#The jacket might need a cleaning of some sort I think I might remove the library plastic layer

[siobhanromee]

I got a book for 1.5 plus shipping on amazon and it was a library discard. But in the back of it was someone's vet bill from 2008??????

[circusclownproductions]

seeing a lot of videos that are like “I didn’t know babies couldn’t have water” so here’s an incomplete list of things you need to know before having a baby

- the obvious, they can’t have water bc milk is incredibly high in water already so excess water leads to over hydration

- babies cannot have honey until 1

- if ur breastfeeding your kid and saving excess milk, make sure you label what you pumped in the morning vs at night bc your body produces different melatonin levels throughout the day and giving your baby daytime milk at night can make them more alert and fuck up their sleep schedule

- idk why ppl keep saying this but swaddling your babies or getting them those baby straight jacket things is not abuse. It chills them out cuz it reminds them of the womb

- babies have a dandruff like buildup on their head called cradle cap, and it’s very easy to deal with and remove with just some baby shampoo, a gentle scrub brush (MADE FOR BABIES!!) and a comb. It does need to be removed tho cuz it can be very painful after a while. This can also continue to happen late into toddlerhood it’s normal

- you have to clean out the creases of your baby’s skin and hands and feet they WILL collect dust😭😭

- you cannot bathe your baby until their umbilical cord naturally falls off. Use a warm damp rag until then

- tummy time is actually very important

- your baby might have a misshapen head at first (not all the time but sometimes) this will either sort itself out or they’ll need a corrective helmet ask your doctor

- I wouldn’t recommend having your baby leave the house very much until they’re at least 6 months old, especially if they’re born near cold and flu season cuz the common cold can kill a newborn

- you’re not an awful horrible person for having postpartum depression and it’s always a million times better to let your baby cry a few minutes longer than normal while you regain your composure than to freak out and give ur kid shaken baby syndrome

- you’re not an awful horrible person for giving your baby formula milk either

- don’t put shoes on your baby it’ll compromise their toe box and balance

- babies put every single thing in their mouths

- the easiest way to burp a baby is to hold them straight up (spine straight) and hold their head a bit higher

- always support their head they barely have necks

- if your baby fights away food, fights tummy time, vomits every single time you burp them, is gaining or losing an unreasonable amount of weight at a time, wheezes after eating, or goes red after eating, chances are they’re probably allergic to the type of milk they’re eating (again ask a doctor but these are just some signs it’s not just colic)

- they will wobble a lot when learning to do things but you gotta fight the urge to help them every single time cuz they gotta learn

- they’re not always spitting out baby food cuz they don’t like it they just don’t know how to eat. Like they don’t know how to push food down they only know how to stick their tongue out so be patient

- babies craniums are broken up into three parts at first that later fuse together, this is to help make birthing easier but it results in a small EXTREMELY sensitive spot in the top of their head that has no protection. This puts their brain at a high risk. Always protect their soft spot

- read to your baby!! Get cute bright colorful sensory books with sight words and read them to your baby it makes such a huge difference in their educational growth and will help them acquire a love for reading early on. And talk to them never shut up just say whatever comes to mind all the time this will strengthen their vocabulary growth also.

- babies poop like a lot. A lot. an unreasonable amount. Bring back up clothes and more diapers than you think

- no pillows or stuffies in the crib and only use a muslin blanket unless it’s especially cold to prevent suffocation

- babies kick reflexively until they’re out of their newborn scrunch (they stay womb shaped for a while) and if your baby is crying and pushing at the swaddle try letting them flail around for a minute

- consoling your baby is not spoiling them ! They need comfort and they will learn to self soothe on their own

- singing lullabies actually works, they can recognize your voice a consistent place of comfort from the womb and the cadence of lullabies is literally engineered to create a calm headspace

- for the love of god do not get boring ass beige toys. Colors are important for their neurological development

- babies are very responsive to praise from a young age so be as supportive of them as you can

- babies get constipated a lot and you have to do like tummy massages to help ease their pain the easiest way is to lay them on their backs and hold one foot in each hand, kick their feet like bicycles, scrunch up, and then stretch their legs out

- holding them on your hip too much will not cause bow legged-ness if your baby is bow legged that was always gonna happen

- they drool so so much and you have to get bibs for them so they don’t get chest eczema

- don’t use scented products on their skin cuz their skin is sooo much thinner than ours

- when your baby first starts sitting on their own never walk away from them without setting up a nest of pillows and blankets around them. Even minor head trauma can mess them up sometimes

- this one is kinda morbid and scary but sometimes babies just die out of nowhere and it’s no one’s fault or anything it’s called sudden infantile death syndrome(SIDS) and it’s about 1.3k deaths on average per year in America so not super common but still very real. 90% of these deaths happen during the first four months however edit: apparently it’s bc of an enzyme deficiency which at the very least you can take steps to try and prevent

- smoking and drinking during pregnancy WILL affect your baby and your breast milk and also might contribute to SIDS cases

- babies sometimes have a big red mark on them somewhere called a stork bite immediately after birth but typically it goes away

- babies can’t see very well for a while after birth and they’re VERY wobbly so they’ll typically bonk their head into your chest and face a lot while trying to support themselves

- female babies might have smth similar to a period the first few days after birth, this is because of the hormone transfer that happens during the birthing process and the days leading up to it

- male babies get random erections for the first few days after birth(hormone transfer again) literally do not be weird about this it’s a baby

- things like weaning your baby onto solid foods, potty training, weaning off pacifiers etc, can actually be directed by the baby and will happen naturally will minimal guidance from the parent(some guidance is still necessary) although I would do individual research into baby led weaning for food to prevent choking

- get those chewy feeding pouches to help with weaning

- the most random things will scare the hell out of your baby don’t take it personal 😭

- baby carriers are life savers (tulas are one of my favorites)

- once babies hit toddlerhood they’re tougher than you think, and a lot of their reaction is based on YOURS. they’re always going to be looking to you for how to react to a situation. Remain calm and if they’re ok they’ll calm down but if they’re genuinely hurt they’ll keep crying

- babies will most likely get ridiculously attached to an inanimate object and you have to keep this thing intact at all costs until they’re old enough to abandon it or they will throw a FIT. I got a lemur plushie from a zoo once and every single one of the kids has bonded their soul with it until about 6 years old and once a month I have to stitch him back up

- don’t compare yourself to other parents. Maybe your kid isnt getting grass fed wild caught north Atlantic cheerios but at least they’re fed. If your kid is alive and healthy and happy you’re doing a good job

- you will need 3 car seats, an infant seat, a grow with me toddler seat, and a booster seat

- getting a good diaper bag is a MUST

- the hair a baby is born with will most likely all fall out or they’ll get a bald spot on the back of their head where they sleep cuz their hair is so fragile and thin but once it grows back it grows back thick

- get like 20 muslin blankets so you always have a backup when the main ones are covered in spit up

- the babies grip IS stronger than yours (keep your hair up and keep pets away best you can)

- your best bet for your teething baby is a pacifier you can put your finger in so you can massage their gums and some chewing toys numbing cream can be dangerous and should be used sparingly

- go ahead and come to terms with the fact you’re gonna have to use a Frida Baby to manually remove snot

- babies can get hair and thread wrapped around their toes and fingers that can cut off their circulation try to make a habit of checking

- don’t hit your kid please it’s nothing but trauma and fucked up coping mechanisms from there pls empathize with your child they’re a person too

- be careful not to pull too hard on their arms and legs(like during play or holding their hand while they walk) and NEVER pick them up by their hands this will very easily cause dislocation

- they might have a little tooth like callous on their lip from their pacifier. This does not hurt them and it will go away but it may hurt during breastfeeding

- breastfeeding will make your boobs different sizes

Yeag that’s all I can think of rn but yk i Will add as I remember stuff ppl are also adding things I forgot in the tags in case you’d like to look thru that as well <3

[ikranwings]

Lovers fate

Chapter two: flight of the Ikran

Warnings: none that I can think of? Maybe injury assessment?

This chapter is dedicated to a very good friend of mine! Who also created this lovely art you see below of the pair! Thank you so so much! I love you you are truly the best @nin3kyuu ARENT THEY SO FUCKING CUTE!!!! I COULD CRY.

also!!!! Nine! she created Mansks Ikrans name!!!!!!

Mansk had stayed true to his words, he didn’t leave her and he guided her the whole way before climbing up himself first. Making it easier for him to carefully guide her out of the water and onto the safety of the rocks around them. It was only now that she was out of the water that he was able to get a look at her, fully Assess any injuries she may have endured. To his relief The only thing she had sustained was the simple fact that currently she was unable to see. Permanently or for how long he was unsure but at the very least he was happy he was able to save the one person that meant the most to him in all of this. The one person who had begged him from the start not to go through with this mission because she was worried something horrible might happen to all of them.

 “ Here sit down a moment and let me look at you.. Look you over i mean. “ Mansk had guided her into a sitting position seeing as how she couldnt look back and ensure she wasn't going to fall over or slide back into the ocean on accident. In time she would learn to live with it, Everything took time. At the moment he knew it would be uncomfortable for her, confusing even. All her life she had perfect vision, didn’t even need glasses of any sort in both human and recom form. 

“ We should wring out our clothes, Get as much water out of them as possible before we move again. “ Mansk wanted to give her the option to do things for herself. He didn’t want her to fell dependent  or useless to him because she wasn’t. In no way shape or form would she ever be that way to him, he only hoped that she would understand that. On top of that he couldn't guarantee she was always going to be in his line of sight in order to help her. Doing this sort of thing on her own right away was for the best and if she wanted the help he would not deny her that. 

Mansk removed his vest as well as his sopping wet jacket, ringing it out before he laid it along the rocks temporarily. There was no use wearing it at the moment given how the water was weighing it down. This way it gave it a moment to dry out a bit while he regained his bearings, checked them both over for anything that might be abnormal. Gave him the chance to call for his ikran before they were to head off. 

His shirt came off as well as his gloves in order for him to try and wring as much excess water out of his clothes as possible. Mansk spared quick glance back at Isabella chalking it up to the fact that he wanted to ensure she was doing alright with her own clothes.Carefully she to managed to peel her own shirt off leaving her bra on as she twisted the fabric of her shirt in her hands as tightly as she could manage before unraveling it and shaking it out as best she could. Isabella did this twice before putting her shirt back on and moved onto her pants,doing the exact same. Her fingers sliding around the waistband of the pants in order to find the button on the front as she didnt want to put them back on backwards after all. The pants were done with a little bit of difficulty but in the end she managed to get them back on all on her own. A step forward in Mansks eye seeing as how this was all brand new to her. 

“ Here stay still for a moment. “ Mansk moved in order to kneel in front of her, a hand came to the side of her face as the other wiped some sort of wet cloth around her eyes. The man simply wanted to cover all bases, keep them clean just to help whatever healing process was ahead of them. He didn’t know what else to do, what could he do? There was no medical equipment in sight and it wasn’t as if he would know how to use it to begin with as that was more along the lines of Isabella’s expertise. 

“ Do you think it will ever come back, i just.. There's no doctors around to really tell the full cause. “ Isabella had spoken and yet still leaned her head into his hand as he continued to clean her up as best as he possibly could. He knew what she was saying to be true but for now this was all he could do for her. For him personally he wanted to feel as though he was doing something helpful, something important after all of this. 

 “ I don’t know, I'm going to get you to a doctor as soon as possible, I promise. I just want to make sure it’s safe for you. “ He smiled, even if she couldn't see him do so he still smiled at her. Mansk was positive he could get the both of them out of there safely and get her the medical attention he felt as though she needed. Going back to the RDA was the only thing he could logically think of, he didn't know what else to do. Mansk didn't feel as though there was any Na’vi clan out there that would accept the two of them, especially after what he had done in this war.

 “ Are you sure going back there is a good idea Mansk? They'll just send you out on another mission like this one,or worse.. I'm not sure I want to go back there. “ It was the truth, cold, hard and honest truth. Even if it meant getting her eyesight back she wasn't sure she would ever want to head back there. The RDA only ever brought death and destruction, something she realized early on after waking up in her recom body.

 “ Its the only option i see.. “ Mansk sighed, what other choice did he have?  They had to help her, they had no other choice but to help her… didn’t they?  He didn’t really want to think about it all too much. He was a good soldier and they wouldn’t waste a bullet on him. Not when he cost them a fortune to make, not when they still needed others to fulfill missions. They needed him and they wouldn’t  do anything rash like that, would they? Would they? 

Mansk shook the thought away, there was no use worrying about that at the moment. At least not until he wrapped his head around the whole scenario. He had to make things right, had to find a way to help her get her eyesight back. Even though he had no hand in blinding her the man felt guilty that this had been the outcome she endured. He hated that she was the one punished when he seemingly came out unscathed aside from a few cuts and bruises. It wasn’t fair to her at all, especially since she had asked him from the very beginning not to be a part of this.

  “ It doesn't matter, im going to find a way for you to get your eyesight back and everything will be okay again. Im sorry Issa.. “ As soon as Mansk had spoken Isabella had reached out for him, hands finding his shoulders in order to slide up towards his face. She wanted to ensure his focus was entirely on her and her alone before she was to speak, wanted him to take in everything she had to say to him before they where to proceed any further. “ Don't  blame yourself Mansk. Please whatever you do dont blame yourself for what happened to me. You couldn't have stopped it, we were nowhere near each other when it happened.. Its not on you Mansk. “ A sigh left his lips, leaning his forehead against her own as his hands came up to her wrists. Thumbs stroking softly over her bare skin as he tried to find the words to speak, only he couldn't. There was nothing he could say to make himself feel better about the situation isabella had been thrown into because of this awful war. Instead he pressed his lips to her forehead before leaning back, “ I'm going to get us somewhere safe for the night.. We can go from there. Don't move.. I have to call for my Ikran. “

Standing he moved away from Isabella just far enough so when he was to call for his ikran it would have a safe space to land properly. Staying in the area of the reef clans after he had helped burn most of them was not the best idea. He deserved whatever punishment  they would give to him, that was how he truly felt. Isabella however? She deserved none of this and he wouldn't allow her to pay for any of his wrong doings anymore than he already had.

 A swift whistle came from his lips as he waited a moment before calling out its name, a name Isabella had not heard yet as she wasn't around when he and his ikran had chosen one another. His hands cupped around his mouth as if it would make the sound travel farther as he called out, “ Kobe!! “ 

 A giggle bubbled up from behind him  clearly coming from Isabella the moment he had called out for his Ikran, she must have found the name amusing or funny enough to elicit some form of laughter from her after he had said it, “ Kobe? Like the cheese? “ Isabella knew how good of a cook Mansk was, hell she lived for eating his cooking any time she got the chance to enjoy it. It was nice to have amongst the slop that the RDA fed them day in and day out that was for damn sure.

“ No Kobe like the steak…. Though the cheese is pretty good too. “ A laugh fell from him in return, it went from him calling his Ikran to them to the both of them laughing over a name that he had picked and she misinterpreted. He got to see her smile and that alone made him happy, happy to know that he could make her smile or even laugh. That he had caused that and no one else had at moment.

 The cry of his Ikran could be heard from above their heads, the soft flap of its wings was heard as it perched itself on the opposite end of the rock formation. Mansk made his approach, petting the front of his ikrans head a moment in order to calm it down. THe commotion more than likely had confused it and yet it still stuck around for him, to ensure that he had a way out. The man had bonded with the animal and it was only now he realized just how complex things like this where.

Moments passed before he was to move away from Kobe. Ensuring he had grabbed his clothes that where previously set out on the rocks to dry as best as possible. His shirt and vest were the two things he put back on immediately, his jacket however was a different story.

“We’re gonna get moving, here I want you to put this on. '' Mansk kneeled down before Isabella once again. Draping his jacket around her shoulders he allowed her to slide her arms through the holes of the sleeves before he was to zip it up. 

 “ Mansk what is this even for? “ Isabella could tell it was his jacket, he always wore that damn thing outside or the RDA buildings. It was as if he didn't want to touch anything from the outside world on Pandora and yet here he was putting his jacket around her in order to ensure she was safe. Ensure that in his eyes she was going to be safe and well protected for the flight ahead of them. Sure it more than likely wasn't going to be a very long flight but Mansk didnt want to take any chances. He was far too concerned to think about anything else aside from her safety, shelter and some food. For now nothing else mattered, everything else would come second for now and that was where his mind was at. 

“ We're going to fly for a bit… I want to protect you from the elements as we go… won't be that long.. Just enough to find camp for the night. “ Mansk took Isabella's hands into his own as they stood simply to guide her over to his Ikran. Connecting his Queue with Kobe he was unsure how to proceed with getting her up with him. Really he didnt think much further than to get the hell out of there.

      “ Just  show me where the stirrup is and ill get on after you with a bit of help. “ It was almost as if she could sense how apprehensive he was about proceeding. How concerned he was with loading her up with him and taking off. He was afraid of taking her up high into the air and she didn't want him to be. Isabella was blinded not weak, She could definitely keep a hold on the man as he flew through the air in order to try and find and create some sort of camp out for the night.

“ Alright fine..  “ Reluctantly he bent down slightly in order to grab her leg, ensuring her foot was placed carefully on the edge of the stirrup before he straightened himself up. He then took her hand and placed it along the neck of his ikran so it would be easier for her to steady herself on the way up. “Keep your hand here, I will help you up in a moment.  “

Mansk then moved in order to step up, swinging his leg over the neck of his ikran before situating himself properly atop Kobe. His hand was placed carefully over her own, gripping tightly as her other hand came to lay over Kobe and pull herself up with Mansks help. He insisted he face her so her arms could wrap tightly around his waist while they flew through the sky. Mansk wrapped an arm around her momentarily in order to draw her in closer to his body as she settled in against him. Head nestled securely against his chest before he was to take off. 

The ikran spread its wings before taking flight high into the sky. It would be sometime before they were to be over any forested area. Mansk had already decided they were not going to land anywhere near islands or the reefs villages. It just didn’t sit right with him after everything that had unfolded over the past few months to days. Sparing one last glance at Isabella before he was satisfied with where she was he could relax a bit for the remainder of the flight. A smile had crept across his face slowly, they were going to be ok. Mansk had Isabella and nothing else mattered at the moment. Though, he only hoped that others may have made it out of that. That some of his friends he had spend all those months out there with had survived. Perhaps they could regroup and find the proper direction they should go on. Despite how he seemed to form a plan and have a level head, the man was grasping at straws. Trying desperately to ensure his plans were good enough to keep the both of them alive. 

