#but I just had a fleeting thought about him and went … I gotta talk more about this

[airybcby]

hi! may i request shidou ryusei with the 🍓 and🍭 <33

ofc!

a shidou ryusei strawberry lollipop :)

જ⁀♡⊹｡° what am i to do ?

♡ a/n — for my more than a married couple event :)

♡ content — shidou ryusei x gn! reader, gn! reader, reader has strong feelings for shidou, set in high school, unrequited love :)

♡ synopsis — shidou ryusei was like a hurricane of chaos, and you weren't sure your feelings would survive the hit.

You should’ve known something was up when Shidou Ryusei's name appeared next to yours on the list of marriage simulation partners.

The universe had a cruel sense of humor, pairing you with the one person you’d spent the past few years trying not to fall for.

But it was Shidou—a human hurricane, all sharp smiles and chaotic energy. You’d been swept up in his orbit long before this simulation ever began, even though you knew better.

For someone like him, love wasn’t a slow burn. It was an explosion. And you were terrified of being caught in the aftermath.

The first day in the shared apartment was like stepping into a storm.

“Yo, partner,” Shidou drawled, leaning casually against the doorframe with a cocky grin. “You ready to play house, or what?”

You rolled your eyes, dragging your suitcase inside. “It’s only for a week, Shidou. Try not to get too comfortable.”

“Oh, I’m plenty comfortable already,” he shot back, tossing his duffel bag onto the couch. “The real question is—are you ready for this?”

He gestured vaguely between the two of you, a wicked glint in his eye.

You didn’t dignify that with a response.

Living with Shidou was...an experience.

He had no concept of personal space, always lounging too close or draping an arm around your shoulders like it was the most natural thing in the world.

“Relax,” he’d say whenever you stiffened under his touch. “You act like I bite or something.”

You knew better than to entertain him with a response.

But it wasn’t just the teasing.

It was the quiet moments, too—the rare glimpses of vulnerability that he never let anyone else see.

Like when he’d stay up late after dinner, staring at the city lights through the window, lost in thought. Or when he’d talk about his dream of being the best striker in the world, his voice softer than usual.

Those moments were what made it so hard to keep your feelings in check.

One evening, the two of you were tasked with planning a mock anniversary dinner for the simulation.

Shidou, naturally, insisted on making it “interesting.”

“C’mon,” he said, dragging you into the kitchen. “Let’s cook something fancy. How hard can it be?”

As it turned out, it was very hard.

An hour later, the kitchen was a disaster zone, and Shidou was laughing so hard he could barely stand.

“Okay, okay,” he said between gasps. “So maybe cooking isn’t my thing.”

You couldn’t help but laugh, too, despite the mess.

In moments like this, it was easy to forget that this wasn’t real—that none of this meant anything to him.

As the weeks went on, you found yourself getting more and more tangled in Shidou’s web.

Every playful remark, every fleeting touch—it all felt like something more than it was.

And you hated yourself for it.

Because no matter how much you wanted to believe otherwise, you knew that Shidou wasn’t capable of the kind of love you were looking for.

The breaking point came during one of the program’s mandatory relationship check-ins.

The counselor asked the two of you to describe what you’d learned about each other during the simulation.

You hesitated, unsure of what to say.

But Shidou, as always, didn’t hold back.

“I’ve learned that you’re way too serious,” he said with a grin. “But that’s okay. Someone’s gotta keep me in check, right?”

The room erupted in laughter, and you forced a smile, playing along.

But deep down, his words felt like a slap in the face.

Because while you were falling for him, he was just playing a role.

On the final night of the simulation, the two of you sat on the couch, flipping through the stack of photos from your tasks.

“Not bad,” Shidou said, holding up a picture of the two of you from the anniversary dinner. “We almost look like a real couple.”

“Yeah,” you said quietly, your chest tightening.

He glanced at you, his expression unreadable. “Hey. What’s with the long face? You’re not actually gonna miss me, are you?”

You forced a laugh, brushing it off. “Don’t flatter yourself.”

But the truth was, you didn’t know how to let him go.

As you packed up the next morning, Shidou leaned casually against the doorway, watching you.

“Y’know,” he said, his voice unusually soft, “you’re not half bad at this whole ‘marriage’ thing.”

You looked up at him, your heart aching. “Thanks, I guess.”

For a moment, it felt like he was going to say something else—something important.

But then he smirked, breaking the tension. “Don’t miss me too much, okay? I’ll see you around.”

And just like that, he was gone, leaving you alone with your thoughts.

Weeks later, you saw him on TV, scoring the winning goal for his team.

He grinned into the camera, all sharp edges and uncontainable energy, and you couldn’t help but smile, too.

Because even though he’d never been yours, a part of you would always belong to him.

And maybe—just maybe—that was enough.

he is the SILLIEST BILLY!!

i hope you liked it!

likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated!

[cryptidsdad]

I had one (1) thought about craig c/ahn this morning so remind me to talk about him once I’m showered & eating

[heart-of-the-morningstar]

Brand New One Shot - Second Preview

I cooked a little :3c

Warning for masturbation!

You made your way up to his tower, replaying the scene in the lobby over and over in your head. Things were going well, weren’t they? He seemed so apologetic when you told him how you felt. And then he just…disappeared like he always does. You really didn’t mean to push the issue, but perhaps you came on a little strong. Plus your rescue of him was a little more than awkward. Not that you minded the closeness, even if it was fleeting. The picture of his head resting against your chest flashed in your mind repeatedly. You could feel the heat rise to your cheeks once more as you were now mere steps from Lucifer’s door.

Focus, you mentally scolded yourself, can’t think about that. It was an accident! It won’t happen again so just…focus. No wonder he ran!

You stood in front of his door now, your knees somehow weaker than they were a moment ago. Those mental images really didn’t help at all. With a deep inhale, you went to knock, but you stopped short when you heard something from beyond the door. You heard your name.

What?, you thought, How…How did he know I was here? Lucifer didn’t sound angry fortunately, but the inflection in his voice made him sound almost sad. And…breathless? You cracked open the door slowly, a little embarrassed at being caught. You went to open your mouth to apologize for the intrusion, but not even a whisper left your lips. Because what you saw in that room left you completely and utterly frozen where you stood.

Lucifer, the great ruler of Hell, was propped up against the obscene amount of pillows on his bed with his pants pooled at his ankles, his very much erect dick in his hand. His eyes were shut, he hadn’t seen you catch him in this extremely vulnerable state.

Run, run, run, RUN! your mind screamed. Everything in your brain was telling you to shut that door and get out of there as fast as you could. But your body refused to react, you remained motionless. You were completely entranced by the scene before you. You watched as Lucifer stroked his cock, mumbling a number of curse words with your name leaving his lips like a prayer.

“Hnng, G-God damn it-ffffuuuccckk….” Lucifer mumbled, his hand gradually picking up the pace as he stoked his shaft.

You tried to wrap your head around what you were seeing, but you were coming up blank. You couldn't believe this. He’s…He’s touching himself…to me?!? How is this…? Why would he…? Your brain was a jumbled mess at this point. It was really beyond your comprehension. You felt tension pool in your stomach at the sight of him becoming undone at the mere thought of you. The sinful sounds he was making went straight between your thighs, to the point where it became uncomfortable that you weren’t giving yourself any attention. The tiniest bit of you wanted to push open that door and give him what he really desired. But before you even begin to think about acting on your carnal instincts, you watched Lucifer's hips bucked up as he came all over his hand. It took every fiber of your being to hold in a whimper that threatened to escape your throat.

Lucifer’s breathing was labored, you watched him toss his arm over his eyes and throw his head back on the pillows. "What the hell is wrong with me?!" you heard him ask. "Why am I doing this?! It’s been months now and I’ve barely had a normal conversation with her! And of course the only time I’ve really talked to her was after my damn head was forced against her…her…s-shit.” He waved his hand, a tissue appearing between his fingers. You watched as he cleaned himself up, thankful that he still hadn’t looked towards his door. Lucifer kicked himself out of his pant and swung his legs over the side of the bed, his head hanging low. “And what an absolutely fantastic exit I made! “Sorry, gotta go! My dick is hard as a rock right now because of you!” Great job, Lucifer! No wonder she thinks I don’t want her here!” He sighed heavily. “I can’t do this anymore. This isn’t right. I need to stop being a coward and just tell her how she makes me feel…”

A small gasp escaped your lips. Fuck.

Lucifer's head shot up immediately, his panicked eyes fixating on the door. You didn't even close it behind you as you took off sprinting down the hall, praying to anyone who could hear you that he didn't see you. You didn’t stop running til you made it back to your room, slamming the door behind you. Your knees gave out from under you as you dropped to the floor. In that second, it all clicked for you. Why Lucifer seemed to avoid you at every turn, why he tripped over his words when he spoke to you, and why he practically begged you not to leave the hotel.

Lucifer liked you. Lucifer really liked you. That thought alone could have made you scream if you weren’t trying desperately to hold yourself together. And it’s not like you didn’t have passing thoughts about him. He was gorgeous, after all. But not only that, you saw how he acted with the others at the hotel. He was sweet, and silly, and fun, even though you never got to experience it first hand. Now you knew where Charlie had gotten it from.

But of course those thoughts never stayed. He didn’t like you, right? So instead of wallowing in what could never be, you thought it best not to dwell. But now…now those thoughts were coming back in full force. The aching between your legs only grew as the very fresh images of Lucifer naked and moaning in his bed flooded your mind.

There was a knock at the door.

[blacklegsanjiii]

Your thoughts about Marco x Sora are so good omgggg (<- the anon who asked you about them)

I can't stop thinking about Sora being a pirate after some time, because she's already living on the Moby Dick and married with the First Commander, so why not? (Marco loves loves loves see her fight, actually)

And if the acesan happens would be very funny, and the StrawHats reaction about this?!

Welcome back and I'm glad you like it, truly i am obsessed with Sanji having good parental figures and Sora getting the love she properly deserves. Sora became a pirate in NBL so I don't see why she wouldn't here. Even if she played a more behind the scenes roll there.

Also we didn't really set a time frame for them? So like Sanji could be eight when they join the Shirohige. Sora and Sanji both freaked out by Marco flying them in his talons but they need to make a quick escape from the Navy and animal brain went 'mine' when he saw them. Marco's only explanation is to quite literally look at White Beard and go 'my bird brain went "oo shiny" so i had to bring them' which makes the man laugh so hard the Earth shakes. Vista starts calling him a crow and Marco sets him on fire with a singular look. Marco is so thankful Sanji and Sora are in the infirmary so they didn't see that.

Marco explaining his fruit to them and his place and job in the Shirohige fleet. How his fruit helps because it allows him to treat more than one person at a time or give enough time for back up to come. It doesn't always work. Marco uses it on Sora a lot first mostly because the poison is still affecting her and it's like a god send almost because his fire over time basically cures her. They also use the time to get to know each other and start "dating" because it's really hard to date as a pirate, or a doctor, or a fleet commander. All of which Marco is. They tell Sanji first and he approves of Marco and Sora and Sanji have already joined the crew so ya know, they just gotta tell the crew. The party is extravagant.

Sora makes a comment that she wants to be able to help defend the fleet and the family and Marco agrees and says they'll talk to Jozu and some others about training for her. Sanji is probably already training his kicks and everything because Thatch insists on protecting the kids hands and Jozu has been doing well with him. So them taking on Sora to train is nothing and Vista finds she does very well with a sword and his eyes light up as he looks at Marco and damns him for getting to her first. Marco says he better watch it and they scuffle.

