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isleofdarkness · 11 months ago

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Please please p l e a s e tell us about literally any of those people more in depth I am so so interested and like specifically evie I’m p l e a s e

So, Evie

(Warning for child sexual abuse (meant to "train her for marriage,") childhood sexual assault, attempted childhood sexual assault, child abuse, isolation, starvation, mother giving her daughter an eating disorder by body-shaming her and encouraging said eating disorder, victim blaming, slut shaming, slut shaming a victim, queerphobia, racism, ableism)

Evie lost weight after she was born. Grimhilde was critical of her appearance from the very beginning. She didn't want a "fat" baby and starved her newborn daughter to force her to slim down. Most children lose their baby fat at around two or three and some have it until they're school age. Evie was forced to lose hers at only a few weeks old. Even when her daughter had been starved into what Grimhilde felt was a proper body (emaciated,) she never fed Evie enough. She didn't want her daughter to get "fat" again.

This undernutrition- which has been a constant for Evie's entire life- has left Evie with so many problems. Evie is small considering how tall her parents are, standing at 5'3 (Grimhilde is 5'10 and Chernabog is 6'4) and she's clearly underdeveloped. The poor girl looks like she's thirteen without her makeup. Her bones are weak. She gets sick easily. She nearly died several times as a child from hypoglycemia. She has to carry sugar tablets because doctors can't yet tell if her pancreas will recover. She's on so many nutritional supplements. If she wasn't getting those, doctors are sure she wouldn't have made it even another two years. Deprivation of the nutrients and vitamins her body needed was doing damage to her organs, decreasing their ability to function.

To discourage her daughter from "cheating her diet" (trying to eat enough for her body to function,) Grimhilde taught her calorie counting from a very young age. She would give Evie clothes she knew would be too small and acted as though the clothes didn't fit because her daughter needed to lose weight. When Evie dropped weight she couldn't afford to lose, Grimhilde praised her. That was the only time Evie ever got praise, and she was desperate for it. She would refuse to eat anything for days just to see her mother's smile of approval.

And the homeschooling Evie grew up with... well, let's just say she had a very unusual education. While her mother taught her history and royalty stuff, that was the closest she came to teaching Evie a normal curriculum. Evie was taught to read, but just barely. The second she could read, Grimhilde moved on rather than continued to nurture the skill. She taught Evie basic addition, subtraction, multiplication, and division, but only the basics- not even teaching her daughter how to do multiple operations in the same equation, not even trying to teach multiplying and dividing with numbers larger than twelve. Most of Evie's education would be household chores, homekeeping, beauty, the "right way" to act and look to attract and keep a prince, and how to raise children. Oh, and one more thing.

Grimhilde made sure her daughter knew how to sexually attract and please men.

When Evie turned six, her mother started her on potions that would keep her from getting pregnant, then (I have been trying to find a way to word this gently for hours but I can't, so I'm just gonna say it) let a few of her guards rape her daughter while Grimhilde lectured her about everything she was doing "wrong." Despite the circumstances, Evie was forced to play along and do what her mother told her to do just to get it over with.

Her bedroom, which had once been her beloved refuge, had become a place she couldn't stand due to all of the horrific memories made in that room. She soon found solace in the castle's overgrown gardens, where she could hide away from her mother, the guards, and the entire world.

That garden was where she first met Malcolm.

She was in the garden one morning when she was seven when, without any warning, a boy with blue hair baseball-slid through a tiny gap in the bushes. Before she could even think of screaming- who would help her, anyway?- Malcolm quickly covered her mouth and pulled her behind an overgrown rose bush.

"I swear I'm not gonna do anything, but-"

"Where are you?"

Evie felt the boy go completely stiff, breath coming far too quickly but with practiced silence- who even developed the skill to hyperventilate silently? It was clear he was afraid of the old-sounding woman who seemed to be looking for him. Evie briefly considered trying to call out to her in case the boy was dangerous, but she didn't. Somehow, she knew he wasn't. He was terrified, shaking and tense, the same kind of terror Evie felt when her mother was angry.

The next five minutes were some of the longest of Evie's life as the two hid behind the bush, waiting for the woman to give up or search somewhere else, praying she wouldn't think he had gone into the garden. Malcolm finally let her go when the woman's voice had gotten decently far away, but he didn't relax until she was well out of earshot. He took several deep, shaking breaths once the danger had passed, rocking slightly and reaching up to his buzzed hair, moving his hand as if trying to run his fingers through long hair he didn't have and cursing when he realized.

"I'm sorry," He whispered once he'd mostly calmed himself down. "For... kinda kidnapping you. If Mother Mim had found me, she woulda killed you as collateral. I didn't know anyone was in the garden, I swear."

"You're hiding from your mother?" This is the first person outside of her palace that she's ever met, and he's a boy her age with dark blue hair who's hiding from his mother. He was so much like her that it was hard to be mad at him. And how could she be afraid of someone just like her, especially when she'd just watched him openly have a panic attack in front of a stranger.

"Yeah. Do you have a knife?"

Pardon? That was definitely not how she expected the conversation to progress. "No? Why do you need a knife?"

When his blue eyes finally meet hers, he suddenly looks so much older. In her moments of vulnerability, when she dared look in her cracked mirror, she knew her eyes could look like that. "If Mother Mim finds me again, I'm not going back. I want a knife so I can cut my throat."

Well.

"I know where I can get you a knife." She'd never felt that way with her mother, had never been so desperate to hide from her that she'd rather cut her throat than let her mother find her, but she'd definitely felt that way about her mother's guards. Still, she never would have acted on it. Whatever this boy had gone through had to have been worse than anything she could ever imagine. How could she complain when this boy was so desperate to escape that he would rather kill himself than be caught? (Malcolm doesn't like that she thought that. He'd had a shit life, sure, but at least Madam Mim didn't let the people torturing him use sexual violence. They're traumatized in different ways, but neither of them had it better or worse than the other. He doesn't want her to compare her trauma to what others have gone through, and he definitely doesn't want her thinking her trauma isn't bad because someone else has different trauma.)

She led him to the groundkeeper house, a small house on the property where someone had once lived and stored tools to care for the gardens. The person who had lived there was long gone, but their belongings remained and the house was still stable. A bed with dusty blankets, a kitchen with ancient cookware, and a garage full of tools that, while rusted, she knew from experience were still sharp. The small house even had running water. To her knowledge, she was the only one who knew of it. She was certainly the only one who ever had any reason to struggle through the overgrown plants to get to it.

To the first person her age she had ever met, she offered a house. She'd never seen anyone get so happy.

She didn't need to sneak him food, just told him where the edible plants were and helped him identify the ones that were poisonous. He taught himself how to use the old canning and preserves equipment, creating jams and the like for when winter came. There was sugar cane and maple trees in the garden, which helped. He even found a few different plants that he knew could be used to make flour (there was a book of plants and their uses in Grimhilde's library. Evie had snuck it to him.) He was absolutely thriving in the groundskeeper's house.

Evie would go out to visit him every chance she got. As he began to feel safer, his true personality showed. He was so happy, kind, and gentle, so unlike everyone else in Evie's life. He was a joy for her to be around. When she was with him, she could completely relax. For a few months, everything was starting to feel almost good.

And then everything came crashing down.

Even in her isolated garden, Evie was still on the Isle. When someone heard about a beautiful little girl who walked the isolated grounds of that palace completely alone, with no one around to protect her when she was too far away for anyone to hear her scream, he got interested. When he found out that the rumors were true, it didn't take him long to attack her.

Evie managed to drag herself to Malcolm afterwards, in too much pain to even crawl. Malcolm wrapped her injuries and helped her out of her shock, then let her sob for nearly an hour about what had happened. He wanted her to stay in the house, night having fallen, or at least walk her back to the palace, but she had to leave and he had to stay. If Grimhilde found that Evie had left her room, Evie would be punished. If she found out that Evie had left her room to spend time with a boy, she would be apoplectic. Evie had to get back to her room alone. She used salves her mother had taught her about to get rid of her bruises and speed to healing of where her skin had broken (while keeping the wounds from scarring,) and she pretended nothing had happened. She knew that he mother would be furious to learn about what the man in the garden had done to her.

Furious at Evie, of course. Not at the man for assaulting a little girl who wasn't even in her teenage years.

Evie was terrified to walk to see Malcolm but, as she did so nearly every day for nearly two weeks without issue, she slowly started to feel safer. She assumed her attack had just been a one-off thing.

She was wrong.

After she was attacked a second time, Malcolm secretly started following her through the garden, hiding in the overgrowth. The third time that man appeared, Malcolm was ready. He tried, he really did, but he wasn't an excellent fighter. The man was far bigger than a seven-year-old boy and far stronger. Evie had tried to help Malcolm fight him off, but she didn't know how to fight. The man beat Malcolm until he could barely move, then assaulted Evie again. He made sure to threaten to assault Malcolm too if the boy ever got involved again. Malcolm didn't care, but Evie did. She begged him to never interfere again.

He did, of course, but the man wasn't able to make good on his threat. He didn't even get the chance to assault Evie. Because Agony Olympian had gotten involved.

The man was a known rapist and Agony had seen him going somewhere with a suspicious look in his eyes. It had set off alarm bells, so she had followed him. She got to the garden just in time to see him put Malcolm on the ground with a bone-breaking punch to his jaw and grab Evie by her wrists.

"Hey, dickhead." Never before had she been so happy she was half ghost. There was no entrance like her phasing through the bushes. "Let her go. I'm only gonna say it once."

He, of course, didn't listen to another seven-year-old. He tried to attack her, too, and quickly found out two things;

One, her left arm was metal and packed one hell of a punch.

Two, he really should have known better than to piss off a little girl nicknamed Agony. The least he could have done was not backhand her and knock her sunglasses off of her face.

I think we all know how that ended.

Agony covered her eyes with her arm (she didn't want to just close them because that's less effective and she didn't want to hurt Evie or Malcolm) and tried to find her sunglasses, but she had no idea where they were and obviously couldn't see them. Evie saw them nearly a yard away (he slapped her that hard) and, even though she wasn't 100% sure why Agony needed them back on at sunset, she grabbed them and pressed them into Agony's hand.

Evie was, thankfully, not badly hurt, but Malcolm's jaw was cracked and he had a few busted ribs. They got him to the groundskeeper house and got him as fixed up as they could. Agony wanted to get him to Facilier's, but hearing that his mother was Madam Fucking Mim quickly changed her mind. She taught Evie how to diagnose, set, and tape broken ribs, then showed Evie how to feel the difference between a crack/fracture (Malcolm's jaw) and an actual break (his ribs.) Evie very quickly realized that Agony wasn't going to do "whatever that was" and hurt her or Malcolm. In fact, she wasn't going to hurt her or Malcolm at all.

Agony was the first girl her own age she had ever met. The first girl she'd ever been friends with- the second friend she'd ever had. Evie was absolutely thrilled.

Unfortunately, it didn't even take a full day for that one to come crashing down.

Evie woke the next morning to her mother calling her. When she went into the throne room, her heart stopped at the sight of the man who had been assaulting her. Her mother looked perfectly calm. Too calm. That look always meant danger.

"I've heard some very interesting things about you, my daughter. We need to talk."

Her slap sent Evie to the floor.

Evie dared not get up as Grimhilde screamed at her. She screamed about the company Evie was keeping, using every racist term towards Black people that she knew, calling Agony a cripple and Malcolm a retard (along with several other derogatory terms for people with Down Syndrome that I won't repeat,) insulting them based on their backgrounds (Agony's "whore mother" and calling Malcolm a slave because of his mother-) if there was a way Grimhilde could insult the two, she used it. She blamed Evie for her assault, shaming her for "being a cheap whore instead of a princess" and acting as though Evie had consensually had sex and hadn't been a child raped by an adult. She forced Evie to apologize to her, then forced her to apologize to the man who'd assaulted her for the "trouble she'd caused" and having people "hurt an innocent man."

That was the longest week of her life. Grimhilde forced her to stay in the guards' barracks for five days as punishment for being assaulted. She could barely move for three days after.

(Agony and Malcolm had very much realized that Evie hadn't come out of the palace in a while, but Malcolm wouldn't have been able to spring her even without broken ribs and Agony was busy because a Sanctum had been called and the person who was in her house was in such horrible shape that the Last Resort Kit came out to try to ease its suffering so that it could die not in extreme agony. Because it was Ace, it did the medically impossible and survived. But that's a story for another time.)

I am going to pause this post here because it is so long and I am so tired, but there is, of course, way more to the story.

#descendants evie #genevive isabella char #stargirl1331 #the darkness speaks #descendants #descendants au #isle of darkness

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thepastisalreadywritten · 4 months ago

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SAINTS OF THE DAY (July 26)

On July 26, the Roman Catholic Church commemorates the parents of the Virgin Mary, Saints Joachim and Anne.

The couple's faith and perseverance brought them through the sorrow of childlessness, to the joy of conceiving, and raising the immaculate and sinless woman who would give birth to Christ.

The New Testament contains no specific information about the lives of the Virgin Mary's parents, but other documents outside of the Biblical canon do provide some details.

Although these writings are not considered authoritative in the same manner as the Bible, they outline some of the Church's traditional beliefs about Joachim, Anne, and their daughter.

The “Protoevangelium of James,” which was probably put into its final written form in the early second century, describes Mary's father Joachim as a wealthy member of one of the Twelve Tribes of Israel.

Joachim was deeply grieved, along with his wife Anne, by their childlessness.

“He called to mind Abraham,” the early Christian writing says, “that in the last day God gave him a son Isaac.”

Joachim and Anne began to devote themselves to rigorous prayer and fasting, in isolation from one another and from society.

They regarded their inability to conceive a child as a surpassing misfortune and a sign of shame among the tribes of Israel.

As it turned out, however, the couple were to be blessed even more abundantly than Abraham and Sarah.

An angel revealed this to Anne when he appeared to her and prophesied that all generations would honor their future child:

“The Lord has heard your prayer, and you shall conceive, and shall bring forth; and your seed shall be spoken of in all the world.”

After Mary's birth, according to the Protoevangelium of James, Anne “made a sanctuary in the infant girl's room and allowed nothing common or unclean on account of the special holiness of the child."

The same writing records that when she was one year old, her father “made a great feast and invited the priests, the scribes, the elders, and all the people of Israel.”

“And Joachim brought the child to the priests,” the account continues, “and they blessed her, saying: 'O God of our fathers, bless this child, and give her an everlasting name to be named in all generations' …

And he brought her to the chief priests and they blessed her, saying: 'O God most high, look upon this child, and bless her with the utmost blessing, which shall be forever.'

The protoevangelium goes on to describe how Mary's parents, along with the temple priests, subsequently decided that she would be offered to God as a consecrated Virgin for the rest of her life and enter a chaste marriage with the carpenter Joseph.

Saints Joachim and Anne have been a part of the Church's liturgical calendar for many centuries.

Devotion to their memory is particularly strong in the Eastern Catholic churches, where their intercession is invoked by the priest at the end of each Divine Liturgy.

The Eastern churches, however, celebrate Saints Joachim and Anne on a different date — September 9.

#Saints of the Day #Saints Joachim and Anne #Protoevangelium of James

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bensbooks · 5 months ago

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TBR Highlight: When the World Didn't End

On January 5, 1975, the world was supposed to end. Under strict instructions from her Family Leader, seven-year-old Guinevere Turner put on her best dress, grabbed her favorite toy, and waited for her salvation--a spaceship that would take her and her peers to live on Venus. But the spaceship never came. Guinevere did not understand her family was a cult. She spent most of her days on a compound in Kansas, living with dozens of other children who worked in the sorghum fields and roved freely through the surrounding pastures, eating mulberries and tending to farm animals. But there was a dark side to this bucolic existence: When selected girls in her community turned twelve or thirteen, they were "given" to older men on the compound as wives in training. Turner was part of the Lyman Family, a cult spearheaded by Mel Lyman, a self-proclaimed "world savior," committed to isolation from a world he declared had lost its way. When Guinevere caught the attention of Jessie, the "queen" of the Family, her status was elevated and suddenly she was traveling in the inner-circle caravan between communities in Los Angeles, Boston, and Martha's Vineyard. Then, at age eleven, Guinevere's world as she had known it ended. Her mother, from whom she had been separated since age three, left the Family with a disgraced member, and Guinevere and her four-year-old sister were forced to go with her. Traveling outside the bounds of her cloistered existence, Guinevere was thrust into public school for the first time, a stranger in a strange world with homemade clothes, clueless to social codes. Now, in the World she'd been raised to believe was evil, she faced challenges and horrors she couldn't have imagined. Drawing from the diaries that she kept throughout her youth, Guinevere Turner's memoir is an intimate and heart-wrenching chronicle of a childhood touched with extraordinary beauty and unfathomable ugliness, the ache of yearning to return to a lost home--and the slow realization of how harmful that place really was.

#books #booklr #bookblr #tbr highlight

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pagebypagereviews · 5 months ago

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Meticulously crafted with layers of intrigue, "The Vanishing Act" catapults readers into a labyrinthine tale of mystery and survival that probes the depths of human resilience. At its core, the novel presents a chillingly relatable scenario—a sudden disappearance that sends ripple effects through a small, tight-knit community. This masterful narrative not only weaves a captivating story but also boldly addresses the agony of uncertainty that accompanies the loss of a loved one. With stark realism and emotional depth, the author navigates the anguish that ensues when the fabric of everyday life is torn asunder by inexplicable absence. The book serves as a mirror reflecting the often invisible psychological turmoil that individuals face when confronted with unresolved loss, bridging a critical gap in contemporary literature that gravitates toward neat conclusions and clear-cut resolutions. Embracing the complexity of human emotions, "The Vanishing Act" delivers a much-needed discourse on the themes of closure, the human psyche's tendency to cling to hope, and the cost of moving forward amidst ambiguity. Its significance lies not only in the compelling narrative but also in the profound questions it raises about memory, identity, and the lengths to which one will go to uncover the truth. This novel sets the stage for a conversation about the pervasive enigma of disappearance and the shadow it casts on those left behind. Plot The Vanishing Act centers around Minou, a twelve-year-old girl living on a tiny, isolated island, which is the stage for a narrative that intertwines magic with reality. Following the discovery of a dead boy washed ashore, the plot unfolds as a compelling mystery exploring themes of loss, grief, and the importance of storytelling. The rhythm of the book follows Minou's contemplative life and her interaction with the few quirky inhabitants of the island — her intellectual father, a philosophical dog, a magician who is losing his magic, and a priest who makes his confessions to a seashell. As Minou delves into the boy's story, seeking answers, she also embarks on a personal quest to understand her mother's disappearance. The narrative weaves together the reality of the characters' present life with the enchanting tales of the past, highlighting the blurry line between what seems to be real and what is imagined. Characters The characters in The Vanishing Act are richly drawn and contribute to the novel's charm and depth. Minou, with her inquisitive nature and analytical mind, stands as the protagonist through whose eyes the story is mostly seen. Her father, a philosopher, spends his days working on a treatise about the nature of truth, providing a thematic counterpoint to the unfolding events. The magician, a poignant figure, grapples with the loss of his magic, representing the fading of wonder and belief in the world. Meanwhile, the priest in his silent dialogues with a seashell symbolizes the search for faith and connection in a seemingly disconnected environment. These characters, along with a cast of supporting roles, such as a widow running a café and a lovesick handyman, embody the human experiences of love, sorrow, and joy, and their interactions propel the novel's explorations of memory and identity. Writing Style The writing style in The Vanishing Act is distinguished by its lyrical prose and whimsical touch. The language is precise and evocative, capable of painting vivid scenes that immerse the reader in the island’s ethereal atmosphere. Metaphor and allegory are used deftly throughout the novel, weaving a tapestry of symbolism that invites readers to look beyond the surface of the text. The narrative employs a concise and poignant diction which resonates with the voice of a curious and intelligent child, yet it never underestimates the reader's ability to grapple with deeper philosophical questions. The dialogue is sparing but impactful, and the pacing is deliberate, echoing the isolated and timeless setting of the island, thereby reinforcing the novel's introspective mood.