 —

Hours passed and the daylight was starting to dim, he would have to land soon. If he wanted to get a fire going for the both of them and some food into the both of them he would have to la nd in the near future. Mansk went down within lush trees and dense foliage, something that could hide them for the night. Give them both a chance to rest and recuperate. 

Instead of landing in the trees as one would in this scenario he had Kobe make his way to the ground. Allowing Mansk to get down first and for Isabella to slide safely down and onto the forest floor before he allowed his Ikran to retreat into the trees. 

 “ I'm going to get a fire going for us and then something to eat. “ Mansk gently tugged Isabella by her arm in order to direct her over to what looked like a fallen limb from a tree that must have broken off in past storms. The plan was to start a quick fire before hunting something down that he could cook up for the two of them to eat. Perhaps even save the rest for morning or if they were to get hungry along the way. Mansk had no idea how long this journey was going to be for them, he had an idea of where he was going to take the two of them, but nothing confirmed, fully quite yet.

“Do you have an extra knife? “ Isabella‘s question was to the point, she wanted to be useful in the situation, even if there wasn’t much she could do. Sure she was blinded, but I didn’t mean she couldn’t work on things while sat in place.“I need a knife and a stick that’s thick enough you can wrap your hands around. Will need it to help cook whatever you catch. It’s better to get them both done at once, it will give me something to do. “ 

“ I… if you’re positive you want to do that yeah. “Mansk didn’t necessarily agree with having her do that however, he knew she just wanted to participate. She just wanted to feel useful and not burden him. Who is heated and I heard that fact? Even though she was no burden on him at all, this was his way of helping her. If she was concerned about feeling helpless? Then he would do what he could in order to push that sort of thought to the very back of her mind.

A fire was quickly set up giving the pair a moment to warm up before Mansk was to set out for some food. What Isabella had requested had been placed within her hands in order for her to get to work as well. With Isabella’s knowledge and his muscle and skill set, the two of them would be just fine. There wasn’t much either of them had to worry about aside from surviving and getting through those few nights in the wilds of Pandora.

“I’m not going to go far, I’m just going to get us something to eat and come back. “Mansk wasn’t entirely sure if it was going to be meat or fruits he found around the area. No matter what he was going to find something edible for the both of them to enjoy around there little fire. 

“Just be careful please, if you find a hexapede the Na’vi call them Yerik, you might find a slinger. Avoid them at all costs, I don’t want you hurt… not for me please. “Isabella had knowledge of many of the creatures that resided on Pandora.  When they first started out they had gotten a debriefing on the flora and fauna of the planet, Isabella had been one of the scientists there teaching them the basics. What to avoid, what was far too dangerous to approach and definitely what was poisonous to ingest. 

A faint smile appeared on Mansks face as he leaned forward in order to press his lips to her forehead, hesitating a moment to pull away before he was to speak up one last time. “I’ll be ok, I won’t be long just stay here and I’ll be back before you know it. “ he hated having to leave her there alone,however it had to happen. Food was a priority the both of them needed. For now water was settled considering the cantine he had on his ikran was still full. The quicker he left meant the quicker he could be back with a catch for the night. Sparing one last glance at Isabella beside the fire he tracked off into the forest in search of anything to tide them over for the next few days. 

They would be ok, they had to be. 

Things had to end up alright. 

He had to tell her. 

I love you. 

I love you more than this job. 

I love you more than life itself.

Taglist:

@nin3kyuu

@drinking-tea-and-be-obsessed

@dyingofcookies

@milknhonies

@villiansimpqueen

@zilena9

@la-imp

@navibluebees

@mxddymay

@avatarbyamara

@perseny

@tarrynightss

[salsflore]

random f/o + ship thoughts

help. get me out of this hell!!!!

alhaitham

not averse to touch, but its not his main way of expressing affection. prefers acts of service and quality time over anything else.

leaves her notes when he’s gone. simple things like “don’t forget to bring your jacket before you leave.” or “i’ll be back late, no need to wait up for me.”

has a consistent, healthy bedtime routine somehow?? will often remind her to go to bed just so she doesn’t stay up too late. (she does anyways)

realistically i don’t think we’d have many hobbies in common, so they’d probably co-exist in silence and do their own thing instead ...

surprisingly amazing at helping her deal with her overthinking or #issues because hes just so... logical. shes like "ohgh...shjsk...." and hes like "No." and shes like "ok thanks i am cured now"

he runs colder so they use different blankets + neither fully likes or dislikes cuddling to bed, but enjoys some space. will let her hug onto him anyways, though

mika’s experimental-breakfast victim. rip

random but probably the type to change his icon once and then never again. would leave his profile(s) blank. loser

childe

heavily prefers calling over texting. likes to send her silly voice messages to update her of whatever he’s doing right now ++ pictures of the stuff he finds interesting

after a long day at work or while trying to sleep, he’ll cling to her. calls it his way of recharging. she is forced to deal with it, unfortunately ...

likes to brag to her about random stuff, even the most mundane of things. like "yup. i got the last one before they ran out of stock! i’m so cool.."

often got scolded for returning home bloody/injured or something. he’ll brush it off sometimes and be like “umm ?? but its not MY blood, therefore-” but he’s careful about it now, lest he upset her (again)

enjoys having matching household items with her, e.g slippers or toothbrushes??? likes to buy useless household products

sort of annoying about being married. very much a “my wife” kind of guy

diluc

initially very hesitant about showing his scars to her. enough so that he wouldn’t even take his gloves off. she’d be like “haha hey you can remove them!” and he’d be like “haha! no. i would rather die btw” but he gets there eventually okay!!

i think i mentioned this before already but after the tavern closes she’d pop in to keep him company + help out as he cleans and makes preparations for the next day.

god... probably has a picture of me in a locket like a loser...

sends home gifts whenever he’s away for work. like a bouquet of flowers or something. or 5,000 cats

will let her try out new hairstyles on his hair + she helps him brush through it after a shower.

he doesn’t fully get her sense of humor but will play along with it just to appease her.

zhongli

similar to childe in the sense that he’s also a “my wife” guy. a little more subtle though. he doesn’t do it intentionally and gets bashful when confronted

is an adeptus, so he doesn’t rlly require sleep? only started having a regular sleeping schedule bc of her.

often asked to help remind her of stuff. he has excellent memory so might as well. he does it everytime without fail :3

touchstarved and very much enjoys being held. would rather die than admit it, however.

painfully dense. everytime she tries to jokingly flirt with him or something it just goes riight over his head...

has a whole collection of valuable shinies because. you know. silly dragon...

like childe, sends updates w/ photos during the day (but he’s awful at taking photos. reminds me of a certain cat-loving heir..)

[missspringthyme]

January 11th, 2024

My sort-of-step-mom left today to go to California for literally one day. She has a gymnastics meet there, and since she'll be gone for a lot of this year and doesn't feel the need to go to Disneyland again, she decided she'd go for the minimum amount of time. Regardless, this means that I said goodbye to her today because I won't see her before I leave.

I did many last-minute errands today, I picked up my prescription, I went shopping for the things I had been asked to bring from the US, I went to pick up the ski jacket my mom had offered to give to me. That last one also doubled as me saying goodbye.

I don't really know how to feel about my mom right now, and I don't really know how to treat her, but I can at least come to tell her I'm leaving tomorrow. It also means I'm able to give my dog a goodbye as well. We've had him since I was 10/11 and I have loved very few things more than I have loved him. He's getting old though, and every time I leave it becomes more and more possible that it could be the last time I see him. I wish I could remove the grey from his muzzle and his eyes, but instead, I just hug him close and remove the food that gets stuck in his cheeks.

When I got home my dad offered to make spätzle, to which I asked if we could do something else. Now listen, I love spätzle as much as the next girl but the problem is my dad grew up with 7 siblings. That means he does not know how to make food for less than 10 people.

He had made some recently for Christmas and the leftovers and been slowly chipped away at over roughly 2 weeks. I tried to explain to him that just because I didn't want spätzle today doesn't mean I now suddenly hate spätzle, but I'm concerned the message did not get through. I know I'm going to be hearing about how I hate spätzle for the rest of time.

Anyway, his other option was that we go to his (I think) favorite restaurant, which does wood-fired pizza. He's become a regular there, and all the employees know who he is. I have to work hard to make sure we don't go there for lunch every Sunday. Still, it was the restaurant he had taken us to for dinner when I first arrived, so I figured it might be a nice bookend for my winter break. He told me to invite T as well, and got very frustrated when I told him that he was working right now so we would have to wait.

I tell T every time my dad invites him without me asking, because I know it makes him happy that my family wants him to be included.

My sister and I watched some tv together while we waited, and when T's shift was over we all headed to the restaurant. I asked my dad if we could get another pizza because last time I had been still hungry when I finished mine, and he and I had both stolen slices from my sister's pizza. I'll have to remember to suggest this in the future as well, because it was a brilliant idea on my part.

We ate and talked and my dad grilled me (of course) about when I would be back in the summer (I don't know if I can, much less when) and what my plans are for when I finish my Master's (take the time in between my thesis submission and graduation as a true break (maybe go to Italy?) and then hopefully start a job that helps with PhD applications).

We finished up and headed back, T spent the night again but completed the tradition of him watching me last-minute pack and clean well past midnight. We sat with each other a lot, and cried a little. In case no one told you, long distance is not very easy. I try to make sure he gets held for as long as I can before I leave.

[thekimspoblog]

"Sheepdog" (AKA the Kim Wexler Pregnancy fic) Chapter 4: "The Living Blood"

Kim’s back was against the wall. She just realized she’d taken the fire exit. Good! Whatever silent alarm she’d just tripped, let the courthouse sort it out! She was just so hurt and scared and angry, and they couldn’t see her cry! No matter what happened, don’t let them see her cry…

Someone else had been standing here not too long ago. A squashed cigarette butt on the pavement still had 2 small embers glowing. Kim did her best to hold her jacket over her augmented body; she couldn’t linger here; the last thing she needed was a public indecency charge on top of everything else. Storm clouds were gathering as she got into her car. Raindrops started pelting her exposed midriff. God damnit! This pregnancy, or alien parasite, or ancient Egyptian curse or WHATEVER was happening to her, it had popped three of the buttons clean off her blouse. Admittedly, not the biggest concern at present, sure, but god dammit! This too?

She’d be half an hour early to see her GP about this arising circumstance, but all things considered, she obviously should have seen a doctor this morning. What had happened in court was her fault really, her punishment for thinking she could brute-force her way back into making today feel normal. Either way, there wasn’t time to waste kicking herself about it. She felt sick, but she didn’t feel sickly. It was time to get some answers about this; beginning with whether this transformation was going to kill her and if not, how was that possible?

…

Our heroine sat as still as a statue on the examination table, and still the paper covering found excuses to start shredding itself under her. She called Jimmy- Just like she promised she would.

“Hey…” the warmth of his voice carried through over the phone.

“Hey” she sniffled, “I made it to the appointment. I’m just letting you know where I am”

“Are you crying?”

“Hormones,” she brushed it off, “It’s just really nice to hear your voice. I had a bad day at work. Like Chernobyl bad. I’ll tell you about it when I get home. If I can stand to, that is”

“You know, I was planning to work until 5…” Jimmy offered, “But I can be there with you if you want. All I’ve got is two skin-heads and a botched tattoo removal settlement”

“Aw, aren’t you chivalrous…” Kim smirked but her eyes wandered back to her briefcase, and the comb she had stashed inside, “But no. I think I’m ok on my own”

“Is there anything else I can do? And think big; we’re talking lasso the moon here”

“Hmm… I think ice cream would solve at least some of my problems right now”

“Alright well now you’re just being ridiculous! That’s way above my pay-grade! … ah shit I’m going through a tunnel. I’ll call you back!” Jimmy said as he began to break up.

“It’s fine,” his wife raised her voice for the receiver, “A nurse came in to get my weight and bloodwork, and she said the doctor would be back any minute”

The other end of the call became garbled static, and the only discernible word which cut through may or may not have been “sandwich”. Then Kim’s phone beeped as the connection was lost completely. Another minute passed. The room was still quiet. She considered getting her work out to review, but the piles of matted narratives and memos had become stuffed so thick into her briefcase, honestly she pictured herself undoing the latch and they’d all immediately erupt out of their folders and onto the floor. She’d get back to it. Just not here, not now. She was too worn out for it.

On the TV at the end of the hallway outside, she could hear a Muzak cover of “No Surprises” by Radiohead. It was hard to tell if the voices were also coming from the TV, or if it was the nurses talking outside. Might as well investigate…

“You can hear it can't you? That little voice. The one that says, ‘Don't stare too long. Don't touch. Don't do anything you might regret!’ I used to be the same. Whenever I wanted something, I could hear that voice telling me to stop. To be careful. To leave most of my life un-lived. You know the only place that voice left me alone? In my dreams. I was free. I could be as good, or as bad, as I felt like being. And if I wanted something, I could just reach out and take it. But then I would wake up, and the voice would start all over again.

So… I ran away! Crossed the shining sea. And when I finally set foot back on solid ground, all I found was the same old shit. Then as if to mock me, that goddamn voice came back ringing in my ears again. And do you know what it said?”

“Kim?” a short doctor with big watery blue eyes introduced herself.

“Sorry. The ad on the tv was starting to get its hooks in me. That’s all”

“It is loud. I’m Dr. Daniels. You said you’re here because you recently found out you were pregnant?” the doctor said with her peepers lazing over her subject’s protruding stomach.

“I could lie and say I’d been putting off a visit for eight months, but that wouldn’t sound any less crazy, so I might as well tell the truth…” the words caught in Kim’s throat, but she managed to spit it out, and as a result she finally broke down sobbing, “I’ve been attacked! Someone in a red cloak came up to me and stabbed me in the arm with a needle! That’s how the KGB killed Georgi Markov, you know! It’s not science fiction!” Dr. Daniels handed her a box of tissues. “Thanks. Well the needle part isn’t, at least. But I have enemies! There are people trying to fuck with me! And they’re crafty; I don’t know what they are and aren’t capable of. I must stress again, I’m not paranoid. But I kid you not, I’ve caught cars following me! Read my chart - no history of mental illness! - well ok my mom’s an alcoholic, but that doesn’t automatically apply to me - I am only telling you this because we have doctor-patient confidentiality! I’m in it deep! My husband and I are both lawyers and a client we took on happened to be a high ranking cartel member. Now he’s stalking us, harassing us, giving us money I can’t even ask where it came from. If I go to the police, he’ll kill my husband, he’ll kill me, kill you too probably if confidentiality isn’t enough to motivate you. God knows what favor he’ll ask us to do next!

And the worst part is I can’t even talk about this to Jimmy! I mean I can; it’d be worse if he was keeping this whole thing a secret from me. But he thinks I’m stoic! If I show him I’m scared - really out-of-body-experience scared, it’ll all be over between us. I refuse to let that happen. But of all the twisted things I had anticipated, in my wildest dreams I never imagined this!” the pregnant woman blew her nose. Her eyes were glassy with subsiding tears. “The world has officially stopped making sense to me. Everything I knew about the laws of physics… biology… has been proven wrong. You could tell me my whole life has been a John Carpenter movie, and at this point, I’d believe you”

The expression on Daniel’s face was solemn.

“Do you have a therapist?” she asked.

“He retired” Kim sighed, “You don’t believe me either”

“It’s much worse than that. I didn’t believe this story the first time I heard it. But in the last - what was it? - three months, you’re the twenty-second patient who’s told me something like this”

“... What?” Kim had spent her whole morning too much in her own head, and this was the first thing to get her complete attention.

“Well the whole part about the cartel is new. It’s not my job to judge. But the other details; the red cloak? The white mask? The unprovoked assaults with syringes full of mysterious pink gel? The supernaturally fast gestations over the course of less than two days? They’re only becoming more frequent!”

“Stop!” Kim had scooted herself to the edge of the examination table, “You’re saying there’s others?”

“My female patients have every right to be terrified. I don’t know who will be affected next”

“That’s great! Why isn’t the hospital issuing warnings about this? Go to the District Attorney; I can give you his number! This needs to be in every headline in New Mexico! At the very least”

“No it isn’t great!” Dr. Daniels threw her hands up, “You don’t think I’ve tried?! Of course I know this is front-page news. The brick wall is my chief of staff. He won’t listen. He’s not contesting any of the facts, but he says he doesn’t view this as a priority. I’ve gone to the papers! Same problem!”

Ms. Wexler furrowed her brow, “And you don’t think that’s weird”

“Why are you being so hard on me? I’m trying to help you”

“Ok,” she pressed, “But two authorities, completely independent of eachother, are choosing to ignore what is clearly an emergency, and are providing the same rationale. That points to a Watergate level conspiracy! I can’t think of an alternative explanation”

“I can!” the doctor replied as she began to gather up the tools for an ultrasound, “Not all conspiracies are done entirely on purpose. All it takes for an effective conspiracy to work is one person with a malicious design; everyone else could be operating in accord with their own status quo. I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but ‘The System’ does a lot of unfair things to women. 1 in 10 of us have some sort of reproductive-related ailment, the only tool I have to treat it is Loestrin, and with the money spent paying off the cottage industry which surrounds sewing confusion about equal pay, They could probably just pay us more already”

If Daniels went around every day this exasperated, it would explain why her eyes were always so puffy. She interrupted her own lecture to ask Kim to lie down.

“It doesn’t have to be so tin-foil-hat all the time. It’s commonly understood that the things it’s worth raising the alarm about, and the things it’s convenient to raise an alarm about are very different. Not just for the bottom line, but for the people who have to toe that line, or else that abstract thing will, like you said, kill their friends and family. I’ve prayed almost every day for ten years that a new supervirus doesn’t emerge, because we aren’t prepared. And god forbid if it only affected women? They’d do NOTHING about it! But I know that with the conditions of the factory farms being what they are, it’s really only a matter of time”

Dr. Daniels had a point, or at least her words weren’t any more bs than anything else which had precedent, but Kim had stopped listening again. She was haunted by the moving silhouette on the black and white screen, and the rest of the world was closing out around her. Was she a bad mother if the first thought to enter her mind was “stupid baby”? She was just still in shock was all; she’d pictured something more in-line with how long she’d been given to process this news, a cluster of cells or some early big-headed skeletal lifeform. Not this! She could discern the outline of the fetus sucking its thumb. She could feel the windows of opportunity being slammed closed. Every other path yielding to the one right in front of her. “I don’t know. I love you, I guess! Shut up!” she thought to herself.

“So!” Daniel’s voice cut through the white noise, “Do you want to know?”

“Know what?” our protagonist replied spacily.

