#and also remember to take care of yourself too

[tojisun]

when the older man is the one with daddy issues so he's nurturing and careful and indulgent, but he's also so teasing when he's taking you apart. how he draws out the pleasure until you're crying, splintering at the edges, your words coming out in weak babbles. until you're pawing at him, begging for anything - your orgasm, a kiss, him to engulf you in his warm embrace.

but also thinking about how he loves to feed you; cooking up healthy and delicious meals, while you're over there in the living room busying yourself because last time you helped him, the two of you got distracted and forgot that there were potatoes in the oven.

or how he just loves buying you clothes; from shirts and sweaters to pants and skirts, to toques and scarves, down to the things you didn't even know you needed like an extra pair of gloves or stockings cuz you've torn the other one, remember?

and how he starts looking for a bigger house, somewhere with a bigger lot and a wider garage, and more rooms cuz you mentioned that you wanted your own office; that your back is starting to hurt from working in the dining room, with those old but lovingly worn out seats. and this one that he found has a bigger kitchen, with an island and tall, tall windows, and a place for a chandelier.

yeah, he's already imagining cooking for you here while you watch him from the island. this way, you're closer to him; easier for him to reach for a kiss.

and just also thinking about how he always picks you up from work; he's never late and sometimes, he'd even be too early. it's not even like he works odd hours because he should be finishing up at the same time that you do, but he rather bring his work to home - wrap up while you're already in bed, snoozing, not knowing that he crawled back out of it after he's cuddled you to sleep - than not pick you up at all. he loves the drive, anyway, and he's a senior at his position so he's got room for flexibility.

it's just, he is so greedy of every chance he can get to be with you. to be of service for you.

thinking about all of this knowing this is so john price :(

[thecrankiestofgremlins]

I'm sure I'll have to say this again but

You. Cannot. Pour. From. An. Empty. Cup.

Staring at your phone in horror helps no one but the people who are invested in your inaction. And history is littered with stories of activists and freedom fighters who actively caused more problems than they solved because they got burnt out and fuelled themselves with despair and hatred for the perpetrators rather than compassion for those they were nominally fighting for.

Fighting *against* something only goes so far. Fighting *for* something is much more sustainable. But the only way you can do that is to a) actually give yourself something to fight for that keeps you going and b) resting and finding joy when you need to. Running yourself into the ground helps no one. Taking care of yourself and healing is not selfish.

I was given a really helpful version of this (for me) recently: your client doesn't need your sympathy, they need your skill. If you bury yourself in handwringing and outrage, you'll be too overstimulated and emotional to effectively deploy your skills. At the end of the day, the emotions don't get shit done: the skills do.

So take time for yourself. Let yourself rest. Learn to manage your emotions and give yourself some healing. And then pick up your tools and start deploying your skills to deal with the problem again.

Also: if you want to be effective, you can't do *everything*. Pick one or two things, preferably ones where you can see a positive outcome to work towards, and let others handle the rest. Trying to do everything will only divide your attention and time and make you less effective. You can't fix systemic misogyny (for example) on your own, but you can push back against it in the spaces you occupy, and you can work towards your local political system putting in policies to reduce its impact. You can join local groups working on the problems. This is a group project: don't try to do everything on your own.

Also also: it is *very* tempting to be snippy and shame people in the spaces you're in for being imperfect activists or making mistakes etc. Do not give into that temptation. Call people in with compassion. Shame and shunning should be reserved for those actively trying to cause harm/refusing to change harmful behaviours: those things are for when trying to keep working with the person is no longer an option. Remember: shame and shunning don't prompt people to change their behaviours or beliefs, they encourage people to double down. Everyone is learning and no one is perfect: err on the side of building community rather than fracturing it (without rugsweeping). Don't misdirect your anger at the people still trying to work to fix it.

Building and holding together community can only be done through care and compassion: anger doesn't cut it.

Hi. Things are bleak, I know that. I know that we paid for Trump's last term with blood and it is likely the price will be blood again.

But listen to me. LISTEN.

You do not have to force yourself to witness horrors as an act of activism. It is not a form of activism. You can put your phone down, you can block that horrific video. We cannot win if you cannot fight and you will not be able to fight if you are hopeless.

Do not let them guilt you into this. People who are exhausted are easier to walk over. Take care of yourself, find community where you find joy.

[allpiesforourown]

Okay here's my Lan Qiren apologist masterpost

"He had Lan Wangji whipped! He's an abuser!"

That was Lan Wangji's punishment for injuring 33 Lan elders while defending a demonic cultivator who caused innumerable deaths in the cultivation community. You need to remember the setting of this story: Madame Yu whipped Wei Ying half to death just because she went "you didn't do anything wrong, your general existence is just mildly annoying to me." Lan Qiren deciding Lan Wangji get one lash for every person he hurt is NOTHING in comparison to the punishment he would have gotten if anyone else was in charge and it was the only way to clear his name.

2. "The Lan sect rules he enforces are too strict."

First of all, Lan Qiren is an old Asian person. I feel like that would be enough to make my point, but I will continue regardless.

The Lans have so many rules because they have extreme self-regulation issues when it comes to their emotions. We've seen Lan Wangji's dad ruin his life by trying to atticwife his lover, but Lan Wangji wasn't any better. If you've read the incense burner extra you know he got his first crush at 15 and his brain immediately went to fantasizing about violently assaulting Wei Ying in the library. Their hundreds of rules are stifling because they're supposed to be. If the Lans don't try to contain themselves they will ruin their lives and the lives of people they care about.

Is "don't talk while you're eating" even that extreme of a household rule? Like every family has some variation of "don't do ____ at the dinner table" and the Lans having their own version is not that insane.

3. "He was against Lan Wangji loving Wei Wuxian."

I need you to spend like. 2 minutes putting yourself in Lan Qiren's shoes.

Imagine you are Lan Qiren. Imagine you find out your brother broke his family apart by forcing his wife to stay with him. Lan Qiren was just a man who was thrust into not only taking care of the Lan clan, one of the biggest cultivation sects you can think of, but also his two traumatized nephews. Imagine cleaning up the mess your brother left you while having to raise two children that aren't yours.

Then you see your nephew, who you have raised like your own son, helplessly pining after the infamous demonic cultivator who has rejected him and teased him. You watch him turn against and injure his own family members to protect a literal criminal.

Then he comes home holding the child of the man he loves and you let him keep that baby and raise him. Because you see yourself in him. You see someone who just lost a loved one who was not a good person but someone you loved regardless. How many times do you think he saw Lan Wangji raising Lan Yuan and remembered himself raising someone else's children because their father was no longer there?

And then after all that Lan Qiren had been through, he didn't even try to keep Lan Wangji and Wei Wuxian apart once he found out the truth. When Wei Ying explained how he'd been set up, he was one of the first elders in the cultivation community to give him a chance to explain himself. And after that even if he was cold to Wei Ying, he didn't say shit about the two of them having nasty loud gay sex in gusu every night.

I don't care. Lan Qiren hate will always be forced to me, he did literally nothing wrong and if I was in his shoes I would not have been able to handle it

[marvelfanfn2187a113]

Look Alike

Sam and Dean Winchester & little sister!reader

Requested by Anonymous (x3)

Warnings: eating disorder, mentions of depression, attempted murder, I didn��t copy the episode exactly so probably some mistakes

Synopsis: an angel is going around killing anyone who is suffering—but what happens when it goes after you?

A/N: this one is kinda heavy guys, so if this is a topic that will trigger you PLEASE do not read it. And please remember—I think you’re beautiful, and always remember to eat something, even if it’s just a snack, even if it’s not “good for you”; eating something just because you like how it tastes is better than not eating anything at all. Love you guys!

Your fingers fumbled as they retrieved your picture of Mary Winchester, tattered and faded at the edges. You looked from the picture to your own reflection, your heart plummeting.

Your mother had this…this look about her; she was slender and beautiful, but also strong. Strong enough to be a hunter.

You looked at your own reflection again before ducking your head, tucking Mary’s photo back into your wallet.

“Hey kid.” Dean’s voice in your doorway startled you, and you whipped your head around. “Lunch is ready, let’s go…what are you doing in here?”

“Oh, no-nothing,” you muttered, your hands fidgeting. “I’m not that hungry right now, maybe I’ll get something later.”

“Did you eat breakfast?” Dean asked, his eyes narrowing.

“Um—actually, maybe I will eat now.” you sidestepped his question and his body as you headed for the kitchen. Dean dropped the subject, and you breathed a sigh of relief. You were going to have to be more careful about your eating habits—or lack thereof.

Of course Dean had made burgers again. You looked to Sam, hoping he’d made something else, but he was happily chowing down on a huge hamburger—apparently he didn’t mind them if they didn’t come from greasy diners.

You forced yourself not to huff; it was impossible to pretend to eat a burger, so you’d really have to eat this time.

“Here.” Dean pushed a plate at you, and you took it without protest.

You managed to choke down about two bites before Dean got a phone call. He spoke for a few minutes before hanging up and addressing his younger siblings.

“Cas has a case. I’m gonna go check it out.”

“A case?” You put down your burger. “I’ll go pack.”

“I can take this one alone,” Dean assured you.

“Don’t be stupid, I’m coming.” You started for the door, hoping he wouldn’t argue.

“You’re not gonna finish your food?” Sam asked.

“I had enough,” you assured him, and ran off before he could argue.

…

“So…he exploded.” Dean was staring around at the pink living room, a grimace on his face.

“Yeah. So completely that there’s not a bit of him left that’s bigger than a grain of sand,” a nearby officer said. Once the officer stepped away, Dean spoke to you. “I’m gonna go talk to Cas, see what he can tell me. You should stay at the motel, read up on some things.”

“Ok.” You shrugged. “Call me if you find anything out.”

“Deal.”

…

“Ephraim.”

“Gazuntite.”

“No, Dean. Ephraim was—is—an angel, his job on the battlefield was to end the suffering of dying angels.”

“End the suffering…let me guess, by blowing them up?” Dean said.

“Unfortunately, yes. It seems that he’s continuing his mission on earth.”

“Yeah, but these people aren’t dying, they just had a bad day.”

“Apparently Ephraim can’t tell the difference between emotional suffering and…”

“And dying?” Dean scoffed. “Cas, this is crazy. Everybody has bad days, this guy is gonna end up wiping out the world.”

“It’s more than just bad days,” Castiel argued. “These people were in serious emotional turmoil. But you’re right—you need to find him.”

“You’re not gonna help?” Dean challenged.

“Dean, I’m just human. There’s nothing I can do.”

…

You stared at the takeout container that Dean had got you before dropping you off. You couldn’t refuse, you knew he would start to notice if you refused too many meals, but you still didn’t want it.

Your stomach growled, and you cringed. Maybe part of you wanted it.

You pushed the container away, opting instead to don workout clothes—the motel had a gym. You’d never be able to be a hunter like Mary, you’d never be able to keep up with your brothers, if you didn’t workout more.

After an hour on the treadmill, you decided it was time to get back to work. You didn’t want to leave Dean in the lurch when it came to research, even if he hadn’t told you any more information. He got this way when he took you on hunts—determined to do it all alone, not clueing you in on anything.

It’s because you don’t look like a hunter yet.

You swallowed hard. You may not look like a hunter yet, but you would soon enough. You just had to skip a few more meals, go a few more days, and then—just maybe—you could be a good hunter. You would look like Mary did, strong and in shape, and your brothers would trust you more.

You slipped back into your room, going straight for your bag to get your picture of Mary. You held it up for the millionth time, looking from it to the mirror. Your heart sank—you weren’t Mary; maybe you never would be.

Your stomach growled again, and you huffed.

“No,” you told yourself. Your eyes flickered over to the takeout container. You snatched it off the table and threw it into the trash. “No!”

You couldn’t give up now—who cared if you were hungry? Sam and Dean gave up a lifetime of sleep to keep hunting, you could skip some meals to do the same. You had to.

You hadn’t even noticed that you were crying until a few tears dropped onto Mary’s smiling face in your hands.

“Mom,” you whimpered. “Why can’t I just be like you?”

“I can help you.” The voice behind you startled you, and you dropped Mary’s photo, whirling around and reaching for the gun at your waist and.

“Who are you?” You demanded, raising the weapon.

“That won’t do anything to me,” the man insisted. “And you don’t need it. I’m here to help you. You’re suffering, and I’m here to end it.”

“End it?” You took a step back. “You’re the guy we’re after. You’re the one who killed that man, and that teenager.”

“I ended their suffering,” the man continued, stepping towards you. “And I can end yours.”

“It’s not like that!” The gun was shaking in your hands. You didn’t bother to shoot, knowing it wouldn’t help. “I’m not dying!”

“You are,” he argued. “I can heal your hunger, but I cannot make you eat. But the end I will give you will be painless.”

“What are you?” You demanded, taking another step back. Your back hit the sharp edge of a splintered desk, halting your movements.

“I am an angel. My mission is to end suffering. Let me end yours.”

“An angel, huh.” You put your gun down on the desk as if in defeat. While Ephraim kept his attention on your face, you moved your hand down to the splintered edge of the table and slid it across, drawing blood. Dropping your hand out of sight behind the desk, you began to draw an angel banishing sigil.

Ephraim moved before you could blink, grabbing your wrist and twisting it away from the desk.

“Don’t fight it,” he said. “I can help you.” His free hand was suddenly above you, lowering towards your forehead like death’s scythe.

“Hey!” The grip on you was released at the sound of Dean’s voice in the doorway. “Leave her alone!” Dean had his angel blade out and pointed at Ephraim. “You don’t get to just kill people because they’re hurting.”

“That’s exactly what I was made for,” Ephraim argued. “You didn’t even know she was suffering, but I do! And I can fix it!”

“That’s now how you fix it!” Dean thundered. He lunged forward, stabbing at Ephraim with the blade, but the angel side stepped him and flung him into the wall with a single flick of his wrist. The angel blade clattered to the ground, and you once again found yourself face-to-face with the murderous angel.

“Please,” you pleaded. “Look, I know you think you’re doing good. But humans—they hurt sometimes. But we can do better—I can do better—we’re all just doing the best we can.”

“If this is the best that you can do.” Ephraim shook his head. “Then this is what you need.” He stretched out his hand, and your breath caught in your throat.

You jumped back in surprise when Ephraim’s eyes glowed brightly, his jaw hanging open before he slumped to the ground. Dean stood behind him, a bloody angel blade gripped in his hand.

“That’s not what she needs,” he growled almost to himself. Then his eyes were on you. “Are you ok?”

You nodded shakily, taking a deep breath.

“Ok.” Dean dropped the angel blade. “Now what was that about? Why did he think—“

“I-I don’t know.” You couldn’t meet Dean’s eyes.

“Well what—“ Dean’s voice caught, and you looked up to see him staring at the corner of the room. You followed his gaze, and your stomach dropped. He was staring at the tiny garbage can in the corner, the open and full takeout container fully visible.

“Kid.” Dean swallowed. “When was the last time you ate? And no, that one bite of your burger didn’t count.” Dean’s eyes were on you now, and he petrified you to the spot with his gaze. “I mean when was the last time you really ate?”

“I—um…” your lip quivered and your hands began to fidget. “I’m sorry, Dean.”

“Ok, hey.” Dean pulled you into his arms when you started to cry. “I’ve got you kid.” He pulled away, brushing your tears. “Why are you doing this kid?”

“I’m sorry,” you whimpered, wiping at your face. “Dean—“ your voice caught and you choked on a sob.

“Ok, ok,” Dean soothed. “It’s ok, let’s…let’s go back home, ok? We can talk about it later. Go and wait in the car, I’ll bring the stuff.”

You went to the car without argument, and after you left Dean called Sam.

“Hey,” Dean huffed while he gathered the guns and clothes and tossed them in his bag. “Do you remember the last time you saw Y/N eat? Like, like a full meal.”

“Um…” Sam’s voice came out surprised and hesitant. “No.” Realization hit him. “No, I don’t. Dean, what’s going on?”

“I don’t think she’s eating. Ephraim…Ephraim tried to kill her.”

“I thought you said he only killed people who were…” Sam swallowed. “Who were really broken up, right?”

“Yeah.” Dean stopped packing long enough to clench and unclench his fist. “Yeah. She’s suffering, Sam, and we didn’t even know it. She stopped eating and we didn’t see.”

“Dean…” Dean heard Sam’s deep breath through the phone. “I’m…I’m gonna do some research while you get here. Try and talk to her on the ride home, ok? Maybe…we’ve gotta help her, Dean.”

“I know. We’ll be back in a couple hours.” Dean hung up, taking a deep breath. “Ok,” he said to himself, zipping up his bag and slinging it over his shoulder. He stopped in his tracks when he saw a picture in the middle of the floor. He stooped to pick it up—it was Mary, when she wasn’t much older than you. Dean tucked it into his back pocket. “Ok.”

…

“Hey kid,” Dean greeted as he tossed his bag in the back. Your knees were pulled up to your chest, and you didn’t acknowledge him.

Dean let silence reign as he started up the Impala and headed down the road—he couldn’t force you to talk.

“I just wanted to look like her,” you said suddenly, your head resting against your knees.

Dean turned his head to look at you. “What?”

“Mom. I don’t look like her. She was such a good hunter, and I just wanted to be like that.”

“Kiddo—“ Dean’s voice caught. “Kid, you don’t have to look like her to be a good hunter.”

“But I can’t keep up with you.” You sniffled. “I thought if I looked like her…I could keep up with you.”

“When we were your age, we couldn’t have kept up with us,” Dean argued. “Besides, this isn’t…you don’t become a better hunter by starving yourself, kid.”

Dean watched out of the corner of his eye as your fingers clenched on your jeans, bunching up the fabric before you let it go. When you spoke, your voice was barely above a whisper.

“I don’t know how to stop.”

Dean forced himself to breathe through the pain, taking a moment before offering you a strong smile.

“That’s what we’re here for, kid. Me and Sammy are gonna help you.”

…

“Hey.” Sam’s hug when you stepped into the bunker was surprising and long. You heard Dean’s huff from behind you, but Sam ignored him.

“Hi.” Your greeting was muffled against Sam’s jacket, and he finally pulled away.

“Ok, so um, I’ve been doing some research, so I’ll show you what I got.” Sam reached behind him, picking up printouts from the internet. “I have a list of foods that are supposed to help, and um, I also made up a schedule—that’s supposed to make it easier—and if there’s any specific food you want me to pick up when I go out you can tell me. Or hey, you can just come with me and pick stuff out and—“

“Hey, dude,” Dean cut in with another huff. “I told you not to freak her out about this.”

“I’m not freaking her out!” Sam’s eyes went back to you. “Wait, am I freaking you out?”

“Um…” you picked at your hands. “It…it’s a lot…”

“We’ll start out small,” Dean insisted. “You want some toast?”

“Bread is good,” Sam piped up, holding up one of the research pages.

“Toast sounds good.” Your lips twitched up even as your eyes filled with tears.

