finger, moving in for a kiss far more eagerly than you’re prepared for. It’s like being greeted by an overexcited puppy, one that’s a bit too big to be ramming into you, but that you can’t tell no. He kisses you voraciously, joining your hands together so that the metal band on your ring finger rubs against his own skin.

“I love you,” You pant, in a rare moment of being able to drag oxygen into your lungs, “And- I’m sorry. I love you so much.”

“I love you, too.” Bradley swears, kissing you again before you can murmur any more apologies, “It’s okay. We’ll be okay, baby. We’ll work through it. You were scared, so I’ll help you however I can so that you’re not so scared. And I was scared, so I’ll probably be a bit of a clinger for a while. That’s it, baby, we don’t have to break up.” He promises, “That’s all it is, honey. We can work through it. We love each other, we can do this.”

“We do love each other,” Saying it feels like a blessing you’re casting over yourselves, an affirmation that you want to say in the mirror ten times before starting your day, “I love you, Bradley.”

“I love you too, Y/N,” He hums, dissuaded very little when you turn your head to look for your phone. He presses the same frequency of kisses to your cheek as he had your lips, and you let him smooch away at your face while you hunt for the device.

“Here!” You find it tangled in the bedsheets, “Brad, let’s tell everyone.”

“Hm?” He glances sideways at your phone, “Oh. Yeah, my parents are probably worried.”

“My dad, too.” You hum, “I told him at the store earlier.”

“I told my parents then, too.” He confesses, “But- but they’re not mad at you, or anything honey, they understand.”

You marvel at the revelation, that that's the reason Carole had been so confident bidding you goodbye.

“I.. told your mom already,” You realize you still haven’t put all of his puzzle pieces together for him, “Uh, she knew before you woke up, actually. She was the one to suggest that I pretend nothing happened. She didn’t want you to be too stressed in the hospital.”

His brow furrows where he’s in the middle of kissing your jaw, and he pulls back to evaluate the new information. But he’s not angry, more exhausted. He chuckles weakly, “I told her today, she pretended she had no idea. Damn, that woman is a good actor.”

“Very good,” You agree, snatching Bradley’s hand out of his lap to curl your own over the back of it. Your hands are stacked palm-to-back, with Bradley’s resting on the blanket and yours overtop. Your ring glistens in the afternoon sunlight and snapping a picture of it is one of the most gratifying things in the world, second only to the feeling of it laying permanently on your finger. You’ll have to put this one in the photo album, the beginning of a new chapter.

Bradley doesn’t let go of your hand after you snap the picture, only flips his own beneath it so that he can hold it more securely. He puts his chin over your shoulder to kiss your cheek as you use your only free hand to type out a group text message to your family members. Bradley’s squadron will be next on the list, but for now, your family receives the shot of your hands intertwined, a ring glistening on yours.

I said yes this time.💗

feedback is greatly appreciated! comment, reblog, talk in the tags, send me a message, tell me what you think!

[gffa]

Hi, I was wondering if you had any jedi oc centric fic recs? I've had cravings recently and your recommendations always manage to scratch an itch

Hi! Ooh, this is an interesting trope but I suspect I'm going to need a little help here, so I'm doubly asking anyone who might have Jedi OC-centric fic recs to jump in! But I can also get you started! I tend to read fic that usually has the canon characters in a central role as well, but searching through my recs, I believe these ones should also be centered on the OCs enough to scratch that itch: ✦ Lucida by markwatnae, obi-wan & oc & anakin & ahsoka & bant & feemor & satine & garen & caleb & mace & cast, 75k After the start of the Clone Wars, Obi-Wan Kenobi chooses his second padawan. He meets her by chance, but the Force insists that he take her as his student. This decision turns out to be one that will change the course of the Order's future.

✦ Found Clan by silvergryphon, boba & ocs & obi-wan & anakin & cast, 25.3k wip After the Battle of Geonosis, a Jedi Healer discovers young Boba Fett mourning the loss of his father. Not about to leave a ten-year-old boy on his own, she promptly adopts him with the full collusion of her Padawan.

✦ then leaf subsides to leaf by The_Last_Kenobi, oc, ~1k You are a Jedi, and this is what that means.

✦ No Rest for the Weary by orphan_account, obi-wan & anakin & ocs, 61k Needing a break from life at the Jedi Temple, Obi-Wan Kenobi and his apprentice, Anakin Skywalker, visit a Jedi AgriCorps settlement on the Midrim planet of Helia. There they encounter new friends, new enemies and have new adventures, all while attempting to navigate their sometimes turbulent relationship as Master and Padawan. [Note: This one is probably going to be the least on-target for your request, as it's probably more an Obi-Wan & Anakin story than it is about the OCs, but I remember the OCs being nicely fleshed out and important in the story, so I'm including it on a chance.] ✦ The Quickest Way by SingManyFaces, anakin & ocs, 1.2k They say the quickest way to person’s heart is through their stomach, something that holds true for the Jedi as well.

I know I'm missing a ton and I love Jedi OCs, I love Jedi worldbuilding through the OCs and I love seeing slice of life or epic action plots or giving a familiar character a new Padawan (GIVE ME ALL THE OBI-WAN & A NEW KIDLET TO TRAIN STORIES!!!), so if anyone has more, gimme! Also, I swear there was a Jedi OC-centric fic that was being posted on a forum somewhere that came strongly recommended from the JA discord server, but I cannot find it again. I think it might have been the spacebattles forum? If anyone has a link, please send it because I want to find it again very much. (For memory, I think it was in its second story and was a couple hundred chapters long and people really liked it...?)

[goldenlikedayl1ght]

we're in love - m. murdock

a/n: hi guys not dead just played a LOT of baldurs gate over break and now im back ay college with matt murdock brainrot this ones been floating around the old noggin a while. sorry. likes, reblogs, and comments are always appreciated! <3 warnings: DEAD DOVE with a happy ending, hard of hearing reader, cannon typical marvel violence, probably badly written violence, matt being upset, once again im tired and sleepy and bad at doing warnings, reader gets kidnapped TWICE, reader has superpowers, reader is TECHNICALLY a hybrid but literally just in the way that she has small antlers and deer like abilities (strength, jump height), fucked up experiments, ANGST ANGST ANGST, memory loss trope but like... the one from the hunger games. matt is hopelessly in love with reader, reader wants to kill matt, kissing, implied sexual ideas, cursing. SHAMELESS USE OF REAL OR NOT REAL FROM THG, reader having anxiety, and allusions of sex. word count: 7.1k summary: when your past finally catches up to you, matt truly learns what 'in sickness and in health' means. pairing: matt murdock x hoh!wife!reader now playing: we're in love - boygenius "will you still love me if it turns out I'm insane?/i know what you'll say/but it helps to hear you say it anyway."

Falling in love with Matt Murdock was the easy part.

Falling back in love with him was the tough bit.

You had spent the years leading up to meeting him as a boxer turned vigilante— Your dad had taught you how to fight young, which led to a lot of trouble at school until he eventually started helping you enter teenage fights against your mom’s wishes.

It’s how you paid for college.

And then, after your college experience, you lose control. It was never supposed to happen the way it did. You had lost a fight and stole the guy’s motorcycle in defiance. But the roads were wet from an early snow and people of New York never knew how to drive.

Just like that, the nerves in your hands were shot. The accident got your hearing too since you got sick from the cold after your accident. The infection got so bad that it took the hearing from your left ear—And half from your right.

For months, you thought you’d never gain control of your hands again, snapping from a promising young fighter to a deaf and shaky temp. You were miserable. Fighting was your everything for so long.

And then The Doctor found you.

No, not the alien from the British television show, but a man who promised you your old life back. He found you while you were at your lowest and realized that you would do anything for your old life back.

He said in exchange for your old life, all you would have to do would be a test subject for a harmless new drug he was testing out.

You were so enamored by the idea of your old life that you had decided to take him up on his offer, so you were whisked away upstate with a group of other people desperate enough to try this experiment out.

Every morning you were given a shot of blue liquid into your arm, and then, you were to preform a series of tasks to record your progress. After three weeks you grew frustrated that you had seen no progress. You spent most of your time asking people to talk into your right ear and becoming mad at The Doctor.

About a month in, you started growing antlers.

At first, you freaked out. Like, truly, screamed and yelled, wanting an explanation. The Doctor celebrated, telling you this was great news—And to prove it, he had you pick up a pen and write a sentence out. Your hands didn’t shake and did everything you told them to do.

On top of the antlers and the newfound control of your nerves, you were strong—Fast, too. You could jump twelve-foot walls. The Doctor was obsessed with you. While other patients died off from whatever drugs you were being given, you were thriving.

At the end of your three-month stay, you were excited to leave and head back to your life. You’d just have to wear beanies everywhere to hide your antlers, you told yourself. A small price to pay.

But The Doctor wouldn’t let you leave.

How could he, he asked you, when you were his best test subject?

Being a prisoner was a lot worse than you thought it would be. Day in and day out, you were trained to be a soldier, you think. Fighting various guards, doing different athletic tests. The serum hadn’t fixed your hearing, but it had given you all of these gifts.

Until The Doctor became cruel.

He gave the guards these batons that had shock currents at the end of them, instructing them to use it whenever you talked back or underperformed. For months you struggled through days of electric shocks and experiments.

One night, a guard slipped into your cell, expecting you to be an easy target. You quickly showed him differently, knocking him out and stealing his weapons. And then, you ran. You ran until your feet bled—No shoes.

An old woman who had retired upstate welcomed you into her small cabin and fed you, never asking about the small antlers growing out of your head. She simply gave you a warm knit cap and a pair of boots for the cold.

You remember eating chili with her as she told you about her deceased husband. You changed your last name to theirs, knowing The Doctor would find you if you kept going by your name. You stayed with her for a weekend, coming back from gathering firewood to The Doctor’s men there, having killed the kind old woman and on the hunt for you. You stole her car and never looked back.

The next few weeks after that had been full of killing various soldiers and armies that The Doctor had sent after you, until you eventually pushed The Doctor off a building, believing to have killed him for good.

And that was that.

You went on with your life as usual, finding a permanent job as a secretary. In a law office.

Which, of course, is where you met Matt.

With Matt, you never felt the need to hide who you were. Of course, it was a lot easier to tell him that some mad scientist had infected you with a drug that turned you into a deer hybrid when he told you that he was Daredevil.

And with time, some of the effects of the serum began to fizzle out. Strength, Agility, Antlers—Those stayed. The control over your hands didn’t. But you made peace with that. Physical Therapy twice a week and hearing aids helped.

Especially because early Sunday mornings were filled with Matt running his fingers through your hair, running his pointer finger along the curves of your antlers. He takes your hands and kisses your fingertips as they shake, hushing you softly when you start crying as he does.

He spars with you and spends nights running around New York City with you, jumping from rooftop to rooftop.

He tells you about Elektra, Stick, his dad, and Fisk.

One day, when you feel safe enough, wrapped up in his arms and a layer of blankets as snow falls against the windows, you tell him about The Doctor.  You explain to him your nightmares, and why they will never go away.

He kisses away your tears and promises he’ll never let anything happen to you.

When he asks you to marry him, you don’t hesitate to say yes. There’s not a moment where you regret that decision. You insist to get married in the summer, during the short month where your antlers shed before they grow back. He agrees happily, just wanting you to be happy.

You’ve been married for about five months when you start to think about kids. You’ve been married six when you realize the worst possible scenario is your reality—When vials of blue serum show up at your front door with a note scribbled out—

‘My Best Test Subject,

I cannot wait to catch up with you soon.

-The Doctor’

You call Matt in a panic, begging him to come home and be with you. He obliges and holds you as you calm down. He promised to love you in sickness and in health, and that is what he fully intends to do.

This is the story of the greatest challenge that your marriage would face.

• • •

After the note you had received, you almost exclusively traveled with Matt. Even for just a casual stroll, a walk to the deli or home from work, He was there with you. He knew you could handle yourself, but you felt safer with him close by.

But Matt’s senses were never as focused when it rained, especially on nights like today. The rain pours, it almost stings against his skin. And it’s loud. You don’t have your hearing aids in, so they catch you both by surprise.

It all happens too fast—

In an instant, Matt is being pulled off your arm and slammed against the closest brick alley, and when he hears the click of a gun behind him, he realizes what’s happening. He tries to fight, but before he can make any process, someone is swinging that gun against his head, and when he wakes up, he’s all alone.

He calls out to you and gets no response other than thunder rumbling from miles away. He is filled with nothing but a rage, a determination to find you.

He scrambles for his phone and uses it to call Karen.

“I need you to get Frank.” He tells her, “Please. I.. I don’t know what happened, but.. He took her, I need.. Karen, I need to find her.” He tells her.

Frank is on his way to New York within the hour.

• • •

When you wake up, your arms are strapped behind your back in some sort of metal contraption. You can feel the ache in your hands, indicating that you had fought against whoever brought you here. The room is quiet. A small cot in one corner, but the rest of the room is barren.

You’re wearing white pants and a gray muscle tee, with no shoes. You’re suddenly thankful you left your wedding ring at home, so that it might not end up in his hands.

You wait a while, and then the door opens. The Doctor, flanked by two men in heavy armor, holding those batons you’re all too acquainted with, steps into the room. You simply stare, but The Doctor looks like a child on Christmas morning.

But there’s something else to his appearance. His left eye is this bright yellow, and his pupil is a different shape. Green scales travel up his neck and coat the bottom right half of his face, and down his arms, reaching his fingertips. He looks like a monster, but you quickly realize what has happened.

Whatever serum gave you your abilities, was given to him. Only, his was made from that of snakes, not deer.

“My beautiful creation!” He gasps and takes your face in his hand, planting a kiss to your head, right between your antlers. “It’s been too long, you know.” His ‘s’ sounds are elongated, and his teeth are sharper. He has become destroyed by his own mad endeavors. When you don’t respond to his greeting, he continues to speak. “It’s been an eventful few years for you, huh?” When this doesn’t get a response from you, he stands up straight and backs up just a foot. “New job, new name… New husband.” Your head snaps up at that. “What? You think I haven’t been keeping tabs on you and the boy? What do you call him, then? Matthew or Daredevil?”

Your eyes grow wide, unsure how he knows about your husband’s secret hobby.

“You don’t know what you’re talking about.” You spit, your gaze hardening into a glare.

“Don’t I? You make quite the couple. The little deaf doe and her crime fighting blind husband.” He laughs, “And they say I like a project.”

“You won’t touch him or I swear to god—”

“Little doe, you misunderstand. I want nothing to do with your husband. I just want you to be the good subject I know you can be.” He tells you. “You and I are the only of our kind. I want to study you, replicate you.”

“You’re going to kidnap more people.”

“You weren’t kidnapped, you volunteered.”

“I won’t do whatever it is you want me to do.” You tell him. “I don’t care, I will escape, I will kill you.”

He shakes his head, taking one of the batons from the guards, before hitting you across the face with it. You groan in pain, turning your head back to glare at him. He sighs.

“I didn’t want to have to do this. But I did anticipate that Husband of yours interrupting things.” He hands the baton back to the guard before telling him. “Take her down the hall and get her ready, alright?”

You struggle your way down the hall, refusing to do whatever is coming to you without a fight. When the guards uncuff you to strap you to this big dentist looking chair, you manage to get out of the grasp of the guard, swinging a punch on him but this newfound advantage is short lived, as the other guard quickly grabs your arms and pushes you against the chair. You’re yelling and thrashing but they manage to get your arms and legs strapped down to the chair.

Your heartbeat is racing, and quietly, only in your mind, you beg. But not for mercy. Not from The Doctor. You beg Matt to come find you. Because you know that you do not stand a chance on your own, but maybe he could find you. He had to find you.

The Doctor sits in a chair next to you and holds up a small purple vial.

