#See if i can get some body hair to stick around and get bottom growth and maybe just see how i feel from there

[surpriserose]

😞 <- face of a guy who just had a million tech issues during his hrt video call appointment

[tboyhdmicable]

smth sooo 🤤 abt a gay bear sugar daddy that's a liiiitle bit of a chaser.... he makes me come over to his high rise apartment every week to do my T shot for me... he acts so nonchalant and nice after its done, knowing i'll be a pliant toy for him in the next hour... he keeps brushing up against me and teasing me and riling me up, and my brain becomes fuzzier and he can tell i'm getting more desperate and turned on. he offers to check my progress on T, making me strip down. he tells me how cute i look with my body hair coming in, how deep my voice is getting, ghosting his fingers over me. he offers to inspect my pussy, insisting its just to check my bottom growth. as he spreads me apart and nudges at my tdick, i whine and he can see how wet i am. he offers to give me a hand, saying the shot must have made me all worked up. he's so eager to taste my pussy, and as he licks up and down my tdick, i feel myself getting fuzzier and my inhibitions go out the window... he gets so lost in the way my pussy tastes, he doesnt even ask before sticking his tongue in me, and he can feel me clenching around him. he keeps my legs spread, teasing me for whining so pathetically. he tells me he needs to stretch my pussy out, since T can cause some atrophy, its just out of concern. he uses a dilator kit he bought just for me. then his fingers. by the time i'm all stretched out for him, borderline begging for his cock, he brings out a sybian he bought just for me. he straps me to it, and the sensation paired with how neglected my tdick is sends me over the edge and i fight to stay upright as i cum over and over again. his high rise apartment windows span around and i'm fully on display for everyone around me, and i see as people in the buildings nearby notice me and take pictures. after being so overstimulated and worn out from the sybian, he unstraps me from it, lifts me, and lowers me down onto his massive cock. i feel it stretching me out and i whimper begging for more. he uses every hole of mine, training me to suck his cock right, stretching out my ass, rubbing the tip of his cock against my tdick and suddenly pushing his cock into my tight pussy. he uses me like a toy, telling me how perfect my boypussy is, how i was made to take his cock, how i should be so grateful that he decided to train me, and before i can respond, i feel his cock twitch inside me and feel his cum fill me up. he wont stop though, he keeps fucking into me, watching his cum leak out of me before pushing it back in and using me over and over again, and i'm so euphoric from being used for hours, i beg for him to breed me and use me over and over again, whining when he pulls out and begging for more

[homosexchad]

hi!

Preventable things on T:

1. DHT blockers can prevent new or increased body hair growth, and if MPB is a concern it can prevent that

2. i’ve heard that localised DHT cream can *increase* bottom growth, and that a common side effect of DHT blockers is that they can prevent or decrease bottom growth, but i’m not 100% on how accurate that information is so take it with a pinch of salt

3. if you get vaginal atrophy, that can be treated through low dose, localised oestrogen cream, and won’t impact your overall HRT regime

4. acne would be prevented in the standard way, however the oilier / rougher skin would likely still be a thing that happens. taking the time to change or improve any skin care routines would probably help avoid this, or at least off set the change

Not preventable, AFAIK/I’m not sure:

1. cessation of menses, although some trans men’s periods don’t stop through just testosterone, so it’s not a guarantee that you’ll have this effect. this is reversible, if you came off of testosterone, menstruation would come back within 3 - 6 months.

2. atrophy of breast tissue - i hadn’t even heard that this was smth that could happen while on testosterone until today when i did a quick check of the GenderGP average timeline for changes that occur while on testosterone. i’m not sure whether that’s preventable or not. personally i’d been binding for so long that my breast tissue and skin was already a saggy mushy mess by the time i started testosterone, so i can’t advise on that

3. fat redistribution won’t be preventable if your dominant sex hormone is testosterone, however it is a change that takes the longer to occur, typically the full extent of fat redistribution won’t be seen until 2 - 5 years of being on testosterone, however you may seem some changes in where you fat is sticking around (hips/thighs vs gut, for example) within the first 6 months. this is reversible, if oestrogen became your dominant hormone you would see your fat distribution go the other way.

4. increased muscle mass and strength - essentially, it will be easier for you to build, gain, and maintain muscle. you would no longer find it easier to build/gain/maintain muscle if you stopped T.

5. metabolism changes / impact on eating - testosterone will likely increase your appetite, and after around 12 months of consistently having male range testosterone levels you will need to be logging yourself as male for any kind of diets, calorie intake, BMI stuff, etc - again, reversible

Changes that aren’t visible:

1. after 12 months of consistently having male range testosterone, blood tests will need to be using male range references for red blood cells, hemoglobin, and a couple other things i can’t remember

2. increased libido - this is a fairly common change on testosterone, although anecdotally speaking it seems to vary person-to-person whether that change is long term, or simply a spike in horniness for the first ~6 - 12 months of being on testosterone

3. fertility - more research is needed in this area, and the impacts on fertility aren’t fully understood yet. testosterone isn’t a guarantee of infertility, so it’s important to still use BC/condoms if engaging in sex that can cause pregnancy. there are some early studies showing that fertility typically kicks back into full gear after ~3 months of stopping testosterone, but again, there’s no guarantee.

Extra Info:

I’ve heard of some people taking hormones up until they have the irreversible effects that they want to stick around, such as the voice breaking and becoming deeper, however i will say that there’s no clear way to guess which changes will come first and which won’t, so i added on some notes about reversible physical effects on the body

You could also use a lower dose of testosterone to reduce the impact it has, however this wouldn’t prevent any changes from happening and would simply slow down everything, including the vocal changes. Also, some people see fast changes on low doses and slow changes on higher doses, so it’s not a guarantee, just smth that works for some people

Here is a link to the GGP page with a table of approximate average timeline for various effects of T (and E, if you scroll down)

The timeline varies HUGELY for different people, this is just an average. i’ve been on T for a little over 2 years and my voice is STILL breaking 😅

Hope this helps !

fellow enbies/trans men/transmasc, is there a way/ dose of testosterone to just lower my voice?? i am pretty okay w my body but my voice gives me a little bit of dysphoria, is there anything you would recomend apart from voice masculinizing lessons??

[i-cant-sing]

An Accident

Yeah... you may have seen this before, earlier this week when I accidentally posted it. Anyways, this is a part 2 of the Todoroki clan being obsessed with reader's hair. So, um enjoy.

Check out my MASTERLIST for more!

Yandere Todoroki Clan:

Rei is obsessed with reader’s hair.

She’s taken such good care of it, and after years of hard work, your hair now reaches just around your butt. Your hair is healthy, thick, luscious, and cut into a smooth, U shape; of course all trims are done by Rei herself because she doesn't even trust professionals. And even though you’ve asked Rei on multiple occasions to cut it short, at least up to the middle of your back, she just wouldn’t, always saying that you’re being unreasonable. But you’re not; you’ve given her multiple valid reasons.

For example, Rei and Fuyumi do your hair themselves. And initially, they would let you choose whatever hairstyle you wanted, but now they pick one for you, saying they know which one will suit your outfit of the day better. Rei likes to do double buns, or ponytails tied with ribbons or just one high pony with a pretty big bow on the top of your head. Fuyumi on the other hand makes super intricate hairstyles, and while they look pretty, only you know how much pain your scalp is in. Fuyumi does your hair as if you’re her doll, yanking and twisting hard, saying that she needs to be this rough to achieve the distinctive braid patterns. Thankfully, Rei usually does your hair most of the time.

One of the main reasons you've begged Rei to let you cut your hair short is how much time she (and you) would safe. Since your hair is so long, it takes a lot of time for Rei to put in hair masks, serums, oils, etc. It takes even longer to wash and dry them out, and then style them as well. But she smiled oh so kindly, and told you that she doesn't mind. She looks forward to taking care of your hair, forcing you to sit between her legs for hours as she applies some expensive magic growth oil, ignoring how you didn't like this.

And even if your hair is curly naturally, like even 4C curly hair, Rei will have it straight as a stick in no time (don't bother telling her that you like it natural). But don't worry, its still quite voluminous.

Of course, Rei washes your hair herself, telling you that you’re simply not capable enough to manage it. (At least she lets you wash your body yourself.) And due to your hair being so long, it takes time to not only wash it, but also dry it. Rei will detangle using a wide tooth comb, starting from the bottom and working her way up. Then she’ll dry it with her cold breath, and if required, call Enji to dry your hair with his heat. You like it when Enji dries your hair, because he does it quickly and your hair becomes far smoother.

And its not just Rei and Fuyumi that are obsessed with your hair, the boys are just as fond of it as well. Enji likes to card his fingers through your hair while he’s working on some papers or listening to news, his warm hands always putting you to sleep in his lap. Its an adorable sight, gives him a sense of peace.

Shotou also likes to run his hands through your long hair, especially after a stressful day. The feeling of his fingers through your smooth, long locks, it calms him. And if he’s feeling extra stressed, then he might braid your hair loosely as well. He always wears a scrunchie on his wrist for you.

You wouldn't ever admit it, but you enjoy it when Natsuo played with your hair. Its like he can sense when you're having a headache. He'll have you sit on the floor while he takes a seat on your bed, and then his fingers will do their magic. He knows exactly where to put pressure on your scalp, and exactly how much force to use. His massages always relieve your migraines, and he always massages with expertise to ensure their is proper blood flow in your scalp.

While you are more than happy to let Natsuo touch your hair, you hate it when Dabi's around. If you didn't know better, you'd think he wants to rip your scalp off. He knows how much it annoys you, always pulling at your ponytails, tugging at your braids, even yanking it a few times when you ignore him. And you've complained to your family, but all of them say that "oh he's just playing around." Or "no, he just misses you. He's only teasing." And when you ask Dabi to stop it, he'll just smile and say "big brother privileges."

He's insufferable.

Everyone gets to play with your hair, but God forbid if you do. Oh no, apparently you'd "destroy it", as if you're not capable of managing your own hair. You're not allowed to open your ponytails because, quoting Rei, "you're yanking your hair. You're going to rip your follicles- baby, stop. Just let me do it." But you know that she does that because she wants to brush your hair with the soft, bristle brush before you go to bed. And somedays, Rei doesn't tie your hair in a bun or something, letting your hair fall, and it gets in your way, and even then you're still not allowed to put it up because "oh honey, your hair needs to breathe too. If you keep it in a pony, the band will leave a mark in it." Honestly, everyone finds it adorable when you're dressed in your little, fluffy skirt paired with a cozy oversized sweater, all mad and pouting, trying to blow the hair strands blocking your field of vision. Like a little baby.

While Rei looks at your hair and sees years of her hards work and patience, all you see is losing control over your own life. And you are. They decide everything for you, from the clothes you wear, the food you eat, and even things you should like and dislike. They choose when you should go out, what you should watch, when its time for bed. They disregard your opinions and feelings, and if you show that you're frustrated, then its means that you're just throwing a "tantrum", and you need to be put to bed like some cranky child. You've told them that they're too overbearing, but they always say that they just love you.

What kind of love is controlling?

They're so lost in their delusions, that they don't even see the deteriorating effects it has on you mentally.

Actually, one person did see them. Dabi.

He saw how much everything was overwhelming you, how you were near tears when they talked over you, made choices for you.

He felt a bit bad for you, just a tad. Mostly, he felt there was another opportunity to mess with you.

When Dabi came to bother you one night, tugging at your hair again, this time a bit harder than usual, he saw you were ready to cry. You didn't even bother saying anything to him anymore, just kept quiet and did your best not to cry. Of course, now he ridiculed you. Called you a little crybaby and used that annoying patronising tone with you. And just as he was about to leave, he said "if your hair bothers you so much, why don't you just cut it, you big baby?"

As if something had finally snapped in you, you let his words echo. Why don't I cut it? What's stopping me?

Was it because you had learned to just give in?

You didn't even realise you had walked to your bathroom until you were holding a pair of scissors. Which surprised you, because you weren't allowed to use scissors unsupervised. It was almost as if a sign from the universe motivating you to do it, and definitely not Dabi who left them on the sink.

Holding the pair of scissors in one hand and a chunk of your hair in the other, you hesitate for a second and wonder what will Rei do. But before you could stop yourself, you cut.

I'll cross that bridge when it comes.

You start low, maybe 2 inches above your hips. It looks okay, but maybe you could cut a little more. And a little more. And a little more. Before you know it, your hair is around shoulder length, in an uneven, chunky bob. Its not perfect, but somehow you feel much better. Like you’ve finally gotten some control back. Wiping your tears away, you ruffle your hair a bit, the cool air on your neck adding to the feeling of freedom. You feel normal, happier, peaceful. Things you haven't felt in years. And all because you had 3 am meltdown.

After you cleaned up the bathroom, you went back to bed, anxious how everyone will react in the morning. Maybe they won't care. You thought. Its only hair. My hair.

Everyone was waiting for you at breakfast the next morning, and to everyone’s surprise, Dabi had joined them as well. Rei was cooking up some eggs, while the kids chatted. Enji was suspicious of the mischievous glint in Dabi’s eyes, and it was filling him with unease. Just as he was about to question him, you walked in.

Everyone went silent.

Then Fuyumi let out an audible gasp, while Dabi chuckled darkly. Natsuo, Shotou and Enji looked at you with their mouths agape.

“Good morning.”you greeted them.

Rei, who was facing away from you, finally turned towards you. “Good mo-”Rei’s breath hitched, eyes blown wide, as the plate of bacon fell from her hands.

Its funny how everyone in the kitchen, including you, had the same thought at that moment.

What the fuck?

Taking a deep breath, you moved to sit in your usual spot between Fuyumi and Rei, but Shotou suddenly pulled you back and pushed you into the seat beside him. He knows his mother is in a better state mentally, but something tells him not to risk it. Fuyumi snapped next, quickly getting up and cleaning the mess on the floor while Enji pulled Rei, who was still staring at you in disbelief, to sit beside him. You remained indifferent to everyone’s stares, quietly eating your food. As soon as you were done, Shotou got up and quickly pulled you out of the room, Dabi following close behind.

They sat in your room as Shotou looked at your hair with worry. “Looking nice, doll.”Dabi chuckled as he plopped down on your bed beside you. “Thanks.” you mumbled. “Y/n how did- why did you- why did you cut your hair?” Shotou asked, still looking at your choppy hair. “Do you not like it?” you asked. “N-no I do. But what will mom say-” “Shotou, its my hair.” you snapped. “Yeah, Shotou.” Dabi mocked. Fuyumi and Natsuo soon joined you guys, worrisome looks on their faces. “Why did you cut it? Oh my god, do you even know how much trouble you’re in?” Fuyumi was freaking out. “Its my hair.” you rolled your eyes. They ignored you. “Okay, okay. Shotou why don't you stick around with Y/n for a couple of days? Fuyumi and dad will try to keep mom away from her.” Before Fuyumi could nod, you stood up. “No.”

Natsuo looked at you confused. “what do you mean “no”?”

“I mean no. I don't need Shotou to babysit me. I can handle myself.” Fuyumi walked towards you, reaching her hands for you but you backed away, “Y/n, sweetie-” You cut her off ,“Stop treating me like a child.”

Shotou spoke this time, “Its for your protection-” “Protection from who? Our mother? Why?”your words dared them to say the truth. To agree that Rei was unstable. They didn't say anything.

A few days had passed by and things were returning to normal. Almost normal. Rei still had this thousand yard stare when she looked at you, but she never said anything. Cutting your hair was the best decision you had made, because not is it only easy to manage, but it also got the family off your back. Rei doesn't wash your hair anymore(although you think she's just not over the shock), Fuyumi doesn't need to do your hair, they dry faster, and all of your brothers (including Dabi) doesn't mess around with them anymore. Enji was the first to adjust to your new cut, he even complimented you one day.

Did you feel guilty because you know how attached Rei was to your hair? A bit, but then realised that you needed this. You need some control over your life, and if this is how they react to your new cut, then maybe you could start taking back reigns over other aspects of your life as well.

You thought that maybe Rei had finally gotten over it a week later, when you were laying in the bathtub, enjoying the hot bath. When you heard her walk in, you were a bit startled. Why was she here- is she finally over it? "Um- hey." She smiled at you. "Why are you here?" She took the bath stool and sat behind the tub. "You know why." She replied and started rolling her sleeves up. Is she here to wash my hair? "Oh, are you here to wash my hair? I don't need help with that anymore now that they're short." Rei smiled again, this one looking forced, before dipping her hand in the tub. "No, silly." And with that, Rei froze the entire the tub in 2 seconds. The ice trapped your limbs, and reached up to your clavicle. The sudden change from hot to cold had you jolt, but you couldn't move due to the frozen ice. "Mom-!" You heard the buzzing sound of a trimmer and then felt Rei entangle her fingers in your hair to yank your head back. "I'm here to complete your haircut." You tried moving your head but her grip on your scalp was unrelenting. She started trimming the right side of your head, moving it slowly as to get every single hair. "Honestly, you should've come to me. I do agree that it'd be a good idea to start again." Tears fell from your eyes, your teeth chattered and you could feel your heart beat slow down as the cold seeped into your bones. "M-mom, I'm col-d. P-please s-stop..." Rei was done with one half of your head. "You know, I read somewhere that your grows thicker if you cut it. I'm sure that after I've shaved your head, your hair will grow even fuller. I've already gotten some new oils and hair masks! Maybe we could do them together." You couldn't hear anything besides the slowing of your own heart beating. Your breath had started to become shallow, you couldn't think about anything except for how painful ice could be. Your lips were turning blue, eyes were getting clouded with black spots, all sensation from your body was losing. Just before you lost consciousness, you heard the bathroom door open and a panicked yell.

You felt warm.

When you came to, your entire body felt warm and weighted, probably due to the heavy blanket spread on you.

Opening your eyes, you found yourself in a dimly lit room. It was...your parents room. Why am I here? You turned your head to look around but your eyes stopped at the large figure sitting on a chair next to your bed.

"Dad?"

The figure's head snapped towards yours. "You're awake." He paused. "How- how are you feeling?" You moved the blanket off you, your body felt dense and ached. "Warm and...sore. What happened? Why am I in your bedroom?" Enji shifted in his seat. "I think its best if you stay here from now on, so that... your mother and I can look after you." Your eyes widened. "What? Why?" You moved to sit up but then a pain shot through your head. "Ah shit." You hissed in pain as you went to massage your temples but your hands halted at the feeling of your hair... or lack there of. You tried to run a finger through your choppy bob cut, but all you felt was your shaved head. Your eyes met Enji's, looking at him in disbelief as you recalled the events that had led up to this. "Darling-" You jumped off the bed and ran towards the vanity mirror, praying that this is just a nightmare. But as you looked at your reflection, you realised that this was the terrifying reality you were living in.

Tears dripped from your eyes as you took in your appearance. Trimmed- no, shaved pink hair. You couldn't see a single bit of hair above the roots, only a baby pink scalp. She had not only trimmed your hair first but then also proceeded to shave your scalp off. Your head looked like it had peach fuzz.

You couldn't bring yourself to look away, not even when Enji placed a hand on your shoulder. "Y/n-" He didn't even what to say. He was still in shock from what would've happened if Fuyumi hadn't yelled for him when Rei was-

Enji shook his head. Now's not the time. You're here and you're fine. You're fine. Enji pulled you towards him, burying your face in his chest as you cried. "You're fine." He repeated, more to himself than to you. "Why- why would she do this?" Your voice was muffled by his chest but he understood. He understood your pain and it tore him apart that he still wouldn't be able to help you.

Enji honestly didn't know what to tell you. He didn't know what words would bring you comfort. "It... it was an accident." His chest rumbled as he spoke. You pushed yourself away from him as you looked at him perplexed.

"What?" Your eyebrows raised, nostrils flared and blood rushed to your face. You were going to blow up.

"An accident? Is that what you said? Oh okay. Was it an accident when she froze the fucking tub? Did the trimmer accidentally fall from her hands to my head?! Oh and did she accidentally pull the razor over my head?!" Angry tears fell from your eyes but you were far too enraged to care.

Enji opened his mouth to say something but he was cut off by the sound of the bedroom door opening. Turning around you saw her.

Rei was standing there with a tray of food and water. Her face turned to shock before turning to happiness. She set the tray on a nearby table before she rushed towards you, her hands reaching for your face.

"Angel, you're awake-" you pushed her hands away roughly as you backed away from her.

"Dont you dare touch me."

The couple, they had never heard your voice such hostility. It wasn't like you. Rei shook her head as she tried to reach for you again, taking another step in your direction. But you smacked her hands away again. "I said don't touch me!" Your yelling had got your siblings to rush in the room, wanting to see what the commotion was about.

Rei's eyes shifted from you to Enji, looking at him for help, before they returned back to you. She took a deep breath before speaking. "Y/n, darling. What's wrong?" You scoffed at her soft tone that tried to quell the storm of negative emotions bubbling inside you. "What's wrong? What's wrong? I don't know, you tell me, Rei. Why the fuck am I bald?!" Your head was pounding with rage, raw unbridled anger.

When Rei didn't say anything, Fuyumi stepped forward to help her out. "Y/n its-"

"Shut up."

Fuyumi's- everyone's eyes widened. Of everyone, you never even rose your voice at your favourite sibling. But to hear your voice turn so cold towards her, it shocked everyone. "Y-Y/n-" she tried again but you cut her off. "I said shut up. I'm not talking to you. I'm talking to Rei and she'll answer for herself."

Enji placed a hand on your shoulder, pulling you back slightly. "Have some respect. She's your mother-" You yanked your shoulder away from his grip. "No, she's not!" You inhaled deeply, trying to stabilise your voice. "No, she's not. You're not my dad. I'm not a part of this family. And I'm so sick of playing this game."

Dabi's eyes narrowed. "Stop being an ungrateful brat. You've been given all the luxuries one could only imagine, spoiled to no end-" You laughed. "Did I ask for anything?" "You never had t-" "And all these luxuries that you're talking about, I didn't get them for free. I had to give up a lot. No, wait-" you laughed again, tears blurring your vision. "I didn't give up anything. You all took it. Yeah, all of you snatched everything away from me. My family, my friends, my privacy, my sanity, everything. And you-" you moved towards Rei, pointing a finger at her. "You have been the most greedy one of them all."

