#anyways and to anyone those who are wondering where their answer is. I didn’t forget about you I’m working on it.

[help-itrappedmyself]

Pairing Thing

You guys remember that poll I put up a while ago, to help me pick a pairing to try practice writing romance/flirting. Well, this is that. It did not go where I had planned it too, and I'm not sure if it counts, but take it anyway.

Tim has reached his last nerve with their new hire. Tim surges toward Danny, intent on getting some answers out of him. Danny stumbles back at his approach, but Tim just reaches out, one hand grabbing ahold of Danny’s tie and the other pushing flat against Danny’s chest. In another quick second, Danny finds himself pressed against the wall of the classroom. 

Then, Tim loops the tie fully around his hand, tugging Danny’s face towards him. Danny’s breath hitches and his eyes go out of focus for a moment, lost in the sensation.

This makes Tim falter. The moment causes Tim’s mind to blank, forgetting to speak, and pausing as only one thought crashes circles. The thought circles around a few times before it starts to slip out of Tim’s mouth.

“You…” The word comes out angry, but Tim can’t quite make himself keep going the way he had planned a few moments ago. Tim looks Danny up and down, and Danny can do nothing but flush at the scrutiny, and the inevitable realization Tim comes to. Danny braces himself for the vitriol, but when Tim speaks next it is nothing but a murmur. 

“You like this.” A murmur in a voice that has turned into honey and Danny can do nothing, eyes slipping shut involuntarily.

“Do you not care that it's me that's eliciting this reaction? I thought you didn’t like me.” Tim wonders aloud, and Danny can hear a tone in the voice that threatens to elicit shivers. A tone of sharp curiosity that concerns Danny more than anything. Danny’s eyes flutter back open, locking with Tim’s.

“I don’t like rich people.” Danny mutters. “It’s nothing personal.”

Tim, very slowly, lets the tie slip from his fingers. Danny is tempted to sigh in relief but before the sigh can become reality, Danny feels those fingers slide to his throat. The second they reach the skin there Danny’s breath hitches on a gasp.

A dark smirk graces Tim's face and the grip on Danny’s throat tightens for just a moment, just long enough for Danny’s eyes to flutter. Danny practically whimpers, chin tilting up subconsciously, exposing more throat to Tim.

As the grip loosens again, Tim leans forward to whisper into Danny’s ear. “Tell me, Danny. Would you respond to anyone this way… or is there something about me that encourages this reaction?”

At that, Tim’s arms fall to his sides as he takes a step away. Danny blinks after him, dazed and confused.

After a few moments of nothing but them watching each other, Tim straightens and squares his shoulders. “Are you going to answer the question?”

“Tim.” Danny chokes out, a lump in his throat that was oddly hard to work around, and no true idea what he was going to say next. He took a deep, shuddering breath as he stood straight, no longer leaning on the wall. Trying to buy time, he tried to fix his shirt and tie as best as he could, but after a moment of fumbling with it he gave up. 

Tim was still standing there watching him, face a mask of indifference. 

Danny had the thought that he didn't need to answer Tim. He also didn't need to be here anymore, and so he turned to leave. 

But when he got to the door it wouldn't open. He glanced back at Tim, who didn't seem to have moved, before trying everything he could think of to get the door to unlock. 

After a few moments, Danny sighed deeply, resting his forehead against the door for a count of three before turning back around to face Tim again. 

“What have you done?” He asked, trying to keep his voice steady.

“I locked the door.” Tim responded coolly. “I have full control of this building, you know?”

Tim walked back to his desk and sat down behind it. “ Now, I had some questions for you regarding your purpose in Gotham, why you chose to work with us at Wayne Enterprises, that kind of thing. But I find myself increasingly interested in your answer to my previous question.”

Danny swallows roughly. “Look, you're just going to have me on about it either way, why does it matter?” 

“It matters. Answer the question.” His eyes are hard and unwavering. Danny knows that he won't get out of here until Tim gets what he wants.

“It's because it's you, okay.” Danny spits the words out, hoping if they sound harsh enough, the content would be ignored in favor of the tone. “And I think this may count as some form of sexual harassment.” 

His hopes plummet as Tim starts to smirk.

“Well we could continue this meeting as normal if you would prefer.” Tim opens the folder he had placed on his desk after Danny walked in. “I will never bring it up again if you’d like.”

Danny sighs, then goes over to sit back down in the chair in front of Tim’s desk.

“Can we just continue the meeting?”

“Of course, Danny.” Tim winks.

[bleue-flora]

I always liked how cpunz is actually a friend to cdream. In the end Even if he was still on the plan or acting as if he was still on the plan, he still didn't argued with cdream over his objetive. He still let cdream talk with ctommy without trying to make cdream go back to the plan and Even in the end where they're about to die they tried to escape together. Like i also Saw some putting cdream as not caring about them but i don't agree, he called for cpunz in the end and seemed truly happy when meeting him after prison break. I think cdream might be not be very Open with them bc he doesn't communicate well with almost anyone and that went worst after the Prison so it's complicated and yeah it wasn't a healthy friendship but the fact they cared for each other was there and was there since a long time

For sure. Oh, the way they sounded trying to escape the prison is so gut wrenching. And yea I’m also gonna have to hard disagree with the idea that cdream doesn’t care about cpunz like what? LITERALLY one of the reasons cdream had cpunz betray him and went to prison was to protect cpunz. He could have let them kill him in prison but I reckon one of the reasons he didn’t was because it would risk exposing cpunz if he brought him back.

More importantly we hardly got any content of them, so it’s truly hard to judge how close they were and how much they cared for each other. But given the things we do have I’d say they do care about each other.

His passionate and enraged speech to cpurpled about the torture. That conversation did not need to be that emotional, even the way cdream talks about it himself has been less outraged. That and the anger, shock and outrage cpunz has when clingy duo kill cdream in the prison. There’s also the genuine excitement cpunz has for seeing cdream after the prison break. And we know this is genuine because unlike cdream we get his pov and his thoughts after the fact where he had no reason to be disingenuous.

In addition, there is a clear trust between them. The most obvious being the revive book, the sole reason cdream didn’t get killed. Cdream trusts cpunz with his life, even further with the actual death experiments, which is alluded to in the finale.

So yea I feel people who think they don’t care about each other either haven’t watched the lore or weren’t paying attention. But like that is what I found so funny about the ‘don’t touch dream’ in the first war, I mean… what more proof do you need after that.

As far as health of their friendship goes, I see that highlighted a lot and I’m gonna be honest, I’m not so sure their friendship is anymore unhealthy than others. Like they haven’t betrayed each other to our confirmed knowledge, they are clearly willing to die for each other, they don’t talk over each other, they fight for each other. How much communication and heart to heart they have is speculation, but still like I’d say their friendship is pretty healthy, even if they themselves aren’t very healthy mentally speaking.

Anyways good thoughts, they are so wholesome. :) Sorry for my delayed response turns out I wrote it and it got lost in my 40 something drafts. <3

[sscieloz]

Comatose

Ning Yizhuo x Reader

Synopsis: you and ning have been best friends ever since you could remember. but she’s been distant lately, and you can’t help but wonder where does she go to every single night.

Warnings: cnc (? maybe?). smut. nsfw.

Word count: 4.8k

Notes: I’m trying to get into darker themes for 2024. writing different prompts, challenging myself. I apologize if I it’s off putting. pls say something if it is!

Ning Yizhuo was a good girl.

She never skipped classes, never talked back or raised her voice at elders, never missed a day of bible school, and never forgot to flicker the lights in her room whenever you were going to sleep.

Yet, she earned for more.

She was ambitious. Has always been, ever since she was a little girl. She’s had this feeling in her chest for ages, a clear warning that she was born in the wrong place: she didn’t belong in this small town, surrounded by rich fuckers that did nothing but label people and gossip all day. She was more than a close-knit community that lived off balls and charity events to make up for the fact that everyone who lived there were scrumptious, vile people. Those people did not represent herself at all.

Someday, she’d be truly free of the chains that tied her to this place.

For now, she was content enough with adjusting the helmet in her head, hopping on her bike to seek things that would make her forget about the life she lived, even if just for one night.

—

“And where is Mrs. Yizhuo once again, Y/n?” Your teacher’s voice echoed harshly from behind you, as you positioned your hands on the piano to start your lesson for the day.

“She’s sick, Mrs. Lee.” You straighten your posture, hoping to get more credibility. “She took many meds this morning. I think she’ll be sleeping all day to recover. I’m sorry.”

The teacher gives you a knowing look, but says nothing once you begin to practice the same songs over and over, until your fingers hurt from the repetitive movements.

You send Ningning several messages as soon as the woman looks away. She’s your best friend, of course you’d cover for her even without her asking for it. Although you don’t think she cares, anyway.

She’s been acting so different lately. Like somebody else; a different girl, different person. It was as if you didn’t know her at all.

You’ve been next-door neighbors ever since you could remember, always there for each other. That, along with the fact that your parents are part of a close-knit friend group that has been friends ever since high-school, made it easy for her to be your other half, your soulmate. Her house was right next to yours, and you’ve developed a habit of checking if her room had the lights on whenever you were anxious. Ning was your best friend, and you did everything together: from hanging out at each other’s houses to attending choir and piano lessons every single day.

That was until she changed. Suddenly, she was distant: disappearing out of nowhere, not answering any of your calls and texts all day and coming back dirty, sweaty and breathless — her hair stinking with smoke. The only thing you could rely on was the flickering of her bedroom lights, every single day when the clock hit your bedtime. You were rigid with your routine, and Ning knew that. She’s never missed it, and it comforted your heart, somehow. To know that deep inside, she was still your Ningning.

You often had to make up lies wherever you went, making up endless excuses for her absences, but at some point, it got unsustainable— she stopped showing up, without saying anything to anyone. Ning wore all black, with tight skirts and black stockings, and often had a bored look on her face, silently challenging anyone to come at her and say something.

No one ever did, obviously. People merely stared as she passed by, disdain etched on their faces.

You knew she hated living in a small city, although, you didn’t mind living so yourself. There was something comforting in knowing everyone, and oddly enough, you felt safe to feel there was always a pair of eyes watching out for you — not watching you, no. Well, people could do that, too: be excessively mean and controlling at times, but you know how to set your boundaries well. You played your part, being a former straight A student who was now attending the local university, with plans to join your step-father at the architecture company he owned, once you were done with your studies. You had been the perfect little debutant, and could always be found next to your friends or your parents at the charity events and lavish galas hosted by the community. You couldn’t say it wasn’t suffocating at times, but it wasn’t like you completely hated it.

Clearly, you were unable to say the same for Ningning. What had stirred this change inside of her? Your chest burned every time you thought about it, eager to know. You yearned to be a part of her life again, yet a small part of your brain was too afraid to ask her about it, knowing she’d answer you wholeheartedly.

You hated the change. You missed your best friend too much. You missed the old her.

The Ning who would flick her lights to let you know she was there, whenever it was time for you to go to sleep. The Ning who let you cry on her shoulder for hours at your grandfather’s funeral. The Ning who would attend the school games to see you cheer, who stood by your side when your dad left, and who washed all of your fears away when your mother remarried.

That was your soulmate; the Ningning who was always there for you. Not the reckless girl with a blank face who didn’t seem to care about a single thing.

Although, you were beginning to think you did not know her at all.

—

“Can I come?” You ask, trying to suppress a shiver as the wind blows cold against your body. It had certainly not been the best idea to wear a white, short dress with even tinier undershorts and boots in autumn, but you couldn’t think about anything else to put on.

With only a leather jacket to warm off your body, your eyeliner, smudged, dark makeup and heavy jewelry mirrored the girl standing in front of you, and you can’t help but smile.

You’d fit in well.

“Excuse me?” Ningning exclaims, frowning in disbelief.

“I want to come with you.” You repeat yourself, holding your own hands nervously. “You’ve changed, Ning. I’m not stupid… I just want to understand. Would you show it to me, please?”

You hate the way she’s looking at you, like she’s still deciding whether to allow yourself into her new world. You also hate the way your voice cracks, always vulnerable when it comes to her.

After minutes of staring, Ning decides to give you a chance. Shrugging, she leaves you alone on the sidewalk as she returns to her garage, shoving a helmet into your chest.

“Fine. But say anything funny, and I’ll leave you there alone. Got it?” You nod, trying not to feel hurt by her indifference towards you.

After a few clumsy attempts, you manage to hop in on her fancy bicycle, hands trapped tightly on her thin waist. You often spied on Ning going out with a dark motorbike you were sure her parents hadn’t bought her. However, as the two of you go at full speed through the night, you feel like you understand her a little better: it’s so freeing, to just ride on the freeway as the wind messes up your hair. You laugh, hugging her tighter, the only thought crippling your mind being over how beautiful the moon looked in the cloudless night, alone in all its glory.

Before you register, Ningning parks her bike carefully. If not for the fact that the place was absolutely crowded, you wouldn’t be able to tell this was the place she’s been sneaking out too frequently. It’s simple: just many cars parked in a circle, occupying the large freeway as people stand against them like ants. You guess someone must’ve blocked the way so no unwanted cars would drive by, but that was a lucky guess.

Nevertheless, you’re struck by a sudden heat wave — being surrounded by a fairly large, energetic crowd was enough for you to feel your face getting warmer, much to your liking. The atmosphere was lively, electricity hanging in the air almost palpably. It was as if everyone were anticipating, waiting for something, and you were nearly sure Ning was involved in that.

“There.” She motions to the right area of the crowd, waving at someone unknown to you. “Let’s go.”

You try to act cool as she grabs your hand to guide you through the crowd, failing terribly. The truth is, it’s been months since she’s talked to you, touched you properly. Perhaps you missed Ningning much more than you could admit, judging by the serotonin boost you’d gotten by a mere touch from her.