“This is hallucinogenic snake venom, mixed with a duller version of the serum we gave you. What this will do is allow me to go into your memories and alter them.” He explains as if you’re getting a simple procedure done. Tears fill your eyes.

“You’re going to make me forget him?” You ask, your voice breaking.

The Doctor hushes you softly, wiping your tears softly.

“Oh, no, little doe. I’m going to change what you do remember about him to make you hate him.”

• • •

Six months is a long time to be without your wife. For anyone, no matter who it is.

For Matt Murdock, it’s absolute torture. He spends all day half paying attention to his work while trying to research who The Doctor is. He spends all night trying to find you.

Frank lives, breathes, eats and sleeps to find you. He’s still technically a wanted man, so he pretty much stays under the radar as he looks for you. You remind him of a lot of guys he knew in the army, of himself.

Karen busies herself with research, looking through cases of old files at The Bulletin to try and see if there are any tips or stories that could maybe be connected to where you are. She gets about as little sleep as Matt.

And Foggy has the most important job of all.

Making sure Matt doesn’t kill himself in the process of trying to find you. Because for the first two months Matt didn’t sleep, hardly ate. And as he deteriorated, Foggy reminded him that to find you, he’d need to stay alive. He needs to shower, he needs to keep going to church, he needs to keep eating. The thought of hearing your heartbeat again keeps him going.

It’s as they’re packing up to go home one night that Frank comes into the office with blood-stained hands. They all know he wouldn’t be here if he didn’t have something, so Karen asks first.

“What? What is it?”

“Buddy of mine found a file. Some private medicinal corporation funding a project for some sort of doctor doing cancer research, upstate.”

The location peaks Matt’s interest, because one of the few things he knows of your first experience is that the lab was in upstate New York.

“Okay, but—” Karen starts, but Frank hands her the file.

“Report shows the guy had scales.” He told her. “And I don’t know what you guys make of that but sounds to me like a side effect similar to the serum that was given to her.”

“Where?” Matt asks.

“Red, just—”

“Give me a god damn address, Frank.” He demands.

“I’ll drive you. Come on, things are probably gonna get wild and I don’t want you going alone.” He told him. Matt agrees, but only because he knows he can’t drive and would wind up walking to you.

“Then let’s go.” Before Frank can argue, Matt is walking out the door and going to get suited up for the journey ahead.

• • •

Daredevil is my enemy.

Matt Murdock hates me.

I hate him.

We were never really in love with each other.

These are the thoughts that echo through your mind as you wait for your next round of testing. The six-month mark is pivotal, The Doctor tells you time and time again.

Overall, you’ve made tremendous progress. He tells you that within weeks, other serums will be ready to test on new subjects. Maybe then, he tells you, he’ll promote you from just being a soldier.

Maybe.

You almost don’t hear the alarm going off somewhere in the distance. Of course, you don’t. The serum has never helped your hearing.

The way you remember it, Daredevil, a man who once claimed to love you, fought you to the point that he destroyed the nerves in your hands, destroyed your hearing. It’s fuzzy now, but you know this: The Doctor helped you. He put you back together.

But you do hear the alarm, eventually. It concerns you; it means someone has broken into the building. Your thoughts linger on the masked vigilante that haunts your nightmare. You’re getting stronger to defeat him, The Doctor says.

It’s a cool summer night when whoever it is broke in, breaks down your door. You immediately stand, quickly identifying Frank Castle, a grin breaking across your face. Closely behind, you identify a man in red.

Your heartbeat races, but you just stare at the pair.

Matt strips off his helmet and approaches you, wanting to make sure this was real. That you were real. His hands find your cheeks, and tears fill his eyes. He says your name gently.

“I found you, I’ve got you…”

You blink, unsure of what sort of cruel teasing that was.

Because in an instant, your glare hardens and you’re pushing him against a wall, starting to throw punches at him. He’s too far in shock to react, but Frank is pulling you off of him, and you’re struggling against him.

“Let me go! I need to kill him! He’s evil, he needs to die!” You cry, and Matt is just saying your name softly, in absolute disarray. What had they done to you, his sweet girl?

Frank pins you down to the ground, unsure of why you, a woman he had perceived to be so in love with the man behind him, are so adamant that he dies.

“Enough, Enough!” He barks, grabbing your chin and forcing you to look at Matt. “That is your husband, girl. Stop acting like he’s torturing you when he is not the one whose been experimenting on you for six months!”

“Let me go, I need him gone! He’s cruel, He’s a monster!” You cry, and Matt has started crying. Putting you both out of your misery, Frank hits you in a way that knocks you right out. Matt goes over to your now unconscious form and pets your hair.

“Why was she—”

“I don’t know.. I just don’t know, red. Let’s get her out of here to figure it out, okay?” Matt just nods and grabs his helmet, slipping it on so Frank can’t see him crying anymore.

• • •

If you had a nickel for every time you woke up tied to a chair, you’d have more nickels than you had fingers.

Today is no different.

You’re surrounded by people you don’t recognize. And one you do. Your angry glare stays on him, and he looks upset by it.

You’re unsure why. You’re so sure he just wanted you dead.

The blonde woman in front of you says your name softly. When your gaze shifts to her, you notice her soft eyes.

“How do you know my name?” You ask.

She frowns.

“It—Because we’re good friends.”

“I don’t know you.”

“You don’t… My name is Karen.” She says softly. She goes over to a nearby shelf, pulling out a picture frame and showing it to you. “Here, that’s you and me. At your wedding.”

“My wedding? The one that he set up just to hurt me?”

Matt remembers you telling him that you had never been happier than when you were getting ready for your wedding.

There’s two other men, one held you down while you were meant to kill Matt, but the other one.. You vaguely remember him standing next to Matt when you got married.

He speaks next.

“Matt and Frank, they found these vials in one of the labs. We think the man that took you used it to... to alter your memories.”

“Why would The Doctor do that? He helped me.” You tell them, unsure what to make of this whole situation. Matt is growing extremely frustrated because he knows just how scared you were of that monster.

“Untie her.” Matt tells Frank, and everyone looks at him like he’s crazy. Including you because you know that you’ll just try and kill him. “Do it,” he tells him again and very hesitantly, Frank does untie you. When you’re free from the rope, you step forward to go towards Matt, but Frank grabs your arm.

“Don’t,” he says. But then, Matt reaches for Frank’s gun on the nearby table and hands it to you. Odd choice for a man you want to kill.

“Go ahead.” He tells you, facing you now. “Shoot me, kill me if that’s what you really want to do.” He says. You stare at the gun in your hand for a second, before holding it properly and aiming it at Matt. Everyone waits with bated breath to see what you’ll do.

Pull the trigger, you tell yourself, The Doctor’s voice echoing around your head. He hurt you, the voice says. He needs to die.

And yet, you just stare at the man on the other end of the gun, trying to build up the courage to kill him. To kill the man that for months you have been taught needs to die. That you have memories of hurting you, of maiming you.

Your hand tremors as tears fill your eyes, until you eventually drop your arm, so the gun isn’t pointing at him anymore.

“Look at the photo of you and Karen,” Matt tells you, “You have hearing aids in the photo. I didn’t do that to you, you got into a bad accident, you got sick and that’s how you lost your hearing. I had nothing to do with that. You even had your powers before me, you didn’t just get them in the past six months. The Doctor is an evil man who just wanted to torture people and turn them into science experiments.” He tells you, and you want to tell him to stop, that it’s not true. But something in you tells you not to. “I love you,” he says gently, and you flinch away from him when he says this.

It breaks his heart into a million pieces. Absolutely shatters it.

“I don’t know you.” You tell him.

Sensing that Matt doesn’t know what to say to that, Frank steps forward.

“Hey. I’m Frank, you remember me?”

“You pinned me down when you found me.” He sighs softly.

“Yeah, well.. You have memories of when the two of you got married, right? So those are real memories… What about the ones of him hurting you? Do they look any different?”

You take a moment to close your eyes and really focus on the memory you have so closely attached to the man in red. They’re.. Filmy. Like they have a filter on them or like glass shimmering in the sun.

Tears fall from your eyes as you open them, your hand quickly coming up to wipe your tears.

“I think we did enough for now.. She needs to rest.” The man whose name you don’t know, but he has this shaggy blonde hair. Then this question comes up in everyone’s mind—Where will you stay?

“I’ll take the couch,” Matt says, “You take the bed.” You don’t know how comfortable you are with being alone with Matt in this apartment, even if the memories are fake. They feel pretty real.

“I don’t know if—” Karen starts.

“I.. It’s fine..” you say softly, and that fills Matt with a fraction of hope. “It’s just over night.”

Frank sighs softly, taking his gun off the table and glancing at Matt.

“We’re only a phone call away, alright?” Karen tells him.

It feels sort of awkward that they only talk to him as if you can’t hear them. Well, you can’t hear them very well, but you can hear.

“There’s clothes for you in the bedroom,” Matt tells you, “Go take a shower and I’ll walk them to the door.” Very reluctant to turn your back on Matt, you make your way to the bedroom to gather your clothes and go to shower.

You really haven’t had a good shower in six months, so it’s nice to wash the dirt off your skin and from beneath your fingernails. You spend a long time under the hot shower, letting it burn your skin. Your whole life has been turned upside down because you’re slowly coming to terms with the fact that Matt Murdock isn’t your sworn enemy, and that maybe.. he just.. does like you..

Meanwhile, Matt walks the others out, or at least to the door, hesitant to go too far from you.

Foggy glances back to him before he leaves, curiously.

“How did you know she wouldn’t shoot you?”

He hesitates.

“I didn’t.” he says softly. “I just trusted that somewhere within her, my wife still loves me.”

• • •

Later that night, you stare out the window of his apartment at that bright billboard. You gaze at it curiously, and hear Matt call your name gently behind you. In his hands, he holds your hearing aids.

You put them on, and just look at him for a few minutes.

“You kept them?”

“I never stopped looking for you..” He told you. “I prayed every night hoping to hear your heartbeat again.” He tells you, and you don’t know what to make of it. He seems so devoted to you, yet you have these memories of him beating you until you’re close to death.

“I’m sorry I can’t be in love with you the way you want me to be.”

He shrugs gently.

“In sickness and in health, right?”

“And in torture and memory alteration.”

“Same thing.”

For the first time in six months, you smile.

Maybe your husband isn’t such a bad guy.

You can only hope he’ll love you long enough for you to get your shit together and not want to kill him anymore.

• • •

Memories are a tricky thing.

You decide to spend your days with Frank, hunting down various people who worked with The Doctor. You talk a lot about your memories with him. And no matter what, at the end of the day, you have dinner with Matt.

One night, he brings home Thai Food.

“We had this for our first date,” he recalls. “You got pad Thai, your favorite.” You try to recall the memory.

“You wore a nice blue button up, right?” You say softly. He smiles gently and nods.

“Yeah. I did.” He says gently.

“Can..” You hesitate. “Can you tell me more about it? Our life together? I can’t.. discern between what’s real and fabricated.” You’re making new memories, sure, but you know he misses the life the two of you had together.

But he’s caught off guard by your request. For the past few weeks, you’ve been hesitant to indulge in any memories you think might be real.

“You used to work for me.” He tells you. “Not in a weird way, but our office is small. We fell in love over Thai food and opening statements.”

“Why did you want to marry me?”

He hesitates for a second, not wanting to scare you off.

“Because I love you.” He tells you. “Because when you were with me, it was the closest thing I’d ever knew to peace.” He confesses.

“Oh..”

“Yeah.” He takes another bite of his food. “You know if you have a memory and you don’t know if it’s real, you can always ask.”

You smile softly.

“Thanks.” There’s a soft silence that fills the room before you ask, “I have this memory of us in bed, with you running your hand through my hair.. Your fingers tracing these antlers I have.. Is that real?”

“Yeah, it is..” He promised. “I have a thing about textures and your hair is soft.”

“I’m glad.” You smile. This is nice. This gentleness that’s between you. It’s a softness you aren’t used to, one that you don’t know if you’d ever quite get used to.

Later that night, when you were meant to be fast asleep, you wake up with a startling gasp in bed. You look around panicked. You don’t quite know who you’re looking for..

Until Matt comes into the room, a concerned look on his face.

“Are you okay?” He asks, and this calmness washes over you.

“Yeah..”

“Okay. Okay, good, I’ll be in the living room if you need me.” He says softly. He’s been so good to you, sleeping on the couch for so many weeks. He goes to leave, but you call out to him. He turns back to you.

“Can you stay with me?” You ask.

“Yeah, of course.” He says softly, climbing into bed with you. You think for a second, before shifting a bit, resting your head against his chest. You listen to the gentle thud of his heartbeat, as his hand finds your back, gently rubbing up and down. “Do you want to talk about it?”

He isn’t dumb—He knows you have nightmares. And that on the nights that you do, you’re quieter and more avoidant of him. It’s a bad habit, one you want to break. Because you recognize that your dreams aren’t real.

Matt has never done anything to you, and you’re sure of this.. For the most part. Sometimes when you wake up, you must reorient yourself and remind yourself that Matt has no malicious intent towards you and no reason to hurt you.

But it takes you a few minutes to accomplish this. On those mornings, you tend to keep your distance from him, and because Matt wants nothing but your happiness, he stays away from you. But tea is always placed in front of you, and he never strays far from you.

“Not really.” You finally answer. There’s another beat of silence. “We went as the couple from The Princess Bride for our first Halloween together.. Real or not real?”

“Real.” He confirms.

“You broke my nose once during an argument. Real or not real?”

“Not real.” He tells you. “I would never hurt you. Even when we used to fight at the gym, it was always for practice, never to do actual damage. And when we would spar, it would always end with us going home and taking a hot bath.”

You close your eyes, trying to recall that particular memory. When you find it, your face flushes with this unfamiliar heat.

“You’re still trying to protect me even though I wanted you dead... Real or not real?”

“Real.” He doesn’t even hesitate. He’s not sure if you’ve realized it yet, but he’d rather die than put you anywhere close to being in danger. His hand continues to trace patterns into your skin, as you think about his response.

You fall asleep like this, close to the man who you’re realizing has never intended to hurt you a day in your life.

• • •

The day you realize you’re in love with your husband is horrifying.

Which seems like a crazy accusation to make, and yet, you feel nothing but horror when you realize that you are desperate for him. Which is insane, because you’ve been living with him for two months when you realize you are desperate to kiss him like you’re drowning and need air.

It happens at the office. You decided to cook, because you remember really liking it, and to say thank you for all he’s done for you, you want to bring lunch to Matt at work. So you make this really delicious chicken pesto pasta, and you pick up sodas to go along with it. Matt gets the following text:

‘Your favorite soda is Dr. Pepper. Real or not real?’

Five minutes later, you get a response.

‘Real. Yours is sprite.’

You pick up a bottle of each and head over to his office. You’ve been there a few times before, but mostly it was because Frank needed to talk to Karen about something, but lately you’ve found yourself wanting to go to the office just to see Matt.

Matt is surprised when he hears the familiar beat of your heart on the other side of the door. He can also hear the slight buzz of your hearing aids.

“Sweetheart, you can come in.” He calls, but you hesitate even further. Not because you’re confused as to why he knows it’s you, but because your brain sort of short circuits when he calls you the pet name. But after a few minutes, you walk into the room and place lunch on his desk, as well with your drinks.

“Do you like pesto?”

“We had pesto pasta at our wedding.” Oh.

“So you do?”

“Yeah, I do. Especially the way you make it.”

“Oh, good.” You smile and sit at the chair on the other side of the desk. “Because I made chicken pesto pasta for lunch and figured you might want some.”

“Well, thank you for thinking of me.”

There’s a quiet calm between the two of you.

“This is a pretty killer first date, huh?” This makes Matt laugh, because in his mind, your first date was eating Thai food and listening to music. But this isn’t bad either.

“Well, Chivalry must be dead then, because I didn’t even buy you flowers.” He hums, and you tilt your head.