Rei's jaw fell open, as she shook her head. "No-" You shook your head.

"Yes! I gave you everything. I let you dress me up in those god awful clothes, feed me whatever you wanted, stick to your side like glue because you don't like it when I was out of your sight for a more than a few minutes. For fucks sake, I didn't even go to college this year because you weren't ready to see me become an adult!" You ran a frustrated hand through your hair. "I played into your sick little fantasy. I let you treat me like a child, talk to me like I'm some helpless baby. I let you touch me even though it disgusted me to no end. I never even complained when you gave me ice burns because I was throwing a tantrum." You looked at the rest of your family, and they were shocked to hear that last bit. You smiled cruelly at them. "Yeah, you didn't know that did you?"

Rei was crying herself by now, as she reached out for you once again but you moved away. "I let you have everything. All I wanted was this little bit of freedom, for my own sanity. But you couldn't stomach that could you?" Your head hung low, your tears hitting the floor.

"Why do you have to be so selfish?"

Your voice held so much pain and defeat. Rei couldn't help but engulf you in her arms, wrapping herself around you tightly before you could even protest. "I'm sorry! I'm sorry!" She cried out. "I- I promise I'll fix this! Yes. I-I've already gotten you some new hair oils! They say that they'll help you grow 6 inches in a month! Oh and Natsuo also brought some stuff for hair growth! Some vitamins and- Natsuo whats that spray called? Minoxy? Mi-minoxidil! Yes! He said that'll help you grow your hair in no time! Doesn't that sound nice? You'll have long hair like before!" Rei pushed back to look at you. You couldn't believe it.

"Are you- are you really that delusional?" Your voice was so soft, almost like you would break any moment now. "Are you so blind to see what you're doing to me?" Your eyes held so much pain and confusion. "Sweetie, don't worry- mommy will take such good care-" You pushed Rei away from you, your anger rolling back in full speed. "YOU ARE NOT MY MOTHER!" You shrieked. "Y/n-" Shotou tried to interject. "I'm not a part of your fucking family."

Enji stepped towards you. "Calm down."

You looked at him. "You said that what happened was an accident. What will you do if another one happens? And you're not around this time to save me? Hmm? What will you do? Continue playing house with my dead body?!"

Rei's sobs shook her body. "Shut up. Think before you say stupid shit like that." Dabi spoke this time, moving to stand between you and his mother. "Or what? You're going to hurt me? More the reason why all of you, but especially you-" you pointed at Rei "deserve to be in that nuthouse-!"

You were on the floor before you could even process what had happened. Had you- had you fallen? But when the searing pain of the burn on your cheek came alive and you looked at his hand that had erupted in blue flames, you realised what had happened.

Dabi slapped you.

"Y/n!"

Your cheek felt like someone had placed a hot iron on it, the sting spreading to your entire cheek, but you were far too shocked to care about the pain.

Dabi slapped me.

Shotou, Natsuo and Fuyumi quickly rushed to your side, picking you up and out of the room, while Dabi stood there in stunned as his own hand throbbed. The image of his handprint branded on your scared face wasn't going to leave his mind anytime soon.

Enji hesitated, looking at his wife and son in disbelief, before leaving the room to look for you.

Rei walked towards Dabi and smacked his arm. "What did you do?!" She yelled at him. He opened his mouth to explain but nothing came out.

"She's your little sister, Touya! W-why would you do that?!" Rei scolded him.

He hurt you. Like Enji hurt Rei.

He hurt you.

Rei sighed before closing her eyes and engulfing Dabi in her arms. "Its okay. Its not your fault." She rubbed his back soothingly. "It was an accident, wasn't it?"

Dabi wrapped his arms around his mother, burying his face in her neck, before nodding.

"Yes. It was an accident."

So... how was it?

[idiotwhotalkstoomuch]

I never expected you guys to like demon Senjuro so much lol I’m really happy to see that like it was such a random impulse thought but the au has a lot of room for growth

In this post Im gonna establish a few things about what happened to Senjuro and Kyojuro in the events between Senjuro’s “death” and the pillar meeting. I will only cover their relationship and a little bit of Senjuro’s relationship with Tanjiro. The others can come at a different post cause this post is gonna be long lol so I put it under cut cause no one really wants a post to flood their dash

TW: Mentions of death (some are children), mentions of cannibalism (If you’ve seen even the first episode of demon slayer and had no problem, you’re fine with this post. This post is slightly not anime only friendly as I make references to an upper moon and I show a manga only panel as of posting this) Shnjuro gets really depressed but luckily there is no attempted suicide

Senjuro Rengoku

- His class was at the bottom floor and they were cleaning the school (I heard thats a thing in Japan if someone has a better idea on what they’re doing feel free to shoot an ask) when they got attacked

- In canon we dont know his age but I’m gonna guess like 12-14 but in the au he is 13 so he was 12 when he became a demon. A rogue demon attacked Senjuro’s class and Senjuro ran to get help and was fatally injured but still managed run to get help as he was given a nichirin sword and even if it didnt change color he must have known breathing techniques at the very least on a basic level and the demon was too preoccupied with some of the teachers and others trying to kill the demon, of course unaware of what it was except for Senjuro

- Upper moon 4 was sneaking around when he saw the all but dead body of Senjuro and demons really dont have standards for turning people into demons so when he noticed he was alive, turned him into a demon mostly so that if he did find any “evil people” (demon slayers) he could use him as his meat shield alongside his personalities

- When Senjuro woke up as a demon (cause even if he was a breath user he was very inexperienced so Hantengu had no problem making him a demon), he had no memory of his life as a human and looked around trying to find a human to satiate his hunger and saw a human in the distance with someone and began to run to them to satiate his hunger when he felt himself being held back. 

- The spirit of Ruka Rengoku gently held her son back and instructed him to not eat humans as that’s not something he should do and even if Senjuro couldn’t recognize the woman holding him back, he found himself obeying her and running to go to a place to hide from the sun

- From that moment on for a few day he would hop from place to place whether underneath homes, in caves or any place he could find to avoid being seen and to be shielded from the sun and found himself growing sleepy so in the cave he hid in, far away from the place he was last in, he closed his eyes and fell asleep for a year

- When he woke up, he had unwittingly burnt away Muzan’s control of him and was unsure on what to do when Ruka’s spirit appeared again telling him that he needs to find his way home. Senjuro wasn’t actually listening to a lot of what she said except one thing stuck to him. 

- “Senjuro”, he didn’t know what his name was as a demon but the name seem to stick to him and he figured this must be his name (he would of course be correct)

- When he found himself staying with the Kamaboko squad, having been spared despite being a demon due to him not having any form of aggression to them (something they all noticed due to his general demeanor and their enhanced sense) and Tanjiro could smell he hadnt eaten one human and he invited him to join them. He joined Nezuko in her box (she can grow really really tiny if she wants or is tired)

Reference: 

Kny chapter 85

- He joined for two reasons: One, he was really scared of people and demon slayers especially so when Tanjiro offered him the chance to be able to be safe and hide he took it. Secondly, he wasn’t sure but the smile Tanjiro gave and his warm reassurance reminded of him of someone, when he thought hard he only saw blurry shadows and got a headache so didn’t try to push it

- Tanjiro did ask him in the wisteria house while Zenitsu was chatting with Nezuko and Inosuke was off being Inosuke about his past and Senjuro told him about his brief meetings with a woman with black hair and asks if they’ve met before as he feels familiar

- This is where he gets the idea that the woman with black hair (Ruka) is his mother and Tanjiro guesses that the person that he thinks is Tanjiro must be his father (right on the first part Tanjiro but wrong on the second lol, you tried)

- He wears a cyan yukata with a new hakama pants as the clothes he was previously wearing was the same bloodstained clothes he wore after turning into a demon and Tanjiro didnt want to leave him in that. Tanjiro thought to get him a gag but the idea made Senjuro uncomfortable so Tanjiro made him swear to never eat a single human

- In Mount Nagatumo, he was too scared to jump out to protect Tanjiro like Nezuko but when she gets sliced up he leaves the box to watch her while Tanjiro fights Rui, unfortunately he is caught in Rui’s webs like Nezuko and was saved from it by Nezuko flames (though it did burn him a fair bit, Nezuko would apologize to him for this later)

- Giyuu doesn’t kill Senjuro cause his resemblance to Kyojuro despite the different clothes and demon eyes is clear to anyone who can see and Shinobu also finds herself hesitating but shakes those feelings off as Kyojuro deserves better than to see his little brother as a demon. Luckily Giyuu stops him and Senjuro runs with Nezuko and Tanjiro but is later taken back to the demon slyer corps by a Kakushi who put him and Nezuko back in their box

- When Sanemi stabbed the box, he moved to try and protect Nezuko but the box was too cramped and they both got stabbed despite his efforts. Later when he tries to bait him with his marechi blood, he’s too focused on resisting the blood and on Nezuko who he had grown to see as a sister to care about the wide eyed looks the pillars were giving him.

Kyojuro Rengoku (I am so sorry in advance Kyojuro simps I put this man THROUGH IT)

- He had just finished a mission and was going to get another mission when a crow he hadn’t seen work in years came flying to him, obviously panicked telling him how Senjuro’s school was attacked and how no one can find Senjuro among the bodies. The crow was Shinjuro’s

- When he hears that, all the kakushi and other demon slayers present would say they had never seen the flame pillar run so frantically, he only stopped to apologize briefly if he bumped into someone while running but the only thing racing in his mind was his little brother who had no weapon to defend himself with. He forced the image of his brother being nothing but a corpse away only thinking about saving Senjuro

- When he reached the school, he forced himself to calm down. Panicking isn’t going to magically bring Senjuro to him so he needs to keep himself in check because with so many people dead, he’s not the only one concerned over the kids

- There were no survivors on the area that was attacked, the police were there investigating the deaths of the many children and teachers, Kyojuro had to spend time convincing the police he was with them and to be allowed to investigate as well

- With no survivors, he heard from the police that there was a blood trail when they got there and he went to find the trail, when he reached the end of it where there were no traces of Senjuro but since the people there were untrained civilians, Senjuro was the only possible person to have been there

- He spent multiple days searching, Mitsuri was at one point sent to check on him and it was clear he was pushing himself, as days passed by, his composure and bright demeanor were crumbling and he started latching onto any lead to at the very least find the body of Senjuro to take back home but it was becoming clear that he would never find it and a kakushi had to be the one to tell him that his body was likely eaten to the bone or eaten and discarded to either rot away or eaten by someone else

- Kyojuro took a week off, not just because of the grief he felt at that moment but because he needed to check on his father and make sure he would be okay, the man didn’t even face Kyojuro when he came in to visit, he forced himself to not cry in front of his father as he tried to talk to the man who couldn’t even say a word and just drank away even as his eldest son tried to talk to him

- Servants were hired to monitor Shinjuro by Kyojuro as he was concerned about his health both physically and mentally but he did notice how Shinjuro never resisted to being taken care of by the people he hired. They reported to him he could be heard muttering Senjuro’s name and even stares at his room for extended periods of time

- When he made his return, he apologized to the pillars for his behavior the past two weeks (even though no one blamed the man, some even said it was okay if he needed more time, they wouldn’t judge) but whenever he was told that he said he had to be strong to protect the weak so he could be someone that could stop families from ending up like his own

- He was far more determined in killing demons, demon attacks had become personal to him now, whenever he saw a demon eating people he found himself wondering what they must’ve thought in the afterlife as the demon desecrated their bodies

- In the pillar meeting, when he was informed of a swordsman who travelled with not one but two demons, he felt disgust as who knows how many humans they could eat. On the way to the meeting, he couldn’t help but notice Shinobu deliberately avoiding him a bit, Giyuu was doing the same but the man never really talked with them much to begin with

- When he saw Senjuro go out of the box with Nezuko, he felt the smile on his face drop and his heart practically sunk to the core of the earth as he saw the unmistakable hair of a Rengoku and the face was so clearly Senjuro’s despite his eyes having a black sclera and his iris and pupil becoming cat like, the pillars had all turned to see if the flame pillar was alright and he could hear Himejima mutter prayers and Mitsuri was on the verge of tears seeing Senjuro alive but as a demon

- He found himself going into denial until Tanjiro, who had been freed as Obanai left to comfort the distressed love pillar, ran and yelled Senjuro’s name and told him to resist his hunger

- “My sister and the other demon with us are different! They would never eat a human!”

- Senjuro was a good kid, he was innocent, kind and a bit on the timid side. He had helped raise him, he knew Senjuro would never want to harrm a fellow human even when threatened. 

[faggotron9000000]

fully admitting that my roommate Just Sucks and is just kind of a shitty person after doing mad apologetics for them for like ~8mo really sucks lolle

when i moved in here i was really hype to be living in the gayborhood and moving in with another queer person but. i don't know how to be nice about this--

my roommate is one of those white nbs who have like, reckoned with their own gender feelings at least somewhat-- enough to examine their personal relationship to gender, and take some agency over where they're at-- but also have not really changed their life in any way or really spent much time thinking about their political position in relation to other trans people

the "i'm nonbinary, but i'm not trans" crowd, right? right

its difficult to talk about bc i simultaneously really want to open my arms to every person who aspires to something other than what society tells them they have to be, whatever that is, but realizing you are/deciding to be (whatever, who cares, no difference to me) Queer, does not teach you how to be queer.

when i started coming into my identity as a trans man, that personal introspection did not magically give me the ability to understand why other queer people didn't trust me yet. it didn't teach me the visual language for recognizing queer people in the wild, or give me the words to address them respectfully.

so this is how my roommate ends up being really transphobic to me, even though (at least imo, though they might disagree) they're unquestionably included under the trans umbrella.

i've done so much caretaking of the emotions of white nonbinary afabs who project their insecurities onto me and i'm fucking tired. people who think that they can get all the queer education they need by simply introspecting and reading the Identity Wiki until they find something that sticks. you end up with opinions that are based only on your own comfort with no consideration for the context of who you are in relation to the people around you-- queerness ends up contextualized entirely as an internal feeling that comes from nowhere and is totally unmoored from the context of the world we live in.

so you don't think that maybe you are not the first or even tenth person who has told me with a sneer, I want to start T but I'm scared of bottom growth and body hair-- you don't consider that maybe your fucking fear isn't just this super unique individual personal feeling, but is an opinion formed in the landscape that we live in where transsexual bodies are considered disgusting and scary.

you don't think that maybe you aren't the first or even tenth lesbian who has told me that dick is scary and it stops you from dating trans women, because your feminism also begins and ends with your own personal comfort. it doesn't occur to you that considering trans women sexually dangerous because of their bodies is a terf opinion.

we all look at someone like central park karen and see exactly how a white woman's tears can be a weapon, but we don't seem willing to self-criticize in the same way. i can do it-- trans men don't lose the ability to weaponize our tears (or the desire to use that weapon) when we transition, either, and it grosses me out. fear is not contextless or an intrinsic part of the self, and others are not obligated to accommodate fear that comes from bigotry.

it's fucking 2022 and i still have to see posts constantly that act like getting surgery and hrt are a privilege in themselves, that binary trans people are intrinsically more privileged than nonbinary people. i don't know how to explain to people that this is completely unhinged and doesn't track with reality, and believing it tells me that you have not spent any fucking time at all with transsexuals outside of tumblr. it doesn't matter that you don't Literally Hate Trans People if you still end up acting like a transphobe and spreading their bullshit

i'm happy for everyone who finds themselves under the umbrella, i don't question whether my siblings' and cousins' identities are real or "valid" or if they belong here. i think whether you chose to be trans or transness is an inescapable and eternal core of your psyche, you're entitled to that no matter the reason, i'm happy to have you at pride, whatever. but it makes me feel insane that people seem to think we can have a broad umbrella and also claim that there's a strong delineation between Cis and Trans, or that identifying as trans instantly puts you in a different position as the cis person you were yesterday. we still talk about queerness and gender like it's this on/off switch that exists only in your soul, and not a process of practice and evolution and construction that happens over time, in the context of the world around you.

when i point out that white nonbinary afabs frequently do, say, and believe a lot of the same transphobic bullshit white cis women do, its always taken as an attempt to undermine nonbinary identity, when i'm actually begging people to have a little self-awareness for all our sakes. so many times i've seen people complain about "gatekeeping" when it's clear that they have never stopped to consider why experienced queer people might not instantly trust every new little gayby who walks through their door. just this total unwillingness to consider that maybe you are the one who needs an education. maybe you are the one who isn't safe. maybe people don't trust you for reasons that have nothing to do with your identity or who you are as a person, but rather because the world is more fucking dangerous for them than it is for you.

maybe i don't want to hang out with every random freshly-out white afab not bc i think i'm better than them, but because they frequently do the same shit-- they make cruel comments about my body and my gender, they ignore my pronouns, they wrinkle their noses when they see men kissing. they complain about cis peoples' ignorance with zero self-awareness of their own, they complain about mens' egos and lack of emotional awareness while insulting me to my face, they complain about having to do emotion work for men while i'm sitting under a firehose of their feelings about my gender. this has been so consistent that when i meet someone new, our shared queerness is not enough, when so many queers have treated me like this-- and most people that i encounter like this are so obsessed with their own discomfort that they don't consider mine. you have to prove to me first that you aren't going to treat me like that before i'll want to be around you.

idk i'm tired. queer feminism has tired me out. i would like it if the majority of my potential queer social sphere was not dominated by people who think it makes sense to proudly proclaim a queer identity while maintaining a white woman's disdain for anything that instinctively grosses her out. i'm exhausted by the lack of self-awareness re: race and class and how much the world really considers you a freak compared to the rest of the freaks. i'm exhausted by this solipsistic obsession with queerness as a vehicle for boosting your ego and nothing more. in general i'm tired of how much online trans discourse has been dominated by people who have been trans for five minutes and are extremely raw and defensive and have no fucking clue what it's like to be trans when you're ten or twenty years in.

i was a trans dude who grew up in 2014 tumblr and got told constantly that self-sacrifice and self-criticism were my moral prerogative. i think it was unfair that i was saddled with that responsibility when so many other people are not. it hurt to learn those lessons when i was y'know, 21 and super vulnerable, but i did my best and i think i'm better for it-- i'm expected to understand and not take it personally when other people see my gender and don't trust me, but nobody seems to think that's a responsibility that they also share. i don't think it'd kill anybody else to also try their hand at it, too.

it sucks to keep running into other trans people who are like, really weird and transphobic at me in the same ways everywhere i go. if we're supposed to be sharing the umbrella, then maybe you could try fucking acting like it sometime??

[nepenthendline]

Tummy - Asahi

I should be working on requests rather than writing my own stuff but you can blame @mintmatcha​ for this, she got me thinking about asahi’s tummy

summary: this is just me thirsting over asahi who has gained a little weight and now is a god of muscle and chub but he’s feeling a little insecure

In the past 6 years that you had been with Asahi, things had changed a lot. He had been to nationals with his team, you both finished education, Asahi was working as a talented designer and you in your own field. You were both 25 now, figuring out your way as an adult and balancing responsibilities with friendships and relationship. Even the connection between the two of you had changed; Asahi was more confidence showing affection towards you, you learned to open up to him, and your love continued to grow every day. You learned so much about each other over the years, memorising every inch of each others bodies and every pattern of thought inside your minds.

You had both been busy recently with work, so you decided on a date-night where you could both relax and enjoy each other’s company. There was a restaurant nearby that had the perfect mix of romance and comfort, somewhere you both preferred much more than fancy establishments, that you were looking forward to visiting again. 

Since you lived together now, dates were a little different from the rush of getting ready beforehand and the wait for Asahi to come pick you up, then bringing you home with a kiss on the cheek. You felt more comfortable now, letting yourself enjoy the process of picking a cute outfit while you heard him finishing up in the shower. Even so, dates still made you a little giddy like the lovestruck teenager you once were, especially with such a catch of a man. 

You had finished getting dressed, now focusing on managing your hair and the last little touches when Asahi came into your bedroom, shuffling through the closet. Being a man of fashion, he, surprisingly, didn’t have a ton of clothes, saying he’d much rather have fewer higher quality pieces, than many styles that wore out fast and didn’t suit his body. 

He only had on some dark brown slacks as he looked through, lining his long, muscular legs perfectly. Even after so many years, you couldn’t help but stare whenever he walked in shirtless, or even naked, despite trying your best to divert your attention. Even through all the changes and growth spurts his body went through, he was still perfection to you. The broadness of his shoulders, his padded biceps, the torso that enveloped you whenever he hugged you, the way his body perfectly mixed his muscle and fleshiness. His abs were no longer as visible as when he was a younger athlete, but the way his waist dipped in a little under his bulked chest, then flared out to his hips and v-line that perfectly framed his, now, softer tummy was a sight to see. It was good he had such thick, toned thighs though, after all they needed to support that rounded ass of his. Honestly, you were jealous. 

As hot as he was though, the best thing about him was the way he surrounded you in his hold. He was a big guy: tall, wide and strong, and being in his arms felt like safety, like you were hidden away from the world. He was always so warm too, his heat spreading over your skin as if he were a blanket or an oversized teddy bear. 

Pulling out a beige linen shirt, he slipped his arms. Watching as his fingers buttoned up the shirt, you noticed how it fit a little more snug than it had when he bought it a few years ago. If anything, it enhanced his shape even more, allowing you to see the swell of his bicep as he flexed his arms to button to the top. It certainly wasn’t too small, but it clung to his figure more than it used to.

You could see his reflection in the mirror, watching as he looked over himself carefully, tugging down a little at the shirt as if it would make it fit looser. His eyebrows knitted together with his lips pursed tightly shut as he observed himself. Quickly, he unbuttoned the shirt, tearing it off and letting it fall on the bed behind him and he went searching for another. This time, he picked up a different shirt, this time in white that had a boxier, longer fit than the previous. After putting it on, however, his reaction didn’t seem to change. This shirt skimmed past most of his body, creating a flat line all the way down, expect for where the bottom of his stomach poked out a little, grazing the material that felt a little tighter there. He let out a sigh, lifting his hands to start unbuttoning the shirt. 

