#anyway I’m gonna jump that old man’s bones

[lace-coffin]

Hi!!! I really like your headcanons and I would’ve liked if your wrote some headcanons for Brahms Heelshire, Thomas Hewitt and Yautja (male if possible) with a muscular female reader. A muscle mommy if you will.

Pretty please :3

Hi! I’m so glad you like my headcanons that’s so lovely to hear < 3 I had such a good time writing this omg! I’m gonna write a fem yautja aswell for my little lesbian self !

How would the slashers react to a Muscle mommy!Reader? (NSFW)

Requests are open!

Brahms Heelshire

Brahms loves your muscles, he thinks you’re the most attractive person on this earth anyway but the muscles are an added bonus. He always feels so safe wrapped in your big arms when he’s having a bad day, it makes him feel grounded and protected.

He absolutely loves being put in his place, Brahms can be pretty stubborn at the best of times. Refusing to go to his lessons or take a bath? Up you go! Feel free to give his ass a slap if he kicks. He’ll yell and play up but he loves it, being manhandled over your shoulder like an object. Just ignore the boner pressing into you that he totally doesn’t have and is very angry about.

Demands to add your workout to his schedule. Brahms absolutely sits at the table with a little cup of tea and enjoys the show. The way the sweat drips down your arms is absolutely sinful and he loves every moment.

He absolutely hides behind you if you see a mouse or rat scuttle along the floor of the old mansion. Will your muscles realistically help against a mouse? Probably not. Is the mouse actually going to hurt a fully grown man? No. Does Brahms give a shit? No to both.

Thomas Hewitt

Tommy is a big guy himself, especially in the arm department, so he can appreciate how much work and time goes into your muscles. He defiantly has some weights and gym equipment in the basement for when it’s too hot to work out outside or you don’t feel like leaving the house. It’s a lot darker and cooler down there so you don’t have to worry about passing out from the heat or getting sunburnt.

Tommy will make himself ‘Busy’ in the basement when you’re working out. In reality he’s just moving things around pointlessly in an attempt to look like he’s not ogling you from across the room. If you tease him about it his ears will go a cute shade of pink. Let him know he’s allowed to just watch, he doesn’t need an excuse, hell, give him a little show whilst you’re at it.

Arm wrestling is a family event, and by that I mean you and Tommy wrestle and Hoyt yells from the sidelines. It’s nice for Tommy to have someone to roughhouse with without worrying about snapping their arm like a twig. It’s all fun and games so it’s not about who’s winning. Who’s counting anyway? (You’re totally winning)

If you want to fluster him easily then flex for him, pop him a flex whilst you’re helping move barn equipment, he eats it up every time. If you’re sweaty from the heavy lifting too? Even better

Hoyt has less chance of messing with or insulting you if you’re ripped. knowing that he’s an older man and that you could crush him like a tin can saves you from his scrutiny most of the time. Not that you think you would get to kick his ass before Tommy jumped in, but the idea is nice.

Male Yautja

Your partner is used to seeing female yautja bigger and stronger than himself but seeing it on you is so…different and exciting. He’s fascinated by the way the hard muscle sits on your human frame. He’d be lying if he said your strength didn’t lure him in.

He’s super proud of you, shows you off as his mate at any given chance, excitedly talking about how committed to training you are and how you’re perfectly made for hunting. His human is so little but so strong!!

Your mate loves to gift you jewellery and clothing, especially ones that accentuate your arms and midriff, totally not for his own prying eyes or anything. Bone accessories hang around your biceps, hand tied by your mate. He won’t be offended if you gain more muscle and he needs to alter his jewellery, infact he’d be delighted.

You’re not as strong as him considering he’s a massive reptile-esque alien who could crush you like a bug but you’re strong enough for him to not be as worried about hurting you as he would a normal human. You can play rough and dish it out at the same time. Sometimes he lets you win but he won’t tell you that.

Play fighting is always exiting, one minute you’re cuddling in your nest and the next you have him in a headlock, it’s a dirty move but it’s so worth it to see his mandibles flair as he flails in surprise. He’d be lying if he said he didn’t find it a little hot too.

Female Yautja

Female Yautja are known for their strength and stature so having someone who stands on even ground (or as even as it can be with your mates strength) is impressive and new to her.

Dressing you up is a favourite pass time of hers, draping you in the finest silky materials from all over the planets and bone jewellery, hand crafted and hunted personally. Your mate is gratuitous in using semi-transparent fabrics for your outfits, giving herself ample opportunity to see slithers of taught muscles as you go about day to day.

Mating is always intense to say the least, usually females will wrestle the males for dominance during intercourse and well, you pack some weight behind you. Both of you are well defined in the muscle area and neither of you like to loose. Luckily you both have pretty good stamina so you’re not exhausted before you actually get to the deed. Sometimes you manage to pin her and the look on her face is gorgeous, fucked out flustered, she might even tilt her head in submission and give you access to her neck if you’re lucky.

[empressdede]

Disrespectful

Chapter Two

After that interaction, London tried her best to create some distance between her and Roman. She would avoid his calls, texts messages and if she did finally get back to him, she would decline any outing he would invite her to.

She didn’t trust herself around him. She knew the longer she kept herself around him, the more she would want to jump his bones. The little moment between them made her feel like a horny teenager all over again. She had no business at her big ass age of 34, dry humping another man against the wall like she was some 16 year old virgin. And even though that’s all that they did; she couldn’t shake the memory away.

The way he held her up against the wall with ease, the way he grunted and groaned softly in her ear, and especially the way he demanded that she cum for him. Every time the thought entered her mind, It made her body shiver with want.

And that’s where her problem lied. She knows that she wants Roman; no matter how many times she tries to push it to the back of her head.

“You can’t keep avoiding him, London. Be a grown up and tell that man you need your space.” London’s sister, Nora, advised.

“I don’t have to do anything but be black and die when the time comes Nora. If I don’t want to talk to Roman right now, then I’m not. What we did at that party - his wife’s party no less - was a mistake. We’re both happly married and it needs to stay like that.”

“London, you’ve been with James since forever. Don’t you think this is your body telling you to venture out and try new things?”

“James is a good man Nora. I’m not going to ruin my relationship with my husband just because I’m feeling like I want a quick fix somewhere else.”

Nora rolled her eyes. “Girl, if James was beating the pussy up like he supposed to be doing, you wouldn’t have ran off with Roman in the first place. Then you ran off to go dry hump that man, bitch you ain’t never heard of no quickie?”

“Nora-“

“Bitch I’m being serious. If you was gonna step out anyway, you might as well have went out with a bang. Vibrator to the clit while he hitting it from the back & that 20 minutes could’ve been a whole fuckin round.”

Images immediately flashed through her mind as she thought about it. Her dress bunched up at her waist as he thrusted inside of her at a quick pace. Bodies close together so he could keep the vibrator to her clit and she could practically hear his voice in her ear. “I barely even started and look at you about to cum for me.”

London let out a sad sigh. Her sister’s didn’t help her with trying to push Roman to the back of her mind. If anything, Nora kept trying to push her straight into Roman’s arms.

“If I see him, I’m going to fuck him.” She admitted and Nora shrugged.

“So do that. James will always be here and who knows; maybe this is just a phase and you need him out of your system. Whatever the case may be, I say go for it.”

“You’re not even trying to give me good advice Nora. You keep telling me to cheat on my husband.”

“You already cheated girl and I wasn’t there to tell you that. You cheated emotionally and physically, you might as well just go all the way.”

Her sister’s words echoed in her head and she thought about it for a second, what it would really feel like to go all the way with Roman. She just knew he would snatch her breath away. She could almost feel him, a picturesque expression on his face as he took her hair into his hands pulling it towards him to stop her from hiding her moans. Damn…. She really did see it and even though she yearned to fall into temptation, London decides that she was going to stand on business.

She had a husband for everything she thinks she wants Roman for. She also decided that since she was going to be the woman she promised to be as a wife, she was going to throw herself into her work. What better way to distract herself from temptation than to work?

But Roman though? He was getting tired of waiting on London. He considered himself a realist - if he was going to be cheating on his wife, he was going to fulfill all the fantasies he had about London. They’ve tried to deny their sexual attraction towards each other for almost two years now; if she didn’t want him the same way he wants her then what happened two weeks ago wouldn’t have transpired. So after being ignored for two weeks, Roman decides he’s had enough. If London didn’t want to see him, so be it. Now he was going to go see her…. and with how distant she’s been he knew exactly where to find her.

"Mrs. Murphey, we have a Mr. Heyman downstairs waiting for you. He says it’s an emergency." Mariah states as she walks into London’s office. London lets out a tired sigh; she knew she didn’t have long before he started sending his minions to do his dirty work.

"Tell him I’m busy." London responds to her without even lifting her head to acknowledge her assistant. She didn’t really have time to entertain that bullshit today.

"Don’t seem that busy to me." She heard from where her assistant stood and her head snapped up to see Roman standing behind Mariah. And poor Mariah, she really tried her best, bless her heart but she knew when it came to Roman himself, he was going to finesse his way up here one way or another.

"Um sir you can’t be he-" Mariah tried to speak but Roman cut her off, keeping his dark brown orbs locked on London.

"You ready to talk to me like an adult?" He questioned. Mariah looked between the two of them, obviously sensing the tension but if her boss said she was busy, then she needed to get rid of this Mr. Heyman guy.

"Sir, you can’t be here. I’m going to have to ask you to leave or else I’m going to have security escort you out the building." Mariah warned. Roman stared at the younger woman in front of him with a blank face for a couple of seconds before laughing in her face.

"Okay lady, if you could close the door behind you, that would be great." He instructed, walking right past her to stand in front of London’s desk.

London finally snapped out of it when she got her over her feeling of shock from seeing him. "You don’t get to walk in here and tell my employees what to do. In this building, there’s only one person who runs it and that’s me." She enforced, getting up from her seat to glare at him. "Just like I can’t walk in yours and start telling Paul what to do."

"London-" Roman tried to speak again but was cut off by London’s assistant again.

"Um… Sir, you still need to leave."

"You can close the door behind you Mariah, you can leave. Let everyone know that I’m in a meeting and will be available afterwards. Come find me in 30 minutes." London instructed

"An hour." Roman replies, and this time he raises an eyebrow, challenging her to see if he wouldn’t keep her for the hour.

The two stared at each other for a while in silence, both of them challenging the other. London knew herself, an hour alone with Roman and she would be stepping out of her marriage. She also didn’t want him to think he had any power over her with his dumbass suggestion of having an hour of her time instead of 30. And as much as she didn’t want to admit it, the longer they glared at each other, waiting for the other to succumb in defeat, her sister’s words were ringing in her head.

"Maybe this is just a phase and you need him out of your system."

London finally rolled her eyes in defeat, turning to look at Mariah; "An hour. And not a second less."

When Mariah left, Roman let his eyes roam around her office. "You’ve been cooped up in here, I bet."

"What are you doing here Roman?" London asked getting straight to the point.

"You haven’t been texting me back for a while. So if you don’t want to talk over the phone, you definitely want to talk in person." Roman turned his head back to face London. "I can’t get you out of my head London, I keep hearing you cry out for me and when I try to call you to … talk… you don’t even pick up."

"Because you’re married Roman. To Tiara, not me. What we did a couple of weeks ago was a mistake. It shouldn’t have happened."

"If that were the case, you wouldn’t have worn the panties I bought for you."

The room got silent, energy in the room changing as they stared each other down. London really didn’t want to fall into this trap. That’s what Roman was, coming in here with his tight collared shirt and slacks just to tempt her. A walking fucking trap.

“You could’ve just walked in wearing anything; But you didn’t.” Roman started, walking around the desk in slow calculated steps. Like a predator stalking its prey.

London watched him, and she couldn’t move even if she wanted to; it seemed as if her feet were glued to floor the closer Roman got to her. “You wore my dress and you put on those pretty panties just for me. It wasn’t a mistake… you wanted to cum for me that night; tell me I’m lying.”

With Roman standing right in front of her, she couldn’t really think. His scent was clouding her senses, she should be moving away from him, fighting her temptation. But he was telling the truth, she wanted him that night. Still wants him, she just doesn’t know how to go about it.

“Roman.” She whispered out but Roman didn’t want to listen to anything she had to say unless it was her crying out for him again.

“Tell me.” He demanded quietly, his hands moving to hold onto her waist to pull her into him. A gasp slipped through her lips, her eyes closing when she felt his nose trailing up her neck.

He planted a kiss under her ear before whispering in her ear, “Tell me you wanna cum for me London and I can make that happen for you.” He rasped out.

And she could practically hear Nora now.

Bitch stop fighting and fuck him already!

It was obvious Roman wanted her just as bad as she wanted him, and London was a weak woman.

“Make it happen then.” She replied almost challengingly and it caused Roman to smirk against her skin because he came on a mission.

________________

"Fuucckkk" She loudly moaned when he pushed himself back into her. Legs on his shoulders with his hands holding onto to the back of her thighs. The immense feeling made her forget she was still in her office, where if anyone got close enough, they could hear her. But Roman didn’t give a single fuck. And when he leaned forward, pressing his body closer to hers, which pushed her legs closer to her chest making it easier to get deeper she couldn’t help but get lost in the pleasure.

Loud moans were flying out of her mouth, and Roman’s eyes stared down into her with a dark look in them. She knew exactly what he was doing, that look told her everything she needed to know. He was trying to find her spot, with no other intensions other than abusing it until she was cumming in waves for him.

"You done runnin’ from me?" He asked tauntingly, and she knew he wasn’t talking about running from him during the activity they were currently partaking in. He wanted her to give into him every single time they had the chance to be like this.

He slid his hands down her thighs and pushed them down as close to her chest as they could get, looking down between them to watch his dick slide in and out of her enjoying the small white ring of cream she left coated on him. He slowed down his pace purposefully to sew how loud she would get whenever he hit somewhere new. London couldn’t remember the last time she felt like this.

She tried to bite onto her lower lip to keep from screaming every time he went in deeper. Muffled moans came from her, nails denting his skin as she latched onto his back. Roman looked back up to watch her, eyes squinting as he studied her expressions and slightly moved to the left to hit a new area. He felt her clench around him and watched her eyes water from that specific spot. Found it

"Ouuu shit." She cried out.

"Right there?" He questioned as if he didn’t already know.

"Yesss, right there." Roman started moving against it, poking at her spot faster and faster as he let one of her thighs go and slid his hands up her stomach and breasts until he reached her neck. She let another loud moan as he loosely squeezed her neck.

"You never answered my question, you done runnin’ from me?"

London wrapped her arm around the leg he let go so she wouldn’t be so sore, she was so lost in the pleasure she almost didn’t hear him. "Huh?" He questioned, as he kept poking at her spot even harder now staring right into her eyes. She kept eye contact, responding by moaning louder and nodding her head.

"I can’t hear you, you done runnin’ from me London? Huh? When I ask you to come see me, you gon come see me right?" He asked, squeezing her neck a little tighter as he thrusted even faster.

He could’ve asked her for the world in the same moment and she would’ve agreed to give it to him. That’s how good he was making her feel.

Tears spilled from her eyes as she felt her stomach tightened and she clenched down on him. "Yessss, I’m done runnin’ Roman Please."

"Please what? Tell me."

"I-" She was cut off by her own loud moan, feeling her eyes roll to the back of her head. Roman continued to relentlessly pound into her, pushing to make her cum for the fourth and final time.

"C’mon baby, beg for that shit." He teased, enjoying the mess he was leaving her in. This was what he wanted to do to her the first time and he was glad he was able to redeem himself. The only thing that could be heard were their heavy breathing, her constant moaning and their skin clapping against each other’s.

"Please. D-don’t stop please" She stuttered out as she felt her legs start to shake; she was on the verge of cumming again - this time she knew it was going to me much more intense then the last one.

"You gon cum for me?" And he really didn’t need to ask, she placed her hand on his stomach to try to get him to slow down. Roman let go of her neck and quickly used his thumb to rub on her clit as he hit her spot over and over again. Her hand slipped from his stomach and she tapped on the desk, she couldn’t hold it anymore.

At the sight of her literally tapping out, he smirked and it did nothing but boost his ego. "Go head baby, cum for me." He permitted and with a silent scream she let her body arch off her desk and came all over him. He let out a groan at how tight she clenched around him and quickly pulled out of her and stroked himself with a few pumps and emptied himself on top of her; staking his claim.

If cheating on his wife felt like this - he didn’t give a damn about the consequences.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It’s been a minute huh? Here’s the second part - and I promise you guy’s wont have to wait that long for the next part😭😭

Comment if you want to be added to the next part and please show me some love🥺🫶🏾

Tagging the lovelies: @whatdoeseverybodywant @theninthwonder @christinabae @2-muchsauce @alichesmi @pitlissa22 @sassginaswanmills @harmshake @po3ticb3auty @unfriendly--blvck--hottie @dersha89 @serena004 @reci1996 @scarlettnoir01 @venusesworld @kill-the-artiste @southerngirl41 @badbitchcentralinc @reignsboy19

[826aliensapocalypseactivism]

Trip to The Valley

Hector B.-J. 

Chapter 1: In search of someone.

Walking through an abandoned building, I see many people on the floor with no hope in their eyes. All of them here, sitting here deteriorating, second by second. They knew they had no shot at returning to normality, and neither did I. Passing by, thoughts were bashing through the inside of my skull; “Am I safe here?” “What in the world are they gonna do to me?” “ Are they even here?” All of which I had no answers to. I sat to join them and could feel everyone's eyes piercing my skin and bones. And as the smell of disgusting and unwashed bodies entered my body, all I could think about was how I was one of them. I felt as if many would stare at me because of my young age, compared to them. 

Through the pumps of my blood and thumps of my racing heart, the only thing I could visibly make out were the mumbles and whispers that I knew were directed toward me. My sweat made the air colder as a man with old raggedy clothes torn and covered in dirt and grime, came approaching me. A wave of disgusting and rancid smell followed the  man, leaving me dazed as my beating heart filled my ears.

“A (thump-thump) little boy (thump-thump)? What do (thump-thump) you think (thump-thump) you are (thump-thump) doing here?”

“Huh?” I whispered in disbelief at the smell, as I couldn’t hear what he said over the loud and repeated sound of my heart beating.

“Blah - blah - blah - blah - blah… ”

“Huh!” I said a little louder. I could feel the drops of my tears tearing through my eyes trying to find a way to escape.

“HUH?”

“HUH??” We both said, leaving a moment of silence as we both stood there looking at each other. The embarrassing moment led to me forgetting the rancid/putrid smell the man eroded. “I’m sorry I couldn’t hear what you said, can you repeat it”

“You’re a pesky boy, making me repeat for a third time!” He uttered with an irritated look that you could see from miles away. “Now open your ears and listen as I won't repeat it again. …… OKAY!!!” He shouted, making me jump in place. 

“Yes…sir.” I pushed out from humiliation and anxiety.

“What does a little boy like you doing in this part of the country?” He paused. “How is it possible for a kid to end up like us at such a young age?” He said while having a look of sadness and despair. I would stay silent not letting out a single peep.

“Hey, how old are you anyway?“ he said, giving me a nudge on my shoulder as if to move on from the subject and cheer me up.

“I’m 14 years old, sir” 

“Drop the sir, there is no need to be respectful, so… do you mind if I ask how you came to be in this situation?”

“It was the stellar serpents” 

“THE STELLAR SERPENTS, no offense kid but how are you not dead, and what do mean that they did this to you, do they have a hit for you? Nah I'm joking, but what do you mean by the stellar serpents?” he jokingly expressed trying to cheer me up. The silence grew increasingly large as all I could do was stare at the floor with a blank stale look on my face.

“Have you heard of the double-cross incident that occurred 3 years ago?” I said.

“No, I've been in this dump I call home for almost … 10 years now.” 

                                                   * * * * * * * * * *

Background:

The country was divided into three sides; the smallest side nicknamed, Dying Valley population percent: 78%. Death valley is where all of those who were poor or deemed “poor” would rot. It is said that those who double cross the government are set there never to leave out. The middle 2nd largest side is dubbed, Lucky population percent: 21%. Lucky was given this name as many of those who inhabit this side are lucky and on the cusp of poverty. Many if not all of the people here are between the age of 1 to 20 with 36 being the oldest man to have ever lived there. The final and largest side is named, Big Nebula population percent: 1% the only ones that accompany this side is the stellar serpents family. This family dominated control over the USA country as one of the family’s ancestors found the most durable and magnificent gem leading them to gain support and power from the government. they would then use the government and all of their power to their leisure giving them all of what they desired to twist their view of Authority. The family then grew and grew, controlling every part of what used to be the United States, at least from what I’ve heard. 

   Double-cross incident.

Date: June 18, 2045

A father that was part of the stellar serpents decides to resign his status of being part of the stellar serpents family. He calls the government and the stellar serpents to inform them of his resignation.

“Yes, Mr. Bigod I am positive that I would like to leave my family, as I want my children to grow a normal and beneficial life. I would like them to be the same as everyone else in Lucky. So please let me leave the serpent family.”

