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lightdancingwords · 1 month ago

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Second Chances - Part One of ?

Pairings: Beau Arlen x Y/N Female reader Series Summary: A chance meeting in a grocery store brings a second chance for you and for Beau. The only thing standing in your way are your respective pasts... and a tiny little roadblock.

Word Count: 2377

Tags/Warnings: None, unless toddlers/children and parenting bother you.

A/N: Comments, Likes, Reblogs, Kind feedback are always highly appreciated. Please let me know if you want to be added to the tag list! I couldn't resist--I gotta have me some Beau while writing Dean! This is a brand new story of Beau and female reader!

Divider: credit to @sweetmelodygraphics

Chapter One: Upon First Sight

All in all, it was a lousy day. Beau’s truck got a flat in the middle of nowhere and the tire proved impossible to take off. He had to pay a small fortune for a tow, additional labor for a replacement, and work was a headache and a half. He was ready for a cold beer, a nice nighttime fire, and the quiet.

But first, he had to get the beer. He’d run out the other day... which meant facing the sheer torture of the grocery store after hours. It was like all of Big Sky decided to go shopping during that time and the sheer crowd drove him insane.

Not to mention everyone and their parents suddenly had to talk to Beau, introduce him to a likely female prospect. It was as though he wore a sign over his head: ‘ATTENTION BIG SKY, SUITABLE SINGLE MALE’. Absolutely maddening. He hated it.

Ever since he and Carla split, he hadn’t been up to dating. Sure, Carla moved on, remarried—god, what a douchebag—and moved to Montana. Which meant he was coming too, because he'd be damned if he missed the last few years of Emily’s life as a teenager.

Somehow, that made him more appealing to the female population. Add to that the ‘exoticness’ of the Texan drawl, the allure of being a cop, and goddammit, he was pursued daily.

He wanted none of it.

“No, honey,” he hears some woman say, presumably to one of her offspring, judging from the harried, exhausted tones. “Now put that back.”

Yep, offspring. He heard the telltale signs of a young whine from the child and had to smile sympathetically. Then he heard something that caught his attention and raised his adrenaline: cans crashing.

He whipped around and narrowly dodged being smacked by a number of Chef Boyardee meals in a can. “Whoa!”

“Eliza!” The mother snatched up her child—maybe a little older than a year?—and popped her back into the shopping cart, buckled her up so swiftly he was impressed. “I am so sorry! You’re not hurt, are you?”

“Nope. I'm all right. The cans aren’t, though,” he said ruefully, observing the mess.

“Oh fu-fudge,” the mother said, catching herself before she could cuss in front of the kid.

“Here, I’ll help ya,” Beau offered, using his cart to detour traffic around the cans and began moving the cans away. “Wyatt,” he said, catching the eye of one of the employees. “Go get help.”

The mom raised her eyebrows in surprise. “You know everyone here?” she asked, doing her best to stack the cans against the shelf.

“Benefits of bein’ the sheriff,” he said with a smile. “Sooner or later, I meet them all.”

“You’re—“ she broke off in astonishment.

“Sheriff Beau Arlen,” he said by way of introduction. He shook her hand and was surprised by her firm grip. He hadn’t expected that from her. Maybe it was because she seemed so soft, motherly.

“I’m Y/N,” she said with a smile. It turned wry as she introduced her daughter. “That little hellion is Eliza.”

He chuckled. “Might need a little wranglin’, huh?”

“Either that or a wolf pack.”

Beau laughed. He couldn’t help it. Little Eliza actually grinned at hearing her mother say ‘or a wolf pack’, as if angling for that very purpose and existence. “You know, I know it don’t seem like that right now, but she'll get easier to manage.”

Y/N paused and lifted a brow. “You sound as if you speak from experience.”

“I guess I do,” he said, rising to his feet. He offered Y/N a hand to help her up as he said, “My Em wasn't really difficult, just stubborn. Had a mind of her own and goddamn she knew how to use it.”

He saw her eyes flicker for a moment, and wondered what it was that caused her react so. “Em--I'm guessing that's your daughter?”

He nodded with a fond smile. “She’s 18 now and in college.”

Y/N smiled, returning to her little hellion child. “Now you have new worries, whether she’s learning well, making the right friends, and handling peer pressure.”

“Well, thanks for the nightmares,” he said wryly.

Her smile turned amused, her eyes sparkling. “Just pointing out it never gets easier,” she said with a fond ruffle of her daughter’s hair. “Just changes in difficulties.”

He regarded her thoughtfully. “Ya ain’t wrong,” he said at last.

For a moment, they regarded each other in companionable silence. Beau was reluctant to let her go, enjoying this conversation. She seemed equally hesitant to let the moment end.

“I… I, um, thank you, for your help,” she said at last. “It would’ve been kinda hard to do all that while minding my little wolf-child.”

He grinned, appreciating her humor in handling an energetic toddler. “You’re welcome.”

Just as she turned to leave, Beau stepped forward, stammering. “Ah, wait. I hope this ain’t forward of me, but…” God her eyes killed him. “Ah… can I ask you out sometime?”

She looked so surprised he wondered what she was thinking. Y/N glanced at her daughter, and he got it. She wasn’t expecting anyone to want to date a single mom.

Luckily for her, Beau wasn’t just ‘anyone’.

“I’d like that,” she said with a slight smile. She took out a little memo pad—god, she was organized, he loved it—and scrawled a number on it. She handed it to Beau.

“You know, we could’ve traded cellphone numbers,” he said teasingly. “Didn’t need to kill a tree for it.”

“Are you saying you don’t think you’re worth a tree?” she retorted with a smile.

That caught him off-guard and he laughed. “Oh, you got a sense of humor there, darlin’.”

“I try. My wolf-child forces me to very creative,” she said with a trace of wry humor.

He chuckled and approached little Eliza in the shopping cart seat. “May I?”

A look of surprise followed by an expression of gratitude. How many would ask before approaching a child? “Yes,” she said simply.

“Heya darlin’,” Beau said to Eliza. He regarded her with the solemn mien he would give a senior citizen. He held out his hand to her and added, “I’m Beau Arlen. I’m a friend of your mom’s.”

Eliza stared at him with wide, wide eyes, taking him in. He had the sense she was seeing more of him than an adult would, weighing and measuring him. Damned if he didn’t feel shaken. “Bo-bo!”

Y/N let out a laugh, then clamped a hand over her mouth, muffling giggles. Beau grinned, his green eyes dancing. “As long as you ain’t adding something to that nickname, I’ll take it.”

Eliza giggled at her mother’s reaction. She peered at Beau’s hand, then wrapped her tiny fingers around his index and middle finger, her hand too small to take his whole hand. It was so damned adorable. “Bo-bo,” she said solemnly.

He cleared his throat to hold back the laugh and nodded. “That’s right, darlin’. And you’re Eliza.”

Eliza nodded, then dragged his hand over to her mother. “Mommy!”

Something shifted in Y/N’s expression, shuttered. Beau felt the warmth from her withdraw, and found himself confused. “Y/N?”

”We should go,” she said suddenly. “We’ve taken up enough of your time.”

Without giving him a chance, she gently freed her daughter’s grasp from his hand and pulled away with her shopping cart, leaving him staring after them in utter confusion.

As luck would have it, he chanced upon them in the parking lot. Little Eliza went into full-blown meltdown, wailing while her mother was desperately trying to get her to calm down enough to get buckled into the car seat.

“Eliza, please!” Yep. Sheer desperation, mother ready to hit tears.

Beau headed up to them, set his bags of groceries and pack of beer on the ground, and said, “Hey… why don’t I take her for a moment? Give you a breather?”

Y/N looked back at him, and yep, tears in her eyes, a look of overwhelming parenthood. Beau felt for her. She hesitated for a breath, then nodded, forcing herself to step back. “I just… can’t her to calm down,” she said, her voice quaking.

”Ah, it happens to the best of us,” he said gently, taking Eliza from the car seat. “First year we had Emily, I think between Carla and I we must’ve cried in the closet a dozen times.”

Y/N was startled. “The closet?”

“Yep.” He gently bounced Eliza in his arms, the little toddler still full on wailing. “We felt embarrassed, ya see. Didn’t want each other know we had no idea what the hell we were doin’. Or how hard it had been for us.”

“How did you two find out about the other?”

Eliza was beginning to sniffle and hiccup, which Beau took to mean she was starting to calm down. He kept bouncing her as he spoke to her mother. “Came upon her in the closet. Carla had been feelin’ sick, Emily was all over the place and nothin’ was workin’. I came home and found her there, tears everywhere.”

Beau shook his head. “We had a good long talk. We were lucky. We could lean on each other. Even then, it was damned hard.”

Eliza let out a big yawn and Beau smiled. He shifted her in his arms and she immediately slumped against him, evidently prepared to fall asleep then and there.

Y/N’s brows swooped up in astonishment. “I.. can’t decide if I should be offended or relieved you got her to calm down that fast.”

“Relieved, darlin’,” he said with a rumbly chuckle. “Go with relieved. Why don’t ya take her and I’ll get your groceries in the car?”

”Absolutely not. You hold her, I’ll do it. I don’t want to risk her waking up again,” she said with a chuckle. “I knew she was getting tired. I just had to finish shopping. Just my luck she got overtired and that was it, she didn’t want to cooperate anymore.”

Much to Beau’s amusement, Eliza let out a tiny snore. He patted the little toddler’s back soothingly, swayed in place. God, memories were coming back, of late nights trying to get Emily to go down so they could sleep, of trying to get her to hang on a bit longer so they could go home.

He’d do it again in a heartbeat. He loved his daughter so damned much.

”When they’re that age, all we can do is roll with it,” he said as she moved bags into her trunk. “We’re just lucky they’re cute enough to forget what it’s like as they get older.”

Y/N smiled a bit, but it faded quickly. “Beau… I owe you an apology.”

“What for?” he asked, his hand still patting Eliza’s back.

“For leaving as abruptly as I did earlier,” she said, her voice low and ashamed. “I… Eliza bringing you right over to me had me…” She hesitated, then finished with, “scared. It scared me.”

Beau paused in his swaying, caught off guard. Then he kept moving, considering that confession. “I imagine your daughter approving of a man you just met might be a bit difficult,” he said carefully. “Especially one who just asked you out.”

“Most men I meet… if they’re interested in me… tend to run when they hear ‘single mom’,” she said slowly. “No matter how well we got along.”

Ah. Beau nodded slowly. He couldn’t imagine how that felt, being constantly turned down because of certain circumstances. “Ain’t my place to judge,” he said at last. “You’re a package deal, far as I’m concerned. If I wanna see the momma, I gotta accept the kid, too.”

Y/N stared at him for a moment, astonished by his level of acceptance. “That’s… thank you.”

“No need,” he said with a smile. “It’s the way it is.” He glanced at Eliza and his smile widened, took on warmth. “‘Sides, she’s hell of a kid.”

Y/N chuckled, her expression softening. “She is. Thank you… for helping out.”

“More than happy to, darlin’,” he said, rubbing Eliza’s back. “I think she’s ready to go into the car seat though.”

“Do you mind?”

He shook his head and gently set Eliza into the car seat. He adjusted her comfortably and made sure to snap her in tightly. Then he grabbed a blanket in the backseat and tucked it around the little toddler. Damn, she’s adorable.

”There ya go,” he whispered to Eliza. “Sweet dreams, kiddo.”

He straightened and nodded to Y/N. “Precious cargo is all secured, ma’am.”

Amused, Y/N smiled. “Thank you, Beau.”

A part of him resisted the urge to kiss her, she looked so soft and warm. It was too soon, he knew. They haven’t even been on a date yet.

“You’re welcome.” He reassured himself the paper with her phone number was still in his pocket, then asked, “Would it be desperate or premature of me to ask you out now?”

Her smile widened, and she shook her head. “No. Go for it, Beauregard.”

He quirked a smile at hearing his full name. He hadn’t given it to her; she must’ve made some educated guesses. “All right then, darlin’. I’d like to take ya out to dinner tomorrow, if you’re willin’.”

“I’d love to,” she said with a smile.

“What time works for ya?”

She glanced at the little toddler in the car. “Is 6pm too early for you?”

”Not at all. I’ll reach out to you later, if that’s all right, arrange your address and all?”

She blinked, then smiled. “You’re picking me up?”

“Yes ma’am,” he said with a nod. “My mother would skin me alive if she knew I wasn’t being a gentleman.”

That clearly charmed Y/N. “Okay. Yes… text me later and… we’ll get that sorted.”

He tipped his head at her, scooped up his bags and beer. “Drive safe, Y/N.”

She glanced at him as she got into her car. God, he loved her smile, a touch crooked with a sweetness that was killing him.

He never imagined a trip to the grocery store would net him a date—let alone with a single mom. Yet, here he was, asking one out and utterly charmed by her kid.

What a life.

Tag List: @spxideyver, @deadlymistletoe, @bitchykittenconnoisseur, @aarpfashionvictim, @stoneyggirl2

@foxyjwls007, @katastrophicmind, @globetrotter28, @deansimpalababy, @daisychaingirl

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dianawinchester03 · 3 months ago

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Season 2, Episode 20 - What Is And What Should Never Be (Part One)

Series Masterlist

Author's Note: Hi beauties! Another late update because I started working full time again and I barely even have time for myself. I'm warning you, my updates are going to be much slower from now on. I'm so sorry😭❤️

I know the season finale is next but I will definitely try my absolute best to finish them in time but the only day I get to write now is literally Sunday since its my only day off 💔i said it once, and I’ll say it again I HATE ADULTING

Alright, enough of my rambling. I hope you guys enjoy it!! <3

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Third Person POV

Joliet, Illinois

Lynyrd Skynyrd’s ‘Saturday Night Special’ was blasting through the Impala’s deck as Dean drove. His phone rang and he instantly picked it up upon seeing Y/N’s contact. “Yeah?” Dean answered, “There’s a cop car outside” Y/N whispered into the phone that was on speaker, currently holed up in her motel room with Sam and Jo.

She slightly creased the curtain, standing at the window with a worried expression. “You think it’s for us?” Dean asked. “We don't know” Sam responded, moving from his bed where he and Jo sat to speak into the phone next to Y/N. “I don’t see how it could be for you guys. You ditched the plates, the credit cards.” Jo chimed in. Sam and Y/N let out a breath of relief when the cop car drove away.

“They’re leaving. False alarm” Y/N told Dean as Sam moved back to his bed. “See. There's nothing to worry about, sweetheart” Dean assured her. “Yeah, being fugitives is a fucking dance party” Y/N sassed, pacing the room. Sam snorted at her humor in agreement as he flipped through the books on his bed along with Jo. They were currently hunting a Djinn.

“Hey, chicks dig the danger vibe.” Dean chuckled, “Isn’t that right, Jo? You can’t tell me knowing Sammy is a wanted man isn’t getting your knickers in a twist” Dean’s amused voice boomed through the speaker. Jo blushed and flipped him off even though she knew he couldn’t see her before she rolled her eyes.

“Don’t talk about my knickers, prick!” She retorted as Y/N buckled over in laughter. “That’s not exactly a no, asshole” Dean teased, hearing Y/N’s laugh in the background. Sam threw himself down on his bed, covering his face with a pillow and groaned. “I can’t listen to this,” he complained in a muffled tone.

“Leave the lovebirds alone” Y/N joked after sobering up from her laughter, this made Jo toss a pillow at her as Sam groaned again. Y/N quickly dodged it, blowing Jo a playful kiss. “You got anything?” Y/N asked, changing the subject. “Are you kidding me? How could I? You got me sitting through, like, 50 square miles of real estate here” Dean sassed, making Y/N roll her eyes.

“Well that’s where all the victims disappeared” Y/N pointed out as Sam finally uncovered his face and returned to flipping through his books. “Yeah, well. I got diddly squat. What about you guys?” Dean asked, Y/N looked over at Sam hopefully. He shrugged before gesturing for her to hand him the phone. She did just that.

“We got just one thing. I’m pretty sure of it now. We’re hunting a Djinn” Sam told Dean. “A fucking genie?” Dean cackled, “Yeah.” Sam nodded as Jo tossed her feet up on his lap and Y/N dug through her bag to get her cigarettes. “So what? You think these suckers can really grant wishes?” Dean mused as Y/N lit her cigarette.

“We don’t know. I guess they’re powerful enough. But not exactly like Barbara Eden in harem pants” Jo chimed in as Sam ran his hands up and down her shins. “Yeah, I mean, djinn have been feeding off of people for centuries. They’re all over the Koran” Sam added as Y/N propped herself up on the window still. “My God. Barbara Eden was hot, wasn’t she?” Dean muttered.

“Damn straight. Way hotter than that Bewitched chick” Y/N agreed from across the room. Sam scoffed in annoyance as Jo rolled her eyes, the two shooting Y/N a judgemental look. “Are you two even listening to me?” Sam chastised Dean and Y/N. The psychic pursed her lips, trying to hide her amused smile as she took a drag from her cigarette.

“Ahem. Yeah. So where do the djinns lair up?” Dean asked, clearing his throat. “Ruin, usually. The bigger, the better. More places to hide” Sam explained to him. “Yeah. I think I saw a place a couple miles back. I’m gonna go check it out” Dean told them. Sam’s hands paused on Jo’s shin as he and Y/N’s eyes widened with panic.

Y/N quickly crushed her cigarette in her ashtray, darting over to snatch the phone from Sam. “Are you stupid?! Come pick us up first” Y/N said firmly, “Nah. I’m sure it’s nothing. I just wanna take a look around” Dean assured her. Sam, Jo and Y/N shared an unsure look as Dean hung up the phone.

Y/N sighed heavily, stuffing her phone into her pocket. “I’ve got a bad feeling about this” Sam muttered, worry plastered on his face, “Me too” Y/N agreed.

Meanwhile, Dean pulled in-front of the old warehouse. A storm was coming as the thunder clapped. He abruptly exited the Impala, shutting the door as he took out his flashlight. Dean clicked on his flashlight, shining it around the dark surroundings before heading towards the building.

The large door on the front of the building was already open, slightly creaking as it rocked a bit back and forth thanks to the wind. Dean stepped in, immediately noticing all the cobwebs and piles of dirt and sand everywhere. He glanced around with his flashlight, noticing the piles of clothing lying among the debris, and the sound of footsteps made his ears perk up.

He immediately clutched his knife dipped in lamb’s blood, clenching his jaw. Dean stepped closer to the sound of the footsteps, his footsteps light and his ears on high alert. The footsteps continued, and Dean felt his heartbeat start thumping in his ears as the dread started to fill his stomach.

Suddenly, the djinn lunged out from behind a pile of clothes. It was a flash, one moment Dean was simply walking and the next his back was slammed backwards against a wall. The back of his head stung and he was briefly disoriented, dropping his knife as white spots danced in his vision.

Dean grunted as the Djinn’s hand gripped his throat, trying to fight the monster off. The Djinn’s eyes flashed a dark shade of blue, along with his hand. Dean struggled and grunted as the Djinn pressed his glowing tatted hand to his forehead, the hunter’s eyes rolling to the back of his head as he fell in a sleep-like state.

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Dean’s Dream World

Lawrence, Kansas

Dean gasped awake in the middle of the night to thunder clapping. His eyes wide as he struggled for breath. He found himself in an unfamiliar bed with a naked woman next to him. He tilted his head in confusion as he leaned down to see who the woman was, the last thing he remembered was getting attacked by the Djinn.

Dean’s jaw plummeted to the ground when it turned out the woman next to him was Y/N, a blanket lazily draped over her chest, her back facing him. Dean began to panic instantly, wondering how in the fuck he ended up in bed…naked…next to Y/N fucking L/N.

His eyes drifted down to her lower back to see her anti possession tattoo was not there. His heart was in his ass at this point.

He sat up quickly, his eyes wide as the realization of the situation hit him. He put his hand up to his head and groaned. He glanced at Y/N’s sleeping form and swallowed the lump in his throat when he saw her eyes were shut. “Motherfucker” He mumbled, glancing at the clock on the bedside table.

4:32 A.M. He slowly removed the covers, silently standing up and grabbing his jeans off ground and quickly got dressed.

Now fully dressed, Dean exited the bedroom, strolling around the unfamiliar house. Not in any way used to the environment. He had no idea what the hell was going on. He switched on a light and did what his mind instantly told him to do. He called his little brother.

“Dean?” Sam answered, confused as to why his brother was calling him at this ungodly hour. “Sam?” Dean whispered in relief, trying to keep his voice at bay. “What’s going on?” Sam asked, concerned. “I don’t know where the fuck I am man” Dean told him. “What? What happened?” Sam gasped, now worried.

“Well, the uh, the djinn. It attacked me” Dean told him, running his hand over his face. “The gin? You’re drinking gin?” Sam’s brows furrowed. “No, dumbass. The djinn! The scary creature, remember?” Dean exclaimed lowly. “It put its hand on me and then I woke up in bed next to Y/N!!” Dean explained, his heart pounding out of his chest.

“You mean your fiancée?” Sam snorted. Dean’s eyes widened and his jaw dropped to the ground in surprise. “My WHAT!?” He exclaimed, eyes going even wider if possible. “My fiancée? When the fuck did that happen” He repeated, absolutely flabbergasted.

“Dean, you’re drunk. You’re drunk dialing me” Sam shook his head as he laughed. “No, I am not drunk! Quit fucking around!!” Dean exclaimed lowly, “Look. It’s late. Alright? Just get some sleep and I’ll see you tomorrow, okay?” Sam brushed it off, instructing his brother to sleep it off. “Wait. Sam! Sam!!” Dean gritted his teeth but the line went dead.

Palo Alto, California

Sam chuckled to himself, shaking his head as he sighed deeply before shutting his Criminal Law and Procedure book.

Lawrence, Kansas

Y/N heard Dean arguing and slowly awoke, eyes wide with confusion as she sat up and looked around. She realized Dean wasn’t in the bed with her anymore and her stomach dropped. She glanced at the bathroom, it was quiet so he couldn’t be in there. She then saw a faint light coming from the hallway.

Outside, Dean groaned as he looked around nervously. He quickly stuffed his phone into his pocket, his eyes landing on a stack of mail that was placed neatly ontop of the dining room table. His eyes widened again when he picked it up to see, ‘Y/N L/N. #53 Barker Ave. Lawrence, Kansas’ written on the first letter.

Inside their shared room, Y/N pulled the covers off her body before wrapping her light blue robe around her and slowly padded out into the hall, peering into the kitchen to see Dean rifling through mail.

“Lawrence?” Dean muttered to himself, sifting through the mail. ‘Dean Winchester. #53 Barker Ave. Lawrence, Kansas’ was written on the next letter. “What the fuck????” Dean mumbled, his heart stopped when a sleepy voice behind him said. “Charming?” He spun around to see Y/N, clutching her robe to her chest.

“What are you doing up?” Her soft voice of concern honeyed his ears. “Hey…Y/N” Dean said sheepishly as his ‘fiancée’ approached him. His heart beating out of his chest. “Y/N. I just- uh-” Dean stammered, “Oh, you can’t sleep, huh?” She cut him off in a sultry tone, running her hands over his chest. His eyes glanced down at his left hand to see a very familiar ring placed neatly on her ring finger.

The ring his father gave him the day he died belonged to his mother. Sam was indeed not lying when he said that Y/N was his fiancée. Dean’s breath got caught in his throat at Y/N’s touch and the tone in her volume. “Yeah,” Dean chuckled nervously. “Well, why don’t you come back to bed and let’s see if I can do anything to help?” Y/N suggested, her voice low as she snaked her arms around his neck.

Dean shivered involuntarily when Y/N wrapped her arms around his neck. He felt his whole body stiffen as her fingers traced the nape of his neck. His cheeks began to heat up as his eyes looked down at her, the blue robe she was wearing hugged her body perfectly. The low tone of her voice sent a small jolt down to the pit of his stomach.

“Well- um- Princess- ” He mumbled nervously as he tried to make an excuse. He didn’t get a chance to say anything again when she attached her lips to his. Dean’s eyes widened as Y/N’s lips crashed onto his own. He let out a small gasp of surprise against her mouth at her sudden movement.

His brain shut down as his hands automatically moved to grab her waist. Dean shut his eyes, groaning in the back of his throat at the feel of her lips finally against his. But it didn’t feel right. It felt off, he knew the Djinn had something to do with this but he couldn’t wrap his mind around it since the love of his life, the woman he believed didn’t him love back, Y/N fucking L/N’s tongue was down his throat.

The kiss deepened as she parted her lips for him and slowly began to pull him back towards the bedroom. Dean’s brain was screaming to stop. This wasn’t what he wanted, but the feel of her lips against his. The way her tongue was exploring his mouth. It was driving him crazy. And he couldn’t stop himself from kissing her back.

His tongue slipped into her mouth, moving against hers. He moaned low, the sound getting muffled by the kiss. He backed her up against the wall of the hallway, pinning her there with his body.

SNAP OUT OF IT WINCHESTER!

“No, no. Stop” Dean whined, forcefully peeling himself away from her. He couldn’t do it, he couldn’t have sex with her. As much as he wanted to, so fucking badly. He couldn’t do it. Not like this.

Y/N’s eyes widened in surprise and her smile faded from her face at his words. “Huh?” She said, her voice barely above a whisper. She leaned her back against the wall and tilted her neck to look up at him. “Why?” She asked confused as he ran hand through his hair, putting a decent amount of distance between y/n and him.

She stepped closer to him again, placing her hands on his chest. “C’mon baby.” She whispered in a seductive tone, a small smirk on her lips, “What’s wrong? You’re not one to deny sex” She asked concerned. Dean swallowed the lump in his throat as she spoke, his breathing becoming a bit more labored.

“Y/N, I- ” He began, his mind racing to find words to explain the situation. But then Y/N pressed chest to his, her palms pressing into his chest. Dean’s mind immediately went blank as she looked up at him with those damn eyes. That damn look is gonna kill him. “I’m just tired, sweetheart” Dean lied fluidly, praying she’ll take the bait.

Y/N’s expression softened a bit as she stared up at him. She could tell it was a lie, by his facial expressions, but she didn’t push him for answers. “Oh, baby” She said tenderly, her hand moving up to caress his cheek. “Why don’t you come back to bed then. I’ll just hold you. How does that sound?” She asked, her voice sweet as honey.

Dean’s heart skipped a beat as she placed her hand on his cheek. Getting held by Y/N didn't sound like a bad idea right about now. His eyes flicked down to her lips, wanting to kiss her again.

God, it’d be so easy.

He closed his eyes for a moment and inhaled deeply, leaning his head against hers. “You go ahead, I’m right behind you” He whispered. Dean wanted this to be real, he was praying it was. Y/N’s lips curled into a soft smile at his reply. She brushed her thumb over his cheek before standing on her tiptoes to kiss his forehead softly.

“Alright, don’t take too long” She whispered, patting his shoulder before making her way back to the bedroom. At the doorway, she gave him one last glance before heading back into the bedroom.

Dean groaned under his breath as he watched her disappear into the room. What the hell was he supposed to do now? Dean’s mind was racing. This was all wrong. How the hell did he end up naked in bed with his friend who he was secretly in love with but also his supposed ‘fiancée’?

This was all some sick game the djinn was playing with him. Dean knew they possibly granted wishes, it was no secret that Dean wished for y/n to be his…could it be? Could the Djinn have actually given him what he desperately wanted? Even though he never said it out loud, is it possible the Djinn knew somehow?

Dean began to investigate the house, peering around the living room. He took in the pictures of him and y/n that were placed neatly around the room. Pictures of them on vacation with y/n wearing a big floppy hat, pink two piece bikini and Dean in a matching white shirt with pink swim trunks on.

Dean’s heart nearly leaped out of his chest as he picked up a photo of him and y/n at a beach. It was summer, both of them were soaked, and both was wearing bright smiles with shades on. Dean’s hand trembled as he observed the picture.

He set it down before walking over to the bookshelf, he let his fingers brush over the spines of each book. He was trying to look for a clue, anything to tell him this wasn’t real.

He went back to looking at the pictures. A small smile gracing his face when his eyes landed on a frame that held a picture of the two hugging. Y/N had a big grin on her face, holding out her hand to the camera, showcasing her engagement ring while Dean’s eyes were trapped on her. The starstruck gaze he had on her in the picture was oozing with love and admiration. The two seemed to be at a concert in the picture.

Dean felt his heart swell as he took in the picture. He had no recollection of any of these memories. Curiosity got the best of him, so he turned the picture frame around and took the picture out. Written on the back was ‘Bon Jovi, Nashville Tennesse. February 14th, 2006. She said yes!’ In his handwriting.

His heart leaped to his throat again as he read the writing. This must be when he proposed to her. He sat down on the couch, a wave of emotions washed over him. His fingers trembled as he stared down at the picture in his hand.

Dean’s eyes scanned the room once again, his eyes landing on a particular picture. He thought he was gonna cry upon seeing it, his entire world stopped. Dean Winchester dropped the picture frame, the glass shattering on the ground and instantly left the house.