With gentleness and understanding, the physician’s assistant clarified, “If you’re having a boy or a girl…”

“Oh! Right!” Kim stammered, “Uh… sure! Yeah”

Daniels moved the wand higher on her patient’s bump. “Well I could always be wrong… but I don’t think I’m seeing a penis anywhere. I think you’re having a daughter, for whatever that’s worth”

It’s too much pressure, Kim lamented in her head. All these expectations parents foist on kids before they’re even born. It wasn’t fair. Maybe it was good she wasn’t more excited; maybe most of this excitement from new parents was performative anyway. Especially taking into account what a fluke it was that there was life on Earth at all, it was a miracle she was even here to conceive a child. She wasn’t excited, because this was what real unconditional love felt like: this little person was still a complete stranger to her. There was no way to know whether her child would grow up to be masculine or feminine, same way there was no way to know which life choices her child would go on to make that she’d approve of, and which she wouldn’t.

There were only three things Kim was certain of: (1) If she thought of her daughter as a mistake, she meant it as a compliment, because (2) it was an appealing idea to her, that something or someone could perform a transgressive act by its mere fact of existing. It conjured up imagery of some mutant animal with a hairline evolutionary advantage. And (3) even if it hadn’t been too late to go back and “fix” this mistake, she’d decided she was beyond the point of return, and therefore it was true. And now she’d defend that decision at any cost.

“I don’t care” she announced as she wiped the goo off her stomach, “This news still comes to me as a relief. I was seriously worried I was having a nervous breakdown. But if there’s twenty-one other women this has happened to? I can work with that! I’ll start a- a class action suit! Taking the hospital and the papers and anyone else to task for negligence! I’ll make it too loud to ignore! If you could put me in contact with these other patients? Right, no, confidentiality. I’ll figure something out! Oh!”

It was easy to get carried away with this new fire which had been lit under her. But there were a few more questions she had before she was free to charge out the front door. She went over to her briefcase and fished the comb out of the front pocket.

“This is my husband’s comb” she continued, “I was wondering if you could DNA test this. Or do you have to wait until after the kid is born before you can do that?”

Dr. Daniels shrugged, “That can be done easily enough. I’d have to take an amnio sample, which I needed to do anyway. Although for the record, the other women who were in here asked for a paternity test as well, for the obvious reason. And thus far, whatever the results of the test said, for each of them it was 100% what they had wanted to hear. The babies resulting from this mutation weren’t just clones of their mother; the husbands, the boyfriends, the long-term life partners, all the tests came back showing that the fathers were who my patients wanted them to be. At first, I thought this was going to help me narrow down what exactly that pink gel was. I thought maybe it was just extremely powerful at negating their birth control methods. Then a lesbian couple showed up complaining of this… the father in that case was the girlfriend as well. So I don’t have any theories! Deep breath, sharp pinch…” she said as she jabbed the long needle into Kim’s womb.

The spot where the needle had poked was going to be sore for another hour at least, but this reassurance brought our heroine another step closer to accepting what had happened. It was a warming thought, after all, that this stranger was going to be half her and half Jimmy. Even if it all but guaranteed this new animal would be an apex predator…

“Don’t rush out the door just yet!” Dr. Daniels stopped her as Kim was redressing in her ill-fitting and torn skirt, “I still need to do a bloodwork panel”

“Can’t you use the blood you already took?”

“I haven’t drawn any blood yet”

“Not you, but the nurse already stuck me before you came in. Remember, the vials had purple rubber caps?”

Daniels looked confused and turned to hammer away at the computer terminal, “Nobody performed a blood draw. There’d be a record of it. Even if it was less than an hour ago”

Kim’s veins turned to ice. She thought she was being careful. She’d waited 'til the door was closed before spilling her guts. She’d made sure there were no security cameras to capture her betrayal of the cartel. But what if it hadn’t been a record-keeping mistake? If her enemies had infiltrated the hospital, if they were impersonating medical staff, then… then how could she be sure Daniels wasn’t working for them as well? On the other hand, what did these red cloaks have to gain by alerting her of the deception? On the other other hand, she didn’t know what these people were capable of, let alone what they wanted. She made some excuse for why that was enough phlebotomy for one day and beat a hasty retreat without another word to those big, watery eyes.

In the basement of this same facility, technicians were loading trays of blood samples into a refrigerator. On the right-hand side, the vials capped with orange rubber. A label was affixed to the bottom lip of the tray. In black marker, it bore the word “Control”. The tray had been sitting out at room temperature for some time now and the vials had lost their crimson sheen. Where there was an imperfection in the orange cap, a droplet had escaped but already clotted into dry rust. The purple-capped vials next to them, however, did not seem to age. The contents stayed bright red, even though those samples weren’t any younger than the orange ones. A droplet had escaped the purple rubber as well, but it refused to denature in the presence of oxygen. This tray had a label too: “Test Group”. A fly buzzed loudly until it caught the scent of the drop. It perched itself on the vial and rubbed its legs together.

[wiildcardd]

@svnsworn sent: It isn't uncommon for the Fox to look pristine, not a hair out of place, vest tailor perfectly to his trim waist, shoulders back, spine straight, chin cocked just a touch to the side. Standing before Zoya of all people, he can see how others would be intimidated by her presence, her sheer aura enough to make men cower before her. Mr. Fox has seen all sorts in his line of work, and he respects her, thinks he could kneel at her feet if she stares hard enough, but his visage doesn't waver, his stature perfect.

As if to demonstrate his apparent nonchalance, he tugs lightly at the wrist of his gloves, eyes dipping only briefly to the tips of his fingers before looking back up at her. She, proud and fierce, icy eyes betraying the fire he knows burns within her. Were he more of a psychiatrist or maybe a psychologist, he could speculate on the nature of what many might perceive as defense mechanisms; but he is not either of those. He is a lawyer. A damn good one, at that, even if he keeps some nasty tricks up his sleeve to gain as many wins as he has.

"Zoya," he says, and he still carries respect in his tone, because he does quite respect her. He appears not to be intimidated, but whatever nonchalance his countenance gives off, his voice does not. "I didn't know you would have need of my services." Smile growing, he places one hand on his hip, the other resting by his side, and he catches her gaze, holds it, thinks that ice could trap so many. "How can I help you?"

east side, home of the rich and the bane of the poor. the legion leader seldom stepped foot on these parts of DisCity, out of fear of sticking out like a sore thumb despite her best efforts. but make the journey she did, the intention of which being to enlist the services of one that could potentially save her own legionnaires from the dire fate of incarceration. they believed and were willing to die and go down with the cause. but zoya would have none of the foolish self-sacrificing, at least not this time. under the guise of a widow, wearing black and a hat with sunglasses to conceal her appearance, she made her way to the offices of the renowned lawyer.

and her disguise was already blown. thanks, earl. she'd never trust him and horo with her disguises ever again as she removes her hat and sunglasses, revealing luminescent silver hues gazing intently into the eyes of the blonde. she scoffs before removing her jacket and tossing it aside and folding her arms.

❝ i hope you know how much i hate this part of the region. so stingy and clean, but the clothes and the food are.... palatable at least. ❞ the wolf sits herself down before the desk of the lawyer, kicking her feet up and leaning back on the seat as if she had already staked her claim and took ownership of the fine establishment that she was now staying in. ❝ i'll make this quick, handsome. you are going to help me win the court cases of five of my men. you're gonna win and they're gonna set them free, understood? ❞

her eyes scan the surroundings of his office, taking in the sight of all of his awards and accolades, monumental wins and headlines that she raised a brow at. as much as she would like to mask her impressions, she quite respected the tenacity of this one. while east side was an anomaly to the native syndicate queen, she had heard and read tales of the renowned fox who has seemingly one impossible to win cases. she was intrigued, at how one could be so... persuasive.

❝ i'll pay fifty percent up front now and the rest once you win those cases. obviously, deductions if there's a case you lose. my men were idiots, deciding to raid an east side shopping centre. you can't blame syndicate folk, they'll consider every place in this damn city as lawless... i try to rein them in but... it's hard. ❞ she clears her throat and places the credit chip card on the table. ❝ fastest deal you've ever done, right? the legion always pays its debts.❞

[dulcesalazar]

He looked completely out of it. Any drunken fool would've been more capable than him, but him struggling like that was almost endearing. Thinking about his blood which now ran through her veins, Dulce felt her throat burn as her mind desired more and more. Revisiting her recent bite didn't help, neither did the daydream that had begun just then of her drinking from him yet again, this time without his sickness. What if his blood tasted even better without the plague? She furrowed her brows together in disbelief, fangs hurting as she daydreamed about sucking him dry.

"You're being really difficult. That's usually my forte." Dulce smirked. The vampire wondered why he'd even called in for work that day, if he had a death wish or something, to try and attack a vampire in his condition. Did Cruz just assume she was home alone? Hadn't turned numerous progenies of her own yet? Just the thought of his recklessness made her giggle, a melodic, almost soft laughter which Dulce wasn't able to really stop. "There's no need to be aggressive now," she couldn't take him seriously, at least not as much as he wanted. Considering his efforts to get here, his determination, Dulce considered the possibility of rewarding him somehow. "I'll probably bite you again and you've come to kill me, right?" Both of her eyebrows were raised, "yeah? Alright, so, what if you hunt me once you're back on your feet again? Like, actually healthy? Because right now?" she leaned in closer, "I could suck you dry and call it a day, but--" she stopped, faintly smelling his cologne mixed with the blood from underneath the bandage. Tensing her jaw, the vampire withdrew, "I want to help, that's all. Mh, a name would be helpful," alas, Dulce knew he might not be as cooperative. Instead, Dulce began to text someone on her phone, the other hand still flat against his forehead.

"I'm just trying to be helpful, you know?" Dulce teased, winking at him. Removing her hand from him, Dulce now kept her distance, still kneeling on the sofa next to him, just farther away to not smell him as much. Seeing the various weapons and restraints to the floor, Dulce's first reaction was a pretty violent lip bite. She even went as far as to bite it open, immediately forcing the vampire back to reality as she tasted even more blood on her tongue. "I won't," she lied, being even thirstier than before, for some reason. Eyes glowed red in the shade as Dulce now slightly sat up. "Wait," the vampire whispered before ripping the jacket away, helping him out of it. "I just texted a friend to get us some medicine," she murmured, hoping this would sort of reaffirm her intentions. Getting up completely, the vampire moved fairly fast around the house, collecting a clean towel and soaking it in cold water before returning to the hunter. "Here," she had one knee on the sofa, now almost leaned on top of him as she placed the wet towel against his forehead, "Aren't humans supposed to sweat out a fever anyway?" the vampire chuckled, "I might've mislead you a bit."

This was absolutely dangerous, that much was true. However, Cruz had never really cared about what was dangerous or not. Every single day of his life had been a battle and it still hadn't stopped to this day. Growing up, he had always just taken everything lying down. A bully was a bully at the end of the day even if it was his own parents. He guessed he should thank them. He wouldn't be the man he was today without them. Then again, he also would still have his sister if they hadn't ruined both of their lives. The hunter would take what he could get and move along with his life. The Eye had saved him and that was all that he could focus on. Even without his sister in his life. The thoughts stayed in his head, circulating as he heard Dulce's voice crawling through his brain. He hated it. Cruz could see why someone would be swayed with compulsion if they were listening to her. "That's none of your concern." That was a good enough answer to her question. Whether he was reckless or not was objective. Some would say he let his anger get the best of him. Others would say he was one of the best soldiers that the Eye had. He wasn't the Overseer by any means and he wasn't going to pretend he could ever be on that level. He just always did what he needed to do and kept moving on with his life.

"I can fucking move," he said with a slight hint of aggression in his tone. Now he was just annoyed and he wanted to get out of this place before she tried to drink from him again. It was clear that she had no control and he wasn't about to die from a vampire when there was a fucking plague going around. Of course that would happen to him. As if his life hadn't been disrespectful enough. He let out a weak sigh as she kept talking. Cruz tried to tune her out, but he couldn't help but listen. Maybe he would hear something from her that would help him if he survived through the night. "Hm...so she named you Dulce. Fitting, I guess." Why was he even talking to her? He should've just pretended he was knocked out so she could leave him be. His eyes were already closed so it would be easy, but he was still delirious so he made sure to focus on every little thing. A finger delicately lifted into the air and he wagged it back and forth. "No, no. I won't be doing that. Again, my name is none of your concern just like anything else about me." He moved slightly, a pain going through him that was some of the worst pain he'd probably ever felt. He hated being sick with a passion.

Her hand still on his forehead, the next words out of her mouth had his eyes snapping open to look at her. Brows furrowed, he couldn't help the chuckle that left his mouth. "You could at least take me on a date first before trying to get me out of my clothes." He lifted himself up as best as he could, feet firmly on the ground with his hands gripping the couch on either side of him. Maybe it was the delirium that had him start removing things from his pockets. A knife, rope, handcuffs and a bunch of other weapons and restraints were pulled out of his pockets and placed next to him on the couch before he was moving to take off his gloves next. "Try not to get thirsty again," he said weakly as he pulled his jacket off. If there wasn't a plague, he was sure that would've been the reason for why he was sweating so much. He had one arm out of a sleeve before he struggled with getting the other one off. Of course. With another tug, he gave up on that and leaned back on the couch with a grunt. Why did that one movement cause him so much pain?

[queenshelby]

The Concubine - Part Four

Pairing: Tommy Shelby x Reader

Warning: Angst, Very Graphic Violence, Domestic Violence, Abuse, Blood

Words: 1,589

Shortly after you left Tommy’s house, Tommy grabbed the telephone and enquired with the directory about where the call was made from.

He had an uneasy feeling about your fiancé, almost like a vision of some sort and, after he found out your fiancé’s address and where the call was made from, Tommy instructed Arthur and Isiah to keep an eye on you and your fiancé and intervene if necessary.

He knew that there were things you were hiding from him, things he didn’t know about you and he never dared to question you about any of it until he overheard how your fiancé spoke to you.

Now, he was suspicious and, for him, it was surprising that you willingly stayed with a man like that. A man who was using abusive language towards you and treated you badly, a man who cheated on you and who had nothing to offer.

***

That same morning, when you arrived at your fiancé’s apartment, he had gone.

There was no note, no nothing and you decided to wait for him patiently.

At around 7 o’clock in the evening, he finally barged through the door and saw you sitting inside the loungeroom with the curtains closed and the fireplace lit.

‘See how it feels having to wait around Sweetheart?’ Steven said sarcastically as he threw his gun onto the loungeroom table and took off his jacket.

‘I am sorry Steven. I had to work’ you explained and Steven was quick to grab your throat with one of his hands, pushing you back against the lounge firmly.

‘Working for fucking gypsies, huh?’ he said harshly before continuing on, his breath smelling like booze and cigarettes. ‘My woman chooses to work for someone else instead of servicing me’ he went on to say before ripping off your blouse harshly, causing the buttons to tumble onto the floor.

‘Steven stop, you are hurting me’ you said as you tried to squirm away, but his hold was too strong.

‘No no no Love, you don’t get to tell me to stop. I want to have some fun with you’ Steven then huffed out.

But, as he held you down, it didn’t take long for him to notice the small bruises on your neck and chest and, without any sort of warning, he pulled you up on your hair and threw you against the coffee table.

‘You are fucking someone else aren’t you, you fucking whore?’ he scolded at you as you hit the table, injuring your chest and stomach on the long edge of the oak.

‘Steven stop, please’ you cried as he again pulled you up on your hair, hit you across the face and dragged you into the kitchen.

As you reached the kitchen, he forced you to lean forward against kitchen table and you knew very well what he would do next.

Fearful and in tears, you leaned forward and held onto the table while Steven removed his belt which, almost in an instant, came flying across your back.

‘Stop, please. I am sorry Steve, please stop’ you cried as he hit you again, harder with each stroke.

‘You want to behave like a whore, huh? Yes?’ he scolded as he hit you again and you began to scream.

‘Well, I need to treat you like a fucking whore then’ he yelled again, hitting you even harder and, by that time you lost count of how many strokes he inflicted on your back until, suddenly, you heard someone kick down the front door.

‘Get the fuck off her you fucking animal, eh’ Arthur shouted, pointing the gun at your fiancé.

‘Who the fuck are you?’ Steven then asked, dropping the belt as he did and you immediately fell to the floor, crying and whining as you barely managed to hold onto one of the legs on the kitchen table.

‘I am Arthur fucking Shelby and you are fucking dead, eh’ Arthur said, pulling back the release mechanism on his gun in readiness to shoot.

‘Don’t’ you yelled out quickly and Arthur lowered the gun.

‘His father will kill my family. Please, don’t shoot’ you pleaded and Arthur waived at Isiah and one of the other gang members who walked over towards your fiancé and restrained him.

‘Listen to me you little fuck, eh. She and her family are under the protection of the Peaky Blinders now and you don’t fuck with the Peaky Blinders. You get this message to whoever the fuck your father is and unless he want’s a war with us, he will back off. Do you understand?’ Arthur explained to Steven before he pulled off his cap and cut him across each side of his face.

‘You will regret this’ Steven shouted in between screams from the pain across his face.

‘I think you haven’t been listening boy. My brother’s orders were to kill you if you harm this woman. You are alive right now because of her mercy but, my brother’s orders will stand if you lay a hand on her again or anyone from her family’ Arthur then said before kicking Steven into his crotch and helping you off the floor.

‘Common Love’ Arthur then said as he placed his coat over you carefully and helped you to his car.

Your back was bruised and bleeding and so was your chest and stomach. Your face was slowly turning purple and your cheek began to swell.

‘We will take you to the hospital Love’ he then said as he lay you down onto the backseat.

‘No hospital’ you said, knowing that the hospital staff will ask questions.

‘Tommy’s house it is then, eh’ Arthur said and you nodded quickly before asking about your parents and sisters.

Arthur asked you where they live and decided to send Isiah and one of the other gang members to their house for protection while Tommy decides what was going to happen.

***

After about twenty minutes, you arrived at Tommy’s house and Francis greeted you quickly when she saw Arthur’s car pull up.

As soon as she saw that you were with him and heavily injured, she ran to get Tommy while calling one of Tommy’s trusted doctors to come to the house.

‘Fuck’ Tommy growled as he saw you. You were barely managing to hold onto Arthur’s shoulders.

‘He did this to her Tommy’ Arthur said as Tommy held onto you and helped you inside while you were still crying, barely able to deal with the pain across your back and stomach.

Without losing any time, Tommy and Arthur placed you to lie down on one of the lounges in the reading room while Francis fetched several towels and some water to clean up your wounds.

‘Tommy, I am sorry’ you said, unsure what you were sorry about. Was it the fact that you had just caused him trouble or that you were ruining his expensive sofa?