“As you please Mr. Bigod. I would just like to confirm that you will not be under our jurisdiction and will be treated the same as everyone else. Is that fine by you sir?”

“It's all perfect, thank you for your time.”

Days later the announcement that a former serpent was living amongst them broke loose in Lucky, causing havoc and chaos on that side of the country for three consecutive days. All of the residents young and old would search every crevice thick and thin in search of the Bigods.

“Find those Serpents! They have been the leading cause of all of our suffering in the world, once we get a hold of them we will torture and make an example out of them!” bellowed the townspeople as they were in search of the Bigods.

“Please all I ask is for you to take care of my children while the hate dies down, I beg of you,” pleaded to father of the Bigods.

“Sorry, but I do not take orders from you low lives as you are not part of our jurisdiction anymore, good bye.”

“Wai- (CLICK)”

“Father, what is wrong with you, why don't you just tell them to stop the ruckus immediately or they will be subject to our most painful of death!” Exclaimed the 8-year-old boy not knowing of their situation

“It's not that simple son, we—”

“HERE, they're over here get 'em!!”

The Bigods would be captured and strung on a rusty almost broken-down building that was small enough for an object to reach them but tall enough so that if they were to fall they would be blessed with immediate death.

“You bastards are the reason my wife is paralyzed and blind, you gouged her eyes out from not bowing in your presence. You then shot her legs because she couldn't stop moving from the pain of her eyes getting gouged.”

“Yeah!”

“You killed and tortured my boy just because he dripped snot on the pavement of where you were walking, saying ‘How dare you snot in my presence! Here let me get rid of that little boy, he’s a nuisance!’ We will make sure that your last seconds on earth are the most painful.”

“Yeah”

The death of the Bigods was treated like a festival as all of the townspeople would scream at the Bigods about the pain and suffering that the serpents caused, None of these acts they listed were ever committed by the Bigods. June 24, 2045, would mark the last day for the Bigods as they slowly and painfully perished on the side of a rusty abandoned building. The acts of “the double-cross” incident led to a shortage of old people in Lucky, making it mostly young adults who were on this side. All of the old residents of Lucky would later be displaced to Death Valley making the average age of Death Valley to be 36 to your death. The walks that the stellar serpents would often take to Lucky would dissipate and make for rare events where a serpent would go and pick three to two slaves to take back home to Big Nebula. where they would never be seen again. To this day nobody knows what happens to those who are made slaves. Many have also tried to escape this country but either they die on the way, or escape and are never heard of again as the government doesn't want others to follow.

                                                  * * * * * * * * * *

“Wow… I can’t believe I haven’t heard of any of this before today, But that would explain the sudden increase of people in this building.” The man said in an exhausted way as though the story was a bit too much for him to handle at once.

“Yeah, The government tried their hardest for the double-cross incident to ever see the light of day on the other sides, to not have anything of that proportion to happen ever again.”

“So, how does this relate to your situation, kid?” He asked with a confused look.

“Oh yeah, my parents were one of the residents in Lucky that got displaced as they were 50 years old, I would by myself at the age of 11. I would have to work nonstop if I wanted to stay in Lucky until I decided to stop and I was thrown here, where I'm in search of reuniting with at least one of my parents.”

“Oh, alright looks like we're all caught up. Oh yeah my name is Ray what about– (Grumble-Grumble)” The sound of my belly grumbling smashed the conversation to a dead silence.

“I apologize for my interruption” I whispered in embarrassment.

“No need kid. Come on let's go find some food for that belly of yours,” He exclaimed while he got up reaching one of his hands to mine to help.

“I’m, Miles,” I stated. As we would walk out of the old abandoned building, Ray told me stories and such of how death valley functions, one being that kids my age are very out of place and should only be seen when an adult is accompanying them. On the way to the market, we would stumble across many streets with most of them if not all roach-infested with corpses laid out in the open. Ray told me that killing isn’t common here; the only people getting killed here are evil people who deserve it, which I don't know if I should to believe him.

“I wonder what all that commotion is about, come on let's go see Miles,” Ray said. Approaching the market my eyes were met with disbelief and my body refused to move as they were struck with fear.

“I- it's a serpent” I forced out in a whisper to Ray.

“What a serpent in death valley that's unheard of, why would they be here?” Without a second to spare my body moved to a bow as if it had a mind of its own, Ray followed and so did everyone else.

“Father, all of these people are dirt poor and stink of rats and corpses,” the Serpent exclaimed with the most disrespectful-sounding voice known to man.

“I know son. I want to leave as bad as you do but it's your birthday and all of the lucky townspeople seem to be too incompetent for the likes of you. That's why we are here so I come to get you a smart cooperative slave.” the father of the serpent said not giving consideration to anyone else in sight

“Oh, papa you are just the most thoughtful and caring parent I could ask for I could almost hug you. But I won't,” the serpent said with lots of joy in his voice acting like a 5-year-old trapped in a 36-year-old man. 

“Oh, father, why do you make this so hard? Hmm give me that old junk of bolt right there, and… oh those two right there.” He exclaimed while pointing in our direction. My eyes and body were struck with an abundant amount of fear my legs shaking my eyes getting teary, and sweat dripping down my body.

“My son, doesn't that man look a little too young? We did come here to get some competent and intelligent slaves, and that one seems different,” the boy's father said with worry in his voice.

“Dad! Let me do what I want, you can't boss me on my birthday!”

“As you say son,” the father exclaimed with a fatigued look.

“NO… wait,” he said pulling out his gun and aiming it at the old man he choose before, and shooting without a second thought “Not that one, only these two seem fit,” he said looking at me and Ray. “Now come over here and put these chains around your necks we’re walking to your new home!” Me and Ray without a second thought moved to put the chains on to follow the spoiled brat. On the walk to the wagon, the man was on. I could feel the hope I had to be with my family disappear and all that I've done in my life to be stripped away from me at this moment. I could feel as if Ray was thinking the same, as it was my fault he is here at this moment. If he had never met, maybe none of this could have happened.

“Don’t lack behind boys or you will be killed like that old fart back there”

“Yes, sir,” both me and Ray exclaimed as we were being pulled by the wagon. Both of us not knowing if we would ever return here again.                           

To Be Continued...

[massivecore13]

gameswillbeplayed​:

@massivecore13 , idk whats going on with notifs for posts atm so just double checking you get this ^^;

Before he knows what’s going on, Matt gets dragged to the table he was planning to escape from. So much for sneaking out unnoticed. Or finishing up his drink, for that matter. Matt throws a glare at Rue, unconsciously touches his vest pocket that hides a small pistol in it.

Should have known better than to chat to interesting looking strangers.

“Heeyyy, John wazzit?” A weak grin and a slightly raised hand for a greeting doesn’t get him far, and the other guy throws Matt a dirty look equal to the one Rue got from the ugly jacket guy. “I hope Asim’s trial’s gonna be fine,” he continues before he can help himself, and John jumps out of his chair, grabs Matt by the collar.

“It’s your fault he got caught,” the other growls and Matt raises both his hands in surrender, attempts to take a step back but the other man tightens his grip, and Rue’s arm behind him isn’t helping either. At the corner of his eye he can see the nearby tables quieting down and focusing on the entertainment at hand. Some of the staff is conveniently cleaning the floors and the tables not far away, the tasers poking from their aprons. Matt has seen fights happen here before, and he’d rather not be at the receiving end of the pub owner’s wrath.

“Look, I’m sorry, I was just doin’ my job,” he replies, glares at Rue again, just because. “No hard feelings, yea? Anyway, we were just ‘boutta leave, right?” And he pats Rue on the back, nods towards the doors. Take the hint Rue. Please.

There's a nice stench of alcohol and sweat when John's scowl is about two inches away from B and Matt's faces. Probably the man hasn't had a decent bath in a long while... Beyond can't blame him for that -prisoners don't have the privilege of hot showers and scented shampoo like any civil person in the whole world.

"Oh, it's so touching to see a reunion between two old friends, isn't it?" Beyond grins widens as his grip around Matt's waist tightens to such an extent he can feel the shivering pulsing of anxiety through his jacket.

Pushed by the mere curiosity of the unknown, he doesn't waste time pushing his unfortunate new friend in the devil's maw - blatantly ignoring the fact John is inclined to crash Matt's bones to play Shanghai with them.

A waiter circles their tables with an air of resignation, the expression of whos' seen fights happening at least twice a week and knows the police's number by heart. Might it be the proximity of the pub to some criminals' private clubs, but the place is doomed.

And another catastrophe is soon to start when, ignoring any of Matt's desperate hints, B clutches the gun hidden in the guy's vest pocket and jumps on the table.

"Hey, hey, hey!" Time freezes in the split of a few seconds, all eyes on Beyond and the weapon in his hand, now pointed at John's head. "My friend said he was sorry, don'tcha hear him?" John glares back at him, teeth clenching but doesn't move; he's heard enough of this crazy man who unsuccessfully set himself on fire that one never knows what he's up to. "Then I acknowledged my sin to you and did not cover up my iniquity. I said, “I will confess my transgressions to the LORD.” And you forgave the guilt of my sin. Psalms, verses 35:5. Never spared some times reading the Bible?"

The stench of alcohol and sweat mingles with the sweet aroma of metal and tension, a cocktail Beyond somehow missed and reminds him of old experiments.

Yet- too booooring for the first night out.

A sequence of red numbers fleet all around him again, reminding him a lot of people is going to die that night. And probably not on his hand - well, if Matt was willing to help... But he doesn't look like doing it after all.

"And oh, Asim's trial went shit by the way, because he was sentenced to death instead of me."

A cacophony of different sounds - glasses being crashed, chairs kicked down on the floor, and yells and punches - explodes as soon as Beyond shoots at the ceiling, aiming at the chandelier, and jumps in the shocked crowd, making somehow his way out taking Matt along with him.

@gameswillbeplayed

@massivecore13 , idk whats going on with notifs for posts atm so just double checking you get this ^^;

Before he knows what’s going on, Matt gets dragged to the table he was planning to escape from. So much for sneaking out unnoticed. Or finishing up his drink, for that matter. Matt throws a glare at Rue, unconsciously touches his vest pocket that hides a small pistol in it.

Should have known better than to chat to interesting looking strangers.

“Heeyyy, John wazzit?” A weak grin and a slightly raised hand for a greeting doesn’t get him far, and the other guy throws Matt a dirty look equal to the one Rue got from the ugly jacket guy. “I hope Asim’s trial’s gonna be fine,” he continues before he can help himself, and John jumps out of his chair, grabs Matt by the collar.

“It’s your fault he got caught,” the other growls and Matt raises both his hands in surrender, attempts to take a step back but the other man tightens his grip, and Rue’s arm behind him isn’t helping either. At the corner of his eye he can see the nearby tables quieting down and focusing on the entertainment at hand. Some of the staff is conveniently cleaning the floors and the tables not far away, the tasers poking from their aprons. Matt has seen fights happen here before, and he’d rather not be at the receiving end of the pub owner's wrath.

“Look, I’m sorry, I was just doin’ my job,” he replies, glares at Rue again, just because. “No hard feelings, yea? Anyway, we were just ‘boutta leave, right?” And he pats Rue on the back, nods towards the doors. Take the hint Rue. Please.

[rpmemes-galore]

sara bareilles : amidst the chaos album ... sentence starters

“Love, what now?“

“I don't want it anyway.”

“You had your reasons.”

“You make me try harder.”

“Hope is all that you have.”

“I've only ever wanted fire.”

“You said I think too much.”

“We'll go where they take us.”

“I'm the worst I've ever been.”

“Could I rest here for a while?”

“I was ready, but you weren't.”

“I tried to wait it out, no more.”

“Step two: learning how to lie.”

“You said I always mess it up.”

“No one needs to know a thing.”

“You're on my mind, all the time.”

“So I know we can both be shiny.”

“We will not give up on love, now.”

“I'm thankful that I held you at all.”

“How can I make you remember?”

“The only thing on my mind is you.”

“My love, I see you're growing tired.”

“Let the rain wash away these tears.”

“I'll show you good, restore your faith.”

“Finally made a house feel like home.”

“You don't scare me, I am of the earth.”

“Come by the fire. Lay down your head.”

“You think I am high and mighty, mister?”

“A little scared, but you're strong enough.”

“We were stars of some old, classic film...”

“All that glitters isn't gold, but gold is all I see.”

“Thank God you are someone who loves me.”

“Set the bad day by the bed and rest a while.”

“If I could only get there, I could breathe, again.”

“Won't lose much sleep, he never went that deep.”

“I hope my love was someone else's solid ground.”

“You don't have to do a thing but listen to me sing.”

“No such thing as over you. I don't want it anyway.”

“I can't go face the world. My bones won't hold me up.”

“Love you? Oh, you sweet thing, no, I never said that.”

“You know the famine so well, you never met the feast.”

“So jump with your net from this bridge you've burned.”

“Let me hold your ego while you get your bag packed.”

“You were written in the stars that we are swimming in.”

“Talk, touch, kiss, then this one's just like all the others.”

“We'll say every single word, even if we think they'll hurt.”

“I try to push it down, but it comes back faster and harder.”

“I know you will and say you're still someone who loves me.”

“I can see you're wicked. And I don't want your wicked love.”

“If I can't have you, then I have to find a way to get through.”

“I wanted to tell you things, all the secrets I've been keeping.”

“You gave me everything that I will need to walk this long road.”

“I'll try and somehow make a meaning of the poison in this place.”

“We were never gonna catch fire. We'd have burned up in the flames.”

“I just want to run back in your arms again, but they're no longer there.”

“I held it out to you. Now you give it back... what am I supposed to do?”

“When innocent words turn to lies, you can't hide by closing your eyes.”

“And the world's on fire the whole time we're trying to put out the flame.”

“Surely someone will reach out a hand and show you a safe place to land.”

“Once in a while, I catch a glimpse of the truest things that she keeps hidden.”

“I miss the summertime, when I could feel your love and I could still feel mine.”

“This leap is on faith. You don't know who will catch you. Maybe somebody will.”

“Tides are changing on a dime and I'm just trying to keep my head above the water.”

“Don't take this the wrong way, but when a spade shows up, I call it by its first name.”

“You say that time will slow the bleeding of this heart that I've placed into your hands.”

“Let me tell you something you'll understand: only the little boys tell you they're a big man.”

“I know you miss the world, the one you knew. The one where everything made sense, because you didn't know the truth.”

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Looking for a Place to Happen

Warnings: non-consent sex and rape (series), age gap, general stupidity.

This is dark!biker!Sam Wilson x reader and explicit. 18+ only.  Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Series Synopsis: There’s lots happening in Birch and you find it all too amusing.

Sister series to Smalltown Bringdown, When the Weight Comes Down, Little Bones, and Fully Completely

Note: We’re starting Sam’s installment but this weekend I’ll probably only be catching up on my headcanons and drabbles because I’ve been a lazy bitch and I’m sorry to those who have been waiting.

Thanks to everyone for their patience and feedback. :)

I really hope you enjoy. 💋

<3 Let me know what you think with a like or reblog or reply or an ask! Love ya!

Chapter 1: I've got a job, I explore

💀💀💀

The sleepy town of Birch was awake. 

In those last weeks, the arrival of outsiders had roused the attention of many once passive residents of the timeless territory. Those brick buildings unchanged by the tick of the clock inlaid into the old tower above the library that chimed every hour on the hour. They still stood with only chips in the mortar but the air tasted different. The frost was more bitter and the sky more grim. An omen of something no one could predict.

It was the perfect setting for a screenplay. The isolated town with its unsavoury secrets and the visitors who threatened to bring them to the surface. It was inspiring to you, to imagine what was hidden behind the stern wrinkled faces of the town elders and under the jackets of those men who wore the cut of the local club. The bikers ruled the town covertly but everyone knew that Bucky Barnes’ palm was lined with the map of Birch.

As a bystander, an unnoticed observer, just another ant in the hill, you watched from the side and amused yourself with the drama of others. It was like a soap opera or another HBO hype machine. Those things you aspired to when you could be free of this ho-hum town.

The snows added to the natural gloom of the place. The deep heaps smothered the noise and harkened back to those days of colonial settlement. Forgotten, desolate, fearful. 

You ventured down in your heavy boots that stretched to your knees and pushed your chin down into your scarf. As a child, you ran and jumped in those piles, now you were out of breath just trying to walk past them.

You stopped in the bakery that doubled as the only café, a place where the owner, Babs, tried to to intimidate the last caffeinated trends. She was always a few seasons behind but you didn’t mind so much. 

You ordered the salted caramel mocha and waited patiently as the quiet woman fought with the steaming machines. She was older than you but you’d work with her for one summer during high school, only five years ago. She had the eyes of a child still, but there was something worn in her. As if she’d been exposed to far too much in her three or so decades in that place. She was a harbinger of what you didn’t want to become.

You thanked her for your drink and set out once more into the billowing winds. Birch winters were never kind but this one was crueler than most. Your teeth chattered as you blew the steam away from the lid and hugged it with your mittened hands.

You stopped short as you heard the familiar ding of the diner door across the street. You recognised the mechanic who kept to herself and once growled at you in the grocery store. She stormed across the street, followed closely and quickly by a black-haired man you’d only seen once before. He was one of those outsiders who came to deal with the club men.

You sped up as you sensed chaos brewing and pulled out your phone as you balanced your paper cup in your other hand. You flicked your camera on just as you got to the front of the shop and the man grabbed the mechanic. You let out an ‘oop’ as she turned on him and you aimed the lens at the couple as they fell into the snow, the man’s shoes giving little traction to his steps. 

You moved closer, stunned by the scene, and kept your cell phone rolling as you found a better angle around the snowy walks. As she choked him on the ground he elbowed her and she coughed as she rolled away. She snarled as he clamoured to his feet, slipping and sliding as he marched away.

You killed the recording and watched the man cross the street again, nearly wiping out as he did and when you looked back to the mechanic, she was gone behind the clattering door. You chuckled to yourself and tucked away your cell. It was prime footage for TikTok; with a bit of editing, it would be comedy gold.

💀

You stomped up the steps of your grandmother’s house, this time through the front door as you heard her chair rocking in the front room. You usually took the stairs in the back as you paid her to live on the upper floor of the duplex. You checked in with her daily, she didn’t get out much more than the occasional trip to the grocery store when you couldn’t or you dragged her out to join you for a tea at Babs’.

“You’re late,” she grumbled as you set your cup down and unzipped your coat.

“For what?” you scoffed.

“It’s after noon and you don’t even come down to say hello? A ‘good morning, nan’,” she harrumphed.

You chuckled and hung your coat before shoving your boots over on the mat. You grabbed your mocha and leaned on the doorway as you watched her crocheting in her chair, reruns of some court show playing from the boxy television.

“I was working,” you said, “sent in some stuff for review. Hopefully not much work to be done.”

“I don’t know how you make money on that interweb,” she bemoaned, “I don’t trust it.”

“Maybe you’d trust it more if you used the Netflix subscription I got you,” you crossed your arms, “then you wouldn’t have to watch trash daytime TV.”

She shrugged and muttered under her breath. She could be crotchety but you liked her sense of humour. Your aunts and uncles never came around because they just took it as spite. You were the only one who knew how to handle the jaded old lady.

“Maybe you coulda looked out the window,” you snickered, “quite a show going on in town.”

“Hmm, what’s that?” she stilled her needles and reached for her tea stained cup.

“Just a fight. You wouldn’t believe it, that lady mechanic beat the shit--”

“Language,” she huffed.

“Anyway, she had this guy in a chokehold. It was awesome.”

“What guy?” she squinted at you over her glasses.

“I dunno. Some out of towner. Remember I told you about that burly dude hanging around the library?”

“There’s more?” she sucked on her teeth, “those bikers have never been good news and now they’re bringing in more.”

“Yeah, well, what’re you gonna do?” you sniffed as you took out your phone and rewatched the scuffle with the volume down. You shook your head and opened up your TikTok. 

“I don’t understand why you’re always on your dang phone,” your grandmother pestered.

“I’m not always on my phone,” you smiled at her smugly, “there are those time when I’m listening to you prattle on or you know, making you tea, oh, and cooking you dinner. What was it I did last week? Oh that’s right, I got Pippin out of the crawlspace.”

“I’m too old to be chasin’ that cat all around,” she huffed, “where is he anyway?”

“He’s your cat, I don’t know? Last time I saw him, I sent him back out the window for shredding my charger.”

“He knows you need to give it a rest,” she laughed to herself, “got your nose to that screen too much.”

“And what do you do, old lady? Crocheting doilies to put where exactly?”

She gave you that dry smile, the one that said watch it but carried a hint of humour still. You hit post and put your phone away as you waved off her irritation.

“Well, you know what, I sit all day at my computer, doing who knows what and you know what it got me?” you taunted, “a large mocha!” you sipped as you sat on the sofa and grabbed the remote, “and it’s paying my rent and putting bullet points on my resume.”

“Mhmm,” she scowled, “just remember, real life ain’t online. Those videos you’re always laughing at like hyena, that’s not reality. You forget it and it’ll come back and bit you. ‘Specially with those bikers.”