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lovehoned · 11 months ago

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character rundown;

feel free to ask more questions. this is like ... paragraph primer on original characters/semi original characters or characters like annie who people might not know.

ada wordsworth; fc: zoe love smith. 25ish. she/they.

ada's not human. ada's family was taking a vacation from their planet and her father's ship crash landed on earth, in england, and they've been sort of hiding in plain sight for the past ... fifteen years. they landed when they were eleven years old. she appears humanoid so it hasn't been much of an issue. her planet was pretty small and their main export were ships - both very technically advanced boats and spaceships. they can't get off of earth because they cannot get their hands on advanced enough technology. ada's been here since she was eleven so ... does she even want to leave anymore? maybe not permanently. thinks she can fly any spaceship. likes to tinker with stuff. fascinated with history and museums.

sophia keener. fc: kathryn newton. 17 - 20ish, she/her

the younger sister of m/arvel's harley ke/ener. she watched her brother (munchie's harley, over at goldshadows) get dusted when she was twelve, and when he came back five years later, she was seventeen and he came back at seventeen. genius in her own rights, though certainly not as obviously as harley is. into the living sciences like biology, ecology. developed an interest in prosthetics when her brother lost his hand. has ptsd and panic attacks. enjoys sour candy and causing problems. has a verse where she moonlights as iron gal while her brother is iron pal.

robin rockwell. fc: liana liberato. 17-20ish. she/her

energy manipulator, developed the power at around 13. abilities include draining energy from others by touch, then can create energy based attacks with this energy as well as telekinesis. the former leaves her exhausted. struggling to control her ability to drain energy through touch, so tends to isolate herself. learns she has two older half siblings who also have abilities, both who are missing. intends to find them, moved to a boarding school at 17 in the same city they were last seen in. has this amazing father who raised her on his own.

non originals:

annie smith. fc: young emily alyn lind. 7 - 9, she/her.

has a magic tree/house. it travels in time and space. it works for her and her brother because they're the only ones authorized to use it. she's been doing this since she was six years old. her brother has been doing this since he was nine years old. they've been rescuing people, places, and things since they were elementary school children. time moves weirdly around her sometimes. she can talk to animals. she hangs out in camelot sometimes. she likes animals, fantasy worlds, and not thinking about things before she does it. is friends with merlin himself. has a best friend that's also a dog sometimes. made friends with a pterodactyl. was on the moon. you ever see a seven year old do tricks for houdini? no? you want to?

wi/nston b/ishop. 30s. fc: lamorne morris he/him.

you ever see a man who loves his cat so much. you ever see a man who loves his wife so much. you ever see a man who DOESN'T run a radio program and also DOES wear bird shirts? color blind puzzle baby. prank sinatra. would make the FUNNIEST POSSIBLE do/ctor who companion. i have icons of both him AND his cat. once married someone ... for a prank.

janet. not an age. not a gender. fc: d'arcy carden

she's not a girl! she's not human! she doesn't have skin! she does know everything about you! i have the files for eleanor. here is a cactus. her best friend is a demon from hell named michael.

elle greenaway. fc: odette annable. she/they. 30s.

worked for the fbi's BAU for awhile. got hurt, then got in trouble. left the fbi's bau. honestly what i want for her post series is still under construction. but i felt it was important to include her. heed the warnings in her bio if you take a look at it please.

obligatory self @lovehoned so i can reblog this.

#ooc.#character rosters.#if anyone needs clarifying information. let me know.#i'm bad at describing personalities so this is mostly backstory. ada's the least developed bc she's new.

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umbran6 · 3 years ago

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The Argument Against Caleo

Spoilers up to Blood of Olympus and beyond. Beware! (Or not, the book series has been out for a few years, get over it). I wrote this after seeing a user wondering why people didn’t like Caleo, or in some cases, hated it. Here, I want to explain the answer as much as possible while doling out my own points.

One of the main grievances I have as a fan of Leo Valdez would be the ship Caleo, or Leo x Calypso. It’s a complicated ship, to say the least, with multiple issues that make me question why people like the ship. And I admit it, they initially had some chemistry, but there’s multiple issues that Uncle Rick produced through making such a relationship that makes it extremely open to criticism, criticism which I will explain through this post.

One of my main points against them is that the ship was created on a very limited time scale. Although we aren’t given an exact date to date of when Leo and Calypso met to when they fell in love, we can safely estimate it to be a week at best. Such a limited amount of time from going through the multiple stages of a relationship already stresses the limits of the suspension of disbelief.

A counterexample would be Percabeth, or Percy x Annabeth. Throughout the series, we aren’t introduced to them being romantically involved until the Titan’s Curse, which was two years after they met. Specifically, this is brought up by Aphrodite, the goddess of love herself. Admittedly, Percy and Annabeth were twelve years old when they first met, when romance was definitely out of the picture, especially with a quest to get the Master Bolt.

However, from there we get to see multiple examples of their character depth, ranging from their respective fatal flaws to their ambitions, hopes and dreams, and their friendship. We get to see the slow build up of their chemistry, which was a really good writing move on Uncle Rick’s part. These characters took their sweet time to get to where they wanted to go, and despite the false romantic lead of Rachel, they still got together.

On the other hand, we don’t see enough of this between Leo and Calypso — we only see one book where they interacted with each other in The House of Hades, and that was only for a handful of chapters. While they are definitely older so they can jump straight to romance (some may say too old, but I’ll get to that) its still a pretty huge gap to jump through without making it stick. This makes it hard to root for a ship when it is built on a rather faulty foundation from the ‘they just met’ to ‘they get together’, especially when they don’t have a lot of events to show their chemistry.

Which brings me to Ogygia, which has raised a few red flags for me when looking at it from a retrospective point of view. Now, we know what the main issue of the island is that the hero who landed on said island can’t leave until Calypso falls in love with them. And we’ve seen this with Percy during the Battle of the Labyrinth, where he lands in the island and Calypso falls in love with him while tending to his wounds from, you know, being erupted from freaking Mt. St. Helens. Needless to say, this falling in love with each other montage happened quickly to the point of suspicion, which sets up the complication that Calypso and Leo might have fallen in love due to magical intervention.

And hear me out, because although this might be a pretty big pill to swallow, we have evidence for this through Percy. It only takes one chapter for Calypso and Percy to meet, and the next he’s willing to consider leaving Camp Half-Blood and Annabeth behind to live on the island when Hephaestus gives him the choice to leave Ogygia or stay. We don’t even get an explanation on why Percy considered giving it all up just so he can be with her. All we know is, girl meets boy, now they want to live on an isolated island forever. It’s especially absurd considering Percy’s hamartia (fatal flaw) is freaking loyalty to those he loves. Needless to say, It’s a huge YIKES, especially when we apply it to Leo and Calypso.

It also raises the possibility that the romantic relationship between them is doomed to failure. And if you guys want to fight me on this, let’s look at Jason and Piper, a couple whose relationship started with a similar foundation. Piper had romantic memories implanted into her brain by Hera through the use of the Mist, while Jason was reduced to a Tabula Rasa (a blank slate for those who lack culture) by said goddess. They broke up before the Trials of Apollo because it was clear that when the dust settled, Piper had been aware that their romance was a lie and that their intentions to stay together was a mix of delusion and pressure from freaking Aphrodite. Leo and Calypso get together under what is arguably a very similar set of conditions if Ogygia’s magic had any influence on their relationship, and that this magic could wear off if given enough time.

Third, and here’s a pretty big one for me, would be Calypso’s character, mainly because there are a lot of unfortunate implications attached to it. In The Blood of Olympus, she was turned into the divine equivalent of Princess Peach, with Leo being her Mario (except he saves her with a badass metal dragon). Its extremely unnecessary to make a character, especially as one such as Calypso, get turned into the typical reward of a B-Class action movie. It’s insulting and puts her up as a trophy, a narrative that is definitely not ok by any means necessary.

In another direction, Calypso is also really, really worrying when things don’t go get her way. First, let’s look at The Odyssey, the first myth she pops up. Calypso had imprisoned Odysseus for ten years on her island until Hermes said to let him go, and although it gives them plenty of time to fall in love, it also raises the implications of stockholm syndrome. Then we’ve got the fact that Calypso cursed Annabeth out of spite, implicitly saying that she wished the daughter of Athena would suffer the same isolation that she did, which came to reality when Percy and Annabeth met the Arai in Tartarus. And Annabeth wasn’t even aware that she was still in Ogygia, much less intentionally intervened in the matter. When Percy left Ogygia, rather than be angry at Percy, Calypso cursed Annabeth out of all people to suffer the same loneliness and misery she went through. That’s some Hera at her worst levels of spite.

Through such evidence we can see that Calypso is extremely wrathful towards those who break her heart even though they don’t want to. It certainly implies that Calypso isn’t in a good state of mind, and could easily repeat said actions if provoked. We could almost compare it to Medea and the original Jason, but at least in that case, Medea has every right to be pissed off at Jason and take her revenge. Calypso’s curse and how she handles things certainly implies a level of immaturity that would end in disaster if they broke up.

One issue that, I’ll admit is more from my personal point of view is that the ship took a lot of Leo’s character and threw it in the garbage in Blood of Olympus. Though we see him do a lot of stuff behind the scenes, the fact that its all for the goal of reaching Calypso just reduced him to someone who is more focused on love than, you know, fighting the evil goddess that was responsible for killing his mom and getting sweet sweet revenge. While the revenge plot can be cliched sometimes, it can be played well, while romance and the typical ‘always save the girl’ trope is just overdone. If Leo had been allowed to, you know, be more focused on other things rather than Calypso, we could have seen a lot more variety in his character.

For example as one of the possible character arcs he could’ve gone through, Leo has always been alone among the couples, often being isolated. Heck, Nemesis herself stated that he would always be the seventh wheel, and that he would never find a place among his brethren. Though some fellow tumblr users have taken this in multiple ways, either saying that he should learn to be happy by himself or that he is socially isolated in the Argo II because of these romantic relationships (I prefer a mix of both). Uncle Rick just giving him a girlfriend seems like taking the easy way out of solving such an issue and abandoning what could’ve been a rather interesting character arc. The relationship isn’t a bad thing if we remove some of the unfortunate implications, but it is a bad way to end what is a complex and realistic problem for a character and in some cases maybe possible in real life.

One more minor but still yikes worthy point is that there’s a huge age gap between them. We’re not talking about the ‘Hazel is 15 and Frank is 17 and in one year that’ll be a problem because then Hazel will be jailbait’ age gap. And even then, we can argue that Hazel is older since she is chronologically ninety-one years old. No, Calypso is older by millennia in terms of mindset and body due to the perks of being a goddess, while Leo is sixteen.

God-to-Mortal relationships are already complicated, even with emotionally and socially well-functioning adults. The fact that Leo is underage, inexperienced with romance (despite his flirting, Calypso was his first kiss), and has been through a freaking ton of trauma in his youth, does not make this okay. At best, they’re both mutually interested in each other but may have different expectations when it comes to a relationship. At worst, Calypso is taking advantage of a boy just so she can get out of Ogygia and possibly dumping him later on like the wrapping of a candy bar. Even though Calypso lost her immortality during The Trials of Apollo, that doesn’t even compensate for the immense age gap alongside Leo’s guilt at the possibility that he might’ve been responsible for her losing said immortality.

Oh, and about Leo... I’m a fan of him, but I can admit that he is in a bad spot both mentally and emotionally throughout the series. He’s lost his mom due to a mix of his own powers and Gaea’s trickery, and never had the chance to fully process that event and come to terms with it. The foster home system alongside his own trauma has forced him to hide his emotions through a façade of happiness and jokes when it’s quite clear to me he needs a therapist, stat. He's also run away from several foster homes, implying this means he was and still is being affected by the event. His mask is still on during The Blood of Olympus considering he hid a lot of things from Piper and Jason.

Speaking about them, not helping this matter is the fact that he’s rather isolated in terms of friendships since Jason and Piper, his supposed best friends are more interested in locking lip rather than, you know, actually hanging out with each other. He doesn’t have good friendships with the rest of the Seven, and the closest ones he does have is with Hazel and Frank. And even then they start off in the wrong spot since Frank is very insecure about possibly losing Hazel to him during Mark of Athena while Hazel in the meantime, is also dealing with the fact that he is the descendant of her possible boyfriend Sammy Valdez.

This could indirectly have made him desperate for affection since he has nobody else to confide in during the rest of the series, which is a bad mental state to be in when one lands on Ogygia, the island that we’ve seen could possibly force two people to fall in love with each other. A romantic relationship is not something that he needs or something that will help him in the future. He needs more than that, and having him in one that could end in disaster is the last thing he needs.

And that does not make him a bad person, much less a bad character. While some who are similarly emotionally and socially isolated may turn to violence or creepy behavior on those they want affection from, Leo does not do that to the other characters. It just means that he as a character needs more time to recover and develop before we go giving him romantic relationships, much less one with Calypso.

That’s not to say that they don’t have some things in common. Both are starved for love and affection, with Calypso being constantly rejected by heroes while Leo was rejected by foster homes and his own family. It’s a trait that they have in common, but it shouldn’t be the only thing that they have in common, especially since it is laced with a trauma that is clear they haven’t had help processing. They need to develop more as characters and as friends before they should be paired together.

So… yeah. The Caleo relationship is, in my eyes, doomed to failure, or at least heavily flawed after taking the above points into account. Uncle Rick, as if seemingly aware of these criticisms, has put the relationship in a rocky place by The Tower of Nero, giving them the possibility of overcoming the above criticisms and their own flaws, or giving fanfic writers an out and pairing Leo with another character or have him single, but happy. Either way, in my opinion Caleo is a bad ship when it comes to how it was created, alongside the flaws and unfortunate implications it has.

While I can see some of the chemistry the ship has, you can’t just use a couple of moments where they get along as evidence that they belong together, especially with the above reasons. That’s like using a band-aid to cover a bullet hole without removing the bullet, stopping the bleeding, and preventing infection. If both characters and their relationship had been given more time to develop, I would understand how they would get together.

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howlingday · 3 years ago

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the first arc au) jaune meets ruby. and it's love a first sight... for ruby. jaune doesn't really get .... being human. a thousand or so years in isolation and outdated social rules pretty mush means that you can't pick up on anyone hitting on you.

but ruby will not be denied! the buff knight will be hers!

Queen

"I'm home!" Summer was immediately tackled by her daughters, the blonde taking her left, while the youngest took her from the right. They cheered and laughed as they held each other tight.

Yang was growing up fast, and it really showed with how often the twelve-year-old was getting in fewer fights each school year. She smiled with the gap in her tooth from a recent encounter with a bully after class.

Ruby doubled her sister, scoring high on every test. She was even offered to be advanced a grade further next school year. However, her parents both agreed it would be best to keep her in the same age group as her peers.

"May I come in?" The trio looked to the blonde man with a scruffy beard and blue eyes behind Summer. He smiled at the three and gave a small wave.

"Mister Jaune!" Yang tackled him, and he laughed as she squeezed his leg. He tousled her hair, earning him a punch in the thigh. "I told you not to do that!" Yang pouted.

He chuckled and knelt down. He patted her back, then wrapped an arm around her shoulder and brought her close. She leaned away, trying to stay upset, but she eventually relented and wrapped her arms around his neck. He looked to the shy girl hiding behind her mother's hair. He held an arm open as the girl ran to him, wrapping around him next.

"You've both grown so fast." He chuckled. "Someday, I won't have to kneel down to hug you." He tightened his grip around the girls a little, making them groan in discomfort. He let go still smiling. "I'll just have to savor these moments while I can."

Yang and Ruby were in bed that night, both tucked in and had a story read to them by Mister Jaune. Once he left the room and turned off the light, Yang turned on her bedside lamp and tiptoed to the floor. Ruby followed after.

"Okay, so what's up?" Yang asked. "You said you wanted to ask me something after we were tucked in bed, so here we are."

"Do you think mister Jaune likes me?" Ruby asked.

Yang blinked. "I mean, he's nice to us, so I'd say yeah."

"No, I mean, like, how mommy and daddy like each other."

"Uh," Yang scratched the back of her head. "I don't think so."

"What?!" Ruby's eyes widened to dinner plates. To think, she would be betrayed by her own sister like this! "Why not?!"

"Shh!" Yang hissed. "Keep it down!" She sighed and looked Ruby square in the eyes. "Listen, it's not that you're not pretty. It's just... he's too old for you."

"Nuh-uh! I heard from our teacher about somebody who married someone twice their age!"

"Do you know how much twice is, Ruby?" Ruby pursed her lips, her silence speaking volumes to Yang. "And it's not just that he's too old, you're, well, too young for him."

"But I drink my milk and eat my vegetables!"

"Yeah, but it takes more than that to be a grown-up."

"Like what?"

"Uh, taxes?" Yang replied. She didn't actually have a clue, either, but she didn't want to look dumb in front of her sister. "Look, you'll get it when you're older!"

"Well, when I'm older, I'm going to marry Mister Jaune!" She climbed up to her bed and squirmed around to get comfortable. "Just you wait!"

Yang climbed to her bed, yawning. "Whatever you say, Rubes." Shecturned off her bedside lamp. "Just don't say I didn't warn you."

Ruby stood behind the wall, listening to Mister Jaune talk to her parents. He was about to leave, explaining he was going back to the woods for a while. They suggested he stayed and apply for a Huntsman Academy, but he turned it down, like he always did.

Ruby never understood that about him. He was incredibly strong, probably stronger than her mother, but he never wanted anything to do with being a Huntsman, even though it was the most awesome thing ever.

"I'll leave tomorrow morning." Mister Jaune explained. "Sometime before noon. Better while the sun is still shining."

"I wish you would stay, but," Ruby's dad sighed, "I know you'd just slip out while we were sleeping anyways."

"I'm glad you're staying for one more night, Jaune." Ruby's mom told him. "The girls will want one more night with their hero."

Mister Jaune chuckled at that. "I'm not a hero. I'm just at the right place at the right time. But you two," Ruby peered around the corner and watched as Mister Jaune hugged them both by their shoulders, "you're better heroes than I could ever be." He stepped away, smiling. It was infectious, too, because her parents and herself were smiling, too.

Ruby walked out from her cover and approached the swordsman. "Mister Jaune?"

He looked down at her, then dropped to sit on his heels so they could be face-to-face. His kind eyes shined with a twinkle she couldn't help but adore. "Yes, Ruby?"

She gulped and fidgeted for a moment, twisting the ball of her foot into the floor while her fingers danced with one another. "Um, will you, uh..."

"Yes?" He tilted his head with an inquisitive look on his face. "Will I...?" He trailed off, leading her to finish her thought.

For Ruby, it was now or never! A leap of faith! She opened her mouth and shouted her deepest desire!

"Will you give me a cookie?" Weiss repeated, a deadpan expression on her face.

They say time heals all wounds, but Ruby felt just as embarrassed today as she did back then. Her face in her hands, she groaned as she retold her embarrassment of a childhood crush. Worse yet, said crush was now attending Beacon as a professor, and her crush on him never died, either!

"Look on the bright side, sis," Yang grunted over her sit-ups, "at least you're not wetting the bed anymore, right?" Yang stopped and gave her an incredulous look. "Right?"

"Yes! I haven't wet the bed in month!" Ruby shrieked.

"Months?!" Weiss recoiled in disgust. "When did you last soil your sheets? We've been partners for almost a year now!"

"That's not important! What is important is that I'm a big girl, and big girls don't wet the bed!"

"I couldn't have said it better myself." Chuckled a voice. Ruby felt her blood run cold, then hot as she turned around to the familiar voice of one Jaune Arc, currently standing in the doorway. "Mind if I come in?"

"For what reason?" Weiss asked with a raised brow.

"Dorm inspections." Jaune lifted the clipboard in his hands up, giving it a shake. "I'm the random Professor they chose today to do this."

"I thought students were to be informed prior to inspections." Blake lifted her gaze over her book.

"Normal inspections, yes." Jaune stepped in. "But these are just quick sweeps. Making sure you don't leave your uniforms all over the floor or leave food out to rot."

"Walking in on girl talk here, Prof." Yang smirked. "Or are you exercising your authority as a Professor already?"

"I won't be long. I promise." Jaune wandered about the room, looking at ceiling corners, around bed frames, and even out the window sill. For a moment, he stayed there with his head out the window, admiring the breeze. He pulled himself in and walked towards the door. "Everything seems in order here. I'll be on my-"

"Wait!" All eyes fell on Ruby as she extended her hand towards him. Once again, her heart hammered in her chest as her throat began to dry. She took a deep breath before speaking. "Have a great day, Mister Jaune."

Jaune blinked before smiling. "Of course. The same to you all, too." The door shut behind him, and he was out of their sights.

Ruby sighed with a blush. "I finally talked to him like a normal person!"

"That's your big achievement?" Weiss cocked an eyebrow.

"Baby steps, Weiss!" Ruby chuckled. "Baby steps.