“You look good in that shirt, but I preferred the first one,” you piped up, making him jump as little as he had no idea you were watching him. He turned round towards you, quickly working to pull off the shirt and let out a nervous chuckle. 

“Uh thanks, I’m gonna find something else to wear,” he muttered, dropping the shirt and going back to the closet for another option. You stood up, making your way over to him, picking up the linen shirt as you passed the bed. You placed a gentle hand on his back, catching his attention. 

“Why don’t you try this one again? I love this one on you,” while it was true that you did find him particular appealing in that shirt, you mostly wanted him to admit to why he wouldn’t wear it without you prying. Pulling back from the closet, he lifted a hand to the back of his neck, anxiously rubbing it as he looked away. 

“It doesn’t fit right anymore, I’ve put on too much weight to wear that now,” his voice was low and deep as he murmured, the corners of his lips turned down. 

“Put it back on for me,” you told him, rather than asked. He stared at you with wide eyes, frozen in his spot, “please?” Slowly, he nodded, picking up the shirt from your hand and sliding his arms back in. His movements were hesitant as he buttoned the shirt back up, grimacing slightly at the way it hugged his body, revealing the curve of his waist, his doughier hips and stomach. But to you, he couldn’t look hotter than he did in this moment. 

“So, what’s wrong with it?” You ask in a calm tone, looking over him. He looked back and forth between you and his body in the mirror, before taking in a deep breath.

“You can see my stomach sticking out in it, and how big my arms have gotten,” he lifted his arms a little, showing how the shirt enclosed his flesh and the dips and mounds of his muscle. 

“What’s wrong with that?” You reply, somewhat rhetorically. His jaw moved a few times, trying to find something to say but nothing was able to leave his throat. “The problem is what you think your body, not your shirt. But you’re perfect how you are,” you watched as he stared at himself in the mirror, eyes dropped and his fingers fiddling with the edge of the material. “You’re not the athlete you used to be in school, and that’s perfectly ok. You’re older now, you have a different life, you’ve grown and you’ve changed, so it’s expected that you’ll look different to how you did 5 or 6 years ago. You were healthy and gorgeous as a volleyball player, and you’re still healthy and gorgeous now not being one.” 

You moved in front of him, standing between him and the mirror while reaching up to cup his check in your hand, feeling the roughness of his beard against your palm. “You’re still just as perfect as you were then. I think you look beautiful. In fact, I think this weight suits you really well,” you mention with a smile, gazing over his chest and thicker arms. 

“Y-you do?” He stuttered out, searching your face for an answer. You nodded enthusiastically, beaming at him. Leaning forward, you buried your face in his warm chest, wrapping your arms around his to muffle your voice as you spoke again.

“You look really sexy like this, Asahi,” your faced burned as you confessed, not helped as you breathed in his musky scent and felt his heart race more. 

“O-oh. Uh, thank you,” his nervousness made you chuckle a little, even after so many years together, he still got bright red whenever you complimented him, especially like this. Pulling away slightly, you looked up at him, watching his cheeks grow pink with a grin. 

“You don’t have to wear this shirt tonight, you should wear whatever you feel comfortable in, but I just want you to know that you look so good in anything, and in nothing,” you teased a little, watching as he swallowed hard and his eyes widened. “I love you, I have since you were younger, smaller and working out non-stop, and I still love you now as a grown, successful designer.” Fiddling with the ends of his hair, you stood on your toes, reaching up to press a gentle kiss on his lips, sealing the confession that you had declared hundreds of times already. 

[aclosetfan]

Now I’m curious about your headcanons for the others and their body types. Do you mind sharing?

pssh, not at all! I think about this a lot actually haha. I'm throwing in Princess and Robin too because they're ignored too often! The list below is just my go-to. Story-depending, it changes! (also threw in extra fun details). All under the cut :)

1) Blossom: Her somatotype would be ectomorphic, meaning she has little fat/muscle. I see her body shape as an inverted triangle (larger on top, slimmer on bottom), or a rectangle, with a triangle-shaped face. I see her at an "average" weight and height. Stick straight hair that can't hold a curl (but still canonically NOT messy). I think her hair is a lighter red-orange, where it's more orange than red. Deals with stress acne she tries to hide under her bangs, and I think she'd have pink-banded braces in her tweens and teens. Freckles easily if out in the sun. Good posture. Ear piercings. Wears makeup, but only the basics. I want to say that I think her nose should be on the bigger side. Idk one time I was accused of bullying her for making her look "nerdy" soooo i really just don't play around with her anymore. 🤣🤣

2) Buttercup: A tall athletic build, so more her somatotype could be defined as a mesomorph, but I see her pear-shaped, which is commonly defined as ecto-endomorph, where the body is thinner on top with higher fat storage on the bottom. Idk i go back and forth. The bottom line is, I see her as the flat-chested one with a solid, strong body type. When working out, she focuses on definition and cardio instead of gains, so her muscle is leaner. She has a sharper face structure (maybe square/diamond). Stretch marks, indicating rapid growth spurts on hips and arms. Her hair is a black messy wavy short nightmare. Out of the three sisters, I feel she's the most self-conscious of her body (mad that she doesn't come off feminine, but also mad when she does--goes with my androgynous/or possibly nonbinary headcanons). I give her bad knees too, and she chews on her fingernails. Makeup-wise, she doesn't like it, but she went through a bad black eyeliner phase.

3) Bubbles: Has an endomorphic body type where she gains both weight and muscle very easily. According to canon, people say she's chubby. I see her hourglass-shaped with a rounded heart-shaped face! Very graceful. Heightwise, considered petite. She's made for hugs! If she were a cheerleader, I'd see her as a strong base, not a flyer (but she'd want to be a flyer). Good thighs. Curly, curly hair that frizzes if she doesn't keep up with it. Her hair is very blond, so her eyebrows and eyelashes look non-existent, which frustrates her. I think she'd have those very cute freckles that some people have solely on her cheeks with a gap in her two front teeth, and I'm a sucker for dimples on Bubbles. Has a button nose. Wears glasses, but hates them. Multiple ear piercings. Makeup guru. Just a cutie, tbh!

Brick: Bony, thin, and lanky. Ectomorphic like Blossom, but unhealthy about it. If he were real, you'd invite him to dinner just to make sure with your own two eyes he eats. For a variety of reasons that I won't explain here, I h/c him as someone who struggles with an unspecified eating disorder. Dark bags under his eyes make his thinness more pronounced, all his facial features are thin. Hella freckles everywhere. Teeth are stained a slight yellow (nicotine and coffee) (smile can still light up a room, but don't tell him that). Dark red hair is messy, long, and also sticky straight like Blossom's but not well maintained or as thick. His hair is dry in texture and when he was little had a bad case of dandruff. Does not care about his outer appearance, but things get better for him when he gets older (story depending), and that's when he starts putting in an effort. Hollowed face structure, probs square or triangle. He's a pretty boy, but far from conventionally attractive. Sometimes has piercing, sometimes doesn't. Bad posture.

Butch: Again, like Buttercup, a mesomorphic athletic build, but leans more endomorphic. He can build muscle very easily but has very little body fat. Despite that, he's a big boy lol. More broad in the chest and shoulders. Has an intimidating height and weight, but isn't bony. Not very graceful, and for a long time, he didn't have good control of his powers. As a little boy, he was rather gangly. A lot of stretch marks on his thighs, hips, chest, and arms. Angular face shape, squared jaw. Like Blossom, I think this guy would need braces, but they don't help. When he was little, they were knocked out of his head so many times, they don't grow back correctly anymore. Permanently missing a few molars. I h/c that all the kids have a bunch of scars, but Butch ended up with one on his eyebrow that everyone makes fun of him for because it makes him look like a douche-bag. love those h/cs that say he has curly hair that he tries to spike, so I adhere to that. One-dimpled smile! Various piercings. Bad posture (tries to hide his height). Large crocked nose.

Boomer: Wow, you guessed, it! Endomorphic, plus-sized guy! Slims out more than Bubbles as he ages because guys have an easier time losing weight, but he is never not chubby. I want to say he's an hourglass shape like Bubbles, but I haven't decided yet! He'd have a more rounded or rounded-square face. Again, stretch marks from his growth spurts. On the tall side, usually, I put him right between his brothers on height charts. Boomer is often in denial about his weight. I think deep down it bugs him, but for the most part, he ignores it. I feel that Boomer would change his hair the most, but has wavy blonde hair. Crooked cute smile! Various piercings! TBH I think he's the most conventionally handsome out of his brothers. I just think the blues would be very pretty, and Boomer would know it.

Princess: I like to think of her as Rich Girl thin, lol, but with a mesomorphic/athletic build. She has a round face and is rather petite overall. Has a pronounced gap in her two front teeth (more so than Bubbles) with a slight lisp, and a significant amount of freckles on her face. She has bright red, very curly hair. Aside from that, her ears are pierced. She doesn't have scars and is at an average height and weight, so I don't feel she'd have any stretch marks. Out of all the girls on this list, I'd think she'd actually be considered the most "perfect." Nails always manicured, hair always done, the best clothes, personal trainers, etc. She has the money for it, so she looks like a Country Club Trust Fund Baby. Her most unattractive quality is her personality, which is a real shame. :(

Robin: Robin! Robin has a square body type, leaning more athletic! I think she'd like to jog, so has leaner muscle like Buttercup. On the shorter side, but I also see her as at an average height. Her face shape is still up in the air. Robin thinks she's rather plain, boring, and mousy looking compared to all her interesting friends. Keeps her hair long, but dyes it from time to time to shake things up. No scars except for one on her forearm from falling off her bike, and a notch in her front tooth from the same accident. Doesn't freckle, but tans easily. She has very pretty blue eyes that I'm going to say are prettier than the blues.

[radiantroope]

Lonely Heart || Rafe Cameron

Chapter Four - Tainted Love

chapter summary: Janelle comes over to talk and starts to show her true colors. You and John B. go surfing where he gets you to open up to him about your mom. An unlikely friend saves you from falling into what seems like a trap.

warnings: angst, swearing, mentions of familial death, a beer is mentioned

word count: 4.3k+

author’s note: yeah uhhh don’t hate me for this lol. i wanna fight her too. as always, please leave me some feedback and let me know if you’re enjoying this series <3

read chapter three here!

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You didn’t leave the house much. You didn’t want to risk running into Rafe or Janelle anywhere. Topper had dropped by a couple of times just to check on you and see how your mother was doing. Sarah was over the most, refusing to let you waste away in your room by yourself. She was going back to school at Chapel Hill, splitting her time between the mainland and the island. You’d tried to insist she didn’t have to come over every other day, but she wasn’t taking no for an answer. ‘You’re my best friend. You can try and shut everyone else out, but not me.’ she’d said.

Your mother had an appointment that day to have a brain MRI. They wanted to check the tumor and make sure the chemotherapy was helping slow the growth or at least keep the tumor at bay for the time being. Her form of cancer was aggressive and there was a chance the chemo would only work for so long. Eventually the tumor would stop reacting to it and continue growing rapidly. Your parents told you the visit was boring and you’d be in the waiting room the whole time so they made you stay home.

You stared at the fresh cup of tea in front of you, robotically dipping the tea bag in and out of the scalding water. Your mind was consumed with thoughts of Rafe, as much as you tried not to think about him. You couldn’t comprehend why he’d ghosted you and started dating your best friend. Was he ashamed of loving her and feared you’d think you were replaced? Truthfully, it is how you felt. He pushed you out and made more room for Janelle in his life, letting her fill a place you thought would always be yours.

Your whole perspective on your life was forced to change. The dreams and goals you’d had when you were younger, picturing Rafe by your side, you’d instead achieved and chased by yourself. You went to college parties and drowned yourself in booze to ignore how wrong it felt being there. You had mindlessly hooked up with fraternity douchebags, hoping it would fill the void in your chest. It never did. You had tried to go on dates with guys who were so sweet and nothing short of gentlemen, but none of them managed to wow you. They weren’t rough around the edges with just enough attitude to keep you in check. They were soft, men you could walk all over and they’d let you. They weren’t Rafe. You hated yourself for comparing them all to him, but he was all you’d ever known. He was all you ever wanted.

Guilt started eating away at you for focusing so much on the boy who unknowingly broke your heart. Your mother was dying for God’s sake. You should be putting all of your attention on her and making sure she was happy in what was going to be the last year of her life. You were upset with yourself for being so angry with her for not telling you about the engagement. It wasn’t their fault your closest friends were a couple of backstabbers.

The shrill ring of the doorbell ripped you from your thoughts. You abandoned the now cold cup of tea at the coffee table, sock clad feet sliding across the hardwood as you moved through the house. You glanced down at the oversized shirt you were wearing, biker shorts poking out underneath. You had a feeling your unruly hair was sticking out in all directions from the bun it was in but couldn’t find it in yourself to care.

The moment you ripped the front door open, you tried to slam it right back closed. Bile rose in your throat as you pushed against their body, growling, “Get the fuck off my porch.”

“I’m here to talk, Y/N, please!” Janelle protested, trying to look at you through the crack in the white painted door without having it crushed. “Just give me ten minutes.”

You hesitated, pausing against the door. Words couldn’t describe how hurt you were that she’d kept this from you for years. She had been one of your best friends. She knew things about you that your own parents didn’t know — that Rafe himself didn’t know. Could it hurt to at least try and hear her out?

You finally pulled the door open, avoiding her striking green eyes and waving your arm out to let her in. You shut the door loudly behind her and moved to the couch. “Ten minutes,” you stated, sitting at one end while she took a spot on the other.

“How’s your mom?” she started, giving you a sad smile.

You shrugged once, responding monotonously with, “Fine.”

“Y/N, I’m sorry,” Janelle said softly, seemingly sincere as she stared at her lap. You kept quiet and didn’t show any change in emotion on your face, so she continued, “I should have told you. The second things changed with Rafe and I, I should have come to you about it.”

You closed your eyes for a moment and breathed in deeply as to collect your thoughts. There were a million things you could say to her right now, most more unpleasant than others. You sighed, “You knew how much I loved him, Janelle. You were the only person I told. Do you understand how much of a slap to the face this is?”

“I know. I broke, like, the first rule in girl code. I suck,” she replied, shaking her head a bit. She had been avoiding your eyes but looked back over, “We didn’t expect it, you know. It just kind of… happened. Things were really rough for both of us for a while and I guess it made us closer. We were able to connect on a deeper level.”

You stared at her, unable to read the expression on her face. You couldn’t pinpoint one sort of emotion swimming in her eyes. A weight settled on your shoulders, something within you feeling unnerved.

“Do you love him?”

There it was, a smile. The first real emotion the dark haired girl had shown you since she stepped foot in the house. Did she even care about you at all? Did she care that this was ripping you apart inside? “Of course I do. I wouldn’t have said yes to marrying him if I didn’t,” her response lit a fire within your chest, spreading through every nerve ending in your body.

“Then why did you never seem interested in him before?” you questioned, watching the creases form between her eyebrows. “You chased after Kelce for two years without giving up. You never once gave any indication that you were remotely interested in Rafe until I left, apparently.”

You were simmering in pent up anger and betrayal, jealousy sitting just below the surface. Though, you kept yourself calm, refusing to let those emotions through. You knew Janelle like the back of your hand and you knew there was more to this. You wanted to push her until she said exactly what she was thinking. The slow contort of her face into an angry scowl proved to you that it was working.

“You don’t just wake up one day and decide, hm, I’m in love with this person now, Janelle. How do you even know if what you have is real?”

“Well maybe if you weren’t so conceited and wrapped up in yourself you would have noticed,” Janelle spit, the olive toned tan to her face turning a light shade of pink. “Everyday I had to listen to you bitch and moan about how he’d never love you back. All you did was cry because you were too scared to tell him how you felt. I always loved him but you always made everything about you.”

You blood boiled under your skin. Your face became hot and you clenched your hands in your lap to keep them from shaking. Your bottom lip was sure to start bleeding soon with how tightly you bit it between your teeth.

“You weren’t there for the fights with Ward, when he called him names and made him feel less than. You weren’t there for the nights he got black out drunk because he wanted to forget. You weren’t there for the fucking cocain addiction that almost ruined his whole life,” Janelle seethed, leaning closer to you with every word she spoke.

Your jaw clenched painfully as you grit out, “How was I supposed to be there when he’s the one who cut me out of his life?”

“He cut you out of his life to send you a message, Y/N!” Janelle shouted through a laugh, a condescending smile settling on her lips. “He was so happy when you moved to California because he was finally free! He wasn’t being suffocated by you anymore!”

“That’s not true,” you whispered, shaking your head quickly. Your mind flashed back to your going away party. The soft voices and gentle touches. The way he looked at you like you were the only person he had eyes for — at least that’s what you thought.

“It is, and the sooner you accept that, the better. Rafe doesn’t love you,” the raven haired girl stated. Your glossy eyes flickered to hers. The bright green in them was gone and replaced with a cold, mossy color. “He never loved you. He never will love you the way you’re so desperate for him to. You moving was the best thing that ever happened to him — to us.”

You stayed seated on the couch as she got up and slung her entirely too large of a purse over her shoulder. Your eyes were full to brim with tears that you refused to let fall in front of her. You wouldn’t let her see how much this was ruining you. This wasn’t the girl you’d met back when you were ten years old, it was a completely different person. Or maybe she had been this person the whole time, and you had just been a pawn in some sick game. Only did you look at her when she opened the front door.

“And Y/N,” the sweet tone replaced the venomous one she used only moments ago. “Stay away from him. I don’t need you messing with his head before the wedding.”

The door slammed and you sat there, allowing the tears to flow down your flushed cheeks. You didn’t sob, you didn’t scream and throw things around like most would have thought. It was just a silent flow of saltiness that felt never ending. A numbing feeling came over you as you let Janelle’s words absorb into your head. Had you really been so blind by your own love for Rafe you never saw hers? Had you been so stupid to think the Kook Prince would fall for someone as ordinary as you?

You don’t know if it was only minutes or maybe hours that you sat on the couch, blankly staring at the wall. Eventually, you finally pulled yourself up and located your phone. There was one thing you knew would help you escape the depression spiral you were heading down. And there was one person you could call who would be willing to do it with you — despite hardly knowing you at all.

“Hello?” John B. sounded utterly confused as to why you were calling him.

“H-Hey, I uh, I know this is weird,” your voice was dry and you cleared your throat, “Do you, i dunno, maybe wanna go surfing with me?”

—

You sat on top of your board out where the water was calmer, watching John B. pull off an intricate trick with his own surfboard. You hummed in thought, wishing you could pull off some of the moves he did. You tended to just catch the biggest wave you could and ride it out for as long as possible. You’d picked up some things over the years, but just riding out a long wave was your favorite feeling. You loved the rush, like you were flying.

“You’re really good,” you complimented the brunette as he made his way back out to you.

“Thanks,” John B. chuckled, moving to straddle his board just as you were, “You’re pretty good at riding out the big ones. I bet I could get JJ to teach you some things. He’s better than I am.”

You laughed softly and shook your head, brushing your wet hair behind your back, “JJ would rather scrub Heyward’s boat to the bone than hang out with me.”

“He’s not that bad,” the Routledge boy tried to defend his friend. “Well, not anymore. He’s more… tolerant.”

You hummed in response, staring out into the open water where the edges curved at the horizon. The sun was beginning to go down, casting an orange glow over everything around you. John B. watched you, seeing the gears turning in your head. He’d barely seen you smile all day and from what Sarah had told him, surfing always made you happiest.

“You wanna talk about it?”

You turned to look at him, his soft hazel eyes saying It’s okay, you can trust me. You sighed heavily and averted your gaze to the purple and white board below you. You could feel that you wanted to cry again but your eyes remained dry, like you had nothing left in you. The hollow feeling in your chest felt like it was going to swallow you whole.

“You sure you want my demons weighing on your conscience?” you asked playfully, the corners of your mouth upturning slightly.

John B. smiled softly, shrugging a bit, “We all have our demons, Y/N. Some worse than others.”

You nodded and eyed him for a moment longer before asking, “What was it like.. to lose your dad?”

The curly haired boy sucked in a breath. It had been four years but it never got easier. His dad was all he had and then he was alone, still a child having to grow up entirely too fast. He let out a soft breath, “It was hard. I didn’t know what happened to him for nine months, and then to find out he was dead? It was like a part of me died with him.”

You nodded, silently listening along as he opened up to you.

“It was painful and ugly. I lashed out at my friends… It’s still painful sometimes. I try to think about the good things though. The fishing trips on his boat, going to work with him.. His horrendous endeavour to find The Royal Merchant,” he paused to laugh at the memory, and you did too. You’d heard enough stories about him and his friends searching for the lost gold as well. “I know he’s still with me. He watches over me. Your mom will too.”

You nodded again, bottom lip quivering slightly. Your voice was strained as you spoke, “It fucking sucks seeing her like this. Everyday I feel like I can tell she’s getting worse.”

“I regret not being around more the last couple of years. If I had known this was going to happen I would have done so many things differently.”

John B. waded his board closer to you, resting his hand on yours that was gripping your knee. His eyes were remorseful, lips turned down in a frown. His father’s death was sudden and unexpected. He understood your pain but he also had no idea how to handle knowing the inevitable was coming. He couldn’t imagine watching someone you love slowly slip away.

“Don’t think about that. Don’t beat yourself up for what you didn’t do or wish you did. Spend this time reminding your mom how much you love her and helping make these last moments she has some of the best. Make more memories with her that you’ll look back on and smile at,” he told you, squeezing your fingers softly.

You met John B.’s eyes again and nodded, giving him a soft smile. It was nice to talk to someone who didn’t exactly know you on that personal level but could also relate to you. He had experienced a loss like you were about to and it was refreshing to hear how he coped with it and get some advice. You wondered exactly how much Sarah had told him but it was nice that he was judging you. Maybe years ago, he would have thrown it back in your face, called you a snob and any other insult he could think of. Maybe it was dating Kook that changed his outlook, or he’d grown up and matured and realized the stupid rivalry wasn’t worth being a complete dick all the time.

John B. drifted away from you again when he saw you seemed more relaxed, he looked out where the sun was starting to dip below the horizon. He offered, “Why don’t you come back to the Chateau with me? Sarah’s coming over and I know she’s dying to get you to hang with us.”