“Oh, nan, you know too well, don’t you? Didn’t you have a fling with one back in your hippie phase?”

“Two, actually,” she raised her brows, “I was young and stupid. Not like you, but still.”

“I love you too,” you chirped and sipped from your cup, flicking the station to Jerry Springer, “that’s more like it.”

💀

Your usual TikToks were sarcastic and dull complaints about your small town life. The response was less than pleasing but it gave you an outlet to vent. You liked to goof around and document the very specific type of weirdos that resided in Birch. But the video of the fight in the snow blew up your phone and made it difficult to ignore the buzzing as you went back up to your room to eke out the last of your captions for the ad agency.

When at last you could call your day hard-earned, you logged off and sent in your hours to the agency. Social media promotion was easy enough but the working gigs for a thousand different companies was tedious. You hoped you could build your portfolio enough to manage a single corporate page as you continued to chip away at your creative outlets.

You picked up your phone as you waited for Netflix to load on your tiny smart tv and flopped onto your bed, not two feet from your desk. You hit the icon in the upper panel of your phone and scrolled through the notifications, pausing to turn on another episode of the cable sitcom from ten years before. You snorted as you read each comment but the number under the video made your eyes round. The thing was bound to go viral.

As usual, you went down to help with supper. Pippin, the orange tabby, returned to cry at his dish and you fed him too. Your nan peered through her glasses at a crossword as she tasted the tangy pasta sauce. 

“More basil,” she snipped.

“Well, I asked if you wanted to help,” you muttered, “I think it’s good.”

“Hmmp, I need milk,” she jutted her chin out, “for my after-dinner tea.”

“You couldn’t say something like three hours ago?” you blinked.

“I could have but I didn’t,” she snickered. You rolled your eyes and she took another forkful of penne and filled in another line on her puzzle, “ah, no hurry, girlie, you know I’m patient.”

“Patient? You?” you chuckled as you took your plate and shoved it in the microwave to keep it warm. The ancient thing had a dial and the door stuck, “I’ll just go get it over with.”

“Don’t forget your mitts,” she called after you as you tramped into the front room, “it’s cold.”

You pulled on your knitted cap and matching mitts. You zipped up your parka and shoved your feet into the deep boots. You grabbed your wallet and buried it in the spacious pocket. You bounced out the front door and down the steps as the sky sent down another coat of powder for the night.

You went up White Forge Street and through the short path behind the diner that led to the main road. You glanced over at The Asp, the beacon of the dull town, and turned towards the grocer. Like anywhere in Birch, the store was outdated and stuffy. It felt like stepping into another time with the paper bags and chunky tills.

You went down the center aisle and stopped at the fridge to search through the frosted glass. Your nan only drank whole milk and the last time you carelessly grabbed skim, she whined that even Pippin wouldn’t drink it. She was particular but that was just her nature. You couldn’t say you were any less fussy in some instances.

You grabbed a jug and the door slapped closed against the worn rubber seal. You headed up the candy aisle and brushed your woolly thumb over your chin as you considered gummy bears or Reeses’ Pieces.

“Hard choice?” The deep voice jolted you.

You snatched the box of chocolate and looked over at the man in leather, his chin tucked down behind the collar as snow dusted his shoulders.

“Sure,” you said as you brushed past him.

The cut of the leather told you he was better not entertained. While you thought the men amusing, you weren’t stupid enough to engage with them. You rarely listened to your grandmother but she was wise in her own way. 

You knew a girl in highschool, she was fucking around with one of the club men in her junior year, she ended up with a baby and no support. You didn’t think he was into you that way but he could hardly have innocent intentions.

“How’s the old lady?” Clayton asked as he rung in your order at the end of the belt, you moved along with the groceries and pulled out your wallet.

“The usual, you know? She’s tryna quit again. Don’t know how long it’ll last.”

“Oh yeah? I’ll keep a carton aside for her,” he kidded as you felt your phone vibing in your back pocket.

“Don’t encourage her,” you swiped your card and punched in your pin, “although I don’t know what’s worse; the smoke or her sucking on those mints all the time.”

“Oh, it’s not the bitchin’?” he laughed.

“That, too,” you scooped up the paper bag and put your wallet away, “have a good one.”

As you came to the end of the first counter, you were nearly cut off by the club member as he swept around from till two. His own purchase of a car magazine and jerky was tucked under his arm.

“Ah, sorry,” he smiled, a sparkling smile, almost charming.

“No worries,” you continued on and he followed close behind.

“Those mitts look real warm. ‘Specially in this weather,” he said as you pushed open the door.

“Uh huh,” you kept on as your boots crunched out into the snow.

“You know where I can get a pair. Leather isn’t exactly thermal, you know?”

“These? My nan made ‘em. I’m sure Clayton got some hung up back there,” you looked across the street as you stepped up onto the ledge of snow between the sidewalk and the road.

“Am I bothering you?” he asked.

You looked at him dumbly and almost laughed in his face. You glanced back across the street then down towards The Asp.

“Sorta,” you answered.

“Make you a deal. Leave ya alone for your name.”

You eyed him. He was older than you like many of the Commandos. At least a decade, likely more than that. You chewed on your hesitation and cradled the bag more firmly against your side. His eyes strayed as he tried to see through the thick layer of your coat.

“Nah, I’m not s’posed to talk to strangers,” you said and hopped off onto the road.

You heard him behind you as he struggled to follow and as you came up to the other side, he came parallel with you and kept stride with you easily.

“I know you’re young but you’re not a kid,” he intoned, “what’s the harm in a name?”

“It’s a small town,” you stopped short of the end of White Forge, “I think I know enough about you to avoid you.”

“Oh ho, is that it? Well, I’m Sam, I’m not a stranger now, am I?”

“Not interested, Sam. Sure there’s women your own age over at the bar,” you nodded behind him.

“You wanna come see? Maybe have a drink?” he gave a crooked grin.

“You don’t give up, do you?” you shook your head, put off by his forwardness.

“Well?”

“Not tonight, Sam,” you turned around and headed down White Forge.

“Then what night?” he asked but you didn’t answer and he didn’t follow.

You turned down onto your street and refused to look back in case. It would be best not to mention the run-in to your nan, she was paranoid enough as it was. Besides, you’d forget about it by the end of next week.

[stuckybarton]

mafia! bucky finding out someone from his group disrespected you.

Hmmm, protective! bucky is a jam i want to explore!!

Warning: Sexual Harassments. Profanities Character Death. Violence. Guns. A brief description of shooting a gun at someone. Blood. Brief mention of sexual content

MASTERLIST || Join the Taglist || Requests Are Open

Bucky had three rules he expects everyone that worked for him should follow

If he wants something done, you don't give excuses, you show results

You want to rat out to the police or to a rival? Expect a rat shoved down your throat when he finds you. if he can't find you? well expect a loved on of yours to be given the treatment in place of you

But the most important among the three was punishable with death; no one fucks with his woman.

But there was one man, who was either too arrogant or too stupid to take this rule seriously.

He was named Brock.

He got on everyone's nerves, including Bucky, Sam, and even the constantly patient Steve.

The only reason Bucky hadn't placed a bullet on his head was because of how good he was at his job.

Brock Rumlow was good with weapons, he knew how to do deals in the Black Market. He know where to find a good deal and what was the best weapon in the current market.

But everyone hated him with a fiery passion. Including you.

It started off harmless. Being called Bucky's old lady.

Then it got worst from there.

The man was ballsy enough to let anyone and everyone that would listen to him know that he could seduce you into betraying Bucky for him--when it was far from the truth.

Sam and Steve had tried convincing you to tell Bucky about it, but you brushed it off. No need to have Bucky ruining business because of you.

But then it got worse...

More than you had ever thought it should be. He started with holding onto your hand, which you were quick to jerk away from him.

Hands that were testing with your hands had somehow made their way around your waist or in your ass, every single time, you jerked away from him. Moved closer to anyone in the room that you trusted your safety more than with Brock.

When his touches--or how he embarrassingly called seduction failed. He did what any misogynist would do call you every name in the book.

From a whore to a slut that gets passed on between Bucky, Steve, and Sam. You had freely heard the man called you every name in the book and every single time, it made you fear the man even more and had you constantly in the presence of your often not-necessary guards.

But among the idiocy he was capable of spewing, never once did he say those words in front of your boyfriend. He didn't have the balls to say it to the man. Even with all the bravado and swagger he had spewed of stealing you away from him. He did not have the balls to tell Bucky those words.

But Bucky wasn't an idiot, unlike what Brock would believe.

He had ears everywhere, especially in the form of his two closes friends and partner.

He was just waiting for you say the words and he can throw caution to the wind and just shoot him in the temple.

But you didn't.

No matter how shitty it was for him to watch you endure it, he wanted you to say the words and he will do it without an ounce of hesitation.

You were, after all, more important that this fucking business of his.

"you alright?"

it had been his daily question every night at the two of you laid naked in your bed.

you were deep in thoughts, most likely finding yet another reason to stay as far away from the asshole as you humanely could without ringing alarm bells.

"yeah." you assured, but it had been so much of a lie at this point. bucky knew it, you knew bucky knew it but you didn't want to ruin his business.

"just say the word."

How often you had heard bucky say those words but never once have you put that power you held to the test.

"i'm fine." you assured once again, kissing him and distracting him with other things for the rest of the night.

famous last words.

hearing Brock scouting for men that could stab Bucky in the back, it had been your time to intervene and cut his bullshit.

"what are you gonna do? tell your sugar daddy about?"

you were seeing red. it was far from the truth, you refused to have bucky give you anything unless it was for a special occasion, but the way he sounded it off, it was as if you were a gold digger.

you rebuked him for it, only earning a laugh from the man.

"why don't you had back to your daddy's office and keep his dick wet with your mouth or your cunt, that's the only thing you're good for anyways."

and you snapped.

in front of a handful of bucky's men, the always calm and collected woman of Bucky Barnes had snapped. Punching brock straight in the nose and breaking it in the process.

your knuckles hurt but it was so satisfying to hear the sound of breaking bones and the scarlet that now painted the man's nose in the process.

who knew bucky's self-defense training would pay off.

"you stupid bitch"

he took hold of your hair in a vice grip making you wince in pain and at the sight of him ready to slap you, you closed your eyes and waited for the hit to come--but it never did.

the bang had echoed in the room and the pained scream from brock.

opening your eyes, you had seen the reason for his screams, a clean bullet hole now passed through his palm. a clean shot, that you knew perfectly well who was capable of firing.

turning to the fury that bucky was known for.

"i had three rules when you work for me."

another bang at directed at the man's knee earning a cry from the fallen man as he grasp at the places he was shot in.

blood was slowly pooling around him.

you didn't feel pity for him like you had been for the rest of the people that bucky had done the same to.

you didn't feel pity for brock he deserved everything he was getting.

"number one rule: when i say jump you say how fucking high"

two more gunshots were heard, both directed at the man's two feet.

you had watched the pain no longer registering in the man's features as he was slowly dying from the lost of blood.

"number two rule; betray me in any shape or form, you will leave to see another day, but you'd have a rat shoved down your throat in the process."

both shoulders were shot and only a gasp could be heard from Brock at this point.

"and number three, by far the most important of all the rules i've given you."

you watched Bucky empty the rest of his bullets onto Brock's groin area until it was nothing more than a mush and you had to turn your attention away from the sight and towards the terror that lingered in the men present.

brock was dead, from the sounds of it. and bucky had placed his point across to everyone else.

"you don't get to look, you don't get to touch, you don't even get to fucking breath the same direction of my girl. hurt her in any way like this piece of shit, i will empty my pistol all over your body for everyone to see."

in the silence of the room, your eyes turned to where Steve and Sam stood. a part of you knew it was there doing, how bucky had been able to save you before you could get hurt at the hands of the dead man.

" i expect this will be the last time i have to remind you of this. the next time i see anyone close to Y/N, expect the bullet in your head."

when no one said a word, it angered bucky more.

"do i make myself clear?" his voice boomed and a chorus of fearful yes from the everyone was heard.

"clean this shit up."

and that was the last thing you heard bucky had said as he had dragged you with him back to your shared bedroom.

blood was painted your cheeks, much more than it had stained his clothes.

"you alright?"

you sighed, no use lying anymore. you shook your head and wrapped your arms around him.

the protection only his arms were capable of giving you. it was all you needed after everything you had just witness.

"no one is ever gonna hurt you, as long as i'm here."

it was a promise you didn't want to test anymore.

everyone got the message and you feared what bucky would go through to make true of his words.

you loved him, more than you will ever love anyone in this world, but the fear had also slowly but surely came at the things he was capable of doing.

for you.

====

tagging:

Bucky Barnes One-Shot / Series

@aami98 @caimann7789 @grumpyashhh @mysticunicorn7 @wandering-spiritash @emmy626 @mysticunicorn7 @curiousershipper @twilightmotion @jgun2001 @livstilinski @morganwilliams @star017 @tenaciousperfectionunknown @dryyoursaltyoceantears @curiousershipper @secretsthathauntus

Everything Else

@wandering-spiritash @emmy626 @star017 @silverrmistt

[hobis-hope94]

~Please Stop Being Reckless~:

Summery: Bucky returns home from a mission with a bruised face and broken nose. Y/N’s worried about him.

Paring: TFATWS!Bucky Barnes x GN!Reader (use of nickname “doll” but no set pronouns).

Warnings: mentions of fighting, mentions of injuries, mentions of pain killers, mentions of food, some angst but mostly fluff.

(Gif not mine):

You knew dating Bucky wouldn’t be easy. You knew how reckless the man could be when it came to missions.

One of the worst things about Bucky having a younger looking body, was that you sometimes thought he still saw himself as the reckless 17yr old he once was.

It’s not that you wanted to stop him going on missions, not in the slightest. He was shaping into the hero You saw him as and you couldn’t be more proud of him.

You just wish he wouldn’t always come home covered in cuts, bruises, broken bones. The lot.

You hated having to stitch him up every time he’d come home, you hated seeing him flinch in pain anytime you cleaned up a big wound. But you did it anyway, because you loved him, and he simply adored you.

One day, you were washing the dishes with your favourite playlist blasting out in the background. As you softly danced and sang along to your favourite songs, you failed to hear the door open.

You jumped sky high when you felt a pair of arms around your waist, but soon relaxed when you saw the glimmer of gold and black on your boyfriend’s left arm.

“Missed you,” Bucky mumbled into your head gently.

“Missed you too, Sargent,” you said gently finishing the dishes. “Dinner’s in the- jesus Bucky!” You said.

You had turned around in his arms to be greeted by Bucky with a swollen shut black eye and you were sure another broken nose. The right side of his face had a huge gash along it.

“Doll. Leave it. I’m fine. I’m just gonna take some painkillers, eat dinner then sleep. It’s all I ever need,” Bucky said as you ran to the bathroom to fetch the first aid kit.

“Over my dead body,” you said, putting the first aid kit down and gently taking the pain killers from Bucky and leading him to the kitchen table.

“You don’t need to make this much of a fuss,” Bucky said as you gently began dabbing his wound, he flinched, you apologised.

“Buck, I can’t bare seeing you so hurt. You’ve got to stop being so reckless,” you said, your voice wobbled as you began to wipe the blood away from Bucky’s cheek, knowing it’ll heal in little over an hour thanks to the serum that ran through him.

“I’m just doing my job,” Bucky said gently as when you finished his wound, you stood up to go to the freezer.

“Bucky. I’m being serious,” you said firmly, you gently handed Bucky a packet of frozen peas to put on his nose. “Please be careful. Every time you leave, i say I love you like it’s the last time I’ll ever say it to you properly. Every night you’re gone, I lie awake just waiting for that phone call. Please, Bucky. For me? Be careful?” You pleaded, your eyes shone with tears waiting to fall.

Bucky’s heart sank, he didn’t realise his reckless behaviour was causing you troubles sleeping or anxiety.

“Oh, doll,” Bucky sighed softly.

He put the frozen peas down and gently pulled you onto his lap. You hugged him, carefully not to hurt him. He nuzzled into your neck.

“I’ll be careful from now on,” Bucky said gently.

“Good,” you whispered into his neck, taking in his scent.

You stayed wrapped in each other for a while until you heard a ping.

“Ah! That’ll be the lasagna,” you said, scrambling free from your boyfriend’s loving grip.

“You made lasagna? As in ….the one you made to bring to Sam and Sarah’s last month? The one everyone went crazy over?” Bucky’s face lit up, you giggled.

“Yep. And the very same one you haven’t stopped begging me to make again,” you giggled, gently lifting it out of the oven.

“Oh doll, I’m so lucky to have you,” Bucky said, springing from the chair and grabbing two plates.

“You only love me for my cooking?” You giggled.

“That and a few other things,” Bucky said playfully.

“Barnes!” You giggled dishing him up a slice.

He laughed and pecked your cheek as you dished yourself up a plate. You both sat down opposite each other.

“I love you, Y/N. I’m truly the luckiest man alive,” Bucky smiled at you.

“I love you too, Bucky. I’m the luckiest person alive,” you smiled at him. “Mangia!!!” You said.

You and Bucky tucked in and you giggled when Bucky groaned at how happy he is with the plate of food in front of him.

“Is it good?” You giggled.

Bucky’s reply was barely audible, you laughed softly. The rest of the evening was spent cuddling each other, you were just happy your doting boyfriend came back home.

[egcdeath]

second chances

pairing: softdark!steve rogers x reader 

summary: you wake up on the side of the road with no memories, no possessions, and no place to go. luckily, an attractive stranger arrives just in time to help you out. 

word count: 4.6k

warnings: there are some soft moments, but this is ultimately a dark fic!!! alluding to kidnapping, deceit, mention of knife, drugging, abuse (mostly mental/emotional, but implied physical), amnesia, brief alcohol mention, nightmares, mention of bodily harm, bed sharing **if i’m missing any warnings, let me know

author’s note: this is my first dark fic without a dark reader, so please be nice! it took me nearly a whole month to get it where i want it to be (i’m a slow writer, i know) but i’m actually pretty proud of this. 

you can find my masterlist and taglist here

After what seemed like years of waiting, the opportunity finally lent itself, a small pocket knife sat right in your peripheral view. A dangerous mixture of adrenaline and impulse filled you, not even granting you the time to think before you were clumsily extending your arm, and wielding the knife. 

The blade popped out, and you held it with a shaky hand in front of your captor.

“Really?” he scoffed, “you’re gonna kill me.”

There was no attempt on his part to stop you, in fact, he smiled and leaned back slightly.

Your whole body trembled at this point, you could barely form words, let alone move. But this was your chance.

“So do it, Y/N. Kill me,” his voice steadily rose as he approached you, long legs making their way across the room.

Before you knew it, he was standing in front of you, hand approaching your own. He wrapped it around your wrist and gripped down on you like a snake, causing you to emit a tiny yelp.

“What are you waiting for?” he asked, voice steady as your hands trembled around the grip.

“Exactly. You’re still as fucking pathetic as you were the day I met you,” a slap stung your left cheek, a mark that was sure to be there for the days following. 

The knife clattered as it hit the linoleum floor, and you followed its path, crumbling on the floor and breaking into tear-less sobs. 

“Remember this moment, sweetheart. You’ll never get a chance like this again,” he swooped up the knife before walking away from you, leaving a broken woman in his wake.

——

You went from experiencing nothing to everything all at once. Your brain seemed to be attempting to escape your head as it pressed against your eyes, and you struggled to open them, lashes feeling like they were glued together. Rain poured down on your head, and you concluded that it had been pouring on you for a while, as you were completely soaked to the bone. 

As you looked at yourself and your body, a curled up and bruised mess on the side of the road, you couldn’t help but wonder what exactly happened to you, or at all. You weren’t even sure that you had memories apart from the ones that were processing in that exact moment. It was as if you’d exited the womb for a second time, clueless to where you were, who you are, or how you got there. 

You shivered as you pulled yourself to your feet, weak ankles shaking in glittery heels and body trembling in a half-torn dress. Wherever you came from couldn’t have been good.

You slipped off the shoes and held them in your hands as you walked down the side of the deserted road, bare feet sloshing in mud as you did so. You didn’t have an idea where you were, or where the nearest sign of life was. You were tempted to walk on the soaked, petrichor scented road, but you knew that that wasn’t your best idea.

You truly had no good options. Nothing to do. Nowhere to go. No one to save you. You wanted to collapse back onto the ground, give into your screaming body that was becoming more and more tired by the moment. Hot tears began to slip down your face, contrasting the cold of the raindrops falling onto your body. 

All hope was lost, you’d die any time now, and that would just be it. You looked up at the overcast sky and screamed at it, mentally begging for someone, anyone, to help. That you’d forever be grateful to god, or the universe, or whatever it was that was out there that put you in the situation you were in. 

You screamed and sobbed until your throat was raw, and you weren’t sure you’d be able to produce any more sound, sitting down onto the damp ground and wishing for your inevitable death to be a swift and painless one. 

Yet, your pity party was crashed just moments later by a beaming red light and the soft hum of a motor coming down the road. This was your one chance. Who knew when the next time you’d see a sign of human life was?