‘Don’t Love. There is nothing for you to be sorry about, eh’ Tommy said as he helped Francis to clean you up while Arthur gave him a detailed run down of what had happened at the apartment.

‘Oh my god, fuck’ you growled in pain each time Tommy or Francis touched one of your wounds with the cold wet towels and it was at this point that Tommy pulled out a small brown bottle from his jacket.

‘Drink this. It will make the pain go away’ Tommy said but you pushed his hand away and shook your head.

‘No, I can’t’ you said before another scream escaped your lips.

‘Where does it hurt?’ Tommy then asked as he observed you holding on to your stomach.

‘My stomach, it’s so much pain’ you cried.

‘Sit up. It might be better sitting up. The doctor is on her way, eh’ Tommy said reassuringly as he helped you into an upright position but, just as you sat up straight, you suddenly felt a gush of liquid drenching your skirt.

Instinctively, you reached for your lap with your hands before looking down, seeing your hands and skirt covered in bright red blood.

‘Y/N’ you heard Tommy shout loudly and then again more quietly as your mind went fuzzy and dizzy.

‘Call a fucking ambulance’ Tommy then shouted out to Francis, which was the last thing you could recall before everything in your mind went blank.

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[starlightxsvt]

3 dates | epilogue

pairing ➳ badboy!Seungcheol x female!reader

genre ➳ badboy au, romance, some fluff, angst, bad attempt at humour, gets spicy at the end.

word count ➳ 3.5k (total 15.6k)

warnings ➳ cursing, mentions of killing, mentions criminal activities, slight violence(non explicit), smoking, ma man Seungcheol ain't your typical badboy, blackmailing, reader does all sorts of risky things cuz she's a SIMP, blood(nothing explicit), kissing, marking, some breast worshipping, grinding, reader is horny lol. (Please lemme know if I forgot anything.)

a/n : here's the epilogue to 3 dates since tumb1r won't let me post the whole fic in one post :) Enjoy!

Part 1

As time progresses and days turn into weeks and then into months you are not left with the luxury to cry over Seungcheol. Instead you are bombarded with assignments and projects from your uni and you drown yourself completely in work to forget the scathing pain. Katelyn figured out something is wrong with you and even though talking about that man pains you too much, you told her that you are done with him and you won't be seeing him again in this lifetime. Katelyn did not ask any questions after that as you said you needed time to heal, time to forget even though you have serious doubts he'd ever leave your mind.

You have also applied for an internship to keep you even busier so that when you return home you are too tired to let the thoughts of him plague your mind as you drift off to sleep. And just like that, you have developed a routine, work, eat and sleep, trying your best to allow yourself to not think about him.

Despite that sometimes, some very few times, you think of him, wonder how he's doing, wonder if he's safe. You ponder if he thinks of you, if he regrets his decision but you don't have any answer. You simply hope he does.

-

After another day full of assignments and projects you almost doze off to sleep as soon as you hit your bed until you are intruded by the loud ringing of your phone. Annoyed, you reach for it, wondering who would be calling so late.

The caller ID has your heart doing a backflip, the name you were unable to delete from your heart and your phone flashing on the screen as you instantly sit up in your bed. It's Seungcheol.

Why is he calling so late?

You wait a few seconds, scared to pick up, scared that he might have called accidentally. But before you lose your chance, you inhale deeply and pick the call up. "Hello?" You speak, your voice tentative.The silence from the other end makes your heart fall and your suspicion come true. He called you accidentally and now he will realize it and hang up. You're about to speak again when his voice floats through.

"Hi."

The emotions you feel are overwhelming, undescribable. You're relieved, you're sad, you're excited, you want to cry and scream at the same time. That one word from him has you feeling tingles all over and makes you feel like you just did a hundred laps. Anyhow you manage to speak. "Hey." Your voice almost cracks and tears almost slip past your cheeks. You don't know why you are so emotional. "I just...I just wanted to hear your voice." He sounds so tired...so dejected and your heart breaks. Never in your life did you imagine him to call and say those words to you but instead of feeling happy, a current of melancholy hits you.

Why does he sound so broken?

"Seungcheol? Is...is everything alright?" Your voice is feather like, soft and careful. You hear him sigh loudly and you get your answer. Instead of replying to you, he asks, "How have you been?"

"I'm...fine," you lie. You have been nowhere near fine. He hums noncommittally and you're about to ask him the same question before you realize how dumb it would be. If his voice is any indication he is anything but fine. "____?" He calls your name softly. "Y-yes?" You whisper.

He stays silent, for so long that you think he hung up. "I- I just...can I see you?" He seems to have a hard time gathering his words.

What? You lurch out of bed pushing your covers aside in excitement, trying to prevent a gasp out of your lips. Did you even hear correctly? He wants to see you?

"Wha... what do you mean?" You mumble. You hear him sigh loudly, "I...I am in front of your apartment. Just come down for a minute." You don't need to hear any more words as you are dashing towards your front door in your pajamas, not disconnecting the call. You take the elevator and come out of the building as fast as possible, bumping into things in your way but not giving a care. You feet stops as you stand in front of the entrance to your building, eyes searching wildly for Seungcheol. "Stay there," his voice comes through the phone, just as you spot him standing on the opposite to your building, decently far but not far enough that you can't see.

A horrified gasp leaves your mouth as your eyes finally land on him.

He stands there, bruised, his beautiful face marred with scratches and wounds, his clothes having patches of dirt and if you are seeing correctly his left arm is bleeding as he holds the phone next to his ear with the other.

"Seungcheol-" you're about to rush towards him. "Don't move." He cuts you off, looking you in the eye. Even from afar you don't miss the dark, commanding gaze of him. "Just...just stay there. Just...let me look at you."

No- why is he doing this?

Tears slip down your cheeks, "Seungcheol-" You are interrupted once more, "Please. I- I missed you and...I needed to see you. Just let me hear your voice and look at you like this." His voice almost cracks and you can see the emotion in his eyes.

Your heart breaks.

Why does he keep doing this? Why does he keep pushing you away? Why does he torment himself like this?

You stand there, rooted to the ground, quiet sobs leaving your mouth. He comes here all bruised and wounded and expects you to stay away? How can you when you can clearly see him in pain?

You grip the phone tighter, watching him as he stands there, not moving an inch. His eyes never leaves you as he drinks you in, like this is the last time he's gonna look at you. You can't stand it anymore. Hanging up the phone you run towards him, as fast as your nimble legs can carry you. You can't stay away, you just can't. Not when he looks so hurt and lost and lonely.

Your body smashes against his as you wrap your arms tightly around his torso, your head buried in his chest. He stumbles back from the force and for a while he stays unmoved and you hold your breath, half expecting him to shove you away. But he doesn't. Instead he pulls you firmly against him resting your head on his chest while burying his face in your hair.

The tears come naturally. Loud, ungraceful sobs emerge from you as you cling to him like your life depends on it, your grip on him unyielding. Seungcheol softly pets your hair as your cries fill the silence of the cold night. You pull back just a little to look at his face and you want to once more. There's a cut above his brow and some bruises on his cheek and nose and another cut on his lower lip. But you can't bring yourself to care as you lean above to press your lips against his. You don't dare hold back, kissing him like the world is about to end. Seungcheol reciprocates, tilting your head for better access as his tongue prods into your mouth and you taste the metallic flavour of blood. The kiss is messy, all teeth and tongue, an outpour of the bottled up feelings of the last couple months.

You both take a lungful of air when you pull back and you're about to dive in for more when you realize his arm is injured. "Wha- how did this happen?" You hiccup, wiping away your tears as you gently reach for his bleeding arm. His clothes are torn at the part of the wound and from what you can see, it looks like a knife injury, a thin, slanted cut on his upper arm as if someone slashed him. "It's nothing," he says trying to push your hand away.

"It's not nothing, Seungcheol!" You're yelling before you know it. It's the exasperation, the accumulated frustration over the days that makes you snap.

Seungcheol seems to be shocked at your outburst as he blinks at you, an astonished look on his face. He's kind enough to reply honestly this time. "Got into a fight. I was outnumbered. It's okay, it's nothing serious, I've had worse," his voice is small, almost timid which is definitely unlike him.

Of course he has had worse.

You let out a tired breath. "Come on, you're bleeding. Let me help you." You wrap a hand around his uninjured arm, tugging him towards your apartment.

"No, you don't have to-" he protests but you pin him down with a look. "Please," you speak, your voice low. "I can't let you go like this. Just let me clean your wound." Seungcheol presses his lips into a thin line as if trying to prevent himself from speaking further. When no more words leave his mouth, you drag him into your building in silence.

Entering your unit you help Seungcheol sit down in your small living space as you quickly pad towards the bathroom for the first aid kit. When you return you find him looking around your place with a curious glow in his eyes similar to a child's. As your eyes meet, he sits up straighter and tries to remove his jacket. You aid him in the process, discarding the material on the floor as you take a seat next to him, the first aid kit in your lap.

Thankfully he's wearing a tank top as it gives you easy access to his biceps. You would have stopped to admire and ogle them if he wasn't hurt, which he is and you mentally smack yourself for having such thoughts right now. Seungcheol's eyes does not leave your face as he silently gazes at you and if you didn't know any better you would say he looked at you fondly.

Swallowing, you sanitize your hands before proceeding to clean his wound. Seungcheol tenses beside you, low, pained grunts leaving his lips a few times as you disinfect the cut. But he says nothing, letting you do the work and you don't speak either focused on the task at hand. You then do the same for his face and finish your work by wrapping a bandage around his bicep and sitting back, exhaling a satisfied sigh. Unintentionally your eyes connect to his and you find his scorching gaze on you, those mesmerising eyes almost piercing through your soul. Feeling self aware, you abruptly stand up, coughing to clear your throat. "You should take a shower. I have some extra clothes for my parents when they come over. My dad's clothes should fit you."

"No, it's alright. I should leave." He murmurs. "You're already here. Might as well take a shower. There's no rush," you say sternly, trying to make him agree.

Truth is you want him to stay, at least the night.

Seungcheol sits quietly for a while as if contemplating before surrendering with a sigh. "Okay." "Good. The bathroom's this way," you point towards the attached bath in your room and Seungcheol mutely follows. You offer him a towel and you dad's pajamas, hoping they'd do the job for tonight as he closes the door behind him.

As silence fill the apartment, you quietly return to your bed and sit, anxiously chewing on your lower lip. The digital clock beside your bed reads 2:50 am but your sleep is long gone.

Choi Seungcheol is here. In your house.

Will he spend the night? Or will he be his stubborn self and leave as soon as he is out? And if he does stay, will you see him in morning? Or will he be gone before the sun is up? The thoughts running rampant in your mind gives you a headache as you groan, rubbing your temples. You are sure Seungcheol feels something for you, he has to. Otherwise why would he come to you in the middle of the night? If only he told you his feelings, spilled his heart out to you rather than hiding and pushing you away. He just needs to bare himself to you, tell you what is in his heart. Why can't he do that? Why can't he just give the two of you a chance?

Your thoughts are interrupted as Seungcheol steps out the bathroom, half naked, the pajama pants hanging low on his hips as his muscled body is displayed in all its glory, making your throat dry. He looks at you before quickly looking away as an air awkwardness and tension fills the room. You hold your breath, watching him intently, not moving a single muscle as he tentatively takes a seat at the corner of your bed while wiping his wet hair with the towel hanging around his neck.

You want to tell him to stay the night, the words right on the tip of your tongue but you're terrified that it will just make him walk out here immediately. So instead you watch him with bated breath, waiting for his next move, waiting for him to say something, anything that will put an end to this deafening silence.

Seungcheol takes mercy on you.

"Thank you," he says, voice barely audible. You don't know what he's thanking you for you reply anyway. "Welcome. Though I don't know what you are thanking me for." Seungcheol remains silent for a few beats, his eyes focused on the floor before replying. "For everything. I have a lot to thank you for."

Okay.

You nod mutely, unable to figure out a reply. Another wave of silence settles in the atmosphere like a blanket. You take this time to appreciate his beautiful profile, engraving his features in your mind. The moonlight coming from your window falls on his face partially, illuminating his sculpted lineaments. You get to admire his beauty once more as he sits there but the look on his face tugs at your heartstrings. He looks troubled and in pain, the natural glow of his face somewhat dim. You wonder how the past couple of months have treated him. You wonder how life has been treating him, if he had someone to go to, someone to share his worries with all this time.

"Do you still like me?" His words make your eyes widen as it the last thing you expected to come from him. "You wouldn't be here if I didn't," your words come out harsher than you intended making you regret instantly. Perhaps the pain you have suffered for a while is coming out finally. However, seeing his silence, you reply once more, voice much softer this time, "Of course I still like you, Seungcheol. I have...I have never liked anyone or anything as much as you."

It's an understatement. What you feel for him is love but you would rather keep that to yourself.

"Why?" Seungcheol's voice comes out as a croak as his eyes connect to yours. For the first time, you see so much emotion in them and maybe, maybe even some unshed tears, though you can't be sure because the light is not sufficient right now. Your throat closes up for some reason as your eyes mirror the emotions in his and you desperately try to think, try to give him a reply that he deserves.

"You are very easy to like," you say lamely. Your reply is insufficient but that's all you can manage without starting to bawl like a child. A humourless laugh comes out of Seungcheol and echoes through the otherwise quiet room. "I doubt that," he says, his voice deep. "It's true Seungcheol," you repeat, voice firm.

A mirthless grin settles on his face and you know he isn't buying your words. Swallowing, you carefully, too carefully, scoot towards him and sit down, maintaining a little space between the the two of you. "I don't understand why you hold such negative thoughts about yourself but believe me Seungcheol, it's hard not to fall in love with you."

Your slip-up causes your eyes to widen, face drowning in embarrassment as you realize you just said the L word. Seungcheol, however, does not react to it but turns his head to study your face and the pain and sentiment in his eyes, his passionate gaze on you makes you forget human language. You've never seen nor imagined Seungcheol to be so full of ardor and pain and now that you have, you don't know what to do. You just want to cling to him and cry like a child.

"Can't you see how fucked up I am? What and awful person I am, ____? Someone like me deserves noth-" Unable to hold yourself back you interrupt him by cupping both of his cheeks and pressing your lips to his. You kiss him softly, carefully, trying to gauge his feelings while trying not to push him too hard. Seungcheol stays immobilised, letting you kiss him like that. When you pull back, his eyes are closed and he rests his forehead against yours. "You are just fine, Seungcheol. I like you just the way you are. Don't...beat yourself up like this, hmm?" Your voice is just above a whisper as you tilt his head to meet his eyes. Seungcheol stares quietly at you for a while before suddenly pushing you back and caging you underneath his large body. A squeak of surprise leaves your lips as Seungcheol wastes no time wrapping himself around you while attaching his lips to yours.

This time the kiss is not soft, it is full of passion and vigour and longing as Seungcheol takes the reign. Your lips mold perfectly against each other and Seungcheol does not hold back, kissing you like a starved man; all teeth and tongue. He pulls back for a while, supporting himself on his elbows as you looks at you while you try to catch your breath underneath him. His hand comes to stroke your hair gently, like a lover and your eyes burn at his tenderness.

"Seungcheol-"

"Is there still a place for me in your heart?" He asks, a hopeful note in his voice. His words leave you breathless as you gape at him in suprise, you mouth open slightly. Seungcheol looks at you look longingly as he waits for your answer, which comes easily, without a second thought.

"Of course, Seungcheol. I...I love you."

This time it is his turn to be surprised as his pupils dilate and a soft gasp of surprise escapes from him. Swallowing, you hold his gaze, waiting for his next words but they never come. Instead, the man attacks your lips with renewed fervour while slotting a muscular thigh between your legs. As his toned thigh brushes against your core a wanton moan leaves your mouth and you wrap your legs around his waist. You can feel Seungcheol smirk against your skin while he kisses a path down from jaw towards your neck, taking his sweet time to plant some love bites along the way while you gasp and writhe underneath him. Soon he reaches the valley of your breasts and with skilled fingers he does a quick work of the buttons of your night shirt. His heated gaze remains on your now bare breasts and you can feel your nipples harden in the chill air of the room before he leans down to plant soft kisses all over them. While he does so you continue to grind your core against his leg, desperate for some friction which he is denying you. His assault on your neck and breasts don't stop as he remains focused in marking you, blooming kisses of red and purple on your skin.

"I missed you," His voice comes out as throaty whisper while he keeps his lips attached to your heated skin. "Me too," you choke between moans as his ministrations on your body leaves you aching all over for him.

He pulls back to meet your gaze, "I want you. I... always have and I've been hiding it. But I can't anymore."

"Take me then, Seungcheol," It isn't the most romantic thing to say but that is all your lust clouded brain can manage as you keep grinding yourself against him. You feel his hard on poke your belly and unlike your lover, you really can't wait anymore. You need him now.

Seungcheol keeps looking at you, too busy studying your features rather than doing something about the wetness between your legs and you're about to tell him to do something when he speaks, "I love you, ____. I'm sorry for the hurt I've caused you. Let me make it up to you."

Great. Now you're horny and emotional.

His confession brings tears to your eyes but your neediness is growing so you pull his face down closer to yours and whisper, "You can start doing that by making me cum. And then you can stay. With me. Forever. How about that?" A mischievous grin kisses his face, "I'd love that sweetheart."

You grin in happiness not wasting anymore time as you reconnect your lips with his.

a/n 2: Whew~ a whopping 15k+! I can't believe I wrote something this huge. But it was well worth it! I just hate this damn app like I don't understand?? I've seen ppl post fics with 40k+ words yet tumb1r says I've reached 250 blocks like what?? Anyhow, I really really hope you enjoyed reading this baby cuz I've been working on it for soooo long! If you did please reblog and share as always your feedbacks are highly appreciated so please leave them in the comments or my ask box!

[ushidoux]

Power Struggle - Ushijima x Reader

Summary: You’re set up on a blind date with a man who might just be your match.  (~5.1k words)

Warnings: fem pronouns, fem!reader, blind date, exhibitionism, public sex

A/N: Part of @cherrytenko​’s CEO collab! Surprisingly this is possibly the longest fic I’ve written as a oneshot and it’s a little softer than I expected it to be but please enjoy!

---

It’s about half past 6pm when you add the final touch to your makeup, a smear of matte lipstick (Rouge Hermes #48, to be exact), to your lips.

It’s not often that you’re able to leave work early but your mother and father had called you from overseas in the late afternoon, interrupting their own third honeymoon, to remind you of your final meeting for the day - 

A date.

“I know you hate these things, but just go! You might like what you see,” your mother insisted over video chat, her voice muffled by the sound of wind whipping past her as she and your father cruised along on a shaky speedboat they’d purchased just for the day. You weren’t completely sure where they were, only vaguely aware that they were somewhere around Jeju Island, and not exactly sure why they still had phone service, but you weren’t going to ask too many questions.