____________________________________________

The Impala pulled up to the Winchester residence, the L/N residence right across from theirs. Both houses were still intact, the L/N residence not burnt to a crisp. Dean shakily stepped out of the Impala, shutting the door behind him.

He walked up the porch and began banging on the door harshly, ringing the bell a few times until the light came on outside. The door opened to reveal a very alive and well Mary Winchester, a worried expression etched on her face. “Dean?” She said softly, sleep potent in her voice, clutching her robe to her chest.

Dean's eyes widened, tears welling up at his emerald irises. “Mom?” Dean gasped, “What are you doing here? Are you alright?” Mary asked her son, concerned. Dean gulped, unsure of how to feel at this exact moment. “I don’t know” He croaked. “Well, come inside” Mary ushered him inside. His body was stiff, still in shock but he managed to pull himself inside.

“Y/N just called and said you took off all of a sudden” Mary said as she shut the door behind her. “Y/N? Right…” Dean muttered, he can’t seem to tear his eyes away from his mother. His very alive mother. “Let me ask you a question. When I was a kid, what did you and Mrs. L/N always tell me when you put me to bed?” Dean asked as he swallowed hard, he wanted this to be real.

Mary’s brows furrowed in confusion as she folded her arms across her chest, “Dean, I don’t understand-” She was cut off, “Just answer the question” Dean snapped. His mothers eyes softened, “We told you angels were watching over you” Mary answered, Dean felt as though he was about to break down into pieces.

“I don’t believe it” Dean almost sobbed before pulling his mother into a tight hug. Mary grunted in surprise as her son’s strong arms engulfed her. Confused from the random show of appreciation, “Honey, you’re scaring me” The motherly tone in her voice echoed through his ears as she gently rubbed his back. “What’s going on?”

“You don’t think that wishes can- can really-?” Dean stammered, his words getting lost in his throat. “What?” Mary asked confused, “Forget it” Dean smiled, pulling his mother into a hug again that he longed for since he was a little boy. “Forget it. I’m just, uh— I’m happy to see you, that’s all” Dean held back his tears as he buried his face in his mother’s hair.

His brows creased, his breath constricting in his throat as he melted into the embrace before pulling away, “You're beautiful” Dean chuckled tearfully before pulling away. “What?” Mary gasped confused. The padding of footsteps made Dean’s ears perk up, his head swung around to see M/N, squinting her sleepy eyes at him.

F/N wasn’t in town, he was coming back tomorrow and M/N never liked staying alone in her house. So, it became tradition whenever either of their husbands went out of town, M/N and Mary would sleep in each other's guest room. Clutching her own robe to her chest, “Dean, what are you doing here?” Y/N’s mom asked him, equally confused.

“I-uh” Dean started, his words caught in his tongue again as he saw Y/N’s mom. Her hair was tousled, her eyes were tired and squinty from being dragged out of a dead sleep. “Mrs. L/N!?” Dean gasped, now engulfing his soon to be mother-in-law in a tight hug.

She was alive. His mother was alive. It was all surreal.

M/N chuckled and patted his back as she returned the hug with her own. Mary just stared at the two with a slight smile on her face. “It’s great to see you too, hun. But why are you here, now of all times?” She asked as she pulled a little away to look up at him.

“Uh- I uh- just missed you guys” Y/N’s mother chuckled at his words and pinched his cheek. “Aren’t you a sweet thing?” She teased, her lips curving into a small smile. “Did Y/N kick you out of the house again?”

Dean’s smile faltered slightly. He felt on the verge of tears again, the only thing keeping him grounded was the feel of M/N in his arms. Just the mention of Y/N set him off again. This time his lips started to tremble when he spoke.

“No- uh- I just-” He began but his voice was cracking. M/N could sense he was on the verge of tears and gently caressed his face. “Okay, sweetie calm down. You’re alright” She whispered in a motherly tone.

Dean felt his bottom lip tremble again. He hasn’t been comforted like this since he was four. He leaned into the comfort of his future mother-in-law. His eyes fluttered closed as M/N’s fingers gently touched his skin, he could practically hear her say ‘You’re okay, baby’.

“I’m fine,” Dean assured her shakily, pulling away from her gently. A broad smile on his face as he cleared his throat, wiping his mouth. His eyes scanned the room, staring at the picture frames that were propped up all about. “Hey, when I was- when I was young, was there ever a fire here? Or at your house?” Dean asked them.

Both women shared a confused look, “No. Never” Mary told him as Dean walked around the room. He saw a few pictures of both their families.

Of him and Sam as kids with their parents, seemingly on vacation.

One of Sam and Y/N, they looked to be in their teens, smashing cake in each other’s faces.

Another of Sam and Y/N wearing a graduation cap and gown, both holding up high school diplomas, Dean wasn't in this picture.

And another of Dean and Y/N, he was wearing a light colored dress shirt, dark jeans. His arm wrapped around Y/N, grins spread across their faces as he wore her graduation cap. This time, Y/N was holding up her degree.

A few more were framed of Sam, Dean and Y/N going to prom. Looking almost exactly like the ones they took years ago.

There was another one of the trio sitting on a couch, their arms folded across their chests and Y/N was sitting in the middle of the boys. It reminded Dean of a picture Bobby made their take years ago as teenagers.

There were more of Y/N and her parents, along with some of all three kids when they were young and another unfamiliar little girl who looked quite similar to Y/N with F/N and M/N. Dean tilted his head in confusion but brushed it off.

Dean’s heart swelled as he looked at the pictures, “I guess I was wrong” Dean mumbled, his eyes widened when his eyes landed on a picture of F/N and John, wielding softball bats, “Dad and Mr. L/N are on a softball team” Dean gasped. He turned to Mary and M/N who seemed to be still confused before clearing his throat.

“Their softball team. That’s funny to me” He covered up his stammering as he took in the picture. The idea of either men on a softball team was wild to him. Mary’s eyes landed on the ground as a sympathetic look took over M/N’s face. “He loved that stupid team” Mary mumbled, M/N noticed her friend’s look of heartbreak and gently placed a comforting hand on her shoulder.

Dean’s face dropped, his eyes snapping back to his mother. “Dad’s dead?” Dean asked, both Mary and M/N tilted their head at him from his question. Dean quickly recuperated, “And the thing that killed him was a-” He tried to find out. “A stroke. He died in his sleep, you know that” M/N said, shaking her head at him as tears welled up in Mary’s eyes.

As much as hearing his father was dead hurt him, Dean was happy to hear that his father didn’t go out the way he originally, “And F/N?” He asked M/N hopefully, “Out of town, you know that, it’s why M/N is here” Mary said, furrowing her eyebrows at her son. Dean nodded sheepishly before saying, “That’s great”

“Excuse me?” Mary gasped, Dean’s eyes widened when he realized how his words must’ve sounded. “That- that’s great. That he went peacefully, I mean it- and F/N fine….it’s sure beats the alternative” He said softly, placing the photo back down. Mary and M/N shared a knowing look, “You’ve been drinking” Mary pointed out.

“No, I haven’t. Mom” Dean sighed, assuring her. M/N nodded, not wanting to press anymore. “I’m just gonna call Y/N and have her come pick you up, okay?” M/N said calmly, taking her hand off of Mary’s shoulder to pick up the landline. “Wait. No. No, don’t do-” Dean quickly stopped her, holding her hand gently to place the landline back down.

“Don’t do that. Don’t do that” He begged, taking a proper look at her. “I wanna stay here” Dean told them, their faces contorted in confusion again. “Why?” Mary asked. “Because. I-i- I miss the place” Dean sheepishly lied. Mary and M/N shared a look again, both confused at what the hell was going on.

“It’s okay. You two go to bed, okay?” Dean assured them, moving to sit on the couch as he continued to scan the place with his eyes. Mary walked over to her son, placing a gentle hand on his face. “Are you sure you’re alright?” She asked him, the maternal tone potent. Dean’s heart swelled, his eyes softening. “I think so” He croaked, holding back tears again.

“Okay” Mary said sweetly, placing a kiss on his forehead. Dean leaned into the touch and the kiss, still trying not to cry. Mary pulled away and gave her son a small smile, “We’ll be in our rooms if you need us. I love you” The mother told him. M/N nodded in agreement as she and Mary turned to slowly walk out of the room.

“Me too,” Dean said softly. “I’ll get you a blanket” M/N told him gently. “Thanks” Dean croaked out, his voice low as he heard their footsteps fade away. He let out a shaky breath as his head fell into his hands.

He let himself take in a moment to process everything. Seeing his mother and m/n alive again, seeing them full of light and life again. Hearing that his father passed peacefully. Knowing that F/N was alive and well himself. This was the life he always longed for. The life he always secretly wanted.

Dean exhaled another shaky breath. ‘You’re okay. They’re all okay’ He assured himself, wiping his mouth as a tear rolled down his cheek. But it didn’t feel right, that little voice at the back of his head was telling him that this is not what he thinks it is. Not what he wants it to be.

He looked up when he heard footsteps re-enter the room, his eyes landing on Y/N’s mom as she walked toward him with a blanket in her hands.

She stopped at the edge of the couch before she gently laid the blanket over him. Dean’s body tensed as he felt the fabric being pulled over his lap. A feeling he hasn’t experienced for a very long time. M/N seemed to notice his tenseness, her eyebrows slightly furrowing, “What’s wrong?” She gently asked.

“Nothing” Dean replied, his eyes not leaving the blanket that rested against his legs. “Just tired” He muttered, shifting his body so he laid down as he leaned against the pillows. M/N gave him a soft smile. “I know that” She said softly before leaning down and placing a kiss on his temple.

Dean melted at the feeling on his skin again, closing his eyes and relishing the comfort he got from this simple action. It’s a feeling he always craved but never got. M/N gently pushed his hair away and gave his cheek an affectionate pinch. “Get some rest, honey, okay?” The woman told him gently.

Dean opened his eyes and met M/N’s loving stare, fighting the urge to cry again. “I will” He mumbled, a lump in his throat slowly forming. M/N smiled and gave him one last pat to the cheek before she pulled away, turning on her heel to head down the hall to the guest room. leaving him alone in the living room.

The second she was gone, a soft “Fuck” escaped his lips as a tear rolled down his cheek again. Dean allowed himself to succumb to the comfort, his mind finally stopped racing, the darkness of a peaceful sleep taking him over.

The next morning, Dean woke up on the couch. He shot up from his position after his eyes fluttered open.

It was real? It wasn’t a dream? What the fuck is going on?

He ran a frustrated hand through his hair as he stared at the picture frames again, his heart still aching from the comfort he’d received. He shook his head. “No. Something’s not right” He whispered to himself, his eyes landing back on the picture of him and Y/N on prom night.

He did the only thing he could think to do in a moment like this. He called his little brother. Dean fished his phone out of his pocket, dialing in Sam’s number but it went to voicemail. “Hey, it’s me. I can’t come to the phone-” He shut his phone, taking a deep breath.

He had to figure out what the fuck was going on, what this djinn did to him, or gave him.

____________________________________________

“Well I don’t think I’ve seen you in my class before” The professor said to Dean, leaning back in his chair. Dean sat across from the professor in his office, immediately going to the Lawrence local college for any answers on this Djinn. “You kidding me? I love your lectures. You- you make learning fun” Dean chuckled, pointing to the teacher who chuckled in response.

“So, what can I do for you?” The Professor asked. “What can you tell me about djinns?” Dean asked, clasping his hands in front of him as he leaned into his chair.

Now infront of several books filled with lore, “Well, a lot of Muslims believe the djinn are very real. They’re me times in the Koran” The Professor explained, “Yeah, yeah, yeah, i know. Get to the wish part” Dean said impatiently. “What about it?” The professor furrowed his brows. “Do you think they could really do it?” Dean asked.

The professor looked baffled, “Uh…no. No, I don't think they can really do it. But, you understand that these are mythic creatures?” The Professor pointed out. “Yeah. No, I know, I know. But, uh, I mean, in the stories” Dean clarified. “You know, say you had a wish, uh-” He cleared his throat, gulping before continuing.

“-but you never even said it out loud. You know, like that- uh. Some loved ones never died or something awful never happened. Or…uh...the girl you love starts loving you back? Is it possible?” Dean asked, swallowing harshly. “Supposedly, yes” The Professor shrugged. “I mean, they have godlike power. They can Alter reality however they want. Past, present, future” The Professor explained.

“Why would the djinn do it?” Dean queried, leaning down to look at the books as the Professor eyed him suspiciously. “What, self defense? Or maybe it’s not really evil” Dean muttered, hoping that he could stay in this reality. This beautiful, dreamlike reality. “Son?” The Professor asked, concerned. “Hmm?” Dean hummed.

“You been drinking?” The Professor questioned, his brows raised. Dean had to stop himself from laughing, “Everybody keeps asking me that, but, uh, no” He assured him with a cheeky smile.

Dean was now outside the college, opening the trunk to the Impala. He snorted upon opening it when his eyes landed on a couple of old magazines and trash in the trunk. “Well, who would’ve thought, Baby? We’re civilians” He chuckled, shutting the trunk.

Dean felt as though someone was watching him, so he looked across the street to see a young girl, looking almost terrified yet calm, staring right back at him. Dean looked shocked and confused as to why this young girl kept her eyes trained on him. Assuming she could be in trouble, he began to approach her.

He moved to walk across the road without looking at both sides and almost got hit by a red pick up. The tired screeching on the road as the driver hit the brakes. The driver beeped their horn and yelled inaudible curses at him as he stood in the middle of the road.

“Ah, sorry” He apologized, holding up his hands apologetically before turning his eyes back to the little girl, only to see she was now gone. Nowhere in sight. Dean felt something off in his stomach as he walked away.

____________________________________________

Now back at the Winchester household, Dean greedily and contently ate a sandwich prepared by his mom. He leaned back in his chair and allowed himself to relish the feeling of a home cooked meal. One of Mary’s favorites to make him, a chicken salad sandwich with extra pickle. A loud moan of content left his throat.

“Mmm. This is the best sandwich ever!” He exclaimed, his mouth filled with food. Mary chuckled lightly from where she was at the sink. “Thank you. M/N made you a pie before she left for the airport to pick up F/N. I’ll get you some”

“Pie?” Dean mumbled, perking up at the mention of it. He hadn’t had M/N’s pie in years, the only person who could almost replicate her recipe was Y/N. And he loved her pie but nothing could compare to M/N’s pie. Mary hummed in response and disappeared into the other room for a short moment.

He waited anxiously in his seat, his eyes bouncing back towards the doorway every other second, waiting for the woman to reappear with the pie. “I tried to get ahold of Sam earlier. Where-? Where is he?” Dean asked through a mouth full of food as he chewed.

“Oh, he’ll be here soon. M/N is picking him up too” Mary replied, setting down a plate of warm apple pie in front of Dean. “Good. Thanks mom, I’m dying to see him” He replied, picking up a fork and dug into the pie immediately. A small hum of contentment escaped his throat.

His eyes fluttered shut, his lips curled into a smile, “Sweetie, uh, don’t get me wrong.” Mary began, sitting across from Dean at the dining table. “I am thrilled you’re hanging out here all of a sudden” Mary said softly, placing her hand on Dean's shoulder before gently brushing her son's face. A content smile spread across Dean’s face, his cheeks still stuffed with pie as she said this.

“But, uh, shouldn’t you be at work?” She asked. “Work?” Dean’s face dropped. “At the garage” Mary said as if it were obvious. “Right. The garage. That’s where I work.” Dean chuckled awkwardly. “Yeah. I’ve got. the day off” Dean said as he took another heaped forkful of pie into his mouth. “Mmm” He moaned as his mother chuckled.

“That’s good. The boss man deserves a day off with how hard you work” Mary said. “Bossman?” Dean mumbled again, confused. “Yeah” Mary chuckled. “The one you and F/N own after your dad left his shares to you in his will?” Mary stated as if he was supposed to know this. Which he was, but obviously, Dean was confused.

A nervous laugh escaped his throat as he tried to compose himself, attempting to act as normal as possible. Mary tilted her head when she saw his bewildered look again before continuing, “Are you sure you haven’t been drinking?” She questioned a second time, her hand still gently resting on her son's face.

A lump formed in his throat as he looked at her. A feeling welling up in his chest. “Yeah, I’m sure, mom” He mumbled, forcing a smile. Mary looked worried for her son, wondering if he started drinking frequently again. But she nodded before pulling away, not wanting to rile him up as his eyes landed on the lawn outside the window. Picking up his pie, Dean padded over to the window.

He leaned down to get a better look before saying, “That lawn looks like it could use some mowing” Dean said excitedly as he stuffed his piehole with…..pie. Mary looked surprised at this, “You wanna mow the lawn?” She asked, amused. “Are you kidding me? I’d love to mow the lawn” Dean said enthusiastically like a kid on Christmas.

“Knock yourself out. I think you’d never mowed a lawn in your life” She snorted, sipping her coffee. Dean shrugged at her words but ignored them, he was just so excited to mow a lawn. The domestication of it all was heartwarming for him.

Dean reeled the chain back of the lawn mower, happily pushing the machine around the grass. He struggled a bit but quickly got the hang of it. He noticed a neighbor across the street throwing out trash, so he happily waved to the man, who awkwardly waved back at him.

Dean didn’t think too much of it, instead. He continued mowing the lawn.

After finishing up the yard work, Dean sat contently, relaxing on the steps to the porch of his mom’s house. A beer in his hand, He took a swig, “Ahhh” he breathed out. He let his head roll back, his eyes fluttered shut as he took in a deep breath, letting his eyes travel back to the lawn, the sweat on his forehead glistening as it hit the setting sunlight.

His thoughts got interrupted by the sound of a car pulling up, his eyes darted back towards the driveway. His eyes widened when he saw a car pull into the driveway, someone he believed to have been gone appeared. “I don’t believe it” Dean gasped as M/N pulled up with Jessica, Sam, and F/N. Jessica was alive and well.

Dean instantly pulled Jess into a tight hug, grunting as the college student gasped. “Jessica,” Dean said with relief. “Good to see you too, Dean” Jessica chuckled awkwardly, wiggling in his tight grip. “You’re okay” Dean mumbled in her hair. “Dean. Can’t breathe” Jessica groaned, causing Dean to finally let go.

Sam looked a bit confused at his brother, who now had a huge smile on his face, which was pretty rare when it came to him. Dean’s eyes landed on Y/N’s father, who was helping Sam unload the trunk. An almost tearstrucken expression was on Dean’s face, “F/N” Dean pulled him into a bone crushing hug as M/N smiled at the affection Dean displayed.

The two never had that since they were always at each other’s throats, oppositely contrasting real life. F/N’s eyes widened in disbelief and surprise at the hug. He instantly brushed him off, leading Dean to be confused. “It’s Mr. L/N to you, son,” He said sternly.

Dean’s smile faded as he looked at Y/N’s dad, slightly shocked. He took a step back, letting out an uncomfortable chuckle as he muttered an apology, “Right. Sorry, Mr. L/N” Dean said, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly, shooting a glance at Sam who shrugged in response.

M/N’s smile dropped at his rude response, she smacked her husband on his arm roughly. “Be nice!” She chastised him as Sam and Jessica shared an amused look. F/N winced and rubbed his arm where his wife smacked him before he let out a laugh, “Hey! I was nice” He protested. The corners of Dean’s mouth curled into a smile as he shoved his free hand in his pocket.

M/N rolled her eyes in response at her husband’s usual stern behavior to Dean before turning to him. “Tell your mom we’ll be right over, honey. We’re just gonna put his stuff away” M/N said gently to Dean, pointing to their house across the street before patting his cheek.

“Of course” Dean smiled, running a hand through his short cut hair. “See y’all in a minute” He called over his shoulder, watching as the married couple walked across the street with the luggage. M/N was firmly pointing at her husband for being rude while he said lowly, “What’d I do? I was nice” F/N protested.

But M/N wasn’t having any of it, “You were rude, and you know you were. You’re always like this with the boy” M/N said, shaking her head at her husband. Dean’s brows furrowed, confused as to why Y/N’s father seemed to not like him. But he brushed it off, shaking the thought.

“Sammy, look at you!” Dean then turned to his little brother, patting him on his shoulder. “You’re with Jessica, that's- I don’t believe it” Dean chuckled as Sam smiled. “Yeah” Sam said a little awkwardly. “Where'd you guys come from?” Dean asked the crew. “We just flew in from California” Sam Said as if Dean was supposed to know that.

“California! Stanford, huh? Law school, I bet” Dean exclaimed excitedly. Sam slightly scoffed at his enthusiasm, “I see you started off Mom’s birthday with a bang, as usual” Sam said with a bit of judgment, gesturing to his beer. Dean blinked twice, “Wait, Mom’s birthday. That’s- That’s today?” Dean stuttered.

Sam raised his brows at his brother, “Yeah. Yeah, Dean. That’s today. That’s why we’re here. Don’t tell me you forgot” Sam shook his head at him in disapproval. Dean gulped slightly, feeling guilty for not knowing, even though there was no way he could’ve even known.

____________________________________________

Later that night, the Winchester’s and L/N’s were dining at quite an exquisite restaurant for Mary’s birthday. The table was filled with chatter and laughter, “Wow, that- that looks awesome” Dean said sarcastically with a grimace as the waiter set down his food, which was practically asparagus on a stick. The table erupted in laughter as Y/N gently placed her hand on her fiancé’s thigh.

“Alright. To Mom, Happy Birthday” Sam put up his wine in a toast, “Happy Birthday” Y/N and Jess both said to her as everyone raised their glasses. Mary smiled happily, letting the warm feeling spread through her chest as she thanked her family. Jessica then leaned over to place a kiss on Sam’s lips.

Dean looked at the pair with awe, a warm feeling in his chest, he was beyond relieved to see his little brother happy. Though, he did wonder about Jo. But he put two and two together in his head, realizing that they met Jo on a hunt. So since they have a normal life, they never met.

“I was really worried about you last night” Y/N said softly to him, causing Dean to break his gaze away from the couple. “Oh, I’m- I’m good. I’m really good” Dean assured her, his heart skipping a beat at the feeling of her hand gently caressing his thigh. “Okay” Y/N nodded, though she didn’t believe him, but she decided not to push.

Her eyes flickered down to Dean’s very unappetizing looking food, a coy smile on her face. “Why don’t you say later we get you a cheeseburger and we can watch American Pie on Blu-Ray” Y/N said in a suggestive tone. “Oh God, yes” Dean almost moaned at the thought, causing Y/N to snort in response as lightly bit her lip.

Cheeseburgers and American Pie were code for “food and sex” when it comes to them. But Dean didn’t know that yet.

“How did I end up with such an amazing woman” Dean said with awe. A smile spread across Y/N features as she gently squeezed her fiancé’s thigh. “I’ve just got low standards” She joked. Dean snorted as He looked at her lovingly, a small smile on his face as his eyes roamed her features.

“What?” Y/N asked suddenly as she caught Dean studying her. He shook his head in response as he said softly, “Nothing. Just admiring you, as always” Y/N’s eyes softened at his response before leaning over to place a small gentle kiss on his lips.

F/N narrowed his eyes at his daughter and soon-to-be son-in-law, but said nothing as he glanced over at the young couple, shaking his head slightly as he took a sip of his wine. His wife shot him another stern look, firmly pointing her finger at her husband in a manner that said, ‘Behave’. F/N sighed deeply, giving an almost bored look at his wife before turning back to his food, a grumpy look on his face.

Sam cleared his throat, “Alright, Jess and I actually have another surprise for Mom’s birthday” Sam began before turning to Jess. “Uh, you wanna tell them?” He asked her. “They’re your family” Jess said shyly, “What? Tell me what?” Mary asked curiously, Sam then lifted Jess’ hand to display her engagement ring.

Dean’s jaw dropped as gasps were heard around the table. “Sam!” He exclaimed, his eyes moving from Jess’ hand to his little brother, shock still written on his features. Y/N placed her hand over her mouth, excitement radiating off of her as Mary and M/N clapped their hands together, a huge smile on their face, “Oh, my God! You’re getting married!” Mary cried, bringing a hand up to her lips.

The older woman instantly got up along with M/N And Y/N. “That’s so wonderful!” Mary exclaimed as she pulled Jess into a hug. “Thank you” Jess smiled as Mary let go. “Congratulations, honey” M/N Said as she hugged the young girl. “Thank you, Mrs. L/N” Jess giggled before turning to Y/N after her mom let her go.

Y/N pulled her into a tight hug as she exclaimed, “We’re both gonna be Winchesters!” A smile spread across Jess’ features as she pulled away, “I know. I’m so excited!” Jess gushed. Y/N pulled back and held Jess’ hands in hers. “Let me see that ring,” She said expectantly.

Jess giggled as she held her hand out before Y/N gently took it, admiring the ring. “It’s so beautiful” Y/N commented, letting go of Jess’s hand and turning to Sam. She gave him a quick thumbs up as Dean got up to give Jess a tight bear hug, lifting her up slightly from the floor as Mary hugged Sam. “I just wish your dad was here” Mary said to her younger son.

“Yeah, me too” Sam said softly to his mother, hugging her tighter before pulling away. Dean then moved to shake his little brother's hand, “Congratulations, Sammy” Dean said sincerely as Sam eyed him weirdly at the term ‘Sammy’. “Thanks,” Sam said gratefully, “I’m really glad you’re happy. Even if it’s not with Jo, I know you loved Jess” Dean’s words spewed out of his mouth without thinking.

Sam raised his eyes at his brother, confusion written on his face, "What are you talking about?” He questioned, "Who’s Jo?" Dean’s mouth slightly went agape when he realized what he said but he didn’t get a chance to clear up his words, due to the girl from earlier that day appearing at the corner of the restaurant.

Dean’s eyes wide fed as he pushed past his brother, immediately rushing over to the girl. He brushed past a few people, his eyes leaving the young girl for a split second, only for her to disappear again, gone into thin air.

Everyone at the table looked at Dean with confusion as he turnt back to them gulping, F/N especially with a look of disapproval aimed in his direction as he crossed his arms over his chest, shaking his head.

____________________________________________

The two families were laughing and chattering as they reentered the Winchester residence. “So, Dean, what was all that back at the restaurant?” Sam asked his brother as they walked into the living room, all the ladies were talking amongst themselves as he said. “Oh, I thought I saw someone. I’m sure its nothing” Dean assured him.

“Well, I had a lovely birthday. Thank you” Mary said sincerely to everyone. “Goodnight” Everyone Said in unison as Jess And Y/N blew kisses to their future mother-in-law. Mary smiled as she started to rub her eyes. “Goodnight” She said, blowing kisses to everyone before wrapping her arms around M/N, drawing her in for a tight hug.

“Thank you for baking the cake, it was delicious” Mary said to her best friend with much gratitude. “It was my pleasure as always, Mar” M/N squeezed her back before letting go, moving back to cling to her husband as Mary walked up the stairs. A little yawn left her lips. “I think you and I should hit the hay” F/N chuckled, gently wrapping his arm around his wife’s waist, letting her lean against him.

“Agreed” M/N said, a small smile on her face before turning to her daughter. “Goodnight, baby” M/N said softly. “Goodnight, Mom.” Y/N said as she leaned in to hug her mom, a smile on her face. She then plastered on a fake smile towards her father before awkwardly hugging him.

“Have a great night everyone, love you y/n/n” F/N said to his daughter gently, a bit of despair in his eyes. “You too, daddy” Y/N responded half heartedly. Her dad sighed before shooting Dean one last glare. He then opened his door for his wife, before walking out behind her and shutting the door behind him as Dean smiled awkwardly.

“Yeah, well. I’m beat” Sam said tiredly, “Ready to turn in?” He asked Jess. “Sure” Jess nodded. “Alright, night guys” Sam smiled at everyone, “Goodnight” Y/N muttered But Dean’s face dropped. “Hey, hey. Wait a second, wait a second. Come on, it’s not even 9 o'clock yet.” Dean protested. “Let’s, uh, let’s go have a drink or something” Dean suggested.

Y/N shrugged in agreement, not minding the idea of hanging out with everyone. “Maybe another time,” Sam said, a little irritated. “Come on, man. Look at us. I mean, we both have beautiful women on our arms. We’re both engaged. Let’s go celebrate!” Dean chuckled, smacking Sam on his chest lightly.

A silence fell in the room due to the way Sam was looking at Dean, “Guys, can you excuse us. I just wanna talk to my brother” Sam said to the ladies politely. “Sure. Come on, Y/N” Jess shrugged, gesturing for both her and Y/N to leave. “Thanks,” Sam smiled but Y/N narrowed her eyes at Sam.

“Don’t start, Samuel” She whispered in a warning tone before following Jessica out of the kitchen. Sam raised his hands in defense, “Won’t do anything” He assured her as she, as well as Jess, left the room. Y/N him one last pointed look over her shoulder before shutting the door behind her.

Sam turned to his brother, an irritated look on his face. “Okay, what’s gotten into you?” He questioned. “What? What do you mean?” Dean asked, confused. “I mean, this whole…warm fuzzy ecstasy-trip thing” Sam narrowed his eyes at Dean. “I’m just happy for you, Sammy,” Dean smiled, patting his brother on his arm. Sam rolled his eyes with a tight smile.