You jumped to your feet and waved your hands like a madwoman, trying to catch the attention of the male behind the driver's seat. He began to come to a stop, pulling over a bit to see you better.

His face was angelic, a strong jaw and soft eyes that looked like they had seen more than the average person. When he spoke, you felt heaven become drowsy with harmony. Or maybe you were just really tired. Regardless, your pleas to a higher power had proved fruitful, as your knight and shining armor had just pulled up beside you to save the day.

He rolled a window down, and you got closer to the door.

“Need a ride, ma’am?” he called.

You simply nodded and approached the vehicle, opening the door hesitantly. You sat down on the seat, and jumped a bit when you felt heat radiating onto the back of your thighs.

“I’m Steve. You?” 

You chuckled awkwardly, “that’s a great question that I wish I could answer. It’s actually kind of a long story. Well, I assume it’s long since I can’t remember any of it. But maybe I will later. Nice to meet you anyway, Steve.”

He nodded understandingly, completely unfazed by your lack of name. Maybe he had prior experience with hitchhikers, as he was approaching this situation with a nearly suspicious calmness. “Well… where’re you heading?” the man asked, looking over at you.

“I, uh, I have no idea,” you said raspily, throat still sore from your previous screaming.

The blonde’s lip quirked at this, as if he were holding back a much bigger smile, “that’s fine. I’m heading a few towns away, but I was thinking of stopping and getting some breakfast. You interested in that?”

You shrugged, becoming slightly uncomfortable in the quickly dampening seat. Steve glanced over at you after putting the car in drive, and noticed your discomfort from your prior stay in the rain.

“We can stop by a bathroom first. I’ve got some extra clothes with me in the back,” he suggested. You nodded quietly, looking at the vast, and empty road ahead. 

----

You sat in a diner booth dressed in a thick jacket and comfortable sweatpants that oddly enough, seemed to be exactly your size. Steve approached the table with an extra plate of fries, and set it gently in front of you. 

“So you don’t remember anything?” he asked, stealing a fry before sitting down across from you. 

You shook your head, bringing a salty fry to your mouth, “I swear I just woke up there. No memories, no nothing, no place to go. I mean, I was gonna die out there if you didn’t get me.”

Steve scoffed a bit at this, “that’s not true. I’m sure someone would’ve helped eventually.”

“Maybe. But I’m glad that it was you,” you looked up at him, and the fondness he was looking at you with was nearly suffocating. 

Steve paused for a moment, mulling over his next words as if he was looking for the exact right thing to say.

“Would you like to stay with me? I mean, I know we just met each other, but I just have this feeling. Like I was meant to find you. Besides, it doesn’t seem like you have anywhere else to go.”

“I have to go to the bathroom,” you excused after a moment, popping out of the both and heading towards the ladies room.

You handled your business, and stared at yourself in the mirror as you washed your hands. Makeup ran down your face, and it almost appeared that you were melting. Who would pick someone up in such a state? You had to question this Steve guy’s character a little bit. You couldn’t remember the exact phrase, but it couldn’t be smart to get into a car with a stranger. Especially a stranger offering to take you to some secret location with them. After all, he could be a murderer, a kidnapper, or a rapist. You would be none the wiser.

But he fed you, clothed you, and offered you a form of shelter. He couldn’t be too ill intentioned if he was willing to go out of his way to help, right? Maybe he just wanted to keep you off the streets, and that was why he was willing to take you to wherever it was that he was going.

Your stomach turned the longer you watched yourself, the longer you thought. Perhaps your intuition found that something was off. But who even knew if you could trust your intuition, after all, you were basically a day old, and you didn’t seem to have any other option.

——

You ended up going back out into the diner and accepting Steve’s offer. You didn’t really have much of a choice, and he wasn’t exactly a bad one. 

Steve was quiet for the majority of your trip, only speaking when he noticed that you’d moved your sights from the window over to him. He didn’t seem to be a fan of the way you were studying him, but for some reason your eyes kept finding him.

Hours had passed in the day, and night was quickly approaching. You dozed as you watched the starry night from the passenger window. Your eyes were becoming heavier by the moment, hours worth of watching flat landscape, combined with the complexity of your day finally catching up to you.   

——

Cold. You felt cold. The floor was cold. The blood running through your veins was cold. Your brain was cold and freezing, hindering you from properly processing what was going on in front of you. 

A searing pain rolled through your body as you tumbled down the stairs, back into a room that was suffocatingly familiar.

“I should’ve never allowed you to leave. Ungrateful,” a faceless man followed you down the stairs and hovered over your now battered body. “I give you a home and you complain. I take care of you, giving you almost anything you could ever ask for. You complain. Do you know how many people would kill to be in your position? With someone like me taking care of them?” 

“You told me you loved me, you goddamn liar. I let you come upstairs, and you try to fucking kill me. I should kill you,” he seethed, leaning down over you.

But I won’t.

The words were unspoken, but familiar. A threat uttered to you before, usually followed with an ‘I’ll make your life a living hell instead.’

You were unable to speak, as if someone had ripped out your vocal cords. Suddenly the faceless man was reaching down and holding the bloody organs in his hands. Your blood ran cold once again. 

“You can’t even fathom the hell I want to release on you right now,” he continued, chest puffing out with exaggerated, angered breaths. “But I’ll be the bigger man. Because I love you,” he dropped the cords on the ground beside you, and your eyes flicked over to the mutilated part of yourself. “Y/N, I need you to prove to me that you love me.”

You wanted to beg, to plead and tell the man whatever he needed to hear in order to release you, but you were completely powerless. 

The man hoisted you up with ease, and you soundlessly whimpered. He carried you into a small, plain room and set you on the flat, stiff mattress on the floor. 

“Come on, Sweetheart. You know I’m doing this for us.” 

The faceless man kissed your forehead, and the feeling of dread overtook you.

——

You awoke with a gasp, clawing at your own neck to make sure that your vocal cords were still intact.

“You alright?” Steve asked, glancing over at you. “Should I pull over?”

“No, I’ll be fine,”  you whispered.

“Take some deep breaths for me, okay?” he advised, setting a reassuring hand on top of yours. “We’ll be at the hotel any minute now.”

——

Your nerves were absolutely fried by the nightmare. Your hands shook like leaves in the wind while you stood next to Steve as he checked you into your hotel room.

“How’re you doing?” he asked in the elevator, setting his large hand on top of yours once again. The gesture was calming, even if you felt a slight undermining feeling of something unsettling.

“A little better. I probably just need to lay down somewhere comfortable.”

Steve nodded and squeezed your hand, “you’ve had a long day. You have first dibs on the shower. Maybe it’ll help you relax.” 

The smile that Steve was giving you was comforting. You felt glad that he was the person to have picked you up.

The elevator made a little ding noise before the doors opened, and he guided you to your room. 

You made a beeline to the shower, not even taking the time to be impressed with the size of the hotel room, the amenities, or the quality of it. You just wanted to shed your clothes and find at least a moment of peace. 

You exited the bathroom after about a half an hour, and walked out into the suite in just a towel. 

“Can I borrow some more clothes?” you glanced over at Steve, who was openly checking you out from the comfort of the bed.

Wait, the bed.

There were way too many things going on for you to be focused on the fact that there was just one bed. Maybe Steve would offer to sleep on the sofa.

“Yeah, that’s fine. My teammate left some clothes in that smaller blue suitcase. It’ll probably fit,” Steve paused for a few moments as you found the aforementioned suitcase and looked for something comfortable that you could actually sleep in.

“Who did that to you?” he asked, gesturing at your bruised legs.

“I don’t… I don’t know. It’s all so blurry,” you sighed, settling on a fresh pair of sweatpants and a thin t-shirt. “I’ll be right back.”

You changed quickly in the residually steamy bathroom, and sat down at the foot of the bed. 

“Do we need to have a fistfight over who gets to sleep in the bed?” Steve joked and you shook your head.

“I can sleep on the sofa, if you want.”

“No way. You deserve something comfortable,” he got out of bed, and approached the bathroom to take his own shower. “Get nice and cozy, friend. You deserve it.”

He disappeared into the bathroom, and you moved up to the top of the bed, slipping under the covers and sighing aloud from relief. Your body was finally having a chance to relax, and the hotel bed was surprisingly comfortable. 

By the time Steve returned from the shower, you were already half asleep, and very unaware of your surroundings.

As you fell out of consciousness, you had blurry visions of confinement, punishments, and pain. You once again woke up with a gasp, but this time Steve was standing over you. 

“Deep breaths, okay? I saw you thrashing and mumbling something to yourself. I think you were having a bad dream.”

You nodded and panted, trying to catch your breath and slow down your hummingbird heart rate. 

“You’re safe, I promise.”

“Can you stay with me?” you stammered out.

“Yeah, of course,” Steve got into bed beside you, and rubbed your back as you curled into a fetal position, “just try to relax, okay? There isn’t anything to fear when I’m here with you.”

You nodded, clutching onto Steve’s genuine tone. Something about him just made you feel… safe, despite the possible red flags around him. 

After Steve got into bed with you, you were finally able to fall into a dreamless and peaceful sleep. 

——

You woke up to an empty and cold bed. You blinked a few times and looked around the room, eyes stopping on Steve as he watched you from the couch, eyes quickly flipping between yourself and the book in his hands in an effort to cover up his staring. 

The whole ordeal made you feel slightly off, but the realization that you were essentially mooching off a stranger felt worse. 

You hopped out of bed and anxiously paced towards the bathroom. “Shit, Steve,” you muttered. “I shouldn’t be taking advantage of you like this. I should probably leave.”

“Where else do you have to go?” Steve almost defensively questioned, frown deep on his face.

You took a deep sigh and shrugged, “I… don’t know. I’ll figure it out.”

“You don’t have to go,” he began, sounding unsure in his words, “stay. With me,” he stood up and walked over to you, grabbing the back of your arm softly. “You’re not taking advantage of me. If anything, you’re helping me. I get pretty lonely on these kinds of missions, so please, stay with me.”

You turned to look at Steve, the deep creases in his face at the thought of losing you. With just a glance, you knew that you couldn’t leave. 

——

The next few days of your life had proved your theory. It was almost alarming how quickly Steve became your anchor in the midst of a new, overwhelming world. 

The first thing that he did for you was tell you what your name was. As confused as you were to how exactly he figured it out, (he told you that he knew some weird tech guy. You were prepared to go with anything), you were grateful that Steve was able to help you out a piece of your old life back together.

He was oddly patient with you as you learned more and more about your surroundings. You were most impressed by the grocery store, and may or may not have spent hours inside of that food palace, spending much more of Steve’s money than was socially acceptable. 

For the next few months, you stayed at a safe house with Steve, spending the majority of your time looking down at your reflection in the lake in the backyard, wondering if your memories could ever come back.

You’d grown closer with Steve in that time as well, he was really the only person that you’d gotten close with since you’d lost your memories. Now that you were thinking about it, you hadn’t said more than three sentences to anyone else. By that measurement, your next closest friend was a gas station cashier.

In fact, you’d started dating Steve. Granted, you couldn’t completely wrap your mind around it all, despite the hours of rom-coms you’d watched while Steve was gone on missions. You just knew that you cared a lot about Steve. When he was around you, your heart fluttered. He was the only person you truly felt comfortable with. He protected you time after time, and voiced to you just how much he adored you. 

It made you feel wanted, to know that despite all of the confusion, you still had a place in this world, even if the place was just Steve Rogers’ heart. 

——

Steve arrived at the safe house late at night after nearly a week of being off on another mission. The bed creaked as he got into bed with you, and pressed up against your sleeping form. 

“Steve, sometimes I have these really awful dreams. Mostly when you’re not with me,” you began out of the blue as his arms snaked around you. “It’s always this faceless man just… abusing me. And I can’t even do anything about it because I’m too weak. And I can’t say anything because he stole my vocal cords. It sounds so silly, because it’s all just a dream, but it all feels so real. I just... I need you to promise me that you’ll protect me no matter what. Especially against him.”

“Of course,” he whispered against the back of your head, “I promise that I’ll protect you from him. He’ll never even get the chance to let the thought cross his mind.” 

“I love you, Steve,” you mumbled sleepily, “please never leave me again.”

He’d been waiting to hear those words.

——

Your fingers wrapped around a warm mug while Steve put the finishing touches on your breakfast. He’d decided to go all out that morning, with an impressive spread of food that would put most buffets to shame. For a moment, you questioned if you’d forgotten about some important holiday, or an anniversary.

Steve set a plate down in front of you, then pressed a soft peck to your forehead, “enjoy, sweetheart.”

You grinned softly down at the food, and at the affection, “what’s got you in such a good mood?”

“Just relieved to be back. I don’t like being away from you for too long,” he settled into the seat across from you, and took a sip of his own coffee.

“Mm, you sure? You’re not always this chipper post mission.”

Steve chuckled and shook his head just the slightest bit, “alright. You got me. I wanted to save it as a surprise, but I hate keeping secrets from you,” Steve paused.

“So… what’s the secret?” you pressed, bringing a forkful of food up to your mouth.

“I’m retiring.”

Your eyes widened as you heard the news, and you nearly choked, “are you really?”

Steve simply nodded, “I’m ready for the next chapter of my life with you.”

Your heart fluttered at the sweetness of his gesture, and the slightest hint of nerves. Why was Steve so willing to give up his entire livelihood for someone he knew for less than a year?

You felt bad for questioning his motives, considering that Steve had been nothing but good to you in the time that you knew him. If it wasn’t for him, you probably wouldn’t even be alive. He had proved himself to be an amazing, loving man, who had bent over backwards to keep you safe and comfortable. He trusted you, and it was time for you to do the same.

“I’ve been plotting this for a while, to be honest. You might think this is a little fast, but I even have a permanent place for us to stay.”

You couldn’t find it in you to be skeptical for much longer, your feelings of adoration for Steve overruling your hesitance to jump into something like that with him. 

You smiled softly as Steve spoke, getting up and pacing over to where he was seated so you could give him a hug, “I.. yes, that’s fast, but it’s also kinda amazing,” you sighed softly, burying your face into the crook of his neck. “When are we leaving?”

“Tonight, if that’s alright with you. I was thinking that we could spend the day packing up and… celebrating,” he winked down at you, and you looked up to shake your head fondly. 

“That sounds like a plan,” you gazed at him with adoration, and leaned up to press a soft peck to his lips that was lovingly reciprocated. 

——

Music pounded against your eardrums as you ground against a handsome stranger, one you couldn’t see, but instinctively knew. The smell of sweat, liquor, and sex filled your nose, the rancid combination oddly comforting in a retrospective moment. 

“We’re leaving!” A voice you hadn’t heard in what felt like years informed you. Your face broke into a wide grin when you heard her voice. “But it doesn’t look like you care!” she jeered. “Good luck!” your friend laughed, disappearing in the sea of people. 

“You’re coming home with me, right?” he asked, a hot breath against your cheek. 

You nodded. The words refused to come out. 

“Good,” he confirmed, pressing a kiss to your neck.

Out of the blue, you weren’t in the club, but in the small basement room from before, staring at nothing in particular while sat at the edge of your vanity’s seat.

“I’ve tried everything with you,” he commented, leaning against the doorway casually. You felt the need to apologize, to tell your captor that you didn’t mean to do what you did, that you loved him. Plead for him not to punish you. “After months of submission, I thought that we were finally getting somewhere. Why’d you have to throw it all away?” 

Glancing up at the vanity, a woman with sunken eyes, a pained expression, and fading bruises looked back at you, just long enough for you to briefly become that messy, drunken woman at the club once again. 

“I’ve tried everything with you. The easy way clearly didn’t work,” he continued, “you leave me with no other options, my love,” the man sighed, sitting down next to you casually. “I want you to know that I’m doing this for us. You know that nothing good ever comes easy, right?”

The syringe went into your arm like a hot knife through butter, and your muscles clenched as fire filled your body. You went to scream, but your throat was still out of commission. As you went down, your vision and thoughts began to blur before you couldn’t decipher one thing or another. The final noise you could make out was the distortedly slow rendition of It’s Been a Long, Long Time on the record player.

In an out-of-body moment, you watched as the man pulled your relaxed body down to the floor, cautiously pulling the clothes off of you and making you cringe internally at the sight of yourself in such a state. He left your body alone for a moment as he looked through the negligible amount of clothing in your closet, grabbing the same dress from the night at the club and pulling it on your limp figure.

It was torn and messy, not unlike the state it was in when you found yourself conscious. The faceless man muttered something unintelligible to himself before hoisting you up bridal style and taking your body out to the car. 

You watched in terror as this all played out, your slack face looking disturbingly at peace compared to how you’d appeared before. In fact, even in your ghastly state, you felt at peace. 

That peace quickly came to an end as you watched yourself get ditched on the side of the road, and as your body slowly began to twitch back to consciousness, your dream began to fade away.

——

You dragged your suitcase up through the garage, grateful to be at your final destination with the man you’d fallen in love with. You hoped that after moving in, the dreams might finally stop. After all, your dream in the car felt somewhat final. You were trying your best to be as positive as you could manage in such a strange situation, and from the outside, you had to admit that the house was gorgeous.

Stepping inside felt like the worst case of deja vu you’d ever experienced, as if your memories were repairing themself with every millisecond you were in the home, gazing at furniture you hadn’t seen in months, and smelling faint scents that you’d forgotten existed. Feature by feature, the puzzle pieces of the faceless man came together.

The longer you observed, the worse the feeling became. Waves of grief, fear, and pain were rolling over you again and again until you were completely drowning on it. The realization hit you with a ton of bricks: this was the house from your dreams.

Steve came up behind you, snapping you out of your panicked trance. He pressed a soft kiss to your cheek and squeezed you close to him.

“Ready for the first day of the rest of your life?”

[aries-writingblog]

Brave Enough

Summary: Bucky wonders if he’ll ever be brave enough to admit his feelings to you

Words Count: 1980- ish (I got a little carried away- sorry!!)

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader

Warnings: language, characters engaging of age drinking

A/N: gif is not my own, credit to original creator. Happy reading!!

“Bucky, lighten up, man.” Steve griped, flicking through the menu. The brunette didn’t respond, just slumping down lower in his chair and sulking even more. A deep frown etched onto his features. “It’s just a couple hours.”

“Whatever.” He snipped. Bucky could feel his teeth grit together, his jaw aching from pressure. Sam’s foot connected with his under the table, a teasing tilt to his eyebrows.

“He’s just mad that he has to be here instead of lurking ‘round in the shadows back home.” Sam nudged his foot again. Bucky kicked out, but Sam was too quick. Pulling his foot away just in time. “You ever catch him at like three in the morning, just standing around in a dark hallway?”

“Shut up.” Bucky hissed, snatching a spoon from his place setting. The utensil flew across the table, smacking Sam in the chest before falling to his lap. “And I’m not mad I have to be here.”

He truly wasn’t upset he had to be there. He was upset that one person in particular wouldn’t be in attendance. YN was still off on a mission, unfortunately missing Wanda’s birthday dinner. Without her, Bucky would just spend the whole night sulking, no one else treated him the way she did. No one else was her. Without her, his night was already marked as uneventful and boring.

“You are.” Steve corrected, glancing to his watch. “The girls should be here by now. What’s holding them?”

Bucky glanced around the restaurant, eyes scanning over Tony who was animatedly speaking with the owner. Bruce, retuning from the restroom, Peter following him with a million questions. The older man seemed to age further as the teen pestered him- asking questions ranging from science to personal. The kid could be slightly invasive at times.

The door opened- the other half of their party. The birthday girl. Wanda made her way across the room, Natasha behind her and…

“YN.” Bucky felt a weight lift from his chest- possibly his reluctance to be at the table. He watched as she gave him a small smile and wave before Wanda pulled her off to the bathroom.

“Save me a seat!” YN called, meeting Bucky’s eyes. His eyes followed her all the way, until he could no longer see her. Then he was brought back into reality by a cough.

Fuck- he did that in public. His eyes fell to Steve and Sam, their faces schooled into expressions of taunting delight.

“You gonna save her a seat or what?” Steve asked, lips twitching as they begged to smile. Bucky flicked his wrist, giving his friend a very classy middle finger as they snickered in response.

But Bucky did as she said. He unfolded the napkin at the place mat on his right, showing someone was going to sit there. Then he tucked his hands into his lap, waiting anxiously for her return. Sam pursed his lips, leaning his elbows on the table. Bucky groaned, regretting his decision to stay out when Sam sat across from him.

“Won’t you just tell her you’re in love? It would be a lot easier.” He advised, fingers laced under his jaw. Bucky scowled, his foot finally catching Sam off guard, foot connecting with his shin bone. The man cursed, jerking his chair back.

The bathroom door opened, the trio of women hustling toward the table. Natasha was shoving YN playfully, the woman responding with a laugh. Then she turned her eyes to him and he stopped breathing. Stopped living. Oxygen leaving his lungs at an exponential rate when she smiled. Teeth flashing.

“Got a seat for me, Barnes?” She asked- the sound of her voice snapping his consciousness back into the present. Bucky stumbled over himself clumsily, shoving his own chair back to pull hers out for her. “Thank you.” He pushed her back in before taking his own.