You contemplated for a moment, unsure how inviting the other Pogues would be to another Kook in their company. But for once, getting out and being around other people sounded a lot better than going home and burying yourself in Ben and Jerry’s while binge watching a show you’d already seen. So you nodded and smiled, “Yeah, that sounds nice.”

—

Rafe didn’t listen to Topper’s advice of leaving you alone. He couldn’t pretend like seeing after all of these years wasn’t a sucker punch to the gut. He kept replaying everything over the course of five years in his head. He couldn’t stop thinking about what he could’ve done differently. The different outcomes of his actions replayed in his head like a broken record. What could have happened if he hadn’t cut you out of his life? Would you have ended up together in the end, despite the distance? Should he have told you how he felt that day, when it felt like your gentle touch was the only thing holding him together?

He traveled out onto the South side and watched from his truck as you and John B. left the beach. He thought about getting out and speaking to you there but instead he watched from the shadows as you strapped your surfboard to the top of your mother’s car and drove away behind the Volkswagen.

Against his better judgement, Rafe followed you. He stayed far enough behind that you wouldn’t recognize his truck. He knew his way to the Routledge boy’s house anyway. Many a night’s he had gone there when he was younger and looking for trouble, or when he got older, to pick up his sister when she didn’t have a ride. He knew that’s where you were heading. He would pretend it didn’t bother him slightly that you were hanging out with the Pogues. He’d grown more accustomed to seeing them around but the roots of the rivalry were still deeply embedded within him. He still thought they were at the bottom of the food chain.

You didn’t think much of the headlights that pulled up behind your car, thinking Sarah had just arrived. You dug around in the backseat, trying to gather the things that had spilled from your bag. The headlights shut off and it was quiet for a moment. You heard John B. curse softly and your heart nearly stopped when you heard the voice.

“Sup, John B.?” Rafe’s gruff voice filled the air, nodding his head at his sister’s boyfriend.

“Rafe,” the Routledge boy greeted back, an edge to his tone.

You slowly removed yourself from the car, turning to face the last person you wanted to see, next to Janelle. You hated the way your heart skipped a beat when his azure irises met yours. He swallowed thickly, waiting for you to make the first move, which you did.

“What are you doing here?”

“I- I uh,” Rafe’s hand came up to rub the back of his neck, eyes leaving yours to stare at the ground. “I don’t know. I wanted to see you.”

You scoffed and shook your head, reaching back into the car to get your bag. He hesitantly moved closer and continued, “I’m worried about you, Y/N. I know things are weird right now and I’m sorry about your mom but I-”

“Don’t,” you snapped, standing upright and slamming the car door, “Don’t pretend like you fucking care.”

“I do care. I just want to talk.”

“You had five years to talk, Rafe!” you shouted, voice shaking as you did so. You bit the inside of your lip and begged your body not to betray you. You didn’t need him seeing you cry. “I waited and waited for you to talk to me. I asked myself ‘why’ for years! You’ve moved on with your life, that’s fine, I can accept that. But don’t expect me to be a part of it anymore. Just go back to pretending I don’t exist.”

Even from a distance Rafe could see the glaze to your eyes. He could see your body shaking as you tried to keep yourself composed. It looked like you were about to fall apart in front of him and it made his chest ache. You always were the one to pretend to be strong for as long as you could until it crushed you. He shook his head and tried again, “Y/N, please, you don’t understa-”

“Yo, Rafe! Didn’t know you were stopping by!” you turned to see JJ Maybank bouncing down the porch steps, an arrogant smirk painted on his chapped lips. His unruly hair stuck out from the edges of his backwards baseball cap. He was shirtless, flaunting his physique in only a pair of grey cargo shorts. He’d heard you yelling and figured he may as well come investigate.

“Maybank,” Rafe greeted the Pogue stiffly, a lot more tense than he’d been around John B.

The younger blonde boy threw his arm around your shoulders as he came to your side, catching you by surprise. You glanced up at him, but his eyes never left Rafe, his smirk widening. You didn’t see the look of anger that flashed across your former best friend’s face, a fire igniting in his eyes — JJ caught it though, and he was going to run with it.

“I heard about the engagement, man, congrats!” JJ spoke enthusiastically and you had to resist rolling your eyes. You suddenly had the urge to throw up like on the Druthers, but you swallowed the feeling down. Your eyes met Rafe’s again as JJ kept going, “Don’t you have, like, a cake tasting to get to or something?”

Rafe’s hands curled into fists, knuckles cracking as he squeezed. If anyone knew how to get under his skin in just the right way, it was the Maybank boy. He breathed out slowly through his nose, choosing to ignore the comments from the Pogue. He pleaded with you, “Can we just talk, real quick? Please?”

“Oh, I’m sorry, bro. Y/N’s really busy right now,” JJ answered for you, tilting his head to look down at you, “Aren’t you, bubs?”

You stared up into the tan blonde’s indigo eyes that were screaming at you not to go to him. You knew he was trying to help you, but you weren’t friends. You didn’t understand why he came to your defense so quick. He could have just let you stand out there and allow Rafe to rope you back in like you knew he could.

“She can speak for herself,” Rafe snapped at JJ who looked back at him with a raised eyebrow. You hadn’t moved out from under his arm so clearly you had no interest in going to the Kook.

“Go home, Rafe,” you said, turning with JJ to walk up to the Chateau. “Wouldn’t want to suffocate you anymore,” you took a dig, repeating what Janelle had said to you earlier in the day.

Rafe stood there, watching as you walked to the porch, wrapped in someone else’s arms — someone he despised. His heart pounded harder in his chest the further you got away from him, like you were taking it with you. He silently got back in his truck and backed out, tires squealing as he peeled off down the road. He gripped the steering wheel with white knuckles, breathing raggedly. Wouldn’t want to suffocate you anymore. Those words bothered him, knowing he’d heard something like that before but he couldn’t recall when, where or more importantly, who.

“Well that couldn’t have been anymore awkward,” John B. stated as he led you into the house.

You’d expected JJ to drop his arm the second Rafe was gone, but he didn’t, guiding you into the kitchen for you to put down your bag. You sighed heavily and rubbed your face with the hand not pinned to your side, “I’m sorry about that. And thank you, JJ, you didn’t have to do all that.”

The boy hummed and waved his hand, finally stepping away from you and moving to the fridge, “The guy’s an asshole and needs to learn he can’t always get what he wants. Especially after what happened on daddy dearest’s boat.”

You felt your face flush, looking over at John B. who held his hands up as if he was surrendering, “I didn’t say anything, swear.”

“Word travels fast ‘round these parts,” JJ clarified, walking back over and handing you a beer. He sat down in one of the chairs at the kitchen table, patting the one beside him for you. “C’mon, tell your good pal JJ what the Prince fucked up this time.”

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[nastybuckybarnes]

Save a Horse, Ride a Cowboy

Pairing: Cowboy!Bucky X Reader

Summary: During a summer away from school, you head back home to the small town you grew up in. You quickly resume your job on the Farm where you spent most of your teen years, reconnecting with people you thought you might never see again.

Warnings: Language, Smut, Fluff

Word Count: 3.7K

A/n: I like this idea. I like this title. I just like it. I hope y’all do too. 

~*~

Student loans most certainly don't pay themselves.

That's something people tell you but doesn't fully hit until you see the big bills in the mail. Instead of dwelling, you climb into your rusty old car and set out down the highway, heading back to the town where you grew up.

Your parents have been bugging you about coming to visit, and the town always has job openings somewhere, easily the best place to go to rake in some extra cash during your summer break.

And that's how you find yourself here, standing outside the big white farmhouse that's something straight out of a magazine.

Your dad dropped you off at the start of the long circular driveway, leaving you to walk to the front of the house in your old farm boots.

As you approach the house, you feel yourself getting nervous as you see the figure sitting on the yellow porch swing.

"My Goodness! (Y/n) (Y/l/n)! Is that you?!" You smile at the familiar voice, hurrying towards her as she gets off the swing and clomps down the stairs towards you.

"You've grown so much! We've missed you 'round these parts!" She exclaims, throwing her arms around you as soon as you're in range.

"Hi, Winnie! I've missed you too." She keeps an arm around your shoulders and walks you up the step and through the blue front door of the huge house. You toe off your boots and she does the same, not bothering to put them away properly in her haste to get you comfortable.

"I'll get you something to drink. We've got so much to catch up on. And the boys! Oh! They'll be dyin' to see ya. James 'specially. He just ain’t been the same since you left for the big city. But look at you now, a grown woman, a big city girl." You grin, eyes flittering around the house.

It's changed over the years, but it hasn't lost its homey feel. The walls of the entryway are the same yellow-orange as they always were, the floors, the same deep oak.

You take a left, through the dining room and past George's office, through the kitchen and finally into the sitting room.

You take your time, admiring all the renovations they've done in the years since you've last been in here.

All the cupboards and counters are a bright pristine white, but the beams across the ceiling give it a rustic feel. The appliances are all stainless steel, and the hardwoods have been darkened since the last time you saw them.

Winnifred pulls you to sit down on the soft beige couch across from the windows, smiling brightly at you.

"I'll grab you a drink. Wanda squeezed some orange juice fresh this mornin' so we're in for a treat." She pours you a glass and you smile as she hands it to you, her hospitality warming your heart.

"How's the big city treated ya?" She asks, plopping down on the couch next to you. You take a sip of orange juice then sigh.

"It's... different than out here, that's for sure. The people mind their business and they don't stick out for each other the way we do. But I think that that's helped me really grow and become independent." She nods, smiling at you.

"Look at you. Always know you'd be somethin' great. And here you are, on the road to being a doctor. Hope you don't forget us while you're out there savin' lives." You shake your head.

"I could never forget you guys. This place is my home. You guys... you're my family." She nods, "you're darn right."

"That's uh... one of the reasons why I cam here, actually. Ma was tellin' me that you guys are looking for some extra help over the summer. I may not be as good as I was before, but I still remember how to take care of the animals and run the place."

"Oh Darlin', you'll always have a job here, whenever you want. You can help with paperwork or you can help the boys with the animals if you want." You nod, mulling over your options.

"Or if you're really up for it, you can help with both." You nod, liking that idea more than just picking one.

"And you'll stay here during the week. It's gonna be early mornings and late nights, just like before. But weekends you can go home to your family." You nod again, taking another sip of your juice.

"You'll be staying in the guest house with James. I hope you don't mind. There are two bedrooms so you won't have to bunk together. He got it done all nice and pretty, I think you'll really like it. And if you don't, I'll see if Wanda'll stay with him for the summer." You wave her off.

"I'm sure James and I will be fine to live under one roof for the summer." She nods with a grin, happy that you're back home where, in her opinion, you belong.

"The boys should be finished in the field soon. I'm sure they're hungry. Wanna help me whip up some lunch? It's been a while since we've had those grilled sandwiches you make. I'm sure the boys'll love 'em as a surprise." You nod, getting up off the couch and walking into the kitchen, falling into the familiar task of making lunch for the farm boys.

You and Winifred talk about the growth of the farm and about the new girl, Wanda. "Her family's from Europe. She moved out here for school but got a job working on the farm. Decided to take a break from school and work with us for a couple years before going back to school. Isn't that so lovely? Everyone who gets a taste of this ol' farm just can't stay away. You're no exception, are ya?"

You shake your head, a grin on your lips as you plate the sandwiches.

Boots trudge against the stone by the door and your heart races in your chest. The door swings open and the conversation the two men are having comes to a halt when they see not one, but two pairs of women's boots at the door.

"Ma?" a familiar voice calls out. You hear them taking off their own shoes and then they're coming through the dining room and into the kitchen.

You're not sure what you were expecting, but this certainly isn't it.

The two scrawny boys you used to play on the tire swing with have grown into huge men. Steve, the boy that used to be so sick all the time, with nothing but skin on his bones, is easily six feet tall and over two hundred pounds of pure muscle. His head nearly hits the top of the doorway when he walks into the kitchen, eyes as blue as ever. And the accentuate his muscles, he's wearing a skintight blue shirt that shows off every single curve and crevice in his body.

His mouth opens in shock when he sees you before a grin spreads over his pink lips. He rushes to you and engulfs you in a tight and sweaty bear hug, squeezing you tight in his arms.

You giggle uncontrollably as he spins you around.

"God, it's been too long! What're you doing 'round these parts?" He sets you down on your feet, hands on your shoulders as he drinks in your figure.

Winifred answers before you have a chance to, and you take the moment to look around Steve's arm to where you know James is standing.

Standing in place of the lanky boy who stole your first kiss is a grown man. His hair's trimmed and slicked back, and he's got a short scruffy beard growing. He's almost as tall as Steve is, still several inches taller than you, and even thicker, biceps straining against the tight fabric of his flannel shirt. His thighs are sinfully thick in his dirty jeans, and there's a light sheen of sweat on his forehead.

You can't help but devour his figure with your eyes, greedy to drink up every detail of him.

He does the same to you, pink bottom lip tucked between his white teeth as his eyes rake over your figure.

From the tight white tank top that hugs your chest, to those damn jeans that hug your legs so perfectly, to the mismatched socks on your feet. He's missed you, that much he'll admit.

"...I just hope that the two of you get along like you used to." The two of you tune back in, turning to his mother as she continues speaking, oblivious to the moment you just shared.

"Wait what?" He asks, voice deep. The sound sends a shiver down your spine, and it doesn't go unnoticed by him.

"You and (Y/n). I figured that you've got plenty of room for her to bunk with you. And with Wanda stayin' with us, there ain't a lotta room for her to stay." You glance over at the man in question and he swallows hard before nodding.

"Yeah. Of course." Winifred claps her hands together happily.

"Perfect. Now, you boys must be hungry. Eat up!" Steve grabs his plate of sandwiches and sits down on the couch, sighing and relaxing with ease. Bucky, on the other hand, doesn't move as quickly. He waits until his mother leaves to turn something on the tv before moving, and when he does he only moves towards you.

You lean back instinctively, inhaling sharply when you find yourself pinned against the countertop behind you.

He looks you up and down again, nodding to himself. He's so close that you can feel the familiar warmth of him through the few inches separating the two of you. He leans closer for a moment, lips just hovering over yours, and your eyelids fall closed. Until he pulls back.

A soft whine falls from your lips and he chuckles quietly, grabbing his plate of food and plopping down next to Steve on the couch. You take a few deep breaths to calm yourself before heading into the living room and sitting by Winnie.

"I suppose you'll need to go home and pick up some of your things, won't ya?" You nod, taking another sip of your orange juice. "I'll have my folks bring it over later on. If that's alright with you." She nods, grinning happily.

"You know what? I say we have a barbecue tonight. Invite your folks over, some old friends. Celebrate you comin' home for the summer." She's up and hurrying away before you can even say no.

It's silent for a painfully long moment before Steve clears his throat and speaks.

"So how's school been?" You almost roll your eyes. Same old awkward Steve.

"It's been good. I uh... finished my second year of med school. I've just got two years of clinical experience to go then I start my residency." He nods, leaning forward in interest.

"And you've chosen your specialty?" You nod, smiling as you talk about your passion.

"I'm going into Obstetrics and Gynaecology. So for my clinical I'll be pretty much just shadowing some doctors, delivering babies, helping and observing in the OR. Then it's a minimum of five years in residency before I can start my own practice." He nods thoughtfully, smiling suddenly.

"So in two years we'll be callin' ya 'Doctor (Y/l/n)'?" You nod, that fact scaring you more than it probably should.

"Yup." He shakes his head in disbelief. "You know, I have a hard time believing that the same girl who went to rodeo's with me and this punk when we were skinny little nobodies... can't believe she's a grown woman now, on her way to becoming a doctor. I've gotta say, (Y/n), I'm so proud of you. You've got no idea." Your eyes prickle and you blink furiously.

"Thank you, Steve. It feels so... surreal. Coming back here after all these years... it feels like nothing's really changed." He smiles, nodding.

"Yeah. Nothing's changed at all," Bucky mumbles, eyes on you. You look down at your lap, unsure what he means by that.

~*~

The first week of helping on the farm is exactly how you remembered it. Early mornings, heavy lifting, and the stench of animal crap that seems to stick to your hair even after you shower. But it feels like home. And spending time with your closest friends is worth it all.

You're walking through the tiny town's farmer's market, a list of groceries in your right hand, written by Winifred herself.

Just as you're paying for the last vegetables that you need, the sound of horse hooves on the gravel road makes you and everyone around you turn to the sound.

Sitting atop his prized mare is Bucky, a dark cowboy hat on his head and some fancy looking cowboy boots on his feet. He slows to a stop in front of you, grinning as you step closer.

"Well howdy," you tease. He chuckles and looks down for a moment.

"Ma wanted me to come pick you up. Says a storm's brewin'. She didn't want you walking home in it. Brought my pack so you can stash the groceries and we can ride back home." You purse your lips then nod, handing him the groceries so he can put them away.

"Now c'mon up. You remember how to ride?" The glimmer in his eyes makes you grin.

"As a matter of fact, James, I remember vividly how to ride." He chuckles softly and offers you his hand. You grab it with one hand and pull while bouncing to give yourself momentum. You grab onto his bicep with your other arm and swing your leg over the horse, pulling yourself up the rest of the way with ease.

"Huh, all that time in the big city hasn't made you forget," he mutters, glancing over his shoulder at you while his mare starts a comfortable walk back to the house.

"I uh... I haven't had a chance to tell you, but your place looks great," you say awkwardly, hands twitching to reach for him.

He hums, his right hand reaching back and grabbing onto yours, pulling it around his waist. "You'd better hold on tight. Don't want you to fall." You bring your other hand around his waist and lean your head against his back.

The ride back home is quiet and peaceful, and gives you far too much to think about.

When you're finally back on the property, Bucky hops off of his mare then reaches up and grabs your waist instinctively. And you let him.

He helps you down and the two of you stand like that for a long moment, chests touching and eyes locked together, the tension palpable between the two of you.

Thunder booms in the distance and it snaps the two of you out of your moment. Bucky ducks his head and leads his mare to the stables and you make your way into the house that the two of you are sharing.

When Bucky finally comes inside, his hat damp with rain, you've got two mugs of tea waiting. You hand one to him then make your way into the sunroom to relax as the rain falls gently outside.

You're sipping your tea, watching the rain, when Bucky comes out and sits next to you on the worn old couch.

"I've missed you, (Y/n). I really have. It just.... it ain't the same without you here." You look over at him and smile sadly.

"I've missed you too, Buck. So much." He throws his arm over the back of the couch, eyes on you as he sets his mug down on the coffee table.

"When you left... I thought you'd come back and be too prissy for me. Thought you'd realize what you're worth and you wouldn't wanna speak to me again, that's assumin' you'd come back at all. And I know it's shallow of me, but I didn't know what to expect. But let me tell you that I'm so damn happy that you haven't changed. You've filled out a bit more, and you seem more confident, but you're still my (Y/n) in there."

You look over at him, see the vulnerability in his beautiful blue eyes, and find yourself falling head over heels all over again.

"Bucky, I'd never think myself 'too good' for you. Or for anyone here. You guys are my family... my friends.... and..." you trail off , eyes darting down to his lips for a long moment before finding his eyes again.

His arm slides from the couch to your shoulders, fingers squeezing your shoulder gently. You lean forward, setting your mug on the table beside his then nuzzle back against him, sighing softly.

"I'm glad you're home," he whispers, eyes finding your lips. You nod, instinctively shifting closer to him.

You lick your lips and his eyes dart down to the movement. He looks back up to your eyes, asking for permission. You grant it, leaning forward slightly. He meets you halfway, lips warm and slightly chapped.

You melt into it, moaning softly against his mouth. He takes advantage of your parted lips and gently lets his tongue explore, re-familiarizing himself with every inch of you.

His hands grip your waist and yanks you over to him, helping you situate yourself so that you're straddling his thighs. You cup his cheeks and kiss him harder, inhaling sharply when he grabs your ass.

"Let's get you outta these jeans, yeah?" He asks, his voice gravelly and deep with lust. You stand up, legs trembling slightly, and quickly rid yourself of your jeans. He does the same, kicking off his jeans and unbuttoning his flannel. You pull your t-shirt above your head, leaving you completely bare in front of him, except for your panties.

He has his hand down his boxers, stroking his hard length while his hooded eyes stay trained on you.

You drop to your knees between his legs and smile innocently up at him.

"Can I suck your cock, Bucky?" He moans at the way you say it, nodding his head furiously. You're quick to help him out of his boxers, your jaw dropping as his cock rests freely against his abdomen.

He's so much bigger than you remember. You take him in your dominant hand, stroking him slowly. He throws his head back, taking deep breaths as you continue to slowly torture him.

Deciding to put him out of his misery, you lean forward and lick him from base to tip, then take him down your throat.

He lurches forward, hand grabbing onto your hair as you start bobbing your head up and down.

"Jesus fuck!" He watches you through hooded eyes as you give him what may be the best blowjob of his life.

"Fuck, stop." He pulls you off of his cock and takes a few shuddering breaths.

"As fucking fantastic as that feels, I wanna cum inside of you." You rub your thighs together as heat pools at your centre at his words.

He pulls you up onto his lap again and pulls at the flimsy lace of your panties, tearing them clean off of your body. He tosses them aside then pulls you closer to his chest, rutting his hips upwards to grind his cock against your folds. You moan and drop your head to his shoulder, the feeling of his hot length against your wet heat only adding to the intense pleasure coursing through your veins.

"You gonna let me fuck you hard? Huh? You gonna let me show you just how much I missed you?" You nod breathlessly, grinding your hips against his and moaning every time he bumps your clit.

He lifts you up slightly, just enough to snake his hand between your naked bodies, then lines his aching cock with your cunt.

He doesn't make any further move, allowing you to take the reins at your own pace, and for that you're more than grateful.

It takes a while, lowering on him slowly, before you can settle comfortably on his lap, and even then the two of you are straining.

"Fuck," he rasps, fingers digging into your waist, no doubt leaving bruises for tomorrow.

You give your hips an experimental rock and moan as he rubs right against your g-spot.

"God, you're tight," he murmurs, squeezing his eyes shut tightly. You glance down to where the two of you are connected then back up to his blissed-out face and make a decision in your head.