“Hey, ok.” Dean’s arms were around you suddenly. “You got this, ok? We’re right here to help you.”

“Ok,” you sniffled.

Dean pulled away. “Ok. Now let’s get you something to eat, and then Sam can freak you out about everything he read.”

Sam opened his mouth, then closed it.

“I think I can do that,” you sniffled.

“I know you can.” Dean grinned. “Oh, hey—“ Dean reached into his back pocket and pulled out your picture of Mary. “This is yours.” You took it with a shaky hand, and when you looked back up Dean was bending down to stare into your eyes. “Hey. You’re just as pretty as mom. And she…she would want you to take care of yourself, ok? And so would dad. And so do we. Kapeesh?”

You threw your arms around Dean.

“Kapeesh,” you told him.

“Ok.” Dean pulled away, reaching up and brushing a stray tear off your face. “Now let’s go get that toast.”

Taglist:

@nyotamalfoy @mrvlxgrl @chocorade @aestheticdaisies @inlovewhithafairytale @that-wannabe-vangoghgurl @casmustdiee @987coley @deadlymistletoe @wayward-impala83 @whump-loverz @johannelis2302nely @studiogrimm810

[peachdues]

y’all wanted pouty baby Sanemi?

Here you go.

The moment your eyes land on him, your face hardens.

“No,” you flap your hands at him, shooing him back out of the storeroom. “Get out, go somewhere else, I’ll deal with you later —“

“Deal with me?” Sanemi repeats, affronted, reaching again for your books. “I came back here to see if you needed help — and hi to you too, by the way-“

You twist out of his reach. “Get out of here and stop being a distraction!”

Sanemi’s eyebrows knit together. “How the fuck is me offerin’ to help a distraction —?”

Groaning, you slam your stack of books back on the steel shelf. “Because you are!”

“Excuse the fuck outta me for tryin’ to dote on my girl after not seein’ her for a goddamn week —“

“I don’t have time for your tantrum,” you flip your hair over your shoulder and cock a hip out, glaring at him. “Go entertain yourself until this —“ you gesture loosely behind you at throng of people crowding around the check out counter. “Is taken care of.”

Sanemi folds his arms across his chest, mimicking your stance. “And do what, exactly?”

“I don’t care!” You hiss. “Just keep out of the way!”

He stares at you for a moment longer, and if you weren’t so up to your ears in retail bullshit, you’d almost think he looked cute. There’s an adorable scrunch in his nose matched only by his very obvious pout.

Sanemi clicks his tongue. “Fine,” he says petulantly. “I’ll just fuck off somewhere else ‘til you decide to remember me —“

“Good! Thank you!”

You don’t spare him another moment, not as you snatch up the books once more and make a beeline for the crush of customers. Once, your cool dismissiveness had been a turn-on; a baited hook he couldn’t help latching onto. He’s still a little turned on by the sharp way you’d spoken to him — he can’t help but be a slave to someone capable of bossing him around — but he’s also a little bruised.

Near the back corner of the store, tucked between the shelves for biographies and self-help manuals is a small reading area. A plush corner of seat cushions and lumpy beanbags, a tiny plastic table sandwiched between them. Cozy, but not so comfortable as to encourage loitering — as per the owner’s desires.

It’s in one of these beanbags where Sanemi plops his grumpy ass, arms still folded stubbornly across his chest while he sulks. The reading area is within perfect view of the clerk’s counter, though that was more to allow you to keep an eye on any customers who might try and take advantage of the store’s hospitality.

Instead, it gives Sanemi a direct line to glare at your stupidly perfect back.

smh go get a real job

[goingmerryfics]

Reader fails at flirting - Mihawk, & Crocodile

Content: SFW content, clumsiness, ranting, & bad pick up lines

Notes* Thank you for your patience while I struggled through my writer’s block! This was a request from a looong time ago but I no longer have that ask to reply to it seems. I believe Smoker was also supposed to be here, but I’m just going to upload this and take it easy while I get back into the writing spirit :) 

Mihawk

Not the type for talking, attempts at flirting with Mihawk usually end up with long, awkward silences that you feel the need to fill, which makes you sound even more awkward as you bounce from topic to topic

He was always the first to show up at the Warlord meetings, and since you worked in the building, it gave you an opportunity to chat him up as you pour the champagne for each guest

He only barely glances at you every now and then as you try to get his attention, ranting on about whatever comes to mind in the moment and asking him questions that he doesn’t respond to

You always end up feeling defeated at the end of the day. Always left with the heavy feeling that he just doesn’t like you, no matter what you say

Eventually you decide that you can’t keep pestering him. Next time there’s a meeting, you decide not to shoot into chatter with him when he arrives

You keep your head down, silence in the room. You can feel his eyes on your back as you walk around, watering the plants and doing whatever you can do to stay in his presence without having to talk to him

And then,

“Is something wrong?”

You’re embarrassed by how fast you look back at him. It’s the first time he’s addressed you. You, stuttering like mad, tell him that nothing is wrong

“You didn’t greet me today.”

He sounds… Disappointed. You ask him why he never responded, adding that you thought you had been annoying him, and that you weren’t even sure he knew who you were

Then he says your name- your full one. He starts to repeat information you’ve told him about yourself, a mix of information that you had thrown at him over all the different times you’ve met him. It touches your heart that he remembers it all

“I know who you are very well, actually. If you gave me a moment to think of my answers, I would have been able to share. You speak too quickly.”

He explains it so bluntly, but now that you think about it- you didn’t really give him much time to think before you moved on to the next subject. So the awkward silences were just Mihawk trying to put his words together

He urges you to take a seat beside him, that way he can finally give you the responses you were looking for

“You should try to let the other person respond if you’re going to flirt with them.” 

He says it almost scoldingly, but he’s smirking at you

Crocodile

As a citizen of Alabasta, Crocodile was someone that many people looked up to. But only you were in semi-regular contact with him

Every now and then, he would come dine at your workplace and every single time, you were his server. Your co-workers were always too intimidated to potentially get something wrong- the man was intimidating, after all -so that meant that anytime he was in, you were the one to face him

He always ordered the same thing when he came, which made it easier after a while. You’d already be walking up to his table with the wine he liked while his food was in the oven before he’d even made his order

The problem was that your ridiculous crush on him made you clumsy as hell

The first few times you were safe- the tripping over your feet and dropping plates had only happened out of his view, where it was your co-workers that would laugh or chastise you for not being careful enough

But then it had caught up to you in the worst way

You were taking the wine to his table and, as always, you engaged him in some casual conversation. Something about the weather or asking how his casino was doing

He would always answer shortly. Something of a grunt that either sounded positive or negative, or a short answer of ‘good’ or ‘eh’

You were too busy staring at him and waiting for an answer to notice that you were completely missing the glass as you poured his wine

And in turn, he was too surprised at your new, sudden carelessness to answer

Eventually you’d noticed as the wine started to spill onto the floor. Crocodile got up from his chair as you scrambled to get the spill contained to just the tablecloth, but also trying to be careful of all the glass on the table

The white tablecloth would be stained for sure

Crocodile just watched the whole time, holding his cigar between his fingers

The next few times went similarly. You’d bring the wine, serve his food, and give the bill- and every time, you would do something wrong. 

Forgetting his silverware, serving him the wrong plate, etc.

At least he always tipped you nicely. That never changed

You’d been so determined to make sure everything went right that the next time he walked in, you tried to be extra careful. You brought him his wine and paused, noticing his hand covering his glass.

“Just water today.”

Three simple words that threw you off. Why? What was wrong with the wine? Was it you?

Your on your way back from getting his ice water when a co-worker steps back, bumping into you from behind and sending you off balance, tipping the serving tray and sending Crocodile’s ice-cold water all over him

Your co-worker all but bails out of the dining hall, leaving you slack jawed, staring at Crocodile’s ruined suit. You can’t even muster up the bravery to apologize to the man as the ice cubes slip off of him and onto the floor

Then he laughs. It’s a loud, booming laugh that seems even louder while the room is dead silent. You’re sure you’re going to die there either from embarrassment or his wrath

“I’ve never seen someone trip over themselves so much just to get my attention. It’s flattering.” He says, smirking down at you while you’re still frozen in place. Then he asks you what time your shift is over, and you answer that you’re done in an hour

He tells you to make sure you’re here in 3 hours, that way he can dry off and have a proper conversation with you

You’re left there, confused, wondering if it’s going to be a date or a murder when he returns

[imaginaryf1shots]

School Vigilante Pt.2 | Oscar Piastri

WC: 4062

Oscar x Childhood!friend!reader

Summery:(REQUESTED) You and Oscar finally reconnect after years of not seeing each other, also School reunion

Warning: Fighting, cursing?

Part 1

Masterlist

Oscar Masterlist

Oscar hesitates, taking a small step your way. You smile and walk his way; your arms open for him, and he then doesn’t hesitate after that. His arms wrap around your waist, pulling you in. You laugh almost not believing it.

“Oh, my fucking god Oscar, it’s been so long.” You say and he just holds you tighter.

“Too long.” Oscar says, and he reluctantly let’s go of you. Your smile makes him smile. He remembers how hard it was to get you to genuinely smile in school, but here you are now all smiley. You both just stare at the other for a moment, taking in all the changes, and everything that stayed the same. Lando coughs on the side and the moment is broke, Oscar looks at his teammate and raises an eyebrow. “You know you brought a Red Bull athlete into our motorhome, right?”

Lando groans and throws his head back. “Don’t remind me.”

It was only after the Free Practices that you and Oscar are able to meet up. You had to spend the time in the Red Bull garage, you agreed to meet by the McLaren motorhome. And when Oscar comes out he sees you waiting for him there.

“You know it’s unbelievable that we haven’t share our phone numbers yet.” Oscar says coming up to you, he kept thinking about how he wouldn’t find you, how that was it, the logical part said that he now knows you’re friends with Lilly and could get your number from her. All that didn’t matter though because here you are, waiting for him.

“Is that your way of asking me for my number?” You tease him and a slight flush covers his cheeks, before he sheepishly nods. “Give me your phone then.”

You both exchange your phones and put in your numbers.

Oscar goes back to his hotel to change, and you meet him there later in one of the dinning rooms. You share a quick hug when you meet again before settling down and ordering.

“You know I told you, you’d make it to Formula 1.” You say with a grin, Oscar can’t help but smile.

“Yeah, was a bit rocky start but I still can’t believe it sometimes.” He tells you.

“I’m sure with the whole Alpine thing.” Oscar looks surprised that you knew about it. “Didn’t think I’d keep up with what you’re up to?”

“Not really.”

“Best rookie in F1 history after Lewis Hamilton?” You say feeling proud of him.

“Okay, okay. I get it.” Oscar then turns the conversation towards you. “What about you? signed by Red Bull, in TWO sports and being a world champion in one and coming up second in the other.”

You shrug and play with the napkin, feeling embarrassed yourself that the conversation turned to you. “Not as big of a deal as driving for Formula 1.”

“I beg to differ, not many cared about Formula 1 until a few years ago, didn’t make it any less amazing, same with you.” Oscar wouldn’t have you doubting how amazing you are.

The food comes and you talk about everything and anything all while eating. The conversations and the laughs flowed easily. As if time didn’t pass from the moment, you stopped talking all those years ago.

Sadly, the night had to come to an end, Oscar had FP3 and Quali the next day and he had to rest as much as possible.

“I have a week off, after Japan.” Oscar throws out there, he’s going to take the chance and just ask you out, like he should’ve all those years ago. “Are you free?”

“I am, what country are you going to be in?”

“The UK.”

“Hmm, I can make it.”

“So, you’ll go on a date with me.”

“Of course.” You’re both a smiling mess, happy to have finally taken another step in your relationship.

It wasn’t just one date; it was multiple dates. It was tricky to juggle both your schedules, two athletes in the middle of their seasons. But you best face time was on whenever you could. You were there in Hungary when Oscar got his first win, the relationship was still fresh so you both decided to keep it on the low. You got to celebrate with him after. There were lots of hugs and kisses involved, because no matter what anyone says, he deserved that win and no one could take it away from him.

You did meet his family in Singapore, they were all so welcoming and nice. His mum scolded you for putting yourself in danger all those years ago, even if you’re trained and it was to save her son. His sisters thought you’re so cool for it.

They looked you up online and saw videos of what you do.

“You know I tried DM-ed you when you got signed by McLaren.” You told him one day, you were at your house, chilling.

“Really?” Oscar frowned and took out his phone, opening his Instagram, he clicked on your name and then opened the messages and saw that you did in fact text him. “I didn’t see that at all.”

“It’s understandable.” You tell him, not feeling offended, you’ve seen how his DMs could look like. “But I was so proud of you, and I still am.”

“Thank you, you always believed I’d make it to Formula 1.” Oscar looked at you, his hand resting on your knee. You were siting on the small sofa, tilted to face each other, your leg was tucked under your butt, resting on his thigh, while the other was placed on the ground. Now Oscar was rubbing your knee, and you were close together, a whisper would be heard clearly between the two of you.

“That means, I’m always right.” You tease him and smile; Oscar returns the smile.

“I don’t mind you always being right.” Oscar said and you giggled. “You know, I had the biggest crush on you when we were in school.”

“Well, I also had the biggest crush on you.” You admit both of you blushing.

“I flet like you had no interest in me, whatsoever.” Oscar says frowning.

“You did have the biggest fan club in school, I didn’t want you thinking I was one of them.” You tell him the truth, now that you’re together, there was no shame in saying that. “But now, I’m your biggest fan.”

“I guess you are.” You don’t know when he got this close, but his face is so close to you, you could feel his breath on your skin. Oscar doesn’t hesitate to lean in and place his lips on yours. It’s not your first kiss, but he always leaves you breathless.

Red Bull invited you back to the paddock to film more content, since people loved you with Max in the first one. This time it would be a bigger production. They had you come in and get dressed in Assassin’s Creed-esk outfit. They sat up everything for the filming. You walked through the plan with the director of the video and what they had in mind.

“Can you do that?” Checo who was standing next to you with a Red bull in his hand asked.

You gave him a fake offended look. “I’ll manage.”

“No wires, right?” The director double checked, and you nodded with a confident smile.

“No wires.”

It was really simple, the scene began with you on top of the Red Bull Pit wall, they filmed you as if you’re looking around for something. Before you saw it, you flipped off the building and landed on your feet crouched down, before you ran to the fence climbed it easily. While holding the top of the fence you flipped yourself over it and climbed down, there were the two Red Bull cars waiting for you. They had  a few obstacles waiting for you, that you jumped over or under, the last one was a tall almost a wall, you were on top before you flipped twice in the air and landed in a super hero pose, right in between the cars. And looked up to the camera, the cape they had clipped to your face, threw enough shadow to show the bottom half of face, and you were smirking. The add ended with you in the car drinking Red Bull, with your cape off, and driving away in the car.

You off course didn’t drive the car, but that’s the power of editing.

It took a few takes for the director to take the shots that he wanted. It had to all be done fast, before the paddock got super busy. It was early on media day, but some teams were already present, and fans were filling up.

Oscar made it so he could come early and watch you. A camera crew from F1TV was present to film some behind the scenes footage. And Oscar was caught staring at you with a smile. He was even seen taking a video of you from his spot behind the barrier they made so no one would walk into the filming space.

Later on when he was doing his media duties, he was asked about it.

“You seemed interested in the parkour ad Red Bull was filming, we got a few shots of you filming it.” The interviewer stated. Now you and Oscar started your relationship with wanting it to be private, but as the time went on, you both wanted to be there to cheer each other on, and it’s been 9 months already since you started dating. You’ve had talks about going public with it, so Oscar just took it in his hands.

“Yeah, it’s always amazing to see y/n, doing her things in real life.” Oscar knew he’d be asked more about it. He said your name so casually that it was obvious that he knew you.

“Oh, you know her?” The interviewer asked.

“I would like to think so, we’re dating.” That got the attention of everyone.

“Then if you don’t mind me asking, how did you meet, it seems a bit random. Was it when she came to Red Bull a few months ago?”

“No, we met in school.” Oscar laughed remembering how you met. “She saved me from a beating.”

“A beating? Could you elaborate?”

“Yeah, I was walking back to school late one day and I was jumped by 2 drunk guys, suddenly this person comes out of nowhere, dressed in all black, had a black hoodie, hat and face mask even. She kicked them around, a few times, threw a few punches and had them down on the ground long enough for us to escape. I didn’t know who it was, only that it was a girl, since I saw her hair, but that was it. It was later by accident that I knew it was her.”

“And is that when you started dating?” The interviewer was so intrigued by this point.

“No, we stayed friends, and the next year she moved schools, and we lost contact.” Oscar says, this is probably the most they had him talking in an interview ever. “We got back in contact when she came to the Japan Grand Prix.”

“That’s a lovely story Oscar, we’re happy for you.”

“Thank you, I’m happy too.”

“Any reason as to why, my social media is blowing up with F1 followers?” You asked Oscar when you met him for lunch that day. “And I’m being called the coolest WAG ever?”

“I may have spilled that we are dating.” Oscar said apologetically.

“Thought so.” You wait for a moment, to make him feel a little pressure, before you smile. “Now, everyone knows you’re taken.”

“Me? Didn’t you see all those men watching you today?” Oscar tried to sound nonchalant, but it was clear he was feeling a bit jealous.

“Good thing I only like you then.” Oscar took your hand in his and smiled, happy, content.

Oscar won, he won fare and square, and no one could even say anything this time. He won and you were here to see it. Better yet, you were in Parc Ferma with his team. Oscar came running to his team and they hugged and pulled him. Oscar then took off his helmet and walked towards you. You threw your hands out waiting for him to walk in. Oscar didn’t wait, he pulled you as close as he could with the barrier between you, he pulled back just enough to plant a kiss to your lips. You help his cheek and smile though it.

“I’m so proud of you, baby.” You tell him not being able to stop smiling.

“Thank you.” With another kiss he was pulled way for weighing and interviews.

You’re on the bed in Oscar’s hotel room. When you get an email from your old school, you frown and open it. reading it you smile to yourself in amusement. Oscar is in the bathroom showering.

“You won’t believe what email, I just got.” You tell him and don’t wait for him to respond. “Our school just sent me an email for a reunion, I didn’t even graduate from there, and they sent me an email.”

“Yeah, but you were at the school for years.” Oscar says and you only then notice how he has the towel wrapped low on his waist. Your phone is placed beside you, and Oscar notices your eyes, he remembers the talk you had earlier to day and smirks. He turns around acting as if he’s looking for his clothes, giving you full view of his back and shoulders.

“Oscaaar.” You whine, knowing what he’s doing.

“What?” He asks nonchalant.

“You know what.” You get off the bed and wrap your arms around him, your front flushed to his back, hands on his abdomen, you’re not even sorry when you untuck his towel and it falls to the ground. Oscar sucks in a breath and turns around.

“So are we going?” You ask, still a little breathless, your head was on his shoulder, while his arms wrapped around your waist, skin on skin.

“What?” Oscar asks confused.

“To the reunion.”