“I thought you were still in Arizona?” He kept a constant tab in his brain to focus. There had been several occasions when the pair were carrying a conversation and he noticed, too late, he had just been staring into her eyes. He didn’t mean to- it just happened.

“Just landed. Sorry I didn’t tell you sooner I was back- Wanda begged me to come tonight so I had to rush to get dressed.” She explained, giving a half hearted gesture to her clothes. Bucky saw nothing wrong with them- she looked beautiful as always.

“No worries. You look beautiful anyways.” Bucky smiled. He could see in the corner of his eye- Sam and Steve sharing a look across the table. Bucky always experienced these mood swings around YN.

If he was distraught, she was there to soothe him. If he was annoyed or angry, just seeing her face would brighten his day. If he was happy, which wasn’t too often without her being a catalyst, she only intensified that feeling.

Bucky had met YN three months into his stay at the Tower. They shared a wall- his apartment was the one beside hers. He didn’t know she was his neighbor the night she came stumbling home from a mission- exhausted and dirty. Dried blood on her hairline and a red path dripping from her nose. She didn’t notice him that night as he sat in the quiet common area of floor 48. She brushed past him and dug into the fridge. He watched her shove six slices of cold pizza onto a plate and snatch three beers before disappearing into her apartment.

Needless to say, he was intrigued. But he never spoke to her. Not until two months later, in the middle of the night. She happened upon him sitting in the quiet, wide awake and writing in his journal. She commented that she also journaled- sprinting back to her bedroom to bring back a leather bound journal covered in stickers. She then offered him some of his own stickers, pressing them to the black journal in his hands.

Four months of midnight meetings passed and Bucky was infatuated. He found himself wanting to speak to her all the time- going out of his way to find her and talk. Thinking of her all the time, linking an activity with her. Asking himself ‘I wonder what YN would think of…’ Sitting with her at meals, hanging out when she was home. If he could, Bucky would have her attached to his hip at all times.

When they were together, Bucky would go to any lengths necessary to keep her there longer. To take more of her time. For once in his life, he wanted to be selfish. He wanted her complete and undivided attention. Most times, he received it. She happily gave into him, pouring affection onto the super soldier. And he swam in it- unabashedly. Unashamed to be so intoxicated around her.

“Hey, what are you ordering?” YN whispered, leaning toward his

Bucky snapped back, again, noticing that everyone had taken a seat and began to order their meals. Her eyes were trained on him expectantly. YN had seen him lose focus and attempted to reel him back in. He always seemed to fade away, she noticed. She didn’t know where his mind went when it happened but she was a pessimist- she assumed the worst.

“Me- ordering?” Bucky stuttered, his tongue barely catching up with his mind. He winced as she gave a soft smile- another snicker coming from across the table. He shot a glance over to Sam, the biting glare garnered a snarky reply.

“Smooth.” Sam muttered, propping his menu in front his face, shielding it from Bucky’s wrath.

