#also this is what i have been up to for the last 2 days

[navybrat817]

Birthday Wish

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Summary: Bucky doesn't want to make a big deal out of his birthday, but you want to make it special.

Word Count: Over 2.3k

Warnings: Mutual crush, confessions, humor, light angst, fluff, reference to Bucky's past, Bucky Barnes (he's a warning, okay?)

A/N: Happy birthday to Bucky and this is my first submission for @avengers-assemble-bingo (Card 4B 020 - Square 2 - Birthday Boy). ❤️ Not beta read and written on my phone, so any and all mistakes are my own. Divider by the talented @saradika-graphics. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

Bucky didn’t care to celebrate his birthday. What was there worth celebrating? It was just another day like any other, another year that he got older. Even then, his looks didn’t match his current age. It was strange to look in the mirror and have the appearance of someone so much younger when he was born in 1917. He should’ve been old.

He should’ve left this world a long time ago.

While he was thankful for Steve and his other friends, he did feel a pang in his heart when he thought of his family. The last birthday he got to celebrate with his mom and sisters was before he got shipped off to war. Since then, there were no homemade cakes, no happy singing and jokes about him getting older, no candles to blow out and make a wish.

What would he even wish for today?

“Maybe we can all go out to dinner,” Steve suggested when he brought up Bucky’s birthday. “That could be fun, right?”

He felt bad shrugging in response since his best friend was trying to help him celebrate. “Maybe.”

“Dinner? Jesus, you two really are old men,” Tony commented, typing something into his phone. “Say the word and I’ll throw you a party. Best party you’ve ever had. You can thank me later.”

Bucky didn’t mean to give Tony a grumpy look, but parties were the billionaire’s thing. And while he didn’t mind having the spotlight on him as a younger man, it seemed foreign to him now. “My birthday is tomorrow, which gives you no time to plan a party, and I think I’m good.”

“I’m insulted that you would underestimate me and my connections,” Tony argued.

“No party,” Bucky said. He didn’t want one.

“What do you want to do then?” Sam asked.

Bucky’s brows pinched together. He didn’t really know. “My birthday isn’t a big deal, so I don’t want to make a big deal out of it,” he replied. Something low-key and not the least bit stressful would be nice. “I guess if I had to choose something, I’d like to read a new book and have a piece of chocolate cake with chocolate frosting.”

The guys stared at him, and he waited for Tony to laugh or make another “old man” comment. He didn’t care. It was his birthday they were asking about, so shouldn’t he get to choose what he wanted to do?

“I think that’s really sweet. And chocolate cake with chocolate frosting is delicious.”

Turning toward the soft voice, a smile touched Bucky’s lips and his heart fluttered when he saw you smiling back. The newest member of the team, you always had words of encouragement or a soft smile for him. As kind as you were, you could also kick ass and give Natasha a run for her money. To say he had a bit of a crush on you was an understatement.

“Thanks, doll,” he whispered.

You ducked your head with a giggle before you cleared your throat, making his smile widen. When he let his mind wander he liked to imagine you whimpering or sighing when he whispered that in your ear. If you only knew the things he thought about you, both naughty and nice.

“‘Doll’?” Tony groaned and shook his head. “Barnes, we really need to acclimate you to the modern world because no one with any sense calls anyone ‘doll’.”

His jaw clenched and color rose to his cheeks. Maybe it was a bit old-fashioned, but he liked it and he thought you liked it, too. But if it bothered you…

“You can call me ‘doll’, Bucky,” you assured him. “I don’t mind.”

Bucky could’ve used the opportunity to say something charming or sweet, but he kept the words in his head and gave you a grunt and a nod instead. A fucking grunt and a nod. What the hell was wrong with him? He might as well have given you a high-five and called you “buddy”.

“Okay,” you drew the word out slowly. “I’ll see you guys later!”

While Bucky watched you leave the room, the guys once again stared at him. “Not a fucking word,” he growled when Tony opened his mouth, heading out himself. He didn’t want their pity or their jokes.

With his exceptional hearing, he stopped when Tony muttered, “Tin Man better step up his game because that was painful to watch.”

“I’m old, not dead. I have game,” he mumbled. Well, he used to have game. Times were different now, and so was he. Still, his heart skipped a beat at the thought of you liking him, and maybe he could step up and take a chance.

“Be nice, Tony,” Steve sighed.

“I’ll be nice when he grows a pair and makes a move. Look, we all have eyes and we see how she looks at him.” Bucky felt butterflies in his stomach before Tony continued. “And she’s a stunning creature. Someone will snag her if he doesn’t.”

Bucky clenched his gloved fists. “Lay off the guy,” Sam said. “He’ll make a move when he’s ready.”

“Tomorrow,” Bucky whispered, walking away, determined. He would make a move tomorrow. It would either be the best birthday he could remember or he’d lick his wounds alone in his room and hope you’d still be his friend.

But as luck would have it, he didn’t get to talk to you the next morning.

He swore he saw you rush out of the kitchen with something in hand, but Steve stopped him to wish him a happy birthday. Everyone greeted him throughout the morning with various messages ranging from nice to references of his age. They all made it a point to say something, but he hadn’t seen you at all. Well, he hadn’t seen you or-

“Happy year of birth, Barnes!” Thor shouted. Bucky’s reflexes couldn’t stop the handful of confetti from hitting his face. “Let us celebrate, my friend!”

Bucky spit a piece of confetti out and tried to wipe away the remainder that landed on his face and shirt. “Thanks?”

The god of thunder looked him over. “Wasn’t your hair longer yesterday?” he asked, inhaling when Bucky ran a hand through it. “And are you wearing cologne? Is it for the party?”

“Maybe,” he said under his breath. He had trimmed his hair a bit and spritzed some cologne in the hopes of getting your attention if he bumped into you. It was stupid. “Party? What are you-”

He tensed up for a second when Thor threw an arm over his shoulders. “Stark said you didn’t want a party and I believe it’s meant to be a surprise, so don’t tell him I told you,” he said. Bucky almost snarled. He didn’t want a party. And how the hell did Tony put something together at the last second? “He also planned for it to be earlier in the day because he said you are old and wouldn’t want to stay up late. The man is-”

“Bucky!” you called out from down the hall, making him relax. “Happy birthday.”

“Thanks, doll,” he smiled, happy to finally see you.

“I like your haircut,” you said, gliding across the floor to where they stood and commanding the presence of anyone who looked your way. “It looks great.”

Bucky puffed his chest out, glad that you noticed and liked it. “Thanks, doll.”

“You got…” You smiled and wiped the remainder of confetti from his chest, his heart rate picking up. “Thor, I’m so sorry, but I have to steal Bucky away for a bit. You don’t mind, do you?”

Thor humbly bowed to you, your doe eyed expression getting the blonde to easily bend to your will. Bucky’s hands flexed and for a moment he felt jealous before he remembered Thor wasn’t romantically interested in you. “Not at all. I shall take my leave.”

“Thank you,” you smiled, linking your arm with Bucky’s and gently pulling him away. “Mmm. You smell good, too.”

Bucky hid a smile. “Thanks again,” he said, happy that he made the call to wear it. “Hey, Tony isn’t really throwing me a party, is he?”

You winced. “Yeah, he’s throwing something,” you confirmed. Bucky was going to have a chat with him later. “I tried to talk him out of it, but he didn’t listen to me.”

“I appreciate you trying,” he said, pulling you closer to his side. It meant a lot.

“Which is why I wanted to steal you away for a bit so you could have some peace and quiet.”

You guided him to the tower library which was one of his favorite areas. When he wasn’t training or hanging out in his room, he was usually there. “What is that?” he asked when he saw the CLOSED FOR MAINTENANCE sign on the doors.

“Oh, I did that so no one would come in,” you winked, opening the doors so he could go inside. “Tada! Happy birthday!”

Bucky’s mouth fell open when he saw the small set up in the corner. There was a book with a bow sitting on the chair and a piece of chocolate cake with chocolate frosting with a single candle on the table beside it. “Did you… Did you do this for me?” he asked, his chest getting tight. It was exactly what he asked for.

“Yeah. You said you didn’t want to make a big deal out of your birthday, and I thought you deserved to have the kind of birthday you wanted. So, a slice of cake and a new book it is,” you smiled, a bounce in your step when you went to light the candle for him. “But I may have gotten you one more thing.”

“And what’s that?” he asked. You had already gone above and beyond for him. There was nothing you needed to get him.

“Tickets to the new science exhibit that’s opening this weekend.”

His chest felt tight again. He mentioned to you in passing that he wanted to go to the museum to see the new science exhibit. His love of science was something that hadn’t died, but hadn’t gotten around to buying tickets yet. You really paid attention to him and cared, didn’t you?

Your smile faltered just a bit when he kept staring. “I hope it’s okay that I did that. I really wanted you to have a nice birthday and you mean a lot to me and…” you trailed off as if you didn’t mean to say that.

God, he wanted you to mean it.

“It’s more than okay, thank you,” he swallowed, making his way over to you. “And did you say I mean a lot to you?” he asked because he had to hear you say it again.

You bit your lip and he wanted to bite your lip, too. “Yeah, you do.”

Hearing that was one of the best birthday gifts you could give him. “You mean a lot to me, too,” he confessed. You meant everything. “You’re amazing, do you know that?”

There was that giggle again that he loved. “Oh, I’m not, but thank you.”

“Yes, you are,” he whispered. You were the most amazing woman he knew. “I think that candle’s about to go out.”

The flame glowed in your eyes when you held up the plate and he felt lost in the best way. “Then you better make a wish.”

A charming smile crossed his face. “I can’t blow out my candle until someone sings ‘Happy Birthday’,” he teased.

Bucky expected you to protest when you opened your mouth. “Happy birthday to you.” He exhaled as you sang, your smoothe tone sending tingles down to his toes. “Happy birthday to you.”

Taking a step closer he placed a hand on your hip, your voice turning a bit breathy. It was beautiful. Everything about you was beautiful. He didn’t think he could fall any harder for you, but he was falling more and more each day.

“Happy birthday, dear Bucky…” You peered at him through your lashes. Looking back at you, he felt like he had something worth celebrating. “Happy birthday to you.”

With a gentle breath he blew the candle out and took the plate from your hands with ease. He heard both of your hearts beating faster, and he saw hope in your eyes. He gazed back at you, silently asking for permission. He wanted to kiss you, wanted you to be his girl.

Bucky wanted his birthday wish to come true.

“Doll…” he breathed.

It wasn’t until you nodded that he closed the distance and pressed his lips to yours. He took his time, savoring the feel of your mouths together. It was perfect, a moment he’d never forget.

“Wow,” you whispered when he pulled away. “That was amazing.”

“Yeah?” he smiled.

“Yeah,” you smiled back. “And I’m thankful it was a kiss you gave me instead of a grunt and a nod.”

Bucky laughed. “I can still give you a grunt and a nod,” he teased, touching your warm cheek. “And you know, since it’s my birthday and you said I should celebrate how I want, I think it’s only fair that I get 108 kisses.”

“Sergeant Barnes, are you really asking me for 108 kisses?”

“To start,” he smirked. “And it’s a good excuse to skip the party,” he added, going back in for another when you giggled.

He’d ask you after to stay with him while he read and shared the piece of cake. You’d tell him that you made it from scratch and hurried out of the kitchen so the gang wouldn’t eat it. He’d explain that he cut his hair and put on cologne for you in the hopes of attracting your attention which you told him he already had. And before the night was over, he’d ask you to go to the exhibit with him and to be his girl.

A birthday wish come true.

Have I told you lovelies how much I appreciate you? Because I do. Happy birthday, Bucky Barnes! Love and thanks for reading! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

[pazziescapism]

Break Our Ice - Chapter 2

pairing: paige x azzi

wc: 4.2k

tw: light sexual content, alcohol

au fic what??, figureskater!Azzi x icehockeyplayer!Paige

fake dating, just like playful banter teasing relationship to lovers, basically paige and azzi dancing around each other

a/n: okayy let go, we're back. firstly thank you for all the interest in this fic, i was afraid it'd be a little boring. i may not be able to update everyday but i promise to aim for at least a chapter a week. as always, let me know what u think and feel free to send me reactions. also, i wanna preface this and say i have never written anything remotely sexual for wlw so if its kinda choppy...hopefully that'll just improve with time which is why i kinda skimmed it over. anyway happy reading!!

“What the fuck” Paige says that following weekend, starting at Azzi’s belly piercing, as she climbs into her car. “You understand we’re going outside, right? Like where other people are?

Azzi looks down at her outfit, frowning slightly “Yes? What’s wrong?”

Paige doesn’t move, even though she had been the one texting Azzi to hurry up. Azzi looks down again, trying to see where the issue was. She’s wearing a dark grey skintight long sleeve that cuts right above her midriff paired with some grey sweatpants.

“I thought it was cute,” she says, “like casual and comfortable or something.”

Paige makes a strangled noise in the back of her throat, Azzi was right, it was – it was also a myriad of other things she could think of like hot, sexy, beautiful, gorgeous - and that was exactly the problem. “No, yea it is, I guess I’ve never seen you not in athleisure wear before.”

‘So, I don’t need to go back in and change?” Azzi asks.

Paige looks physically pained by the suggestion. “No, definitely not.”

“Okay, so can you tell me what we’re doing now?” Azzi asks, as Paige starts her car.

“Yeah,” Paige says. Her hand comes around the passenger seat as she looks behind her and reverses, her arm stretching behind Azzi. Whatever she says next flies right over Azzi’s head and is lost entirely as she watches the subtle flex of Paige’s biceps, pale skin bulging just slightly. Azzi’s mouth feels dry.

“-and it just feels like it’s not going well,” she hears Paige say once the arm is removed and she tunes back in sharply.

“What?”

Paige sends her a questioning look that Azzi’s gotten used to the last few days. “This whole thing- we just are really not good at it”

“Oh” Azzi says, and lets her head fall back against the seat. “Yeah, tell me about it.”

Jayden, who’s stopped by twice over the last three days, is clearly suspecting Azzi of lying. The only thing keeping him from accusing Azzi outright is probably some sick twisted urge to catch her in the act, vindicating himself forever in the process. Azzi isn’t sure how many more questions she can nervously stammer out fake answers to until she ends up contradicting herself in a truly catastrophic way.

The situation was so terrible that Sarah had turned to Azzi before leaving the locker room yesterday and said, as casually as she were asking about the weather, “Are you and Paige pretending to date?”

Azzi had spluttered; the water she had been drinking threatening to drip down her chin “We- I can’t-”

Sarah had only looked at her, like Azzi was a partially strangled insect she held trapped in a jam jar. “You aren’t very good at it” she had added, killing any sort of response of Azzi’s denial.

“We’re practicing” Azzi had said in response even though her pride stung a little to be caught on by a seemingly new freshman.

“You both seem a little uncomfortable.”

Azzi hadn’t even known what to say to that and had eventually mustered up a defensive, “We’re still working on it”

“The pretend relationship” Sarah had said, as though confirming.

“Yes.”

“Ah well,” She had said, vague and incomprehensible as usual. “No one laps before learning to swim.”

The strange exchange had been weighing on Azzi’s mind for hours afterward.

The problem is that Paige is a really, truly, exceptionally bad liar. And Azzi, who is meant to cover for that, hasn’t been in a serious relationship since the age of fifteen. To her slight embarrassment, she’s forgotten what dating someone even looks like, much less how she should act in a relationship. Much less how to act when she’s pretending to be in a relationship to someone she’s actually incredibly attracted to. The whole thing is beginning to seem like self-inflicted torture, a slow bleeding-to-death kind of torture.

“it’s fine,” she says, like she’s said the last three days, “we’ll get it eventually.”

“I think I have a solution.” Paige says, making a right turn that would have sent Azzi careening through the side of the car, if not for her seatbelt. “Oops, sorry, anyway I think we just have to get to know each other better.”

“Know each other better” Azzi repeats dubiously.

“Yes, exactly” Paige says. She parks with a screeching of tires and turns to Azzi with the battle-ready focus of a military general. “I’m going to pick up a pizza. You go into that liquor store and get something for us to drink. We are gonna get drink and figure this out tonight.”

“Ah wait-” Azzi says, but Paige is already heading into the pizza place.

Azzi sighs and walks into the liquor store. Twenty minutes later she walks out to a baffled Paige that she needs to come inside with Azzi and vouch for her age so that the man behind the counter doesn’t confiscate her ID.

Then she patiently waits for Paige to stop laughing.

By the time they get the pizza and their drinks back to Paige’s apartment, its six in the evening and the sun has set.

“I’ve never seen your apartment before,” Azzi muses, standing at the entrance as Paige unlocks her door. “But your building is nicer than mine.”

The apartment is nicer than Azzi’s too. Bigger for starters, with huge windows in the seating and dining areas that make it seem more spacious than it is. The space is setup to entertain, enough chairs to seat any number or people, complete with matching soft plush cushions.

“It’s weird seeing you this quiet” Azzi says, watching Paige lock the door behind them. “Are you getting nervous or something?” Azzi giggles staring at the giant television hung on the living room wall.

Paige playfully shoves Azzi's back, pushing her forward. “Trust me, I’m not. I just haven’t had anyone here in a while...”

Paige brushes off Azzi’s questioning glance as she sets up the pizza and glasses, pouring their drinks and taking a seat on her expensive looking carpet, leaning against the couch as she eats.

Once they’re several drinks in, the empty pizza box lying between them, Paige gets up and comes back with a sheet of paper. Azzi can make out her handwriting going all the way down the page.

“Is that a list?” Azzi asks, taken aback. “Are those all questions? Did you write me a list?”

“We’ll start easy” Paige says, a little flushed.

“Hang on, this can’t be an interrogation” Azzi interjects as she plucks the piece of paper from Paige’s hand.

“Favourite colour?” Azzi asks.

“Purple.” Paige nods in response.

“Okay favourite animal?” Azzi follows up.

Paige winces “I don’t know?” 

“What do you mean you don’t know your own favourite animal?” Azzi asks, exasperated. “it’s just which one you like best, which one do you like best?”

“Can we do the next question or something”

“No,” Azzi says firmly. “What’s your favourite animal?”

“I don’t know!” Paige protests. “I never think about it. What’s yours?”

“Dogs” Azzi says immediately, and Paige nods.

“That’s a good one. Okay, that my favourite too.”

Azzi stares at her, and Paige stares back gleefully. That jawline is ever as sharp, and her blue eyes are looking directly into Azzi’s. Life is worth living after all.

“Fine,” Azzi snaps, petulant. “What’s your favourite ice cream flavour?”

Paige smiles innocuously. “I don’t know, what’s yours?”

Theres a moment of silence, Paige smiling, chin tilted down, looking up at Azzi innocently and Azzi’s squinting stare is fixed on her. Then Azzi pulls a cushion off her couch and throws it at her, and Paige bats it away breaking into laughter.

“Paige” Azzi complains, but she’s laughing too. “You can’t just steal all my favourites! Are you twelve?”

“Don’t ask me such stupid questions then!” Paige says, still laughing.

“You were the one who wrote these questions to begin with” Azzi says falling back into the couch as she buried her face in the cushions. 

Paige stands up to look down at Azzi still flopped into the couch her hair slightly messier than normal.

“What? Azzi says, adorably confused with her one incredibly adorable dimple peeking out.

“God” Paige says, mournfully. “You’re kind of a loser, huh?”

Azzi shoots up pulling Paige to fall on the couch with her, shoving a pillow over her face.

They abandon the questions after that and start a movie instead. Azzi complaining about Paige’s poor hospitality until Paige caves and pours them both new glasses. The movie starts to play, both of them siting appropriately on two separate couch cushions as some men in suits start fighting on the screen. Ten minutes through the movie, Paige’s glass is empty and she’s starting to migrate closer to Azzi. Squirming until Azzi is squished into the narrow spot between Paige and the arch of the couch, Azzi’s legs swinging over Paige’s lap, Paige’s arm coming up to encircle her.

This is Azzi’s favourite, she decides instantly, when Paige is all around her, and all Azzi can smell in any direction is her Valentino cologne, and they’re pressed up so close together that Azzi can feel her chest rise and fall with each breath. She’d forgotten, at some point, what it was like to be so close to another person, so that her space became their space, their breathing evening out into the same rhythm. 

“Paigey” she says, not looking up from where a man in a suit is now yelling something on the television. “I can’t lie, you’ve really broken through all the walls I know I normally have up, its honestly a little scary…so we’re friends now”

Azzi continues to keep her focus on the screen although whatever that’s playing is truly the last thing she’s thinking about right now as she can feel the heat of Paige’s stare on the side of her face. Azzi doesn’t look at her, so Paige resorts to having the hand on Azzi hip squeeze a little. Suddenly, Azzi is glad for the darkness, so that Paige can’t see how her face flushes at the fondness of her gesture. She leans her head on Paige’s shoulder. She thinks about kissing her. Azzi is once again suddenly very aware that she could be kissing her right now, could be pressing her tonged against that chiselled jaw and those pink lips, yet she isn’t.

She’s honestly still considering it when Paige kisses her.

It’s exactly the kind of kiss Azzi would have expected, except its better because its real, because its flesh and blood moving underneath her, warm hands holding her jaw gently in place.

“What” Azzi says, pulling away slightly, her breath coming heavier than it should be, “are we doing?”

Paige smiles at her, a little crooked, her face a little red. “I thought that part was clear, honestly.”

Azzi is fairly sure she should move away. Its only that she can’t really remember why in the moment.

Azzi is really terrible at denying herself she realises a little later.

“It’s fine” she says, panting slightly. “We are just two adults. Two adults pretending to date. If anything, it’s just convenient” 

“Right” Paige agrees, though she doesn’t seem to be paying much attention, her hands slipping down Azzi’s back to squeeze at her ass, fingers tightening in a grip that is almost bruising, making Azzi gasp. “Can I take your shirt off?”

Azzi shifts where she’s kneeling over Paige’s lap and leans back away from the hot mouth on her throat.

“You first” she says, pushing up ineffectually at the grey hoodie Paige’s wearing. She only succeeds in wrinkling it, until Paige makes an impatient noise and pulls it off herself, exposing a long stretch of lean but muscled skin. Azzi groans overwhelmed and thrilled all at once. Paige’s already got both hands up Azzi’s shirt tracing over her ribcage, the feeling making Azzi shudder.

The urgency doesn’t disappear, not when Azzi pushes away to breathe, not when Paige gasps a shaky exhalation into the curve of Azzi’s neck as she rolls their hips together. Not when she Paige lays Azzi down on the cough looking up at her through her thick eyelashes with her eyes dark, and hair messy, making Azzi whimper uselessly into her hand and Paige pushes a finger into her.

Afterwards, with sweat cooling, tacky on both their skins, Azzi reaches down off the couch and grabs the sheet of paper Paige had brought in, now lying discarded on the floor.

“Did you handwrite all of these” She asks, amazed, pushing Paige’s face away with a hand and she tries to take the paper back. “Stop that I’m reading this.”

The questions range from general- her favourite colour, music artists- to Azzi-centric; questions about the routines she likes to perform, how she met Caroline and Kaitlyn, where she practices when not on the rink. Azzi’s jaw goes progressively slacker as she looks through the list, floored by how much attention Paige has been paying to her, how much interest she’s taken in in her, somehow keeping her unaware of it.

“Careful, or I might start to think you like me after all, p” Azzi says lightly, hoping it distracts from the obvious affection she’s sure must be inscribed all over her face.

“You asked me for help” Paige says, apparently giving up on trying to grab the sheet back. “I wasn’t going to half-ass it.” Azzi shifts to look at her and nearly falls off the narrow couch space they’ve squeezed themselves into, far too small for two athletes. Paige’s arms come up fast, pulling her back up, shift so Azzi is halfway on top of her, their legs tangled together.

“Do you ever half-ass anything?” Azzi asks breathlessly.

“I’m a whole ass kinda person,” Paige tells her, and her hand strays lower from where its resting on Azzi’s back, as if to prove her point.

Azzi ignores this, as well as she can with the heat flooding her face. “Since you made the list, it’d be a shame to waste it,” she says, and passes Paige back the paper. “You can ask three, and then it’s my turn. Make them count.”

Paige doesn’t seem inclined to play along, lethargic from sex, her eyelids drooping over her eyes. “I though you said they were stupid questions” she says, “what happens if I don’t answer?”

“I’ll kill you” Azzi says, then amends. “For every three you answer, I’ll give you a kiss.”

Paige’s eyes snap back open. “Is that a reward or a punishment?” She grumbles, but she’s already holding the paper up, scanning the list for questions.

Two questions later, Paige has learned that Azzi’s favourite move to incorporate into her routines in a Bielmann spin – lifting one leg over her head- and that she has two younger brothers.

Paige clears her throat, not looking up from the list “Last one- why’s that Jayden guy so obsessed with you?”

Azzi furrows her brows. She didn’t remember seeing that one on the list. “Not sure,” she answers anyway. “Jayden used to live somewhere in Europe. I only met him about a year ago, when he came to help out with the business and rink.”

“Did you not get along?” Paige asks, Azzi shakes her head.

“Actually, I though he resented me at first, for taking so much of his dad’s attention because he’d never talk to me. He only got weird later.”

“So you didn’t date or anything?” it’s a casual question, thrown out as a follow-up but there’s something sharply honest in Paige’s voice that makes Azzi look up at her.

“That’s been two extra questions” she points out. “But no.”

Paige smiles, a little sheepish, and lets the paper drift off the couch and onto the floor, calloused hands cupping Azzi’s cheeks.

“Here,” she says, her hands moving to the side of Azzi’s face. “I’ll make it up to you”

Their first kiss (and a few following that) had been harsh, frantic. Teeth digging into lips, hard nails digging into flesh, desperate kisses followed by fumbling fingers.

This kiss is softer, sweeter. A hello, I’m home kiss and a goodbye, ill miss you kiss and a baby, you made it kiss. Azzi presses a little closer, small sounds leaving her lips, trapped between their mouths. Paige kisses her like she’s trying to memorize her, mapping out the spots that makes her melt, until half-formed whimpers are pushing their way out of Azzi’s mouth, tingling heat tracing its way up her spine.

Azzi pulls away with a wet sound that’s almost embarrassing. Paige’s lips are kiss-red, slick with spit and slightly swollen.

“If you keep doing that” Azzi says, her voice raw, “We’ll never get though that list.”

She must look similar because Paige’s eyes are heated as she scans Azzi’s face. “We’ll have time,” she murmurs, and pulls Azzi in again.

Azzi is in the midst of trying to get her key in the lock of her apartment, the only light to see by two small lamps on either side of the door. She keeps missing the lock, her hands a little shaky, scratching up the sides of the metal, creating loud noises every time she messes up.