Ning stops in front of a black Dodge, where three girls stand with bored looks. They’re all wearing black and red, in some sort of subtle color coordination. You notice Ning’s outfit follows the theme, too, her crimson crop top standing out from her black pants and leather jacket.

“You’re late, Ningning.” Giselle says, not bothering to look at you as she chews on her gum, hands brushing her hair ever so flawlessly. She’s beautiful — they all are, and there’s something in the way they pose; as if they’re royalty around the place.

“Hello to you too, Gigi.” Ning answers her, not affected by her dismissal in the slightest. Your best friend gestures to the other girls, then, giving your hand a squeeze. Even though it wasn’t needed anymore, she was still holding on to you. “Those are Karina and Winter.” They bow slightly, acknowledging your presence. “Girls, this is Y/n”.

The trio share a knowing look at the mention of your name. As if a spell had been cast upon them, the girls are all over you, swirling, giggling and speaking all at once.

“It was about time we met you, Y/n”. Winter giggles, resting her head on Karina’s shoulder.

“Right?” Giselle shakes her head, suddenly interested in the conversation, with her condescending tone. “Took Ningning long enough to bring you to the Underworld.”

The Underworld. The name alone is enough for you to shiver, shrinking under your oversized jacket. Like a reflex, you turn to your best friend, brows furrowed and mind seeking for answers. “The Underworld?”

As soon as she opens her mouth to explain, she’s dragged away by Karina, who sighs. “Tell her all about it later, Ningning. Giselle was right, you really are late, and we have to enroll you in today’s race right now.”

Ning stares at Winter with a serious look, waiting until the bob-haired girl nods to leave. “Take care of her while I’m gone.” Shooting you an apologetic look, Ning follows Karina to the heart of the crowd, not at all uncomfortable as you lose her amidst the sea of unknown faces.

You’ve been warned about such places before, ones where people go to lose themselves and do things they shouldn’t. Even though it’s dark, you’re able to see what every group is occupying themselves with, always good to notice details in a crowd. Some drinking, smoking, others doing drugs that were too explicit for such an open space. Many people acted borderline pornographic, too, engaged in heavy make out sessions and touching places that had you looking away, too embarrassed to lurk.

“I’ll go breathe some air.” You tell Winter, who’s now sitting on the hood of the car, furiously typing on a computer as big as her head. She must’ve grabbed it from the passenger’s seat while you were busy looking around, horrified.

You expect her to protest, specially since Ning had been clear in her words, but the small girl doesn’t even look at you for more than three seconds before answering, still heavily focused on the screen that lights her face. “Okay.”

Before she’s even finished, you turn around and dodge people as best as you can, barging towards the woods located on the edge of the road without hesitation. You walk until the lively event is just a faint noise, crippling your ears like a bug on a hot, sticky day.

Now, being able to breathe the cold air properly and free from the demons of the night, you try to understand your best friend. Ning has always been a free spirit, independent and strong-willed. But, while her wild nature did stir up some trouble in your community, she’s always been welcomed and loved. That’s how a family worked, right? You might fight, but you also sort things out, eventually.

The sound of dry leafs being stepped on startles you, but you’re soon at ease once you see Ningning’s silhouette coming out of the darkness. She sits by your side, both looking at the moon instead of facing each other.

She must be afraid too, you reckon. Of you judging her choices, turning your back on her like her family did, the moment she changed her attitude.

Well, you did judge, but you’d never leave her alone. You love her too much to do so, even if you couldn’t quite understand her ulterior motives.

Ning looks beautiful under the moonlight, her long hair shiny as she plays with her own fingers, hesitant to speak up. Her hair is one of the last things she’s kept true to herself after this sudden change. You let your hands run through, reminiscing the times when, not matter how impatient, she’d let you comb and style it.

Such memories must’ve been going through her mind, too, in a reassurance of the bond you shared. Gathering courage, she turned her face to you, smiling faintly.

“Ilegal fights and street races. That’s what we do here in the underworld, that’s what it’s about.” Ning keeps you from interrupting her, already aware of what you’re going to ask. “I’ve seen people do some darker shit, yeah, like drugs and stuff, but the girls and I stay far away from that. It’s not something you can deal with without falling into a hole, you know. And I’m not trying to dig myself a grave or anything.”

You breathe in deeply, acknowledging everything she’s said. It’s like you’re walking on thin ice: one phrase worded wrongly, and she’d shut herself off from you for good.

So you choose the safest route. “And… the girls? You, hm, you all race?”

Ning relaxes instantly at your words. Her shoulders fall off, glad you didn’t start screaming at her or try to brainwash her guts. She expected a far worse reaction.

Shaking her head, her tone is a little more excited as she answers. “I’m the only racer of the group. Giselle fixes the mechanics, Winter does the stats, and Karina handles the bets and closes off the deals. They are my girls, Y/n. My family.”

You stand up, unconsciously walking around in little circles as you try to think of the right words to not scare off your best friend. The truth is, this whole Underworld thing was not only scary — it terrified you to know Ning had found herself in such a place. She needs to think through all of this situation, and realize she’s losing herself badly, walking into a path set for destruction. She needs help, and she so desperately needs to come to her true senses. You have to save Ning from herself, and you’d do just that.

“We’ll take you back.” The words come out without you really thinking them through, not at all as careful as you wish to be. You turn around completely to face Ning, only to find her already staring, her big eyes as cloudy as ever. “We know you’re sorry, Ning, it’s ok. Just… let us go back, then it will all be just like before.”

She lifts her brows and takes a few steps towards you, not stopping until you’re trapped, back hitting the trunk of a tree.

“I’m not sorry for what I’ve done, Y/n.” She’s angry, and you hate seeing her mad. Specially at you. Ning never got mad at you. “I’m sorry that we were born in this shitty ass town with so many rich fuckers, and I’m sorry that stupid community has brainwashed you so much they can control you as they please. I apologize for being distant because I know it hurts you, but besides that, I’ve done nothing wrong.”

She’s breathless from speaking with such fervor, both of her hands placed on each of your sides so you have no way of escaping.

And even though you gulp, you force your body to not have any fear. It’s Ningning: your best friend, your soulmate. She’d never hurt you.

She’d never.

“Ning.” You look down, failing to hide the tremor in your voice. “Ning, let me go.”

Something in her eyes shift the moment she noticed the fear in your voice. Her pupils are wide blown, and her smile is just wrong, staring at you from head to toe. Suddenly, you’re hyper aware of the wind messing with your very short dress, and how hot you feel, despite the cool weather.

Somehow, you get the feeling she’s thinking the same thing, too. Time stops as her eyes fall to your lips, and she’s on top of you in a blink. Kissing, tugging, licking… Ning’s desperation is something you can taste, and it’s written all over. This kiss is not like the sweet, chaste experiences you’ve had before. Ning kisses you like a woman starved, taking until there’s no air left, and your lungs are burning, claiming for relief.

Her kiss is venomous, so sinful you fear what you’d do if you experience it again.

“W-what the fuck, Ning! Why’d you do that?” You manage to say, crossing your arms over your chest to try to get some distance between you. “This wrong, Ning. This isn’t y—”

“Did they send you here?” She ignores your words completely, hands assaulting your body as you try to move against her. “Is that it? Are they that fucking desperate, really?”

Perhaps you’re weak, or maybe she’s been putting some work in the gym, but the truth is she doesn’t move an inch, no matter how much try to pull her away. If anything, it only brings her closer to you, that wicked smirk still on her face.

“What? They… no! Of course not. I came because I want to understand you.” Her accusations hurt, even though you know she’s not entirely wrong.

The truth is, Ning’s too smart for her own good.

Surprisingly, her fingers are delicate as they brush one of your shoulders, playing with your dress sleeve before letting it slide midway, enough for it to expose yourself to the dark night. You shiver, not only due to the winds that cause your nipples to harden, but also because of the girl who stares at you like she’s gone mad. She’s salivating, and you watch her every breath until she lowers her head and latches her mouth onto one of your boobs, her teeth teasingly picking on your nipples.

It’s as if you’ve been electrocuted. Your back arches, and you try even harder to let go of the hand that’s keeping yours clasped together so tightly it hurts, but you can’t set yourself free. Did her touches always feel like that? So wrong, yet so… good, you look forward to more?

“Stop, p-please. Ning, my b-boyfriend…” It’s all you’re able to mutter, choosing to keep your mouth shut. You’re too afraid of the sounds that might come out of your lips if you continue speaking.

You’ve never felt like this before. This tingling sensation, erupting to all your body — specially to your core. The warmth that eloped your body like you were too close to the sun. It felt good, Ning’s touches are so good you itch with need.

It’s no surprise you’ve touched yourself before. You were no saint, either. However, it has never felt anything close to that. You would never be able to mimic Ning’s hands, cupping your breasts, pinching your waist, forcefully opening your legs to keep her knee seated between them… all while still trapping you, the burning sensation in your hands serving as a lively reminder of the situation you were currently in.

“Your boyfriend, yes. That fucking idiot.” Ning’s hands go straight to the hem of your shorts, forcing them down. “He’s never touched you like that, right Y/n? Surely, you’d tell me. I’m your best friend, after all.”

Tears start to cloud your vision as her hands pull down your shorts, fingers going all the way under your dress to find the bare skin of your abdomen. She scratches it slightly, even though you find yourself still struggling vigorously against her touches.

“Ning, you don’t know what you’re doing. I’m sorry, please s-stop…” Ning huffs, annoyed by your attempts to get her off you.

“No, Y/n. I know exactly what I’m doing.” She laughs as her teeth scratch your shoulder, and then she bites. It’s so unexpected you scream, ashamed to admit that her harsh touches are the reason your insides are embarrassingly wet. “I bet you’ve touched yourself thinking of me, too. God, Y/n. You act like you’re this good little example to others, but I know you better than anyone. You’re such a dirty, hungry whore.”

Ning’s wet mouth leaves a trail of saliva on your skin as you stop moving against her chest. Instead, you let your head rest on the corner of her neck, biting your mouth so hard you feel the metallic taste of blood in your tongue. Ning notices it, too — her eyes have never stopped observing you attentively, not from the moment she’s met you for the first time. Grabbing your neck possessively, she pulls you in for another hungry, aggressive kiss, her tongue forcing its way over your mouth until your taste was all hers to delight herself with, too.

Without an alibi to hide your pleasure, you moan against her lips, chest moving rapidly with the adrenaline. You feel her smile, too.

This doesn't seem right, in any way. Your best friend, forcing you to surrender against her wishes and talking to you like you were nothing… it is all wrong, deeply wrong.

But why is she making you feel so alive? Why is the burning sensation that expands over every inch of your skin so addicting?

If it’s so wrong, why does it feel so good?

“Does he touch you like this?” Ning asks with a sultry tone, as her fingers toy with your folds. The anticipation drives you insane, only intensifying your arousal. You gasp at the sensation of her fingers in your cunt, hovering and so close to where you need her. Your silence irritates her, clearly. “Answer me, whore.”

Her hands, God — her hands leave your cunt so quickly and reach out for your throat, squeezing on your pulse point with such precision you nearly cum on the spot. You feel lightheaded, unable to think about anything but how alive Ning makes you feel. In fact, it’s her touches that ground you again, reminding you of what is happening.

She kisses your jaw, her tone dripping with fake-sweetness as she murmurs. “Tell me what I already know, Y/n. Say it.”

With that, you’re aware of your current situation: Ning’s getting inside your head, distracting you with pleasure until you’re dumbed down enough to surrender to her wishes.

When did she become so evil?

“Stop— touching me.” You say, turning your head away from her. Still, you can’t help but obey, even though your voice is barely audible as you add. “You know the answer, already.”

Ning’s hand slides through your body, taking her time to grope, scratch and pinch as she pleases until she’s cupping your cunt again, her motion too sweet for the harsh way she’s been acting towards you. Two of her fingers go to your slit, taking all the air from your longs as she shoves them in and out slowly, savoring the sensation both for herself and for you. And you’re wet— so much her fingers slide easily, despite your lack of experience. It’s as though time had stopped: the animals have stopped making noises, the wind has stopped humming and all the people at the street have quieted. All you can hear is Ning’s breathing, just as erratic as you, and the lewd sounds coming out from your cunt.

It feels so good, you wonder how you've lived all this time without Ningning touching you like that. Like you were a secret gemstone she was more than ready to unravel.

“If you want me to stop touching you, then why are you so fucking wet?” She asks, cocky as you whimper under her. Your legs feel like jelly, and suddenly you’re so glad for the tree you’re relying on, and Ning’s leg between your thighs, forcing them open. “No, Y/n. You know damn well what you want. You’re just too stubborn to admit it.” Her following words are what break you. As your thumb meets your clit, she adds, “You’re as rotten as me, filthy girl. I just choose not to run from myself anymore.”

You want to deny it. There’s nothing more you want than to pull Ning back and scream at her face, talking about how insufferable she’s become and how much of an asshole she was. But your brain has long been turned into mush, focused on only one thing: gathering the crippling sensation that was forming in your lower abdomen and let it explode, turning it into a mind-blowing wave of pleasure. It’s all you’ve ever wanted: to cum. Nothing else really matters.

You don’t even recognize yourself, clinging onto Ning as if your life depended on it. Her skilled fingers don’t stop their motion on your slit as her thumb applies more pressure to your clit, circling it harshly, so fast it makes your eyes roll to the back of your skull with pleasure. It feels unlike anything you’ve ever felt before: every inch of your body boils, and you’ve never wanted so bad to just explode.

Faint screams fill the background, with Ning’s name being called repeatedly, surely from the girls looking for her. However, you don’t pay them any mind. The only sounds coming out of your mouth are loud, sinful moans — the most beautiful melody to Ning’s ears.

“N-ning…” You whine, carving your nails onto your best friend’s skin. Sweat gathers in your forehead as you feel your orgasm close, but you’re too stubborn to say anything to her.