With determination and a loud moan, you lift your hips then drop them back down. He lets out a guttural groan and you repeat the action, gradually speeding up until you're bouncing in his lap, his cock hitting every single good place inside of you.

"I-I'm gonna cum," he whispers, moaning softly when you clench around him. You can feel yourself approaching the edge too, and when he brings his hand between your legs to rub your swollen clit, you see stars.

A long drawn out moan leaves your lips as your release slams into you like a brick wall. You collapse against his chest, eyes rolling back into your head as he grips your hips and fucks up into you, drawing out your orgasm while finally reaching his own.

His hips stutter a few more times before he stills, arms wrapping around you and holding you tightly to his chest while the two of you stay locked together, his cock softening inside of you.

You push yourself up against his chest, pressing a soft kiss to his lips. He hums happily and hugs you tighter. Two fingers flick the tip of his hat and he chuckles, cheeks flushed a pretty pink.

"Well, you know what they say," you whisper, grabbing his hat and plopping it onto your own head. He shakes his head with a laugh. "No, what do they say?"

You grin and bring your mouth down so that it's just hovering over his.

"Save a horse, ride a cowboy."

[lexa-lives-in-us]

Yasha finding out about what really is going on behind the scenes with the A.O.I (Angel of Irons) Organization. Break my heart please.

Part 13 of ???

Read 1 - 2 - 3 - 4  - 5 - 6  - 7 - 8 - 9 - 10 - 11 - 12

Dairon doesn’t get the full story until lunch time rolls around.

Caduceus, Veth and Marion whip out a full three course meal in the span of one hour, and Dairon has finally the chance to see the last room of the base.

They limp towards the kitchen, ignoring Beau’s offers to help, and crash on the nearest chair, taking a good look around.

It’s a poorly lit, big room, with stoves, fridge and countertop across the opposite wall from one of the two doors. Dairon sees Veth disappear behind another, and they make a note of exploring it later. In the middle of the room, a long table is already filled with silverware, food and drinks. It can host up to fifteen people, but the Nein plus Marion crowd the side where Dairon is already sitting.

Marion meets their eyes and Dairon averts their gaze, barely suppressing a smile.

The woman takes a seat next to them, and Dairon gets immediately kicked in the shin. When they look up at her, Marion is looking straight ahead with a smirk on her face.

This woman.

***

They devour the food in silence, everyone too absorbed in their own plate, still too exhausted and recovering from last night to dare speaking.

Dairon themselves barely looks up from the delicious meal, too famished to partake in even the smallest of conversations.

Only when every dish is cleared and Caduceus is readying the kettle, Dairon sits back.

“So. Does anyone want to explain?” they ask.

The Nein look around the table, exchanging a series of glances. Jester clears her voice.

“Remember the A of I?”

Dairon nods, but next to them, Marion shakes her head.

“Not going to lie,” Dairon adds then. “I can use a refresher on what you guys did. I only remember it involved Yasha and then, of course, all of you.”

They all nod, the mood suddenly very dark.

Marion reaches for Dairon’s hand from under the table, and Dairon can’t negate that request. Their fingers intertwine.

Above the table, though, Beau is doing the same with Yasha. Their hands join, and Beau looks at her wife and her wife only. Yasha smiles at her and nods. She thanks softly Caduceus as he places a steaming mug in front of her, then takes a deep breath.

As Caduceus gives a cup to everyone, Yasha starts recounting.

Yasha sticks her head around the corner, making sure that nobody is present. It’s not like she’s never been down in the basement, but it’s also not one of her favorite places, and it’s most certainly somewhere she should be without a specific order. She is ready to lie, of course, but she would really rather she didn’t have to.

She is a terrible liar after all.

Obann doesn’t keep her around for her charisma, that is for sure.

Yasha rounds the corner, hand near the leg holster, ready to whip out her weapon at any suspicious movement.

Luckily for her, the hallways seem to be empty.

She can’t hear a single sound coming from either direction, so she keeps walking, and finally uses the key she’s borrowed from one of the others to open the door of the record room.

She sneaks inside, locking the door behind her and turning the light on.

The neon lights come to life with a buzz, illuminating the rows of shelves with a sick green ray.

She roams around them for a few minutes, trying to find a sign that tells her where the files starting with N are.

Finally, she notices a very faint labeling system at the bottom of each row, and then it’s a matter of minutes before she finds a bow with NT-NZ scribbled on the front.

She extracts the box, hesitating for just a moment.

She shouldn’t be here.

She should be upstairs, where Obann and the others are resting, or getting ready and trained for the next mission. Not down here. Not sneaking around like a criminal, looking over files that could-

Files that could either confirm that Beauregard Lionett is indeed the enemy or that could instead destroy every single certainty she’s had of her adult life.

Yasha bites her lower lip.

Because one thing is unfortunately very true.

She doesn’t remember her childhood. At all. She remembers coming to terms with a sort of amnesia, a result of having hit her head too hard during training, or during a mission, but that is pretty much it.

Obann has told her she is being with the Angels of Iron since birth, where she has being trained and educated, loved and cared for. And Yasha has never really questioned anything. She simply does what Obann tells her to do, and although sometimes some mission is not exactly her cup of tea, Obann has always been very clear and reassuring in telling her that they’re doing it for the best of causes.

But Yasha isn’t as dense as her companions believe her to be.

And Beau.

Because there is Beau.

Beautiful, strong, smart Beauregard Lionett.

A CIA Agent.

And Yasha isn’t well versed in American politics or whatever, but she’s pretty sure the CIA is supposed to be the good guys. Or something like that. But Obann hates them. Obann has told her to eliminate any CIA threat on sight.

Yasha doesn’t understand.

Because Beau has talked to her. They’ve talked a lot, actually. And Beau has told her that the Angels of Iron are not, in fact, good. Quite the opposite, really.

And Beau... Beau has kissed her. Beau has looked at her in a way that Yasha only remembers being looked at once, although the details are still blurry.

There’s a woman, a young girl, in her past, that Yasha doesn’t remember. She has a name, but she can’t remember a face. Zuala, the name is. She’s asked Obann about her, but he’s just shrugged and told her to move on.

And Yasha had.

But now she can’t.

Not anymore.

Because Beau has pushed her away from danger, Beau has almost gotten a bullet for her, no longer than a week ago, and Yasha can’t stand the idea of not knowing anymore.

So she places the box on the ground, sits cross legged on the cold concrete floor and finds her file.

Nydoorin, Yasha.

It’s a thick one.

Yasha takes a deep breath, then opens it.

The first page is a birth certificate, in Russian. Born in Novosibirsk, Siberia from [REDACTED] Nydoorin and [REDACTED] Nydoorin. Yasha blinks. She presses a finger on the black rectangular lines, where her parents names have been erased, possibly forever.

Swallowing a lump of tears and bile, Yasha flips the page. It a report, once again with several sections erased, with the Angels of Iron’s letterhead.

Yasha skims through the document, of several pages, noticing how entire sections seem to have been cancelled off.

“The child is above average. The vitals are [REDACTED]. The child appears to be healthy enough for the project. [REDACTED] and [REDACTED] Nydoorin have refused to sign the child off to the organization. [REDACTED] might be necessary.”

“Obtainment of the child is an asset.”

“Approval from [REDACTED] has been received.”

“Proceed with obtainment.”

Yasha remembers witnessing a car crash, one day, a few years back. She remembers how horrible it had been, to see the bodies burn and the people scream without being able to do anything to help them.

It’s exactly how she feels now.

She wants to close everything and run, but she can’t stop reading.

She flips another page, and a set of pictures clipped to a paper appear in front of her.

One is a picture of two adults, a man and a woman, smiling in a hospital room with a newborn baby in their arms. The woman has gentle features, gentle eyes, big hands, large shoulders and long, wavy hair. The man is very tall, with an athletic build, and a nose that Yasha sees in the mirror every day.

The baby is asleep, a small fist curled and closed on her mother’s thumb.

They look peaceful. Happy.

A tear falls on the picture, and Yasha wipes it away slowly, hesitating with her finger on the shape of her father’s face.

She forces herself to move on and look at the other pictures.

A child, with long, dark black hair collected into a braid, stands next to two more girls, one of them with red hair, the other with dark brown ones. Three year old Yasha’s eyes are focused. Her little body is not all that little, compared to the two other children, standing tall above them.

They all seem to be wearing the same uniform.

Other pictures show Yasha’s growth, in that same uniform, and picture her fighting other girls, training in both hand to hand and weapon combat.

The reports the pictures are attached to talk about her.

“Agent Y is skilled.”

“Agent Y mastered the course.”

“Agent Y is fit and ready for combat.”

Yasha keeps going through pictures and files, and every report she reads confirms her suspicions, confirms what Beau has told her about the Angels of Iron.

She starts to see a recurring pattern.

A woman, next to her or behind her or in front of her. A woman with gentle eyes, dark hair and a shit eating grin. Yasha knows immediately who this girl is. As she goes back to the first picture, she recognizes her as one of the two other toddlers in uniform.

“Zuala...” Yasha whispers.

Yasha reads everything once more, looking for signs. And she finds them.

“Agent Y and Agent Z work well together.”

“Agent Z has punched another Agent who was making fun of Agent Y. Investigation required.”

“Agent Y and Agent Z have been found within Agent Y’s quarters, in a compromising situation.”

“Agent Y is a precious asset. Agent Z has been removed from the project.”

Attached to that one file, a single picture.

A black bag, with a dark skinned arm poking out of it. In the background, Yasha sees herself, spine ramrod straight, no emotion on her face.

Yasha stares at the picture, and presses a palm against her mouth, to prevent...

To prevent her to scream, or to puke, or both. She’s not exactly sure.

She stares and stares, and details form back into her memory. Details of Zuala. Of nights together. Of days together. They’re blurred and they’re vague, but they’re memories.

She exhales, trying to swallow a surge of vomit into her throat, and flips the page. It’s a medical report.

She skims through it almost in a haze.

An injection. A cocktail of drugs. An experiment.

Memories being wiped.

A new life. A new Agent. A new Yasha.

More obedient, now that she doesn’t remember. More loyal, now that she has being cleared of distractions.

The last page is a picture in colors.

It’s recent, way too recent. Yasha remembers this one.

It’s herself, her recent self. And next to her, staring with adoring eyes...

“Beauregard...”

Underneath, a few words.

“Possible distraction. Liability. Kill on sight.”

Yasha slams the folder close.

Tears have dried on her face, but it doesn’t matter. She might not know everything, but she knows enough.

It’s time to go.

Silence falls into the kitchen.

The Mighty Nein are all looking down into their mugs, pensive expressions on their faces. They all know the story.

Beauregard’s hand is still on Yasha’s, and her free one is clenched onto a fist. She hasn’t looked away from Yasha’s face for a single moment during the whole story.

Dairon can see the same rage, the same horror they feel, reflected on their kid’s face.

Marion’s hand has been squeezing theirs painfully for the whole duration, and when Dairon turns to look at the woman, they see tears streaming down her perfect face.

“Yasha.” she says, broken voice and broken soul. “My child.”

Yasha closes her eyes for a moment at the word, a single tear escaping her.

She grabs Beau’s hand with both of hers, and takes a deep breath.

A soft voice speaks up from the corner of the table, making both Dairon and Marion turn.

“We found more intel, a few weeks ago.” Jester says, all her usual cheerfulness now gone. “We’ve been trying to dismantle the project for years, now. It’s not easy. They have connections everywhere. Mafia and Ndrangheta in Italy. The Cartel in Mexico. Triad, China. You name it. They’re everywhere.”

Veth takes over.

“So we started setting up traps. All over. We’ve been trying to collect intel about customers, buyers, sellers, anything. We started suspecting on someone who was once seen with one of Marion’s old... Clients.”

Marion is quicker than Dairon to understand.

“The Gentleman.” she says, in a whisper. Her hold on Dairon’s hand loosens just slightly.

Jester nods.

“I talked to him. He didn’t seem to have anything to do with them, this time around. But we didn’t trust that he would just leave it alone, so we had Beau and Yasha at the Hotel, as security. We were going to tell you, Mama, as soon as possible. But then...”

Everyone turns to look at Dairon.

“Then the CIA got wind of a possible meeting of drug lords in Paris, and the Gentleman’s name was made.” Dairon continues, finally piecing everything together. “I was sent in to gather intel and protect the source. Marion, we assumed.”

Everyone around the table nods.

Beau, finally turning away from Yasha, places her palm on the wooden table.

“As you can see, Dairon... We have work to do. You are welcome to stay or to go, once you’re feeling better. But we’re going to do this with or without you.”

The table turns to look at them.

Dairon looks at Marion, and the woman blinks, her beautiful face pale as a ghost.

Dairon turns to look at Beau.

"I’m in.”

[vs-redemption]

Hello! Congrats on hitting 300 followers!❤🎉🎉 much more are to come I'm sure of it! I would like to request a hawks x fem!reader where his s/o is taller than hawks but she is just super cute and bubbly, but some people are scared of her because of her hight. Can be scenario or headcanon, what's easier for you.

Thanks for the request dnarez! And thank you so much for the support!

I hope what I wrote is okay! 

If anyone else is interested in sending in a request, the rules are here!

My masterlist is here!

Stand Out 

(Hawks x Tall! Bubbly! Fem! Reader)

It was sometime during you final year in middle school that you’d had your first growth spurt. You’d been so excited after noticing the way your clothes seemed to have shrunk overnight, causing your ankles to stick out awkwardly from the bottom of your pants. A few of the other girls in your class had begun experiencing changes in their bodies as well, so it wasn’t something you were particularly worried about. It was a sign of maturity, as well as an excuse to go shopping!

The excitement slowly turned into concern once you started high school and realized you were taller than almost everyone else in the school, including the upper classmen. It was a little embarrassing being a taller than average girl because you tended to stand out in crowds and attract the stares of the people around you. It made you self-conscious at times, but thankfully most of your peers seemed to get over the height difference once they got to know you. Your sweet, chipper personality helped people feel more at ease around you.

It wasn’t until after you graduated high school and got hired into your first job that you really began to have negative feelings sometimes about your height. You made friends easily enough, but sometimes it started to wear you down when children shied away from you or people openly gawked at you in public. Still, you tried to keep your friendly smile in the hopes that people would feel less intimidated. It was on one of your more stressful days that you first met Hawks.

The weather had just started to warm up and the cherry blossoms were in full bloom. You’d decided to use your day off as a chance to visit one of the most popular parks in your city which was hosting a Sakura Festival. The place was unsurprisingly packed with people. You were used to the stares at this point, but you’d also been stopped multiple times already by people feeling the need to make a comment about your height. You knew the attention was harmless, but you just wanted to enjoy your time in the park.

“Hey! What’s the weather like up there?” A middle aged man teases after getting behind you in line with his family at a shaved ice stall. You tilt your head and smile politely. If you had a dollar for every time you heard that question…

“Not bad! But a little on the breezy side.” A voice comes from above you and suddenly a familiar guy with bright red wings drifts out of the sky and lands next to the man. “Thanks for asking!” You instantly recognized the number two hero. You knew he patrolled around your city sometimes, but you’d never seen him this close up.

“Oh!” The man who had teased you seemed to get star struck. His family and the rest of the people around you were all getting excited too. “I was actually talking to the lady in front of us. She’s so tall!”

“And has pretty eyes,” Hawks grins while pulling off his visor and giving you a playful wink. Before you can even process his actions, he looks around the line of people to check out the stall. He looks back at you with a contemplative expression. “You know, I flew past a stall just like this a few minutes ago and it had a lot more flavors. Come on! I’ll show you.”

You had no idea what was happening but you nodded and followed him away. By the time you got to the stall he’d mentioned, you had already forgotten about the teasing man from before. Hawks knew what it was like to stand out and attract unwanted attention too, so he had been able to recognize your frustration right away even though you did your best to hide it most of the time. You felt shy around him for a few brief moments, but that quickly went away as he rambled about patrolling the festival and getting to try all the delicious food. His casual attitude allowed you to feel more comfortable and soon you were laughing and chatting away like old friends as you ate your cup of shaved ice.

What you assumed was going to be a brief encounter with the pro hero ended up turning into quite a bit more. Hawks acted cool and confident most of the time, but he also had to deal with the pressures of being a hero. He faced off against the darker parts of society every day by dealing with villains and taking orders from the higher ups in the hero commission. Something about your bubbly attitude and cute smile provided some respite from his hero duties, and he found himself not wanting to give up your company right away. Before he went back to his patrol, you agreed to his offer to go on a date. One date turned into two, and soon the winged hero was asking you to be his girlfriend.

The difference in height never seemed to be an issue for him. If you ever brought it up, he would just smile and say “what height difference?” before flying up to your level and kissing you once on the nose. He was also very good at diffusing uncomfortable moments when you were out together in public too. Whenever anyone mentioned your height, he would always make you blush by saying that your hair, eyes, or smile stood out the most to him. Sometimes you even forgot that you were taller because he or his feathers were always there to get something down for you before you could even reach for it.

And as great as it was to have someone like Hawks as a boyfriend, he felt equally as lucky to be with you. He always looked forward to seeing you after a hard day of hero work because you would welcome him back with your cheerful smile that erased all the stress every time. He loved to make you laugh by swooping down from the sky for surprise hugs and kisses too. The happiness and support that you and Hawks provided for each other made it so neither of you had to worry about gawkers or unwanted attention, because even if you did still stand out, you stood out together.

[lynnkn]

Get It In Writing

Here’s my Pynch Secret Santa for @betterwithoutsense. One of the prompts was non-magic au. Hope you enjoy!

@pynchpromptweek

Read it on ao3!

Ronan was always an outdoorsy type. His mind moved faster when the world around him moved slower. He liked New York, but it was never meant to be his home.

He had come up with the idea to move back home, drunk out of his mind on a Tuesday, after weeks of trying and failing to churn out so much as a short story, let alone a novel. He hadn’t had an original idea since he was fifteen. It made perfect sense if he didn’t think about it too much. At fifteen, he’d created some of his most original ideas, he crafted plots so intricate they made his adult self weep with jealousy. Characters had come to him like dreams. Nothing he’d written since Declan swept him and Matthew off to Alexandria had come close to the stuff he’d scribbled in frayed notebooks between lessons.

If he did let himself think about it, he’d wonder if it had less to do with the change in locale and more to do with his parents’ deaths.

He’d called Blue the next morning. She offered him the couch at her mother’s house while he looked for a place. He calls her again just as the plane lands.

“Don’t hate me,” are the first words out of her mouth.

“Oh, I love when you start conversations like that.”

“I’m stuck at work.” There’s a shuffling and a crash from the other end of the line, followed by voices. At least three of them are yelling out for Blue. “We’re understaffed. Three people quit last week and I’m the only manager left.”

He makes plans to call an Uber as soon as they land. He hates to do it, but he’s left without much of a choice. He’d avoided taxis and the like for most of his time in the city, but every time he did it, it felt wrong. His skin prickled and pulled like even it knew he did not belong in the backseat of someone else’s car.

“But I sent my cousin to pick you up at baggage claim,” Blue says.

“Alright,” he says. “I’ll see you at the house?”

“Yes, definitely! I’ll see you tonight.”

“And thanks for all this.”

“No problem, Ronan.” She huffs a breathy sigh and the phone crackles as she leans in closer to whisper. “I missed you.”

“I missed you too shithead.”

Ronan had met plenty of Blue’s cousins. While the girls come in all shapes, sizes, and colors, they have names like Orla or Chrysanthemum. They wear mismatched clothing and make art out of recycled materials. They’re all indiscriminately weird. He feels confident in his ability to pick a Sargent out of a line-up.

The baggage claim is a confusing swirl of business suits and combat uniforms. He walks past a family carrying a giant banner. But he recognizes none of them. There are no floor-length skirts, no dyed hair. He pulls out his phone to call Blue back when a voice calls out his name. He turns, but he can’t make out who it is. Then he sees him.

He’s leaning against a half-wall, hands tucked into his pockets and a denim jacket tossed over his shoulder. He pushes off with his foot and approaches cautiously. He’s waiting for an answer.

“Yeah,” Ronan coughs out. He’s proud of his own tact and grace for the briefest flash before he opens his mouth again. “Who the fuck are you?”

“Blue said she’d call you.” He shuffles for a moment, grabbing desperately at his phone. “I’m Adam. I’m gonna take you back to the house if that’s cool.”

“It’s fine, man. You’re just not who I expected.”

“Well,” he says, starting a sentence he clearly never plans to finish. “You got bags?”

“Yeah. Wait here. I’ll get them.”

Adam takes the large suitcase and reaches for the duffel, but Ronan shakes his head. Adam shrugs and leads the way to the car. Ronan pulls the bag onto his shoulder and flinches as the bag bangs angrily against his stiff muscles. He moves through the pain, desperately hoping Adam can’t tell he’s struggling.

“So how are you related to Blue again?” he asks, desperate for a distraction.

“Uh, I’m Persephone’s kid.”

He remembers Persephone, long white hair, and a soft-spoken voice. She baked pies and could speak with some level of authority on any topic a person brought up. But she hadn’t had any children that he knew of. And he’s sure he’d remember Adam.

“Oh. Sure.”

“It’s an adoption thing,” he says like he’s not outrageously uncomfortable.

“That’s cool,” Ronan says like he wasn’t wondering. He doesn’t want to push so he lets the conversation float away. He’s a big fan of comfortable silence. The issue is that nothing about this situation is comfortable and he’s drowning in his own goddamn bullshit. He follows Adam to a monstrosity of parts but resists the urge to comment. This clearly isn’t the kind of car a person chooses for themselves. They exchange nervous smiles over the trunk and settle into their seats.

Adam clearly knows where he’s going so Ronan settles back in his seat, watching D.C.fade away. When the world turns green, he lets himself feel at home.

“Blue talks about you a lot,” Adam says.

And that’s the funny thing because he’s talked to Blue a lot in the years since he left, but she’s never mentioned Adam. He searches his memory for any mention or comment on the addition of a new cousin, but there’s nothing. He’d told her about every gruesome, gory detail of his move to Alexandria, of school, and Declan, and Matthew. And then when he’d moved to New York, he’d told her about his building and the shitty people he talked to and he’d laid all this on the line without considering that she was still in Henrietta and her family was changing and he didn’t even know. Why hadn’t she told him? He only lets it sting for a moment. Then he numbs it with a promise to talk to her later.