“Well, well, well,” Caroline’s voice says from behind her, “look what we have here.”

“Don’t listen to her” Kaitlyn says when Azzi turns around. The two of them are standing in the doorway of Kaitlyn’s apartment, right across from Azzi’s, “Do your walk of shame with pride.”

“Caroline why couldn’t Kaitlyn live in your apartment complex.” Azzi says, more to the area at large than either of her friends. “Do I deserve this?”

“What has innocent Azzi been up to, coming back a little dishevelled?” Kaitlyn coos, ignoring her.

“It’s late you know” Caroline adds, faux disapproval lining her voice “you have practice tomorrow.

“Are you my parents?” Azzi asks snidely. “One of you come get my door open for me”

Kaitlyn steps forward and takes the key from her, unlocking the door, then entering Azzi’s apartment before she herself could even get in.

“Go on,” Kaitlyn says, taking a sea on her carpet, uninvited. Caroline sits next to her, both of them peering up at Azzi. She feels a bit like a kindergarten teacher. “Tell us about your date.”

Azzi makes indistinct grumbling noises and flops down beside them, cross-legged on the floor. Her socks are two different shades of black, she thinks, staring down at her feet.

“She’s stressed about her crush,” Kaitlyn whispers conspiratorially to Caroline.

“I don’t have a crush on her,” Azzi says, wincing. “That makes it sound so middle school.”

“Oh, sorry,” Caroline says, not sounding very sorry at all. “What would you call it? A lust-induced apoplexy?” 

Azzi stares very firmly at the carpet. Nice long wiry fibres in her carpet. “I don’t know. I think she’s hot, yeah. I like to make her a little angry but that’s just attraction (and maybe for attention), you know? I have eyes, so obviously I’m attracted to her.” 

Her voice trails off. Paige’s carpet was plush. You couldn’t see each individual rug fibre in it, like you could with Azzi’s. It probably cost a lot more.

“She’s a good listener too,” Azzi continues, “Better than you’d expect. I mean, you’d think she was a total musclehead, but she’s really smart. And she remembers things I say, like even small things. I like talking to her. I don’t know what you would call that.”

 She finally looks up from the floor, hoping to see some understanding, maybe some compassion in her friends’ eyes-

As Kaitlyn and Caroline struggle to contain their laughter, “You guys are the worst friends known to man” Azzi complains.

Caroline does not look particularly offended by this. “Sorry. We get caught up in the moment.”

Azzi stares. “‘The moment’ being the moment that my life choices start falling apart before my eyes?”

“Your life is always falling apart,” Kaitlyn says soothingly. “If I waited to have sex until you were free from crisis, I would still be a virgin.”

Azzi stares harder. Caroline pats her head, ruffling her hair. “There, there. Do you want a hug?”

“No,” Azzi says, pushing her hand off. 

“So, was the date good?” Caroline asks, raising her eyebrows. “Are the fake girlfriends now real girlfriends?”

“No!” Azzi says. “It was, you know, it was casual sex.”

Silence rings in Azzi’s living room.

“Uh-oh,” Kaitlyn says, muffled from behind Caroline’s hand. 

“You’re terrible at casual sex,” Caroline says, dropping her hand away. “Azzi, you are seriously bad at casual sex.”

“Azzi,” Kaitlyn says, horrifically sympathetic. “The two times you have tried to have casual sex have gone terribly. Please tell me you aren’t trying this again.”

“Tell a girl you want to die in her arms one time, and you get branded as bad at casual sex for life,” Azzi says. 

“It was two times,” Kaitlyn corrects, which is unhelpful. 

Azzi tips her neck backwards, stares at the patterns on her ugly ceiling. It had actually been three times, but she’s not going to volunteer that information. 

She had taken a cab home, alone, despite Paige’s slightly tipsy attempts to come with her. She had kissed her goodbye at the door, breathless and giggling, peppered small kisses across her face the way she had wanted to earlier, and then gotten in a cab and come home alone, pink with the rush of it.

“Third time’s the charm?” She tries instead. It doesn’t seem to be a comfort to anyone, much less herself. 

“It’s fine,” she says into the quiet. “Seriously. I’m not jumping into anything.”

Unbidden, an image of Paige’s face- smiling up at her, emotive and all, her hair splayed out against the carpet- flashes into her brain.

“You’re thinking something stupid,” Kaitlyn says, squinting at her. “I can see it in your eyes.”

“Don’t you have a house you need to go back to?” Azzi answers, tetchy.

Azzi’s sitting on a bench pulling her skates off of sore feet when Paige finally approaches her the next day, worn out after a long practice. Her fingers are trembling the lacing remaining stubbornly tight despite her efforts.

Its only when Paige steps in front of her and kneels to the ground taking Azzi’s ankle in one hand loosening the ties with the other that Azzi even notices her presence.

“How long have you been here?” she manages to ask her head feeling tight and too full, stuffed with cotton.

“A while” Paige says and adjusts her grip to pull the first skate off. “You’re really good.”

Azzi smiles, “I know.”

Paige finally looks up at her, blue eyes locking into her with a sort of amused irritation. “Of course you do.”

“Hey,” Azzi says, as Paige stands back up, passing her her skates. Paige looks down at her, and Azzi feels that awful shyness again, making her want to duck her head, hide behind her hair. She resolutely maintains eye contact. “About, I mean, you know. We can, um, keep it casual. The whole thing, I mean, we can just have it be, you know, part of the, um, situation.”

She’s babbling, unsure of what she’s saying or what she’s meaning to say, too afraid to break eye contact, as though Paige will disappear forever once she does. 

Paige smiles at her. “Do you want to add sex to your little rules list?”

“It’s not a rule,” Azzi says indignantly, the nervousness slipping easily away from her body. “It’s just, you know- if you want to.”

“Trust me,” Paige says, endearingly quickly. “I want to.” 

Azzi takes a second to process that, struck by the easy honesty, and then buries her head in her hands.

“Hey,” Paige says, nudging Azzi’s head with her hand. “You good?”

“You’re adorable,” Azzi says, lifting her face back up, slightly more heated than she would prefer. “I can’t stand you.”

She had meant to create some distance between the two of them today, a pre-emptive measure before the fluttering feeling in her chest became too big for Azzi to handle. Except, Azzi was beginning to realize that she missed Paige when she wasn’t around.

She had created a space for herself in Azzi’s life, so easily and quickly, filling an emptiness she hadn’t even realized was there. 

She’s still looking at Paige when a familiar figure brushes into her periphery. Jayden’s still got that terrible coat on, long and sweeping his ankles, heading towards Azzi like he’s got an agenda. One that involves asking Azzi multiple jagged little questions, that Azzi will inevitably have no answer for.

“Fuck,” Azzi murmurs, and grabs Paige’s elbow to yank her in front of her, a last-ditch attempt to hide herself. “Jayden’s here, pretend we’re, I don’t know-”

She cuts herself off when Paige sits down on the bench beside her, her back to the door, her face hovering next to Azzi’s, her hand covering the curve of Azzi’s jaw. 

The kiss is quick, a fleeting touch of lips that leaves Azzi wanting more, her eyelashes fluttering shut and then back open to where Paige is still so close to her. 

“Is he still watching?” Paige murmurs, lips against Azzi’s skin. An unpleasantness twists under Azzi’s skin, an unwelcome reminder that they’re only putting on a show.

Her eyes dart over Paige’s shoulder, to the entrance of the rink. It’s empty.

“Yes,” she lies, and pulls Paige’s face back towards her.

[inthelibrarybtw]

you want me to pretend? | two

SERIES MASTERLIST

pairing: college!basketball!captain!rafe x college!student!reader content: fluff, college au, smau/irl, flashbacks

summary: You were trying to make one problem disappear. You were tired, so you lied. That small lie led you to contact the last person you wanted to ask for help. It wasn’t that you didn’t like Rafe; only that you didn’t want to deal with his constant teasing more than you already did. Also, you two weren't that close, but this one lie was going to bring you two closer and maybe help some truths come to light.

word count: 1.2k

authors note: this has been so fun to make. thank you everyone for the support and for loving it just as much as I do.

01 | 02 | 03

2 months ago

“Thank you,” you said as you and Angie walked back to the lake house.

“For what? You know you are an honorary Griffin” 

“Yeah but that doesn’t mean I will stop thanking you or your family for always being so nice” 

“Well, you are very welcome and I’m glad this helped to get your mind off things” 

“You always know huh?” 

“What can I say?” she chuckled as you two walked inside “Let’s go get changed and then we can prepare some snacks for the bonfire”

Monday

After your last class, you went to grab some snacks and head to the library. On your way there, you crossed paths with Kie and Cleo. 

“Got any plans right now?” Cleo asked you.

“Not really, I was going to the library to finish some assignments.” 

“Pope just called us, and we’re meeting up with them at Sarah’s apartment since it’s the closest one.” 

“We were about to text you to see if you could come.” 

“I would love to; let me go for my car then. Do you guys need a ride?” You asked since you knew they usually carpooled with JJ or Pope to come to college.

“Yes, please,” they both said at the same time. 

You three made it to Sarah’s apartment. You had enough time to work on some of your assignments and just hang out with them before you had to go back to your house to have dinner with your parents. Eventually, you said your goodbyes to everyone.

“Let me walk you out,” Sarah said with a smile, “Glad you could come; next week let’s get together, just the girls.” You nodded. 

“Sounds like a plan, let’s talk in the group chat to decide what day and what to do.” 

“For sure, drive safe!”

–

With that, you made your way to your car and drove back home. You arrived at your house, announced you were home once you were inside, and then went straight to your room to change clothes. Once you had changed, you grabbed your phone and headed to the dining room, feeling nervous.

You always talked with your parents while you all ate. Tonight was no exception. It started as a normal "How was your day?" but quickly turned into your mom’s new favorite topic: your love life, or lack thereof. You knew she meant well, but it had been getting on your nerves, and today it had pushed you to your limit.

This time, it wasn’t just your mother tormenting you with questions and comments; your dad had also chimed in with his opinion about your love life. So, you interrupted your mom before she could add something else to the discussion.

"I’m already seeing someone; I just didn’t want to tell you guys in case it didn’t work out," you lied, thinking that would end their intense questioning.

"Oh, that’s great, honey! What’s his name?" your mom asked, her face beaming with a smile. She couldn’t have been any happier if she tried, but she had put you on the spot. Correction: you had put yourself on the spot.

Your brain froze; panic was setting in, and your phone didn’t stop vibrating. You grabbed it to see who was texting you so urgently, and before you could process what you were about to do, his name slipped out of your mouth. It was more like a question, but it was done. You said his name, and now you couldn’t take it back.

"We would love to meet him, honey. Invite him over on Friday for dinner with us." You tried to come up with an excuse, but it was all in vain.

"We want to meet the guy. If it’s been over two months, it’s serious," your dad said, leaving you with no choice but to accept.

"Yeah… I will talk to him then," you sounded convincing, even though you were still panicking on the inside.

After dinner was over, you went to your room and decided to ignore what had just happened and finally answer the barrage of texts and finish the statistics presentation you had for the next day. You would deal with the situation after the presentation—first a good grade, then finding a boyfriend for Friday night.

Tuesday

Presentation first, then panic—that was your mantra for the day. When you decided on one thing, you did it, so you had avoided thinking about your little big problem throughout the whole morning and class. 

The presentation was a success, just as planned. Seeing Rafe had made you feel a bit guilty; you had dragged him into your problem, albeit he didn’t know yet, and you weren’t actually sure if he would ever find out. You could always find a random guy and make him pretend to be Rafe, but you knew that never in a million years would you approach a stranger and ask him to be your fake boyfriend for a night.

Today

After your much-needed talk with Angie yesterday, you decided you were going to ask Rafe. You had been repeating to yourself all day that the worst thing that could happen was him saying no. The problem was that you were extremely anxious about even asking the question.

You knew where he was because Wednesdays were typically his "I can’t get together today" day since he had practice around noon and physical training around 5. One thing you could admit about Rafe was that he was dedicated and disciplined with classes and basketball. So, in a positive light, if he were to say yes, you knew he would make it right.

When you finally reached the basketball court, you saw him in the distance dribbling a ball and making a shot. Three-pointer! That was the only thing you knew about basketball. As you got closer and entered his field of vision, he scrunched his eyebrows in confusion. It was unusual for you to show up while he was in practice. He let his coach know he was going to take five, and the coach nodded back.

He left the ball on the side of the court, grabbed his water bottle to take a sip, and right before standing in front of you, he lifted his shirt to wipe the sweat off his face.

“Y/N, what brings you here?” 

“What? I can’t just come and walk around?” 

“Right, because you like basketball that much to come see us practice,” he smirked.

“It could be a new hobby, you know.” 

“Right, right, because you love to learn new things.” His eyes never left your face. “So what brings you here, princess? Wanted to see me?” he teased, and you shook your head, a slight blush creeping in. You were starting to feel anxious again.

“Yes, but not in the way you think, so wipe that smirk off your face,” you composed yourself, sounding as sure of yourself as you could. 

“Okay, then tell me how I can help you,” he said, still smiling.

“I have a favor to ask… it’s a bit unusual and big, but I really need help…” His face turned serious; he could notice how anxious you were. Your cheeks were starting to flush, and you were playing with your fingers.

“Yeah, tell me.” 

“Okay, so…”

taglist: @zyafics @maybankslover @niaunoffical @marleymarleymarleymarley @rafesbabygirlx @akobx @papercranesandinkstains  @drewstarkeyspecs @winterivory @my-name-is-baby @drunkinthemiddleoftheday @drewrry @ursogorgeous13 @pr3tty-pink @lmaowhatt @reeseswirl @xoxosblogsblog @lili-swagalicious @ayy1234567 @rihannamars @congratsloserr @moonywhisp3rs if you want to be added send an ask or comment! :) follow and turn on notifications on @inthelibrarybtw-notifs to get updates on everything i write

REBLOGS, COMMENTS AND LIKES ARE ALWAYS WELCOMED

INTHELIBRARYBTW ✧.*

[saiyanprincessswanie]

Birthday Wish

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Word Count: 2440

Summary: Bucky’s birthday wish is to finally have you all to himself.

Warnings:  Pure Smut, P in V, Unprotected sex, Oral (M & F).

A/N: @avengers-assemble-bingo for James Buchanan Barnes - 108th Birthday. The squares filled are “Confetti” & "Balloons." (card #4B 024) 

A/N 2: Thank you to my betas @lfnr-blog-blog-blog & @nekoannie-chan Thank you to @fictional-affairs for the header. Thank you to @whimsicalrogers for the divider

Please Read, Reblog, & Comment. It lets me know you like my work. 😊💜

I do NOT consent to translating or reposting my work on any social media platform, app, or third-party site. It has been stolen if you see my work anywhere besides my personal Tumblr & AO3 accounts. I will NEVER give written or verbal permission to repost or translate any of my fanfics 🚫🚫

If there was one thing Bucky enjoyed now in life, it was his birthday. He celebrated it with his close friends every year as it brought a sense of happiness to his day. The room was filled with balloons and Sam was shooting confetti canisters in the air just to annoy Buck. The cake came out and everyone sang the birthday song to him. 

“Blow out the candles and make a wish.” You chimed in.

Bucky only wanted one thing for his birthday and that was you. Bucky was watching you from across the table laughing with Nat. God what he wouldn’t give to finally get you under him in his bed. You had teased him earlier that if he wished for it then it may come true.

Testing the waters Bucky looked at you smirking and blew the candles out. He watched as you bit your bottom lip and fluttered your eyelashes at him. Yeah, he knew you wanted it as well.

Both you and Bucky have been friends for years now. You started dating each other months ago as you both had so much in common. You both wanted to wait to sleep with the other but now the wait was unbearable. You swore if he didn’t make his move tonight you were going to.

The party continued for a couple of hours when Steve and Sam approached Bucky.

“Your wonderful woman over there, jerk, has been sending you signals all night.” Steve chuckled as he patted Bucky’s shoulder. 

Sam chimed in, “So go get your girl and leave.”

Bucky looked from his friends then to you. You were wearing a cute blue dress that came just above your knees. Bucky could see you rubbing your legs together.

“Yeah I’m going to head out, see you later.” 

Nat and you were talking about your night ahead of you. Nat was giving you tips in case you needed it. But once you both saw Bucky heading your way you knew what was to come. 

“Hey, doll. Are you ready to go?” Bucky asked.

Taking the last swig of your drink you nodded your head at him.

“Ready as I’ll ever be.” You replied. 

Bucky’s flesh hand reached for yours and you held him as you left together. 

You headed outside and started to walk together towards Bucky’s house which wasn’t far from Steve’s. 

“So what did you wish for Buck?” You asked. You looked at him with innocent eyes.

Bucky turned to you and smiled. “I can’t tell you that doll or it might not come true. 

The thoughts that ran through your mind sent chills down your spine. This man was going to ruin you for all others. Not that you wanted any other man. Bucky was perfect for you. He was always a gentleman with the kindest heart when around you. He was also protective of you and made sure you were as safe as can be. Tonight though was going to be something special. You both have been patiently waiting for the other to be ready and clearly, tonight was going to be it. 

You reached his house and Bucky led the way up the stairs. He unlocked the door and had you follow him in. He closed the door and locked it then tossed his keys on the counter. Before you knew it he was standing in front of you gazing into your eyes.

“You know if you’re not ready we don’t have to do this. We can just cuddle and watch TV. I don’t want you to feel pressured in any way.” Bucky held your hands, rubbing the backs of them with both thumbs as he tried to soothe you.

Shaking your head you squeezed his fingers. “No, I don’t want to wait another minute. I want this Buck, that’s if you’ll have me.”

Bucky shrugged out of his leather jacket and tossed it on a chair. You kicked off your heels as he undid his boots. Leaving them both in front of the door he led you to his bedroom. His room was spacious with a large bed in the room. You’ve been in here before to cuddle and make out but nothing further than that. Bucky led you to the bed and you both sat down.

“I’m gonna be honest, I'm a little nervous. It’s been decades since I… you know, I’ve done anything like this.”

“Well it’s been years for me too Bucky so why don’t we start slow.” You suggested as he nodded his head at you.  

You stood from the bed and turned your back to him so he could unzip your dress. Taking your cue he unzipped the dress slowly. When he finished you let the dress pool at your feet leaving you in just your matching light blue lacy bra and panties. Turning around you nervously put your hands next to your sides and gazed at Bucky whose mouth was open in shock of your beauty. 

“Like what you see?” Your cheeks warmed from how Bucky was staring at you.

Bucky was just staring back at you. He was taking in your beauty and how soft you looked. How was he supposed to not hurt you with his strength? “God you are beautiful.”

He stood as well and peeled his black shirt off his body. It was your turn to stare at him as he pushed his black pants to the floor leaving him in just his boxer briefs and dog tags. He kicked his pants off to the side and both of you stood in silence taking one another in. Bucky’s vibranium hand lightly caressed your cheek showing you he would be gentle with you. 

You sighed into his hand and closed your eyes feeling his hand go from your cheek to your shoulder. You opened your eyes and were met with his blue eyes. There was longing in them and you decided you needed to be the one to break the ice. Gently your hands caressed his muscular body and you could hear his breath hitch. You lightly pushed him toward the bed and he complied. Once he sat on the bed you straddled his lap and kissed him. The kiss was slow as tongues caressed one another. You let out a small moan and Bucky deepened the kiss. His hands both warm and cold caressed your back and made their way to the back of your bra where he opened it gently. The bra was then cast aside leaving you half naked before him. 

Bucky gently lifted you and turned you both around so your back hit the bed. His mouth started trailing kisses down the side of your neck and sucked just below your ear causing you to groan a little. His mouth descended from your neck and kissed over your breasts. He licks around your nipple and sucks on it gently while his vibranium fingers play with the other one. His left-hand rolls your nipple gently while he sucks on the other one making your breath speed up. Then he switches to the other breast to give it the same treatment and his right hand plays with your right nipple. 

You can feel your panties becoming soaked just from him playing with your breasts. His cock is centered over your mound and you roll your hips to get some friction from him. Grinding into him causes Bucky to moan as he rolls his hips into you. His lips find yours and you both are making out again while continuing to dry hump each other. After a couple of minutes, Bucky stops.

“If we keep this up I’ll be cumming before we even start.” He breathlessly says.

You nod your head trying to catch your breath. That’s when Bucky starts kissing his way down your body. Every soft kiss is driving you wild and all you want to do is sink your teeth into him. But you let him continue until he gets to your panties. 

“God, you're soaked.” He pulls your panties down your legs and throws them over his shoulder. “I need to have a taste of you.”

You part your legs wide to allow him access to you. “Please Bucky I need you,” you beg him.

“Don’t worry doll, I will take care of you.” 

Bucky throws your legs over each shoulder and pulls you as close to his mouth as he can. His eyes lock with yours as he licks a long stripe through your pussy and kisses your clit. Every flick of his tongue through your petals, every suckle of his lips on your clit has you moaning in pleasure. 

“Ohmygod Bucky!”

Your hands find their purchase in Bucky’s hair as he continues to eat you out like a man starved. He moves his right hand up to where his mouth is and briefly pulls away. He inserts not one but two thick fingers inside of you and curls them just right which has you so close to coming. Bucky feels your walls tighten around his fingers as his vibranium thumb finds your clit and begins to rub it in tight circles. 

That’s all you need before you cum hard for Bucky. Your toes curl as your arousal coats his hand and wrist. He works you through your orgasm and you shake from overstimulation. Bucky pulls away slowly and kisses your pussy one more time before he crawls up your body to kiss you on your lips.

You taste yourself on his tongue and hum your approval. You kiss for a few minutes before you finally push on his chest. “Now it’s my time to taste you, Sergeant.” You grab his dog tags giving him one last kiss before you both switch positions. 

Bucky lays on his back as you kneel before him. He lifts his hips as you pull his boxer briefs down his thick thighs and you throw them off the bed. You slowly make your descent down his body and gently grab his hard thick cock. You pump him up and down several times gauging his reaction. Bucky bites his bottom lip and nods his head at you encouraging you to take control. 

You lean down and lick some of the precum that is leaking down his shaft. Swirling your tongue around the tip a few times you finally take him down your throat. Taking him deep causes a groan of your name to leave his lips as you bob your head up and down his cock. His flesh hand grabs your hair and he fucks up into your throat causing you to gag around him. 

“Fuck, doll, that’s it.”

You both work together in tandem bringing Bucky closer and closer to his release. When your hand goes to fondle his balls that's what tips Bucky over causing him to cum deep in your throat with a loud groan. You swallow every last drop.

You pull off with a pop and you hear Bucky groan again. Crawling up his body you lay next to him for a minute. Bucky rolls to his side facing you and smiles. 

“That was incredible, doll. But I hate to break it to you…” He looks down at his cock and your eyes follow his. Bucky is already hard.

“Oh my. You’re already ready?” You asked, shocked by how hard he already is.

Bucky chuckles, “I’m ready whenever you are, no rush. It’s just I haven’t had sex in so long and I’m desperate to be inside your pussy.”

You lay on your back and spread your legs for him. “If you want it, take it. It’s all yours. But Bucky, don’t hold back.”

Bucky was on you in a heartbeat. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

Smiling at him you respond, “You could never hurt me Bucky. Now please fuck me.”

That’s all he needed to hear as he grabs his cock and rubs it through your wet pussy a few times. Making sure he is completely covered in your arousal Bucky places his tip at your entrance and slowly pushes into you.

Both of you release a moan and groan from the sensation. His cock is stretching you out with every inch he pushes inside you. Your legs wrap around his waist and your heels press into his lower back until he is fully inside you.

Bucky pulls out slowly and pushes back in. In and out, the rhythm is slow and steady. He is afraid of hurting you and takes his time. He kisses your neck just below your ear making you whimper from the sensation of his beard lightly tickling you.

You whine every time he bottoms out inside you. But you just need more of him.

“Bucky, I need you to go harder. Please, I need it.”

He looks up into your eyes and understands. His pace starts to pick up as he thrusts harder and faster into your tight pussy. This is what you needed and you cried out his name. 

“Bucky!”

God, it feels good as he pounds into you over and over again. One hand is holding onto his bicep while the other hand is holding onto his dog tags that were swinging in your face. You hold on for dear life as he takes you apart. 

Quickly he sneaks his right hand between your bodies and starts rubbing your clit. With a hard thrust you are cumming hard around his cock and your body tenses up, your walls are so tight Bucky cums deep inside you with a shout of your name as he rides out his high with a few more thrusts.

Bucky comes to a stop and looks down at you. You're a beautiful sight as you lay there underneath him and look blissed out. He leans down to kiss you on your lips before he slowly pulls out of you.

He sneaks out of bed and goes to clean himself up quickly. Then he brings back a towel and cleans you up. Discarding the towel in his hamper he crawls back into bed and pulls your body close to his.

Bucky rubs soothing circles on your back and you hum out in contentment. 

“This has to be the best birthday gift I have had in forever. Thank you for this gift.” Bucky whispers against your hair.

You look up at him and smile. “I’m happy I could give myself to you so intimately. I can’t wait to do this again with you. You made me feel so loved.” 

“I’m glad you feel that way ‘cause I’m so in love with you doll.”

“I love you too, Bucky. More than you will ever know. Happy birthday Buck.”

Taglist

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[jamiebluewind]

My favorite part is that there are like 12 different sub categories of executive disfunction (my therapist uses response inhibition, working memory, emotional control, task iniation, sustained attention, planning/prioritizing, organization, time management, flexibility and task switching, goal directed persistence, and stress tolerance), AND EACH OF US ARE GOOD AT SOME OF THEM! So you end up running into the problem of not thinking you have executive disfunction because some of them work and you also found work arounds, hating on yourself because another neurodivergent excels at a skill you struggle in, or completely missing a struggle somebody else has because it's not one of yours. So we all out here smacking into glass, BUT ITS NOT THE SAME GLASS!

My random bullshit yall can skip!

My roommates and I took a test with a therapist last year and it helped us a LOT with how we got along (me examples)

I have the metacognition of a god while Win's is weak, so I give her prompting questions that help her figure out homework and similies to understand new concepts. Meanwhile, I state out loud when my brain is in a metacognition anxiety spiral (thinking about what my thoughts and actions mean/what are all possiblies for others thoughts with probability) which they respond to (at most 2 sentences but usually just "No." XD) which has both decreased my anxiety attacks and increased how much we can all go out together (done it enough that my brain will automatically tell me what they'd say which usually takes care of it).