“Oh, yeah, why not.”

There was an option for people to go early a couple days and have dinner together before the big thing. Since you and Oscar had that time off you decided to go, Oscar wanted to meet his friend from school anyways.

You shared the same hotel and everything. Since you and Oscar arrived and sat together, you had no idea how no one clocked that you’re together. You both weren’t big on PDA but a person can read the room. It didn’t bother you much anyways.

A long table was sat up from all of you to sit, Oscar saved the seat next to him for his friend, but in front of him sat Saddie. You both didn’t pay her any mind, since you didn’t have friends, Oscar included you in the conversation with his friend, before a girl sat next to you. She asked you your name and that got you both talking. You weren’t friends in school, but people change, and you found that if she was like that back in school you would’ve been friends, not that she was a bad person or anything, just some people don’t mesh well together.

“So Oscar how are you?” Saddie suddenly asks, she was obnoxiously loud, gaining the attention of everyone around her, she patted her mascara caked lashes a few times.

“I’m good.” He said not knowing why she’s talking to him.

“You’re not going to ask about how I’m doing?” She pouted and rested her chin on her hand. “I did save you.”

That got a few people talking, Oscar glanced at you, and you shook your head. You don’t mind that everyone still believes she saved Oscar.

“Uh, that was so long ago.” Oscar stated not really wanting to engage with her.

“Come on Oscar, she still saved you.” One guy a few seats down said, other chimed in.

“Doesn’t matter how long ago it was.”

“Who knows where you’d be if it weren’t for her.”

It was clear that Oscar wasn’t going to say anything. He isn’t one to fall victim to peer-pressure.

“Come on guys, leave him be, he’s got so much on his mind, now that he’s a formula 1 driver and all that.” Saddie lets out a fake giggle and BLINKED again.

When everyone ate and moved a bit around, you went to the restroom. Saddie walks up to Oscar swinging her hips left and right, not that Oscar noticed. She walks in on the conversation he was having and giggles. Oscar and two guys he was talking to all looked at her a little weirded out.

“So Oscar have you been thinking about me at all?” Saddie asked and placed her hand on his bicep. “Wow, you must really work out.”

“Uh.” Oscar was clearly uncomfortable, he took a step back, making her hand fall to her side.

“You don’t have to act all shy with me, after all we have history.” Saddie said and Oscar’s eyes went wide.

“H-history? We don’t!” Oscar hoped you didn’t hear what she said and believed her, but he couldn’t see you.

“I mean about me saving you.” She laughs a very fake and ‘seductive’ laugh. “You have a dirty mind, but I don’t care, means you’re thinking about me.”

Oscar looked at the two guys wanting them to save him, they all just laughed at his predicament. Just then his phone went off and he knew instantly who it was. He picked up the phone and answered walking away from the group.

“Hello.”

“Let’s go.”

“I’m heading out.” You stayed on the line but said nothing. Oscar found you by the car, he went straight to you and pulled you in for a hug. “God, you saved me again.”

“Looked like you needed it, and I’m tired of Saddie, she’s pissing me off.” You said and Oscar kissed your cheek before opening the door for you. “What did she want now anyways?” You asked once you were both in the car and settled.

“Just bullshit, said we had history and if I think about her.” Oscar didn’t really want to tell you, but he’s honest he doesn’t like the idea of you two hiding things from each other.

“I suddenly don’t like the idea of us coming.” You tell Oscar honestly, you’re irritated and you’re protective, you saw and can still see how uncomfortable this all made Oscar.

“We don’t have to go tomorrow.” Oscar tells you and puts his hand on your knee. You think it over for a second.

“No, we should go and show them we’re together and maybe finally say the truth.” You take his hand in yours and he takes it to his lips and places a kiss on the back on your hand.

“I already told the media, it’s about time they all know it too.”

The next day you and Oscar dress to impress, not anyone really but you love dressing up, and Oscar does what you want.

“You look beautiful.” Oscar said hugging you from behind, you leaned back into him. He kisses the side of your head. You’re looking at each other in the mirror.

“And you look handsome… wait! Let’s take a picture.” You get out of his arms long enough to get your phone, you’re back in his arms and you snap a few photos before you head out for the night.

Walking into the venue you’re holding hands, there’s no mistaking your relationship now. A few people turn their heads and talk, and you know they haven’t matured at all since they left school. You and Oscar smile at each other.

You walk up to one of the tables sat aside both placing the name tags for the other. You start mingling and some ask you about your relationship and you confirm that you are dating.

Saddie came “fashionably” late, strutting in as if she’s walking on a runway. She was pulled aside by one of her friends and was told about the ‘new’ development between you and Oscar. Her face turned red; she felt betrayed.

She walked towards you two, while you were laughing at a story Oscar told you.

“Oscar and y-y/n is it?” she clearly knew your name but acted as if she’s trying to remember it, and it was on your name tag as well.

“Yes, hi, we never talked before.” You replied with a sickly-sweet tone and a smile. “But I believe you’ve been very talkative with my boyfriend.”

“So, it’s true then, you’re dating.” She glares at you, crossing her arms in front of her chest.

“Yes.” Oscar said and wrapped a hand around your waist, giving you a smile that you returned. You heard her scoff, making you both look at her.

“B-but how? And since when?” It seemed like Saddie couldn’t take a hint; her face got red with agitation.

“Hm, well we started talking in school after she saved me-“

“Saved you?! I saved you! why are you always denying it?” Saddie cuts Oscar off her voice rising, more heads turned to face your group, the talk began.

“Not true.” You told her, your gaze cold and unforgiving. “I helped him, not you.”

“YOU? You, goody two shoes? You were out of campus after hours?”

“Yes, me, and you’re a liar.” Your tone didn’t waver or fill with any emotions.

“You bitch!” Your hand on Oscar is what stopped him from moving or saying anything. “I know what happened that night, how would I know that. Huh?”

“We asked ourselves the same thing.” Oscar said. “Only explanation is you knew the guys who tried to attack me.”

“No!” She answered to fast, and her eyes went to the people around, it was clear she was lying. “I-I didn’t, I don’t. Stop lying.”

As a way of distraction, she tried to lunge for you, but you just side stepped her last second, and with her very high heels she tripped and fell.

“Unless you lost the ‘training’ you had all those years ago, you’re not the one that helped Oscar.” You say and crouch down beside her, she’s slowly getting up, there’s blood coming from her mouth, looks like she cut her lip and broke a tooth. “Also don’t you date touch or talk to my boyfriend again, if you know what’s good for you.”

She tried to lunge for you, but you were already up and walking away, once she stood up and tried to walk towards you, she crumbled again clutching her ankle. No one moved to help her, all her ‘friends’ are now ashamed of her for her involvement with the group responsible for attacking Oscar.

“Let’s go.” Oscar said and took your hand in his, you left the party, not sparing anyone another glance. Oscar didn’t let go of you, you walked around the campus, went to where you used to train, before Oscar took you outside. You weren’t really paying attention, just enjoying having Oscar with you, your hand in his, and the night breeze.

Oscar then stopped you looked up at him, only to find him already staring at you.

“This is it.”

“What?” You asked confused, you had no idea what he was talking about.

“This is where we first met.” Oscar says and you look around.

“It is.” Your eyes go back to Oscar, and you smile.

“You know, I believe out lives changed that day.” Oscar admits taking both of your hands in his. “You didn’t just save me, you changed me life, I’m thankful every day that I came late, and that everything went the way it did, because then I met you, I got to know you, and now I love you.”

“Oscar.” You felt emotional. “I love you too, and I’m also very thankful and grateful that I was out that day, meeting you has been the best thing that has ever happened to me.”

You couldn’t take it anymore and just hugged him, your arms around his neck and his around your waist. Your bodies flushed together, you only lean your heads back to share a kiss, right where you first met, and where everything began.

Main Taglist: @gnatthefly . @mochimommy2002 . @llando4norris . @mrswolffs-blog . @barcelonaloverf1life . @c-losur3 . @xoscar03 . @schniti-is-in-the-house . @lottalove4evelyn . @eywas-heir . @glow-ish . @lilypat . @directioner5life . @a-beaverhausen

[seitmai]

“Mrs. Rogers, you and Steve had to cancel the traditional honeymoon, has it put a strain on your marriage, and will you be taking a honeymoon any time soon?” “Oh, Ben, are you saying this isn’t a honeymoon? I thought all newlyweds took a five-month long zig-zagging trek all across America to kick off their marriage!”

Perfect answer 👌🏻

You nod, trying to ignore the small flutter in your stomach at the mention of Steve's name. It's ridiculous, you tell yourself. You're married to the man, for goodness sake. And you both know it’s a marriage for the stability of this campaign and the future presidency.

Don't ignore the flutter!! Even if you are already married!

As if sensing your presence, Steve looks up, his eyes meeting yours across the room. His face softens slightly, and he excuses himself from the conversation, making his way over to you.

🥰🥰🥰

"You've got this, Steve," you say softly, placing a hand on his arm. The gesture feels both natural and strange - you're still navigating the boundaries of your unique relationship. "Just remember why you're doing this. Speak from the heart, like you always do."Steve's eyes meet yours, and for a moment, you see a flash of vulnerability there. "Thank you," he says, his voice low.

She just saw right through him and knew exactly what he needed to hear 😌

"We could also leverage social media more effectively," you continue, warming to your topic. "Not just posting sound bites, but creating engaging content that breaks down complex issues in accessible ways. Maybe even collaborate with some respected influencers who align with our values." Steve leans back in his chair, a small smile playing at the corners of his mouth. "I like it. What else?”

I just know he look at her so proud 🤭

“What a surprise! The anit-social, bionic man with a staring problem doesn’t like the idea of pal-ing around with the new Mrs. Rogers! Man, I know you only recently started to like me, but can you get on board with her.” “Who says I like you?” he counters. “Ha ha,” Sam retorts dryly. “You should be so lucky that next time we put you up for president so we could canvas the country for a girl who could put up with you and all your bullshit.”

Hahaha Bucky and Sam are not letting a single chance pass to spat with each other 😂

“You don’t even know, do you?” Sam presses him, his tone incredulous. You hold your breath, straining to hear Steve's response. There's a long pause before he speaks. "It's not that simple, Sam," Steve says, his voice low and weary. "This whole situation... it's complicated." "Complicated how?" Sam presses. "She's smart, she's kind, she's dedicated to the cause. And let's be real, she's not hard on the eyes either. What's holding you back?"

Sam is just the biggest hype man and not only has Steve's back, but hers too

"No," Steve says quickly. "Not fake. Just... I don't know. Forced. This whole situation - it's not the same as the tour for war bonds back in ‘43, but it’s still a production. I never imagined being in a situation like this again." "None of us imagined this, Steve," Bucky chimes in, his tone softer than before.

Bucky is very right 🤷🏻‍♀️

"And she's here now, too,” Sam circles back to you, “and she's trying. You can't keep pushing her away." "I know," Steve says, his voice tinged with frustration. "I see it. She's incredible out there. The way she connects with people, the way she articulates our message, she’s all in and she's a natural." "So what's the problem?" Sam presses. "If I let her in and this doesn't work out..." "You mean the campaign?" Sam asks. "No," Steve says.

Steve is overthinking it, but i feel like that just shows how much he cares 🥺

Another silence falls between you, but it feels almost companionable, and the two of you enjoy your breakfast. Usually people try to fill any potentially silent moment around you these days, and so the reprieve itself is nice, but it doesn’t last long.

If you can enjoy some peace and quiet together that can be more meaningful that always having to have something going on ☝🏻

Red, White & True: Las Vegas & Cleveland (2/?)

Characters/Pairings: Steve Rogers x curvy Millennial Female!Reader, Sam Wilson, Bucky Barnes Word Count: 4k Summary: Three months has raced by since you agreed to join the campaign team of Rogers for America as Steve runs for President of the United States of America. You've settled in and are starting to hit your stride campaigning, but what the state of affairs for your marriage?

Content/Warnings: marriage of political convenience, slow burn

Notes: This takes place in a post-Endgame scenario where Steve stays and generally most of TFATWS happened.

Previous Chapter | Series

↠ Main Masterlist | Aspen's Ask Box | Field Guide to the Forest

[SEPTEMBER 2 - Las Vegas, Nevada]

“Mrs. Rogers!” “Mrs. Rogers!”

You exchange a brief look with your assistant Sophia. She nods to wordlessly confirm that you have a few moments and should engage with the press. Taking a deep breath, you turn and approach the bank of reporters waiting and eager to regale you with questions.

There are a few familiar faces who’ve been consistently covering the Rogers for America campaign, some of them even assigned specifically to report on you - mostly friends, but some that could be categorized in the foe column.

“Mrs. Rogers, you and your husband are in the same city for the first time in eighteen days.” This is one of the faces you aren’t familiar with in the gaggle of press. “Are you looking forward to being reunited as you support him in the first presidential debate tonight?”

Eighteen days… You hadn’t realized it had been that long, but you’ve become a trained professional when appearing in public now, and you don’t let your face betray any shock or unease.

“Yes, we’re eager to spend time together.” Consummate professional that you’ve become, you do play into showing a little bit of surprise. “Has it been eighteen days? Who’s been tracking this? Clearly we need you on our campaign team!”

It garners some good-natured laughs from the group.

“Mrs. Rogers, you and Steve had to cancel the traditional honeymoon, has it put a strain on your marriage, and will you be taking a honeymoon any time soon?”

“Oh, Ben, are you saying this isn’t a honeymoon? I thought all newlyweds took a five-month long zig-zagging trek all across America to kick off their marriage!”

A few more laughs.

“Steve is serious about this campaign, and we both knew the sacrifices we would be making along the way. Our time together is very limited, but I can tell you, without question, that Steve will be as dedicated to his roles and responsibilities as President as you have seen him be to this campaign. One thing we speak about frequently when we do have time together are the incredible people we’re meeting as we travel from state to state and get to talk with you, see what your life looks like in each new place.” This is true. It’s become one of the unspoken safe topics you can bring up at the drop of a hat with each other. “We’re getting the opportunity to experience first-hand that although we’re all so different, there’s so much that unites us as Americans, shoulder to shoulder, regardless of the part of the country we live in.”

“Thank you, everyone,” Sophia steps up and cuts in. “I’m sure we’ll see you all tonight at the debate. A reminder that the Rogers for America campaign will hold a brief press conference ten minutes after the debate concludes. For now, you have to let me get Mrs. Rogers in the car and on the way to the university or we’re not going to beat traffic - and neither will any of you.”

Then Sophia ushers you away, and you slip into the vehicle waiting for you both.

“Good answers,” she says, as the driver pulls away. “You’re really becoming comfortable fielding their questions and directing their energy where we want to see it go.”

You smile at Sophia's praise. She’s genuine but very no-nonsense, so she doesn’t throw out compliments to placate you or anyone else. It’s one of the reasons you promoted her to your assistant. "Thanks. I do feel like I'm starting to get the hang of it. Though I have to admit, I was a bit thrown by that '18 days' comment."

Sophia nods sympathetically. "I know. It's been a whirlwind, but you're doing great. The public loves you, and your approval ratings are holding steady."

You lean back in your seat, letting out a small sigh. "Approval ratings. Sometimes I still can't believe this is my life now."

As the car weaves through traffic, your mind drifts back to the past few months. The whirlwind wedding, the campaign launch, the endless string of rallies, interviews, and public appearances. You've barely had a moment to catch your breath, let alone get to know your husband.

Steve. Your husband.

In name and public persona only, it seems. The campaign trails that are being charted and continually adjusted for you, Steve, the VP nominee, and his wife, have all four of you covering as much ground as possible, and there’s rarely any overlap, but it does seem like you’re rarely with the Mr. to your Mrs. It makes things simultaneously more and less complicated. More complicated because the lack of time together means it’s more awkward that you’re still basically acquaintances but have to look the part of happy newlyweds. Less complicated because at least you’re not messing with any deep or complex feelings.

"Mrs. Rogers?" Sophia's voice pulls you from your thoughts. "We're almost there. Are you ready?"

You straighten up, smoothing down the front of your outfit. "As ready as I'm going to be. What's on the agenda before the debate?"

Sophia consults her tablet. "You have a meet and greet with the VP and a group of the local campaign volunteers. Steve should be arriving about forty-five minutes before the debate starts. Twenty minutes before the debate, you all have a brief prep session with the communications team - updates on the developments over the day and reviewing the message for tonight."

You nod, trying to ignore the small flutter in your stomach at the mention of Steve's name. It's ridiculous, you tell yourself. You're married to the man, for goodness sake. And you both know it’s a marriage for the stability of this campaign and the future presidency.

The car pulls up to the Thomas & Mack Center at the University of Nevada, and you take a deep breath, steeling yourself for the chaos that awaits. As you step out, you're immediately greeted by flashing cameras and shouts from the crowd. You smile and wave, but don't stop to answer any questions as you make your way inside, following someone from the debate logistics team to get to the staging and holding area.

Backstage is a flurry of activity. Campaign staffers rush back and forth, last-minute preparations are being made, and there's an electric tension in the air. Your eyes scan the room, looking for one person in particular.

And then you see him. Steve is standing off to the side, deep in conversation with one of the communications strategists. Even after all these months, the sight of him still takes your breath away. He's tall, broad-shouldered, and undeniably handsome in his perfectly tailored navy suit. His brow is furrowed in concentration as he listens intently to the woman in front of him.

As if sensing your presence, Steve looks up, his eyes meeting yours across the room. His face softens slightly, and he excuses himself from the conversation, making his way over to you.

"Hey," he says softly as he approaches, leaning in to give you a quick kiss on the cheek. It's for show, you know, it’s important that even your own campaign staff thinks this marriage is more than surface level, and you stifle the small thrill that runs through you at the gesture. It’s only a gesture.

"Hi," you reply, managing to offer up an encouraging smile. "How are you feeling? Ready for tonight?"

Steve nods, his expression determined. "As ready as I'll ever be. We still have a long weeks ahead, but I think we're in a good position - and that’s what they keep saying across the team at this point."

You nod, studying his face. Despite his confident words, you can see the tension in his jaw, the slight crease between his brows. You've learned to read these subtle signs over the past few months, even with your limited time together.

"You've got this, Steve," you say softly, placing a hand on his arm. The gesture feels both natural and strange - you're still navigating the boundaries of your unique relationship. "Just remember why you're doing this. Speak from the heart, like you always do."

Steve's eyes meet yours, and for a moment, you see a flash of vulnerability there. "Thank you," he says, his voice low. "I -”

But before he can say the rest of what he was going to, Sophia approaches, tablet in hand. "Mrs. Rogers, we need to go to the reception with the volunteers from the local campaign team."

[SEPTEMBER 7 - Cleveland, Ohio]

The campaign strategy meeting is in full swing, the air thick with tension and the buzz of caffeine-fueled ideas. You're seated at a long table in a nondescript hotel conference room, surrounded by a sea of laptops, notepads, and half-empty coffee cups. The walls are covered with maps, poll numbers, and hastily scribbled strategies.