Ning knows you well, though. Your muscles tense, and you cum as she keeps her strokes hard and fast, just what you need to explode into waves of pleasure. It hits so good you scream, legs shaking as she holds you as if you weight nothing, keeping you from falling onto the dust. White dots dance around your vision, fireworks exploding inside you as the orgasm washes through your body, in rhythmic waves of pleasure.

It was borderline addicting.

“Ningning! There you are, fucker. We’ve been looking for ages.” Karina’s body appears from the darkness, her impeccable frame easy to distinguish from anything else. You’re so fucked out it takes you a few seconds to register her presence. By then, Ning has already covered you, adjusting your dress back on with precise movements. “Don’t be irresponsible just because of some pussy! You’re up in five, come on.”

You don’t miss the way Karina’s eyes stare at your body, not an ounce of shame in her pretty face. However, you don’t feel ashamed to have her attention on you. If anything, you can feel your face blushing, your body slowly feeling hot again.

Lust is a dangerous thing, indeed.

Ning doesn’t miss Karina’s cue either, judging by the way she scoffs. Dismissing her with an annoyed tone, Ning mutters, “I said I was coming.” She gestures to the trees and the wild bushes, then. “You can lead the way.”

Karina laughs, not missing her last opportunity to address you, as she turns around and waves. “Bye, Y/n. I hope you’re around more often.”

You giggle, too, amazed by how she camouflages herself so easily, lost amidst the night and the forest.

Still, the girl in front of you captures all of your attention. Like always, she’s already staring, her brown hair messy from your making out.

“This is the real world, Y/n. I’m not going back.” She says, not leaving any space for discussion. You know that tone too well; Ning’s already made her choice, and it wasn’t the one you wanted her to pick. With big, sad eyes, she adds, “I wish you would free yourself, too.”

Her delicate tone breaks your heart. Deep down, you know she means it. Ning’s following what she believes in, and she wishes she could share her world with you, too.

She walks away without looking back, sure of who she was and what she wanted for her future.

With a heavy sigh, you follow her towards the highway once again.

You’d follow her through it all.

[indecisivekitty]

These Threads of Crimson

Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley x reader

wc: 1,552

genre: Soulmate AU/One-shot

warnings: maybe the slightest of angst if you squint??

“That red string you see wrapped around your ring finger leads you to your soulmate.”

That’s what you get told when you’re a kid.

Grownups were always constantly excited about telling you about how this soulmate-string thing worked and how they then went on to find theirs. Yet there were also lots of people who didn’t care about the concept of it and ignored it entirely, going on to be with whomever and live their lives however they please without knowing their soulmate at all. Though there were still many who enjoyed the idea of having a soulmate and went on to follow where their string led to the best of their abilities.

Additionally, the string was only visible to you and your soulmate and wasn’t tangible at all. Yet on occasion, there were instances where the string tugged at you—not as forceful as someone pulling you, but nonetheless, you could still feel something when it happened.

Growing up, you also learned that those momentary tugs happened when your soulmate was very distressed or perhaps burdened with a heavy weight. The worse the stressor, the stronger the pull of the string. People have come to say that the string tries to pull you to your soulmate when they feel this way so you can be there to comfort them—hence why it tugs at you during their worst moments.

Hearing that while getting older always made you frown. You felt lots of tugs when you were little—maybe 5 or 8? So you often wondered how old your soulmate was and hoped that he wasn’t that young to have had something tragic happen to him. Assuming it was a man.

You also constantly heard the discussions from kids your age about whether finding and being with your soulmate was worth it. There are many arguments for "It is worth it! It’s your soulmate!” Or, “Can’t I choose who I want to be with? Why do I have to follow some string?”

You quickly decided there was no wrong or right answer. The string only binds you to your soulmate but doesn’t force you to have any obligation or romantic feelings towards them. Soulmates don’t necessarily have to be romantic, right? But you guess that having a romantic soulmate would still be nice regardless. You sincerely hoped that was your case, having your soulmate be the person you end up with.

You looked at the sign of the pub you were outside of. Blowing out a breath, you prayed that whoever was inside felt the same way you do. That they don’t see soulmates as some sort of burden, and no matter what the outcome of this night was, they’d give you some sort of chance to be in their life.

You did come all this way to find them, after all.

Simon wasn’t sure of his opinion when it came to the string tied around his finger. He didn’t care to dwell on it much. Why would he, when he had other important things to place his attention on?

In a perfect world where he lived a perfect life, he would try to find his soulmate. That was something he was sure of, but in this lifetime? He assumed it was too dangerous if he had someone outside of work, plus he wasn’t exactly sure he deserved to have one.

That being said, he finds himself frowning at the string, wondering why it feels tighter all of a sudden. It didn’t feel like those occasional tugs that it would do; the string felt like it was shorter, even more so as the seconds went by. Simon narrowed his eyes at the string as he suddenly felt uncomfortable.

“Do you ever forget you’re wearing your balaclava while you go to drink?”

Simon looked from his finger to turn his attention to Gaz, raising his brow at the question (not that anyone could really tell anyway). “Once maybe.”

After replying to Gaz, Soap came up to the two men sitting at the bar to clap their shoulders, smiling ear to ear as he drunkenly spoke. “Oi, LT! ‘Member tha’ one time ye drove—got ye drivin’ lessons fer next week!"

Ignoring Gaz’s laughter, Ghost sighed. “And you really think I’d go to that?”

Soap shrugged. “Werk on yer drivin’ fer the future. Come in handy if ye ever have a bairn.”

Ghost shook his head as Gaz got up to put an arm around Soap’s shoulders. “You’re pissed out your mind, so let’s have you sit down, yeah?”

“Pssh… Nawt tha’ plastered,” Soap mumbled, stumbling seconds afterwards. “…Nevermin’.”

Watching the sergeants go, Simon turned his attention to surveying the pub. The string wrapped around his finger was starting to agitate him, his leg bouncing up and down as his eyes darted all over the room. He couldn’t figure out why.

But it quickly became clear as his gaze landed on your figure.

Narrowing his eyes, he figured he had to deal with this problem before it became something bigger—before it became anything at all. Finishing off his drink, he stood up and began his way towards you, trying his best to mind the people around him.

You blinked, a bit dazed, at the huge man heading in your direction. He’s your soulmate? When you walked into the pub, you let the string guide you in his direction and immediately knew who he was without looking at the string for confirmation.

The way he was approaching you felt like you were being stalked by a predator. He moved with ease despite the many people around, but you suppose it isn’t that hard when you’re as confident in your steps as him. It was odd to see your soulmate in person. You weren’t sure if he was what you expected. Then again, what did you expect?

Finally standing in front of you, the man wearing the balaclava tilted his head slightly at you.

Glancing anxiously to the ground and then back to him, you weren’t exactly sure what you were supposed to say now. “Hi, I’m-“

“Follow me,” he said, cutting you off.

Confused, you opened your mouth to ask, “Sorry, what?”

“Follow me.” The man pocketed his hands in his jacket, glancing towards the entrance of the pub, and gave one last look at you before he headed towards the door and left.

Feeling lost, you looked at the rest of the pub before turning back to the exit where he went through. Sighing, you quickly started to follow his empty path. You figured you already made it this far to find him, right?

 

 

 

You find him not too far from the entrance, leaning against the brick wall of the building beside the pub. You watched as he eyed his surroundings, constantly scanning everyone and everything. Noticing you approaching, he stood up straight and took off his balaclava, shoving it in the pocket of his jacket.

He clenched his jaw while you took in his face. His features were rugged and angular; you thought he looked very masculine. He had the prettiest brown eyes and hair of the same color. You glossed over the scars adorning his face; you didn’t want to seem rude and stare at them (though you did find yourself feeling intrigued at the thought of studying them more closely).

You thought he was beautiful.

“Why are you here?” he asked gruffly.

You felt disbelief at his question, and you felt the tiniest bit of shame for trying so hard to find him. “Why am I here? No name, no introduction." He stared at you with crossed arms. You didn’t know why you were even trying to continue this conversation (or lack thereof) with him. “I’m… I followed the string because I wanted to find you.”

“And that was a mistake.”

You tensed, your gaze tightening. “A mistake?” You wrapped your arms around yourself to find some semblance of comfort, your hands clutching the material of your sweater. Exhaling rigidly, “We only just met, and it’s already a mistake?”

He looked like he was trying to figure out what to say next and what words he could say to ease the slight tension. His hands flexed absentmindedly; he wasn’t sure how to put into words his opinion of soulmates, and he didn’t feel confident enough in himself to bring up what happened when he was younger.

“I meant that with my work and how I’ve grown up, I’m not entirely certain it was worth it for you to find me,” he said finally. “So for your sake, maybe you should leave.”

“I’m not,” you sighed, cutting yourself off. “Look, I’m not asking for anything but to be in your life in whatever way. Acquaintances, friends, someone you only ever see at the pub—I’ve found you, and I’m not going to just leave.”

He observed your face, releasing a slight huff. “Stubborn.”

“So is this a yes to us being acquaintances?”

Eyeing the group of drunken people exiting the club, he gave a small nod. “S’pose.” He looked awkward, like he didn’t know how to proceed after you both reached some sort of agreement.

You were the littlest bit amused at seeing him look so out of place. "You never told me your name."

He looked back at you, feeling unexpectedly clumsy at this moment.

"Simon."

[themummersfolly]

Nonverbal Art

alt. title: Art Nerd's Origin Story

Anyone else ever wonder why Thrawn's interest in art focuses so heavily on sussing out the backstory of the artist? Yeah.

I have no idea how pediatric therapy works in real life.

-----

Vurawn doesn’t need a doctor to tell him he’s different.

There’s the whole talking thing, for example. Vurawn doesn’t remember learning to talk, even though he remembers Vurika and Mom says he didn’t start talking until after that. A lot of people still think he can’t talk, apparently, because he doesn’t do it very often. He’s not sure what the point is. He understands just fine, and besides, half the time when he does talk people get mad or start acting funny.

A lot of grownups think that not talking means he doesn’t hear either; even Mom and Dad forget sometimes. He overhears them talking about him. For a long time Mom thought he was stupid. It seemed to make her happy, for some reason. He doesn’t feel stupid; but then, he’s not sure if stupid and smart are things you can feel like. Vurika was smart, and they took her away and Mom was sad. Maybe if he’s stupid, he’ll get to stay and make Mom happy.

The army man said he was smart, when he gave everybody that test-thingy at school. But then he got into a fight with Teni the next day and afterward everybody said he was stupid. At least until the teacher made them stop.

No, he doesn’t need a doctor to tell him he’s weird, but here he is anyway.

He kicks his feet back and forth under the chair while he waits and thinks about the marker set Dad said he’ll get if he’s good for the doctor. He hopes there’s lots of orange markers. Orange is his favorite color right now. At school, there are fourteen different kinds of orange marker in the marker bin; he knows because he counted. First he lined them all up in order, then he put them in groups of markers from the same set and lined those up in order. Or he tried to, before the teacher yelled at him for hogging the orange markers.

He hopes he can be good enough to get the markers. Even when he tries to be good, he always does something wrong without meaning to.

“Kivu’raw’nuru?”

That’s his name. He hops out of his seat and follows Mom into the back office.

He likes going to this doctor, honestly. She never gives him shots or gets mad when he does the thing with his hands to feel better. There are toys, and neat pictures to look at, and lots and lots of markers.

He wanders around the room, looking at the toys while Mom talks to the doctor.

“-test scores are high, but the teacher says he’s behind in his social development. He rarely talks, he never looks me in the eyes-”

Dad thinks Mom wants there to be something wrong with him, at least he said so last night. Vurawn doesn’t know why everyone wants him to look at their eyes; it makes him as uncomfortable as when he has to not fidget.

The grownups finish talking and the doctor comes over to where he is.

“Good morning, Vurawn.”

It takes him a moment, but he remembers there’s something he’s supposed to do when people greet him.

“Hi.”

The doctor asks him questions; he’s supposed to answer with his big kid words, and he does. The doctor is happy, he’s doing it right. Maybe he will get that marker set.

“Vurawn, I’d like you to draw your family for me. Will you do that now, please?”

He’s not sure why she needs him to do that, but then he’s not sure why she asked all those questions, either. He does like to color, though.

It doesn’t take him long to draw everyone who’s important to him. When he’s done, the doctor sits down next to him.

“Tell me about your picture. Who’s that?” She points at the picture that is pretty obviously Mom. One by one, she points to each figure he drew and asks about it. Mom. Dad. Himself. The neighbor’s tooka. Vurika. He doesn’t know why she wants him to talk about them; most of the time when he talks about things he likes, people act like he’s doing something wrong and he doesn't know why. But the doctor lets him talk, so he does. It feels good to talk about things he likes.

When he’s told her all about his drawing, she picks it up and takes it over to Mom. He listens to them talk, and with no one to tell him not to, dumps out the markers and begins sorting them.

“-normal cognitive development for a child his age. But I think part of the issue is he misses his sister.”

That gets Vurawn’s attention. He’s not supposed to talk about Vurika; whenever he does, Mom gets sad and all the other grownups tell him he should be happy she gets to serve the Ascendancy. The doctor keeps talking.

“You see how much detail he put into her portrait; he clearly still remembers her, and remembers her well. Even as young as he was, her removal had a profound effect on him. That might be why he’s having difficulty adjusting socially.”

She can tell all that from his drawing?

“And here- this is your neighbor’s pet. She turns up in a number of drawings he’s done for me, so she’s clearly an important figure in his life. He may benefit from a therapy animal. If you can’t have one where you live, there are programs you can sign him up for-”

Every time he talks about Flower the Tooka, people look at him like he’s crazy! But the doctor had looked at his picture and understood immediately. Is that the secret? Can he really get people to understand him by drawing pictures for them?

And if it works that way, maybe it works the other way around, too. Maybe if he looks at pictures other people draw, they’ll seem less weird. Maybe the world makes sense if you draw it.