“Yeah. Right. That’s another thing. Since when do you call me Sammy?” Sam scoffed. Dean's brows furrowed, his heart dropping. “Dean, come on. We don’t talk outside of holidays” Sam pointed out. Dean blinked twice in shock, “We don’t?” He asked surprised. “Well, we should. I mean, you’re my brother” Dean chuckled, trying to ignore the tugging pain in his chest.

“You’re my brother?” Sam huffed, shaking his head. “Yeah,” Dean smiled. “You know, that's what you said when you snagged my ATM card. Or when you crashed my car. Or when you bailed on me and Y/N’s high school graduation.” Sam pointed out his multiple mistakes as Dean’s mouth went agape again. “Yeah, that kinda does sound like me,” Dean admitted, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly.

“Well, hey man, I’m sorry about all that-” Dean tried to apologize, stepping closer to Sam but he cut him off and stepped away. “No. Look. It’s alright. I just— you know, I’m not asking you to change. I just, uh….I don’t know. I guess we just don’t really have anything in common. You know?” Sam said, shrugging. Dean felt his heart drop in his chest again.

A lump grew in his throat as Sam moved to walk away. “Whoa, whoa, whoa. Yes, we do. Yes, we do” Dean stammered, pulling Sam back. “What?” Sam raised his brows. “Hunting” Dean took a chance. “Hunting? I’ve never been hunting in my life, Dean” Sam scoffed. Dean swallowed harshly, his heart caught in his throat,

“Yeah, well, we should go sometime. Me, you and Y/N. I think you guys would be great at it” Dean said sadly, this made Sam even more confused. “Y/N? We've barely talked since high school since you two hooked up on our prom night” Sam snorted.

Dean’s heart felt like it had been stabbed as Sam’s words sank in. “What? You guys don’t talk?” He asked in disbelief. Sam shook his head, burying his hands in his pockets as he looked at his brother, still confused. “Why not?” Dean asked genuinely, feeling another pang of pain in his chest, he was trying to wrap his head around all the things that had been said tonight.

He thought that he and Y/N were the best of friends, hell, they were practically siblings, so why would they not talk?

“People just…drift” Sam shrugged, eyeing his brother weirdly. “That fucking sucks, you two were like ring on finger” Dean gaped, shaking his head. “Yeah, well, people change,” Sam said, crossing his arms over his chest. A silence fell between them as Dean took in the newly found information, “Get some rest” Sam said softly to his brother before leaving the room. The shock still evident on Dean’s face.

____________________________________________

It was later that night, Dean and Y/N were back at their own house while Dean sat on the couch in the living room. His mind was racing and stuck on that dreadful conversation he had with Sam. His heart was caught in his throat, a sick feeling churning in his stomach at the fact that he and his brother were not close and neither was his brother and the love of his life.

Y/N noticed Dean was a bit in his head as she entered the living room, a sigh escaped her lips as she padded over to the kitchen. She opened the fridge and took out two beers, she then popped the bottle cap open with a silver ring on her right hand. She then headed back into the living room, offering her fiancé the beer.

Dean’s eyes snapped over to her, his expression softening. “My favorite. I guess you know me pretty well” Dean said softly as he accepted the beer, “Afraid so” Ashe teased, plopping on the couch next to him. “You alright, baby?” Y/N asked gently.

Dean gave her a thin smile before bringing the bottle to his lips and taking a sip of the beverage. The conversation with his brother had really been bugging him. How could they have not been talking? When did they stop talking? And when did Sam and Y/N stop being friends?

“Sammy and I don’t get along. And you guys stopped talking” Dean said, glancing down at the bottle in his hands as Y/N sipped from her own bottle. “Well, you don't really spend a lot of time together and me and Sam sorta just…drifted. It happens, people change. I mean, I just think you dont know each other all that well” Y/N said gently, a small frown on my face.

“And for the record, he doesn't know what he's missing” She added, offering Dean a smile, which he returned. “I could fix things with us. I can make it up to you guys….to everyone” Dean said confidently, nodding. Y/N furrowed her brows in confusion. “Okay…what's gotten into you lately?” She asked with a small chuckle.

“This isnt gonna make a lick of sense to you, princess. But I kinda feel like I've been given a second chance. And I don’t wanna waste it” Dean said wholeheartedly as he stared at Y/N lovingly. Calling her ‘princess’ felt wrong here to him but he didn’t care, he wanted it to be real so bad. “You're right, it doesn't make any sense. But I’m all in” Y/N chuckled.

Dean grinned at her words as he placed a gentle hand on Y/N's thigh "Have I ever told you how beautiful you are," he said softly, his emerald eyes filled with tenderness. Y/N smiled shyly, a light blush spreading across her cheeks, “You only say that every hour” She teased, taking another sip of her beer. “Not that I’m complaining, it gives me an ego boost” She joked.

Dean chuckled along with Y/N, the sound of her laughter music to his ears. The thought that had crossed his mind earlier in the day resurfaced, prompting him to ask her a question. “Hey, princess,” he began. Y/N looked at him expectantly, curious about what he was going to say. “I gotta ask…why does your dad hate me?” Dean asked, tilting his head a bit.

Y/N let out a sigh, a slight frown on her face as she recalled the strained relationship between her father and fiancé. "It's complicated, babe. My dad's just a bit of a control freak, especially when it comes to me" She explained with a hint of frustration.

Dean looked confused, he was used to F/N being controlling in reality but the man never seemed to hate him before. If anything, he adored Dean. So F/N hating Dean right now was foreign to him. “You know, since that night..” Y/N said lowly, Dean was even more confused now.

"Since what night?" Dean asked, a frown forming on his face as he tried to decipher why F/N’s behavior had drastically changed towards him. Y/N took a deep breath before answering, the memory still a bit raw. “Don’t you remember the night of my prom?” She asked. "Well…not exactly" Dean admitted, trying to recall the event, only to come up blank.

Y/N gave him an incredulous look, “You don't remember?” She asked in surprise, her tone almost sounding hurt. Dean’s heart sank at Y/N’s reaction, he hated the thought that he’d done something to hurt her, but he genuinely had no memory of what took place on prom night, at least in this world.

"Look, I'm sorry, princess," Dean began, moving closer to Y/N and taking her hand in his. "I seriously can't remember a thing about that night. Can you tell me what happened?" He asked gently. “We lost our virginities to each other and Dad caught us a couple weeks later hooking up at a motel, how could you not remember that?”

A mixture of realization and shock washed over Dean as Y/N's words sank in. It all made sense now why her father hated him with a fiery passion. “And then he kicked me out the same night when he said he didn’t approve of our relationship” Y/N further explained, caressing Dean’s hand with her thumb.

"Jesus... no wonder he hates me" Dean muttered, running a hand through his hair in disbelief. It all made perfect sense now. But the memory of that night was still a complete blank for him.

"I personally don’t think that's why he doesn’t like you. I think it's because you proved him wrong” Y/N assured Dean. Dean furrowed his brows, puzzled by Y/N's statement. "Proved him wrong? What do you mean?” he asked, genuinely curious as he rest his beer down on the table. “Jesus, charming. What’s going on with your memory?” Y/N chuckled.

Dean cracked a small sheepish grin, realizing how dense he sounded. "Right, sorry. Go on" he chuckled, giving her hand a squeeze. “After he cut me off from my trust fund and John cut you off from yours. You worked your ass off and put me through college. Dad never thought you had it in you, but I knew you did. He has not choice but to respect you, but Dad being Dad is too prideful to admit it”

Dean’s expression softened as Y/N recounted their history. After what Sam told him, it messed with his head. Realizing he was practically the family fuck-up, the black sheep…it hurt him to say the least. But now knowing that Y/N stood beside him through all he had supposedly done and he did whatever it took to support the love of his life despite getting completely cut off, Dean felt a sense of pride and accomplishment in himself.

He felt like he was worth something, because everyone including God himself knows how Dean Winchester thinks of himself. A proud smile tugged at his lips, his loving gaze never leaving Y/N’s face.

"I'll do whatever it takes” Dean said tenderly, squeezing her hand again. She giggled lightly at this, resting her own beer down besides his, “I know you will, and that's one of the many reasons why I love you” Y/N said softly as she brought her hand up to cup Dean’s cheek, he automatically leaned into her touch, nuzzling into her hand like a kitten.

“And I love you too, more than anything" he replied tenderly, placing a soft kiss on her palm. “Besides, Adrienne was always his golden child” Y/N said with a bitter tone and a scoff as she pulled away. Dean furrowed his brows, confused by the new name she had mentioned. "Who's Adrienne?" he asked quizzically, his curiosity piqued.

“My little sister.” Y/N said as if Dean was supposed to know that, rolling her eyes. His eyes widened in surprise. Y/N had a little sister??? His mind then went back to the little girl in the pictures at his mom’s house, that must've been Adrienne.

“The one who tried to sleep with you last time she was in town” Y/N added bitterly. "It's always been ‘Adrienne this, Adrienne that’ “ she imitated her father's voice. Dean's smile dropped as he processed Y/N's words.

He couldn't recall the interaction with her sister or any prior mention of her, but the idea of anyone trying to come between them made him feel rather possessive.

"She tried to what?! ” Dean exclaimed, a hint of anger in his tone. "Relax, baby” Y/N chuckled as she placed a soothing hand on his chest. "You shut her down pretty quick, if I recall. You drunkenly said I was ‘the one’ and then proceeded to scream your lungs out at her, I think I’m safe” she replied, amused by his reaction.

“It's why you put a ring on it” Y/N teased, gesturing to her engagement ring, admiring it in her hand. Dean smirked as he watched Y/N admiring the ring on her finger. "I knew it would look good on you" he said with a hint of admiration in his voice. Seeing her wear the physical symbol of their commitment filled him with a sense of contentment and belonging.

“I’ll never forget you kneeling down in that stadium while Bon Jovi was playing ‘All About Lovin’ You’ and you asking me to marry you.” Y/N reminisced, resting her head on Dean’s shoulder. A warm smile played on Dean's lips as Y/N recounted the proposal. Even without his memory of it, he could tell it must’ve been special.

The fact that he had chosen such a romantic setting because he was never a huge Bon Jovi fan but Y/N loved the band’s music. The fact that he chose something so close to her heart filled him with a sense of satisfaction. "That sounds like a pretty perfect moment" he said, a hint of longing in his voice.

"You were so nervous" Y/N chuckled. "You kept shaking your hands and your leg kept bouncing up and down," she added, recalling the proposal with a fond look. Dean shook his head with a mock frown, "Shut up" he muttered playfully. “You know….I get it” Dean said softly, tracing circles on her hip with his thumb.

Y/N hummed in response, enjoying the feeling of his touch on her skin. "Get what?" she asked curiously, lifting her head from his shoulder to look at him. “Why you’re the one,” Dean responded, connecting his eyes with hers, this gaze filled with love and admiration. Y/N felt a warm sensation in her chest as she returned his gaze, his eyes so full of love and tenderness. "Oh, really?” she asked, teasing him a bit.

Dean grinned as he nodded, attaching his lips to hers. Y/N let out a small gasp of surprise, which soon melted into a soft moan as she returned the kiss eagerly. The way he took charge sent a shiver of anticipation down her spine, her heart hammering in her chest.

Dean's hand on her hip began to wander, gently caressing her body through the thin fabric of her clothing. His other hand moved to cup her face, tilting her head to deepen the kiss. There was a voice at the back of his mind that was screaming at him to stop, telling him this wasn’t right as Y/N straddled him.

Dean's mind waged a war with itself, her presence in his lap both tantalizing and guilt-inducing. He wanted her, craved her, and yet he couldn't shake the nagging thoughts that told him it was wrong, Dean couldn’t bring himself to do it just yet.

He pulled back from the kiss, panting lightly as he looked up at Y/N. Her cheeks were flushed, her lips slightly swollen and parted in a gasp. "We gotta stop,” he said quietly, his voice filled with both desire and restraint. Dean brought his lips to her neck, “Mhhmm” Y/N panted, groaning slightly as she rocked her core against his growing erection.

Dean stifled a moan as she rocked against him, his hands on her hips gripping just a bit tighter. "We gotta stop..” he repeated, though his body was clearly at odds with his words. “I know, I know, i've got work” Y/N sighed, placing a gentle kiss on his lips.

Dean returned the kiss, his fingers moving to run through her hair, the silky strands slipping through his fingers. "You gotta work now?” he asked, his voice thick with desire but also confusion because it was nearly midnight. “I told you, I’ve got the night shifts on Thursday” Y/N responded as she reluctantly peeled herself away from him and headed over to the closet.

Dean’s brows furrowed as he picked up his beer from the table and followed behind her, “You work nights at the uh…” He began as he stepped into the closet to see Y/N with a hanger in her hand, nurse scrubs attached to them, “…hospital.” He finished, an impressed grin on his face. “I’m engaged to a nurse. That is so respectable….and hot” Dean muttered to himself as he eyed Y/N’s ass while taking a sip of his beer.

He wondered to himself why Y/N decided to go into nursing due to the fact she always had a love for music, but Dean shrugged it off.

______________________________________________

Authors Note: Okay soooo, Tumblr told me that my post was too long so I had to split this into two parts.

Part Two Here!

Taglist: @hjgdhghoe @rach5ive @tiggytaylor @star-yawnznn @quarterhorse19

@deangirl96 @bitchykittenconnoisseur @globetrotter28 @hobby27 @mrsjjkwinchester

@juwu-theliciosa @magiccliopleurodon @nesnejwritings @karrah89 @whattheduckisupkyle

@iloveyou2mia @thelittlelightinthedarkness @lmhf1 @littletomboy2 @zigzoggy

@hey-its-zoe @modiddys-blog @thvxr @tommysaxes @cookiemonstermusic258

Xoxo

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roryknightwrites · 3 months ago

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Aventurine Is BPD Coded- Some Thoughts

Ahhh welcome back everybody to another installment of 'Rory writes a ridiculously long essay nobody asked for to shine light on characters who exhibit symptoms of borderline personality disorder so that we can learn to recognize symptoms portrayed in media that aren't just 'crazy manipulative abusive ex' and start to treat the disorder with a shred of compassion' !!

A good chunk of you follow me because of my essay I wrote on Reo Mikage from Blue Lock, my beautiful borderline princess, and I am PLEASED to announce that my essay is now the first result when you search 'Reo Mikage BPD' on Google, AND he has since been added to the BPD character database !! Saving the world one baddie at a time, no need to thank me B)

Today, I want to write something out that I've been dying to share. I think Aventurine can be read as a BPD coded character, and I think he would be able to cop a diagnosis should he go see a therapist (which we all know he CLEARLY has not done). I've been puttering around posting this because I've been spending so long on a full, all encompassing analysis of this sick blonde man, but I want to take a quick break and kick my feet over BPD Aventurine, so I invite you to come kick your feet with me!

Some context before I start:

1.) Borderline representation is extremely important to me. I've got the BPD / CPTSD combo meal, so I'm having TWICE the fun !! But seriously though, it's not easy being viewed as crazy and 'bad' all the time. Trauma disorders are rough enough as it is just to live with / overcome, but it's worse when there are books, forums, blogs, shows, ect. dedicated to hating you and talking about how evil you are. So, I get really excited when I spy BPD-coded characters (especially if they're likable people and not just ghoulish irredeemable villains or manic pixie dream girl characters). Fans, characters, and even Aventurine himself refer to him as 'crazy' 'insane' 'unstable' which only further rang my BPD bells because he's not crazy; he's just traumatized!

2.) I’m not a psych, so I obviously can’t diagnose real people, and don’t use any of this to diagnose yourself (I don't need the scandal!) I do, however, have a masters degree in English and structured the basis of my education and published my thesis on mental health, cluster B personality disorders specifically, so I read and research a LOT. I’m confident enough in my knowledge to diagnose anime characters (lol).

3.) If you're somebody who has a weird hangup about borderlines, feel free to either not read this, or do read it and soak up some useful information! Regardless, I know Aventurine fans can have some really wild takes (/neg) , so believe what you want at the end of the day! This is just my interpretation of what's festering in that sad brain of his. You can disagree all you want to, but what we're not going to do is spread hateful stereotypes or perpetuate negative stigmas about BPD! That's cornball behavior and I will call you out for it ^-^

CW for discussion of death, suicide, self injury, and identity disturbances

Anyways, if you ask me, Aventurine has a case of Beautiful Princess Disorder, and I'd like to explain why <3 So, buckle up! This will be another long one.

First, let me define BPD: it's a personality disorder characterized by a long-standing pattern of instability in mood, interpersonal relationships, and self-image. Though it's coined as a 'personality disorder', I urge you to look at it as a trauma disorder. People most often develop it when they are repeatedly traumatized during their formative years. It actually overlaps a TON with complex post traumatic stress disorder, which is why a lot of us baddies end up with both! (On that note, you could definitely view Aventurine as CPTSD-coded as well! I'm a stinky kinnie so I'll just say he's both <3) I won't preach too much on why it's so necessary to treat borderline as a traumatic stress disorder (since hopefully I'll be focusing my own personal academic research on that and I could yap for HOURS about it lol).

But when we look at BPD properly, it's evident that the basis of this disorder is that these people didn't have the opportunity to learn and foster proper emotional reactions. Because of the recurring traumatic events, sections of borderline's brains are underdeveloped as a result. They have a smaller amygdala and they have reduced volume in the prefrontal cortex, as well as other differences in brain development. I've heard it described as 'you were forced to learn some behaviors that helped you survive at one point in your life (for example, maybe fervent efforts to avoid abandonment, unstable emotional reactions, self harming tendencies, lying, mirroring, etc.,) but now you need to unlearn them, because they’re no longer helping you.' They're trauma responses.

Aventurine shows us a perfect example of the kind of shit that would make someone develop BPD: dude grew up in extreme poverty, was constantly told he was special and he was supposed to bring good luck, watched his entire family and race die in front of him when he was literally still just a kid, was kidnapped and sold into slavery, was forced to murder roughly 34 people while everybody watched him like it was a game, probably went through several other fucked up things while he was enslaved, and then killed his slave owner and was promptly sentenced to death for it. That's...a whole lot of ridiculous trauma that would severely impact somebody's ability to mentally grow and develop correctly. The bulk of his childhood/adolescence was spent with no safety, no security, overwhelming guilt, constant fight or flight reactions, learning how to take on other personas to avoid violence or mistreatment – you get the point. He did not have a normal life and it is absolutely probable that he would develop a trauma disorder from the shit he's been through.

So then, what behaviors/signs does somebody need to exhibit to receive a Borderline diagnosis? The 9 diagnostic criteria for BPD are as follows:

1. Fear of abandonment

2. Unstable or changing relationships

3. Unstable self-image; struggles with identity or sense of self

4. Impulsive or self-damaging behaviors

5. Suicidal behavior or self-injury

6. Varied or random mood swings

7. Constant feelings of worthlessness or sadness

8. Problems with anger, including frequent loss of temper or physical fights

9. Stress-related paranoia or loss of contact with reality

As with my last post, I'm going to organize this based on the 5 immediate traits I think Aventurine exhibits most (you only need 5 out of 9 to receive a diagnosis, so let me cut to the chase and stop wasting your time w my yapping).

Fear of Abandonment:

Aventurine has a habit of wanting relationships and then pushing them away once they get too close. He also clearly has trauma associated with losing people prematurely.

First of all, let's look at Aventurine's tendency to view relationships as transactional. With the expectation that a friendship, partnership – whatever – is mutually beneficial, that generally implies both parties will leave satisfied once the 'transaction' is complete. That’s his parting line in the game, actually! “Satisfied with our transaction, I trust?”

That being said, he's already prepared for people to leave when they're done getting what they want from him. In one trailer (and the game) he refers to himself as "another cog in the machine known as the strategic investment department" and then says, "Your humble servant aventurine at your disposal [...] I can also play the role of ‘friend’ – if needed; Go ahead, use me as you wish, even stab me in the back if you see fit."

This is a very strange thing to say upon first meeting someone LMAO. He's speaking of himself like he's an object, rather than a person. Before the other party even says anything, he's basically saying 'hey btw if you end up disappointing me in some way, i'm already prepared for it!' Establishing relationships with the assumption that the other person will betray you/abandon you/hurt you in some way? Borderline behavior. God forbid somebody does try to break down one of these walls, we'll see Aventurine's second habit to avoid abandonment: pushing people away.

Something people don't necessarily consider is that ‘efforts to avoid abandonment’ doesn't always mean the person is on their knees begging you to not to leave them. It can manifest as someone being very flighty and purposefully cutting ties randomly/pushing people away from them so that nobody is able to abandon them. If you leave first, they can’t leave you, right? This is a very common behavior for borderlines to avoid the pain that comes with being abandoned.

The most notable moment of this, in my opinion, is when Aventurine tries to gaslight himself into thinking that Ratio really did stab him in the back during their ploy against Sunday. As we know, their fighting, bickering, and Ratio's 'betrayal' were all part of Aventurine's plan. When they leave Sunday's office, Ratio immediately asks if he's okay and if he needs help, and Aventurine is very dismissive/a little rude in his response. Ratio is confused because Aventurine is talking as if he wasn't the one who MADE this plan and TOLD Ratio what to do:

Aventurine is basically saying, "Hey babe this is not in the script we talked about! Let's stay on track, remember? You hate me, you betrayed me, and now you're leaving me!" And Ratio is like "Yeah okay but are you good? Because you don't seem good,” but Aventurine's heels are so far in the dirt at this point that he is NOT budging at all. When he's in the Trauma Maze, Future Aventurine grills him on this moment:

I get why this part confused some people; why would Aventurine think this when the plan was his idea in the first place? Because, he subconsciously doesn't want to get too attached to the idea that Ratio might ACTUALLY care about him or want to help him. He's forcing himself to think "no, that's not what he was doing, he was planning on actually ratting me out all along, he was only asking about my wellbeing to get in my head."

However, I think it's evident that Aventurine wants relationships/attention just as much as everybody else does, he just won't let himself have it. To further this idea, I think the lyrics to White Night (the Penacony trailer theme song) are worth looking at (these specifically):

I don't wanna be alone tonightOh, lead me with your altered signThere's no one else left for me to loseHeadin' to the other side, other side

I don't wanna be alone tonightI'll bring you to my best disguise'Cause you don't need, don't need to know the truthLet me rave forever in your life

The song is obviously about Aventurine when you look at the lyrics, but these lines in particular just further my point that this man does NOT like the fact that he's alone. He wants relationships, he wants closeness, but he rejects it at the same time out of fear that he might lose somebody prematurely again and doesn't want to experience being abandoned or being rejected for his personality (his real one or his fake one), which leads me to...

Unstable Self-Image; Struggles With Identity or Sense of Self:

The shift from Kakavasha to Aventurine screwed this guy up REAL bad. A MASSIVE part of Aventurine's character, in my opinion, is his struggle with his identity/sense of self. I mean, he literally had to kill off who he used to be in order to live how he's living now, and he didn't have much of a choice in the matter. Jade sums it up pretty well when Aventurine is sat before her on trial:

Aventurine joining the IPC comes with the price of...well, becoming 'Aventurine'. Since I'm clocking him with a BPD diagnosis, the identity disturbance would have probably happened before this moment, and I think it did. I'll bet it started festering after that first massive traumatic event where he watched his family die and tried to rationalize how that was possible with his 'good luck' (since that was really the only consistent idea he had about himself), and it probably only got worse when he became fixated on the fact that whoever tf he is, he's only worth 60 copper coins (did the math – that's about $3). That's gotta cause some massive identity issues. He's coined as this ‘good luck charm’, this ‘blessed child’, a ‘beacon of hope for the Avgins’, and somehow, he ended up in the absolute worst situation possible while simultaneously dooming all of the Avgins (obviously not his fault, but he thinks it's his fault).

When Jade tells him to pick a new identity, ironically he picks one that is everything he probably grew to hate after his childhood/adolescence.

Associating with the wealthy? The rich were the people who paid to brand him and enslave him. The IPC? Promised to help the Avgins but disappeared when the Katicans invaded, then came back and kidnapped him to sell him as a slave. Now he's both wealthy and a part of the IPC, and you have to wonder how he truly feels about it. We'll look into that more later. Regardless, he's not really 'free' now, even if he isn't technically owned by a master anymore. He's chained to the IPC because this is life now; this is his identity. Where else would he even go? What else would he do? (Die, perhaps?) It's not like he can go home, or go live a peaceful life out on the countryside somewhere. He made 'Aventurine' his entire life and his entire personality. On that note, I really like this quote from his third character story:

“The aventurine, that symbol of power and of the future, is about to be officially handed to him — Yet it would have no more allure or value in his eyes as soon he obtains it, even though he had sought it by putting his life on the line.

He returns to his office in a daze. The aventurine stone emits a peculiar glow on his desk, seemingly congratulating and mocking him at the same time."Was luck truly on your side when you wrestled with fate?"”

Did he really luck out with this one? Comparatively, of course, this is better than his life as a slave, but he essentially just traded his rusted chains for golden ones. Becoming Aventurine might wind up bringing him a lot more pain than it was worth.

Also, the outfit he chose? Covered in gold, fur, and jewels, all materials that somebody who knows nothing about being rich would assume rich people wear in excess. It's evident in his tacky taste (sorry honey I love you so much but the hat is just crazy work you look like a pimp) that he doesn't know anything about how to dress himself. And I bully him for being tacky but it makes sense! He dresses exactly how you'd think an out-of-touch billionaire would dress. Back to his sense of identity: it's very important to establish that Aventurine feels guilty about taking on this persona! That's all 'Aventurine' is: a persona. If he were to die tomorrow, the IPC would dust off that stone and give it to another bozo who would end up being the next 'Aventurine'.

While he didn't initially develop this personality subconsciously and it was a 'choice' to start playing this role (not that he had a plethora of alternative options), the perpetuation is damaging him mentally. He does a good job of keeping up the act, obviously. This theme that his entire personality is just one big act is overarching through the entire Penacony quest, but there's one moment in particular I really liked: when Sparkle is being a jerk and he has this offhand comment about how he's so frivolous, vain, and flashy, and how he'd hate to live anywhere where it rained since his outfit is too expensive to get wet.

Then, we have this interaction in the maze: Future Aventurine brings up the memory of him and his big sister playing dead, floating in bloody water to avoid being killed by the Katicans when they attacked. He mentions that it was his father's shirt, the last one his father left behind before dying, and that it was ruined. Aventurine says it wasn't ruined, and he's always kept it. (I wonder if that's the shirt he wore during his time enslaved?) Future Aventurine grills him and asks ‘why keep it? This new person that you are would never wear something so dirty and old. 'Aventurine' wouldn't want that old rag, it's not worth any money. 'Aventurine' would never splash around in murky water like that; he wouldn't need to.’ Nobody is hunting him, now he's the hunter. Future Aventurine makes the snide comment that he bets Aventurine wouldn't even dare to go outside in the rain, let alone do any of the things Kakavasha had to do, since he's so much more elite now. Aventurine, clearly hurt by the implication, says that even after all this time, he's never changed.

Of course, he hasn't. Deep down, no matter how much he tries to trick himself and everybody around him, he's still the same scared, traumatized boy he always has been. His future self chastises him for having an inferiority complex and mentions that with every gamble he makes, he has his left hand shaking in fear behind his back.

But the constant pull to push Kakavasha down and keep up this act that 'Aventurine' is the real him obviously perpetuated the identity disturbance in him and made it a hundred times worse, to the point where (as Future Aventurine points out) the hole he's dug is basically impossible to climb out of.

Because of this, I interpret Aventurine to constantly be struggling with his identity, not knowing who really exists under all the masks he wears, not knowing if he or anybody around him will ever figure it out. I imagine he feels very empty and unfulfilled, since as I mentioned in the abandonment section, he doesn't want to be alone. But the higher he climbs on the social ladder, the further he can separate himself from other people. This is a classic issue borderlines face. We masquerade as something we think the people around us will like, someone WE might like, but it always ends up leaving us feeling more empty than before.

(This is just an added bonus to chew on, but I got stuck on this line when I played through Penacony:)

Do you think once he became Aventurine and got the money and the resources, he researched toys that normal kids play with? Fancy ones like building blocks, stuff that he would have never been exposed to as a kid? Obviously baby Kakavasha would not know wtf building toys looked like, and I'm sure teenage Kakavasha didn't have the opportunity to browse toy catalogs. But, he recognizes the toy even though he says he's never played with them before. Maybe he considered buying it but decided against it, since it doesn't fit his new persona. Kakavasha doesn't exist anymore, so there's no reason to nurture that part of him. Anyways, just wanted to hurt y'all a bit more. Speaking of hurting ourselves:

Impulsive or Self-Damaging Behaviors + Suicidal Behavior or Self Injury:

I'm combining these two because my points kept blending together, so bear with me lol.