Sanji has to set himself on fire at like thirteen. Marco is watching him and Sora train with Jozu and Vista only to then see his kid set his legs on fire and be thrown into the ocean. He flies out to collect his son and then laughs his ass off at Sora wailing on Vista and Jozu screaming about the dangers of throwing a child off a ship. Marco says she has that covered and checks Sanji over and yep, that's his over abundant(sensitive) haki. Marco says Sanji might be a good candidate for learning to sky walk which is like flying but not really. Sanji is fucking excited. Marco is also so thankful all the god damn time that he and Sora have their own room and they sound proofed it because Marco fully believes Sora hung the moon and the stars and pulls the sun up each morning. Sora has it just as bad back and thinks Marco makes the waves and sea foam. THEY ARE SO GROSS I LOVE THEM OMG

Also could you imagine Ace rocking up to kill the old man and is then held hostage and thinks that blondie around his age is super cute? Too bad he's in the shirohige and Ace fully plans to demolish the fleet until he's forcefully adopted with love and care. Like Ace has no clue what's going on at first because he looks at Marco and then the woman he knows is the guy's wife and just how draped over her he is, like they have to make everyone sick all the fucking time. They have some the highest bounties in the New World. Ace starts flirting with Sanji without a clue to who his parents are and Sanji just gives him that "oh darling" small smile while he leans on the railing and smokes.

During one of these flirting sessions Marco strolls up and is like 'Hey, Thatch said you're in charge of shopping this time, you can head to the island if you want' and Sanji nods and sky walks to the land mass. Marco laughs at that and takes Sanji's spot and gives Ace a smile. When he asks Ace what his intentions are with his son Ace goes pale and sinks to the deck as Marco fucking loses it. Marco pats his shoulder and says he takes after his mom just like Sanji takes after Sora and they approve of the relationship.

Sanji ends up joining the Straw Hat crew on the hunt for Teach and absolutely flirts with Ace in Alabasta who flirts back way harder. Like they are the remix of Sora and Marco and clingy flirting and draping okay? Marco said that's a Roger thing and White Beard 100% agreed with that assessment and said Marco is a bird that mated for life and Marco couldn't argue because his fruit some times overwrites his human nature.

Back on track: Ace and Sanji flirt so fucking hard no one on the ship can believe it. Despite the fact they've been dating for a while, Sanji probably never mentioned he had a boyfriend(or parents) to the crew and just went along with whatever they thought. When they meet Rayleigh he and Shakky look Sanji over with a very high interest because he looks like that one brat's wife. Sanji is like 'yeah, Marco took me and mom to the fleet and we joined and they're married and he's the man I consider my father' which makes Rayleigh blink because why the fuck is he in the Straw Hat crew? He's a White Beard brat? Sanji just shrugs and is like 'idk seemed fun, bonding with my bf's little bro' which makes the Strawhats fucking lose it. They are sent to another plain of existence except Luffy who is like 'cool, we're brothers'.

Then like Marineford happens and Luffy is there, Sanji isn't, Ace is about to be fucking merced and then Sora and Marco are there like 'can't kill the son in law fuckers' and like yeah, White Beard dies but Ace doesn't. That wound is a mortal wound and so is Luffy's but Marco is a bird brained doctor and he has absolutely 'oo shiny''d his son's bf so like he's in the family in the family, ya know? It's fine if not and we can go deeper in that later need be.

Also could you imagine Marco coming up as an Emperor in this? Like the battle against Black Beard is more a draw than anything else so they are both brought to the status of Emperor and damn those bounties are fucking HIGH. Of course parental sin bullshit means Sanji and Ace's bounties also fucking go astronomical, more so than before. Like holy shit the straw hat crew is looking at Ace and Sanji post ts and how fucking gross they are but they are still two of the most wanted men in the new generation and should be feared.

Would you guys believe I got a normal amount of sleep?

[thebluemoonjune]

The Sounds Of A Black Dahlia- Chapter 2

Family Affairs

Summary:

Michonne and Shane have a 'heart to heart'. Confessions and truths come out. Secrets everywhere. Things in the family are being set in motion.

The whole building was closed off as the police gathered everyone who wasn’t in the vestibule or main hall to take questions. Anyone who’d been seen slipping out during that time. She had made sure to let them know that he was with her on the second-floor balcony attached to the lounge before they segregated Rick, who’d been Holly’s date. Michonne had heard him whisper, ‘They killed her’ as the corpse rolled out. She was confused. How could he have known she was murdered? What was it that he was hiding? Who did he think was responsible for the young woman’s death? Why would they kill her? The more questions that plagued her, the more suspicious she grew of Rick. The longer she thought about what happened, the harder it became holding onto the fleeting illusion of security. Standing outside the dark 1:00 a.m. sky, the wind brushed against her exposed skin. A faint sound rang out in her clouded mind; each toll of the bell caused her heart to stammer, all while her body remained impossibly, unnaturally, and agonisingly rooted. It was almost as if she'd fallen into a catatonic state. Her silver heels and the hem of her red dress were the only objects in her sight. It was when a warm suit jacket dropped on her chilled, exposed shoulders that she’d freed herself from the cage she called her mind.

“Rick… Are they done?”

“For now, I guess…” Rick placed his hands in his pocket, staring at where Holly fell. “From what I can tell, they don’t got much to go on. This is tryna find a needle in a haystack.”

“You think someone killed her? You said it yourself; I heard you.” Michonne stepped closer, her brown pools stirring.

“I ain’t denying it. I know someone did.” He stepped closer as well, leaving no gap between the two. Unlike her jittery persona, Rick mimicked a predator on the prowl. “Gonna have to go to the station tomorrow. This is probably gonna be ruled a suicide. I’m sure that’d make you happy to know.”

“What do you take me for?”

“A liar for one.”

“You got some nerve! Let me make this absolutely clear—”

“Michonne!”

“Shane…”

“I heard what happened. You okay?”

“I’m fine. I’m not the one who’s dead.” He places his hand on her back. In an attempt to comfort her. “Rick, I’m sorry, man. Would’ve come sooner if they ain’t have us hauled up in there.”

“No worries. I got a long day ahead of us tomorrow. I’ll leave you two to it.” He pranced away, not giving them a heads-up as he waved them bye.

“Just like that?”

“Your brother’s date just died; he has to go to the station in the morning. Don’t be insensitive.”

“I ain’t tryna. He just left in a hurry; ain’t even take his jacket… You wanna talk?”

“Not right now. I’m ready to go.”

Shane got the driver ready whilst she waited. They bid goodnight to her in-laws and left, discreetly, unaccompanied by the media, clamouring for a spectacle on their backs. People rushed past each other on the sidewalks, cars honked and screeched on the streets, and sirens wailed in the distance. 

The car ride was silent for the first half, with the couple’s breath being the one indication of people in the back seat. Shane studied the way Michonne tilted her head towards the window. The lack of sound was overwhelming, so he went against his instinct and asked,

“Chonne, mind telling me what happened? Why you weren’t in the hall?”

The way her eye twitched was enough to tell him to stop pressing for an answer. He was thankful to know she was here, her heart still beating, body bumping with blood. He wouldn’t press on.

“You ain’t gotta answer… It must be hard.” He inched closed and interweaved their fingers.

“I’m sorry. I’m being unfair.”

“Nah. Like you said, I’m being insensitive.” As he diverted his gaze, Michonne spun her body to find a middle ground.

“Shane, I have something to tell you… Your father isn’t giving you control like you thought.”

“What? Where’d you get this from?” His brows progressively lifted in anticipation of clarification.

“I— Shane… I overheard your parents talking about it. Well, fighting if I’m being real here… Eleanor didn’t know; she let him have it in the second-floor lounge. He never intended to give you control, He hasn’t decided on a successor yet… I’m sorry.”

“No, no… No. Nah. You fucking with me? Is this about the same shit earlier?” His eyes squinted at the confused tangle of facts in front of him, irritation and disbelief visible in his expression. He didn't want it to be true. He needed it not to be.

“I am not that petty… It’s true. You can ask Eleanor. She’ll confirm it… I’m sorry.”

Shane sat there, licking his lips uncomfortably, indicating his inability to find the perfect words to communicate his perplexity. Not uttering a single word, the rest of the ride. His face turned blank, a sharp contrast to the resentment that had been present only moments before. After they made their way through the outer security gate, the Guard at the front of their horseshoe driveway ushered them in. Shane didn’t wait for her; hopping out of the car, his footsteps echoed from the granite walkway and steps, making heavy strides to their home. She grabbed her purse in hot pursuit.

“Shane!”

“I need to think!” He unlocked the front door and stormed down the hall to the living room, where he dawdled around, as if he couldn’t remember where he was supposed to go. 

“You still have your 3%.”

“And what the fuck am I gonna do with 3%?”

“You still have a say. You bide time till you’re in a position to fight back. Shane… He wants you to fight back. We’ll talk to K; you do your part. We need Eleanor too; she’s not going to accept this… Shane, do you really want this?”

“What?”

“Briton. You don’t have to…” drawing nearer and cupping his face to continue, “Is it worth it?”

“Yes, it’s worth it. I'm doing this for us, for them! It’s ours!”

“Alright, tomorrow, I’ll go to my mother. You remember my aunt, right?”

“The one married to Sean Monroe?”

“Yeah, I’ll get my mother to help facilitate a meeting. If we can win her, she can help us win over Deanna Monroe.”

“That’s…good.”

“When Morgan Jones comes back from the Bahamas, you’ll have a meeting. He thinks you’re taking over, we need to see if he’ll still take your side.”

“We’ll follow your idea.” His gaze held a warm intensity that whispered of deep affection. With her plan coming together at the last minute, she fell onto the couch with a pleased sigh.

…

Michonne gazed at Andre and Maliyah sleeping soundly in her bed. Sometimes when their dad wasn’t home, or ran late, they would sneak into her bedroom while she was in the shower, only to fall asleep before she had the chance to catch and send them back. If she was being honest, she didn’t mind these little antics at all. She would lengthen her bath sometimes just so they’d fall asleep waiting for her. Maliyah was a messy sleeper, often contorting her double-jointed body all over the place, making it hard to share a bed. Her big toe, currently in her brother’s nose. Michonne crackled to herself, fixing her distorted body. Admiring her three-year-old, her mind unexpectedly ran to Rick’s words on the balcony the night before.

“And what if I said Lori was part of it?”

“So you admit there are other reasons.”

“I admit that you’re gonna be crying soon. John made it so.”

He obviously intends to fuck everything up! How did he know about Lori? Did she say anything? What else does he know?

“I expect a visit from you soon. I’ll text my number.”

“And why would I do that?”

“Shane. Specifically, the children…”

“Is this a threat?”

“No, darling… But you need an offer from me. I don’t wanna be an enemy to you of all people.”

So Michonne… What’s the play… How do you deal with this… What does he even want from me? Fucking bastard!

Michonne ran to her dresser, picking up the rose-coloured diary Lori had entrusted her with. Shane never went through her stuff, except the night he rummaged through the house in a fiery rage four years ago, so he didn’t know about this. If Rick started whispering in her husband’s ear, she’d have to guard against it, for everyone’s sake. It was a can of worms that no one needed. He was already in the running for COO from what she gathered from Shane’s call before he went to the office. 

The kids’ room—that's where I’ll hide it for now.

And so it was. Michonne placed it in the kids’ shared walk-in closet, far from the children's reach. She was the only adult who entered here, not even the housekeeper, Mary, as Michonne preferred to clean the bedrooms herself. Leaving her kids to sleep upstairs for a while, she went downstairs for a glass of wine. She needed it. To her surprise, passing the living room to go to the kitchen and the wine cellar, she met her husband sprawled out on their U-shaped, navy blue corner sofa, tie loose on his neck, suit jacket on the side, brown eyes stuck on her in the dimly lit room. Michonne held her chest in momentary fright.