Steve sits at the head of the table, his brow furrowed in concentration as he listens to the latest polling data. You're positioned a few seats away, close enough to appear united, but not his most trusted. Sam, Bucky, the VP nominee Young and his assistant, the campaign press secretary, the communications director, all sit closer to or directly across from Steve, at the heart of the table. But you are closer than the finance director, legal advisor, speech writers, and the policy directors.

You're seated next Sam on your left with Sophia on your right, taking notes and pulling up memos on her laptop.

Steve is leaning forward, his brow furrowed in concentration as he listens to the campaign manager, Jake Thompson, deliver his latest assessment.

Jake, a seasoned political operative with salt-and-pepper hair and a no-nonsense attitude, stands at the head of the table, remote control in hand as he flips through a report on polling and focus groups that have been conducted over the past two weeks with Gen Z in urban, suburban, and rural pockets of the country.

"As you can see," Jake says, his voice carrying a mix of concern and determination, "this is where we’re making progress. Enough of them are tired of the rhetoric that’s been recycled all their lives, problems that never seem to be resolved because they’re too useful as campaign issues. That’s why an independent candidate is beginning to look a lot more appealing.”

Jake clicks to the next slide, which shows a breakdown of key issues that resonated most with young voters. "Climate change, affordable education, and social justice are their top priorities. They appreciate your strong stance on these issues, Steve, but they're still skeptical about whether you can actually deliver real change."

Steve nods, his expression thoughtful. "So how do we bridge that gap? How do we convince them that we're not just another set of empty promises?"

You lean forward slightly, your mind racing with ideas. This is an area where you feel you can contribute significantly, given your background in non-profit work and your ability to connect with younger generations.

"If I may," you begin, and all eyes turn to you. You feel a flutter of nervousness but push through it. "I think we need to focus on concrete, actionable plans. Not just broad strokes, but specific steps we'll take in the first 100 days. I think it would speak to Millennials as well.”

Jake nods appreciatively at your suggestion. "Mrs. Rogers, did you hack into my laptop sometime in the last 24 hours?” He’s not smiling - he never outright smiles - but he has a proud glint in his eyes as he looks at you. “What you’re suggesting is exactly in line with what I wanted to bring to the table today. We need to show them we're not just talking the talk, we’re ready to his the ground running when they put us in the White House."

Steve nods, his eyes meeting yours with interest. "Go on," he encourages.

You take a deep breath, feeling more confident. "We should consider hosting a series of town halls specifically targeting young voters. Not just to talk at them, but to listen. Let them voice their concerns directly and then demonstrate how our policies address those issues. We could even live-stream these events, make them interactive."

Jake looks intrigued. "That should work. It plays into our strengths - Steve's authenticity and your ability to connect with younger demographics."

"We could also leverage social media more effectively," you continue, warming to your topic. "Not just posting sound bites, but creating engaging content that breaks down complex issues in accessible ways. Maybe even collaborate with some respected influencers who align with our values."

Steve leans back in his chair, a small smile playing at the corners of his mouth. "I like it. What else?”

Elsa, communications director jumps in, "These are excellent strategies we can absolutely put into play, but we're still facing challenges with this demographic. Many of them feel disconnected from the political process entirely. They see you, Steve, as part of an older generation that doesn't understand their issues."

You watch Steve's reaction carefully. His jaw tightens slightly, but he nods, absorbing the information.

"What do you suggest?" Steve asks, his voice calm but tinged with frustration.

Elsa hesitates for a moment before responding. "We need to make you more relatable to younger voters. Show them that despite your... unique background, you understand and care about the issues that matter to them."

"And how do we do that?" Steve presses.

Jake glances your way before answering. "We think Mrs. Rogers could play a key role here."

You straighten in your seat, suddenly very alert. "Me?" you ask, trying to keep the surprise out of your voice.

“Yes,” he confirms. “We have a problem and an opportunity that’s developing. That 18 days comment last week heated things up again with the public perception and scrutiny of your marriage. You handled it exactly as you should have, Mrs. Rogers,” he assures you, “that’s not our concern. But now that someone has brought up numbers for days apart, it’s becoming part of the narrative, and we already had to tame concerns over your sudden nuptials, we don’t want the state of your marriage to be the focus again.”

You chew on the inside of your cheek, and you can see out of the corner of your eye that Steve isn’t thrilled about this either.

“But the opportunity here,” Elsa jumps back in, “is that we can put that to rest and capitalize on what we’re beginning to see as the Mrs. Rogers effect on the campaign trail. Her approval ratings were never bad, but they keep climbing. The public still wonders if Steve is a politician, if he’s ready to be the next President, but they already see a politician’s wife in you, Mrs. Rogers.”

You feel a mix of pride and unease at Elsa's words. On one hand, it's gratifying to know your efforts are making a positive impact. On the other, you can't help but feel like you're being used as a prop.

Even though that is what you are at the most elementary level.

"What exactly are you proposing?" Steve asks, his tone careful but with an edge to it.

Jake leans forward, his expression earnest. "We want to increase the number of joint appearances you two make. Show the public that you're a united front, a team. Town halls, rallies, even some more casual, candid moments. Show the public that you're a team, that you support each other. It'll help soften Steve's image and make him more relatable to younger voters."

You glance at Steve, trying to gauge his reaction. His face is impassive, but there is a slight tension in his jaw.

You can see Steve is uncomfortable with the idea, but he's considering it carefully. You decide to speak up.

"I appreciate the strategy, but I have some concerns," you say. "We don't want to come across as inauthentic or like we're using our relationship as a political tool. That could backfire, especially with younger voters who are already skeptical of politicians and doing things for clout."

Jake nods, "You're right to be cautious. We're not suggesting anything overly staged or fake. Just more opportunities for the public to see you two together, interacting naturally."

Steve finally speaks up. "I agree with my wife," he says, and you feel a small, unexpected thrill at hearing him refer to you that way, even though you know it's just part of this gig. "We need to be careful about how we approach this. I don't want to exploit our relationship. But let’s make it work."

Jake wraps up the meeting quickly at that point, instructing his staff to update each candidate’s logistics team over the updated schedule that will play to the ‘Rogers & Rogers Strategy,’ and putting the policy advisors and communications team to work on implementing your suggestions into the direction they were going to propose. As every minute of the campaign season is instrumental, nearly everyone clears out of the room at that point.

You’re at the elevator in the lobby when you realize you left your jacket in the hotel conference room. Sophia says they can have an aide bring it up to your room, but you insist you’d like to stretch your legs a little more before heading up to sleep. As you head back down the hall, you’re relieved to see the door is still open, and you pick up your step. But then you come to an abrupt halt when you hear voices and your name drifts out into the hallway in a conversation between Steve, Sam, and Bucky.

“I don’t like it.”

“What a surprise! The anit-social, bionic man with a staring problem doesn’t like the idea of pal-ing around with the new Mrs. Rogers! Man, I know you only recently started to like me, but can you get on board with her.”

“Who says I like you?” he counters.

“Ha ha,” Sam retorts dryly. “You should be so lucky that next time we put you up for president so we could canvas the country for a girl who could put up with you and all your bullshit.”

Steve chuckles - something you realize you’ve rarely heard him do.

“But it’s you I’m surprised by, Steve,” Sam continues. “Why are you still holding this girl at arms’ length?”

Steve heaves a heavy sigh, and you can just imagine him putting his hands on his hips.

“You don’t even know, do you?” Sam presses him, his tone incredulous.

You hold your breath, straining to hear Steve's response. There's a long pause before he speaks.

"It's not that simple, Sam," Steve says, his voice low and weary. "This whole situation... it's complicated."

"Complicated how?" Sam presses. "She's smart, she's kind, she's dedicated to the cause. And let's be real, she's not hard on the eyes either. What's holding you back?"

You feel your cheeks flush at Sam's words, a mix of embarrassment and curiosity coursing through you.

"It's not about her," Steve says firmly. "She's... she's great. Better than I could have hoped for, honestly. But this whole arrangement, it just feels..."

"Fake?" Bucky offers, his voice gruff.

"No," Steve says quickly. "Not fake. Just... I don't know. Forced. This whole situation - it's not the same as the tour for war bonds back in ‘43, but it’s still a production. I never imagined being in a situation like this again."

"None of us imagined this, Steve," Bucky chimes in, his tone softer than before.

Steve sighs again. “And I know it’s another thing I’ve chosen that neither of you signed up for, and I appreciate you being here by my side.”

"And she's here now, too,” Sam circles back to you, “and she's trying. You can't keep pushing her away."

"I'm not pushing her away," Steve protests, but it sounds weak even to your ears.

"Really?" Sam challenges. "Because from where I'm standing, it looks like you're doing enough to conveniently keep your distance. She's your wife, Steve. On paper, sure, but she's also becoming a real partner in this campaign. You've seen how she handles herself out there."

You lean against the wall, your heart racing as you listen to the conversation. You know you shouldn't be eavesdropping, but you can't bring yourself to walk away, not when - even if you’re not involved - someone is finally talking about the state of your marriage.

"I know," Steve says, his voice tinged with frustration. "I see it. She's incredible out there. The way she connects with people, the way she articulates our message, she’s all in and she's a natural."

"So what's the problem?" Sam presses.

"If I let her in and this doesn't work out..."

"You mean the campaign?" Sam asks.

"No," Steve says.

And then - because of course it’s that exact moment - a door just a bit further down the opens, and you have to pretend you were not just standing in the hallway eavesdropping on anyone, and you abandon jacket retrieval and pretend you were on your way to the hotel bar to catch a quick nightcap with some of the staffers.

[SEPTEMBER 8 - Airspace over Ohio]

The next morning, it’s wheels up at 7am for the presidential candidate campaign plane, and you’re on it. You’re being sent with Steve to Wisconsin.

As the plane climbs to cruising altitude, you stifle a yawn and make your way to the "war room" - a section of the campaign plane that serves as a mobile strategy center and occasional dining area. The smell of coffee and pastries wafts through the air, a tempting lure after the early morning rush.

Sophia’s intern had already supplied you with your go-to morning drink, but you grab a plate and fill it with some fruit, cheese, bacon, and a surprisingly and delightfully warm croissant. The plane's engines hum steadily as you settle into one of the seats at the table. The early morning sunlight streams through the small windows, casting a warm glow over the polished wood table. You've barely slept, your mind still reeling from the conversation you overheard last night.

You pull out your tablet, intending to review the day's revised schedule, but your thoughts keep drifting back to Steve's words. The weight of them sits heavy in your chest, a mix of disappointment and something else you can't quite name.

You're so lost in your thoughts that you don't notice someone approaching until they clear their throat. You look up, expecting to see Sophia or maybe one of the campaign staffers. Instead, you find yourself faced with Bucky Barnes.

"Morning," he says, his voice gruff but not unfriendly. "Mind if I join you?"

You blink, momentarily thrown off balance. In all the months of campaigning, you've barely exchanged more than a few pleasantries.

"Of course," you say, gesturing to the seat across from you.

Bucky nods and takes a seat, setting down his own plate of food. There's an awkward silence as he settles in, and you can't help but study him. His hair is short again - the style he’d adopted when he was pardoned not long after the Snap. He's dressed casually in jeans and a dark henley. Despite his relaxed appearance, there's an undeniable intensity about him, a coiled energy that seems barely contained.

"So," Bucky says, breaking the silence. "Wisconsin."

You nod, grateful for the opening. "Yes, big day ahead. Are you joining us for the rally?"

Bucky shakes his head. "I’ll be backstage, but no."

Another silence falls between you, but it feels almost companionable, and the two of you enjoy your breakfast. Usually people try to fill any potentially silent moment around you these days, and so the reprieve itself is nice, but it doesn’t last long. Soon you’re joined by some of the staff - some seeking breakfast, some looking for you or for Bucky. And so the next wave of action for the day begins.

next part: HOUSTON

I KNOW! WE JUMPED FROM THE DAY BEFORE THE WEDDING TO THE BEGINNING OF SEPTEMBER! But that's by design.

↠ Main Masterlist | Aspen's Ask Box | Field Guide to the Forest

I do not do tag lists, but FOLLOW @buckets-and-stories and TURN ON NOTIFICATIONS to be updated any time I publish a new work!

[sashaisready]

Since You've Been Gone: Chapter 2

Bucky Barnes x Reader

Series Masterlist

After a regrettable first meeting in the cemetery, you discover that you have something in common with a certain member of the Avengers. Unfortunately, you can't choose your neighbours, even in death.

(Setting is approx. post TFATWS)

After that, you saw him there quite frequently.

Not every time. But often when you were there, he was there too. You guessed your schedules overlapped in that way. One time you’d nearly said, ‘I guess we have the same dead-parent visiting hours’, but fortunately had managed to hold your tongue.

The two of you didn’t really speak. A nod of acknowledgement here, a mumbled hello there. Once, something fell out of your bag onto the ground without you noticing and he’d said ‘hey’ and pointed to it as you turned around, and you’d thanked him. That was the extent of your interactions.

And that was fine. You remembered all too clearly the fury in his eyes at that first meeting. Best to leave him be, and not accidentally invoke his wrath. You were still a little sore about how he’d spoken to you then, but you also cut him some slack – you’d probably be quite prickly if you’d been through what he had. Your parents’ deaths had given you some perspective in life, you tried to think the best of people and take their actions in good faith unless they proved otherwise, as you never know what they’re battling.

But you weren’t a doormat, either.

One chilly afternoon you were both at the cemetery. James…or should you refer to him as Bucky? Was standing at his parents’ graves. He’d brought flowers but now stood there in silence as he looked down at their head stones, pondering. He often did that.

You were hunched over your own family’s plot, trimming the leaves on some chrysanthemums (your mother’s favourite) with the mini garden shears you kept in your kit. You had pulled your free arm across your body in an attempt to shield yourself from the biting wind when you clumsily slipped, the shears nicking the skin on your hand.

“Ow!”, you whispered sharply as you abruptly dropped the shears and looked at the damage.

“Fuck…” you mumbled under your breath. Crimson seeped across your hand, dripping onto the grass below. You weren’t squeamish but you couldn’t help but feel queasy at the sight of all that blood, the cut was deeper than you initially realised and at an awkward angle across your palm.

You trembled slightly as you attempted to find a tissue or similar in your bag with your free hand, scrambling before locating a microfibre cloth you fortunately hadn’t used yet. As you struggled to free the cloth from your kit and move it onto your injury, a gloved hand moved across you and scooped up the cloth – effortlessly swiping it onto the cut and holding it in place over your hand.

You blinked, bewildered, as you turned your head to find James or Bucky or whatever he called himself leaning over you. He furrowed his brow as he applied pressure to stem the bleeding. You tensed up as he touched you – not expecting physical contact, his proximity so close you could smell his cologne. But he was gentle, gentler than you expected a burly, metal-armed man to be. This was all quite unexpected from your normally silent neighbour.

“You wouldn’t think those little suckers could cut so deep,” he gruffed as he glanced down at the discarded shears.

“I’m not quite sure how I managed it…” you told him, “and…uh…thank-you…for helping me”.

He didn’t respond, just expertly wrapped the cloth up and tied it at the sides to create a makeshift bandage across your hand. He worked quickly, but with the precision of an actual medical professional. You figured he must’ve had a lot of experience with this sort of stuff.

“You okay?” he asked.

You looked up at his face, searching for well…anything. Despite the care and concern shown in his actions, his tone was still grumpy and monotonous like it always was. The juxtaposition between the two contrasts was dizzying. It was as if he was doing all of this as a tedious chore, even though you hadn’t asked him for any of it. His blue eyes stared back at you, nothing given away. The man was a vault.

“Yeah, was just a little shocked. I’m fine, thanks,” you replied as you tore your eyes away, looking down as you lightly flexed your hand beneath the cloth/bandage. It was well secured – the bleeding seemed to have stopped.

“That’s good for now,” he nodded towards your hand as he stood back up, “but you should probably take a look at it when you get home. Clean it so it doesn’t get infected. Put an actual bandage on it,” he ordered sternly.

“Okay. Thanks, I uh, will,” you nodded back at him, “I need to get going, anyway”.

You began putting things away in your bag – which was harder with one hand - and to your surprise he helped, carefully packing up the kit without a word.

“You don’t have to-” you attempted to protest, but he ignored you – leaning over you sliding each item into your bag as if he did it all the time. After he was finished you slung the bag over your shoulder.

“Bye,” you hesitated as you moved to leave, “and thanks again, for all…of that”.

“See ya,” he responded casually. He’d already turned his back to you as his focus centred on the graves once again.

You kissed your fingers and placed it on your parents’ headstone to say goodbye, as you always did when you left them. As you walked away, you couldn’t help but replay the interaction in your head. Did he…like you? Or the very least tolerate you? Or were you just a nuisance? But you didn’t ask him for any help, he just-

Stop.

You did your best to remove it all from your mind. Nothing good ever came from arguing with yourself.

As you walked, you didn’t notice the intense gaze that followed your movements until you disappeared from sight.

🍂

The weeks rolled on. You saw Bucky here and there. The two of you probably exchanged ten words in total over a period of months. Hellos. Byes. Nods of acknowledgement, hands held up in greeting. Little else. You simply minded your own business, and he minded his. He seemed satisfied with that. You certainly didn’t want to piss him off.

It was a Sunday morning when it happened. Autumn was becoming winter and the air was changing, the chill sharper than it had been in the weeks before. You had bundled up in a hat and scarf but still came to see your parents as you always did. You were an all-weather visitor.

Bucky was there too, still in his coat but not quite wrapped up in the way you were. You supposed he didn’t feel the cold the way you did. He was standing quietly as usual while you swept up the last of the autumn leaves that had blown onto your family’s plot.

It was quiet which was unusual, Sundays were often busy here as it was a popular day for people to pay their respects - but it was still quite early in the morning, and it’s possible the cold had put some of them off. You liked the peace and solitude of the weekend mornings, and it seemed that Bucky did too.

You could see a man in the near distance wandering around seemingly aimlessly. He had his phone pointed at various head stones, swinging around as if filming them on the phone camera. He didn’t seem to be visiting anyone specifically but taking a scattergun approach to where he was going. You frowned. That was odd, but you didn’t like to judge how people visited the cemetery. Maybe he was trying to find a certain plot, or filming the place to show someone else. You put your head back down and ignored him as you moved away the last few leaves and became engrossed in your tasks again.

“Oh FUCK, I knew it was you!” someone squealed excitedly.

You whipped your head around at the abrupt voice. The man with the phone was now standing just a few feet away, his phone aimed at Bucky’s face as he grinned.

“Hey, man,” Bucky said calmly, the discomfort obvious across his face, “How’s it going…look, I’m just-”

“The WINTER SOLDIER,” the man yelled into the camera, “in the FLESH. THE METAL. Right here in the cemetery. I knew I’d find good content in this creepy ass graveyard but I never thought-”

“Put the phone down, please,” Bucky asked. Well, more demanded. His voice was even, but from the sidelines you could hear the hint of annoyance creeping in. His face tightened; his eyes suddenly seemed darker. You subconsciously tensed up as the air changed.