#rwby #ruby rose #jaune arc #rwby au #the first arc au #summer rose #taiyang xiao long #yang xiao long #weiss schnee #blake belladonna #my answer

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piecksz · 4 years ago

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forget me too. | (m)

pairing: modern punk!bakugo x fem!reader

warnings: nsfw, angst, cheating, oral sex, penetrative sex, angry sex, choking, fingering, exes with benefits, mentions of breeding, hair pulling, explicit language, toxic relationship, manipulation, reader just being a lovesick puppy but wouldn’t we all be if it came to bakugo

summary: it’s been a year since you broke up with bakugo after you found him cheating on you, and you swore you’d moved on from him, but when you run into him again at a record shop, you fall back into a dangerous cycle of love and hate

words: 9,800+

a/n: so i gave in and watched downfalls high, and i’m not gonna lie, it wasn’t the best piece of media i’ve ever consumed, but mgk’s feature track with halsey kind of ate (AND IT LITERALLY INSPIRED SO MANY ANGSTY IDEAS I WAS ITCHINGGG). therefore, this is said angsty idea. you can listen to the song forget me too by machine gun kelly (feat. halsey) while reading, that’s if you’re really daring. good luck lol

If there was one thing in the world you couldn’t fully understand, it was the type of girls who hated their ex-boyfriends, twirling their hair flirtatiously and giggling at all their pitiful punchlines one week, and the next, hatching bogus rumors to discourage other girls from seeking them out romantically, letting them know that their charm came at a price.

Until it was Bakugo.

You genuinely didn’t see it coming. You weren’t even able to recognize the severity of the situation until you were convulsing with the gravity of your sobs, shrieking at him in front of his apartment. Bakugo had called you earlier that evening to reschedule your previously-arranged dinner date since his friend Kirishima was in town, and he wanted to dedicate the rest of the night to catching up with his old schoolmate. You happily forfeited your own plans and instead opted to rendezvous with your boyfriend and his familiar later in the week, but as the night hauled on your favorite TV show no longer satiated your boredom.

Shuffling into the kitchen and scouring your cabinet for ingredients, you drew up the idea to bake some sweets for Bakugo and Kirishima because you figured it would be a nice surprise, however once you arrived at Bakugo’s place you deduced quickly that his friend wasn’t over. It should have been notably clear that something was unusual by the way he was hesitant to let you in.

He poked his head out from behind the privacy of his front door, definitely surprised to see you, but not in the way you had hoped.

“Y/N,” he greeted you with a tight-lipped expression, eyes dropping to the tub of sugar cookies in your hands. “What are you doing here? Why didn’t you call me to let me know you were coming over?”

You hummed after detecting a subtle edge in his voice. “I wanted to surprise you.” You rose to your toes to look past his head. “I thought you said your friend was coming over.”

Bakugo nodded, and once he extended his hand to accept your treats you could see that his torso was bare. “Idiot had to cancel at the last minute. School shit. He said he’ll be here tomorrow.”

Your grip tightened on the container.

If his friend couldn’t make it then why didn’t he let you know? The two of you still could have made it to your dinner reservations.

And in that moment, you swore your internal monologue was loud enough to hear, because you immediately received your answer when you heard a soft, feminine voice come from inside his apartment.

“Who the fuck is that?” you barked, trying to outbalance Bakugo’s weight on the door. “Bakugo you little fucking shit--let me in.” It was a moment-long game between the two of you until Bakugo gave in, accepting the reality that he’d already been caught. You stumbled into the door as it swung open, revealing his company.

She was petite with short blonde hair, wearing a panicked expression that matched Bakugo’s oversized flannel on her naked body almost impeccably. You stared at each other until you broke the tense silence with a quiet holy shit.

“Holy shit,” you repeated louder, blinking as fast as you could to hold back the salty tears that were beginning to cloud your vision. “You fucking dick!” You didn’t notice how forceful your voice had gotten until you were shouting at him, the immense pressure building in your chest making your voice crack. You hurled every vulgar name in the book at Bakugo who couldn’t even look you in the eye while you cried in front of him.

This couldn’t have been the same man you once saw your future playing out with. The hell unfolding in front of you was exactly what your friends, Momo and Ochako, had predicted once you disclosed your interest in Bakugo. They warned you that he had a record on campus, with multiple girls, and yet somehow when he wooed you with sweet words and thoughtful gifts, just like they said he would, you still thought you were different. The worst part of it all was that he wasn’t a terrible guy by any means. He was a little rough around the edges with a temper, but he was hilarious and passionate, all while being profound and smart.

In your fantasies the two of you were married, and then came babies with tufts of your tresses and the mischief of his ruby eyes. He would have been a winner, if he wasn’t so emotionally incompetent. Perhaps you were naive to assume what you and Bakugo had was love just because he said so.

Your quivering fingers worked unsteadily against the lid of the tupperware. You tossed it aside before dumping the container’s contents on the floor of his apartment and hurled the empty food saver at him.

“Come fucking on Y/N,” he said wearily. The fucking nerve he had to act tired.

“Enjoy your cookies,” you responded venomously, leaving quickly before another set of tears came surging.

The next several months were excruciating, and the pain you experienced was nothing compared to its onset. If you weren’t spending days cocooned in bed to sleep off the fatigue of your endless crying, then you were on your couch, staring unamused while Blair Waldorf waltzed across your TV screen.

At least she got her happy fucking ending. Good for her.

You couldn’t even find the energy to eat, and ice cream was not the cure-all for heartbreaks like everyone lied and said it was.

Every so often Momo and Ochako would pay you a visit. For the first few weeks they let you mourn, consoling you and cleaning up the litter of crumpled tissues around your apartment. After the first month, they suggested that maybe meeting someone new would be the best way to help you forget about your break up, but you didn’t want to meet someone new. You just wanted to know if Bakugo missed you too.

Once your grades started slipping, you used that as an excuse to turn to isolation and lose yourself in your schoolwork. The distraction left you with no leisure time to scroll through old photos of you and Bakugo in your phone, and within a couple months, you swore that you’d finally moved on from him.

But it seemed all of that was forgotten the moment you recognized his head of spiky blonde hair from the next aisle over in the record shop, and you silently cursed the universe’s cruel way of working, that all-knowing bitch.

You kept your head down, pretending to be overtly interested in the Kendrick Lamar vinyl you held in your hands, but you couldn’t stop peeking over the shelf to see if Bakugo had moved from his spot.

You could hear him shuffling, and every time you looked up, he was a step closer to the end of the aisle, meaning that your game plan was to move in the opposite direction, so you could slip past him without being detected.

You continued to move one step to the left every time Bakugo moved another step to the right, surely securing your elusive escape, but when you glanced up again, he had disappeared from your line of surveillance. Shit.

“Y/N?”

Shit!

Slowly, you pivoted in the direction of your name only to gawk, horrified, as your ex-boyfriend strolled up to you casually, like he had never ripped your heart out and trampled all over it.

Once he got closer, you realized how generous the year between your break up and now had been to him. His yellow flannel was useless tied around his waist when it should have been on his shoulders instead, covering the way his black Led Zeppelin shirt clung to the impressive build of his upper body.

“Holy fuck, it is you,” Bakugo said, incredulously. You swore he had grown taller now that he was standing in front of you because you couldn’t remember if he had always towered over you.

“Small world,” you said, distastefully.

“Not really,” Bakugo shrugged. “This is just where I come to slave away for minimum wage.”

You simply blinked at him with a placid expression, unable to decide which of your emotions was best considering the circumstances.

“I almost didn’t recognize you,” he chuckled. “Did you cut your hair?”

You raised an eyebrow plainly. “No.” If anything your hair had grown a few inches longer.

“Highlights?”

“No.”

“Shit seriously?” Bakugo cast his eyes downwards and then back up, sizing up your figure. “Well you look good.”

You could only offer up a dry laugh in response while shaking your head at the peculiarity of the situation.

“What is wrong with you?” you jeered.

You couldn’t believe the ease with which he approached you after not seeing you for twelve whole months, especially when six and a half of those months were spent bawling your eyes out over him and trying to repair the heart he broke carelessly.

Bakugo’s blithe expression withered. The look left behind was one of bashful remorse, as if he was embarrassed by the person he was a year ago.

You weren’t even sure if he had really changed since you’d gone out of your way to avoid hearing or seeing anything about him after you claimed to have gotten over him. The real reason was that you felt you couldn’t trust yourself. You feared that if you came across anything having to do with him, you’d descend into another self-destructive, heartache-driven spiral.

“I tried calling to apologize, but you blocked my number. And then blocked me on everything else,” Bakugo explained.

You shifted uncomfortably.

“I never saw you around campus, and when I showed up to your apartment you weren’t home. I felt like horse shit, seriously, but after a while I just gave up, I guess.”

You pursed your lips together at the mention of his attempts to remedy your breakup, specifically because this whole time you could have sworn he didn’t care to fix things with you.

Bakugo leaned in, and you surprised yourself by making no effort to create more distance between the both of you.

“I’m really fucking sorry, Y/N,” he said softly, for once without the gruffness of his usual tone.

If he made the effort to apologize even after a year, that must have meant that he still had some feelings left over for you, right? Did that mean he still loved you? The suspicion made your heart squeeze with expectation.

“Are you sorry that you hurt me, or are you sorry that you got caught?” You questioned.

“Both,” Bakugo snickered tactlessly.

You swore you could have punched his lights out then and there, but he must have noticed the way you tensed up because he looped his arm around you, pulling you in until you nestled into his larger frame.

“I fucking missed you, dumbass.”

Your stomach dropped at the very mention of the words you were longing to hear after your split, and you knew that you weren’t over him. Not even close. Even when you had caught another girl with her hands on him.

Your first mistake was unblocking Bakugo’s number that night, and your second was sending him a text. You stood in the bathroom, dumbfounded by your own actions while you clutched your phone nervously. Thank god he didn’t have his read receipts on. The last thing you needed to know was if he decided to leave you on read after you had just stroked his monumental ego.

You sat your phone aside and proceeded brushing your teeth until you were interrupted by a shrill ding from beside you. You grabbed your phone much too quickly and slid the screen up to be met with a reply from Bakugo.

9:32 PM

bakugo: so i’m still in your phone huh?

9:32 PM:

bakugo: lmao

9:33 PM:

bakugo: thinking about me even after bitching about how much you hate me?

9:34 PM:

bakugo: especially at night that’s hot

You scowled at the messages before putting your phone back down. Using the time it took you to finish brushing your teeth and washing your face, you recited your responses over and over again because as much as you wanted to, you knew it wouldn’t be smart to jump back into your relationship that fast. You still held negative sentiments about what he had done to you, but the pleasure of having him back was slowly beginning to outweigh your earlier feelings.

While shuffling into your bedroom, you kept your eyes glued to your phone screen, typing, deleting, and retyping messages, worried that they would sound too needy.

9:50 PM:

you: so i see you still have a head so big that it could block out the sun

9:53 PM:

bakugo: fuck off you little shit

9:53 PM:

bakugo: no classes tmrw and i’m off work at 12

9:54 PM:

you: ok? do i look like your fucking secretary?

10:00 PM:

bakugo: no im just letting you know in case you’re planning on stalking me again :^(

10:01 PM

bakugo: obviously i wanna see you tomorrow dipshit

Warmth spread across your cheeks until it deepened into a dangerous heat, and the happy memories of you and Bakugo a year ago resurfaced as deja vu. Everything was scarily reminiscent of the way he asked you out the first time, back when your opinions about him were much more straightforward.

You rolled over to the other side of your bed and squealed, flustered by how to-the-point he was about his desire to reconcile things with you.

“Get it together, honestly,” you reprimanded yourself, jabbing a finger against your temple in an effort to drill the mantra into your head.

You responded back to accept Bakugo’s invitation, being mindful not to sound too excited, but you couldn’t deny that you slept better than usual that night.

The next day when you met up with Bakugo after his shift at the record shop ended, the two of you settled on getting coffee from one of the restaurants on campus. Well, you got a coffee, but Bakugo went for an iced tea instead because he insisted that coffee tasted like “dog shit”.

Regardless of your staggering difference of opinion in beverages, you guys hit it off again, laughing and joking around like there had never been a rift between you two in the first place. You were taken aback by how comfortable you still felt around him and how much he still seemed to adore you.

Two weeks after your reunion, you and Bakugo were already falling back into the routine of going on dates like you’d done before, snickering in the back of crowded movie theaters and demolishing each other in multiple rounds of mini golf. You even kept the photo booth picture that was printed for you at the aquarium in your wallet, just so you could peek at it every now and then.

Three weeks after your reunion, you concluded that you were pretty much together. Bakugo had never made it official, and neither had you, but you trusted the way you felt, and it seemed clear that he felt the same way.

Your friends however, weren’t as happy to hear the news of you and Bakugo seeing each other again.

Momo’s eyes widened as she leaned over the table and thrusted her mechanical pencil in your direction.

“Y/N, please tell me you’re joking.” She turned to Ochako who looked at you with a troubled expression. “Uraraka, please tell me she’s joking.”

Ochako pressed her lips into a thin line, shaking her head in utter disbelief. She said nothing. Rather she looked to you for an answer, wanting you to explain the situation before she scolded you for being so forgiving toward someone who didn’t deserve it.

“He apologized okay? And it really seemed like he meant it, I’m not just saying that. You guys know I can’t hold grudges. I’m soft.”

Momo huffed.

“We started talking, and he told me that he tried to apologize but he never got the chance.”

Your friends were still quiet, waiting for the punchline, but once they realized that there was no hidden gag to the story, they leaned back in exhaustion, disappointed that you’d gotten yourself into another wearisome situation because of your thoughtlessness.

“And he said he missed me. After an entire year, he still misses me.”

“This wouldn’t have happened if we had found you someone else, you know. Someone nice. Better than Bakugo, so you don’t feel like you have to settle,” Momo countered.

“I didn’t need to date someone else,” you chided her. “I’m not one of those people that need to be in a relationship to feel fulfilled, plus I’ve been swamped with assignments.” You knew you were just trying to save face. You knew the real reason why you turned down all your prospective blind dates, and your friends knew it too. You couldn’t see yourself with anyone other than Bakugo, and you meant it when you said you didn’t need love to feel like you had purpose, but when it came to the blonde, it appeared that none of those principles applied.

“You’re lying,” Ochako sighed, tucking her hair behind her ear before clicking her pen and returning to her research paper.

“I’m not settling!” you declared, earning a few scattered glances from the other students in the library. You smiled at them ruefully, mouthing an apology, and ducked your head back into your college textbook.

You decided to drop the conversation, concluding that your friends just wouldn’t understand. They didn’t know your relationship with Bakugo like you did so how could they have understood?

Later that night however, you couldn’t help but chew over your friends’ reactions. There was clearly a reason why they felt the way they did, but you just couldn’t bring yourself to see their concern. You didn’t need to be chastised every time you did something they didn’t agree with, because you reminded yourself you were a grown ass woman. You treasured Momo and Ochako, but you were absolutely capable of looking out of yourself.

“Why do girls watch this shit?” Bakugo muttered from beside you, uninterested in the movie playing on the Macbook propped up in your lap. “It’s just dresses and sideburns, where the fuck are the fist fights?”

“It’s Pride and Prejudice, stupid. Not Deadpool,” you retorted, giggling slightly once Bakugo decided the skin of your neck was more interesting than Kiera Knightley. He released a throaty chuckle while attaching his lips to the base of your jaw and continued kissing until he stopped where your neck met your shoulders.

“Stop, I’m trying to watch the movie,” you complained tenderly with absolutely no intent to make Bakugo stop.

Bakugo sat up, grabbing your laptop off the sheets and closing it briskly. “Fuck the movie, I have a better idea,” he suggested. Your eyebrows furrowed, watching as he tossed the device onto the chair beside your closet.

“Hey, what are you doing, you dick?” you protested.

Within seconds Bakugo was on top of you with arms on either side of your head, effectively caging you in beneath him.

“Yeah?” he whispered provocatively, like he was making sure he had your permission first. He spoke under his breath, just loud enough for you to hear.

You didn’t know what sensation you registered first: the warmth now spreading quickly across your cheeks, down to your chest, or the pronounced throbbing between your thighs.

You nodded, softly responding with a “yeah” in return, and Bakugo didn’t waste a second before pressing his mouth to yours enthusiastically. You were surprised how quickly you re-familiarized yourself with the curve of his lips and the way they moved steadily against yours. Acting with fervor, he used his hand to grip your chin, forcing your mouth to open wider so he could slip his tongue past your teeth.

Bakugo used his free hand to grab your breast under your sweatshirt, and you relished in the feeling of his warm palm against your skin while he ran his fingertips against the silky fabric of your lace bra.

“Lace? You dirty bitch,” he teased, breaking contact. “There’s no way you could have known we were gonna fuck.”

You laughed, appreciating how seductive Bakugo looked. His sandy hair was tousled from your impatient hands in his locks, skin feverishly tinged with a dusty pink hue, and lips swollen from the force of his kiss.

“I didn’t know, but I was hoping we would,” you answered honestly. “I guess I got lucky.”

Bakugo snickered, clearly pleased with the response he received. His scarlet eyes flickered lustfully, and he hastily returned to working on your body. He pulled your sweatshirt up and off, tossing it over his shoulder before working swiftly against the clasp of your bra, which he skillfully managed to break with just one hand.

Must have had a lot of practice with that.

But your cynical thoughts were soon forgotten the moment Bakugo’s tongue curled around your nipple, enjoying the way his saliva made your skin glisten under the dim lamp light. He hummed loudly every time you jolted and whimpered, your back arching in tandem. He closed his lips around the delicate nub, sucking harshly while making no attempts to hide his sly smile. He was enjoying himself far too much.

He made sure he put his other hand to work, rolling your other nipple between his fingers, pinching roughly while tugging on it absentmindedly. Once he grew bored of your innocent mewls, he thirsted for something filthier.

Bakugo tantalizingly slid his hand down your stomach until his fingers curled around the waistband of your volleyball shorts. He stretched the Spandex material until when he released it, it snapped painfully against your skin, his cock throbbing at the exposure of your earthy groan.

He slipped off your shorts, and the sight before him was enough to elicit a long, drawn-out “Jesus fucking Christ”.

You didn’t realize you were so aroused that your underwear was soaking wet, your pussy now visible through the thin sheer fabric. Bakugo swallowed hard, palming himself to relieve some of the unbearable pressure he was feeling. He could feel his cock straining against his underwear, and he wanted to stick his dick inside you and fuck you until your eyes rolled back into your head, but the only thing he wanted more than that was to taste you.

“These are mine,” Bakugo insisted. He pulled your panties off, chuckling dryly at the wet stain on the fabric before tucking them into his pocket.

You tilted your head at him.

“What? I’m keeping them as a souvenir,” he replied.

But that’s not what you were concerned with. You were more humiliated than anything that this was your first time having sex with him in a year, and you’d been horny for him since you opened the door. You might as well have just written Bakugo’s Whore on your head in thick permanent marker, but you kept your suggestion to yourself knowing that Bakugo would have liked the idea way too much.

Bakugo reached down to pull his shirt over his head and threw it aside, unveiling his impressive physique. After you guys had broken up, he began finding himself in the gym more frequently, placating his regret and anger through physical exertion, and although he used weightlifting to cope, it left him with an incredible build.

Sweet lord, you thought, please fucking break me.

Bakugo wrapped his arms around your thighs, pulling you forcibly toward him. You propped yourself up on your elbows to get a good look as his face disappeared between your legs. You couldn’t see much past his hair, but you felt a long wet lick up your folds, and your arms immediately gave out, causing you to fall back onto the bed while your hips bucked upward.

You let out an obscene cry, but that only encouraged Bakugo more. He parted your lips with his tongue, licking another stripe up to your clit before sucking it into his mouth, all while peering up at you to see the way you writhed under his touch. You gripped the sheets, and your breathing grew increasingly labored as Bakugo swirled the tip of his tongue against the tender bud, slowly in one direction, and then the opposite. You continued to grind yourself against his mouth while your desire became insatiable. You felt like your hunger was completely justified, because you hadn’t been spoiled in a long fucking time.

You completely unraveled once you glanced down just in time to see Bakugo spit on your parted folds before using his fingers to coat your pussy in his saliva. His slick fingers rubbed your clit, taunting you for just a while longer, and then he dipped his fingers inside of you. He started with two fingers, slipping them in and out with ease until his spit mixed with your arousal created a vile lubricant.

With the way Bakugo’s lips were slightly parted and his eyebrows were knitted in the center, you could tell he was concentrating dangerously, observing how desperately you swallowed his fingers every time he pushed them in.

Your vision erupted into white heat when he bent down to take your clit back into his mouth while pumping in and out of you with an added finger. The symphony that filled the space of your room was absolutely foul. Your intense cries bounced off the walls, while Bakugo panted heavily at the messy sound of his fingers thrusting in and out of you. And neither of you cared if your neighbors could hear.

“Bakugo--,” you started, but your broken plea wasn’t nearly enough to get his attention.

“Bakugo,” you cried louder, your body beginning to shake with the onset of your orgasm.

“Are you gonna cum?” He asked, his voice slightly higher than you were used to, almost like he was whining.

You could only give a weak nod in response.

“Be a good little bitch and cum for me,” Bakugo coaxed, as you yielded to the intensity of your orgasm. He quickened his pace just to see you convulse as you reached your high, but then slowed down until he was ready to pull his fingers out of you.