I'm bad at emotional control so I've been learning coping techniques.

Win used to get frustrated with Sarah about getting stuff done, but while Win is strong at task iniation, Sarah is bad and I'm in the middle, so now we use different systems for each of us. Also, my flexibility is BAD and working memory is meh so my responsibilities each get a specific time slot and day (on top of them letting me finish a task or keeping track for me instead of giving me multiple things to focus on/switch between at once).

I CAN make a really good thorough list, but doing it usually takes an hour or two (plus I'm bad with how long things take), so Win will spend a few minutes knocking out clear REASONABLE lists for us instead.

Meanwhile, my goal direction and sustained attention can keep chugging on things like it's nothing WAY past the point of hair pulling for them, so I stopped listening to my body about breaks for group stuff and let them set the pace and max time a day. I only take a break for every 2-4 of theirs, but it works! They also have my permission to stop me if I've been working an unreasonable amount of time (like spending over 9 hours straight without food researching quality paint brands with asthma safety) which is better on my health.

Side note, my roommate's neurotypical mom took the test with us. Her results showed she was just normal with no weaknesses. Despite KNOWING she's neurotypical beforehand, all three of us were like

followed by overlapping loud questions and noises.

I love talking with neurotypical people about my executive dysfunction because I'm like "yeah there's this invisible wall in my head that I'm incapable of getting past no matter what I do and it stops me from doing things" and they're like what the actual fuck

Meanwhile other neurodivergents are like

[navydoves]

Smile for the camera, love!

summary: too caught up in his paintings and suffering from major art block, you suggest a different type of artistic expression for rafayel, photography! yet, the new hobby backfires on him as you start to dictate what goes on his camera roll.

cw: subby rafayel, you’re a pervert lmao, you’re also the dominate one, explicit but no sex, masturbation, dirty talk (just very slightly mean), eroticism, artistic expression of pleasure, sticky messes

a/n: i don’t know anything about cameras so bare with me on the terminology. not proof read, excuse mistakes 😢 enjoy!

“so… what is it?”

you furrow your brows at rafayel a give him a strange look.

“it’s a camera, what do you mean what is it?”

“i mean… what am i supposed to do with it?”

you take the heavy powershot out of rafayels hands and point it at him with your eye in the viewing lens. you deftly click on the side button and take a quick picture of rafayel’s dumbfounded face before turning the camera around to show him.

“you take pictures with it.”

“i know how cameras work! i’m asking why you spent so much money buying me one, did you forget i paint and not take silly little photos?”

you gave rafayel the camera back and smile teasingly at him. it wasn’t unusual for rafayel to have art block, in fact, his art blocks spanned so debilitatingly long that you practically had a protocol for comforting him and helping him gain back inspiration.

the list went:

1. bring rafayel to the beach and play in the waves with him. the feeling of water against his skin and sand underneath his feet sometimes brought him new ideas.

2. give rafayel a makeover. seeing cosmetic shades brought about new waves of thought for what colors he should use next in his paintings.

3. dance with rafayel. your bodies moving together in symphony cleared his head of aggravating thoughts and made him want to paint in reverence of you.

4. sleep with rafayel. sometimes, he was just grumpy. he needed a nap.

but when plans one through four didn’t work this time, you found yourself at an equally frustrating spot with rafayel. you really did hate seeing him so stressed or unmotivated. he needed his spark, and like the good girlfriend you were, you were gonna help him find it.

“you’ve handled a camera before, rafa. it’s nothing new. just take a few pics here and there and maybe it’ll help you out. don’t you want to get my moneys worth for it?”

“i didn’t even ask you to spend that much…” he mutters underneath his breath. “i’ll pay you back, how much was it?”

“i don’t need—“

“how much was it?!”

⭐︎

it had been a couple days since you last had seen rafayel. whenever you couldn’t see him, you messaged or called him enough times to keep him company, but the last few days weren’t like that. there was an influx of wanderers within the last few weeks and with a few rookie hunters injured on the field, the more experienced ones were put on the job as replacement. despite your exhaustion, you knew you needed to make time for rafayel. you missed him and from the sad emojis he would send you throughout the day, you knew he missed you too.

you unlocked the door to his home with your spare key and looked around the entrance of his large estate. probably still in his studio, you assumed. you brought a small bag of baked cookies from the hunter association as an apology for being so absent. with the bag in hand you strolled through his house to the closed studio in the back.

“rafa?” you call out softly after opening the door. you look around the room and find him standing in front of an oversized canvas with buckets of untouched paint around him. those weren’t there before. he turns to you and frowns somberly before motioning eagerly for you to come in. you walk in and set down the bag of cookies on a table before moving to embrace rafayel.

“rafayel, what’re you doing? how long have you been in here?” you ask with a worried expression growing on your face.

“i’ve been trying to paint.” he simply responds. he turns to you and embraces you back while pressing a kiss to your forehead. “where have you been? i’ve missed you.”

“i told you, i had emergency hunter missions to do. have you been in here since i last saw you?” rafayel ignores your question and purses his lips in consideration.

“did your missions have to take that long? i’ve been so lonely. this canvas is mocking me, yknow? it’s plain whiteness is blinding me and i don’t know what to do.” you sigh and pull back from the hug to look around the messy studio.

“where’s the camera i gave you?”

rafayel motions to some corner in the room and grumbles, his complete focus was on the canvas before him.

“somewhere over there, i think.”

you felt a pang of disappointment that the item had been discarded so easily. did he not like it that much? you head to the corner and find the camera underneath a few random silk fabrics. turning it on, you swipe through the settings and head to the gallery to look at the photos—if there were any anyway.

to your surprise, there were hundreds upon hundreds of photos saved onto the camera roll, all of rather random things. there were pictures of his furniture, little bugs on the sidewalk outside his house, nail polish organized in color order, broken glass, a street sign, it went on. the disappointment in your chest faded as you realized that rafayel really did try with this, but apparently to no avail.

oh well, you thought. he’ll get out of this slump at some point, he always did.

you sigh and point the camera up at rafayel who was still studying the empty canvas in front of him. he was deep in thought, it looked, and the camera captured every beautiful detail of his face. he was a natural.

“rafa, over here. give me a little pose.” you chuckle in hopes of lightening him up. he stilled awkwardly before letting his body relax and posing for you. you clicked a picture and pulled back the camera to see how you did. your pupils dilate at the photo, rafayel looked so effortlessly handsome before you.

you shift your perspective and kneel a little bit to take another picture of him, this one being an off-guard one. even with his attention on something else, he held a gentle beauty that made you almost revere him a little bit.

“hey, love, how about you take a break from the painting stuff and play with this camera with me?” you ask hopefully. he turns to you and frowns before shaking his head.

“i already tried taking photos and everything was pathetic to me. i don’t think it’s gonna help.” he responds.

“no, you don’t have to take any pictures. i wanna take them. this camera is actually really nice, i wanna put it to good use if you’re not using it.”

rafayel raises an eyebrow at you but resigns to your suggestion. he knew he needed a break from… doing nothing. that’s what exhausted rafayel the most, doing nothing. he preferred it when he was busy because it meant he had inspiration and passion, feelings that he basked in. but devoid of that right now, he would rather be doing anything else other than wallowing.

“what’re you gonna take pictures of?” he asks while putting his paint brush down and moving toward you. he seemed to be genuinely curious in your newfound interest.

“can i take pictures of you?” you ask. rafayel sputters a bit and scratches the back of his head.

“why… why me?! there’s plenty of fish in the sea to take pictures of.”

“well because you’re my boyfriend and i love you. don’t you want to be my muse?”

and that’s all it took for rafayel to give in. being the focus of your attention was like a blessing for him, but being your muse was a compliment worth reveling in, he would do anything to just keep your eyes on him.

you situated rafayel to the middle of the studio room where the most space was and moved back several feet to get a wider, landscape view of him. you crouch down just slightly and smile at the uneasy expression on his face.

“just relax, let loose, im not holding a gun.” you tease while adjusting the camera lens in hopes of getting a more high quality look. rafayel pouts at your words but surrenders to you and the camera in your hand. he shakes his limbs in attempts to let off some built up stress within his body and strikes a casual pose where his hand laid on his hip gently.

you snap a picture without much worry, knowing the quality and angle of the camera would do nothing to sabotage rafayel’s looks.

“you look beautiful, just keep doing that.”

rafayel blushes but your praise encourages him to continue. he nods and strikes another pose where he turned away from the camera and tilted his head back for an almost flirty look. you giggle and snap a few more pictures of his movements before looking up at him.

“am i…. doing good?” he asks rather shyly while shifting his weight from one foot to the other.

“you’re doing perfect, rafa. just keep moving around and maybe i can get some candid shots.”

you look back into the camera lens and snap several more pictures in the course of a few minutes. you could tell rafayel was gradually easing up and getting more comfortable with this, even going so far as getting on the floor and blowing cheeky kisses.

a deep sense of satisfaction resonated within you from how loose and relaxed rafayel looked. this past month had been difficult for him so seeing him all playful and eager to do something so silly with you was refreshing. he felt the same.

“oh, oh. how about this?” he smiles and lays on his stomach, heave propped up on his palm and legs crossed over each other in the back. you laugh and nod your head.

“giving the camera a show little i see,” you tease.

“mmm, no. i’m giving you a little show, cutie.” he responds with a giggle.

“really? a little show just for me? i have some requests then.”

“yes? what is it?”

“unbutton your shirt.”

rafayel’s eyes widen at your sudden request. embarrassment burns his ears and cheeks at the thought of you photographing him while he was showing more skin. he looked down at his simple white button up and considered what to do. did he really want to be on camera like this? he would never do this by himself, but for you? he’s too devoted to say no.

“was this all a plan against me?” he mumbles with a pout while unbuttoning his white top down to the bottom. “i can’t believe you’ve gained more silly tactics, you’re dangerous!”

you took a few shots of rafayel unbuttoning his shirt and then a few more of his bare chest once he was finished. you glanced up at him and shrugged with an amused expression growing on your face.

“i wasn’t planning anything, it just so happens to be that i really like the camera, and the camera really likes you. now, strike a pose.”

rafayel hesitantly moves around and juts out his chest toward the angle of the camera. your happy little noises urged him to continue despite the welling shyness in him. it wasn’t like you hadn’t seen him in states of undress before, he was your boyfriend after all. plus, all you did was bathe was with him in your free time, anyway. but it was just something about the camera that made it different.

“yes, yes just like that. your skin looks so smooth, you’re glowing,” you purr.

“is it really that good?”

“mm, yeah. you’re quite the centerpiece.”

you snap a few more pictures of rafayel’s pliant form, a few of them focusing on the chest and above. you look up from the camera again and bite your lip. this was so erotic for you and you didn’t want to stop anytime soon.

“now… unbuckle your pants, tease the camera a little bit.”

“m...my pants?!”

“yes, your pants. art is all about identity and candidness, right? what’s more that than your body?”

rafayel’s lips widen at your frankness. you were using his beliefs on art to get him to get him to be all cheeky and provocative with you. and he… he was… he was going to listen!

he looked down at the thin belt looped around his pants and slowly undid the buckle. he could hear the soft camera shutter sounds at every movement he made, like he was some sort of celebrity on the red carpet. he slides it through his pant hoops and shoves it aside. then, he undoes the zipper of his crotch and bites his lip; he was getting dangerously close to being extremely exposed.

“continue, baby,” you whisper.

“everything?”

“everything.”

he continues by sliding his pants off his his legs slowly and then hooking his thumbs into the waistband of his boxers. he glances up at your smiling, aroused form as if to ask: this too?

you give him a signal to wait and take several camera shutters of him in his boxers. every part of his pale skin was milky and smooth on the camera lens except for this face, which was a nice shade of pink. after you were satisfied with your photo lot you motion for him to continue and he quietly listens. you were almost surprised that there was no more refusal on his end, maybe he was finding this enticing too.

he slips off his boxers and then the shirt that draped from his arms and tosses them aside. he was completely naked now, body tense and shifting on the floor in nervousness.

“you’re quite the model, you look so beautiful.”

“flattery will get you nowhere! no one can see these photos.”

“oh that’s the least of your worries, no one gets to see you like this except for me.”

you adjust the camera center to captures the enticing indent of rafayel’s V-line and then move the frame lower to his soft cock. you giggle softly to yourself as you took several pictures of his little flounder that flopped around as rafayel shifted.

finally, you decided to shift your position in the room to get different lighting and angles of your model. rafayel watched you inch around the room while continuing to take bounds of photos.

“you’re really getting into this…” he mumbled while averting his gaze from the camera.

“you should be too, you’re a natural model. just relax.”

rafayel sighs and scratches his nape. he was having a lot more fun than his face gave away, even if he was a little embarrassed at this new kind of play between you two. relenting to you for what seemed like the hundredth time today, he listened to your words and to let loose.

every movement of his showcased the curves of his lean body, the indentations of his muscles, the stretches of his smooth skin. even his hair was a natural at falling perfectly into place to frame his pouty, soft face.

“yes, perfect. so sensual.”

your low purr made a jolt of electricity run through rafayel’s body. he swallows and feels himself wanting to please you in every way, wanting to satisfy your every command. his cock starts to bounce a bit from excitement, slowly growing half hard and pink by his thigh.

“is my precious boy getting excited from all these pictures?” you jest upon seeing how his cock bobbed through the lens of the camera. you zoomed in on it and took a secret recording of how his erection grew.

“y…yes, ‘m getting a little horny…” he admits with slightly shaky voice. you grin eagerly and zoom out to capture his full body.

“show the camera just how horny you are then.”

rafayel groans softly and wraps his hand around his growing cock. he moves from ballsack to tip with every stroke, stimulating himself for his audience of one. creamy pre-cum dribbles down from his blush pink tip and coats his cock, creating an echo-y wet sound within the studio.

rafayel tilts his head back and whimpers. your camera caught every movement with either a video or snapshot, no part of your beautiful boy went un-captured.

“feel good, yeah? you like showing off?”

“mngh, yeah ~ feels so good. c...come closer if you really wanna see.”

you perk up at his invitation and move within rafayel’s circle quite swiftly. your camera angles from beneath him, catching the underside of his flushed erection. you zoom in with precision until the entire screen of the camera was just rafayel’s cock being masturbated by his hand. you groan softly at the sight but try not to get too caught up in your own aching body.

rafayel looks down and smiles weakly at you. he found it a little amusing how you had gotten so into this, but also very erotic how much you enjoyed seeing him in pleasure.

“mmm, your cock looks so delicious on screen, love. you can really see every vein on ‘ya.”

“really?” he murmurs with a lazy smile. “let me feed you then.”

you quirk an eyebrow and inch closer to rafayel. he moved his cock to the side so the camera could get a clear view of his face from a downward angle. he grinned down at the camera, at you, and then taps his cock on the lens, completely covering every photo and clip you took with his tip. you gasp softly and moan softly. you reminded yourself to reprimand him for dirtying your new camera later, but for now you enjoyed the sticky look on the screen.

“you’re filthy,” you grin.

“fuck yes, i am.”

rafayel steps back and gets down on his knees again. he leans forward and presses his cheek against the floor and then lifts his hips up in the air like a kitty in heat.

“get me in this angle too ~” he sings in-between his musical moans. you immediately stand and go around him to continue your paparazzi on his body. you noticed how his back arched so beautifully into the floor and how nice and plump his ass was while swaying in the air.

“you’re quite the slut, aren’t you? showing off your ass and cock to the camera like this.” you give his cheek a nice good slap causing rafayel to yelp out in pain. he reaches his free hand back and rubs his ass with care.

“h…hey no fair! i’m sensitive yknow!”

“oh i know,” you purr, “but i’ll spare you.”

you click the record button on the camera and zoom out to catch rafayel’s body amidst the messy room. he was still fondling his cock and squeezing the life out of it for the camera. the self stimulation partnered with your recordings and praise made him ache and coat the floor in even more arousal.

“you’re making a mess baby,” you remark with a grin. you zoom in on the on the clear puddle growing underneath rafayel and snicker. he was too far gone now to pay mind about how dirty was being.

“don’t care…” rafayel whimpers softly, “feels too good.”

you watch him lift his hips and curve his hand into circle as a way of creating a makeshift hole. he thrusts sloppily into his hand and groans, secretly imagining it was you who he was sinking deep into. his balls slapped against his hand with each thrust, creating loud clapping sounds that reverberated throughout the studio and was perfectly caught on video.

you kneel again so that you got the perfect angle of his bouncing cock and balls from behind. he stuffed the small opening of his fist again and again until an orgasm welled up within his navel. sensing the climax, you zoom the camera in to the tip of rafayel’s cock and watch as creamy spurts of cum squirt out of him.

“fuck fuck fuck, i’m cumming! i’m cumming, agh, fuck.” rafayel paints the floor underneath him in more of his liquids. white streaks run down the tiles and seep into a few cracks of the studio floorboards. his eyes wire shut but yours blow open at the erotic scene before you. your breathing hitches and small, gruff moans leave your lips as you hold back from pouncing on the vulnerable rafayel.

“oh, rafayel…” you whisper breathlessly. you stand and put the camera down to get a real look at him. he was on his back like a flopped fish, sweat and cum glistening on his rapidly rising and falling abdomen. he was a beauty even so overwhelmed and dazed. “…who told you to stop?”

rafayel’s eyes flutter open to meet your deceiving gentle ones. the small smile on your face, the warm look in your eye, the blush on your cheeks. he was getting that post-orgasm affection where all he wanted to do was hold you a—

“wait, huh?” rafayel’s thoughts were interrupted when he finally registered your words. you chuckle and lean over lower to stroke his flaccid cock. his body twitches harshly and his hands come down to yours to stop you.

“i asked, who told you to stop? i’m gonna need more from you, love.”

“r…right now?! i’m so tired c…can’t i have a break?!

“nope. i have meetings early in the morning with the association, meaning i’ll have to leave sooner or later. until then you’ll have to please me. you discarded this camera so you can’t blame me for using it when you won’t.”

rafayel whines loudly. he brings his forearm up to his eyes and covers them as he begins to stroke himself again. the sudden stimulation to his cock right after an orgasm makes his lithe form jolt and writhe around on the floor, but he presses on. you pull back in satisfaction and bring up the camera to your eyes to catch every moment of his second round.

“that’s a good boy, rafa. make yourself drip for me.”

“‘m trying!”

“trying what?”

rafayel whimpers. you see could how his lips quiver just like how his body did.

“t..trying to be a good boy for you…”

you smile triumphantly. your teasing words obviously had an effect on rafayel from the way his cock from hardened just your voice. more beads of pre-cum formed at his tip and made for nice lubrication for the rough fist fucking rafayel about to do. that was, until you stopped him.

“hold on now, i want to get get a good shot of the prize here,” you kneel in between rafayel’s legs right where his aching cock was and turn the camera to yourself.

“let’s take a good look of how beautiful our rafa is,” you say with a wide grin as if talking to an audience. you flip the camera back to rafayel’s cock and zoom in to better see all of the details of him.

“h…hey! this isn’t fair, you’re having too much fun!” rafayel exclaims after finally peeling his arm from his eyes and looking down at you.

“and you’re not? i know you’re enjoying this, love. the camera tells me everything.” before rafayel could continue to protest you begin your inspection with a trace of a finger down a subtle vein on his cock. your ghostly touch shuts him up immediately because he’d rather have you actually touching him and not have to bed. “the skin of rafayel’s cock is very soft,” you narrate to the camera, “and it’s also very warm, almost burning. is that right rafa? you feel hot down here?”

you tilt your head to the side to catch a glimpse of him but his forearm was back on his eyes to shield him from the overwhelming scene.

“don’t worry he’s just shy,” you continue. you bring your finger up the base of his cock and to his tip where you gently rub the pad of your finger on his small hole. “and here we have rafayel’s pretty pink cock head. it’s rather thick and has a nice, slippery texture to it. let’s give it a taste.”

you lean forward and wrap your lips around his tip and suck like a lollipop causing rafayel you cry out and rock his hips up. you still his forceful hips with your hand and quickly pop off his cock.

“i see someone is eager,” you giggle. “that was such a sweet taste, let’s see what else you have to offer.”

you move your attention and the camera down to his ballsack and cup them gently with your palm. “and these are rafa’s shiny pearls. they’re so heavy with semen, are all lumerians this potent?”

you rhetorical question is met with a small whine from rafayel. he really, really wants to move and feel more of your hands on him but he knows if he does, you’ll stop completely. his mind his foggy with feelings of lust and exhaustion. usually he has more stamina, but the energy used toward “fixing” his art block has sapped him completely before you ever could.

“b…baby, stop teasing me so m..much. i can’t take it anymore, n..need to cum…” rafayel mumbles out with a weak voice. “please, baby, please.”

“oh you’re begging to continue now? you were just protesting that you were too tired. which is it love?” he whines again and shakes his head violently.

“no! no! i…i want to! please?” you chuckle underneath your breath and throw your hands up innocently.

“you hear that guys?” you ask the camera. “our precious boy wants to make himself cum, how fun. let’s all make sure to pay attention to the show he has to offer.” you turn the camera back to rafayel and get up from where you were knelt between his legs. slowly, you back away until rafayel’s pliant body was fully in view. “cmon, show us what you got. you can’t shy away now.”

rafayel sits up with wide eyes that would almost look innocent if it wasn’t for his raging hard on and sticky body. he crawls to where you were in the room and sits on his calves right in front of the camera, acknowledging it fully for the first time. he no longer looks for you or at you for pleasure, but through the lens of the camera knowing you were behind it watching.

he wraps his fingers around his cock and gives a strong squeeze making him whimper softly. he doesn’t waste his time with teasing strokes and goes straight into rapids pumps that make an obscene noise throughout the room.

“wanna cum for you, wanna be so good for you,” rafayel drawls out between broken cries.

“yeah? wanna make a mess for me?” you mock.

“y..yeah, wanna give you my orgasm… ‘m so sensitive…”

overstimulation comes back to overwhelm rafayel’s body, causing a few stray tears and growing cries to escape rafayel. as much as he wanted to tilt his head back and screw his eyes shut, he forced himself to make direct eye contact with the camera for the sake of a show.

“tease your tip. i know how sensitive you are there.”

“o..okay..”

rafayel’s thumb flits over his cock head which sends out violent bouts of pleasure throughout his body. he cries your name out loudly through choked sobs and sniffles. not only was rafayel a natural model, but he was a natural pornstar too apparently.

“that’s it baby, you’re doing so well. gonna cum soon? you’re so overwhelmed ~”

“y..yes! gonna cum soon! j..just for you!” he wails while moving his other hand to pinch one of his nipples. if his senses weren’t overloaded before, they definitely were now. his breathing heavies loudly and before you could praise him again for being so gorgeous in this pornographic state, the first few ropes of cum spurt upwards from his cock.

“i’m cumming, i’m cumming, i’m cumming!”

the thick and potent semen from his cock comes out more violently than before. rafayel’s voice was lost to pleasure as his orgasm completely takes his ability to moan or cry. he instead sits there with his back arched and eyebrows knitted upwards in complete and utter pleasure. before the load was completely finished, he manages to find some strength within his body and arches back to point his cock at the camera.

from your end, you see sticky lines of thick cum drip down the lens and coat the outside of the camera, making for a grand finale to the video. needlessly to say you were incredibly horny and (more than) decently surprised at rafayel. you couldn’t even utter words so instead you decide to hit stop on the recording and put the camera down. couldn’t use it anyway with all that creamy nonsense on it.

rafayel’s eyes flit back into his head as his body gives out and falls back onto the floor. he whines and cries under his breath as the remnants of his high still tormented him within his shrinking cock. you take pity on your sweet boyfriend and his willingness to please you. now it was time for you to take care of him.

“you okay, my love?” you ask after kneeling down to the floor and cupping his face. he looked so dazed but managed to nod at you.

“‘m fine… been through worse… like waiting those eight hundred years for you…”

“what?”

“what?”

you laugh softly and quirk an eyebrow at his antics.

“i think all that pleasure has gotten to your head. are you sure you’re okay though? i can run you a bath and take care of those muscles before i leave for the night.”

rafayel frowns a bit, he forgot you had to leave. too tired to complain about it, he accepts it for once and turns his frown into a gentle smile. his eyes open to full attention and focus on you from the floor. there was that affectionate again. it was seeping into his heart and making him want to pull you into a day’s long cuddle.

you notice how endearing rafayel looked like this— dazed in pleasure and vulnerable in front of you—and you have just one more urge to fulfill. you reach over to the the yet again, discarded camera and try to wipe some of the still dripping cum from its lens. you stand directly over rafayel’s body with it and giggle softly as you put it up to your eye. the lens was foggy from remanent stickiness, but you thought it added more story to the gallery of photos behind it.

“Smile for the camera, love!”

⭐︎

yet another few days pass since you last saw rafayel. you replayed many moments of your erotic night together from memory because you left the camera with rafayel. it was still his gift, after all. but today was the day you agreed to see him again because you has another bag of apology cookies up your sleeve and a promise to not be busy anytime soon.

you unlock the house door, stroll through his common rooms, and head to the back where his studio was. still in here, you presume.

you open the door and look around to see rafayel standing in front of an oversized canvas. deja vu.

except, at a closer look, you see that the canvas had actual color on it as opposed to the blank white that had been there last time. you place the bag down on a table and walk up to rafayel. he doesn’t seem notice you until you were right up next to him, and when he does, he jumps into your arms.

“cutie! you’re finally here! i’ve missed you so much! you can’t keep disappearing and trying to buy me off with food, yknow? anyway, i need to thank you. look at this!” he gestures to the large canvas covered in blue, pink, and purple, delicately painted so that the darkest values outlines a male form drowning within the mixture of colors. a large smile grows on your lips that matches the same gleeful one on rafayel’s face.

“i can paint! i can paint again! thank you!” he cheers before going back in for another strong embrace. you squeal in surprise but giggle right alongside him.

“yes! you can paint! why are you thanking me, though?”

“for the camera!”

“the camera? it actually helped?” you ask in disbelief while pulling back from the hug.

“yes! i looked through all of the photos and videos you took the few days ago and it inspired me to paint what i was feeling. the documentation of everything really helped me relive that moment and put it into paints.”

your mouth goes a little bit agape but internally you couldn’t feel any happier for rafayel. the excitement on his face was worth every penny you paid for the camera (even if he did pay you back). you look back ar the canvas and smile fondly at the distant form resembling rafayel.

5. make homemade porn with rafayel. it helps him channel his pleasure and depict it beautifully onto a canvas.

a/n: the entire time i was writing this it went:

“we’re so back guys 📈…. it’s so over man 📉”

anyway, leave feedback if you can… i’m still new to tumblr lol xxx.