“I didn’t know you came in.”

“I thought you were sleeping… Ain’t wanna disturb you… The kids?”

“Asleep… In my bed.” Even standing a couple feet away, even in the dim room, she could see the tiredness and frustration in his eyes as they were motionless and far away. Not from her, but outside. Regardless of it, he still snickered at the news.

“Can’t catch a break… Can I get a drink?”

“Why? There is no reason to.”

“Ain’t you heading for a drink yourself?” His lips curled into a tired sneer.

“And what makes you say that?”

“Why else are you headed towards the kitchen? Why not?” Michonne sighed.

“I was but you know why. When you’re stressed, which you obviously are, you tend to not know when to stop.” She folded her arms.

“Just one glass… Just one.” They stared at each other for an entire minute before she gave in.

“All right. Just one then…”

She strolled over to her original destination, grabbed a bottle of Pinot Noir from the cellar,  went to the kitchen to Shane’s rum cabinet and took an almost finished bottle of bourbon. Holding the bottles with one hand, she grabbed a wine and a rum glass with the other before returning to the living room. Shane cast his gaze on his wife’s every move. From her placing the two glasses on the large, rustic, handmade, blackwood coffee table Rick and he had made after their son was born. She sat, opened both bottles, poured each into their respective places, rested them back on the table, and got up, passing through the gold bead curtain, where she began setting ablaze the sandalwood incense on the corner table. Shane looked around the room, from the marble flooring and the family portrait to the abstract black, navy and gold mural, completely covering the wall behind him, that Michonne painted five years prior. They had made this home together for their family. When he spun back around, she was standing four feet away. He took in his wife. He thought her a peculiar person. Always prim and proper, only allowing a flaw within her bedroom. 

“Want me to play something?”

“Nah… come sit.”

“Want to talk about it?”

Shane raised his head gently, trying to calm his eyes. He didn’t kiss her, but instead gripped her chin, forcing her to look back at him. He drew her in closer, taking her on his lap and placing his left hand on her waist, his right hand on her jaw. They remained in that posture for a minute, just breathing each other in. On his breath, she could smell whisky. He hadn't drunk from the glass she poured yet, so it became obvious that he was drinking prior to returning home.

“This is good… It’s good”

“How much alcohol did you have before this?”

“I passed by a club with a few buddies of mine.”

“Why?”

“Destress, have fun... Don’t worry, I ain’t cheated on you. We both done had enough of the behind the back stuff, right?”

“Shane.”

“No need to pretend like it ain’t happened... It’s in the past… We’re grown enough to talk about it. At the time, I wanted to snap that pretty neck of yours, but, in hindsight, that’s quite the lick back. To think you almost had another man's baby.”

“I don’t want to talk about this—”

“I should’ve been at the hospital…” He tugged her back after she tried leaving. “When you got home and I saw her, I knew our little girl was a Walsh, that she had my blood.”

Shane kissed Michonne after she gulped. He didn’t stop, repeatedly capturing her lips so that when she breathed, he was the one she was taking in. She pushed his chest two times to distract herself from the sensations he was instilling in her, and he followed, grabbing her around the waist once more. Michonne put her arms around his neck, and they both felt as if they were about to fall. Michonne grabbed at the back of his shirt, wanting it off, as he raised her body to slide her panties down in a frenzy and she unzipped his pants, pulling out his cock. He was distracted by nibbling her, especially as he kissed down her jaw and began on her neck. 

Sex was a drug for both of them. It was how they solved their problems, regardless of what the problem was. They didn’t waste time with foreplay and she was already wet so she lifted her hips and lowered onto him. He grunted and air caught her throat. He held her tight as he slid his body down and she rested her head on his shoulder as the husband and wife went to work. They pounded till her shrieks entered a crescendo while both their climax drowned them. Shane felt his dick quiver and the warm dripping of his come painting his cock and her insides white. Descending from their highs, they clung to each other for a while, their chests heaving heavily and their noses buried in the creeks of the other’s neck.

“You still on your birth control?”

“Why?”

“Ain’t seen you take it recently.”

“My mind’s been hectic. I’ll take a pill in the morning.”

“Don’t bother. I think it’s time we had another kid… Lia’s three; I’m sure she won’t mind another sibling.”

“Is that something you want?” She lifted her head to see his face while he was still inside her.

“Of course… I’d have a hundred babies with you if possible. I never wanted you on birth control anyways… We weren’t in the best place at the time, so I never said nothing.”

“You make it sound so simple.” She turned away from him.

“Why can’t it be? We’ve hurt each other enough. A baby can mean so much. It can mean we forgave each other.”

“I thought we did.”

“Have we really?” His lips pulled into a half-formed, smile. “Every time we get into a scrabble or fight, you bring up the d-word. I know you don’t mean it; hell, you been saying it since forever, but it ain’t never made it easier; even if I’d never give you a divorce. You, the kids, y’all are the most constant thing that I care about in my life…”

“I’m not going to just up and leave. I promise you that, but what about her?”

“I told you—”

“You told me a lot of things. You told me that it was complicated, that the two of you had kids together, that she was in the picture before me, that it wasn’t her fault... that you loved her.”

“Michonne—”

Michonne carefully lifted herself from her husband, still very tender from their tumble, and rose from the sofa. She put on her panties, turning away from him. Michonne moved to the kitchen, grabbing the empty rum glass without looking back at him. 

A cruel man is what you are.

7 years 7 months prior

Michonne's delight shines through the windows of her eyes more brightly in the dawn.  There is a deeper sweetness in the morning that resonates within and finds a way to express itself. Michonne had that. Her first pregnancy was, on some days, an epic voyage of vomiting and sickness that lasted all day; other days, none at all, not even a smidgeon. She'd gotten up late that day yet miraculously managed to kiss her spouse goodbye, nausea and all. She wrangled her will, snatched a book from her unread collection, and marched downstairs, reluctant to spend the day in bed. Her nutritionist, whom Eleanor had 'given' to the couple after her pregnancy was revealed, prepared her a well-portioned and balanced meal that she could eat and that she much loved. In the group chat, she texted Sasha and Maggie, beckoning them to come visit and keep her company. She was reading 'The Paris Wife' by Paula McLain while waiting for her friends when the house phone rang. Michonne got up, fully expecting it to be her mother-in-law, but was met with the unfamiliar voice of a woman, a young woman.

“Hello. You must be Michonne.” The woman giggled on her end.

“This is her. Who is this? Do I know you?”

“Yes! I know you—very very well, but you don’t know me, not yet at least.” There was a sing-song pitch to her voice.

“Look, I don’t have time for nonsense—”

“I have news about your husband. You’ll want to hear it.”

“Who is this?”

“I’m Jessie. Jessie Anderson… Shane and I have been together for over four years, now.” Michonne held still, attempting to digest what she had just been told. “We have a son together; he’s three. And I’m currently pregnant again—almost seven months. I was wondering if we could meet up. You know… talk?”

“What did you say your name was again?”

“Jessie. Jessie Anderson. I understand it’s a lot to take in but—”

“Jessie, don’t call this house again, or I’ll have you served.” She disconnected the phone and hurled it across the living room with unexpected strength. Her demeanor soon grew misleadingly serene, her astonishment confirmed by a vain popping grip on the living room bookcase next to her.

That woman just wanted to stir up trouble! How dare she say something like that? It’s not true true; I know it’s not…

Present

Shane sprang up, hurriedly adjusting his clothing and striding after her. She had already rinsed the glass. He noticed her standing in the center with a dish towel, but her eyes hadn’t risen from the icy grey tiles. He couldn’t help running his fingers through his black hair with shaking hands. It was unclear how long they remained at a stand-still, but his gaze never left her, not once. He quietly walked over and embraced her from behind, resting his chin atop her head.

“Can you give me some time?”

She heard him. She heard the begging and the worry in his voice, though no matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t bring herself to answer his question. His grip tightened.

…

Walking through the stone garden, full of Saucer Magnolia trees, the bustling sound of murmurs greeted the four of them. Sasha agreed to accompany her and the kids back to her maiden home, given Michonne had long ceased to have the mental fortitude to deal with her maiden family, especially that of her mother and older sister. It was understood that there’d be a clash for blowing them off at the party, though she’d hoped they’d let it go given the unfortunate catastrophe that took place, it nevertheless became apparent when her mother didn’t come out to greet her and the butler had been rather ‘formal’ even to her children. Two could play that game. Just because she wanted something didn’t mean she’d become the begging dog; they’d do well to remember they needed something from her too. They sat at one of the woodland stone tables where guests gathered.

“Andre, sweety.”

“Mama?”

“I won’t keep you here to bore you. Go play, but you know the rules.”

“Sweet!” 

He dug deep into his mother’s Birkin bag with level speed in search of his case holding his marbles. The little fox didn’t even wait for any other words from his mother or his aunt Sasha, simply taking off with a wide, mischievous grin on his face.

“That little brat!” Sasha let out all her playful shock, fixing little Lia in her hand. “AJ didn’t even wait! Who in God’s green heaven does that little twerp take after?”

“Well, at least he’s not craving your attention today.”

“Does that mean he’s growing up?” She pouted. ��Our baby’s growing up!”

“More like he’s acting his age.” Michonne giggled at her best friend’s overreaction while she reached over to stroke her daughter’s chubby, dimpled cheek.

“Mama? Can I go?”

“Oh, baby girl… No, you can’t.” Michonne wouldn’t let her run freely with all these people present. Maliyah was smart, but small for her age. “Hang out with me and your aunt Sash then later, we’ll get that bike I promised you, I’d even get you a doll. It’s that okay?”

“You prowmise!”

“I promise, baby! I promise.”

“Can we go see Daddy?”

“Uhm, I don’t know, babygirl. Daddy’s really, really busy with work.”

“Oh.”

“How about after we leave, we call your dad and ask? If he’s too busy, let’s go to the playground and have fun.” Sasha kissed her cheek and patted her curly, dark hair, and she in turn smothered her petite face in her aunt’s neck.

The children missed their father. He’d been coming home late for months and with the recent transition of CEO, they barely saw him anymore. Andre, being the ‘big boy’, pretended it didn’t affect him; Lia, on the other hand, being a daddy’s girl, didn’t take it well. Michonne and Sasha stared at each other, not knowing how to respond.

“Michonne! Sasha!”

“Jocelyn! Hey!”

“Jocelyn…” Sasha couldn’t pretend to have Michonne’s enthusiasm for the woman who stood before them nor did she care to.

“I didn’t expect to see you both here, especially you, Michonne, since everything happened to that girl. It must’ve been hard for your family; I mean, it’s not the first time something like that has happened. Bad luck, I guess.” This caught the attention of the nearby women. Sasha rolled her eyes; Michonne, however, graced her with a smile.

“Ah yes, it’s been hard for my family; no one likes to witness death; I’m sure it’s harder on the victim’s family. It would be insensitive and tone-deaf to the ones truly affected by this tragedy. As for my attendance today, I should take the time to visit my maiden home when I have the chance, shouldn’t I?” Michonne sat in anticipation of a response, while Sasha smirked, eyes sharp as a hawk’s.

“Your right. Well, I should leave you to it.” They watched her walk away when Sasha spat out all her disgust.

“That fucking bitch… This is why I hate coming to these dumb things. How you have the patience, I’ll never know.” Maliyah perked up, reminding her aunt of her presence.