“Sam.” Steve scolded lightly, voice low. Bucky bit back his embarrassment, clearing his throat before responding. It was gonna be a long night.

~~~~~~

YN giggled again, swaying as Bucky latched an arm around her waist. Keeping her upright. It was a struggle- she was very touchy when she was tipsy. Bucky’s heart did jumping jacks, unsure if he should revel in the affection or be disappointed she was doing it while drunk.

“Oh- Bucky, what if we took Four Loko’s and, and… White Claws!” Her fingers wiggled as she spoke, eyes watery and wide. Bucky chuckled, his body unaccustomed to the motions.

“No more alcohol for you tonight, alright? You’re already gonna hate me in the morning for letting you drink so much.” He tugged her waist gently, allowing his fingers to rest on her hip. YN rested her head against his chest as the elevator slowed to a stop on their floor.

“I could never hate you, you know that, right?” She asked, eyes gazing up at him. Bucky heaved a gentle sigh, meeting her eyes. A soft smile on his lips.

“Thank you, sweetheart.”

The pair slowly exited the elevator, YN trying her best to break away from his grip. Her attention span was that of a mouse- hands reaching for things in the hallways and in the common area. Finally, they reached the set of doors belonging to them. He released her very carefully to dig through his pockets. YN had given him her spare key months ago, he had it on his key ring. She had it printed in a bright blue- the loudest color on the ring when compared to the black key of his motorcycle and the silver key of his apartment.

He didn’t really need the color distinction. There were only three keys there but hers was the most important one. He had it memorized the day she gave it to him.

“Hey Friday, unlock Bucky’s main door.”

“What? She can do that?” Bucky whipped around, catching a fleeting glimpse of her wobbling, unsteady body as she stumbled into his apartment. “Fuck.”

Bucky abandoned his task in favor of the new, more important task. Getting YN out of his apartment. He followed her at a quick pace, hand outstretched to snatch her wrist but she made an abrupt turn down his hallway. Toward his bedroom.

“YN!” He hissed, reaching for her again. She shoved the door open and made her way into the room. “What are you doing?”

“I wanted to see your apartment- you never let me in here when we hang out.” She murmured, eyes locking in on the bookshelf in the corner. She made a beeline to it, fingers tracing over the spines of the books. She reached for a book on the second shelf. The second shelf was dedicated to his old journals.

“Okay, maybe…” he gingerly broke her grasp on the book before she could open it, sliding it back into place. Bucky rested his hands on her shoulders, steering her out of the room. “We can do a tour when you’re a little more sober.”

It wasn’t that he didn’t want her there- Bucky wanted to show her everything, give her everything. But some part of himself kept pushing it all back, keeping her in the light. He didn’t want her to see the bad parts, and there were plenty. He was terrified she wouldn’t want his broken pieces if she saw them.

YN hummed, breaking from his grasp again. He sighed in defeat, letting her go. She tossed her phone to the rug and flopped face first into the bed. A sigh of content rushed from her lips as she snuggled deeper into the blankets.

“Your bed is sooo comfy…” Her voice was muffled by the thick comforter. “This isn’t fair- my bed isn’t this comfy.”

No one’s slept in it since it was purchased- Bucky but back the comment, deciding it wasn’t a good topic to broach. Considering the circumstances. He stood, watching her for a moment. Allowing her to take control for the time being. The smile from earlier began to creep onto his face as she snuggled deeper into the sheets- fully clothed.

“Alright- enough of that, YN. Let’s get you home.” He murmured, tugging on her ankle. She didn’t budge. Bucky stopped, looking up to her face. She was sound asleep. “YN?”

Nothing.

Bucky sighed.

He reached for her ankle again, unclipping the heels from her feet, allowing them to fall to the floor. He swung her legs around, tugging the blankets down on the bed. Bucky pulled them back over her body, reaching into her hair to pull it out of the tight bun she had it in. The hair tie around his wrist as he tucked her in.

“Goodnight, YN.” He whispered softly. Bucky hesitated, lips close to her temple. He could hear a faint snore coming from her throat, dark lashes resting against her cheekbones.

He allowed himself to carefully lean forward, lips pressing to her temple gently. Then he backed away quietly, turning the lights off as he exited. He couldn’t help himself- stealing another glance at her sleeping figure before closing the door. He also couldn’t help the bittersweet smile that tugged at his lips.

One day… one day I’ll be brave enough for you.

Read Part 2: Courageous

[kravkalackin]

Barry Bluejeans wasn’t a smart man. He wasn’t a strong man either. He didn’t have much skill in dexterity and he had no deep connection to nature and he certainly wasn’t blessed with any divine intervention. 

He was, by all accounts, just Barry. 

Which wouldn’t have been a problem, except he was trying to help people save the world here. 

When they were all taken up to the moon base after Phandalin he didn’t really get a chance to object. To explain that he wasn’t actually a fighter, he couldn’t do anything. The director had been so insistent on having them all as reclaimers, and he didn’t know how to say no. No one brought up the fact that he had been useless during Phandalin’s destruction, and he really did his best to try and train before the next mission. 

He’d been just as useless on the train though. Even more so, because he didn’t even have a big piece of sharp metal to flail at enemies. The only one who really brought it up was that kid. 

“Uh sir, do you think you could, I don’t know, help them?” Angus had asked as Magnus, Merle, and Taako fought a giant crab. It was fair, Barry was a part of their group, and he was just standing back with the literal child and unconscious man. 

“How?” he asked, the kid giving him an incredulous look at that. 

“Well, what are you?” he prompted. Barry had to pull himself away from watching Taako levitate the crab into the air with a skill of magic he couldn’t help but be jealous of. 

“I’m just... Barry.” 

They got the oculus, but Magnus had nearly died jumping off the train. The Director was pretty clear that these missions would only get more and more dangerous, and they had managed to get to the thing before it was even used this time. Maybe next time they wouldn’t be so lucky. As far as he was concerned, it was pretty obvious what needed to happen. 

He couldn’t stand around being just Barry anymore. 

It took a while to figure out, and for a while he considered just asking Taako to teach him magic. If he hadn’t managed to pick up any at his age though, he doubt he’d get it now. No, the more he looked into this, the more right it felt. 

He didn’t have his own power, but he could get power. He could ask for it, and if he was lucky, someone might actually answer. 

The temple was small, in the middle of a cemetery. There wasn’t anyone around right now, the sun setting softly behind him. It had said sunset, the transition between day and night was the best time to try and contact her. 

Laying out five black raven feathers in a circle, Barry took a deep breath, and stated to pray. 

“Uh, hello? I don’t- I’m gonna be honest, I don’t really know what I’m doing here,” he began, feeling a little ridiculous as he spoke. As if a god would actually listen to him because he got some feathers and sat in front of an old statue. Still, he forced himself to continue. “My name is Barry Bluejeans, and I need your help, Raven Queen, if uh, if you’ll allow it?” 

“I’m just, I’m useless on my own. My new friends though, they’re doing everything they can to save this world, and I want to help. I at least don’t want to get my ass killed on one of these missions. Like, no offense, I know death is kinda your thing, but it’s- there’s a balance, right? If everything dies, that’s no good for you. I just, I want to keep that from happening,” he continued. The longer he went the more... pointless this all felt. He wasn’t going to get an answer, a god wasn’t going to point a finger at him and grant him power. 

And then there was a crack of thunder like the world was tearing itself apart, and as Barry scrambled back the large stone raven at the top of the statue moved. 

‘You dare beseech me for power?’ the Raven Queen boomed, and the stone raven didn’t open its mouth but Barry could tell that she was speaking through it. She sounded pissed. He was more than a little terrified as he nodded. 

“Y-yeah. I just... I just want to help,” he insisted. Barry was pretty sure the statue did not originally have individually carved feathers, but that didn’t seem to matter as they puffed up in clear rage. 

“Help?! And how could one so corrupted possibly help?” she asked, and Barry blinked, his frown deepening in confusion. 

“That’s why I’m asking you. I’m powerless on my own, but if you helped me I might be able to at least keep my friends alive long enough to do some good,” he tried. The stone creature continued to stare down at him, a clear indignant rage in her. “Did... did I do something wrong?” he asked after a moment. 

And something about that actually seemed to give the god pause. 

The bird’s head cocked to the side, and Barry had already been knocked basically onto his back. He tensed up as she flew down, landing roughly on his chest. What had once been crude stone eyes were shining gemstones that stared into his own. Although honestly he was more focused on the beak, thinking about how stone or not, it would probably do a pretty good job of removing his eyes if she wanted to. 

“You are... genuine,” she said after an agonizingly long moment. It wasn’t a question, but Barry quickly nodded. 

“Yeah! I’m sorry, I don’t know what I did to offend you, your uh, majesty. But I swear I just want to fix this,” he insisted. The goddess was quiet for a long time. 

The noise she ended up making was rather terrifying, but Barry was pretty sure it was a laugh. 

“Very well! Intriguing. Understand your end of the deal well lost revenant. Your soul belongs to the astral plane, for this power you shall do as I see fit,” she said, and that should probably be more worrying than Barry felt. He had been pretty sure she was going to kill him a moment ago, so he was feeling pretty good. 

“Yeah, sounds good. I mean, that’s how it would be when I died anyway, so no skin off my bones,” he said. Again the Raven Queen laughed, like there was some joke here he wasn’t quite getting, and nodded. Jumping off his chest, the bird flew back up to the top of the statue. 

“Then I shall grant you this power you seek. Use it well, Barry Bluejeans,” she declared. Without another word the bird shifted back into that unmoving, crude form on top of the temple. A pressure that had been suffocating around him before was gone, but Barry could still feel a change. Like a swirling mass of sardonic power in his chest. 

Holding up a hand, he managed to channel that power into a blast of purple-blue arcane energy into the air, which exploded with a loud bang. A little stunned, Barry pushed himself up to his feet, trying to process what just happened. 

He was a warlock of the Raven Queen now. 

Cool. 

[bokutoslittlebird]

I’m Sorry

Alpha!Ushijima x Beta!f!reader x Alpha!Oikawa

Warnings: THIS IS A SEQUEL to Regrets, intention of suicide, suicidal thoughts and actions [overdose, cutting, falling], mentions of self harm [overdose and cutting], angst, pregnancy, bonding mention, I did not look up Argentina resident rules

The rain was heavy today.

You felt as if it was the universe’s way of saying it was sorry for you. The ride back to school would be in the pouring rain that matched the gloominess of your heart, only to enter a campus where nobody wanted anything to do with you. His scent was all over you; despite being a Beta, you could feel it. You had been claimed and nobody would dare try and claim Ushijima Wakatoshi’s mate, despite the fact you’re not his mate.

Sobbing did little to ease the ache in your chest, eyes blotched from the constant tears and your nose sniffling as you tried to wipe away snot with your sleeves. Your sleeves, not his sleeves of a jacket you stole. Reading stories of how an Alpha would bestow their mate clothing would always warm your heart, but sitting on a dirty busstop with nobody but the rain beside you, your heart felt cold.

“What are you doing?” Someone asked. Your head snapped up to see a brunet looking down at you, his attire telling you he was dressed to run. Running? In pouring rain? What an idiot. He was gorgeous, though, hair collecting silver droplets that seemed to only accentuate his features. Your eyes trail down to the black collar adorning his neck, hidden beneath the white and blue jacket he wore. He quirked an eyebrow, giving off a small chuckle. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost,”

“More like an idiot running in rain. What’s up with that?” You sniffle, rubbing at your raw nose and cursing the timing. An Alpha coming on a claimed Beta alone — words don’t need to be spoken for the other man to know why you’re crying. But instead of running off, he sits next to you. “You’re gonna get me wet, weirdo,”

“Well if I sit too close, I’d get snot on me, so maybe I’d be better keeping my distance, anyways,” he shoots back, barely batting an eye. You just scoff, rolling your eyes.

“Someone seems to have a problem with me. I don’t even know who you are, stranger,” you give off a grin, trying to keep up the light tone.

“Well, you’re wearing a Shiratorizawa jacket and you stink like Ushiwaka, so can you blame me for being a bit of an ass?” He says, grinning. Though you were keeping a light tone, his words quickly reminded you of the position you’re in. Gloomy day, pouring rain, busstop. Looking back to the ground, you sigh heavily.

“Well, at least it’s the most interaction I’ve had all day. Ushijima’s got a stick up his ass and no funny bone in his body, so I suppose if this is my last interaction, it’s better than him,” you off handedly say. The man beside you quirks his eyebrow once more, your words settling into his brain before he’s leaning closer to you. His shadow moves towards you, making you jump back. “What are you doing?”

“You’re pregnant,” he flat out says. Before you can shoot anything back, his eyes get sad as he pulls himself back some more. “You’re going to kill yourself because he abandoned you?”

“How-” you sputter, tears springing to your eyes once more, “how did you-”

“You know if he’s abandoned you, another Alpha can take claim, right? You’re not worthless,”

“Easy for you to say. I’m a Beta with an Alpha’s bond mark. An Alpha that doesn’t even want to talk to me. My family and friends have turned their backs on me because it’s my fault. I wouldn’t expect an Alpha to understand the other party’s feelings,” you say, wiping away the tears. Despite trying to appear strong, your eyes are wet and there’s snot running down your face. “No Alpha wants Ushijima Wakatoshi’s leftovers. Don’t make me laugh,”

“Well, a cute little Beta would look better with a genuine smile then tears in their eyes, wouldn’t you agree?” He smiles, rubbing your cheek, but you slap away his hand.

“Stop patronizing me. You sound like a creepy old man. Who even are you?”

“Oh, I didn’t think I had to introduce myself. I’m Oikawa Tōru,” he smiles once more, a genuine smile, as he holds out his hand. “And if there’s someone who hates Ushiwaka more than you, it’s me,”

“[Y/N]. You’re from Seijoh, right?” You shake his hand, although it’s brisk. His nod confirms your suspicions. The captain of the team that never beat Ushijima’s team, but always aimed for the top. Ushijima also mentioned how talented Seijoh’s setter was, but you never expected to be sitting on a busstop next to the man himself. “Well, you’ve gotten my life story and told me you hate Ushijima, so I guess it’s time for you to go back to running in the rain,”

“Nah, I can’t,” he shrugs, but you look at him confused, waiting for him to continue. Eventually, you ask him why. “Well, I can’t leave someone in need alone. If I leave, you’ll still kill yourself. You’re hurting and I can’t just abandon you. I’m not like other Alphas, you know.” You know his reference is to only Ushijima, but it warms your stomach nonetheless, seeing someone actually be there for you.

“I’m sorry you had to meet me then. If you hadn’t stopped, we’d both be blissfully unaware of each other’s presence,” you say, letting a sob wrack your body before covering it with a cough. “Guess I’m the weirdo getting sick,”

“Still thinking there’s no other option, huh?”

“Well what do you expect? You’re the only person who hasn’t told me to face my consequences on my own and turned your back on me. There really is no reason for me to stay here, especially if I have to raise a child without a support system. I’m still in high school, what the fuck,” you huff, running your hand through your hair, looking up at the sky, noticing how the rain has eased up and the sky is brighter. “I’ll be out when it comes, but the fact of the matter is I’ll graduate pregnant, who wants to go through that? I’m basically a cheap slut in everybody’s eyes. I just wanted to feel needed by someone I admire and this is what it results in? The more I think about it the more I want to down a bottle of painkillers and never wake up.”

“If nobody is sticking up for you, then maybe they’re not your real friends. Fair weather friends, only there for good tea and sunny days. If there’s nobody there for you, reach out for help,”

“I don’t want to be a burden,”

“People who will help you willingly won’t see it that way. Me sitting here with you isn’t burdening me, and I haven’t turned from you. I know we just met, but I want to help you. There’s a lot to live for and one setback doesn’t deserve to sever that line before you’ve even gotten to the good part. Good people exist, you just need to find them,”

“‘Find them’? I thought I had, so what’s the point in trying to find more, only to be disappointed?”

“[Y/N], was it? I’m right here, you know,” he puts a hand on his chest, a smile on his lips and shining in his eyes. “I’ve seen you at your lowest and I’m still here. Find someone like me,”

“That’s sweet, but I doubt there are multiple Oikawas running around in the rain,” you sigh, looking back up. It’s almost time for the bus, but you have a feeling that if he’s still here, then he won’t let you leave. “Are you gonna sit there until my opinion changes?”

“They don’t change that easily, trust me,” he chuckles, but it lacks the merry behind it. Glancing at him, his eyes are downcast as he runs a thumb over his knee. “But I don’t want to see someone die over one thing. There’s a lot to live for, a lot to strive for, that’s why I keep moving even after all my failures. If someone kills themselves for one thing, something I don’t see as a reason to end, I wonder if it was deeper than what it was on the surface. Was it a quick way to feel numb for a while? Was it an easy solution? Sometimes the easiest path isn’t the right one. Surviving an attempt makes you realize things can change, but what if you didn’t survive? If you regret putting the blade to your skin or stepping off the ledge seconds after you do it or seconds before death? You can’t change it once it’s in motion.”

“I never.. I never thought about it like that,” you mutter, your hands holding each other, fingers twiddling. A brief meeting with a handsome Alpha suddenly put things in perspective. A laugh breaks you from your trance, his mouth behind his hand.

“If I see an opportunity to help, I’ll be there, but the fact is I can’t change your mind. I would like to put things in perspective and give you options, but that’s all I can do. If the reason you’re planning to end it all is because you have no friends, I can help with that. I’ll be your friend when nobody else gives you a chance.”

You mull it over, thinking of your options. In the end, the worst that could happen is you end up back on the bench, in the rain, ready to match to your death. “You know, I was told that if it sounds too good to be true, then it probably is,” you mutter, but rifle through your jacket pockets for your phone. “Don’t make me regret second guessing myself, Oikawa Tōru. If you want to be my friend, I’ll take the hand extended to me,”

“Wonderful! And just in the nick of time, the bus is here,” he takes out his own phone, ready to swap numbers. As the bus pulls up to a stop, Oikawa waves at you as he pockets his phone, your contact information all piled inside. You really hope you don’t regret this decision, too.

In the few days that pass, you find yourself wondering how you could have possibly thought bad of Oikawa. He was sweet to you, introducing you to his friends (who knew about your predicament prior), with their promise they’d never turn their back. Iwaizumi was also an Alpha, but the other two were Betas. You did think it to be odd about how they seemed to willingly to help you, stay beside you, despite having no reason to. Their only reason was a promise to you. To Oikawa? Maybe, but you never asked him about it; if you did, he’d just shrug and give you a vague answer.

He promised to show you the light on a dark and gloomy evening, and he kept that promise. As your friends turned their backs on you, scoffing about how your decision will affect you for the rest of your life, Oikawa was there when you needed him the most. He was on standby all hours of the day and night, his phone always on and beside him. When your family turned you away, calling you out on your sudden friendship with another Alpha while carrying a child, they kicked you out and you had nowhere else to go, Oikawa was there. When you felt your world crumbling around you, feeling hopeless and desperate, picking up a secret stash of painkillers, Oikawa was there to talk to you. He didn’t actively take away the pills, but he sat on the other side of the door and talked to you, listened to you. Even his mom was there for you when your family and friends had left you, but Oikawa stood beside you through it all.

Then your world crumbled again.

“I’m planning on moving to Argentina,” he had said. You were looking into colleges to further your education when he had knocked on your door, his old sister’s room, sitting on the bed.

“You’re.. leaving?” You wanted to add to that sentence, but you didn’t want to seem clingy. He’s been with you for so much, you’re not entirely sure you can be independent without him.

“It’s been almost 6 months since you met me. I actually went on that run to decide if I wanted to study abroad in Argentina, but after meeting you, I decided to wait. I’ve been studying the language and keeping up with local volleyball communities, but my dream is over there,” he explains. You click your pen and set it down, ready to ask if you should leave his house, but he continues. “I wanted to know if you’d come with me.”

“Wh- What?”

“I’ve been putting in extra time so we can both move together, get a fresh start,” his face tints as he speaks, hand rubbing the back of his neck. “It seems a bit forward, now that I’m actually talking aloud about it. Sorry ‘bout that,” he chuckles, before clearing his throat.

“You want me.. to come with you?” You ask, unsure if you’re hearing correctly. He’s asking you to move to a new country with him, which is exciting! But, the baby.. “He is due soon, you know,”

“5 weeks, if I remember correctly,” he smiles, looking down at the large bump. You run a hand over it, solemnly nodding. “He’d be born in Argentina, our new home, if you come with me,”

“But Ushijima—”

“He’s abandoned you, officially. Your bond, it’s hardly noticeable anymore. The scent, I mean,” he corrects himself. “He’s basically just a sperm donor at this point,”

“This is.. very sudden, you know,”

“I know. And it’s also a very grand way of asking to court you, while also essentially marrying you, but I will say that if you choose to stay here, Iwa-chan will take care of you. He’s going to study in California for some amount of time, but that’s not for another few months. There is Mattsun and Makki, but I’m not too sure-”

“Okay, don’t stress yourself,” you giggle, getting him to stop. “I’ll go with you, but you gotta teach me the language,”

“I’ve been told I’m a great tutor, actually,”

“I believe it. Will the bond go away, or is it just the scent that’s gone?” He raises his brows at that.

“Ah, I guess you never took those classes. The bond is permanent, but another Alpha can lay claim on a mate that has been abandoned. I’d be honored to replace his bond with mine, but I’m sure you’ll need-”

“I’m ready,” you interrupt him. He sputters as he processes the words, but then smirks.

“Are you sure? I don’t plan on making mistakes, so you’ll be stuck with me, you know?”

“Tōru, I’ve been ready for a while now. Hope you don’t mind bonding me while I’m pregnant,” your hand once more rubs the large bump, settling on the top.

“It just means I’ll have to wait until it’s my turn to try,” he licks his lips, moving towards the door. The locking sound seals your fate, keeping others from interrupting your moment.

- Years Later

“Koichi, come back here!” you shout, weaving in between the crowds. Aiko is somehow still asleep on your shoulder as you chase your son through the crowd. He’s been dying to meet his favorite uncle for quite some time, so see as he’s the trainer for the Nationals team of Japan, Koichi ran once the match ended. A brief Q&A with the members of the team would happen exactly right after they left the stadium, which he knew because of his father’s position.

You finally come to a stop, grabbing Koichi’s collar as he struggles to get through the crowd. “I told you to not leave me, and what did you do? Uncle Iwa isn’t going to suddenly disappear. He’s been waiting for this day, too, you know?”

“But mama! I told him I’d be the first one!”

“That’s impossible. The paparazzi gets to him first, that’s how it works in Hollywood movies,” you joke, but you pick him up. You’re no professional athlete, but you do stay in shape to take care of two children. As soon as you pick him up, he’s shouting as he sees Iwaizumi, trying to talk to the reporters. He catches Koichi’s waving hand and decides to take a break, going towards where you are as the crowd parts.

“How is the Oikawa family doing? I see Koichi is energetic,” he laughs, taking the boy from your arms.

“Ugh, as always. Don’t know where he gets it from, it’s not like his sister is bursting with energy all day,” you gesture to the child sleeping, despite the loud crowd.

“Well, definitely Oikawa’s kid. He sleeps through anything and so does she, jeez,” he sighs, but you just laugh. A few members of his team come over, excited by the new people.

“Iwa-chan, what’s this? Wife? Your kids?? You have kids???” A man with white and black hair says, giving Koichi a high five.

“Uh, no. They’re actually Oikawa’s wife and kids. I’m the favorite uncle, of course,”

“I wanna be the uncle! ‘Samu is never gonna get married, I need to be an amazing uncle somehow,” a man with platinum blond hair says, but he’s quickly pushed aside as a familiar face comes into view.

A face you didn’t want to see.

“[Y/N], I didn’t expect to see you here,” Ushijima says, tone as flat as ever. Iwaizumi takes on a forced smile as yours drops, a frown etched on.

“Didn’t expect to see you here either. Actually, ever again,”

“Oh?” The owlish man says, eyebrows quirked up as his eyes glance between the two of you.

“I see you moved on. I’m glad to see that,”

“No thanks to you,” the venom in your voice has Koichi turning to him, looking at the larger man with large eyes. It doesn’t take a rocket scientist to see the resemblance. He’s got the same hair color and eyes as the man in front of you, taking hardly any features from you. Not to mention, Koichi is showing signs of presenting as an Alpha.

“Darling, that’s where you were!” Oikawa shouts from over the crowd, them parting so he can mingle with the group around you. “I was wondering where my personal cheerleaders went to,” he smiles, pressing a kiss to your forehead. His eyes meet Ushijima’s and despite being unable to smell the tension, you can feel it. Reporters and guests alike back away as the overwhelming tension of two Alphas clash.

“Oikawa,” Ushijima says. Oikawa just tilts his head, looking over his opponent.

“I thought you’d look more defeated after I wiped the court with your ass, but I’m more disappointed in that. Emotionless as ever, aren’t you, Ushiwaka?”

“No, I wouldn’t say that,” he says, then looks to you. “I’ve been meaning to say something to you, [Y/N],”

“Trust me, I don’t want to hear it. You’re too late, Wakatoshi. You’re much too late,” you say, before nodding at Iwaizumi. “I’m leaving,”

Despite turning to leave, Oikawa taking Koichi away from his uncle and new “uncles”, despite being in the middle of a loud crowd, you can hear him. It’s quiet, almost as if he knows the words are weightless, holding nothing after years of his abandonment. Despite Oikawa’s bond pulsing, your heart still yearns for the other man, what he could have given you and what he did to you. Despite all this, you’ve fantasized about hearing those words, yet they do nothing.

“I’m sorry.”

Author’s Note: I’m sorry this took forever to publish but I hope it was worth the wait! I didn’t keep track of time while writing this, so if something seems wrong just ignore it. I might come back and fix it later but probably not lol ; Argentina residency rules and citizenship requirements were not consulted for this, seeing as it only took up like one sentence, but I might change it if I look more into it of course.

[ceruleanchillin]

5 Day Stay

| Or, Angel down bad for a week |

Angel x F!Reader

Warnings: language, infidelity, Angst (?), lil bit chili spice at the end

Mon:

Angel felt he was too young to consistently feel so bone-tired, yet that’s how his day had been ending for weeks now. Sometimes it was all he could do to get off his bike and make it to the door, only to have to rest his head against it to prepare to make it to the couch and collapse.

Tonight was one of those nights, and he wanted to be dead to the world until it dragged him back into it.

It was the smell of mixed spices that hit him first. It felt like he was in suspended animation, and slowly being released as different things started to register to him.

His TV was on, someone was rummaging through his kitchen, and music played faintly from his desk. Thinking back to the last time an unwanted guest was in his kitchen, he placed a hand on the holstered knife fastened to his back.

The fridge door closed, and you appeared in the window, eyes focused intently on whatever you were cooking on the stove.

He exhaled, feeling like complete shit. It only spoke to how weary his mind was that he could forget you were staying with him for the next week. Especially after the conversation that led to it.

“I don’t know Angel…really I can afford a motel for a few days.”

“Here? Rusted-through pipes will be the last thing your landlord is worried about when you bring back bedbugs and shit.”

Your eyes had widened at that, but still you brought up the thing that had been chained to your hesitation. “I mean….do you think it’s ok to do this? After we…Nails..Ang-“

He remembered a flash of irritation, more so at himself than you, when you said that. “Yes querida, fuck. If you’re so scared, I most likely won’t even be there the way things are going. Nails is out of town til’ next weekend…”

“Relax Ignacio.” you had cut your eyes at him, and he’d felt his dick jump like it did whenever you gave him attitude. “I’m just not trying to be a problem.”

Your voice calling his name brought him to the present. He caught the last part of your statement, that you didn’t know he’d be back.