[ranoutofficssoiwritemyown]

Hello, I hope you're fine!! If you are open for requests, how do you think the lads men would react to mc telling them her period is late?

Hii, so sorry for the delay. Uni and work have been crazy and I finally managed to sit down to write

Soo let's start with Zayne. He tracks your period so he knows it's late, hence he doesn't even seem fazed when you burst into his office panicking.

"Yes, 8 days to be exact. You've been under stress these two weeks and don't even eat meals properly. Although, I suggest taking a test and in case of pregnancy I'll schedule and appointment with the gynecologist in our hospital"

You can't help but look at him shocked by his calm demeanour.

"Of course, I would tell all of these 2 days ago if only you didn't ditch our appointment. Now, if you excuse me I have a patient waiting for me in surgery room"

He rose from his chair heading to the door but stopped in front of you.

"I hope you know, in case of pregnancy you don't have anything to worry about"

You just nod your head still dumbfounded and he left the room with a kiss on your forehead.

I imagine Sylus also tracking your period and he wants you to be pregnant so bad. He is the one to tell you that you're pregnant, actually. One night, when you're in the kitchen deciding on late night snack he stands beside you with his arms crossed.

"Your period is late"

He brushes off your question about him tracking your period, instead repeating his statement. You make a mental calculations and just shrug.

"Only by 3 days. It's no big deal"

He clears his throat.

"It might become a big deal. You should take a test just in case"

"It happens sometimes. Like I said, no big deal"

"Take a test, just to be sure"

"First of all it's too early. Second of all, we use protection-"

"We know it doesn't protect 100% of times"

"Oh, stop worrying, will you? I'm not pregnant"

You finally decide on strawberry yogurt.

"I think you are mistaken, sweetie. I do not fret over the possibility of you being pregnant. Quite the opposite, if we are being honest..." he mumbles the last part under his breath but you squint at me.

"Sylus"

"Yes, sweetie?"

"Do you want me to be pregnant or something?"

A small smirk pulls on his mouth

"I am definitely not opposed to the idea"

You shake your head standing on your toes to peck his cheek but he turns his head to kiss you. Even after dating him for so long this small gesture leaves you blushing mess.

"I'll be in our room" you tell him and he nods still with the lovestruck look on his face. Once you leave the room he pinches his nose mumbling about canceling the order of baby-proof items.

Poor Rafayel doesn't know what hit him. Sure he has imagined having a family with you but didn't expect it to be so soon. What do you mean there might be a baby? He's the baby. There's going to be another person you'll love as much as you love him? He has to share now? This can't get worse. And as you look at him nervously he realises you're waiting for his answer.

"Late... okay, cool cool cool...  how late?"

"7 days"

He scoffs as if it's nothing.

"7 days is nothing, right? It's- uh did you take the test?"

"Yes-"

"It's negative, right?"

His hopeful tone makes you scrunch your eyebrows.

"It is" you say hesitantly "but it's still too early to be sure. I'll take another one tomorrow"

"Yeah, of course. Okay"  He seems to calm down

"Umm Rafayel... do you not want me to be-" you clear your throat "what if I'm pregnant?"

It just hit him that he's making this worse for you.

"Oh, cutie. It's not that. I want to have children with you... someday" he avoids your eyes "it's just... yourattentionwouldbeonthemallthetime"

You just give him a look that hints you have no idea what he just said. He sighs, giving up.

"Your attention would be on them and you'll cast me aside and I'm not ready for that" He admits blushing.

"Okay well, if I turn out to be pregnant..." you trail off not knowing, or not wanting, to finish your sentence.

"I'll be there, all the way. That's my kid too, ya know"

You crack a small smile

"You're weird"

"Well, you're not perfect either" he scoffs "nevermind, you are perfect"

You just laugh at him.

Xavier is so confused

"It's late. That's amaaaziiing....lyy bad..?" He tries to construct a sentence based on your expression but fails miserably "can you tell me what that means?"

"Well I don't know. It might be nothing serious but there's a chance I might be pregnant but we always use protection so I don't know how..." You sit with your head in your hands "I'm scared"

Xavier falling silent doesn't help your panic at all.

"Please say something"

"I'm going to be a father?"

You let out a confused laugh.

"I don't know. Probably not, but you might. I have an appointment with doctor Zayne tomorrow so maybe we'll know"

"I'm going to be a father"

You start to think you broke him

"Xavier... we don't know yet"

"Yeah, of course. But I would like to have a child with you"

He closes the distance, placing his hands on your hips

"Do you not want to..."

"I wasn't planning on it yet, but I'm not against it"

He smiles gently.

"Don't get your hopes up yet, though"

"Of course"

But as you leave the room you hear him saying "I'm gonna be a dad" to himself.

One evening, Caleb comes home and lets out a sigh when he enters kitchen.

"Okay, why is the breakfast I made for you still untouched in the refrigerator? We agreed you'd eat meals properly y'know?.. Pipsquak?" He calls out in the end when he receives no answer from you. He finds you in your bedroom sitting on the bed with your knees to your chest.

"What's wrong?" He's alert.

"My period is late"

"Oh my god" He starts laughing sitting beside you and pulling you into a hug. "No wayy, did you take a test? Are we gonna have little you and me running around? I'm definitely teaching them how to shoot a gun"

"Shut up for a minute" you grumble in his chest "I didn't take a test. It's only 5 days, I don't think test would show it if I was pregnant"

"I'll buy them anyway. Bunch of them, so you can take one everyday till it shows positive"

His ridiculous statement pulls a giggle out of you.

"Glad to know you're okay with it"

"Try ecstatic"

You look up at him and spot a mischievous grin on his face.

"You know... you'd be a milf"

That earns a smack on his chest

"Idiot"

"This idiot is going to be a father of your children, so be nice"

"I might not be even pregnant"

"I can take care of that"

He laughs at another smack he receives.

[masoncantthinkofaname]

Little storytime for you eager souls

But first and foremost. Coffee.

I have so many requests and dms right now, both on tiktok and tumblr, I promise that I will get through all of them, don't be alarmed if it takes me a few days to respond. I'm trying to genuinely put in effort in every piece of advice I give, and sometimes I just need a bit to recharge💚

Things that my mentor, Halt has taught me, and how this has affected me across realities: (but secretly it's also good shifting advice)

So for a little context, most of my and my husband's drs are medieval based, and Halt has been the father figure and mentor that has taught mainly me, but also my husband many things, to the point he is in many of our drs. He has the typical grumpy found father vibes, and he is a ranger. (If anyone recognises where he's originally from, I love you)

Understand what you are doing, this is regarding anything you want to do in life.

One thing he always says is ''Don't practice until you get it right, practice until you don't get it wrong.'' He taught me that doing the same things over and over isn't useful if you have no idea what you are doing. This man has made me train for hundreds of hours, in the hottest weather, in the rain, snow, storms, any circumstances you can think of. He always insisted that I should know why I'm doing it. ''Work gets frustrating if you don't know why you're doing it, or what you're doing it for. If you know why, it's still frustrating, but it's worth it.'' He always said that no one is forcing me, that it doesn't have to be fun, but I need to know what I'm doing it for. I took this advice along with me to so many places, it's useful not only in a physical sense, but also when it comes to shifting, or trying to relate or understand people that you're trying to help.

2. Fresh flowers bring life

Halt is the last person you would expect it from, but whenever there are flowers, he always puts a fresh bunch in every room of his cabin. It's such a subtle and peaceful action. I've never been able to tease him for it, and instead, the habit stuck with me as well. Whenever there are flowers, I pick a few. It's a reminder that, despite the chaos, despite anything going on, the world keeps turning, things keep growing. I still vividly remember the many times he scolded me over my bouquets not being up to his standards. There's gentleness even in the roughest people.

3. Prepare for the worst, don't expect it

I'm a huge overthinker, I had a nasty habit of always expecting the worst outcome in any situation. And although it made me ready to face it, it also clouded my judgement. There have been many situations where I responded too harshly or impulsively to danger, simply because I took insignificant things as a sign that things were going south. ''You have to be ready for it, be prepared, but don't expect it until you have proof. You need to be able to respond accordingly to any outcome, if you only focus on the bad, you don't leave any room for it to go well.'' There have been so many cases where I truly taught I was fucked, but I still kept going with the original plan, and as it turns out, in 8/10 cases it didn't nearly end as badly as I feared, but it probably would have if I gave in to my fears.

4. If you can do it at your best, you can do it at your worst

I already mentioned that I've trained for countless of hours, in any circumstances, but admittedly I can be a bit lazy. Mainly once my skill grew, and I was confident in my abilities. If the weather is horrible, why would I go outside with my bow and knives, to spend hours getting dirty in the mud and feeling like a drowned cat? Halt was quick to correct my thinking, reminding me that, the circumstances not being ideal is not an excuse to slack off. It's not favourable to do something when I don't feel like it, but that doesn't take away by ability to do it regardless. ''If you want to achieve something, you have to be consistent, stop feeling pity for yourself.'' It has caused me to be way more persistent in my goals, but also in doing the things I want to do. In the past I may've told myself or others I'm too lazy when something isn't handed to me on a silver platter, now I take it as a reward to see results, even if I didn't originally feel like doing something. It also helped me see the good side of things, even small aspect. Yes the weather is shit, I'm soaked and miserable, but the rain makes me feel alive, all my arrows landed where I wanted them to, and I saw a cool bird.

5. You're worth the value you give yourself

''Many people in life will not agree with you, they might ridicule you, or not believe in your capabilities. Rather than sulking over this, take it as a chance to prove them wrong.'' Being the overthinker I am, I was often worried about people's opinions on me. Honestly I still kind of am, but I have improved a lot. Someone insulting me is their choice, but it's my choice to pick how I want to respond to it. If I don't let it affect me, it won't harm me either. Halt is quite small. In my drs I'm around 175cm, he's shorter than I am. With the fame he carries, people tend to make fun of his height. They expect a huge warrior, instead they get a small grumpy man. His ability however, to not give a fuck, is admirable. He knows his worth, and he couldn't care less about someone who has no value to him, having their uninformed opinion about what he should be like. It has been a big reminder for me too that the only opinions that should truly matter to me, are those of the people that I look up to myself. I'm really grateful that I have been able to teach this same lesson to my and my husband's children, and always assure them that something only gets meaning when you give it to it.

I'm definitely planning on actual storytimes as well, I just don't really know what people prefer to see (prime example of my overthinking). I have experienced many things that might be considered a little traumatic, even if they make good stories, but I can also definitely keep it sweet or wholesome. For now I hope that these advices that helped me greatly throughout my lives, might be useful to some of you as well! Happy shifting💚

[avifaunaa]

these strange noises [ voices ] followed me here [ s.s.+n.s.] [ pt. 2 ]

Authors Note: 🤪

fun facts:

i have zero medical knowledge and the likelihood of this being extremely inaccurate is high!

i did a lot of research into medical practices and inner workings of being a medical professional to try and throw this together

i also watch grey's anatomy, that makes me an expert

any named people of importance in the hospital are made up for obvious reasons lmao

Shauna nat are married here. No i will not be taking questions.

Masterlist

PART ONE

Pairing: Dark!SoftNatalie x fem!reader x Dark!MeanShauna

Summary: It has been ten years since the rescue. Ten years since the trauma of a plane crash. Ten years. You’ve changed your name, moved as far away as you possibly could, and finished your degree and now find yourself in the last year fellowship of pediatric surgery. You’re fine. Until you’re not.

Content Warnings: Thick plot, sorry, Mentions of illness+injuries regarding children as R has become a pediatric surgeon + 1 detailed scene of surgery in which r is conversing with another doctor, r responds to an actual name because she changed it but not by S/N, Mean!Shauna, Soft!Natalie, angst, stalking, harassment, blackmail, EXTREMELY FUCKING DARK non-con, threats, degradation, praise, strap-on use [ r!r ], face slapping, spitting, cutting, hair-pulling, multiple orgasms, forced orgasms, and some aftercare because jesus fucking christ.

Word Count:

Your forehead thumped against the steering wheel of your car as you closed your eyes. You were exhausted and you’d just had a day off — but it was time for your rounds and unfortunately, that meant the next few days of sleep would likely be done in the on-call room.

The cool San Diego breeze blew through your hair as you slammed the door shut and dropped the keys into your bag before dragging your way toward the looming building that was your second home — essentially.

Your phone chimed in your pocket and you pulled it out, hoping it wasn’t Clary asking you if you were there yet. She wanted to touch base on the research you were both working on as partners, but you didn’t want to admit to her that no, you hadn’t so much as touched it all weekend.

You almost failed out in your first year of fellowship — it was so much more difficult to have completed in one single year than all the years you had to complete for residency.

[ You also had five patients today, two of them with grave outlooks ]

If anything had taught you about looking death in the eye, it was crashing in the Canadian Wilderness and surviving for almost two years no matter the circumstances.

You could look these children in the eye and promise them you would absolutely do whatever it took to make them feel better. And pretend magic had everything to do with it.

It was their parents — their angry, grieving, begging parents — that you struggled with more. It was the same look when you watched the recordings your parents kept of the news and interviews about your plane going missing, the loss of hope after each one months after months.

With kids it was easy. They trusted you to do whatever you thought was best and felt like you were their imaginary savior of sorts — you would do whatever it took to take care of them.

But the adults had lost the magic, the endless hope, the seemingly open glee at hearing any slight good news.

It wasn’t Clary but rather, it was Jordan. She had become your closest friend — and your attending — during your fellowship. Forming close relationships with your mentors wasn’t inherently frowned upon as long as there could still be a clear line between professionalism and what usually existed on the other side of said line.

You were swift to get to the locker rooms to change into your scrubs and pristine white coat, saying hello to your other fellows and exchanging brief conversation.

None of them would ever wish to talk to you again if they knew who you were — what your real name was and what your experiences forced you to endure.

It matters little now. The only name you responded to and that was on any official documents to be found was the one you perfectly articulated for yourself when you burned away your past along with your dreams to work in Vancouver.

“Forceps,” Jordan demanded from your left, as the two of you stood over a patient lying on his side, a large incision opening from his ribs to his back. It was a mess and you hated that a fifteen year old had to experience it.

“You’re quiet today,” the older doctor commented once the tool was set in her hand and she went to work using it. Cancer, so built up that parts of his right lung had to go.

You kept still the drainage tube that allowed fluids to properly drain.

“I’m really tired,” you stated behind your mask, eyes moving toward the monitoring screen so you wouldn’t have to meet her eyes when she would glance at you. “It’s been a long month.”

And the anniversary for the crash is tomorrow.

But you couldn’t say that. Doing so would acknowledge a life that you had worked so endlessly to murder, bury, and run from so many years ago.

Your life was peacefully undisturbed and no signs of vengeance from your past was threatening to upturn what you’ve so carefully designed — you could only hope it stayed that way.

“Hmm,” Jordan murmured in the Jordan Way. You came to know it closely, intimately, when you started your fellowship under her scrutiny. She could smell lies like they were freshly baked bread and it made her extremely hard to go around.

Clary and you had lost rounds for a week when you had swapped patients simply because you didn’t like the other doctors you were paired with. Never again. You had both learned to play nice — “which you should have done as attendings,” she had snarled before stalking off.

But now she has fallen into her focused silence, working meticulously and removing the damaged section of lung on the patient. Nurses came and went with more sponging. You adjusted his position as needed if movement became an issue, and kept an eye on the muscle tearing done during the incision.

She snipped something and removed it carefully. It landed with a splat behind her on a medical container to be a properly disposed of.

“Clots?”

You did not move the tubing.

“No.”

“Good,” she said simply, and went back to work. You knew that while the focus was getting this surgery done, she was sniffing you out like a hound on a hare.

“He came out of the surgery well,” you told the thirty-eight year old woman four hours later, who trembled outside of her son’s recovery room where he lay sleeping now. “He’ll need to be monitored for any signs of clots or leaking from his lungs, but so far his outlook has become positive and he’s well on his way to being able to go back to soccer.”

Agnes trembled more and she collapsed into you, arms wrapping around you. You embraced her readily, having accepted this part of the job the most: the ability to take the overflow of emotions parents and family had nowhere else to put. In your residency, you had been desired by mentors for your bedside manner but it was always going to go to pediatrics.

“Thank you,” she murmured in your ear as her tear-soaked cheek pressed against yours in the hug. You rubbed her back, offering the comfort and shielding her from the part of you that ached and begged for sleep and food.

“It’s my pleasure. I will be back to check on him, but if you need anything feel free to ask the nurses okay?” You pulled back from the hug, squeezing her arms warmly and smiling as well.

Agnes nodded, thanking you tearfully once again as she stumbled to go see her son. You slid the door closed to allow her some quiet privacy to decompress — she was going to drop from that adrenaline soon.

You made your way to the nurses station where charts were already laid out for you. Your next patient was not going to wait for you to recover yourself, and you didn’t have a lunch for another four and a half hours.

It was the television, however, that stopped you in your tracks. The local news station was showing footage that was all too familiar and immediately induced a flight like sensation into your system.

You dig your fingers into the boxy clipboard as you stared at the overhead footage plastered to the screen of the remains of the crash from a year after. Your blood turned to ice in your veins and you froze like a deer in headlights.

The team had picked the plane apart to use what you could and many documentaries and news segments had commented on it when they went to seek out the wreckage and your camps after the rescue. You had family questioning you for months before you exited, stage left, and you had refused to discuss it.

“Tomorrow will mark ten years after the incredible rescue from Canadian forests of the university team, The Yellowjackets, one and a half years after they had been reported missing during their flight,” the reporter started, and the footage following flickered to the remains of the empty camp recorded post-rescue.

“Searches were initially held in the first five months where the flight path was said to have taken, but the crash was later found one hundred and fifty feet away from that official path. Investigators were unable to identify the exact cause of the crash.”

The reporter next to her leaned to glance at her. “Every time I hear the story, it never ceases to both amaze and sadden me,” he told his partner, shaking his head.

You wanted to claw his face off. It was all fake — he didn’t care, not really.

The woman nodded solemnly in agreement. Someone brushed your shoulder and something was said, but you did not pay attention as she continued, “Survivors have gone completely off-grid since their return home except, notably, for lawyer and currently running for State Senator Taissa Turner, who has not answered questions in regards to the crash.”

Photographs of all of you — the ones who made it — lined the screen. They weren’t recent and you were relieved that your deep burial had worked. All these photos were ones taken for the university website for the team a few months before the play season began.

Your eyes flickered to Shauna and Natalie’s photos, briefly, and you held your breath until they were gone. Even this long and you still acted off of your base instinct when any signs of them, be it a memory or a mention in media, cropped up.

“Doctor Landry.” You jerked back from the counter and your arm loosened on the clipboard holding your chart. The object fell with to the floor with a clatter and you startled further, rearing back and pressing your lower back into the counter.

“Woah, sorry.” It was a resident who often worked with Jordan and thus with you. His name often escaped you, but right now it wasn’t even a thought in your head. “I didn’t mean to scare you. Must have been really into the chart, huh?”

You swallowed hard, fingers pressing carefully into the smooth countertops to ground yourself and tuned your ears to the sound of the hospital noises. For many, the hospital is chaotic, overwhelming, a cause of stress.

For you it brought comfort. The endless impact of sensations were a constant reminder of who and where you were now and you were able to keep yourself from truly having to dig too internally.

You breathed out and watched the resident bend down a little too eagerly to grab the chart for you and hold it out with a nervous smile. “Doctor Jordan sent me to be your resident for the rest of your rounds,” he said, sounding pleased.

You blinked at him and hated and loved Jordan in equal measures at this moment. You knew she was working on your teaching skills for when you completed your fellowship and had a license in full. You would eventually have your own fellows to train and residents to attend, but . . .

“Okay,” you started, “Larry.”

He frowned. “It’s Brewer.”

You slipped your tennis shoes back on once you changed back into your normal clothes — glad to feel something heavier against your skin other than scrubs but less constraining than your coat.

Clary — bright, energetic, a mass of light — blocked your exit from the locker room, hand gripping her bag as she grinned at you, ignoring your tired face. “Drinks?”

You glanced at your phone screen and squinted at the large 10:00 that flashed back at you. You’d just gotten off of the second of your monthly 24 hour shifts; you’d be on mostly day shifts and Jordan’s on-call schedule for surgeries the rest of the month.

A drink with Clary and then sleeping in wouldn’t hurt. You won’t be back until Wednesday.

“Okay,” you agree like you had a choice with her blocking your path. Her grin became softer and she nudged you as you exit together and discuss your shifts on your way out.

You went to a bar close to the beach that had outdoor seating. The night life was active despite being a weekday and you knew it was partially to do with spring break soon coming up.

You both ordered your usuals and you ran the heel of your palm across your face as you took in the scenery, trying to get the entire day out of your head.

“How’d your lung surgery go?” she asked when drinks were delivered. Your fingers wrapped around the chilled glass of your beverage and you took a sip.

"Exceptionally well, of course, when it comes to working with Jordan," you told her, raising your glass in a half-salute. "She's a master of her craft."

Clary arched a perfectly sculpted brow [ you would know, she's dragged you to her appointments more than once ] and released the loudest scoffs her small form could manage. "Bullshit. Yeah, she's amazing. But c'mon . . . you're being looked at to become a permanent surgeon here! Jordan sings you praises!"

"I assisted her on the lung surgery, Clary," you laughed, "That was all I was asked to do this time."

"But I'm trying to point out facts here, Darling." Clary did not continue without first taking another sip of her drink, with you following suit. The salty beach breeze drifted into the outdoor patio as the bustle increased from beach-goers seeking late night drinks and food. "There's rumors."

"Not rumors," you moaned, craning your head back and tight-lipping a smile from your face in amusement.

"I'm serious!" You felt the table shake as she leaned over to slap you on the arm.

"Watch the drink, psycho!" You reared back, careful not to spill and keeping your body parts off of the table in case she used friendly fire again.

"There's rumors, Landry," Clary repeated, dimpled cheeks flushed from the alcohol and giggles you two had shared. "That Sanchez is going to go to the Board after you complete your fellowship and that's why Jordan's been throwing all of her energy into you more than her other fellows."

You did not let that spark of hope in your chest ignite into a large bonfire. You were good at what you did and you knew it, but focusing on simply surviving this final year would be what earned that offer of any position from the hospital. Not dreaming of it.

You twirled your drink and hid your features as you tipped it to take a longer sip than the last.

"The kids like you," Clary continued as she flagged down the server for your table, her drink empty, "the nurses and attendings like you, Jordan's residents like you, hell -- the ER likes it when you come and take a load from them. Are you really stunned to silence?"

"No, Claire," you sighed, wanting her to shut up about it. You knew you were liked, you knew you had eyes on you, and while you knew what you were getting into when you stayed in your field after the Wilderness, you always had to remind yourself you did not have to keep looking over your shoulder from these particular eyes.

"Claire," the fellow chortled, flinging herself back dramatically in her high-seated chair. "Not the full name."

"Can we discuss something else before I end up having to use your last name, too?"

The way she puffed her cheeks out at you indicated that she wasn't completely finished hounding you, but she also seemed to understand you had drawn a line in the sand and was not going to cross it.

She waved her manicured hand at you, sparkly black nails glinting under the bright lighting of the tiki's and overhang fan-lights. "Ugh, fine. Keep your secrets."

You smiled at her. "I will."

Your discussion veered off into safer waters and you had gotten relaxed under the atmosphere. Chattering patrons and boisterous laughter replaced the bustle of hospital noise that soothed you constantly.

You and Clary turned your heads when a server that was not the one who had been supplying you both with drinks all night appeared with a tray, only one glass of your choice of drink aligned in the middle.

"Hi," he greeted politely, but rushed, as he sat the glass down in front of you, covering the two empty ones behind it. "A nice woman at the bar bought you this drink."

You stared at it as he swiped the two empty glasses and went for Clary's as well, leaving her third half-empty one for her to finish as the woman stared at you in shock, brow raised mischievously.

"Thank you," she said for you, eyes still on your stupefied form as the server vanished into the crowd. She smirked brightly, chin laying on her curled fist as she wiggled her brows at you. "Well, well, do we have a mystery admirer we should keep an eye out for?"

You did not touch the drink and shifted your gaze over Clary's shoulder toward the bar. It was packed with people waiting for drinks. All seats were taken but people crowded the areas between and behind it, too.

Nobody in particular stood out nor did you feel as though you were being watched. You wondered if you had grown extremely comfortable in this life to the point of no longer studying your surroundings well enough.

"See anyone?" Clary mused behind her glass, turning her upper body to help you look. "Jesus Christ, even though we know our mystery friend is a woman there's still to many to try to pull as our suspect." She swiveled back to you, looking more deflated than you.

You shrugged as you swept the area one more time, hoping you'd maybe find anything that would stick out. You picked up the glass and dropped the matter -- if your gift giver was too shy to reveal herself, then you'd just let her appreciate you enjoying her gift from afar.

"It's fine," you assure Clary, offering a tilted grin to soften the blow, "I'm too busy impressing the Board for mystery ladies, anyway."

Clary downed the rest of her drink.

Your sitter messaged you to let you know that she had left the key in the usual spot after walking Nibbles for the last time for the night. You dumped a generous tip into her Rover account and requested another drop by for your few work days that would be the busiest and snagged the key from your elderly neighbor's plant as you returned to your apartment.

You were buzzy and feeling more relaxed after going out for drinks with Clary. You did not do it extremely often -- but it was good for you to not stay locked away in your place every second you weren't at the hospital. You got stir crazy easy and after the crash, you did not like existing in a state of "just here" that signaled your brain that you were on survival mode.

Never again.

Your teacup yorkie, Nibbles, spun in circles in his ritualistic way by the front door as you entered and removed your shoes. He did this until he was dizzy and wobbled after you toward the couch.

"Was Penelope here today, my little mister man?" you crooned at him as he climbed up the couch and spun more circles in your lap. "I see. Did you see many things on your walks?"

He gave you kisses and sniffs.

Nibbles was your one indulgence in the destruction of your old self and rebirth of the new. You found him in a box as you were throwing your broken down boxes into the recycling after moving into your place. He was a tiny, scraggly, infested thing that reminded you of yourself ten years ago.

You took him in immediately and he's been your constant in the ever-changing busy world you'd fashioned for yourself. Ten years old and he was still ready for whatever you threw at him.

After saying proper hellos and dropping a frozen Kong at his feet to keep him busy while you got ready for bed, you headed to the bathroom and rubbed at your temples.

Your phone, muffled, buzzed insistently in the bag you tossed on the bed as you were undoing your jeans.