“You said naughty words!”

“Those aren’t words for you to repeat. If I catch you saying it, I’ll beat your bum. Don’t say that word; that’s a bad word.”

Michonne was about to add to the discussion when a young man, probably a worker on the estate, whispered a message intended for her ears only. It was from her, a childhood friend who happened to be the daughter of her old nanny, who worked here like her mother did. The more she heard, the more her chilling stare drilled into an unseeable foe, making it difficult for the other ladies to ignore the shift in aura. As she leapt up from her seat, her mouth pinched shut, as if keeping back what she truly was tempted to say, although her tensing jaw, expanding chest, and toned shoulders pushed back made her tiny body appear larger and more formidable, indicating her deep ire.

“Michonne? What is it?” Sasha, knowing her friend, asked in an effort to help.

“You stay with Lia I have a bit of family issues to address. I’ll be back.” And with that, she marched off, not spearing a second thought.

When Michonne arrived, her eyes met with her son’s, who was bleeding from a slash on his face, kneeling on the floor. He was teary as he bit his lip, trying not to cry in front of these irreverent people. Not only did John despise it, but her boy was as proud as she was and would never allow outsiders to see him that way, even though he was just a six-year-old boy. Her blood began to boil but she kept her face and tone neutral and almost lifeless as she addressed the adult, ignoring Macie’s son and the maid who stood with them. Her family was very ‘ traditional ’. Michonne knew they were going to beat him. She cast her head straight ahead at the woman she called mother.

“What is this and why is my son bleeding?” She walked to her child.

“Before you come in guns blazing, Mrs. Pompous, he did it to himself! It’s my Kyle you should be showing concern about! We had to pull that animal off him! On top of that, he broke the jade vase that Mom just won at the auction last week and called my child illegitimate and me a prostitute!”

“I didn’t; they’re lying!”

“Did you?” She made sure to watch his every movement, though she already knew the truth. Just in case.

“I called them names because he hit me first! I didn’t do the other stuff! They’re lying! Mom, I’m telling the truth.” She stroked his curly black hair and pulled him closer.

“I know, baby. I know.” She whispered, giving him comfort that she was on his side.

“Kyle said you did so you did! Plus, the maid saw it.”

“Is that so?”

“Instead of antagonising everyone, you should do your duties as a mother; he should be punished and apologise for his action. He behaves like this because he sees how you act.”

So this is what it’s about...  The party? Trying to embarrass me, trying to punish me by using my child, okay…

Michonne stared coldly at her mother and felt sick to her stomach. Even at her own all-white party, Michelle Marie Hawthorne stood in a dark green knee-length Chanel dress with cream-coloured pearls on her neck and hair in a neat side part bob cut, right hand placed gracefully over her left right above her belly as overseer, all her close friends watching. She wanted her to stoop to her, but she would not, nor would her baby boy.

“Sweetheart, say your piece.” He looked up at her and she nodded in approval.

“We were playing marbles and I won all of ‘em!”

“No, you didn’t! You cheated!” Kyle finally came out from behind his mother, showing his black eye.

“Yes, I did! He didn’t wanna pay up so I took ‘em myself! And then, he hit me and we started fighting, and then the vase broke! When I was on top of him, he cut my face! So I beat him up some more and called him names!”

“He’s a liar! He cut himself!”

“Just because you got caught doesn’t mean you get to blame my son! The maid saw it!”

“And what exactly did your maid see? How did my son cut his face? What’s your name?”

“Vivian…”

“Well, go on, Vivian; let’s hear and don’t stall!”

“You! This is not your place; you don’t get to come to my house and disrespect the individuals here! Including your older sister.”

“I’m just trying to find out what happened, mother. Vivian.”

“Well, uh… He wanted the young master’s marbles and when he wouldn’t give them to him, she started attacking the young master verbally and physically, so much so that I had to pull him off.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, I’m sure. He was acting like an animal.” The young woman took a stance similar to that of the matriarch standing at the front. Macie was going to add but Michelle raised her palm to cease.

“Michonne.”

“Mother.”

“Since the truth is out and there’s a witness, no need for this wild display any longer. And since you cannot discipline him well, I’ll do it as his grandmother. Vivian, get the stick.”

“My son is many things but a liar isn’t one of them. My son never lies. Look at the other one. Have him open his hands.”

“Why are you blaming him?” Her sister snapped in annoyance.

Michonne didn’t even look at her sister and mother. She walked over to her nephew, prying his hands open, revealing a piece of the broken antique jade vase. She took it and tossed it on the floor for the room to see. Strolling back to her son, who gazed at her with soft eyes and a grin, he held her hand and gave a teasing gaze to Kyle. Vivian got quiet as she bowed her head, not daring to add more.

“Malicious woman!”

“I am deeply sorry! I—” She turned to Michelle, then to Macie. Neither gave attention.

“Kyle should not have raised his hand first and Andre should not have called him names or tried to take what wasn’t his; it led to this mess. But still, it was squabbles of children. It was just a vase. No real harm done. Let us leave this here.”

Michonne’s giggle was soft and tinged with fascination at the situation. Crossing her arms over her chest, she tried to take her breath in response to the criticism directed at her kid.

“AJ, baby?”

“Yes, mom?”

“Do you know where you went wrong?”

“Mhmm…” His voice was hushed. “I shouldn’t have called him bad names and fought him—”

“Wrong! I taught you to defend yourself. If someone hits you first, then by all means you have the right to hit them back, but I also thought you should come to me when I’m there.”

“I’m sorry…”

“You shouldn’t have called him names but that’s not your fault; it’s mine.” She said it louder so everyone could hear it. “It’s my fault for speaking such things as the child’s birth around him.”

“You shouldn’t have said it in the first place!”

“Why not?” She covered her son’s ears. “Is it not the truth? Did you not go after your best friend’s married father and destroy a home? Is your child not a product of your behaviour? You go after any wealthy man you can get your hands on, regardless of who they belong to. You’re a high-class prostitute, a courtesan if we’re being classy.” Michonne brushed her locs back nonchalantly.

“How dare you; you bitch?”

“The responsibility of André’s discipline falls to me and his father. Touch my child again and see…”

“You should clear this up, Mother, lest others think my son is going around bullying his cousin because he believes himself better, an opinion you and Macie seem to share.”

“Are you going against me?”

If I don’t put a stop to this today, there is sure to be a next time. I’ve gone through it enough with these people, but it ends today. I won’t put my children through it again, bridges be damned!

“My child was accused of things he didn’t do; an adult lied on his name and you and Macie even intended to beat him without so much of a hesitation! His face was even cut in the process. Do you think what Kyle and the maid did was right? If he’s right, André will have to bear the fallout. Think about it carefully. If they are wrong, then there should be some punishment, like what you wanted to inflict on my son. Tell me.”

“You disrespectful—”

“Would you rather I lie? Would that feed your ego better? Would that make you feel better and finally give my son some justice?”

“How dare you!”

“Mother, you should do the right thing.” Michonne only knew her brother had entered the fray when he stepped next to her, backing her up. “The maid should be fired. As for him, give him the stick.”

“How can you just choose her side? Am I not your sister too? Is he not your nephew too?”

“It’s not about sides! It’s about principles! He actively lied to get someone else in trouble. What kind of vindictive shit is that?”

“Michael, don’t play favourites! They are both your sisters. I decided to let it go so that, as cousins, they should not hold grudges against each other. I will deal with Vivian.”

“You talk to Mike about favouritism? You’ve been playing favourites my whole life.”

“Chonne… Don’t.” She ignored her brother’s plea.

“No. I have never been able to get away with any of the shit that both Mike and Macie have done. Not once! I didn’t understand then, but I’m not a kid anymore. I did everything I was supposed to do. The two friends I have are a result of my knowing my place.”

“Ungrateful! After everything Mom and Dad have done for you, to stand there and make it sound like you’re some victim! But what was I expecting? You’ve always been a pompous, self-absorbed, attention-seeking bitch who always got what she wanted. You had your whole life planned out for you and it still isn’t enough. You fucking bitch.”

“It just irks you that I’m better than you in every single way, doesn’t it? Whether it’s grades, the arts, or just any attention I got from others at all. You are such a jealous—”

“So you admit your father and I treated you fairly.”

“Fairly? There was a point in my life when I wasn’t allowed friends mother, when Mike and Macie were. They were allowed that and going out and make mistakes. Mike could kill someone and he’ll still be your sweet boy. Any affection I got was tangent on my behaviour and how I reflected on our family. Macie is so jealous of my marriage that she should’ve had. And we all know even your friends watching us know why.”

“What are you talking about, bitch?”

“Shhh, Mace, I’m getting to that. I wasn’t supposed to marry Shane… You were. But because of your love for married men, you got knocked up and Mom and Dad couldn’t give you the life you wanted because of your actions. In our oh-so-traditional family, you got knocked up and nothing from them! Nope, nothing! They just quietly moved on to me. So you see, dear sister, I’m not the one they planned for.”

“The life that you have now is because your father and I gave it to you.”

“Yes, I can’t dispute that… However, I remember Dad’s words, I’m a Walsh; my responsibility is to my current family, so my children have nothing to do with you nor do I. This is the last time I’ll come here.”

“Disrespectful child!”

Michonne gripped her son tight and bypassed every single person, not spearing a glance. She was dead serious. Both she and Sasha decided to make good on their commitment. When they arrived, Sasha took the kids inside so Michonne made a call. No one would hurt or use her children and she’d never let this incident go, waiting for the right time for a home run. The first step in this was to let her spouse know. Shane, however, was currently on the necks of his board of directors.

“What are we? Answer. That’s a real question.”

“Our business model is scalable: Our brand fuels many value propositions and generates diverse revenue streams. Briton's business isn’t just about making movies and selling news; it’s also about creating and sustaining brands.” The short, curly-haired man named Aaron stated it matter-of-factly.

“Exactly!”

“That being said, we are an all-American multinational mass media and entertainment conglomerate that people want to see fail... Becoming a monopoly is not the best move.” Aaron surmised, knowing it was not what Shane wanted to hear. Soon after, an Asian woman chimed in.

“He right. Maybe we should slow down and focus on our current situation. Stabilising is the most important thing. Let me say, may that girl rest in peace, but the bad press is hurting us and we have the issue with the bank.”

“We’re already a fucking monopoly. Bad press; what a fucking joke. We’re a fucking multi-media company. Who’s fucking us, huh? Who, just who’s gonna tell my old man no? Yumiko, I get it… I do.” Her shrewd decisions were why the company survived the last depression without any major damage, he’d still fight. “It still don’t mean shit. If we privatise, it helps?”

“Well, yes but that is not—” A phone rang.

“Hold on…” Shane hurried out, putting his phone in his ear.

“Babe. What’s wrong? Did something happen?”

“You can’t rely on my family... I kind of disowned them... about fifteen minutes ago.”

“What happened? The phone went quiet. “Chonne, talk to me.”

“They slashed your son’s face.”

“You serious? You being real right now?

“Yeah, I’m being dead serious!”

“You did the right thing. I deal with this when I get home. Where are you now?”

“With Sash, at a fun house, trying to lift the kids’ spirit…”

“That’s good. They need it… Babe, I gotta go—”

“Shane, wait!” She sucked in heavily. “Can we come by… Babe, the kids miss you.”

“I’m sorry, you can’t. I’m swamped. I gotta important meeting. I only took a break to take this call.”

“I get it; I do. Can you at least come home early?”

“I don't—I don’t know, but I’ll try.”

“You have to go to Ronan today. You can’t miss it.”