The sight was enough to make Bakugo cum untouched. You were finger-fucked out, eyes shut as your chest heaved up and down while you tried to catch your breath. Your arousal was smeared on the inside of your thighs and your bedsheet was damp where you released.

Bakugo wanted to ask you if you were alright, but the aching pain in his pants took priority. He reached into his underwear, freeing his swollen cock from the confines of his boxers. He bit down on his bottom lip so hard he almost drew blood as he pumped himself gingerly, hissing at the feeling. His tip was raw and flushed, leaking precum in shameless amounts.

He hoisted your legs on either shoulder and positioned himself at your entrance, looking at you for confirmation, and you nodded feebly. He sunk his entire length into you, and you covered your mouth with your hand to stifle a shrill scream. Your walls were already sore, and the sting of Bakugo’s large cock inside of you was a painful bliss. Tears came quickly, and they rolled down your cheeks while Bakugo rocked his hips into you slowly. He was waiting for his aching to subside before speeding up his rhythm, and once it did he was taken over by an unappeasable greed.

“You’re so fucking tight,” he groaned, thrusting himself in and out of you. “If you keep squeezing me like that I’m gonna cum inside you and get you fucking pregnant.” Bakugo had one hand on your headboard, his grip so firm that his knuckles had turned white.

You sobbed underneath him, withstanding your own pain until it subdued into pleasure. You shifted your legs until they wrapped around Bakugo’s strong torso, unable to get enough of him.

Bakugo rammed into you, and your headboard hitting your wall furiously set the tempo until he fell into a staggered cadence.

“I’m gonna cum,” he choked out. “Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck--.” Your name was the last thing Bakugo could get out before he broke free of your hold, pulling himself out of you so he could release. He cummed on your stomach, generously shooting out hot spurts of white until he was soft and you were covered in his seed.

Bakugo leaned over and collapsed beside you, short of breath. He was drenched in sweat and his blonde hair stuck to his forehead with perspiration. He chuckled after a few silent minutes.

“What the fuck was that? Were you trying to get me to nut in you?” Bakugo asked, turning to face you.

You didn’t know what he was talking about until you remembered the way you wrapped him up in your legs while he was inside you.

You snorted, erupting into a fit of sheepish laughter. “Yeah.”

Bakugo raised an eyebrow, bewildered. “Crazy bitch.”

He pulled his sweatpants up and rolled out of your bed. “I’m not ready to be a dad yet,” he voiced, before shuffling lazily out of the room to find something he could clean you up with and smoke a cigarette on the fire escape.

The next morning you found yourself alone, Bakugo nowhere to be found despite you falling asleep with his arms around your waist. You raised a sleepy eyebrow at the empty space next to you that was still sunken from his weight. Okay good, so you didn’t hallucinate last night. You figured Bakugo had early duties to attend to, so you simply grumbled before turning over to get more sleep.

Following that day, every time Bakugo came over to your place, or you found yourself at his, the routine was simple: have breathtaking sex and then pass out.

You grew used to expecting it from him whenever the two of you spent any time alone, and the night before always consumed your thoughts the morning after. You’d squeeze your thighs together during your lecture hall while your professor yammered on about early psychology. The memory of Bakugo’s hand around your throat as he fucked you from behind prompted a surge of heat to your core.

Even when the two of you couldn’t see each other because neither of your schedules coincided, you found a way to make things work, whether it was over the phone, through text, or over Facetime.

Occasionally, you’d ring up Bakugo while he was closing up the shop to taunt him, touching yourself on the other line while he’d grow painfully hard and couldn’t relieve himself until he got home.

“You little fucking shit.” You loved the way his low growls sounded over the phone. “Let’s see how bold you are when I come over and turn your thighs into earmuffs.”

And occasionally, he’d send you videos of himself in bed while you were at the library late cramming for your exams the next morning, touching his cock with haste before cumming on his hands as he groaned your name loudly.

Not an ounce of passion was lost between you two, and if anything you’d only grown closer together from the time spent apart. You had your love back, and everything in your life was ideal.

Of course, that was all before the party.

The party at Sero’s house that you’d caught wind of once you joined Momo, Ochako, and your other friend Mina for lunch.

“You know I don’t like going to parties thrown by frats,” Ochako muttered, ripping off small bites of her chicken wrap.

“Why not? There’ll be plenty of guys there for you to talk to, your phone has been a little dry lately,” Mina responded, laughing silently.

Ochako squinted at her jest before playfully rolling her eyes herself. “That’s exactly why. You know what happened last time I went to a frat party. The hangover isn’t worth it.”

Mina exhaled heavily and turned to you with a hopeful look.

“Y/N, you’ll go with us right? Me and Momo?”

You squeezed your water bottle wearily. “I don’t know. I’m not a fan of frat parties either.” You didn’t know what answer to give her, she looked extremely optimistic, and you hated to rain on Mina’s Friday night plans, but you didn’t want to spend the rest of the evening crammed in a frat house with a crowd of strangers.

Mina stuck out her bottom lip and reached to grab your hand from across the table. “Please? Please? There’s no guarantee Momo won’t ditch me at the party for Todoroki.”

Momo murmured inaudibly beside her.

You sighed, however you relented, giving into the arrangements Mina had made for you, but you regretted your decision far too late.

You showed up to the gathering with Mina and Momo dressed modestly. Unlike your friends and many of the other girls there, you already had someone that you were seeing, and you wanted to look as reserved as you could so there was no confusion around whether or not you were off the market.

Bakugo was possessive, and he preferred to keep his possessions close. There was no telling what he would do or how he’d react if he learned of another man trying to make a move on you.

You took small sips out of your cup while you followed quietly behind Momo and Mina as they moved from person to person, greeting friends you were unfamiliar with. You feigned a cheery smile when you were introduced to them, but overall you were bored with the party scene. You weren’t really a frat party girl.

You yelled over to Momo that you needed another drink and shook your head when she asked you if you needed her to come with you. She looked far too engrossed in her conversation with Todoroki, and you didn’t want to just whisk her away while they were talking. In fact, you were the chairman of the Anti-Cockblock Committee.

You sauntered into the kitchen, sliding in next to the counter once the guests who were there first left. You started grabbing bottles to inspect the labels because to be honest, you weren’t sure what half of these brands were. As a broke college student, you bought your own drinks, which were mainly $20 cases of hard lemonade and cheap raspberry Smirnoff vodka from the liquor store. Clearly Sero had selective taste in high quality shit.

You poured yourself a small sip of Patron, tasting the clear liquid, and tried not to gag at the oaky taste as it burned your throat going down.

You felt someone ease in beside you. “Hey, bartender.”

You glanced at the guest next to you, their familiar visage coming into view. You recognized his distinctive green head of hair and innocent freckles peppered across his cheeks, it was the same face you saw every day in your sociology class.

What was his name? Ku--something. Zu…?

You remembered your professor referred to him by his nickname, Deku, and once you said his name as convincingly as you could, you gathered by his boyish grin that you were right.

“I’m surprised you remembered,” he laughed, and adjusted his circle-rimmed glasses while his emerald eyes swelled into crescents.

“I didn’t really take you for a partier,” you observed. Deku was incredibly smart from what you’d seen in class. He knew the answers before your professor could even finish their questions, and when you’d ask him if he could repeat what the teacher said for your notes, he explained the material even better than the person who was an expert in the subject for a living.

“I’m not,” he replied. “But you know, the college experience and all that.”

You scoffed and nodded, knowingly. “Melt your brain studying for 25 hours a day, 8 days a week, and then get shitfaced whenever you can. Yeah, that’s definitely the college experience,” you joked, pouring yourself a couple shots of vodka and mixed it with orange soda.

“I was meaning to ask you,” Deku started. “I mean--Yeah--I was meaning to ask you for your number in class earlier this week.”

You stirred your drink with a finger before stealing a taste. “Of course,” you agreed happily.

Deku’s face deepened into a rosy bloom once he took out his phone, typing in your contact while you recited the numbers.

“I’m not asking for a weird reason or anything like that. Just so we can help each other out with homework and stuff.”

You nodded, already acknowledging that Deku was a sweet kid, at least as far as you knew. You didn’t expect him to have any promiscuous intentions.

“Yeah, but I don’t think I’ll be as much help to you as you’ll be to me,” you teased, and Deku chuckled nervously still trying to shake the blush off his cheeks. “I’m free on Monday, I can meet up with you after class if you want.”

Deku buried his face into his cup, his shallow breathing causing his glasses to fog up. “Yeah, that sounds great,” he mumbled bashfully.

“Text me the deets,” you grinned, before wandering off back to your friends.

On the way back to the stairwell where Momo and Mina were still standing, your attention was drawn by a large crowd around the living room that erupted into jovial squeals and cheers every few seconds. You gravitated toward the mass of guests, standing on your toes to get a better look, but when that didn’t work you gently made your way through the throng of people, issuing soft “sorry, excuse me’s” and “thank you’s” to the people that didn’t mind letting you slip past them.

You had no knowledge that he was going to be here. He never told you what his plans for the night were, but this was the last place you were expecting Bakugo to be.

Here.

Playing a game of “Kiss and Blow” on a crowded couch with someone who wasn’t you. When it reached his turn, you could see his shallow inhale and how he put in no effort to keep the card against his mouth. It fell between the cushions, and the crowd erupted into another rally.

Bakugo grinned artfully and hooked his arm around the eager brunette before smothering her giggles with a deep tongue-filled kiss.

At first, the cogs in your brain couldn’t turn fast enough to register what was happening, and your thought process stuttered for a moment while your eyes took in more than you expected. Your body remained immobile, giving your thoughts a few seconds to catch up. Maybe for those few seconds, your anguish was suspended, and your shock was simply a cushion until you fell apart.

You couldn’t make your way out of the party fast enough, and you didn’t even think to let Momo and Mina know that you were leaving. Everything around you sounded warbled, like you were underwater, as your leaden legs carried you out, past the front lawn, and across the street until you were far away that you could no longer hear the music of the party. It was then that you pulled out your phone to text Mina claiming that you didn’t feel well and called an Uber to take you home.

The following morning you ignored all of Bakugo’s texts. He sent one at 10 AM, asking you if you were down to get breakfast, and then another at noon suggesting lunch since you didn’t respond to his text about breakfast. He texted you again, and again, and again, and you continued to disregard him.

You didn’t cry this time around. No. You were filled with a foreign anger. It was strange and new, and it burned nothing like the rage you’d felt in all your years of living. You didn’t know whether you were angry at him for putting you through this again or if you were angry at yourself for really believing that he’d changed. You really wanted to confront Bakugo in person, but you were afraid of your unpredictability. You didn’t know what you would do if you saw him--roundhouse kick him in the throat most likely.

Bakugo’s relentless attempts to get in contact with you didn’t let up, even late into the night. He sent another text threatening to show up at your apartment if you didn’t answer him, and then he called yet again.

Angrily, you reached out to answer your phone, but once you held it to your ear all the fury you’d been bearing throughout the day emerged.

“Can you fuck off?” You hissed.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” Bakugo responded, taken off guard by your greeting. “What the fuck?”

“If you were so hellbent on seeing me today, you should have thought about that before you decided to be a hypocritical little bastard! Again!” You shook with anger, unable to effectively piece together all the profane names you wanted to call him.

Bakugo was still while you put him on blast.

“Do you not have anything to say to me, you fuckwit?”

“No, because I don’t even know why you’re going full bitch right now!” Bakugo defended himself. You sat back at his reply, confused at why he was guarded. You knew that when Bakugo was aware he was in the wrong he always remained quiet and pensive.

“Last night?” you clarified. “Does last night not ring a bell to you?”

He let out a small grunt of recollection. “I was at a party last night, what are you talking about?”

“No shit, Bakugo! I saw you swallowing another girl whole!”

The other line erupted into laughter, and a large knot settled in your throat.

“Am I not allowed to kiss other girls now?” he asked.

Had he been hit by a semi-truck? Did he need a swift lobotomy?

“Why would you kiss another girl if you have a girlfriend?”

Bakugo muttered a quiet “what”, and then the lightbulb clicked.

“Holy shit, Y/N, did you think we were back together?”

Huh?

“When did we ever say that we were together?” he questioned lightly, finding your misunderstanding comical.

But--

“I thought we were just fucking around, you know? I never mentioned getting back together, and you didn’t either, so I just assumed we were just fucking.”

You didn’t say a word. As angry as you wanted to be and as angry as you already were, he was right. You had only assumed that you two were back together, but neither of you agreed on it explicitly.

“Our dates...” you countered listlessly.

“Two people hanging out together isn’t always a date.” Bakugo shifted on the other end and then grunted again to occupy the tense silence. “Shitting me, I didn’t know that’s what you were thinking.”

Realization of how foolish you made yourself look set in, and you hoped the awkwardness that hung in the air was fleeting. You swallow heavily, unable to digest defeat.

“Okay,” you murmured, before hanging up and flinging your phone aside.

You and Bakugo didn’t speak for the rest of the night into next morning, and by midday Monday when your study session with Deku rolled around, you were more than reluctant to go. You knew the frustration of someone cancelling last minute, but you were unsure whether you could bring a positive spirit to your meetup, and the last thing you wanted to do was put kind-hearted Deku through your bad mood.

As the time drew closer, you were considering texting him to rain check, letting him know you were feeling under the weather, when he sent you a picture at the coffee shop. Deku had ordered you lunch, mentioning that you must’ve been hungry after classes all day. He explained that he didn’t know what you liked so he just bought for you what he usually got for himself.

After that, you couldn’t have possibly turned him down, so you showed up anyway. Before you knew it, the clock already approached 9 PM, and the coffee shop was about to close for the night. Time had flown by while you were getting lost in upbeat conversation with Deku, and the two of you laughed and joked around more than you’d done your assignment, but you didn’t mind since it gave you another excuse to meet up with him. You didn’t expect him to be as naturally humorous as he was, nor did you guess you’d have as much in common with him as you did, but you’d forgotten about your own heartache during the time you spent in his company. Not to mention, he was very easy on the eyes, but that was just an additional plus.

However, when you finally returned home to your empty apartment that night, all your feelings came flooding back.

“Right,” you muttered to yourself, setting your backpack down by the door, and throwing your keys onto the kitchen counter. “Back to square one.”

Normally, you’d invite Bakugo over, but you had no desire to be anywhere within a three mile radius of him at the moment, so you quickly got ready for bed, figuring that the more time you spent asleep meant less time that you’d have to dwell over the all-too-familiar pain in your chest.

You continued to spend more and more time with Deku even though most of your plans were organized around schoolwork, even if it was studying for a test or just practicing terminology flashcards. Eventually, you’d gotten close enough that you didn’t mind inviting him over since your apartment was much quieter than the dorm he shared with his roommate, Kaminari.

You were both sat on your couch, and you took turns quizzing each other on general knowledge sociology questions. You flipped through the flashcards, Deku answering every question with impressive ease, until you had grown tired.

“Deku, this isn’t fun. You know every term,” you sighed, shuffling through the stack.

“Studying isn’t supposed to be fun, that’s why it’s called studying and not having fun,” he joked lamely, extending his hands to take his flashcards back.

You giggled silently at his flat humor and leaned back against the armrest to put your knees up. “Okay, well what do you like to do when you’re not studying?”

Deku slipped his flashcards into the pocket of his backpack. “Between classes, studying, and wrestling, I don’t really have much time for anything else.”

You gaped. “You wrestle? No fucking way.”

Deku raised an eyebrow at you, amused and unsure of the reason for your stupefaction. “Why do you think I’m a loser or something?”

“I don’t think you’re a loser,” you explained. “I just wouldn’t have guessed.” You took note of his lean stature. He did look like he worked out, but you never considered his pastime was something as brutish as wrestling. You figured his interests would explain the scars that decorated both of his hands.

“Okay then,” you began, hopping up and throwing the blanket you were wrapped in on the couch. “Teach me something.”

Deku stared at you, uncertain whether you were serious. “I don’t wanna hurt you,” he said, timidly.

“Oh man up, you baby,” you joked while wrapping your hands around his wrists, urging him to stand up. “Who’s to say I won’t hurt you?”

Deku chuckled nervously before following you over to the open space between your living room and kitchen. He stood for a second, thinking of the easiest moves to show you, and then he nodded, like he had fully decided.

“Okay, come here.”

You did as you were told, letting Deku guide you into the correct position. You cleared your throat, unnerved by the way his chest pressed up against your back, and his strong hands looped around your arms to lock them behind your head.

“This is a full nelson,” he instructed. “It’s a submission hold. It’s not allowed in our matches, but feel free to use it if you ever find some creep following you home.” You could feel his chest rumble with laughter between your shoulder blades.

You nodded, feeling flustered. “Mhm.”

The next demonstration had the two of you on the floor with your arm twisted at an uncomfortable angle while Deku’s arm was situated over your rib cage. You could feel his staggered breathing across the shell of your ear, and you looked over your shoulder expectantly, waiting for him to explain the move.

Deku must have realized how close your faces were to each other because he absolutely lost his cool. He began stammering, unable to get his words out. “And this one is called the--um...sorry it’s called the--,” he breathed. “I’m sorry, I’m--I just wanna kiss you so bad right now.” His body tensed with his confession, but you were the one who made the first move.

Once Deku’s hold loosened, you leaned into him, allowing your lips to collide with his. Your mouths moved against each other fervently, and the two of you rolled over until you were on top of him with your legs on either side of his waist. Ever since a few nights before you’d blown up on Bakugo, you hadn’t been touched. Not even by yourself. You tried, but your fingers came nothing close to competing with his. You were so incredibly needy that you had to forcefully stop yourself from gyrating your hips on Deku’s crotch. He was already red in the face, and you were afraid he might collapse if you worked your ass against the growing bulge in his jeans.

You broke your kiss to take Deku’s hands, and you rested them on your chest. With Bakugo, he would have immediately taken control, driving you into ecstasy, but with Deku it was different. It was as if he had never touched a pair of breasts before. His breathing grew even more shallow as his body became rigid.

You tilted your head, slightly irritated from the lack of action, but you were more concerned about Deku’s wellbeing.

“Are you okay?” you asked, tongue in cheek.

Deku nodded anxiously. “Yup, yup, yup, I’m great. I’m good.”

But something was off, and you knew you weren’t enjoying yourself like you typically would even with days of pent up libido. You closed your eyes tiredly and released an exasperated sigh, slowly pulling yourself off of him. “I’m sorry, I can’t do this right now--we shouldn’t--.”

Deku opened his mouth to contest, but you cut him off.

“It’s getting late, you should go. I’ll see you around.” You buried your face in your hands, embarrassed at your desperation. “I’m so sorry,” you apologized again.

Deku adjusted his glasses and murmured a small “It’s fine, Y/N.” He helped you up after he pulled himself off of the floor and gathered his belongings before heading out quickly, eager to flee the tension.

Fuck, you thought. How did things get so complicated? Deku was a sweet kid, genuinely pure at heart, and you knew he wanted you from the way his emerald eyes were glued to your frame, even while you were fully-clothed. Yet he wasn’t Bakugo. He didn’t know how to work you like Bakugo did, and you felt shamefaced for thinking about your ex-boyfriend again. You mulled it over and began to question why you were stopping yourself from having your cake and eating it too.

Bakugo didn’t intend on getting back together with you, but he enjoyed the phenomenal sex, and so did you. You held so much contempt for him now, but there was no reason why you couldn’t just agree to the terms of his compact.

Exes with benefits, only now with a few additions of your own.

No dates, no flirty chatter outside of your arrangements, nothing that could potentially steer you the wrong way towards forgiving him yet again, because like you told your friends: you were a pushover, and Bakugo was a sweet talker. That was a combination destined for hell.

Your revelation was exactly how you ended up sleeping with Bakugo again. Your sex life was practically a Dr. Seuss book. The two of you would have sex in his car, in the bathroom at a bar, and you’d have sex here, there, and pretty much anywhere.

When you first called him up, he answered almost immediately, somewhat excited to see your contact after going without speaking to each other for nearly a week. After you acceded, he snorted, wondering if you were conspiring.

“Are you fucking scheming something? Cooking up some devious shit to get me alone so you can kill me? Suffocate me while I’m sleeping? You’re goddamn insane.”

You rolled your eyes aggravated. “No. Are you down, or do you wanna pussy out now?”

Bakugo agreed, and both of you managed to keep things fairly cordial. Well, as cordial as they could possibly be, given your shared history. You couldn’t care less about the differences and arguments you had when you guys were in bed. If anything, you preferred it when Bakugo was angry at you, pissed at something you had said or just releasing pent up stress that built up over the week. That only made the sex filthier.