“No obligation!” Your father adds, just out of view and yelling slightly. 

Sure, never any obligations.

As you smack your lips in the mirror to smooth out the lip color, giving yourself a brief once-over to decide whether or not you feel the need to adjust your hair or if you will wear falsies or not, you frown ever so slightly, then let out a sigh.

You hate this. 

This is the third “meeting” they’ve arranged for you this month, and they’d been at this for almost six months overall by now. This search for a ‘suitable husband’ was getting stale -  not to mention, time-consuming - and you weren’t sure you would be willing to appease your parents any longer.

In fact, you weren’t exactly sure you were interested in a partner anymore. The clock would hit thirty any moment now, and the math of falling in love, getting married, having kids, and still heading a successful company no longer seemed to be adding up. You didn’t know how exactly to tell your sweet parents who were the picture of domestic bliss that they’d probably have to give up on the idea of grandchildren, and consider raising puppies instead.

Regardless, for the time being, you could still bother to meet this stranger for dinner.

There’s a clasp seal envelope atop your dresser - a portfolio that had been left on your desk by your father’s assistant at the beginning of the week - that still seems entirely too formal for the process. This is matchmaking, not a job application, was the first thought that came to mind once you realized the envelope held a set of photos, a resume and an admittedly curt but formally written statement reminiscent of a cover letter.

Ushijima Wakatoshi, the signature at the bottom of the letter read in an extremely neat script. He must be particularly organized and detail-oriented.

There were two pictures, one that looked almost like a passport photo and the other much more relaxed, where he was dressed casually in a t-shirt and pressed jeans, standing with his arms crossed beside a redheaded man whose smile was wide and infectious, his arm around his neck. You wondered if he picked those photos himself. 

You’d perused the first photo much more carefully because you could see more of his face. He’s quite handsome, you’d admitted, the faintest warmth in your cheeks, but he seemed awfully uptight. For one, the look on his face was very neutral, not bothering to smile. He was clean shaven and his hair was close cropped at the edges, a woody brown that paired well with serious olive eyes. You wondered if he ever laughed out loud, and what he looked like when he did.

The taxi driver is prompt and waiting outside of the high-rise in which you live by the time you make your way down the elevator. The click of your heels is loud on the tile as you make your way past the revolving doors. As you slip into the back of the car, you wonder if you’re dressed too professionally. You may have forgone the women’s pantsuit, but you’re still wearing a feminine pantsuit-esque ensemble in a creamy beige - pink would have seemed too ditzy, white would have seemed a bit too innocent (not to mention risky) and yellow too juvenile.

You’re not sure why you’re thinking so hard about this, but really years of paying attention to your appearance in public, not being taken seriously because you’re pretty and young and your personality is more bubbly than bossy puts you on your guard, especially when it comes to first impressions.

The location appears to be an upscale sushi restaurant, the type that you have to call ahead for months to get a reservation unless you have some kind of special arrangement with the owner. A staff member checks you in and brings you to the back to a private room, and as you pass through the dimly lit hallway, clutching your purse a little too securely, a scene from a yakuza movie comes to mind.

“Your room, madam,” the young man nods and motions you to enter a room that is brightly lit enough that it is almost blinding, large and round as though you were in a fishbowl yourself. You look up and notice that even the ceiling is curved. Elaborate paintings hang off the wall. 

He’s not here.

You glance at the attendant and he raises his eyebrows as though he is expecting you to say something. You must look surprised, and continue to look so as you remove your shoes to sit at one of the thin mattresses set before the low table.

You wish you’d worn stockings perhaps, tucking your bare feet beneath you in a casual seiza position. You can’t recall the last time you’ve been this traditional/formal, and the thought of a man you barely know already knowing what your feet look like bare bothers you just a bit. 

The attendant pours water and then tea for two wordlessly and slips out of the room. 

Your heart pounds once you’re finally alone. Why is this so intense? 

You fidget nervously with the thin silver necklace you are wearing, looking for a menu. There is none so far. Just square plates, both chopsticks and forks (odd for sushi, you think), and a steaming cup of tea set right next to a sweltering crystal glass of ice cold water. Opposites.

For a fleeting moment, you actually wonder for once if this man will like you. 

“My apologies, Ms. ___.”

You’re startled by a rich voice, a tiny gasp revealing that you’re more spooked than you realize, and your eyes shift towards the direction of the sound to see what looks like your date finally arriving in a hurry. 

You instinctively readjust yourself onto your knees to look formal, then realize you should probably stand instead, but before you can get up he waves you to sit back down, now settling down himself across from you.

“I had intended to arrive early but quite a few things happened at the company to make that unfeasible.”

He said this while removing a suit jacket in a way that was in no way intended to be sexy, not at all, then let out what sounded like a single, semi-nervous chuckle. 

Wordlessly, you replied with a nod, transfixed as you compared photography to reality. The photos didn’t do him justice, not at all. The suit jacket was picked up quickly by a waiter who you had forgotten was still in the room.

Ushijima extended an arm to you across the table, intending to shake your hand.

“Did you wait long?” He asks as you shakily take his hand for a handshake that consumes your hand almost entirely in his large one.

You shake your head, then embarrassed when you realize you aren’t using your voice, and add, “No, I didn’t wait long...”

“Are you hungry?” He replies, quickly. Your instinct is to say no, no you didn’t need anything, especially not from him, but you are pretty sure your stomach would growl loudly any minute now, and you’d only look like a fool. 

Ushijima glances at the waiter, who finally hands the two of you menus.

“Please order anything you like.”

You look down, swallowing hard again, and for a moment it is difficult to focus on the unnecessarily elaborate handwriting on the menu.

Something about him already grates on your nerves and you couldn’t exactly pinpoint what. You could forgive people for being late, and you were used to people being a little forward, but something about the way he was both familiar and unfamiliar in the way he spoke to you seemed to veer into patronizing behavior. 

Why wasn’t he nervous? Every man you’d sat across from in the past half a year had just a little waver in their voice when they spoke to you at some point, even those who had started off boasting their fancy degrees and their villas and their large bank accounts. 

But he sits perfectly still, all broad shoulders, gently wafting cologne, and a gaze that is both disconcerting and impartial, so you don’t know what to think. 

When you look up from the menu to him, his eyes are still heavily focused on you, and you can’t really fault him. There’s nothing else to look at in this room, after all.

You take this opportunity to tease him. No man has ever intimidated you before and this one is no different.

“Are you going to order anything? I barely saw you look at the menu.” Your voice is light and coquettish and it implies, all you’re doing is staring at me.

“I already know my order. I’ve been here enough times,” he replies, immune to the playfulness in your voice. You watch him roll up his sleeves as he answers, and take note of the shape of his hands as he takes a sip of tea.

Maybe you’re the one staring.

“Would you like a recommendation?” He offers as he sets the cup down. 

You shake your head no, and wonder again why you’re making gestures instead of talking. He smiles as though he can read your mind.

Once the waiter takes your orders and leaves the room, you’re left in silence, facing your would-be partner. It’s a stalemate of sorts and you lose, asking the first personal question.

But you ask it semi-clinically, refusing to lose the upper hand. You’re not sure why there’s an upper hand, but there is, and it will be yours.

“I read a little about your company before arriving. You gave me quite a few details, which I appreciated,” you state, turning your head to the side politely to take a sip of tea yourself. “You’ve done very well for yourself as CEO,” you add.

His eyes don’t crinkle from the flattery. “My employees do great work at all levels so it’s only natural that there would be positive growth,” he replies matter-of-factly.

You smile politely, but this answer doesn’t give you very much information about him. He’s shifting the success away from him, you remark, however he accepts the compliment as though expected. Is this genuine humility or arrogance?

You lean very slightly forward, just enough to see if he’ll take the opportunity to glance down your blouse, as other suitors have invariably done. He doesn’t, and you proceed to ask the next question.

“What do you do outside of work?”

His eyebrows raise, and you wonder if it’s because he realizes you are pretending you didn’t read that section on his application, but he answers anyway.

“I don’t have very much free time, as you are probably aware, but I garden and paint. And of course, I like to keep fit through team sports.”

A quick look at him makes that last part quite clear. You clear your throat slightly and then it is silent again. It’s not exactly an uncomfortable silence, but it’s not comfortable either.

Just as you wonder why he isn’t asking you any questions, he suddenly speaks up.

“Pardon me if this sounds inappropriate, but you’re beautiful. Why would you need a matchmaking service?”

You’re taken aback, and while your brain is scrambling for understanding of what his intentions are, he adjusts his sitting position so that he’s cross-legged with both hands on his knees and lets out a sigh before continuing.

“You’re also accomplished and clearly articulate. I don’t imagine you’d have trouble finding a partner through more organic means.”

It seems like there are a million butterflies that suddenly inhabit the small space in the pit of your stomach. Again, you’re at a loss for words, something that is rare for someone as opinionated and cordially fierce as you.

Should you be offended? It’s almost as though he’s asking what’s wrong with you?

He asks frankly, “Why a blind date?”

You want to ask him the same question, but you hear the waiter return and you fall silent, letting the butterflies in your stomach die down.

---

“I-is this the first time - ah - you’ve done this?”

You’re no longer laid out on the tatami like you were just an hour earlier, Ushijima nibbling on your lower lip and your collarbones instead of the overpriced, high-quality fish that sat atop your table, but now laid under him, spread eagle save for the hands you use to hold on to his shoulders as he slowly and deliberately thrusts inside you. 

Your voice is breathy and catches in your throat every time he moves, but you have to know. How often has he ended up like this?

The heat that fills your whole body now isn’t just from the shame of letting a stranger fondle your body in an upscale restaurant, it’s because Ushijima somehow knows exactly where and how to touch you, as though he’s always known. His fingers have traveled your body like a hiker on a well-beaten path, from the softness behind your earlobes to your squishy center and back, and now have settled into a hold that is firm yet gentle on your hips. 

When he replies “no” with immense honesty, his mouth sinks into the crook of your neck and he goes just deep enough that you don’t have time to factor this new information into your impression of him.

So instead you savor the thickness that fills you and the strength that holds you close, the soft grunts that fill your ears before they get drowned out by your equally loud whimpers and moans.

---

You don’t spend the night, partially out of shame that Ushijima bedded you so quickly and partially because you have a full schedule for the next morning. The parting of ways is brief and awkward and you seem to feel it more acutely than he does.

“I enjoyed our time, Miss ___,” he offers. You’ve dressed up faster than he has so you find yourself unwittingly ogling at the expanse of his sculpted chest and the flex of his muscles as he redresses. You’re almost sad to see him cover up.

You nod and walk out of the room, trying your best to hide the fact that your legs feel far too wobbly to be walking on these heels.

---

“Miss ____?”

Your eyes widen as you realize you’ve been daydreaming through a meeting with the board of trustees and now the wrinkled old men who hated the fact that your father thrust you into leadership you “didn’t deserve” are staring at you with disgruntled expressions.

“Oh, um,” you think quickly, recalling where the presentation left off and glancing quickly at the notes you’d jotted down on a notepad before wondering why Ushijima hadn’t called or texted since you met two weeks ago.

“Um?” The most senior of the group repeats, and your stomach turns for a moment before you steel yourself. He bares his teeth every time he’s displeased with you and you get the impression of an ancient and disgruntled wolf. 

You clear your throat loudly, and settle back in your chair, crossing your legs and your arms over your chest.

“I have some disagreements with the current approach, but I’ll start with the pertinent positives,” you start.

---

“Was the sex at least good?”

Your best friend from high school glances at you briefly, as you face forward on the Peloton you are riding side by side with her. She’s much less out of shape than you are given that she also is your personal trainer and thus rides hers effortlessly, taking some time to wait for you to respond.

You begrudgingly say yes.

“Wow, for once someone dropped you before you could drop them!” She teases in a sing-song voice. You would slap her on the shoulder if she was close enough and if you weren’t out of breath. It stings just a little bit that you’ve heard nothing from him nor the matchmaking company and don’t have a good response to tell your parents aside from I guess we didn’t click.

“He’s missing out, though.”

“Yeah, no shit,” you huff, and cycle faster. No hard feelings.

---

Scratch that, there were absolutely going to be hard feelings now that he was not just fucking with you but also with your livelihood.

Admittedly, it was strange that despite the fact that your companies had never crossed paths until now despite working in the same consumer domain but this was unacceptable.

You’d opened an email that had just slipped into your peripheral vision as you worked on reviewing a couple of interns’ executive summaries, only to find that Ushijima might have just royally fucked you over.

A curt email from a crucial business partner read,

We apologize but we’ve decided to move forward with Ushijima Industries instead. I understand that this is last minute, but we believe that it will be mutually beneficial to discontinue our relationship at this point in time.

Your blood boiled. What the fuck was this?

Your phone rang, one of your team leaders calling immediately and likely looking at the email at the same time you were. He apologized profusely.

“What happened?”

“It seems like they just showed up and offered twice as much as we offered them last minute.”

This bastard. Then in a moment of horror, you wondered if this was your fault, if you had blabbed a little while slightly tipsy off of sake, and revealed that you had this acquisition in the works.

Voice smaller now, you asked, “So we can’t do anything to woo them back?”

“No, I don’t think so. I just have to make sure our other deal doesn’t fall through,” the slightly frantic man answered, the sounds of keyboard keys clicking rapidly heard in the background of the call. 

“Okay, thank you for your hard work,” you stated. “I’ll see what I can do,” you replied with a click. 

Maybe calling someone who’d ghosted you as you drove home, fuming and irritated, wasn’t the best idea, but you needed to confront him somehow. The idea of being bested in more ways than one was too much to bear.

The phone rang once, twice, then three times, and you were getting angrier with every tone through the car speaker. You hung up in frustration.

How embarrassing.

You made it home still irritated, indulging yourself in a relaxing bath to quell your anger. By the time you had soaked for close to an hour, you were mad at yourself for reacting impulsively and now having your number in his phone as a missed call… if he recognized it anyway.

It turns out he did.

“Ms. ___, did you call me earlier? I wasn’t able to make it to the phone in time.”

His voice was even lower on the phone, a slightly gravelly quality making you wonder if he’d actually been napping or just had a smoke. You couldn’t imagine him doing either of these things.

“What kind of game are you playing, Mr. Ushijima?”

There was a bit of hesitation on the phone, and you let out a sardonic laugh once he replied, as expected, “What?”

“How did you know about that deal other than what I told you?”

He paused again, and you too, stood still, a towel wrapped around your still dripping body.

“I assure you, I have no idea what you’re talking about,” he then said, carefully. “I, uh… assume you were calling about something else.”

You grit your teeth. What the fuck else? The fact that he sounded genuinely confused only served to aggravate you further.

“Did you or did you not use the information I gave you to intercept my deal with MNY?”

Finally the lightbulb went on.

“Oh, that was you. Hm.”

If you’d been talking in person, you probably would have slapped him at this point. Or at least considered it.

“I didn’t know you were our competitor in that aspect. I… probably would have reconsidered if I had known.”

“Excuse me?”

That tone of over-familiarity, patronizing… the care when you’re not supposed to care was back and you realized you regretted this phone call. 

“How would it be any different? Are you implying that you’d let me win?”

“No, of course not, I…” He trailed off. “Would you like to come over to my apartment and talk? I can give you my address, I would rather talk in person.”

Why? So I can get over there and end up fucking you again?

“I respectfully decline,” you answered curtly, and hung up, tossing your phone onto your bed and letting out an aggravated sigh. 

---

The next morning, you leave an early executive meeting only to find that your office had been overrun with flowers between the hours of 7 to 8 am.

There are yellow roses, stating admiration, spilling out of an oversized bouquet on your desk and a separate bouquet of light red carnations and white camellias that imply that he finds you ‘adorable’. A white card is placed in the yellow bouquet, and on it is written Ushijima’s neat script - you realize it’s from him before you even finish reading the note.

I would like to see you again. Please accept my call around 6 pm.

Respectfully, 

Ushijima Wakatoshi

Your hands hover over the wastebasket in your room with the flowers in your arms, but instead you sigh, and stuff them behind you on your shelf. At least you won’t have to see them while you work, but they’re pretty. They’re clearly bought from a floral shop, but you recall that he had said he gardened in his free time.

Ushijima calls promptly at 6 pm and you let it ring twice before deciding to block his number just as he’s calling. Something about the action is satisfying. 

You can’t be won over with a couple of flowers and kind words. Women aren’t as easily swayed as he may think.

---

It’s another Friday, and surprisingly you haven’t been contacted for a blind date, whether it’s by your parents or the matchmaking service they’ve subscribed you to.

Maybe they’d gotten the message after you’d been ghosted that you were tired of this game. Maybe they were giving you a break. Maybe they’d run out of potential suitors. You were surprised, but not upset.

Ushijima had truly gotten under your skin.

After blocking his call, there were no more attempts at contact for the rest of the week. The only thing left to consider was that if you ever crossed paths in your careers, you would pay him back for snatching your investor. 

And snatching your dignity in the process.

It was about 4 pm and most of the employees were wrapping up their tasks for the day. You usually aimed to have everyone out by 5, especially on Friday so this was boding well. 

“Hey, Madam President, are you okay with an add-on?” You hear your secretary call from outside your door.

“Oh, I mean, I guess but-”

She’s already letting Ushijima through the door.

You smile sweetly, maintaining professional behavior as best you can, while your secretary leads him to an armchair across from you, up until she exits, your expression souring the moment she closes the door.

“Mr. Ushijima, what are you doing in my office?”

He’s settled into the chair so comfortably that it feels as though you’re in his office, not your own. He’s dressed more casually than he was at the restaurant, no suit jacket, just a brown V-neck sweater over a dress shirt that almost seems too tight and a pair of chinos. He’s also wearing a pair of glasses, which is new. 

You hate that he looks good.

“Apologizing and requesting your company.”

He looks at you sincerely, his hands clasped together in his lap. You narrow your eyes.

“Please leave.”

He actually frowns, and the small action actually surprises you. 

“Do you actually want me to leave or are you still upset about the investor? Because if it’s that, we can make an arrangement-”

“No, I’m upset because you did that after not following up after our one night stand!” You finally blurt out, then bite your lip realizing you might have said too much.

“I… got busy.”

“Busy screwing me over?” You quip.

He runs a hand through his hair, a nervous gesture.

“I didn’t call because I thought you didn’t like me.”

You’re a little stunned by this reply, then decide you don’t believe him. What was there not to like? At least at that point he hadn’t done anything wrong.

“Why would you think that?”