“Ah shit. I forgot… I’ll be there, but I gotta go. I’ll see you later. Love you.”

…

The lush emerald leaves fluttered in the air, their faces gleaming in the sun. The falling leaves seemed to be having a constant, quiet conversation, their murmurs and whispers filling the air and rustling as the wind blew across them. With the garden in full bloom, the air was filled with the scent of early May. Michonne didn’t care for the mansion, but for the large, peaceful gardens she stood in and for the azure blue sea that sprawled far and wide and blended with the sky on the distant horizon concealed behind the frigid white mansion's walls. Her eyes were unfaltering yet soft while she focused on the sounds. At times, raging waves slammed against the cliffs, and the ocean’s voice turned into a chorus of screaming giants. At times, the ocean’s rhythm was like a soothing pulse, a continual reminder of nature's presence, as it is now. She closed her huge brown eyes, absorbing everything, until the sound of a heavy, uneasy footstep jolted her out of her reverie. Magna stared at Michonne as though she were studying a paper. From her grey, satin, dolman-sleeve knee-length dress to her black T-strap heels. Michonne stared back at her, calm and composed. Not a ripple in sight.

“May I help you?”

“Oh, no. Mind any company?”

“Make yourself at home. Any guest of ‘my good brother’ is a guest of me.”

“Thank you.” Magna took a deep breath and rubbed her chest.

“Your first pregnancy?”

“How—”

“Try ginger. It’s old-fashioned, but it works. Until then, have a mint; it’ll help.”

“Thank you…” She stared cautiously at the mint as Michonne smiled with a stretched hand.

“You are very welcome. Walk with me?”

“Oh, alright.” Michonne hooked their arms together at Magna’s confirmation, strolling through the garden.

“So how did you meet, Monty?”

“A mutual friend introduced us.”

“And did this mutual friend happen to introduce you at one of his ‘special’ parties?” A momentary look of discomfort crossed Magna’s pretty face. “I’m not judging you, but a word from the wise, don’t let anyone know. Even if Kendall is friendly, don’t trust her. What’s your sexuality?”

“I’m bi… Monty already told me about his grandfather; he’s—”

“Traditional… He doesn’t care who you fuck; certain family ‘associates’ might... Don’t bring up politics; speak less, listen more. You need to change how you dress; you’re trying too hard.” Michonne stared her up and down. Processing the white and pink, long-sleeved floral dress, yellow straw sun hat, and pink pumps.

“What makes you say that?” Her lips grew thin and firm, breaking from Michonne, like she’d touched something hot.

“The men might not notice but the women definitely will. Let me take a guess about you… An aspiring actress or model. You were raised poor. You’re the oldest of three, maybe four, girls. Your mother wasn’t in the picture, that’s for sure. Probably dead… No, probably left when you were young, leaving your dad to raise you. Anger issues and Juvie?” Michonne saw her muscles stiffen. “Should I go on?” Spasms of irritation ran laps across her face. Just as she was ready to lash out, Michonne switched gears. “Do you like flowers?”

“What? Uh, I guess?”

“I love flowers... I love their beauty, I love watching them grow and I love the different meanings they hold… Do you know this one?” Michonne reached out to touch one of the deep, dark crimson flowers in front of them.

“No, they’re pretty.”

“Hmm, these are called black dahlias. They represent death, betrayal and anguish and should not be given carelessly.”

“Why the hell would they grow them here?” Michonne tilted her head to the side inquisitively at her question and chuckled.

“Ronan’s third wife gifted him this flower the day before she was murdered, so he plants them.”

“Wow…”

“Yes, and yet I can’t think of a place more fitting for it. Do you understand what I’m saying?”

Michonne’s face never once fluctuated throughout this entire conversation. Magna took a clear look at her and came to the realisation that, though she still had that polite smile on her face, her eyes gave away nothing; they were empty. Those brown pools of hers read her like a book yet revealed nothing unless it willed it. Monty had made it clear that she should get closer to her. But she didn’t understand why. The woman next to her was dangerous. 

This is a bad idea, Monty! I don’t think—

“Monty sent you to me, didn’t he?”

“How—” Michonne began to circle her like she was a cornered rabbit.

“You know the difference between Monty and a condom? Condoms have evolved; they’re not so thick and insensitive anymore…I may not like him, but I admit he’s insensitive and ignorant, not stupid. He understands there are certain things he won’t be adept at dealing with. We women fight differently; we’re more calculated, and quiet. Even so, just as ruthless and important. Women underestimate the power they hold…”

“Can I trust you?” Magna decided it best to just come straight out and ask. “Can I?” Michonne stopped moving and bore deep into her before letting out a booming laugh at her silly question.

“No! You can’t… Monty miscalculated… Now that you shared this thought, I hope it made room for something smart?”

“Excuse me?”

“A piece of advice... I would hide my pregnancy for as long as possible and after that, watch what I ate and drank and my back. If I could figure it out, so could Eleanor, Andrea, and others... I’ll leave you to it then.”

Walking back to the mansion, Michonne could sense someone’s attention on her. Certain it wasn’t Magna, she came to an absolute standstill. Her lips opened, but she uttered nothing. She immediately clenched her jaw, gnawing on her bottom lip as an innate response to the jumbled mix of ideas in her head, and turned to confront his commanding gaze. They stood there in their silent battle until Michonne broke eye contact and went on her way. Entering the gathering room on the ground floor, she joined her mother-in-law on the white, vintage velvet settee, where she was having a glass of red wine. Her legs lapped as she watched Andre and Maliyah torment each other. Eleanor wore a white lantern-sleeve, button-up silk shirt with red, high-waisted trousers and a lip to match. Her jet-black hair wasn’t slick back today; she wore it in a wavy retro bob and white Mary Jane platform pumps on her feet. It didn’t matter where she was or who she was with; Eleanor had to look good. Michonne couldn’t help but sigh.

“You look lovely.”

“Naturally.”

“Did those two knuckleheads give any trouble while I was out?”

“Other than harass each other? Nah… What happened to his face?”

“My nephew… It’s a clean cut. It won’t scar. It won’t happen again.”

“Say away from those people… That thing with John, I’ll talk to Ronan about it later.” Michonne nodded in acceptance, at the same time she saw Magna enter with Monty, gaining Eleanor’s attention. “What’s that boy thinking?”

“He brought her... He’s definitely serious…”

“Is she pregnant? Is that why he’s doing it?”

“I don’t… think so... I spoke to her in the gardens earlier; she even asked for a cigarette before I told her I don’t smoke… You dislike her?”

“Well, look at her. She dresses like she’s playing doll house and she’s the fucking doll. She’s so fucking easy to read; her intentions here aren’t pure… at all.”

“Are anyone’s intentions pure?”

“No, but she’s too obvious, and not in an endearing way. Sometimes I wonder if Monty is right in the fucking head. She can’t help him; she’s not like you, me, or even the blonde hussy in the other room; she has nothing to offer, and she doesn’t know our ways. She’s green. Far too green.” Michonne leaned in a hushed voice to retort,

“I didn’t know anything either and look, I made it. I think she has something there. Look at you. You came from nothing and did well for yourself. I don’t think you should write her off just yet. Monty seems to actually love her.”

“It’s not the same thing. You may’ve been sheltered but learned quickly, you were a part of this life. And I… I did whatever necessary. Not judging her because she’s poor… She just doesn’t have it… She relying on Monty, is the dumbest fucking shit I have ever bore witness to. Relying on a man? I’ll trust a thief with my money before I do that! I learned long before I got married that John wasn’t shit.”

“What do you mean?”

“You know it; you’ve seen it... Two months before I married, a woman contacted me. Jacqui, that was her name… Told me she was pregnant and John was the father. Part didn’t want to accept it. Believe it or not, there was a time when I’d been in love—with him. I made it clear to her not to contact me again—I ignored it for a whole month! That was until I saw ‘em—saw how he looked at her. He’d never looked at me that way and I had to know why. So, I found out where she worked and showed up at her job… I understood exactly why. She had it—that thing that men loved. Do you know what I’m talking about?” Eleanor replenished her wine glass.

“No.” Michonne swallowed the saliva stuck in her throat. Her entire body felt cold, though there was no draft. Eleanor’s eyes made the hair on her body perk up. Her mother-in-law downed her glass, refilling it.

“Yes, yes you do... She was pretty, but she had nothing on me. However, she had it. All the things that aroused feelings of love and affection in men. She even had this air of innocence that could trick you… There, I stood in front of a woman my fiancé was in love with, who was also carrying his baby… I told her to get rid of it, but she wouldn’t so I warned her and left... I wonder how it felt for him not being able to marry her… Jacqui was black, you see… I may’ve been poor, but to those he was doing business with at the time—those he aligned himself with when he was digging his way to power—she held no benefit. You know those ‘ conservatives ’. Different time, I guess... “

“And you? What happened after?”

“I remember the face he had when she lost that baby. Remember well. He still married me though, because he knew right then what he needed by his side. I would never get his love, and I lost whatever affection he had for me as time went on. It didn’t matter to me. That man is so much worse than I’d ever be. The things he could think of, my mind could never conceive... I might be going to hell, but John sure is coming with me. Shane and Monty—they’re too much like their father to have just anyone by their side. The girl’s too green. Her eyes are bigger than her stomach. She’s going to cause problems sooner or later.” Michonne didn’t know how to respond and her chest felt heavy. Luckily, Maliyah came running in her lap, mouth pouting far, while her blue pools filled with tears as if the world had wronged her.

“Mama!”

“Baby? What’s wrong?”

“AJ pulled my hair!” Michonne grabbed her closer and began to soothe her brown, shaggy curls, kissing her dimpled cheeks.

“Andre,” Michonne called with a critical squint.

“Nuh-uh! No, it’s her fault! She wanted my iPad and got her hair tangled in my chain. That’s not my fault! I never told her to fight me.”

“My… Why are you fighting your sister?”

“I wasn’t fighting! I just don’t wanna give her my iPad. It’s mine!”

“Can’t you two share?”

“Why? it’s mine… I don’t touch her dolls…” He turned his face away, scrunching his nose to high heaven with a pointed chin. Eleanor, watching this, grinned, completely letting it envelop her face. She rubbed freshly trimmed curly black hair.

“He’s right. What his, is his. I get it, but you and Shane spoil her too much. She can’t have everything.” Hearing her grandmother’s words, Lia buried her face in her mother’s bosom. Andre calmed and settled between Eleanor and his mother.

“I know… I’m trying; I am... Shane doesn’t help. He makes it hard being the stern parent when he lets her get away with murder.”

“Of course it’s him.” She sighed. 

“Lia?”

“Mama?”

“You do know I have to comb your hair in time for dinner now, right?”

“No…” Her bottom lip protruded.

“Yes…”

“Eleanor?”

“Mmm?”

“I’m taking Lia up stairs.”

“Go. I’ll watch Mr. Man here.”

…

Michonne quickened her pace to try catching up to her energetic daughter when she saw a familiar but unwelcome person holding her. His gaze was gentle, complimented by a comely smile—a smile she was once fond of. She saw Maliyah tug on his beard and a strong, joyful laugh fell from his mouth. Michonne paused her steps at the sight that befell her and her chest tightened and her entire body became impossibly still. Nausea swept over her in a wave. The sound of her heartbeat was overwhelming in the silence as she gathered the mental fortitude to confront him. She stood firm, ready to take back her child, but he made no sudden movements, simply kissing Lia on her temple. After what felt like forever, his piercing blue eyes glanced up at her, beating a rush of excitement in her chest, only to bring his gaze back to her child.

“She’s just perfect, ain’t she?”