“Yeah, we got in earlier than expected.”

“While you’re standing there like a weirdo, let me shame you real quick. How does a man in his thirties still have the kitchen of a frat boy?” You leaned on the sill of the divider. “You’re lucky I already knew you were sad in the kitchen. I had to bring my own tagine.”

He stepped into the kitchen, his stomach coming alive with interest. “One, I don’t know what that is, two, I can’t help it if the kitchen isn’t my preferred room of work.”

He peeked over your shoulder, but the unique pot kept him from seeing what you were making.

“Neither is the bedroom, unless that work is piling up dirty laundry.” you stuck your tongue out at him and turned back to your simmering dish.

“Ha ha. Dinner and a show, she does it all folks!” he collapsed at the table, the day catching back up with him. “Should put your ass on the club’s payroll. End the cashflow problem real quick.”

You turned to him, concern etched on your face. “I heard from Hank about that…sorry. I know now isn’t a great time for that at all.”

Things got awkward like they always did when you referenced the recent changes of his life. He wasn’t sad about getting another chance at fatherhood, this one more tangible than the last. However, he wasn’t entirely sold on everything he’d accepted along with it, and he was pretty sure you at least suspected that. It threw the previously comfortable confusion that was your relationship off track when it was touched on.

“No, it’s not.” was all he could manage.

It was quiet for a beat, the simmering of the food and quiet Neo Soul the only sounds.

“Well,” you started, turning off the burner. “At least you don’t have to eat like a ‘we got food at the house’ meme for once.”

He laughed, a genuine and needed laugh. “Ok, you know what? Keep talking about my pantry stocking skills, and I might take it personally.”

The rest of his night went that way. Anytime you and Angel got together, things were just…easy…better. You spent the evening eating in front of the TV (Angel getting all the way to thirds for what turned out to be olive chicken and roasted potatoes), trading jokes, and going over the finer points of Golden Girls. Angel learned you took it very seriously, and mocked you for being “old”.

It wasn’t until you were nodding off, and he was left with his own thoughts, that he realized he hadn’t enjoyed coming home this much since he moved in.

Tues:

Angel had dreamed he’d been back in his childhood home, but as a grown man. There was music coming from his parent’s room, and when he got to the doorway, his mom was at her dressing table. She hummed along to the soulful seventies music and smiled at him from the mirror. She said something, but he couldn’t make it out, and woke up in the frustration.

He jerked up from his position on his stomach, and slowly came to. With a grunt he wiped his hand down his face, glancing at his phone to find it was six in the afternoon.

It then occurred to him the music wasn’t just in his dream, it was coming from his bathroom. He got off the couch and followed the sound.

“Hey coma head.” you grinned at him from where you were doing your makeup.

He shook his head, trying to let go of the last vestiges of the dream, and how eerie the scene before him was.

He focused instead on the nightmare of products and alien looking tools surrounding you.

He kind of liked the mess, even if he couldn’t see the counter anymore.

“Hey hurricane Ulta.”

You made a face that was a cross between being amused and suspicious. “You sleep in your jeans and buy your shirts in pack form. Don’t act like you know what that is.”

He made a face of mock offense. “That’s so classist.”

This time you paused completely in you what you were doing and twisted your body to meet him. “Uh oh…let me find out you’re actually learning something from EZ.”

“Angel Reyes can know something about something, damn.”

You laughed, lowering your hands from where you’d been lining your eyes to avoid a mistake. “I’m only teasing you Angel Reyes.”

“Looks like you plan on teasing more than me. Some clown is gonna get his hopes and tiny dick up for nothing.”

“There’s this new club in the city that Belinda’s getting us into. It’s bad luck to buy your own drinks on the first night at a new place.” you adjusted the bodycon mini-dress for emphasis. “You doing anything?”

“Club shit.” he started picking through the products, sniffing them every so often. “Then I think I’ve got a call with Nails at some point.”

“You think?” you popped his hands when he got too close to the good stuff, or the things you were using currently.

“Yeah..I think.” he shrugged, only realizing how short he sounded when you winced.

He didn’t know why he got so annoyed when she was brought up around you. He wasn’t like that with anyone else, and he knew you were only trying to support his incoming changes.

“Ok..”

Awkward silence settled in before he found the words to break it.

“Why do you wanna know? You want me to be that clown?”

“Never.” you pinched his cheek, tone pure saccharine jest.

He muttered in Spanish, stepping around you to the toilet.

“Angel!” you exclaimed.

“What?! It’s my bathroom, I have to piss.”

“You better never make me angry Reyes, I could end your whole Casanova game with ease."

Wed:

“You holding on a little tight there mami!” Angel called over his shoulder with a laugh. “You said go fast."

“Shut up!” you giggled, but he wasn’t lying.

You’d asked Angel to take you to work on his bike since even though you spent so much time with bikers, you hardly got to ride one. You were going to the same place anyways. He had been all too happy to shake up his commute, but your speed challenge took it over the top.

He didn’t know how you were up so early, he personally felt like the bags under his eyes were like a PEZ dispenser. You’d gotten in at two am, and still got up with him at eight.

He loved watching you in the morning, you managed to be cheerful without being obnoxious, and it worked better than coffee for him.

He loved how much he was learning about you.

As he pulled onto the street beside the cafe you’d asked him to stop at, he felt your arms uncoil from around him. He may have pretended to shift just to make you pause and hold him a few seconds longer, but he wasn’t going to acknowledge that.

“I didn’t scream, and I’m not shaking, so you still have to buy my breakfast.” You unclipped your helmet, grinning the whole time.

You looked so pretty to him, with the sun hitting your eyes and hair just right. He could catch you at just the right moment, and you’d look so gorgeous, he struggled to believe you were real.

He cleared his throat, afraid his voice would crack if he didn’t. “Fair enough, come break my pockets then.”

You laughed, squeezing his chin and pointing out his pout. “You don’t even have to tell me once sir, I know my worth.”

Once inside, he trailed after you to the counter, using your head like an arm rest when you reached it. “That’s good.”

“Boy!” You swatted his hand away, and it was his turn to laugh at your adorable pout.

“New bet,” he stepped around you while the customer ahead of you wrapped up. “If I get your entire order just right, you buy lunch.”

“Deal.” you leaned on the counter, eyebrow raised at him in challenge.

Angel knew the best part of his day would be watching your expression go from smug to shocked out of the corner of his eye. He nailed every pastry, the iced coffee, and their preparation with ease.

The simultaneously impressed and amused barista looked to you for confirmation. She got a shocked nod in response.

“I know my worth too mama, so don’t skimp on lunch.”

“Fair enough.” You shook off your shock as you repeated his earlier words and shrugged. “Can’t complain I guess. I trained my work husband too well.”

He scoffed loudly, and the two of you went back to swapping smart ass barbs while he tried to ignore the lingering dip his stomach did when referred to him as “husband”.

Thurs:

Angel was a grown man, with years of grown man experience, yet he was sitting on the edge of his bed feeling like a teenager again.

The end of your stay was nearing, and every time he thought about you going back home, he felt weird. He was pretty sure that’s why he’d been a little snappy and annoyed easily at the club the past couple days. He just wasn’t ready to delve into that too much.

Regardless, he had to admit you had some growing effect over him. All morning, while he should’ve been resting and preparing for a charter visit, he was fighting off hard-ons thanks to you.

“Can I borrow your kitchen for the day Angel?” He mimicked your voice in a nasally mocking tone. “I’ll save you some when I’m done baking.”

He’d thought nothing of it when you asked the night before. Really didn’t even feel like you had to at that point.

He realized why when he saw that the desserts you were making for your friend’s brunch were elaborate as hell. The effort took all your attention, and unfortunately for him, his too.

You were baking a lot more than dessert and didn’t even know it.

Now he was hiding in his room, fighting off arousal he knew wasn’t appropriate. You weren’t his and he wasn’t yours.

That didn’t change the fact that you in a short silk lounge set, singing in French (how the hell did you know French?), doing domestic things in his home, did it for him.

He ran a hand over his hair, still damp from his cold shower, and forced himself to finish getting dressed. He had to be ready to face a room of dangerous bikers and prove his patched in worth. He couldn’t be thinking of weird little fantasies and parallels to his parent’s marriage.

He must’ve zoned out again, because you startled him enough to almost make him hit his wardrobe.

“Oh my god Angel try this! I think I did magic.” You excitedly thrust a red cookie his way.

Angel took the offered treat, and found it was a red velvet cookie. “It’s fucking good mi dulce.”

“Really?” You looked so hopeful, so beautiful, that he would’ve lied if the situation called for it.

“Yes, but you know you kill it in the kitchen.” He turned away to put on the flannel he’d fished out.

Now you were in his personal space, smelling amazing, and all his senses were under attack. He couldn’t trust Angel jr. at the moment.

“Baking is different. It’s a whole thing for me...I go all in.”

“I noticed your little Broadway production in my kitchen.” He kneeled down, pretending to look for his shoes as something to do while you were there.

“Don’t shame me.” You pressed your foot into his back, gently pushing him. “It makes for better results.”

‘shit.’ He cursed mentally at the contact.

Luckily, he heard you turn to leave the room. “Oh, EZ said to tell you to hurry up or pick up your phone.”

He rose up once you were gone and checked his phone. Sure enough, he had several missed calls and texts from Gilly, Coco, and EZ. He cursed aloud this time and finished getting ready, determined not to get distracted again.

Of course, his boys having to physically come in and get him when he did just that destroyed that promise.

Fri:

It had come down to the last night of your stay with him, and what he thought was a favor to a good friend, turned out to be more for his benefit.

The hell with the club seemed so far away when he was home now, and he’d laughed more times that week than he had the previous few months total.

Tonight though… Tonight had him so in his head he didn’t know if he was coming or going.

You, sensing something was going on with him, had invited EZ and Felipe to dinner. He didn’t know how you got the latter to agree, his dad had never even been in his home before, but you did it. It went over a hell of a lot better than the last time they tried it too.

The missteps that reared their head when his family tried to talk to each other at length were mitigated by you. You were the perfect buffer, able to get them to engage with you and then each other.

He saw his family in an unfamiliar, but favorable light. His father was actually enjoying his time with him in his house. He knew that night wouldn’t have happened if not for you.

Now, as he distractedly dried the dishes you’d washed, listening to you hit all of the high notes in Loving You, it hit him.

‘She should be my wife’ the thought came so quick, and was so loud he almost jumped, confused if it came from him or someone else.

“Hey dishwasher-less!” you nudged him with your hip. “Move those hands.”

“Why can’t we be a thing?” he blurted.

You dropped the silverware you’d been washing, eyes wide and focused on him. “Um..excuse m-…what?”

He knew that wasn’t the most tactful way to introduce his thoughts to you, but it was his way. Fuck…he didn’t even understand them fully himself.

“You heard me querida,” he put the dish down on the counter, turning to you. “When I stayed with you that weekend that my head was all fucked up-“

“Angel.” your tone made it a warning, but he kept going. He was never afraid of a challenge.

“I was inside you so much that weekend I forgot that’s not how I came in this world. I can’t believe I’m saying it out loud, but I felt home cause I was with you-”

“Stop it!” you hit the sink, rattling the contents.

“Fuck that!” he shouted back, startling you both. He stayed silent for a moment before speaking in a calmer tone. “Fuck that. Why can’t we talk about it? Why couldn’t we talk about it then?”

You didn’t say anything, but he saw your chest heaving with adrenaline, and realized you were just as affected by the conversation as he was.

“You just decided it didn’t matter and put it in this space we can’t touch now. It’s all fucked up!”

“Because,” you hissed. “If you remember, it was all over that Adelita chick, and I don’t know what kind of hold she has or had over you, but it was deep.”

He cringed at that, and turned his attention to the light fixture over your head, unable to meet your heated gaze.

“Whatever feelings I have for you Angel, I put them away in a place where I can still be your friend and keep things in perspective.”

“Feelings you have for me?” he latched on to the lack of past tense, hopeful.

You inhaled sharply. “You are having a baby and just got engaged. What is wrong with you?”

“Nothing..I mean a lot, but nothing to do with this. I know-“

“I know,” you pushed away from the sink and reached up to cup his cheeks. “That you’re scared Angel. You’re scared, because you’re gonna take two steps you’ve never taken before at once, and you’re trying to sabotage it.”

He shook his head, taking your hands from his face and holding them tightly in his own. “No..mi dulce, no. I’ve been struggling with this all week, longer if I’m being honest. Tonight sealed it.”

You snorted humorlessly, looking around the kitchen as if something in the room would help you get through to him. “I cook you some big boy meals, and treat your speakers to some musical taste, and you’re ready for vows?”

“Don’t put this all on me. Tell me you don’t feel it. Right here and now, to my face.”

He watched your expression soften, and let you put one hand back on his face, your thumb gently stroking his cheek. “Ok, I can’t do that, but I also can’t just fall into a situation with you either.”

He scoffed and shook his head. “We both know we didn’t just fall into anything. We sat here and let it build and didn’t say shit, and now I have to. This week just made it too real not to.”

He placed his forehead to yours, his own hands cupping your face. “Please…”

He watched you have an internal battle by your changing features before you finally leaned into him. The moment you did, his lips were on yours.

He knew it was more than just a kiss a few seconds in. Everything he’d felt that the previous week was alive and confirmed between you too. He could feel you telling him you had moments like his own.

He palmed your thighs under your sundress before grasping them tightly and lifting you up. He placed you on the counter while you two separated for air. Your chests heaved in unison, and neither of you had to say you wanted the other touching you again before it happened.

He gripped your hair, tilting your head back for access to your neck. The smell of vanilla and cocoa butter surrounded him as he worked his mark all over your skin.

Your legs wrapped around his waist, and you pressed yourself against his jeans.

He hated he couldn’t feel the heat he knew was emitting from your core through the thick material of his jeans, and slid his other hand up your thigh to your panties.

Your entire body twitched when he ran his fingers over you through the thin cloth. It wasn’t just hot it was soaked.

“You need me that bad mami?” he pulled away from your neck, satisfied with his work, and beginning to work at his jeans.

“And quick.” you breathed into his ear, your tone and the sensation making him shudder.

The ache against his jeans didn’t need to be told twice to find its way into your heat. He slid your panties to side and pressed his thumb against you. You jumped, whimpering your need again, and he pulled your panties way from you.

You’d gotten them around one ankle before he was inside of you, and they were no longer your focus.

You clung to each other so tightly there’d be evidence on both of you.

In the quiet, he wondered if your mind was racing with the same thoughts that his was. What now? How do we get this again?

He pressed kisses to your cheek just as he started to move. You inhaled, your nails sliding down his back. Not quite catching the skin, but enough to set him on fire all the same.

He mapped out a rhythm by your whimpers and how you grasped at him until he crafted the right one.

This was the conversation he’d needed. Every thrust from him, every cry from you, every bit of give and take to heighten the other’s pleasure. The two of you were admitting that everything that was between you was deeper, realer than you’d wanted to admit. He loved you, and you loved him, and you were engraving that on one another.

The flirtation, the way you could be yourselves around each other, the heatless jabs. Good friends was always a ruse.

Your face was buried in his neck, and when he felt dampness he knew came from your tears, he hiked your legs higher, moving deeper.

You cried out so loudly it echoed in the kitchen, drowning out the soft crooning of an eighties songstress.

“I know baby, I feel it too.” his voice was choked by the threat of tears of his own.

He’d never been here before. Not with Adelita, not even close with Nails. He was terrified. Terrified for it to end because he never felt so good. Terrified for it to end because it might never happen again.

“Angel..” your voice sounded so small, but it was strong enough to anchor him back with you. “I’m close, I’m so close.”

“Let go,” he encouraged. “Let me have it querida.”

Your body seized up with your release, his name the only thing he caught in your unintelligible babble.

You clenched up repeatedly in the aftershocks, and that drug him over the edge with you, biting your shoulder.

His vision tunneled, pinpricks of pleasure traveling up and down his spine. Your hands smoothed up and down the area, and he realized it was because he was shuddering.

He gripped the counter for support, pulling back slowly. He was searching for a way to ask if he’d changed your mind, but the act hadn’t made words for his thoughts any easier to find.

It didn’t matter, before he could even speak you stopped him. Your eyes were glazed over with tears that had nothing to do with pleasure this time.

“That was all that I can give you Angel. It’s not right, none of this is, but it’s all I can give you.”

AN:

Am I the only one who wishes she had reference photos for their home/club layouts? Lol, it’s such a weird non-factor thing, but still. From memory, I’m pretty sure Angel only has one bedroom though.

No shade, no hate but this was partially inspired by how over Nails Angel looked when she was putting her back into it….🥴

I played with a few canon-timeline things + knocked the dust off my smut writing ability (I’m going under my humiliation rock now, no calls plz)

[inkmemes]

futurama  (  1999  -  2013  )  sentence  starters  ↪  taken  from  the  animated  science  fiction  show.  alter  as  you  see  fit  ♡

“let's get the hell out of here already! screw history!”

“when you do things right, people won't be sure you've done anything at all.”

“you have to use a light touch, like a safecracker or a pickpocket.”

 "stop! the spirit is willing, but the flesh is spongy and bruised."

"she's stuck in an infinite loop and he's an idiot. that's love for you."

"all i know is my gut says maybe."

“i've never seen a super nova blow up. but if it's anything like my old chevy nova, it'll light up the night sky!”

"every christmas my mom would get a fresh goose, for goose-burgers, and my dad would whip up special eggnog out of bourbon and ice cubes."

"what do i look like, a guy who's not lazy?"

“is heaven missing an angel, cuz you've got nice cans!”

“help! a guinea pig tricked me!"

"[name], if i said you said you had a beautiful body, would you take your pants off and dance around a little."

"drugs are for weirdos and hypnosis is for weirdos with big eyebrows." 

"[name], it would never work between us. you're a man, and i'm a woman. we're just too different."

“screw you, ill have my own contest. with black jack ... and hookers. forget the contest.”

“ah, she's built like a steakhouse but she handles like a bistro.”

"spare me your space age techno babble, [name].”

"it's sort of a two person pyramid scheme."

"i don't want to live on this planet anymore."

"you were doing well, until everyone died."

“if we hit that bullseye, the rest of the dominoes will fall like a house of cards. checkmate.”

“i am the man with no name. [muse name], at your service.”

“in the game of chess, you can never let your adversary see your pieces.”

"this is the worst kind of discrimination, the kind against me."

"you watched it... you can't unwatch it."

“valentine’s day is coming? aw crap! i forgot to get a girlfriend again!”

 "hold on to your dookie, it’s about to get spooky!"

"i'm tired of this room and everyone in it."

"i'm so embarrassed. i wish everyone else was dead."

"you can't just have your characters announce how they feel! that makes me feel angry!"

"i don't have emotions, and sometimes that makes me very sad."

"if, for any reason you're not satisfied, i hate you."

"that young man fills me with hope. plus some other emotions which are weird and deeply confusing." 

"i've dreamed about you a lot since you disappeared. what did you want to tell me?" 

"what do you think the meaning of life was anyway?"

“you're a pimple on society's ass and you'll never amount to anything!”

“life and death are a seamless continuum.”

“if anyone wants me, i'll be in the angry dome.”

“and the worst part is, i had to have the breakup sex by myself!”

“they said i was dumb, but i proved them.”

“what's the point of living if i can't say ass?”

“i'll be stuffing coal so far down your stocking you'll be coughing up diamonds!”

“we're all pawns in his diabolical game of checkers.”

"wait, i'm having one of those things, a headache, with pictures!"

“sorry, i didn't realize i was already here.”

"guess what you're an accessory to!"

"why does ross, the largest friend, not simply eat the other friends?"

“there's no scientific consensus that life is important.”

"we cooked our shoes in the dryer and ate them! now we're bored!"

“i'm just as important as him. it's just that, the kind of importance i have ... it doesn't matter if i don't do it.”

“oh what a foolish squid i’ve been.”

“my instinct is to hide in this barrel, like the wily fish.”

"that was bad, and you should feel bad!"

"technically correct - the best kind of correct!"

"and here is where i keep my assorted lengths of wire!"

"oh wait, you are serious! let me laugh even harder!"

"i gotta practice my stabbing!"

"that's the saltiest thing i've ever tasted! and i once ate a big, heaping bowl of salt!"

“i apologize for nothing!”

 "die young and leave a beautiful corpse! that's what i always say."

"here's to another lousy millennium."

“but i am already in my pajamas.”

“windmills do not work that way. goodnight.”

"you win again gravity."

"when push comes to shove, you got to do what you love, even if it's not a good idea.”

“but existing's basically all i do!”

“when will the killing end?"

"i'll be whatever i want to do."

"the use of words expressing something other than their literal intention. now that. is. irony."

"could you ask a little more sexfully?"

"hooray! i'm useful!"

"awesome. awesome to the max."

"some breaking occurred, the dolly was involved, that's about all we know."

“you want me to do two things?”

i love stealin', i love takin' things!

“i believe that qualifies as ill. at least from a technical standpoint.”

"that was the old me. he's dead now."

"jail ain't so bad; you can make sangria in the toilet. ‘course, it's shank or be shanked."

"one word. thundercougarfalconbird."

"of all my friends, you're the first."

“girls like swarms of lizards, right?”

“i lost it. in a volcano.”

"i'm gonna get you so many lizards!"

"who needs courage when you have a gun?"

“let's go! i've got jelly in my underpants!”

"interesting if true."

“i did do the nasty in the pasty!”

"something tells me i could easily beat those trained professionals."

"the two of you are good friends? but i thought we would be good friends!"

"it's like a party in my mouth, except everyone's throwing up."

“i'm shocked. shocked! well, not that shocked.”

“it's me! no one else look in this mirror!"

“you ever think you only like girls cause you're supposed to?”

"we don't gotta put up with this! we got poli sci degrees."

“sorry, i suffer from a very sexy learning disorder.”

“did somebody say something about a free hot meal?”

“you gotta do what you gotta do.”

"too many bones? not enough cash?"

“hey sexy mama, wanna kill all humans?”

"i don't know how you did that."

"the butter in my pocket is melting!"

"well ... first i got up and had a piece of toast ..."

“i can't wait til i'm old enough to feel ways about stuff.”

“interesting! no ... wait ... the other thing. tedious.”

"i knew you come crawling back, like a bird on its belly!"

“we both know you won't make it halfway before the craving sets in! then you'll come crawling back for another taste of sweet sweet candy. bam!"

“indeed so, most indeededly.”

"and by metaphorically, i mean get your coat."

“[vehicle]'s ready except for this cup holder, and i should have that done in 12 hours."

"stop. stop! i will destroy you." [ bonus if the receiver is doing something mundane to sender ]

“just make a simple cake. and this time, if someone's going to jump out of it, make sure to put them in after you cook it.”

“lies, lies and slander!”

“you raised my hopes and dashed them quite expertly, sir!”

“but going through a divorce together, you can't pretend that didn't bring us closer together.”

“when you say the human body is the most efficient thing to use as a battery, wouldn't anything make a better battery? like a potato? or a battery?”

“i'll have you know that i bejazzle my own underpants!”

“i'm sorry you had to see that, [name], usually i let my sadness fester quietly inside as a mental illness.”

“i'm not drunk, i'm mentally ill! but i agree with what, what you said.”

“this is a cool way to die!”

[arrowflier]

serotonin boost prompt whenever you find the time: gallavich date with secret smiles, sweet kisses and the handholding we all deserve ❤️❤️

"We're gonna miss it, Mickey," Ian says for at least the third time, eyes on the ever-ticking clock over their fireplace.  Mickey, kneeling on the floor in front of the worn sofa they had grabbed off a curb when they found out they had to get their own, just shrugs.  He picks out a bright red crayon to pass to Franny, who's laying on her stomach next to him scribbling on the back of an ad for the local co-op.

"Calm down, man," he tells Ian.  "She'll be here soon, can't do anything about a late train."

Ian sighs, leaning forward and rubbing his eyes.  "Since when do you stand up for Debbie?"

Mickey eyes him warily from the floor.  "Since it's not her fault," he answers, then asks, "Why you so worked up about it, anyway?  It's not a big deal."

He sounds honestly confused, and it only makes Ian more upset.  This was supposed to be their night.  Their one night, all week, to just do something nice together.  And Debbie had to come to them for last-minute babysitting while she went to an interview, then had to be late enough getting back to send all Ian's plans circling the drain.

He doesn't say any of that to Mickey.  "It's nothing," he mumbles instead, knowing it sounds unconvincing but not really caring at the moment.

Sure enough, Mickey's eyes narrow and he opens his mouth to reply, but gets interrupted by a knock at the door.

"Mommy!" Franny cries, jumping off the floor to race to the apartment door.  Mickey is slower to rise, grumbling about getting too old for sitting on the floor; if Ian we're in a better mood, he'd tease him for being perfectly fine with lying on it the other night.  Ian stays put, leaving Mickey to follow their niece with a concerned glance back at him.

Ian listens to Mickey opening the door, reminding Franny to let him do it, and greeting Debbie.  He knows if he followed, he'd say something about her tardiness, so he lets Mickey make his excuses and wave the two of them off.

He braces himself when he hears the door click closed again, and Mickey's footsteps come back around into the living room.

Mickey doesn't say anything about his sour mood.

"Kay, you ready?" he asks instead, grabbing his wallet from the crate temporarily serving as a coffee table.

Ian laughs humorlessly.

"I was ready an hour ago," he points out dryly.  "But we missed our reservation already, Mick, we're not going anywhere now."

Mickey frowns at him.  "Nah, fuck that, man," he says.  "This is our night, right?" he asks, and Ian would be lying if he said that didn't warm him up a little, hearing Mickey call it that.

"Yeah," he agrees, and Mickey nods decisively.

"Let's go then," he orders, gesturing to the door.  "I ain't givin' up on tonight that easy."

Ian can't help but grin, even as he asks, "go where?"

Mickey smirks, and slaps Ian on the ass when he gets up and walks past him.  Ian starts, twisting to look at him with wide eyes, and Mickey waggled his eyebrows just to make Ian laugh.

"You let me worry about that, tough guy."

--

They end up outside the restaurant they had picked out together, some weird new mexican fusion place that advertised world-class margaritas.  Mickey had gotten fond of the drink back in Mexico, and Ian figured it was something they could enjoy together.

"Mickey," he says as they get closer, " it took us two weeks to get in here, there's no way they held our table."

Mickey shakes his head.  "Gallagher, I'm disappointed in you," he says as he leads Ian to the door.  "Ain't conning you way into places your family's shtick?"

Ian just looks at him, brow furrowed, and Mickey rolls his eyes.

"Just hang back a sec, til I wave you over, alright?" he demands.  "Watch and fuckin' learn."

And he's off, through the crowd at the entrance and straight up to the podium at the front.  Ian can't hear what he says, but there are some wild gestures and hushed but tense words exchanged.  At one point, Mickey gets out his phone and taps at it impatiently, pretending to wait for a response before waving it in the host's face.

That bit seems to do the trick, and Ian is waved over, picking his way through the other waiting groups without looking any if them in the face.

When he gets to the front, Mickey is saying, " and you're lucky he didn't have to hear any of that 'overbooked' bullshit, he'd have your fuckin' job for that," before taking off into the restaurant with Ian trailing behind.

He stops at a booth toward the back, and gestures Ian in first, sliding into the bench on the other side.