Aventurine is known for being incredibly reckless and putting himself in the path of danger over and over again. When discussing how he tricked Sunday with the Cornerstones, Future Aventurine asks:

I want to exaggerate how crazy it is (i can say that i'm also a bpd baddie) that he smashed his Cornerstone. I don't think a Stoneheart has ever done that before. Their stone is what makes them a Stoneheart. Ratio mentions that without it, Aventurine would be back to being nobody. Remember: that's what makes him Aventurine. You know, the persona that required him to kill off his former identity? Their Cornerstones are more important than the Stonehearts’ lives, as stated multiple times. But that's just it: Aventurine doesn't GAF about his life. He doesn't mind putting his life on the line to pull off his plan because he has that deep-rooted desire to punish himself for everything he thinks was his fault. He gets called out for gambling with his life multiple times during Penacony, and while most of the time it's reduced to him just being crazy (cough, bpd) or just having a severe gambling problem. Extremely hot take, but I think he gambles literally as another way to hurt himself. I mean, look at what he says when you ask about his hobbies:

"There's no denying it, my fascination is with the game of chance... be it the exhilarating rush of triumph or the extensive emptiness that follows, both are worth savoring, time and time again."

Being impulsive and risky, betting his life over and over – it makes him feel alive. He knows the end result will hurt, that he'll have to face that 'extensive emptiness' and the extreme guilt he feels regarding his continued good luck, but he does it anyway.

Speaking of betting, his bets are always 'all or nothing', seemingly every time. Future Aventurine calls him out on always risking everything with every gamble, asking:

"Do you truly believe the greater the risk, the greater the reward?"

Or...do you just not care what happens to you? He doesn't need to risk a lot; he's never lost. He could bet the lowest amount and still win every time, and make a lot of money depending on what everybody else bet. In fact, that would actually be a better strategy in gambling (poker/black jack specifically), because it would insinuate that he's not very confident with his hand and prompt the other players to bet higher, assuming that they'll beat him.

I imagine he gets a shred of dopamine betting everything he has knowing that he'll probably win, but hey, who knows? Then after winning and multiplying everything he has, I imagine that 'extensive emptiness' that he refers to is the feeling of 'oh good, more money. More status. More success. A reminder that no matter what I do, I'm stuck here in this role forever.'

For some reason, he also thinks that taking risks makes him appear more confident and secure. He makes a show of always keeping up the big bets and he boasts about how successful he is, while clutching his hand behind his back thinking 'oh god, is this it? will I finally lose this time?' He brings this up when he's speaking with himself and he says, 'How could a weak person take such daring risks?"

Oh, the delicious irony.

That raises the question, though: if he wants to die so badly, why hasn't he yet? It's not like he had an easy life. He fought very hard to stay alive, so why does he act so recklessly now?

I think at his core, he's scared. Dying is scary. His family is there in the afterlife; would they be disappointed in the person he’s become? At the same time, being alive is exhausting. The constant emotional pain this guy probably deals with every day? It's gotta be heavy.

His behaviors around suicide remind of a classic passively suicidal person with BPD: maybe they don't necessarily want to die, but they're tired. They don't have an active plan, but If something is going to kill them, they're not going to move out of the way.

So, carrying out his Penacony plan makes sense. Of course he’s not completely sure what will happen when Acheron kills him, but because he doesn’t have anything to live for, he’s fine gambling with his life. He makes a show of finally throwing out every last chip, too, no longer clutching them under the table in fear. He was fine with smashing the Aventurine stone because it's not like he was planning on using it after his final show; the little bit of power it had left in it was more than enough.

That being said, we do have to address this little number:

Aventurine attempted several times in Penacony, he admits it flat out. The writers even went sofar as to bold this line specifically! I think this does also go hand-in-hand with him being passively suicidal, since he's pretty sure he'll live when he attempts in the dream, but he's gonna try it SEVERAL times just to be sure. Mentally healthy people wouldn't try it... once, Aventurine!

As if we needed more evidence that Aventurine constantly puts himself in danger, you know I HAVE to mention...the light cone:

n case you haven't read the description for this light cone, let me share it with you:

"You don't believe me?"He (Aventurine) provocatively looks at the man (Ratio) before him, then draws out a revolver, empties its cylinder, and leaves a single shot in the chamber.

"Seems like I'll need to get you up to speed on how I do things if our cooperation were to remain amicable."He pushes the gun into his opponent's hand, spins the cylinder, and points the barrel to his own chest.

He pulls the trigger repeatedly, and the smile on his face remains the same after three empty clicks."Life is a grand gamble, and I'll always be the final victor."

Now what the HELL is this? Mind you, this is the first time Ratio has met this man!!! Imagine you meet your new mission partner for the first time and he puts a revolver in your hand and fires it thrice, then leaves. WHO does that? (...a baddie, perhaps!)

I don't think it's a secret to anybody who has spent a reasonable amount of time around Aventurine that there's something off about him, and that there's a really deep sadness running through him. There's some instances where other characters mention his passive desire to die – A few quick examples I can think of:

The instance in Story IV with Opal:

"Maybe luck won't be on your side this time, and the bill for all your past good fortune will come due [...] But isn't that what you've been longing for?"

Opal implies Aventurine wants to fail on Penacony, which, as we've discussed, is an accurate assumption. Jade says something similar after Aventurine's stunt: when Topaz says the light in his stone went out, Jade replies by saying "he got what he wanted."

Also, I’d like to point out that Ratio must have been anticipating that Aventurine would do something rash, since he wrote that note (doctor's advice) long before he started grilling him after the meeting with Sunday.

It's also worth noting the nod to T.S Eliot's "The Waste Land" (a very long poem about life and death). You get the achievement Sibyl, What Do You Want? after playing through the past of Kakavasha's life, and once you defeat boss Aventurine, you get the achievement She Replied, I Want to Die. I don't think that one needs an explanation, but boy does it hurt! (There's other, smaller nods to him being suicidal, like the Waiting for Godot achievement – Google the story if you're unfamiliar. Not as relevant, but I must mention it bc it makes my english major brain go brrrrr)

Also, overspending/gambling/being loose with money is a very common vice for borderlines to indulge in and harm themselves with. It's also implied that he drinks a decent amount. I counted 6 bottles of SoulGlad in his hotel room just from the angles I could see, and he's shown to be passed out at the bar when Ratio goes to get him before they go on their little date-I mean, mission. Aventurine says 'he must have drank too much', and whether or not that was true is irrelevant since it was a believable enough claim that Ratio bought it.

Borderlines are (usually) self-destructive in some capacity, and while some very annoying people assume it's for attention, it's so much more common for it to be because our inner emotions are just so out of whack. Sometimes, matching the inner pain with outer pain is a way to cope. They might also do it to try and combat-

Constant Feelings of Worthlessness or Sadness:

Probably the most nagging, prevalent feeling Aventurine deals with is the constant feeling of worthlessness. One thing about this man? He hates himself. Like, really hates himself. Take a look at the missions during his maze in Penacony. This one is one of my favorites:

It doesn't get much more on-the-nose than him calling himself a selfish, useless loser. He gets stuck on that word, in particular. Loser.

Aventurine, at his core, views himself as a massive loser. Is that ironic because of how much he wins? Not really. Money and materials are just part of the Aventurine persona. He's 'rich' in stuff, but he's not rich in what he actually wants. I think it's obvious that if he had the option to quadruple his wealth or see his sister again just one more time, we all know what he'd be picking.

The only thing he wants is connection – connection with his mother, his father, his sister, anybody at this point – but he can't have it. His family has been dead for a long while, and as I discussed before, his fear of abandonment and his luck scare him away from forming any other relationships.

This luck, this destiny to be blessed, leads him to reflect on his life a lot and wonder what the hell the point is. He treats himself like some sort of walking curse, because he's convinced that his luck is bound to hurt other people. Every time he wins, somebody else loses. The luck that keeps him safe destroys everybody else around him. As Future Aventurine puts it:

His luck is "built on the pain of someone" else. This perpetuates the constant feeling of guilt, which in turn, makes him feel worthless. Why is it him that's spared every time?

Then, right before you start his boss fight, Aventurine says,

"The architect's flawed stone, of no value at all."

Some people speculate he's talking to the MC when he says this, but I can't help but assume that he's referring to himself. Even if it was directed at the MC, so much of what Aventurine says in his bluffs and boasts are just digs at himself. He's sort of an expert at hating himself, and what do people who hate themselves do if not project? Especially when you consider the fact that aventurine is actually a really cheap, undesired stone. It's like $3 a caret and mostly only used to rip people off and pose as jade. I really don't think it's a coincidence that his character is based around a stone that is, essentially, worthless.

The way that Aventurine is also prone to giving people ridiculous amounts of money/gifts can be read as a frantic effort to keep relationships going and prevent people from leaving him (relating to my points on both his feelings of worthless and his fear of abandonment). He has a skewed view on relationships, since the only value that's ever been associated with him is monetary value and that of his 'luck', which in every context is spoken of as an asset to benefit people he cares about. His sister told him that his luck was 'the most precious wealth' of the Avgins and Jade sees him as an investment that can bring her more wealth because of his luck, but he views it as a massive burden that ends up wrecking everybody around him. So how does he prove to other people that someone as worthless as him should be allowed a seat at the table? Deep down, he thinks that he's still worth 60 red copper pieces, and he's desperate to show other people that he's worth more than that now – even though he doesn't believe it at his core. With all the money he wins now, he can throw it at people and say 'look, look how much money I'm worth now, you want me around because I can buy you anything you want, that's a useful quality in a friend!'

(I did use the 'seat at the table line' as a nod to what his slave master said to him when they were discussing his worth: "Don't forget your place, slave. You're not qualified to be at the table." Which is, painfully, what Aventurine says when you open up chests! He scoffs and says that "it's hardly enough for a seat at the table." :’) )

There is also, of course, Aventurine's overarching struggle with finding purpose in his life. We see a lot of his existentialism during his trauma maze, but at the end of his trauma maze, Future Aventurine finally stops ripping Aventurine a new one and is vulnerable for a second, saying he doesn't understand what he's ever done wrong to have suffered as much as he has.

Then, when he's in the Nihility and he's speaking to Acheron, making the decision on whether or not he even wants to keep going, he asks her:

As I said, he has this conversation with himself in the maze as well, but here he's actually being vulnerable and speaking to somebody else about it: what's the point in being alive if we're just born to suffer? If nothing else, this solidifies the emotional struggle that Aventurine is constantly having. I also think it furthers the idea that he has this nagging sort of emptiness inside of him which is another BPD trait: the feeling that you're empty at your core, and you're constantly trying to fill it with things (friends, money, substances, whatever) but nothing ever works. You worry if anything will ever make you feel 'whole' again, and pair with the the identity disturbance? You're left with a constant feeling of despair.

Other Points:

These are a few other random thoughts I have, inspired by in-game moments but I'm taking them for my own evil fiendish BPD narrative. Take them with a grain of salt.

I think the stigma he gets around 'being crazy' is really BPD-coded. Separate from the ridiculous discrimination he gets for being an Avgin where people assume he's a liar and wolf in sheep's clothing (which can this man catch a SINGLE break jfc), he also has this reputation of being crazy, insane, manipulative, cunning, and someone you want to avoid, which is more rooted in his reckless gambling habit and status with the IPC. Living with this reputation of being insane and unstable for...lowkey no reason at all? Very BPD coded. I think Aventurine leans into that stigma to keep people a certain distance away, but it also just ends up making him hate himself even more.

Also, his entire mantra is "all or nothing", which always rang my BPD bells as well. There's not a lot of gray area with him, which is a key trait in borderlines as we often display very black-and-white thought patterns.

In Conclusion:

I think Aventurine is a borderline princess <3

No but actually though, Aventurine is extremely smart, witty, funny, generous, and very kind-hearted, and he also happens to have a lot of BPD symptoms :^) I don't think it does any harm to view him as BPD-coded; in fact, I think it's great to associate positive, fan-favorite characters like this with BPD because it helps to humanize us. Borderlines are not violent, crazy maniacs, they're people who have been severely traumatized and developed some unhealthy habits because of it. They deserve love, respect, understanding, and communication, just as everybody else does.

If you actually made it this far, thank you for reading! I hope I was able to shed some light on Aventurine and his Symptoms. And, as I do in all of my BPD posts, here’s your reminder to kiss the borderline baddies in your life and tell them they’re important to you :^) Living with BPD is exhausting and I know I speak for all of us when I say that. We try so hard every day to stay positive and regulated, and though rewarding, it's exhausting and very hard work. Nothing makes us smile more than some recognition that we're trying our best !!

Till next time xoxo (and shout out to @roxirinart for helping me edit this monstrosity mwahhh mwah)

#honkai star rail #hsr aventurine #aventurine #hsr #bpd #borderline personality disorder #analysis #character analysis

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puckpocketed · 3 months ago

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hello i was tagged by @18minutemajor for WIP Wednesday. it is not Wednesday but i am also not a cop so . here we gooo!!!!!!! tagging my esteemed colleagues (very politely and with no pressure!!!):

@neonfretra @oensible @sorrellegiance @moregraceful @stereax

@wheelsnipecelebrini

@korshrimpski (EDIT: it won’t?? let me tag you. unless these are on separate lines <3)

what's in-progress in your life <3 writing? art? recipe? skill acquisition?

if any crafty people see this - if ANYONE sees this - and would like to join in, feel free and consider yourself tagged <3 (and tag me back so i can see your stuff!!!) link to 18minutemajor's post if yall curious :3 my VERY long wip dump + ramblings under the cut!

its christmas soon and i like to paint gifts for my friends + and i'm finally revisiting my anime/lineart/inking era (here you are K!! my lineart past, present, and future!! <3) so here are some things i've been working on/coming back to/MAY NEVER FINISH: hockey related:

this is juraj slafkovsky and his dinky little middle part which he can absolutely learn to style into something a little less dinky but never does. i am so charmed by him. i imagine he just rocks it because his pretty privilege supersedes dinky middle parts . LMAO!!

here is Sasuke from my Naruto Hockey AU. I am a little stuck on jersey mockups lol. here he is. our haunted little 1OA who is absolutely normal and regular about his captain (LOUD incorrect buzzer):

personal oc art

wanna know some puckpocketed deep lore? i've never been one to make OCs. i was just not a very creative kid tbh. spent all my time drawing sailor moon instead. i still go back to her sometimes because she is one of my favourite shapes in the WORLD!!

in my 20s i took up playing d&d because of the. uh. plague. <3 and got pretty close to having OCs!! those count right? anyway. here is my tavern-wench-turned-wizard!!! i think i painted this 2 years ago? <- put dates on your works guys it saves lives. her name is Mel (short for Melins (pronounced like melons. on account of her knockers. can you tell i never grew out of my 12 yr old booby/cock joke era?) i revisited Mel recently and have started painting her in earnest again!! :3

I briefly dated someone who was very into streetwear and fashion, and I fell down a techwear/gorpcore/cyberpunk rabbit hole for a couple days out of curiosity. i remember literally zero salient info on any of it except the broad strokes of silhouetting and Vibes. what i emerged with, however, was a ?? sorta OC?? im not sure what to call them. they dont rly have a name or gender. I did this little sheet ages ago + the aborted attempt at a portrait later:

Here are my most recent explorations (i have been doing SOOOO much art. <3) which include:

unfinished character sheet + chibi art. I played with their jacket (much more structured/square/tailored thing) and added a lotta random buckles and belts. i took textiles class years ago and have a little experience in garment construction. and i know for a fact this thing does not make any sense. it hurts me to look at a little bit LMAO so i've paused it while i go draft patterns (badly. i was never good at drafting. i think i may have to break out my scrap fabric stash and hand sew a real life mock-up. HELP!)

here is me having fun with them and imagining them as some kind of cyber-fisherman. the best part of every game is the fishing mini-game to me. i love fishing mini-games so much. I made their hair really big because i wanted them to have big unwieldy hair and the vibes told me i should add more movement to the piece aside from the fishing line. I messed with their jacket AGAIN because i can't stop thinking about what kinda jacket they'd wear. gorp-core ? idk. it sure is something!

gifts for my friends :3

back in my weeb era for real YAYYYY!!! up til now i'd been making hockey art using a zero pressure sensitivity pen brush because i simply did NOT want to deal with that. it is and has always been a barrier to me making art that uses line art. <3 easing my way back into it though!

I used to paint gifts for my friends and then get them printed into lil posters and mount them on nice backing :3 i am now ready and back to painting.

Here is my girlbestie's OC. just a rough pose sketch. i think im pretty unsatisfied with the gesture of the head/hand. i wanted to include her gun in some way. i fear i may have to rework the pose entirely <3

For the genshin girlies.. here are some of my friends fave characters.

Yelan - this one i started many holidays ago and put on the backburner because the colouring was wigging me out. you can see where i started rendering stuff + got sidetracked and started on something else (the crystal choker IM LAUGHING @ past me...)

Ayaka - I reaaally like what i did here with the perspective + foreshortening. I don't know if the pose or expression is in-character or not, but i had fun :3 got stunlocked looking at references of genshin weapons so this is where i left off:

if you made it all the way down here hi... <3 ice hockey really cracked the ketchup bottle open for me when it comes to making art again. i love the communities i've found, and i'm inspired by every artist on here every day. thanks for being so cool + have a great day :)

#hiiii... late with starbucks (gigantic wip dump now i feel good about sharing again)#puckpainting #tag game #eye contact #the . the tag thingy for half of these aint working HELP <3

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tiredspacedragon · 11 months ago

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Thing about me is that I'm a huge softie. I want everybody to get happy endings and be alright in the end. And that's great for fluffy headcanons. But when I actually buckle down and think about my ideas for how things would go post-canon, it's a little rough. Because the point of Marendar is to kill Toa, and to have it show up and be defeated or change sides or what have you before doing any Toa-killing would just be a cop-out (especially after 10+ years of irl buildup). So that means some Toa gotta die. But who?

On that note, here's a potentially gruesome poll. Pick whichever option you think should happen most, and add anyone else you think should bite it in the tags.

Would have added options for surviving, non-zombified Toa from the Red Star, and Nobody <3, but alas, ran out of room. Also, Krakua isn't here because he has to survive to do the whole "lone guardian of an island fortress" thing and send Vakama that Kratana-induced vision he got back in Time Trap. So his survival is guaranteed. Everyone else, not so much.

Some anti-propaganda (reasons they all should die *evil laugh*) below the cut:

Toa Nuva: Would there be a bigger gutpunch than this? The flagship characters, the six heroes with one destiny! But that destiny is complete now, they don't need to be kept alive anymore. Imagine how much it would shake things up to take them off the board, how ruined the survivors would be if only a few of them went down. Wouldn't it just be so juicy?

Toa Mahri: They're one down already, so it's not like you'd be breaking up a complete set. Besides, we all know they're built for tragedy at this point. Jaller and Hahli could fall together. Hewkii could go down in front of Macku's eyes. Nuparu could sacrifice himself using one last invention to stop Marendar, perhaps making up for the perceived sins of the Vahki and Boxor. Kongu could accept death as it takes him, at least now he might see Matoro again.

Toa Hagah: These six are prime candidates, aren't they? Important enough for it to hurt, for us to care, but not so important that they aren't expendable. Never truly frontrunners. Named characters it's safe to kill. What more could you ask for? I wouldn't be surprised if it turned out Greg had planned to kill them so he'd never have to describe Gaaki, Bomonga, Pouks, and Kualus' appearances. Plus, Norik dying just after getting to see Varian again? Or even just before? Doesn't it hurt so good?

Takanuva: He only needs to live long enough to end the civil war between the Great Beings, but after that, if Marendar is still in play, he's fair game. What do you say? It would torture him more to see his friends fall while he lived on, but there is something poetic to "Takanuva, the first and greatest Toa of Light, whose life burned brightly, but quickly."

Yesterday Questers: These three are like the Toa Hagah, but even safer. Named characters, important enough for their deaths to matter, but brand new, without much audience investment. Besides, they're asking for it, aren't they? Ancient Orde, the chip on his shoulder as old as he is, could finally know peace in oblivion. Perhaps Zaria's death would finally clear his guilty conscience. And Chiara... Does anyone actually like Chiara? Would anyone miss her? Are these questions she asks herself? And wouldn't it hurt to hear her ask them in her final moments?

Varian: Talk about tragedy. Thousands of years, locked in a tube, dead to the world. Unaware time is even passing. And when she finally awakes, it's only to die. A waste of her character, perhaps, but if you don't mind fridging, it would piss off Norik somethin' fierce.

Tuyet: Doesn't she deserve it? And you know, Marendar does track Toa Power, and there's no greater source of that than Tuyet and the Nui Stone. It would be gunning for her. And it would be so deliciously ironic. All that power, all the effort she put in to get it, and it would be utterly useless to save her in the end. Her dreams of empire ground to dust in seconds, right before her eyes, as Toa Tuyet dies one last time.

Helryx: Think of the poetry. Marendar, the Toa's bane. What more worthy opponent could there be for the first Toa's last stand? It practically writes itself. Helryx has done her duty. The will of Mata Nui has been carried out. This is her perfect chance to go down fighting on her own terms, not as the leader of the Order, but as a Toa once more.

Lesovikk: This guy is Orde and Zaria but worse. He wants death so bad. And what else is there left for him to do? Karzahni is dead. His Matoran are found. What, will he become a Turaga and gift his power to the next generation of Toa? Will he wander the woods and care for the animals? Will he find joy and beauty in living? Lame. He misses his team so bad? Let him join them.

20-odd nameless mooks: By far the safest option. A Toa-killer would be pretty pointless if it never killed any Toa, but nobody said it had to be anyone we cared about, right? This is the best of both worlds. A pile of bodies to make Marendar a credible threat, but nothing and no one of consequence lost. A perfect solution, right? Just uh. Hope you don't have any OCs in here.

Mutants: The Dark Hunters are scattered, vulnerable. If these lost souls haven't found the greater group yet, they'd be easy to pick off. Good options too, right? Actual characters, so their deaths have some weight, but not major ones, so they won't be missed. Guardian was killed off in Reign of Shadows for those exact reasons. Why not have Savage, Spinner, and Prototype carry on the tradition, and tie off some loose ends in the process?

Shadow Takanuva: Sure, it might suck for their home universes to lose their Takanuva like this, but hey. If you have a whole army just sitting around, might as well put them to use, right? The fight could be interesting to watch too. Shadow might be the only element Marendar has no countermeasures for, since Toa of Shadow were never meant to exist. Maybe this is how it's finally beaten, after taking several alternate Takanuva down with it, of course. Besides, Melding Teridax flattened several of them already, so it's not like they were all making it home to begin with.

#bionicle #bonkle #bonkles #marendar #toa #this was originally a much longer and more serious thinkpiece #about the pros and cons of killing off each of them #but indulging the evil writer in me like this was much more fun #choosing violence today #yay :)#plus a poll opens up more opportunities for discussion

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drabbles-mc · 2 years ago

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Worse Before It's Better

Bucky Barnes x Natasha Romanoff

Written for the 2023 Hurt/Comfort Exchange

Warnings: 18+, angst, blood/injuries, scars, ptsd

Word Count: 4.8k

A/N: I just really fucking looooove writing for these two. I love letting them be angsty together and soft together. They're so good for that.

Marvel Taglist: @garbinge @artemiseamoon (If you want to be added to any of my taglists, please let me know!)

There had only been one real exchange of words between them the entire time. When Natasha had finally found him, finally gotten to him, she could hardly believe the state of him. She recognized him, because she would always be able to recognize him, but he hardly looked like himself.

“Barnes?” the name fell from her lips like a question, like a plea.

Eyes red from tears and pain, his face littered with cuts and bruises, he looked back at her, his voice grated but just as desperate as he said, “Natasha?”

That was the only thing he’d said to her. Everything else that was said, was all Natasha. It wasn’t as though she even said all that much, but what little she did say, Bucky didn’t offer any responses for. With his metal arm slung across her shoulders and her arm braced against his lower back, the two of them made their way towards freedom as quickly as they could. Natasha gave directions and quiet reassurances as they walked, none of which Bucky replied to. What little energy and strength he had was going into keeping himself upright. At that point, Natasha was all but dragging him along as she went, but they hadn’t tumbled. The adrenaline amplified her raw strength, and they were both lucky for that otherwise Bucky wasn’t sure if they would’ve made it out, if he would’ve made it out.

But then they were in the car. Natasha was behind the wheel, speeding down roads so fast that it wouldn’t have mattered if the cops tried to pull her over, because they never would’ve caught up to her. Her hands were wrapped tight around steering wheel, grip so severe she wondered if the wheel was going to be permanently formed to her hands after the fact.

Meanwhile, Bucky sat in the passenger seat. Natasha had buckled him in since he hadn’t made any move to do it for himself when he had sat down. For as large of a man as he was, he had never looked as small as he did right then. He sat there, nearly motionless except for the clenching and unclenching of his metal hand. Everything else about him was eerily still—it was hard for Natasha to even see the rise and fall of his chest even though she knew that he was breathing.

When the car came to a stop, it was the first time that Natasha really saw Bucky turn and try to look around at where they were. She didn’t know if he would recognize it. The area, maybe, but to the extent of her knowledge, he’d never been to this particular safehouse before. It wasn’t one that was sanctioned by anyone—it was one of her personal hideaways, of which she had precious few now.

“Come on,” she said as she cut the ignition.

She knew that Bucky wasn’t really going to make any move on his own, but she still had to say it. She unbuckled herself and quickly strode around to the other side of the car, head on a swivel to make sure that no one was around and watching them as she pulled the passenger door open. She saw Bucky turn to look at her, but he didn’t say anything or move at all as she reached across him to undo his seatbelt.

Looping her arm behind him once more, she pulled him towards the edge of the seat. He didn’t fight her on it, swinging his legs so that his feet landed on the blacktop. It took him longer than it normally would, but he did eventually get himself upright onto his feet. Once he regained a bit of his balance, he could’ve walked in on his own. He allowed himself the small comfort of Natasha’s arm being around him, though, the sound of their footsteps being in-sync with each other’s. It was all he had for the moment.

He watched as Natasha took out her keys. He leaned against the wall beside the door as she unlocked it. His eyes were glued to her hands, unable to focus on more than one thing at a time as she slid the key into the lock. Key in the palm of one hand, Natasha put her other into Bucky’s giving him a gentle tug through the door so that she could shut and lock it behind them, putting them in to as much safety as they could be afforded given everything that had happened.

Even though Bucky didn’t seem any more comfortable or relieved than he had a few moments before, Natasha’s shoulders slumped in relief once the door was locked and they were alone. She flipped a few of the lights on, not all of them as an act of mercy to Bucky who seemed like he was on the brink of flinching at just about any and every change. It was more light than she’d had up until that point, though, and it was enough for her to get a better look at his injuries, how bad they were.

Before she could stop herself, she whispered, “What did they do to you?” as she reached, fingertips brushing against the cold metal of his arm.

He didn’t answer, could hardly bring himself to meet her eyes when she asked him the question. Part of him wanted to tell her. If anyone would understand what he’d been through, it would be her. But he knew that if he opened those floodgates, started to talk about what they’d done, he’d shatter in a way that would take too long to be put back together.

Clearing his throat, despite how raw it felt, Bucky didn’t his best to sound as level as he could as he asked, “Shower?”

Natasha nodded instantly, her brain kicking back into gear. She went to take his hand again, purely out of habit, but she noticed how he flinched away this time. She tried not to let the emotional sting of that linger, tried not to think too much into it because of the circumstances.

Allowing her hand to fall back to her side, she nodded towards the other end of the house. “Yea, this way.”

Bucky followed her dutifully through each room. Normally he’d be more observant about where they were, what Natasha had in her house, but he didn’t have enough spare energy for that. All he could afford to focus on was her, and where they were going.

The bathroom was small. It felt just this side of cramped as the two of them both standing in it. Bucky kept himself pressed back against the closed bathroom door, waiting and watching as Natasha maneuvered around the room getting things set up for him. She grabbed fresh towels and facecloths for him. She said something about helping himself to whatever soaps and shampoos and whatever else she had in there, but Bucky wasn’t particularly listening.

The sound of the water sputtering for a few seconds out of the shower head, warming up after going so long without use, made Bucky's head snap towards the sound. Every muscle in his body tensed, and even when he realized what it had been, he couldn’t fully relax.

“Here,” she said, holding her hand out in an offer for him to take it, “let me help.”

He didn’t take her hand, but he did pry his back away from the door. It only took one step on his part to put the two of them nearly chest to chest. Looking past all the bruises and cuts, Natasha could see that there was still fear in his eyes. She wished that she could just reach up and wipe it all away, the injuries, the panic, the memories, all of it. Bucky looked down at her, and he could’ve sworn that he could feel the warmth radiating off of her even though they weren’t touching. He wished that he could feel the comfort that it should’ve been providing him. Everything that she’d done to rescue him, all that she’d risked, and he felt too blocked up to even properly try to thank her.