His hands leave his hair again and rest on his knees. You notice it seems like a default position for him. 

“I’ve been referred to as ‘stiff’. It’s great at work but not great for relationships.”

Ushijima’s brutal honesty is again sending you for a loop. You raise an eyebrow, bidding him to continue. Your arms uncross and you rest your elbows on the table.

“So…?”

“So usually by the time I’ve had sex with someone, it’s all they’re after. And since you didn’t call, I assumed even the sex wasn’t good.”

You unwittingly burst into laughter. Here was this successful, attractive man with a perfect pedigree who was insecure about how good he was in bed?

His eyebrows furrow, and you recollect yourself, realizing that this is a bit cruel.

“You could have sent a text,” you murmur.

“I’m bad at starting conversations.”

You stifle another laugh. “So you just don’t?” You tease. It’s gently mocking but mostly incredulous. It seems that he’s the opposite of the confident man he appears to be.

“That’s why I got excited when you called but then you were upset.”

You purse your lips.

“I promise I didn’t intend to put you in a bad situation,” Ushijima insists.

You sigh, then offer him a small smile. “Are you normally this persistent?”

He glances at the flowers that are only partially hidden from view, which makes your face warm up bashfully, and then looks right back at you.

“No. I just like you.”

Again with the directness, a confidence that is effortless, even when he’s not confident at all.

You don’t want to melt but you do. So instead you rise and clear your desk, stuffing a few items into your handbag as you prepare to leave. He watches, unsure of what you’re up to, sitting still as you walk around towards him and place your hand lightly on his shoulder.

Your body faces the door, but you turn to the side to look at him and grin.

“I’m done with work for today. Take me out.”

---

A couple months later...

“Fuck, you’re - ah - they’re gonna know, I-” Your voice morphs into a mewl instead once his ring finger reaches just the right spot; you’re squirming as much as possible under his touch but he has you laid back on your work desk with both ankles rested on his shoulders and his weight leaning onto you to essentially keep you in place.

“Move your hands,” Ushijima whispers in a hushed tone, leaning in to kiss between your breasts as he readjusts your legs atop him. His pants are down and his cock is already up and ready, the base and swollen balls rubbing against your wet cunt that you are desperately trying to protect from his intrusion. You know there’s absolutely no way you’ll stay quiet when he’s pounding the shit out of you, he likes it entirely too rough, and the walls are thin. You don’t listen, continuing to reach for his hands to swat them away from you.

There’s a part of you that is almost certain that at the very least your secretary knows that every time Ushijima comes for a ‘meeting’, it really is just to fuck the shit out of you before you leave together for the evening, or to relax you right before you once again have to defend your dad’s establishment of you as Company President.

This isn’t a good look.

“I-I can’t…” you whine.

“You can,” he assures you.

He gently kisses your face before prying your hands out of the way and keeping them pinned up against you with one hand and guiding his trajectory with the other before sinking inside of you. You moan at the breach of your privates and he quickly presses his lips to yours to swallow the sound.

Once he’s bottomed out, he rolls his hips, and soon you start to see white once you climax, clenching and cumming around him.

“T-Toshi!” You moan his name, and he clasps a large hand around your mouth before continuing, picking up the pace as he fucks you through your orgasm. He can’t deny that he likes the fact that you’re noisy, that the fact that the heavy desk he’s fucking you against is making a squeaky noise that suggests he’s really putting some force behind these strokes, and that if anyone could see the two of you now, it could be an issue for both of your corporations. Misconduct, they would call it.

He doesn’t care and while you act like you do, you don’t really care either. 

When he lets go of your wrists to use the edge of the desk as leverage and tilts backwards, you scream in pleasure, a terribly obvious sound, and it’s enough to have him tip over and spill into you with a groan. He collapses onto you and the two of you almost slip onto the floor, but don’t; you wrap your arms around him. 

Your hair is disheveled and so is his, and your legs are sticky with sweat and cum. You sigh, letting him soften inside you and stroke his hair.

“You’re getting me in trouble,” you murmur, and he lets out a breathy laugh.

“We don’t really have to answer to anyone, do we?” He replies with a smirk, and pecks you one more time on the lips.

He’s right - only you two are a match for each other.

[wkemeup]

Sunrise (1)

summary: After an explosion takes his arm and his only sense of belonging, Bucky is content to live out the rest of his days in the hollow comfort of the dark. This is, until Sam drags him down to the local VA and he meets you. (Modern AU) pairings: bucky x reader chapter word count: 3.5k warnings: heavy focus on Bucky’s PTSD/anxiety, the first splinter in the wall around Bucky’s heart 🧡 series masterlist / series playlist

This was a bad idea. A monumentally bad idea.  

Bucky closed his apartment door behind him, pausing for a moment at the top of brownstone steps as a chill of autumn air swept by. Brittle to the touch, cool on his skin, it nestled into his spine and ached deep in his bones— in ones that had been long abandoned, too. The sun reflected against the shine of the pavement from last night’s rainfall, forcing Bucky to squint his eyes.  

Was it always so bright outside? Maybe it was the fact that he hadn’t left his apartment for nearly a week before Sam threatened to turn him over to Steve that he’d forgotten how unpleasant the streets of New York could be. Loud. Cold. Chaotic.

He stepped onto the sidewalk, slipping out of the path of a jogger who nearly ran him over and had the gull to flip him the bird. Bucky groaned, curling his right hand into a fist and digging it deep into his pocket as he tried to calm the sudden racing in his chest. The free arm of his army jacket swung down by his left side, empty.  

Not even a few steps outside the sanctuary of closed curtains, warm bedsheets, and the unattended static of a decade old television, and Bucky was already regretting ever knowing Sam Wilson.  

Bucky turned towards the busy street ahead, staring up at the hustle of pedestrians and rush of taxis for a moment longer before he dared to take a step. His feet felt remarkably heavy and he had more than half a mind to tell Wilson to shove it and head back up to his apartment. He had better things to do than make a completely unnecessary trip to the VA.  

What those things were, he couldn’t say, but they didn’t make his heart feel like it was about to beat straight out of his chest. He could stare at a wall for a few hours, for example – see if he could find the crack in the drywall again and follow it to the ceiling.  

“Don't be a coward, Barnes,” Bucky grumbled to himself, earning a strange look from an elderly woman as she passed by. Her eyes held on him longer than she should; clearly a woman who had little shame in her degradation of strangers. 

He gritted his teeth and commanded his legs to move. Those worked, at least.  

As he made his way to the main street, his palm started to sweat inside his pocket. He could see his breath in every tense exhale, and still, he was boiling hot under his jacket. There wasn’t a chance in hell he’d remove it, because even with a sleeve hanging loose off his shoulder, he could at least keep up the pretense there was something inside. People would have to look twice before they realized. Wasn’t so easy to hide a missing arm in a short sleeve shirt.  

Still—he was thankful as he weaved his way upstream through the crowd that he wasn’t as broad as he used to be. A couple months' worth of weight loss, diminished muscle mass, and one less limb will do that do a guy.  

He used to be the sort of man that women would glance at as he passed by. Charming smile. Infectious energy. He could make a woman bite shamelessly at the edge of her bottom lip with a single trail of his eyes along her figure. Extend a hand, offer a drink and a dance. He used to hold confidence in every ounce of his body.  

Now, he kept his eyes on the pavement. He hid from the sun and the curious looks of strangers under the brim of a baseball cap. No one looked twice in his direction. He was invisible these days and that was just the way he liked it.  

By the time he reached the VA, he was surprised to find it a little less than pristine. The windows were dirty with handprints and smudges, the window panes covered in soot. A few of the roofing panels were missing from harsh New York winters. Even some of the outer brick wall had seen some weathering.  

Though, if he were honest, it wasn’t usual at all. Made some sense that the VA was left to wash and wear on its own, deteriorating in front of a busy street of onlookers, right out in plain sight. It was how Bucky felt after he’d come home from his last tour— discarded. Placed upon a pedestal, but only as long as you wear the uniform, only as long as you’re staring down the other end of a barrel. Once you’re shipped back home and cast out from desert, you’re made to fend for yourself. Pull up your bootstraps. Adjust.

Bucky wasn’t sure how to do that anymore. Sam insisted this would help. The people at the VA were good, he’d said. They were like him. They’d understand.  

While Bucky was suspicious, it was enough to drag him a couple blocks from his apartment. It was more than he’d done in weeks anyway. Sam would put on his makeshift shrink hat and call that a meaningful step. Bucky would call it pathetic.  

He stared at the double doors, focusing on dark red rust on the metal hinges. He wondered if he put enough pressure on the latch if it would snap clean off. It looked sharp on the edges, too. Someone could easily cut themselves on it if they weren’t careful—

BEEEEEEP!

A jolt surged through Bucky’s chest enough to nearly knocked him off his feet.  

Sudden flashes of a sweltering heat, the unnatural vibration of the desert under his feet. The car horn echoed into the back of his head, longer than it should have, and his ears started to ring. His vision felt tunneled and Bucky quickly stumbled his way through the double doors just to escape the blare of the horn outside.  

It took a minute to adjust to the dim lighting. It was darker inside than what he was expecting. He blinked a few times, hand resting on the wall to hold his balance as he looked around, shaking himself from the memories.  

Lamps were spread throughout the common room to offset the abrasive overhead lighting left untouched. Bucky started to wonder if he maybe it was on purpose, if he wasn’t the only one who had become sensitive to these things, when Sam walked into the room.  

He froze.  

“Holy shit!” Sam’s mouth rose up into that goddamn know-it-all smile, wide enough to show teeth and the dimples in his cheeks, and Bucky winced. Sam started to laugh as he crossed the space to where Bucky was standing. “I didn’t think you’d actually come!”

“Yeah, well,” Bucky shrugged, “I’m here. Don’t make this a big thing.”

“Who me?” Sam scoffed, feigning offense. “You know Steve’s the one who’s going to blow this up. He might throw a welcome party if you ever show up to the support group.”

Bucky rolled his eyes. “That’s not happening.”

“Yeah, I figured as much.” Sam nodded, though he was still smiling. He looked almost... proud? It didn’t sit well in Bucky’s stomach. “Still, got you out of that cramped apartment, didn’t I? You open those curtains yet or are you still living like a vampire?”

Bucky glared at him. Sure, Sam was right... but he didn’t need to know that.  

“Come on, I’ll show you around.” Sam put a hand on Bucky’s back to guide him down the hall.  

He was only one of two people Bucky tolerated touching him at all and he was lucky he didn’t flinch anymore. Even an innocent touch from his own mother when she tried to hold his hand after he came back from his final tour had nearly left him in a panic attack. She’d cried as Bucky desperately tried to gather his breath, shoving her away as if she’d burned him.  

Sam and Steve didn’t give him much of a choice. They didn’t handle him with kid gloves or treat him like he was about to break. Even if he was splintering at the seams, you’d never be able to tell with how Sam and Steve were around him; like old times, like nothing had changed, like they were still three kids dressed in fresh uniforms with chips on their shoulders and a whole new world ahead of them.

After a while, the small pats on the back and the nudges in his side became a small comfort; not that he’d tell them. It was a strange feeling to both be repulsed by touch and crave it. But the topic didn’t come up much these days outside of his friends anyway. No one tried to touch him and he didn’t seek it out. It was easier that way.  

“The kitchen’s over here,” Sam said as he pointed into a room that had likely once been covered in white tiles and appliances, though now resembled more of a pale yellow. Two men were hunched over at the table, nursing coffee out of Styrofoam cups as a woman waited eagerly by a toaster.  

“Everything in there is free rein,” Sam added. “Always stocked with food from donations, though I would make sure to check the expirations on the milk before adding it to your coffee.” He shivered at an unpleasant memory and Bucky found the edge of his mouth curl, though he suppressed it rather quickly. 

The next room was mostly empty save for the wooden lined floors and chairs folded up against the wall. A sheet covered the small window peering inside that read ‘group in session when closed.’

“I know what you’re thinking,” Sam started, to which Bucky narrowed his eyes, “but I’m not going to force you into the support group, Buck. You go when you’re ready. If you ever are. Talking about this stuff, or even listening to it... it isn't for everybody. Steve will get that, too. We all find our outlets eventually. You’ll find yours, too.”  

Bucky nodded, a swell of relief in his chest. He’d been forced into a mental evaluation by the army docs shortly after his discharge; something about routine testing, but he knew what they were looking for – what all those shrinks were looking for – Post Traumatic Stress Disorder.  

The nightmares came first, soon after he’d returned to the States. It started in screams that burned deep into his throat, waking up neighbors at two in the morning, finding blood in his bed from injuries he’d caused in his sleep. Lately they’d manifested into sweat drenched in his sheets and a heart rate that couldn’t seem to even out until the sun rose.  

Then came the jumpiness – the flinching at every loud noise, thinking it was a bomb or the latch of a safety. He’d broken more glasses than he cared to admit, knocking them straight of his hand at the sound of a gunshot on the television.  

Then the paranoia settled in, then the hypervigilance. The anxiety in crowds and tight spaces was new, though. Add it to the list, he supposed.  

Through all of it, he never let the shrink catch on. He’d put on a smile and tell them he was proud of his service, that he’d serviced his country with honor and he was thankful to return to the civilian side of things for a change.  

It was bullshit.  

He was pissed. He lost an arm and half his mind to a war that recruited him young and idealistic right out of high school, when he was looking for a better life than what his neighborhood could offer, to put food on the table for his ma and sister. Pissed was understated.  

He wouldn’t find himself in Steve’s group; of that he was certain. You don’t talk about those things after you leave the desert. Hell, you barely acknowledge them while you’re there. It’s just how it works. It’s how you deal with it. Bucky didn’t allow himself to consider whether his method was doing him much better.

Sam walked him through the common areas, the lounge space, even a room with a pretty decent sized television and a shelf filled with DVDs. It was a nice enough place. Quiet. But so was his apartment.  

“Now this is the best room in the house.” Sam opened a door on his left, the hinges squeaking under an old wooden frame as he stepped inside.  

Bucky followed in closely behind and was surprised when a subtle scent of pine brushed his senses. A small candle was burning at the center of a coffee table, surrounding it were a few couches, all with mismatched fabrics, laid upon a carpet that looked to have been donated from an estate sale. The walls around him were lined with shelves, though they were completely empty. Cob webs hung in the corners and dust lined the wood.  

What caught his eye was a single cart at the edge of the room. It was filled with books, all in bright colors on the binding and tags from the Brooklyn Public Library piled high on top of one another, far beyond the confines of the cart itself.  

“Y/n? Where you at, kid? We got a newbie!” Sam called, nudging Bucky in the side with a playful wink he did not return.  

A figure suddenly jumped from behind the couch with a book in hand covered in layers of dust and crumbs. The sudden movement forced a flinch deep in Bucky’s chest, his breath held tight in his lungs, though he kept himself firm on the surface, like stone. It took a minute before he realized how tight he’d barreled his fist and he slowly released his grip before Sam could notice.  

“Been looking for this one for over a year!” you exclaimed, holding up the book for Sam to see. You brushed off the cover, restoring the original vibrant hue of the artwork. “Can’t even imagine the overdue fees I’ve racked up on this sucker...”

There was a strange lightness in your voice Bucky didn’t expect, a tenderness and a sunshine that didn’t belong amongst the dark overcast of the men and women who occupied these rooms. It certainly sat in dangerous contrast to the gravel and stone in Bucky’s voice and the clouds that usually followed in his wake.

He glanced down at his clothes as you approached; a pair of old ripped jeans from a few years ago, a faded t-shirt, and his army jacket hung over his shoulders. Dull and raggedy, ripping at the seams.

But you? Dressed in the warmest shade of a red knit sweater, a gentle glow on your cheeks, a softness about your movements, you resembled the sort of sunset at the end of a highway one would stop the car to capture on film. Inviting. Tender and ethereal. Lovely.  

You stepped closer and he noticed the knees of your jeans were covered in dust, your palms too. Messy in the pursuit of happiness, like a child on a playground. You didn’t seem to mind the dust as you brushed it off your knees, holding the found book close to your chest like an extension of your own heart.

“Blame it on Lang. He's always losing stuff around here,” Sam offered as you set the book on the cart. You started to laugh and swatted Sam in the arm. A pout perched on your lips, though it didn’t seem to last long. Your laugh was infectious.  

Bucky swallowed as he watched you; the way your smile wrinkled up into your eyes as if a face like yours was drawn and designed to curve at the lips and push dimples to your cheeks. It shined into the bright hues in your irises and Bucky wondered if you would keep smiling like that forever, if it were possible that he could stare into the sun and not be burned; if instead, he could find warmth in its embrace.  

His heart stammered, his breath shallow, but it wasn’t unpleasant like it had been on the busy streets. It was something new, a sensation he hadn’t had since before he signed his name to a cause that took his arm and his dignity.  

Y/n, Sam had called you. It was a beautiful name. He didn’t know if he could even find things beautiful again after what he’d seen overseas. You were the first, he supposed.  

He must have been staring too long, because your lips were moving to words he didn’t hear, and suddenly two pairs of eyes were on him. His heart skipped, frozen in embarrassment.  

“This must be your first day of school,” you teased, extending your right hand to him.  

Bucky stared down at it, heart pounding, and before Sam could politely tell you that Bucky didn’t really do that sort of thing, he pulled his hand from his pocket and shook it. You had a firmer grip than he was expecting, but still soft. Your fingers were like ice and it was a nice contrast to the swelter he felt under his jacket.  

Sam raised an eyebrow, surprised by Bucky's sudden willingness to take the hand of a stranger, though thankfully he didn’t say anything. A shit eating grin curved up upon his lips and that, Bucky could have done without.  

“Thought it was time I checked it out,” Bucky said, his voice a little dry. You let go of his hand and Bucky found he missed the contact almost instantly.  

“Dragged him here by the skin of his teeth is more like it,” Sam interjected and Bucky’s ears burned red. He shot Sam a glare, who only shrugged, unbothered by his humiliation of his friend. “Been trying to get his sorry ass through the door for a few months now.”

You nodded, though your smile never wavered. Your eyes remained on Bucky, listening to Sam, but intently studying the lines on Bucky’s face. It left him feeling exposed, but somehow, even as his own gaze trailed to the floor, he didn’t mind you watching him like that, like maybe you found worth in what you saw. He adjusted his stance, suddenly remembering the startling absence on his left.  

“Well, I’m glad you’re here now,” you said, brushing Sam off in his teasing. “I’ve been volunteering at this place for a little over a year. We got good people here. I’m sure you’ll fit right in...” you paused, biting on your lip.  

“Bucky,” he offered because he could tell you were waiting for it. You smiled at his name and a sense of pride burned bright in his chest. God, if he could just make you smile like that again...