The man, oblivious to any of this, or just refusing to acknowledge it, continued.

“So why you here man?” he asked obnoxiously as he thrust the screen closer towards Bucky. “Can I get a selfie? It would be great for my channel…”

Bucky winced, “look, no offence, but I’m just here trying to keep my head down. This is a private moment for me. Can you just-”

“What, what’s the big deal?” the guy scoffed, “don’t get all diva celebrity on me. You think you’re too good to meet fans?”

“No, I just…”

“What? You visiting the grave of one of your victims or something?” the man laughed vindictively as he mimed a gunshot to the head and made a shooting sound with his mouth. You gasped at his callousness.

Bucky didn’t blink. He yanked the phone from the guy’s hand and crushed it between his metal fingers in a split second, the debris sprinkling onto the ground below. The guy gasped in response, but before he could protest Bucky had grabbed him by the shirt and was holding him in the air, staring him down with a terrifying sneer as the man’s legs dangled and he wailed in fear.

“Hey, whoa…whoa…put him down,” you said softly, moving to Bucky and placing a hand on his shoulder. “He’s not worth it…and this isn’t the place for it…”

Bucky inhaled sharply but listened to you, keeping his eyes locked onto the man but releasing him. He fell to the ground with a heavy thump.

“Everyone’s gonna hear about this…” the man said anxiously as he righted himself, his breathing heavy in spite of his clear attempt to seem tough.

“No, they’re not,” you spat back.

His eyes widened in shock as he jeered at you, “What?? Says who? You? That maniac broke my damn phone and picked me up by my collar!”

“You disturbed someone at a cemetery who was privately mourning, and were disrespecting the graves by treading all over them and filming it all for views,” you said venomously, “I’m guessing you didn’t get a permit to make a video here either, huh? They take that very seriously here, you know, after all, this is a place of rest. They could even get you on grave desecration if they decide to file a complaint with the police…”

He didn’t respond, but his panicked face said it all.

“You’re lucky all you got was a broken phone. Besides, you have no evidence,” you toed at the phone remains, “and your only eyewitnesses will say you tried to attack a veteran as he was having a private moment of mourning, so he accidentally broke your phone in self-defence”.

The man opened his mouth in dismay, looking between you and Bucky in shock. Bucky nodded, affirming your version of events.

After a few moments the man harumphed.

“Fine…whatever. You’re both crazy anyhow…” he muttered as he stormed off. The two of you watched him go.

“You didn’t have to do that,” Bucky said quietly without meeting your gaze, “I should’ve kept it together”.

“It’s fine,” you shrugged, “I hate people who are disrespectful to this place. And what he said to you was really out of line”.

“I’ve had worse. Do you really need a permit to film here on your camera? And they’d really call the police?”

“Oh…no idea. I just said that to rattle him,” you smirked.

Bucky looked at you with surprise, then the corners of his mouth turned up into a small smile.

“Thank-you” he mumbled.

“Yeah…no problem,” you smiled back at him.

“I’m James by the way. But everyone calls me Bucky”.

You gave him your name in return, and he gave you a small nod.

You both stood in the silence for a little while, until he leaned over and started picking up the broken shards that once resembled a smart phone.

Bucky, you thought to yourself. I can call him Bucky.

[tiredfox64]

Hey! Love your work! Can you write something about Bi Han having a s/o that’s half bunny? Go all out!!

Winter Fluff

Yip notes: I would just like to remind everyone that what happened in Khaos Reigns didn’t happen and the only person who Bi-Han should be with in you. Why? Bc I said so

Pairing: Bi-Han x Bunny! Gn reader

Warnings‼️: None, also new blinkie to say it’s safe wow :3

Padded feet, furry legs, long ears, cotton tail, is that a bunny? No, it’s just you! Just a bunny person hopping around the Lin Kuei Temple like you own the place. No one’s gonna stop you! Why? Because who would be stupid enough to stop the grandmaster’s partner from having fun? Except maybe Sektor, definitely Sektor.

Who would’ve thought Bi-Han loved bunnies. Not his clan, not his brothers, not even he knew he liked bunnies. But the moment he laid eyes on you something inside his mind and heart said he had to have you. Don’t you remember the first time you two met?

 ══💤══╡°˖✧🦊✧˖°╞══💤══

It’s so hard to grow things in Arctika. The ground is hard and the wind is brutal. However, some vegetation can actually grow in such harsh conditions. Things such as…carrots…turnips…leafy greens. All things a bunny would desire. Luckily for you, the Lin Kuei was growing all of that.

What? You think Bi-Han’s just gonna run his clan off of just meats? Come on, he’s an idiot when it comes to himself, but he grows a brain cell when it comes to his clan. Or not. It’s not your job to figure out if he’s doing his clan justice or not. Your only job is to munch on carrots and look cute. We haven’t gotten to that second part yet so back it up a little.

The Lin Kuei garden was your favorite place to hop over to. It’s not like anyone was keeping a close eye on it. They were too occupied with training. It didn’t hurt anybody if you stole a carrot or two. With your thick and strong nails, you could easily tear up the hard Earth and retrieve a carrot. Of course, you left a hole there, so they could plant even more vegetables for you. Look how considerate you are.

You were a little menace for nearly two months before you were caught. What a scary day that was. One second you were digging through rocks and dirt for a radish and the next thing you hear is some machinery behind you. You looked behind to see a suit of red armor with two guns coming out of the back, ready to shoot at you. Oof, tough luck, Sektor was the one to catch you.

You could’ve easily booked it out of there with your bunny legs, but you had no clue how quickly those guns would take you out. So you just stayed there staring blankly at her as she yelled at you about something like “state your purpose” or whatever. You couldn’t hear over the fear that was consuming you. You flattened yourself on the ground, your ears flopped back against your head. You kept your eyes on those guns until someone finally came to your rescue. Oh thank goodness it was Bi-Han.

…

No one looks at Bi-Han and says thank goodness, but he was your knight in dark blue armor at that moment.

“What do you think you are doing?” He scolded Sektor, the sound of his voice making your ears perk up.

Her face plates opened to show her face before she spoke, “I am taking care of this intruder.” She pointed towards you, but Bi-Han could only see your ears poking over the vegetation.

“The bunny? You are wasting your time on killing a bunny?!” He nearly shouted at her for such a ridiculous thing.

“What?! This is not just some bunny, look!” She dragged Bi-Han to where she was standing so he could get a better view of you.

You were still flat on the ground with your eyes looking up at him. He was quiet as he stared down at you. His face seemed blank but under the surface he was quite intrigued. A bunny person, who would’ve thought such a being existed.

Since Bi-Han was in front of Sektor you thought you might actually have a chance at escape. She wouldn’t risk Bi-Han getting hurt because she tried to shoot you. She could easily make a mistake. You lifted yourself a little, your tail down and your ears forward. Bi-Han made the mistake of taking a step towards you which triggered your fight or flight and fuck trying to box that man. You ain’t winnin. You bolted out of there, your feet sort of flicking back as you used the nature around you to disguise yourself. That flick was like flipping them off, a fuck you for trying to kill me. And look at you, you still manage to steal two carrots, an extra fuck you to them.

That was the start of it all. Your cute little tail and your quick speed captured the grandmaster’s attention. Bi-Han wanted to believe he was interested in you cause of the fact that you could potentially be a good addition to his clan. Bunnies might be prey but they will still fight to survive. In reality, your pleading eyes and pointy ears warmed his frozen heart a little. Having a bunny around wouldn’t be so bad.

So he waited with great patience, seeing if you were brave enough to return. Fortunately for him, and unfortunately for you, the Earth was not kind enough to give you easy access to food. You had to return to the Lin Kuei for a chance at survival while also risking your death. But on arrival at the garden you were surprised to see a door to the temple open. The warm light inside tempted you, promising you warmth and safety. Then you saw Bi-Han come into view. The sight of him almost made you hop out of there but when you saw what was in his hand you hesitated.

He is tempting you, sweetie, he is tempting you with some carrots and turnips. Got some parsley in there too, oh what a treat.

He was waving them in front of you like that was really gonna work…oh gosh it worked. You slowly but carefully crept towards him. It would be much easier to take it from him than to dig it up yourself.

“…are you going to kill me?” You asked him.

“No, that is an idiotic question.”

“I’m just making sure,” you stayed quiet for a second, “Are you gonna eat me?”

“I do not need to be nice to you. Are you coming in or not?” His tone was aggressive even though he was trying his hardest to lure you in. No one said he was good at picking up bunny people.

Fine, fine, you’re desperate to survive out here. It wouldn’t hurt you to hop into the temple and eat out of Bi-Han’s hands. You’ll be in and out just like that. A handsome man will feed you, who’s gonna deny that.

Oh, oh you’re getting close. Oh the carrots are right in front of your nose. You can smell it, your ears are twitching in excitement. One more step and…yeah you’re domesticated. GOT YA

══💤══╡°˖✧🦊✧˖°╞══💤══

Obviously, you never left the Lin Kuei. You never left Bi-Han. And why would you when that man basically provides you with everything. He treats you like the delicate bunny you are.

Originally, he tried to involve you as another member of his clan. You truly had potential especially when you back-kicked Sektor after she snuck up on you the day after you went inside. Those powerful thumpers sent her flying back twenty feet. Yeah, her suit absorbed the hit, but it was embarrassing. But even with that potential, you really didn’t want to do all that. You would rather flop down on Bi-Han’s bed.

Oh yeah, you were quick to be in his bed…NOT LIKE THAT.

You didn’t wait to see if there was another room for you to stay in and make it your own. Nope, you found the largest room in the temple (which was his) and claimed it as your own. He tried pushing you off, but you were dead weight because once you flop you won’t get back up. So, he was forced to have you as a snuggle buddy, oh the horror. What would Bi-Han do with this soft being that won’t leave his bed? He has no choice but to cuddle them every night with his face between their fluffy ears.

With a situation like that it was no wonder you guys became close. He found your presence pleasing and you found his ability to handle your antics charming. You’re a very fussy bunny, but what bunny person isn’t? I mean just look at you giving him attitude right now cause he wouldn’t allow you to show him your love. That’s probably because your love language involves biting and licking.

Thump, Thump

“Enough,” He responded dully with his arms crossed.

Thump, Thump, Thump

“We are in the middle of practice.” He warned you as he continued watching his clansmen train.

THUMP!!

Your padded feet slammed down on the wooden floor, sounding like thunder crashing down. One more hit and you’d break the floor. You stopped but that didn’t mean you would stop trying to get Bi-Han’s attention. You started running circles around him, your padded feet making light thumping sounds all around him. Your cotton tail wagged to show you were displeased with him and how he ignored you. But he clearly got the hint with your ears smacking his face when you rounded back to his front. He had to grab you by the ears to stop you before asking,

“What? What is it that you want? If you are looking for food you can either wait or you can get it from the dining area—”

“I just want to show you my love…and get your attention!” You flopped your body onto him and he was forced to wrap his arms around your waist.

Everyone in the room gave a similar look to Bi-Han. It was a look that said “just let them do what they want already we really don’t care” and they truly don’t because everybody knows you two are together. You won, he gave in.

“Alright you have my attention, it is yours. Do what you want but no more interrupting.”

“Yes!” You leaped high into the air, radiating pure joy like you just won the lottery.

Bi-Han held you in his arms as he rested his head on top of yours. You used that as an opportunity to kiss him along his jawline before nibbling on him a little. He let out groans and occasionally gave a quiet “ow” but endured it all. This is your love, he’ll take it. Plus, he’s not gonna make himself look weak because he can’t take a few nibbles. You’re soothing the stinging with little love licks. Don’t tell anybody this but he secretly…not so secretly loves it.

But the best part about situations like this when you’re all over Bi-Han and he gives you attention is Sektor’s reactions. You can always see out of the corner of your eyes the anger brewing in her with every lick and kiss you give him. And what do you do every time? You stick the tip of your tongue out like a clueless bunny, give a devious smirk, and bite Bi-Han again. She won’t do a damn thing because no one will put a hand on Bi-Han’s bunny. He makes sure of that.

She just has to suffer with the fact that a bunny person shares Bi-Han’s bed but doesn’t share Bi-Han. Ain’t that right, Bi-Han?

“That’s enough.”

Thump!

“Fine, but you can only lick and kiss me. You have bitten me enough.”

Yap notes: Look guys, it’s you 👇

I don't think this is my best tbh. I might've been unfocused a lot but that's what this semester is doing to me. I really wanna get back into writing fanfics but my professors have drained me. Also to Fishii if you read this I'm a liar I did get distracted while writing this but it was for funny reasons. Trust, trust. Okay now I have to lock in and do my hw. I hope yall like the blinkie btw XD. Adiós!

[nena-la-fresa]

Monitoring You Like Machines Do

18+ Account | Minors DNI | Do NOT Follow, Like, or Comment | Pls have your age in your bio, if you do not I will automatically block you because I’ll assume you are a minor.

Pairing: Josh Washington x f! Reader

Warning: Kidnapping | Drugging | Obsession | Stalking | Some Smut | P in V | Yandere Josh

Word Count: 4039

A/n: This feels very oc, but idk I kinda see it. Plus I spent too much time on it to scrap it. I mean I kinda like it.

“Alright. Remember to read tonight’s chapters for the discussion on Wednesday. I’ll also be giving you guys some time to discuss the topics you guys want to talk about. Make sure you at least have that rough draft finished so that a peer can give feedback.” 

You started to make your way out of class when you were stopped by someone. 

“Hey Y/n. I was wondering if there was any way you could help me with something.” 

You watched as Josh gave you his oh so sly smirk. “Sure. What is it?”

”Well, you see you’re so much better at this stuff than me. Do you think you could help me pick a topic and so I could get started on the rough draft?” 

You gave him a playful smile, “I thought you were smart Josh.” 

He leaned against the wall, “Nah I am. I just think you’re a whole lot smarter in this subject.”

You rolled your eyes and scoffed playfully, “Okay. Where did you want to meet?” 

“You’ve been to that coffee shop down on fifth?” 

“The one right by the book store right?” 

“Exactly.” 

“Okay. I’ll see you there then.”

“Alright. Sounds good.” He smiles at you before backing up slowly, still not taking his eyes off you. 

“Five o'clock Josh. And don’t be late. I don’t want to stand outside in the dark alone.”

He saluted you before leaving the classroom, “Yes ma’am.”

“Damn it Josh.” You looked down at your watch. 

It was pushing six already, you felt the cold breeze pass through your legs. You felt your body shiver. You pulled out your phone to try and call him. You kept hearing a ringing. But it didn’t sound like it was coming from your phone. 

You turned around and looked down the alleyway. 

“Josh, are you there?” You hung up and called him again.

The phone rang again. 

“Josh I swear you better not be trying to scare me. This isn’t funny.”

You walked down the alleyway slowly. You found his phone in a puddle of blood. There was a noise behind you. But before you could turn around a hand covered your mouth. You tried to fight against the person but the smell of the substance they put against your nose was too strong. You could feel your body grow limp. Everything started to grow dark.

You scrunched your face from the coldness of the floor. Your body ached all over as you sat up. You looked around the room that you were in. You would say it was barren but there was a table, a bed, and a door that led to god knows what. You heard shuffling coming from that same room. 

“Who's there?” You got up slowly looking around for something to protect yourself with. But there really was nothing for you to use. 

You called out again. This time you were met with a muffled yell. You crept slowly into what looked like a bathroom. You saw a person with a bag over their head and their hands cuffed to a small pipe. You moved forward grabbing the bag and pulling it off. 

You watched as Josh blinked trying to adjust to the light. His words were muffled by the cloth wrapped around his mouth. 

“Oh god! Josh, are you okay?” You quickly kneeled down and removed the cloth from his mouth. 

“I’m fine. Are you okay? Are you hurt?” You looked at you to check if you had any bruises. 

You lightly laughed, “Are you seriously asking me that when you’re the one that’s cuffed.” 

“Yeah you’re right.” He chuckled softly, “I just want to make sure you’re okay. Who knows what they could have done to you.” 

“Thank you for caring about me Josh.” You touch his cheek softly.

“I always care about you.” He leaned his cheek into your palm.

You smiled at him softly, “Okay. Let’s try and get you out of those cuffs.” 

You get up and start to look through all the drawers hoping to find something. There was nothing in the bathroom except for essentials. In the back of your mind you knew this was weird. Why was their shampoo and conditioner, let alone body wash? If someone kidnapped you why would they go through all the trouble to want to keep you clean. I mean if this was a sex trafficking kind of thing why would they care about that. 

“Did you find anything?” 

“No, not yet.”

You walked over to the kitchen and looked through all the drawers. There were no knives or forks, and everything there was plastic or paper, not ceramic or glass. Nothing you could fight back. 

Stressed you put a hand on your forehead. You slicked your hair back but stopped when you felt something poke your hand slightly. You picked through you felt left over bobby pins from earlier. You pulled them out and made your way over to Josh. 

“Did you find something?”

“Yeah. I can’t believe I forgot I had some bobby pins in my hair. Hopefully this works, I’ve never done this before.”

You kneeled back down and started to try and pick the cuffs. It took a few tries before you were finally able to get them open. Josh rubbed his wrist before standing up. 

“Thanks. Was there anything else around here?” He walked out of the bathroom and looked around the room. 

“Not much. But I haven’t even tried the door. I don’t know if you want to check it out and see if you could open it.” 

He nodded, “Yeah we can try that.” 

He walked over to the only door. He tried everything, he pushed at the door, kicked it, even tried using the pins but nothing worked. 

“Yeah this thing won’t budge.” 

“Who would do this?” You sat down at the table. 

“I have no idea. Let’s just wait it out a bit. We can try the door again later.” 

“What if they come back? What if they don’t come back. We have food but what if that runs out. What are we going to do?” You kept rambling on. 

“Don’t worry.” Josh kneeled down in front of you. “I promise I won’t let anything happen to you.” 

“You’re really sweet Josh. You know that?” Even if he reassured you it still felt odd. 

You knew of Josh. You adored him really, but he was still a stranger. You only had him for some classes but you didn’t know each other on a personal level. Yeah, you had a small crush but that was it. You didn’t know about his life outside of school, who his family was, what kind of person he was outside of university or anything else. Just that he seemed like a cool guy to hang out with. But you couldn’t tell him that, you wouldn’t want to risk getting him upset. You two were locked up together after all. 

“Only to you.” He rubbed his thumb against your knee gently. “Let me get you some water.” 

You nodded, “I highly doubt that. Don’t you have five girls going after you? I’m sure you’re sweet to all of them.” 

He opens a cabinet and pulls out a cup. He opens the fridge and begins to pour you some water. 

“Nah I’m just nice to them. It’s different with you though.” 

Something in the back of your head kept whispering. Maybe even screaming at you. How did he know? How did he know which cabinet to open? How did he know there was water in the fridge? The only logical reasoning was that it was pretty common to keep them in those places. But how did he know which one? On the first try. 