Feeling like if she didn’t prompt him somehow, he wasn’t ever going to actually undress and get into the shower to try and clean himself off, Natasha reached for the bottom hem of Bucky’s shirt. Her fingertips lightly grasped the fabric between them. She started to gently pull it upwards when suddenly Bucky reached, snatching her wrist in the cold, harsh grasp of his metal hand. His grip tightened enough to not only cause Natasha to let go of the cloth between her fingers, but to make her let out a shocked whimper of pain.

Bucky realized what he was doing as soon as she made the sound, and he tried to get himself to let her go, but he couldn’t. All the fear that was causing him to crumble from the inside out was making it impossible for him to fully let her go. The best he could manage was slightly loosening his grip, saving her from snapping any bones.

Despite the tears of pain in her eyes, when Natasha breathed in and spoke, it was all steady. “You’re safe here, James.” She nodded when his grip loosened just a little bit more. “It’s okay.”

Finally wrenching his hand open, he pulled it away from her just as quickly as he’d reached for her. He shook his head, trying to make himself sound much more assured than he really was as he said, “I’m good. Sorry.”

She frowned, seeing how much effort it took him to try not to fall apart in front of her. She couldn’t blame him, really, not when she was usually doing the same thing. But after everything that he had just gone through, it would make more sense if he fell apart rather than not. And if he didn’t feel safe doing that in front of her, who else was there?

“It’s okay if you’re not,” she said, tempted to reach out to try and offer a comforting touch but unsure about what response it would trigger in him.

“I am,” he lied again with a nod.

She didn’t want to turn it into an argument. So, instead, she just gave in as she tried to slip past him towards the door. “I’ve got some extra clothes for you in the car. I’ll grab them while you’re, you know…” she trailed off as she nodded towards the shower.

He tried to hide the tremble that was starting in his bottom lip as he nodded. “Thanks.”

By the time that Natasha came back to the bathroom with a spare set of clothes for him, Bucky was already in the shower, his clothes in a tattered heap on the floor. The entire room was filled with steam, mirror already fogged up as she set the t-shirt and lounge pants on the counter of the sink.

“Clothes are on the counter,” she said, her voice quiet but just loud enough to be heard over the sound of the running water.

She waited for a response that never came. Turning to look at the tub, she could just barely make out Bucky’s silhouette on the other side of the curtain. She could see that he was sitting down, and it broke her heart. She wished that she could say or do something that would make it all better. She wished she could slide in with him, wipe away the blood and the dirt and the pain. Since she couldn’t, she just took a deep breath and quietly grabbed his clothes from the floor as she slipped back out of the bathroom, lightly shutting the door behind her as she went.

Bucky heard the door click shut behind Natasha, and he let out the breath that he had been holding, one that nearly turned into a sob as he dropped his forehead forward so that it rested against his knees. The second after he’d stepped into the shower, he’d crumpled to the floor. Arms wrapped around his legs, forehead pinned against his knees, he felt the water beating down his back and against his hair. He could see the first layers of blood and filth darkening the water that flowed towards and then down the drain. He wanted to have the strength, the wherewithal to scrub the rest of it away, but he didn’t yet. So instead, he let the water do what it could, which would have to be enough for now.

He lost track of how long he had been sitting there, but it must’ve been longer than he realized because he heard another knock at the bathroom door, followed by Natasha’s voice saying, “Just making sure you didn’t drown in there.”

He wished that he had the energy to smile at that. His voice came out heavy as he said, “Not yet.”

“Are you…” she trailed off before deciding to rephrase, “Do you need help?”

He shook his head for a moment before remembering that she couldn’t actually see him. “No.”

Taking a deep breath, Natasha nodded to herself as she said, “Okay. Let me know if you do.”

When he heard the door shut again, he finally forced himself to actually make use of the shower. Even when he was done, though, he still didn’t feel clean. He didn’t know when he would again, if he would again. But at least the dried blood was gone now. All of his injuries were visible now, and so were all of his scars. There was no filth to cover up the bruises and the cuts anymore—it was almost enough to make him wish that he hadn’t cleaned himself off in the first place.

Shutting the water off, he pulled the curtain back and dried himself off. He tried to move quickly, desperately wanting to cover himself up, but any movement that was too fast sent a jolt of pain through him. Finally tossing the towel aside, he dressed himself in the clothes that Natasha had set out for him. There was a tiny twinge of comfort that went through him at the fact that everything fit the way he liked, that Natasha had somehow come to know him like that. It wasn’t much, but it was something.

Once he hung up the towel, he finally opened the door and stepped out of the bathroom, releasing a slew of steam along with him. Raking his fingers back through his hair, he pushed it back out of his face, still able to feel some of the water dripping onto his hair and his shoulders. He couldn’t deny that he felt the tiniest bit better, just a touch more human thanks to hot water and the soaps in Natasha’s shower.

As he wound his way through the house, he wished that he had paid closer attention on their initial walk through so that he would have a better idea of where she would be. He jolted slightly at her clearing her throat, turning himself towards the direction of the sound. Sure enough, she was sitting at the small table in her kitchen, coffee mug in front of her. There was still steam coming off of it, but it didn’t seem like she’d drank any of it, more just made it out of habit.

“Any better?” she asked.

He gave a small nod. “I think so.”

A weak smile crossed her face for a moment. “Good.” Standing up, she gestured to the table. “Sit, I’ll make you some coffee.”

Bucky knew that he wasn’t going to be drinking the coffee that she made him either, but he didn’t fight her on it. They could sit at the table together, both not drinking their coffee, both not quite sure what to say to the other about any of it.

When Natasha was walking back to the table with the mug, she saw that Bucky was starting to bleed through the shirt he was wearing in a couple different places on his back. Taking a deep breath, she fought the urge to reach out and move his shirt to see what was going on. Instead, she set the mug down and waited for him to finally look up at her.

For a moment she almost couldn’t see past the bruises and cuts on his face. Pressing her lips into a thin line for a second, she got herself together enough to say, “You’re still bleeding.”

“What?” his hand was hovering above the coffee mug, just close enough to feel the steam off of it.

“Your back,” she specified, “it’s still bleeding.” When Bucky didn’t move, didn’t say anything, she asked, “Can I look?”

He didn’t want her to. It was bad enough that she had seen him in the shape that he’d been in when she rescued him. Still, there was a part of him that knew that he wasn’t going to get out of this one. It wasn’t that he really owed her for what she’d done for him, but to make himself feel a little better, he could still try to tell himself that he at least owed her this.

“Okay,” he finally forced out.

He peeled the shirt off before she could reach and try to do it for him. Natasha was glad that he wasn’t looking at her as she looked at his back. It was easy to tell which cuts were the ones that were staining the shirt he’d had on. A couple of them would be fine with a bandage over them. One she could tell just by looking at it was going to need some stitches. Those weren’t what were unsettling her, though. What was causing her stomach to turn were the litany of bruises, of burns, of old scars that she’d never seen before, marks that weren’t ever going to go away.

“How bad?” Bucky’s voice snapped her out of her thoughts.

Clearing her throat, she tried to push her emotions back down as she said, “Not bad. I can take care of them for you.”

“Yea?”

“Yea.”

He nodded. “Okay.”

She rested her hand on his shoulder for a moment, warm palm to warm skin. “Be right back.”

When Natasha reappeared with the first aid kid, Bucky had repositioned himself on the chair. He was sitting on it backwards, arms braced across the top of it and his forehead resting against his forearms. Despite the sadness of the scene, there was also something about it that caused Natasha to let slip the tiniest bit of a smile.

“Didn’t think you’d be such a good patient,” she joked softly as she pulled her own chair over so that she was sitting behind him.

He hummed, the best he could do in place of a laugh. “Didn’t think I had a choice.”

She opened her first aid kit, which had grown and expanded over the years. It was no surprise to anyone that the standard kit wasn’t going to meet her needs, or the needs of anyone else that might find themselves within the walls of her safehouse. A lot of modifications and additions had been made over the years.

“You know the drill,” she said as she put a pair of gloves on.

“Worse before it’s better,” he muttered as his fists clenched, preparing for the incoming sting of alcohol, of stitches.

She nodded even though he couldn’t see her. “Worse before it’s better.”

They were both silent as she worked. For a few brief moments, she wondered if the circumstances had been different, if they would be talking, joking even. She wondered if there would be snarky banter between them if he hadn’t been in so much pain, if there wasn’t such a heavy emotional sitting in his chest.

Natasha didn’t need a long time for what had to be done. Within a few short minutes, she was packing up her kit and tossing her gloves in the garbage. She was telling him what she’d done as she ran her fingertips along his back, skating around her work and over the old scars, ghosting over the fresh bruises. Bucky tensed, keenly aware of the stark difference between the feeling of the gloves against his skin, and the pads of her fingers.

“Sorry,” Natasha apologized as she pulled her hand away.

“No,” he said, not lifting his head from where it was still perched against his forearms, “it’s, it’s okay.”

She hesitated for a moment, but then she allowed her palm to come back and rest against the skin of his back again. She expected him to flinch again, to pull away, but he didn’t. She could feel the way that he sighed, trying to breathe into the feeling, let it be comforting rather than something he was supposed to be avoiding. The entire reality of it all made a lump start to build at the back of her throat as she ran her hand up and down, careful not to aggravate the scatterings of fresh injuries.

Her silence spoke volumes, and Bucky couldn’t stop himself from saying, “That bad?”

“What?”

“You’re not saying anything,” he said, “so it’s gotta be…”

“I’m sorry,” she said, her palm flattening against him.

“You didn’t—”

“For all of it,” she said, her voice soft.

He sucked in a deep breath at that. It wasn’t on her to apologize for what had happened to him, not this time around, not all of the times before, either. But there was something in the weight of her voice, the genuineness behind it, that he hadn’t heard from anyone in a long time, especially not about something like this. Most things that happened to him, people assumed were his fault, or that in some way he deserved them. Most of the time he felt that way about it all too, and the mess that Natasha had just saved him from was no exception to that. But now she was sitting with him, cleaning his wounds, trying to smooth over his scars, and apologizing to him for things that weren’t her fault. It was hard to find hate for himself in a moment like that.

“Nat?” the word came out, so soft and small as he felt her hand running over the ridges and scars where the metal of his arm bound itself to his shoulder.

She stilled her movements, not sure where the next sentence was going to go. “Yea?”

He tried to clear his throat, but his response still came out raspy, tears still gathering at the edges of his closed eyes as he said, “Thank you.”

Natasha couldn’t stop herself as she leaned forward, her forehead pressing against his back as his forehead rested against his arms. The breath she let out was ragged, uneven, bubbling over with all the feelings that she had been trying to keep under control because it hadn’t been the right moment for her to be emotional.

She slowly pulled herself away from him before standing up. Her hand was still resting on his shoulder, fingertips still brushing along the scar tissue that lined the metal of his arm. “I’ll get you an extra shirt.”

He finally lifted his head, turning to look at her as her hand began to fall away from her shoulder as she went back through the house. It took him a moment, but he forced himself up out of the chair that he had been sitting in. His movements were stiff, slow, but he managed to follow Natasha and catch up to her when she stepped into what he assumed was her bedroom.

Even though she’d heard him following her, she couldn’t stop the look of surprise on her face when she turned around and looked at him. The spare shirt that had been in her hand fell to the floor when she took in the sight of him. It shouldn’t have been surprising to her that his chest and stomach were just as bruised and battered as his back, but for some reason it still knocked the wind out of her. She’d never been one to shy away from things like that, but there was something about seeing him standing there like that, that put her back on her heels.

Bucky watched as she walked closer, finding himself fighting the urge to take one step back for every step that she took forward. Despite how badly he wanted to, his feet seemed rooted to their spot. She materialized in front of him, head tilted back just enough so that she could look him in the eyes. Bucky’s eyes darted back and forth between hers, and her hand that he could see coming up to rest against his chest.

Even with the purple blemishes blooming across his chest, Natasha could still see the goosebumps that rose up across his skin as her palm rested against him. His hand came and wrapped around her wrist again, but this time it was a gentle hold. The metal was still cold against her skin, but it didn’t feel as harsh this time. She started to pull her hand away, thinking that that was what he was going to do, but instead he applied more pressure, pressing his palm against the back of her hand, and her palm against his chest.

The action was practically a green light. Bringing her other hand up, she gently rested it on the side of his face, thumb tracing along the bottom of his jaw. Unlike all of his prior hesitations, his recoils, Bucky found himself melting right into the touch that she was offering him, eyes closing as he leaned into the soft warmth of her palm.

With one hand on his chest, Natasha could feel the newfound steadiness of Bucky’s heartbeat. It was impossible to not feel relieved, accomplished even. There was so little that she could do for him at this point, now that so much damage had been done, but she could still give him this.

Tilting her head up just a little more, Natasha closed the distance between them and brushed her lips against Bucky’s. She didn’t linger, pulling away almost as quickly as she’d leaned in. Before she pulled too far, Bucky reached and placed his other hand on the small of her back, pulling and guiding her back to him again.

It was difficult for him to wrap his head around for a moment, the fact that he was experiencing something so soft and gentle after everything for him had been so harsh. But he tried to soak it up. He leaned a little deeper into her, arm wrapping a little tighter around her back. When he felt her bring her other hand up to cup the other side of his face he didn’t pull away, didn’t even flinch.

He relaxed into her, shoulders dropping their tension as he kissed her back. Underneath all the marks on his face, the worry lines began to fade as Bucky felt Natasha’s hands slide from he sides of his face to the back of his neck, fingers threading through the damp locks of hair that rested there. Part of him wanted to pull her closer, hold her tighter, but whether it was the lingering physical pain, or the fact that he couldn’t remember the last time someone had ever been so careful with him, he didn’t try to make it into anything more than what it was.

Bucky had been more than ready to sleep on the couch, or even on the floor. But it felt like he’d blinked and suddenly he found himself lying on Natasha’s bed with her, faces so close that their noses brushed if one of them shifted at all. He could feel her breath against his skin as she exhaled, could feel her hands still moving, roaming over his chest and sides. He wondered if she was checking to make sure nothing more was broken than what she already knew of. A small part of his brain was still trying to get him to recoil from her touch, to not let anyone know him like that, but he fought it. Natasha already knew him like that. He took a slow, calculated breath, trying just to think about the warmth of her body against his, imaging that each time the pads of her fingers traced over a scar, she got a little closer to smoothing it away.

Bucky’s eyes might’ve been closed, but Natasha’s weren’t. Even in the darkness of her room, she was still studying his face. “James?” she whispered.

Eyes still closed, he mumbled out a soft, “Mm?”

She didn’t know what she had thought she was going to say, but instead of trying to figure it out, she pressed her lips to his again in another soft kiss. He still didn’t open his eyes, but for the first time all night, the ends if his mouth tried to lift up into a smile against all the exhaustion and pain. Natasha took the win, letting her forehead come back to rest against his and finally letting her eyes close too.

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sitmeaculpavivo · 8 months ago

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Diary Entry (Part 1):

I hate being so short! Because I look so unbelievably chunky in my clothes. Huge motivation to keep 🌟ving though!!!

These are a size 14 shorts that I am wearing, in US sizes. I started from a 20/22 (that isn't waist size, but the size of the pants... aka plus size). I am so close to being out of plus size sizes for good. My initial goal was to fit in my size 11 hot hot pink, and light blue Jean all glitter shorts, (not the pink shorts I have on right now though), which are size 11. But now I don't think I will look good in them anymore. Here are the sparkly shorts... size 11.

I initially started gaining weight on purpose because I had just gotten out of an abusive relationship. Part of the abuse was him forcing me to go to the gym every day for 2 hours, and if I missed, I had to go 4 hours the next day. If I didn't, well... I paid for it in other ways.

These were pictures of me all throughout a 3 year abusive relationship. And the reason for me always having to go to the gym was because my arms were fat! Like no matter what I did, I would lose weight, but my arms would stay fat. And it embarrassed him. My thighs were always big, all muscle, because I played soccer for years. This is where my athletic legs come from and why I want skinny feminine legs. This is going to be the hardest part of my ED, 🌟ving long enough for my muscles to eat itself lol

This was the last time I was confident in my body, when I moved to TN from OH, and gained some weight back. The pants were waist size 36, I don't know what that translates into pant sizes, but these pants were so expensive. $100 from The Buckle. This was my first trip back to OH since I had moved, and I wanted to feel sexy with my added weight because I knew I would see my ex. I wanted him to leave me alone and see me with a bigger body so he would stop stalking me. He knew where I moved to in TN (he was a cop/private investigator), and he always let me know. It is also the reason why when I kept gaining weight, I didn't care because in my mind, the more weight I gained, the more likely he would finally leave me alone.

But in the south, it's hard to stop gaining weight once you do because the food is so good you don't want to stop, you clean your plate!

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nicolettecallednikki · 2 years ago

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Not sure why I wrote this since I LOVE Steven and Taylor this season, but here's a fic about what might've happened behind the scenes last year leading up to their hook up at Nicole's party.

Sorry about the weird formatting.

Last Summer

Taylor Jewel and Steven Conklin don't exactly run in the same circles. He's a sophomore, and she's a freshman, not to mention his little sister's best friend, but for sure some reason he can't stop running into her at parties.

At first, he doesn't do anything about it. It's not his business, and if anything, he should just be glad that Belly isn't with her, but then he sees some guy- maybe a senior?- pawing at her, and, God, Taylor is such a shrimp. She barely came up to the kid's elbow, and that was with him- Steven didn't recognize him, but he had to be, like, a basketball player- basically holding her up, she was so wasted. So, he intervened.

"God, Steven," she huffed when he succeeding in practically dragging her to his car, "I'm not like Belly, y'know, I don't need a babysitter."

"Noted," he nodded reached over her to attached her seatbelt, when she didn't do it herself.

She's right, and he knows it. She was there with a group of- equally scantily clad- younger girls, she was clearly having a good time, and he had no real reason for pulling her away from Dex- that was the giant's name, and up close he was only a really big sophomore himself. As it turned out, Steven did know him, he'd let him copy his English homework throughout the eighth grade and Dex was happy to give up Taylor when asked, which was lucky, because he hadn't had a plan for if the guy had put up a fight.

After an initial struggle, Taylor had gone semi-willingly, not wanting to cause a scene, and for the thousandth time that night he was thankful she wasn't Belly, who surely would've thrown a fit.

Stretched over her, seatbelt in hand, Steven, totally involuntarily, caught a whiff of her hair.

Her shampoo smelled like strawberries, he noted with surprise. Most girls- Tania, who he'd just been kissing included- preferred coconut, but Taylor's hair smelled like strawberries, and Steven smiled and inhaled again. He loved strawberry; if it was socially acceptable for him to be using strawberry scented shampoo, he would.

"Steven, you weirdo," Taylor laughed, "Did you just sniff me?"

"No," Steven coughed, "Why would I do that? Your belt's just stuck."

"I dunno- maybe 'cause you love strawberries," Taylor giggled and added in a voice so quiet, he almost didn't hear it, "Maybe that's why I use this shampoo."

He buckled her and quickly took his seat. He stared at her for a moment; her eyes were trained out the window and she bit her lip, refusing to look at him. He drove her home without comment, but from them on he swore he smelled extra strawberry scents coming from Belly's room every time she was around.

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At first Steven thought it was odd that Taylor was at every party he made it to- he wasn't a big party guy, he saved that for the summer when he didn't have school to worry about- but apparently it was less of a coincidence and more due to the fact that Taylor was just... at every party.

He knew her home life was shaky and he seriously doubted her parents checked her location like his did, but still, he thought it was odd how he'd see her on the couch with Belly at his house one minute and an hour later she'd be at a party, already a few drinks in. He was glad she didn't have a car, at least, and her older cousin had a lot of the parties anyway, so he assumed Taylor spent the night there, but sometimes he wondered how she got home from these things. Running from the cops with her friends was one thing, but running all the way home was another entirely. And who were these friends she was partying with? These weren't the girls Belly talked about from school, the nice girls on their volleyball team.

He hadn't meant for it to happen like it did- he hadn't meant for it to happen at all. Now she was a sophomore, almost 16, which seemed to make it better, but she was still Belly's best friend, and more than that- worse than that- he had a sneaking suspicion this meant more to her than it did to him. Still, even with the best of intentions, he was just a stupid teenage boy.

"Are you ever going to kiss me?" Taylor asked with a pout, from her perch on his lap. They were sitting on a lawn chair, next to a fire pit, and his friends on either side of him laughed.

"Excuse me?" he raised an eyebrow and it practically disappeared into his hairline.

"You heard me, Conklin," she looked around at the group, "If I was in your lap, you'd kiss me, right, Spike?"

"I'd do more than that, Jewel," the boy replied suggestively, and Taylor felt Steven's grip on her hip tighten imperceptibly.

"Let me up," she smacked his bicep, making little effort to actually stand, "Just because you don't want to have any fun, doesn't mean I can't."

He hadn't come out that night intending to kiss Taylor Jewel, but once he started, he couldn't seem to stop.

His friends whooped and hollered around them, mostly shouts of "Finally", and he could've swore he saw an exchange of money as if there'd been a bet about all this, but Steven turned over his overacting brain for once and just enjoyed himself.

It was the Wednesday before Thanksgiving break, he was ahead on all of his assignments, he had a little beer buzz going, and he had a cute girl wrapped around him- he wasn't about to stop just because they had a bit of an audience. If it didn't bother Taylor- and if he knew her, it didn't- it didn't bother him. In the recesses of his mind he wondered vaguely if Belly would hear about this, but it was a small party and by the time they got back to school on Monday, he was sure no one would care. Plus, seeing Taylor hooking up was not exactly breaking news at this point, and he doubted anyone would make the connection between him and her and Belly.

Likewise, Taylor's mind was racing, but the boy in front of her smelled of clean soap and the air around them smelled of stale beer and fire pit smoke, so she pushed any thoughts out of her mind and sank deeper into him- the only boy who didn't chase her, the only boy who'd never call her Jewel. The only boy she ever wanted to.

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A rare occasion Belly actually came out for was Taylor's birthday. Whichever of the volleyball girls had the biggest house hosted, and half the school turned out for the event. Steven was there, too, but he made sure to keep his distance from his sister and her friend, in an effort to keep their hook ups secret. Somehow, word still hadn't gotten to Belly, and he wasn't sure what would happen if it ever did, but they were having fun, dammit, and if Belly wasn't mature enough to handle that, that was her problem, not theirs.

His gift for the birthday girl was burning a hole in his pocket- Sweet 16 deserved some sort of present, even if it was coming from him as Belly's older brother, but he got distracted talking to a girl in his AP trig class, and by the time he found the girls, Taylor was hooking up with some senior and Belly was making eyes at him, indicating she was over the party and wanted to go home. She always got that way when Taylor was holding court, not that he could blame her.

"Later, Tay," they exchanged a side hug when she broke away from the guy she was with to say goodbye to Belly, "Happy birthday."

If she was upset about not getting anything from him, she didn't show it.

The next morning, he told Belly and his mom he was going for a run, and ended up outside her house, armed with a pair of strawberry shaped stud earrings and the hope that the guy from last night wasn't around.

"Happy Sweet 16," he kissed her cheek and she blushed prettily, suddenly shy in the light of day.

"Thanks, Steven," she said, putting them on right away, in her second piecing. Every time he tucked her hair behind her ear from that point on, it made him smile to find they were still there- if there ever came a day they weren't, he'd know it was over.

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Taylor knew if she ever pushed him for more, that would be the end of them hooking up. The way things were, he could pretend not to know how she feels about him and excuse his behavior, but if she ever were to outright say how she felt– he would let her down gently, then it'd be done. So, she played it cool, kept it casual, out of self preservation, more than anything.

It was the same every time. They'd run into each other at a party- sometimes they'd hook up, but never go too far; sometimes she'd grind all over some guy right in his eye line, just to see if she'd get a reaction; sometimes he'd pull her off said guy, if he judged her too drunk, and took her home. She'd never admit it, but the last one was her favorite. Even more than when they were kissing- hands over clothes, no matter how she tried to push the line- when she was in his car, she felt like he cared about her. She liked that he cared.

The last time they hooked up was at a grad party two nights before the Conklins left for the summer. Taylor knew it wasn't their fault, but she sort of hated the Fishers for taking her best friend every summer, let alone... whatever Steven was to her.

But that night, in Billy Russell's backyard, they were in rare form. For once, Steven was the drunker- more drunk?- of the two, and couldn't keep his hands off her, not that Taylor was complaining. By now, it wasn't uncommon to see them hooking up, but usually Steven tried to be a little subtle, whereas tonight he'd actually wolf whistled when she came back from getting them drinks at one point. She'd sat curled up in his lap at the fire pit and he'd given her a hickey, which he would normally never do, and which she'd have to tell Belly- sweet, innocent, gullible Belly- was the result of a curling wand incident.

Then, at the end of the night he was too drunk to drive and didn't want her walking home alone, so they spent the night in Billy's basement, with like 12 other people. Even though he was drunk and they were pressed so close together Taylor could feel his heart beating, he still wouldn't lay a hand on her. Taylor didn't sleep a wink that night, too distracted by the weight of his arm slung possessively around her, but in the morning she hopped up as soon as it was light and took off for her house with the first group of girls to wake up. She didn't want to see his face when he woke up, she was sure he'd be embarrassed, probably even horrified, and she didn't want to hear him launch into an explanation about why this shouldn't have happened, couldn't keep happening, and would never happen again. They both had the lies they had to tell to themselves, it seemed.

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"Drew Martinez, huh?" Steven said, when Taylor walked out of Belly's room. He was standing in his doorway, across from his sister's, and must've heard their whole conversation.

"Jealous much?" Taylor narrowed her eyes at him.

"Why, is he your summer wish?" he countered, teasing.

"Only Belly makes summer wishes," she retorted, the part she'd never say out loud was that she couldn't be bothered with a summer wish, 'cause summers he was never here.

"You going out?" he changed the subject.

"The McCallan twins' party is tonight," she said by way of an answer- if there was a party, she'd be at it.

"Have fun," he gave her a tap on her head, "Don't do anything I wouldn't do. And try not to miss me too much this summer, Taytay."

"Tears on my pillow, Conklin," she rolled her eyes. She and Belly had been rewatching Grease for the four thousandth time while they packed her things.

He shook his head and turned back into his own room, Taylor momentarily caught off guard by how her flippant comment would probably end up coming true at some point this summer.

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She felt a pit in her stomach when she heard Belly talking about the Deb ball, and the pit only grew when she heard about Steven and Shayla.

She wasn't surprised the siblings were obsessing over the lifestyle of Cousins' elite, but she'd hoped they'd get over it sometimes. Laurel was, like, the best, and Mr. Conklin was nice, too, but Belly was always waxing poetic about Susannah and even Taylor knew that Steven's snobbiness was a cover for his insecurity about their finances. What she hadn't expected was for Belly and Steven to trade her in for an upgrade, and so soon into the summer.

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"Wanna go upstairs and see if there's other bathrooms?" she'd asked it innocently enough. She really didn't expect anything to happen with Belly around.

Steven checked his phone again, and she choked back a groan. Adopting a teasing tone, she poked him, "Looks like Belly's not the only one on board with the fancy girls."

"Trust me, Tay," his groan was loud, "It's not all it's cracked up to be. This Deb thing is killing me."

"According to Belly you're super into this Kayla girl though," Taylor prompted.

Steven didn't bother correcting her, he knew her game well, and continued on, "She's great, she's- I've never met anyone like her before, but I'm not this guy."

Taylor swallowed thickly. Nothing hit quite like having your crush talk about another girl in front of you, but Taylor knew she'd set the precedent by bringing up at least a dozen different guys to Steven over the past year. Of course, she had been trying- in vain- to make him jealous and he was over here breaking her heart, but such was the nature of their relationship.

"What guy, Steven?" Taylor spoke sharply, "You're like Ivy League smart, you're nice, you always try to keep the peace between Belly and Laurel. As much as it, like, physically pains me to say it, you're a good guy."

"Well, we both know that's not entirely true," he teased, toying with her flower crown, "That it pains you, I mean. I seem to remember quite a few times you were more than happy to-."

"Steven," Taylor's eyes went wide, "Belly is here. She would- I don't know what she'd do."

"She's downstairs," he said, "Hear the singing? That's Jeremiah, I'm sure he's serenading Belly and that Cam kid as we speak."

"You guys should lay off Cam," Taylor shoved his shoulder, but left her hand there, "She finally likes someone besides Conrad, if anything you should be encouraging it."

"You're not wrong," he touched the hem of her pink dress, his face momentarily crinkling, "Is this the one you lent my sister?"

"That was a different one," Taylor assured him, "Why, do you like it?"

Steven nodded, his hand still on her hem, "You can't give her your clothes though. They don't- suit her, like they do you. You and Belly are two entirely different people, thank God."

"It's reassuring to know you don't think of me as the little sister type," Taylor leaned into him, and the dress hem went over his fingers.

"Taylor," he sucked in a breath, "Are you sure-"

"It's nothing we haven't done before," she teased, hooking her other hand behind his neck, "It can stay our little secret, right?"