“Bucky’s a cool name,” you grinned, though Sam rolled his eyes. “That short for something?”

“Don’t lie to the new kid, Y/n. We all know it’s corny as hell,” Sam interrupted playfully before Bucky could get a word in. You wacked Sam on the shoulder and Bucky felt the edges of his lips curve. It felt strange, achy, like he hadn’t done that in a while. Maybe he hadn’t.  

“Buchanan,” Bucky answered, though he quickly added, “but my first name’s James. James Barnes.”

“Well, James Barnes,” you started, exchanging a knowing look with Sam that made Bucky’s stomach twist in knots, “I run a book club of sorts on Sunday evenings around six. You should swing by. We’re always looking for new members.”

“Y/n works at the Brooklyn library most days,” Sam explained. “We’re lucky to have her. Never thought I’d see so many tattooed men with biceps the size of my head sitting in a circle talking ‘bout books, but Y/n works magic. Everyone loves her. Helps that her book club is pretty unconventional.”

Bucky narrowed his eyes. “Unconventional?”

Sam started to say more, but you pouted your lips at him and he left the words on the edge of his tongue. He held up his hands in defense and took a step back, returning the smile to your face.  

“Don’t listen to him,” you said, laughing so sweetly Bucky was sure his knees might give out at any second. “It’s a good time, I promise. No pressure at all.”

Bucky nodded, considering his options. The idea of seeing you again could make the walk down to the VA worth it, but he wasn’t sold on the concept of sitting in a room full of ex-combat vets probably using a shared book as a proxy for a support group. He wondered if you had them reading something about PTSD or adjusting to civilian life or a memoir of some guy embellishing his time overseas to make a quick buck.  

But he wanted to give you the benefit of the doubt, so he asked, “what are you reading?”  

You shrugged. “Depends on who you ask.”  

Bucky raised an eyebrow, confused.  

“Just think about it,” you suggested as you unclicked the lock at the bottom of the cart. The front wheel was broken and you struggled to get an angle to move in the direction you pushed it. “I should head back to the library. It was really nice to meet you, Bucky. I’ll see you later, Sam.”

Bucky nodded, finding himself searching for something else to say, some kind of excuse to get you to stay longer, but came up empty. You smiled at him, all bright and starry eyed, and his knees felt weak again. Shit.  

“Don’t let Stark talk your ear off on the way out,” Sam warned, a laugh in his voice.  

“I think I know my boys around here by now, Samuel,” you teased back. Bucky couldn’t quite tell if it was a pang of jealousy in his stomach or an eagerness to be included. It was a strange rush of feelings he hadn’t tapped into in years; not necessarily unpleasant, but certainly unfamiliar.  

You paused by the door, turning back and capturing Bucky’s eye one last time. “Sunday at six, alright? I’ll see you there.”

He didn’t say anything, but you seemed to take his silence as confirmation. You gave him a final wave before you disappeared into the hallway. He could hear the click of the broken front wheel on your cart echoing down the hall.  

Bucky and Sam followed you out of the room and hung back by the makeshift library doors.  

“What did I tell you!” Sam cheered, nudging Bucky hard enough on the side to knock him off his balance. He was too fixated on watching grumpy old men and stone-faced women pass by in the hallway with smiles on their faces as they saw you.  

“It’s, uh, it’s not bad.” Bucky waited until you disappeared out the front doors and onto the busy sidewalks before he turned to Sam. He was watching him with a sort of I-told-you-so look that made Bucky want to slap the dimples straight from his face. “...what?”

“Nothing, man.” Sam shrugged, though there was something lingering in the smirk he wore, like maybe he knew something Bucky didn’t.  

He didn’t care for that one bit.

[peachys-archived-posts]

Spooked

Summary: Injured, Jigen makes his escape to the readers apartment, little does the reader know, she's in for a scare.

Warning: Blood, gunshot wound, mentioned death, slight angst?

My AO3

One of your later nights, watching the news for any sign of your thieving gunman and his crew. Jigen could protect himself nonetheless, but you were still worried, with a world of possibilities out there, anything could have happened.

Your phone lights up on the cushion beside you, the caller ID on the screen making your heart stutter. Fumbling the phone at first, you steady your hand and pick up.

"I'm on my way, I'll be there shortly." Jigen's gruff voice barks at you. "Jigen, wait-"

The phone beeps in your ear, indicating that the call has ended. letting out a frustrated sigh, you drop your phone back down on the cushion.

Jigen would most likely be coming in with some sort of injury, saying that he's hurt. Jigen always did that. Standing, you collected all of the tools you may need and promptly plopped down on the futon. Anxiously your knee bounced, a number of things might have happened, you preferred not think about it though.

Snapped out of your daze, sirens wailed past, the screeching of tires braking hard on pavement moving you to throw open your window and peer out. Your heart thumped lowly in your ears, eyes searching for your boyfriend's hat among the sidewalk, stomach beginning to churn only moments before a door opened behind you.

"Jigen," you addressed him, closing the window and turning your attention to the lanky gunman, who stumbled towards your couch.

"Good to see you too," Jigen groaned. Sitting down finally, he takes his jacket off in the process. You grab it from his hands, resting it on the table beside your medical supplies.

"What happened?" You asked as you leaned down on your knees before him.

Jigen began to unbutton his shirt, the bright red against the baby blue fabric making you grimace.

"Bullet wound. I didn't move in time." Jigen answered bluntly. He laid his head back, mouth agape trying to catch his breath still.

"I'm getting too old for this." He mused. Looking up at him unamused, you spoke. "You're not even in your thirties."

Jigen didn't speak from there, allowing you to work as quickly as you could. You were all but okay during that time, the amount of blood that had to be cleaned up was almost sickening. It worried you that he was losing so much, it might cause him to be put in the hospital. As much as Jigen would have liked to say that he was okay, he knew he was far from, he would only be lying then. Having already lost so much blood, he was beginning to feel dizzy, his breathing becoming rapid.

"Jigen? Are you okay?" Your hand firmly shook his shoulder, snapping him from his daze. Surely he would have passed out if not for you, he didn't want to scare you anyways.

"I'll be fine." Jigen waved off your concern. Laying his head back once more, closing his eyes.

You watched him wearily, looking up as often as your steady working hands would allow, Jigen looked as though he had seen a ghost. He was so pale. You finally finished with everything, so focused on just getting his wound treated, that you never noticed him drift off to sleep. At first you nudged him lightly, calling his name with no response. You waited, allowing enough time for him to have responded.

"Jigen." You said sternly, nudging his shoulder. You waited again, your heart beginning to beat lowly in your ears. The thought of him having died in that time without you noticing, scared you to death. Grabbing his shoulders rather roughly, you shook him.

"Daisuke!" You yelled.

Jigen awoke with a start, his hat falling off, and his hand instinctively reaching for his gun. His eyes scanned the room before they landed on you, your eyes wide and just beginning to water. Confused, Jigen reached forward, grasping your hands and holding them gently.

"What's wrong?" He asked

You sat beside him, removing your hands from his, wiping the tears from your face. Reaching out, you slapped the gunman on the chest, the fear from before now turning into mild anger.

"What was that for?" Jigen whined. You crossed your arms.

"Asshole. I thought you died!" You fussed. Jigen paused, processing what you said, then leaned back against the couch. He flinched lightly, having moved roughly when he first awoke must've strained the wound. Heaving a sigh, he spoke. "Well, I'm okay."

Deciding not to say anything else, you huffed and leaned against his shoulder. After a few minutes he nudged you, asking you to lean forward; you complied. He draped his arm around your shoulder, pulling you closer to him and laying his head atop of yours. You closed your eyes, from weeks of late nights spent worrying, and little to no sleep, it was starting to catch up to you; That or it was because Jigen was finally home, and okay. Nonetheless you were happy and content right where you were, close to falling asleep against him.

"Are you not going to clean up?" Jigen pondered.

Cracking open your eyes and shutting them again, you shifted against him. "I'll do it in the morning." You responded groggily.

Jigen hummed, knowing that he would have his clothes washed and your supplies cleaned before you woke, and then he would be gone again. As much as he hated to leave you waking up alone, he had a job to do. When the time would allow, he would stay for as long as possible, and maybe once you're ready he'll take you with him; But that was a lifetime away. He would just enjoy this while he could.

You woke the next morning in your bed, the sun shining through the curtains and the sound of shuffling outside your door. Sitting up with a yawn, you took the moment to gather your thoughts and get up. Moving towards your door and stepping out into the hallway, you were greeted by Jigen pulling his previously bloody clothes out of the dryer.

"You're up a bit early. Don't you think so?" He asked as he threw his jacket on the couch and began to pull on his shirt. You shook your head, stepping closer behind him, slipping your hands around his waist you nuzzled into his warm back.

Jigen glanced back at you, a small smile on his face.

"So Daisuke, huh?" He teased lovingly.

Letting go of his waist and moving to see his face clearly, you remembered the events from last night and the scare that followed.

"What? You like that or something?" You mused, settling down on the cushion beside his jacket. You snatched up his jacked and held it close.

He raised a brow at you, grasping at his jacket and trying to tug it away from you, only for you to roll away. "No, I just think it's cute." He admitted. Towering over you from behind in an attempt to grab his jacket, you giggled at his failed attempt.

"C'mon give it up." He urged, tickling at your sides. You wiggled and squirmed underneath Jigen, smiling up at him, your grasp on his jacket still strong.

"Stop!" You squeaked. He prevailed with a smile much like your own. "Not until you give me my jacket." He stated.

Seconds of tickling passed by before you gave up, claiming. "White flag, I give up!"

"Finally," Jigen smiled lightly, taking his jacket from your arms and pulling it on. "About time." He teased you. Sitting up and crossing your arms, you pouted.

"Please stay, just a few more minutes." You begged.

Jigen stopped what he was doing to look at you, his smile dropping and his eyes dimming. Sighing, he knelt down in front of you.

"Y/n, you know I have too. We both don't want me to leave, but I have no choice." He explained.

You avoided his gaze, your bright eyes saddening with the thought of him leaving, again.

"Here," Jigen suddenly said. "Keep this." Placing his hat over your face and pulling it down just below your eyes, he placed a chaste kiss against your lips. He didn't linger there for more than a few seconds, the barking of tires outside requesting his company.

As he pulled away, you lifted the hat from your gaze, stumbling to race him towards the window. Grasping his arm tightly just before he was about to jump onto the fire escape, you pulled him back in. Moving your hand to his cheek, you placed a quick kiss on his lips.

"For good luck." You said.

"C'mon Jigen! Hurry up!" Lupin shouted from the street below.

Jigen hastily turned his head to the window, "I'll be there in just a moment." He yelled. Once he had his attention back on you for the moment being, you gave him a hug.

"Please be safe." You said.

Hugging you back softly, he smiled. "Of course."

"Pops is on his way!" Lupin yelled again.

Letting him go, he slipped out onto the fire escape, jumping into the yellow car below. You leaned out the window, "I love you!" You shouted. You could see him look up at you with a bright smile on his face, and a small wave before they raced off around the corner.

You stepped back into your apartment, closing the window and pulling the hat from your head. It was special to him, it surprised you that he even handed it to you. Thankful, you were glad he trusted you with it. The weeks ahead would be boring, draining, and lonely, but soon enough he would be back; in which you would be able to take him up on the offer of joining him. Until then you would wait for him, like you always did.

The wind brushed through Jigen's hair, and he sank into the seat. It wouldn't be too much longer before he would be coming back for that hat, and hopefully if you agreed, he would be coming back for you too. Either way he would be happy to see you again.

Lupin glanced at his partner, a smile on his face.

"Down bad huh?" Lupin teased. Jigen's peace of mind was shattered, bringing on his usual scowl.

"Don't act like you're not down bad too you womanizer." He fussed.

[katnissmellarkkk]

Hiiii, so I decided to continue my combing through the books for random specific Everlark related content series. This one is Katniss and Peeta taking care of each other. This is Part One and only includes stuff from the first book because it was getting too long. 😭😅. Anyways, hope y’all enjoy.

-

I gently unzip his jacket, unbutton his shirt and ease them off him. His undershirt is so plastered into his wounds I have to cut it away with my knife and drench him again to work it loose. He’s badly bruised with a long burn across his chest and four tracker jacker stings, if you count the one under his ear. But I feel a bit better. This much I can fix. I decide to take care of his upper body first, to alleviate some pain, before I tackle whatever damage Cato did to his leg.

-

Since treating his wounds seems pointless when he’s lying in what’s become a mud puddle, I manage to prop him up against a boulder. He sits there, uncomplaining, while I wash away all the traces of dirt from his hair and skin. His flesh is very pale in the sunlight and he no longer looks strong and stocky. I have to dig the stingers out of his tracker jacker lumps, which causes him to wince, but the minute I apply the leaves he sighs in relief. While he dries in the sun, I wash his filthy shirt and jacket and spread them over boulders. Then I apply the burn cream to his chest. This is when I notice how hot his skin is becoming. The layer of mud and the bottles of water have disguised the fact that he’s burning with fever. I dig through the first-aid kit I got from the boy from District 1 and find pills that reduce your temperature.

“Swallow these,” I tell him, and he obediently takes the medicine. “You must be hungry.”

“Not really. It’s funny, I haven’t been hungry for days,” says Peeta. In fact, when I offer him groosling, he wrinkles his nose at it and turns away. That’s when I know how sick he is.

“Peeta, we need to get some food in you,” I insist.

“It’ll just come right back up,” he says. The best I can do is to get him to eat a few bits of dried apple. “Thanks. I’m much better, really. Can I sleep now, Katniss?” he asks.

“Soon,” I promise. “I need to look at your leg first.” Trying to be as gentle as I can, I remove his boots, his socks, and then very slowly inch his pants off of him.

-

I scoot my square of plastic under him so I can wash down the rest of him. With each bottle I pour over him, the worse the wound looks. The rest of his lower body has fared pretty well, just one tracker jacker sting and a few small burns that I treat quickly. But the gash on his leg . . . what on earth can I do for that?

-

I know the tracker jacker leaves draw out infection, so I start with those. Within minutes of pressing the handful of chewed-up green stuff into the wound, pus begins running down the side of his leg.

-

“What next, Dr. Everdeen?” he asks.

“Maybe I’ll put some of the burn ointment on it. I think it helps with infection anyway. And wrap it up?” I say. I do and the whole thing seems a lot more manageable, covered in clean white cotton.

-

I help him dress, leaving his feet bare so we can walk in the water, and pull him upright. His face drains of color the moment he puts weight on his leg. “Come on. You can do this.”

But he can’t. Not for long anyway. We make it about fifty yards downstream, with him propped up by my shoulder, and I can tell he’s going to black out. I sit him on the bank, push his head between his knees, and pat his back awkwardly as I survey the area.

-

When Peeta’s able to stand, I half-guide, half-carry him up to the cave. Really, I’d like to look around for a better place, but this one will have to do because my ally is shot. Paper white, panting, and, even though it’s only just cooling off, he’s shivering.

I cover the floor of the cave with a layer of pine needles, unroll my sleeping bag, and tuck him into it. I get a couple of pills and some water into him when he’s not noticing, but he refuses to eat even the fruit. Then he just lies there, his eyes trained on my face as I build a sort of blind out of vines to conceal the mouth of the cave.

-

I check his forehead and find it burning and dry. I don’t know what to do. Leave him in the bag and hope the excessive heat breaks the fever? Take him out and hope the night air cools him off? I end up just dampening a strip of bandage and placing it on his forehead.

-

I spend the night half-sitting, half-lying next to Peeta, refreshing the bandage.

-

Peeta sits beside me, leaning against the wall, his bad leg stretched out before him, his eyes trained on the world outside. “Go to sleep,” he says softly. His hand brushes the loose strands of my hair off my forehead. Unlike the staged kisses and caresses so far, this gesture seems natural and comforting. I don’t want him to stop and he doesn’t. He’s still stroking my hair when I fall asleep.

-

I give him more fever pills and stand over him while he drinks first one, then a second quart of water. Then I tend to his minor wounds, the burns, the stings, which are showing improvement.

-

Peeta’s stretched out on top of the sleeping bag in the shade of the rocks. Although he brightens a bit when I come in, it’s clear he feels miserable. I put cool cloths on his head, but they warm up almost as soon as they touch his skin.

-

I sit back on my heels and look at him with a mixture of sadness and satisfaction. A stray berry stains his chin and I wipe it away. “Who can’t lie, Peeta?” I say, even though he can’t hear me.

-

I gingerly lift my hand to my head and find it bandaged. This simple gesture leaves me weak and dizzy. Peeta holds a bottle to my lips and I drink thirstily.

-

He doesn’t seem angry about my tricking him, drugging him, and running off to the feast. Maybe I’m just too beat-up and I’ll hear about it later when I’m stronger. But for the moment, he’s all gentleness.

-

“You need to eat. I’ll go hunting soon,” I say.

“Not too soon, all right?” he says. “You just let me take care of you for a while.”

-

Peeta feeds me bites of groosling and raisins and makes me drink plenty of water. He rubs some warmth back into my feet and wraps them in his jacket before tucking the sleeping bag back up around my chin.

-

Rain drips through several holes in the ceiling, but Peeta has built a sort of canopy over my head and upper body by wedging the square of plastic into the rocks above me.

-

“I think your wound is bleeding again. Come on, lie down, it’s bedtime anyway,” he says.

My socks are dry enough to wear now. I make Peeta put his jacket back on. The damp cold seems to cut right down to my bones, so he must be half frozen. I insist on taking the first watch, too, although neither of us think it’s likely anyone will come in this weather. But he won’t agree unless I’m in the bag, too, and I’m shivering so hard that it’s pointless to object. In stark contrast to two nights ago, when I felt Peeta was a million miles away, I’m struck by his immediacy now. As we settle in, he pulls my head down to use his arm as a pillow; the other rests protectively over me even when he goes to sleep. No one has held me like this in such a long time. Since my father died and I stopped trusting my mother, no one else’s arms have made me feel this safe.

-

I set a good dinner out, but halfway through Peeta begins to nod off. After days of inactivity, the hunt has taken its toll. I order him into the sleeping bag and set aside the rest of his food for when he wakes. He drops off immediately. I pull the sleeping bag up to his chin and kiss his forehead, not for the audience, but for me. Because I’m so grateful that he’s still here, not dead by the stream as I’d thought.

-

Although I’m shaking in the biting wind, I rip off my jacket, remove my shirt, and zip back into the jacket as swiftly as possible. That brief exposure sets my teeth chattering beyond control.