“I don’t remember you ever buying me flowers.” He frowns at this.

“Well, I’m going to have to fix that.”

And that’s how the afternoon goes. You sit with Matt in his office, eating a homemade chicken pasta and falling in love with him. As you go to leave, he asks you what you have planned for the day.

“I have some errands to run, but I should be home to make dinner.” And for a moment, Matt forgets all that’s happened, and he lets himself believe that you have all your memories of him perfectly intact and no one’s ever made you think otherwise.

You get back to the apartment a few hours later, and just as you’re unpacking your groceries, there’s a knock at the door. When you open it, a delivery man stands with a bouquet of flowers. Your face is warm as you sign off on them.

As you put them in their vase, you notice a note attached to it. You catch yourself grinning as you read his little note, that reads ‘I’ll buy you flowers until I’m old and wrinkly. Real.’

The urge to run back to the office and kiss him overwhelms you.

So you call Frank.

This leads to the pair of you, sitting at a booth in a diner, nursing coffees and toast.

“I hope you didn’t call me here just to complain about married life.” He tells you, making a joke out of the thing that terrifies you.

“No, I just wanted you to sit here talking to a chick with antlers so you can look like more of a freak than you already are.” You tease.

It gets you both laughing. These moments, in between all the nightmares and all of the filmy memories, fill you with a light you can’t quite describe.

“So, why’d you really call me to meet up?” He asks. “I have to assume you don’t just want to chitchat.”

“I think I’m in love with Matt.” You tell him. He raises an eyebrow.

“What? Why does that sound like you think it’s a problem?” He asks.

“I don’t know.” You confess. “It’s like I don’t want to love him, like a part of me still believes he’s the bad guy. I know he does.. Besides, I was so awful to him for so long. I pointed a gun at him and he still comforts me every night. What if I don’t deserve this?” You ask. “What if I don’t deserve him?”

Frank actually laughs—Okay, not like a giggle or a belly laugh, but it gets a good chuckle out of him.

“You and Red with that shit—Questioning if you’ve done enough for something good to happen to you. With the ‘Do I deserve this?’ and the ‘Am I worthy of this?” He shakes his head. “All that shit is irrelevant. Do you want it? Do you want to be with him?”

Tears fill your eyes as you realize what that means.

“You and him, you love each other like breathing, and I know you don’t quite get that yet, but it’s the same reason you didn’t shoot him that day. Something in you knows that you love him and deserve his love.” Frank is speaking from experience, because he knows that no matter what he’s done, he knows he deserves one more kiss from his wife.

But he’ll never get that chance.

He hopes Matt does.

• • •

It takes you a long time to make your way back to the apartment. When you get there, Matt immediately stands from his place on the couch and has this look of concern etched across his face.

“Is everything okay?” he asks gently, “Your heart is racing, I just want to make sure you’re safe and—"

“I’m fine.” You smile gently. “Really, I… Thank you for the flowers.” You tell him. His face softens.

“You like them?”

“I love them, Matt.” You confess. “I’ve spent.. So long trying to rationalize everything, sort out the real things from the things that aren’t..” You’re not too sure what you’re trying to say. “I just.. I want.. I want to try. I want to try and be with you, I’m ready for that. I’m ready to be happy with you..”

He hesitates. Not because he doesn’t want to, because he doesn’t want you, but he is worried that you’re only saying these things because you feel like you might owe him. You don’t. You don’t owe him anything other than what you want to give him, and he is desperate for you to know that.

“Sweetheart, You don’t.. I don’t need.. I don’t need you to pretend like you want me just because I’ve taken care of you. It’s more than enough to just—”

Matt is cut off by his first kiss from you in eight months. Your hands rest on the sides of his cheeks, and his arms are quickly around your torso. The kiss is passionate but soft at first—Until you push deeper, desperate to be as close as you can to him. Your hand even comes up to pull off his glasses to see his eyes.

Without thinking, you pull away from him only for your hand to come down to the hem of his shirt, going to pull it off.

“Off, off, off, off—” You softly request, and he just laughs, taking your hand in his, pressing a kiss to the back of it.

“Stop. Wait.” He says gently. “I just.. I want to make sure you actually want this.. That you really want me.”

“Why wouldn’t I?”

“You’ve been reserved for the past two months, rightfully so, but now you want to sleep with me.. I don’t want you to do something you’ll regret. Or something you do just because you feel lonely or bad that I—” You cut him off with another kiss, breaking it shortly after.

“I want you. I want to rebuild my life with you. I want to create new, untainted memories.. It won’t be easy, but I want to be with you.” You confess. “I want countless summer nights, I want you to be there for all the nightmares, I.. I want to give you the same peace you’ve been trying to give me.”

You’re both crying and you don’t quite know why. He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a gold band. He slips it onto your fingers and kisses you again. He holds the hand with your wedding ring on it as he leads you into the bedroom. Into your life together. Into your arms. Where you were meant to be.

The next morning, you lay in the quiet of your apartment, the silk sheets tickling your skin. You focus on Matt’s breathing. He traces patterns into your skin.

“What are you thinking about?” You ask, and he takes a moment to answer.

“You.” He says gently. “You’re all I’ve been thinking about for three years.” He says gently. Then, when you don’t say anything, “Our anniversary was two months ago..” You know he misses the life you could have had together.

The life that he had planned out for the pair of you in his head. The life that oh so quietly, he longs for. The one without nightmares, supplemented by the laughter of any potential children you might have.

“I could get used to thinking about you, too, you know.” And it makes him laugh, as you lean up and bite his shoulder gently, before placing a kiss to that same patch of skin. He swats your arm gently before the pair of you break down into giggles.

“In the future, if you ever.. don’t want to do that, you don’t have to.”

“I know.” You tell him.

A comfortable silence fills the air again.

“I’m so happy you came back to me.” He says gently. “I was.. I spent so long worried that.. that we’d spend years just trying to find our footing again. That you wouldn’t get better..” For the second time tonight, you cut off his overthinking with a kiss.

“I love you.” You tell him when you’re finally ready to pull away. The morning light shines into the apartment, giving Matt this glowing effect. He practically shimmers in the golden light, and you just take a moment to commit the look of him to memory.

You try and take your time, studying him. He’s so beautiful this time of day.

“Real or not real?” He asks you softly, as one hand snakes up to your hair, his fingers gently running through it.

You lean forward and place a soft kiss to his lips.

“Real.”

[neonscandal]

I keep thinking about where the chasm between BKDK really started. We know it's when Bakugo manifested his quirk, developed an attitude problem and the humbling that took place at the river.

What if the reason Bakugo became so incensed when Deku tried to help him was less his concern about being perceived as weak and more about looking at his hand, in that moment, and feeling that accepting it would carry more weight. He's always taken fear and unfavorable odds right on the chin even when up against upperclassmen when he was just a pipsqueak and his other friends lauded him for it. Even as he kept tears at bay. But suddenly, there's this person who's looking at him with concern in his eyes and an outstretched hand and it no longer feels like the hands they caught bugs with or hands that ripped open All Might merch together. There's a frightening connection there and Bakugo feels seen and embarrassed that it's come to him in that moment, when he was already feeling a bit sheepish. He didn't know what grabbing that hand would mean, but perhaps he recognized a distinct difference between the "friends" that would watch over his triumphs from afar versus the friend who would climb through the muck with him.

But this feels too much like person A bullies person B due to unresolved feelings and internalized homophobia and I hate that problematic ass trope.

Instead, maybe, he processed a different internal shift. Rather than feeling conflicted about Midoriya, perhaps he always knew where he stood there. Midoriya was never one to bite his tongue over how amazing he thought Bakugo was. Midoriya was always brave in that way. Even when he was powerless in the situation that unfurled before him, he would step in nonetheless and with tears in his eyes. It's what All Might would do. Sometimes, Bakugo wondered if he would too. Izuku always tried to rise to the occasion and, as they aged past the point of his quirk manifesting, it became apparent that their paths would no longer run parallel. It's something they didn't talk about but it gnawed at the growing distance between them. They carried on until that day on the bridge. Bakugo was shaken up but he played it off for the onlookers above; however, he was astounded to find Izuku and that outstretched hand of his. For a minute, he might have wondered "what's that hand going to do for me?" but what if he saw Izuku in all his pure, quirkless fragility and, rather than feeling looked down upon, he felt a cowardly sense of concern. Like, "Rushing in like this is going to get you hurt, Izuku". It was silly, sure. While the bridge was high, the water was shallow, not much harm could come to him or Bakugo. But would Izuku always chase after him like that? Recklessly? "You're no hero, Izuku. You weren't made for this like I was. I can take a hit, but what about you?" Wondering whether the very hands that would make Bakugo a hero one day could actually, in that moment, cause Izuku harm with his unreasonable temper and Izuku's relative weakness. Maybe he didn't trust himself and couldn't come to terms with some far off loss he'd never thought to imagine. So he scoffed at the only hand that had ever been extended to him, the only person who saw him as someone who needed saving because he hoped to break Izuku of that senseless desire to help.

It didn't. No amount of chiding or bullying would make Izuku yield to his own weakness, even if Bakugo thought it was for his own good. After a while, it was simply a pattern between them too broken to correct but we know that that day in the river became a core memory for Bakugo. Something he twisted in his mind to justify his mistreatment of Izuku for so many years. Something he finds himself thinking back on at the edge of his life when one is consumed with thoughts of what matters most. Perhaps, in some way, it became somewhat of a guiding light, as well. “Will I ever measure up to the person you were who chased me down into the river?”

[whumpsday]

Kane & Jim #50: On Your Own

Chronological masterlist / Writing order masterlist

content: angst, parental death, kids grappling with newfound orphanhood, religious angst, pandemic, discussion of foster system, very vaguely referenced past child abuse, flashback to hospital setting

takes place 4 years before You're Mine Now. the hardest time of Jim’s life pre-Kane. he doesn’t like to think about it very much. this isn’t really ‘whump’, more ‘angst’, but i hope you enjoy it anyway.

@amonthofwhump​ March Trope-A-Thon Day 5: Sickfic / Fevers / Cold/Flu / Headache / Blankets & A Hot Drink

Jim kind of expected someone to come after the funeral. A social worker or orphanage owner or however this shit worked. Did orphanages still exist, or was that just in movies? He never thought he'd have to think about it.

But no one came.

Well, people came. His friends, Mom and Dad's friends, Rabbi Geller, other people from temple, Liz's friends' parents, even Liz's teacher from the elementary school. They brought food, and said I'm sorry for your loss and May their memory be a blessing so many times that the words lost all meaning.

It felt like the kind of thing Mom would tell him to just be polite for, but Mom wasn’t here. Mom would never be here again. It still didn’t feel real.

But that wasn't what he meant. Someone was supposed to come get them, right? Because he was only fifteen, and Liz was only eleven, and they didn’t have any other family. Right?

Someone was going to come help him, right?

Liz was a nightmare. Jim felt like he didn’t even have a second to think. He was used to watching Liz- Mom and Dad worked long hours, after all- but now it was all time, especially because they hadn’t gone back to school yet.

She was throwing another tantrum. Jim felt like they were only getting worse. He cringed as a plate flew into the wall, shattering with a crash barely audible above Liz’s incessant screeching.

“Lizzie, you gotta stop. You’re too old for this.” Jim fought off his pounding headache as he got right in front of her, blocking her as she reared her arm back to throw another.

“No I’m not!” she yelled, darting to the side and throwing the plate as hard as she could, shattering it against the wall. Tears streamed down her face.

Jim let out an exasperated groan. “Stop! Yes you are! Go to your room!”

“You can’t tell me what to do!” Liz ran back into the kitchen.

Fuck, she was gonna get another plate. Jim ran after her, blocking the cabinet. “Yes I can! I’m in charge now, go to your room!”

“I hate you!” Liz shouted. She kicked him in the shin before running up the stairs, slamming her door.

Jim rubbed his temple, his headache only getting worse. He thought about breaking into Mom and Dad’s drink. It wasn’t like anyone was around to stop him. But he didn’t.

Instead, he fought back tears and grabbed the broom and dustpan. He was tired of crying. Just when he was finishing cleanup, Liz appeared at the top of the stairs, holding her bear tight in her arms. She hadn’t carried that thing around since she was 6, but things were different now, he figured.

“You calmed down yet?” he asked.

“Sorry.” She squeezed her bear tighter, avoiding eye contact.

Jim shrugged, dumping the last of the shatters in the trash. “It’s cleaned up now anyway.” His eyes drifted over to the stove. “How about I make some hot chocolate?”

“But it’s summer,” Liz protested half-heartedly.

“Who cares? We’re sitting shiva,” Jim pointed out. “Do you not want hot chocolate?”

“...I want it.” She sat herself on the couch.

This was something he could do without fucking up, at least. He barely even had to think about it, just focus on the steps. Set some whole milk over heat. Cocoa powder, sugar, a dash of vanilla, and the part people always miss: chocolate chips and a little bit of cinnamon.

He poured in some half-and-half to make it extra creamy and cool it enough that Liz wouldn’t burn herself, and topped it with some mini marshmallows before bringing the mugs out, handing one to Liz.

“Thanks,” she mumbled, sipping immediately without blowing on it.

“You’re gonna burn your mouth, stupid,” Jim chided lightheartedly.

Liz rolled her eyes. “No I’m not ‘cause you always put extra milk in after.”

“Because you never give it a minute to cool down!” He ruffled her hair. “No more throwing shit, okay? Or if you need to, use stuffed animals or something. Why’d you do that, anyway?”

Liz was quiet for a long moment, sipping her drink. “I dunno,” she mumbled.

“How about next time you wanna do that, come get me. We can make it into a game, yeah? We could play catch or something. Not with plates,” he suggested.

“It’s not supposed to be a game.” She took another sip, eyes too stormy for an eleven year old.

Jim took the blanket off the back of the couch and draped it around Liz’s shoulders. “Okay. Come get me anyway. We’ll figure it out.”

-

No one from the government came. Even after a week. Even after they were done sitting shiva and Jim made Liz start going back to school, another nightmare of an argument.

He wished he could’ve asked Mom or Dad for advice. Liz almost always listened to them, at least about the important stuff. It felt like someone was tearing a fresh shred in his heart every time he missed them.

After he finished walking her, he turned and made his way to temple on a whim. He only went to temple a couple times a year, on the holidays when Mom wanted everyone to go as a family. He hadn’t even brought his kippah. But he doubted anyone would really care, and he needed advice, and it was this or a teacher, even if Jim hadn’t talked to the guy since his bar mitzvah. Before the funeral, that is.

“Hey, Rabbi Geller.”

“Good morning, James.” The rabbi gave him a sad smile. “How are you and your sister holding up?”

“Uh, y’know.” He shrugged awkwardly. “I was wondering if I could talk to you for a sec?”

“Of course. Let’s go to my office for some privacy.” The rabbi led him to the office and gestured for him to sit. “What can I do for you?”

“I’m not here for anything, uh, spiritual or whatever,” he clarified quickly. “I just needed some advice about something. Um, is someone gonna... come get us?”

The rabbi’s brows furrowed in concern. “No one’s come to get you? Who is it you and your sister will be staying with? I know Beth said she didn’t have much family...”

“Mom and Dad were both wards of the state or whatever,” Jim said awkwardly. “Kinda thought we would be too, now. But, uh... no one came. I wasn’t really sure what to do. Plus Liz is throwing things and refusing to go to school and stuff.”

“I’m so sorry you’ve been left floundering. I should have been there to see to it.” The rabbi sighed. “Things have been hectic. This flu’s taken quite a toll. It’s lucky you even caught me here. If you ever need something and can’t find me, the funeral home’s likely where I am.”

Jim knew he was one of the lucky ones. He and Liz both got sick too, but they recovered. It was no wonder they all got it, with Mom being a nurse and all. He didn’t really feel lucky right now.