“She is; I think I’ll keep her.” Michonne stretched her hands to take her; however, Rick pulled back.

“Hey, Mal… You don’t mind getting to know me a bit, right? I’m sure if you say yes, your mama will agree.”

“Mama? Can I play with Uncle Rick? Pwease?” She knew her child better than herself. The little brat didn’t want to comb her hair. She knew when to be cute to get her way—when to get her needed attention.

“Lia, please, let’s not—” She knew it was pointless, so she simply asked, “Where’s Carl?”

“Keeping the old man company. Where’s your husband? With the mistress?”

“You are not doing this with my daughter here. Give her to me.” Rick looked back and forth between the two.

“You’re right. She didn’t need to hear this, but we ain’t done talking.” He kisses Lia once on her crown as he sees a maid leave Ronan’s bedroom and flag her over. “Sweetpea, I need to say a few things to your mama for a bit. Can you go with Miss Carla so she can take you to Grandma? Just for a little while.”

“Okay…”

“Good girl.” He handed her over. His eyes were still and he never left her until she was out of sight. That’s when he decided to grace her with his gaze again. “Look at her... Perfect.” He opened the door to Ronan’s study so they could talk without prying eyes.

“What is it? What do you want from me?”

“I told you to expect a call from me.”

“I got no such call.”

“I never said you did. I had to settle Carl first… I talked to Shane; he helped me get Carl into the same school as your boy.”

“What are you doing here, Rick?”

“I’m back with my family... Am I not allowed?”

“Cut the bullshit! We both know damn well that you’re not here for them. And what’s this about you being COO? How did you even push Cophe out when John was set on him? Your brother loves you, so whatever you’re planning, leave him out of it. I don’t know what you think happened to Lori but it was suicide.”

“You and Lori were close leading up to her death; don’t try bullshitting me, she told me herself… I’m gonna ask you some questions and you will answer me.”

“Why would I do that?”

“Oh, you better. A lot is dependent on how you behave, darling.”

“Rick.”

“Was Lori pregnant when she passed?”

“Ye—Yes.”

“Who was the father?”

“I think I—I don’t know—”

“Who do you think? Be honest.”

“John… I saw them once, just once…”

“You saw ‘em… Who else? Did she mention anything suspicious? Like name or—”

“Rick. I can’t; I made a promise. Please.” A momentary look of discomfort crossed her face as she glanced around, not focusing on anything; she didn’t meet his eyes. Rick took her arm.

“Think about Carl.”

“I am thinking about him. It’s why I can’t say anything. If you care about your son, don’t. Just don’t. You are not the one that matters here.” He released her but kept the gap closed and bent his face to her ear.

“And your family ain’t got nothing to do with this? You’re still so selfish, even after all this time… Let me ask you this. Who is Maliyah’s real father?” Her eyes flicked for a millisecond; however, she managed to rope it back in and kept her tone deceptive even as she gave a mocking crackle.

“What the hell are you on about? I’m not doing this; you’re crazy!” As she walked away, he pulled her back.

“I told you Lori was one of the reasons I came back. I’m giving you another one… You let another man raise my child all this time… Fucking me over once ain’t enough?”

“You’re insane!”

“You’re a fucking liar!” He grabbed her face. “All you do is lie! Can you tell the truth for a goddamn change? Or is that beyond you? You’re such a piece of fucking work. God, you drive me crazy! You take me for a fool; you always have... Tell me the truth.” Michonne’s lips were wide, hanging loosely in a forlorn mental state.

“I had my reasons. You know I did…” Her eyes were scarcely open, yet he noted how they glistened with unshed tears. They fell when she whispered, “I’m sorry…” He nodded in rapid motion in acceptance. His slight smile gave way that he was trying to overcome. “I’m sorry…”

“How long… how long did you know? Was it before I left or—”

“Rick…”

“Just tell me.”

“Before… Rick. I had my reasons.”

“Why? After a whole other woman, two miscarriages, two outside children, the drugs… Do you love him that much?”

“It’s not that simple... I do love my husband… He and I have hurt each other so much so, I’ve lost count. It’s unfair for me to expect more from him when he’s just not built to be a good person. He’s not like you, and he never will be. I didn’t stay with him because I loved him. That may sound like a contradiction to you, but it’s the truth.”

“So why? Are you in love with him?”

“I—I honestly couldn’t say... I don’t know... As for why, there are many reasons.”

“Like what? You gonna stand here and tell me you destroyed everything that I worked for—that we did, you gave a man my child and you ain’t even sure of your goddamn feelings for him. Nah, you better start talking.”

“It’s so easy for you. You can call me selfish, but you’re the most selfish person I know! You want to know... Well, for one, I had my son to think about!” She yelled, banging her chest, locking in a heated glare with her former lover. “I’m a piece of work? Well, you make me sick!”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah!”

“Yeah?”

Rick snatched her by the waist and they stared as though hypnotised. His eyes conveyed vulnerability that she saw only when he was with her all that time ago, and before she could say a thing, he had covered her full lips with his own. As the kiss deepened, his right hand was caressing her all over, soon finding its way under her dress. She was like the opposite of Shame plant, wrapping his arms around his neck unconsciously. When his finger made way to enter her, Michonne ceased his hand, snapping away from his lips, thwarting any movement from either of them till her hands jerked back like she’d touched fire. She covered her mouth and adrenaline jolted through her veins, signaling her to leave.

“So much for making you sick.”

Anger rushed in the moment the shock faded at his arrogance, and she pushed past him, not willing to face her partner in crime and bolted down the staircase. Magna watched Michonne from across the room. She seemed different from their encounter. Frazzled, on edge. Her arms were wrapped around herself while she tiptoed over to her kids.

What’s her deal? Where did she come from?

“I don’t like her.”

“Come on, Magna.”

“I thought you said she’d help?”

“I told you to try and get her on your side. You didn't; that’s on you.”

“Screw you.”

“You’re already doing that, Blondie.” Monty sipped on his glass of gin and cast a gaze on his sister-in-law. “You may not like what she said, and you sure ain’t gotta; however, she’s danced this song longer than you can dream. If she says your fucking trash, that’s what the hell you are.”

“Wow, what good moral support.”

“I ain’t here to hold your hand; it’d do you more harm than good if I did hold your hand.”

“She told me to hide my pregnancy for as long as possible.”

“She did? She knows?” Monty’s hand was only a few inches away from the glass’s stem when his eyes dilated, his usual conciseness replaced with foggy scepticism.

“She said that if she could tell, so would others, like your mom could find out as well, and that when it does finally come out, to be careful.”

“I see. I don’t think she’s told Mom anything yet. You should’ve told me this first… She says she won’t help but she kept it, huh?” His face brightens like a glowing sign, and he forfeits his body to the revelry, tracking Michonne’s every move. “She ain’t change a bit; still so soft.”

“But she said she won’t help.”

“She won’t go out of her way, but unlike the others, she won’t actively hurt you. She’s just washing her hands of what happens in the future.”

“So, what do I do?”

“Stick to her. Beat her down. I’d tell you to seduce her, but I don’t think she’s into that.”

“So cheating is not the problem? But the fact that she doesn’t swing my way.” Her brow rose with his smile.

“No, that too, though unlike you, she’s actually wife material. Nothing like the both of us, baby.”

“Oh, kiss my ass.”

…

Joseph Walsh, his heavily pregnant common-law wife Mortica Pines, his three children, Ethan and his wife Reya, Emmanuella and Evan, and his three grandchildren, Rachel, Lena, and Luke, had just arrived in time to kick off the dinner leading into the family weekend. Shane and Kendall weren’t here, much to Eleanor’s disgust. Michonne made her way to Ronan’s bedroom at her mother-in-law’s behest to let it be known that dinner was ready and everyone else present was gathered in the dining room. She reached to turn the knob and paused when the whispering Ronan and Rick enticed her ears to eavesdrop. Not much was learned considering only bits and pieces survived the muffled travel. Words like ‘Company’, ‘Dept’, ‘Shares’ and ‘Son’ induced small hair to rise on her body. Her cheeks blew out with a heavy breath meant to steady her and a smile was forced in an effort to conceal her worry and doubt, a skill she fostered for years. The bells were ringing once more, and she didn’t know why. She was frozen until the voice of a young child shook her sane, causing her to finally open the door and greet them.

“Ah, I forgot to knock. Sorry, hope I’m not disturbing.”

“No, no, my dear! Come, let me see you!” Michonne sprints and kneels next to Ronan’s wheelchair, taking his hardened palm. Coldness from his six mammoth sized rings invading her. 

“Aunt Michonne!” He dashed, hugging her.

“You remember me? You were so young when you left!”

“Of course I do! I still got a picture of you and Dad!”

“A picture…Oh.” She immediately fixed her faltering smile. “Dad’s had you lock up all day with great gramps?”

“Yeah, Dad’s been busy, but grandpa fun!”

“Yes, he is, but I sure it wouldn’t have hurt to have someone around your age to play with.”

“There’s nobody like that here.”

“Not true! There’s my son Andre, and uncle Joseph just got here with his family. He’s got grandchildren around your age.”

“Really?”

“Yeah! Tomorrow, I expect to see you out and about!”

“Joe's here…” Ronan mumbled to himself.

“That’s part of the reason I came up. Dinner is ready. Shall we go?”

…

Rick kept his gaze fixed on Michonne as she strode across the room. Michonne had been a slender woman with unexpectedly generous curves for as long as Rick had known her. She created an outstanding figure with her full lips, breasts, and round hips. Michonne's most attractive features were her rich chocolate-brown complexion, big brown eyes to match and the long black butterfly locs that she seldom allowed falling below her waist when she wasn't wearing them in a tidy styled bun. A prideful woman, never a hair or speck out of place. She made sure Andre was properly seated and went on her own, placing Maliyah on her lap. Lia sneakily reached out to the table to steal a piece of meat. Unbeknownst to her, Rick was surveilling her every movement. Rick tried to suppress his chuckling but delved into low laughter at her little antics. This earned the attention of the family, who spun in their chairs to see the commotion. Michonne had sensed his gaze on her and Lia the entire time. She delivered a warning glare, cautioning him about his shameless behaviour.

I shouldn’t’ve admitted shit! Can’t he have some decorum?

Not catching a reason for his outburst, everyone went back to eating. Michonne adjusted Lia and decided not to pay any more attention to the immoral clown on her left.

“So, Carl, are you liking being back home in America?”

“Michonne, you should have gotten a high chair for her.” Reya implored.

“This one is a picky eater; she makes a mess everywhere; better not.” She implored.

“Oh, nonsense! She three! It’s her job to be those things. Besides, what are the servants here for?”

“Why the hell are you telling her what to do with her child? Don’t you got your own demons to micro-manage. Look at that jackass at the end with the damn lamb sauce.” Rick chin point towards Luke.

“I’m sorry. Who are you?” Ethan and Rick became locked in an intense staredown.

“What was that, you stupid cunt?” Eleanor turned, blue eyes cold and proud, same as Rick’s.

The whole table grew stagnant, and gazes bounced out off each other. Even Andrea had nothing to add. Ronan placed his utensils down on the table, picked up a serviette and wiped his mouth. Making all cease movement. The tensing of his jaw informed the room that it would end now. Logan partially raised Rick. He gave him all the fine things in life and never let him perceive himself as less, as much as possible, among his remaining grandchildren. When Rick made the choice to leave, Ronan used all tactics in his book to keep him from going. Rick wasn’t a Walsh, but it didn’t matter. Many saw him as an outsider and a bastard, but none vocalised it. For Ethan to utter such a foolhardy question, one wondered if he was indeed a cunt.