Peeta’s face is gray in the pale moonlight. I make him lie down before I probe his wound. Warm, slippery blood runs over my fingers. A bandage will not be enough. I’ve seen my mother tie a tourniquet a handful of times and try to replicate it. I cut free a sleeve from my shirt, wrap it twice around his leg just under his knee, and tie a half knot. I don’t have a stick, so I take my remaining arrow and insert it in the knot, twisting it as tightly as I dare. It’s risky business — Peeta may end up losing his leg — but when I weigh this against him losing his life, what alternative do I have? I bandage the wound in the rest of my shirt and lie down with him.

-

“Are you cold?” he asks. He unzips his jacket and I press against him as he fastens it around me. It’s a bit warmer, sharing our body heat inside my double layer of jackets, but the night is young. The temperature will continue to drop. Even now I can feel the Cornucopia, which burned so when I first climbed it, slowly turning to ice.

“Cato may win this thing yet,” I whisper to Peeta.

“Don’t you believe it,” he says, pulling up my hood, but he’s shaking harder than I am.

-

Somehow, we make it back to the lake. I scoop up a handful of the cold water for Peeta and bring a second to my lips.

-

The hovercraft materializes overhead and two ladders drop, only there’s no way I’m letting go of Peeta. I keep one arm around him as I help him up, and we each place a foot on the first rung of the ladder.

-

“It’s my fault,” I say. “Because I used that tourniquet.”

“Yes, it’s your fault I’m alive,” says Peeta.

“He’s right,” says Caesar. “He’d have bled to death for sure without it.”

I guess this is true, but I can’t help feeling upset about it to the extent that I’m afraid I might cry and then I remember everyone in the country is watching me so I just bury my face in Peeta’s shirt. It takes them a couple of minutes to coax me back out because it’s better in the shirt, where no one can see me, and when I do come out, Caesar backs off questioning me so I can recover.

-

[blushnote]

↳ requested | 1.6k words

↳ dom!wonwoo smut

a/n: HELLO. i’m sure everyone is wondering what’s going on and WHY i’ve been absent for a few months. put simply: things got hectic and i needed a break! i’m not saying i’ll jump back into being completely active again, but that i’m going to come on as often as i can! (which might be every few days or so! i apologize!!)

as a treat for everyone - this features rich girl wonwoo! <3 

wonwoo stands at the street pole, conversing with his friends. the bar is unusually crowded. mostly likely because it’s a friday and there isn’t much else the townspeople would rather do than get plastered, forgetting the atrocities of work. his friend extends a box of cigarettes to wonwoo, offers him one, but he shakes his head.

since getting involved with you, wonwoo has attempted to forfeit smoking. it has always been something he’s done to pass the time at the street corner. plus, he likes the idea of blowing a big, stinging cloud right into someone’s face when they give him attitude. 

instead wonwoo suckles on a lollipop that tastes like an artificially sweet strawberry, pushes up the bridge of his glasses, and folds some silvery hair under his beanie. he knows it’s about the right time for you to be returning from that dinner party your parents forced you into attending.

as wonwoo’s friend exaggerates a tale about getting into a fist-driven confrontation at a bus stop last week, someone strutting by on the packed street bumps wonwoo’s shoulder.

“choose a better place to stand.” the stranger rumbles, agitated.

wonwoo flicks up his middle finger indifferently. “fuck off.” he grunts, the fog of his breath appearing in the night air.

he’s feeling sort of agitated himself. your parents have tethered you to a leash lately, forcing you to all these fancy gatherings and opening ceremonies and dinners. to put it frankly – wonwoo misses you. your laugh, your eyes, the texture of your skin, your voice in his ear. he’s been wanting an excuse to get his hands all over you. every single inch.

that’s when he hears the ding in his jacket pocket. looking away from the dramatic enactment involving his friend driving a fist into his palm, wonwoo checks his phone to see a text from you. a series of images.

23:28 // JPEG.1034

23:28 // JPEG.1035

23:28 // JPEG. 1036

the three pictures load. he chokes on his breath.

23:28 // i know u don’t like when i spoil my lingerie but.

23:28 // don’t i look so cute :( so fuckable?? im srry but I had to :(

his teeth crack the strawberry lollipop into sugary shards in his mouth. that lace is squeezing your flesh in all the right places. the picture with your fingers splayed teasingly over your underwear, hiding your core, it’s enough to make him shudder, salivate even. he’s officially ignoring his friend’s story by tapping a reply, fiddling with the thin stick in his mouth.

(ww) 23:30 // u free now? head to my place.

he receives an answer immediately.

23:30 // hmmm why?

(ww) 23:30 // u know why. don’t act like such a brat.

already, wonwoo can sense the desire form inside him. pounding almost. like a second heartbeat. you’re usually compliant and bending to his carnal whims. maybe all this time away from each other has you forgetting just how well wonwoo can fuck that stubbornness out.

23:30 // it’s new. i don’t want u ripping anything!!

(ww) 23:30 // idc.

23:30 // so mean!! not even gonna let u touch me now :-)

(ww) 23:30 // yeah. ok. we’ll see about it then.

after sliding his phone back in his pocket, wonwoo glances briefly in through the bar window. he sees a bartender pour a glass full of ice cubes before sloshing in a surge of alcohol. at that, wonwoo gets an idea. when his friends question about why he’s leaving so suddenly, he smirks.

“need to teach someone how to behave.” wonwoo shrugs before jogging quickly across the street.

“i’m not gonna tell you again. keep your fuckin’ thighs spread nice and wide for me or else i won’t let you cum – not even once. you understand?”

a harsh dip in your stomach suggests the breath you just inhaled. after a moment of silence, he hears you comply, and watches with his hungry, intent gaze as your legs part open for him. wonwoo has been teasing you with a bowl of ice cubes. at first, he held them to your nipples, had you whimpering into his mouth while he simultaneously rubbed his tongue against yours. but the real fun began when he introduced the ice cubes to your lower region. it was a very different punishment compared to his past endeavours, a tantalizing one.

wonwoo returns the cube to the nook of your inner thigh, then creeps it slowly toward your core. you’re beginning to tremble with the restraint required to not snap your legs shut. the ice cube ghosts transiently up your slit, a contact you had yet to experience, and a beautiful gasp tears from your lungs. he swears that you leak even more onto the sheets.

he takes the cube away, then drags his warm tongue from the bottom of your pussy right to the top, delivering a slow, flat lick which tastes sweet and cold and makes him so unbelievably dizzy with how much he loves it.

“w-wonwoo, please, pl-please keep going.” you stutter, opening your thighs even wider to invite his tongue.

he shakes his head. “what else did i tell you? don’t ask me to do anything. you’ll lie there and you’ll fuckin’ take it.” smiling, wonwoo issues a tight grip on the ice cube and presses it right into your clit. you whine sharp and loud, your hands traveling all over your body in confusion, not sure if it’s more pleasure than pain, or a hot mix of both.

“or are you still interested in acting like such a brat, hm?” wonwoo utters in his deep voice. “ like a smug little princess who thinks she can tease me whenever she wants and she’ll still get my cock all the way inside her? nice and full, just how she likes it. is that it, babygirl?”

he feels the ice melt under his fingers. you can hardly piece together a response, just a very incoherent, “no wonwoo” as tears start slipping down your cheeks. wonwoo takes the cube away, then massages your clit with his thumb, warming you up slowly. a few jolts pass through your body. he can tell you’re falling apart inside with how badly you want to cum, though wonwoo had strictly told you to hold it. he rubs and rubs and rubs, barking at you to control yourself, your pussy so slippery with arousal that it’s running all down your skin and wetting the bed.

right when he feels you’re about to snap, wonwoo completely removes his touch. you wail at that, suckle in a shaky breath and cry his name.

“please, wonwoo! i-i’m sorry, m’soso sorry! i’m sorry for acting so bratty and sending those pictures, t-teasing you like that! but i just c-ccan’t take this anymore. treat me however you want, but please let me cum!”

he’s truly missed the sound of you begging for him. his cock twitches in his pants, reminding him of how hard he currently is. each time you cry the boy’s name in such a lewd manner, there’s another surge of pleasure and he aches even more, to the point where he could cum just from touching himself over his clothes. still, wonwoo must ensure you’ve really learned your lesson. so, he offers you a deal. he’ll get to watch you pleasure yourself with the ice cube until he cums.

and so wonwoo sits in a chair based at the end of the bed, a hand stuffed down his pants, watching you swirl an ice cube at your sensitive core. he guides you every now and then: “hold it right there, pretty baby. let it melt all the way down. that’s it, sweetheart. n-now rub it, okay? f-finger yourself too. nnrgh, f-fuck. fuck you sound so wet. m’gonna c-cum—”

his strokes lash faster until wonwoo’s head rolls back against the chair, his eyes blinking shut while he chases his high. he hears you continue to whine as he cums, his cock throbbing in his hand, still so hard and heavy. in fact, wonwoo requires a moment just to breathe and let the heat circulate properly through his body.

with his fingers covered in the sticky mess of his cum, wonwoo approaches the bed again, fingering it as deep as he can inside you. he’s unable to remove his gaze from the filthy sight. there’s something so raw and intimate about watching his own seed getting pumped into you that sets his whole body aflame. he decides to let you orgasm as well, stimulating your g-spot consistently, letting you clamp down tight and ride his hand until you’ve got a full fix.

wonwoo supposes he’s done his job.

“i don’t think i’ll ever be able to look at an ice cube the same way again.” you laugh, sitting back against the headboard, tucked into his t-shirt.

drawing a warm washcloth between your thighs, wonwoo blinks at you, a very sly grin forming on his mouth. he plants a kiss on your nose.

“good. means it worked.” the boy says.

he folds the cloth over and finishes the last of his cleaning, ensuring there’s nothing more of his fluids that are still leaking out or anything sticking from your orgasm. grabbing your overnight bag off the floor, wonwoo pulls out a fresh pair of underwear and helps you slide into them. your lingerie sits in a pile off to the side, a few lace straps ripped.

“sorry about your little outfit.” wonwoo apologizes, staring at you earnestly. “it was pretty. you look good in everything.” he squeezes your hip and presses a soft kiss to your lips.

“it’s okay.” you murmur. “i’ll order something even better. and i’ll surprise you with it. maybe for your birthday. sound good?”

“mmhm.” wonwoo purrs, pulling you down with him to cuddle up close for the night.

“as long as i can take it off you, sweetheart, i’m fine with that.”

[marvel-sluts]

do you want to stay with me?

request: Stephen Strange x neighbor reader where a burglar went in reader's house while she was sleeping and almost got in danger because of it. Stephen offered her to stay at the Sanctuary for the meantime

11. do you want to go on a date with me?

26. cooking with them.

- @tom-hlover

pairing: Stephen Strange x reader

warnings: swearing, breaking and entering, major fluff.

summary: after a mysterious man saves you, you take him up on the offer to stay with him until your house is safe again.

a/n: I'm so sorry this took so long but I hope you like it!

«────── « ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ » ──────»

you had always been a deep sleeper, but you never thought you would sleep so deeply that you didn't hear the door being broken into and people ransacking your house.

you woke up with someone shaking you awake. "sorry for bursting in on you like this but I saw that your door was broken down and people were taking your belongings, they are delt with and nothing has been taken but I'm afraid that it's unsafe for you to stay here." a tall figure said.

you reached over to the light beside your bed, switching it on and yawning. in the light the man was quite good looking, tall with dark hair and a wierd looking cape on. the cape seemed to move on its own accord, not following the laws of physics at all. the man froze as you turned the light on, staring at you for a minute before snapping out of it and smiling softly at you.

"what?" you said, still half asleep.

"some thugs broke into your house, but I delt with them." the figure said.

"oh shit, thanks for saving me. I owe you one." you say, sitting up and motioning him to sit down on the bed.

“your welcome, I'm Strange by the way. Stephen Strange." sitting on the bed softly and holding out his hand.

"y/n, y/n y/l/n. nice to meet you." you said shaking his hand. you suddenly let out a small giggle.

"what's so funny?" Strange asked.

"just this whole situation, you literally save me from robbers and now we are having a conversation while I'm in bed, in my pyjamas. it's funny." you said, a small giggle escaping your lips once again.

"actually they were more than just robbers, they had knives. they could have hurt you, but your right, this is a bit ridiculous." he replied, your smile faltering when you hear that they were armed. “don’t worry, I dealt with them.” he said, seeing your face and giving you a reassuring smile.

“you weren’t hurt were you?” you asked, worry etched on your features.

“no don’t worry, I’m fine. you on the other hand need to find a place to stay until your door gets fixed.” he said, “you can stay at the sanctum if you want.” he offers.

“the what now?” you ask, confused.

“the sanctum, it’s a place for sorcerers like me.” he said, waving his hands and creating a big circle that covered almost all of his upper body. the circle had a pale orange tint to it and small orange sparks flew from the circle, making your jaw drop.

“so your a wizard?” you ask, titling your head slightly.

“I prefer the term master of the mystic arts but yes, in some sense I’m a wizard.” he replied kindly. “if your going to be staying at the sanctum you should probably pack some things, you won’t need much your door should be fixed in a couple of days.”

“what about all my stuff? if the doors broken then people will just come in and take it.” you asked worriedly.

“I can put a sort of force field around to stop people from getting in, but that means you won’t be able to get in or out without me removing it each time. so your things will be safe but you will still have to stay in the sanctum.” he replied, calming your nerves slightly.

“okay, give me a few minutes to get changed and grab my things then i’m ready to go.” you said, grabbing some clothes and heading to the bathroom to get changed.

»»————-　♡　————-««

a few minutes later the two of you were standing outside in the cool spring air. Strange was waving his hands in the air, you assumed that he was putting up that force field thingy he was on about. suddenly the wind picked up, making you pull your jacket closer to your body.

“are you cold?” he asked, looking down at you with kind eyes.

“just a bit” you replied.

“here.” he said, his cloak coming off his shoulders and levitating towards you before gently wrapping itself around your shoulders.

“wow” you muttered softly, eyes blown wide.

Stephen chuckled softly “that isn’t the even the weirdest thing your going to see today.”

"I highly doubt that." you said, yawning.

"come on, let's get you to the sanctum and to bed." he said, wrapping an arm around your shoulders and leading you to a dark alleyway. he waved his hands for the third time that night, opening a sort of doorway to what you assumed to be the sanctum. the other side of the portal looked like a library with books lining the walls, although some books were in chains. you couldn't figure out why, maybe they were dangerous?

he stepped through first before looking back at you through the doorway. he reached a hand out through the portal, allowing you to grab it. he pulled you through with him, a small giggle escaping your lips as you fell onto his chest.

"sorry." you said, quickly drawing away, a light blush coating your cheeks.

"it's fine darling, come on. I'll show you to your room." Strange said, closing the doorway and leading you past the bookshelves and down a few corridors.

"you have a room set up for me?" you asked as the two of you crossed the courtyard, the cold night air making you shiver.

"while you were getting ready I messaged my friend Wong, he said that he'd set up and room for you. word of warning though, Wong is the librarian. you can read and borrow the books but don't damage them, otherwise you will have him on your ass." he said, leading you down a corridor with doors on each side. he opened the door on the far end of the corridor for you. "this is where you can stay until your door gets fixed, I'm in the room next to you if you need anything."

inside the room was a bed with a peice of paper on it, a desk and a closet. there was a door on the other end of the room and a chest of draws next to the bed. "through there is the bathroom, and this is the WiFi code." Stephen said, picking up the paper on the bed and handing it to you before pointing to the other door.

"thanks, you really didn't have to do all of this." you said, stiffling a yawn.

"yes we did. now bed for you, the sun will be coming up soon." Stephen said, walking to the door "goodnight y/n."

"night Stephen." you said, yawning again. he closed the door behind himself, chuckling softly.

"you really like her, don't you." a voice came from behind him.

"yeah, I do." Stephen said, turning the see wong peeking his head out of his door. "stop spying on our conversations."

"seeing you in love is funny." Wong said, ignoring Stranges last comment before shrugging and heading back into his room.

a small smile appeared on Stephens face as he headed to his own room, looking forward to seeing you in the morning.

»»————-　♡　————-««

the next morning you were woken by a loud banging coming from one of the rooms below you. quickly you got dressed and headed to the source of the noise.

you were greeted by the site of Stephen trying to cook. a frying pan lay on the floor, and there was flour everywhere. he looked up as you entered the room, giving you a bashful smile.

"I tried to cook for breakfast for you, if you can tell I don't really cook the often." he said, picking up the pan from the floor and putting it back on the stove.

"what are you trying to cook?" you asked, heart soaring that he made the effort to try and cook for you.

"pancakes, but it's not going very well." he said, showing you a bowl filled with batter and then pointing to the ceiling. there was a half cooked pancake stuck to the ceiling. "Wong is going to kill me." he said, mixing the batter hopelessly.

"come on, I'll help. you use your magic to get the pancake off the ceiling and I'll try to rescue the batter." you said, taking the bowl off of him and pouring it into the pan.

ten minutes later there was a stack of pancakes and a clean ceiling, just in time for Wong to come down.

"you cooked? and didn't burn the building down? you should stick around y/n, I might be able to eat something other than takeout." Wong said, eyeing the pancakes cautiously. "these ones don't look like they are going to jump off the plate and kill me, that's better than last time."

"pancakes tried to kill you?" you asked, turning to Strange accusingly.

"I don't know what I did, but they tried to kill us." Stephen said, shrugging "I think it might be the incantation I used."

"that's why don't use spells to cook." Wong said, stealing a pancake and taking a bite. "these taste great, you are definitely staying."

"great to know I'm appreciated." you said, taking a pancake yourself.

"hey Wong, could you go and find that book that I asked for the other day?" Stephen asked.

"what book? you never asked for a book." Wong said, mouth full of food.

"yes I did." Stephen said, giving him a stern look.

"oh yes, that book. right, I'll go and find it then."

the two of you watched Wongs retreating figure until he was out of sight. "so y/n, I was wondering. you can absolutely say no but do you want to go on a date with me? to get dinner or something? I know we don't know each other very well but I'd love to get to know you." Stephen asked, playing with his fingers nervously.

"of course, I'd love to." you said, smiling up at him.

"really?" he asked, shock evident on his face. christ he had fallen hard.

"yes." you said, a big grin on your face.

"I like you y/n." Stephen said, taking a step closer to you.

"I like you to, Stephen." you said, closing the gap between the two of you and kissing him softly. he kissed you back, hands tangling in your hair.

"hey Strange I found that book you wanted." Wong said from the doorway, causing the two of you to break the kiss, "right, erm bad time?" he asked, beginning to back away slowly.

"very." Stephen said, pulling you back into him and kissing you again.