“The government... tends to overlook this town,” the rabbi continued. “No one wants to come here, even during the day when it’s safe. I can certainly get in touch with people for you and make sure someone gets you two set up in a foster home. I’d just like you to think about your options first.”

“Options?” Jim questioned.

“James, do you remember your bar mitzvah two years ago? I sure do. You were very well-spoken.” The rabbi gave him a kind smile.

“Uh-huh.” He kicked his feet, unsure where this was going.

“A bar mitzvah is when a boy becomes a man, as we discussed. Now, I certainly don’t believe a thirteen year old boy to be a man in the modern day, nor a fifteen year old boy. But you are the man of the house now, and you’re going to have to make some adult decisions no one should have to make at your age.”

The rabbi sighed again, his breath full of grief. “The foster system isn’t known for its kindness. I’m not sure how much your parents have told you of their own experiences. Children your age aren’t likely to be adopted, and you’ll be spit out three years later and possibly separated from your sister. Since no one’s come to claim you, one option you have is to continue living where you are. Your parents managed to buy a house here, and you won’t get much from its sale, if you’re able to sell it at all- again, this town is not most people’s destination."

Mom and Dad didn’t like to talk about their childhoods much, and Jim never pried. He figured that if they didn’t want him to know, he didn’t want to know either.

“This isn’t a decision you have to make right away. You’re grieving. Someone from the state may come to collect you yet. Both options have their benefits, and I don’t want to force you into either one of them. Just know that I’m here if you need anything I can provide, and that God is watching over you,” the rabbi said warmly.

Jim could barely hear anything over Liz’s crying and the sounds of the hospital. One of the nurses was trying to pry her off of Dad’s body, but he was too focused on Mom to pay much attention.

She wasn’t conscious anymore. Her last words before she fell asleep were ‘I love you’, and that scared him, because he knew she probably did that on purpose.

He prayed and prayed, despite his unsure feelings of God’s existence. It was the only thing he could do. Tears streamed down his face as he offered more and more words to the higher power Mom believed in with her whole heart, his voice still raspy from his own recently-gotten-over flu.

He wasn’t sure whether it was the ringing in his ears or the flatline until a nurse pushed him out of the way.

“I don’t really believe in that stuff anymore,” Jim muttered.

“Yes, I imagine you might not. That’s perfectly normal.” The rabbi gave him a pat on the shoulder. “Still, I’m certainly real, and I’m here for whatever you need.”

Jim knew that didn’t include taking them in. Rabbi Geller had four kids of his own, and no one lived here if they had a lot of money.

“Thanks, Rabbi. Um, thanks for the advice. And for not just calling the government on me and letting me pick and whatever. I’ll think about it.”

-

Liz was being a brat again after Jim walked her home from school. Before Mom and Dad died, she only had bad days every once in a while, but now it was every single day. Wild mood swings where she’d get angry and even violent, before she calmed down and apologized tearfully.

Part of him, the part he’d never dream of voicing, almost wanted to take Rabbi Geller’s offer to help them get placed in a foster home in the hopes they do get separated. He didn’t know how much more of this he could take.

But he knew he didn’t actually want that.

“I’m sorry,” Liz said, helping him tidy up the living room after she’d finished trashing it. As if reading his mind, she asked, “You’re not gonna go too, right?”

Maybe she could just sense how irritated he was. But it was right then and there his mind was made up.

Jim smiled at her. “I’m not going anywhere.”

-

taglist to be added in reblog!

[talesofsonicasura]

Fierce Mergence

An idea that came to me involving the Fierce Deity mask. We all know that there is some kind of entity inside the powerful item which during Majora's Mask and Hyrule Warriors cause the wearer to take its form. However in Breath of the Wild, it was just a mild powerup. (Reminder that it's a Amiibo based item and not actually canon.)

I can only suspect that after sometime between Hyrule Warriors and Breath of the Wild, the Fierce Deity entered a catatonic state or hibernation. Here's some important info to know about complete sensory deprivation. It can be used as a form of therapy but only for short amount of time. Too much will cause serious psychological effects on someone such as dementia (which can explain any possible memory loss).

You see the brain breaks down rational thought structures to minimize stress which however results in a psychotic breakdown afterwards. Imagine being trapped for so long without those vital senses? God or not, that is true hell to even the Fierce Deity.

Hence the catatonic state, his power locking his conscience away cause I'm pretty sure no one wants to see what happens when a god has a psychotic breakdown. That's my theory for why the mask doesn't act the same.

Now for to the actual topic here. What if the Fierce Deity fully fused with the current wearer? I don't mean like possessive type fusion but a purer version. Where two people fully become one: mind, body and soul. The entity wanting to escape their hellish imprisonment at any cost.

Two characters that come to mind is Breath of the Wild Link (Wild in Linked Universe terms) and Majora's Mask Link (Mask/Time in Linked Universe terms). Now if you guys are fans of the Fierce Dadity trope... here's a way to make it sad.

Fierce (or Valion as I prefer to call him) performing such a fusion to save his current wielder especially if that Link is a son in the god's eyes. Most of Link's being is front and center but everything that is Valion becomes consumed. Godhood's already a tough pill to swallow but when it costs your father...

Yeah, neither Mask/Time or Wild are gonna be okay for awhile especially the latter when you look at BOTW. If you don't want to go for the Fierce Dadity route like this but still want to use such an idea then here's a fun twist.

Mask/Time becoming the Fierce Deity thanks to over usage of the mask. It becomes harder and harder to take it off. Whenever it is removed, there are lasting changes such as increase in height, hair beginning to whiten and eyes losing their natural features.

For Wild, this comes from the constant upgrades given by the Great Fairies. The Fierce Deity Mask subtle gaining enough power alongside Valion gaining just a bit of conscious to perform a fusion. An unexpected change as Wild just wanted to wear his new outfit more, not become a God of Battle.

The Fierce Deity does want a chance to live again even if he's just an echo or hidden conscious. Reason why he does this to these Links is because of who they are as a person. Neither of them would use such power for personal gain but to genuinely help others.

Some folks in the fandom see Fierce Deity as a war god so there are important aspects that must be known. War isn't always started just for the hell of it. It is often for the sake of others whether the intentions are good or bad. War has its own heroes: soldiers, medics, to even the citizens themselves.

Hope, pain, sorrow, faith, joy, grief and rage are also emotions connected to this very concept. Both Links embody nearly all of this so they are perfect candidates in Valion's eyes. The Deity's seat is now empty so someone should take his place. And if that successor takes on a child, it just makes things better cause they now have a reason to avoid the same fate.

That's all I have for now. Until next time folks, I'll see you back in Hyrule.

Edit: I forgot to add that you guys can try your hand at this concept! I don't really mind at all as I'm curious about what people can come up with. 😀

[takaraphoenix]

Queerplatonic Jupiter x Percy, an AU in which Jason, who was dating Percy, died in battle with another monster, Percy works at a flower shop and [not very successfully] tries to cope with the loss of the love of his life, Jupiter meanwhile feels something strange about the sea brat.

For the first time, he ignores him with the royalty and arrogance worthy of his expensive wife - a cup of instant coffee and a dry muffin interests him much more than the king of Olympus in the youthful appearance of his peer. If you ask Jupiter what he needs from the sea brat, he will answer that he just likes to look at Perseus Jackson's pretty face and exhale the soft scent of jasmine and sea salt coming from him, although in fact Jupiter does not know and understands what he wants from him at all. For the second time, Perseus deigns to look at him and say, - "Damn it, at least buy flowers for your queen, stop looking, I'm going to lose my job so soon because of you." His voice is hoarse, but melodious and warm, like hot tea with honey, tired and infinitely sad sea-green eyes shimmer and shine like seawater in the rays of the sun. Jupiter suddenly wanted to turn this marine offspring into a bird and keep it next to him on Olympus to hear him sing, but save his eyes to admire them. He buys the most expensive composition and gives it to Juno, his wife is filled with tenderness for him. during intercourse with her, he still wants to listen to Perseus Jackson sing and see how his eyes shine and shimmer. The third he breaks, no, he comes broken Perseus Jackson would rather strangle himself than allow someone in whose veins flows pure ichor, undiluted mortal redness, to see his pain. His delicate pale caramel neck is tightly wrapped in white bandages, the neat nails of his beautiful fingers are broken off and blood is frozen on them with a dirty crust, almost healed scars and very fresh wounds timidly peek out from under the wide sleeves of his shirt. Jupiter really didn't watch him do this to himself - just watching it and his own inability to help take pity on him, deprive him of pain and turn him into something eternally sleeping was painful. "Please," his voice is still hoarse and warm, the purest silver ringing in Jupiter's ears, "just hug me, do nothing, just hug me... You look so much like him." Jupiter, to his amazement, obeys him and does not want to take anything in return. They sit down on the sidewalk near the flower shop, — Perseus presses his trembling back against his chest, hiding his face in the curve of his elbows, tears moisten the fabric of his shirt, Jupiter covers them with his jacket and presses his lips to the top of Perseus' head, his hair is soft as silk and smells like hot chocolate. The rain gently washes them, the rays of the setting sun fall on their bodies, they are unacceptably close and Jupiter feels the lightning inside him reaching for the seething stream in Perseus' soul, was this what his son felt from Perseus' proximity? if so, Jupiter could understand him, he wanted it to last forever, or at least to seal this moment forever in your memory.

Hey, hello! could you please rate and voice your opinion about my letter - beginner anon.

So, generally people send a "hey, would you mind reading over sth I wrote because I'd love feedback?" first, and wait for the reply, instead of dropping 500+ words into people's askbox.

Because I do not do major character death. That's not my jam. I'm not reading stories that deal with people losing the love of their life and having to cope with that, that's the anti-thesis to what I look for in a fic. So I am the wrong person to give you my opinion or "rate", whatever that means in the context of fanfiction, this, since the very theme of it gets negative points from me.

I wish you good luck with your writing though, and there is always someone whose favorite trope or theme something is! This is just not for me. ^^°

[capricioussun]

papy request! choose for every diff pap a different fanfic trope <3

Oh boy fanfic tropes uhhh okay okay I will do my best! I’m not super well versed in fic and tropes so bear w/ me here lol

.

Rus (undertale) - devoted knight. Not to one person, rather a cause. His friends and loved ones, protecting them, taking care of them, by whatever means he has.

Edge (underfell) - collapse. He works himself so hard, it was bound to happen eventually. He’s not going to learn his lesson.

Stretch (underswap) - overheard at the worst possible time. Whether it was his secret spilled or he found something out he wasn’t meant to, I feel like Stretch is very good at finding himself in the wrong place at the wrong time without fail.

Copper (swapfell metal) - (platonic) slow burn. He’s a stubborn asshole but with enough goofing off and late night talks, he might open up a little, and be better off for it.

Ghost (fellswap glass) - framed. Uh oh! Looks like you’ve been framed for a crime you didn’t commit, and now it’s up to you and you alone to find a way out of this. Good luck!

The rest under the cut!

Uno (glitchedswap) - disappearance. It’s been many years since the sudden unexpected disappearance of Papyrus Gaster, but the hole his absence left still seems to be growing.

Heartfell Papyrus - soulmate birthmarks with a twist. That twist being that…he doesn’t seem to have a mark. Oh dear.

Lace (lovefell) - heartbreak in the rain. Self explanatory.

Rosewood (mafialovefell) - curse. He’s had a curse put on him, and only true loves kiss can break it...

Boss (mafiafell) - isekai. I would love to put his ass in a situation. /j but seriously. “Medical malpractice”. He is subject to experiments beyond his control. It does not end well.

Luck (mafiaswap) - lost the bet. Like rags to riches but in reverse. Will he be able to climb back to the position he once had?

Hawk (mafiatale) - poison. Uh oh! You’ve been poisoned. Is this gunna end at the hospital or the morgue?

Dove (horrortale) - second chances. He deserves a new lease on life, after everything…right?

Rust (horrorswap) - memory loss. He loses his memory in a terrible accident…but maybe that’s for the best.

Dusk (horrorfell) - life candles. And his has almost run out…

Ice (invertedfell) - (platonic) forced confessions. Trapped with a friend in dire circumstances and after a point, all they have left to pass the time is talking.

Clover (sweetswap) - flower shop. He’s always loved how colorful flowers are, even if he’s been partially colorblind since his accident.

Pictoris (outertale) - arranged marriage. But maybe it won’t be so bad after all..?

Aurigae - (platonic) slow dance. He gets pulled into dancing by a friend. He was having a terrible day, but…that helped. Maybe more than he’s even willing to admit.

Antares (outerfell) - space pirate. Is this a trope? I honestly don’t know but I love the concept and am standing by this.

Elester (demonfell) - absurd meet cute. He’s a demon, he needs to be placed in the story by extreme means, right?

Dos (glitchfell) - ghosts of the past. Something from his past is haunting him, and he can’t outrun it forever.

Void (vesselfell) - [redacted] coffee shop. He likes coffee :*)

[liesonthefloordramatically]

you know that I continue to be feral for news of hualian fake dating and also I'll tell it right this time I swear.... but if you'd prefer a different one, oldseph character study?

(ask game over here)

Rowan, you are very sweet, so, guess what, you get snippets of all three.

Hualian fake dating: I feel like pretty much every bit from this that's viewable is in fact something you have already seen, but here we go anyway. At least half of this fic is Hua Cheng Going Through It because he's in a fake dating fic while Xie Lian has the entire TV Tropes page for fake dating pulled up in his mind at all times. I love Xie Lian and I love writing him from an outside perspective even more. He's so frickin' weird.

“I’m sorry if I’m prying,” Xie Lian says, not breaking eye contact, “but...I know what it’s like to be lonely.  I wouldn’t wish that on anyone.”  He smiles, a half-hearted, lopsided jerk of his mouth.  Xie Lian smiles so much, but so often his smiles are there to make him look harmless–a quiet, gentle, ever-smiling trash collector.  Someone easy to overlook.  Someone not worth the effort.   “I’m sorry that gege is lonely,” Hua Cheng says, because it’s easier than addressing the rest of it. Xie Lian’s gaze drops again.  “I’m not lonely anymore,” he says, and maybe there’s real happiness behind his small smile this time.  “I have you, don’t I?” Hua Cheng’s throat works, but no words come out. “And Shi Qingxuan,” Xie Lian continues, oblivious to Hua Cheng’s floundering.  “And Fu Yao and Nan Feng.  And Lang Ying and Ban Yue!  I have so many new friends.” “Good,” Hua Cheng says, far too fervently.  “Everyone should love gege.” Xie Lian looks up again, that strangely penetrating gaze.  “Mm,” he says, and then very quickly changes tacks.  “And you have your beloved.” Hua Cheng’s too aware of the proprietor furiously wiping the table behind them long after it should have been spotless.  “You are my beloved,” he says, and if his voice trembles, he can blame it on stage fright. There’s no blush this time, strangely–just Xie Lian watching him, just Xie Lian’s thoughts hidden behind his unreadable face.  Then, an apologetic smile–and Hua Cheng can see the performance now, the moment when Xie Lian chooses to make himself small and harmless.  “Right,” Xie Lian says.  “Ah, where is my head tonight?”

I'll tell it right this time I swear: the premise of this fic is simply "can I craft a fic that is custom-engineered in a lab to make Rowan lose it." (Slightly more serious explanation: it's a fic about grief and memory and iterative storytelling. there's a lot going on here, don't worry about it.)

You don't answer. You haven’t had to explain yourself to anyone yet. Lucy understood--or she understood enough not to ask. You were grateful, at the time, too scraped raw by Gyro’s loss to even be able to imagine retelling it. Maybe that’s why there are no words when you reach for them. Maybe you just haven’t had enough practice sketching the hole Gyro left behind. (Maybe it’s none of their fucking business.)