“Yeah,” he says. “She’s my best friend.”

They don’t talk much more on the drive, but Ronan watches Adam out of the corner of his eye. He’s the kind of guy a teenaged version of himself would’ve fantasized over. His hands grip the wheel and his tongue sticks out the side of his mouth as he focuses on the road. His eyebrows hang heavily over weary eyes. He’s a strange guy, a unique blend of old and young, of new and refurbished. He’s a lot like the car he drives and Ronan wonders if this body is also the kind no one chooses for themselves. But he can't stop staring nonetheless.

The house looks like itself when they pull up and a strange warmth pools through his gut. He breaths in the air as he steps out of the car. It’s lighter here. The air hits the bottom of his lungs and he pulls another breath in just to hold it there. To breathe. If he forgets, he can pretend he’s fourteen and coming over to borrow a cd. Or that he’s ten and coming to watch a movie his parents wouldn’t let him watch. Or that he’s seven and going over to play at a friend’s house for the first time in his life. He could stand out there all day, but he wants to see Maura so he hauls the stupidly heavy duffel over his shoulder and goes inside.

“Ronan? Is that you? Get your ass in here.” Maura’s voice blends with the hum of the laundry machine and children screaming somewhere down the hall and it’s a sound so wrapped in nostalgia, Ronan can’t remember what year it is. He follows the sound to the kitchen where she waits with open arms. He leans down to let her pull him into a hug. Behind him, the screen door slams as Adam comes in behind him, but he doesn’t pull away. “How’ve you been?” she asks, finally pushing him back to take in the sight of him.

“I’m alright.”

“You’re staying with us for a while?”

“Is that a problem?”

“You know it’s not.” She turns back to the counter in front of her. She has a sheet of pepperoni rolls half wrapped and lined up on a strip of parchment paper. She grabs the dough and goes back to work as Ronan leans against the counter, watching her fingers delicately shaping the rolls. “We’re a lot nicer to the boys than we used to be, right Adam?”

“Yes, ma’am,” he says brushing past both of them on his way out the back.

“Oh I’m convinced,” Ronan says.

Adam stops and quirks a quiet smile, the kind Ronan wasn’t supposed to see. He turns back to them. “I promised Calla I’d fix the porch rail.”

“It can wait if you want some lunch," Maura says.

“I’d rather finish it up before class.” He looks like an animal caught in a trap, leaning towards the back door and letting his eyes wander out the window. “But I’ll take a pepperoni roll when I’m finished if you’re offering.”

She nods at him and this seems to be a dismissal because he’s out the door before Ronan can blink. As soon as he’s gone, though, Ronan is thinking about him again. About how strange he is and how much stranger he seems in a house like this. He shouldn’t fit in and yet, everything about him makes sense.

Ronan washes his hands and picks up a strip of dough, following Maura’s gentle instructions. She reaches over and fixes each roll he makes, but he doesn’t mind. He lets her fix his mistakes with no more than an overdramatic eye roll. And she doesn’t comment on his lack of manners. Maura never expected him to be polite, so long as he was kind.

Blue doesn’t make it home for another two hours. By that time, Ronan is full of pepperoni rolls and Adam has gone to class. He waits for her on the porch and she runs and jumps into his arms the moment she sees him. He picks her up, sweeping her feet out from under her. He’d hit a growth spurt a month after leaving town and hadn’t stopped until he was ducking in doorways.

She startles, but he’s strong and he’d chop his own arms off before he hurt her.

Blue and Ronan had been the weird kids of their homeschool co-op. She yelled about the patriarchy during history and he knew more about Irish folklore than algebra. She hissed at the other kids and he hit anyone who made fun of her.

“I knew you’d come home eventually,” she says.

“Then you must be psychic cause I didn’t know until last month.” He hugs her and she still smells like the tree in the backyard and pixie sticks. All is right with the world. She doesn’t look all that different either. She grew maybe another inch or two, but all-in-all, she’s still what he remembers. He wonders if she’s disappointed cause he sure as hell isn’t the Ronan she knew.

The passenger side door shuts and a man climbs out. His hair is neatly combed and his shirt is ironed. He sweeps a hand over his tie and waves at the two of them.

Blue waves back. She glances over her shoulder at Ronan, hesitant and curious. She waits for a reaction, but Ronan has nothing to say. He watches, slack-jawed and stupid as the man approaches. He kisses Blue on the cheek and offers Ronan his hand.

“You must be Ronan,” he says. They shake hands, a sweaty affair that Ronan pulls away from as soon as he gets the chance. “I’m Gansey.”

“Can you give us a minute?” Blue says. He grins back at her and then at Ronan, slipping into the house, leaving silence in his wake.

“Anything else you wanna tell me?”

“Well John Boy, things have changed here on Walton’s mountain.” She laughs at her own joke, watching for Ronan to join her. When he doesn’t she sighs. “I don’t know what to say.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“You were miserable, Ronan,” she says. “And don’t say you weren’t I could tell. I just didn’t want to rub it in your face.”

“You still should’ve told me.” It burns, like every other little hurt. These days, Ronan can’t seem to feel anything a normal amount. Every prick is a white-hot scorch. Every ache is a broken bone. One day the floor fell beneath him and the pain gets worse every time he hits another level of concrete and earth.

Blue nods and she turns, just enough to the side so Ronan can’t parse out her face. He can’t read her anymore. And so he falls again.

“And what about Adam?” he asks.

“What about him?”

Ronan’s not even sure himself. But he shows up in the same shitty town he’s always lived in and he comes back to a place that had once been his second home and this guy is here, just waiting and he’s everything Ronan thought he’d wanted back then. His perspective is tilting. He thinks about the guys back in New York: Proko, Skov, Swan, and Jiang. He thinks of Kavinsky and how much sense they made. He thinks Adam seems like the kind of guy who’s going to get him hurt. He thinks of how much he’d love to let someone like Adam hurt him.

“Why didn’t you tell me about him?”

“I didn’t know how to,” she says. “It’s not my story to tell.”

“Then why send him to pick me up?” Ronan leans into her, watching for a flicker of something recognizable. The Blue he’d known never lied to him. She was honest, sometimes brutally so and she never hid anything from him. They’d talked constantly over the years. And while he’d unloaded all of his bullshit on her, she��s remained mysterious in regards to her own life.

“I think you’ll like him,” she says. “He needs someone like you.”

“I’m not trying to fuck your cousin, Blue.”

“I’m not suggesting you fuck him. I just thought you could be friends.” She rubs her hand over her eyes, pulling her features in a sharp downturn. “I was gonna say the same about Gansey.”

He lets the breath out of his cheeks and watches the wind blow through the grass. It's grown long, just the way Blue likes it. He lets the wind move him like the grass, swaying gently until he feels grounded. He’s not mad at Blue. Not really. “I’m sorry,” he says.

“I just want to make sure you have a support system here.”

“I do,” he says.

“Besides me and my mom.” She wipes at her eye again and Ronan graciously ignores the single tear.

He gestures to the door and the family waiting inside. “Well then let’s go.”

Blue smiles and Ronan remembers why he’s here in the first place. Blue is something stronger, more prominent than anything in New York. She makes him stronger, louder. It’s not just about Henrietta or the mountains. It’s in Blue’s smiles and Maura’s eyes and the strangeness of them all. This is where his story is waiting for him. It’s always been here. Ronan is the one who left.

Soon they’re all sat around the table for dinner. The conversation is light and easy. No one pushes Ronan to talk about what he’s been doing in New York and he’s eternally grateful for that. They talk about Blue’s job at Nino’s and Gansey’s parents’ real estate business. He promises to help Ronan check out some of the properties in the area. Adam excuses himself early, claiming he has to get up early for work in the morning.

“What do you do?” Ronan asks, helping Maura clear the table.

“I work at the Greenmantles’ farm up in Singer Falls,” he says. And Ronan feels his heart drop all the way to his ass. “It’s this really old shitty family farm that this guy bought a few years ago. And he has no idea how to run a farm so it’s a disaster.”

“Oh,’ Ronan says. “That’s my house.”

Adam’s eyes widen to twice their regular size. “I…”

“It was always kind of shitty,” he says.

“Yeah.” Adam stands awkwardly behind his chair, perhaps waiting for an appropriate time to bolt. Ronan breaks eye contact, hoping to put him at ease.

But the idea of his home, fallen into disrepair bothers him more than he expected. He remembers the Greenmantles. He doesn’t remember them fondly. He turns to go outside for another breath of fresh air. As he heads for the door, Ronan hears the exchange between Adam and his mother.

“You couldn’t have told me he lived there before I opened my mouth?”

“I could’ve,” she says, placing a palm on the top of his head. She plants a kiss on it and walks to the sink to wash out her mug. Adam, for what it’s worth, smacks his head against the doorframe.

He spends the next night, sitting on the blanket with Blue and Adam and their friends. Gansey’s there, as is his friend Henry. Noah, one of Blue’s coworkers turns up with beer. And they sit in the grass watching the stars. It’s not until they’ve been laying there for a couple of hours, laughing and teasing like they’ve always been this way, that Ronan realizes how much he needs this.

As the others trickle inside for air conditioning or food or sleep, Ronan and Adam are left alone for the first time since the car ride.

“Why do I get the feeling you don’t like me very much,” Adam says.

“It’s not that,” Ronan says, hands folded behind his head. The stars are duller here in Henrietta proper, but it’s the closest to home he’s gotten in years. “I just realized Blue hasn’t been telling me shit. I didn’t know about you. It’s not personal.”

“That’s probably my fault. I told her not to tell people.” He bunches a corner of the blanket in a tight fist, before releasing it and smoothing it back out. “Sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry.”

“I just…” He stops, just long enough that Ronan doesn’t think he ever plans to finish the sentence. Then he groans like he’s forcing the truth from someplace buried within him. “Things weren’t good at home so when Persephone offered…”

“You don’t have to explain yourself.”

“Still,” he says. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s all good.”

The beer is warm and settling in Ronan’s stomach in that way that makes him a little worried sometimes, so he sets it aside. He closes his eyes and reminds himself why he stops. Because it would be so easy to keep going. But he actually likes talking to Adam, and he thinks he might even want to remember this conversation in the morning.

“Blue said you’re a writer?” he asks.

This is a tightrope. Ronan calls himself a writer. His father had called him a writer. Even Declan, for all his infuriating nagging, calls Ronan a writer. But he has nothing to show for it. Nothing’s proud of. People use to ask him this and he’d pull out notebooks full of stories. Sometimes he’d just recite stories from memory like Niall once had. But now, he has nothing to show for the title. He’d trusted the story was here, buried in the hills of Henrietta, sleeping, waiting.

“I guess I am,” he says.

“What do you write?”

“Fantasy.” It’s one of the oldest truths he has to give.

“Only fantasy?” Adam asks. “Never anything else?”

Ronan shakes his head. He’d never had much use for anything else. He’d grown up with his father's stories, grandiose and ridiculous. He’d never conformed to the rules of the mortal world and Rona’s narrative imagination took the hint and ran with it. He silently begs Adam not to ask about his work anymore. Hopes to God he won’t ask to read anything. And he doesn’t. Instead, he tips his head up toward the sky, eyes tracing patterns of stars overhead.

“Tell me something about you,” Ronan says when the silence lingers too long.

“Like what?” He doesn’t move, chin tipped up the heavens and Ronan studies the curve of his jaw.

“Anything true,” he says.

“I’m deaf in my right ear.”

“Really?”

“No,” he says. He’s got a gentle smirk that charms Ronan more than he’s willing to admit. “It’s my left.”

“Can you hear me okay now?”

“Yeah,” he says. “It’s quiet.”

The summer passes in hazy waves, washing over him every few weeks as he watches time slip away. He’s done nothing. He’s written nothing. But he tours properties with Gansey and makes art with Blue. He buys a skateboard and lets Noah teach him a few tricks and he let Henry take him to Henrietta’s newest and only gay bar. It’s not the best summer of his life, but it comes pretty damn close.

And then there’s Adam who listens better than anyone he knows. They sit together, nearly every day, either on the porch or in the kitchen. Sometimes they drive miles away from the house in Adam's car, away from Henrietta and they park and they talk.

He tells Adam about the farm and Adam tells him about the trailer. He talks about Declan’s nagging texts about college and Adam talks about using the money from the Greenmantles to pay for classes and textbooks at the local community college.

In September, Adam’s car falls to shit in the driveway and several hours under the hood aren’t enough to fix it so Ronan drives him to work in Maura's car, promising to bring it back immediately so no one got stranded at the house.

He follows the gravel driveway, following the curves and dips just as he had once upon a time. He doesn’t watch Adam, but he can feel himself being watched. “This is where I’m gonna live,” he says, pulling in behind a car too shiny and new to fit in with its surroundings. “I don’t want to buy another place.”

“You mean this is it?” He looks over his shoulder out the window and Ronan watches the line of his shoulder crease. If he could, he’d trace a finger over, push in where the skin dips beneath bone. He turns back before Ronan can pull his gaze away. “This is your perfect house?”

“Is that so hard to believe?”

“No. I guess I just assumed this place would be…”

“Traumatic?”

“Honestly? Yeah.” Adam's gaze floats back to the open field. Ronan can't tell if the expression is jealousy or pity. Maybe it's both. “You don’t see my buying my childhood home.”

“I loved that house. I loved the farm. I could get cattle.”

“You’re gonna buy cows?”

“No, but I could if I had this place.”

“You could always ask if they’d be willing to sell?”

“You work for the guy. Do you think he’d sell it to me?”

He doesn’t answer, just watches the house, eyes full of hope or envy or something dangerous like that. When he turns back, the light of the sunset hits his face and everything seems right. Ronan can picture them sitting on the porch, sipping tea or bourbon on the front porch. He wants this. He wants him. He wants, wants, wants so much it hurts. He reaches, but the whole world lays on a shelf above him, just out of reach.

His mother used to hide cookies on the top shelf, saving them for after dinner. When he closes his eyes, Ronan can see his father’s arm stretched upward pulling the cookie jar down to Ronan. “Just one,” he’d whisper and they’d never speak of it again. Until the next time.

Adam leans forward, pressing warm lips into his and it’s that hand reaching out to him, pulling things down to him that once seemed so impossible he could cry.

He nearly does when Adam pulls away, slowly with a single breath. It was a period, not a comma. It was a thought, not an answer. They let themselves freeze, both leaning over the center console to breathe against one another’s collarbones. This was impossible.

“Do you wanna come look around?” Adam asks.

“Isn’t that a little risky?”

“Mr. And Mrs. Greenmantle aren’t home,” he says. He leans over to unlock Ronan’s seatbelt and the feel of Adam’s arm brushing against his stomach could convince him of almost anything.

“Okay,” he says.

Adam takes him by the hand and leads him around the house, past the empty cow pastures and the shiny new silo. He introduces him to Mr. Gray and the other farmhands and they regale Ronan with stories about Adam at work that make his cheeks flush bright pink.

They climb up the hill and past the old storage shed, just the two of them.

“That thing’s still around?”

“Yeah. It’s old as shit. I can tell.” Adam kicks up some gravel and a small cloud forms around his ankles. “A lot of the old equipment up there’s never been used. Greenmantle just leaves it lying around and sends me up there twice a week to look for something.”

“Yeah. That roof leaks every spring.”

“I know. I keep bugging him to have someone look at it.” He shrugs, the noncommittal gesture of someone who is used to being ignored. Ronan takes care to grip his shoulder with a weighted strength. And he looks at this guy, so fucking beautiful and so capable, and wonders how anyone could see him in any other light.

“Show me the house,” he says, wrapping his other arm around Adam’s waist.

“We’re gonna get caught.”

“Then we’ll have to be fast,” Ronan says. “Lucky for you, fast is my specialty.”

“Stop,” he says. He pushes away, without a second glance and bolts for the barn as soon as he’s out of Ronan’s grip.

“Hey,” Ronan calls after him. He watches as Adam turns, pulling anxiously at his bangs as they flop into his face. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have asked. I just miss this place.”

He thinks of the smell of cinnamon in the kitchen and the dent Declan’s head made in the hardwood and the green slime stain on the carpet in Matthew’s room. He wants it back even for a moment. He wants it more than anything. Anything except Adam.

But Adam pulls another breath into his lungs and says. “Okay, but we have to be quick.”

He takes Ronan’s hand in his, leading him toward the house, pulling at his finger and the heat trapped between their palms travels all the way up Ronan’s arm. He lets himself be dragged until they reach the porch. He pulls a key from the sconce and opens the front door. The same one Ronan remembered. He could picture his mother, standing in the foyer if he focused.

The craziness of it all strikes him as he stands there. He thought he’d never see this place again, but he’s standing there and he’s so close to what he wants and yet so far. So he pulls Adam in for another kiss, this one messier, hungrier. He buries his hands in the hair on the back of Adam’s neck.

“What are you doing here?”

Ronan turns back to the open door and there is Greenmantle in all his smarmy glory. Ronan previously thought his teenage memories had exaggerated, but he was clearly right all along. This guy simply looks like a bastard.

“Sir,” Adam says. It’s a plea, a desperate Hail Mary from someone Ronan once thought was too proud for such things.

“Get out,” he says. He holds his hand out and Adam slowly drops the keys. He doesn’t look at Greenmantle or Ronan. He watches his feet. Ronan can’t help but watch him. “And don’t come back. You’re done.”

They don’t talk on the way back to the car. There is nothing to say. Adam slams the door as he sits. He makes a sound, so low, so guttural, Ronan would’ve thought it came from one of the animals.

“You took it too far. I lost my job, Ronan!”

“I know that.” He puts his keys in the ignition and lets the engine roar to life under them. He feels better, but Adam clearly doesn’t. “I’m sorry.”

“If I don’t have a job, I can’t keep paying for school.”

“Listen, I know. I’ll help you. It’s not like I’m gonna let your freeze out there.”

“Oh yeah, cause your dream comes before everything else, huh? What about my dream?” He takes a harsh breath and hunches over the dash, refusing to meet Ronan’s eyes. It’s possible there are tears, but Ronan feels too guilty to look more closely.

“What fucking dream, Parrish? Your big dream is to spend the rest of your life slaving away so some dipshit in suit and tie gets to summer in Guam. That’s not a dream. That’s a nightmare.”

“It’s better than this.” He drops his head to his knees, burying his face. He has nothing to worry about. Ronan couldn’t look at his face if wanted to. “I can’t keep doing this.”

“Then let help you find something better.”

“This is why you don’t know anything about Blue. You’re too caught up in your own bullshit to realize the rest of us have stuff going on too.”

He drives Adam back to the house without another word. He doesn’t go inside. He doesn’t want to see anyone else. He wants to drive. He takes the backroads too fast and the curves too sharp. He lets the road lead him to the convenience store just up the road. At least he saves the whiskey until he gets back to the house.

When he wakes in the morning, he doesn’t remember much after he got back. But he’s on the porch, back aching and head throbbing instead of tucked away on the couch, so he’s willing to bet it didn’t go well. Maura is sipping tea at the kitchen table. “Wanna tell me what you were doing out there? With my car?”

He shakes his head. He tests his voice, but it’s rough and gravely. He clears it into his fist before trying again. “Is Adam here?”

“He went to talk to Greenmantle.” She sips her tea again, placing it beside her. She looks up, trying to look him in the eyes, but Ronan stares at the table, the floor, anything but her face. She gives up, crossing the room to fill a glass with water from the sink “Blue and the boys went with him,” she says, handing it to him. "they said they were going to get his job back."

He sips at it cautiously. It lands in his stomach with a splash, so he stops, letting it settle before sipping again. “I need to go see him.”

“Is that a good idea?”

He drains the rest of the glass in one gulp and sets the glass back on the table. “I don’t know,” he says. With a clearer head and a couple of Ibuprofen, he hops in his car and prays for one more miracle.

Mr. Gray is there when the BMW crawls up the drive. He directs Ronan to the old shed, before reminding him to not get caught.

Adam’s got the door to the shed propped open so he sees Ronan coming from a mile away. “Go,” he says once they’re close enough to talk without yelling.

“Parrish, I just wanted to apologize.”

“Don’t pull a muscle.”

“I’m trying to act like a grown-up here. Would you come talk to me?”

“Talking to you got me stuck up here cataloging inventory in the first place. I had to beg for my job back.” He drops an ax beside him with a resounding crack that catches them both off guard. They stare at each other for a moment, caught up in their confusion before Adam turns back to his work. Ronan can’t look away. “Just leave me alone. We can talk tonight.”

The crack returns followed by a crash and Adam’s head dips beneath the stacked crates without time to so much as scream.

“Parrish!”

He rushes forward, forgetting to consider the already fragile flooring. It bends and moans in front of him. He pulls back, leaning over the boxes to get a view of the hole, slowly spreading as bits of wood flake off. “Parrish?” he yells begging his friend or God for an answer.

Both God and Adam seem to have other plans as Greenmantle rounds the corner. “What the hell was that sound? What are you doing here?”

“Parrish, can you hear me?” He waits for an answer. A beat. Nothing. He’s not a patient guy, but he waits for a second longer, prays for so much as a grunt or groan, but nothing. “He fell through.”

“What do you mean he feel through?”

“I’m not a fucking contractor. He fell through the fucking floor. What else do you need to know?”

Mr. Gray is there in an instant. He stays back graciously and doesn’t seem interested outside the basics. “Is he responding?”

“No,” Ronan says. He thanks God that someone else is taking over the situation because he's beginning to feel horribly unqualified. “I think he’s unconscious.”

“Do you have your phone on you?”

“No. I left it in my car.”

Mr. Gray turns to Greenmantle wordlessly. The two exchange looks that seem to cycle through an entire exasperated conversation before Greenmantle spits out “I don’t have service out here.”

“Ronan?” Blue yells, rushing forward. Henry, Noah, and Gansey follow her. He holds out a hand to keep them back. He watches the hole, waiting for it to spread, and feels it bobble beneath him. He’s not safe either and he knows it, but if someone else comes inside, they’re definitely fucked. He looks at her though and the unshed tears in her eyes undo him.