He barely hesitated before slinging an arm around her waist and pulling her into his lap. Their lips crashed into each other, and before she knew it, she was airborne.

If Steven had one unspoken rule for them, it was no beds; he'd kiss her in a chair, on her porch swing, a kitchen counter, and evidently up against this dresser, but God forbid she ever try to go horizontal with him.

It's not like she's a virgin, and he knows she isn't, but he can't- won't- go there with her. He knows, deep down, even for Taylor, who acts like it's no big deal, it would mean something to her. It would change things.

While he's not a big guy, she's light enough to be carried the few steps across the room, her legs locked around his narrow hips. She grinds into him, trying to provoke him, but he sets her down with a thud, creating some space between them. She's mostly just being a tease, she knows he won't sleep with her, but that doesn't mean she won't enjoy make him a bit uncomfortable in the meantime.

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They were caught. They were caught and Taylor was screwed, 'cause now totally Belly hated her, Steven would probably never look at her again, and she somehow had to find her way back to their friends' house, where she still had to stay the night. Awesome.

Taylor was attempting to simultaneously blend into the furniture and locate Jeremiah- the nicer, not to mention more promiscuous, of the Fisher boys would maybe see her side of things- when she felt a hand on the her shoulder.

"Ah!" she shouted inadvertently, when faced with Conrad Fisher. Taylor knew he was, like, Belly's ideal man and Steven's idol, and all that, but she'd always found him to be scary, and she definitely didn't want to talk to him about this.

"Sorry," he said, but his lips twitched into a grin.

"Are you going to yell at me?" she asked, for some reason feeling like she'd deserve it if he did.

"No," he said, "I was going to give you a ride, if that's alright?"

"How drunk are you?" she asked incredulously. He must've known what happened- he wouldn't be coming up to her if he didn't, but he was about the last person she'd expect to be sympathetic.

"Come on," he nodded in the direction of the door and she allowed him to lead her to his car, but not before he let Nicole know he'd be back later.

"How long have you guys been hooking up?" he asked after a moment of silence in the car.

"Steven told you about that?" she looked shocked rather than upset, which was an improvement.

"No," Conrad smirked, "But you just did."

She slumped lower in the passenger seat, but he shook her shoulder, "It's not a big deal, Taylor, people hook up all the time. Belly will get over it."

"Not likely," she frowned, "You of all people should know how Belly operates."

"Me of all people?" Conrad asked quietly. Every time he spoke he sounded like he was in pain.

She eyed him for a moment. She got what all the girls saw in him, he was cute, in that tortured, broody way that did nothing for her.

"You got to stop messing with my girl, Conrad," she sighed, defensive of her friend even when she was fairly certain she'd never speak to her again.

"Are you talking about me and Belly, or you and Steven?" he countered, side eying her.

"Touché," she cracked a little smile in spite of herself.

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Belly and Taylor hadn't talked since last night. When Conrad had come to the house the first time, Cam's car was still parked in the driveway, so he took her for a milkshake to kill some time before circling back. Taylor had gotten cookies and cream, instead of strawberry.

Then, when he dropped her off, she'd creaked up the stairs and into Belly's room, fully expecting a showdown, but Belly was either suddenly a really solid sleeper, or she was faking it to avoid the inevitable. A tiny, stupid part of Taylor was happy Belly knew, that she didn't have to hide it. If anyone should understand inconvenient feelings, it was her best friend.

Still, Taylor packed her things- she suspected she'd be catching an earlier bus the next morning- and crawled into bed next to her, without a word.

There was a knock on the door the next morning as she packed the last of her things- toiletries, pajamas- and she wasn't sure who she was dreading seeing more.

She opened the door to find Steven, and suddenly her mouth was too dry to speak.

"That was-" she started, when Steven cut her off.

"That was a mistake," he said, "I don't want Belly to know it wasn't the first time."

Taylor's eyebrow crinkled in confusion. Hiding it was one thing, flat out lying was another thing altogether.

"You want me to lie to my best friend?" she said quietly, wanting to say, 'You want me to pretend we never happened?', but holding it in.

"We made a mistake, Taylor," Steven said, "We've been making a mistake. It wasn't- we should've never gone there, anyway. We were playing with fire, and it can never happen again."

Taylor felt her heart crumble a little at his words. There were a lot of outcomes she'd anticipated, for when it all hit the fan, but this wasn't one of them. She'd misjudged Steven. Clearly, if he could stand in front of her and tell her this, he wasn't the guy she thought he was. Maybe he never had been- maybe that was only who she'd hoped he was.

But whoever this was, it wasn't the boy who'd wrapped himself around her three weeks ago as he slept in Billy Russell's basement. It wasn't the boy who'd kissed her and walk her home and bought her the damn strawberry earrings she was wearing right now. She didn't know who this boy was, because the Steven Conklin she thought she knew would do a lot of things, but she didn't think he'd ever hurt her.

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After seeing Taylor off, Belly faced her brother for another awkward conversation she'd been dreading.

"Can we not," Steven said, sensing her presence, "I feel bad enough as it is."

"She really likes you, you know," Belly narrowed her eyes at her brother.

Steven sighed and finally said out loud what he'd pretended to be blind to all along, "Yeah, I know."

#the summer i turned pretty #steven x taylor #Staylor #steven conklin #taylor jewel #tsitp

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lesbian-in-leather · 1 year ago

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ALRIGHTY THEN

It is time to analyse that finale cliff-hanger and make my predictions for season three, so buckle up folks—and if you haven't watched season two of CBS Ghosts, then I suggest you read no further, because this post will contain spoilers up to and including the end of episode 20: The Heir

So obviously we know at least one ghost has been sucked off—but why? And who? I've split the potentials into four categories for ease of reading, so let's dive right in, shall we?

Section One: It's Not Happening

Pete

He is 100% safe. Nothing happened to him in the finale that would make him a candidate for the afterlife, and if he were to move on, then surely they would have shuffled the episodes around so it could happen after attending his daughter's wedding? The fact that that was an episode this series but it wasn't the finale means that he's safe, because it would have made such a good reason for him to move on! ...if it'd happened in episode 20, that is

Sasappis

Very similar to above, he did nothing of note in the finale. No plot revolved around him, and he's had very little development this series—sure, he got a girlfriend for a few episodes, but really, that does not feel anywhere near earth-shattering enough for him to move on. And again, if that was the plot-to-end-all-Sasappis-plots, then it would have happened nearer then end. Ya boy is safe

Stephanie

Yes, she got what she wanted—a bf—but if that was enough for her to move on then... why didn't she? That was at least a few days ago girlie, that would be quite the lag. And it would feel like SUCH a cop to say that something was going on with her that we ~just didn't see~ when they could have simply... reordered the episodes so that hers was last. So yeah, she's good

Crash

He is so far from at risk it's almost laughable. He comes back for the first notable moment since the pilot (a background cameo doesn't count) and in that very same episode... loses his head again. Nothing has been fixed or solved, so he is definitely not in a place to move on. Or, two places, as the case may be

Cholera Victim Nancy

She is honestly just not relevant enough to be the one they choose to off. She also had absolutely no plot or relevance in that final episode, so if it was the actor leaving instead of a narrative choice then I feel they would have given her something to make it feel warranted—as it stands, she's still utterly irrelevant and so, not really at risk of moving on any time soon

Cholera Victim Ralph

Now he, at least, got some semblance of a plot but... still. See everything I've stated for Nancy—combined with the fact that having him move on would also completely undo Stephanie's reason for not trying to destroy every couple at Woodstone; which was a great plot! But if it were to be repeated ad nauseam, that would make Stephanie's character go from 'fun and interesting episode hook' to 'good god she's awake again' real fast. And without Ralph... well, there's no reason for it not to. So he's safe

Section Two: I doubt it

The Unnamed Cholera Ghosts

There is a very low possibility of it being any of them. The only reason I can think of that makes them more likely than any of the above is if the writers didn't actually plan out anything post-finale; and then when it came time to write season three they realised that they didn't want to be rid of any of the main cast and so decided on sacrificing one of these freaky lil basement dwellers as a cop out. I am sincerely hoping that that is not the case, but there's always a chance

Section Three: I Wouldn't Put Money On It

Flower

She has indeed shown growth this season, especially after gaining closure with her brother and "getting over her commitment issues" (something I could write a very different post about) enough to be with Thor. However, if she were the one to go, I feel she would have had more relevance to the finale—yes, she was a part of the council, but she didn't play any special part. And surely they would have put one of her more crucial plots in the finale—her brother replying to Sam's email, or at least her first kiss with Thor—if it were truly to be her last episode? All in all, it is possible, but I don't think it'll be her

Thorfinn

Very similar to Flower, Thor has had multiple points of growth this season that were not relevant in the finale at all. He began calming his anger (to a point), he started up a relationship with Flower, and he reconnected with his son... but not in the finale. Again, I think if he were the one to leave, he would have played a bigger role in the events of episode 20, so I'm fairly confident we'll have another series of everyone's favourite car-denying Viking

Trevor

Now my boy has solidly shown growth this season, and has proven himself once again to be a way better guy than he first appears. He respects Hetty and her opinions, and I could honestly write a whole post about them and their relationship but that is not for right now. The point is, the growth he's shown puts him at risk—however, there was absolutely no focus on that growth in the finale. His relationship with Hetty didn't even come up apart from one joke regarding Hetty's banishment, and I feel like if he was leaving, then he would have been more of a focus in the finale instead of solidly background

And finally, Section Four: The Prime Suspects

Hetty

Similarly to Trevor, I do think their relationship would have been more of a focus in the finale if it was to be either of their last episodes. However, Hetty made multiple tearful speeches this season, including in that very last episode, which puts her far more at risk then her boy toy (affectionate). She's shown growth, grace, forgiveness, and humility—all things the Hetty Woodstone of a century past would never have dreamed of in such circumstances. However, to have her leave now would leave her relationship with Trevor unfinished, not to mention the fact that we still have no idea about the circumstances surrounding her death. For that reason, she's the least likely to go out of the ghosts in this section, but my concern for her future at Woodstone is still all too real

Nigel & Isaac

Now these two could come as a package deal or separately, so I'm going to discuss them both individually and as a pair. Right off the bat, I'm going to say that if Isaac goes, I am fairly confident that Nigel will go with him—there is always the possibility of Nigel being upgraded to a fully fledged member of the group after Isaac has moved on, and it would allow him to step into the kind of comedy the show relies on Isaac for (another thing I could write a very different post about) but I think that would only happen if Isaac's actor had chosen to leave instead of this being a narrative choice. So, why would it be Isaac? Well, to be fair, he has sort of ticked all of his narrative boxes. He's secured his legacy (with his book on the way), and finally gotten over the last of his hang-ups regarding his sexuality by proposing to Nigel—he could very well feel at peace with himself, and at a place where he could leave Woodstone behind for good. Similarly, Nigel has completed his narrative arc—he's spent the entirety of season two asking for a real commitment, and now he's finally got it. However, I do think the network would have to consider how it would look to finally give our only queer couple a solid relationship... only to immediately kill one of them off. Yes, yes, I know they're all already dead, but for this narrative, moving on is, for all intents and purposes, a second death. The best solution to this conundrum? Have them move on together—both of their arcs completed, both happy and content enough to leave this world behind and explore the next together. It's not perfect, but it's highly possible, and the best of the alternatives for the two of them

Alberta

And here she is, my most anticipated loss. We've spent the entire series unpacking and solving her murder, piece by piece. We've delved into her life, her loves, her legacy. We've seen it almost fall apart only to be built up stronger, we've seen it continued in the voice of her great grand niece. And, finally, she not only ended the season knowing who killed her, but why, how, and—the final piece of the puzzle—forgiving Hetty for concealing that information for the past century, absolving her of her punishment in the climax of the finale. Alberta would be a tragic loss to the series, but they have given her a lot of focus this series, and it certainly wouldn't feel out of place or unsatisfying for her story if she were the one to go

Now, if we were to look at timing of any of these potential losses then there is of course another problem—there would obviously be a rather significant delay between the last time we see the ghosts, and Sam and Jay pulling up in the driveway after their conversation with the Imposter Heir. Any number of things could have happened in that time, but I doubt entire arcs would have taken place off screen that would drastically shift the order of any of these characters—and if they did, I would have an entirely different bone to pick

But I suppose we'll just have to wait and see

#the lesbian herself #cbs ghosts #cbs ghosts spoilers #cbs ghosts season 2 #ya girl's back with my signature rambling theory posts #oops #sorry lads

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nathsolkyoako · 2 months ago

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Some thoughts for my alphonze design in New cause I actually thought abt this a lot for some reason

Alright so first and foremost his initial discription was :

(Episode 44. timestamp is in video)

Barber bowl hat (???????) with goggles on it (mostly for decoration I don’t think he’d need them, meaning a lot of him was designed more for looks than being functional)

Metal face with ‘gentle gaze’ (which is why I draw his eyes like that lmao) which leads me to believe that he wasn’t originally made as a body guard (probably a performer of some kind seeing the rest of the discription) because the main point of a body guard is to look intimidating. Maybe him and his partner at the time were supposed to be a kinda good cop bad cop type beat idk. As well as his stupid ass mustache that’s like described as twirly?? I’m not doing that shit as you’ve seen with my other drawings I’m keeping it simple he’s metal who gives a shit

“Clothes are all buckles and straps” (he has guns /j. (Unless the other option-)) probably just trying to fit the steampunk theme that was Edison kingdom I don’t see people mention the Trenchcoat a lot but hey bros never mentioned anyways. Regardless I’m guessing it’s either for insulation (like it’s rlly cold there or smth) to cover his not so fitting clothes which are..

“1920s accapella quartet member” tbh I have no fucking idea I just imagined that guy from dark picture anthrology and went with that. So like kinda fancy clothes? Iguess? With like a vest maybe bowtie and like collared shirt underneath. I just gave him some, Idk basic ass pants and boots cause why not those weren’t really described

I hate his stupid ass official art so I’m not gonna talk abt that. And also the fic isn’t at that part yet so I’m gonna keep with his first description for now

Anyways I’m thinking because blossom isn’t working in the law, alphonze was probably repurposed from like a singer/performer (also probably why he had so many accent and language options) and had added in programming for being able to. Idk do body guard stuff. So fighting and. Idk other, things. Also because client confidentiality is a thing that exists I think (literally just me thinking this I have no proof) he was wiped of previous knowledge of other clients only having basic information about the things he’s done/people he’d met. I also apply this later you’ll see (:

Anyways both of those “jobs” he’s had most likely didn’t include being able to ‘drive a boat’ or whatever it’s called so because I also don’t know how boats work (especially not pirate ships. I mean who does the jrwi crew doesn’t either) I decided to just let him figure it out! Kinda simple I guess! Also I don’t think Edison kingdom would have many things that aren’t mechanical/magical so a completely wooden boat would feel very foreign to him

I think that because of the repurpose (from whatever he was before to body guard or wtvr) was what caused him to ‘malfunction’ into being more sentient. I wrote a whole thing abt this before with jrpwi alphonze (who I also play lmao) but I think this is also a thing that happens frequently in Edison when making war forged so there’s precautions set up in their constructs so they don’t break out and not want to follow orders. Because war forged were made to be workers I don’t think they’d (the creators) would want them wanting to have rights and opinions and stuff

Sorry for this comparison but I’m imagining it as like. Yk how in fnaf help wanted in the vr there was that one mini game where you make the drink recipes for the soda machine and you have to give the work bits or wtvr they’re called like breaks and shit and if they want to revolt they’re shut down. I imagine it as kinda like that

Here’s my doodles for it have fun reading (please read it it’s so neat)

Shit wait I almost forgot dude was described as like constantly expelling steam and stuff so he’s probably have a bunch of vents and fans and stuff. So he’s probably not that quiet (I hc that he’d make different sounds depending on how he’s feeling thus starting the “robopurrs” and “catgirl alphonze” lmaooooo)

#I have a lot of thoughts about him ok I’ve been pretending to be him at least once daily for almost a year (half a year?) now #hey if you liked reading maybe check out my fic ‘New’ if you forgot this was abt him in that story #but ALSO if you like how that’s written and stuff you can check out my actual rp blog I just got off break and it gets a little Silyl over #there. the links in my pinned post (:#also I totally get if you don’t like the to blog stuff rlly I get it but Just Saying if you like itttttty #ok wtvr tag time #jrwi riptide #jrwi alphonze #jrpwi #cause it’s mentioned #yeah no uhhhhhhhh that’s kinda it #I swear I use those tags so fucking much he’s all I talk about

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fanizmquiz · 3 months ago

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The Big Picture: 2024's Bollywood Latest Collection Report Card

Hey movie buffs! Buckle up for the most exciting deep dive into what's making waves (and money!) in Indian cinema this year. The bollywood latest collection figures are breaking records left and right, and we're here to spill all the tea! From cop dramas to ghostly adventures, 2024 is turning out to be a blockbuster year that's got everyone talking.

Singham's Roaring Return

Let's kick things off with the biggest cop universe expansion yet! The Hindi movie box office collection for Singham Again has sent shockwaves through the industry, amassing a spectacular ₹192.5 crore in just its opening week. Ajay Devgn's iconic character is back with more swag, bigger action, and those signature sunglasses flips that we can't get enough of! The bollywood latest collection reports suggest it's racing towards the ₹200 crore club faster than you can say "Aata Majhi Satakli!"

But what's making this cop drama such a massive hit? Well, imagine Rohit Shetty taking everything you loved about the previous films and cranking it up to eleven! The hindi movie box office collection proves that audiences can't resist the perfect blend of high-octane action, emotional drama, and those flying cars we've come to expect (and love!).

Double Trouble in Horror Town

Speaking of breaking records, the bollywood latest collection numbers for our favorite horror-comedies are giving accountants sleepless nights (pun intended!). Bhool Bhulaiyaa 3 and Stree 2 have both hit the jackpot with approximately ₹210 crore each! Who knew ghosts could be such good business?

The hindi movie box office collection for these spooktacular entertainers shows that the horror-comedy genre has found its sweet spot. Kartik Aaryan's Rooh Baba in Bhool Bhulaiyaa 3 continues to charm audiences with his ghostbusting antics, while Stree 2 proves that social commentary mixed with scares is still a winning formula. The bollywood latest collection success of both films hints at a bright (or should we say dark?) future for this genre. Let’s wait and watch how far Bhool Bhulaiyaa 3 goes as it’s still in the cinemas.

Future Perfect: Kalki 2898 AD Takes Flight

Hold onto your seats because the bollywood latest collection figures for this sci-fi epic will blow your mind. Kalki 2898 AD has transcended expectations with an astronomical collection between ₹1,100-1,200 crore! This perfect blend of mythology and futuristic elements has created box office history, proving that Indian cinema can dream big and deliver bigger.

The hindi movie box office collection for Kalki 2898 AD isn't just impressive - it's revolutionary! With stunning visuals, a star-studded cast including the legendary Amitabh Bachchan and Prabhas, and a story that bridges ancient wisdom with future technology, this film has set a new benchmark for Indian cinema.

Comedy Ka Twist!

Let's talk about Bad Newz - the surprise package of 2024! While its bollywood latest collection of ₹60 crore might seem modest compared to our other blockbusters, this quirky comedy has found its audience through word-of-mouth publicity. The hindi movie box office collection proves that sometimes, content is king, and audiences appreciate fresh storytelling.

The film's unique premise about pregnancy confusion has struck a chord with viewers, showing that the bollywood latest collection isn't always about massive budgets and explosions. Sometimes, all you need is a good story well told.

Breaking Down the Numbers

Let's get analytical about these bollywood latest collection figures:

Box Office Giants in 2024:

Kalki 2898 AD: ₹1,100+ crore (Setting new records!)

Bhool Bhulaiyaa 3: ₹210 crore (Horror-comedy magic!)

Stree 2: ₹210 crore (Matching its spooky competitor!)

Singham Again: ₹192.5 crore (Still climbing!)

Bad Newz: ₹60 crore (Steady success!)

The hindi movie box office collection trends reveal some interesting patterns. Big-budget spectacles are still crowd-pullers, but genre films with strong content are equally capable of striking gold. These numbers suggest that audiences are more discerning than ever, rewarding both scale and substance.

Final Thoughts

As we wrap up this bollywood latest collection roundup, one thing's for sure - 2024 is proving to be a landmark year for Indian cinema. Whether you're a fan of high-octane action, spine-chilling horror, mind-bending sci-fi, or heartwarming comedy, there's something for everyone, and the box office numbers prove it!

From small-town horror stories to futuristic epics, viewers are embracing diversity in content like never before. The hindi movie box office collection trends suggest that we're entering a golden age of Indian cinema where there's room for every kind of story.

So, which of these blockbusters have you watched? Are you Team Singham or Team Rooh Baba? Or are you still processing the mind-bending visuals of Kalki 2898 AD?

#bollywood latest collection #hindi movie box office collection

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buzzdixonwriter · 2 years ago

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Karl Marx, Fascism, And The Living Dead

I got burned out on zombies several decades ago when serving as part of Joe Bob Briggs’ Board of Drive-In Experts (i.e., reviewers for his newsletter).

While I bear no animosity to the genre, I just saw one zombie flick too many and, like eating nothing but pistachio ice cream for a month, I got to the point where I didn’t want to face another one.

So I was a little surprised to have an extremely detailed zombie movie dream last night, not a nightmare, but rather a zombie movie playing out before me (i.e., I was a spectator of, not a participant in the dream).

It gave me an insight into the evolution of the zombie genre, and how the same reflects on us culturally.

So buckle up, buttercups, we’re going in for a deep dive…

. . .

First off, while I haven’t seen a new full length zombie movie or TV series since the last century, I have absorbed a lot of what’s going on in the sub-genre through sheer osmosis.

People write about these things all the time, the trailers are all over YouTube, images appear everywhere, Wikipedia supplies countless synopses, etc., etc., and of course, etc.

And while I wouldn’t count myself informed enough to comment on any specific new zombie film or TV show, I think I’ve been able to observe the sub-genre’s evolution pretty well as an outsider, not a fan.

Next to mad slasher movies, zombie films are the easiest horror movies to make: All you need are some old clothes and some garish make-up and voila, instant zombie.

That’s what burned me out, the seemingly endless non-variations on a theme by independent / semi-pro /amateur / total fnckin’ incompetent film makers that I needed to wade through.

I give many of them credit for ingenuity and the occasional oddball twist. One film maker staged a zombie invasion by putting six friends in make-up, driving to Washington DC in a van, hopping out in front of several landmarks, and quickly filming his buddies staggering around the Capitol, the Lincoln memorial, the Washington Monument, etc. before the cops chased them away.

Added a lot of production value to what otherwise looked like a $1.98 production.

But enough is enough, know what I mean?

It’s important to note all these zombie flicks were inspired not so much directly by George Romero’s paradigm shifting approach to the sub-genre but indirectly after being filtered through the lens (literal and figurative) of various Italian rip-offs, many helmed by Lucio Fulci.

Fulci directed over 50 films in his career, all of them in some exploitation genre, but he hit his sweet spot with his gruesome-bordering-surrealistic zombie flicks, starting with Zombie 2, an official remake (i.e., plagiaristic rip-off) of George Romero’s Dawn Of The Dead (released in Italy as Zombie).

Fulci’s stylistic touches proved easier to emulate than Romero’s more thematic approach, but ironically this resulted in what’s called “bad truth” by many low budget film fans; i.e., a film that, because of speed and budget restraints, provides no filter to the film maker’s persona, and whatever results is a more honest glimpse into their mind and soul than a better made film with a bigger budget and longer shooting schedule.*

As a result, most zombie films became the very thing that Romero was commenting on.

. . .

Let’s start at the beginning: The true origin of the zombie mythos.

Zombies do exist, albeit not in the highly stylized form found in movies and pulp fiction.

As Wade Davis pointed out in his book, The Serpent & The Rainbow, Haitian shamans were known to produce a cocktail of near-toxic and mind-numbing substances that first reduced a victim to near-death physical status then, once revived, obliterated the ability for their mind to function at any but the most rudimentary level.

Needless to say, while the shamans could do this, they never did it on a scale approaching that in popular fiction, and actual cases of zombies are very few and very far between but it did happen, thus spawning the myth we have today.

Europeans learned of zombies in the early 19th century, but they really didn’t hit their stride until the 1930s when they began popping up in pulp fiction. The movie White Zombie (1932) is considered the first zombie movie (although revived corpses appeared earlier in other movies).

In addition to being a really good classic horror film, what makes White Zombie of particular importance is that it presents the original raison d’etre of the zombie mythos: Cheap enslaved labor.

While the zombie mythos drew on inspirations from around the world, Haiti remains the focal point, the time /place / culture that presented it full blown to the world.

Haiti became the first enslaved colony to free itself and declare independence in 1804; in 1819 the first reference to zombies appeared in an English language work.

Haitians, recently freed yet still crushed under a huge financial debt imposed on it by France, naturally embellished stories of zombies to include the victims being used to serve as virtually free unpaid labor for plantation owners.

As noted, while zombies do exist, they are far and few between. From a return-on-investment angle they are woefully labor-intensive to create with a high risk of failure.

The few documented cases of actual zombies suggests the motives may have been personal, with the victim’s enslavement just an additional degradation doled out on them.

White Zombie puts the concept on an industrial scale, with villain Murder Legendre (Bela Lugosi in one of his last good roles) using a battalion of enslaved zombies to operate his sugar cane plantation.

It’s a striking mundane yet simultaneously politically deep motive.

The late 19th and early 20th century saw a great conflict around the world at local and national levels between the proponents of socialism and / or communism and the forces of capital.

In particular, socialism (and to a lesser degree communism) gained a foothold in American culture following the Great Depression, and when White Zombie was made in 1932 the thought that corporations and business owners would willfully enslave and work their laborers to death was not the slightest bit removed from recent history, much less far fetched.

And while zombies in pulp fiction and comic books might have a variety of other origins, even there the financial angle typically proved the overriding motive for their creation.

For the next three decades, in films like King Of The Zombies (1941), its sequel Revenge Of The Zombies (1943), the Val Lewton classic I Walked With A Zombie (1943), Creature With The Atom Brain (1955), Invisible Invaders (1959), and Plague Of The Zombies (1966), this remained the central conceit in the way zombies were portrayed: Enslaved labor serving evil masters.**

George Romero overturned all that.

. . .

While zombies as enslaved labor remained the dominant paradigm of the sub-genre, there were alternate interpretations galore.

Some are zombie movies by default; i.e., the previously mentioned revived corpse movies where sometimes the victim was revived for altruistic purposes, sometimes for personal desire, sometimes just to have somebody handy to do all the heavy lifting.

Regardless of motive, this inevitably ended up badly for the resurrectionist.

While there had been a few movies like Zombies Of Mora Tau (1957) in which zombies operated independently as reanimated corpses, these were more in the lines of traditional ghost stories where the dead either protected or haunted a relic or holy site.

Romero shifted the classic zombie paradigm quite significantly not once, not twice, but three times.

The most frightening thing about the zombies in Romero’s Night Of The Living Dead (1968) is they are no longer under control.

As frightening as a cadre of shuffling living dead might be, they become even more terrifying when one realizes there’s absolutely no way to stop them short of their utter annihilation.

There is no evil witch doctor or mad scientist guiding their attack, there’s no off switch to be thrown.

Rather, Romero’s zombies are a force of (super)nature, absolutely unstoppable en masse.

They are incomprehensible because unlike the enslaved labor of earlier zombie films, there is no rational guiding motivation behind them.

I grant you “rational” is doing a lot of work here, but it’s not inappropriate. No matter how crazy the witch doctor or mad scientist may be, they’re motivated by a desire to fulfill their personal agenda, whatever it may be.

That their means and objective might both be utterly insane is beside the point, the zombies are merely the means to the end.

But as noted, Romero’s zombies in Night Of The Living Dead possess no meaning.

They exist simply to devour.

Romero expanded on this greatly with his sequel, Dawn Of The Dead (1978), this time hammering the point down hard: Zombies are the ultimate consumers.

They create nothing, they produce nothing, they do nothing, they simply destroy and eat those who do.

By setting Dawn Of The Dead in a fortified shopping mall besieged by zombies, Romero made a sharp cultural satire on modern consumer culture.

The Fulci inspired imitators who flooded screens with zombie movies after this didn’t merely miss Romero’s point, they did so by confirming his underlying thesis.

Without understanding, without actually creating anything new, they feasted on what others did before them.

And mind you, I’m not yucking anybody’s yum. Some of these imitators are interesting in their own right and I begrudge no one their pleasure.

But like all the imitators of Quentin Tarantino who fill their movies with oddball characters, quirky dialog, outrageous situations, and over the top violence, they imitate the style but not the substance.

With Dawn Of The Dead, Romero gave us something to chew on.***

And Romero’s third paradigm shift?

It wasn’t obvious at the time, and it’s taken a while to blossom, but he introduced that in Night Of The Living Dead as well: The bigots among us will quickly justify any reason to attack the other.

. . .