It’s like he’s spent his whole life in a dark, scary hallway, and suddenly, someone in a room nearby turns on a light. He decides to move toward it.

“Mom, I’d like you to draw a picture for me. Will you do that for me now, please?”

He’s been good all day, not just at the doctor. When Dad comes home, he has the marker set in hand, and the first thing Vurawn does is take it over to Mom.

She looks surprised, and he’s not sure she’ll go along with it. But then she takes the markers and flimsi and starts drawing. To keep himself busy, Vurawn picks up the pieces of the gadget she was working on and starts arranging them in order. They’re all very different, and it’s hard to figure out what order they should go in. Vurawn likes puzzles like this.

He’s just figured out where the big shiny piece should go when Mom slaps a marker down hard, puts her face into her hands, and starts shaking. Vurawn jumps. At first he thinks she’s mad at him for playing with her project. Then he sees that she’s crying.

“I’m sorry, Vurawn- it’s ok. I just can’t. You’re ok.” She doesn’t look up from her hands. Vurawn stands on his chair to look across the table at what she’s drawn.

It’s a grownup kind of drawing, much more complicated than his sensible stick figures. The face that stares out from the page is that of a little girl, about his age. It’s unfinished; Mom put the marker down before she colored it in.

“I’m sorry I got upset, Vurawn, I don’t know why I did that.” Mom wipes her eyes. Vurawn is still looking at the picture.

“It’s cause you miss Vurika.”

Mom freezes. He’s not sure if that means she understands, so he tries again.

“You’re sad cause Vurika had to go away. You’re scared that I might have to go away, too. But if I’m stupid, I get to stay with you, cause stupid people don’t have to serve the Ascen’a’cy.” He frowns at the tabletop, choosing his next words. “I can be stupid for you, Mom.”

He expects her to be happy at the offer, but instead she starts crying even harder. Vurawn feels the panic start to well up in his chest. He’s done something wrong again. Mom is upset, and Dad will be mad, and he doesn’t know how to fix it because he doesn’t even know what he did wrong-

Mom leans over and scoops him up in a hug.

“You’re not stupid, you’re a brilliant, brilliant little boy. I love you so much!” Her tears are getting his shirt wet, and now they’re both crying. “Don’t ever let anyone tell you you’re stupid! I just- I just want what’s best for you, even if you have to go away. My brilliant little boy!” She takes his face in her hands and makes him look at her. “If they chose you- I need you to remember. I love you so much, I’m so proud of you, and I don’t want you to ever look back.”

Vurawn doesn’t understand, but he nods his head because Mom needs him to. Then he leans into her shoulder and cries.

[wings-of-flying]

if you couldn't tell, i'm literally obsessed with niklaus hendrix and how he came to be who he is. so have this backstory fic thingie with all my theories/headcanons:

Your name is Niklaus Hendrix. You forget when and where you were born; you forget your mother’s name. You’re not even certain if your name was given or whether you chose it yourself. It’s all irrelevant. 

You were raised in an orphanage on an island that hasn’t existed for centuries. You left as soon as you could: no one wanted you there anyway. You snuck onto some ship and were thrown off at the first place they passed. Liquidis, though it wasn’t named that then. Someone found you, some member of the Temple of the Moon, and they took you to their church. They were kind, listened to your tale, to your wants. You wanted hope, to know you mattered somehow. They helped. You’ve long forgotten their name.

Back then, the Goddesses were far more willing to speak to their followers, far more benevolent and immanent. You called out for help and Lunadeyis answered. She heard your ambition and fed it. You were young and naive when you made your first deal: the deal that granted you magic. A promise to help her in the future in exchange for power. It seemed too good to be true.

You felt free. You developed your magic, growing in power and respect. You became widely known and loved, as you used your magic to help those around you.

RAFT was set up a little while into your youth. Pirates had grown too powerful, or so they said, and someone needed to enforce the laws. You didn’t mind them too much, until they started passing rules against certain arcane acts. Acts which you often indulged in. You decided then and there to ally with the pirates.

Years passed and the alliance turned into a union: you weren’t simply aiding the pirates, you were one. Captain Hendrix. The Captain without a crew. You played the part perfectly. So perfectly that they named you one of four Pirate Lords. Once again, your power and respect grew.

It was around then, when everything appeared to be going perfectly, that you realised something. Your magic was of a certain kind, a certain brand, that placed a finite limit on your abilities. As a warlock of Lunadeyis, your power is derived from the night sky in which the moon dwells. She named you her Wishing Star. Granting wishes, of course, is wonderful and useful, until you realise you can never grant your own, that your own ambitions and wants must be discarded for the sake of others’.

Perhaps you forgot, then, all that the adoration your powers brought had earnt you, all that you had to be grateful for. Perhaps you were blinded by greed and desire. Perhaps it doesn’t matter.

You concluded that if your Goddess could strike deals – giving a service in return for some reward – then so could you. You became distant and cold to everyone who thought they’d known you. Captain Hendrix was no longer known as a caring and kind hero, but a trader of wishes. That worked for a while.

But the issue with the trade was that you never got anything you actually wanted. The people that came to you had little to offer but flimsy promises and cheap trinkets. Anyone who would’ve traded in magic was often powerful enough to fix their own problems. Still you were dissatisfied. But you kept those treasures you were given, hoarding them. Not on your ship, like other pirates, but in a pocket dimension. Somewhere safe.

By this point, they stopped calling you Captain Hendrix. Another title was given: Wish Doctor. Quietly, they replaced you with a new Pirate Lord. Anyone who cared enough to know you stopped bothering to learn your name.

Time passed, as it always did. You grew restless. Tired. Bored. All you had was useless, worthless junk. Nothing valuable. Nothing you wanted. You didn’t have anything.

The deals became repetitive. The same old stories again and again: someone’s dying, save them; my people aren’t happy, fix it; I want power, give it to me. It was like being stuck in a time loop. 

You began forgetting names, forgetting faces. There was nothing more humiliating than being tricked within your own deal simply because you forgot the terms you’d set. So you started to write it all down. You kept a list of every deal you made, every person you encountered. And you started noticing patterns. Deals would connect together. A woman would come seeking aid for her sick brother, offering her most precious magical items in return. The brother would come by weeks later, recovered and seeking to repay his sister’s debt. Your deals weren’t isolated. They showed glimpses of a wider picture. It was exciting when you recognised names. Like it was telling a story.

Like it was telling a story.

An idea struck, somewhere along the line. You knew by now what role you played in people’s lives. You were the helper, both good and bad, both kind and cruel. But what if you could be more than that? Instead of merely helping the stories along, what if you shaped them, changed how they played out?

For the first time in decades, a smirk teased your lips. It would certainly be fun.

You began not only answering people’s pleas for help, but also seeking out deals. Choosing customers deliberately and becoming much more specific with your prices. Gold and enchanted things would no longer do. You set events into motion years before they happened by asking for a simple errand or whatever you had come up with that day. All the while you thought of the story, you thought of the world and the characters you were building. The hole in the sea was one you were particularly proud of.

Part way through your construction, some years before you sent the Midnight Rose to its doom, Lunadeyis called upon you. She gave no warning, no alert. She just appeared. You listened to her, but only because your deal demanded it. She spoke of a prophecy, and you were immediately intrigued. You had never heard of this particular one before, which was surprising considering its importance. She explained everything: the feud between moon and sun, sea and land; the battle over the rights to this world; the prophecy that claimed one Champion would finally put a stop to the arguments and choose between the land and sea. She told you that this Champion had been born, and commanded you to watch over him and ensure no harm came to him. You agreed. Partially because you had to. Partially because this was a story in itself.

You kept on with your plotting, all the while keeping an eye on the Champion’s advancements. Occasionally you interfered with him, arranging with his parents for them to hand him to the Elders (which was easier than you would expect) and keeping his sister away, but for the most part you left him be. You turned your focus to the Navy, setting everything into place there to ensure your chosen would do as you wished. A little death wouldn’t deter you from your plans. It hadn’t before.

Then the Champion was banished. You switched all your attention to him, immediately. You weren’t relying solely on deals anymore – you hadn’t been for a while – and so personally ensured he rose to the surface in a certain direction. Even when you ran into his sister, you carried on, passing it off as merely being in the area in time to save her from a leviathan (foolish girl, you’d thought to yourself, meddling with things more powerful than she understood).

It seemed a miraculous moment of fate and chance when your chosen three collided. You laughed to yourself, knowing that fate had no part in it.

Then came the waiting. You couldn’t control every element of the story, after all, else you’d tire of it quickly. It had to be new and surprising and real. So you waited, picking a nearby island at random, one you’d dealt with before, to ensure they needed your assistance (because you were never going to write a story in which you played no role).

You wait perhaps a week. But you know it was all worth it when you see them approaching your hut. When you call them in, announcing that only one could enter. When you face the Champion himself.

You grin your devilish grin. Now it begins.

[nightlight-writes]

Hello, if you write angst, may I request a any character you want x reader, where in the process of time travel, they lost reader. You can have any ending you want. It can be hurt/comfort or straight angst.

the time has come (Sonny Brisko x Reader)

Genre: Angst

Warnings: None, although this IS pure angst.

Disclaimer: All characters and events depicted are fictional, and are not intended to resemble real events or real people.

Note: Sorry for taking so long! This probably isn’t what you had in mind but I tried my best (๑•́ ω •̀๑) hope you like it!

“Sonny! Are you there?”

For a brief second, you could’ve sworn that you saw him standing near the window. Clearly, your appearance must have shocked him, for he hastily opened the door as soon as you rang the doorbell. You were then brought into a loose hug, the smile on his face ever unchanging.

“Hello! I’m sorry I couldn’t answer the door immediately. Is there anything you want to do today?”

“Well, what about you? You always seem like you have the whole day planned out, you know?”

“Ah, I was just wondering if we could go to the zoo! Oh, and maybe we can get some negi too. And then we can just spend the rest of the day here, just chilling and having some snacks. How does that sound?”

Immediately, you took his hand and rushed out, ready to start the day. A look of surprise appeared on his face, but since he didn’t forget anything he didn’t really mind.

You and Sonny arrived home several hours later. After placing the groceries you bought from the store on the table the two of you just watched the sunset from the window, its many hues giving way to the dark and cold night. Without warning, he wrapped his arms around you in a tight embrace, and the distinctive, yet muffled sound of sobbing came from deep in your chest.

“Please, don’t go!”

“…Sonny? What’s wrong? There’s no need to hide it from me.”

Upon hearing your response, he stood up and wiped the tears on his face with his finger. Yet, if you listened closely, the sound of sniffling could still be heard.

“I… There’s nothing wrong. People come and go all the time. It’s nothing unusual, really.”

“Are you moving out or something?”

“It’s… It’s more complicated than that. I don’t exist right now, and once I go back, you’ll never even know who I am.”

Sonny’s tears came back in full force as he prepared himself to reveal the truth.

“In short, I’m from the future, and by the time I’m born you’ll already be rotting in a graveyard somewhere.”

Your mouth was agape with shock as you tried to comprehend what he had just told you. Unbeknownst to you, his shoulders loosened and the expression on his face was less stiff than you’ve ever seen before, even if it wasn’t necessarily a happy one.

“Anyways, we should sleep. I’m getting really tired now. Can I hold you for just a second?”

You nodded, and Sonny carried you to the couch and placed you on his lap. This was the last time you’d ever hear the soft sounds of his breathing and his heartbeat, and the last time you would feel the warmth of his hand on your head and the softness of his lap. Around midnight, even those were gone, replaced by the feeling of a sleek, yet oversized jacket over your body.

Morning came. You were in an unfamiliar house, with someone’s jacket on top of you. There weren’t any huge cardboard boxes around, but it didn’t seem like anyone was living here either. Yet, the messy surroundings indicated that the owner of the house left in a hurry, without any time to take anything with them.

A camera was on the table. Curious, you picked it up. In it were pictures of you that seemed to be taken at the local zoo. Now, you’d never go to the zoo by yourself, but what was even stranger was the person standing next to you in the photos. He was far taller than you, almost dwarfing your small stature, and his hair was a very unnatural bright yellow. His eyes seemed to oscillate between blue and purple, with the exact hue changing in every photo. Whoever this was, you couldn’t recall seeing anyone in town with those exact features.

The door was already unlocked, and you walked outside, In the yard was a sign reading “House For Sale”. You had already guessed that the house wasn’t yours, but the sign raised even more questions. Surely, the jacket on top of you earlier and the camera full of photos had to belong to someone. The owner had put too many personal touches on their belongings for them to be for work purposes.

You then walked home, forever perplexed by the mysterious house. The next day, the family that moved in handed over that jacket and camera to you, but you denied that they were yours. Of course, you were the only person they knew that they saw in the photos, so they just left the mysterious objects with you until they could find more information about the owner.

To this day, you still wear that jacket. Nobody knows why you developed an attachment to it, but the scent just felt so familiar to you. Yet, it was also completely alien, completely new. You planned on returning it to its owner once you found them, but as the days went on it seemed you would never meet them at all…

[hekate1308]

Do You Know A Way Out Of Here?

Prompt: Do you know a way out of here?

Fandom: Supernatural

Pairing: Destiel

Now, Dean is not one of those people who doesn’t know how to party. You just have to ask Sammy to make sure of that.

But this…

He didn’t work so hard to go to college to spend his evening with over a hundred drunk and rowdy frat boys, no matter what anyone says. He only came by because they kept pressuring him anyway and he’s hoping they’ll stop once they realise he’s not a good fit, and he knew better than to take any of his real friends with because by god, he’s not forcing Charlie or Garth or Benny to deal with this.

He wonders what would happen if he just loudly announced he’s bi, but that’s definitely not a good idea and Sam made him promise to come back alive.

Yes, better just hang out for a bit longer and then leave. Perhaps play a few games. Charlie is up till dawn when she can get away with it anyway, meaning every day.