Oldseph fic: fun fact: I think I started this one before I started writing linear time is fake. when I say it takes forever for the words to coalesce I am really not kidding. the number of things in this one that are me going "I've connected the dots" about things that literally no one cares about is wild, but please have the opening of the fic (complete with my incomplete sentence because this is how my process works).

The morning after they’ve made it back to Japan, Joseph rolls out of bed (literally rolls, because the bed is on the floor, which is insane and he hates) with a crick in his neck.  It’s not surprising--as his grandson loves reminding him, he is old, and the bed is on the floor for some unfathomable reason and plane rides have always wreaked havoc on his body, even when he hasn’t literally wrecked them. If you kept up with your hamon practice, this wouldn’t happen, a voice inside his head nags, and he stubbornly ignores it, as he always does.  He could [whatever], but hard work and routine are near the top of the list of things Joseph can do without.  Still, sometimes hamon can be useful, especially when he needs to get a crick out of his neck. Joseph makes sure his posture is more or less correct.  He takes a deep breath.  For a moment, it feels like all his blood is running backward through his veins, and then a moment later the pain spreads from his chest to his torso all the way to his fingers and toes.  It’s indescribable--like liquid fire, like his skin is going to blister and slough off.  Joseph’s breathing stutters, his energy shuddering out of his grasp, and just as suddenly as it started, it’s over, and he just feels like he’s been sunburned from the inside out. The morning after they’ve made it back to Japan, Joseph discovers that being pumped full of vampire blood has some unintended consequences.

[uldren-sov]

Infamous ask meme for miss camy 🎤🎶: Do you have headcanons about their friendship and/or romantic relationship (past or future)? What do you imagine some of their best memories are? What do you think some of Seven’s favourite things about your MC were/are? & What does their singing voice sound like? Do you have voiceclaims(s) for them?

tytyy!!! I only have the one comm of Camy so im not going to do what I normally do and add a pic

Seven

OUGH. Well with their friendship I imagine that Seven was her one friend for like almost the whole of middle school, I imagine she was teased a lot of pushed to the side a lot due to her unwillingness to open up or engage with others. Which is why she turned hard to music (and I imagine it was kind of her one solace by being so alone.) So the idea that Seven understood that kind of loneliness and had similar coping mechanisms likes meant that she opened up to him and really no one else in those days. I also imagine when they were young they went on like lil adventures, getting into places they shouldn't have; it's not like they had anyone home for them, so might as well explore their neighborhood and beyond. Also imagine that they could have some tropes and probably in MS/HS is when they started sleeping together (literally tho lol) here and there. Camy's parents were always traveling or when a parent was home they were still absent. So she would sneak out on some of the worse nights, the really lonely nights, full of dread and frustration and despair, and find the one other lonely heart she knows will get it. So she'd sneak to Seven's house (sometimes breaking in through his window) and sleepover. And there might have been a time where Seven was like "bro NOT tonight Im having [this month's crush] over 😏" and she's just like ............WHY AM I SO UPSET ABOUT THIS??? THIS SUCKS SM??? IM HAVING A NORMAL REACTION TO THIS, WHATEVER!!!! but texts back like "wow your loss🙄" I think they started their relationship when she was in college and was living in her own place (and they were ROOMMATES) and I think some of their best memories were just impromptu jam sessions at their place, spontaneous plans/trips/concerts that they would go to, and just generally performing together. I THINK some of the most favorite things are just how sure of herself she became, how confident, esp when he knew where she really came from. She's not afraid to do new things, try new things, and she was sure to make sure he was along for the ride. There was never a dull moment and she also about as eager and affectionate as he was.

Voice

SOOO gotta preface by saying my taste in music is SO NORMIE so lmao don't judge me I imagine Chaos Anthem is a mix of like 4 parts Paramore, 2 parts Spiritbox, 2 parts In This Moment, 1 part Santana, 1 part Halestorm But her voice is generally Courtney LaPlante (who can sing like this and go v.hard rock too) with a dose of Hayley Williams.

[m1d-45]

Hey I love your writing!!!!!! whenever I see it on my dash I always get ready to read another banger!!!! Btw idk if you have any opinions on Xiao but DID YOU SEE HIS RECENT TEASER??? THE ANGST THE SADNESS!!! SO GOOD any thoughts? Spare thoughts? 🥺

I HAVE SO MANY THOUGHTS ABOUT XIAO YOU HAVE NO IDEA

i haven’t seen the trailer but i watched it rn for this ask and oh my GOD

ranting under the readmore bc i am having EMOTIONS

(oh and thanks for the compliment!! lovely to know i’ve created something you enjoyed <33)

i have an ask i’m 100% gonna use as an excuse to do a character study on him because he’s… he’s so…. ough…

‘an instant of negligence, and it will turn me into one of the monsters i swore to purge’

aisdnekdfn i have NO IDEA what this trailer is abt bc i am not a xiao haver (started genshin mid his last banner, by the time i knew what i was doing it ended) but he…. ough…. he’s so afraid of himself just because he does his job i- ‘you became the very thing you swore to destroy’ type beat but this time it’s sad and tragic because he truly believes himself to be something dark and prone to shattering, cutting through the ones closest to him, not the typical ‘i’m better than i was then’ mentality that usually comes with this trope!! he treats himself like a live bomb and he’s so terrified that the weapon he uses to defend will turn on those he loves-

i can GUARANTEE he left bubu pharmacy because he didn’t want baizhu / qiqi to ‘waste’ medicine on him because he probably feels a sense of obligation about it, it’s his burden to bear and not one they should shoulder for him (it isn’t he deserves a moment of peace and a break from his never ending duties xiao pls be kind to yourself)

‘it’s good to take the mask off once in a while, even just for one night’

i have NO IDEA why venti’s here but he is so right. also related but venti and xiao need to be friends. i don’t know about their canon relationship bc i have neither of them but… ugh…

venti clearly has issues for a variety of reasons, notably being afraid of being a tyrant, and his near need to not be overbearing meshes so well with xiaos fear of poisoning those around him… they both cope in horrendous ways but like…. god… emotions in the club tonight…

like…. the two of them, sitting on the roof of the inn, watching the sun rise. venti has a bottle of dandelion wine and xiao has a lukewarm, untouched plate of almond tofu besides him—verr goldet brought it to him but he hasn’t brought himself to have it yet. he’d sat himself up there around midnight, venti joining him not an hour later, but only a few words have been exchanged. venti said hello, xiao asked why he was here. he had shrugged, popping the cork on his wine easily, settling down with a slightly exaggerated sigh, “same as you, i suppose. caught up in a memory that won’t leave.”

xiao winces, slightly, almost embarrassed he was seen through so easily, but venti doesn’t press it. he knows the feeling, the oppressive weight of failure weighing on him just as strongly as it does on him. he feels bad that somebody so (comparatively) young has to experience so much tragedy and loss, but…

he glances at his vision, the glass reflecting the moon.

the two sit for what most would consider far too long in silence, only the occasional slosh of wine passing between them. memories weigh heavy on nights like these, and neither is quite ready to address it yet.

venti starts, his voice far dimmer than usual. a long-forgotten name falls from his wine-soaked lips, wrapped gently in eons of affection. he’s repeated the story of the ‘nameless bard’ a thousand times, always on quiet nights like these ones, with only the stars as his witness, but… surely an audience of one doesn’t hurt.

besides, he thinks bitterly, the sweet wine not doing much to take the edge off his mood, it’s not as if anybody else remembers.

the silence once again stretches, but it’s only a few moments before xiao speaks up, his voice uncharacteristically soft. he does the same, repeating the names of the ones he’d lost, and the wind picks up slightly, as if carrying some of the weight for him. he glances at venti, but he’s looking at the roof tiles, allowing him the moment—the memory—to himself.

he feels odd, telling stories of bloodshed and broken bones after such a soft friendship, but whenever he pauses for a moment too long, a soft breeze brings him the smell of cecelias, and the words he was looking for are found.

he feels lighter, slightly, for having shared, a small chip of his self-imposed burden lifting. normally, he’d probably feel guilty for dumping this out in the open, but the night is warm and he doesn’t find himself minding the company all that much.

the night passes, spent in a comfortable, nostalgic quiet. xiao’s plate is clean, now, and though the texture of the dessert is off and his lip curls, it’s still as sweet as usual. venti’s bottle is similarly empty, hardly a drop left inside the stained glass. the cork is lost, having fallen somewhere, and even in the growing light of dawn, neither can see it. if they do, they don’t reach for it.

venti sighs, not one of contempt or regret, but of sorrow. sometimes he wishes there were more hours to the night.

xiao watches him stand, with little intention of following. he should probably get up as well, stretch so his arms aren’t too sore when he goes out later to clear out demons…

barbatos offers his hand. after a moment, the last yaksha takes it.

[verkja]

No | rather not | I dunno | I guess | Sure | Yes | FUCK yes | Oh god you don’t even know |

Uhhhh *ponders*

Buried alive

Memory loss

Dehydration

(Yes, both of you got the same ask, sue me)

Thanks for the ask - from this ask game! CWs for brief discussions of the tropes mentioned above.

Buried alive: FUCK yes

Assuming it doesn't turn into just regular buried (dead)! There are a lot of features to enjoy here - isolation, not knowing what's going on outside, anticipated death, physical discomfort due to being cramped into a small space... If the character is in a coffin or something, there's always the classic 'bloody hands from trying to break through the top,' as well, which is a very good look.

Memory loss: I guess

More like 'depends.' If it's permanent and reoccurring, it's more tragic than whumpy for me, so I really need to be in the right mental space. If it's something more short-term, or possibly one big bout of memory loss (so someone has to 'start from scratch' so to speak), it still isn't my favourite, but I can enjoy it.

Dehydration: Yes

The dizziness and weakness which can come with this are a lot of fun. I also appreciate its versatility in terms of cause; could be due to environmental whump, or to deliberate torture, or to lack of adequate care in captivity, etc.

[royalsweetteaa]

Two for one

Pairing: fratboy!Johnny Storm x best friend!reader

WARNING - the following story contains: eventual explicit smut, thigh grinding/penetrative sex, oral sex (F receiving), love confessions, angst, eventual fluff, best friends to lovers trope, jealous!Johnny, reader being shy/insecure, family friend!Bucky Barnes of reader, Bisexual!Bucky Barnes, Steve Rogers makes a brief appearance.

Pt. | 1 | 2 | (complete)

Summary: You and Johnny have been best friends since primary school and you’ve had a crush on him for the longest time. When you reach college and it becomes clear your feelings are one sided, you try to move on. Imagine to your surprise when Johnny expresses his dislike to that.

Johnny’s POV

24 hours later and her words still rung in my head, over and over again like a broken recorder.

“I love love you.”

“I love love you.”

“I LOVE love you.”

When she confessed to me yesterday right outside of the cafeteria, I was left standing in utter shock. Somehow it had never crossed my mind.

Her, the smart, well-educated and prettiest woman beyond body and soul I knew, let alone my best friend being in love with me, a foolish, impulsive fuckboy who doesn’t know what I’ll be doing by the end of college. It just didn’t sound reasonable nor believable, yet here we were.

So much made sense now. There were so many scenarios I could recall where I should have known she loved me beyond being friends.

A specific situation comes to mind when we first settled down in college which was about two years ago, and she came by my dorm to be met by one of my nightstands at the door, asking who she is. I quickly rushed over and greeted her with a dopey smile as I told the other chick to gather her stuff and leave. Y/N looked incredibly upset, and me being an idiot thought she was just embarrassed and mad I hadn’t warned her about someone else being here with me. It ended up with her saying she doesn’t feel well and we decided to move our hangout for another day.

Shit. How could I be this clueless?

Tonight was Saturday, and yet another party was being arranged at Fred’s clubhouse. This night might just break the streak of me always coming over, by any given opportunity.

For the first time in my life, as I sunk my body into my bed, I realized I was feeling something.

I was feeling incredibly sad. I would almost call it being depressed, and that was a rare emotion for me to feel.

The memories of all the times I would sleep in her dorm when I was too drunk to get to my own and she would offer the bed while she slept on a floor mattress, but of course I never let her. I would convince her to sleep on the bed with me, and when she was convinced enough, we would sleep so close to each other because it was so natural for us to do so. Waking up with her by my side and sober was a privilege of its own.

Something memorable that has been haunting the deepest parts of my mind without me realizing it was when we skinny dipped late at night as means of celebrating our graduation of high school. We had our towels on, covering our naked forms right before we left it flying behind us as we jumped down off the deck. We promised each other beforehand to only look into the water and not at each other, but I had broken that promise by a split second of entering into the water.

I saw her, completely naked, the moonlight defining her figure so beautifully — I almost forgot to pull myself up to the surface when we were beneath.

God, she’s breathtaking, I remembered thinking.

All of these memories made me miss her so much. This week has felt like an eternity, and I was drained despite doing little to nothing the whole week.

I started to ask myself if everything I was feeling had a deeper meaning to it. Did I perhaps love her the same way? Or was this only grief over the temporary loss of my best friend? Am I unknowingly attached to her?

I have never been in love, and I don’t think I will ever learn how to love through anyone else other than her. Then again, I knew it would be unfair to her to keep on false hope when I wasn’t 100% sure of myself. The last thing I wanted was to further fuck up our relationship and to hurt her.

She was right about one thing; she wasn’t a little girl anymore, she had said the night we split. After she told me she had a date, I knew I had lost what was once an unconscious grip I had on her.

I still didn’t want to loose that grip, but I knew it wasn’t fair for her. It’s true when people say you don’t truly know what you have until you loose it.

Suddenly, my phone rang from my nightstand and I lazily reached out to answer it.

“Hello?” I asked, not bothered to check up the person behind the call.

“Dude, where are you?”

I recognized it as Rick’s voice, one of my pals.

“At my dorm. Why?”

“What?! Why are you there? You know it’s Saturday, right?”

“Yeah…I’m too tired to be partying at Fred’s tonight. Y’all enjoy yourselves though, okay?”

“Ah…alright we will.” I was about to hang up but Rick added something that caught my attention. “I just assumed you had to be here somewhere because even that girl friend of yours is here. Guess she came alone with that guy I see she has her arm on.”

I rose up from the bed immediately and frowned. “Wait, Y/N’s there too? Who’s she with?”

“I don’t know man. Just some pretty guy with long, brown hair. Why?”

I hung up, not bothered to answer and waste more time. I had to get myself ready for the party.

2nd person POV

“Rad party. Is it really this awesome each Saturday?” Bucky, your family friend asked, amazed at the environment.

“I suppose, yeah…” you replied while you scanned the area.

You and Bucky didn’t hung out often outside of your family gatherings, but you have known each other since childhood, and Bucky had contacted you this evening as he was in town for an internship. He was by two years older than you, and you weren’t super close, but somehow Bucky radiated that energy of being a trustable person, so you were comfortable to update him about personal topics such as your current relationship with Johnny, especially since he wasn’t a part of your college community. He was perhaps the only one who knew about your feelings for Johnny before you confessed him yesterday about it.

“Well, I appreciate you for taking me here. Wouldn’t know where to go without someone who’s familiar with the place. I’ve heard about this clubhouse but haven’t gotten around to spend a night here. I hope it wasn’t a bother, especially since you mentioned a particular person likes to come here often.” Bucky said, looking apologetically at you.

You shrugged and gave him a reassuring smile. “It’s fine, I don’t think he’ll even notice me if he’s here too. Besides, I’m more focused on finding the most handsome guy in this building and shoot my shot.” You said, saying it more as a causal joke but with a little seriousness to it.

You weren’t going to lie and say you didn’t have a mission of your own. Despite Johnny’s last week fiasco, talking and dancing with Charles had increased your confidence, and you had a goal of getting yourself known as a single woman, looking for a competent partner. Of course you weren’t expecting to find a guy right away. It was a process you had to be patient with.

Bucky smirked. “There won’t be a shot to shoot if I find him first.”

You gasped dramatically. “You wouldn’t dare!”

“Let’s make it a challenge, doll.”