=SPOILER for those of you who haven’t seen the original Night Of The Living Dead yet.=

Ben (Duane Jones), the sole survivor of the besieged farmhouse, emerges only to be shot by a posse of good ol’ boys hunting zombies.

Ben is African-American, which in 1968’s political and cultural climate was pretty radical casting.

The good ol’ boys are seen earlier on a TV broadcast in Night Of The Living Dead, gleefully hunting down and destroying the zombies (called “ghouls” in Romero’s original version before he acquiesced to audiences’ preferred nomenclature). “When we find 'em, we can kill 'em…they're dead. They're all messed up,”

One may argue for several reasons that Ben’s death at the end of Night Of The Living Dead is intentional irony, that it’s the last tragic card laid down in a losing hand.

Indeed, had a white actor been cast as Ben (according to Romero, Jones won the role on the strength of his audition, not his ethnicity), the film’s ending would still play out.

But Ben as an African-American adds a whole new dimension to the climax suggesting he wasn’t killed in a tragic mistake but rather simply because to the good ol’ boys, he wasn’t a normal white guy like them but rather one of The Other.

So how does all this tie into my zombie movie dream?

In the dream movie, it’s shortly after the collapse of civilization in the aftermath of a zombie onslaught. The protagonists in the dream were looting various abandoned buildings, taking what they needed.

The zombies provided little direct threat. There was the sense if one got too close they could be trouble, but basically they weren’t as strong as humans, not as fast, and certainly not as intelligent.

While some of the protagonists simply sidestepped the zombies, others killed them even when the zombies posed no threat.

Those protagonists enjoyed hunting and killing zombies.

When I woke up, I realized the dream illuminated a third stage of evolution in cinematic zombies, as radical a change as Romero’s earlier ideas.

And I grant you, doubtlessly not an original insight on my part, but one I probably gleaned subconsciously from online exposure to clips from 28 Days Later (2002) and Resident Evil (2003) and Shaun Of The Dead (2004) and World War Z (2013) and the TV series The Walking Dead (2010 – 2022): As troublesome as zombies are, the real problem is us.

. . .

The evolution of screen zombies:

Labor unjustly enslaved by evil masters for sinister purposes. While scary, these zombies are no threat in and of themselves. It’s only when they’re directed to take action by their overlords that they become dangerous. In many ways they can be pitied.

Uncontrolled consumer culture. Essentially our neighbors and fellow citizens (indeed, the running joke in all zombie films are the vast array of different types of zombies -- farmers / doctors / cheerleaders / etc.). They consume without thinking, destroying every living thing they come in contact with, animated but not really alive. In short, the ultimate bourgeoisie.

The Other. Bigotry / authoritarianism / fascism needs an identifiable enemy to hate and destroy. There needs to be a monster to be slain in order to feel like a hero, but too often the slain are painted as monsters in order for the slayer to justify their own behavior.

“Beware that, when fighting monsters, you yourself do not become a monster... for when you gaze long into the abyss, the abyss gazes also into you.” -- Friedrich Nietzsche

* “Bad truth” also encompasses films made by directors who are such box office giants that no one dare say no to their slightest whims no matter how bad those ideas are (looking at you, George Lucas)

** The 1952 serial Zombies Of The Stratosphere featured no actual zombies; rather the term is used almost as an ethnic slur by the protagonists against the Martian invaders.

*** This one’s for you, Uncle Forry.

#movies #zombies #George Romero #Karl Marx #late stage capitalism #capitalism #socialism #communism #Lucio Fulci #Haiti #Friedrich Nietzsche

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verxn · 2 years ago

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Dislike

Description: you and Scott go to his ex-girlfriend’s house to pick up his daughter, but you know how that goes…one thing leads to another

Pairing: Scott Lang x Black fem reader

Note: hi loves! How are you feeling? I hope you enjoy this my writing is like v shitty I literally haven’t did this in a while 🧍🏾

N/n = nickname 🫶🏾

“Do you have everything?” I said while turning around facing my husband. With hearing that he started to pay his pockets to feel if he has at least his wallet, keys, etc.

“Yeah” he said still patting his pockets just to make sure, he then looked up and nodded to confirm he had everything.

with that we walked out of our small condo, it wasn’t too small but not too big, basically just the right size. Anyway, Scott locked the door and got into the car then we drove off.

Today was Scott’s time to have his daughter Cassie with him. He could only take her on Monday, Wednesday and Thursday since Friday she had to go to practice for gymnastics.

But here we are driving down the streets of California to see Cassie, I love Cassie a lot she’s a sweetheart but I just hate how Maggie’s now boyfriend has been treating Scott.

When we pulled up to the house you can see both Maggie and Jim sautéing on the porch watching Cassie play in the front yard. Scott pulled up and parked the car, he then looked at me and said “honey promise me you won’t say anything to Jim, I know he’s a asshat but I just don’t want to hear his voice right now I just want my daughter”

I sighed and nodded slightly. “But if he says something to me first or even you I’m gonna say something he doesn’t like” I said while pointing a finger to Scott, he chuckled at me and raised his hand to remove some of the braids covering my face “honey, just promise.”

I sighed and nodded “yeah yeah okay fine” I replied while getting out the car and closing the door. When I was out the side I turned around to see Scott coming around the car to walk next to me

Cassie saw the both of us and had a wide smile on her face “DADDY!! N/N!!!” she said happily while running up to us and hugging us both— or should I said tried to hug us both, since her arms are too small to wrap around the both of us

“Hey sweetheart” Scott said while picking her up and kissing her cheek. She giggled happily and looked at me “hi princess” I said waving to her, she waved back and asked Scott can he put her down so she can show me her favorite dolls

While I was playing with Cassie and her dolls , Scott was talking to Maddie and Jim. Mainly Jim, he couldn’t stop talking over Scott which was getting very annoying

“Hey cass, I’m gonna go talk to your daddy okay?” I said and she nodded then continued to play with her dolls. I walked up near the porch and heard jim threatening Scott to never see Cassie again

“I would make sure that you won’t ever see Cassie again” he said just before I walked up “you’ll do what?” I said walking up to him with a cocked eyebrow

Maddie wasn’t outside at the time, so it was just me, Scott and Jim “honey…it’s fine I got this” Scott turned to me and said in a calm tone. “Scott no, he’s trying to not make you see Cassie again and I know how much you love her, I don’t care if he’s a goddamn cop” I said clearly frustrated that all Jim is trying to do is abuse his power as a cop

“Y/n I-“ Scott cut himself off, I started at him with a concerned face. Scott has been feeling a bit insecure lately because of Jim. He’s been making rude remarks because of his work title and how he used to steal things

But me being a supportive wife, I stood up for him “Scott honey, let’s talk about this back at the house” I said while turning to look at Jim.

“And you, stop being a goddamn dick all the time, at least Scott is trying to do better but you just keep tearing him down you asshat” I added while pointing at Jim, he was in pure shock

Scott then took that as a chance to leave and picked up Cassie then putting her in the booster seat, buckling her up in the process with her dolls next to her

I huffed and walked down the porch steps “we’ll bring Cassie back by 6” I added while walking back to the car. I opened the passenger door and got in, Scott looked at me then spoke up “hey…y/n you didn’t have to do that” he said sheepishly rubbing his neck

“Yeah I didn’t have to, i wanted to” I replied straightforwardly “I’m tired of him treating you like you don’t do anything, when you do!” I added

He smiled softly “Thanks y/n, I’m so glad to have you here with me” he said while grabbing my hand, Jesus if I was a white girl I would’ve been redder than a tomato “Scott, I’m glad to have you here with me too” I said smiling warmly at him

While we were in our warm moment I heard a voice “umm so are you guys done ? Can we go to McDonald’s??” Cassie said. Me and Scott chuckled at her “yeah we can go to McDonald’s sweetheart” he said starting up the car

“YAYYYYY!” Cassie said with her fist pumped in the air “someone’s excited huh?” I said looking back at her. She nodded happily and we drove off

#ant man #scott lang #black reader #black fem reader #the avengers #tony stark #peter parker #natasha romanoff #wanda maximoff #sam wilsom #bucky barnes #thor odinson #loki layfeson #bruce banner #vision

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the-iceni-bitch · 4 years ago

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Catch that Buzz

Pairing: Drug Lord!Thor x fem!Reader, and a little surprise crime boss!Steve Rogers x fem!Reader x crime boss!Bucky Barnes

Words: ~10.8k (yikers)

Summary: You’re the queen to Miami’s biggest drug lord. He’s got the market on lock but is looking to expand, hopefully with some help from some potential friends from Brooklyn. But he’d never get any of it done without you.

Warnings: explicit language, explicit sexual content (fingering, f and m receiving oral sex, unprotected vaginal sex, titty worship, voyeurism, exhibitionism, sex pollen vibes, mentions of anal sex and tit fucking, tattoo kink, little bit of a knife kink, violence kink, minor praise kink), heavy drug use, slightly above canon level violence, possessive Thor, hints of dark things to come, SMUT!!!!! 18+ ONLY!!!!!

A/N: I went all out for this one guys, taking a little page out of @stargazingfangirl18‘s playbook by having absolutely no chill when it comes to mob AUs! This 100% got away from me and has a mind of it’s own. I did not at all plan on having any Stucky action but I couldn’t help it! This is gonna be a big ass series with appearances from all our faves and a variety of readers and I cannot even tell you how excited I am about it. Big fucking shout out to @cockslut-padalecki and @afriendlyblackhottie because I don’t know if I would have started writing this without their encouragement. I really hope you all enjoy this insanity!!!

(Credit for the dividers goes to the amazing @whimsicalrogers)

Check out my masterlist and join my taglist if you want!!!

You were slicing the fruit for your breakfast when he walked into the kitchen, already talking on that fucking phone.

“No, we’re not moving this meeting again.” He already sounded pissed off, but he still wrapped himself around your back and pressed a kiss to your neck before stealing a slice of mango. “If those New York assholes want to move their product through our port it’s tonight or nothing.”

It was upsetting how good he looked, his hair still slightly tousled from sleep and his satin pajama bottoms slung low on his hips as he moved to grab some juice from the fridge. You had a difficult time staying mad at him while you ogled the runic tattoos that ran over his torso and arms.

“Fucking ridiculous. Figure it out Sif, I don’t have time for this shit.” The phone clattered across the counter when he tossed it after hanging up, finally turning to you and smiling. “Morning beautiful.”

“Good morning. Meeting still on?” You grabbed a second bowl for him and scooped some yogurt into it before adding some honey and fruit.

“It better be. I’m sick of these dodgy fuckers.” His ringed fingers ran over his face in frustration as he watched you put everything away before bringing the food over and hopping up to sit on the counter in front of him. “Just want to go on a fucking vacation already.”

“You need to finish this deal if you don’t want a war with New York, honey.” You took a bite of your parfait and leaned back on one arm, swinging your legs lazily. “Then we can take as much time off as you want.”

“You’re telling me things I already know, sweetheart.” He reached out and wrapped his arm around your waist, pulling you closer and nuzzling into your hair.

“Then quit fucking complaining about it.” You scooped a finger through the remains of your yogurt and smeared it on his nose, beaming at him before leaning forward mouth it off.

A low growl rumbled his chest as he slotted himself between your thighs, his hands resting on either side of your hips before he was ducking to catch your lips with his. He started brushing his lips down your neck when you wrapped your legs around his hips, locking your ankles together behind him and scrabbling your fingers over his back when he flicked his tongue out to trace the hollow behind your ear.

“Think I’m just gonna spend all day right here.” He purred, his fingers skimming over your thighs then digging into your hips and dragging your ass to the edge of the counter. “Val can figure out the logistics for the meeting.”

“I’m sure she can handle... fuck... handle it.” Your breath hitched when he knelt in front of you and started kissing the insides of your thighs, occasionally sucking a bruise against your soft flesh.

He breathed against your entrance and you keened, winding a hand through his hair and trying to drive yourself into his face. When he finally flicked his tongue out to taste you, you almost collapsed, a jolt of pleasure shooting through your body from your core. His arms wound around your legs and kept you still as he ate you out like a starving man, his tongue swirling expertly through your folds and lapping up all the evidence of your arousal.

The sound of his phone buzzing across the counter almost broke you out of your blissful haze, blinking slowly as you turned your head to look at the offensive object.

“Don’t you dare.” He mumbled when you reached for the phone, diving back in and sucking at your pussy lips before sliding his tongue inside you.

“Jesus, Thor!” You managed to catch yourself on your elbow when your arm gave out as his nose brushed against your clit.

His grin faded when the phone buzzed again and he growled against your cunt, the vibrations making you clench around his tongue when he curled it inside you.

“Baby, it’s Val.” You’d managed to catch a glimpse of the caller ID. “She wouldn’t be calling if it wasn’t important.”

“I’m busy.” He grunted, pressing soft kisses over your mound to give you a short reprieve before shaking his head to bury himself deeper at the same time he wrapped his lips around your clit.

“Fuck!!” All the muscles in your body seized as your orgasm washed over you, your cum soaking his stubble when you finally released all over his face.

If you thought he was finished you were wrong, screaming when he shoved two fingers inside you while he flicked soft kitten licks against your tiny bundle of nerves. Your pathetic whimpers and mewls filled the silence of the kitchen while he took you apart, scissoring his fingers to stretch you before inserting a third and grinning when you arched into his face.

He ignored the screeching of tires from outside, still fucking you with his fingers when he heard a car door slam and the front door flew open.

“Hey boss, Y/N.” Val had a wicked grin on her face when she sauntered into the kitchen, moving to the fridge and grabbing an apple before turning to watch the two of you. “Hate to interrupt but we’ve got a bit of a problem.”

Thor growled into your pussy and you whined, writhing against his face while he raised his free hand and motioned for Val to continue.

“We found a rat in the shipyard crew.” She pulled out her butterfly knife and flicked it open with a flourish, winking at you before slicing off a chunk of apple and bringing it to her lips.

“Are you fucking kidding me?! Cop?” His fingers were still stroking that sweet spot when he broke away with a scowl, and you swallowed a shriek when he started taking his frustration out on your cunt.

“Don’t think so, he had a lot of money coming in from some West Coast accounts.” She cocked her head and grinned at you when he started mouthing at your sex again, a desperate moan leaving your lips. “Think Stark might be considering making a move.”

“That’s all I fucking need.” He murmured against your pussy. “You stash him?”

“Yeah, at the lab.”

Maybe you should have felt a little demeaned that the two of them were talking like you weren’t even there, but all you could focus on was the warm coil of pleasure that was gathering in your abdomen and the effort you were taking to not black out.

“Good. Lemme finish up here then I’ll head out.”

“Sure thing boss.” She gave you one more smirk and tossed the apple core in the compost bin before turning to leave. “You may want to put down a towel, when she starts breathing like that it usually means she’s about to squirt.”

His dark chuckle against your clit did it, your back arching you off the counter as you let out a wail. He wrapped his lips around your cunt and moaned when your release squirted into his mouth, his tongue laving over your entrance as he swallowed your essence while you vibrated against his face.

It took a few minutes for you to come down, panting breathlessly as he rose to his feet and grinned at you.

“Dunno how I should feel about Val knowing so much about what your body does when you come, love.” He teased, his fingers lightly skimming over your thighs.

“Maybe if you weren’t constantly fucking me in front of her.” Your brain was finally starting to reset, and you started to sit up with a low moan, your thighs quivering with the strain of aftershocks.

“Right.” He pressed a kiss to your hair before stepping back and running his hand over his mouth. “Go get dressed, you’re coming with me.”

You beamed at him and slowly slid off the counter, your smile slipping slightly when your knees buckled and he had to catch you, pulling you to his chest with a grin.

“You sure you want that, baby?” The weakness in your legs was fading quickly, and you managed to stand on your own to head towards the bedroom. “Last time you almost killed that guy when you though he was looking at me too long.”

“I’m sure, I had big plans for that perfect body today, I’m not putting those off because of some rat.”

“Fuck, that’s it.” His hand gripped your hair painfully when you swallowed around his cock, his head leaning against the seat as the town car pulled up to the lab. “Oh good girl, take all of it.”

You hummed and he let out a hiss when your throat constricted around him at the same time he swelled and shot his release against the roof of your mouth. He held your head down while his hips jerked against your face with a stutter, making sure you’d gotten everything before letting you go to sit back up.

“Feel better?” You teased, grabbing your compact and lipstick from your purse to fix your face.

“For now. That mouth of yours is something else.” He tucked himself back into his slacks with a deep sigh before turning to look at the building you were parked in front of. “But now I gotta deal with this shit.”

“I know, baby.” His breathing relaxed a little when you wound your fingers through his and pressed your lips to his palm. “You want me in the room?”

“Always.” The two of you slid out of the car and started to head inside, separating reluctantly to at least try to appear professional. “Wanna say hello to the big man first though, heard he might have something new for me.”

You perked up at that. Bruce was always a treat to talk to, such an unbelievably sweet and unassuming man. And he was a goddamn genius when it came to drugs.

“Hi there boss. Y/N! What a nice surprise!” That smile was infectious, you couldn’t help but grin back at him while Thor inspected the small collection of parachute papers on the lab table, each one emblazoned with the signature lighting bolt.

“Hiya Bruce.” You gave him a brief hug before following him to where your man was standing. “I heard you’ve been busy.”

“Yeah, been tinkering with the old Mjolnir formula and think I finally hit that sweet spot.” He looked at the small pieces of paper like a proud father before handing one to you for inspection. “I call it Stormbreaker. Extremely fast acting MDMA compound that gives an incredible high while metabolizing in half the time. I think we should be able to roll it out full scale in time for Spring Break.”

Thor nodded appreciatively as you talked with Bruce about the specifics of the chemistry, always eager for the chance to talk to another academic and geek out.

“And it’s more intense than Mjolnir?” You asked, squinting at the tiny piece of paper in your palm.

“Sure is.”

“Half dose, gorgeous.” Thor scolded when you started to bring the paper to your mouth. “Don’t need you passing out on me.”

You rolled your eyes at him as Bruce gave a sheepish grin, taking the paper you were holding and measuring out a smaller dose for you. Thor smirked at you when you waggled the new paper at him before swallowing it.

“Oh, shit.” Warmth bloomed in your core and spread through your body on thin tendrils, snaking through your veins as a low throbbing started between your thighs and your head became instantly lighter. “Fuck, that’s intense. Umm... is this cut with something new?”

“No we just upped the purity, why?”

“No reason.” You gasped, gripping Thor’s forearm tightly as slick flooded your panties.

He was giving you a knowing grin while you leaned into his shoulder, moaning softly when you inhaled the subtle pink pepper and lemon scent of his cologne, quiet notes of orange blossom drifting through as all of your senses ramped up. Poor Bruce just looked at the two of you with confusion when you rubbed your face into Thor’s chest.

“I think we can move to full scale production of this immediately.” Thor knocked his rings against the table twice to show his approval, wrapping his arm around your waist and holding you up when you started to grind against him. “Good job, Banner.”

“Ready for you boss.” Val came striding into the room and laughed when she got a look at you trying resist the urge to hump Thor’s leg. “I see we let Y/N try the big man’s new sex drug. How you feelin’ there sweetie?”

“I feel fucking great Val, what about you?” Maybe if you squeezed your thighs together... oh god. Your legs almost gave out as a shock traveled up your spine and burst at the base of your skull.

“Not as good as you!”

You finally started to equalize and gave Thor a pat on the shoulder to signal you could walk, straightening yourself before the two of you followed after his lieutenant.

The two of you arrived at the side room a little behind Val, Thor releasing you with a hungry kiss that left you breathless before he was slipping out of his suit jacket and tossing over the back of the armchair he’d had brought in for you. You snarled at him for leaving you hanging as you sank into the seat and pouted, admiring the movement of his well muscled back under his shirt as he rolled up his sleeves.

“What’s this asshole’s name Val?” He asked, looking at the tools she had set out on the table with a nod before turning to the man that was strapped to the chair in the middle of the room.

“Fuck if I know.” She said with a snort, grabbing a set of brass knuckles and putting them on as she flexed her hand.

You crossed your legs and reached into your bag to pull out a book, flipping it open to the marked page as you did your best to tune them out, unsuccessfully.

“Right, what’s your name?” Aside from a slightly furrowed brow, he looked remarkably calm, crossing his arms over his chest and leaning against the wall.

“Tim.” The man licked his lips nervously as he watched your man, completely ignoring Val as she prowled towards him.

That was a mistake.

She drew her fist back and drove it into his cheek, grabbing the back of the chair to keep it from teetering over when his upper body snapped to the side. He chest heaved as he took pained breaths, spitting blood down his chest before raising his eyes to watch her warily.

“Tim. I’ve got three questions for you, and you’re going to answer them for me.” He hefted the silver hammer that was laying on the table and rested it against his shoulder. “You get three chances to answer with just Val providing incentive, then I’m gonna take over, and trust me when I say you don’t want that.”

“Ok.” The poor sap kept one eye on Val as he tried to straighten back up.

“Good.” He started tossing the hammer in the air lazily, catching it in one hand like it was the easiest thing in the world and he didn’t know that sort of cocky display was going to turn you into a wet mess. “Who’s paying you? How long have they been paying you? What have you told them?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, I work for you.”

“Oof, wrong answer.”

Val tsked at him mockingly before driving her fist into his ribs, knocking all the air out of him as Thor walked over to stand next to you. You huffed when he pulled your book away and sat on the armrest next to you, your protests dying on your lips when he ran his fingers up your spine and started rubbing your neck, his other hand spinning the handle of the hammer through his fingers.

“Let’s try again. Who’s paying you? How long have they been paying you? What have you told them?”

“I’m not...”

“Hmph, Val?”

She backhanded his unbruised cheek with a smirk, stepping back and shaking the blood off her fingers when she was finished. You barely caught any of it, the drugs still coursing through your system making the feel of Thor’s hands on you so much more intense. When he brought his massive hand up to cup your jaw you whined, opening your mouth just enough to let him slip his thumb between your lips.

“Last chance, Timmy. I gotta tell you I’m torn. As much as I love using this hammer, my girl here took a little something that is gonna make fucking her even better than normal.” He slid his thumb further into your mouth and groaned when you swirled your tongue around it. “So I’d really like to wrap this up. Who’s paying you? How long have they been paying you? What have you told them?”

The man turned his eyes to you and gave you a pleading look. “Please, help me.”

Thor and Val broke down in hysterics, Thor curling over to laugh into your hair while Val doubled over and clutched her sides.

“Ha, oh that’s the wrong move!” Thor was finally able to sit up as his laughter subsided, but tears were starting to leak down Val’s cheeks while she wheezed. “Even if she could help you, she loves on this shit. She probably wants me to start using this hammer, last time she started touching herself before I even finished.”

His hand curled possessively around your throat when you shrugged at poor Tim before flicking your eyes back to Thor’s when he bent to kiss you hungrily.

“Answer the fucking questions, Timmy boy.” Val turned to him with an eye roll while Thor teased you with his tongue until you were moaning.

“I don’t know anything!”

“Goddamn it! Sorry love.” You whined when he disconnected from you and stood up, starting to unbutton his shirt so he could slide it off his shoulders.

Not that you could complain when he was standing there in only his undershirt, rolling his neck as he walked towards the center of the room.

“Bring the table, Val.”

She dragged it over with a grin, dropping it once she reached them and moving to unbind Tim’s right hand. He started spluttering pathetic pleas when she stretched his arm over the table painfully and wrenched his hand open while Thor hefted the hammer with a heavy sigh.

“Thor.” You called out to stop him before he brought the hammer down on Tim’s hand.

“Yeah, what is it honey?” He shot you an exasperated look over his shoulder as he ran his hand through his hair.

“You’ll want to hit the wrist not the palm. More nerve endings.”

His hearty laugh made you smile, leaning back in your seat and curling your legs under you as you settled in to watch.

“Thank you, baby.” He turned back to Tim with a wicked grin. “Isn’t she something special, Timmy?”

“Wait, fuck! I’ll talk!” The man screamed right before the hammer made contact.

“Ohh, nick of time!” Only Val looked a little disappointed, moving to restrain Tim’s hand again. “Who’s paying you?”

“One of Stark’s lieutenants, I think his name is Hogan.”

“Excellent. How long?”

“Six months.”

“Very good Tim. Now, tell Val everything you told that fat fuck and then we’ll let you go.” He nodded to Val before striding towards you and drawing you to your feet, tossing you over his shoulder and slapping your ass playfully as he started heading back to the front of the building. “You got room at the body farm, beautiful?”

“Yeah, let me know when your dropping him so I can make sure I’m working that night.”

He shoved you into the back seat of the town car when it pulled up, grinning when you squealed for him as he crawled in after you.

“How long do we have until the Stormbreaker is out of your system?” He pulled you into his lap and buried his face in your neck as he shoved his fingers under the hem of your skirt.

“Bruce said it metabolizes in half the time so probably 2 more hours.” You sighed when he teased his fingers under the sides of your panties and started sliding them down your legs.

“Perfect, let’s see how many times I can make you come before then.” He turned to drop you against the seat, tucking your panties in his back pocket before moving his hands to undo his fly. “Bet I can make you pass out, you’re already fucking soaked.”

“Don’t you fucking tease me. I’ve been on the edge for the past half hour, I need that cock.”

“God, you know I love when you talk like that.” He growled as he spread your legs wide, hissing through his teeth when he got a look at the wet, throbbing mess between your thighs. “Just look at that. Tell me how much you need it, gorgeous.”

“Fuck, Thor, gimme that cock.” You were burning up, your breath coming in shallow gasps as he teased his tip against your clit. “Need it to split my pussy open.”

“Yeah, she hungry for it?” He groaned as he slid into you, mesmerized while he watched you swallow every inch of him. “Fuuuck.”

“Oh my god, keep going.” You thumped your fist against the door when he started thrusting into you with abandon. “Shit, I’m gonna come.”

“Jesus, that was fast.” He curled over you and swallowed your scream as you fluttered around him. “I’m gonna give Banner a raise.”

“I really think you should.” You murmured, whining into his mouth when you came again almost immediately.

“You’re taking me so good, beautiful.” He purred, grinning when you wrapped your arms around his neck. “Making such a pretty mess for me. You keep this up you’re gonna pass out before we even get back to the house.”

You took a deep breath when he pulled out, grateful for the relief before he was flipping you over and driving back into you hard, ripping another orgasm from you. Your jaw went slack as you pressed your face to the leather seat, drool starting to leak down your chin while you mumbled incoherently.

“Can’t.” Tears were streaming down your cheeks when you fluttered with even more pleasure. “Baby, I can’t.”

“Oh, yes you can, honey. You’re already doing it.” He nuzzled into your hair and pressed his lips to your neck, winding his fingers with yours above your head. “Just gimme one more, I’m so close.”

You choked on a sob and your vision blacked out as you clenched around him one final time, sinking into the seat while he filled you up with a low moan.

“Jesus fuck. You with me love?” He pulled out of you slowly, grinning when he heard you mumble into the seat. “We’re home.”

All you could do was groan when he scooped you up to carry you inside, not able to make yourself care that your skirt was still gathered around your waist and your lower half was completely bare. The sensation of the fresh air on the combination of your releases made you gasp, squeezing your thighs together as even more slick leaked out of you.

“Already?” He teased when you sat up to bury your face in his throat. “That genius is gonna make me so much fucking money.”

It was 90 minutes later and you were finally coming out of your haze, soaking your overworked muscles in your massive tub as you leaned back against Thor’s chest and hummed to yourself while he rubbed the kinks out of your shoulders and arms.

He had spent the past hour and a half wringing every ounce of pleasure from your body, making you come over and over as he fucked every one of your holes. You’d passed out three more times, each time waking up to his face buried between your thighs as he started the whole process all over again.

Taking you apart was his favorite thing, especially when you were on something and extra sensitive. He loved when you were completely fucked out, crying all pretty for him and covered in cum. You were always so needy after, content to let him take care of you while you basked in your post coital glow.

He looked at the clock and groaned, pressing his lips to your hair before rising out of the water. You just sighed, watching appreciatively as rivulets of water ran over the muscles of his back. God his ass was just fantastic.

“Y/N.” His deep voice snapped you out of your little daydream as he ran a towel through his hair, beaming as he turned to look at you. “We need to leave in an hour.”

“Ugh, fine.” You frowned when he wrapped the towel around his hips and started to move to the closet to choose a suit, getting out of the tub with reluctance. “Is this a panties or no panties type of meeting?”

“It’s at Thrudheim.” He called over the blow dryer as you worked on your hair.

“So, no panties.” You sighed, flipping over as you continued the slow process of getting ready.

It was a half hour later when you strolled out of the bathroom, your hair and makeup perfect as you moved to your own closet. Thor was fastening his cuff links when strode into the bedroom, wearing that white suit that he knew was your favorite.

“No, the leather one.” He ordered when you pulled out your go to red mini number.

“Really?!” You put the red dress back and pulled out the black thing he was indicating. “That’s how you want to play this?”

“Absolutely.” He grinned as he watched you slip it on and start to draw the zipper up your front. “That’s far enough, want everyone to see that ink.”