By now, most of the frat boys have realized that, for all his stunning good looks and his charming demeanour, they and Dean don’t really anything in common. So, he’s mostly left to himself, finishing his beer. Seems like he’ll be able to slip away soon enough. For now, he decides to down the rest on the veranda where it’s quiet and dark and he doesn’t have to deal with any drunk idiots.

It turns out he’s right about all three of those things, even though he doesn’t end up alone.

He’s been enjoying the air for a few minutes, all but done with his drink when a voice behind him says “Do you know a way out of here?”

He will always deny that he jumped because while he might not be a frat boy, he’s not a scaredy cat, either.

Dean turns his head and finds the hot guy he’s seen around campus. Granted, he probably has a name and all that, but this is how Dean refers to him when talking to his friends – because – that’s what he is. Dark hair, blue eyes…

He swallows but manages to answer. “Well, seems to me like you already found it – you just came through the door, didn’t you?”

He looks at him and squints (alright that shouldn’t look as cute as it does), then tilts his head to study him some more. “I did” he then confirms.

“Look at you. Now all you have to do is put one foot in front of another” Dean jokes, trying to figure out how to make the guy do anything but that because… he has been trying to gather the courage to talk to him from the beginning, and now here they are. He’s not going to throw away the opportunity, although he is really aware that when it comes to guys, he’s about as slick as the Sahara desert after a dry summer.

“That is probably sound advice.”

A moment’s pause. Then the guy adds, “You didn’t seem to be having a good time…”

Dean, who was busy taking the last sip of his beer in order to appear smooth, of course starts coughing at that but how could he not? Hot guy just admitted that he’s been watching him… which should be creepy but Dean can’t really complain because he has been watching him around campus so they’re even.

“I –“ he finally replied once he’s calmed down. “What can I say? Lots of drunken people shouting isn’t exactly my idea of a good time.”

“Mine neither, but my cousin’s a member, so he forced me to attend.”

“Sorry to hear it.”

And then his night changes.

“Oh, right now, I don’t find myself minding too much…” he says, looking Dean straight in the eyes, and while he might occasionally have missed the obvious clues that a guy was flirting with him (Benny has never allowed him to forget when he first met Aaron) there can be no doubt about what is going on.

He wishes he still had some beer left, but instead takes a deep breath and answers, “Funny, I was just thinking the same…”

And he actually looks up at Dean through his lashes, dear Lord.

Dean clears his throat and decides to take a gamble. “since you asked, I actually know the way out of here… want to accompany me?”

The guy seems taken aback, but only for a moment, then he smiles ever so slightly as he answers, “Yes, thank you very much.”

As they walk down the street, Dean being more than glad to leave the party behind him, especially in this company, he realizes something and says, “Dean. Dean Winchester.”

“Castiel Novak.”

A name as unique as the one wearing it.

Dean has an idea. “Say, how about we get a late night snack?”

As he enthusiastically agrees, Dean has no idea what has just begun, but he knows he likes it.

[socalwriterbee]

HC this!

Why is Ethan making this face?

This ask had me thinking of how in the world could I answer this!

Then I saw @creativepromptsforwriting blind date prompts and it clicked. I took liberty with prompt #10 and I came up with this little story.

Can anyone say Fake Dating Trope?!?!?!?! (At least to start)

Book: Open Heart

Pairing: Tessa Martinez (MC) x Ethan Ramsey

Rating/Warning: General

Word Count: 872

Summary: At the end of her rope, Tessa has something to ask Ethan. Can she get him to agree to this idea of hers?

A/N: Sorry in advance, this has not been proofread sorry for any spelling/grammar errors.

Some Characters/Settings/Storylines used or mentioned belong to Pixelberry

Hope you Enjoy!

🥰

“Ethan, I don’t know what else to do, I really can’t do another!” Tessa pleads, giving Ethan her best puppy dog eyes and pouting lips. “We don’t have to actually do it.”

Tessa shakes her head at how that must have sounded. “That’s—that’s not what, you know never mind about that. I can’t be set up again.”

Ethan contorts his face giving her the oddest side smirk as if he can’t think of anything that could be worse than agreeing to go on a date with his colleague but it was more than that, he was just waiting for Tessa to realize that. If word got out that they were going on a date, even a fake one whether or not they actually had to do it as she put would open a can of worms, a meeting with HR and so on.

That sounded like a headache.

“Give me more credit than that Tess. I know you meant going on the date with you.” Ethan’s mind wasn’t always wondering to those thoughts, the ones he’d keep buried deep inside until the day he died. “You must be really desperate if you’re asking me.”

Tessa hopes deflated at the tone of his voice and actually having to tell him that it was more than a date she was asking him for. She had to take baby steps before she gave him the whole plan she concocted the other night when her friends told her of the amazing guys that she should meet. 

It was like each one of them had someone waiting in the wings. Tessa knew her friends meant well, with setting her up on blind dates but every single one turned into a disaster. 

She was done with the dating scene, that was something she couldn’t tell her friends because she could already hear them, Sienna more then the rest of them, telling her that she just hasn’t found the right guy. 

Oh boy, Tessa had found the right guy but the guy couldn’t come to terms with someone actually caring for him. The man who showed her his feelings, the man she knew cared for others but was scared of being burned again by letting those feelings out.

So this whole dating not dating idea that came to her like a light bulb in the middle of the night was going be hard to explain but maybe not has hard with what she was trying to ease Ethan into agreeing. 

From where she stood it would be a hard no. The look on his face mere moments ago told her that much.

“Are you going to tell me what is running through that mind of yours.” There was this irritation that crept out of Ethan, it didn’t help that he was playing with his car keys as if he hurrying Tessa up with whatever she wanted to talk to him about. “I’m not a mind reader.” Ethan winced at the last sentence that left his lips.

An anger began to build within Tessa, frustrated with herself at thinking this was going to work and angry at Ethan for making her feel bad and not even being able to ask. “Forget it. It wasn’t going to work anyways.”

She turned her back to him muttering under her breath “I should’ve just asked Bryce.” As she took her first step back towards the hospital, Tessa felt a firm grip wrap around her arm, stopping her in her place.

“Don’t. Tell me.”

Three words.

That’s all Ethan said. He had an idea what Tessa wanted to ask him but he wanted to hear it straight from her.

“I’m done with the dating scene. I can’t possibly take another blind date, it’s exhausting and.. and— I was thinking that maybe you could help me. Like I said we don’t have to go on a date or anything, just make my friends think that we did and possibly have more dates down the line.” Tessa says releasing a deep breath.

There is a silence in the parking structure, Tessa waiting for Ethan to say something, to calm the rapid beating of her heart. To put her out of her misery and tell her that it’s a bad idea.

“What else?” Ethan asks, loosening his grip on Tessa and turning her around to face him. “Because if it’s just a date or two, your group of friends will go back setting you up and then we’ll become hot gossip of what went wrong and that is something that sounds a lot like a headache I don’t need.”

Tessa thinks for a minute, taking her bottom lip between her teeth. “You’re right it is a headache and will be one…” Ethan jaw clenched before Tessa could finish. “I was going to try and convince you to play along that we were in fact dating.” 

“And now you want to go ask Bryce to fake date you.”

Crossing her arms over her chest, Tessa blows away the strand of hair away from her face. “Well yeah. You clearly don’t want to and it was a stupid idea to begin with.”

With an eyebrow arched at Tessa, Ethan tells her “Where did you hear me say no?”

Thank you for the ask @txemrn I had fun writing this!

tags: @openheartfanfics @choicesficwriterscreations @cariantha @txemrn @issabees

[tuulikannel]

I should be working on Gifts, but somehow I found myself writing a new fic, and it's one of my randomnest crossovers ever. >_> I wonder if this thing will have any readers... ^^;;

And because right now I don't seem to be able to concentrate on even writing fics I shouldn't be writing, let alone those I should, I ended up doing something totally random. Here's a crappy edit for you. XD

I feel like Sai should be closer to Hikaru, but I was too lazy to put him partly behind Taka. Who, btw, is really taking a lot of room by that table. Good thing poor Hikaru fits into the pic! XD

ETA: added Kyoko to the pic cause she's missing from it.

Anyways, here's a snippet from the very beginning of the fic. As you see, we jump right away to the... is it the 5th day? This might yet be edited (a lot) before I really start posting this fic.

Hikaru stumbled sleepily out of his room, rubbing his eyes.

“Why do we have to get up so early?” he mumbled. “Isn’t it bad enough to be stuck in this crazy ass situation…”

7 am isn’t that early, Hikaru, the ghost floating behind him chastised him. And if you actually went to sleep after the night announcement, you would get plenty of sleep before morning!

“Is it my fault I can’t sleep with all this—!” He was cut short by a boy who suddenly rushed by them, nearly colliding with him. “Hey, watch it!” Hikaru turned to look after him, frowning. “Makoto? What is it?”

The other boy didn’t stop to answer but ran to his door and fumbled it open.

Did he forget something? Sai wondered, as Makoto frantically rushed into his room.

“Dunno.” Hikaru shrugged and was about to continue his way, when he noticed there was someone else in the hallway. Sayaka Maizono was standing by Makoto’s open door, staring inside with a mournful expression on her face.

Huh, where did she come from? Hikaru thought to Sai. He was sure there hadn’t been anyone else in the hallway.

As if hearing him, Sayaka turned to look at him. There were tears in her eyes. Hikaru barely noticed that, though. Instead, he stared with widening eyes at Sayaka’s chest, covered in blood.

He was still staring as running steps approached and others rushed by them too, entering Makoto’s room. Soon the school bell rang. Monokuma’s voice echoed from the speakers. “A body has been discovered…”

[zoropookie]

SWEET MELODY

☆ chapter fifteen — you need help (🎂)

Even if you felt an eery aura linger in the air, you counted on the warmer part of who you know to dispel it. Beidou was always that answer to you.

It’s been a while since you and her had some time to reflect on the weight of their shared past. The bakery was too busy nowadays to fathom the concept of meeting each other’s time together, any real conversation or emotions that wasn’t over text. Finding time was a simple rarity you didn’t even know you had, even lost in your own thoughts.

“You’ve got guts, kid,” Beidou paused, her eyes stared directly at the road, unmoving even once. She leaned back, the soft shuffle of her seat and clothes breaking the silence. Expression hardly there but a small smile, you turned towards her. “Not everyone is lucky to get this far.”

You looked back to the dashboard of the car, “I don’t think I’m following, I’m sorry.”

“When was the last time you got the chance to revisit your past…say, in a more effective way?” Beidou’s smile faded, more thoughtful and pondering. “Is that letter even helping you?”

You swallowed as the lump built in your throat. “Kazuha’s voice isn’t there anymore when I read it, but it’s still his handwriting.” You tried to rationalize, even though you knew Beidou was right. This letter was the only thing you could even date back to or his voice without revisiting baby photos and videos.

“I don’t know your situation,” Beidou said, still in mere wonder. “I don’t even know if this will help you in your hunt, but there’s a reason why you won’t go through your mom’s room. Don’t want to question it. I took the job of helping you out.”

“It’s okay, you were here when I needed it the most, I at least owe you an explanation.”

“Stop doing that, you owe yourself something none of us need, at the end of the day. When was the last time someone’s ever heard you out on how you feel other than your therapist?” Beidou’s tone was rough, but with little malcontent.

“I feel like that’s where I should put it anyway, all the meaty things,” You lowered your head. “It doesn’t take anything except my thoughts away, which was the point, I think? I don’t know…I think it’s better than letting someone else handle that baggage.”

Beidou didn’t answer you right away, allowing the silence settle between the both of you. A low hum of the car’s engine filling what was left of their thoughts. When she finally made out her words, she spoke quietly, almost contemplative. “You’re a very kind person to me. The least I can do for you is listen to what you have to say. It’s not like anyone else has the thought to.”

You didn’t know much about what people around you thought, having been so nestled in your own head that everything else you had going on seemed too much to ask from people. So as you began to hard focus on your thoughts, you began feeling the weight of grief settle over you. A heavy fog of regret, what’s been lost along with the heart you had, sharp and twisting in your wake, sensations that made it harder to forget now that it was back to the surface.

Your eyes welled, brain sending sharp signals to your fingertips, wet tear ducts, heart clutching in ruin. “Kazuha asked me…once she died if I wanted to leave her room alone or look through it so we could keep things in it. Looking at her room was really painful, but it was the way she left it and I didn’t want to change it. My mom really liked painting and would always paint every photo she took of us, even when the both of us wouldn’t pay attention to the photo. In those moments, mom would find strength to raise us again, even when she was still dying.”

Beidou reached over, hand finding yours on the console and giving it a squeeze of support. “We left it the way it was. I can’t go in that room ever again, not while she’s not there.” Your words poured out in liquid babble, unable to control your running lips. “I lost most of my forevers.”

Beidou squeezed at your hand ever so slightly after pulling up to her home, anchoring the weight of the situation with just a sympathetic sigh. “You’re too hard on yourself, kid. It’s disappointing,” She steadily said, “I just hope this tape makes you feel better.”

“Tape?” You blinked your wet lashes, looking up. You had to admit, your heart started sinking.

“Come inside.” Beidou could only answer with, opening the car door and locking it once you exited.

You weren’t a frequent guest of Beidou’s house, mainly because Kazuha was the sole one to come over here, but when you did have the access you venerated at the work. The home stood at a more narrow street and it was painted with a navy blue, almost black, the coating of the home standing proud and alive with the weathered fading giving it a story to tell. She walked you through the uneven path of cobblestone, moss lurking and steadily growing in the crevices.

Leading to the porch, a broad and sturdy platform that could have easily been the bow of an ancient ship dated back from centuries creaked under your feet. You entered the room to Beidou’s home, looking in amazement at tacked up world maps that were aging gradually in the living room. “Wow…” You couldn’t help but drawl.