"What did you do?" Ian hisses lowly, leaning across the table toward him.

Mickey grins, and taps their feet together, catching one of Ian's and drawing it back to his side. 

"Told 'em you were Ed Sheeran," he jokes.  He reaches under the table to grab Ian's leg, pulling his foot up to rest on Mickey's lap.  Ian has to lean back to make it comfortable, but the stroke of Mickey's thumb against the bone of his ankle is worth it.

"You did not," Ian pokes, but Mickey shrugs.

"Does it matter?" he asks quietly as a waiter approaches.  Ian pulls his leg back, aware of how they must look, but takes Mickey's hand over the table instead.

"Guess not," he accepts, squeezing Mickey's fingers and feeling the metal of his ring.  "Thanks," he adds, and Mickey's smile turns soft.

"Anytime," he murmurs, then grabs the menu to give his order.

--

"That was amazing," Ian groans an hour later, a stack of empty plates between them.  Mickey hums his agreement, taking a final bite of fried ice cream dessert before tossing his spoon down with a clatter.

"Fuck yeah it was," he says with a burp that has the couple at the nearest table eying them with distaste.  "Except the margaritas," he adds with a scowl, taking a long drag from the bottled beer they had quickly switched to.  "Too fuckin' sweet."

"Thought you liked 'em sweet," Ian teases, leaning closer, and Mickey licks his lips.

"Nah," he says slowly, "that's just how I like my men."  He winks, and Ian flushes immediately.

"Oh my God," he manages to squeak out, hands flat on the table.  "You did not just say that." 

Mickey laughs, open and free, and grabs Ian's hand again without prompting.

"The drinks were shit, though," he muses.  "Now that I think of it, maybe I was just drinkin' straight tequila down south."

It's Ian's turn to laugh--"only you, Mick"--and they're both grinning like fools when he stops.

"Ready to get outta here, Red?" Mickey murmurs, tilting his head toward the end of the booth.

"Sure, Mick," Ian agrees easily, then let's go if his husband's hand to fumble for his wallet.  "Let me just..."

"Hey, no," Mickey interrupts.  "They gave away our reservation, man, we ain't payin' for shit."

"What--Mickey!" Ian whispers, but Mickey is already up and moving quickly toward the back, where he catches the door to the kitchen before it closes behind a surprised waiter and slips inside.

With a muffled groan, Ian takes off after him.

He almost makes it, but before the door shuts behind him, he hears the host yelling, "Hey, you can't go in there!"

"Shit, shit, shit," Ian mutters, faced with at least one sous-chef staring at him across the bustling kitchen.  Before he has time to panic, though, Mickey is back at his side, grabbing his arm and pulling.

"This way, dipshit!" he hisses as they wind through counters and racks and boxes toward the door to the back alley.  "Should've known you'd get caught," he pants, out of breath, "it's the fuckin' hair, man, too bright."

"You like my hair," Ian offers stupidly.  Mickey stops long enough to make sure Ian sees him roll his eyes, and grabs a folded tablecloth and a bottle of something fancy from next to the door before he shoves it open with a hip and pulls Ian out into the cool night air.

Ian looks back for pursuit, but the kitchen workers couldn't care less.  One of them even salutes him with a bread knife, lips twitching, until the door closes and breaks their line of sight.

They run for a few blocks anyway, until Mickey tugs him into a different alley to catch their breaths.

"That was some date night," Ian pants, hands on knees and a wide grin on his face.

"Night ain't over yet," Mickey disagrees.  He pushes off the brick wall he had leaned against, motions back to the street with the arm not holding what he pilfered from the restaurant kitchen.  "C'mon, man, we got somewhere to be."

Then he's off again, albeit at a more sedate pace, and Ian laughs again as he follows.  He catches up with a few long strides and grabs Mickey's hand, letting his husband lead him once again.

--

This time, they wander farther, only stopping when they come to a park with overly green grass and a neatly manicured baseball diamond.

It isn't their field, the one with the dugout they used to frequent; that field is back Southside, and they haven't walked that far.  But it's close, and Ian's heart pounds as Mickey leads him around the open fencing and toward the outfield.

They stop at the greenest point, and Mickey releases Ian's hand to throw down his stolen tablecloth, kicking the edges until it's more or less flat and open.  He plops down immediately, just off center, and motions for Ian to do the same as he uses his pocket knife to uncork the stolen bottle of booze.

Ian sits as Mickey takes a swig of the mystery liqour, then accepts the bottle when he passes it over.

"This is nice," he says after a long sip of what turned out to be a moderately pleasant red.  "How did you know it was here?"

Mickey reaches for the bottle again, taking another swallow before he answered.  "Was helping Debs look at schools," he admits.  "For Franny, when she's older."

Ian doesn't press.  He loves how much Mickey dotes on their niece, but he knows talking about it makes him uncomfortable still, their own future hanging over them.

He lays down instead, and looks up. The stars are out, glittering above them in patterns he doesn't understand, but thinks must mean something good.

"Thanks for tonight," he says softly to the sky.

The tablecloth rustles as Mickey leans on his elbows next to him.

"Anytime," he replies. He looks down at Ian, and turns on his side so he can brush red hair back from his face.

"Gonna tell me why you were so upset, earlier?" he questions, voice light but serious. "Not like you to freak out like that."

Ian nuzzles into the hand on his face, and closes his eyes. "Just wanted to do something for you," he admits. "You were so excited about finding that place. And you're always doing stuff like that for me."

His eyes flutter open again, fixing on Mickey's face. "Figures the first time I try, everything goes wrong and you have to take over again."

Mickey doesn't respond right away. He watches him, thumb stroking his cheekbone, hand curling around behind his ear.

When he does speak, it's quiet. "I like doin' that shit for you, Ian," he says. "Makes me...happy. To see you smilin'."

Ian's lips stretch into a gentle curve, and Mickey returns it. "Yeah," he whispers, leaning down until their noses brush. "Like that," he finishes, the words lost against Ian's lips as they kiss.

Ian doesn't know how long they stay there, laying on that thin piece of fabric over the grass, making out under the stars. He doesn't care. Because it's Mickey. And despite everything that went wrong tonight, being there with Mickey was perfect.

They're eventually interuppted by what feels like rain, but turns out a second later to be the timed sprinkler system switching on. Mickey yelps into his mouth at the cold water as they break apart, scrambling to dash across the field and to the relative safety of the sidewalk. They leave the tablecloth where it is, a sad heap if fabric wet with water and remainder of their overturned bottle of red wine, and fall against each other as they turn to head toward home.

"Still wanna thank me?" Mickey jokes on the way, teeth chattering as his skin dries.

"Yeah, I do," Ian says, nudging him with a hip before pulling him back, wrapping a long warm arm around his shoulders.

"Tonight was perfect."

And if they stop again to kiss against under the L on their way, Mickey's back pressed to the support and legs hugging Ian's waist, well. It is still their night, after all.

[tillidontneedfantasy]

A Track-by-Track Breakdown of Taylor Swift’s 9th Studio Album: ‘evermore’

“My collaborators and I are proud to announce that my 9th studio album and folklore’s sister record is here. It’s called evermore,” is how Taylor Swift introduces us to this album in its foreword. One might assume a “sister record” would entail b-sides, or tracks that didn’t quite make the cut for folklore, despite Taylor’s explanation that “we just couldn’t stop writing songs.” evermore’s release came at a strange time, upon the heels of the Folklore: Long Pond Studio Sessions film on Disney+, as well as 5 Grammy nominations for folklore. The world still captivated by folklore, it’s understandable why one might not consume evermore as critically. Even as a die-hard fan, I felt some whiplash by this announcement; I am still processing folklore! Hell, I’m still processing reputation!

If this was the Taylor from two years ago, this may have been a big enough fear of hers to hold off on releasing evermore. But as she explained upon folklore’s surprise release, life is too unpredictable now, and there are zero givens or guarantees. So she followed the same path this time (although making sure it fell in line with her birthday weekend). But it’s not just the strategic timing of the release that she’s thrown out the window for now, but also her mindset whilst making records. As she explains in the evermore album foreword,

“I’ve never done this before. In the past I’ve always treated albums as one-off eras and moved onto planning the next one as soon as an album was released. There was something different with folklore. In making it, I felt less like I was departing and more like I was returning. I loved the escapism I found in these imaginary/not imaginary tales. I loved the ways you welcomed the dreamscapes and tragedies and epic tales of love lost and found. So I just kept writing them.”

This is a revelation for Swift, to let the music lead her into artistic freedom, which is what makes evermore such a triumphant return. Truly folklore’s sister record, Taylor wrote evermore with the same creative team: Aaron Dessner of The National (Swift’s favorite band), long-time pal and collaborator Jack Antonoff, Justin Vernon of Bon Iver, and William Bowery aka Swift’s boyfriend, Joe Alwyn (as officially revealed in the Long Pond Studio Sessions). Additionally, former 1989 tour openers and close friends of Taylor, the HAIM sisters, join the crew, along with Marcus Mumford for some dreamy backup vocals.

The production is just as wistful and mesmerizing as it was on folklore, yet the storytelling on evermore is kicked up a notch, expanding on the topics and worldbuilding established in its sister record, with even sharper lyrics and an effective and elaborate use of alliteration. The best thing about Taylor is that no matter what she does, her masterful lyricism is always at the heart of her art, and somehow, she keeps getting better. Once again, I wanted to explore the rich stories she’s crafted in this woodsy universe. This is how I’ve interpreted the album, but I hope you find your own meaning in the songs as well.

1. willow It is fitting that the opening track to folklore’s sister album, where we wade further into the forest that is Taylor Swift’s imagination and storytelling, would center on the type of tree that is a symbol of hope, belonging, safety, stability, and healing. “willow,” one of the few more obviously autobiographical tracks on the album, is a hymn of gratitude for her man (as she wants you to know, yes, thirteen times), Joe Alwyn, and how the invisible string tethering them together pulled her to him in a time when everyone else was counting her out. Though not as present on many of the other songs later to come on this record, you can feel the lightness in her heart on this song as she embraces the way in which the willow has bent, wrecking her plans, throwing her into the water and leaving her happily lost and afloat in his current. The downward key modulation throughout the last two repetitions of the chorus is beautiful and very fitting for Swift vocally, but also sounds like the feeling of finding your comfort and settling into it, basking it in while you wait for the next place the wind pulls you. Best lyric: “Now this is an open/shut case / I guess I should’ve known from the look on your face / Every bait and switch was a work of art.”

2. champagne problems On the second track of the album, Taylor dives back into the fictional worldbuilding she began to explore on folklore. While on folklore high school relationships and dramatics took center-stage, evermore graduates from adolescence to young adulthood, not that it is any easier emotionally on the listener’s heart. “champagne problems” chronicles a rejected marriage proposal between two college sweethearts at their old dorm building. Taylor sings as the narrator, a reflective, self-deprecating young woman who jokes about belonging in a madhouse and dismisses all her turmoil as champagne problems. The term ‘champagne problems’ itself could have various meanings here: their trivial concerns, the fact that their “sister splashed out on the bottle” of champagne that they will not be using to celebrate as they had hoped, or perhaps it could even hint that excessive drinking is a piece of all the ways the narrator is “fucked in the head,” as they said. Although the person she is singing to is the one who got hurt in the story, the hurt in the narrator’s heart is just as palpable and relatable, because you only have yourself to blame when you self-destruct. Best lyric: “’She would’ve made such a lovely bride, / what a shame she’s fucked in the head,’ they said / but you’ll find the real thing instead / she’ll patch up your tapestry that I shred.”

3. gold rush On her YouTube live chat prior to the album’s release, Taylor explained that this song “takes place inside a single daydream where you get lost in thought for a minute and then snap out of it.” The daydream consists of a love story so pure that the town had never seen such a thing; it could only happen in a fantasy for the narrator. How could she possibly have the gall to call them out on their contrarian shit, or end up with her Eagles t-shirt hanging from their door, when they are so coveted by all, and when she cannot withstand the thought of even competing? She sings, “My mind turns your life into folklore / I can’t dare to dream about you anymore,” a sweet little connecting piece to this album’s older sister, effectively convincing herself out of the idea of jumping into the chaos of the gold rush because even inside her own imagination it’s too dangerous. Best lyric: “I don’t like that falling feels like flying ‘till the bone crush.”

4. ‘tis the damn season According to Aaron Dessner, Taylor had written the lyrics for “’tis the damn season” in the middle of the night amidst their Folklore: The Long Pond Studio Sessions recording after a long night of chatting and drinking with their co-conspirator, Jack Antonoff. The lyrics perfectly encapsulate the guttural ache the track evokes. It is a tale of two people who always find their way back to one another in their hometown, which acts as the ever-returning fork in the road. The path taken, back to L.A. in pursuit of her dreams, is the one she chose and continues to choose, but whenever she returns home, she takes a ride down the road not taken, just to get a taste of what could have been, even if just for the weekend. What starts off as an icy homecoming always transforms into the warmest intimacy. The success of this track is aligned with the success of Taylor’s entire career; even with such specific details, it feels so deeply personal to the listener. You know the street you’d drive along late at night laughing, the spot you’d park the car, the person who stars in every what-if. You will never really know if the road not taken is as good as it seems, but that might be ok; sometimes, the fantasy is better than the reality, anyway. Best lyric: “It’s the kind of cold / fogs up windshield glass, but I felt it when I passed you / There’s an ache in you / put there by the ache in me.”

5. tolerate it Inspired by the novel Rebecca by Daphne du Maurier, “tolerate it” is an agonizing track from the perspective of a devoted wife who polishes plates and paints portraits and waits by the door for her husband with a battle hero’s welcome, who at best tolerates all her adoration. There are few things as painful as idolization being met with indifference, when you have all this love to give to someone who just leaves it there untouched. “tolerate it” captures that desperation for the approval you know will never arrive, but you sit and watch, waiting for it just in case you’re wrong, but you know you’re not. Best lyric: “I made you my temple, my mural, my sky / now I’m begging for footnotes in the story of your life / drawing hearts in the byline”

6. no body, no crime feat. HAIM “no body, no crime,” the one evermore song solo-written by Taylor, has the clearest plot from beginning to end. In the same vein as the female powerhouse country classic “Goodbye Earl” by The Chicks, Taylor is out for blood to avenge her friend, Este (named for one of the HAIM sisters). The story goes as such: Este’s husband kills her for calling him out on his infidelity, and then Taylor kills the husband and frames his mistress. The HAIM girls, who are long-time friends of Taylor’s and former touring mates, lend their vocals to reinforce the accusation on the husband and to provide Taylor’s alibi. “no body, no crime” is so far the closest we’ve gotten to a return to “country Taylor,” proving that she is still the master of a killer country tune (yes, pun intended, it had to be done I’m sorry). Best lyric: “Good thing Este’s sister’s gonna swear she was with me / (she was with me, dude) / Good thing his mistress took out a big life insurance policy”

7. happiness Written a week before the album’s release, “happiness” is one of Swift’s strongest and most reflective breakup songs. Although she writes it as though it is recent, there’s a lot of power in knowing that she’s been happily in love for four years, and that she is even better now at doing the thing that has always been best at. She is finally “above the trees,” as she sings, and is able to see it all for what it is, but her character is still in the heat of it all, trying to navigate the stages of grief when a relationship ends. We see the narrator grapple with many of those stages throughout the song. Most striking is the anger displayed in the second verse when she sings: “I hope she’ll be a beautiful fool who takes my spot next to you / No, I didn’t mean that, / sorry, I can’t see facts through all of my fury.” That section is jarring and feels like one of the most honest moments in a Taylor song, the insanely difficult emotional balancing act when we are grieving a relationship. The devastation of loss can distort our perception, and a part of that is the difficulty of understanding how multiple seemingly opposing things can co-exist in our hearts, such as happiness because of someone and happiness after them. But when you leave it all behind and finally find your place above the trees, you can find happiness after someone and also look back and appreciate the happiness they once provided. Both of these things can be true. Best lyric: “Showed you all of my hiding spots / I was dancing when the music stopped.”

8. dorothea Taylor Swift has the uncanny ability to create such developed and well-rounded characters with such little information, which is what makes her storytelling so compelling. In “dorothea,” we learn much about the title character through the narrator’s eyes, and the relationship they once had. The lyric “skipping the prom just to piss off your mom and her pageant schemes” alone tells an entire story in itself. “dorothea” is also the companion song to “’tis the damn season,” just from the other person’s perspective, which helps shine even more light on the story. The narrator of “dorothea” reveres her but wonders if she’s still the same soul in L.A. as she was back in their never-changing town. Whatever the answer, they’re still willing to support her no matter where she is, but she’s always welcome back in Tupelo by her hometown love’s side if she ever just wants to be herself rather than someone known for who they know. Besides, they’re the only soul who can tell which smiles she’s faking. And you can always return to the road not taken. Best lyric: “They all wanna be ya / but are you still the same soul I met under the bleachers? / Well, I guess I’ll never know / and you’ll go on with the show.”

9. coney island feat. The National What really started the folklore / evermore journey was Taylor’s love for The National. Taylor has cited them as one of her favorite bands for many years, and as we know, this led to her beautiful new collaborative relationship with Aaron Dessner. So it would make sense for the track written with the intention of this duet to be so well executed; you can feel the love and care Taylor put into writing this song. In her press for these sister albums, she has spoken about trying to channel frontman Matt Berninger’s writing style. But what actually happened was she just produced her own signature lyricism at its sharpest. “We were like the mall before the internet, it was the one place to be / the mischief, the gift-wrapped suburban dreams / sorry for not winning you an arcade ring over and over,” is a hall of famer Swift-ian lyric. “coney island” explores the confusion, hurt, and self-reflection when a passionate affair burns out fast because you did not prioritize that person. And to top it off, Swift and Berninger’s harmonies are achingly beautiful, transporting you right there in the story, on the bench, wondering, over and over. Best lyric: “Do you miss the rogue who coaxed you into paradise and left you there? / Will you forgive my soul when you’re too wise to trust me and too old to care?”

10. ivy Leave it to Taylor Swift to make a song about an affair sound so romantic, and so sympathetic to the narrator, that you’re rooting for adultery. “ivy” tells the tale of a woman in a lifeless marriage, likening her home with him to the tombstone that the widow in town visits each day. I like to think this is the same wife whose husband was out there building other worlds without her in “tolerate it,” because then that means she found someone who celebrates her love, who holds her pain for her, who blooms all over her; they started it, but she’s fighting for it all the way to the end, nonetheless. “ivy” showcases Swift’s gorgeous vocals and her sharp lyrics, with a melody so infectious it is bound to permanently plant its roots in your dreamland. Best lyric: “Oh, I can’t stop you putting roots in my dreamland / my house of stone, your ivy grows, and now I’m covered in you.”

11. cowboy like me With the beautifully blended backing vocals of Marcus Mumford, “cowboy like me” is an entrancing love story of two con artists who lost at their own game and got conned into forever with each other. She’d gone from swindling old men for their money and fancy cars to falling victim to the danger of dancing with someone who only has eyes full of stars, and she knows she’ll pay for it. “cowboy like me” is one of the most romantic tracks on the record, proving that life never plays out quite as we plan. Best lyric: “Now you hang from my lips like the gardens of Babylon / with your boots beneath my bed / Forever is the sweetest con.”

12. long story short One of the more pop-sounding tracks on evermore, “long story short” is pretty much a summary of the long story behind reputation (2017). The song is filled with various metaphors for her reputation crumbling around her, and then finally putting her defenses down to be with her lover, someone as “rare as the glimmer of a comet in the sky.” It is a sweet ode to her boyfriend, and a gentle comfort to her past self that it will all work out. But it is also an oddly relatable example of how we shrug off our struggles and minimize them to just a “bad time,” when the time she is singing about was obviously something that deeply affected her (as will be further explored in the title track); but sometimes it actually feels good to just shrug it off as just a blip in your life, because at the end of the day, you survived, and that’s what counts- even if you’re not keeping score anymore. Best lyric: “Pushed from the precipice / clung to the nearest lips / long story short, it was the wrong guy. / Now I’m all about you.”

13. marjorie Whereas track 13 on folklore was a tribute to Swift’s paternal grandfather, evermore’s track 13 is a tribute to her maternal grandmother, Marjorie Finlay, who was an opera singer in the 50s, and passed away in 2003 when Taylor was 13 years old. “marjorie” is quite possibly the most touching track Taylor has ever written thus far in her career. Grief is one of the most difficult topics to tackle in a song; the genius of “marjorie” is that it is simple, yet not understated. Swift reflects on the profound lessons she learned from her grandmother, about the difficult balances of kindness and cleverness, and politeness and power. She curses herself for not cherishing the moments she had with her, for complaining rather than understanding in the moment how admirable her spirit was, for all the amber skies she’d love but will never see. The chorus, blunt and hard-hitting, reminds us that someone does not have to be living to be alive, to be all around, to be with us. “If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were singing to me now,” Taylor sings towards the end of the song, right before you hear a sample of Finlay’s opera singing in the background, a truly eye-swelling moment. It is clear that Finlay played a pivotal role in Swift’s own ambitions, as she sings, “all your closets of backlogged dreams, and how you left them all to me.” Marjorie knew she was leaving them in good hands. If you haven’t yet, check out the moving lyric video for the song, where you can see photos and video clips of Marjorie, both throughout her career and in her time with Taylor. Best lyric: “Never be so polite you forget your power, / never wield such power you forget to be polite.”

14. closure On the most experimental track musically on the record, Taylor writes off her need for closure from a relationship of some sort, whether it be romantic or platonic or business, all of which can cause hurt of equal intensity. The subject of the song is trying to make nice with Taylor, and she is just not having it, as it is not coming from a genuine place, but rather to ensure that their life remains picture perfect, or to clear their guilty conscience, or to preserve their own ego. This is a deeply relatable sentiment; as valuable as forgiveness can be, sometimes the person who hurt you just doesn’t deserve it, and all you can do is forgive yourself for blocking their number or shredding their letters. Best lyric: “I know I’m just a wrinkle in your new life / staying friends would iron it out so nice.”

15. evermore feat. Bon Iver To close out the standard edition of the album, Taylor joins forces once again with Justin Vernon of Bon Iver, with whom she collaborated on the Grammy-nominated duet, “exile” for folklore. However, Swift leads most of the track this time, lamenting the difficult time she went through in 2016. The piano and Swift’s vocals are haunting, particularly when she describes this time in her life as “catching my death,” consumed by a pain that she feels will never end. If you’ve ever been depressed, you know what that feels like, and the dark places it leads you. Although she is singing about a time four years prior, it sounds so present, and it is heartbreaking to hear her in such a state. When Bon Iver comes in, the tempo of the song picks up, the piano riff becomes more erratic, like a winter storm hitting you in the face, and he voices all the anxieties of the cost of such a downfall. But through those anxieties, Taylor finds not a cure, but an anchor in love, and then the tempo slows back down. By the end of the song, Taylor has the foresight to understand that although it may not feel like it now, the pain she is experiencing is not permanent (a sentiment my therapist has been trying to instill in me for years). In her Apple Music interview with Zane Lowe, Taylor explained how the lyrics parallel the times we are in currently, and so it feels really special to have the album end with someone who knows how it feels to be imprisoned by your pain gently comfort us with the wisdom that “this pain wouldn’t be for evermore.” I hope one day soon, as we leave 2020 far behind, we can all truly believe her. Best lyric: “I was catching my breath / barefoot in the wildest winter catching my death.”

16. right where you left me (bonus track) The first bonus track on evermore, “right where you left me,” captures a moment so earth-crushing, a piece of you is trapped in it forever. In this song specifically, the narrator finds herself stuck in the same corner of a restaurant where she was told by someone she loved that they had met someone else. “Glass shattered on the white cloth, everybody moved on,” she sings in mourning. We have all experienced those moments that we could teleport back to if we just closed our eyes; the scenery, what you wore, the smell and taste of the season, the very point in your body where it felt like your insides were collapsing. Or that one particular person, who is long-gone from your life but seeing them is like time-travelling back to that person you once were, ready to pick up where you left off. But as much as you want to stay in that moment forever, just in case it changes in your favor, the cold reality is that the world stops for no one. Best lyric: “If our love died young, I can’t bear witness / And it’s been so long, but if you ever think you got it wrong / I’m right where you left me.”

17. it’s time to go (bonus track) “right where you left me” was Taylor’s cry for help to get out of restaurant, and “it’s time to go” is the answer to the call, as she sings in the first line, “when the dinner gets cold, and the chatter gets old / you ask for the tab.” This song is about gathering the strength to leave situations and relationships behind that no longer serve you. She grieves the betrayal of someone she thought to be a twin from her dreams (almost definitely referring to former friend, Karlie Kloss), acknowledges that keeping a marriage together for the sake of the kids often actually has the opposite intended effect (possibly- but not certainly- something she and her brother experienced), and recounts attempting to bargain with someone consumed by greed, only able to leave with herself (absolutely referring to the end of her fifteen-year long business relationship with Scott Borchetta, her former record-label owner). But as painful as leaving all of those situations was, Taylor has gained the wisdom to understand that walking away sometimes takes as much strength as persevering. You can’t stay at the restaurant, or at the mercy of someone else forever; you have to forge your own path, even if it’s in the opposite direction of what you envisioned for so long. And even with all her past success behind her, as folklore and evermore have proved, there is so much more ahead of her. Best lyric: “That old familiar body ache, the snaps from the same little breaks in your soul / You know when it’s time to go.”

In a time where we are all trapped in our homes and in our heads, the folklore/evermore experience has been the sweetest escape. If anything, the creation of these wonderful sister records has taught me that our most powerful tool in times of distress is our own imagination. Even just the ability to close my eyes while listening to one of these tracks and feel the character’s story is a gift. The way I’ve always been able to pick up Harry Potter and escape to Hogwarts when I’ve felt alone and friendless, I can listen to folklore and evermore when I feel scared or hopeless and escape into this enchanted forest Taylor has built, where I can climb above the trees and see it all for what it is. I feel so lucky to watch Taylor’s imaginative world unravel around me. I can’t wait to see what she creates next.

DISCLAIMER – REVIEWER’S BIAS: I would literally die for this bitch.