Although Bakugo wasn’t yours, and you weren’t his, that didn’t mean he didn’t hold some affection for you, and perhaps still even vice versa. He was possessive over you regardless, even if it meant coming dangerously close to breaching the contract. Especially when he caught you one night with Deku at an on-campus movie screening in the park.

After the fiasco at your apartment with you and Deku, you apologized sincerely to him a couple of days later in class. Deku took no hard feelings to your blunder, and he nodded at the mild rejection when you clarified that things would be best if the two of you stayed friends. He reassured you that he was fine, and he was far too occupied for a relationship of any sort anyway.

But Bakugo wasn’t aware that you two had already tested the waters and decided it was sink rather than swim.

When he spotted you alone sitting on a blanket, he strolled over, wearing a sardonic grin. He struck up a superficial conversation that quickly dissipated once Deku returned with the snacks you two planned on sharing.

Your grin when Deku arrived didn’t compare to the indifferent smile you gave Bakugo when he approached you, and he noticed. His eyes narrowed at your green-haired friend as burning rage coursed through his veins.

“Deku, this is Bakugo,” you said, uninterested in Bakugo’s presence while you took the bag of sour candy Deku offered to you.

Deku smiled at Bakugo, extending his hand to exchange a handshake, but Bakugo simply slapped his hand away dismissively.

“Whatever,” Bakugo jeered, his jaw rooted, before he diverted his attention back to you. “See you later, dumbass.”

He left without a fight, but you knew he wouldn’t put the memory past him, and the following night, all of Bakugo’s anger came bubbling out. The way his brain operated was fascinating, especially since he knew that you two had no romantic commitments to each other, that’s what you agreed on, but finally seeing you over him with someone who he assumed was your new interest turned him crazed.

Bakugo held a painful fistful of your hair, pushing your face into the mattress while he wrecked you. He forced himself into you from behind, muffling your screams with the pillow while he rammed into you relentlessly. Every thrust was vicious, exhibiting the full height of his temper.

“You’re mine, do you understand that? You’re mine to touch, mine to ruin. If anyone else puts their hands on you, I swear I’ll beat them within an inch of their life.”

Bakugo hated to admit it, especially since he knew admitting it turned him into the hypocritical dick of the year, but he enjoyed having you chase after him like a lovelorn puppy. You clung to his side, and you were there at his beck and call. He’d always hated being emotionally tied down, hence his apprehension toward serious relationships, but the way you took advantage of the freedom to see other men made him livid.

“Maybe if I really did put a baby in you other people wouldn’t be such a fucking pain. What do you think?”

Bakugo’s pace didn’t let up as his grip on your hair tightened, and he pulled you upright until your head rested back on his shoulder.

“Answer me,” he demanded, dangerously.

All you could muster were broken sobs. You had never seen Bakugo like this, and you were willing to avow that after discounting your fear and pain, it was hot, and you were slightly intrigued.

Bakugo secured his hand around your neck, allowing his fingers to dig into the side of your throat, and you could feel his cock throbbing inside you which let you know he was close, but he wasn’t making any efforts to slow down any time soon.

“The thought of you with him makes me want to fucking vomit. You know he’ll never be able to make you feel like I do,” he snarled against your ear. “No one will.”

You choked out a meager “I know” while your vision grew blurrier from the lack of oxygen to your head.

You came first and then Bakugo came shortly after, claiming you by pumping you full with his hot seed until you collapsed on the bed from overexhaustion.

You realized then, through the cloudiness of your thoughts came a single conviction: that your relationship with Bakugo was an endless cycle. You’d taken every romantic risk for Bakugo while he risked nothing. That’s how you remained foolish for so long, so naive. You refused to learn over and over again, and you sacrificed yourself in the process.

Once Bakugo threw you modest praise and disappeared into the bathroom, you gave way to the enormity of your despair. Your tears were silent and persistent until your breathing turned ragged while humiliation and resentment burned just beneath your skin.

You were smitten with someone who was bad at romance. Your love was a fairytale, but not everyone believed in fairytales, meaning that was both the birth and death of your chronicle. Fairytales were only real if you believed they were.

Bakugo continued to give you reasons to leave and seek out the love you deserved, but you took momentary bliss as your excuse for staying, like a lovesick fool or like an addict dying from overdose. You wish he would at least give you something to hold onto, like false hope or a pretty lie, but you knew that’s all you’d ever be able to do: wish that things were different so you two could have grown into something beautiful.

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godzillerd · 3 years ago

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Resident Evil 8 AU Pt 2: Parenthood Boogaloo??

Former Post Here

To summarize: Ethan takes deal. Miranda goes boom. Village goes boom. Chris is like this is serious. Heisenberg is like no baby for me pls. Ethan is like yeah no absolutely no baby for him pls. Chris is like sorry but baby for him. Didn’t even get a baby shower. Fucking brutal. Hate this place.

RIP pls forgive this obnoxiously long post that will never become a cohesive fic.

Why am I like this.

My life is a sea of regrets.

Seriously though forgive how all over the place this is - it is literally me vomiting thoughts for sport.

Immediately after leaving the village (what was left of it) Heisenberg headed west with Rose.

As expected, it took a matter of hours for the Duke to show up bearing gifts. Not much, mind you, but enough.

He even allowed Heisenberg to start running a tab, despite quibbling that it was a bad business practice.

For the first year, they were completely off the grid with zero contact with the rest of the world, usually living in ramshackle hunting cabins in the forests of whatever country they happened to be in at the time. Hungary, Austria, Slovenia, and eventually Switzerland.

Not requiring food or water himself, caring for Rose was relatively easy with some help from Duke. Heisenberg became an old hand at building fires out of nothing.

The whole baby thing did not come naturally to him. In fact, it took over six months for Heisenberg to have any kind of clue as to why the potato might be screaming this time.

He came very close to just killing it and fending for himself, but after seeing what Rose did to Miranda... it was enough to make anyone hesitant.

Around eight months in, Duke showed up with a new present: A cell phone. And a secure number. And a delicate observation that Ethan Winters might actually kill Heisenberg if he didn’t call soon.

Calls with Ethan were an infrequent thing. Ethan passed along pertinent information, but being under heavy monitoring, he didn’t have a lot of private time.

Heisenberg had less of an excuse, and just genuinely didn’t like Ethan.

Despite being told about it specifically, Heisenberg missed Rose’s first and second birthdays. She didn’t seem to mind. Ethan did.

Around then, it became obvious that living in the woods, completely cut off from humanity, wasn’t going to work out well for a growing child.

Did you know electromagnetic energy can really fuck up a bank machine?

Heisenberg (well, Duke) found a reasonable, small cottage on the outskirts of a village in the south of France. He put together a decent little business selling metalwork crafts that were simple (for him) to build, but could sell for high profit. Horses were a bit of a specialty.

Became the local backwoods crazy rural uncle who can fix anything using anything.

Ethan managed to pull enough strings to buy himself a four hour window while in France for unrelated business to visit Rose for the first time just before she turned three.

They agreed to meet in a town about an hour south as Ethan had ‘security concerns’.

ie. He and Chris both doubted Heisenberg’s ability to blend into a crowd.

To prove a point because he’s a petty bitch, Heisenberg walked Rose past Ethan five times while Ethan was waiting around for them. Ethan only noticed them when Heisenberg said his name.

Shaving, showering, a haircut, and new clothes can do a lot for a man.

Rose did not recognize Ethan and was extremely reluctant to speak to him at all. Eventually, she was coaxed into introducing herself as “Rosalie-Elise”. For reasons beyond Heisenberg’s comprehension, this seemed to have a profound emotional effect on Ethan.

Aside from occasional visits from Ethan (usually every year or two) it was mostly Heisenberg and Rose against the world.

Duke did roll through, though less frequently than when they were actively fleeing the village. He was incredibly fond of Rose, after all.

Until Rose turned three, Heisenberg largely saw her as a nuisance - something he was obligated to keep alive for his own sake.

When she was three, and shortly after they settled in the French House, Rose began picking up on Heisenberg’s mannerisms. Speaking like him, sitting like him, trying to mimic everything he did on a smaller scale...

Overnight she went from a nuisance to the apple of his goddamn eye.

Heisenberg rarely called Rose by her name unless it was serious. More often than not, she’s ‘Kid’ or ‘Blondie’

By the time she started school, Rose could dismantle, repair, and reassemble most standard engines (with a bit of help). She was also shaping up to be a mean little welder.

She also picked up a bad habit of swearing (fortunately, only in English)

Rose was raised speaking French almost exclusively, and her English was heavily accented. Heisenberg learned it with great difficulty, but became fluent by speaking only French for years.

Despite being happier by himself, cut off from other people, Heisenberg deliberately put in the effort to appear as ‘normal’ as possible.

He never claimed to be Rose’s father - to her or to anyone else. Instead, he called himself her crazy uncle and left the gossip-mongers to come up with a story about her parents.

Ethan was mockingly referred to as ‘Brother’ every time he called or visited, though.

When Rose was six, Heisenberg gave her a watered-down version of what happened in the village.

Watered down for him, at least.

Rose had nightmares for six months.

In the midst of that fun time, Ethan gave them a warning that the BSAA was starting to suspect something, so they up and disappeared in one night.

This pattern continued for years, destroying any chance of Rose having a ‘normal’ childhood.

Despite that, she developed a startlingly good mindset about things. Influenced by Heisenberg, Rose grew up with a tendency towards independence and isolation, with a hell of a lot of self-confidence and pride to boot. She never particularly enjoyed being around other children, even when she had the opportunity. She preferred staying close to Heisenberg whether it was necessary or not.

Being an obnoxiously touch-motivated brat, Rose spent most of her childhood hanging off his neck, or flopped over his shoulders, or literally hugging him while he was juggling hot metal. Heisenberg gave up caring when she was about four and by the time she was five he didn’t really notice it at all. He often sprawled on the couch just so the kid could nap on him and catch up on sleep.

After learning the truth about the village, Rose never did sleep particularly well at night - especially not alone in her room. Most nights, Heisenberg would sit next to her bed until she fell asleep. Sometimes even all night.

Again, likely influenced by Heisenberg, Rose grew to dislike Ethan as time wore on. Despite her solid relationship with Heisenberg, most of their arguments were about Rose seeing Ethan.

Heisenberg understood that their safety relied on Ethan being on good terms with both of them. Rose “didn’t give a fuck”

They reached a compromise eventually that Ethan was only ever promised one hour with Rose. If she wanted to leave after that, it was her choice. Similarly, Heisenberg let her set the boundaries about hugs and calling Ethan her father.

Needless to say, Ethan stopped getting hugs by the time Rose was ten, and he was never called her dad.

On the other side of things, Rose adored the Duke just as much as he adored her. Whenever Duke was in their neck of the woods, he made a special point to track them down in order to give Rose extravagant gifts.

Puberty was a hell of a time.

A hell of a time

Rose manifested a massive amount of power in the span of six months when she was thirteen. Around the same time she discovered her love of girls, teenage rebellion, and sticking it to the man.

During one rip-roaring fight when she was fourteen, Rose sent Heisenberg through not one, nor two, nor even three walls. She sent him through five.

Somehow, that incident was enough to curb the rising tide of teenage hormones and got them both back on track.

Heisenberg always struggled with knowing how much or how little to tell Rose about their predicament. On one hand, Ethan hated the idea and thought it would destroy her entire childhood. On the other hand, Heisenberg disliked the idea of lying to the kid.

Eventually, circumstances were such that there was no choice but to tell Rose everything in order to stay safe. By the time she was twelve, she had a pretty good idea about everything that had happened in the past.

Mostly because Ethan assumed he wouldn’t do it, Heisenberg also told her all about himself.

Surprisingly (or maybe not so surprisingly, after so many years) it didn’t change much. She tried to use it as ammunition during a few teenage tantrums, but when she realized it didn’t phase him, it was never really brought up again.

#Is this chronological #What is chronological #RE8 #RE8 AU #Resident Evil 8 #Resident Evil 8 AU #Resident Evil Village #Resident Evil Village AU #re8 heisenberg #Re8 Alternate Ending #re8 fanfiction #Re8 Rose #karl heisenberg #Rosemary Winters #re8 headcanons #re8 the duke #re8 ethan winters #Ethan Winters

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tcxigenesis · 3 years ago

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——{gugu mbatha-raw, 36, cis female, she/hers} || thora carstairs is a mutant with the ability of poison generation. they’ve been in new york for thirty-six years where they spend most of their time as a florist & mercenary. when i think of them, i think of devil's ivy clinging comfortably around bookshelves and window frames, perfectly manicured and deep purple nails that come to a dull point, soft humming of an old and familiar lullaby. they are affiliated with no one.

inspirations: pamela isley/poison ivy (dc comics), sarah kerrigan/the queen of blades (starcraft), lucy (elfen lied), rosa diaz (brooklyn nine-nine), cosima nihaus (orphan black), eleven (stranger things), maeve millay (westworld).

task one.

name: thora olivia carstairs. age/dob: 36 / december 8. occupation: florist / mercenary. mutation: poison generation. sexuality: greyromantic ??sexual. nationality: american. languages spoken: english, spanish. hair color: dark brown. eye color: deep purple. height: 5′4″. build: lithe, athletic.

⸻ QUICK FACTS

triggers for abuse & experimentation.

the daughter of a respectable botanist, thora was raised with privilege ---or so you would imagine if you were an outsider looking in.

her father was obsessive about his work, favoring his plants over anything else. having published numerous papers and broken through his research field, he provided more than enough for the carstairs family. when they welcomed thora into their lives it was assumed it would be the happiest day of his life. in truth, his happiest day was receiving a scientific nomination for the nobel peace prize.

thora’s mother was unwell - a sickly woman who did her best to give all of her love to her daughter. when thora was six her mother passed away and the stress of her loss triggered the dormant mutant gene in thora.

there was absolutely no hiding what thora was: her eyes a beautiful deep purple, her flesh taking the slightest of green tints ( only seen in direct sunlight ), at first the slightest of leaf patterns appeared across her body as if they were scarified there, deepening with age. perhaps the most notable change ( especially to a father who took scientific interest in his child ) was her purple blood - or perhaps chlorophyll was more apt, as it was more closely related to that more than anything else.

her life became a living hell. private school within her home to keep her hidden away from people who wouldn’t understand her, and needle pricks at every given opportunity. her blood was toxic, her skin could secrete dangerous venoms when she felt threatened, her tears were poison. she was a weapon. she was a mutant.

day after day she was subjected to her father’s poking and prodding: skin samples taken and tested, blood drawn in glass vials with glass needles, bone marrow sampled ( a painful day she still remembers ). but she was isolated and utterly alone, no sweet mother to protect her from the whims of a father who saw her only as a subject and nothing more.

she withdrew into the greenhouse on her family’s expansive property. thora disdained her own interest in the scientific field, but found beauty and solace in flora and fauna - things that could not harm her, no matter how hard they tried. plants that relied on a gentle touch, her affections, sunlight.

she was almost eighteen when she snapped. twelve years of horrific experimentation and a lack of affection coming to a head; psychological conditioning to just take it churning in favor of fight or flight survival. despite his safety measures when handling her flesh, thora spit caustic venom at her father and melted through his suit ... and flesh.

perhaps where she should have been arrested or taken in somewhere, charles xavier stepped in. he found the girl - terrified and cautious - and offered her a refuge from the world. while she accepted the offer and while she was sheltered from a trial ( her father’s death was ruled an accident ) she never quite felt as if she belonged with xavier and his band of mutants.

thora moved back to her home estate ( formerly deserted but left to her in name ) when she was 23 and worked for two years to resuscitate the expansive gardens on her property.

currently she works as a florist, taking her passion public despite scrutinizing eyes. she has 0 interest in the brotherhood or xavier’s x-men, though recognizes her talents can be put to use one way or another.

⸻ LITTLE TIDBITS

has never has a physical or romantic relationship with anyone. she is attracted to intelligence and has yet to meet anyone that’s sparked her interest beyond general conversation.

her very touch can be weaponized, and thora will/has used secretions ( blood, spit ) to harm another.

her manor is set not far from xavier’s institute on it’s own impressive splay of land. most of the grounds have been converted into gardens in some fashion and it boasts a great number of greenhouses.

her father’s former laboratory has been quarantined off in the house. thora has no interest in that wing, let alone those rooms.

has no pets, but has a soft spot for creatures that are venomous, specifically.

APPEARANCE: at a first glance you might be forgiven to think she is entirely human, however anyone looking at her for a period of time will pick up on the mutation’s physical manifestations. this includes: a slight green tint to her skin ( most visible in direct sunlight ), deep but vibrant purple eyes, and a pattern of various leaf-shapes across her entire body ... part of her skin, and feeling like scarifications to anyone who touches her ( not that she’d really let them ). her blood is also a vibrant purple.

@c23intros

#c23intro #ii. about #tw abuse #abuse tw #tw experimentation #experimentation tw

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wiypt-writes · 4 years ago

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Stark Spangled Banner

Ch34: Paper

Summary: Following the events in Siberia, Katie, Steve Wanda and Sam all struggle to adapt to a life on the run. The Roger’s first wedding anniversary isn’t spent the way Steve would have hoped, but as Fall arrives, he finallly gets the call he’d been waiting for from Wakanda.

Warnings: Bad language, Smut! (NSFW, Under 18s) Bad Language words.

Pairing: Steve Rogers x OFC Katie Stark

A/N: Wonderful edit again from @angrybirdcr and a new part means a new banner!!!! Here we go, into the Nomad/IW years...

Disclaimer: This is a pure work of fiction and classified as 18+. Please respect this and do not read if you are underage. I do not own any characters in this series bar Katie Stark and the other OCs. By reading beyond this point you understand and accept the terms of this disclaimer.

Chapter 33

Stark Spangled Banner Masterlist // Main Masterlist

August 2016

Following advice from Coulson, the group of Outlaws decided to lay low for a few months until interest died down, although Katie and Sam were pretty amused to find out that there had been widespread protests across the US after Captain America had been declared and Enemy of the State, especially when someone (no names were mentioned, but Katie was laying odds on it being Murdock to help Clint and Scott’s very publicised hearings) had leaked to the press details of exactly what had taken place in Siberia, and how they had been treated by the Government. To Katie’s further delight, Ross was facing a public enquiry as well with regards to their unlawful arrests.

All in all, that part of it had worked out pretty well. And whilst she knew Ross would get away with it, the thought of him being pissed off and inconvenienced filled her with a very smug sense of satisfaction.

The place they were living was called the Isle of Lewis, approximately twelve miles away from Stornoway in the northern part of the inter-connected Islands in the Hebrides. Coulson wasn’t lying when he’d told Katie it was isolated, in fact the only connection to mainland Scotland was either a two hour ferry or a half hour flight, so with that respect it was absolutely perfect.

The old farm house was secluded, the land surrounding it sprawling for miles, shielded by a large thicket of trees on three sides and a cliff edge which dropped down to a small beach on the other. There was no reason for anyone to visit or pass their house, bar the odd dog walker they saw treading the cliff footpath. They were always careful when seeing people to greet them politely so they didn’t attract attention by being suspiciously aloof.

The first rule of going on the run? Don’t run.

At first they strayed into town for supply runs only. Katie was surprised just how well she adapted to living with two additional people. At first she had been worried, Steve and her having had their own space for such a long time. Even in the tower and compound their living quarters had been spacious and private, meaning they could hide away from everyone if they wanted to. But in their safe house they didn’t have that luxury. Nevertheless, it was adequate enough meaning they all had their own rooms, even if they were on the small side. And whilst there was only one full bathroom upstairs, so far there had been no squabbles about who used it when.

The large sitting area had been kitted out with a state of the art entertainment system, they had a decent sized farmhouse style Kitchen-Diner, and a smaller sitting room off the back of the kitchen with a smaller TV and a a piano much to Katie’s delight. Practical things like bills etc were coming out of an account belonging to Mr and Mrs O’Rourke, one of Katie and Steve’s covers- the name being Steve’s Ma’s maiden name. Coulson had advised them it was the least suspicious thing to do and would attract less attention than trying to pay cash at a bank. They’d also acquired a ten year old 4x4, bought for cash of course, and it was subtle enough to blend in as a lot of the locals seemed to drive them too due to the terrain and climate of the Island.

But whilst everything seemed to go according to plan and was, when all was said and done, fairly easy, Steve was struggling. He was antsy from the lack of action, and from a purely carnal point of view was missing the fact he could slam his wife up against any surface he wanted to and not worry about them being caught. He hated the fact their room was right next to Sam’s, concerned with the amount of noise they might make after Bucky’s jibe about the hotel rooms, and it wasn’t long before Katie noticed a dramatic shift in his attitude towards her. He was snappy, short tempered and Katie was often the one that bore the brunt of his temper. They bickered, on a much larger scale than she could really ever remember them doing before, over really stupid things as well like the fact one evening Steve couldn’t find where she’d put his favourite cookies in the kitchen. He became less tactile, less handsy and their love life dwindled dramatically, but she tried not to let it get to her, which was easier said than done especially when she was so used to the fact that he basically worshipped the ground she walked on.