“Like it? Things didn’t really change in the past few years, just got older.” She met in front of the shelves after setting her things down on the couch. Shelves crammed with books extending floor to ceiling, spines of the tomes cracked, faded. She took out a box, labeled with big red letters something you couldn’t exactly make out, but became ‘CONFIDENTIAL’ once she got closer.

“No, yeah! It looks amazing! Now I know why Kazuha always used to come here.” You chirped, admiring the work that was done compared to when you were last here. You sat down on the soft couch, your heart full in your body, but you didn’t know if it was from anxiousness or general expectancy.

“Here,” Beidou said, her eyes meeting yours with a more serious outlook. “Me, Kazuha, and a few other friends made this time capsule in high school. It was time to open it up, and…none of us wanted to touch his stuff, so we wanted to give his tape to you. He recorded it a long time ago, just thought maybe they’d help you remember some things.”

Your breath caught in your throat, fingers trembling while you reached your hand out to open the now cleaner box that was probably buried. You looked in, there were multiple tapes that he put in this box, some looking more wear and tear than others.

Fingers grazed against the plastic of the tape, with the words in your brother’s handwriting of his name. Beidou moved the old cassette player sitting in the corner for you to put it in. With a heavy heart, you picked up one of the tapes and entered it, deftly sliding it into the player and pressing play.

The TV lit up automatically, a moment of static in your veins, as your eyes glued to the screen. Your shoulders dropped at the familiar sight of your and Kazuha’s old school.

The camera in the moment was moving aggressively around until an unidentified voice started calling. “Kazuha, this is your tape! Say something funny!” The voice caught his attention on the screen.

His confused eyes looked around, almost expecting more of an answer. “Well, I need more than that. Give me something to make a joke about.”

“That’s the thing, it’s supposed to be on the spot!”

“I know nobody who’s able to make a joke on the spot without getting made fun of.” Kazuha replied, his soft voice ringing in your ears.

“You know damn well Kazuha has no capability of writing anything on the spot other than HAIKUS ABOUT LEAVES.” Beidou’s younger voice rang in the footage, “Leave him alone! Go find someone else to torment!” She said, her hand covering the screen.

“I DIDN’T EVEN SAY ANYTHING—”

The tape ended, your eyes were slowly filling with tears as you scrambled to take the tape out and put another one in. Each tape you watched, Beidou would make certain comments or give a laugh, letting you know of the good times they had, but all you could think about was how fortunate you were to be listening to these right now. Revelry of your brother’s successions, watching him to find a way to cope while he’s gone.

“(Y/N)! Li— listen to me,” Kazuha said in the tape, him looking at the screen while in the background there’s chaos of a New Year’s Eve party. It caused you to widen your eyes, distraught. He looked a little tipsy, his cheeks reddened in the video, but his look still remained soft. “You had a hard time tonight without your ex. You’ll be older one day. And when you do get there…realize that happiness is the most fundamental element of finding who you are. You are anything but a facade of the people who came before and after you, but an amalgamation of why you’re respected among many. Keep your dreams, keep your mind. You’re the strongest person I know…! I love you. Be that person through all tribulations.”

After that, Kazuha stared at the screen, spaced out from how much he drank at that party. But eventually someone called him over and he shut off the tape. Your body wracked into shambles, crying out after the tears built up so much in your eyes that you spilled oceans.

Everything, and you mean everything came back to you. You remembered the Sunday mornings that you two would take care of the old oak tree, you remember when your mother would join you two to bake tiny treats together, there was a rule in the home where if you wanted to have sweets you must make them yourself. You remember the laughs, the smiles, Kazuha’s joy seeing you, your mother’s joy knowing you were happy.

You remembered how soft Kunikuzushi used to be, even if it was a now fleeting memory in your heart. You had to move on.

You wailed once the tape cut off. “Beidou,” Your voice trembled helplessly, moving your body over to claw at her shirt, feeling yourself get lightheaded. “Beidou, we have to find him! We have to!” You panicked, shoulders shaking from how hard you cried. “He’s out there somewhere…he wants me to find him!”

Beidou sat there stunned as she wrapped her arms around you, who was clawing at her shirt valiantly. Steadying your shaking frame, she rested her chin gently atop your head. “Yeah,” She said, knowing the floodgates were opened at last. “We’ll find him.”

previous ☆ masterlist ☆ next

THERE ARE not many things that can sway your interest ever since the "incident", but in spite of that, you pushed forward. you are now the owner of the biggest bakery chain in your city, consistently seeing couples and catering to them as such. you've been a big host at weddings, events for celebrities, and even a big support for your friends and family. you've even earned yourself a niche following as well by how sweet you are to everybody around you. but, even with your kindness, you don't have a particular spark that keeps you going anymore these days. that is until one of your employees starts suggesting you write love letters to customers who request your services. at first you thought it was a horrible idea that could easily turn into trouble, but that was until you were tasked with writing one to your own (very very famous) ex-boyfriend.

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[pistolita-blog]

We have to talk

They say I have to talk to you

Take the reigns of the situation

Be mad

Be angry

Part of me knows they are right

A part of me knows that I deserve more

That I deserve better

A part of me is angry

But even that part of me is sad

Why does it always have to be so hard?

Why do I always have to be hurt?

How do I even talk to you?

What am I supposed to say?

‘Cause deep in my heart I know what I want to ask

But my rational brain says that I can’t

And, at the end, who’s right?

‘Cause I also know that my brain often lies

However, I’ve never let my heart decide

When I tried to listen to him, things lead me this way

They lead me to this moment where “we had to talk”

And I still don’t know what to say

You said you left because I deserved someone whole

I told you I didn’t, ‘cause I wasn’t whole myself

However, now, while I’m freezing at the thought of talking to you, I see some truth

I see some truth in the wholeness you speak about ‘cause even if that wasn’t what you meant

I realized I don’t like halfs

I don’t do half

That’s why I hurt

That’s why I don’t let people in

That’s why a part of me keeps saying I shouldn’t have let you in

Because once I make you a part of my life, you’ll be there forever

You’ll be in my heart

In the corner of my mind

You’ll be there at the kitchen kissing me

You’ll be there, in my bed, smiling at me

You’ll be there, combing my hair, saying you’re there with me

If I’ve never let you in, I’d be free to roam at my place and not feel pain

To spend the afternoon at my house leisurely

Without those intrusive thoughts of how much I need you where here

Of how, a few months ago, you would be here

Is true it wasn’t always roses

You probably don’t know but you always freaked me out

You freaked me out when things were ok ‘cause I knew you wouldn’t stay

You freaked me out when you were away ‘cause “see, that’s what I said”

After all, why would anyone stay?

How could anyone love someone so afraid?

It was a battle then and it’s still a battle now

To understand that it was your choice to leave

And it isn’t necessarily my fault

My therapist says I should stop looking for those answers

She says they might no even exist

A part of me wishes I could ask that to you

But it’s been two months

You kept your distance

My note unanswered

Your silence is your answer:

“I don’t want your love”

And I’ll probably never know the reason

What breaks me is that I tried to love you even though I didn’t know how

I allowed myself to think it would work out

I allowed myself to think “hey, she might really like me”

“Maybe I could have a peaceful love”

“Maybe I deserve some love”

And the worst part is that I liked it

Me, who always believed I didn’t need it

Now here I am missing you

Left with memories and questions and longings

But you’re not coming back

Are you?

Part of me hopes you do

Prays you do

‘cause honestly, I can’t picture this feelings with anyone else but you

On the side, people are telling me to forget you

That you’re not good enough for me

That you’re irresponsable

That you’re a player

They might be right

After all, you’re still walking with her by your side

You said so yourself you guys were never “not together”

And I remember seeing you wear a necklace with her initials before where broke up

I remember lying to myself that maybe I saw things wrong

What is going on?

Because at the same time I wonder if it was all a lie

Why did it felt so real?

Why did it felt so true?

What’s the point of deceiving so many people into believing that what you felt for me was real?

Anyways,

All of those things will remain in my head

They’ll remain in my heart

And I hope someday they won’t keep me awake at night

Now we have to talk and the only thing I can ask about is that Saturday

A week ago

When you came by my house and suddenly it was as if nothing happened

You were glued to me like you never left

Asked me to blow your eye and, damn, our faces were so close

Decided to teach me how to ride a bike

I wonder if you remember that

You had promised to teach me

When we were still together

On that first night you slept over

And both of us were happily nervous

But nothing breaked me more then that back hug

Out of nowhere

Away from home, away from the place were WE existed

In front of people who never knew US

That hug that you said to ours friends “it was just a hug”

But it wasn’t

You know it wasn’t

Why did you do that?

I could close my eyes to all the rest

Pretend it was a dream, try to overlook

But not that hug

Not your head on my shoulders

And your arms around my waist

We weren’t even talking

Still you crossed the way to hold me in your arms

And I felt lost

I felt lost, and confused, and sad because I’m trying to move on

I’m trying to let go without giving in to all those thoughts that say

“Everything is my fault”

“You weren’t enough”

“She chose someone better”

“My broken love wasn’t worth it”

Days of grieving and fighting myself just for you to destroy it in a less than a minute hug

It’s been a little more than a week now

Maybe I’ve lost my timing

Maybe you’ll say it’s all in my head

After all, it was only on that day

I’m afraid

I know I don’t deserve to be confused

I don’t want to be confused

But I also don’t want to let you go

Even though I know I should

Even though I have to

Loking backwards, it has been like this all the time between us

I always let you take the reings

I always give you the last word

Because I know you’ll runaway

I know you’ll evade me

And so the illusion can go on

Deep down I know that when I take the reigns

It will be to lead thigns to an end

An end where there’s no us

And I’m afraid of that

I’ve spent half a year trying to let go of my platonic feelings for you

I’ve failed

Will I ever be able to let go of real feelings then?

I know that if we talk my anxiety will blame myself for the outcome

The funny thing is that all the questionings I see my anxiety coming up with

Are about you

About how I made you feel

How you might decide to stay away from our friends

It’s ridiculous

I realize how dangerous those toughts are

I’m hurting and still what I care about is how to make things least torturous to you

I’m a mess

But anyways

We still have to talk

And I don’t know what to say to you

[diaryofanormalkid]

Lol my black history month’s going great 👌🏿😁

I just remembered some weird convo I had at work with a client. He goes “I’m so sorry if this is a stupid question—” pause, because I already know once you say that, it’s going to be stupid.

“—but, why are your knuckles so much darker than your hands?” 🤦🏿‍♀️ he REALLY got me there. If the emoji didn’t give it away, well by now I should let you know I’m a dark-skinned black girl.

So imagine my immediate embarrassment, discomfort and overall awkward reaction to this indeed stupid question. I actually looked down at my hand to see what he was talking about.

I promise you I stared at my hand for 10 seconds before collecting my answer because I didn’t even notice until he said that. I go, “you know what, I don’t know…” bc HOW THE HECK DO YOU ASK THAT?

I didn’t create myself sir?!! How am I supposed to conclude how my knuckles are darker than my hands. Then I wondered… isn’t everybody’s’? I continue with “I didn’t notice until you said that.”

Lol I was so shook that he had the audacity to ask that bc he wasn’t even a little bit worried that he could somewhat offend me, get called out, cancelled, looked at funny… nothing.

He had all the support he needed to ask that peacefully without getting hate bc everyone around him… looks like him. Not me. There’s only one other POC where I work, and he’s not black.

It was definitely a new low from the all sorts of questions I’ve been asked so far. As for black history month, the other POC and I haven’t had any mention of it at all this month.

I hardly think they care to consider any acknowledgement of the month at all. I wouldn’t be surprised. Perhaps I’ll hear a mention of it later in the month. However, it’s already halfway over.

I guess I’ll also point out that technically, more like literally, the other POC is African. His nationality is Moroccan. But I still think he’s considered Arab since that’s North Africa.

Tbh idk enough about him to know how he identifies. Plus he looks entirely Arabic to me, so I wouldn’t put it past him. Nonetheless, I sometimes feel like ppl test my patience too often.

It’s sometimes isolating having no confidant who gets what I experience or I can look to or talk with at times so they can understand my feelings. I don’t relate to a lot of the ppl I work with.

And that’s okay. For many reasons, I never would anyways. A lot of them are in different life stages than I am, or speak multiple languages, or own very nice things and have a family etc.

Do different things outside of work, believe different religions, drink, smoke weed, etc. so it’s hard to find a common ground with anyone, except for really simple things like food/clothes.

It pains me sometimes to be on such surface level convos when I’ve been here long enough to be past those things. It just feels like I’ll never get to a point where I’m comfortable with the full group.

And I have my days where it’s better, but I just hate being in the moment when i feel like I’m on the outside looking in. I’m not included and they don’t even try to relate to me or make convo.

You know when they walk past you just to start a convo with someone to the left or right of me. Or they speak in their language and forget i can’t comprehend or contribute.

Or when they always seem to not mention if they make outside plans with each other but leave me out bc we don’t have rapport like that. I tell myself I’m fine with it since I’m introverted anyways.

In a lot of ways, I genuinely don’t mind not being invited out because at least I don’t have to decline with a lame excuse and can remain in the comfort of my own home with my own company.

I can catch up on sleep, or shows, cook, or do laundry, or eat in silence. Do whatever I want. And not have to feel like I’m wasting my time by forcing myself to go somewhere “to socialize.”

I don’t have to be uncomfortable trying to fit in or act engaged in the conversation, or pretend like I can relate to anything they just said or even understand when they switch languages.

I can be myself and not have to mask like I do at work when I fake laugh at a really unfunny joke, or act super extroverted and social just to not seem like a party pooper or Debby downer.

Or force my smile in front of clients and coworkers so they don’t realize I’m having a really off day. I can wear my relaxing clothes, eat as many snacks as I want, sing as loud as I feel.

And sleep as late as I want. Or as early. But there’s always that feeling like I’m missing out on so much. The fomo. Just wanting to be invited. Included. Thought about. Considered. Something.