A good half an hour later, Johnny entered the clubhouse, looking in every space and corner for you and the mystery guy you had apparently brought with you. It must be the guy she said she was going on a date with yesterday, Johnny thought.

At the side lines of where people were dancing, Johnny finally saw you and turned sour when he saw the guy fitting Rick’s description. You were even talking to a third guy — a blonde and quite tall one. Johnny recognized him as Steve Rogers who had recently come from the military to further pursue his education in college. He had heard a description of him repeated by many of his one nightstands; he was a man of women’s dreams.

“Fuck”, Johnny muttered under his breath.

He didn’t know why he was even here. Again his impulsiveness had put him in action. Somehow he thought he could walk up to Y/N and….— well, he didn’t even know what he would have done or said.

“Oh, Johnny, how nice to see you, baby. Was wondering where you were. The party just isn’t fun without you around,” a woman who’s name might be Claire or Clara said behind him as she walked in front and wrapped her arms around his neck.

He only knew her as someone he had slept with two weeks ago, and having her on him like this set him with a different and uncomfortable feeling he wasn’t used to.

Only a week ago, he was craving for all the female attention — yet somehow he was completely put off by it now, in a time of hurry to resolve the issues he had with Y/N.

“Oh, hey, - um yeah I’m not in the mood right now so if you could just…remove your hands away from me..” Johnny said with a timid smile as he picked her arms up and made her detach from him.

Her facade of a bubbly bimbo quickly turned off as she clearly took offense to that. “What’s your problem? I thought we had a great time last we saw each other.” She said as she placed her hands on her hips and narrowed her eyebrow.

“Yeah, I just don’t do that stuff anymore. Now move along.” Johnny said hastily, loosing his patience.

The woman gasped at his unbothered reply. “Asshole! What, you found someone special? You know what, — Whatever. Whoever has you wrapped around their finger wouldn’t settle down for a manwhore such as yourself.” She spat, and tiptoed her way in her high heel shoes.

Johnny was left feeling very insecure of himself with what that woman had just said. He felt empty of how he couldn’t even defend himself because it was true.

I’m just a fucking manwhore who’s been wasting my time, getting my dick wet because I could.

Shame. Yet another emotion that was awakening in him and something he wasn’t used to at all. Johnny never felt shame. He was an honest man who when he had needs, he pursued for satisfaction. But what did it help now? Was it really worth it?

He lifted his head up to see the guy with long brown hair heading to the men’s restroom. The blonde guy - Steve, had disappeared, leaving Y/N alone at the drink servings where she ordered a grape-flavored fanta. Still, while she’s here with her own reasons, she refuses to drink alcohol because in her own words, ‘it tastes like shit’. Bless her heart, he thought.

Johnny decided to follow Bucky into the restroom, seeing as it was his only opportunity to inspect him now that he was finally separated from Y/N. He made sure to avoid being seen by Y/N or his friends as they would announce his presence to the whole crowd if they saw him. He had come at the right time as Bucky was just about to walk over to the sink and wash his hands. Johnny played it off casually and went to the second sink away from where Bucky was standing, keeping a gap between the two men.

Johnny pretended he was checking for any imperfections on his face, picking up some paper to pretend he was wiping away something from his mouth.

His eyes subtly studied Bucky — specifically his neck, face and hands for anything that would indicate he and Y/N have passed second base.

No hickies…no bite marks…no scratches….

Somehow the thought of Y/N having sex with another guy made him ill. He hadn’t at all considered Y/N having sex, let alone even losing her virginity. He knew he had no right as he’s one to talk, but he couldn’t help it. The fact that he knew little to nothing about Y/N’s sexual experiences made him feel like even more of an awful friend, but then again she hadn’t ever opened up about it herself. She would literally skip sex scenes in movies just to avoid seeing them because she thought it was embarrassing, and Johnny only found her innocent demeanor to be hilarious.

For a long enough moment, Bucky audibly sighed and made eye contact with Johnny through the mirror. “I know what you’re doing, and supervising me won’t get you anywhere.”

Johnny stiffened, not at all prepared to be called out for his actions.

“Johnny, right? I know who you are. I’m not after Y/N, if that’s what you’re worried about. Though I don’t see how it’s any of your concern since you are, or should I say you were only best friends, no?”

Johnny scoffed. So he isn’t her date but just a friend, he concluded in his head. “We’re still best friends. We’re just..going through stuff.”

“She told me as such. She’s trying to move on but you can’t seem to stop her from doing so, am I right? What, you’ve caught feelings for her too but you don’t want to commit but you also don’t want to let her go? How do you think that’ll work out?”

Johnny pursed his lips, before he chuckled, though it was obviously one out of annoyance. “You don’t know shit, pal. You think you have the right to open your mouth and talk about our relationship like you know everything. Well you don’t, and you’ll never know her the way I do.” Johnny spat, getting quite irritated by the guy. He stepped closer, to which Bucky rolled his eyes at Johnny’s immatureness.

“Listen man, if you’re going to go after every guy that hangs out with Y/N, you might have to ask yourself a few questions as to why you’re doing it. Is it because you love her the way she loves you? If so, you gotta cut the shit and tell her. You also have to think wether you’re willing to drop your fuckboy lifestyle for her, because there ain’t no way you can have both. That’s just not how relationships work.” Bucky explained, with hands up in defense. “If you’re simply protective over her, that’s fair. But don’t get in the way of her having a good time when you always have. It’s hypocritical.” Bucky ended his discussion of advice and gave a condescending pat on Johnny’s shoulder before leaving the restroom, leaving Johnny to ponder heavily on what he had just been told.

Of course he knew he couldn’t have both. He didn’t want to have both either. The question was wether or not he was deserving of the one thing that mattered more.

When he walked out to the crowded space, he had no aim on where to go. He simply walked around mindlessly, not a single thought bothering him but the environment kept him uneasy.

He leaned against a wall in front of the dance floor, his eyes wandering at random couples - some grinding their bodies together in a sexual manner while others were twirling their partner for fun. He was tempted to drown himself in alcohol to not have to deal with his current dreadful emotions.

Then, his eyes caught on something that would make everything feel even worse.

She was there with Steve, slow-dancing as it was apparent they were in the midst of having a conversation. She was smiling at him, biting her lip occasionally of whatever Steve was telling her.

Johnny let out a shuttering breath as he felt what could only be described as excruciating pain through his chest.

This is what she’s been feeling this whole time.

An unfamiliar sting of a sensation in his eyes made him squint, and that was when he felt a single teardrop drip down from his cheek.

He had to wipe under his eye and study the wetness as if he couldn’t believe he was crying himself. He looked back and saw she saw laughing at whatever joke Steve had whispered in her ear.

His head was cleared up with a single reassurance that he held onto as he let the tears continue to stream.

She’s now going to be happy. You’re going to be so happy for her. Just wait and see.

For once, Johnny had won over his impulsiveness, and had convinced himself he should leave Y/N in peace. The way she wants. If this was the last time he would see her without her even sparing him a glance, he would accept it for her sake. She deserves this.

Right just before he was about to leave, Y/N and Steve rotated while they danced, making her ultimately face what was to the side of Steve’s broad shoulder.

Y/N’s POV

He was right there, staring back at me, in a way that put me so off edge.

Why was he crying? Even more notably - why was he smiling all the meanwhile? Why were all the feelings I had managed to ignore in record time coming back to me by at the mere sight of his face?

I had never seen him like that, let alone seen him crying as if you were breaking his heart.

He gave a sheepish wave and that same reassuring smile he always wore on his face when he didn’t want me to worry about something. This time it was anything but reassuring though.

My eyes followed him as he walked away, not glancing back even once when he walked out to the exit. I grew distressed as thousands of questions were swirling through my mind with a single command, begging me to check up on him.

As I faced the man before me again, all I could see was him. Those same blue orbs were staring right back at me, and it might as well have been Johnny in my eyes. A wave of emotions hit me as I felt myself getting stuck between the surroundings of many people. My breathing was getting shallow, and all I wanted now was to leave.

“U-um..I’m sorry, Steve, I think I need a little air. Thanks for the dance though.” I told Steve, and he kindly let go of me without question.

I rushed out of the clubhouse after Johnny in a hurry, and was relieved to see he had yet to reach his car which was still a few feet away from where he was.

“Johnny.” I nearly whispered his name, but it was no doubt audible to Johnny’s ears as the outside world of the clubhouse was one of silence.

He turned around at my calling. “Y/N?” He stood still on the same spot as I walked closer and studied his bloodshot eyes.

“W-Why are you crying?…Why did you…why did you leave like that as if….”

As if I’ll never see you again?

I couldn’t pick a question of which I first wanted an answer for.

He swallowed thickly as he shook his head and wiped his cheeks from any moisture that still lingered. “I don’t know….I guess I just realized then and there as you were dancing with that man that…— you were right. You aren’t a little girl anymore. And I’m not a little kid anymore either, yet somehow it’s taken this long to realize I’ve been nothing but a fool for wasting my time with things that didn’t matter and hurting the one person I love the most, —

— that person being you.”

2nd person POV

“I’m sorry, Y/N. For everything. For not picking up all the times your face fell when I was flirting with other women. For embarrassing you last Saturday night and ruining your chances with that guy. For having to contain your misery in order to keep our friendship going while I was doing shit out of satisfactory convenience. I’m so fucking sorry.”

You sniffed, wiping a tear right as it was about to shed down. You had become so emotional by everything Johnny had said — it would almost be inhuman to not be crying. You couldn’t resist it anymore as you wrapped your arms around him, giving him a hug out of appreciation for pouring his heart out to you. That he was as much as crying over the guilt which you never wanted to lay on him. “It’s not all your fault. I never told you anything, and it was obvious you couldn’t tell. I know you would have cared otherwise. Besides, it’s your life. You are single and have every right to do as you please.”

“I know….” He said with a sigh. “But I still feel compelled to ask for forgiveness because it still makes me undeserving of you, and a selfish part of me wants you to forgive me so you can give me another chance. Because as it turns out, I think…..—

— I think I may be in love with you too, Y/N.”

Your sorrowful face turned into a glare as you pulled away — unsure if he was being serious or pulling an off putting prank.

“Johnny, I’ve loved you since primary school and endured every time you’ve admittedly slept with several women at the same time. You don’t love me the way I love you.” You said sternly, hoping he would understand love wasn’t a word to throw around.

He nodded, agreeing to your statement as it was only fair. “Maybe not with everything you’ve been put through, but I want to love you that way. If it counts, I was willing to leave tonight without bothering you because I love you too much not to disrupt your chances with someone who deserves you. I know that I don’t truly deserve to be forgiven, but we’re standing here now, together. — And I believe an ‘us’ is possible if you would give me a chance now that I know there’s a possibility for us to be.”

You shook your head as you faced the ground, a sob threatening to arrupt once again during your most important conversation of all time.

“We can’t, Johnny. I’m scared…I don’t want to loose you as my best friend…” your voice cracked as you buried yourself into his chest once again, trying to hide your tearful face. He stroked your back and kissed the top of your head before he rested his chin on you.

“Lovers can still be best friends….you’re the only woman I’ve emotionally connected to in a way that ruins me if we’re separated for too long. I long for your voice and your touch….your gaze as you stare into my eyes with your beautiful ones…I hope you know I’ve meant it all the times I’ve called you beautiful. Back to when we were dressing up for Halloween and you were a princess with your cute little tiara on, — and look at you now; you’re all grown up into a lady. Still so beautiful. So pretty.” He whispered at the near end, giving your hair a few strokes for comfort.

You looked at him timidly and let out a breathless laugh as you wiped away the tears that you knew had smeared your mascara. “I always thought you said it to be nice…”

Johnny frowned, almost offended you would assume such a thing. “I wouldn’t call you beautiful if I didn’t think you were, tootsie. You think honest little me would have thought of lying about how pretty you are? We’re talking about the same kid who asked one of the old teachers why she had saggy tits. I had no filter whatsoever, baby.” Johnny said with a chuckle.

You couldn’t help but laugh out loud as the memory was brought back to you. He was making you laugh away your sadness, like old times, you thought.

You took a deep sigh after, now having the courage to look at him again in his eyes. He could only smile with content back at you and put a hair strand behind your ear as it was in the way of your eyes.

“I love when you laugh….I’m so fucking sorry I led you on. You didn’t deserve to wait this long. I was too distracted to notice how you felt, but you need to believe me when I say I have always cared about you. I love you, Y/N. I want to the same way you do, anyway. I can’t define what love is but I know you’re the closest I’ve felt to it. Give us a try. I promise, I’m willing to give up everything I once called my way of living in a heartbeat if you give me a chance.”

You sniffed once more, though you seemed to have come over your emotional wave. “I don’t know….I guess we’ll have to see if we work over a first date.” You said, adding a wink and a mischievous smile. He returned it with a smirky laugh as he clearly had an idea from that witty head of his.

“How about we get out of here? I actually have a place in mind where I want to take you. Will you allow me, princess?”

Of course you did. After all, how could you resist him when he was asking with that charming face of his?

You drove a good half an hour out from the city before you were driving along cabins and farms. You were sure you had seen the same houses before with the same late night lighting coming from the moon alone. You had requested for a hint of where he was taking you, but Johnny could only smile at you as he gave you the short reply of;

“You’ll know when we get there.”

While on the road, you had texted Bucky, apologizing for leaving on a short notice and to let him know you’re fine. You felt bad for leaving Steve too when you had been getting along the short time you spent together, but you knew he easily could get a new girl to tag on his arm with how handsome he was. There was really no other person you would rather be with than being with the person sitting right next to you.

Johnny pulled over to a small road, and the memories were soon clearing things up to you once you saw a lake with a long deck attached to the land.

You gasped in disbelief that this was the place Johnny had thought of this whole time. “We’re here? But why?”

“Because, we’re going skinny dipping, tootsie.” Johnny announced with a grin. “Just like what we did when we celebrated our high school graduation. A special place of our own.”

“So, this has become like our very own spot, huh? Or have you been sharing it with other people too?” You asked jokingly, only to regret it immediately.

“I would never. Trust me, this is only ours….— and I guess whoever owns that fancy cabin up that hill. Guessing they were the ones to set up this nice deck. I’m sure they don’t mind sharing though.” Johnny chuckled lightheartedly.

He reached out for your hand and you grabbed it with no hesitation as you walked through quietly and carefully down the short path leading to the deck.

Johnny was already in the process of removing his shirt, and you took it as cue to start undressing as well. As you had removed your fancy party dress which you couldn’t care less about, a concern came to mind when you were left with only your undergarments on.

“Um…Johnny? Do you by any chance have any towels with you?”

He had just removed his pants when he looked up at you, only briefly distracted by the image in front of him. Since when have you been using lingerie? came the question to Johnny’s mind. He was almost caught drooling but he shook away the distraction and turned his gaze down.

“Uh, no I’m sorry…this was kind of a last minute idea to come here. I should have remembered, I’m sorry. I’ll turn around though, if it’ll convince you to still dive in with me.” He said, brushing his hand over his neck in embarrassment.

“Okay…you promise you won’t look right?

“I won’t. As soon as our clothes are off, I’ll grab your hand and we’ll run forward to the water without looking anywhere else, okay?”

You reluctantly agreed and took off your last pieces of clothing while Johnny faced away and did the same.

“Are you fully undressed?”

“Yes,…you?”

He let out a sharp breath before answering positively. “Are you ready?”

You shrugged, feeling a little anxiety settling in. “As I can ever be.”

“I’ll take that as a yes. Grab my hand.”

“I don’t know how without looking behind me…” you said, as you peeked through your side but couldn’t see his hand reaching out to you.

“I don’t care. It’s not the first time you’ve seen my ass. You can look at it anytime, baby.” He said cockily. You just knew he was smirking proudly of himself for saying that.