You ignored it and figured it was Clary spamming you with TikToks after doom-scrolling in the cab.

But the buzzing did not end. Clary sent you ten videos in two messages, usually, not one by one.

Your curiosity got the better of you and had you rotating yourself to the bed and shifting through your bag until your phone was in hand.

Unknown (12:54): You cut your hair. Unknown (12:54): you're so pretty to this day, baby Unknown (12:54): We're glad to see you still like the same drinks Unknown (12:55): You aren't dating that girl you're with are you? Unknown (12:55): we're really proud of you're accomplishments Unknown (12:55): It took us ten years, sweetheart. Ready to see what we can do with ten minutes? Unknown (12:57): We cannot wait to catch up with you. Hope your dog doesn't bite

A cold wave of soberness splashed over you as you read out each text message word by word then went back and reread them again.

You dropped the phone like it had burned a hole into your hand, curling your fingers to your chest as you stare at the object in horror. Your eyes darted around, paranoia starting to renter your system like a welcome friend that was old but well-known.

You shot across the bedroom and ripped the curtains over the windows, covering the view and made quick work of the ones in the living room as well. Nibbles had finished his Kong and followed you around, ears perked and fuzzy face mussed from cheese.

You backed away from the windows and swallowed dryly, trembling and paced circles around your entire apartment for a better part of an entire hour without any sign of disturbance.

You barely touched your phone but there were no other text messages coming in. You blocked the number and screenshotted the messages just in case before turning your phone off for the night and heading off to the bathroom to shower.

You dress quickly and don’t spend as much time on your skincare routine as you usually do. Your head was spinning with unfiltered energy and fears about those messages.

Nibbles is waiting in his spot on your bed with an expectant look as you pulled the covers out and slipped under. He immediately dove under to curl into your side and nestle into your warmth like a heat-seeking mini missile.

You flipped on the television and thumbed at the buttons without actually changing the channel that was already on from when you last had watched. Your mind was racing like a three-time winning race-horse.

There was no possible way it could be anyone on the team. While the reporters had been pretty correct in everyone going off grid, you had done more than that. You had wiped your name off the map.

So much had happened after the rescue anyways -- Natalie and Shauna had never really had the chance to regain control over their hold once going home and struggling to go back to normal had become all of your shared fight.

You hoped it was just some kids playing a prank on random phone numbers that they entered into their phones.

But even the likelihood of that was lower than your belief that your past was not going to come back to haunt you quicker than you'd left it behind.

The next day you kept busy with mundane tasks that ensured your thoughts were distracted. You went out somewhat early to grocery shop -- when you opened your refrigerator you had winced at the lack of food. It was time to brave that task again.

You armed Nibbles with some treats and the television to make sure he had company and went on your way, list made.

As the day dragged forth you could not help but feel a pit start to grow in your stomach. It was a feeling you had known well but had not felt to this degree for a very long time.

You tried to ignore it as best you could, but it did not seem to go away the closer to home you got.

You stood dead in front of your door, unable to shake the feeling that something was terribly wrong. The bags you had gathered together in hand were slipping from how clammy your hands grew under the stress of the feeling.

Quietly you set your goods down and fished for your keys. Entered them into the lock . . .

. . . only to find that the door was not locked in the first place.

You took a step back bile beginning to claw its' way up from your stomach and into your mouth, threatening to spew all over the ground. You have never felt like an animal walking into a trap to this degree; not since the Wilderness.

You had to leave, you needed to get out of here, get somewhere where other people were and wait it out. Call the police --

The door opened.

And Shauna Fucking Shipman stood in your doorway like she lived there, your little dog pleased and panting happily in her arms.

"Hello, sweetheart," she chirped, lips curling upward into that trademark smirk that read trouble and danger in your eyes. "Didn't you get our texts?"

Our?

"W-What?" San Diego could get warm sometimes -- but the hallway was boiling lava to your skin right now. Revets of sweat trickled down your forehead and you stood stark still in front of her. "Shauna?"

"Hi, Landry," she purred, reaching out one of her arms and gesturing for you to come into your own apartment. "We have a lot of catching up to do."

You went to move forward past her and give her the widest of berths you could afford. She did not follow you closely but went to grab the bags that you had, in your shock, left in the hallway before following you.

You saw a figure on your sofa sprawled out like a cat that had claimed the nicest piece of furniture in the house. High-ankle combat boots, tight fitting black jeans, messy bleach blonde hair and an angular sleek face.

"Natalie," you blurt. She turns her head to you. She looked just like she did ten years ago in the Wilderness, but the bags under her eyes from the stress of trying to keep a bunch of people alive . . . that was gone. There was fresh life there.

Her eyes softened around the edges and she turned her body so she could face you. She had a gold band around her ring finger -- the only thing that truly stood out as very un-Nat like to you.

You tried not to stare at the band too long before moving your gaze back to her face. Her red lips were smiling, so unlike the sharp sneers Shauna doned and always so warm.

"Hey, baby," she husked. "You cut your hair."

You had few options now that they were somehow in your home; your safe space now made a den of danger.

So you offered to make them dinner with the haul you retrieved from the store. You did not know Shauna and Natalie as they were back when you were college students, and you wanted to never be the girl who had to do what she did to stay alive.

A dinner may keep you in a safe zone and give you time to think. They accepted -- but Shauna wanted to help. She plopped your traitorous dog onto Nat's lap and followed you into your small, open kitchen to unpack your groceries.

She had not changed much, either. She was still incredibly fit as though she never left the soccer life. Her hair was in wavy rings held back by a ponytail and some of her distinct freckles had faded into a softer dusting, but the predatory glitter was still very Shauna.

She also had a band around her ring finger; gold with a glittery diamond showing off.

"Pretty," you commented casually, nodding to the ring as you pulled out your cutting board and lay aside some lettuce, cucumber, onion, and tomatoes for a salad.

Shauna had a chicken breast that you had planned on saving for girl's night with Clary in her hands. She glanced at the ring, and she seemed to soften with fondness briefly. "Thank you. Nat chose well, don't you think?"

"Nat?" you could not hide your surprise if you tried, eyebrows disappearing into your hairline as you rolled the tomato between your hand and the cutting board, almost squeezing it flat. "Wow -- shit. Unexpected, but -- uhh -- congratulations." Shauna's nose wrinkled in a show of amusement. "Thank you. We married a couple of years after . . ." she trailed off, but her tone did not sound as though she hated discussing the past in the way you did.

"Oh." You chewed your lip. "Well, good for you guys."

Silence overtook the both of you as you started your respective roles in creating dinner. You couldn't help but be compared to those lions that take on gazelle and simply co-exist with them for days at a time before eating them or letting them go, in rarer cases.

You thumbed the hilt of the knife comfortingly and glanced slowly at Shauna. "How did you find me?"

Shauna was applying some sort of homemade rub that had a strong smell of spice onto the chicken. She let you sit in anticipation while she did this and while she washed her hands.

Finally, "Misty."

Fucking Misty Quigley. If you ever got your hands on her, you'll make her into a human experiment the likes which even the most cruel of humanity would gawk at.

"I was sure I made it clear I did not want to be found," you said flatly.

Shauna pressed some buttons on your oven. "We gave you long enough," she said like that answered every single question ever.

"This is why I burned bridges," you snapped, slicing the tomato thinner than intended, unlike the previous slices. "I created a life for myself here, Shauna. That girl from before the rescue died in the Wilderness."

Shauna was quiet as she waited for the oven to heat up; it was the type of quiet that was tense and displeased with a buildup that had no release system.

"I want," you continued when she said nothing else, "a quiet life. No Wilderness, no reminders of the crash, no existing parts of who I had to become in order to still know I was alive. I hated that girl so I created a woman I could stand being."

A hand brushed the back of your neck before grasping it. It was a natural reflex -- ten years old and still you melted into it like nothing had changed. The dull edges of her ring pressed into your skin like a hot brand.

"Natalie and I picked up our entire lives and moved down here," she confesses, ice coating the words she spoke, "after we gave you your fucking space and let you do whatever you needed to do. Did you really think you were truly ever out of our sights? That we let you go?"

Pinpricks of heat prodded at your eyes as she locked you in place, a hazy assault of unwelcome memories starting to rip apart scars that you had spent years treating and disguising.

"Why?"

Shauna pressed a lingering kiss behind your ear. "Because you have always been ours. Do you want to keep your career -- make sure the hard work put into this life-saving job of yours doesn't go away?"

You swallowed under her fingers. She felt it and laughed breathily. "I bet so. Be good for us. Your career isn't in our sights -- we just want the rest of you."

She released you just like that, backing away as the oven screamed out to alert it was heated up.

"Finish the salad and set the table," Shauna orders like she did not just blackmail you, "Then go sit with Nat."

Nat did not make you talk much until you were both called to the table to eat. Three portions of the meal were set out and as clanking of silverware dominated the silence next to the heavy panting of Nibbles begging at your feet, you could feel Nat and Shauna watching your movements.

"We've read some of your research," Nat commented as she drank from the glass of wine. The bottle Shauna had found was half opened in your fridge, cheap but she poured three glasses anyway. "You have a lot of passion for pediatrics."

You picked at your chicken. It was extremely tender and images of Shauna swinging the butcher's knife and delivering the fate through your meals every day for a year came back like a slap to the face.

Shauna was staring, fork struck into her slice of chicken as she waited for a response from you. "Yeah," you murmured. "Working with the kids is why I stayed in pediatrics. But that's why a lot of people in that branch stay."

"Isn't it sad?" Shauna asked, surprising you, "For the ones that don't make it?"

"Absolutely," you affirm. "But it is the ones that we lose that make me want to make sure that we save the ones we can while working endlessly to search for ways to try prevent losses like those."

Something ruminating crossed over the brunette's features and Nat nudged your foot with her own under the table. "That's great, sweetheart. You're doing so much good."

You hoped so, but you did not express it out loud. You did not want to give into them like this -- stalking you, barging into your home, sitting at the fucking table to share a meal with you like you were just old friends.

"So you moved to San Diego?" you asked awkwardly, avoiding wording that indicates you would encourage any actions they took being for you.

"A month ago," Nat confirmed. "We got a house in La Jolla that's about a fifteen minute walk to the beach. I think you'd love it."

"Mm, well good for you guys." You lifted your wine glass awkwardly and then took a sip.

Dinner was continued with conversation mostly brought up by Nat and Shauna -- both of them knowing full well you were likely receding in on yourself like you used to.

"Well," you started when the kitchen was cleaned and wine was finished, "it was nice catching up . . . but . . ."

Shauna smiled a little in such an unsettling way that you had to resist the urge to take a step back. She had her fingers lazily hooked into the pockets of her pants, regarding you like a fine piece of artwork.

"Nat."

Hands slithered under your shirt from behind, long fingers tapping along your stomach while Shauna circled the both of you with little hurry.

“Stop,” you instantly said as your hands flew up to snatch her hands away from your skin. You’ve had a compromised enjoyment of touch after the crash — this was no exception. This was the reason for it.

“No,” Shauna said simply in a drawl, familiarity coating it like a thick and angry thing.

You kept a tight, iron grip on Nat’s smooth, but calloused hands until Shauna stalked toward and lashed out.

It was so quick and the sting on your skin was there before your brain caught up to what had just occurred. Shauna had hit you, open-palmed, across the cheek with a force that promised worse.

She wasn’t done. She snatched your throat in cold fingers, pressing down just so on the points of pressure that would cut off your air way as she forces your face to lean up to gaze at her, smiling at whatever she found on your face.

“Be a good slut,” she started, nails digging grooves into your skin as she applied more pressure, “and do as we say. Nod if you understand, you fucking useless whore.”

You broke into tears but the nod followed behind quickly, your neck hardly moving under her piercing hold. She kept you there for a bit longer anyways, seeming to enjoy the way she made you cry.

“Shauna,” Nat cooed behind you as she managed to untangle her hands from yours, having noted the weakened grip. Her palms returned to rubbing up and down your chest and stomach almost soothingly. “Couldn’t you be nicer? It’s been a while.”

“Exactly,” Shauna said coldly, even as her fingers released some of the tension. A throbbing began to flow underneath the heat of her fingers where she had made her claim.

She had ensured you would feel her fingers even when she released your neck, later.

“Remember your place, baby,” Shauna told you, jaw clenching. “You’re extremely smart so you and I both know it’s not been lost on you.”

Nat’s teeth began scraping softly down the backside of your collarbone, creating a shiver through your spine as her hands worked under your bra. “She can be so mean, can’t she?” Nat whispered conspiratorially, nipping at the edge of the bone before moving along your shoulder.

Shauna wasn’t looking at you now, but just a little to the side. Where Nat’s head rested as she sucked bruises into your skin. The sight of them like this — the disgusting, reviving part of you — jolted at it.

Your thighs twitched in effort to conceal your need to cross them. You were so fucking wet.

Shauna notices the movement despite looking zeroed in on her wife’s devoted attentions, her gaze flickering to how your legs trembled with effort. You were only being held up by Nat’s hold and Shauna’s barely-there position on your throat.

“You act as though you built a fortress around this . . .” She rolled her eyes, “new personified version of yourself. But I can see the weaknesses in the walls, baby. You’re still the same beast under the new name and new life. Just like us.”

It was a truth that you had denied so long — and Shauna speaking it aloud had you ripping your body away with such brute force that even Nat couldn’t stop it in time. You stumbled clumsily backward toward your bedroom, air conditioning hitting your raw cheeks and drying the tears.

“Get out,” you demand, voice shaking and near begging. “Please leave me alone. It’s too much.”

But they didn’t leave — they followed you deeper into your space, cornering you into the bedroom as Shauna bundled her fist into the front of your shirt and roughly pushed you toward the bed under the back of your knees gave way.

She climbed on top of you as Nat padded around, looking through your items and opening drawers. So many violations overwhelming you in one instance. You shoved at Shauna’s arms but her face twisted and she grasped them, pinning them above you as she used her knees to pry open your thighs as wide as your body would allow.

You cried out. “Stop! Stop it!”

“Shut up.” She spat, purposefully watching as droplets of saliva spread across your face. Her eyes glinted ferally, like this was some form of marking that seeped into your skin and your blood.

“Nat what the fuck are you looking for? Get the fuck over here,” Shauna snapped, frustrated at her wife’s shifting around through your belongings.

Natalie did not answer at first — which you thought was extremely bold of her when Shauna was in a mood like this — but then she popped out of your closet with your six inch dildo.

Your eyes widened and so did Shauna’s. Her grip then became shackles to your wrists. “Oh, my little slut,” she murmured, eyes drifting back to you as Nat came over.

The blonde looked too proud of herself for your liking. “Is it a strapless?” Shauna demanded, but not to you. You weren’t a who to them right now.

“Looks to be,” Nat said, inspecting it closely. She smiled sweetly at you. “Don’t worry, baby. I’ll make sure she’s gentle.”

Shauna scoffed as Nat went to work undressing her wife so that you would have no chance of escaping. If Shauna had to lift a limb from you, Nat somehow found a way to use one of hers to keep you in place. It was a slow process and you were crawling out of your skin. No amount of effort worked in your favor.

“Your turn, precious,” Nat murmured as she watched from above your head as Shauna inserts one of the ends of the dildo into her self. Your mind blanks out as you beg for them to let you go.

Somehow you’re naked. How did you get naked?

Your clothes were ripped away, it seemed.

Natalie ran fingers through your hair, talking to you in what she hoped to have been a soothing tone. It grated against your ear drums as Shauna’s hands ran along your body as she lifted herself over you. Her eyes darkened, locked with yours.

Then she thrusted hard into you — she did not go gently, nor did she check how wet you were. Thankfully your body had betrayed you as it always had with them — and though you were unprepared for the size of the dildo [ it had been a gift from Clary as a gag, unused and collecting dust ], it slid in.

It was painful and you sobbed out as Shauna’s shackled embrace loosened enough for your hands to fly up and dig into her bare back. She did not allow adjustment — this was not going to be a sweet fucking.

“You’re a fucking slut, you know?” the brunette whispered, her voice shakier than you’ve ever heard her. She was starting at a punishing pace — and you feared what that meant for when she was close to her orgasm. “You claim to not want us, you fucking hate us, but here you are wet as can be and taking me like a goddamn whore.”

You choked on words that never came to fruition, sobs replacing them instead as pain and something close to pleasure intertwined as she fucked you, hips angling in a way that told you she was seeking both her pleasure and something else in the process.

Nat was watching, but her clothes stayed on as she did. “You’re doing so well, baby,” she told you gently, keeping your head in her lap as you took what Shauna gave, “You’re so pretty like this. Oh, your eyes. They’re turning fuzzy.”

“That’s what happens,” Shauna breathed out, a hand spearing out to press flat into the mattress next to your head. She paused her brutality, deep inside you, and adjusted.

Her chest was heaving and she looked nothing short of animalistic as she looked you in the eye. You tried to focus on her face, but so many sensations were overworking you. She was taking you apart piece by piece and throwing your crafted shield away.

“I’m going to wreck you,” she promised, and followed it up with a brutal thrust that landed perfectly into your g-spot as though —

She did remember your body. Too well. You sobbed as your nails ran deeply down her skin. Her other hand freed you, feeling confident that you no longer had the power to make an attempt to escape.

She lifted her body enough, body to reveal the space between your stomachs. With the diamond glinting along her hand, she twisted the ring further up her finger.

“Shauna,” Nat warned, tinged with concern. Your eyes lazily drifted to her face, and you saw her shaking her head.

Shauna ignored her wife and pressed the sharp edges of the diamond into your skin and began to cut. It wasn’t a slow process and you yelled out, now trying to escape her hold.

“H-hurts,” you sobbed as the dildo pressed deeper into you and had you seeing stars. Her thrusting was in tune with the way she cut deep marks into your skin, creating some design.

Warm blood trickled down your stomach as she pulled the reddened ring away. It was a a beautiful diamond — even soaked in your blood and she lifted her finger to her mouth to clean it as she used her other hand to reach down to your clit.

Holding herself up by the cock inside of you and the rolling of your hips, she pressed so deep and hard on your clit that your body didn’t have a chance to process before locking up.

Nat held you through the most intense orgasm of your life, and her hand came down to gently rest across your mouth and muffle the throat tearing screams that it encouraged.

Shauna’s orgasm was not far behind, her chest falling on top of you and her thrusts increasing tenfold. She did not allow you to recover for a second — and before she managed to reach her own peak, she sent you hurtling into three more.

Your brain emptied as your body tried to accept the mirrored pain and pleasure that became your life. Nothing else made sense in your world at the moment, but Nat was pressing soft kisses against wet skin, Shauna was gasping and running her cheek across yours as she shook through waves of her own high, and your entire being was becoming reborn.

The three of you remained like this for a while, aftershocks waving through you as your walls clenched the dildo in deeper. Shauna forced out a breath each time it happened, but otherwise made no comment.

You felt disgusting in the aftermath. Emotions that you never really faced were beginning to surface in Shauna and Natalie’s ultimate destruction of your coverup, and you had no way to defend yourself from them.

“It’s okay,” Nat whispered for the nth time that night, trying to encourage a belief in the statement. She had shifted her position so she was lying on her side behind your head. You could hear her heartbeat — calm and rhythmic.

It was a strange comfort in the upheaval of your carefully planted existence.

Shauna lifted her chin from your shoulder and moved her hand. She didn’t pause, even when you flinched at her movement, but she was surprisingly very gentle as her fingers wiped at the fresh tears.

“You did so well,” her low voice rasped, and she sounded honest. Pleased. Proud. “You took it all so beautifully.”

You didn’t know what to say. She didn’t seem to mind. She moved her body down, shifting the dildo inside of you and sending a shiver through your body.

“Hurts,” you whispered when she sent you a questioning brow raise.

Shauna nodded, “Okay, sweetheart. Let me pull out and check the cut. Can you do that for me, pretty girl? Be a little brave?”

Did you have any other option?

Natalie ran her fingers across your sweat soaked arms. “I’ve got you,” she promises, “We both do.”

Taking that as your consent where it wasn’t, Shauna slowly began pulling out. You instinctively locked up, your knees curling in, but Shauna stopped them and kept slowly moving until it was completely out. It was soaked heavily with your juices.

She pulled the other end out of herself and tossed it to the floor.

“Nibbles will get it,” you whispered disapprovingly. “Not on the floor.”

Shauna rolled her eyes, hard, but detangled herself from your body and grabbed the dildo and took it off into the bathroom — where she stayed for a longer time than expected.

When she returned she had a damp, warm rag in hand and her hair was in a messy bun, flannel the only thing she wore. She kneeled down over you again and slowly began wiping you down, working her way up. She got to the cut in your skin and was slow in her care of it.

“Do you have any thing we can put on this?” she murmured to you.

“Cabinet,” you whispered.

As Shauna once more left to go in search for the cream, you lifted your head to peer down at the engraving she had carved into your skin with her ring:

S.S.+N.S.

[yumeflower]

two time and reader going on a late night grocery date???

🗡️🕐Two-Time X reader- Chocolate cake

EVERYBODY WANTS TWO TIME. I HAVE. 2. MORE. TWO.TIME. DRAFTS. WHAT. THE. FLIP. Ima crash out baby don’t slow me down😾/ref but I want them aswell so I can’t be talking teehee

Trigger warnings- none

(SLIGHTLY SUGGESTIVE)

(Reader speaks in GREEN per usual) (PROOFREAD WITH MISTAKES)

———————————————————————

You turn to the side when you feel a finger poking your cheek. It must be a mosquito or something…it’s that season anyways…wait never mind it’s just your tired thoughts. “Helloooo? Are you into your slumber cocoon yet??” dude WHAT? You immediately shot up,can’t this guy talk normally for once? the phase of being half asleep half awake now over with. You’re just awake now.

“Ah!! It’s you? I told you to stop breaking into my hous-“ they put their finger to your lips “oh shush…do not act surprised now…I need a small favor from you my loveliest” they scare you so much you can’t really say no…

“Please won’t you please bake me a cake? I sure would appreciate it considering how behaved I’ve been..” they trace their fingers down your waist,stopping their cold finger at your belly button. “It’s so late…why couldn’t you have asked me when it was day?” They giggle in fakery,their finger still on your belly button.

“I suppose the idea just came to me late…aside from this…I suppose we should go to the nearest shop..” they say as they get up from your bed,which they had no permission to enter in the first place. They open your drawers and pull out a jacket to borrow from your cabinet. slipping their arms through the puffer jacket holes with too much focus.

They looked silly in it causing you to giggle. “Do I look that foolish in this marshmallow texture of a coat?” You stand up tiredly,now having to leave the house again all because they entered it “you sure do. Now hurry up,I wanna get this over with.”

As you guys arrive at the store they hold your hand,their sharp boney fingers intertwined with yours felt like heaven yet it hurt due to their death grip. “Oh!! Hey!! That’s the baking section !! How wonderful,it seems spawn has blessed me with wonderful senses yet again!.”

You scoff and roll your eyes. Due to the fact that they couldn’t register they already had eyes and instead say it’s because of some weird rebirth god. “Whatever,let’s get what you need and go…this is the last favor I’m paying back for you,got it?” They turn their head and smile joyfully yet more unnerving as they still hold your hand “yes,I ‘got it’..”

———————————————————————

YAYAYAY also this is mostly just build up tension tbh

[dorkshadows]

The Writeup (Part 2!)

(From Jiaozi's Nezha doodle celebrating the 2.6 billion record on 2/2.) *In CN, it's common to say "my tendon pulled!" when you get a cramp in your limbs.

Translation:

Ao Bing: My leg cramped! [literal translation: My leg pulled (its) tendon!] Fish Demon: NEZHA PULLED OUT THE THIRD PRINCE'S TENDONS!!!!!!!!

Literally the day after I published this post, new developments cropped up in the Nezha 2 fandom :D I thought it best to wait and see if anything ELSE could happen before updating this. Thankfully, I waited because things did happen. They sure did happen! So I'm popping in out of retirement (again) for one (1) day (again) to update this before the first fandom writeup becomes completely out of date. I appreciate all the interest given to the previous writeup and I'd feel bad for leaving it outdated for everyone that supported it! So here's part 2 to catch you up on what's happening deep in Nezha 2 fandom.

4-5 weeks in, and we have already have new shipping lore, shipping stat updates, and new fuel for the Ao Guang discourse battles. And it's somehow just as long as writeup part 1 🤣

Guangying shippers have apologized to everyone they harassed, acknowledged the error of their ways, and now get along well with fans of other ships...NOT. Click below to see updates on fandom lore, Ao Guang discourse, doubling down, conspiracy theories, drama in the Nezha cosplay world, and a total lack of self reflection from guangying fans ft. more images and links than last time

Obligatory disclaimers again:

This is NOT about the people who happened to watch the movie, the people who are just interested in box office stats, the people who really enjoyed the movie, or the people who just really admire Nezha. This will be about the fandom fandom, the truly invested, the brainrot (affectionate) in its purest unfiltered form. This is a post about brainrot for those also suffering from brainrot.

This is a collection of patterns mainly from lofter, but also from douyin, weibo, bilibili, and xhs. I don't know how to warn for some of the things mentioned here, so just a blanket note of caution- if you read on, you are prepared to see anything and everything. If you are OK with all this, then- let’s go! 

PART 2 HERE WE GO:

Firstly, the general fandom is as creative as ever, and everything you can think of (and more!) has been written/drawn/discussed by somebody somewhere. I've seen Shiji Niang Niang bring Shen Xiaobao back to life, I've seen Ao Bing studying for the TOEFL, I've seen a Jane Eyre AU fanfic for Ao Guang/Shen Gongbao, I've seen Taiyi go on a diet, I've seen 1979 Nezha transmigrating into the 2019/2025 world, etc. etc.

The Lu Tong meme is also not even a meme anymore- lots of people seem to genuinely believe that randomly spamming any and all content featuring Lu Tong/He Tong with paragraphs of praise will result in them granting their wishes. So that's why you'll come across lots of comments with phrases like: "Lu Tong is the manliest of all men, the most powerful of all celestials, the strongest deer... please Master Lu Tong, grant me a raise from my boss."

Also, I didn't include these extremely cursed memes last time because I felt that they might cause people to die. BUT since everyone was strong enough to survive writeup part 1, I think you've proven yourselves strong enough to see these in writeup part 2--behold! Popular FAMILY GUY NEZHA edits:

These cursed images are popular enough that multiple people have made them their profile pics. That's not even the end of it...