It’s so unfulfilling working at a place where you get little to no joy out of it bc not even the ppl can give you some peace of mind that at least if the job sucks, you have someone.

FYI. I don’t smoke.

[primusfortuna]

Scar ⟡ Beginning of a Bond (06)

[01] [02] [03] [04] [05] [XX] [07]

“The Dark Fairy Who Vanished”

——It’s getting close to the fireworks’ launch.

Daste and I were searching all over the venue for Scar after he suddenly disappeared.

Emma: Scar! Where are you?

Daste: Oi, Scar! Answer me if you’re here!

Daste: Don’t tell me… he couldn’t take it and went to go open up some random person…

Emma: No…!

Daste: Hold on, Emma. Can you just force him to come back using an order?

Emma: Y-You’re right…! I’ll try it now――

Child: ――WAHHH!!

Daste & Emma: !!

At the sudden sound of a child wailing, we instinctively exchange a glance.

Without wasting a second, we head towards the back alley it had come from.

Child: *sniff sniff*... Wahhh!

Scar: ……

We find a sobbing little boy in the empty back alley. In front of him is Scar, knife in hand.

Emma: Scar…!?

Daste: That dumbass…! He’s not really gonna stab that kid, right!?

We both rush forward in unison, but then――

Scar: Watch close, okay?

Carrying three knives at once, Scar begins to juggle them.

Child: …? Woah…!

Child: That’s so cool, mister!

Scar: Hehe~ Isn’t it? Keep watching, I can even do this~

If I lift my leg like this~... then I pop! pop! pop! them in between!

Child: W-Wow! That’s so cool!! I wanna try that too, mister!

Scar: Mm… I think you’d get hurt if you played with knives… Oh! How about you try it with those twigs lying over there?

Child: Okay!

Daste: ……

Emma: ……

Emma: …U-Um…?

Daste: The hell is happening…?

After that, we reconvene with Scar and make our way back to the event venue.

We go back to preparing the show that so many people are eagerly awaiting.

Scar: Hey hey, Daste? What are all these long tubes for?

Daste: They’re launch tubes. You put the firework spheres inside ‘em. Basically they’re the equipment to shoot ‘em up.

Scar: Wow~...!

Daste: But anyway, you know how bad you freaked us out earlier?

Daste: You were holding a knife and a kid was crying right in front of you.

Daste: It took me a minute to believe you genuinely were just trying to comfort a lost kid you found…

Scar: Huh~!? I was trying so hard, too… I don’t really like the way you said that~

Daste: Shut up. It’s ‘cause that’s what you’d usually do, idiot.

Emma: Hehe. It’s thanks to Scar finding him that that boy could find his parents again.

Emma: And now he can watch this long-awaited fireworks show with his family. You did a great thing, Scar.

Scar: Hehehe… Yeah! I tried to think about what you would do in that situation, Emma-san.

Watching Scar cheerfully sway from side to side, Daste stops working for a second to ask:

Daste: Scar. You could’ve opened that kid if you wanted to. It would’ve been the perfect chance without us there.

Daste: So why didn’t you try to hurt him?

Emma: (He’s right. This might sound bad, but he had a huge opportunity there.)

And yet… he didn’t even try.

As Daste and I wait for him to say something, silence fills the space between us.

Scar tilts his head to the side and curiously blinks his eyes.

Scar: Huh? Well… it’s because I promised not to hurt anyone.

Scar: You can’t break a promise, right?

Scar: So… I’m making sure not to open up anyone until we see the fireworks.

Emma: …!

Emma: (I’ve never been able to understand Scar’s mindset very well…)

Emma: (But now I wonder if he’s just awfully innocent, like a little kid.)

Daste: ……

Daste: The hell? I guess you actually can communicate.

Scar: …? Haven’t I been talking with you this whole time…?

Scar: Hey hey, forget that, when are the fireworks~? I’m tired of waiting.

Daste: Yeah yeah, shut up. I’m just about done.

Daste: All right, you get to see this from the best seats in the house. Enjoy the most beautiful thing in the world―fireworks!

As Daste sets off the fuse, a single streak of light shoots up the night sky.

An ear-splitting noise cracks through the air and a giant flower blooms in the sky.

Scar: Wow…!

Scar: Wow! I can’t believe what I’m seeing! Fireworks are so cool!! I’ve never seen anything this beautiful before…!!

Hopping up and down with sheer excitement, Scar sends a huge smile my way.

Daste: …Ha. Look at you, reacting the same way as those brats.

He mutters to himself as if exasperated. With his face backlit by the fireworks, I can’t see the expression he’s making.

But I think that his tone of voice sounded much gentler than he’s ever shown before.

Emma: (Getting here was a messy journey…)

Emma: (But seeing this smile in front of me, I’m so glad we got to show him these fireworks.)

Scar: ……

Scar: They’re so beautiful… I wonder if the soul I’m looking for will have pretty colors just like this…

Everyone present is captivated by the flowers blooming bright colors into the sky.

…If there really is something this beautiful inside me, just as Scar said…

These thoughts trail off in my head as I continue watching the fireworks, which shower the night sky with twinkles of light.

← Prev ❖ Next →

[rosze-v]

when spring comes again

pairing: Sanzu Haruchiyo x Reader

synopsis: Your Haru, becomes Sanzu.

tw: breaking up, angst, vulnerable sanzu, bonten sanzu, mention of killing, mention of drugs, mention of liquor, mention of blood, just sad sad sanzu :(

w.c: 0.9k

a/n: Halu! Man my emotions are all over the place and I was listening to an Urban Zakapa song called I don’t love you and I was crying as if I have anyone to not love :”D  actually I was writing for Bokutou but somehow the writing felt weird. I'm still going to post it later. I think I need to start making fluff again cause bro I’m pumping out angst like I’m breaking up with someone. ANYWAY! Women’s rights and choices all the way! Fuck those who say otherwise!!!!

“Do you still love me?”.

“Yes, I do.” You said, yet a string in you tugged painfully, another lie on your tongue. You gently brush his pink bangs to the side, thumb lingering on his scars, gently stroking it. Eyes, a sea of blue and green staring directly into you, feeling as if its peering into your soul. Haruchiyo’s lips tremble, as he clasps your hand that was on his cheek and kisses its palm. His eyes close and open, yet now were filled with tears.

“If you do…, why won’t you say I love you?”.

So, he has caught on. You could only stare into his leaking eyes, another string tugged, very painfully. You gulped, trying to think on why. Do you love him anymore? Not really, but why? That’s the thing, you don’t really know why.

“I'm sorry Haru…”.

“Are you going to leave me?”. You pulled the hand he clasped to your lap as you look down. Wondering on how you’re suppose to answer him.

It was indeed bizarre, when you have realised you stopped loving him. It was sudden, cold and lonely, yet you can’t find it in you to leave him. Haru is a broken person, pieces of his heart litter around his feet and yet half of it is in your hand.

Haru didn’t do anything wrong particularly. It was just you can’t keep up with him as he can’t stay down with you. He’s always so full of life at the wrong things, fighting till his lips bust open, revving up his motorcycle engines on the road and that was when he was younger and a bit more innocent.

Yet now you can’t find even a speck of the innocence in him, not even a petal of the man you used to love. Drugs is a staple for him, he said it boggles up his mind so he doesn’t need to think. Liquor burns his throat every night, just so he can forget about the things he has done. The worst is the blood on his hands, the fact that your once glowing ray of light become this killing machine was devastating.

You thought you could handle him, handle him at his worst, yet the one at their worst is you. When was the last time the both of you have a time of your own, just maybe spending time to go to a café or even watch Netflix together? When was the last time you actually have a good and long conversation with him about his day, your day? Though the worst is the feeling of not being able to stop him from doing all this.

The guilt gnaws into your mind, leaving you trembling and scared at your own thoughts. You have loved Haru all your life yet this is not your love anymore, it’s not Haru anymore.

But nothing hurts more than looking at the glimpses of Haru in the eyes of the man in front of you right now. You could see the eyes, wet from tears that look like Haru. You could feel the tapping of Haru’s finger on your hand, three times, an indication of I love you. With a sob, your shoulder trembles slowly as tears run free on your cheeks.

“ I love you so much Haru… I truly do… but where is my Haru?”. Your hands gripped at his shirt as he sobs, shaking his head gently.

“I'm still here (y/n), please… I'm still here…”.

“No. You’re not Haru anymore. I… I told you to stop… stop before I lose Haru and yet you let it happen.” You pull away from him, standing up to leave when he quickly hugged you from behind, trapping you in his arms, his face in the crook of your neck.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry but I can’t help it, the drugs, the killing is my life now…”. He spins you around to face him as he gripped your shoulder, a craze look of desperation on his face.

“But I’m still me! I’m still your Haru!”. You look into his eyes again, trying to find any of Haru but it was apparent, he’s gone. You shook your head as you pull away from him.

“If you… if you truly love me, let me go. Let me go and let me live.”

“NO! If you love me, you’ll stay! You promised! I know I’m not who I used to be but there’s nothing I can do about it!”.

“I DON’T LOVE YOU ANYMORE!! I… don’t … love you anymore Sanzu.” His eyes widen, completely baffled at your words. Never in a million years he would have thought those words would fall from your lips because he knew how much you love him. In a deeper, darker part of him understand for so long already why you don’t love him anymore, no, it was Sanzu you don’t love anymore.

He understands it so much yet its so hard to let go the only place of love for him. The place where he can return to and feel slightly normal. Yet its unfair to you, to you who remain in love and light to be tainted by the blood red he is.

And so, its okay. He’ll let you leave because he loves you so much, he loves you so much that he’s willing to swim the red all alone. Maybe one day, when Haru comes again, he’ll come for you again, like he did during the spring of your childhood.

[cjsinkythoughts]

Rocks, Shoulders, and Ears

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Avenger!Reader

Word Count: 3501

Warnings: !FATWS SPOILERS!, Cursing, Major Angst in this one, guys, Loads of Feels (sorry not sorry), John Walker being a douche (I really don’t like the guy)

A/N: I’m SO SORRY! I promise I was planning on it being shorter, but I went a little overkill with the angst! There’s just so many feelings and not enough space in my heart and soul, so I had to pour them out here! You get to see more of Reader and Sam’s relationship in this one and there’s major Bucky Feels towards the end (in my defense, this is based on the Couples Therapy half of the episode).

I’m really hoping we get to see Bucky go to Louisiana next episode! I’m holding out for it! I have a few ideas that include Sarah, but I need the episode! Ugh! Now we have to wait a whole ‘nother week! I really shouldn’t write three chapters on one episode in one day. I just couldn’t help myself!

Anyways! Please enjoy this part and thank you so much for all your support! Seriously, it’s meant so much to me, especially after the week I’ve had! If you haven’t checked out the previous parts, my FATWS Series Masterlist is HERE, so please go read those first. Like always, this isn’t beta’d so please excuse any mistakes! Enjoy, babes!

!SPOILERS UNDER CUT!

The last thing you remembered was falling asleep in Bucky’s arms after walking a few miles. And a hospital in DC wasn’t exactly what you preferred waking up to, but it’s what happened. Turned out, not only was your shoulder dislocated and your thigh was strained, but you had a mild concussion. Your arm was in a sling and your palm, which you had completely forgotten about after you wrapped it while on Bucky’s back, was wrapped properly. Luckily, your thigh wasn’t too bad, but they wanted to put you on crutches, which you refused immediately.

You had to get out of that building. You had no idea where the guys went, which was weird because you were sure they’d never leave you alone. Especially in a hospital.

You quickly snuck your way through the halls after grabbing your bag which - thank God - was left on the seat besides your bed and changing into an extra pair of clothes. 

You tried calling Bucky’s phone, the one he had specifically for you, which he always always answered. He even made an excuse to go to the bathroom once when you accidentally called in the middle of a therapy session. Nothing. You called the number four times before trying Sam’s phone.

It clicked on the first try.

“Hey. Listen, sorry for leaving-”

“Where the hell are you?”

You heard him sigh. “I was just about to explain, so hang on a second there. You weren’t waking up, probably because that concussion you forgot to mention to us-”

“In my defense, I didn’t know.”

“Sure you didn’t.” You rolled your eyes, throwing your free hand up, exasperated. “Anyways, Bucky wanted me to meet someone, we’ll talk about that when you inevitably get here, put we had a bit of trouble and Bucky was arrested-”

“What?!”

“Chill your pants, Y/L/N. Just listen. We’re in Baltimore. I’ll text you the address. Get here soon and I’ll explain the whole thing. We’ve been here for a couple hours, but there’s people on their way and we’re getting everything situated right now.”

“Okay. Fine. But you’re in trouble.”

“Don’t I know it, babe. Now hurry your cute little ass here. We’ve got stuff to talk about.”

*****************

The ride from DC to Baltimore is usually an hour or so, but you’ve got resources, especially in the nation’s capital, and riding the bike you got, being able to go way over the speed limit? You got there in half the time. Being an Avenger really does have its perks.

The moment you got there, you hopped off the bike, not even bothering to turn it off, and stormed into the precinct. You headed straight over to the desk, but a pair of hands caught you by your uninjured arm before you could make a scene.

“Hey, hey, hey.” Sam spoke softly, squeezing your bicep gently. “He’s okay, alright?”

“Why is he-”

“He missed his court-mandated therapy session.” Sam informed you, pulling you over to where he had been sitting previously. “There was a warrant out for his arrest. They had to bring him in, but it’s fine. His therapist’s been contacted. She should be here any minute to get him out.”

Your head fell back at his words. His therapy. How could you forget? You let Bucky complain to you about it and played along sometimes, but you really did think it was good for him and you tried supporting him. Yet you made him miss it and now he’s in trouble.

“Hey. Y/N. Look at me.” You found Sam’s worried eyes, his hand coming up to hold the side of your neck. “He’s okay. He’ll be out in just a bit. It’s fine.”