“I hear the media’s on your asses… That girl?” Everyone’s face went slack at the twist. “What is this?”

“It’s still being investigated; no harm done. I’ll be over soon enough." John said. "Don’t worry about the media. We are the media. Don’t think too hard, Dad. Shane will deal with it; he’s dealing with it now.”

“All this mess; I’m getting too old to make the big decisions.”

“Your still young, Rone! Don’t sell yourself short.” Eleanor smiles, softening him up a bit.

“Always the silver tongue with you... Still, I think it’s time.”

“Time for what, Rone?”

“I’m giving Richard my stocks in the company!”

If a person's goal was to create World War III, Ronan’s words were the perfect catalyst. Michonne lifted her head, fiddled with her daughter’s hand, and surveyed the members of her esteemed ‘Royal’ family. For the first time this evening, Monty looked rattled. Ethan, Emmanuella and Evan sat unblinking, processing the new devastating blow. Reya kept looking back and forth at Ronan and Ethan’s faces, hazy with uncertainty. Eleanor’s brow slid up, though she hid a slight smirk on her pretty, red lips with her wine class. Joseph clearly wanted to add something but held his tongue, seeing John not say a word. Out of everyone here, John was the most contradictory in terms of reactions. He did not move a muscle, didn’t even seek out his father, and continued eating.

Would he really allow another man’s child to hold so much power in his company? Did he love Rick that much? A man like him?

Given Rick was now the second most influential person to the company, with the second most stakes only behind John and to be the knew COO, She could understand ‘The Plight Of Man’ she bore witness to. A pity that Kendall and her husband weren’t present to receive this gift. She couldn’t help but ponder whether her husband would still trust his most beloved brother. She knew the man causing all this smoke was waiting for her attention, nonetheless Michonne didn’t meet his gaze and bluntly declared,

“Congratulations.”

“Grandfather, you're not serious, are you?” Emmanuella didn’t care, this was ridiculous to her.

“And why wouldn’t I be serious?”

“What’s she tryna say is, this is a family business, and though Rick is family, I’m sure everyone agrees with that.” He spun he neck everywhere as if trying to get others to join in his ‘sacrifice’. “It’s not really the same as actual blood.”

“What you name again boy?” Ronan stroked his chin.

“Uhh, Granddad… it’s Ethan...”

“Listen here, Ethan… It’s mine… and I get to decide what the fuck I do with ‘em. Fuck off… I tired… Help me Richard.”

“Sure, old man.”

And that is how dinner concluded.

…

Shane gazed out the window, momentarily confused as to why it was so dark. His wonder ended when a lithe voice bombarded him. A voice he was familiar with all his life.

“I heard Dad’s fucking you.”

“Yeah, well…”

“Wanna talk about it?”

“You of all people? You gonna sit here and play Kumbayah with little ol me?”

“Oh, cut that shit out... I shouldn’t’ve asked. Ugh!”

“Come on, K.” He grabbed her hand before she stomped away in annoyance.

“Don’t fuck with me.”

“Let's talk.”

“About?”

“I don’t know... life? Dad? Why we’re both late?

“I’m… I’m thinking about selling... We’re at risk of getting eaten anyways.”

“K… you serious? If you need help, just ask.”

“I’m not giving Dad any leverage... If I ask, it means I failed.”

“You and your ego; it’s fucking horseshit. You gonna throw away everything you worked for for pride?”

“Yeah… If I sell, I’ll make the decision. I’d ended it on my terms. So yeah.”

“Alright, sell… Come work for me. No, work with me.”

“Shane…”

“I know you said you ain’t wanted nothing to do with Briton, but we both know that’s bullshit. Dad ain’t never wanted you to get involved and—”

“He’s a parochial cunt!” She snapped, “And still don’t trust that I can do this.”

"K..."

“Why me? Why not Monty? He could be a better help.”

“I don’t trust Monty. I trust you and I trust Rick… What do you say?” He put out his right hand, waiting for her to accept. Kendall stared at him, then down at his hand, a motion she repeated about five times till she took it.

“Okay… Okay, but I have to get a real say. A real seat at the table.”

“Alright!” Shane boldly affirmed his stance towards her.

“Alright…By the way,” she remembered a thought that nags her. “Philip Blake? What the fuck? What happened to Lance Hornsby?”

“Hornsby is running for his final term. It’s simply replenishing the stock. You know better, K.”

“With Philip Blake?”

“Dad and Grandpa likes him. Little matters. You know that. Besides, it ain’t our concern.”

“Not our concern? If he’s anything like Hornsby, it's definitely yours.”

“I ain’t had a one-on-one with the guy yet. What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Shane… You gotta a black wife and biracial children. Come on.”

“My family was fine before; they’re gonna be fine after.”

“Okay.” Kendall threw up her hands in defeat. “We are late, so we should head in.”

Dinner was long concluded. Light from the patio shone through the small window, a scented candle aiding in the welcoming shadows of the. At 11:00 p.m., only the estate guards were active. Kendall went upstairs first, leaving Shane sitting on the bottom stairs. He washed his face with his hands as if attempting to wake himself up by wiping away the fatigue and puffiness. Getting up, he considered it to require more work than it was worth. When he and his wife slept at his grandfather’s, the corridor to their shared bedroom seemed four times longer than usual. Walking in, he noticed her sitting up in the bed with her back against the headboard, reading 'Anna Karenina' by Leo Tolstoy. She didn’t raise her gaze at him, nor did she welcome him as she always did. He dragged out a fresh bathrobe and went to the bathroom. The water from the shower was relaxing, and when he came out, he wondered if he should have stayed since his darling wife had now decided he was worth her time.

“Nothing to say, huh?”

“Michonne… not tonight. I’m fucking tired.”

“Okay!” Head nodding up and down like a bobblehead, she bent the tip of the page she was reading and put her book on the nightstand. “You’re… tired! Shane is tired! Should I buy a cake? Should I invite Beyoncé to sing for you? Should I go outside naked and scream it at the top of my lungs?”

“You gonna overreact?”

“Overreact… That’s what I’m doing, huh? Overreacting?”

“Imma break this down for you to understand, babe. I got work!”

“Oh, my fucking gosh—”

“I gotta work, to provide, for my kids, So that your ass can enjoy all the fancy shit you love—”

“You’re full of shit!”

“That fancy wine, that fancy clothes and shoes, The nice houses and nice cars—”

“Cut the bullshit! You are a billionaire! You don’t have to work a day in your life because unlike most, you were born lucky! And you will inherit billions more when Ronan and John croaks, throw your mother in there! This isn’t about me or the kids! It’s not about us, It’s about you!”

“Me! You're so damn vindictive…”

“I don’t get your need to have your daddy’s attention... You are his favourite. Does that make you feel better? You’re his favourite, which means you’re his favourite toy.”

“Don’t. Just don’t.”

“What is with this need—this desperate need for recognition and affection from a man who doesn’t deserve it? If it weren’t for the monthly family weekends, which you’ve been ducking for how long now, your kids wouldn’t have even gotten a glimpse of you! When was the last time you saw them awake, Shane? Do you even remember?”

“Everything I do, I do for my kids! I ain’t like you making it sound like I’m out here abandoning my kids. You been telling ‘em this shit? It ends now! I ain’t having it!”

“Keep your voice down or so help me, God! The fact that you think I’d even do something like that... Go sleep in another room. I don’t want to see your face right now.”

“People will see us.”

“They’ve already fucking heard us, Shane! Your voice, it tends to carry.”

“Imma give you your space… Gosh, you’re fucking crazy.”

“Maybe so, but I’m not a piece of shit like you. Get out Bill Clinton. I need my beauty sleep.”

Shane stood unmoving, examining his wife’s back as she prepared for bed, not paying him any mind. He rubbed his hand over his face, through his hair and bit his lip before storming out, slamming the bedroom door behind him shut. It was only when he was out of the room that Michonne let her locs down and looked at where he left. She slipped into her silk nightgown and went to bed. At the same time, a young man with ocean-blue eyes, walked under the starry night sky, thinking back to a simpler time.

7 years, 7 months prior

The sky was illuminated with stars like embers. It was the promise of life in the dark, a feeling of warmth emerging from the cold. It should've been a vastness to offer humility and an unending expanse to inspire thankfulness for the comfort of home. Rick considered each night’s sky a new gift, no matter how many years passed. It made him feel better. And he hopes it will now. As he walked through the starry night, he met the figure of a woman’s back. She didn’t move a muscle and uncharitably gazed at what he sorted out. He recognised her immediately, and as he stepped unwittingly towards her, he noticed her tear-drained face. Each drop is like a shard of glass or a diamond.

“Michonne?” She didn’t answer. It was almost like she was lost in her mind. “Michonne?” It was the second call on which she turned to him. She stared at him, then ran her fingers over her wedding ring.

“Did you know?” It was uttered so minutely, he didn’t know if he missed some of her question.

“What?”

“Did you know about her?” They both understood exactly who she was referring to.

“I’m sorry…”

“Who else? Who else knew?” He couldn’t answer her obvious, but tragic question. “So everyone knew? I was just a fool to laugh at.” Rick could tell she'd sobbed extensively and for a long time since her eyes were swollen and most likely red. Her lips formed a half-formed, lifeless smile, and she tightened her crossed arms until she was more or less cradling herself.

“Shhh, it’s not worth it.” He rushed to her and gave her the warmest embrace he could muster. “I’m sorry.”

“I lost my baby… I lost my baby…”

He wrapped her more tightly, unsure how to react. She rocked softly back and forth, her voice devolving into an inconsolable whine, gasping between wails, hardly able to gather her breath for the next, unaware she even was doing it. He gave her a soothing hug and offered compassion without words, whilst he placed a hand on her lower back and gently guided her to sit down. They didn't say anymore and held her chilled hand, enabling her to let it all out.

Present

If Rick could mark the day their relationship changed, it’d be then. He stopped being the distant brother-in-law and became a friend. He became a friend for her to cry on and he never minded. He reached in his pocket for a smoke, making his way through the graceful garden, when he saw a woman smoking by herself.

“I didn’t expect you here. Come to your mother.”

“It's quiet out here… It’s nice…”

“As opposed to?”

“Your son and his wife are fighting…”

“Hmm… Is it about that woman?”

“I don’t really know.”

“Your brother needs to let that woman go, for his own sake.”

“Mmm… Mom… I—I’m probably gonna break your heart. I just hope you can go on loving me like you been… I know it may be a selfish thing to want, but I want it nonetheless…”

“You were premature when I had you… So small—so frail yet perfect. I spent six months up and down with you in a hospital because I could not lose you… Shane, Monty, Kendall... They’ve never been mine, but their father’s. You—you’re mine. You’re my boy, my sweet boy and you’ll always be my boy.” Eleanor held his cheek. “You got as much right as they do to fight. I love you, and I always will.”

…

…

…

Keynotes-

Sandalwood is a proven relaxant, decreasing anxiety, calming the nervous system, and assisting with better quality sleep. Its benefits are realised upon inhalation of the sweet, woody fragrance or when absorbed through the skin.

The Paris Wife is a fictional account of the relationship between Ernest Hemingway and his first wife, Hadley Richardson. The book follows the doomed relationship from its inception up until its dissolution several years later.