Not only that, the fandom has also made "fusion" edits of the characters in the vein of the Nezha/Ao Bing fusion we saw in canon (as in, a Taiyi/Nezha fusion exists). If you wondered what things would be like if 1) Nezha possessed Ao Bing instead or 2) Shen Gongbao never stole the spirit pearl, wonder no further! Here is the answer:

Next, congratulations to lubao for completing the transformation from surprise crack ship to third most popular pairing in the fandom (4 and 5 probably go to Ao Guang/Shen Gongbao [longwangbao] or lutong/hetong [luhe] depending on the platform). Coincidentally, lubao is now no. 3 trending on weibo, beating out dilong. Professional cosplayers are also doing lubao cosplays for clout (to 10K+ likes on bilibili and even 100K+ likes across douyin, etc.). They even have their own animatics now. -> Every individual (main) character and ship has plenty of animatics; if you want to see them, just add the word "手书" (hand book) after whatever subject you're searching for. EX. For oubing animatics, just search for 藕饼手书, and many many will come up.

The lubao lore has also expanded since Feb.:

In Nezha 1, Shen Gongbao told Ao Bing he can teach him how to hide his horns in public. Lu Tong, as a deer, should also have antlers (as shown by his demon/animal form), but doesn't! This clearly means that Shen Gongbao taught Lu Tong how to hide his antlers with the same method he offered for Ao Bing.

Fans noticed that Lu Tong's eyes are brown in deer form, but as a human, his eyes are green- specifically, the exact same shade of green as Shen Gongbao's. They believe it means Lu Tong purposely turned them green because he took inspiration from Shen Gongbao's appearance.

They also noticed that in the post-credits, Wuliang and He Tong didn't seem to know where the underground prison was. Lu Tong guided them over. They believe this means Lu Tong was the one who brought Shen Gongbao into the prison and tied him up in the first place.

You can make the assumption that Shen Gongbao, Ao Bing, and Lu Tong all have the same hairstyle. Why? Because Shen Gongbao combed Ao Bing's hair (with the approval of Lu Tong's #2 enemy, Ao Guang), and he previously combed Lu Tong's hair. Out of love/obsession for him, Lu Tong has kept that same style. And now this is yet another thing Ao Bing STOLE from Lu Tong!

As of 3/9, Jiaozi put out this drawing of Shen Gongbao riding a leopard while acting as captain of the demon hunting team (to celebrate Nezha breaking the 14.6 billion record at the box office):

Since Lu Tong had that exact same pose, while also riding an animal from the same species, lubao fans took this to mean Lu Tong was again trying to copy everything Shen Gongbao did because he's just that obsessed with him.

As for fanon expansion, there is now a version of He Tong who is not only aware of Lu Tong's obsession, but also supports, abets, and contributes to his actions because she too felt abandoned by their shi shu. Now Shen Gongbao can never leave them again! Theirs forever! Too bad that pesky Ao Bing keeps getting in the way and doing annoying things like "saving his master" and "having morals."

And a little round of applause for Shen gonggong too for going from cartoon villain barely anyone cared about to earning the highest honor in fandom--becoming the resident whump angst pain machine. This was unofficial in the previous writeup, but now it's safe to call it official! You know his poor meow meow status is cemented when the average SGB-centric fsyy crossover is now, "Wuliang and his disciples torture the cultivation out of Shen Gongbao, seal his powers, and give him to King Zhou to do as he pleases. The royal court proceeds to treat him as some kind of party animal, all while using and abusing whatever's left of him-" (paragraph 1 of 100)

The average pre-canon story is also, "everyone except Taiyi tortures and mistreats Shen Gongbao at Yuxu Gong-" Someone said that they knew Shen gongong was doomed (by the fandom) the moment he showed up like That in the easter egg scene, and I think that person had the gift of prophecy.

Now for the main event! Dilong, Aobing Zhuan, and the reaction (or lack thereof) of Guangying shippers:

Yes, that's Jim from The Office. The above is a circulating meme made by disgruntled dilong shippers.

Translation:

If you look like this

("Nezha 2" Ao Guang) Your husband doesn't look like this

("The Sons of the Dragon" Ao Guang) Your husband looks like this

*The Sons of the Dragon is a nickname (derogatory) for Ao Bing Zhuan because detractors think it focuses on all of Ao Guang's sons except Ao Bing

I'm not too familiar with Aobing Zhuan itself, so if you or your loved ones know more about the storyline or drama, please feel free to tack onto this post with your own links, writeups, and/or input!

Dilong fans finally had Enough of the nonstop harassment and put together gigantic takedown posts on why Aobing Zhuan sucks, featuring citations, side by side images, and so on.

In addition to accusing the author of using Yinglong as a self insert, they also accused Yinglong of being a genderbent version of Ao Guang (as he used to be drawn in Dilong fanart back in 2019). They pointed out that the author modeled toddler Ao Bing after her own goddaughter instead of his image in the movie. Said author has also gone on record saying Ao Bing is the "least charming" of Ao Guang's sons. Aobing Zhuan gave Ao Bing a healthy number of friends as part of the supporting cast too; when readers asked how this is possible if his first and only friend is Nezha, the author said "The friends are dead, so they don't count!"

The receipts also tell us that even though Ao Guang (and his siblings) made Ao Bing's coat in canon, Aobing Zhuan credited that to Yinglong. His martial arts also came from Yinglong, even though everyone knows it came from Shen Gongbao. And it gets deeper-- as the story goes on, Ao Bing has less and less screentime and barely any "cool" moments. The story becomes completely about his older brothers (specifically his second eldest brother, Ao Yi), while all canon characters are ignored or shafted. It also goes wild with epic wars, battles, and subplots that the movie never even mentioned.

This leads to the fandom nicknaming Aobing Zhuan "OC Zhuan" (and yes, they are using OC the English way. This is not the Tale of Aobing, this is the Tale of Original Characters not even made by Jiaozi). Another nickname is "The Tale of Ying" not because Yinglong herself has that much screentime, but because ABZ fans have spent so long harassing literally everybody else in the fandom while using her as an icon and constantly saying "look, you've made yinglong sad" "how disgusting of you to split up such a loving couple" "you're not allowed to ship anything besides the canon couple" etc. etc.. while spamming fans of literally every other Ao Guang ship with pictures of Yinglong.

Even in non-shipping content involving Ao Guang and Ao Bing, they'll constantly talk about Ao Guang's wife and Ao Bing's mother and how totally important she is to them + the story. Guangying shippers have also constantly used a mother's day screenshot (of the official Nezha account wishing Yinglong happy mother's day with an image of her and Ao Bing in ABZ) as proof that she's officially married to Ao Guang, and you are therefore NOT allowed to ship him with anyone else, including yourself. It turns out that screenshot doesn't exist- the Nezha weibo never posted it. Guangying shippers faked the image.

Someone even asked deepseek (or baidu?) who Yinglong is and it said, "Yinglong is Ao Guang's father!" (incorrect btw, but this is proof that yinglong has no mythological connection to Ao Guang anyway). Fans also noticed that Aobing Zhuan- despite having a physical publication- wasn't featured at all in Nezha 2 merchandise. Instead, there's a cute picture book featuring parts of little Ao Bing's childhood (with NONE of ABZ's events).

The book is called "Memories of the Three Realms" 《哪吒·三界往事》and contains little stories about the entire cast before the events of the movies. This book was promoted as part of Nezha 2's merchandise, so it's safe to consider it a direct tie-in with the franchise. Noticeably, Ao Bing's family in the book consists of only himself, his father, his master, his aunt, and uncles. No brothers, no mother.

So TLDR, Aobing Zhuan "fell apart" in the fandom's eyes because:

It directly defies canon ideas and events

Guangying shippers faked screenshots to make it look like the Nezha team acknowledged ABZ more than it actually did

The art style is "ugly" (imho, it's less that it's ugly and more that it's very off model when it comes to canon characters and just doesn't fit Nezha's art style)

ABZ constantly puts down Ao Bing/Ao Guang/Shen Gongbao in order to elevate its OCs

Ao Guang doesn't like Ao Bing very much in ABZ

The author doesn't care about Ao Bing and was only using his name for clout; the author exclusively only loves Ao Yi

Yinglong is the author's self insert and arguably a plagiarized version of dilong!Ao Guang. Ao Yi has also been accused of being a plagiarized design of dilong!Ao Guang. (imo, not so sure about how valid these particular accusations are because all three designs are commonplace throughout all xianxia art)

Ao Yi, Ao Jia, and Yinglong (Ao Bing's brothers and mother) are fanmade OCs and might not even have those same names if they appear or come up in the movies

ABZ attempted to make a love interest for Ao Bing, but backtracked after backlash from oubing fans

The Nezha team seems to want nothing to do with it

The takedown was brutal. The rest of the fandom, specifically the confused people who had no idea why other fans were going on and on about Ao Guang's wife (who does not appear in the films) and closet dilong shippers, went, "Hey, ABZ does suck!" Why did it take so long for them to notice it sucked? General consensus is that because the comic was not very good in the first place so nobody talked about it or noticed it. Now they notice because 1) guangying shippers shoved it in everyone's face 2) guangying shippers/ABZ fans bullied literally Everybody else in the fandom

Then overnight, the fandom turned on ABZ and all its OCs. Now it's considered #cringe to like Yinglong, Ao Yi, and Ao Jia. People regretted paying for the comics, people tried get it refunded, and people apologized to dilong fans for hating on them based on falsely believing they were "splitting" a canon couple (and not because idk, harassing strangers over cartoons is rude??).

Regardless, everyone who secretly enjoyed dilong now came out to openly enjoy it. Dilong rose to #3 trending on several platforms, and dilong shippers rejoiced for finally being vindicated after literally 5 years of harassment. I mean pretty offensive and terrible harassment (CW terminally online fandom harassment methods): mass reporting, being accused of being degenerates, being accused of being uNpAtriOtIC, being accused of TrEAson, being told they should have died in their mothers' wombs, getting doxxed and suicide baited. Multiple dilong authors and artists were bullied into deactivating. The harassment got especially bad after Nezha 2 came out, so-

The tables turning on Guangying shippers can only be divine karma at work. Now in videos of people bashing dilong shippers, you can see comments saying, "hey op you dropped your clown nose!" and "get with the times, OC Zhuan fell from grace." Unfortunately, this drama has led to collateral damage in the form of-

Drama in the cosplay world:

However, there are lots of big name cosplayers doing Yinglong and Guangying cosplays. These people spent Big Money on their costumes. Now they're being told that ABZ has "fallen apart" and Yinglong was just somebody else's OC this entire time. Yinglong cosplayers feel personally victimized and don't know what to do with their costumes now.

To add fuel to the fire, fans have been insulting Yinglong cosplayers in the comment sections of their videos. Ao Yi cosplayers are facing a similar dilemma. Which leads to-

Yinglong fans react + Dilong fan conspiracies:

You'd think this would lead to some self reflection on the part of Guangying fans or an apology to their victims or maybe some attempt to be on better behavior. But why do that when it's easier to double down and play victim!

ABZ fans and Guangying shippers now believe themselves to be the biggest victims in the fandom. They feel that the takedown was made in bad faith and several points don't even line up-- Yinglong doesn't resemble dilong!Ao Guang that much, Yinglong is not the author's literal self insert, the spinoff is still canon, Ao Guang loves his son very much in ABZ too and those calling him a cold father in ABZ are pulling panels out of context, etc. They think they shouldn't be judged just for enjoying a comic and multiple people have called on Jiaozi to step in and acknowledge the Drama. Indeed, they shouldn't be judged or harassed for liking Yinglong or ABZ.

But I'd feel more sorry for them if they didn't spend the past month bullying and lying to literally everybody in the fandom, ranging from spamming all Ao Bing content with guangying comments to threatening Ao Guang x anyone else shippers with physical violence. Even on the notes of the last writeup, we have firsthand accounts of their cyberbullying:

^This is the kind of thing guangying fans do on a regular basis. (I'm so sorry they harassed you over something so stupid! All 6 of them owe you a kowtow and apology.)

The Drama continues:

According to dilong fans, ABZ and guangying fans have gone quiet but not gone away. They've changed tactics and can now be spotted on random Ao Guang content commenting, "I wonder who Ao Guang's wife is! I'm so curious!" and on Ao Bing content saying, "Oh I bet Ao Bing misses his mother and brothers so much." This is allegedly an attempt to get new fans to ask them about Ao Guang's wife and Ao Bing's mother/brothers + an attempt to do damage control for ABZ now that it's uncool to mention it publicly. Personally, I think the dilong fans are right about this theory. Makes perfect sense to me, especially given everything else ABZ fans have done so far.

Next, tying back to the cosplay drama, dilong fans believe the people attacking Yinglong cosplayers are guangying fans masquerading as dilong fans. These guangying fans are hoping to harass enough people for something major to happen (conveniently taking the heat off of ABZ). Then the wider media will report on cosplayers being harassed by dilong fans, resulting in the wider public going "Nezha fangirls are so scary!" resulting in cancellation of Nezha ships (specifically dilong) altogther in a complete repeat of 227 (the date in which Xiao Zhan fans mass reported AO3 over a real person fic, resulting in the AO3 ban in China and the ensuing backlash that caused the absolutely most nightmarish time of poor Xiao Zhan's life). Is this there truth to this theory? I have no idea, but wilder things have happened.

And lastly, no, Fei Wo Si Cun (established web novelist that published a dilong mpreg fanfic on main, as mentioned in the previous writeup) has not acknowledged the Ao Guang discourse drama at all. Jiaozi and the rest of the Nezha team have also not said a peep despite guangying shippers' desperate attempts to reach them.

And that's the end of the ride for now. Nezha 2 is still playing in theaters. Nobody knows what will happen once it hits STREAMING :D after all, 命由我不由天!

[reading-writing-revolution]

Bernie on the War Path

"You know history as well as I do. Real change never takes place from the top on down. It always takes place from the bottom on up when ordinary people, by the millions, stand together to fight oppression and injustice.

With your help that is exactly the movement that we are building.

Over the last several weeks I have held a series of town meetings in districts with Republican House members who won close races in the last election.

And what I have found is that in these districts, and all across the country, Americans are saying loudly and clearly: NO to oligarchy, NO to authoritarianism, NO to kleptocracy, NO to massive cuts in programs that working people desperately need, NO to huge tax breaks for the richest people in our country.

As you know, the Republican majority in the House is very slim. If we can convince 2 or 3 Republican members from these districts to vote against cutting Social Security, Medicaid, Education, Nutrition and VA programs in order to pay for huge tax breaks for billionaires, we can defeat that horrendous piece of legislation.

Our first events in Nebraska and Iowa drew thousands of people.

But that was NOTHING compared to the events we just wrapped up this weekend in Wisconsin and Michigan.

On Friday night in Kenosha, Wisconsin we drew 4,000 people who came out on a cold night to stand up and make their voices heard.

The next day, we went to Altoona, WI -- population 9,200 -- where we had over 2,500 people attend our town meeting. I have long been told that progressive ideas are not popular in rural America.

Not what I saw there.

People in Altoona, and across the country, understand that health care is a human right, and our economy must work for all, not just the few.

And we closed our meetings in Warren, Michigan where we had more than 9,000 people come out to hear Abdul El-Sayed, Shawn Fain of the UAW and me. It was a gym full of people.

And by the way. At these rallies I made it clear that we cannot simply be on the defensive - in opposition to Musk and Trump. The working families of this country are hurting and we must go on the offensive - fighting for concrete solutions that will improve their lives NOW.

The good news is, poll after poll also shows that our agenda is incredibly popular with the American people. People want the wealthiest in this country to pay their fair share, they want leaders with the guts to take on the drug companies and the oil companies. They understand that healthcare is a human right, not a privilege. Overwhelmingly, they want an end to our corrupt political system that allows billionaires to buy our elections.

We’ve now taking our campaign against Oligarchy to Nebraska, Iowa, Wisconsin and Michigan. Next, it looks like we’ll be heading out west.

Let me close by thanking the almost 200,000 people who have contributed over the past few weeks to make these rallies possible. I am very appreciative of your continued financial support.

In solidarity,"

Bernie Sanders

[strangecreaturewrites]

⟢ i won't leave you ⊹⠀ ﾟ ˖

mickey x f!reader ⊹ as an expendable, it was mickey barnes' duty to die as many times as deemed necessary. this time, you were there with him. warnings: discussion of death and grief. please use your discretion before reading. ( i have part 2 to this in the works, i just can't finish it tonight because i'm watching the new daredevil ep in a bit. this fic idea wouldn't leave me alone though. i love hurt/comfort and angst, and this part definitely brings the hurt, so i won't leave you hanging on the comfort for very long. also mickey x nasha are the couple of all time, but i would have to see the movie again to write this from their perspective. i think the inspiration is pretty clear though, so i wouldn't read this if you haven't seen the movie or read the book yet. anyway... thank you for reading <3 )

You chose to spend the next day in bed. The concept of PTO didn’t exist on the station — claiming a sick day raised more alarms than they were worth if you weren’t gravely ill — but people didn’t make it a habit to argue with you. So, when you said they could find someone else to cover your shift or go fuck themselves… well, that was that, wasn’t it?

Another concept that didn’t exist on the station in a way that mattered: getting fired. A person could yell and scream at their superior and then show up for their next shift, and as long as Marshall didn’t deem them a threat (to him, to his optics, to his vision), business went on as usual. Your rations might get cut for a while, sure. You might get locked up for a bit if you got too dramatic. But what did that matter in the long run? It was all the same torture.

For some more than others on this frozen rock, work being a kind of torture actually meant something.

You choked on your next breath, and you turned your face into the pillow as tears welled up in your eyes once more.

The worst part was that they didn’t understand, and it was impossible to explain it in a way that made sense to them. Them being everyone. The lab workers, your superiors, Timo, everyone.

“You’re so upset, and for what?” Timo said to you in the cafeteria. What was the tail-end of last night for you was a brand new morning for him. “He’s being reprinted as we speak. In a few hours, we’ll have our boy back.”

You could’ve slapped him. Normally, you would have. It was a testament to the enormity of the pain coursing through you that you didn’t.

Our boy. What a load of shit.

“I held him as he died, you asshole,” you seethed. Timo scoffed and resumed eating, an awkward silence settling between the two of you. You knew the bastard wouldn’t apologize, and you wouldn’t say anything else about it.

To your credit, you held it together fairly well immediately afterward. You climbed out of the tank and took off the biohazard suit. You let the medics look you over until you snapped at them to back off — you were fine — and you pretended to listen to the lab workers as they explained how important their work was and how you’d be seeing Mickey again before you knew it. That bumbling lead scientist was at your heels from the tank all the way to the door; you told him to shut his fucking mouth as you left.

You were numb. To everyone else, it looked like anger. Inside, you were roiling. Reeling. Shocked.

From the very beginning, you forced yourself to make peace with Mickey’s position as an Expendable. You had to if you were going to be involved with him, romantically, sexually — honestly, in any way. He quickly became your best friend, your lover, your favorite person, and you had to accept that every so often, he would die. And over time, you really did manage to grow accustomed to this brand of strangeness. (Humans really were remarkably adaptable creatures.) Maybe because there had been a routine to it: he would get an assignment, kiss you goodbye, disappear for a handful of hours, and then he would be back, a little tired, very hungry, and looking to be held until the funk from the printer wore off.

This time was different. You were there. You looked into his eyes, and you weren’t sure if he saw you. You stroked his cheek, and you knew he couldn’t feel you; his skin was so red and raw, how could his brain process any sensation besides pain? You talked to him the whole time, told him that you were there, that you wouldn’t leave him, that it would be over soon.

‘Soon’ ended up being a relative term, and though you knew him better, part of you worried he would remember your reassurances as cruel nonsense, spoken by someone who had no idea…

That’s what all the experiments were: cruel nonsense.

Your shock, your numbness, melted into incredulity.

You held him as he died. He stopped moving. Stopped breathing. How did a person cope with witnessing that?

For everyone else, the death of their loved ones was permanent. They mourned, and eventually their lives grew around the grief. You wouldn’t have grief. You would have terror. Would you be there to hold him when he died again? How could you possibly handle it? Leaving wouldn’t be an option, even knowing what you knew now. But what would it do to you, the second time around? The third?

The answers didn’t matter right now. You were in the interim between the last Mickey and the next one. Even being as perturbed as you were, you could recognize your good fortune. How lucky you were, to only be alone for a handful of hours, to know you would touch him again in less than a day.

Exhaustion seeped into your bones, and discomfort set in as you noticed the sensation of the cold, tear-soaked pillowcase against your temple, your cheek. You got out of bed, ran some water, and wiped your face clean. You dried your skin, brushed your teeth, and stripped to your underwear.

The last thing you remembered doing was flipping the pillow to the dry side. You didn’t even remember laying back down.

As the saying goes, you slept like the dead.

[aevellewritessometimes]

One Step Closer

Vere x Reader: Reincarnation AU Part 2! I really need to come up with an official name for this, shouldn't I? Anyway, this ended up being much longer than I was planning, so it looks like there will be a part 3 before I start getting to the endings. I currently do not have access to my laptop, so I had to depend on someone else's playthrough for dialogue, so if the MC in this one feels v=catered towards the Hound origin, that's why and I apologize in advance.

Content Warnings: Vere-typical swearing, innuendos, and death threats. Also, there's a brief mention of a dead body.

Other: Yet another brief Undertale reference, but it only pops up once. Vere might be OOC. Hopefully better usage of italics and semicolons (English is my first language, but I am a victim of the American Education System). Trying to avoid using a name for MC/Reader during two scenes where the use of their name was very deliberate and important to the game (because I forgot that "y/n" is a thing). Word Count: 3k words.

This work may be edited in the future if I discover any previously missed typos or content warnings. This work will not be cross-posted anywhere and I will make a direct announcement if that ever changes.

The memory of your face was both a blessing and a curse to him.

Sometimes it was a bittersweet sight from his sweetest of dreams; a reason for him to get through the motions every day just so he could see you again once sleep came for him.

Other times it haunted his worst nightmares: the look of fear, pain, and betrayal being the last thing he saw in your eyes before the life vanished from them completely.

He tried to forget that face, but he clung to any memory of your other faces the way a web clung to a spider's prey.

Many of the pages in his sketchbook were dedicated to those faces of yours. Many lives were taken from poor fools foolish enough to be curious about them.

None of your faces---or bodies, for that matter---were exactly the same; there was always some small difference.

Eye color. Hair length. Freckles. Height.

There was always something different.

But despite that, it was always you.

So imagine his surprise when it was you---or at least, a particularly familiar stranger---he spotted strolling out of the Wet Wick and through the streets of the Amaryllis district as he waited for the Senobium cleric given the unfortunate task of having to deal with him today to finish her business.

Whatever was left of his heart froze for a moment and his lungs felt as if they were filled with dread instead of air.

Surely it wasn't you.

It couldn't have been you.

He easily could've just ignored them; let them walk past without any knowledge he was there.

But he had to know. He had to be sure.

He needed them closer---needed them to turn and look him in the eyes so he could get a proper read on their soul; it would put any and every question to rest.

Besides; if it wasn't you, then they'd make a good distraction for the night before he inevitably killed them by the next morning.

But if it was…

As he pondered on what exactly he would do if it really was you, the stranger strolled further down the street. He had to act quickly.

It wasn't much of a hassle; just a little trick with the shadows which loomed from the walls of the surrounding buildings.

The stranger froze, the smell of their fear permeating the air as he nabbed a key from their cloak's pocket.

They reeked of blood, death, sweat, and cheap booze. The latter two scents weren't unexpected; they did just leave the Wick, though he did let out a brief, rumbling snarl when he smelled that damned hound on them. The former, however? Neither of the two scents were uncommon in this shithole; just earlier today he watched as a few locals stepped over a partly rotted corpse that had been left in a walkway because nobody could be bothered to clean it up.

But the scent clinging to the stranger was a bit different---as if it was the stench of their own death and blood clinging to them instead of someone else's.

How curious…

He retracted the beastly shadow once he noticed they were going to turn around; finally allowing him to see their face.

It looked startlingly similar to the face you the day of the incident. The only immediate difference he could spot was that their hair was off a shade.

They surveyed the area, panicked and confused, before finally spotting him, sitting on a stoop and lounged against a wall.

While he was able to see their eyes now that they were looking at him, he wasn't able to get a good view of their soul just yet.

He needed them closer.

He baited them with their key---claiming that they had dropped it, but he didn't want to toss it to them, just in case some urchin ran by and stole it while it was still in the air.

They didn't trust it. If it weren't an inconvenience to him, he would've laughed at how they were smart enough to be cautious of him right off the bat despite getting all close and personal with Leander.

But with some teasing and flirting, he eventually managed to urge them closer---even if it was just to snatch up their key and move away from him as quick as they could.

Unfortunately for them, he was faster.

As they made to grab their key from his palm, he snatched their wrist and pulled them closer; finally giving him the chance and view that he needed… as well as a good whiff of the smell of that fucking doctor.

His suspicions on that note were proven to be correct, but there was something else…

Something not quite Human, but also not quite Monster… How inter---

"VERE!"

And of course the fucking cleric chose right then stop taking her sweet time. Gods-fucking-dammit.

He managed to trick the woman into believing he was just chatting with a friend and sent the stranger off with some free advice before the cleric dragged him off on his leash.

As he listed to the sound of their footsteps as they walked away---at an insultingly yet understandably brisk pace---he made a mental note to go visit the Wick once he was let off his leash for the night.

He'd get another chance there.

-=-=-=-=-

The Wick was suficatingly filled with the usual regulars; the stench of sweating, unwashed bodies watered-down booze clouding the humid air.

Vere sat by Ais---who had only just showed up less than an hour ago---towards the end of the bar, watching the crowd.

He still hasn't spotted the stranger yet. At this point, he was starting to wonder if he was wrong about their lodgings. He was close to just leaving---the mixture of annoyance at his incorrect guess and at Leander's joyful chitchat making a truly dangerous combination.

"Pardon me."

No human being would've been able to hear the soft-spoken request from where he was sitting, but Vere could hear the doctor perfectly well as he parted his way through the crowd.

His exasperation at his appearance was just enough for him to almost get up and leave---until he spied two heads trailing behind Kuras's towering form:

Mhin, who apparently formed a habit of following Kuras around like a lost kitten whenever they needed something to do with their time…

And the stranger from before.

About damn time.

He watched as the trio approached Leander, who was just putting the finishing touches on whatever abomination of a drink he was trying to kill Ais with this time. He was momentarily distracted at the glowing green liquid in the glasses that Leander slid down to them, which was followed by Ais downing it in one go.

"It's chewy."

"Chewy? Wait, let me try again…"

"I told you this place was a nest of degenerates."