You gulped and decided to trust him for consenting to look. As you turned, you were met with his muscular back towards you, and your eyes wandered down to where his arm was reaching out to which his butt was at full display at the same eye level.

What a nice ass, was the only thing you could think of as you tried your best to not let it distract you too much. Once you grabbed his hand, you were immediately dragged off to the deck.

You ran as fast as you could, Johnny slowing his pace to match yours as he was a quicker runner. Before your anxiety could retract you, you were already jumping out from the end of deck, your bodies colliding with the water milliseconds later.

You were down below for a few moments, with you pulling up to the surface first. Johnny came up a few seconds later as he had probably challenged himself to stay under for longer.

“Hell yeah, that was awesome!” Johnny cheered as he used the palm of his hands to wipe away the water from his eyelids. He quickly looked around and saw you, rubbing your one eye, clearly in discomfort.

“You okay?” He asked out of worry when you didn’t say anything.

“Yeah, I just got something in my eye…probably a piece of seaweed or something.” You replied, still having troubles opening your one eye.

“Here, let me see.” He offered, and swam closer to you. He cupped your face with one hand to keep your head steady as he took a closer look. “Ah, there it is.” He said, and carefully touched the side of your eye to remove something that looked like a tiny part of a leaf or your suggestion of a seaweed, but it was hard to tell with only the moon light to shine things to view. He carefully picked it out, and you blinked a few times before your eye was becoming unbothered by the earlier irritation.

“Thanks. Aside from having my eye attacked, it was fun. It’s cold though.” You said and shivered with gritted teeth.

You hadn’t noticed you were so close to each other after he had helped you remove the thing from your eye, and now you were silently staring, with only the sound of the small waves hitting the surface. Your leg as they kept on swaying to hold yourself up on the surface accidentally brushed against his thigh.

“Oh, sorry…I uh, we’re kinda close right now.” You said, as if it wasn’t obvious enough.

He smiled adoringly as he could tell he was making you a little nervous. “Yeah…I guess we are.”

Your eyes fell from his eyes to his lips as you saw how red they had become from the low temperate of the water. They looked awfully kissable to you as of now. Your face closed into his as you craved him too much not to do so.

The idea seemed to have crossed his mind too because he leaned at the same time, hunger for your lips striking within every nerve and bone of his body.

He moved you back against the deck as he hung his arm on it for support and used his other hand to hold your chin for a kiss. His lips met yours in harmony, so perfectly placed together it could be an evidence of its own that you’re meant for each other. Your arms hung around his shoulders for support as you grew tired of kicking your legs to keep afloat.

He could feel your perky nipples against his chest, and he nearly wanted to have you further pressed against him — but for once he allowed himself not to follow lust. This was all about a gesture of pure love for you, one you were giving him back through the kiss. It was sweet and simple, something he wasn’t used to but it could gladly be the only affectionate gesture you shared with him if you wanted to.

Once your lips detached, you slowly pulled away to take another good look into each other’s eyes. The corner of his lips perked upwards into an amused smirk.

“Now that was even more amazing. Didn’t peg you for a good kisser, princess.”

You playfully hit him in the chest and faked a shocked gasp. “Rude!”

You got out of the water by the lakefront shortly, making sure not to look at each other while you dried yourselves as best as you could. Johnny would shake himself like a dog, making all the water splatter away and run down his body quicker.

“Well, seeing as we don’t have any towels, we’ll just have to tolerate being a little wet.” Johnny said, not at all satisfied with the feeling of soaking his boxers as he slid them back on.

You hummed as you tried to dry your hair by pressing out the water that was still contained in your hair strands. You shook your legs where most of the water had built up by the end of your body, and while it was uncomfortable to put your dry clothes back on when you were still wet, you didn’t have much of a choice.

Soon enough, you were both dressed again, and you finally faced each other to leave.

“This was kind of romantic of you, you know…I’m very happy you took me here again.” you softly commented. Johnny could only smile gleefully and tighten his grip on your hand. He pulled your hand up to his face and gave it a kiss.

“I’m glad to hear, baby.”

When you sat down on the passenger seat, you couldn’t help but feel unsatisfied about something. It was as if something was missing — like there was something you wanted to do before you left the area and wouldn’t return for the foreseeable future.

As you looked to your side where Johnny was sitting with wet hair, trying to pull out his car keys from his small pocket looking ever so sexy, you finally knew what it was you wanted to do.

“I think I want you to fuck me here, Johnny.”

He visibly stiffened when those words left your mouth. He had to look at you and see you, as if he couldn’t tell you had just asked that or if it was something he imagined. “W-What? Like Right here? Right now?” Johnny asked, not sure if he understood you right.

You bit your lip and nodded at him shyly. He gulped, not believing his luck that you were aroused. As tempted as he was to pounce over you right then and there, guilt arose and it stopped him from taking any action.

“I don’t think that’s the best idea, Y/N…shouldn’t we wait at least until we’ve been on a real first date? Or I don’t know, - have sex in like a fancy hotel or something instead? I really want to show you how much I care and love you like no other girl.” Johnny explained while caressing your cheek.

You smiled at him and held over his hand with your own. “That’s really sweet, Johnny. The fact that you’re willing to wait and plan out where we should have sex means a lot to me.” You smiled adoringly. He nodded, and was about to start the car engine but you held his jaw to face you again as you moved closer to him.

“But as a matter of fact, I really want to have sex with you in your car, while we’re at the most romantic spot you have ever thought of bringing me to, in the middle of nowhere where no one can bother us. I’m not scared anymore of showing myself to you. Please, Johnny…..fuck me. I want you so bad...” You plead - almost moaned as you rested your hand on his thigh.

He could already feel himself harden beneath his pants at the mere feeling of your pretty hand so close to his crotch was convincing enough. The fact that you were confidently seducing him told him he should give you what you want. He wanted to fuck you just as much in the tight space as you wanted to.

“Since you’re being so touchy with my thigh, why don’t we start with you riding it, princess? Wanna have you make a mess on my jeans…make yourself nice and wet for me to feast on later.” He said seductively, words dripping like sweet honey.

You climbed off your seat and leaned on him, attaching your lips to his once again — this time humming moans into his mouth as you savored the wonderful sensation which you have been dreaming of for so long. He nibbled at your bottom lip, only to groan when you hungrily pulled yourself against him for a deeper kiss.

His hands placed carefully on your hips, ever so often squeezing your flesh for his own amusement. He was trying to make access to slip his tongue inside your mouth, but you were foreign to know his intentions.

“C’mon, don’t go shy on me now. Open your mouth a little…” he muttered. You submitted to him, and let his tongue invade your mouth, occasionally dancing with your tongue before closing in for an open mouthed kiss.

“Come sit on my knee and grind yourself on it….stick your tongue out too. I wanna suck it, tootsie…” he muttered with pure lust. You hazily listened to his demands, already fucked out of your mind as you were growing wetter between your legs.

He was incredibly good at this…, you had figured as much before, but this time you fell victim of his skillful techniques of seduction.

He sucked your tongue into his mouth, and your eyes rolled back when he made you grind out with your hips against his thigh. You repeated the motion, your underwear being the only layer of clothing that separated your cunt and Johnny’s thigh.

You breathlessly pulled away, making Johnny open his eyes, his lustful gaze frowning slightly at your sudden retreat.

“I wanna…I wanna take off my underwear…” you reluctantly announced as you let out a hot breath. “Tear’em off, please…I can’t wait anymore.” You mewled in agony.

Johnny didn’t need to be told twice as he ripped them by the side and let the fabric seep away from your wet cunt. You yelped at the feeling of your ruined garment dragging along your pussy lips, creating the tiny friction you so badly craved.

When you opened your eyes again, you saw Johnny eyeing your exposed cunt, seated against his thigh. His brows knitted into a face that screamed primal lust for sex.

“Oh, fuck…would you look at that. What a cute baby pussy you have.” He purred while licking his lips. You whined at his comment, not expecting it to be his response of a reaction. He reached out and spread your pussy lips apart for a better view of your hole.

“Johnny!” You cried out, foreign to the feeling of someone else’s fingers touching your sex. When he let go, you continued to hump against him, desperate for stimulation. You clung onto him with your arms around his shoulders, your moans heaven to Johnny’s ears.

“You said you’ve had a crush on me since primary school, right?” Johnny asked huskily into your ear. You nodded feverishly, confused as to why he asked in the midst of you rubbing your cunt against his thigh.

He leaned into your ear and let out a hot breath before speaking. “That means you most definitely have touched yourself to the thought of me, right?“

Oh, he was going to be the death of you.

You buried your face into his neck in embarrassment as you whispered a ‘yes’.

He chuckled lowly and stroked your back for comfort. “There’s nothing to be ashamed of, tootsie.” He assured softly. “ I’ve touched myself to the thought of you too…”

“W-What?” You asked, letting out a shuddered gasp.

“It’s true…I did it twice - maybe thrice during last year of high school because….— well, you matured and I started to find you attractive. But each time I did it, I felt so fucking guilty and I used all my willpower to stop. I made a promise that I would never try to take things further with you because you meant too much to me, and I didn’t want to make it weird between the two of us if I continued to drive that sexual feeling, so I just…suppressed it I guess. My mistake…” He admitted with a grunt.

He could feel you soaking his trousers as if they weren’t already wet enough, and he could feel your cunt pulse with each grind. He softly pulled you away to see you in a flushed out state, your eyes barely holding up as you panted. He took a good look at your cunt again.

“Look at how much you’ve drenched me, Y/N…” he cooed, patting your ass lightly.

“I’m sorry…” you mumbled, looking down at the wet patch with guilt.

Johnny lifted up your gaze to meet his right away. “Hey, don’t feel sorry. I’m just teasing you. I want nothing more than to dive into your wet pussy and taste your sweet juices. Would you like that? Wanna have me eat you out in the backseat, baby?”

He only needed your weak nod as clarification, and he was already pulling his seat down, making you collapse onto his chest so suddenly. You crawled to the back first and settled yourself on the corner seat to leave more room for Johnny to come behind with you. He followed soon after and towered you.

“Take your dress off and let me see your tits, Y/N…” Johnny requested.

“You gotta take off your clothes too! I want to see you..” You whined as your eyes wandered to the tent in his boxers. You almost grew thirsty as you saw a wet patch of what you could assume was precum leaking out.

“Right, right…hope I don’t scare you with my size. You’re still a virgin, aren’tcha?” Johnny asked, his mind still with the assumption you were still pure.

You bit the inside of your cheek, suddenly feeling anxious as you were about to come with the following confession; “No, I’m not actually…but I would still like to go slow since it’s been a while…”

Johnny froze and looked up at you when he was in the midst of unbuckling his belt. So I was wrong, he thought.

“Oh…— I mean, of course you’re not. Shouldn’t be surprising as most people loose it at some point during our teens…” Johnny quickly brushed off casually. “And we’ll take it slow. Don’t you worry one bit, tootsie.”

He pulled off his pants and shirt, smirking as he lastly pulled down his boxers where his hardened cock sprung free, bobbing slightly as it aimed right at you. You let out a shuddered gasp at the sight of it, finally able to conclude that the real thing beat your past imaginations of how his cock would look like.

“It’s so long and pretty…” you said, not intending to say it out loud but it escaped your mouth with no thoughts. He snickered at your compliment, which made your thighs squeeze together in anticipation, wanting nothing more but to have him inside of you.

“Nu-uh! Keep’em spread. Before I fuck you into paradise, m’gonna follow through and eat you out like I promised…” he whispered, before he bowed down in front of your pussy — so close to it you could feel his breath on you.

You whimpered when his tongue flickered at your leaking hole first, before he lazily licked a stripe upwards of your cunt. When he met the top, he licked your clit a few times before sucking on it.

Your hands held tightly onto the top of his head, not knowing where else to put them as he kept on torturing you with his slow licks.

“Hmmm…love your pussy juice, baby…might just be my new favorite taste out of everything there is….” He moaned against the soft flesh. You couldn’t see it from your point of view, but Johnny was jacking his cock off to receive some relief out of his already pent up sexual desire.

He didn’t warn you when he inserted a finger inside of you, loosening up your tight hole for what would soon come and invade your cunt.

“It’s gettin’ real fucking hot in here…wanna leak my leather seats with your sweet juices and get us all sticky in here, huh?”

“Uh-huh!” You responded with a high pitched voice, feeling yourself getting closer with how good Johnny’s fingers felt. He scissored your weeping hole, stretching it wider than it has been for a long time. “Mmmh! Oh, fuck! Johnnyyyy..” you whined his name as his tongue once again invaded your clit, his tongue circling around the sensitive nub.

He gave your pussy a few kisses before he rose up. “I could be between your legs for hours, but I really need to be inside of you before I make myself cum…”

You nodded while eagerly making yourself comfortable on the seat for Johnny to nestle himself between your thighs.

“Gather some spit in your mouth and carefully spit into my hand, princess…” he ordered you softly.

You did as he said, not really knowing why he needed it, but not questioning him as you let the liquid seep out of your mouth and onto his hand.

“There you go….” He cooed, before applying it to his cock, stroking it a few times with the slick, making your eyes widen.

Somehow he had turned you on immensely by using your spit as lube for his dick.

He held it and pointed it towards your cunt, already sinking the tip in. You grabbed onto his shoulders for better support and cried out. He grunted when he passed being halfway inside of you.

“S-So big…” you whined when he was almost all in. He hunched over you and held his hands over your hips.

“It’s okay, princess, you can take it…-fuck, you’re so tight!..” He groaned as he squeezed his eyes shut in order not to cum. “Oh god, this is something else…” he moaned under his breath.

Your legs wrapped around him with your fingers digging into his back as he began to slowly move his hips, his balls lightly tapping your ass for each roll.

“Mmmm, fuuuck…How does it feel to finally fuck your best friend, huh? It feels fucking amazing on my end, but I wanna know….” He said with a brief pause as he adjusted his hips to roll deeper into your cervix. “..Is it as good as how you imagined it to be? I need to know. Please tell me, baby.”

“Oh, yess!! Aaahh, it feels a thousand times better than I imagined! Love your cock so much, Johnny! You’re fucking me soooo good! Nghh — aaaah!” Your head threw up against the end of the seat, not having felt this good in your life.

“Yeaah, that’s it…what best friend would I be if I didn’t fuck your tight, baby pussy as good right as I do? M’gonna make you cream all over this seat, baby.” He purred.

You let Johnny drag your bra down to the point where they were fully exposed. He had longed to see those cute perky nipples of yours which earlier were firmly pressed against him, and now he could witness them bounce as he fucked you into the seat of his car. His mouth quickly invaded them, and he suckled your nipples like his life depended on it.

Your moans got louder and louder the closer you got to reach the climax you have been patiently waiting for, and Johnny could only pick up speed as he was getting close too.

“God, fuck - feels too good to be inside of you, Y/N…you’re too good for me…” he panted into your soft skin as sweat was making an appearance on his forehead and shoulders.

You shook your head with shut eyes, wanting to tell him he was wrong, but you thought it was best to show it through something else. You let go of his shoulders and cupped his face to give him another sensual kiss. He whined into it as you took the lead this time by sucking his tongue.

Suddenly, you felt your climax was about to crash over you and you breathlessly pulled yourself away for air needed for the moment.

“Johnny, I’m gonna cum! Oh God!” You cried out and curled your toes while your climax approached you.

“Aaahh there you go baby, squeeze me…” he purred into your ear, continuing the same pace of pounding into you as he was getting ready to release his own orgasm. “Oooh fuck, I’m going to fucking-!” He pulled out just in time and stroked himself while he splattered loads of his cum all over your upper stomach and breasts.

He collapsed on top of you, trying to regain his regulated breath like you. He faced you once more, and you could only giggle from the turn of events. You wiped the sweat away from his forehead and quickly kissed once more before Johnny removed himself away from you.