“It’s my fault, Sam.”

“No. It’s not. He’s a grown ass man who made the decision to skip.”

You shook your head, holding his wrist for something to anchor you down. “No, Sammy. I brought him along. I should’ve been more responsible-”

“I know we’ve joked around about you being in charge and stuff, but…you know it’s not all on your shoulders, right?” Sam tilted his head slightly, eyebrow pinched in confusion making his eyes narrow. 

You turned your head, not wanting to look at him. You didn’t need another set of deep eyes to fall into. “Sammy…I promised him I’d look after you.”

“I know. And that’s fine. But looking after us - looking after him - doesn’t mean you have to be there to hold his hand and take the fall for him. He’s not a child. Hell, he’s a hundred years old. Tell me you understand that.”

Licking your lips, you closed your eyes and shook your head again. “I-I can’t-”

“Is that why you’re obsessed with finding Wanda?”

You frowned at his question, eyes snapping to his. “I’m worried about her, Sam.”

“I am too, but she can handle herself. And if she doesn’t want to be found, you have to let her be. I know the Avengers were your only family. I know how much Steve meant to you-”

“No.” You pulled away rather harshly, digging your nails into your palms, trying not to cry, ignoring the wound you were irritating. “No, you don’t. How could you understand my feelings for Steve when I don’t understand them myself?”

Sam always had this ability to make anyone feel important, just by looking them in the eye. It was something you always admired about him; the way his smile could light up a room, those warm eyes making everyone’s fears go away. They reminded you of hot chocolate. Something that could soothe your worries, comfort you, warm your very soul from the ice tragedy and heartache tend to big on.

You promised yourself you wouldn’t cry in front of people, but with the way he was looking at you, it was hard to keep the tears from slipping.

“You loved him, Y/N. Why is it so hard for you to see that?”

“I didn’t - I wasn’t in love with him, Sam.” You argued, wiping your cheeks aggressively and turning, crossing your arms defensively.

“What do you call it then?”

It was a rhetorical question, Sam copying your movements and sitting straight to watch for Bucky coming out. A rhetorical question that you didn’t know the answer to. Because you weren’t in love with Steve. No. Maybe you had been, but somewhere along the way he passed your heart to Bucky. So why did it hurt so bad?

You refused to dwell on it anymore, clearing your throat and dabbing at your eyes one more time before changing the topic. “Why are we in Baltimore?”

“Bucky wanted me to meet someone. Isaiah. You know him?” Sam turned back to you, his warm eyes shifting into something else. Suspicion? A bit of anger? Annoyance? You couldn’t tell.

“Isaiah? I don’t think I know any Isaiahs. And definitely not here. Why? Who is he?”

Sam shook his head, eyes darting around the lobby. “We’ll talk about it later.”

You nodded, although now your curiosity had peaked and you wondered who this guy was that made Sam so agitated. While you waited, you felt your eyes drooping and you let your head fall onto Sam’s shoulder, who chuckled.

“You’re still tired? You know you slept for, like, twelve hours, right?”

“I haven’t been sleeping much.”

Sam turned his head to kiss yours. “Y/N, I know you want to care for everyone, but you’ve gotta take care of yourself too.”

“I know.”

“Okay.” And with that, the subject dropped, Sam pulling out his phone while you rested your eyes.

It was another ten minutes or so before Sam’s name was called and the both of you stood up to greet the speaker. A woman, Dr. Raynor. Bucky’s infamous therapist.

And speaking of infamous. The moment you heard his voice, you squeezed your eyes shut, hoping it was just your brain malfunctioning. And then he was walking towards you, calling Bucky ‘Bucky’ like they were old pals and he was saving him from something terrible.

Your face scrunched up as Walker talked about stopping Bucky’s regular therapy sessions. “He’s too valuable of an asset to have him tied up-”

“Don’t call him an asset.” You snapped. “He’s a human being with needs, and therapy-”

“He’s a super soldier with skills that we need.” Walker cut in, making you scowl as he turned back to Raynor.

You scoffed in disbelief at his words, turning on your heel and walking away before he did, heading straight for Bucky, who lifted his right arm, wrapping it around your shoulders once you were close enough.

“Are you okay?” You whispered, closing your eyes and trying to relax in his hold, breathing him in.

“Are you? Should you be walking? What did-”

You shook your head. “I’m fine.”

“Really?”

“Promise.” You sighed out with a nod, squeezing him once more before pulling back as Raynor stepped forwards, ordering Bucky and Sam to do a session with her. You almost laughed when Sam tried refusing, a little chuckle actually leaving your lips when Bucky slumped, dragging his feet like a kid going to the principal’s office.

You followed, Bucky holding the door open for you. “Thanks, Buck.”

“Of course, doll.” He gave a small smile, before walking in after you, Sam letting out a, “hey!” when Bucky shut the door on him, making you roll your eyes. You let the corners of your mouth tick up slightly in amusement. Yes, they annoyed the hell out of you, but you had to admit it was pretty funny sometimes.

“I believe I asked for James and Sam, Ms. Y/L/N.”

“It’s Agent, actually, and I think I’m gonna sit in.”

Raynor narrowed her eyes. “I don’t think-”

“That wasn’t a request.” You threw her words to Sam back at her, making Sam smirk. You shot him a wink as she relented with a sigh. 

“Fine. Just as a spectator. Don't interrupt.”

You raise your hands in surrender, slipping around the table to stand in the corner as your fellas sank down into the seats across the table from her.

A small puff of laughter came from you at the lack of response when she asked one of them to start. She shot you a warning look over her shoulder, but you shrugged. You couldn’t help it; it was like all those times back in grade school when a teacher asked for a volunteer to read in a classroom full of rowdy kids and crickets followed.

Once she mentioned the next exercise was used for couples, you had to laugh, making both men shoot you begging pouts.

“Y/N.” Raynor glared at you, so you controlled yourself, gesturing for her to continue.

Her miracle question did work so well, neither of them cooperating well.

She didn’t even bother with you when you started cackling after she mentioned the “soul-gazing exercise” and Bucky thanked her, Sam commenting that he would like this one. You gave a teasing wolf-whistle when they got close, one of Bucky’s thighs between Sam’s and vice versa.

“Doll.” Bucky whined at you.

“Listen here, smartass-”

Raynor cleared her throat, cutting Sam off from finishing his statement towards you. You leaned back against the wall, crossing your arms with a smirk. After all the bickering and side taking they’ve put her through, letting you enjoy this was the least they could do, and they knew it.

Of course, this exercise didn’t work out either. A staring contest. Children. She was best friends with literal children.

But then something happened. Something you never thought would happen. Raynor asked Bucky why Sam aggravated him, and Bucky looked over to you, his eye growing sad in a way they only did when Steve was involved.

“Steve believed in you.” Bucky told him earnestly. “He trusted you. He gave you that shield for a reason. That shield? That is…that is everything he stood for. That is his legacy. He gave you that shield, and you threw it away like it was nothing.  So maybe he was wrong about you. And if he was wrong about you, he was wrong about me.”

You heard his voice crack a little at the end as he slumped down in his seat, you jaw dropping slightly. You listened to the rest of the conversation, catching the way Sam grew irritated again, something that you didn’t previously think was possible, but was happening more and more now.

Why wasn’t Sam talking to you? Why was he holding all this in suddenly? And why…Bucky…he didn’t tell you that. Why didn’t he say anything? How could he ever feel…

But you knew how he could feel like that. Yes, Steve believed in him so much that he tore the Avengers apart for him…but he was the only one willing to do that for him. Yeah, you and Sam and Wanda and Clint, you all joined their side but, being honest, it wasn’t because you believed in Bucky. It was because you believed in Steve. Of course, it was different now. You believed in Bucky with your entire being, and you believed in Sam with your heart and soul, but…did either of them know that? Did they believe you when you told them? Or did you not tell them enough? This whole time you thought you were doing right by Steve - trying you damn hardest to watch out for them. But it obviously wasn’t enough. And that was on you, no matter what Sam said.

You read people. That’s what you’ve always done, that’s what you’d always do. It was the reason you earned your spot on the team. You read people and situations and could figure your way into their heads in a second. Years and years of undercover work taught you how to do that and how to protect yourself while doing so.

So why? How? How did you miss something this big? How did you miss the way Sam was holding onto something? Why did you ignore the vexation in his tone for the last couple weeks? How did you miss that Bucky was hurting that deeply? Why didn’t you do anything more for him?

You left the room before either of the boys, but you heard Sam standing up as you walked out the door.

You should’ve known you weren’t the only one holding things in. Of course they were. The difference is, you were supposed to be their rock, the thing they could hold onto to ground themselves, the shoulder for them to cry on, and the ear lent to them whenever they needed someone to listen. That was your job. It wasn’t their job. Not for you. Your rock - your shoulder, your ear - he left you. And you thought, after all he did for you, if you just returned the favor for his best friends, you’d…you dunno. You’d be closer to him, maybe.

But you couldn’t. Because you weren’t Steve Rogers. And you knew that from the start, but you had to try. You tried. And it wasn’t working. He made it seem so easy when he did it for you. Clearly you didn’t give him enough credit for dealing with all your shit on top of his own.

“Doll.” You didn’t stop walking, needing to get outside for some fresh air. “Doll, hold on. Wait a minute.”

He grabbed your arm as you made it outside, spinning you to face him. “You didn’t tell me.” You spoke quietly, your voice fragile as you stared at him, confusion and hurt in your eyes. Were you really that bad at doing your job? Did you really already fail him? He asked you to do one thing…

“I didn’t…I didn’t want you to deal with my problems.” You opened your mouth, but he shook his head, holding your face between his hands. “I’m not stupid, Y/N. I know something’s going on with you. You’re good at hiding your nightmares at night, but I’m better. You’re jumpier than usual. Quieter. Every time Wanda’s brought up, you turn away. And the other day? On the truck? You froze. I was watching, doll. It was just a second, but you froze. You never freeze.”

“It’s not your job to worry about me, Buck-”

He frowned, tilting his head. “Not my job? Aren’t we friends? Isn’t that what friends do? Or am I just a job to you? I know you promised him to look after me. Is that all I am to you? A responsibility?”

You shook your head vigorously, holding onto his wrists. “No. No, Bucky, I just-”

“Do you think he was wrong about me?”

Salty diamonds ran down your cheeks as you clenched your eyes shut and shook your head. “No.”

“Did you ever believe in me? Did you ever care or was it all just because Steve? Is Steve the only reason you tolerate me?”

“Don’t say that. God, please don’t say that.” You begged quietly, meeting his gaze again. Every beautiful detail was laced with devastation, eyes imploring her to make him feel better. “Of course I believe in you. I have since Wakanda, you know that. Yes, okay, maybe Steve is why I helped you at first, but-but…I care about you, James. So much so that it hurts sometimes. He wasn’t wrong about you. Or Sammy. You both mean so much to me. Okay?”

You watched his Adam’s Apple bob as he swallowed thickly, nodding slightly. You both simultaneously moved to get closer, him pulling you while you stepped into his chest, arms around his waist. His arms were tight around your shoulder, holding you just as firm as the kiss he planted on your forehead.

Sam came out, planting himself besides you as you pulled away, Bucky wiping your eyes. “I feel better.” He huffed out sarcastically, making you smack him in the arm. “Ow! Yeesh. Women these days.”

The sudden siren of one of the parked police cars made the three of you look over, spotting Walker and Hoskins. You groaned. “Did he see that?”

“Hey,” Bucky caught your jaw between his fingers, shaking his head. “Who cares? It’s between us and us only. Right?” You nodded, making him kiss your forehead again, a whisper of “attagirl” against your skin. You hadn’t heard that from him in a while.

“Gentlemen!” Walker waved them over, nodding at you. “And lady.” The three of you reluctantly walked over, Bucky going to lean on the police car Walker and Hoskins were near and you hopped up to sit on the hood of the police car across from them, Sam besides you.

You got information from Walker, who was once again trying to get you to work with him, but Sam summed it up nicely, explaining that the three of you didn’t have to follow the rules he did. You started to leave, Bucky tucking you under his arms once you slid off the car, when Walker stopped you once more.

“A word of advice, then. Stay the hell out of my way.”

You grumbled under your breath as the faker and his lapdog walked off. “I’m gonna kill him.” You vowed as the three of you started in the other direction. “I swear to God, I’m gonna rip that shield off his back and use it to beat him in that stupid face of his-”

“Down, girl.” Sam jested, flicking your ear. “We need a game plan. What’re we thinking?”

Your eyes narrowed as Bucky piped up, talking about the Isaiah character - who you still didn’t know - before HYDRA entered the equation.

“Absolutely not.” You shook your head, tugging his arm to make him stop once he mentioned Siberia. “Do you remember Siberia? Because if you’re actually suggesting what I think you’re suggesting, we remember Siberia very differently.”

“He’s our best bet-”

“So you’re just going to go sit in a room with this guy?”

Bucky scrunched up his nose. “Ye-yes…”

A beat of silence passed before Sam gave his stamp of approval, but you still disagreed. “There’s no way this’ll end well and I refuse to let you-”

You found your face between Bucky’s hands again. You really wished he’d stop doing that and just ask for your attention. You didn’t mean that, of course. You’d be held by him every second of every day if you could. “Don’t you trust me, doll?”

You licked your lips, looking around the darkened street. This was not a good idea. A bad plan - a terrible plan, really - but, unfortunately, it was the only one you had. “Dammit. I’ve got a really bad feeling about this.” You finally sighed, running a hand through your hair after Bucky let go of you, his eyebrow quirking.

“Is that a yes?”

Sam nodded. “We’re gonna go see Zemo.”

You tugged Bucky’s hand when he nodded back and went to walk after Sam, who started walking around the corner, making him stop. “And yes. I do trust you. With everything I have, Buckaroo.”