Vere's attention was drawn back towards the three at the sound of Mhin's grumbling. As Mhin and Kuras quietly spoke to each other, the stranger observed the bar; seeming surprised to see him and Ais there.

He noticed that their gaze lingered on him for a moment longer than it did for Ais before they returned their attention back to their companions.

"Ah, if it isn't Kuras and Mhin!" Leander exclaimed, finally taking notice of them.

Either he didn't see the stranger, or they haven't been introduced yet.

"Good evening, Leander. Ais. Another drinking competition?" Kuras said, approaching the bar and ignoring him entirely.

Good. He didn't need another annoyance on top of everything else already.

Vere just turned to Mhin. "I almost didn't see you there, Mhin. Looking for your booster seat?"

It was petty and entirely unprovoked, but he needed to take the edge off somehow.

The white-haired mercenary pushed back their hood. "I though Ais wasn't allowed to bring his pets in here."

Oh this little---

As Vere's ears flattened against his head and his tail twitched angrily, Leander vaulted over the bar, slotting himself in between Ais and Kuras, snaking an arm around the latter's shoulders and offering him one of his horrible drinks---effectively preventing a fight.

"I'm afraid not. We were merely escorting them back to their lodgings." He responded, gesturing to the stranger, who reluctantly stepped out of the shadows at their acknowledgment.

Leander's face brightened---indicating that the two of them had, in fact, been acquainted. He immediately waved them over and introduced them to him and Ais.

(The name was different than the last one he remembered you bearing, but that didn't mean much of anything. They were almost always different---except for that one time, but even then, the spelling was different.)

Once again, they were still too far for him to get a good look at their soul. At this point, he almost believed they were doing it to be spiteful.

Leander starts talking again, and Vere tunes him out as he orders a flute of champagne---the only drink that doesn't taste too much like rat's piss.

Everyone's attention turned towards him when the bartender popped the bottle.

"They serve champagne here? Since when?"

"You don't mind, do you?"

"No, be my guest. I know you've got expensive taste…"

Vere sipped from his glass as Leander shot the bartender a frantic look and Ais offered to buy a drink for the stranger---calling them "Sparrow" as he did so.

Leander interjected and offered to buy them a drink instead.

It's their first night here and they've already got these two in a dick measuring contest over them. He was almost impressed.

Either way, they get their drink and Leander holds a toast to their arrival---much to their own dismay. Vere was finding himself more and more peeved by the minute, but still, he lingered.

They'd move towards him eventually; he was sure of it.

The conversation moved---Vere learned that the outsider apparently already managed to find themself on death's door twice today. Clearly, they had not taken his oh-so generously offered advice earlier.

Vere just turns to speak to Ais for a moment. Once he tunes back into what the rest of them are doing, he notices that Kuras, Leander, and Mhin have all disappeared somewhere; leaving the poor outsider all on their own.

"Lost your tour guide?"

They turn to him and Ais, their expression going from indifferent to mildly irritated.

Guess Ais left a bad impression on them as well. Or he was just particularly successful in his earlier ploy to annoy them.

He tried to offer them the seat next to Ais, but they were still hesitant.

Ah. The song and dance continues.

"How about we start fresh, hm? Begin with proper introductions, get off on the right foot and whatnot. I'll start…" He readjusted himself on the counter, resting his chin on the back of his hand, "The name's Vere. Hunter extraordinaire."

They were quiet for a moment. "I'm sure you already know my name…"

"Hard not to when Leander's shouting it every other second. It's a pleasure to formally meet you…"

His tone when he spoke their name was slow and deliberate, savoring every syllable; earning him yet another flustered reaction.

They were far too easy. If they weren't who he thought they were, they'd be fun to toy with for the night.

They glance over Ais's shoulder, then they start heading towards the entrance. "I'll be back."

He just hummed and waved his fingers at them. As they stepped away, he considered ordering another drink, but chose not to. It would be easier to plan a way to get them closer if he were at least somewhat sober.

Then he heard a grunt behind him. "Out of my way, shitstain."

Turning, he saw that the outsider had apparently bumped into some drunken roughneck. Or maybe it was the other way around.

"You watch it!"

Probably the other way around, then.

That was enough to piss off the roughneck, who shoved a bloodhound out of the way as he angrily stalked towards the outsider. Once he makes it over, he shoves them down to the floor.

Well, that's certainly an issue for his plans.

Fortunately, before he can start throwing punches, a few bloodhounds circle the two of them; sizing him up as the outsider was still stuck on the floor.

Ultimately, the roughneck was smart enough to back off at that point. He spat at them, barely missing their cheek, and started to walk away…

Only to find himself face to face with Ais.

Ais smiled. "You'll do."

Then he punches him square in the jaw. Chaos follows in the form of shouting and cheering as the outsider scrambles to their feet.

It doesn't take long for Leander to yell at the two of them to take it outside and distract the rest of the bar-goers with a free drink; immediately followed by the bartender throwing him an annoyed glance as everyone else started cheering.

Ais left out a back exit, dragging his quarry out with him.

Kuras lingers near the door, surveying the bar for any wounded people before departing.

Mhin drew up their hood and slipped through a side door, apparently separated from Kuras during the brief fight.

Leander made his way to the bar opposite of where Vere sat, frantically apologizing to the bartender.

Vere just leaned over and grabbed a glass of wine from behind the bar, watching the outsider through his peripheral vision.

They stand still for a moment, surveying the bar. Then, they move towards him; their steps hesitant. Eventually, they slide into the seat beside him as he sips from the wine glass.

Finally.

He didn't turn to them just yet; souls were easier to read when their bearer was vulnerable. He wanted them to let their guard down, first.

"I didn't think you planned on sticking around."

"A free drink's a free drink, even if it tastes like rat piss."

"Didn't you say you wouldn't be caught dead slumming in this shithole?"

He sips from his glass, tail thrashing below the bar. "You've caught me red handed." He peered at them over the rim of his glass, "How ever will you punish me?"

"I figured my company's punishment enough for you."

Vere felt a small smile form on his lips. "So, you survived the night. Are you here for praise or would a headpat do?"

"About that. Turns out you were right; I did run into trouble---"

He knows. He could smell the Seaspring's lingering odor on them, as well as the stench of a Soulless.

"---Now I don't know if you're and oracle, a threat, or just completely full of shit."

He scoffed. "Most people would buy me a drink before insulting me."

"After the way you jerked me around? If anyone's owed a drink, it's me."

He didn't dignify that statement with an immediate response. Then, he propped his chin on his wrist. "I don't think you understand how things work around here. Information is a luxury; one you flung so carelessly aside."

"I'm not following."

"If you valued my words, you'd have taken them seriously. I gave you free advice---warned you of the danger you were in, and still you went parading off to the Seaspring. Small wonder the Soulless didn't tear you to ribbons."

"How did you know---"

"I have a very sensitive nose, remember?"

They glared at him. "Right how could I forget. Do you normally greet people by shoving your nose into their laps like an overeager Labrador?"

Vere glared at them for a heartbeat; a warning. Then, he laughed under his breath.

He'd let them get away with that one. After all, they only just got here. It's not like they knew…

"Only the ones I like." He sets aside his now empty wine glass and reaches for a long-abandoned tumbler of whiskey. "But the truth is, I despise most people."

His eyes flickered over their shoulder as Leander's boisterous laughter erupted from the other side of the bar, as if proving his point.

"What about me? Now that we've started off on the right foot…"

At last, he turned to face them fully. His gaze slowly glided over them as he sized them up, before finally ending on their eyes.

He could see the faint flickering of an agonizingly thick layer of suffering. An enticing sight, but still an inconvenient one. The suffering that one has gone through during their life always clouded the true nature of their soul; especially if it was left untreated.

"I haven't made up my mind about you, yet."

He turned back to the bar. Neither of them said anything for a moment.

"Have I done something to piss you off."

He let out a short sigh. "No. I'm just disappointed. People like us can't help but attract danger. Yet you seek it out, and for what? Cheap thrills?"

"I wasn't trying to get eaten by Soulless! There's something I'm looking for…"

"And you think Mhin can help you? Leander!? Are you really willing to risk your life with those dipshits?"

"What life? You've got no idea what I've gone through--- Oh, forget it."

They made to get up from their seat, but Vere stopped them by softly placing his hand on their shoulder; little more than a brush, but apparently enough to get their attention.

He said nothing, for a moment---simply searching their eyes; trying to glean whatever information he could from the suffering which marred their soul.

Now that he actually had a moment to read it, the answer was clear as day: betrayal.

Yet there was something… different, about it. There were many forms of betrayal, and each one left its own distinct mark, but whatever form this outsider faced was new.

No, not new. Not quite. Instead, there appeared to be two different type of betrayal there: one dealt recently, and one that seemed more… ancient.

The outsider simply continued to become more and more interesting by the hour.

"They couldn't even begin to understand you. But I could. I could help you, if only you'd listen."

"…How do I know I can trust you?"

"You don't. But I'm slightly less inclined to waste your time with empty flattery and insults than those two."

They didn't respond to that.

"Is what you desire truly worth risking your life for?"

"If you knew what kind of life I've live, you wouldn't be asking."

Vere considered their response for a long moment before speaking again. "Will you trust me?"

"…For now."

Vere ignored the oddly familiar pinprick of satisfaction in his chest. "Good enough for me." He raised the tumbler to them, then he snapped back the dregs. He wiped his mouth on the back of his hand once he finished. "Let's talk. Outside. If I have to smell Leander's skunky aftershave for much longer, I'll hurl."

He slipped away from the bar, leaving the outsider to trail after him, out a side door and into and alleyway.

< Part One | Part Three (WIP) >

[starkspondwater]

kyle broflovski x reader who is seen as the weird kid because she doesn't talks alot,has social anxiety,and likes things like five nights and Freddy's and listens to weezer ( also if your comfortable with it can they be dating pretty please it's ok if not I completely understand also how have you been hopefully good?)

I am currently getting over being sick, so I've been aa huge baby for the last 2 days but all is good! I hope you've been doing well too!

I tried to make sure I included everything- sometimes a little subtly and I hope that's alright! (I also don't think any of those things is weird, but I also know how shallow people get with interests so I wrote that in!)

Summary: Kyle's got a girlfriend that some of his classmates find a little odd. While he loves how different she is, he can't help but feel anger at how others have been treating her (fluff)

a/n: Cartman is an ass in this because I think he makes for an easy antagonist. I did add a bit of conflict because we know Kyle is protective over people he cares for and you'd have to pry that hc from my cold dead hands.

An Odd Pair- Kyle Broflovski x Weird!Reader

“Kahl, what the fuck is wrong with your girlfriend?”

“Watch your goddamn mouth, fat ass,” Kyle narrowed his eyes at the large boy to his left. It was game night at Stan’s and while Kyle wasn’t super into board games, he wasn’t going to pass up a chance to spend time with most of his favorite people, Cartman excluded.

“I’m just saying, the bitch is weird and you need to drop her if you want your social stock to rise,” shoving a handful of cheesy poofs in his mouth, Cartman continued talking through his mouthful. “I’m just trying to help you, Jew.”

“Cartman, lay off. Let Kyle like who he likes, it’s not like it affects you,” Stan jumped in, the instructions to their game loosely held in his hands. Kyle could tell he was already growing irritated as it had been an hour passed and they had not gotten any closer to actually playing the damn game.

“Nuh-uh! I have to see her everywhere!” 

Standing up abruptly, Kyle strode out of the kitchen to the back porch, taking in the fresh air. He was getting really tired of this shit. It was one thing when it was Cartman since he was always an asshole, but lately he had started hearing the same sentiments from other friends of his and he was growing more and more pissed off.

He can easily recall the first day he met you, a fond smile finally breaking out on his lips. He had seen you around before in hallways around school or at lunch, always with earbuds in and eyes glued to the phone in your hands. To most people you would be just another character in the background, but to him you were different. Interesting. 

Most kids around here hid their more…special interests. After elementary school the true popularity contests started making others bury hobbies and loved activities deep underground. Stan had his board games, Butters had his cozy sims, even Cartman had his interest in animation, but none of it was considered public information to the masses. 

You, however, wore yours on your sleeve. Shirts depicting games, movies, and bands you constantly wore showed off many of those things you so loved. More than once, Kyle had even caught sight of your phone and recognized some of the let’s plays you watched. You did that one quite openly, phone propped up on your desk or the lunch table as you ate. 

It was…off putting. In a small town, differences set you apart in a bad way. As a result you were either straight up ignored or talked about in hushed whispers behind your back. Kyle, however, only felt a pull towards you. 

He knew you were quiet and preferred solitude to being in crowds from how he watched you. It was a Friday afternoon when school had let out that he finally caught you sitting on a bench outside of the school. You had immediately frozen at the sight of him, but before you could rise and dash away he pointed to your shirt.

“Five Nights? I, uh, played that with my little brother. It’s pretty good, right?” His voice was uncertain, unsure if it was the right thing to say. When your eyes widened and a shy smile appeared, he knew it was.

You sat there for close to two hours after school had let out, talking about various games, which turned into discussing music, which eventually led to him dropping you off at home with the promise to talk on discord. Oh how he really liked you then. 

He could say with certainty that he loved you now.

It had been months of late night chats, watching let’s plays, and listening to each other's playlists that slowly started sounding very much the same. Kyle had a lot of his own safe-for-school hobbies like playing a few sports casually and being on debate (which thanks to Wendy Testaburger was considered a popular thing nowadays), but you brought out things about himself that made him feel young and relaxed. There wasn’t any shame in liking those things- especially since you liked them.

And he wasn’t going to stand for any slander against you.

_____

“Hey pretty!” Kyle greeted you with a quick kiss to the cheek. The hallway was bustling with students socializing and preparing for the day ahead. All you wanted to do was grab your books and get to your classroom before even more people could flood in.

“Hey,” your quiet voice was sweet to his ears, “Weren’t you supposed to drive Ike this morning? I figured I wouldn’t see you til lunch!” Something about Kyle always gave you a fluttery feeling on the inside. He was insanely sweet and kind, and if you were honest, the only person you knew outside of family that didn’t give you some sort of anxiety.

“He hitched a ride with Kenny’s sister. I actually wanted to ask you something…” he had been thinking this over all night, looking for a possible solution to the little problem with his friends. He thought that perhaps if he could show you how wonderful you were to his friends, that they might just lay the fuck off. And maybe that could spread to some of the other people he knew, like a domino effect. 

It was a long shot but he needed to do something.

“We’re having a little get together at Cartman’s, and I wanted you to go with me.” 

You just stared owlishly at the boy in front of you.

“Why?” Kyle blinked at the question.

“You’re my girlfriend…I don’t know, I just want my friends and my girlfriend to hang out every once in a while.” He rubbed the back of his neck. He wasn’t expecting you to jump for joy at the thought but didn’t expect you to just stand there frozen.

After a few moments you seemed to break out of your daze, scrunching your eyebrows in thought. You really didn’t want to do this, the thought of being in a space like that with people you knew didn’t like you was…a lot. You heard the whispers, it’s not like they were being particularly that quiet about it, you just ignored them. But being at a party…you couldn’t ignore it then.

But Kyle looked so disappointed, like he already knew what your answer would be. He did so much already, like putting up with you and dealing with your little quirks. Maybe you could do this one thing, and everything would be fine.

“Sure.” The beaming smile he gave told you all you needed to know. You were going to your first party.

_____

It had already been going on for a while by the time the two of you arrived, music pouring out of the teen filled home.

You already wanted to leave.

“He said it was just going to be a few people…” Kyle muttered, the hand that wasn’t holding yours clenching. He turned to you nervously. “If you want to bail, I get it.”

Taking a deep breath, you shook your head. It would be fine.

Kyle led you through the crowd in the front room, heading resolutely to the kitchen. He heaved a sigh of relief seeing Kenny and Stan at the counter. 

“Hey dude! Was wondering when you’d show- oh hey Y/N!” Kenny’s bright toothy grin did little to calm your nerves. You had spent very minimal time with Kyle’s close friends, much less with Cartman who would loudly proclaim that you were ‘ruining guy time.’ It wasn’t like they were awful to you, but it was painfully awkward at the best of times.

“Hi…” with a small wave of your hand you tried to smile back in greeting. You quickly noticed the look Stan gave over your head to Kyle, and went to look at the red head who only gave you a reassuring hand squeeze. 

“Want a drink?” Stan angled the question more at you than Kyle, making you shake your head. “Not a big drinker, that’s alright!” 

The three boys started their conversation easily, with a comfort you could only wish to have in that regard. You tried to be a part of it the best you could, really, but every time there was a pause where you could insert yourself in you just stayed silent. But still, this wasn’t as god awful as you thought it would-

“Kahl. What the hell is she doing here?” An obnoxious voice boomed from the doorway making you flinch. Eric Cartman was as intimidating to you as anything. He was brash and loud, two things you did not mesh with in the slightest. 

“She’s my girlfriend asshole, I’m allowed to bring her to a party if I want.” Kyle kept his voice steady but the malice behind the words was heard loud and clear. A few other party goers in earshot stopped and turned.

You could feel a prickling feeling behind your eyes, your brain starting to go fuzzy with all the thoughts flying around in your head. Eric and Kyle had begun exchanging heated words but all you could hear was the little voice in your brain chanting ‘You need to leave.’

Your eyes darted around, spotting the sliding glass door to the back yard. It wasn’t a direct exit to the front, you thought as you turned towards the door, but it would have to do. Before you could take a step however, a hand firmly, but not painfully, gripped your upper arm.

“Hey, mind if I come with?” Kenny still had that carefree smile on his face as he maneuvered you outside, sliding the door shut and cutting out some of the party noise. Sitting down on the small wooden porch, he gestured for you to do the same. He lit a cigarette, letting smoke rise into the air for a few minutes while you calmed down.

“Y’know, Kyle talks about you a lot,” he said with a chuckle, “like I don’t think I’ve ever heard the guy express affection the way he does with you.”

Your cheeks heated at his words. Fiddling with the bracelets at your wrist you said nothing, not because you didn’t want to, but because at the moment your brain could only draw blanks. 

“He’s a lot more relaxed now too, which is great because I’m sure you know how stressed he gets,” putting out his smoke on the damp grass below, the blond turned and looked at you. “I know you’re a little shy and all, but we would like to get to know you a little more outside of what Ky tells us. After all, if our ginger is serious enough about you to make this kind of scene, you must be something special.”

Sure enough you could hear the faint sound of Kyle drilling into Cartman, but refused to look. You struggled to keep your eyes on Kenny’s face as you tried to stamp down the anxiety that had been steadily coiling throughout the day. It meant a lot that Kyle thought so highly of you, even if no one else here did, and you thought the same of him. He obviously wanted you to be around his friends in some capacity…it couldn’t hurt to let them in, at least a little.

_____

It took Stan, Clyde, and Tolkien to separate the two boys before it came to blows. It wasn’t unlike Cartman to instigate things to such a degree, but Kyle had been on edge for a while now when it came to you. Stan figured it was about time for things to come to a head. 

“Hey man, chill out for a minute. Turn away from him.” Stan had a strong grip on Kyle’s shoulders, forcibly turning him away from the rest of the room. “You alright?”

“I am just so sick of people saying stuff about her!” Kyle’s voice had dropped, but the anger was ever present. “She’s just trying like everyone else to be happy. She’s allowed to like different things, so what if it’s not ‘cool’ or some shit! You know she-” 

Kyle’s eyes caught something over his friend’s shoulder, causing Stan to turn around. Through the sliding doors sat you and Kenny hunched over your phone, laughter barely heard from their place inside.

“Well, she seems to be doing just fine,” Stan smiled at the sight. He had been a little wary of you at first, but once he saw how happy Kyle had become once getting together with you, he was sold. Despite how odd a pair the two of you may have seemed to the superficial social hierarchy of South Park, he saw that you two fit each other perfectly.

“I really shouldn’t have dragged her here,” sighing, Kyle sagged a bit next to his friend. “She’s got some social anxiety and I know this is not her cup of tea. Maybe I shouldn’t have been so hasty.”

Both boys watched for a moment as you and Kenny talked. After another minute you both made your way back inside with twin grins. Kyle was relieved that even after his fit you didn’t hesitate to mold yourself back to his side, fingers interlacing with his own.

“Stan, get this, Weezer is going to be in Denver next month. You, me, Y/N, and Kyle. If we pool our money together we can easily have enough gas to get there and back,” Kenny then turned and bowed to you, who had since erupted into giggles. “Miss Y/N here has graciously informed me that she knows how to get discounted tickets.”

“Oh I’m fucking down!” Stan was grinning now too, his eyes bright, “and it would do Cartman well to miss out on something he likes for once.”

“Oh, he’s a fan?” You asked, tilting your head. You had recalled hearing that same boy make fun of another kid for wearing a band T shirt, so the whole thing was rather confusing. 

“Oh, big time,” Kyle peered down at you, affection clear in his eyes. “Besides, it’ll be much more fun with just us four.”

The party was forgotten as your group of four stayed huddled in the kitchen discussing possible plans and having a much more relaxed time than you had expected. Kyle watched as his friends happily talked with you, and for once you talked back with a confidence he never saw out of your private moments together. The whole picture in front of him made him feel warm, knowing that you were making two new friends that he knew were good enough for you.

Maybe he didn’t need everyone to like you. If they didn’t, they certainly weren’t worth it. In his mind nothing about you or what you liked was wrong or weird, that you were perfect regardless of anyone else’s opinions. That’s all that mattered to him.

[brokenpieces-72]

Hi, I hope your day is going well. I just wanted to request a what if Tagger had been raised by Price/141 instead of Graves headcanons or shorts. I love the idea of this AU and I hope you continue with season 2!

Thanks! -☀️

Hi, I'm doing alright, just been busy with a lot of different stuff. I'm also gonna be transparent and say I suggested this request, and appreciate the lov for the series. I may continue with more parts, but it will be much more condensed, and feel free to request for more of it.

What if...

TW/CW: mentions of funeral and death, sexual harrassment, a ton of angst, some mentions of neglect, let me know if there's anything else.

Price stood some distance from the ceremony. Laswell noticed him, but kept her peace. They both knew what happened. Didn't make it any less difficult to accept the outcome. Graves glanced at him but said nothing, more focused on you and his partner's burial. Price noticed how you kept fidgeting with Graves leaning down to say something to you. Likely telling you to be still, and that it was almsot over. You were still wearing that red scarf.

Once you were gone, along with the other attendees Price made his way to the grave. He stood over your father, thinking, remembering. A hand touched his shoulder and he whipped around, half expecting it to be Makarov. Instead he was met with a surprised Kate Laswell. He took a breath apologizing for his abruptness.

"After everything, I would be more concerned if you weren't on high alert." Laswell said. Price faced the grave again, lowering his head. Laswell stayed next to him, a case held in front of her. It may be the first and last time he ever saw her in a skirt. After some time, Laswell spoke up again. "We should get to the waking."

"Not going." Price said, almost sounding like a teenager.

"You have to." Laswell insisted.

"Why?" Price asked, sighing. The last thing he wanted was to go to the waking. It was too much. You would be there, along with Graves, and just imagining how it would go... he couldn't stand that. Then Laswell went into her briefcase, and took out a letter, with Price's name on it. He took it, recognizing the handwriting. "What's this?"

He opened it before Laswell answered, "The reason you have to go. I have one too."

Price read over the letter your father had written him. In case he died, but there was likely a will written as well. This was a final request in case of an untimely death. Price remembered the night when you father showed him and the others your baby photos. Your father asked them to watch over you and protect you. If John knew this was what your father meant, he might have never made the promise to do so. Price sighed, finishing the letter and rubbing at his cleanly shaven face.

"Laswell, I can't do this." Price said, referring to the letter.

"John, Y/N has no other relatives to go with, if you turn this down, they'll be taken by CPS." Laswell said. John recognized that tone. She was laying down the law to him, it was take it or risk it. "The wrong people could get to them."

Price's eyes turned to Laswell, then back to the grave. Laswell put a hand on his back, and led him to the parking lot.

Price stepped inside the house, the simple act of opening the door feeling like a siren going off amongst the deep silence of the mourners. No one paid him much mind. If he could, he would have waited for them to all leave before collecting you. If he did that it would scare you, a complete stranger taking you away. He was still a stranger to you, but at least you wouldn't be alone meeting him.

Among the crowd, Price found Alex, greeting him. The two had a small conversation, Price needing a drink to get some of his nerves back. He felt like a cadet about to meet his drill sergeant. At least if he talked to Alex, no one would think he was intruding. "Do you know where Y/N is?"

Alex glanced around and gestured towards Graves who was talking to other guests. The way he was standing, his hands out, like he's trying to guard something. Rather someone. "He hasn't left their side. Won't let anyone get too close. If Graves is around, they're somewhere in a corner."

"Thank you." Price said, giving Alex a friendly nod before making his way slowly towards Graves. In between people, Price could pick out your red scarf. The one splash of colour in a cloud of smokey black. He overheard someone trying to get Graves to take away the red scarf, saying that something red around your neck during a time of death and mourning was inappropriate. They were told no immediately, so at least Graves wasn't a complete asshole.

John made his way over to you, clutching the letter in his hand. He got to Graves, who didn't look happy to see him.

"Don't do this." Graves told him., keeping his voice low. Price looked at you, sitting on a step, not a tear in sight. "Don't do this."

"I don't have a choice." Price said, holding up the letter, offering it to Graves. Graves looked it over, while you remained in our own space, not making eye contact with anyone. Phil pressed his lips giving the letter back to Price.

"They'll hate you." Graves put bluntly.

"This is about loyalty and fulfilling his request." Price said. Graves sighed.

“Don’t break em.” Graves said. When they turned to talk to you, you had vanished. Both men were confused and Graves noticed the back door was open. Graves noticed Alex heading towards a tree. Price stopped him, saying you needed some time. Alex knew what he was doing.

You came back inside with Alex, because he had to leave. He gave you a big hug. You could find him if you ever needed another one. Even gave you his number. Price stood not too far away seeing your face red, and sniffling. You’d been out there crying with Alex. If Price could he would have asked Alex to take you, but he was a cop too. You shouldn’t have to relive the pain.

Others said good bye and Graves stood close by while Price kept his distance again. Laswell came up to see you.

“Hello, Y/N.” she said. You seemed to straighten around her.

“Hello Ms. Laswell.” You said, politely. Laswell got down to your level and asked if she could talk to you alone. You agreed and Laswell looked to Graves who backed off. Laswell had been a bit of a babysitter to you on occasion. Taught you to be respectful.