Now you weren’t only wet but sweaty, covered with Johnny’s cum and drenched between your legs, having only a piece of napkin from your handbag to clean up the whole mess as much as you could.

You dressed yourself up for the second time of the night, and drove away from the place that would now have two separate and very meaningful memories of your relationship.

“So, you lost your virginity too, huh? Why have you never told me?” Johnny had to ask out of curiosity as he drove your way home, trying not to sound too bothered about it.

“Oh, that…uh,” you briefly paused as you swallowed. “— it wasn’t really worth bringing up at the time. I lost it out of pity to a guy I was a summer camp leader with the year after you lost yours. It wasn’t anything intimate though, we just kinda…mutually agreed to have sex just for the fun of it in a storage room. I never let him kiss me though. You stole my first kiss back there when we were in the water.”

Johnny, while a little taken aback by the first given information, was even more surprised to know about the second one. He turned to you while cautiously following the road as he drove. “Really?? Damn, you kiss like a natural…I was convinced you had some experience…” he said. “Would you say it was a good first kiss?” He had to ask with a narrowed eye.

“Of course, Johnny…we were kissing in the water with the moon in front of us. It couldn’t get any better than that.” You giggled as you stroked his arm.

He grinned, teeth coming to view because he was just so happy. Things couldn’t have ended better after having an emotional ride of a rollercoaster from both parties this past week.

“…I’ve never done a blowjob on someone before either. I was maybe hoping if…if we aren’t too tired when we get back, I could maybe try it with you. If you want to that is,” you suggested, nervousness apparent in your voice.

Johnny swallowed thickly and let out a large sigh as your confession made his cock harden.

“We could do that, or — I could pull over right now and see just how well you can suck my dick, tootsie.”

You both knew this was far from the end of the night when you found an empty parking lot a mile later.

Note from author: This part turned out so much longer than the first one but I enjoyed adding every part of this story too much to care! I hope you enjoyed it too!

Might make a few drabbles connected to this story in the future because I really love this pairing with best friend!reader and fratboy!Johnny Storm.

Hearts & Reblogs are appreciated! <3

[graceshouldwrite]

Writing Childhood Best Friends to Lovers

instagram: @ grace_should_write

This is a super popular trope, and these are some of my personal takes on how to write it properly!

ALSO, SORRY FOR THE LACK OF POSTS. Finals season and extracurricular performances have KILLED ME this past month. But, I hope this means more consistent posting 🥲🥲🥲

Thanks for sticking by, and enjoy these tips!

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1. Flesh out their history

Childhood best friends means what it says—they were best friends during CHILDHOOD. As the author, you must know what their childhood was like.

For practice, you can do things like:

writing out important backstory scenes that were CRUCIAL to their relationship

ex. a big fight, when one of them helped out the other in a very bad time, when they became friends, etc.

creating a TIMELINE of their relationship

often based on point 1, with important moments being roadmapped to show how the relationship developed

thinking of moments that produced EXCLUSIVE MEMORIES to the best friends

ex. inside jokes and specific references, “remember when ______?” and “he reminds me of ______!” moments, friendship bracelets worn to this day, etc

Exercises like this make the trope more realistic—you’re showing to yourself how the children became BEST FRIENDS, and how their relationship was defined after it was determined.

2. Something has to change

Childhood best friends don’t just become lovers—something needs to change!

Whether it’s puberty increasing horniness by 100%, not seeing each other for a while, or anything like that, something has to happen to move them away from the “friends” route and onto the “potentially romantic” route.

Here are some ideas:

one or both glow up

new jobs, new schools, new setting in general

they suddenly meet once more after a long period of time (ex. 10 years)

on that note, they could meet in DANGER (like a heist or a battle), in a ROMANTIC setting (ex. seeing each other awkwardly at a bar), a CORPORATE setting, a SIMILAR SETTING TO THEIR CHILDHOOD… (could be anything!)

they help out a mutual friend who doesn’t know they know each other, but then they see each other again and are SHOCKED

a childhood betrayal (at least interpreted as such by one party) leaves them not speaking… but they meet again! (this is GREAT for cleaning the slate AND embittering the memories!!)

3. Make it awkward 

They shouldn’t immediately accept the change (usually). Human nature generally makes us change-averse, so having a period of shock and denial over brewing feelings is very natural. It’s also a NATURAL source of conflict!

Generate conflict ideas from the awkwardness. They can:

actively fight against the relationship (ex. being a bit meaner when they see each other)

be colder towards each other

hold childhood memories AGAINST each other (using the BAD memories to undermine the other person)

avoid each other, but not stop thinking about the other person….

mentally compare their former relationship to this one, asking themselves “what happened?” “what changed?” “…HOW DID WE GET HERE?”

notice NEW THINGS about the other person, and think of it in a more resentful light: ex. “Your hair was shorter back then…I don’t know, seemed more practical.” “I’ll bet you can’t even swim the length of our old pool now—not like you could.”

Before they get to the ROMANCE stage, this period of iffy “wtf” is an excellent source of angst and conflict.

4. Something BIG happens

Big doesn’t always mean LARGE-SCALE BATTLE DRAGONS MAGIC BULLETS FLYING SWING SWING (although it could)—it’s simply something that affects one of the characters deeply.

Some ideas include:

the death of a close friend or family member

the loss of a job or a dream slipping out of reach

a tumultuous break up

a near-death experience

one of the characters suddenly disappears

a vestige of their childhood is destroyed

one other close friend or family member betrays them

These are all heavily impactful things that have the power to ruin someone, at least for a period of time.

During this time, because the characters are too busy focusing on this disaster than anything else, it will make it a lot easier for the childhood best friends to become close again.

It gives them more opportunities to show how much they care about each other, and to actually be there for the other person as they go through it.

Eventually, they’ll realize through these massive series of development that the one for them was right in front of them! IF it’s a happy ending >:)

∘₊✧────── ☾☼☽ ──────✧₊∘

THANK YOU GUYS FOR STICKING BY!!!

I promise, I’ll try to post more! I miss the writing community so so much and I can’t wait to have more time to dedicate towards it <3333

Let me know if you have any questions through responses, re-blogging, or DMing me at @ grace_should_write on IG.

Happy writing, and have a great day!

- grace <3

[snow-in-the-desert]

Dramione Recommendations

Ok so, 2020 has been A LOT but on a personal note one of the most surprising things to happen was me discovering Dramione fanfiction and becoming unashamedly obsessed with it. I really didn’t see that coming but I’m here now and I’m here to stay. 

I think I started reading in the Dramione fandom around mid July last year?? (In all honesty I’ve lost any true sense of time’s progression at this point so I could be well off the mark with that) And I’ve decided to compile a list of all my favourite fics I’ve read so far. Why? I really just want to gush over all the amazing writers I have found through this fandom because y’all deserve it. 

Side note: If any of the authors actually sees this post just dm so I can buy you coffee or post you writing supplies or something idk I feel like that’s the least I can do for all your amazing work x

Remain Nameless by @heyjude19-writing

Ok I have to start with RN because this fic is pretty much the sole reason I decided to create an account with A03 or a tumblr or just decided to get involved with this fandom at all. 

I headcannon this story hard. But I think even if you aren’t a fan of Dramione you should just read this because it is so unbelievably good and well written and poignant and Draco’s sarcastic personality in this is truly a thing of beauty in this - I relate to his inner monologue’s on a deep personal level. 

I could rave about this story any time, any day of the week, just ask me. In fact, maybe I’ll just start a HeyJude19 fan club to fulfill that urge.

There are so many elements that I love but for the sake of brevity, RN is a beautifully told story of Draco and Hermione finding love and healing in a post-war HP setting. Heyjude19 had the very special ability of making me want to simulatenously laugh, cry and swoon with the power of her words. Just stop what you are doing and go read it now if you havent already, ok?  

I also really enjoyed reading Bells on a Hill, Beers, Potions and Unwise Notions and A Shift in Focus, if you are looking for smaller fics, definitely give these a go. They are all funny and heartfelt stoires that will make your tippy toes wriggle with glee. 

The Rights and Wrongs Series by @lovesbitca8

The Right Thing To Do, All The Wrong Things and The Auction are the holy trinity of Dramione writing. I have christened it thus, so mote it be. And frankly I’m not interested in any other opinion than that one, thank you very much!

After reading this series I don’t think I’ll be able to look back on the orginal HP books without thinking of Hermione’s and Draco’s memories of their time at Hogwarts in these fics as anything other than strictly cannon. 

So many things to love about this series but I think one of the major highlights was Hermione and Draco’s use of occlumency. LoveBitca8 created such beautiful visuals with how occlumency works as a magical practice and seeing Draco and Hermione so devoted to eachother to the point of safeguarding their inner most feelings to protect eachother was unbelievably romantic and poetic. 

Also the smut is divine ;)

Manacled by @senlinyu​

My heart will never be the same after reading this story. Like I actually can’t think about this fic without getting a lump at the back of my throat. I have never felt so emotionally ruined after reading anything, compared to the likes of this fic. Just please, please read it. To badly quote HP, reading Manacled will make you suffer but you’re going to be happy about it.

The flashbacks are a rollercoaster in of themselves but the way Hermione inadvertently refers to them when she is still in a state of memory loss was so heartbreaking to read. My heart still aches for them both. Also its a truly satisfying to see Draco and Hermione written in a way were they are both so fiercly protective of one another. They make my insides go soft. 

I also really enjoyed Snow Fall, Now Is A Gift and All You Want by the author but to be honest anything written by Senlinyu is always thoroughly enjoyable and worth a look. 

The Erised Effect by @adaprix​

Ada is QUEEN of dramione smut but ‘The Erised Effect’ is top tier. Its equal parts funny, romantic, sentimental and oh so sexy. Ada really knows how to build and build on sexual tension and doesn’t disappoint on the final delivery. I’m a big admirer of her writing style and just veraciously read whatever she posts but ‘The Erised Effect’ is just golden. A must read. (Also Pansy’s sexual fantasy in this story is a visual I don’t think I’ll ever be able to remove from my brain so thanks for that Ada)

Also quick side note: Adaprix’ stories were the first I read when I was looking into this fandom and it was enough to get me hooked on the pairing from the get go so I have that to thank Ada for too. I remember devouring all the stories she had posted to A03 and when I was done I was like... now what am I supposed to do with my life?? And that’s basically when I began to look deeper into the fandom and thus the course of my life in 2020 changed for the better. 

Some other stories I love by her are Break for Me, All My Sins, The Big 4-0, The Fucklust Series and The Flat in Bath. 

Clean by @olivieblake​

This 6th Year AU where Draco and Hermione work together on a class assignment and end up falling in love had me feeling all kinds of ways when I read it. I almost don’t know where to start but I think one of the stand out things for me was how immersed I felt in reading it. 

Hogwarts is captured really well, you get a good sense of class atmospheres, character nuances and behind the scenes of events that happen in HBP but from a Draco and Hermione’s perspectives. It’s well executed and intricate tapestry of a fic. With an excellent plot twist ending! 

Also Hermione and Draco’s relationship in this is equal parts fluffy and smutty and it just ticks all the right boxes that you want to see for those characters ;)

Breath Mints / Battle Scars by @onyx-and-elm​

The angst in this one is just *chef’s kiss*

God I love this fic. The way Draco is portrayed is very true to his defensive and tetchy character in the original books but he is also given so much more depth. The way his diary entries are written are just so well executed. It’s a true testament to the author’s creative writing skill. And I LOVE how even though Draco is clearly in such a messed up place, he still has a basic level of self respect and dignity that he won’t tolerate being used or undervalued in his relationship with Hermione. 

Yep, I really love Draco’s characterisation in this one if you can’t tell.  But Hermione is also well written too. Her stuggles and trauma of returning to Hogwarts after war is described in a believable and grounded way. And my heart definitely ached for them both. I just wanted to wrap the pair of them in a big fuzzy blanket and tell them that everything will be alright. 

WANDS OUT! by @persephonestone​

This murder mystery / Dramione / Theo x Harry / AU crossover is everything I didn’t know I wanted until I read it. I felt like I was picked up and plonked right into an alternative dimension where all the characters of HP are just living it up in an Agatha Christie novel. 

It’s a funny and clever story that I found refreshing to read amongst all the other fanfics that are usually cemented in the HP timeline or universe. Theodore Nott in this fic is perfection he should be written like this in every fic from now on in my opinion. I couldn’t stop giggling any time he had a scene in the story.

And the ‘only one bed’ trope in this fic is 10/10. I don’t want to give spoilers but ohmygod. It hits all the right notes. 

The One With Technical Difficulties by cassielassie 

Cassielassie has an excellent three part series of Dramone called ‘The One with...” but I have to give special credit to this story in particular for one main reason. ELEVATOR TROPES. I can’t get enough of em. I think I have my early childhood viewings of NCIS to thank for my obsession with elevator tropes they just do something to me that simply cannot be explained with mere words. The palpable sexual tension of being in a broken down elevator with an ‘enemies to lovers’ pairing, a heated arguement breaks out followed by a discovery of mutual feelings and a romantic embrace...

Eugh. It gets me everytime. And this fic is no exception. I loved it for all the reasons I’ve already stated above but also for the attention to detail in Draco and Hermione’s careers makes this one particularly immersive. The dynamics between them established in this one-shot are convincingly portrayed and the chemistry between them is so undeniably hot. 

The Light is No Mystery by @masterofinfinities​

Yooo if you want to read a dramione fic that is a deep dive into Pureblood culture and Post-War recovery but is also a perfect allegory for discrimination and today’s political landscape of moral grandstanding for votes then look no further than this one. 

This story has a bit of everything. Intrigue, mystery, ptsd and recovery, enemies to lovers / secret relationship, government conspiracy and humour, to name a few. I eargerly await every update to this story and am anxious to know how it ends!

The Eagle’s Nest by HeartOfAspen 

Finally! A fic that gives me the Ravenclaw representation I crave. I think I could recommend this fic on the lore depicted of Ravenclaw house alone. ‘The Stacks’ and Rowena Ravenclaw’s own ‘come and go room’ are just such cool details that I could see being real in the HP universe. 

This fic is so cosy and makes me feel like I’m just popping back into Hogwarts for another year. You get to see all the usuals like prof. Mcgongall, Nearly headless Nick, PEEVES, Hagrid, as well as learn more about minor characters from the other school houses. The story follows Hermione going to her day to day classes and there are interesting concepts about magic and alchemy that are explored. 

Draco and Hermione’s relationship in this one is of course very fluffy and heartfelt. But it’s the attention to detail that really makes this fic outstanding and the experience of reading it feels fleshed out and true to HP universe.

A shorter fic by HeartofAspen that I recommend is one called Set in Stone, it has an adventurous, Indianna Jones vibe to it, that I am so down for. 

Teachable Moments by @purplesugarquills

In this fic Hermione is an innocent little virgin determined to learn everything about sex. And Draco Malfoy is her tutor. If that isn’t enough to get you on board then I don’t know what is. Both Heartfelt and Steamy. PurpleSugarQuills writes smut so well but it’s the progression of their growing attachment and the nervous treading of new uncharted waters of romantic relationships for both of them that just adds a whole other level of feels to the story. Also chapter 9 is like reading poetry - its so good. Eugh just give it a read if you haven’t already.

Les Pèlerins by @pacific-rimbaud

This story is high art. It’s transcendent. Reading this story feels like the emotional equivalent of standing around a hundred glowing fairy lights, sipping hot cocoa and being wrapped in the loving embrace of a s/o. I can’t speak my praises highly enough or even become passably coherent in my words when I try to articulate a review. 

From the very first paragraph I felt like I was just whisked away on a Parisian holiday and I’ve never even bloody been to Paris but damn it if this story didn’t make me feel like I was there. The writing style is just so tactile and intense it’s like I could feel the cold winter air brush against me as I read it. Eugh I just completely fell in love with the story and the writer. 

New Year’s resolution. Read everything PacificRimbaud has ever posted online.