His fingers reached out to trace your tattoo, the handle of the hammer that ran between your breasts before the head spread underneath them. It marked you as his, and fuck if he didn’t start to get hard every time he saw it.

“Nuh-uh, we’re on a timetable.” You chuckled as you moved to pick out some heels, settling on some sparkly stiletto booties. “Are you going to be able to control yourself tonight?”

“I’ll do my best, but you’re so damn distracting.” He wrapped himself around your back and pressed his lips to your shoulder when the two of you started moving towards the stairs.

“That is the idea.” You teased, shoving him off you so the two of you didn’t trip as you walked downstairs.

Val and Heimdall were chatting in the foyer when you arrived, stopping their conversation and turning to face you.

“They’ve been at the club for about 20 minutes, boss.” Heimdall said, holding your door open for you as you climbed into the SUV. “Sif says they’re starting to look a little pissed.”

“Good.” Thor crawled in after you and slammed the door closed, wrapping an arm around your shoulders as Heimdall pulled out after the other SUVs in the caravan. “I’m pissed they’ve been putting this off for the past three months. They can wait an extra hour. I’m guessing that both of them made it out.”

“Yep, Barnes and Rogers both landed this morning.” Val turned in her seat to look at you two, that signature smirk of hers teasing the corners of her lips. “Guess they finally realized there wasn’t some secret port they could sneak their coke through.”

“How many men with them?” Thor started running his fingers over your arm lazily while you leaned against his chest.

“Just three. Romanoff, Barton, and Wilson.”

“Alright, make sure Volstagg, Hogun, and Fandral are in position before we arrive.”

You gave his thigh a squeeze, feeling the nervous energy that was radiating off him in waves. He always got like this before a big meeting. No matter how calm he seemed on the surface, you could always see the thunderstorms of anticipation brewing behind his eyes. It was best to let him think in silence, so you just snuggled against his chest for the rest of the ride, letting your warm presence soothe him as much as possible.

The line of SUVs arrived at Thrudheim in 30 minutes, and you felt Thor take a deep breath before Heimdall opened the door and the two of you stepped out into the night.

You bypassed the massive queue for the door, Val moving in front of you and Heimdall behind as you stepped into the noisy chaos of Thor’s flagship club. It was packed as always, writhing bodies filling the dance floor while other revelers gathered around the multiple bars or in private booths.

Sif moved to join you as you walked past the club’s entrance, leaning close to Val to update her on the situation. You spotted Fandral at the main bar and he gave you a nod as you moved past. Hogun and Volstagg must have been close by, but there was no way to spot them in the press of bodies while you made your way towards the VIP section at the back of the club.

Thor wrapped his arm around your waist as you drew closer, grinning at you when you slapped his chest when he made adjustments to your tits until they were practically spilling out of your dress. That was the game you two played though; him negotiating aggressively and methodically while you distracted his targets by looking like the embodiment of sin. He loved watching the morons he had to deal with look at you like they wanted to eat you alive, knowing all the while that he’d be fucking you until you were screaming as soon as the deal was closed.

You finally arrived at the VIP lounge and started to size up Thor’s potential new partners when you stepped past the velvet ropes. Val and the cute little redhead were giving each other almost identical smirks as the mohawked man she was talking to rolled his eyes. It was hard not to return the charming smile of the handsome man who was leaning against one of the pillars, and when his brown eyes met yours he gave you a wink.

It felt like a punch in the gut when your eyes finally found the two men you were there to meet, and the very unwelcome thought that god gave you three holes for a reason crossed your mind.

You were drawn to the blonde first, his broad shoulders looking like they were about to burst the seams of his well tailored suit jacket. His shirt was unbuttoned enough that you could see lines of ink tracings his chest, matching the scrolls that ran over the backs of his hands and ringed fingers. Even in the dim light of the club, you could make out the deep blue of his eyes, the corners pinched with annoyance. He ran a hand over his perfectly manicured beard in frustration before his movements suddenly stopped when his eyes found you.

The brunette seemed far more relaxed, seated on one of the plush couches with his legs spread wide and a drink in his hand. He didn’t seem to be as tatted up as the blonde, but you still spotted a few swirls of ink under the loosened collar of his shirt. You were surprised when you saw the glint of metal from his left hand, wondering what injury had caused him to lose the arm and also how that neural link must work. His eyes seemed to be twinkling with mischief, and when they followed the blonde’s his face split in a grin after he ran his tongue over his bottom lip slowly.

You did your best to school your thoughts when you turned back to Thor, but the smile he was giving you made you worried he knew exactly what you were thinking. That was either a very bad or very good thing, depending on how the rest of the night went.

“Odinson! Nice to finally put a face to the name.” The brunette stood up and strode towards the two of you. “Bucky Barnes.”

Thor took his hand when he offered, returning the man’s grin warmly as he removed his arm from around your waist.

“Would’ve been nicer to put a face to the name an hour ago.” The blonde growled, his eyes still fixed on you as you finally started to calm down.

“Forgive Steve here, he’s been a little impatient to get things underway.” The two of you followed after Barnes as he moved back to the couches, sinking into the one opposite him as Thor motioned for a waitress.

“Completely understandable. I know I’ve been anxious to get this taken care since we first made contact three months ago.” And the passive aggressive foreplay had begun. Thor ordered ordered a bottle of vodka and a bottle of Aquavit as well as three bottles of champagne for the group, adding a bottle of bourbon when he got a look at the drink in Barnes’ hand.

“I know, I know. We hated having to delay, but there were so many complications with the logistics there was really no choice.” He was a good liar, like you all didn’t know they’d been trying to back door their way into the Miami market without paying their dues. “Stevie, quit being a fucking grouch and come sit.”

You could feel his eyes on you as he moved to join you three, the lieutenants following after and arranging themselves around the couches with a false air of relaxation.

“Now, I think we all know who almost everyone else is, we’ve got our reputations and such that proceed us.” Bucky’s eyes moved back to you when the drinks arrived. “But I got no idea who you are doll, and me and Stevie here aren’t big on surprises.”

You beamed at him, leaning over nice and slow so they had a good view of your tits as you poured yourself some Aquavit.

“I’m Y/N.” You said teasingly, leaning back as you took a sip of your drink and felt their eyes follow you. “I’m just here to look pretty.”

“Well, you’re doing a great job.” Bucky gave you a wink before pouring his own drink.

“Enough fucking small talk, let’s get this over with.” Steve grumbled, his rings tapping against his glass irritably.

“Fine by me.” Thor took the glass of vodka you handed him and tossed it back in one gulp. “You want to move your product into my city, but I’ve got a pretty good corner on the narcotics market out here. Why should I split my profits with you boys?”

“You’ve got the edge on the MDMA market sure, but we’ve heard that your coke is barely above the cut.” He motioned for the redhead to step forward and she deposited a brick of white powder in the middle of the table. “That’s what we offer.”

Thor held your shoulder when you started to lean forward towards the coke, shaking his head with a small smile when you pouted at him.

“And this is supposed to be better than what my boys are already turning out?” He looked skeptical.

“Why don’t you try it and tell us.” Rogers growled, starting to look a little more relaxed as he sipped his bourbon.

“I’m sure you boys are on the up and up, but if you think I’m just gonna take a bump of unopened product from a couple of strangers...”

“Say no more.” Bucky gave him a dismissive wave of his hand before pulling a knife out from under his jacket with a flourish and plunged it into the brick. He scooped a small bump onto the edge of the blade and brought it to his face, inhaling deeply then sinking back into the couch with a satisfied smirk. “See? Nothing to worry about.”

Thor gave a snort before leaning forward and dipping his pinkie into the powder, shoving the coated finger into his mouth and rubbing it over his gums.

“Hmm, that’s fast.” He hummed with appreciation, taking another quick bump before resting his elbows on his knees. “Think we can find a place for this with our distributors.”

“You want a taste, sweetheart?” Rogers’ eyes were dark as pulled his own knife out and offered you a line off the blade.

You turned to Thor and he gave you a small nod, continuing his negotiations with Barnes as you leaned towards Steve. He grinned wolfishly as he watched you snort the powder off the edge of his weapon, sucking his bottom lip between his teeth when he saw your chest heave as the stimulant hit your system.

“Oh, fuck.” Every nerve in your body started buzzing with electricity, your spine shivering as the high took over. “Jesus Christ, that’s good shit.”

Rogers ran the tip of his blade over your bottom lip gently, tugging your mouth open with a low moan before Thor’s voice broke you out of it.

“How you feeling, love?” He wrapped his arm around your waist and pulled you towards him, trying not to give Rogers too much of a shit eating grin when he saw his look of disappointment.

“Like I could fight a rhino.” You hummed, arching your back with pleasure while you leaned against him.

“Yeah? Maybe later.” He pressed his lips to your hair before turning back to his new partners. “So, free use of the ports and our land distribution network, and I get a 25% cut of all Miami profits. We’ll also start moving Mjolnir and Stormbreaker in New York, giving you 15% of those profits.”

“Why should we get 10% less than you, Odinson?” Steve was starting to look pissed again, bouncing the blade of his knife off the palm of his hand. “We’re taking on just as much risk.”

Thor moved his hand down to your hip and tapped his fingers against it, turning his head and giving you a conspiratorial wink. You beamed at him before rotating your body slightly, making sure both men’s eyes were on you before uncrossing your legs. Their reactions were everything you wanted, Steve sucking his breath in a hiss and his knuckles turning white around his glass while Bucky growled and bit his bottom lip. You gave them a few seconds to enjoy the view of the glistening treasure between your thighs before crossing your legs again and resting your head against Thor’s shoulder, a look of doe eyed innocence on your face as you ran your fingers over his chest.

“You’re making less because I am providing all of the infrastructure for shipping and distribution here in Miami, whereas all you can offer me in New York is your established client base.” His hand moved up to cup your breast, smirking as he watched the two men start to squirm when his fingers teased at the edge of your neckline that was barely containing you. “Plus I’ll give you boys some introductions to my international connections, since I know you’ve been looking to spread operations overseas.”

“Qu’en penses-tu?” Barnes eyes were still fixated on you as he started chatting with Rogers in French.

“Je n'aime pas ça.” The blonde growled, his eyes moving to your legs as you started rubbing your thighs together. “Nous en avons besoin, cependant.”

“Il est le seul à avoir accès à elle.” Bucky said with a nod, turning to face Steve with reluctance as they talked things over.

You did your best to act like you weren’t listening, giggling when Thor bent his head to run his tongue over the shell of your ear. He grabbed the bottle of Aquavit and refilled your glass for you before pouring himself another vodka, leaning over the back of the couch to give Val a nod. She grinned back at him before turning away to find Sif.

“We can accept giving you 20% of any Miami profits if you cut us in for 5% of shipping revenue from your ports.” Rogers grumbled with a shrug, the two men turning to face you again.

“Hmm, what do you think, love?” Thor gripped your chin lightly and tilted your head up to look in your eyes.

“I think you should stick to the original offer of 25%, babe. They’re hoping to undercut your dealings with Danvers and edge you out once you make an introduction.”

“What the fuck?!” Steve looked furious, reaching into his waistband for his gun before Thor drew his own first and leveled it at his head.

Bucky and you were the only two who seemed relaxed as everyone drew weapons. The three Lieutenants trained theirs on you and Thor while Heimdall pointed his at Barnes. Val and Sif arrived then and dropped the massive duffel they were carrying, Sif pulling a revolver from her thigh holster while Val drew a pair of desert eagles from under her jacket with an excited grin and aimed at the three who had their guns pointed at you.

You and Barnes looked at each other appreciatively, he was giving you a wicked grin as the tension rose quickly, everyone waiting for someone else to do something.

“Let’s all just take a couple deep breaths and relax.” Bucky clapped Steve’s shoulder until he sat back with a grunt, letting go of his grip on the gun. “So, you’re just here to look pretty, doll?”

“Sorry, I didn’t give you my full name, Bucky, we like to keep things low key. Thor?”

“Meet Dr. Y/N Y/L/N, boys, professor of biological and forensic anthropology at the University of Miami. What are your ph.Ds in again, love?”

“You’ve already mentioned two, but we also have antiquities, art history, archaeology, and the big one, linguistics.”

“She’s a bit of a polyglot.” He gave you a proud grin as he tucked his pistol away and everyone else finally eased up. “That’s why she’s in charge of international relations, and she always comes to negotiations with me. Can’t tell you how many bad deals this girl has gotten me out of.” You beamed when he cupped your cheek lovingly and took another swig of vodka. “She also runs the body farm.”

“That’s not just a rumor?” Everyone on the other side of the table was giving you appraising glances now as Steve whistled through his teeth. “That’s supposedly the whole reason the feds haven’t been able to pin any hits on you.”

“Not a rumor.” You kissed his palm before he removed it and turned back to them. “Listen, I like you gentlemen, even though you tried to pull one over on me. It’s understandable, Carol’s operation is a pie everyone wants their fingers in. So, here’s the new offer, I take 30% of Miami profits, you get 7% of anything I move in New York, Y/N here arranges for some international introductions for you, and I arrange for all of us to have a meeting with Miss Danvers.”

“They’re also having issues with Stark’s attempts to expand, baby.” You leaned forward and took Thor’s knife when he offered it, scooping out more coke and arranging it in a couple of lines before rolling a Benjamin and snorting it off the table.

“God, I forgot about that fucker.” He took the bump you offered him with a scowl. “That asshole giving you boys trouble too?”

“Yeah.” Steve and Bucky both looked pissed now. “He poached our Queens wunderkind a month ago and we’re pretty sure he’s got at least one mole planted.”

“Well, seems that a partnership would be extremely beneficial then. Need to keep that cocksucker on the west coast where he belongs.”

“Agreed.” Bucky sighed, Steve just grunting his acquiescence. “Partners then?”

Thor grinned and offered his hand, finally relaxing when Bucky took it and shook. Steve actually smiled a little bit when he gripped his wrist tightly, the muscles in his neck loosening as he rolled his head from side to side with relief.

“Fantastic, let’s celebrate! Evie, we need champagne flutes all around and tell Mark to bring us the box of Cubans I have in the back office.” The waitress wandered off to do as instructed as Sif walked forward and dropped the duffel next to the opposite couch. “And, because I know it can sting when you think you’re gonna get away with something and the rug gets pulled out from under you, here’s a little signing bonus so there’s no hard feelings.”

Rogers actually grinned when he opened the duffel to piles of cash, turning back to the two of as he handed it off to the charming looking man who had been leaning against the pillar.

“I think this is gonna work out just fine, Buck.”

“Evie, thank you sweetheart.” Thor smiled warmly when the server got back with the stemware and cigars, handing her three hundred dollar bills before she walked off again with a blush. “Let’s drink to getting stupid fucking rich.”

You all tossed back your champagne with a chorus of whoops before diving into the revelry. Thor offered you a few puffs of his cigar before tucking between his teeth and leaning forward to talk with his new partners about all the new things Carol was doing. He squeezed your hand when you pressed a kiss to his shoulder before standing up and stretching, moving away to find Val and Sif.

“You ladies wanna come dance with me?” You asked when you found the two of them chatting with the redhead. “That coke’s got me feeling like I’m full of bees.”

“Let’s do it!” Val said with a grin, leading the four of you out of the roped off section and towards the dance floor. “This is Nat by the way.”

“Hi Nat, nice to meet you!” Val started shoving people out of the way when you reached the floor, making sure you had room to move without getting humped by idiots.

“You too! Sorry I pointed a gun at your head!” She gave you an apologetic shrug as she shouted over the music.

“Please, it happens.” You waved her off and started rolling your hips to the rhythm.

“I got shots!” Sif said, grabbing the four tiny glasses off the tray and proffering them.

You hissed at her after you tossed it back. “Goddamn it Sif, tequila?”

“Yes, tequila!!”

You just shook your head as the four of you started dancing, the rest of the crowd giving you a small circle of space. Even with the extra room, Val and Nat were right against each other, their hips rolling together while they stared each other down. Sif and you just grinned at each other as you watched the two of them.

“Oh my god, just fuck already!” You teased when Nat tucked her face into Val’s neck, earning a glare from her. “There’s no one in the basement office tonight.”

“Unlike you, I don’t have the luxury of getting fucked when I’m in the middle of working, I have to save that shit for my own time. Speaking of which, looks like he wants you back.”

Heimdall gave the four of you a smile when he walked up, cocking his head and tapping his finger against his thigh impatiently as you moved slowly to follow after him with a half hearted pout.

“Sorry, Y/N. You know how he gets once he closes a deal.” He walked behind you back to the VIP section, staring down a few different men who looked like they were thinking of approaching you.

“I know, Heimdall. It’s one of the things I love about him. How much coke has he had?”

“Kjære!!” Thor’s voice boomed over the din of the club when he spotted you, answering your question when he stood on the couch and spread his arms wide with joy.

“Kjæreste!” You beamed at him, yelping when he jumped off the couch and bounded towards you to toss you over his shoulder and carry you back to where his new partners were waiting.

He dropped you on the couch with a small huff before curling over and devouring your mouth with his. Your breath left with him when he pulled away, sinking next to you before pulling your legs over his lap with a happy sound.

“Can’t have a celebration without you love.” He grinned, bending over the table and scooping a good helping of cocaine onto his knife. “These boys got all sad after you left.”

“It’s true, doll.” Bucky said, his eyes blown wide from the drugs while he watched Thor rub some coke over your gums before reaching forward to kiss you again. “You might be the most interesting person here.”

Your light laugh turned into a moan when you felt the cool steel of Thor’s knife drag over your chest slowly, leaving a thin line of powder over the curve of your breast.

“I am pretty fascinating.” You teased, biting your lip when Thor bent forward and snorted the coke off your tit. “Did you have any questions you wanted to ask me?”

“Shit, I did but I can’t remember exactly what they were right now.” He was mesmerized as he watched Thor run another line over the opposite breast. “Steve?”

“I’ve got nothing.” Rogers tugged on the collar of his shirt when Thor uncrossed your legs and drew a line on the inside of your thigh before bending over and inhaling it slowly, moaning when the scent of you filled his lungs and added to his high.

“Fuck, that’s the best way to do lines.” He hissed as he sat back up, sniffling a few times before turning to the men who couldn’t stop staring at you. “You boys really ought to try it.”

A deep laugh rumbled his chest when all three of your heads snapped to him. Thor was extremely possessive, he loved using you to tease whoever he was dealing with, dangling you in front of them like bait before snapping you away and fucking you senseless. There was a meeting three months ago where some idiot put a hand on your leg and Thor had almost beat him to death before Heimdall and Val could pull him off.

You ran your tongue over your bottom lip nervously as you studied his face, trying to determine if he was playing some dangerous game with all of you that was going to end with you stitching someone up.

“I smelled you love.” He purred in your ear, drawing you to your feet and turning you until you were facing the two men, his breath fanning warmly over your neck as he pressed his chest to your back. “I’d love to believe that’s all for me, but you’ve been squirming ever since you set eyes on them.” You moaned when he started walking you towards where Barnes and Rogers were eyeing you hungrily. “But tell me you don’t want it and we can stop.”

“Fuck, you spoil me.” You grinned at him over your shoulder and accepted his soft kiss before moving to sit on the mirrored table. “Go ahead boys.”

Bucky leaned forward first with a deep growl, flipping his knife through his fingers before digging it into the cocaine and moving back to your chest. Your eyes turned to Steve’s as you gasped at the feel of the cold blade dragging over your breasts, grinning when you saw him start to palm his cock through his slacks. A low moan escaped your lips when Bucky leaned forward and inhaled the powder off your skin, his lips ghosting over the swell of your tits before he pulled back with a groan.

“You gotta try that Stevie.” He muttered, leaning back to scoop up more cocaine as his free hand brushed over your thigh, teasing the hem of your skirt up towards your hip as he spread your legs wide.

Steve stood up and prowled towards you as Bucky knelt between your thighs and started drawing lines over them with his blade. Your breath was starting to get shallow, and when Steve curled his hand lightly around your throat at the same time Bucky’s face skimmed over your leg you let out a whine. The blonde slid his jacket off and grabbed his own knife, his thumb tracing the swell of your bottom lip as he collected some powder.

Bucky had run out of blow but kept his face where it was, his lips pressing into your soft skin as he moaned at the smell of you. Steve moved very slowly, his thumb tracing your jaw while he pressed the flat of the knife against your chest.

The throbbing between your legs was starting to get too intense, and when Buck’s breath fanned over your core at the same time Steve pressed his face to your chest, you almost passed out. Steve let out a low moan as he buried his face between your tits, nuzzling them with a growl while you wound your fingers through his hair. He started drawing the zipper at the front of your dress down even further, his lips ghosting over every inch of exposed skin before the dress was completely undone.

”Fuck me.” Steve hissed, stepping back and taking you in with a satisfied hum. “You seeing this Barnes?”

Bucky rested his chin on your thigh for a beat, gazing up at you through his lashes and grinning as his eyes raked over your naked body.

”Yeah I see it. You’re a lucky man, Odinson.”

You turned your gaze over your shoulder and found Thor grinning at you, his bottom lip tucked between his teeth as he squeezed the outline of his cock through his slacks.

”That I am, but so are you boys. This is a one night only deal, and only because she wants it, otherwise I’d have killed the two of you hours ago.” The gleam in his eye was full of danger for a moment before it relaxed into lust. “You get to fuck her however she wants; eat her out, fuck her tits, feel those perfect lips or that tight ass wrapped around your cocks. But that pussy is mine, and if either of you even try to slip it into that pretty little hole, I can’t be held responsible for what I might do.”

”That seems fair to me,” Bucky said with a shrug. “Stevie?”

As soon as Thor had stopped talking Steve’s mouth was on yours, his teeth tugging on your lips until you opened up for him and he could curl his tongue against your own. Barnes just laughed before diving between your thighs, his arms wrapping around your legs as he mouthed hungrily at your sex. You whined into Rogers’ mouth when Bucky’s tongue found your clit at the same time Steve started rubbing his thumbs over your nipples, feeling his grin when you arched into his palms.

The way the two of them were working you over made you think this wasn’t their first time sharing. Every time Steve found one of your zones, Bucky’s tongue was right against your clit, making you want to scream. Steve’s hands were almost lazy in the way they traced your tattoo, the pads of his fingers still skimming over your nipples as he admired the artwork.

”Jesus Christ.” Was the only thing you could think of to say when Bucky’s nose rubbed against your clit at the same time he curled his tongue inside you.

”Not exactly, gorgeous.” Steve’s grin was wicked as he continued to trail his fingers over the ink that swirled between your breasts while you leaned against him. “This ink is fucking impressive, you should let me do a piece for you if you’re ever in New York.”

The answer you were about to give died in your throat when Bucky sucked on your clit and you came without warning, a jolt of electricity traveling up your spine as your release soaked his mouth and chin while you swallowed a shriek. He moaned into your cunt at the taste of your cum before leaning back on his heels and grinning at Steve.

”Your turn Stevie. Dunno if it’s the coke or her but I don’t think I’ve ever come from eating pussy before.”

Your eyes bulged when you saw the wet stain over the shrinking tent in his slacks, your chest swelling at the thought that nothing but the taste of you could make a man come undone.

The two of them shifted to switch positions, the feel of Steve drawing lines on your thighs sending a small jolt of pleasure up your spine. Bucky tilted your head up so he could kiss you, sliding his tongue between your lips and grinning when you whined at the taste of yourself. You felt Steve’s beard scratching your skin when he pressed his face to your thigh and inhaled, growling when he finally got a close look at the plump and swollen prize between your legs.

”I dunno how he can get anything done with you around, doll.” Bucky purred as he started trailing his lips down your throat.

“We’re very good at multitasking.” You gasped, Bucky’s lips wrapping around your nipple at the same time Steve’s tongue ran over your slit in a heavy stripe.

His low chuckle vibrated your chest and made you keen, arching your back into him when he brought his metal hand up to palm your neglected breast. Steve’s tongue was still swirling lazily through your folds, savoring the taste of you while his cock throbbed against the edge of the couch. He shoved two fingers inside you and you choked on a sob when his lips wrapped around your clit.

Bucky’s tongue had raised your nipple to a sensitive peak, the brush of his lips over it sending a jolt through your body that echoed in your core, making you clench around Steve’s fingers with a gasp. The sensations were too much for you and you collapsed back against the table, Bucky following you and moving his face to your other breast while you wrapped your thighs around Steve’s neck.

You tilted your head back to find Thor, your body relaxing as much as it could when your eyes met his. The anger you were worried you would find wasn’t there, just pure desire as he watched the two men take you apart with lust blown pupils. He was still slowly palming his cock through his pants, and you moaned at the sight of his bulge growing larger while he looked at you.

”Are you close, love?” He grinned when you nodded at him, unable to speak as Steve flicked kitten licks against your clit while Bucky sucked on your nipple. “You go ahead and come for these boys one more time then I’ll fuck you like you deserve.”

It was like his permission was all you needed, your back arching off the table when your body spasmed and your release flowed into Steve’s mouth and over his beard. He and Bucky both groaned as they watched you come down, the occasional aftershock vibrating through your body as they stepped away with reluctance.

“Gentlemen, I look forward to a long a fruitful partnership. Please feel free to use of the lounge for the rest of the night.” Thor only had eyes for you as you slowly rose from the table on shaky legs and drew your dress closed to cover your nakedness. “Would really love to stay but I have some business to attend to in the top office.”

You felt their eyes following you as Thor wrapped his arm around your waist and started to guide you towards the office, Heimdall walking in front of you to clear the crowd out of the way. He stopped at the bottom of the stairs and gave you a knowing grin as Thor started dragging you to the office.

Thor growled once he shoved you inside, slamming the door closed and cutting off the noise from the floor once you were alone in the soundproofed room.

“You did so fucking good baby.” He purred as he stepped into you, his hands roaming all over your body while he started walking you towards the wall of glass that looked out over the club. “Don’t know what I’d do without you.”

“Well, you’d get fucked over a whole lot.” You teased, running your tongue over his bottom lip when he pressed his mouth to yours with a moan.

He chuckled against your lips, keeping your mouth molded to his while he turned the front of your body to press against the glass.

“Those two fuckers got one taste of you and I bet they’ll do anything you ask now.” He scraped his teeth over the curve of your neck towards you shoulder, slowly removing his suit jacket and shirt quickly. “They still watching, love?”

You found the lounge and grinned when you saw the two New Yorkers staring up at you from the floor, fighting the urge to give them a wave.

“Yeah, they are.” HIs hand curled lightly around your throat and you whined as he tilted your head back and started to drag the zipper of your dress down slowly.

“Good.” He slid your dress off your shoulders and tossed it aside, rubbing his face in your hair as he worked at undoing his belt one handed. “Want them to watch you scream when you come all over my cock.”

He gave you no warning before spearing into you, grinning when you let out a satisfying shriek. You didn’t get a chance to adjust before he was thrusting into you violently, his hips slapping against your ass as he pressed your tits against the glass.

This was different from your slow afternoon lovemaking where he took his time drawing every drop of pleasure from your fucked out body. All he wanted when he was coked up after a deal was to take you fast like a damn animal, claiming you as his for everyone to see.

Fuck if you didn’t love every second of it.

Your legs started to shake as your pussy clenched around him, moaning when he wrapped a hand around your front to dig into your breast, his other hand increasing the pressure on your throat. He growled into your shoulder when you arched into his hand, pressing you even further into the glass while you whined.

“Close, I’m so close. I’m gonna come, don’t fucking stop.” He grinned at your babbling, somehow increasing his pace even more until you were literally bouncing off the glass.

When he released your breast and hooked his hand under your knee, drawing it up to your waist and opening you up even further so the tip of his cock could kiss your cervix, you lost it. You let out an inhuman wail, tears streaming down your cheeks while your body tried to curl back on itself. He caught you before you collapsed, holding you up while you vibrated around him, your pussy milking his cock in waves as stars exploded behind your eyes.

You felt his cock throbbing inside you and hissed when he sank his teeth into your shoulder, warmth blooming from your core as he coated your satiny walls with thick ropes of spend. He fucked it into with stuttering jabs, his hips jerking erratically until his cock stopped twitching and started to soften.

The two of you panted against each other, Thor scooping you up and turning you to face him as he slid out of you with a soft wet squelch. You hummed happily when he pressed his lips against yours and nipped at them softly.

“Herregud, du er jævla perfekt, kjære ” He groaned, holding you close as the two of you sank to the floor. “Jeg lar deg aldri gå, du er min.“

“Jeg er din for alltid.” You murmured as he laid back against the floor, pressing your lips to the tattooed wreath of blåveis and bergfrue over his heart that marked him as yours. “Jeg elsker deg.”

Steve and Bucky turned their attention back to the lounge with reluctance, doing their best to ignore Sam and Clint’s shit eating grins. Rogers took another bump of coke before sinking into the couch and chugging directly from the bottle of bourbon. Barnes just grabbed another stogie, biting the end off and spitting it away before tucking it between his lips.

“Think we may need to get ourselves one of those, Stevie.”

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