He doesn’t know what to say. He doesn’t know if he can say anything. He’s trapped leaning over a hole and Parrish is trapped and the whole world is pulling in toward him and he doesn’t have the strength to fight it off. Still, he says “I’m okay. But if I move the rest of this place is gonna cave in on him.”

Gansey runs up behind her, wrapping his arms around her. He tucks her into his chest and they both stare back, discomfort clear in their eyes. They flash him matching encouraging smiles through the fear.

“I’m gonna call 911,” Henry yells, sprinting back across the field from where he came. No one stops to thank him.

“Is this really necessary?” Greenmantle asks.

“It may be a while before anyone makes it out here,” Mr. Gray says. “Ronan, if we can get you out, they’ll be able to get to Adam quicker. Can you sit down where you are?”

Ronan pushes a box of small garden tools off to the side, clearing enough of a path for him to sit down. He lowers himself gently, holding his breath the whole way down. He doesn’t release until his ass hits the floor.

“Good,” Mr. Gray says. He leans forward, peering over the mess to meet his eyes. Ronan sees his own fear and panic reflected in the man’s eyes. “Now roll onto your stomach, okay? You’re gonna crawl.”

He pushed himself over, turning as slow as he could. The floor groaned again beneath him. “This isn’t working. This is all gonna end up on top of him.”

“No. It’s not. You’re going to crawl toward me. You ever play army guy when you were a kid? It’s just like that. Keep your stomach on the ground and crawl.”

Ronan crawls. He can't see the other from the ground, but he can hear them talking around him.

“We can’t get to Adam until we’ve got him safe," Mr. Gray says. His voice is calm, but in the overly-controlled way that indicates a person is not actually calm at all. “If we tear down that back wall, we may be able to dig through to him.”

“We might just end up staking more debris on top of him,” Greenmantle says.

“I don’t know how else to access him.”

“There’s a crawlspace,” Ronan says. He pulls himself past an old ladder, taking care to avoid rusty nails and a suspicious stain. He thinks about his last tetanus shot and decides a booster couldn't hurt.

“What?” Greenmantle leans down to stare at Ronan through a gap. Ronan ignores his furrowed brow and exasperated tone.

“There’s a crawlspace underneath.” He pulls himself another inch and Gansey is there offering a hand. He takes it graciously and Gansey pulls him the last few inches off the foundation and through the doorway. Mr. Gray leans over and tugs on his other hand pulling him up. He’s still coughing from the dust and panic as he throws himself around the corner of the building to the small wooden door.

The deadbolt gives way with little fuss despite the copious amounts of rust around it. “Adam?” he yells into the entrance, but there’s still no response.

“I’m little,” Blue says. “I can fit more easily.”

“You’re not dressed for it. There’s ticks and shit down there.” He hurriedly tucks his jeans into his boots and slides through the door before anyone can stop him.

He can see the damage as soon as his eyes adjust to the dark. And then he’s army crawling again. He pulls himself forward, pushing past bugs and dirt and what he thinks was once a raccoon. He crawls until he reaches and a chunk of wood too big to move. He has no leverage in the slim space around him. He can barely push himself up. His shoulders are squished in too tight to move anything heavy. He kicks himself for not thinking of a better plan. He crawls around the wood, blinking dust from his eyes and searching for any sign of Adam.

He peeks past the beam to see a clear space on the other side. He sees the ax to his left. He’s here. He’s somewhere in this place. He’s so close Ronan could touch him except he’s hidden and not responding. “Adam?” he yells one last time.

There’s a groan, soft and pained, but a groan nonetheless.

“Ronan? Can you hear us?” Mr. Gray yells.

“Yeah,” he calls back. “Kinda busy here.”

“You need to get out of there, Ronan.”

“Let me just get to him.”

“Ronan, now!” Gansey yells.

There’s another crack and a plank falls on top of the stack. But it stops as soon as it starts. The dust settles into his eyes and he can’t see in front of him, but he can hear the gasps and murmurs from above him. “I’m okay.”

“Ronan get out now.”

“Shut the fuck up!”

Adam coughs. It’s harsh and pained, but it’s the best sound he’s heard because he can tell where it came from. He pulls the ax toward him. There isn’t room to swing, but he doesn’t want to anyway, not with Adam so close. He smashes it into the block of wood. It doesn’t split, but he’s got enough force to crack and splinter it. With a few more strikes, it breaks away just enough to wiggle. He pulls it back, throws it over his shoulder and there is Adam.

He’s pale, coated in a layer of dust and grime and his temple’s a mess of blood, but he’s the best thing Ronan’s ever seen. He collapses by his side, sweeping a hand over the blood clumping in his bangs. He weighs the danger of spinal injuries against the threat of another collapse. The voices screaming above him win out. He ends up pulling Adam behind him, trying to keep his head and neck as steady as possible.

Mr. Gray waits at the door and Ronan is more than happy to hand Adam over to him. He pulls Adam into his arms and immediately heads for the driveway where an ambulance is pulling up. Ronan falters back a step at the ominous task of pulling himself back out.

When he turns back to the opening, his friends are there. Noah and Gansey reach down, grabbing Ronan by the biceps and hauling him out with minimal assistance from himself. Henry hands him a bottle of water and a towel as soon as he touches the ground again. And Blue says nothing, simply throws herself at him, face into his chest, and hugs tighter than she ever had before. And he lets her.

And when he starts coughing, they help him sip from the water. When he coughs so hard he throws up, they pull him to his feet, dragging him toward the ambulance as well.

In the end, Ronan’s lungs are okay. He’s advised not to inhale large quantities of dust again. He tells the ER nurse where she can go. It’s all quite civil as far as Ronan’s concerned.

Persephone hugs Ronan as soon as she arrives at the hospital. She doesn’t say anything, just wraps her arms around him in a gesture he understands as a thank you. He doesn’t tell her it was no big deal, but he squeezes her back and hopes the message is clear.

Adam’s broken arm, three broken ribs, and moderate concussion are fairly underwhelming as far as structural collapse injuries go. “What did I tell you?” he says that evening when he’s staying awake for more than 30 seconds at a time. “I’m hard to kill.”

No one finds this quite as funny as Adam, but he’s awake and healthy enough to be laughing.

When Greenmantle arrives at the hospital, not twenty minutes before the end of visiting hours, Ronan is fully prepared to drag the man from the room, but Adam stops him. “Actually I’ve been wanting to talk. Please, Mr. Greenmantle. Come sit.” He takes the only seat in the room, facing across from Adam like a business meeting. Adam drops a folder on the stand over his bed. He pulls the papers out and spreads them out. “Here I have copies of my timesheets, dating back to last June with reminders from me to call a contractor about the shed. And you signed off on all these, didn’t you?” Greenmentle nods, Adam's apple bobbing anxiously. “What do you think a lawyer would think of these, Mr. Greenmantle?”

“Well, I — uh.”

“But I don’t really want to sue you.” He sweeps the page back up into a file and slips them back into the folder. “This isn’t some sort of moral high ground thing either. I should sue you. I just think we can solve this without any lawyers, don’t you?”

“I’m sure we can come to some sort of agreement.”

“So what do you say, you sell my friend Ronan your farm and we can all go about our lives.”

“Well I’m sure we can talk about prices, but this particular property is quite valuable. I’ll have to get a fair price for it of course.”

Gansey steps forward, clutching his own folder. This one is red and labeled “Greenmantle can suck my Dick III.”

“Actually we have some numbers here for you, sir.” He shuffles through the papers contained and pulled one from the bottom of the pile. He folds it over and presents it to Greenmantle with a flourish, that is unusually snarky for Gansey. Ronan finds himself charmed by it.

“This is considerably less than I paid, Mr. Gansey.”

Adam clears his throat. “Yes, but let’s pretend I did take you to court. If you look here, this is an estimation of what you’d be paying based on some employer negligence data I found. So all in all, I think you’ll find that to be a very fair price given what you could end up paying.”

“I see…”

“And of course, this way your wife never has to find out about any of this. She didn’t want you spending too much on the property if my memory serves me well.” It’s bold talk from someone who slurred and mumbled his way through the alphabet just a few hours ago, but he’s bouncing back fast. “Sleep on it. Come talk to me again tomorrow.”

Greenmantle shuffles out of the room, clutching the paperwork to his chest. Ronan likes his odds.

The nurse knocks softly on the door. “Visiting hours are ending soon,” she says. “One of you can stay with him overnight if you want, but everyone else needs to head out.” Persephone scoots closer to the bed, wrapping her fingers lightly around Adam’s wrist and Ronan wouldn’t dream of trying to fight her over this.

Ronan pats Adam twice on the leg, a friendly gesture and nothing more, but fingers grip at the hem of his jacket.

“Can I talk to Ronan alone for a minute?” he asks Persephone, who nods quietly and shuffles out with the rest of the crowd. And when it’s quiet and everyone else has become a memory, Ronan pushes himself up onto the side of the bed, leaving little room for Adam to wiggle himself up into a seated position.

“Stop,” he says. “Don’t hurt yourself. Jesus, Parrish. They’re gonna kick me out for good if I knee you in the ribcage.”

“I’m real sorry, Ronan.”

“Don’t do that. Don’t apologize just cause I saved you. I would’ve done it anyway.”

He leans back, petulant as a child. “I’m not. But I went too far and I am sorry.” He grips the blanket like that night under the stars before releasing it again. "What I said about Blue..."

“You weren’t wrong. But I'm gonna do better Parrish. I want to be better.” He watches the way Adam's brow creases and for the first time in a long time, he understands why people keep going when shit sucks. If he’d known that face, scrunched and focused as he chewed on the edge of his swollen lip, was waiting on the other side, he never would’ve considered any other option. This was what people live for, this feeling here. This is what people write poems and songs and fucking dystopian YA trilogies about. There's an entire story in the shit-eating grin. And he found it. The goddamn holy grail. “I just want to see you happy.”

“And that dream thing? You were right," he says. "It turns out I’ve been paddling upstream for nineteen years without ever knowing where the creek drops off.”

“Then you draw your own map and you figure out how to make the water do what you tell it.”

“And what are your big plans, Lynch?”

“Haven’t you heard? I’m buying a farm.”

[threeminutesoflife]

Call Shot

Pairing: Bucky x (dark!)Reader Warnings: 18+, dub-con, oral sex- male receiving, mentions of alcohol, humor Word Count: 1.9k Summary: Reader lets Bucky know how she feels about him.

“Hate the player, not the game,” Flipping her hair in your face as she sauntered by you.

“I don't believe that's how you say it,” Wanda frowned at the girl's swinging hips.

“Can I finally trip her now?” Natasha glared in the stranger's receding direction.

Wiping your cheek, “Is there a mark?”

Twenty minutes ago, you and the girls arrived at the sports bar to meet Bucky, Sam and Clint. Determination and impatience coursing through your veins to finally tell Bucky how you felt tonight. Too many months of eye-fucking and innuendos led you here. You would either confess how you felt calmly face to face, or have him figure it out when you'd slide your hands down his pants.

So although the delivery of your declaration was undecided, your message was going to be clear.

Ten minutes ago, the embodiment of Regina George and her band of merry tarts stood next you and the girls at the bar as you rambled out your game plan, “Okay, so I'm going to go over to the pool table and say it. But you know, not in front of the guys, just him. So I'll take him off to the side and tell him.”

“You got this, go do it. It'll work out,” encouraged Wanda.

“Yes. For the love of god. Do it already,” Natasha stated as she waved to the bartender.

“Ohh,” The stranger you've dubbed Regina interrupted with a high pitch squeal, “Confessing your feelings to a boy? Which one?”

The question caught you off guard and you weren't entirely sure why you even answered, “Um, black leather jacket playing pool in the far corner with our friends.”

“The dirty one?” Regina's nose crinkled.

“Excuse?” “You want to get tripped?” you and Natasha questioned at the same time.

Wanda frowned with annoyance looking at Regina and narrowed her eyes at her two friends, who were slowly backing away and excusing themselves from the enfolding scene.

“Well, no matter. Nothing like a little friendly competition. Besides think I might give the other two boys a nibble,” Regina saucily replied. “Hate the player, not the game.”

Which led you here- secretly crawling under the billiard table after you passed Sam on his way to talk to Wanda and Nat. Regina stood off to the side by Clint as he ate Sam's seasoned fries. She switched flirting tactics after Bucky gave an uninterested shrug to her request to join the game. Clint wasn't reciprocating to her flirting either, the fries holding most of his attention, but he was polite enough to explain the game to her between bites.

You ran your hands up Bucky's thighs squeezing them causing him to jump and step back. Looking down he saw you pop your head out from under the pool table, pressing a finger to your lips and winking up at him. He was about to ask you what the hell you thought you were doing, but his eyes slipped down to your cleavage peeking out from the top of your shirt. He cleared his throat and looked quickly at your face, only to get distracted by your mouth. Biting your bottom lip and gazing up at him with pleading eyes, Bucky felt his cock twitch. 

This was like so many of his wet dreams- you on your knees before of him, big imploring eyes and wet lips asking to taste him. But none of his dreams involved you sucking him off in public with his teammates right there.

Looking down and seeing the glint in your eyes, he quickly looked around the bar. A game was on the screen and no one was looking in the back corner by the pool tables. Bucky tried to keep his eyes from bulging out of his head as he felt your soft hands feather themselves across his thick thighs again.

You felt the muscles in Bucky's thighs flinch as your moved your hands up higher, coming closer to his crotch.  Cupping his bulge, you enjoyed how he grew harder under your palm. Bucky swallowed back a moan as you rubbed his growing erection. His mind swam with questions on why you were doing this here, why now.

“Want another fuck?” Sam asked.

Terror filled Bucky's face. Did Sam know you were under the pool table? Did he know what you were doing under the pool table? Wait- when did Sam even get back to the pool table?

“Wha- what did you say?” Bucky could actually feel his stomach pounding against his chest.

“What another, Buck?” Sam gestured to the bar. “A beer, man. Want one?”

“Huh? Oh no, no. I'm good,” Getting more distracted as he heard your soft giggle rise up between his legs.

Sam stared at him for a beat, “You okay?”

Shaking his leg free from your hand, Bucky kicked you trying to get you to stop laughing. But that only earned him a hard pinch to his calf as your response.

Hissing out, “Shiiit.” Bucky tried to back peddle out of his awkwardness, “Sorry, I dropped the chalk.”

“What are you talking about? The chalk's right in front of you, man.” Sam raising his eyebrow at Bucky, “You sure you're okay?”

Looking down Bucky saw a fresh blue chalk cube on the edge of the table mocking him. Quickly moving his eyes back up to Sam, Bucky swiped his hand across the billiard's edge and knocked the chalk onto the ground without blinking. “Get the beers, Sam. I need to get this.”

“This is why I don't take you out in public.”

Ignoring Sam, Bucky squatted down to face you with hushed a plead, “Please, doll. Not here.”

“Yes doll, here.” Quirking an eyebrow to Bucky's evident bulge in his open fly, “Besides, say no all you want, your body's showing what it needs.” 

“Bucky!” Sam called out. “Hey! What kind ya want?”

Grabbing Bucky's face you pushed your lips against his. “Win this game, then we leave.”

Bucky starred at you wide-eyed, trying to take this new side of you in.

“Bucky! You loose that chalk again?” Hearing Sam's voice Bucky rolled his eyes.

“Darlin', not here.” Bucky implored, his eyes darting back and forth between yours.

Reaching over and palming his clothed erection, “You're not in charge, Sergeant.”

“BUCKY!”

Snarling at Sam, Bucky stood up and quickly leaned over the edge of the table to hide the tent in his black jeans, “What, Sam? What?”

Sam narrowed his eyes at Bucky, “Nope, not impressed with that attitude. What kind of beer?”

“Have Clint choose,” Bucky stated through clenched teeth. 

Sam huffed and turned away, making his way back across the bar to put in the drink order, “You're acting weird. Your old age is starting to affect you more than you know. Clint, stop eating my damn fries!” 

“But the seasoning's so good!” Clint replied, mouth full. “Just put in another order!”

Regina stood frowning from lack of attention, still trying to assess her success rate with Clint as he continued his descent upon the fries.

Bucky bit down on the inside of his cheek hoping to soften the sounds emanating from his chest, as he watched you run your tongue over his denim-covered bulge, mouthing his growth from the zipper on down. He hissed under his breath as your ran your teeth along his clothed length. His sight became unfocused as you undid his zipper and reached your hand in to take him out. He should tell you to stop, but you were making him feel so good. Bucky’s silver hand grabbed the table’s edge, him and the pool table groaning together.

Whining out your name Bucky widened his stance for support, “Sh-shit. Sam’s coming back.”

Growling up at him and pinching his thigh, “Shut up and enjoy it, soldier.” 

Twirling your tongue around his head, you licked the precum from his tip you winked up at him. Bucky's chest was rising and falling rapidly as he watched you stroke him, tilting your head and giving his cock little licks between strokes. You leaned in- taking him in your mouth and grabbed his thighs for balance. Moving your mouth up and down his length, quick and then slow. Quick, quick, slow.

Sam set down the pitcher and handed out the glasses to a round of mixed-tones thank yous, “Okay, Let's play! Who's breaking?” Clapping his hands together.

Bringing the beer up to his lips with a shaky hand, Bucky tried avoiding Clint's inquisitive looks on why he was stuttering suddenly. 

“B, you good man?” Clint asked with narrowed eyes, chewing on the last of Sam’s fries.

Trying to hide his shivering as you giggled against his length, Bucky couldn't trust that he wouldn't stutter again with the vibrations you were making along his dick. He only opted to nod yes to Clint's question.

“Seriously?!” Sam exclaimed as he turned the fry basket upside down.

Clint gave a half-hearted shrug, “Just eat my order.”

“Ugh, crap! I left the fries with the girls,” Sam groaned, shaking his head at Clint before walking away. 

Bucky was close, so very close. Torn between thanking the gods for this and praying no one would find out what was happening on the other side of this pool table. Despite trying to even out his breathing, he felt himself tensing in your mouth as you took him to the hilt.   

“We won’t lose. I can distract your friends,” Regina sang to Clint while pushing her chest out.

At her high pitch squawking, you mumbled a string of annoyance with a mouth full of Bucky’s cock. The vibrations shot straight down to his legs as Bucky released himself in your mouth. He closed his eyes and inhaled sharply as you swallowed him.

Smacking the end of his pool stick on the ground, he sloshed his beer over the rim of his glass. Keeping his eyes closed for several moments, Bucky tried regaining some of his composure before carefully setting down his glass on the edge of the table as you gently tucked him back in his pants. 

Clint's curiosity finally got the better of him, making his way closer to the pool table. “Why are you acting so fucking weird? I know it's not the beer.”

Before Bucky could stop him, Clint bent down to look and saw you on your knees, the back of your head between the Winter Soldier's thighs. 

You didn't bother turning around to face Clint, but you did wave. 

Clint shot up stumbling over his feet. “Too young to witness this shit,” laying his pool stick on the table and waved Regina's questioning look. “I’m out.”

Undetermined by the loss of her partner, Regina wiggled her hips at Bucky from across the way. “Guess it's just you and me. You call it, handsome. Sink the ball in my hole, and we'll be all done,” twirling her hair and pushing out her chest at him again.

SMACK

Your hand came down on the edge of the pool table making her jump. Bucky quickly offered his hand as you pulled yourself up.

“How long have you been under there?!” Regina gasped out.

Ignoring her question and horrified look, you zipped up Bucky's pants and kissed him, letting him taste himself on your lips. 

“I'll call it.” You declared, pressing your side against Bucky. Taking his metal hand and linking your fingers together, “Silver hand, my snatch.”

[ghoulciifer]

submission:

@androgynouswordsmyth: “Hi Tum c: this is for your matchup event! 5’6”, with an hourglass figure, has that broad shouldered goddess energy going on. Used to swim competitively in highschool & still have a nice shape. Would describe my style as athletic comfort meets swamp witch. Love wearing black, it goes with everything. But also one of those people that wears workout clothes because they’re comfortable & easy. An admirer of all things relating to the occult & witchcraft. I have two tattoos small ones on my upper thigh & on the inside of my bicep. Often asks “What’s your sign?” Green eyes & shoulder length brown hair that is dyed seafoam green. I am soft spoken & gentle when I interact with everybody. All about self growth & healing. A huge advocate for self care. Love venting about my dumb corporate job. Deep down I'm a rebel anarchist. Often says things like “I’m just a cog in their machine” or “metal till I die”. My end game is writing fantasy novels for a living writing is my passion. I am a person who gets lost in thought & day dreams, a homebody who is fatigued & curls up in bed with Netflix playing in the background while I write rp responses or some of my own stuff. I have depression & anxiety, which I manage with both medication & therapy. Am attracted to bad boys/girls. Kindness & respect in my relationships are important, emotional maturity & a sense of humor are huge & my favorite color is dark pine green. Someone from BNHA, NSFW. Write what feels right.”

notes: aiden! i’m so happy you participated in my event, also you seem like the coolest person? ever? so of course i had to pair you up with one of the coolest dudes in bnha! your support means the world, thank you so much for being my mutual on this hell app ❥

why i matched you:

» you and dabi would get along exceptionally well, both with how you are and how you present yourself. your inner anarchists would collide beautifully and no doubt lead you two into trouble, but who else would you rather start a riot with than someone like him? he thinks it’s kickass that you understand what it means to be a pawn in society’s game, and has no issue with having you by his side to tear that shit down.

» dabi really adores your aesthetic. he finds it incredibly intriguing and thinks it suits your personality well; your hair, your occult lifestyle, and boy does he love your tattoos. he often offers to pay (w stolen money ofc) for you to get more if you want them - one of the best ways of self expression is covering yourself with art, and he supports it wholeheartedly. he likes to trace the ink on your skin during intimate moments and often finds himself admiring them elsewhere, thinking about how gorgeous you’d look with a few more pieces in places only he could see.

» though he might not be as poetic as you, dabi admires your creativity and urges you to keep up with your passion. he’s going to be super lowkey about it but he shows that feeling by doing smaller things, like picking up notebooks for you here and there or offering to get you better quality pens for when you’re brainstorming a story. he won’t tell you but he sometimes reads your stories at night while you’re sleeping (only the ones you’ve offered for him to read, though), and is always left in awe of how talented his girl is.