The morning of their first wedding anniversary, Katie woke alone, her husband nowhere to be found. After laying simply staring at his empty side of the bed for a moment, remembering he blinked back tears of frustration and headed for a before she wandered downstairs into the kitchen to be greeted by Sam and Wanda both sat at the table.

“Steve gone for a run?” She asked, after greeting them both good morning.

“Yeah, I offered to go but he wanted to go on his own.” Sam said, shrugging “Didn’t want me slowing him down.”

“He actually said that?” Katie frowned.

Sam nodded.

“I’m sorry Sam, don’t take it personally.” Katie poured herself a coffee and sat down, taking a deep breath. “Is everything okay?” Wanda asked, looking at Katie “You’ve both been a little tetchy recently. Granted you haven’t been as bad as him, but…” “Yeah, you guys not err…getting enough?” Sam quipped, earning himself a slap round the back of the head from Wanda, the younger woman giving him a glare.

“Fuck off Wilson.” Katie rolled her eyes.

“I’m just saying.”

“Well don’t.” She snapped, taking a sip of her coffee then swiping a piece of toast off his plate. “He’s just not coping well with being cooped up, it’ll settled down. I hope.” She added, biting her toast.

“Look, we know it’s your anniversary today.” Wanda looked at her. “You got anything planned?” “Not really possible.” Katie shrugged. “Thought I might try and convince him to take a walk later, just the two of us but…”

“Well,” Sam looked at Wanda then over to Katie. “We thought we might head into town for the evening, hit a few bars. Give you two a bit of space.” Wanda nodded, eagerly. “You have to do something, even if it’s just cooking a meal and having a bit of you time.” Katie pondered this for a moment and found herself smiling “Actually, that’s not a bad idea. I can go to the store later.” Her spirits raised a little as she started planning a menu out in her head. She was jerked from her thoughts when the security system clicked and Steve walked through the door of the kitchen that led to the grounds, the door shutting behind him, the keypad beeping as he typed in the code to lock everything down. His T-shirt was damp with sweat, clinging to his torso, the pair of dark sweats fitting snugly to his hips.

“Hey.” She looked up at him. His face was tired but nevertheless she was relieved to see him smile as he walked over and dropped a soft kiss to her head, their argument from the previous night forgotten.

“Happy Anniversary.” He whispered, and she smiled up at him, understanding his gesture to also be an apology of sorts.

“Back at ya, Soldier.” She swallowed back her tears, “You want breakfast?” “I’ll shower first.” He nodded to Sam and Wanda before pausing, and with a playful smile he stole the last piece of toast off Sam’s plate.

“Not cool man!” Sam groaned. “That was the last of the bread.” Steve simply shrugged at Sam’s protest, before he headed down the hallway to go and freshen up. Katie watched him go before she turned to Wanda.

“Fancy coming with me to the store?”

She nodded “Sure.”

***** When Steve came back to the kitchen half an hour or so later he was surprised to find the girls gone.

“Supplies.” Sam answered his unasked question as he was flicking through the television in the lounge, settling on a British Chat Show called ‘This Morning’, easy daytime TV that didn’t require thinking about. Steve made himself a coffee before he sat down next to his friend with a sigh.

“So, first anniversary.” Sam spoke, not looking at him. “Be this isn’t what you thought you’d be doing?” “You can say that again.” Steve mumbled. Just twelve months ago at that exact time he’d been bustling about his apartment on the compound in a fluster getting ready. It had, without a doubt, been the happiest day of his life. But this was not how he wanted their first wedding anniversary to go down. He’d always planned spoiling Katie a little, maybe a nice getaway, somewhere warm, but that wasn’t an option.

“Me and Wanda are clearing out later.” Sam’s eyes remained on the TV. “Give you two a bit of alone time.” “You don’t have to-“ Steve started but Sam cut him off with a snort.

“Man, you need to make some lovin’ on your girl.” He turned to the soldier who felt a flush rise up his neck. “Because we know you ain’t been getting enough, you’ve been a bad tempered bastard for weeks.”

“I have not.” Steve shot back indignantly, causing Sam to raise his eyebrows. Steve let out a sigh, knowing he was well and truly busted.

“Look, if you two ever need some space, all ya gotta do is ask.” Sam said sincerely, looking at Steve. “Couples need that time. This is bound to be stressful for you both.”

“I doubt it’s easy on you two either.” Steve looked at him and Sam shrugged, before he smirked.

“Difference is if I wanna get laid I’ll just head into town. There’ll be some sap out there that likes George Fletcher the Geologist from Georgia.”

“You’re terrible you know that?” Steve smirked at him over his coffee mug.

Sam simply smiled back. “You get her anything?”

“Yeah.” Steve nodded “We agreed months ago on something paper themed, you know, on account of the anniversary being paper. I had planned to get the lyrics to our wedding song printed and do a sketch of one of our photos to hang up in our apartment but that kinda went out of the window.” “So what did you get?” “A book.” Steve let out a breath “I spotted it in the second hand shop in town last time we did a flyer. It’s a leather-bound complete works of Shakespeare but it was published the year she was born and has all these handwritten notes in it from someone. Just the kind of thing she’ll like. And a couple of albums of sheet music, I know she’s missing hers back home and she hasn’t been playing the piano as much as I thought she would.”

“She’ll love it.” Sam smiled encouragingly “I hope so Sam.” he sighed, leaning back against the couch cushions, scratching at his chin “I hope so.” *****

True to their word, Sam and Wanda headed out just after five, leaving Katie and Steve alone. As Katie bustled around in the kitchen, Steve couldn’t help but watch his wife as she cooked, a small smile playing on his face. And then, realising they were truly alone for the first time in months he placed his beer down on the side and crossed the small room, wrapping his arms around her from behind and dropping his chin to her shoulder, nuzzling at her neck. She smiled at his display of affection, something she’d been aching for, and as the scruff of his almost-beard scratched at her skin she gave a soft sigh.

“You okay?” she asked.

“Yeah.” He said, before he shook his head “No. Not really. Doll, I’m sorry for being so distant. You don’t deserve this.” He sighed. “After the accords, when the dust settled we were supposed to have a normal life, a simple life. I can’t even give you that.”

“It’s a good thing you’re cute because at times you’re incredibly stupid,” She smiled making him breathe a laugh. “Steve we’re here, together after everything. I made that vow, until death do us part and I mean it. I love you.” She finished simply, shrugging. “So stop wasting time worrying about it. You’re stuck with me, Captain Dumbass.“

Steve looked back at her, before he gave her a small smile.

"Now I know this probably isn’t what either of us had in mind, but we’re on our own, I’ve got a pretty large batch of Mac and Cheese, and an apple pie in the oven, a steak ready to grill so let’s just try and enjoy it.”

“You made mac and cheese?” Steve’s face creased into a boyish smile “And apple pie? What happened to not baking pies unless it’s Autumn?” “Well its September tomorrow.” She shrugged. “And I thought it might cheer you up.”

"Sorry.” He half grimaced, half smiled apologetically back at her. “I know I haven’t been the easiest to be around lately ─”

“Stop apologizing.” She interrupted him again.

He studied her for a second before he leaned down to give her a soft kiss. “I love you.” “I know.” Her hands slid down to his chest and she gave him a quick pat before playfully shoving him away “Now scoot, unless you want me to burn dinner. Go set the table.” Knowing better than to refuse, he did as he was told and it wasn’t long before they were settled down and eating. They talked about everything and anything, drank wine, and to the pair of them they could almost have been sat in their dining room at the compound. They laughed, they joked, they poked fun at one another. It felt normal. Once they had finished eating they cleared their dishes, Steve grabbed another bottle of wine and they headed to the couch to find something to watch on TV.

“I got you something.” Katie smiled when Steve dropped the wine onto the coffee table and she gestured to the small gift bag resting on the table.

“Oh, me too. Hang on.” He bounded up the stairs to retrieve his gift. As he returned, Katie eyed the two wrapped items with playful suspicion as he handed them to her. One was really heavy. She passed the gift bag containing his to him and he peeked inside, and they shared a childish grin with one another before they set about opening their presents.

“Oh, Steve.” She breathed out as she gently ran her hands over the leather of the anthology he had bought her. Flicking through, she smiled as she spotted all the notes that someone had written in the margins. They consisted of opinions on the plays, themes, characterisation plots, all the type of thing she had studied at University and she found it fascinating to read other people’s interpretations.

“I thought you might like it.” He watched her as she looked at him, her eyes bright, before she then let out another sigh of happiness when she opened the two sheet music books as they would give her something else to play other than the stuff she knew from memory.

And her gift to Steve was equally as thoughtful. He positively beamed when he opened the new blank sketch books, pencils, wax crayons and charcoals. All of his art supplies had been left behind and he’d been dying to get some more.

“Well, the sketchbook is paper.” Katie explained softly. “And I know it relaxes you to draw.” “Doll, its perfect” He assured her, dropping a kiss to her lips. “Thank you.”

“So, what film do you wanna watch?” She asked, moving for the remote but Steve had no intention of watching a film. Not now. He gently grabbed her wrist and she looked at him.

“Right now, Mrs Rogers, I’d really like to carry you upstairs and take you to bed.”

Katie grinned. “Well that can be arranged, but there’s something I wanna do first.”

He looked at her, puzzled for a moment but when she tapped on her phone and the opening sounds of ‘Only One in Colour’ sounded over the speakers he laughed and stood up, offering her his hand.

“May I have this dance?” He quipped, arching an eyebrow at her.

“Always.” She smiled, allowing him to pull her up.

They moved to the back of the couch where there was more room and he took her in a hold and they simply stayed close, swaying to the music, both of them thinking back to their first dance as a married couple twelve months ago. Katie pressed her cheek to Steve’s chest and he in turn rest his chin on the top of her head, revelling in her closeness. He heard her let out a soft sigh, but this one was contentment, and he gently moved to look down at her. For a moment Katie felt her breath catch, he was looking at her with nothing but unadulterated desire and love, the same way he had on their wedding day, and before the song had even finished, he’d captured her lips in a soft kiss, his hands moving to cradle her face. Hers fisted in his white T-shirt and it wasn’t long before the kiss had deepened causing a moan to catch in Steve’s throat. Without a word he pulled back and scooped her up in his arms, bridal style, causing her to giggle, a sound he would never tire of, and quick as a flash he carried her up the stairs and into the bedroom.

He set her on her feet but before he had time to do anything she’d shoved him backwards, catching him off guard slightly causing him to sit down harshly on the bed and he let out a smirk as she straddled him before she kissed him again and he was happy to reciprocate exactly how he knew she liked, firm and gentle, passionate and caring all at once. Katie gently bit his lower lip drawing another groan from his throat as he rest his head against hers, his hands gently gipping her hip.

“You know,” She drew back slightly to cup his face in her fingertips. “I really do like kissing you with this.” she traced her hand across the short beard on his face. She also liked looking at him with it too because, coupled with the fact his hair was also getting slightly longer, it gave him a rugged, harder, rougher look taking him farther and farther away from the Blue-Eyed all American boy day by day.

“I’m getting used to it.” He murmured pressing a soft kiss to her mouth before his head dropped, small kisses trailing up the length of her neck, that precious stubble creating an amazing contrast to the softness of his mouth.

“Yeah, me too.” She gave a soft moan, her eyes closed as she rolled her head back, giving him access to more of her neck. Steve smiled slightly, happy to oblige and just take his god damned time loving his wife. Eventually, his lips made their way up her jaw and then she sat up slightly, grasping at the hem of his T-shirt. He moved to allow her to take it off and then his fingers made short work of the sleeveless button down she had been wearing, shrugging it down over her shoulders before he peppered more kisses across her collar bone and down her sternum as he reached round to undo her bra. Gently, he lay her flat down on the bed, taking a nipple in his mouth, this time drawling a loud groan from her as her hips bucked involuntarily upwards at the sensations spiking through her body.

God it really had been far too long since he’d lavished attention on her like this and Steve made a mental note to tell Sam and Wanda to ‘take a walk’ a lot more often. It was almost two months now since they had last been intimate and, his body was aching for her, desperate to feel her, and from the noises she was making she felt the same. His lips made their way down, nose and beard skimming along the waistband of her jeans before he undid them, sliding them down with her underwear as he shed his own too before he crawled back over her.

Katie pushed on his shoulders slightly so she could roll him over and placed herself on top of him, brushing her lips across the hairs on his face tracing a path across from one side of his jawline to the other drawing a gentle moan from his lips, hands flexing on her hips as she shifted slightly to start taking him in. Her mouth dropped into a small ‘o’ as they both groaned as she slid down him, her hands falling to his chest and once he was fully sheathed inside of her, she began to work him gently. His hands slid up into her hair, as she leaned forward to kiss him and he raised his hips slightly and she whimpered, pushing down harder against him as his hands gently kneaded at her breasts. Her pace was slow, torturously so, but it wasn’t long before she began to move faster, working him harder as she chased her relief. The roughness of his pubic hair was grinding against her spot, the friction feeling amazing as she pushed down. With every push she made, his eyes grew darker, and darker, his hands digging into her hips as he pulled her down, grinding further and deeper.

He sat up suddenly, so they were face to face, the change of angle making her cry out, as he slid his hands round her back, pulling her closer to him as he bent to kiss her neck, biting at that spot whilst he held her still for a moment, gently thrusting upwards, deeply, slowly, savouring the moment. Katie rolled her head back, a louder cry this time tumbling from her lips and he felt her tighten around him, and he let out a groan of his own.

“Good?” He panted, smiling as she managed a broken noise of affirmation, as he pulled her to him harder, hands back on her hips as his rutting picked up speed.

“Stevie…” She mumbled, her eyes locking onto his as her hands slid up his back and fisted into his hair. A few more pushes later and they were both done for, her name escaping from his lips as her walls collapsed completely, and she let out a soft cry as she fell forward burying her face in his neck. He was close behind, letting out a gentle moan, his beard rustling against her ear as he jerked underneath her, clinging onto her as if he never wanted to let her go. And at that moment he didn’t.

After a minute or so he leaned back, his breathing deep as he brushed her hair back off her face before sliding his nose against hers. “Happy Anniversary, Kitten.” *******

Steve thought the fall in New York was gorgeous but that was nothing compared to what it was like where they were. He was feeling a lot more positive about things as well, as post their anniversary, he and Katie had made a pact that they would do something alone together at least once a week, be it a walk along the cliff the beach, or straying into town to one of the local restaurants. His hair and beard now rendered him pretty much unrecognisable and they never got a second glance at all.

Steve’s favourite ‘date’, if you could them that, was the walk they took in the pitch black to see the Northern Lights late one evening. Katie had been utterly captivated by the beauty of the Aurora Borealis and Steve had to admit, it was spectacular. Committing it to memory was easy, and a few days later Katie wasn’t surprised to find a perfect replica of them his sketch book.

Being on the run shouldn’t have been this easy, and they were constantly on edge, waiting for the time they had to split and run, but whilst they could, they made the most of it.

Thanksgiving came, then Christmas, the four friends making it as festive as possible. They got a tree, shared gifts, enjoyed a Christmas Meal, and after several drinks each, Steve wheeled the piano into the living room where Sam and Katie gave a rousing rendition of ‘Fairy Tale of New York’ along with a few other Christmas songs. It was different, but that didn’t make it any less enjoyable.

And then, in March 2017, they had a call from T’Challa. They were ready to bring Bucky out of cryo. Katie and Steve instantly set about making the arrangements to go to Wakanda, but it turns out they weren’t the only ones planning on taking a little trip…

“There’s something I wanted to discuss with you all.” Wanda said, the morning they were due to depart. “Please don’t freak out, but I talked to Vision last night.”

“What?” Katie’s voice was quiet as she merely looked back at the younger woman, her face passive.

Meanwhile, both Steve and Sam’s eyebrows shot up in their foreheads.

“Hold on, what do you mean you talked to Vision?” Steve asked. “How? Where?”

“This is going to sound really weird, but I saw him in my dreams,” Wanda carried on with her explanation.

“How do you know that wasn’t just a dream?” Sam asked.

“Because it wasn’t,” Wanda shrugged “I don’t know how to explain it, but I know it was him and I know it was real. I think we are connected somehow, because of the Mind Stone and because I was thinking about him before I went to sleep, it made some kind of telepathy possible.”

Steve pondered it for a second, thinking to himself how ridiculous that sounded until he realised they were talking about an enhanced human who had gained certain telepathic and telekinetic powers due to experimentation with the Mind Stone and an android that now carried within his synthetic, vibranium-mesh body said gem.

When you put it like that it seemed fairly logical.

"What did you talk about?” Katie asked after a moment.

“Just stuff, how I was, how much we, you know, miss one another” Wanda bit her lip. “We talked about actually meeting in person in a few days.”

“Okay, hold on,” Sam held one of his hands up, his brow furrowed. “How do we know this is not a trap? Like, I don’t know, Tony getting Vision to talk to you to get us back into the Raft?”

As soon as Sam said it Katie shook her head. Tony could sometimes be a jackass and he may have been hurt and mad at her and Steve, but she knew despite his stinging barb in Siberia, he wouldn’t want them all thrown in jail.

“He wouldn’t do that,” She looked at Sam.

“How do you know?” Sam pressed.

“Because Tony has way better tech than us, and there’s no accounting for what Vision can do with that Mind Stone.” Steve backed his wife up. This was something he had been pondering on for a while now too. “If anyone can find us, it’s them, yet we’re almost ten months down the line now since Leipzig and so far, there’s no sign of any one, so Tony’s either no longer working with Ross, or if he is, he’s dragging his feet deliberately.”

“Exactly,” Wanda nodded emphatically. “And Vision would never do anything to hurt me, not intentionally. I trust him with my life, but it’s more than that.”

Taking a deep breath, his mind made up, Steve turned to Wanda “You’re not a prisoner here Wanda. If you want to go then we can’t and we won’t stop you.”

“Do you want to go?” Katie looked at the younger woman who was wringing her hands together.

“I do but, well, I kinda feel like I’m fraternizing with the enemy.”

“He’s not the enemy. None of them are. Not Vision or Rhodey, Not Tony, none of them.” Steve ran his hand through his hair, sweeping the long strands back off his face. “We all wanted the same thing, to do good in this world but we disagreed on how best to make it happen. Doesn’t make us enemies.”

“But we’re on the run because…”

“This was always going to happen.” Katie cut her off, shaking her head “Ever since SHIELD collapsed and Fury stepped away there was a power vacuum. It was only a matter of time before the Government tried to step in to oversee us.”

“And let’s face it, I was always going to be considered a rogue threat the moment I refused to comply” Steve said, a wry smile on his face. “We all were.”

“Just be careful.” Katie looked at Wanda. “And whilst we’re away just make sure you check in once in a while? And the first sign of trouble, well, let’s hope it doesn’t come to that.”

“Well if Wanda’s being granted shore leave so to speak, I might take a bit of time too.” Sam chipped in as the idea came to him. “There’s an old RAF pal of mine, based near Liverpool that I aint seen in a while. He’s cool,” he anticipated the next question, “I saved his life on a mission so he won’t sell me out.” Steve took a deep breath and then shrugged “You know the risks, Sam. If any of us get caught then…” “Back to the Pokey.” Sam shrugged “Yeah, I got it. And don’t worry, I wouldn’t rat your location out.”

“Me neither.” Wanda added.

“I don’t for a second believe you would.” Steve shook his head.

“I suppose, to be fair,” Katie bit her lip, “we’ve been here for a long time now. It won’t harm us to disappear for a while, regroup in a few weeks. And we’ll draw even less attention apart as they won’t be expecting it.” And so, for the first time in ten months, the four went their separate ways. ****** True to his word, Steve was there when they woke Bucky up. Once he had come round the two greeted one another with the same love and affection they always did. Suri’s scans showed that the programming was no longer present in Bucky’s brain, but there was one last thing they had to do to make sure.

Say the trigger words.

Which was why Katie, Steve, a one armed Bucky and T’Challa were now heading to the underground fort of the palace. Katie clutching a rifle, Steve was unarmed bar his super strength, whilst T’Challa was in his black panther garb, the party flanked by two members of his Kings Guard.

As they were about to enter the underground cell, Bucky grabbed Katie’s arm and pulled her to one side.

“What the hell Bucky?” She almost yelped, and he let go of her arm and held his finger to his lips.

“Listen, Doll Face, I got a favour to ask. If this hasn’t worked…” He took a deep breath. “I want you to end it.”