Price waited while she spoke to you in another room. It was a few minutes before Kate came back out with you. You and John made eye contact. Before Graves could come back over to you, you fled. You scrambled upstairs and a door was slammed shut, while Graves stopped himself at the bottom. Anyone who remained looked up at the ceiling at the sudden crash of sound.

"I should go, get a room for them ready." Price said. You needed some time, and Price wasn't about to drag you away kicking and screaming. Graves agreed to staying the night at the house, hopefully able to get you packed to leave. Price headed home, and pulled himself through the process of making a room up for you.

Price came to collect you, only to learn just how much of a state you were in. Alex answersd the door, explaining he returned at Graves request. He wasn’t having much luck either. Luck with what? Well… Price would have to see for himself. The two went upstairs where Graves looked exhausted and was pacing outside of what Price guessed was your room. Graves explained you hadn’t left the room all night, only to use the bathroom and even then you were able to avoid Graves. You were also under your bed, and kept shutting the door at every chance Graves stepped out. Even Alex seemed exhausted by the futile attempts.

Graves knocked on your door again. “Y/N you have to come out now. Mr. Price is here.”

“Go away!” They heard your small muffled voice from the other side. Price wanted to do just that, leave Alex and Graves to take care of you. He had a duty to his friend.

“We’re not going anywhere kid, can you please come out?” Graves asked, very clearly fed up.

“No!” You shouted. Okay Graves was done. He stormed in and tried to drag you out from under the bed. Graves forgot that you had teeth though and you fled further back, unreachable without moving the bed. Alex dragged him out while Price kept his opinions on Phil’s injury to himself. Price stepped forward.

“Y/N can you come out please?” Price asked, standing outside your room still. You didn’t respond so he tried a new approach. “May I come in then?”

No answer. Price entered the room slowly. He found two small suitcases on the floor, open and half packed. Probably done by Alex and Phil. You were nowhere to be seen, but Pirce could hear you moving under the bed. John was impressed you’d put up a fight this long, more than 12 hours since he’d seen you, under the bed that whole time. Must be starving.

There were soft whimpers as Price came closer to your bed. Graves probably freaked you out. John let out a breath through his nose. Why would you want to leave and with him no less? A practical stranger. “Can we talk?”

“I don’t wanna go.” You whimpered under the bed. Price carefully sat on the edge of the bed.

“I don’t want you to either. Your father asked me to look after you, and my work is all in the city, I can’t move it. I want you to be safe.” Price explained.

“I’m safe here.” You argued.

“Under your bed? Not much for food or bathroom.” Price pointed out, his response a little more light hearted.

“… I don’t wanna.” Your tiny voice whimpers.

Guilt hit Price like a wrecking ball. You lost your dad and now you were about to lose your home.

“We’ll come visit. When we can, I can even ask someone to come with you to stay the night. We can’t come back all the time, but we can for a bit. Visit your dad too.” Price told you. “You don’t have to leave forever, but you can’t stay. One day you can even move back in here.”

After a few moments, mulling over the offer, Price heard shuffling from underneath him. You poked your head out looking up at him, as he looked down at you. Still wearing your attire from yesterday, eyes red, tears stains on your cheeks and dust bunnies in your hair.

“Promise?”

“Promise.” Price said nodding.

You come out of the hiding spot, rubbing your eyes.

“You want to change, first?” Price asked. You did. Price helps you finish pack your things while you’re sniffling and staying strong. He tells you to find your comfiest clothes to change into. You were being very good, listening to Price as he helped you get clothes, a few toys and your hygiene products packed up. This wouldn’t be a fun time, but he’d make it as easy for you as he could.

Graves gives you some final words, reminding you to behave, and be safe. Alex gave you a hug, reminding you he lived in the city. If you needed him, he would come help you as best he could. Alex tried to let you go but you didn’t.

“Be brave kiddo.” He told you. You nodded, and left with them to the car. Kyle was waiting with his vehicle, having driven Price over. He let you get in the back while Price sat in the front. You curled up in the backseat, making yourself as small as possible.

“Y/N, this is Kyle.” Price said.

“Hello.” Kyle said turning back to see you.

“Hi.” You said, your voice still small.

“You hungry?” He asked. You looked at Price who shrugged. Your call. You nodded to Kyle. Kyle faced forward and started driving.

Price did his best, though he needed Kyle’s help with driving you to and from school. Going back to school isn’t very easy. You struggle with getting out of bed, and sometimes Price has to leave at odd hours. Kyle was your driver too though, and if he noticed you weren’t doing well, he didn’t make you go right away. Sometimes you had to take the train, and that was fine too. Kyle could still help you with making sure you got out of bed.

Price got a few calls from the school asking about your absences and late attendances. They were more frequent once you reached Highschool. When he asks Kyle about it, knowing he was a good driver with good timing, no reason you should be late.

“Sometimes Y/N needs extra time.” Kyle said shrugging.

“What about the absences?” Price asked.

“…some of the other students have been giving them a hard time.” Kyle admitted. Price was frustrated. “Told me not to tell you, I promised.”

“Is that how they got a black eye?” Price asked. You said it was from gym class. Kyle pressed his lips like he was trying to keep the truth from coming out. That was enough for Price. The reality was that as you got older Price got more and more distant. You were still looked after but you barely talked to him.

When you came home from school that day, Price was waiting. Your eye was still healing. He didn’t say hello, just asked you to sit down.

“I have homework to d-“

“Sit.” Price said. One word and it felt like law. You sat down setting your bag down, not as heavy as Price thought it should be.

“What happened to your eye? The truth.”

“Who told you?”

“Your teachers have been telling me you haven’t been showing up to school, Kyle mentioned you might be having a rough time.” Price said. “Two and two make four.”

“Got into a fight, they wouldn’t leave me alone. Tried to shove them off, they hit me in the eye.” You said, ashamed and not able to make eye contact.

To your surprise, Price wasn't upset or angry, at least not with you. Instead he asked you to stand up, and held his palm up, telling you to strike it. Before you could, he corrected your posture, and ensured you thumb was outside your fist. You spent a good portion of the evening doing that. Price didn't just act as your practice dummy, he made sure to show you how to dodge and get out of trouble. You found yourself smiling, as he started to mess with you, seeing him smile as well.

The next day you got up. You went out to the kitchen hoping Price would be there. Maybe he used to box and you could... no. Price had already left, the night before feeling like a hopeful fantasy.

You started acting out more. Kyle would come to pick you up, if it wasn't someone in a cop car. Price had laid out some rules about a curfew, making sure your homework was done, going to school on time, no more skipping class, etc. Honestly you didn't want to skip class anymore if it meant you couldn't graduate. The sooner you got out of Price's house, the better. It just felt too empty in there. Price was aware everytime you acted up, you didn't know it, but he was tracking your phone.

One such time that Kyle picked you up, he took you to the pub, and you met Nikolai. Nik wasn't about to let you sit around and do nothing. Price was out at the moment, and Kyle had work of his own. It was you and Nik moving around supplies, one by one. Mostly it was bottles, both full and empty. Then some sweeping, wiping down tables, the usual clean up tasks.

Nik didn't just put you to work, he talked to you, asked you about your life and what your interests were. Maybe he would report it back to Price. Then again, you didn't have many people you felt you could socialize with. Nik is pretty friendly. He answered any questions you had for him but when it came to Price... it wasn't for him to tell you. Yeah Price can be closed off, sure he likes foot ball, he and Laswell have known each other for a while, he owns the pub, but no, Nik can't tell you where Price goes all the time.

While this was happening, Price met up with the leader of the Vacqueros at a preview for a horse auction. Alejandro certainly lived up to the Vacqueros name. Originally Price was there to preview the horses himself, seemed like a good investment, and Alejandro had offered to join him. The conversation drifted to you though, as you had started to tag the Vacqueros' turf. Alejandro had a decent relationship with Price, enough that the two felt they could confide in each other from time to time. This was one of those times.

"I just don't know what to do with them." Price admitted. "They keep acting up what am I supposed to do? At this rate they're going to get themselves in trouble. Hell, I may as well let them, if only so they'll stop."

Alejandro sighed after hearing Price's troubles. Alejandro wasn't even a parent yet and he could tell what was going on. "Hermano, that's the point."

"What do you mean?" Price asked.

"They're acting up because they want to get caught."

"They are, and they've been told the consequences by the police no less, and still keep doing it. I can't exactly tell them Makarov could be looking for them, and I run a gang who is trying to take him out."

"They want you to catch them." Alejandro told him firmly. "They're doing it for your attention. They want you to catch them, tell them off, ask them what's going on."

Price sighed. Yeah that should have been more obvious. After everything, it had been difficult to find time for you, and as you got older he found it was harder and harder to talk to you. Alejandro saw him thinking it over and shrugged watching another horse do some laps.

"If you don't tell them soon, then one of these days someone is going to pick them up, and you won't like the outcome." Alejandro warned Price.

Maybe he should have done it that same night, before you fled through your window again. He didn't. When he returned to the pub, saw you smiling with Nikolai, he wanted to. Even got you to sit down, but then he got a call. An important one, and just asked that you not sneak out that night. Something was going on, he didn't want you caught in the crossfire. You just go to your room without a word to him. The slamming of your door spoke volumes.

You thought you'd started to make some friends at school. Some other artists who invited you to come for an art bomb. UV and glow in the dark paint, drinks, some food and music. It wasn't a huge party but you figured it could be a good chance to bond with some people. At the time, you were just desperate for friends, the chance to fit in. You never felt so naive in your life.

They invited you to a bar, saying you would meet up there. You came a little early, double checked the date and address, even before goin there. You stepped inside with your bag and peaked around for them inside. They were nowhere. You walked in and sat down at a table, a group of men loud and rowdy inside, playing games and shooting pool. You tugged your beanie down, trying to ignore them. A few watched you walk in and continued to look at you. You ignored them, pulling out your sketchbook. Maybe they were late?

"Aye, ya can't be sittin 'ere bonnie." Someone told you with a scottish accent. Your head shot up from your sketchbook to see a large man with a mohawk looking down at you. He looked a few years older than you.

"I have ID." You said. The man scoffed.

"The bar is reserved." He said. "The public know better than ta come in when we're 'ere."

You looked at the door where the sign still said open, but noticed that everyone in the bar seemed to be part of a larger group. You were the odd one out. "Just waiting on some friends."

"Shift it." He said more firmly. Your phone flashed, and you saw some messages. Texts from your friends, after you asked where they were. Taunts, insults, teasing. Someone even asking if they should bring you a condom just in case. Despite your reaction, your audible sigh of frustration, your harsh slam of your cellphone on the table, the man repeated himself. "Shift it."

You were done. You were so done, and so much shit was built up. "No."

The man leaned down closer, his voice getting low. "Listen if you donnae ge-"

"It's a bar!" You snapped at him, looking him in the eye. "I can sit here if I want, I have ID, and all I want right now is an iced tea and for your liquor breath to get out of my face."

You didn't realize it until you returned to your sketchbook, that your glare had been mixed with pain and frustration. He noiced your phone still going off, and you purposely shutting it off, and trying to get the messages to stop. The man backed off. "Can I see yer ID-"

You slammed it on the table. You were old enough for him, and he saw your name. The man went to the bar counter and you tried to hide yourself, as you felt your tears welling up. Focus on your drawing, just pay attention to that. It was a nice sketch, loose with some details needed. A calm relaxing landscape with a splash of weird to it. You take a few minutes to remove yourself from the group chat after telling all of them you would bring them a bulk pack of condoms so they could go fuck themselves and not worry about any of their crotch goblins plaguing the world.

Once you left the group chat you got up to get your drink. Someone else came up next to you at the bar counter, paying for your drink before inviting you to a game of pool. You weren't busy, and you didn't feel like you were ready to head back to Price's place.

You stood with a pool cue and had a couple of guys looking in your direction. The man with the mohawk kept watching you, seeing you make a good break. As the game went on, you kept your drink on a table, not worrying about it. You watched the table, about to take a sip of your drink, examining your next possible move. There was a good shot to sink two of yours, but you might get one of his if you're off too much. A single might be better, but the eight ball was in a bad place near the pocke-what the?!

The man from before, brushed his hand over the table the swept the eight ball into a pocket. Your oppponent stood up straight.

"I'm cutting you off." A husky voice said beside you. A man with a skull balaclava had suddenkly appeared next to you making you jump. The skull faced man took your drink away. "Johnny?"

"Yeah?" Johnny said, glancing over seeing the skull mask take your drink away. At least you had a name for the guy with the mohawk. You also noticed he was in the other guys face. You didn't speak up, letting it play out in front of you. He noticed you seemed a little scared.

"Hey bonnie?" Johnny asked. You looked around the room as if he could be referring to someone else. Yeah, unlikely. "Teams?"

You looked between the men, as the skull faced one left for the bar. You shrugged. "Sure."

The game resets and goes differently than before. The skullface, who Johnny called Ghost brought you a gingerale instead of an iced tea. Throughout the game, Johnny put himself between you and your opponents who seemed to be doing the same things as before. You picked up on what was happening by now, while Johnny made his presence known to the table. Didn't stop them from making lewd comments.

"Make sure you have a firm grasp of the shaft." One said as you took a shot.

"Easier to stab someone in the heart that way." You said, dead panned. Johnny was next to you, facing away from the table. He had a massive grin on his face. A few more shots in, and you saw a golden opportunity. The creep's buddy got in Johnny's way, while the creep himself leaned over to help you with your shot. You kept squirming trying to get him off, while he kept insisting. Before Ghost could come over to yank him off of you, you took your shot, forcing the cue hard into the creep's stomach, before your elbow stcuk him hard in the chest. Ghost intervened before you could skewer him and demanded the creep and his buddy piss off to some other shithole.

"Feel so stupid." You said at the bar. Johnny was sitting next to you with his own drink. The creep's had all left, but not without a bit of extra force from Ghost.

"Did try to warn ya, bonnie." Johnny said. Yeah, and you were too upset to listen. Once the creeps had left Johnny insisted that you stay for a little while in case they tried to pull something. He would call you a cab in a bit. As you sat with him, you felt comfortable. More than you had in a while. "Why didnae ya walk away?"

You shrugged. To prove yourself? Get yourself in trouble? Attention? To show off? You don't have much of an answer. Johnny sighed, reminding you to keep drinking your drink. "...why did you let me stay?"

Johnny had to admit that was a better question. "You were hurtin'. Didnae wanna be the cause for more."

"Thanks."

"Trouble at 'ome?" Johnny asked, taking a guess about what was bothering you.

"...my...my guardian he... I don't know he doesn't seem to care about me, but then puts these rules in place for me to follow. I break them and he doesn't seem to care, just bails me out. Everytime I try to make a connection with him something comes up, or he just avoids me. I mean... I'm glad CPS hasn't tried to take me away, but come on. I've been to the station more than once, and no one seems to notice. The one time I think I had some friends or people who wanted to get to know me and they're just dangling bait. How... how can you have people around you and feel so.... so alone?"

"Who's your guardian?" Johnny asked. "Could pay em a visit, tell 'im how talented ya are."

You smiled, feeling a little shy. He'd seen your sketchbook earlier. It would be kind of nice for someone to hopefully stand up to you. "Um... John Price."

Johnny's friendly smile changed. Right, you were that kid. He almost forgot. "That may be 'arder."

"You know him?"

"Yep." Johnny said immediately. Shit he shouldn't have said that. Your sigh of frustration told him it was a mistake. "Bonnie, I hate ta tell ya, but... you need to put your foot down."

"What do you mean?" You asked.

"Price knows potential. He's strict with it to improve it, I know first hand." Johnny told you, treating you like an old friend in need of guidance. "If you're fed up, walking away isnae goin' to prove anything, or lashing out. You need to talk to him, face to face. Yell if ya have to."

"Lass." Ghost said before you could reply to Johnny's advice. "Cab's waiting."

You gathered your things and hurried off, giving the two a quick good bye. Johnny watched you go, while Ghost watched him. "You're drooling."

"Am not." Johnny said, as he made sure you got to the cab okay.

Of course it had to start raining, but luckily you got inside before getting too drenched. Still you were soaking a bit as you slipped in through your window. You got your wet clothes off, at least your hoodie and scarf and rung them out on the floor. You could get a towel, clean it up, and hang your things to dry. Price hardly noticed what you wore anyways. It was dark in your room with only your window offering any illumination from the street lamps outside.

Before you could remove your tank top though, you jumped back. Price leaned forward in the desk chair of your room, previously hidden in the darkness. "Didn't want ya to get too far."

"Why are you in my room?!" You demanded. Price raised an eyebrow and was taken aback a little by your abrupt attitude. It was his house, but that wasn't the argument to be made.

"Was waiting for you." He said, while you tugged your shirt back down. You recalled your bag being wet and remembered the contents, muttering to yourself as you quickly took out your skecthbook. It was wet, and you cursed checking the pages. No damage, at least nothing serious. You sighed with relief, leaning over your book, on the bed.

"You're past curfew." Price said. You looked up at Price, seeing him pocket his phone. You realized he'd been tracking your phone. You wanted to ask what he was still doing in your room, while you stood there, nearly soaked to the bone. Price stood up from your chair. "Get changed and then come find me, we need to talk."

"No." You said standing up straight. Price's hand hovered over the door knob, before he turned back to you. You weren't obedient, you had an attitude, Price knew that. It was the first time you had opposed him outright though. You broke the rules, but everytime you just brushed it off, saying you wouldn't do it again, only to do it again. You were putting your foot down.

"No?" Price asked, keeping a calm composure.

"No, we're talking now." You said folding your arms, trying to remain confident despite how chilly you were starting to feel. "No more distractions, no more "urgent matters". We talk now."

Price stepped further into the room, standing only a foot or so away. "What do you want to say?"

"You're the one who said we need to talk." You said, shrugging.

"...where were you tonight?" Price asked. You open your mouth to give him an excuse but he cuts you off. "Don't lie to me."

"Why do you care?" You questioned. "You don't any other time, so what, because I sneak out your frigid personality melts away? Do you also turn into a pumpkin on a full moon?"

"Y/N..." Price sighed. Your arms fell away, gesturing for him to let you conitnue.

"I get it okay? I got dropped in your lap out of fucking nowhere. But then decide whether you care about me or not, you don't get to pick and choose. You put these rules on me to what? Make sure CPS doesn't come knocking on your door, where they could take me to a home where people might give a shit about me?"

"I do give a shi-"

"No!" You said, standing your ground. You don't care if you're the only one talking, the only one getting out your grievances. In your head, he'd had plenty of opportunities to say his piece. "No, don't fucking stand there and act like the past few years you ever took the time to care. You pawn me off to other people all the time, you send someone else to pick me up from the police station, you've been tracking my location without asking me, and any and every time I try to initiate a conversation with you, try to make some level of a connection with you if only to know where you're running away too, you tell me "it's not my problem" or "it doesn't concern me"."

You didn't realize until you took a few breaths, that you'd been raising your voice. Price stood there, listening to everything you had on your chest. But Price had his reasons.

"...you don't need to know about my life." Price told you. You pressed your lips together, wanting to tell him to go fuck himself. Price said you two needed to talk, you were talking, and yet here he was stillacting tight lipped.

"Well you don't seem to give a shit about mine, so I guess we're even." You said, your voice low. If you weren't holding back... neither would Price.

"Y/N if I didn't care about you I wouldn't have taught you to fight, I wouldn't be tracking your location, I wouldn't be telling you off for breaking the rules."

"If you actually cared about me you would take an interest in my life, ask me why I break the rules, talk to me like a fucking human being and not some gold fish in a bowl." You shot back. Price started to look away. "No don't fucking look away, you said we needed to talk so now I'm talking! But maybe that's all you know how to do, say a few words and then walk away. I don't know. How could I know? You barely give me the time of day, let alone a proper conversation!"

Price was getting frustrated with your attitude. Fine.

"You want a proper conversation with him? Is that what you want?"

"Yes!"

"Fine, how are you doing today?"

"I'M IN PAIN!" You practically screamed at him, tears of frustration no longer covered up by your drenched state. Price noticed you were trembling, but whether it was from your wet clothes or emotions he wasn't sure. He stood there, looking at you while you tried to fight back you sobs. Price takes a moment, letting you regain some composure, taking a step closer.

"Go on." He said, calmly. There was a hint of guilt. You looked at him, processing the two words from the man you hardly knew anything about.

"...I'm in pain... and I can't explain it. I...I don't know where it's coming from, what's causing it... or who..." You said, your voice a little sore from talking this much, and the lump in your throat. "I thought... maybe it was because of dad. Losing him, but it's been years... it shouldn't bother me anymore. Yet... yet everyday I wake up, and I'm here... I'm not home anymore. I'm not going to the kitcehn... t-to see him off, I'm not sneaking into his room... while he sleeps off the graveyard shift."

You drop your gaze, taking deep breaths. Your composure was in pieces, you were clinging to what you could. Price doesn't say anything, just waits. You almost wish he'd tell you to get over it, if only so he would say something.

"Thought I came to terms with it." You explained, holding your arms. "My head reminds me I'll never have him back... never be like him."

"That's norma-"

"Don't say that." Your voice is firm, but tired. Price quiets, letting you continue. "If the reason you took me in was to have a little piece of my dad, the man you once knew back in your life, then you lucked out. I'm sorry I'm not him. But if you're going to continue to ignore me and only step in when I get into trouble then... just do me a favour and put me in a foster home or kick me to the curb. At least I won't feel trapped in a display case."

You finished, and your tears were still falling, as you used your damp sleeve to wipe them away. Price stood there. You weren't wrong. He'd been pushing you away, keeping you at a safe distance. Maybe it was to keep himself safe as well, maintain the walls he'd built over the years, not wanting the pain of loss to creep in. You'd been trying to find a way in and all he did was ignore you. Now you'd climbed over, without caring whether he threw you back.

"...I'm sorry." Price said.

"That;s not enou-"

"I'm not done." Price interrupted. You'd said your piece, it was his turn. He didn't want an argument, you were still sniffling. Last thing he wanted was to see you cry. Better that everything be laid out by him and not heard from someone else. "I took you in because you father asked me too. I distanced myself because my work, is not clean cut."

You listened. You wanted to walk away after he said that, thinking everything you'd said had been for nothing. Still you stood there, and listened.

"You've put in the effort, you've lashed out for attention, and you've snuck off more than once. Part of that is because... I'm not your father either."

Your gaze softened hearing him say that. Yeah, he wasn't your dad. You should have known that too.

"Nothing I did was fair to you, I didn't know what you were going through. You didn't tell me, but... I hardly gave you the chance to."

You thought back to the times Price did ask how you were, and you replied with "fine" or "alright". You wondered if you had said something else, would he have let you talk to him longer.

"You wanted a father. I wanted to keep you protected. All I did was push you away. I'm sorry Y/N." Price said. "I won't push you away anymore. That's why I'm here now. To make things right. I don't want you to be alone anymore. You don't deserve that."

You stand there with the lump still in your throat. Your tears were still running down your cheeks, disappearing into the wetness of your hoodie. You pawed at your eyes, wishing you could stop yourself from crying. Price takes another step closer, looking you in the eyes. He sees you under the bed again, dust bunnies in your hair and scared sad eyes.

"Y... you promise?" You asked.

"I promise." Price said, giving you a single nod. You're looking up at him from under the bed again, wondering why this strange man was taking you away. Except he isn't a stranger anymore. He wasn't going to be. You wouldn't let it happen. Price held your shoulders, firmly. "What do you need from me?"

"Um..." You took a moment to process the question. "Water... uh... tv and then some sleep. No phone calls."

"Shower first, I'll get you some water." Price said. Neither of you moved for a moment. Without thinking, you wrapped your arms around Price. Price held you back, ignoring how wet you were. It was the first hug you'd had for a while, one that made your want to ball your eyes out. Price put a hand on your head. Your whole world was about to flip, knowing you would have plenty of questions. All he could do was hold you for now. Remind you that you weren't alone, and didn't have to be.

You had your shower, and changed into your pjs. You came out and saw Price setting a glass down on the coffee table. Price sat down on the sofa, and you came to join him after getting a snack. You put on some cartoons, which made Price raise an eyebrow. Okay, not what he was expecting you to pick. If it made you happy, then fine. You wrapped yourself in a blanket, and kept the volume low. There were some questions you had.

"...what do you do that isn't... clean?" You asked. Price knew you would ask that.

"The pub is a front, and how I make some of the money." Price explained. You listened to him intently. "I run a gang. The 141. I know, your father was a cop, no he wasn't in my pocket. We worked together to bring down the people who thought they were above the law. Your father helped me start my business and I helped him get what he needed for cases."

You stared at him and then looked away to drink your water. "...Okay."

"That's why I distanced myself. Didn't want you getting caught up."

"...I think I'm already caught up in it." You said. Price didn't want you to be. But he could at least prepare you for it.

"Right now, just... watch your cartoons, sleep, and I'll take you to the pub tomorrow. You should meet the others." Price said. The way you smiled, Price hadn't seen it in a while, since he taught you to fight. Something about it, it told him he was doing something right. Or at least he hoped so.

"One more thing?" You asked. Price had a feeling it would be more than just "one more thing" in the future. Still he let you continue. "Should grow a beard."

"Grow a beard?" Price asked. "I should grow a beard?"

"Yeah." You said, sounding a little regretful in your suggestion. "Baby face doesn't suit you."

Price chuckled. The cheek on you. He'd been considering it. Couldn't hurt.

Price explained that you'd already met Kyle, who was his driver and confidant. Kyle had always been the closest thing you had to a friend. He was your buddy, someone you could confide in yourself. Even after he told Price about your black eye, you felt like you could talk to him about what you needed. Maybe not whenever you wanted, but he was often busy like Price. Seeing you get in the car, and getting a text that morning, he looked to Price, silently asking if he was sure.

"Drive on Kyle." Price said.

"Yes boss." Kyle said. You sat calmly in the back of the car. You were nervous, but kept your composure. If you faltered Price might not let you go forward, and you wanted to do this. He made it clear you wouldn't be joining anything, more like an errand runner if anything. Still he wanted you to meet the others that had sworn to protect you.

So imagine how stunned and awkward it was when you came face to face with the two guys who saved you at the bar. You didn't tell Price about it, but you weren't sure if Johnny or Ghost had said anything. Ghost remained calm, arms folded giving you a nod of acknowledgement, while Johnny cleared his throat. You shook his hand to be polite, commenting, "We've met."

"Good to see ya 'gain bonnie." Johnny said, offering a friendly smile. Price gave Johnny a look, and he shrugged. "Didnae think ‘bout it at the time.”

“So this is the whole crew?” You asked, redirecting the discussion right away. Price nodded.

"This is the 141." Price told you.

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