You take the water that he had handed you. “Oh yeah? How so?” 

You hesitated to drink it. But you saw that he began to pour himself some. You took a sip of the water still watching his movements. 

“Well, I like you. So really they don’t mean anything to me.” 

You paused for a moment, he liked you? You looked up at him, he looked sweet and soft. How could you ever think he could hurt you? Maybe he really did care about you. Maybe you were just over thinking. 

You watched as he watched you. As he leaned against the counter tapping his finger anxiously against it. 

“So you think the perfect opportunity is to tell me when we are locked up?”

“Well I was gonna tell you at the cafe but. You know, this happened.” 

“I wish you would have told me sooner. Under different circumstances.” 

He moved back closer to you, “I know. And I’m sorry for that.” 

“You don’t have to apologize. You felt your body grow heavy, you kept blinking trying to keep your eyes open. Your body began to sway, you leaned forward falling from the chair into Josh's arms

“Y/n?” He tapped your face lightly, “Y/n? Are you okay?” 

Your eyes felt tired, “The water. I think something was in the water.” 

Josh lays you down, he rushes to the fridge and opens it swiftly. He dumps out the water, he grabs everything in the fridge and throws it away.

You watch as he rushes off to the door, you felt yourself going in and out of consciousness.

“Hey assholes! Fuck you! Let us out of here!” 

You heard the lock turning, you watched as the door opened slightly. You watched as Josh stumbled back, his face now bloody. You watched as he was yanked behind the door. 

“Josh” You tried screaming. 

All you could hear was his yells through the cracked open door. You could hear the way they beat him. You tried to drag your body towards the door. You had never felt so helpless before. You had only moved slightly before his yells stopped. He was thrown back in, the door was then shut again and locked. 

You saw him lying in his own puddle of blood. 

“Josh” He didn’t respond back, and once again the dark consumed you. 

You felt hands on your body. You felt the way they picked through your hair. You couldn't move, you couldn’t fight back. Not even when this person had their hands on your face. You felt the way their hand lingered against your cheek. The way that it traced lines down your arm, the way that they did the same thing against your leg. You felt warm tears running down your face. You heard the way they shushed you softly. You felt the way they placed something against your nose and smelled that familiar substance. 

You opened your eyes and gasped for air. You were hoping that this was nothing but a nightmare, but you saw that your clothes were different. You saw how Josh was still on the floor bloody. 

You got up quickly to check on him. He groaned when you helped him sit up. 

“Fuck, what did they do to you.” He winced when you touched his cheek. 

“I think I pissed them off.” 

You were stunned by the strength he had to joke around, “Yeah you think?”

He chuckled lightly but grabbed his rib from the pain. 

“Let's go get you cleaned up.” You tried lifting him up. 

“No.” 

“No? Why?” 

“Is that new? When did you change?”

“I don’t know I woke up like this. Shit heads probably changed my clothes.” 

“I don’t want it to get dirty. It’s a nice night gown. You look good.” 

“Josh, are you kidding me right now?”

“I just don’t want to upset them. They probably put it on you for a reason.” 

“That’s the least of my worries right now.” 

“But-”

“But nothing Josh.” You felt the blood smear on your arm. “Jesus you’re covered in blood. I don’t think a cloth is going to take all this blood off. I think you have to go in the shower.”

“It’s okay. I got it.” He tried standing up by himself but he stumbled. 

“Yeah no you don’t.” 

You set Josh down at the table, you hesitated for a moment before taking the nightgown off. You knew he wasn’t going to shut up about you ruining it. You help him stand up again getting to the bathroom. You helped him sit down, he winced when you tried taking his shirt off. He was covered in bruises. He stood up slowly and started to take his pants off. 

“Try to hold yourself up while I turn on the water.” 

“You really don’t have to help me. I can do it myself.”

“I don’t know if you can see yourself right now. But you can barely lift your arms up. So I can’t imagine how you’re gonna get that blood off of you.”

He stayed quiet, once the water warmed up you stepped inside with him. He let himself soak under the water. He had let you wash his hair, let you run your hand across his chest, his arms, his back. 

He liked the way it felt. The way your fingers grazed him softly. He could feel his boxers grow a bit tight. 

“Alright, turn around. I just need to make sure that you don’t have any more blood on your face.” 

“I’m good, I don't.” 

“Why are you being weird? Just turn around.” 

“I can’t.”

“Why?”

“Because.”

“What, you got a boner or something?” 

He stayed quiet. 

“Oh.”

“Sorry honey. Your hands just feel nice.”

“That’s fine. You’re fine. I’ll just get out now.” 

You turned around, you were about to step out when he grabbed your wrist. 

“I don’t want you to go.”

You could feel the way his hand burned onto yours, he spoke up again. 

“But if you want to go I won’t stop you.” You felt the warmth of his skin leave yours. 

You turned around slowly. You watched as his eyes left your eyes, they looked down at your lips and then back up. You felt something boil in your body. You noticed how good he looked. Even with all the bruises, the cut on his lip, the way his disheveled hair looked. The way that his eyes watched you with such yearning. 

“Can you help me wash up?” 

He nodded his head. You turned your back to him again, you felt the way his hands unclasped your bra. The way his hands ran down your waist with such gentle fingers. The way his fingers dug in your skin before sliding your underwear down. 

You didn’t know what you were doing. This felt wrong. But your lust was consuming your reason.

You felt the way he gently washed your hair. How he lathered your body with soap. How his hands guided themselves around. The way that he cupped your breast in his hands. You felt the way he pressed his chest against yours. 

You felt his growing cock push between your thighs. You felt the way that it pressed itself against your pussy. You felt the way it rubbed up against your lips, moving back and forth. You felt the way that he slipped his dick inside you. You moaned when you felt his hand slid down to your clit, the way that his other hand dragged up your stomach. How he cupped your breast before sliding it up to your neck. How he tilted it slightly, how his grip tightened just right. How his lips sucked so gently. 

He wouldn’t stop, every thrust he took had you stumbling. His pace was getting faster, his breath heavy. 

“You don’t know how long I’ve wanted to do this.”  

You felt his pace slow down, the way that he slowly pulled himself out. 

“I want to see you. All of you.” 

He turned off the water. He did everything for you at that moment. He helped you out. He helped you dry off. He helped you put back on the night gown. 

He helped you get in position. He kissed you before sinking himself in you again. You let your legs wrap around his waist forgetting all about the pain he was in. 

For a brief moment you forget where you were. How you got here. All you could think about was his cock sliding in and out. The way he filled you up so beautifully. The way his hands traced down your body. The way he lowered the night gown down just right so he could suck on your breast. You felt the way his cum shot inside of you, the way he stayed in you until you came. 

You adored him as he helped clean you up. How he hugged you while you two slept. Though it never occurred to you to wonder why you felt so tired. Why you could feel yourself slipping into sleep once more. 

And again, you woke up gasping for air. You felt yourself and looked down, nothing was different. You wore the same clothes, it must have been the same night. You felt a bit calmer. You looked at Josh, you watched the way his face was pressed against the pillow. The way his chest would rise and fall. The sound of his breathing relaxed you. 

Whatever this situation was sucked, but you were glad that you were stuck with him. Even if you had your doubts. You were glad it was someone you could trust. 

You were ripped from your thoughts. The sound of buzzing was all that you heard. You got up from the bed slowly to not wake Josh up. You made your way back to the bathroom. The buzzing stopped but came just as quickly. You saw a small light coming from Josh’s pants. You slowly picked them up. You dug in his pocket and paused for a moment at what you were touching.

You pulled the object out and saw the caller id, Chris. 

You felt your heart sinking. You hesitated for a moment. 

The call ended. 

“Fuck” You whispered lightly. 

You heard the bed creak slightly. You looked out to see Josh still sleeping. You quickly closed the bathroom door, but tried to do it as quietly as you could. Just as you did the phone buzzed again. 

You picked it up on the second ring. You placed the phone to your ear.

“Josh dude where the hell are you? I’ve been calling you for days. Are you okay?” 

“Hello.” You whispered.

You could hear the other side go quiet. 

“Oh I'm sorry who’s this? Sorry I didn’t know he was with a girl.”

“My name is Y/n. I don’t know if you go to the same college as us but-”

“Y/n are you in there?” You heard knocking on the bathroom door.

You felt your blood freezing. You watched as the door knob turned. You held it as tight as you could. 

“Yeah just give me a minute.” 

“Fuck.” You heard him shout from behind the door. 

You could feel him try and force the door open. You put the phone back to your ear. 

“Please help me. I think he’s the person that’s holding me captive. Please, I need help. I don’t know where I am. He has me in a room and-”

Josh forced the door open. He looked at you with such rage. He snatched the phone from your hands, throwing it to the ground. The phone shattered upon impact. 

“Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.” You watched the way he ran his hands through his hair frantically. How he paced back and forth before turning back to you. 

“Josh please.”

He gripped your wrist and pulled you out of the bathroom. He was going for the bed but you managed to rip your wrist from his grasp. 

 Josh kicked the table chair. You were startled by the impact it had on the wall. 

“Fuck Y/n. You just had to go and fuck it up!”

“Fuck it up? Are you kidding me? What the fuck Josh. What the actual fuck.” 

You started to back yourself into the corner. You watched as he made his way to you. He pinned you against the wall. His hand tracing down your arm. You flinched at his touch. 

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to yell.” 

He tried nuzzling against your hair, but that only got him up again. He backed up away from. He saw the way you were looking at him with disgust. It broke his heart seeing you look at him like that. He never wanted that. All he wanted was for you to love him, not whatever this was. 

“Do you know how long this took? How much time and effort I put into this.” 

“I don’t care, this is not okay! What the fuck were you thinking!”

“I was thinking about you! Don’t you see! This is all for you. Everything, I saw how miserable your life was. How much pain you were in.” 

“You don’t even fucking know me. Oh my god. Oh my god. And I let you come in me.” You held yourself, you began to feel your own nails dig into your skin. 

“I do though.” Josh moved closer

“Get away from me. Oh my god.” Tears started to pour out of your eyes. You began to sob as you tried moving away from the corner. Your legs hitting against the edge of the bed. You sank down to your knees. 

“Ever since I first saw you. I knew. I just knew that you were made for me. That we were made for each other. At first it started out like a crush but you just got beautiful everyday. And you were just so smart. Even when I asked around about you no one knew. So I did my own research.” 

You could feel his presence by you. He kneeled down and touched your shoulders. 

“Don’t touch me!”

But even if you tried to throw his hands his grip was tight. 

“You came from a somewhat good family. A little broken, you have a lot of secrets, a lot of trauma. But that’s why I did this. To take all that away from you. I can protect you. I did it earlier, remember?” 

Through your teary eyes you looked up at him. 

“You’re fucking crazy. You drugged me! Did you fucking beat yourself up you psycho? Did you fucking do that to yourself? For what? For sympathy?” 

Josh stared at you with cold eyes, but his smirk was as charming as ever.

“It worked didn’t it? You let me fuck you. And I fucked you so good. I could still feel you tightening around me. I could still hear you begging me for more. It didn’t really take much for you to let me honestly.” 

Without thinking your hand hit his cheek. You could feel the burning sensation, the way your hand tingled. 

“What did you rape me when you drugged me too? Was that what you were doing when you fucking changed my clothes you freak.” 

“No! Why would you say that? I would never do that. Yeah I might be a little help, but I’m not that fucking psychotic.” 

“You know what’s really fucking sad Josh. That if you just asked me out. Like a normal fucking person. On a normal date, I would have gone on a date with you.” 

“I know. And that’s what I love about you.” He touched your face gently. 

“But I can’t have you leaving me.”

You pressed your face against his palm. In a swift motion you bit his hand. There was now a metallic taste in your mouth. 

“Fuck! You ungrateful bitch!” 

Before he could get up you ran for the door. You knew that it wouldn’t open. But trying was better than staying in here with him. You could hear his footsteps coming from behind.

Your head was pushed against the door. You felt your body limp, and the way your blood began to ooze down your face. 

Josh noticed the blood, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt you. But I just can’t let you leave.” 

He watched as your eyes opened and closed, “I promise you I’ll do better. I’ll take good care of you. I love you.” 

[gabseyoo]

HELLO, STRANGER — HAITANI RINDŌ

content: kanto manji!rindou, female reader, smoking (or trying to), strangers to ?, both of them are young, family drama, insta love (?), a lot of dialogue, kinda proof read. wc: 2,4k.

note: i missed rindou soooooo much and i had this in my drafts for so long. hope that the rindou girlies who are still standing (like me) like this <3

“You don’t know how to smoke, do you?”

Hearing a male voice out of nowhere made you jump with alarm, causing you to throw the lighter from your hand to the ground and almost do the same with the cigarette you had between your lips. 

Your heartbeat was racing, it couldn’t be good that someone was talking to you out of the blue while you were sitting alone on a sidewalk at ten o’clock at night in a neighborhood you were unfamiliar with. 

You did a quick scan of your surroundings, a little relieved to notice that it wasn’t a completely lonely area, the convenience store where you just bought these cigarettes was a few meters ahead, illuminating the place along with the streetlamps, also, there were people walking their dogs and others in suits that maybe were returning home from their jobs.

Okay. You’re kind of safe, and if not, at least someone will hear you if you scream. 

A little more relaxed (though still wary), you took the cigarette out of your mouth before turning back to see the owner of that voice. 

It was a guy. Maybe your age, maybe a few years older, who knows. He was blond, and thanks to the streetlights you noticed that he had blue locks, he also wore glasses and was dressed completely in black. 

Well, he’s cute… BUT, you didn’t like the teasing way he was looking at you. As if you were a joke. That’s why you responded with a sharp, “I do know.”

Just to prove your point, you put the cigarette back in your mouth, and just as you were about to reach down to pick up the lighter that had fallen beside your feet, the guy beat you to it, taking it in his hand with a chuckle.

“I see…” He said, fiddling with the lighter in his hand before giving it a final glance and handing it to you. “So you smoke cigarettes backwards? First time I’ve seen that.”

The blush was quick to appear on your cheeks as you pulled the stick out of your mouth to look at it, realizing that was the stupid reason why you couldn’t light it. Shit. Will the earth be able to suck you in right now? 

But, even when that would be a great favor, you were a girl with pride, so you wouldn’t let this guy notice how embarrassed you were. Without looking at him, you rolled your eyes and brought the cigarette back to your mouth (now the right way), and tried to light it again. 

Key word, tried. Because you failed in the attempt, again.

“You want me to turn that on for you too?” You heard him say it, which made your blood start to boil. 

“I know what I’m doing.” You replied dryly, determined to light the cigarette, but now your enemy seemed to be the lighter that simply did not want to work. Did the universe have something against you at this moment? Or what the fuck is going on? You haven’t stopped embarrassing yourself in the presence of this guy. 

“I can clearly see that you don’t.”

“Can you just go away?” You blurted, angrily tossing the cigarette along with the lighter to the ground before bringing your hands to your head in frustration. 

“And let a lady alone in the middle of the night in a neighborhood where someone can hurt her? Nah.”

You rolled your eyes again. “I’m fine. I can take care of myself.” 

“I know.” He said as he sat down next to you and you turned your knees to the other side so you didn’t have to make physical contact with him, he just snorted and spread his legs anyway. 

“You’re not from around. Can I ask why are you here?” He asked, leaning his arms on his legs. 

“I am from around.” You said, somewhat mimicking his posture.

“You’re not. I think I’d remember a face like yours.” What was that supposed to mean? But before you could ask, he was quick to speak again. “You ran away from home, don’t you?”

For some reason, the question made you feel sick to your stomach. Why was this boy so nosy, in fact, why hadn’t you gotten up and left already? Is it because, even though his meddling irritates you, you didn’t sense any bad intentions from him?

“You just love to stick your nose where it doesn’t belong, don’t you?” You said, looking at him with narrowed eyes. 

“You’re starting to know me.” The boy said with a smirk, winking, an action you would never admit out loud that you found attractive. “So, did I get it right? Did you run away from home?”

“No!” You exclaimed, perhaps more loudly than you had planned. “What makes you think that?”

The boy let out an incredulous chuckle, looking straight ahead before looking back at you and starting to count with his fingers, “Let me list. One, you’re in a neighborhood you’re not from. Two, you’re trying to smoke and you don’t even know how. Three, I saw you reject your mother’s call like three times in a row.” 

As if it was another joke of fate, at that moment your phone started ringing, the name Mom appearing on the screen, without thinking twice, you rejected it.  

“Four now.” He said as he stretched his legs out on the pavement, leaning his arms at his sides.  “Wanna vent about it? I’m a good listener.”

Even when his offer sounded tempting and somehow you thought it was nice of him, you couldn’t help but snort and say, “I don’t even know you.”

Despite the bitterness in your voice, he didn’t shy away, on the contrary, he smiled sideways before saying, “That’s better. I won’t judge if you’re worried about that.” He shrugged, “Sometimes venting to a stranger it’s better than with someone you know. You can tell me all the embarrassing shit you want and probably never see me again, take it as a way to protect yourself.”

That sounded just as stupid as it made sense. Somehow, this handsome, annoying stranger was right. All you wanted right now was to vent, and unfortunately you didn’t have friends close enough to listen and understand you; and while the latter wasn’t completely warranted with this guy, the former certainly was. 

“Whenever you’re ready, I’ll listen.”

You wanted to laugh at yourself. Were you really considering taking it out on a stranger? 

The answer was yes. 

“I had a fight with my mom.” 

He was silent for a few seconds, perhaps waiting for you to continue on your own, but when he noticed that you wouldn't, he asked, “Why?”

You took a deep breath, searching internally for the right words to express yourself.

“She’s so… controlling.” You started, and before you knew it, you were taking everything out. “She’s just crazy. She wants me to be perfect, like, unbelievable perfect. On the outside and on the inside. Obviously under her standards of what it means to be perfect. Which means, perfect hair, perfect skin, perfect nails, impeccable clothes, extraordinary grades, being the best in any extracurricular activity you can think of to get me into. And it’s too tiring, because no matter how hard I try, it never seems to be enough. She’s never happy with anything I do, none of my accomplishments please her.”

Tears of frustration began to gather in your eyes before you knew it, but at that moment you didn’t care. 

“Today I had a bad day. I didn’t sleep at all last night because I stayed up studying for my exam, I got in a fight with my friend for some stupid reason I don’t remember, I didn’t eat because I had to stay for an extra credit activity, my ballet teacher scolded me because my pirouette was not perfect and made me repeat it a thousand times. I was too tired, so I decided to skip piano class, but I knew I couldn’t get home before 8 because I knew my mom would find out I skipped class, so I went to the library to take a nap. But when I got home, my piano instructor had already called my mom telling her that I didn’t attend the lesson.” You wiped with your hand the tears that ran down your cheeks uncontrollably. “My mom was angry, she started questioning me if I was doing bad things, like smoking or drinking and things like that. She didn’t believe me when I told her I had gone to sleep in the library.”  