“End what?” She arched an eyebrow at him. “Me.” He replied simply “Steve said you’re a good shot. I want you to put a bullet in my head.” Katie blinked, and then burst out laughing. “Whatever.” “I’m being deadly serious.” Bucky looked at her. “I can’t and I don’t want to live like that anymore.” He shook his head sadly. “I’d rather die that know that what they’ve done is still in there.” “Bucky,” Katie frowned, “you’d be safe here, you know that, no one would trigger you.” “No, we don’t know that.” He shook his head. “Please Katie, I’m begging you. You owe me.” “So you save my life and you want me to take yours?” “Yeah. Pretty much.”

“You’re an asshole, James Buchanan Barnes” She hissed, glaring at him before shooting a glance over his shoulder at where Steve was stood, talking to T’Challa. She shook her head sadly. “I can’t. It’d kill Steve and it’s wrong, you don’t…”

“Listen, I’m asking you because I trust you to do it.” Bucky cut her off, looking over his shoulder to where she had been watching Steve. He was now stood observing the pair of them and they both smiled at him. Katie took a deep breath, looking into Bucky’s steel blue eyes and gave a sigh. She knew how hard this was on him and she could fully understand where he was coming from but still, asking her to do it, especially when she knew Steve would be besides himself made her feel sick.

“I’ve written him a letter.” Bucky said quickly, as the Super Soldier was now making his way over. “It explains what I’ve asked you to do. So please, give me your word.”

She looked at him, swallowing, and gave him a small nod before her eyes flicked to Steve as he approached, a frown on his face.

“You two alright?”

“Yeah, Katie was just asking me how I was really feeling.�� Bucky looked at his friend.

Katie shrugged and smiled at Steve in what she hoped as a convincing way “Wanted to make sure he was alright, that’s all.”

Steve studied her for a moment, and she smiled again before he turned to Bucky. “It’s gonna be ok.” Steve assured his friend, clapping him on his shoulder, shooting another glance at his wife who was nervously chewing her lip. He frowned again, but pushed the suspicion to the back of his mind and then nodded. “Come on.” “Yeah, let’s get this over with.” Bucky mumbled.

Steve and T’Challa stepped into the room which was sealed whilst Katie took up her position on the other side of the one way glass with Suri who pressed the microphone to talk into the room.

““I don’t know why you are all worrying, brother, it is like you do not trust me…” the young woman scoffed. “Take no chances Sister.” T’Challa shot back. “You know this”.

Suri made a noise in her throat and then spoke again “Ok, I’m ready when you are.” She held the red book in her hand that they had recovered from Zumo. T’Challa engaged his helmet whilst Steve stood stoic as ever, throwing a glance over his shoulder to the glass he knew his wife was stood at the other side of.

“Ready Buck?” he asked turning back. His friend nodded, taking a deep breath.

T’Challa signalled to Suri who, after a little hesitation, began to read, each word punctuated by a pause.

“Longing, Rusted, Seventeen, Daybreak, Furnace…”

Katie watched intently and saw Bucky was clenching his teeth and suddenly she started to get a little bit nervous. She wasn’t the only one that had spotted it either. Steve moved slightly, adopting a little more of a battle stance than he had been as he clocked his friends reaction.

“Nine, Benign, Homecoming, One, Freight Car”

The last words hit Steve like a truck. It was depraved that Hydra would use those words. Bucky had plunged from a train car to his supposed death. There was no randomness to that at all, unlike the seemingly obscure nature of the rest of the words, nor was it any accident it was the last trigger they would use. There were the final words because they signified the death of Bucky and the birth of the killer Winter Soldier.

Sick bastards.

Bucky’s chest was heaving, his fist was clenching, and for a split second Steve feared the worse. But when his friend looked up, he saw the blue eyes of Bucky Barnes looking back at him, and not the icy glare of the Winter Soldier.

“Buck?” He asked gently, his voice cracking slightly. Bucky looked at him, a single tear falling down his cheek.

“Nothing.” He croaked, and Katie let out a soft sigh of relief, her hands sliding down her face to cover her mouth. “Nothing.”

T’Challa threw a party of sorts that night which consisted of a bar crawl through the city. Katie and Bucky dubbed it a ‘Fuck HYDRA’ party much to Steve’s chagrin. But he couldn’t bring himself to care that much, as at the end of the day, if anyone had as much right to stick their middle fingers up to HYDRA it was them. There was still something troubling him though, so when T’Challa left the bar they were sat at for a few moments, he turned to Bucky and asked him outright what had been going on with him and Katie outside the cell before. Bucky hesitated before he hung his head slightly and peered up at Steve from where he was sat next to him, a tumbler of some kind of Wakandan alcohol in his hand.

“I asked her to kill me.” Bucky admitted, swilling the liquid round in the glass “If it hadn’t worked I asked her to put a bullet in my head. She didn’t want to but I told her she owed me.” Steve felt himself blanche. “You did what?” “You don’t know what it’s like.” Bucky shook his head. “Living with the fact that at any time someone could mutter a string of words and…” He shot back the alcohol and slid his empty glass back to the Bar Tender to top up. “I didn’t want to live like that.”

”You put that on her?” Steve’s eyes flashed with anger, “Damnit Buck, you should have asked me!”

“Would you have done it?” Bucky countered. Steve took a big sigh, knowing he was caught “Exactly.” Bucky scoffed. “And besides, you’re the one that said she was a dead shot.”

Bucky eyed his friend for a while before he slid his empty glass to the man behind the bar, gesturing for another top up. “Anyway, it’s irrelevant now because here I am.”

“That was still a shitty thing to do.” Steve frowned before he reached over for his glass, giving a little shrug. “But yeah, here you are.” T’Challa chose that point to come back and he settled at the bar next to Steve.

“So, Sergeant Barnes, we’ll have to see about getting you some permanent lodgings.” The King smiled “Maybe a private hut. There is a quiet tribe, not far from the river, unless you would prefer a post in my Kings Guard.” “I’m done fighting.” Bucky shook his head as he took another drink from his glass. “A hut sounds mighty fine. Maybe I can get some goats.” “Goats?” Steve looked at him.

“I like Goats.” Bucky shrugged “Do you remember the one in the petting zoo near School?” “Yeah, it set my asthma off.” Steve snorted before the pair of them descended into laughter.

Across the bar, Katie was stood with Suri and one of T’Challa’s personal guards, Okoye. She instantly warmed to Okoye, the woman reminding her a lot of Natasha. They stood chatting for a while before a loud roll of laughter caught their attention and they turned to see T’Challa, Bucky and Steve howling at something, as T’Challa gestured for the bar tender to top up their glasses whilst Okoye excused herself to head over to speak to her husband.

“Oh dear, they’ve broken out the Wakandan Spice.” Suri muttered, eyeing up the men.

“What’s that?” Katie asked.

“The only thing that gets my brother drunk!” Suri snorted “That stuff could knock out a rhino.”

“So it should have an effect on Super Soldiers?” Katie grinned.

“Let’s go find out!” Suri nodded, a cheeky grin on her face. They made their way over and Katie could see instantly the woman was right. Steve had a glazed look in his eyes and Bucky was leaning back in his chair, a pink tinge to his cheeks.

“Hey, Beautiful” Steve smiled up at Katie, pulling her into his lap, his hand trailed up and down her spine, lazily. “Where you been all evening?”

“About ten meters away over there.” She smirked, pointing. Suri was reaching over to steal a bit of the liquor from Bucky’s glass and T’Challa slapped her hand. “You are not even old enough to drink.” He glared at her.

“Tssk hush brother. Just because you are now well into your thirties. You always seem to be so bitter about me being much younger than you.” At that Bucky barked out a laugh.

“Don’t know what you’re snorting at old man.” Katie glanced at him and he quirked an eyebrow at her.

"Not exactly a comment I’d expect from someone who’s married to a hundred-year-old man.”

“Ninety-eight.” Steve corrected.

Katie leaned back in her husband’s lap to peer at him, her right hand running through his hair. "Doesn’t look a day over twenty five.” She grinned.

“Hey brother, why doesn’t your power stop your ageing?” Suri quipped.

“Shut up.” T’Challa glared at her. “Before I carry you back to the palace”

As the two siblings began to quibble, Katie glanced at Steve. “Been talking about the good old days?” “In a fashion.” Steve smirked.

“Anymore good tales of your misspent youth to tell me?” Bucky shook his head. “Sure Steve’s told you enough already.”

“I never told her about the time you set up a double date for us and then forgot to show up.” Steve looked at him, his arms tightening around his wife.

“That never happened.” Bucky shook his head.

“It absolutely happened. Caroline O’Hara and Deborah Smith”

Bucky’s eyes widened. “Oh shit, yeah. Brunette and a red head. A curly red head.” He grinned.

“Yup. Double date to the theatre, only you never showed up.” Steve looked at him, accusingly “And little old me was left to explain to Debbie why you had stood her up.”

Bucky smirked into his glass.

"I thought she was gonna kill me.” Steve mused, turning to look at Katie. “She kept hitting me with her purse. And then Caroline started, asking where the hell he was and why he thought it fit to stand up her best friend and try to fix her up with some kind of joke.”

Katie frowned, narrowing her eyes. “You weren’t a joke.”

“Thanks, Honey.” He grinned before he turned to fix Bucky with a glare. “And do you remember why you didn’t show up?” Bucky was now shaking with mirth, as he looked at Steve, his eyes bright with tears of laughter. “Go on, tell her Buck.”

“I was with Maggie Dougherty.” Bucky smirked

“Yeah, you were.” Steve pointed at him. “That was the night you got caught sneaking out of her room and down her fire escape by her dad who beat the crap out of you.”

“Worth it though.” Bucky snorted. “She was hot. Strawberry blonde waves, pretty face, nice ass.” “Yeah.” Steve nodded and Katie slapped the back of his head.

“Oww!” He looked at her as she glared at him. Grinning he reached up to give her a soft kiss “Not a patch on you though, Darlin’”

After another hour or so, Katie left them to it, heading back to the palace with Suri. She’d had enough, the alcohol she had drunk had lulled her into that happy place here she felt warm and fuzzy inside, and ready for bed.

Steve woke her up when he came crashing into the room a few hours later.

“Shit.” He mumbled, as he banged into the chair by the dresser. “Shhhh”

He staggered over to the bed before face planting straight down. Katie grinned as he peeked up at her.

“I’m drunk.”

“No shit, Sherlock.” She giggled and scrambled out of the duvet. “Come on, get in bed.” “Promises, promises.”

“Yeah, not a chance pal. I doubt very much you’d be of any use in this state.”

“Hey.” He pouted rolling over so he was on his back, turning to look at her as she moved to climb out of bed. “That’s my shirt.”

“I know.” She dropped to the floor to take off his suede boots.

“I like you in my shirts. I like you better out of them.” Steve grinned, grabbing hold of her as she stood up.

“How much have you had?” She laughed as he pulled her onto his lap, nuzzling into her neck.

“Enuff.” he spoke back, voice muffled. “You know you’re the prettiest gal in the whole world?” He peeked up at her and she had to laugh as she ruffled his hair.

“Arms up.”

“I like it when you undress me.” He grinned and Katie gave a chuckle, shaking her head. Eventually she managed to tug off his shirt and his jeans whilst he made some other reference to sex, before he pulled her back down onto the bed next to him, giggling like a school kid.

“Bucky told me.” He slurred.

“Told you what?”

“That he asked you to shoot him.” Steve hiccupped “But I’m glad you didn’t have to.”

Katie chuckled to herself “Me too.” “And now he’s all better.” Steve sighed. “Good, isn’t it?” “It’s awesome.” Shhe smiled, reaching up to bush his hair off his face. “You’re gonna be so hungover tomorrow.” He responded with shrug. “But I do love you. So much.”

“I know and I love you too. Now you gonna get into bed?”

He pushed himself up before beginning a monumental fight with the duvet to get underneath it, the whole thing a great source of amusement to Katie. She’d seen him tipsy from the Asgardian stuff Thor gave him before, but not flat out shit faced like this.

“Are you gonna puke?” She asked, stroking his head as he sighed, nuzzling into her chest.

“No.” He assured her, then paused, before he hiccupped slightly. “But I think I need water.” “Alright, wait there.” Katie climbed out of bed. She grabbed him a bottle from the mini fridge near the door but by the time she had turned back, Steve had his face buried into his pillow and made nothing more than a noise when she offered it to him, not looking up. Deciding she couldn’t be bothered to argue with him, she gently placed the bottle on the night stand next to him, and ran her hand through his hair one more time before she crossed to her side of the bed and settled down with him.

“Night, Soldier.” She smiled softly, kissing his cheek.

“Night, Princess.” He slurred into his pillow.

**** Chapter 35

**Original Posting**

#stark spangled banner #steve rogers #steve rogers fanfiction #Katie Stark #steve rogers x ofc #steve rogers x original female character #mcu #mcu fanfic #chris evans #chris evans characters

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thepastisalreadywritten · 1 year ago

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SAINTS OF THE DAY (July 26)

On July 26, the Roman Catholic Church commemorates the parents of the Virgin Mary, Saints Joachim and Anne.

The couple's faith and perseverance brought them through the sorrow of childlessness, to the joy of conceiving and raising the immaculate and sinless woman who would give birth to Christ.

The New Testament contains no specific information about the lives of the Virgin Mary's parents, but other documents outside of the Biblical canon do provide some details.

Although these writings are not considered authoritative in the same manner as the Bible, they outline some of the Church's traditional beliefs about Joachim, Anne and their daughter.

Joachim was deeply grieved, along with his wife Anne, by their childlessness.

“He called to mind Abraham,” the early Christian writing says, “that in the last day God gave him a son Isaac.”

Joachim and Anne began to devote themselves to rigorous prayer and fasting, in isolation from one another and from society.

They regarded their inability to conceive a child as a surpassing misfortune and a sign of shame among the tribes of Israel.

As it turned out, however, the couple were to be blessed even more abundantly than Abraham and Sarah.

An angel revealed this to Anne when he appeared to her and prophesied that all generations would honor their future child:

“The Lord has heard your prayer, and you shall conceive, and shall bring forth; and your seed shall be spoken of in all the world.”

After Mary's birth, according to the Protoevangelium of James, "Anne made a sanctuary in the infant girl's room and allowed nothing common or unclean” on account of the special holiness of the child.

The same writing records that when she was one year old, her father made a great feast. He invited the priests, the scribes, the elders, and all the people of Israel.

“And Joachim brought the child to the priests,” the account continues, “and they blessed her," saying:

'O God of our fathers, bless this child, and give her an everlasting name to be named in all generations' …

And he brought her to the chief priests; and they blessed her, saying:

'O God most high, look upon this child, and bless her with the utmost blessing, which shall be forever.'”

St. Joachim and St. Anne have been a part of the Church's liturgical calendar for many centuries.

Devotion to their memory is particularly strong in the Eastern Catholic churches, where their intercession is invoked by the priest at the end of each Divine Liturgy.

The Eastern churches, however, celebrate Saints Joachim and Anne on a different date, September 9.

#Saints of the Day #Saints Joachim and Anne #Protoevangelium of James

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percywinchester27 · 4 years ago

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A lot like ‘Us’ (Part-12)

Word count: 5.4K

Pairing: Sam X Reader AU

Warnings: Feels, pining, fluff ;)

Series Summary: Y/N Y/L/N is eager and honestly, still in awe that she managed to get herself an acceptance from Stanford Law School. On the face of it, her life seems as put together, mysterious and independent as one might hope for. On the insides, she carries the burden of past that haunts her till date. Seemingly, she’d left it all behind; that is until she sets foot in the class of the Law School’s youngest, most promising professor.

A/N: I am so excited to see what you think of this chapter! I haven’t made a secret of the fact that this is one of my absolute favorite chapters. I had a lot of fun writing it <3

The story employs two different timelines. The present timeline for the story takes place in 2014. Please let me know what you guys think :)

Beta: @deanssweetheart23. You are a goddess. I love you <3

A lot like ‘Us’ masterlist

Sam regretted it the moment he stepped into the bar. The lights were dim, the music was hip and it was too full of people. What was more, a lot of those faces seemed familiar. Maybe he had seen them around the campus?

Sam found a corner booth, away from the bar counter and the pool table. It was isolated and about as quiet as any table was going to get. He drew out his phone and texted Jody.

“I’m here. Where are you?”

Sighing, he locked the screen on his phone. Sam was beyond exhausted. He had stayed up the night, driven for close to twelve hours in total to and fro from LA, and went cut to cut with one of the fiercest attorneys he had ever met. At least, James was out for good. The look on his face at the sight of Sam had been worth everything. Sam had been so scared that he wouldn’t be able to get the kid out. Now that he had, all he wanted to do was fall in bed and not wake up till Sunday.

Even as that thought took shape, he knew he was lying to himself. More than anything, he wanted to find Y/N and thank her for her help last night, let her know how the hearing went. If someone at Acton Gris had helped him, he would have taken them along for the hearing because the effort deserved it. A part of him had wanted to ask Y/N. She would be allowed, since she was a law student accompanying the attorney, but Sam didn’t think he could handle being in her presence for so long. Besides, she’d had classes in the morning. Either way, she deserved to know the verdict. He had contemplated emailing her, then thought better of it. Maybe he would drop by at the library to see if it was her shift. It was only 12. The library would be open for at least two more hours.

He banished the thought as quickly as it appeared, though, physically shaking his head. He needed to factor in the consideration that she probably didn’t want to keep running into him all the time.

His phone pinged. It was Jody letting him know that Alex was yet to get home from some party of her own and that she would be late, if she came at all.

Fantastic. Simply fantastic.

He should have just gone to bed. Being in bars at midnight? He was too old for this. It had been Jody’s idea to begin with! She was the one who had made plans for the weekend and was standing him up now.

“Professor Winchester?”

Sam groaned internally before seeing who had called him. It was a glimmeringly clad freshman from his class.

Could the evening get any worse? He had to run into his students.

“Ohmygosh! I can’t believe you’re here,” gushed the girl. Sam vaguely remembered that her name was Staten.

The other girl whose name Sam didn’t know at all nodded vigorously. “You’re so cool!”

Both of them were bright eyed and obviously tipsy. That was a combination for trouble if Sam had ever seen one.

He got up. “Nice to see you ladies,” he said sliding out of the booth. “I’m going to step out for just a second. Y’all have fun.”

“Mr. Winchester,” one of them called, but Sam was out the back door. Few years of teaching had taught him enough in that department. During his early days, years ago, when he first started as a visiting faculty, he would insist that the class call him by his first name. He had been ignorant about how it came across and only after a couple of students had made a pass at him had he grown wary and stuck to being addressed by his last name. It never got less weird, having people address him as ‘Mr. Winchester,’ but he was used to it now.

Stepping outside, Sam breathed in the cold air, wondering again what the hell he was doing here.

He pulled out his phone and dialed Jody.

She picked up on the second ring. “I’m so sorry, Sam!” She apologised profusely. “Alex’s tyre gave out and she’s stranded a couple miles out.”

“Shit. Do you want me to pick her up?”

“No, it’s alright,” she reassured. “She’ll feel awful about you driving out to get her. I’m heading out now. Please just wait a little longer. I feel horrible about keeping you waiting, especially since it was my idea.”

He looked at the watch. It was quarter past twelve. “Jody…” he sighed.

“Okay, wait for just fifteen more minutes,” she bargained. “If I’m not there by then, you can go home and I’ll owe you drinks for the rest of the year.”

“Rest of your life, and we have a deal,” Sam smiled despite himself. “Okay. Fifteen minutes.”

“You drive a hard bargain,” She said, clearly amused. “That’s how you become a good lawyer. Okay, Fine.”

Sam laughed.

“You know I love you, Winchester.”

“I know you do!”

Sam put the phone back in his pocket. He wouldn’t have known what to do with his life if Jody hadn’t stepped in and taught him how to look after another person who was solely dependent on him. She was the best friend and mentor he could have asked for.

He slid back inside the bar, determined to avoid any and each student he saw. Especially the drunk ones. Luck was on his side. The whole freshman gang had moved to the pool table, removed from the main area. This late he would have expected the crowd to thin out, but hoards of people were on the dance floor moving their bodies to the rhythm of the song. Taking advantage of the crowd, Sam went over to the bar counter.

“Jack. Neat!” He asked the woman behind the counter. She had long dark hair and a mischievous smile.

“Coming right up, handsome!” She winked.

Sam smiled awkwardly as she slid the glass.

“Hey, Mister! Repeat this one!”

Sam’s head snapped in the direction of the voice. It was loud and bossy and Y/N’s.

“Y/N?” The bartender in front of him squinted at the girl two benches from him, clearly surprised.

Sam would have moved sooner, but he was awestruck at the sight of her. Y/N was wearing a silky, satiny top that was cut low and clung to her body like a second skin over tight jeans and heeled boots. Her hair cascaded over her bare shoulders like a nymph’s. Sam’s throat went dry.