» when he’s not painting the town red or burning someone to a crisp, he’s more than happy to stay at home with you and curl up with a good show. despite his wicked, cold demeanor he’s actually very affectionate with the person he chooses to pursue! so expect lots of gentle touches, lazy kisses here and there, soft whispers here and there about how warm you are and how nice you feel against his charred skin. he’s not afraid to show you his love because if you can stick with someone like him, well, that’s proof enough that you’re worth it all.

» dabi never does anything without purpose. every action he takes is a part of the grander scheme of things, and he does so with such a drive that is rivaled by most heroes. so you can definitely check maturity off your list. as far as humor goes? he’s a smug bastard, and his sly remarks and teases are aimed directly at you for the sole purpose of making you smile. sometimes he’ll just sit and say the dumbest things to see how hard he can make you laugh, because in a life surrounded by death and darkness, your giggles really help him see it all in a different light.

» dabi’s experienced enough trauma to understand what your inter turmoil is like, but he’s beyond proud of you for taking charge and handling it however you can. he’ll be your biggest supporter when you need it and is so goddamn protective of you. you’ll never not feel safe, because it’s that constant worry in the back of his mind about how just being with him puts a target on your back that pushes him to take extra precaution. you might have a few close calls here and there because, let’s face it, villains are ruthless - but at the end of the day he’s always able to pull you right back to him and remind you he’ll always come for you.

drabble:

Dabi rolls off of your spent body with a slight groan, the thin sheen of sweat covering both of your bodies glowing in the dim light of the bedroom. Your chests rise and fall to a steady rhythm of labored breathing - and as much as you both loved being tangled with each other mere minutes ago, you need a second to let your sweltering skin cool off and your aching muscles to relax after that particularly tiring session. Dabi catches the exasperated sigh escaping your lips and grins from your slumped form in his peripheral.

He always thought you looked the most beautiful like this. When your eyes were half lidded and pupils blown, skin covered in teeth marks and bruises, hair haphazardly strewn about on the pillows. It was a sign he did a job well done, and the image brands itself into his memory every time he’s lucky enough to see it happen. Lost in his daydream, he doesn’t see that sinfully innocent smile tug at the corners of your mouth when you catch him zoning in on your post sex euphoria.

“Y’know, you’re more than welcome to take a picture… they last much longer.”

He laughs, a short exhale from his pierced nose, “I might just do that, doll. Next time.”

Your smile grows wider and you prop yourself up on your elbows, sliding over the tangled sheets to get closer to him and be able to reach and trace over the stapled skin of his chest with delicate fingertips. He closes his eyes at the feeling before loosely wrapping an arm around your lower back, thumb gliding back and forth just below your ribs.

You bask in this comfortable silence for what feels like a lifetime. This was your favorite part of the aftercare, just enjoying each other’s presence that much more as you regain a stable heartbeat, eventually letting Dabi gather you in his strong hands to lay you over his scarred chest when the cool air overstays its welcome on his skin. Once your cheek meets his chest he leans forward to ghost a kiss into your damp hairline, lips lingering there a bit longer every time. The steady beat of his heart usually lulled your eyes closed with its melody. At this point, it was all routine.

Dabi is the first to break the silence, the deep gravel in his voice reverberating through his chest against your ear, “Y’know… if we’re gonna fall asleep like this, the least you could do is read me a bedtime story.”

“Too tired… s’your fault.” he feels your smile and hot breath against his pectoral, broad chest rumbling in laughter at your quip.

“Hm, guess I need to go easier next time. But you weren’t complaining when I was balls dee-“

“Dabi!” You smack his skin and whip your head upward to look him in the eye with a look of feigned shock, and it's hard to contain the giggle that escapes from your dropped jaw. He chuckles again before craning his neck to leave a peck at your bottom lip, his hand raising to push your head gently down to his chest again, the other finding its way beneath the pillow under his head.

“Shh, just go to sleep, stupid.”

“Shut up… dummy.”

matchups are CLOSED! thank you to those who entered or have been keeping up with this event! remember you can check to see updates on matchups + if your matchup has been posted via the #tumplaysmatchmaker tag!

[coeurdastronaute]

Kiwi 11

Previously on Kiwi

Nothing could have been more welcomed than the spring. And not the beginning of the spring, but rather the full blown, wonderful, lush and verdant, alive and living, blooming and warm and sunshine afternoons. It brought about the feeling of new and completeness, of happiness that wasn’t hardfought. 

“Give. Me. The cookie!” Lexa yelled and she plodded her way through the park, hands up and jagged, like the monster she was portraying. 

Tiny legs waddled through the grass, squealing with delight as the auntie teased and tripped over herself, flummoxing her way around in the sunshine and grass. But laid flat on her stomach, morally defeated the monster watched the little bare feet approach and giggle before poking her cheek. 

“Aunt Lexie?”

“GrrrRRrrr.” 

“No, no bad.” 

“Please?” Lexa asks, tilting her head to the side as she squints, hair messy and obstructing much of her view. “Pretty please?”

“No more bad.” 

Not even two yet, her nephew was precocious and she had a soft spot for his tiny shirts and socks and dimples and hair and snores. Their tour came with a nanny now, and she was okay with it because he was the best way to spend a few hours detoxing from the blitz of traveling around the world. 

“You’ll share with me please?” she asked, sounding a little sad and sticking out her bottom lip. 

A piece of cookie was fed to her as a little boy squatted near her, gently feeding as if she were an animal in a petting zoo. She wasn’t sure how to explain to someone how much moments like this saved her life. How stale animal crackers and tiny fingers who pet her head and told her no more bad as the sunshine drifted in between the waving branches of the trees in the park as everyone spoke French around them and her sister lounged on the blanket, rocking her foot to the imaginary beat of the afternoon harmonies. 

“We have to head back to the hotel soon,” the adult explained as she turned a page and caught sight of her watch. “Indra scheduled a meeting.” 

“It’s our off day.” 

“I don’t think we actually have those.” 

“I can’t hear you, I’m napping.” 

“You’re less cooperative than a toddler, just so you know.” 

“I already knew.” 

���I’m going to tell Clarke.” 

“She knows too.” 

Lexa smiled to herself and pressed her face into the soft blades of grass while her nephew plopped down near her, still rubbing her hair gently, making more of a mess of it than usual. Nothing was going to get accomplished today, not with spring around them and hopeful enough to distract from the tiredness of the second half of the tour and the start of festival season. 

“She’s coming along soon, huh?” 

“Just over a week,” Lexa smiled and closed her eyes. “Dublin.” 

“Ah, the city of love. If only we went on tour and hit the actual City of Love… Oh, wait…” 

“She had to wrap up her internship and then promised to come on vacation and see some of Europe with us.” 

“You say us, like Clarke is going to be hanging out with me and the kiddo.” 

“Sometimes,” Lexa shrugged. “If you want to see her and stuff.” 

“I’d like to get to know her, if you’ll keep her around.” 

On the grass, Lexa stretched and basked in a little bit of sunshine. She savored the feeing of the dirt and the grass and the toddler that threw himself onto her stomach while her sister hinted at getting to know her girlfriend. 

“Can you remind me not to do anymore tours ever again?” 

“I would, but you’ve already got the workings of another album in the works,” Anya squinted and tossed her book down. 

“No, I refuse. I’m taking a vacation.” 

“You say that now.” 

“I haven’t taken a proper vacation in like six years.” 

“What about rehab?” 

Lexa scoffed and furrowed, rolling her eyes at the idea that she had any sort of fun while pulling the toxins from her body. That the inability to move from her bed, that the shaking and the sick and the ache and the pain-- none of it was a vacation in any form. But Lexa used it. She savored the pain, even when it was enough to make her want to kill herself, because it was her cosmic retribution for everything else she did to her sister. 

But she would never say it was a vacation.

“If that’s what a woman’s gotta do to get a break, I guess I’m due.” 

“I’ll kill you myself next time.” 

“I might take you up on that.” 

The siblings smiled at each other. Lexa smiled as she felt a tiny head nuzzle under her neck. It was perfect, and Lexa was getting good at appreciating these things. 

XXXXXXXXXX

There weren’t so much jitters anymore as there had been before. From time to time, Lexa would feeling a little more amped up than normal when putting on for a particularly raucous crowd. But in the tedium of such a long tour, the almost day-to-day schedule didn’t really get her up in arms anymore. 

But there was a ritual to it all. Most of her day was perfectly coordinate by her manager and a publicist and an entire corporate army of people whose sole job it was to make her bband a success, and as she got older and sober, she realized how good they were at it, and how easy her life could become if she let it. 

And what no one seemed to point out, or at least not that she could remember, was that if she listened and was receptive and prompt, her days led to more free time. It was an actual wonder to see it function as it should. 

The nerves came slowly, and though they never reached the former, paralyzing level, they still grew the closer it got. Lexa took the edge off with stretching and playing video games before the meet and greets, and between that and the set, she read and kept quiet, to herself, away from people. She was about to be pelted with thousands of voices, and having none was her permanent pre-detox. 

Sometimes, she watched the opener, proud of their growth. Sometimes she called Clarke, depending on the time zone. 

Mostly, Lexa sat in her green room and waited, itched, ahed to play. The nerves came from an eagerness to wreck herself on stage.

“Can we skip the hand squeezing after tonight?” Lexa asked as Indra swept into the green room, eyes fixed pointedly on her phone screen as she typed some response. “I went for a run yesterday and I need to recover.” 

“Where’s Anya?” 

“You can just tell me, you don’t have to wait for Anya.” 

“She’s nicer to me; she doesn’t ask for ridiculous favors like avoiding wealthy and famous and connected people who play your records.” 

“Not to your face,” the guitarist grumbled.

“How kind of her. But this is something I need her help with.” 

“Maybe I can help.” 

“I don’t know,” she shook her head and shoved her phone in her pocket. “I think… This is a tough... “

To many, they wouldn’t see how much Indra cared about the two sisters. They were her bounce back to the big times. She discovered them, brought them up, showed them the ropes, kept them as safe as she could. She celebrated the highs, the hits, the shows, and she was there for the lows, for the rehab, for the relapse. She lived for them, giving up all other clients, traveling with them part-time. She was protective because they were her’s. 

“You’re going to have Anya tell me whatever news you’re about to break?”

“Yes,” Indra nodded, earning a smile. 

“Coward.” 

“You could be nicer to me-- I’m letting your girlfriend come along for a few weeks.” 

“You like Clarke.” 

“I do, which makes this a little more difficult.” 

“I’ve never seen you have difficulties telling me anything before. This must be bad. Did we get dropped from the label? Am I under arrest? Embarrassing pictures leaking? My porn history hacked?” 

“Not that I’m aware of,” Indra sighed, mentally making a note to have all internet-capable devices double checked. “This is more of something that I want to prepare you for, but I’m trying to be considerate of your sobriety.” 

“Oh, yikes,” Lexa furrowed and turned around, facing her friend who looked like she struggled with these words more than ever before. “Well, I’m in a good place. I’ve been working the meetings. Honestly, I can handle anything.” 

“Tonight there’s-- Well… What I mean is the... “ she took a deep breath and pinched the bridge of her nose. “Where is Anya?” 

“Probably changing the kid. She likes to put him down before our shows. I told you to ban him from the tour. The whole lot of them. Anya and the kid and the husband, exhausting.” 

“Costia is coming to the show tonight.”

The name hurt. It hit her like a ton of bricks. In any string of words put together in the world, she never imagined that Indra would put those words together. 

“Weird. She hates my shows.” 

“She’s promoting a movie she’s in for a second, and she’ll be in town. She knows it’ll generate buzz and rumors.” 

“You’ve spoken to her publicist then?” Lexa nodded to herself, keeping it all business. That would help, she convinced herself. 

“I did. It… it didn’t go well. We basically got the message that it’s happening no matter what, and we should prepare, and there’s no stopping it.” 

“Couldn’t you just ban her?” 

“And then the story is about how you’re still hung up on her. If she comes here, it’s her that’s hung up on you.” 

“Is she?” 

She hadn’t meant to sound interested, and she wasn’t actually. She hadn’t thought about Costia in a long time, but suddenly she had to think about her, and that was hard. Awkwardly, her agent shifted and took a deep breath, strongly disliking this conversation. 

“I mean, who wouldn't be?” 

“Don’t manage me.” 

“It was a good line though, wasn’t it?” Indra offered a small grin. 

“I don’t care. Do I have to see her?” The manager pursed her lips and Lexa groaned. “I need to call Clarke before this hits the waves.” 

“Want to hit a meeting after all of this? I’ll go with you.” 

“I’ll let you know.” 

“Hey, you almost ready to go on?” Anya stuck her head into the room. 

“Oh, now you show up,” Indra shook her head and brushed past her.

“What’s her problem?” 

Lexa just shook her head and turned back toward the mirror. 

XXXXXXXXXX

The sweat was just starting to cool on her neck when her sister stalked toward her, and Lexa knew she was in trouble, even if she didn’t know what for just yet. The euphoria wouldn’t go away. She was still on that high and the stadium was still changing her name despite the encore and there really weren’t drugs that could compete with something like that, even with Anya’s angry face. 

“So that’s why you switched up the set list for the encore.” 

Hands on her hips, she stopped in front of her sister, blocking her off from the rest of the world, cornered and toweling the sweat off of her neck and forehead. 

“Thought we could just do a few different songs tonight,” Lexa shrugged. 

“Indra should have told me. You should have told me.” 

“Why? It’s just a normal night.” 

“That dumb bitch got you hooked--”

“Okay, hold on. You can’t blame her for my actions. Costia didn’t--”

“Don’t defend her!” Anya yelled. 

Lexa had seen her sister mad. She’d made her mad from time to time, believe it or not. She was good at it, but it was never real anger, never this real kind of bite to her words that she currently was exhibiting. This wasn’t a time to reason with her or nitpick word choice. 

In all honesty, Lexa just wanted the night to end. 

Her legs were sore, her brain was a little distracted, and she knew she was gong to wake up to very stupid rumors. But she’d be one day closer to her girlfriend arriving. She smiled, thinking about Tinder’s numbers. 

“You’ll be with me. We’ll do the stupid hand shaking and after party thing, and be on our way. I’m fine, by the way.” 

“You changed the songs.” 

“Yeah.” 

She looked guilty at the admission as her sister sized up the result of the news. 

“You played her song.” 

“The only songs I play are mine.” 

It was a lie, but her sister didn’t push. 

“We’ll do a meeting tomorrow. Two if you want.” 

“Can we just take it hour by hour. I’m honestly fine. I don’t want to think about it too much.” 

“Okay.” 

“Thank you.” 

“Does Clarke know?” Anya ventured, softening slightly. 

“Yeah, I called her before we went on. That was an awkward conversation.” 

“What did you say? Hey, my ex is here and I have to see her for very stupid and very commercial reasons?” 

“Basically, but with a lot of ‘please don’t be mad at me’s thrown in for good measure.” 

Anya smiled and put her arm over her sister’s shoulders before steering her toward the dressing room. 

“You should send her flowers tomorrow.” 

“Already ordered.” 

“Thata girl. I knew you were trainable.” 

XXXXXXXX

It wasn’t hard to see Costia, and that was the hard part. She was beautiful. She was still beautiful. She would always be beautiful. It wasn’t hard to be in the same room as her because she was light and airy, she was wind and wild and illuminating to anyone that came within her orbit. She was intoxicating so that nothing made sense and you did things you normally wouldn’t do, but it was okay, because she had the capacity to see you and believe in you and make you believe in yourself. She was effervescent, and Lexa hated that word because no one was ever actually effervescent-- except for Costia. 

She wasn’t a bad person, contrary to what Anya might think. In fact, often she was a very good person who held doors for strangers and was the type to discreetly tell you there was food in  your mouth before following it up with a compliment about your shoes and the next thing you knew, you were best friends and it was a week later and you didn’t know how you got to St. Tropez. 

It wasn’t hard to see Costia-- it was actual torture. 

Costia smelled like coke in Barbados. She tasted like lines off tanned thighs. She looked like two yellow pills and a tab on a tongue. She was a numbness that made Lexa itch like she hadn’t itched before and she wondered if she was still in love with her. 

And all of this happened in a room full of people who had no idea. 

The niceties of the party were done and the evening stretched. Anya kept an eye on her sister and Lexa was grateful for it. She needed it, she realized; not because she was afraid of doing anything, but just that she was very afraid of being alone. 

“I recognize that look,” Costia whispered as she slipped beside Lexa, weaving through the crowd to find her alone in a corner. 

“I don’t have looks.” 

“You are desperately planning your escape.” 

“Just trying to find my sister,” Lexa disagreed, avoiding looking at her. 

If she glanced, she would have seen her shoulders, bare and sun-kissed. She would have seen the familiar slope of her nose and the stupid little scar on the corner of her jaw that she felt very self-conscious about despite it being half an inch and unnoticeable to anyone who wasn’t intimately-- Nope. She wouldn’t glance. 

Her palms were sweaty, and she gripped the glass of water tighter in her hand. 

“You look good, by the way. I don’t think I told you that. We didn’t really get a chance to chat, though I imagine that’s by Indra’s design.” 

“She’s good at her job.” 

Costia chuckled and Lexa felt her throat close. 

“I followed your lead. Clean for 4 months.” 

“That’s really good. You look,” Lexa gulped and looked at her ex, cursory and strictly for show. “You look good.” 

“Thank you, for doing this, for coming tonight,” Costia offered, taking the chance of meeting Lexa’s eyes finally to be earnest and grateful. “I know it’s stupid, but our paths crossed and we need all the publicity we can for this movie. It’s stupid--’ She tucked a stray curl behind her ear and Lexa died. 

“It’s not. I’m proud you’re branching out. I wasn’t going to do anything else tonight anyway.” 

She got sized up with that comment and she felt it. Deep amber eyes searched her face and plump lips curled up the faintest amount. Only someone acquainted with those lips would see it and appreciate. 

Lexa looked away immediately before taking a sip of her water. 

“We should get out of here and catch up.” 

If only Anya were around. Or Clarke. 

Clarke. 

Fuck. 

Lexa took a deep breath and let it out slowly, clearing all of the noise and the memories. 

“I promised my sister I wouldn’t leave without her. We have a show tomorrow, and this tour has been crazy. I’m running again and I ran yesterday but I want to do it again tomorrow.” 

“That was about six excuses rolled into one.”  

“I think the most important of all might be Clarke. I promised her I’d behave myself.”

“You don’t trust me?” 

It was the look. The same look she had before every wonderful thing that happened during their relationship. The look that Costia got before mischief was afoot-- before she tackled Lexa into bed, before she tossed her book aside and crawled into her lap, before she told her to ignore her phone and spend the weekend in a cabin. 

“No. I don’t.” 

She laughed and shook her head. 

“That’s fair. I’ve been fairly untrustworthy in the past.” 

“You can say that.” 

They were quiet for a moment and Anya caught Lexa’s eye from across the room and did her best to make her way over for the rescue. 

“So. Clarke. That’s an interesting name. How’d you meet?”

“Tinder.” 

“Wow. I wouldn’t have taken you for a dating app user.” 

“I’m not. It was for a radio interview game… almost a year ago, actually,” Lexa smiled to her chest as she recounted it. 

“How’s she doing with the whole,” she waved her hands in Lexa’s direction. “Rockstar thing.” 

“Anya doesn’t let me call myself that.” 

“It’s still true.” 

“She’s good. She’s... “ Lexa paused and smiled, unsure of how to describe her present versus the haze of memories she’d buried and been forced to excavate in the past fifteen minutes. “She’s sturdy. She’s steady. She’s gorgeous and funny and strong. She finds me impressive for the things I’m proud of being and she’s not bothered by the things everyone else latches onto. She’s a photographer. And messy but in a neat way-- like her mess isn’t unwieldy. It’s perfect. She’s like breathing, you know? When you sit at the bottom of the pool and then get a big gulp of air. That’s what she feels like.” 

Speechless, Costia stared at her ex as she realized she’d said many words. She recounted it all in her own head and felt each syllable like a knife creating small slits across her skin. 

“Wow. Where can I get one of those?” 

Lexa blushed to the tips of her ears and smiled, embarrassed and awkward as she sipped a little more. 

“Sorry, I just… I don’t get to talk about her much on the road.” 

“No, no… it was refreshing,” the model lied. “Have you written her songs yet?” 

“No.” 

It was Lexa’s turn to lie, though she didn’t consider it such. Not when she hadn’t published or really polished anything worthwhile. 

“That’s surprising. Did you tell her you were going to see me?” 

“Yeah, I called her before I went on tonight.”

“How’d she feel?” 

“Not great. But she understood.” 

“Sounds too good to be true.” 

“She’s… yeah. I don’t know. She’s my favorite person on the planet, honestly.” 

Before Costia could ask anything else, Anya was able to disentangle herself from the group that accumulated and found her sister. 

“I think you gave the reporters more than enough time together,” Anya muttered, disinterested in anything from Costia. “Ready to head out?” 

“Yeah, sounds good,” Lexa nodded. “It was great to catch up. I’d say let’s do it again, but I have a feeling our sponsors might say no.” 

“Or your girlfriend.” 

“Clarke?” Anya scoffed. “Nah. She’s too graceful to say something like that. But I will. I think we can say this was enough catching up for a century.” 

Costia nodded and looked back at Lexa who didn’t disagree with her sister, though she shook her head and tried to soften the blow. 

“That’s not true,” Lexa feigned politeness. “It really was good to see you, and I’m glad you’re doing so well.”

Costia leaned forward and hugged her ex. Lexa only used one arm and pulled away as quickly as possible. 

“You too, Lex,” she smiled. “I’ll see you around.” 

“Yeah, I hope so.” 

“I could go without it,” Anya interrupted. 

With a nod, Costia made her way back into the party and Lexa looked at her sister before earning a disapproving glance. 

“We were just catching up. She’s clean, and I know how hard it is sometimes.”

“You looked chummy.” 

“We actually were just chumming it up.” 

“She lives in a room behind a door that you don’t want to reopen. Leave her there, Lex.”

“I am.” 

“Good.”

NEXT