You closed your eyes and took a deep breath, trying to calm down at this point in the story. The stranger was too quiet, he had not even moved from his position. Was he still listening? But whether he was listening or lost in thought didn’t matter to you at all, all you wanted was to get your frustrations out. 

“I don’t know how, but I started to tell her to leave me alone. She clearly didn’t like that and told me I was an ungrateful brat. And I was at my limit… So I ran away from home, took a random train just thinking that I wanted to be far away from her, and ended up here in Roppongi talking to a stranger about my family life because I have no one else to talk to.” You said sarcastically, gesturing with your hands around you. Your eyes went to the cigarette and lighter lying on the floor, and an unfunny laugh escaped from your mouth. “I was walking around, thinking how my mom would hate that I was in this area of town alone, then I started to remember more things she hates, besides how tired of being perfect I am— I got angrier and thought, what would make my mom totally lose her mind? That’s when I decided to enter the convenience store to buy the cigarettes.”

At this point, you felt you talked too much. How much time had passed? Wasn’t the stranger annoyed at having to listen to you? 

From overthinking, you didn’t realize that you had been silent for who knows how long until the boy spoke, “I believe she hates smoking?”

“Like hell. She thinks it’s one of the most repulsive acts in the world, besides biting your nails.”

“I think you could have gone for nail biting instead of smoking, if you wanted to piss her off.” 

You chuckled, “Yeah, I know.”

Finally after a few minutes, you had the courage to look at the stranger with whom you were surprisingly more comfortable than with people you had known for years; he was already looking at you when you looked back, so the eye contact was immediate, you noticed he had lilac eyes. Pretty.

He held your gaze for a few more seconds before sighing and looking straight ahead again, scratching the back of his neck. 

“Damn, I guess it’s too late to say that I’m a good listener, but not good with words.” 

For some reason, his comment made you laugh. Like, a really genuine laugh in which he joined in the middle. 

“Okay, okay, let me try.” He said with a chuckle as your laughter began to cease. You watched him attentively as he settled back into place, now sitting with his body toward you, ignoring how your knees made slight contact. 

“Look, I don’t know you, or your mom, and while it seems like she only wants the best for you, maybe the way she expresses it and executes it is not the best. And I understand that having that kind of pressure always on you to be perfect can be very tiring. I just want to ask, don’t you have friends or someone that you can genuinely be you and not the perfect daughter?”

“No.” You mumbled, biting your lip. “My circle of friends all see each other as competition. I have no siblings, or close cousins, and of course no boyfriend, no boy is good enough for me, according to mom. And I... I just feel lonely all the time.” Your last words came out almost in a whisper.

You both remained silent for who knows how long, it wasn’t uncomfortable, for some reason it felt comforting. Just your breaths with the sounds of the night in the background, some birds, some cars, some voices. All together made the moment feel almost intimate. 

He took a deep breath, his gaze softening as he watched you. “But you know—” He began after a moment, his voice gentle, “Being lonely doesn’t have to mean being alone. Sometimes it’s about finding someone, anyone, who will just... listen.” He hesitated, choosing his words carefully. “Look, I know I don’t know you, and this may sound weird as fuck, but maybe I can be that person for now. I mean, I might not know you, or everything you’re going through, but I can listen if that helps. Even if it’s just talking about little things that make you laugh or what makes you sad. You don’t have to carry it all by yourself, you know?"

The warmth in his eyes reflected an understanding that was rare, a feeling that wasn’t just sympathy but a real offer of connection. And in that moment, you felt something shift inside you—a small glimmer of hope that, maybe, there were people out there who genuinely wanted to be there for you, without the need for perfection.

Finding no better words to say, from your lips simply came a, “It’s okay.”

The boy smiled sideways, and you noticed that his muscles relaxed, maybe he was nervous that his words would scare you, but it was the opposite. 

“Do you like ramen?” He asked, all of a sudden. 

“Who doesn’t?”

“I guess you haven’t had dinner, and I know a good ramen place around here, if you want, we can go.”

You smiled sideways at the invitation, inevitably feeling happy that this strange encounter would not end soon. 

“Well, I think my mom will kill me anyway no matter what time I get back, so let’s go.” You said, standing up. The boy let out a chuckle and imitated your action, standing in front of you. 

“I just got that we didn’t introduce ourselves.” You said with a smile, stretching out your hand to him. “I’m Y/n.” 

The stranger took it in his, slowly, his hands were cold but still, it was the warmest handshake you’ve ever had. 

“I’m Rindou.”

[veilkeeper]

The Sacrifice of Souls, Part 1

alt title: the completely surmountable issue of dying

welcome to my 2-part essay about the conclusion of emmrich's story line. this part will focus on the actual quest(s) involved and analyze the decisions we make. part two will be about the effects on the romance, particularly as i am approaching it with my rook, corentin.

spoilers ahead! beware that both essays are going to assume you have completed The Sacrifice of Souls and at least one of the follow up quests, Heir to the Dead or Will and Testament. if you have not, i suggest returning to this later and playing it out yourself.

so what are we even talking about?

for my purposes, about 90% of the sacrifice of souls is irrelevant. here are the important bits: hezenkoss puppets a giant skeleton monster powered by the gloaming lantern, manfred sacrifices himself to rip it out of the thing's chest, and emmrich risks his life to free the souls trapped inside, symbolically overcoming his fear of death (for the moment).

when manfred's beautiful skeleton body is brought before the lich lords in the necropolis to ask if his spirit can be recovered, the lich lords give an ultimatum: they will allow emmrich to bring manfred back, but it will remove his candidacy for lichdom.

"how many exceptions 'til tyranny?" they say. if emmrich is to become a lich, he must be able to accept that people he cares about will die as he lives on.

emmrich is obviously extremely conflicted. he's being forced to choose between his life's work or having his pseudo-child back; he is torn because he at once wishes to spare himself the pain of losing someone, while also wanting to "honour death and let him rest."

from there, the choice is given to the player: encourage emmrich to bring manfred back, or encourage him to pursue his life's work and become a lich.

if you save manfred, it starts heir to the dead. you accompany emmrich to the necropolis, reminisce about manfred, and summon his wisp back to his body. he shows a newfound knack for magic and becomes an apprentice, while emmrich gets to go full dad-mode and commit to preparing manfred for the now inevitable future where, one day, emmrich will pass on. but when asked how he feels about that, emmrich simply says that though he will always wonder about what could have been, he "would not trade this for anything."

it's been brought to my attention that most people have probably picked the manfred ending without really thinking about it. which makes sense, everyone wants to save emmrich's (and if you're romancing him, your) skeleton son. but it does mean you haven't seen the lich ending, which is kind of a shame because it's also really good.

first, it does take a little convincing. it's not enough to simply say "but this is your life's work!" emmrich expresses that he wasn't prepared for the reality of what it actually meant to have people he cared about die (which is an interesting thing, because even though he is an orphan, his parents died when he was quite young. this may be the first time someone as important to him as manfred is has passed away while he was an adult who was able to fully process what that feels like). rook goes on to tell emmrich that it's enough to just remember those who have passed—while acknowledging that one day, they too will count among that number.

with that encouragement, emmrich agrees that he has to let manfred go, and he decides to begin preparation for his final rites into lichdom, starting the quest will and testament. like before, you accompany him to the necropolis, only this time you will be acting as his chosen witness as he enters the chambers beyond to have his soul measured by the dead and, if successful, will emerge as a lich.

as an aside, even if you have no intention to play the rest of the game with lich!emmrich, i highly recommend playing far enough to see the conclusion of this quest. there's a weight to it all, particularly if you've romanced him, and the cinematic is quite beautiful. you very much get the sense that you're sending your friend/lover away to potentially die.

when he emerges, it is as a lich—exactly as he said he would be. skeletal, but still in complete "possession of himself." it transitions to a short scene where he informs the rest of his friends of his transformation, and after receiving a response of support, his quest line is concluded.

okay, so why are you talking about this?

well, because it makes me insane, if you can't tell already by the fact that we're 600+ words into the first of two essays on the topic. but why does it make me insane?

the first answer to that, and perhaps the most important, is that the writing is really good. i'm going to say some critical things after this, so i want to be clear up-front that the writing is really good. sylvia feketekuty has managed to make a decision that otherwise would feel like a very black and white "good end" vs "bad end" feel like two viable, valid endings that just have different pros and cons lists.

and it's also just ludonarratively extremely good. all of the endings for our companions are meant to translate into a more support focused or a more combat focused "hero of the veilguard" ability, and for emmrich's these mesh extremely well with the conclusion of his story. an emmrich that has accepted a role as a caretaker for manfred is more supportive on the field, and an emmrich that has accepted a role as a powerful defender of the necropolis is more effective while fighting. it's by far the least important aspect of all this, but i enjoyed it and it's useful for something i'm going to say next so i wanted to put it here.

the second reason this makes me insane is that we are making two completely separate choices at the same time. we are answering two vastly different questions ("should you save manfred?" and "should you become a lich?") with a single dialogue option.

i understand why. combining these two choices and making them interdependent on each other raises the stakes. it's a really clever way to complicate what would otherwise be a wildly easy decision. it also, as said before, creates two extremely distinct endings for emmrich (see, i do these things for a reason), which is important not just for replayability but also for narrative satisfaction. endings that are extremely similar or that have no stakes make your choices as a player feel irrelevant, which is something that you don't want in an RPG. a non-lich emmrich without manfred is not going to feel like a significantly different ending than what emmrich had been doing before these quests concluded, and thus would not be satisfying. likewise, lich!emmrich with manfred would mean that emmrich would have everything he ever wanted with zero sacrifice, which is boring.

however... making these two choices at once puts us in a sticky spot, because they're contradictory. emmrich's arc has largely been about his inability to accept mortality—and not just his own. if you bring him along on blood of arlathan, you can overhear him responding to elgar'nan's attempts to entice him with the promise of being able to bring back the dead. despite being a Mourn Watcher, he just hasn't been able to bring himself to accept that people die, and you shouldn't be able to do anything about that (remember that big, bold lich lord quote up near the top?).

so when the climax for his arc comes along, you get to tell him to accept his death but not manfred's, or to accept manfred's death but not his own.

do you see the contradiction? nowhere in there are we truly encouraging him to accept the natural, inevitable cycle of life and death (as a Watcher probably should). we're just telling him which death he should accept as natural.

conclusion...?

i'm not saying either ending is unsatisfying, nor am i saying that there wasn't good reasons to write the endings as they are. for the purposes of this game, feketekuty did an amazing job with emmrich. she managed to take a character that i think in any other game would have been written off as boring and make his story extremely compelling.

but in a way, looking at it holistically and outside of the context of what bioware's writers were required to do, it feels like there's this massive gap there, where we've failed to properly address the actual underlying issue that made this choice so difficult for emmrich. and his brief bout of bravery at the end of the sacrifice of souls is forgotten, when it could have been potent fuel for an argument against lichdom as proof that he can face death when he has something to fight for (or even as an argument for lichdom; facing his death head-on like that may have only intensified his fear of his own fragility), but instead it just goes unaddressed.

additionally, by combining the choice to save manfred and the choice to become a lich, it removes the possibility for us as the player (and rook as a character) to voice concerns about what lichdom means and represents. to be fair, other characters largely handle this in banter (lucanis in particular has excellent banter about the cost of immortality, which i have briefly discussed before), but not being able to voice concerns, especially as emmrich's lover, feels like a missed opportunity.

in the most ideal world, we as the player would have been able to discuss lichdom, mourning and grief, our thoughts and feelings on death, etc with emmrich over multiple conversations, and through a tally of our expression of opinion on the topic, emmrich would come to a decision on lichdom and saving manfred himself. but due to the constraints of this being a video game, for obvious reasons that is not the case.

again, i cannot stress enough that i actually loved this quest line. regardless of your decision, emmrich ends up in a place he can find satisfaction, and his journey feels earned. i fully recommend trying out both endings in replays, because i think you might be surprised by how well they both work. i just think there's a little bit left on the table still.

which gives me something to play with. stay tuned for part 2 on the romance stuff. we're going to need a scalpel for the gutting we're doing.

(link to part 2)

[blueishspace]

Hero Villain God 6

(Prev) (Next) (First)

Chapter 2

*Grian's pov*

It was Mumbo to suggest putting Ariana Griande online, something about the internet having more reach. He even offered to provide you with equipment... you know he's hoping to use your income to fund his villany... you don't really care for money but you find it weird he's investing so much on your "career", did the song you sang to him really entranced him that much?

Technically you know how it works, the internet is ripe for your domain. Phisically though? You are the god of chaos ...not technology and you never really cared to learn too much about it before this moment... You though it would be like making that meme of HotGuy but no... Video and Audio Editing is so extremely tedious.

You also finally build the persona of Ariana Griande, by telling Mumbo you are her you have limited your form to a variation of "Grian" ... Still you have fun with it and Mumbo looks like he's having a great time looking at her too.

Your first video as Ariana is nothing worth talking about, just the cover of soldier poet king that you have already sung to Mumbo a few days ago... It gets 5 views by the end of the day... You could push it along with a bit of divinity but that's not nearly as fun as letting the channel grow organically. You do get one comment: "Oh lord, your voice is divine!" which is very ironic... And amusing.

Your second Ariana Griande video is another cover, at this point an orginal song wouldn't make sense. It doesn't do much better but Mumbo seems to enjoy it... Perhaps you did put too much divinity in it because Mumbo takes a minute to recover after listening in... hopefully the effects will be less intense when viewing the video at a later date.

You distract yourself from the channel for a moment as Mumbo interrupts you. He is as anxious as ever and stumbles on his words but you can understand the gist of what he's trying to say. He's going somewhere and was wondering if you wanted to join in, you don't have much to do right now anyway so you easily accept.

The coffe shop he brings you is pretty small but it surely has a certain cosiness to it... It isn't that which attracts your attention though. There is a familiar presence here, you can feel it. Hotguy is here, what are the chances?

You get up under the excuse of going to the bathroom and walk toward the man that your divinity tells you is Hotguy... without his uniform yes, but it's him nonetheless. You approach and- he turns suddenly and accidentally spills his coffee on you...

...

...

..Calm down, Grian. Do not smite the mortal. Do not smite the mortal. Do not-

"Oh! I'm so so sorry! Are you ok?!"

"I- *breathe in breathe out* yes. Just didn't expect it"

And that is true, you didn't... somehow.

"Do you need something to clean yourself with-"

"No no, calm down, It's fine"

You say it to Hotguy as much as you say it to yourself...

"Are you sure -uh...?"

"It's... Grian" Then you remember about human identity, you are leaning. "... He/Him"

"Oh! Well Uh I'm so sorry about this Grian, uh wait, I should introduce myself too! I'm Scar! Uh- He/Him Nice to meet you... Well not nice since I dropped my coffee on you but-"

Oh you can't stay angry at him if he's going to act like that. You just can't.

"It's not your fault...and It's nice to meet you too"

This too isn't a lie, after all you still don't know how you managed to not notice the coffee was going to fall on you.

You turn to Mumbo, he must have seen what happened because he looks like he doesn't know wether he should get up and help or to stay in place and mind his own buisness...he's just kind of half standing?

You'll have to cut this meeting short but perhaps...

"I have to go now but if you really want to make it up to me you can buy me coffee sometime in the future"

You put your hand in your pocket and generate a piece of paper with your number on it. You then take it out and offer it to him before going back to Mumbo.

"Grian?"

"Yeah?"

"Why did you fllirt with the guy who spilled coffee on you?"

Uh? Did you? You don't think so at least.

"I have no idea what you are talking about mister Mumbo Jumbolio"

"... That isn't my full name??"

"Are you sure?"

"Y-Yeah???"

"If you say so Mimbo Jimbo."

[seokmattchuus]

Prove It - Seok Matthew (Extended Ver.)

A/n: 1. Ignore the gif, I found it in my files and decided it was The One™ 2. A single person asked for this and who am I to deny them (I have had the worst writers block, and this was doable). You're welcome, or I'm sorry, I don't know. 3. I don't remember if this was proofread.

Coming home early wasn't an often occurrence. Being a teacher, you were technically supposed to be home an hour after dismissal, but realistically, you weren't home till early evening. Today, however, was a half day, and you were more than happy to be able to spend the rest of your day cuddled up with your boyfriend.

You didn't expect to walk into an empty home, but you perked up when you heard him on the phone in your shared bedroom. You excitedly placed your bags down and made your way to the room, your hand reaching for the door before the sound of the other person speaking up stopped you.

"Does it ever kill you that she's two years older?" You overheard Hanbin through Matthew's phone. "I mean. Everyone knows you like being called 'oppa', are you okay with her never calling you that?"

"It's not like she hasn't called me it before." Matthew scoffed. "She's called me 'oppa' plenty of times." He was lying, but Hanbin didn't know that.

"Playfully, probably." Hanbin's voice flattened.

"Dude. It's not a deal breaker." Matthew defended. "So what if she doesn't say it? It's not like I'll die if I don't hear it." He paused. "Besides, she's a foreigner. She barely uses honorifics with anyone."

"I see how your ears perk up when girls call y-"

You quickly removed yourself from earshot. Your eyes quickly scanning for the quietest way out of the area.

You slowly made your way back to the door before opening it and closing it harsher than before so he could hear.

"Babe, I'm home!" You called, staying in place in case he made his way towards you.

There was a moment of silence before you heard him coming out of the room.

"You're home early." He smiled at you. He really didn't look like he was having the conversation he was. "I was expecting you a little later."

"You say that like you had plans." You raised a playful brow. "Don't tell you threw her in the closet?"

"Closet?" He scoffed as he made his way towards you, throwing his arms around you. "She jumped out the window when she heard you pull up."

You both laughed as he placed a kiss on your cheek, and you wondered if he really meant what he said.

"So why are you early?" He smiled as he pulled away, leading the both of you to the couch.

You'd never used honorifics, he was right about that, but you wanted to test just how 'okay' he was with you not calling him anything.

"I was grading papers with Taekwoon oppa." You scanned his face for a reaction. "He's been helping me a lot with Korean. I'm even getting more comfortable with honorifics." You put a smile on your face.

"Oh?" He said, his tone unreadable. "Who else do use honorifics with?"

His voice trailed off and it killed you inside. You shouldn't have said anything, but why wouldn't he just tell you to call him that to begin with? You would have gladly done it. But with how he seems to want to keep it hidden, how could you bring it up first? What if he said he didn't mean it or brushed you off?

"Just him for now." You nodded. "Everyone else around me is either my age or younger." You shrugged. It was true. The school you worked for was relatively new, so it was full of mostly new graduates. The only people older than you were admin, but you rarely ever ran into them because Taekwoon handled everything as the head teacher.

There was a silence that took over and you shuffled in your spot.

"What made him the first guy you use honorifics with?" His gave you a glace, a firm hand falling on your knee. It would have been harmless had you not known the context.

"He takes care of me a lot." You started, and his hand on you tightened. "He's also always looking out for me. He took the blame for a couple of my fuck ups, too."