The bartender rushed over to her. “Christ, Y/N!” she said. “What’re you doing here?”

Y/N looked at her with wide, surprised eyes. “Pam! OH MY GOD, PAM! It’s you!

“Yes, I work here,” the bartender, whose name was apparently Pam, said. “Rob, how much has she had to drink?”

The guy shrugged. “One vodka, three tequillas. I don’t know about before.”

“Y/N?” Pam patted Y/N’s face. “Are you by yourself?”

“Kinda!” Y/N giggled, tossing her hair back in a smooth flip. Sam’s heartbeat spiked at the sight. He absolutely couldn’t wrench his eyes away.

Y/N bent over the counter, then jerked her thumb at the freshman gang and whispered conspiratorially. “I’m with those guys over there, but I don’t think they care if I wander off. Can I tell you a secret? Most of them are douchebags anyway.”

“Rob!” Pam barked. “Do we have a standby? Rinny? Or just anyone else?”

“It’s just us tonight.”

“Well, fuck!” Pam swore.

“Y/N, honey,” she tried to get Y/N to listen to her, but Y/N was already trying to sit up on the bar, blowing kisses at Pam. “You’re the best, Pam. Just the absolute best and I love how much you love my cookies.”

“Everyone loves your cookies, honey, but you need to get down.”

“Okay… Okay,” Y/N winked. She slipped as she tried to get down from the counter. Reflexively Sam moved, catching her before she crashed to the ground.

“I got you, don’t worry,” he said in a low voice only to her and she looked up at him with wide confused eyes.

“Hey, get your hands off of her, Mister.” Pam hissed, looking scarily angry. “I said, let go of her. Right now.”

Sam did so immediately, but Y/N didn’t let go of his shirt. “I know her,” he tried to explain to Pam, who looked like she was on the verge of calling the bouncers.

“Yeah, that’s right, you know her,” Pam grimaced. “Very believable.”

“I swear, I know her,” Sam said, wildly trying to explain. “Her name’s Y/N Y/L/N. She’s a law student at the university. First year, hails from Kansas and feels insanely cold.” Sam started spewing random facts he could think of. “Her favourite book is To kill a mockingbird. She bakes amazing muffins-”

She likes her coffee with very little milk, is scared of ducks and has a birthmark in the middle of her lower back. She likes listening to classical music and waking up early…

Meanwhile, Y/N was still looking at him in wonderment, shushing herself.

“How do you know all that about her?” Pam looked at him with suspicion and mingled curiosity.

“I’m her-” it hurt to say- “ her friend.”

She still didn’t look completely convinced.

“Y/N?” Pam asked the girl in Sam’s arms. “You know this man?”

Don’t be that far gone, Sam prayed internally. Please don’t be that far gone.

“Pfftt,” Y/N scoffed, with such force that she lost her footing again. “It’s Sam! I’d sooner forget myself than not know him! What sort of dumb question is this?”

Sam.

She had said his name. It had caressed her lips. Was it even possible to be jealous of your own name?

Pam raised her eyebrows.

“Look,” she said, “I can’t leave my shift to drop her home and no one I can call will be up this late. Y/N clearly knows you. Do you think you can drop her home?”

“I-I don’t know where she stays!”

Pam quickly wrote down an address. “It’s just a couple blocks away. I’m going to call her cell in a while, so you better not try anything funny.”

Sam wanted to roll his eyes, but he was too terrified at the prospect of being left alone with Y/N. He glanced around to see a couple of looks coming their way.

“Yeah, I’ll take her,” he said finally. “The hangover will hit her hard in a while, it’s better that she’s home then. Trust me, I know.”

Pam took one look from his face to Y/N wrapped around his torso. “Thanks, man.”

He nodded and then slowly guided Y/N out. “C’mon. Let’s get you home.”

“You know where I live?” She asked, tilting her head to one side.

“I do now.” Fortunately or unfortunately it was right next to Sam’s street.

He adjusted her so that she was tucked under his side. Her fingers were still boldly clutching at his undershirt, sending shocks of sensation throughout his body.

“This way, c’mon,” He guided her forward.

“Stop pushing me. I. Can’t. Walk. Any. Faster!” She whined. “These shoes suck.”

“Okay, let’s just sit for a while.” He slowly steered her to a bench on the street. It wasn’t right outside the bar, hence, out of clear view. Sam lowered her onto the bench and she promptly pulled her feet up, trying to slide the zipper on her shoes. They honestly looked like a death trap of sorts. The zipper stuck out adamantly as she yanked at it with all her might.

Hands trembling, he caught hold of hers. “Wait. Let me.”

Slowly, with a steadier hand, Sam dragged down the zippers on both her shoes- carefully, to not touch her skin- freeing her feet. She drew into herself, massaging the reddened skin on the arch and the back of her heel.

“Stupid Meg,” she muttered. “Shouldn’t have let her put me in these.”

She massaged her toes. “It hurts.”

“Will you let me take a look at it?” He asked hesitantly. Y/N twisted her body and put both her feet straight into his lap.

“Here! Look all you want.”

Her hair was fluttering lightly in the wind and despite the chill, she wasn’t reaching for the leather jacket. Looking at her was like looking at the sun. He wanted to, but couldn’t, because it hurt at the same time. The satin of her blouse was kissing her soft skin in all the right places.

“I know what you’re thinking,” Y/N teased collusively. She scooted closer, almost sitting completely in his lap now. “Can I tell you a secret? I think about it, too.”

Sam pushed her away lightly and God it hurt to do it, but she wasn’t in her senses right now. Sober, she wouldn’t have wanted any of this.

“We should get you home!” He said in a tight voice.

“No!” She was adamant. “Why are you in such a hurry to get away from me?”

Oh the irony. “You were the one who left me, Y/N.”

Y/N not having heard a word of it was scooting closer to him again. She laid her head on his shoulder, and snaked her arms around his waist. Sam stilled, not even daring to breathe.

“Let’s just stay here forever. You and me.” She laughed all of a sudden. “This is literally the best dream I’ve ever had. I can actually feel you.” She hugged him tighter to prove her point. “See?”

“Is this what your dreams are made up of?”

“The good ones, yeah,” she sighed tiredly. “But mostly they’re just bad and I’m cold and there’s so much water, Sam. There was so much water.”

Suddenly she started shivering and Sam pulled the jacket over her shoulders.

She looked up with tears in her eyes. “Sam, the water! And there’s so much glass. It hurts.”

A deep pain and grief that he hadn’t felt in years threatened to swallow Sam whole. “Oh, baby,” he said, at last throwing his arms around her. “It’s not real. It happened a long time ago.”

“I can’t breathe. There’s too much water.” Her words were slow and slurred. Despite that, the picture she painted was horrifying.

The memories all flashed before his eyes like it had happened yesterday. But he refused to go under. Not now.

Sam allowed himself to comfort her and be comforted by her. In this one thing, they were together. He held her as close as he had dreamed for years, yet not truly believing that this was actually happening. She smelled just the same, and the way her body curved into his hadn’t changed at all.

Sam held her like that for an immeasurable time. It felt both like an eternity and mere seconds all at once. A crazed traveller wouldn’t be more desperate for an Oasis than Sam felt for her touch. And knowing that this would end soon, that these were stolen moments made it heaven and hell at the same time.

“Y/N,” he tried again. “We need to get you home.” I need to get you home.

She didn’t reply.

“Are you asleep?”

“Yes!” She muttered and in spite everything Sam had to stifle a laugh.

She had no footwear on, after getting herself out of those insane shoes. Sam removed his flip flops and slid them under her feet. They were way too big, but it was better than nothing.

“Up you come.” He hoisted her slowly to her feet.

“Whoa!” She said, “everything is spinning so fast.”

“Just hold on to me. The spinning will go away.” He guided her slowly. “This way now.”

Her grasp on his shoulder slipped, pulling his shirt down with him.

“Oooohhh fancy,” she snickered, trying to touch the thin chain around his neck.

Sam fixed his shirt with the other hand so it wasn’t visible. She didn’t need to know.

It must look absurd, the two of them walking down the street. Sam, barefoot, carrying a pair of her heels in one hand and holding her by the waist with the other. Meanwhile, Y/N was humming lightly to herself, giggling at silly things, slipping and sliding in his flip flops.

At long last, they reached the address that Pam had given. Sam knew the building, he walked past it everyday to get home. The building had a solid, high compound wall, covered in vines. Keeping a tight hold on Y/N, he pushed the wrought iron gate. It creaked as it opened, leaving Sam staring at a beautiful front yard. There was curving shrubbery around the small circular garden and a mermaid shaped fountain flowing water in a circular basin with seating around it.

“Hahahaaa Judgy Judy isn’t too pleased with us,” Y/N told him sagely. “She hates people who drink even more than people who turn up late.”

“Why did you drink anyway?” He asked. “You don’t even like doing it.”

Y/N broke off, stumbling into the path. She glared at him. “Oh, so it’s okay for you to go out on dates with other people but it’s not okay for me to drink?”

That’s what she thought? That he had been in the bar for a date? Was that why she had drank?

Sam’s mind was reeling. If what she was saying was true, it meant that it mattered to her what Sam did or didn’t do with his life. Unless she still cared.

“You really think I would do that?” Abruptly, he was angry. If she cared enough to be mad with him, why had she left him to begin with?

Y/N had already moved on from the conversation. She was staring up at the mermaid’s face.

“Sam? You remember that time we went to the fair and rode the ferris wheel?”

He did remember. “You fainted immediately after.”

“Yeah, this feels exactly like that…” Y/N staggered on the spot and Sam rushed to catch her. The minute his hands found her arm, she threw up spectacularly on the front of his shirt, retching till there wasn’t anything left. Then, she promptly passed out in his arms.

He stood there for a second, looking about him, but no help was going to arrive at 2 in the night.

This was bad, very very bad. He had hoped to drop her home and then go back to his own place to wallow about how unfair the world was. What was he supposed to do now?

He had no clue if she stayed by herself. He couldn’t just leave her by herself when she was sick.

Slowly, he led her to the seating around the fountain. She laid down on it, groaning lightly.

Sam removed his shirt, bundled it up and using some of the water from the fountain, wiped the puke from his jeans and Y/N’s feet along with his flip flops. Then he bent down and swooped her in his arms, carrying her inside the building. Getting into the lift and to her apartment was easy enough. Wrestling the key out of the purse and then unlocking the door all the while supporting her wasn’t so much.

It was pretty clear to Sam that there was no one else in the apartment when he entered. All that noise would have brought someone out by now. He barely looked at the living room, before laying Y/N down on the sofa there. There was a kitchenette to the right side. Sam poured a glass of water, added a spoon of sugar and a pinch of salt after looking through the jars. He walked back to where Y/N was curled up on the sofa and coaxed her to drink it.

She made a face, refusing to take a sip.

“Trust me, you’ll thank me tomorrow.”

“No.”

She was so stubborn sometimes. “Please? For me?”

“For you?” Her expression was guileless, it was almost his undoing, but Sam pushed on. “Yes, for me.”

She took the glass from him and downed it in one go, distaste clear on her expression.

The phone started ringing right when she put the glass down. Sam had to fish it from her purse. The caller ID read ‘Pamela Barnes.’

“Here,” Sam handed the phone to Y/N. “It’s for you.”

“Hello!” She sang. “Yeah, yeah… I’m home…”

Sam didn’t hang around for the rest of the conversation. He returned the glass to the kitchen and made more of the Sugar-salt solution in a bottle.

Y/N was idly playing with a lock of her hair.

“Can we go to bed now? Please?” She mumbled drowsily.

“You,” Sam stressed “are going to bed. Which one is your room?”

Sleepily, she pointed towards the door next to the kitchenette. He lifted her once more in his arm, thinking how bizarre all of this was as he walked towards the room. It felt nothing short of euphoric to hold her like this, like he was on some sort of wild once in a lifetime adventure, even if touching her like this used to be normal for him once upon a time. He gently laid her down on the bed. She stretched out on the sheets immediately, a smile on her lips.

He could have stared and stared. Sam decided to take one long look at her, memorising the exact color of her hair, the fullness of her lips and the rhythm of her breaths. Just as he turned to leave, Y/N’s hand shot out to grab the hem of his T-shirt.

“Why? Why did it happen to us?” She said, her face drawn in lines of anguish. “We were good people. You still are. Then, why?”

Sam took a deep breath. “Because life isn’t fair. You of all people should know that by this point. And I’ve hardly been a good person since.”

“Shhhhh….” She put a finger to her lip. “You’re the best, Sam. You always have been.”

“Then why did you leave me? Why couldn’t you trust me enough to stay? Have enough faith in me to know that I could make it okay for us? I loved you more than anything, Y/N. And you left me anyway.” He knew full well that she wouldn’t remember a thing in the morning, she was barely even listening now. So how did it matter what he said?

“Don’t go,” she moaned.

“Y/N… you know I can’t stay.”

“Please… Nothing’s right when you’re not here.”

In an odd twisted way, it was the truth. Nothing was right when she wasn’t with him.

“Please, Sam,” she sighed. “Don’t leave me. Promise me.”

He gave in. How could he not? “I promise,” he said finally. “I’ll stay tonight.”

She smiled contentedly and her breathing evened out soon after.

Slowly, Sam disentangled his t-shirt from his grip.

In the bathroom, he washed his bundled up shirt, cleaning it completely, then used it to wash off whatever was left on his jeans and t-shirt. Thankfully, Y/N’s clothes hadn’t been spoilt and didn’t need any cleaning. The apartment had a beautiful balcony that overlooked the garden below. He hung his shirt on the railing to dry it in the breeze.

Sam checked on Y/N once more under the guise of placing the water bottle next to her bed. She was splayed wildly now. The straps of her blouse had slid further down her arm, revealing the tops of her breasts. He looked away. As lightly as he could, Sam freed the covers from beneath her and drew them over her, tucking her comfortably underneath them. Then he made his way to the living room sofa, closing Y/N’s bedroom door after her.

The sofa was much too small to accommodate him, but Sam managed to lie on his back, legs folded and body wedged between the two armrests. After a while of twisting and turning, he rested his head on one armrest and threw his legs over the other, staring at the apartment walls and decorations. Most of it was too delicate, like the filigree on the curtains and the carved screens dividing part of the kitchenette from the rest of the living room. That certainly wasn’t Y/N’s taste. Either it came with the apartment or her room mate had put it there. There were some things, however, that were distinctly Y/N- the flowers and plants in the balcony, the solid wood coffee stand and the classy oven. The little China decorating the kitchen bar must’ve been her grandmothers. Nothing… absolutely nothing in the house proved that he had ever played a part in her life. Sam decidedly curbed the disappointment and bitterness he felt.

So, she had moved on from him. Hadn’t the past month taught him as much?

A month ago he wouldn’t have believed that he’d end up a room away from a very drunk Y/N. So close, yet so far. He closed his eyes, recalling how it felt to have her arms around his waist, feel the press of her body against his as he lifted her in his arms. He could live out the rest of his life holding onto those memories, even if it never happened again, even if she never remembered it…

“Who the fuck are you?”

Sam’s eyes snapped open. A girl was standing over him with a ferocious expression.

He sat up groggily, disoriented about his surroundings. Who was this girl?

“I asked who the fuck are you and what are you doing in my apartment?”

Sam groaned, blinking his eyes in the still dark room. “I’m Sam. I helped Y/N home last night.”

“Where’s she? Is she okay?”

The shift in her tone was sudden, from angry to concerned.

“Yeah, she’s fine,” Sam yawned. “She just had too much to drink.”

“And how do you know her?”

“I’m her- “ It physically ached to not say it. “I’m her… friend.”

The girl, who Sam assumed was her roommate, Meg, raised an eyebrow. “Friend, huh? How come she’s never talked about you before?”

Because she doesn’t care anymore.

Suddenly Sam was very tired. “Look, I’ve known her since a long time. We lost touch a while ago. I met her at college.”

Meg didn’t seem very convinced. She harrumphed and crossed her arms.

“I’m going to head out, now that you’re back,” he said, standing up and straightening his back. It was completely screwed. He walked over to the balcony and retrieved his now dried shirt. Meg eyed it dubiously.

“You didn’t try anything with her, did you?”

Again, the irony of someone else being concerned that he of all people would try to harm Y/N twisted his mouth into a bitter smirk.

“Look, mister…” Meg started and Sam put his hands up. He was too exhausted to hold this argument.

“I just put her to bed. That’s all,” he said. “Heads up, she has terrible hangovers. You might want to keep the bathroom accessible and the Advil ready.”

With that he stalked out of the room.

It wasn’t a long walk to his home from there, barely even five minutes, but Sam’s head was buzzing with thoughts. Last night everything had been so hurried and he was the only one who could have helped her out. But what now?

He and Y/N had barely started talking. He still didn’t know what was going on in her head. Last night had changed all of that, at least for him. If it had been hard to not think about her before, it was damn well impossible now. She was consuming his every thought, shadowing every emotion. What if she remembered everything she had said last night? What if she’d actually meant those things?

“Don’t go”

“Please… Nothing’s right when you’re not here.”

“Please, Sam, Don’t leave me. Promise me.”

Each time his name had fallen off her lips, it was like she was resurrecting his long dead heartbeat. He wanted to dare, he wanted to hope and believe that there was some chance.

But what if she didn’t remember anything at all? Sam knew that he would die inside if that happened. It was one thing to not feel hope, and another altogether to kill it with one's own hands.

His mind was a cacophony of noises and emotions all warring against each other as he reached his house. On the door steps, sat a solitary figure, waiting for him.

“Jody?”

The sky was just starting to lighten. What was she doing here?

He frowned at her, wondering what on earth could have brought her here this early in the morning. She stared back evenly; there was none of the usual warmth in her eyes, instead they were full of distrust and disappointment.

“Jody, is everything okay?”

“You tell me, Winchester,” she said, coming to stand right next to him, her stature severe.

“I-I don’t know what you mean.”

“Really?” She spat. “Don’t you think you’ve been acting differently? At first I thought, being by yourself was getting to you.”

“Jody, I seriously don’t understand.”

“Fine I’ll cut to the chase. Where were you last night?”

It was the last thing Sam had expected. He couldn't tell her the truth. Where would he even start with the truth? “I was-”

She raised her hand and Sam flinched at the hostile expression on her face. “Save it, Sam. I know exactly what you were doing last night. I saw you sitting on the bench outside the bar with that girl.”

Sam jerked upright.

“I’ve known you for years, Sam. Years. I taught you everything I knew. I’ve never been prouder of any student I’ve had and this is what you do with all that trust? This is how you abuse your power?”

Her words rang louder than they should have in Sam’s ears. “Jody-”

“Don’t even try to make excuses. At first, when I saw her in your office, I didn’t think anything of it. Sure, she looked close to tears, but a lot of freshmen are always anxious. But then I saw you in the library with her. The way you looked at Y/N? That’s not how a teacher looks at their student!” Jody looked disgusted. “And tonight? Y/N was clearly drunk, for Christ’s sake! How can you possibly justify the way you were holding her?”

“Because she’s my WIFE!” He shouted, breathing hard, feeling the heat coming off of his face. “I married her and I love her!”

It was beyond cathartic to finally say those words out loud. Up until this point Sam hadn’t realised that since he had seen Y/N in his class, those very words had been strangling him, poisoning him. Now that he had finally said them, the strength in his legs gave away. He sat down on the steps with a thud.

Jody’s face had gone very white. “Sam…”

“Tonight was nothing more than me helping a girl who needed it. Nothing more than that,” he said through gritted teeth, blinking rapidly at the wetness on his lashes. “You know I respect you, Jody, but even you don’t get to tell me if I can hold my own wife.”

She sat down next to him, now at a complete loss of words. “Is this the same girl…?”

Sam nodded, unable to form words.

“Sam, I’m so sorry,” she said, drawing him close. “I didn’t know. You should have said something.”

“Said what?” He said through a thick throat, angry with himself for showing weakness now when he had held it together for so long. “That my wife who walked out on me years ago because she didn't trust me to save our marriage is suddenly back? As my student after six years? Is that what I should have declared when I didn’t even know if she wanted to see my face? Is that what I should’ve said?”

“Oh, you sweet boy. I’m so sorry,” Jody ran her hands over his shoulders. “Sorry that you’ve been suffering and sorry that I doubted you at all. You don’t need to say anything now. C’mere.”

Firmly she drew him towards her and threw her arms around his neck. Sam hugged back, closing his eyes tightly so that the tears rolled over into the cotton of her shirt.

“Shhhh…” she said. “It’s going to be alright.”

Sam didn’t know if there was any truth in her words, but he allowed himself to be comforted, allowed himself to draw some warmth from his oldest friend here. Allowed himself to start healing.

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

A/N 2: *Wiggles eyebrows* Who all saw it coming? ;)

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