You paused as you thought about your next statement.

"And he's not a 'guy' to you. He's a hyung." You corrected him, trying to sound like you were upset over it.

He rose a brow at you.

"Not the foreigner correcting my Korean." He scoffed, his annoyance growing the longer you talked about him.

"Tough talk for another foreigner, Mr. Maple." You reminded him. "And you can't blame me for assimilating." You shrugged, the silence slowly creeping back in your space.

"He is some guy to me, though." His hand removed itself from you. "I'm literally always taking care of you, too." Disbelief coated his tone as he turned to fully look at you. "That time when you got too drunk at your staff party and I carried you home." He started. "That time when your ankles were cut from your shoes being too tight so I ran to get you some slippers and a first aid kit from the nearest convenience store." He continued, his speech picking up in pace. "Not to mention I always take you your stuff before you even realize you've forgotten it." He paused. "Doesn't that count as taking care of you?"

There it was.

"I'm older than you. Not to mention we're dating. I thought you were just being caring. In love and all that." You reminded him. You were going to get him to air it out. "I think you keep forgetting that aspect." You sighed. "When an older person takes care of you, it's different."

"I'm younger but you had no problem calling me 'daddy'." He scoffed at your reasoning, landing him a pillow to the face. He spoke up after recovering. "Calling me 'oppa' wouldn't kill you."

"That was just once." You muttered in defense. "And I was drunk." You cleared your throat, surprised at how quickly the conversation turned.

"Keep telling yourself that." He rolled his eyes. "Besides, it wouldn't hurt to say it just once." He leaned in, his face right in front of yours. "I won't tell anyone." He said in a sing-song voice.

It was your turn to snicker now. You expected him to take the jealous route, not playful. But there was a part of you that wanted to see where he was going with this.

"What's it to you?" You tilted your head. "I thought you liked being my little baby~" You teased, your hand going to pinch his cheek. He groaned, swatting your hand away.

"Because I'm not a little baby." He narrowed his eyes at you. "It's two years between us. Not twenty." You watched as he kept the look on his face.

"How about this." You started. "I'll say it once."

"How about always?" He was quick to respond, giving you his best puppy eyes and you couldn't help but want to cave.

"Since you want it so bad," You paused, watching his expression turn expectant. "What do I get if I do it?"

His eyebrow twitched as the latter part of your sentence came out.

"How about a bet, then?" He smiled as he leaned over you, your back gradually leaning until you were laying on the couch. "If you can keep quiet until I'm done with you, I'll drop it."

You swallowed at the sudden shift in atmosphere. Did a simple title mean that much to him?

His arm moved to support him while he hovered over you and you could feel his thigh moving to press on your own in an attempt to open them. The little amount of space giving you no room to try and fight it.

"But if you can't." He smirked, his head dipping down so his lips were brushing lightly against yours. "You can't call me anything else."

His thigh had succeeded in passing yours and you let out a shaky breath at the contact. His eyes flicked towards yours and you saw the corner of his mouth curve into a smirk.

"Deal?"

It wasn't like you to give in so easily, even if you looked like you would. But something about seeing this side of him made you want more. Despite the tiny age gap you had, he didn't submit to you, and you never dominated him. But there were lines you never really crossed when it came to sex. He never pushed you too hard and you never tested him.

Until today.

"We have a deal." You mimicked his smirk as you toyed with the top button of his shirt. "But what do I get if I make it?" You tilted your head slightly as you freed the top button, working your way down.

He closed the gap between the two of you, his lips working gently against yours as he let out a shaky breath from your cold hands grazing his torso.

"You're already losing, baby." You smirked as you pulled away, giving him your most innocent gaze. "So much for being an 'oppa'." You whispered the last part.

His thigh finally pressed firmly against you, your pencil skirt riding up with it. You stiffened at the force but stayed quiet.

"It's a matter of pride at this point, baby." You smiled sweetly as you pulled his shirt down his shoulders, your fingers softly running over his arms in admiration. "If you want to be an oppa so bad," You paused as you licked your lips.

"Prove it."

"I just realized." He smirked as he used his free hand to pull his shirt completely off. "I've never called you noona to your face." He chuckled before getting up and walking backwards. "Only to others when I'm talking about you." He was leaning on the corner of the wall.

"Is this your way of accepting you're not oppa material?" You sat up, partially annoyed that he just up and left you.

"No." He said. "I was expecting you to follow." He turned and kept walking, his back disappearing from view. "The bed's bigger than the couch, y'know." He called out.

Your eyes squinted at the thought of what he was planning but you were also too worked up to care. You slowly got up and made your way to your shared bedroom, partially taken back when you saw the bed empty and Matthew standing by the door.

"Go ahead, noona, lay down. Get comfortable." He nudged with his head and you stared skeptically.

Despite your doubts, your hands moved to remove the skirt, your hips swaying as you pushed them down. You watched as he looked you over before you moved towards the bed and sat down.

"Pretty boy," You started as you removed your own shirt, smiling as his eyes went straight to your chest. "Noona doesn't have the same effect on me," You paused to slowly trail your hands behind you to undo your bra. You lightly tossed it off the bed before you were back on your chest, fingers gently running over your nipples as you whispered your next sentence. "As oppa does on you."

His jaw tightened as he watched you, and he was tempted to throw his whole plan out of the window. Sure, it was a stretch to think the word would work on you, but you miss all the shots you don't take.

"What can oppa do to me that I can't already do to myself?" You challenged as you rose a brow, your hands moving to your underwear and slipping inside. It was about time you got somewhere with this.

"Show me how much you can do then." His thumb was digging its nail into his index finger as he watched you. "But don't cry about it when you can't make yourself cum."

There was a minor truth to his words. Since the start of your relationship, you'd never needed to touch yourself or use your toys. He'd left you more than satisfied and now you were nervous your shit talking was about to backfire.

You moved back until you were snug against the headboard, your eyes darting towards the nightstand where your toys laid.

"Don't you think that's cheating, noona?" He tsked. "You said what you could do. Toys don't count." He smiled slyly. "Besides, the last time you used them, they were in my hand." He scoffed at the memory. "And you couldn't keep too quiet."

You momentarily forgot about the deal, and you scratched the idea. Your eyes fell back on his and you reached for the waistband of your underwear, slowly peeling them off before tossing them to the side. You didn't miss how his eyes traced every move you made, but you didn't call him out on it.

You didn't bother teasing yourself. Not only because you were already turned on, but this wasn't about getting off; it was about making him cave. It was also about being able to stay quiet. If you weren't committed, it'd be easier to win.

Your hands were quick to slide past your clit and into you. Your fingers weren't as long as his, giving you absolutely nothing. You let out a small, frustrated sigh.

"I heard that." He was quick to call.

"But you're not the one causing it." You countered. "So, it doesn't count." He rolled his eyes.

You were both too stubborn to cave, your egos too strong to want to admit defeat. But maybe he'd cave if you put a little more effort into your show. He was always quick to jump at a chance to please you.

When he saw you avoiding your clit, he knew you were stalling. His head tilted slightly as he watched your squirm from the lack of stimulation.

"I can help." His voice was sickly sweet, and your stomach tightened. "You know I'm better at this than you are." He moved towards you, slowly getting on the bed.

His words were proven true when he slapped your hand away, quickly replacing it with his own. Your mouth fell open in a silent moan, eyes closing when his thumb met your clit.

"You're all talk noona," He tsked. "I don't know why you make things harder for yourself."

You couldn't respond. You knew the second you opened your mouth, you'd make a sound that would count against you. You weren't even sure if he was keeping count or if you'd lose the second anything slipped out of you.

"What's wrong, baby?" He teased, using the same tone you did when you called him the same name earlier. He angled his fingers, a surge of pride flowing through him when a whine came out of you. "There she is~" He cooed, his thumb running harsh circles against your clit.

This was about getting you off. And his actions mixed with the way he looked down at you had you clenching. It was embarrassing how quickly he turned things around.

"Don't tell me you're cumming already?" He pouted down at you, quickly removing his hand, letting out a sadistic laugh when your fist balled up to keep quiet. "Where's the fun in that?" His fingers ghosted over your legs, the feeling making your thighs shake.

"Maybe I should make you beg me to let you cum." His eyes lit up at the thought. "You'd definitely be a mess at that point, no?"

"That's not fair." You were sporting your own pout this time while you tried to control your breathing. "So much for not cheating."

"Don't look at me like that noona." He tilted his head to the side, his fingers slowly making their way back to you. "All you had to do was say one little word but no," He cooed at you. "You wanted to make it interesting." He held back a laugh as you flinched when his finger ghosted over your clit. The corner of his lip twitching into a smirk instead.

"You could have told me you wanted me to call you that little word." Your voice was strained as he kept his contact light. "I would have done it, y'know."

His eyebrow rose, but he rewarded your hypothetical compliance with more pressure.

"Well, when you put it that way," He started, his finger working faster against you. "It makes this little bet seem worthless, no?" He licked his lips when your hand came up to grab at his forearm. "Too bad my ego's already bruised."

His free hand moved to grab your wrist before collecting the other one and pinning them above your head before his fingers were back in you. Same angle, faster pace.

You really chose the wrong button to push.

"C'mon, noona," He rasped when you immediately clenched around him again. "Just give up, already." His tone was softer, trying to coax you before leaning down and taking one of your nipples into his mouth. His teeth pulled at it while looking up at you. He let go, placing a kiss over your breast. "Wouldn't it be more enjoyable if you didn't have to fight it so hard?"

You let out a shaky breath. As much as you wanted to, something inside you refused to let yourself fail that easily. But at the same time, his fingers just felt too good.

"I know you're close," He groaned. "I can feel it." His eyes softened, pleading while letting out a moan of his own. "Just let go, noona."

His moan trigged something inside you and your legs shook as a pathetic cry slipped past you. You couldn't help the whines that followed while he helped you ride out your orgasm, his thumb hitting your clit intentionally. His hold on your wrists constant while he let you come down.

"Sounds like you lost." He chuckled and your eyes widened. You were about to cut him off and accuse him of cheating when he spoke up again.

"Did I take care of you?" He asked innocently, his hand slipping away from you and towards his mouth, his mouth covering them to clean them. His eyes stayed on yours until he finished. "In a way that Taekwoon couldn't?"

You didn't bother entertaining him. Too focused on trying to get your wrists out of his hold.

"We both know I'm stronger than you." His hold tightened and pushed your wrists further into the mattress as if to prove he wasn't using full force. "So, let's not embarrass you anymore."

"I'm not embarrassed. I'm mad you cheated." You narrowed your eyes at him. "Don't think I missed the mild overstimulation you tried."

He shrugged his shoulders, a sly smirk growing.

"It was an accident."

You fought more in his hold, wanting to wipe the smirk off his face.

"I'll let you go if you ask nicely." His smirk was now fully on display, giving your wrists another squeeze as if to remind you of the bet.

You both held eye contact as if the other would cave the longer you stared. He played dirty and you were still upset.

"If you say it, I'll give you a reward~" He cooed and you tried to buck him off of you, your face reddening as the situation wasn't in your favor. "Say the magic words and it's all over." He smirked, radiating pride as he watched you struggle.

"Let me go, please." You narrowed your eyes, still defiant. Even when he leaned back over you, his eyes right above yours.

"Try that one more time." There was a shift in his tone that had you swallowing hard.

You took a deep breath.

"Please, oppa." You said through gritted teeth. "Let me go."

You saw his lips tug again.

"Since you made me jealous earlier, don't you think it's fair I get to do the same?" He tilted his head and your eyes narrowed at him again. He debated on if his next sentence would land the way he hoped. "Say it the way Ji-"

"Oppa," You put some sweetness in your tone, a stark contradiction to the sudden strength your gained in trying to get out his hold. He was momentarily stunned before regaining control. "Please let me go."

"Well now I'm scared." He started.

"Don't be, oppa." Your eyes were already on the pillow to your side. At least he could die happy. "Why would you be scared of little ol' me."

"Actually. We can just chill right here." He nodded. "Neither of us have plans."

"Matthew." You started. "You have three seconds." You smiled up at him. "If you're such an oppa, I shouldn't be this scary to you."

He reluctantly let you go but was quick enough to jump to the other side of the bed to avoid you lunging at him. You were also just as quick to grab the pillow and make it on top of him, the pillow colliding with face.

"Who was she?" You said as you hit him again.

"I made up a name! I swear!!" He yelled before grabbing at the pillow and throwing it. His hands grabbing your wrists again when you reached for his shoulders. "Pinky promise." He tried, bringing your hands to his lips so he could press a kiss to them. "How can I make it up to you?"

You gave him a frown and moved to get up, his hands moving to your hips to keep you in place.

"C'mon~" He whined. "There has to be something."

He was too cute to stay mad at. You'd get him back later.

"You could start by joining me." You motioned to your naked form. You got up to give him space to work with.

"You gotta admit, though." He watched your face as his hands went for his belt. "Calling you noona did do something for you." He gave you a knowing look. "I've never made you cum that quick."

"Do you not remember you moaned when you said it?" You gave him a small slap against his chest while he threw his belt to the side. "And you did that thing where you made your eyes all cute." You slapped him again, his laugh filling the room. "You could say anything acting like that and I'd probably cave."

"Really, now?" He smirked at the confession, his hands moving to unbutton his pants, the sound of his zipper following. "Then forgive me for the jealousy thing." His eyes held the look you just described. He let out a small 'hm?' that sounded too much like a moan.

"Oppa was wrong."

[maryonmega]

Like a heavy blanket

A little feelings buddies moment because they deserve it. And also so I can have Siffrin live one of my fantasies.

The room around you feels cold. Nothing unexpected.

You must have frozen yourself and don't remember. You dreamed of being surrounded by stars. Not on the ground, but up, so high if you didn't know better you could believe they were in your reach.

Back to the stage.

You slice through sadnesses.

You destroy that blinding counter.

You get key after key.

You see visions of your allies.

You reach the King.

Your body feels heavy.

You

You know what comes next.

You would be panting if you could breath.

You wake up in a soft bed. Your throat feels tight.

Clocktower?

No, doesn't smell like the clocktower.

You open your eye. Doesn't look like the clocktower.

You look around.

You're on a large bed between Isa and Mira. Bonnie is clinging to Isa's back for dear life. Odile is sleeping on a sofa just across the room.

Oh, right.

You're in a village. A nice family let you borrow a room. Mira had to insist on them letting your group help around the house as thank you.

And, you were high in the air yesterday. On Isa's back.

It still feels surreal.

Well, it was just a dream! You can go back to sleep! You're so tired, it's gonna be easy.

...

You can't sleep.

Stars, you can't have one easy thing.

You climb out of bed, and slip out of the room, careful to not wake up your bedmates. You're soon out of the house and into their yard. It's cold, but at least this time it's physical. It's not very cloudy. You can see stars.

Despite everything, this is something the loops did not take away from you.

You take deep breaths of the late summer air. It's been a week and a half. It's colder. Time is passing. Why do you still need reminders?

"Still up?"

You need to hold the impulse to jump at Mira's voice. You turn to face her. Still in her sleep clothes and looking tired. Did you wake her up?

"You're up, too."

"Someone got out of bed."

You did.

"Bad dream again. Was facing the King alone."

"Siffrin..."

"It was as if, those past days had been a dream..."

You, can't face her.

She gets closer and stands beside you. You don't mind, but...

"Which is stupid. It's been over a week already! I know the loops are over! Why it's like I don't really get it?"

You feel her take your hand.

"Siffrin, I, uhn..." You look at your joined hands. Her small but calloused hand is grounding "I don't think I really understand, I never got stuck in a time loop, but, I, kind of do?"

Hum?

You finally face her. She's looking away, but in a thoughtful way.

"I mean, I, might feel similar about the King? And the curse?"

!!!

"He's frozen and harmless now, and Vaugard is moving again, and I get to spend more time with all of you! But..." She gives you an awkward smile "I sometimes feel like, it's too good to be true? Too much good stuff happening? Like something bad will have to happen because it's too much good at once? Or, like stopping the King was too easy so there's gotta be catch?"

Hum!

"I had no idea!"

"I know." She's the one looking at your hands, now "Not the most honest feelings buddy."

Oh, no! None of that!

You put your other hand on top of Mira's.

"But you said it now! And... And it does help, to know it's not just me." You rub her hand. This is nice, so nice. You hope it's nice to her, too "Does it help to know it's not just you?"

She smiles, a real one, and nods.

"It does. Thank you for telling me."

Stars, you could bask on her presence forever.

"Good, then!"

You open your arms.

"Can we?"

Mira doesn't hesitate and all but scoop you up. It was, so easy to forget she's strong too. You hug back, feel the softness of her curvy body against yours.

Your mind drifts. You look at her arms. Her smooth arms. Earlier? Yesterday? Hours ago, they weren't smooth at all. And Odile got it all. And didn't even get to appreciate it, too focused on not panicking on top of the lovely housemaiden...

"Can-" oops! Almost slipped!

"Can what, Siffrin?" Oops! Too late anyway!

"Nevermind, it's nothing."

She let's go of the hug to hold your shoulders. The look on her eyes is, not angry, but you know she's putting her foot down.

"No, you started, now finish."

No choice now. Live with the consequences!

"I thought if, uhn, we could, hug, while you're on your dragon form? You don't have to! It's silly! I just, thought back and you looked soft, and-!"

Stop embarrassing yourself!

Mira makes a noise and lets go of your shoulders. You messed up you messed up you-

"Ah, sure!"

What?

"Are you sure?"

"Yes, of course!" The awkward smile comes back, her hands clasped in front of her chest "I just, don't usually hear that. But, I'm glad, really! That despite not knowing before you don't think I'm scary."

Even if the dragon form itself was scary, you don't think you would be scared knowing it's your friend Mirabelle.

"Just one moment..."

She takes a few steps away.

You watch her form shift.

She’s big, but not the type of behemoth you would see in a book. Her head is about twice the size of a horse’s without the feathers, and the rest is proportional.

She raises a wing.

You raise a hand towards it, and stop.

“Is- Is this fine?”

Mira nods. Still takes psyching up, but you touch her wing.

Up close, you can see that she’s covered in feathers, in a variety of sizes. You run your hand over one easily the lenght from your shoulder to your fingertips, and see that the base have some not bigger than your thumb. There’s smaller ones coating her body, too. Making her look fluffy.

She’s not scary.

“You’re beautiful.”

You hug her neck, and she curls around you, her wing over you, heavy, yet gentle. Her snout touches your back and you lean into the touch.

She's as fluffy as she looks. You can feel even smaller feathers on her neck. A sharp contrast to the scaly feeling snout. It's not bad. Shows you that's still a living being. Still your friend.

She's so warm, too. Like a heavy blanket near a fireplace.

You sink your face into her feathers and inhale. Smell fruity.

"Thank you, Mira."

She rubs her face on you again, and you can't help but smile.

You don't think I've felt safer in a very, very long time.

You close your eye and just take in the feeling.

When you open it again, you're being carried back to bed.