Black dahlias symbolise betrayal and sadness. They aren’t actually black but a really dark crimson that can sometimes give the illusion of them being black. Most notably, they're associated with the infamous murder of Elizabeth Short in 1947 in Los Angeles. This case became known as “The Black Dahlia” murder, and it remains unsolved to this day. Can you see where I’m going with this ;D

Mimosa pudica, or shame plant, is a creeping annual or perennial flowering plant. It is often grown for its curiosity value. The sensitive compound leaves fold inward, droop when touched or shaken and re-open a few minutes later. Mimosa pudica is not a carnivorous plant.

Anna Karenina is a novel by the Russian author Leo Tolstoy, first published in book form in 1878. The narrative centers on the adulterous affair between Anna, wife of Aleksey Karenin, and Count Vronsky, a young bachelor. Karenin's discovery of the liaison arouses only his concern for his public image. Anna promises discretion for the sake of her husband and young son but eventually becomes pregnant by Vronsky. The story tells about the dangers of idealising a partner, the pitfalls of Romanticism, the difficulty of marriage and the importance of communication.

The plight of man is a biblical reference. It means to be under the control of someone else or something else or it means that the human race is under the domination of sin. We are all part of the dominion of sin. Man outside of Christ is under the control of sin and he is helpless to escape from it.

Prologue

Chapter-1

[beinggayisreallyexpensive]

Guess I gotta grow up.

Afraid of risks. Afraid of responsibility greater than caring for a pet, and even more, afraid of failing responsibilities, afraid of being punished for my failures, and irrationally, a fear of being sued. Afraid of learning how to drive. I realized last weekend that while the start of my life had some shit, I've been extremely lucky in terms of both grief/loss and health. I don't have any close friends or family who have died, only parents of friends or family friends. My physical health, and those closest to me has been good, manageable. I got to have a lot of fun in my 20s too despite all of my depression.

Ian and I talked about the next 5, 10 years of our lives. We talked about how he wants to help fix up, and hopefully live in his dad's house up north and keep the land in his family and how deeply important it is to him, especially as an indigenous person to hold land. We talked about his parents' aging bodies and the fact they will need our care and help soon. We talked about his parent's partners and the role they would continue to have in their lives and care. And life is so fleeting, things could change, the timeline could accelerate at any moment. It could be his dad, his mom, or even my mom who needs help first, and there's a 4 hour drive from his mom's city to his dad's, and a fucking 6+ hour drive to get to where MY mother lives from the house he wants us to move into eventually.

I'm deeply afraid of change, I have always been resistant to moving onto a new phase of my life and honestly, with the exception of the feeling that I am somehow losing friends every week, I am really fond of this stage of my life. I got through the pandemic and back into the field I originally went to fucking school for, I was very close to giving up entirely on that thought back in 2019. I worked so hard to be here, to be as healthy as I am. I like being in my 30s, I like the way I look finally (mostly, at least, my self-hatred has cooled and matured). I worked so hard to be in a place I am happy to call home, in a neighbourhood I absolutely love living in. I love Toronto. I love my city. I love all the fucked up people who live here. I love the independence and empowerment this city gave me. It doesn't quite feel like I'm being "pushed out" of here, although a few of my friends literally have been. It feels like... this just might not be my home soon and I might not have much choice in that.

I don't know how I'm going to handle those inevitable moments of grief. I legitimately have no idea because I have never experienced real loss before. I don't know how my body will take this stress on. I can't even visualize my life in 10 years. Granted, I have never been able to do that very well, look into the future, but I can't imagine anything other than the extra wrinkles we'll have. Who will be there with me, who will be my community then? All I know is if I don't have Ian by my side I don't think I can get through it.

[dream-thief-forever-amen]

Eternal Brotherhood - ep 1-8 thoughts

Xiu is finally nice to Ning? Kinda sorta? Now that she’s hammered in ep 8? Ya’ll I don’t know how we are supposed to feel about this pair. I get that he is the king of passive aggressive gaslighting, but my dude… life is fleeting. Do you like her or not? Is this a pair I am supposed to ship as a couple or two people who have grown apart and don’t want let go?

Dude, just break up already. Ya’ll are that miserable couple everyone is sick of. Xiu’s little speeches to himself. Ugh. Actions speak louder than words sir.

I do wonder if he’s avoiding her cause he doesn’t line up to her father’s side of things politically and he worries he’ll have to kill the dude eventually. And then I wonder if Ning’s desperation isn’t also linked to this concern - that if she doesn’t lock him down pronto things will go dark. I guess I’m still interested in their story after all… frustrating as it is.

I really like this show otherwise, but whenever I’m having fun with Xiu or Ning separately they throw them into a scene together and then I just dislike them both again. I understand the dynamics of the other dudes and their ladies but Xiu and Ning?

I’m sure I’m not the first to point out the rather poor voice acting of Ning. The actress herself is doing a good job of being engaging but alas… poor girl was dubbed over for whatever reason. Please give me the directors cut with the original actress - I feel like it would be a totally different dynamic.

Outside of Xiu & Ning…

I’m desperately curious to meet more of the enemy. The brother of the princess who had no problem sacrificing her… or even the king who did everything to bring her home alive.

Also… are there demons/monsters in this show? There were a few snippets of conversation that implied there were OTHER others and it was as if they were not human. I’m super intrigued. Is Xiu one of these others or he is half and half? Does ANYONE know about his powers or is that his dark secret? I love this mystery.

I also love palace politics stories - especially ones that showcase all the double talk and manipulation and insane rules that these people experience in court. The scene where the sinister swordsmith politician is throwing his weight around keeping Xiu and Di Lin from searching for the princess by having them draw pictures of plants - my favorite scene thus far. I love little shitty assertions of power, how someone is using something petty and obvious to get what they want cause they know there’s nothing the other person can do about it. So fun to watch.

That old king is a piece of work, no? Sitting around playing with his puzzle box like a teenager on their phone. He amuses me greatly, especially in light of current politics. Sometimes you gotta hand the reigns to someone else - but you know these old kings are like Supreme Court justices they expect to die on the seat of power.

I’m worried about Xiu’s shifu! That goodbye was ominous. I like this dude a great deal of the three older dudes vying for power against the cranky king. Or is he already dead? Sometimes I feel like I looked away for two seconds and missed a vital piece of the plot.

Also these dudes are super comfortable with murder in that very perfunctory way that speaks of cognitive dissonance and years at war… they ain’t pausing for even a second before slicing and that’s also a nice touch.

Considering so much of this drama takes place indoors I like the decorating choices of all the locations. The color grading is very… well, this particular saturation combo is Game of Thrones all the way. Which is fine. Give us a nice snow covered landscape at some point and it will be complete.

It took me two episodes to realize this show is not historical China but a fantasy world. I mean… I think. I hope I’m right.

It’s very very hard not to look up reviews or search this site for more details but I want to avoid spoilers so I went in blind.

I can not help but think this show would be more enjoyable if I could follow it a little better. The world building is murky at this point - and ya’ll have had eight hours to help me out. I know there’s a big map in the throne room but I can’t see it… I need more color coding with the factions or something. Large ensemble stories with complex political plots are not impossible to convey - plenty of quality dramas have pulled it off - but this one… I’m not entirely sure who I should be rooting for? I wish I’d read the book.

There’s more to come so let’s see what clears up in the next ep!

P.S. the princess murdering the two dudes in the carriage was unexpected! She’s a cool character… making medicine and building fires in her pretty princess dress… Si Yilin, my dude, I like her too. I want him to explode from repression and maul her passionately like a starved animal. She’d be into it.

P.P.S - the actress who plays Ning is good and her voice is fine? Usually I’m not so turned off by voice acting but they made Ning sound like Edward from Cowboy Bebop. Who approved this? No objections were made? Ugh!

This is the actress who plays Ning and her real voice… they shouldn’t have dubbed her.

[blackaquokat]

Nobody asked me, but now that I've finished the main story of both Danganronpa games (Let's Plays, anyway, I'm going to play myself now), here are the thoughts running through my head. This post will be for the first game, I'll make another post for the second one.

(spoilers under the cut: I know the games have been out for a while but still):

1. It took me a LONG time to finish the first game after the first execution. I really liked Leon and not just because his design reminded me of Kirishima from MHA. I felt really bad about the situation he was in, even if, you know, he still killed Sayaka, his death was Brutal. I stopped watching for a few months because it haunted me, until my sister encouraged me to keep going because she wanted to talk to someone about it.

2. On that note, WHY, of all the available classmates, did Sayaka pick Leon as her potential victim? Why, if your goal was to kill, would you pick one of the Ultimate athletes? I feel like she would have had far more success if she'd chosen Hifumi or even Chihiro (sorry bb, I love you). Is there a lore reason behind it?

3. All that said, I am unfortunately interested in Leosaya content for the dramatic irony and tragedy of it, so if anyone has suggestions, let me know, and I also want to see Leon and Ibuki being best buds because she left her music group to pursue her actual creative dreams and Leon hated baseball and wanted to pursue dreams of being a musician and I can see them teaming up to be in a weird-ass band together. Someone direct me to any Leon and Ibuki platonic (or romantic, I'm down) content.

4. I think Leon is gaining blorbo status for me, but not as much as some other characters from the second game, but this is in no coherent order so bear with me, and also keep in mind, I have yet to play through all his possible dialogue in the School Mode version of the game so this is liable to change.

5. I went from waiting eagerly for Byakuya to die to being devastated that he died in the second game to REALLY HAPPY that that apparently wasn't even him (though I do like the Imposter & would like to know more about them). AND THEN to being so excited that he's apparently in a power throuple with Kyoko and Makoto, OT3s FOR THE WIN!!!!

6. Hina and Sakura were really sweet, and I Loooooove how protective Hina was, because yeah, the whole point of the fourth case was she underestimated Sakura's strength, but I also think Sakura deserved to be protected. Just because she's strong doesn't mean she didn't deserve people defending her.

7. On that note, ya'll, when I didn't know what to expect from this game, I legit thought somehow Mondo and Taka were going to die in that sauna. My stomach was in knots over it. Then they just. Were bros. And I was confused but on board with them (platonically AND romantically) and then the second case devastated me and not just because I had to watch Taka be Sad for so long.

5. I feel...so bad about the whole case with Mondo and Chihiro. They were BUDDIES. I know the whole point of the story is that people betray each other but God, imagine the "motive" you were given wasn't so much a motive as it was a fucking PTSD break and it lead to you killing someone that you were not only cool with, but who admired you for qualities you didn't feel worthy of, just FUCK--

6. If you let yourself stop and think of the Everything about these games and the stories, it really fucks you up, let me live in No Despair Land where everyone's friends with each other and there's no murder--

7. Also, the whole thing with Junko. I remember, before I took a break after Leon's execution, vaguely wondering about her last words? But it was a fleeting thought that didn't lead to anything, AND THEN IT CAME BACK AROUND??? So holy shit, that was cool.

8. Gotta say, as frustrating as a lot of repetitive stuff in the game got, I understood why it was needed for the case solving portion. As some of you can tell from my Clone Wars series with sweetiepie08, I LOVE mystery solving stuff when it's done right, and even if some of them are So SO convoluted, it's satisfying to see how they fall together.

9. The VAs in these games are fucking awesome. Even if some of the shit they had to say was ridiculous (which is par the course if that's your job), they did so damn good.

10. YA'LL, I legit thought Makoto was about to be executed, so when Alter Ego suddenly showed up and saved him, I shrieked, and then KYOKO found him, and I know a lot didn't happen after that except a shit ton of exposition, but I was so psyched.

11. *sigh* I don't know what the public opinion is of Toko, but she drove me insane with the debilitating inferiority complex. And then the Genocide Jack/Jill thing happened and I mean, at least she was...slightly more interesting with that, but still, I think Toko was somehow my least favorite out of the whole gang, next to Hifumi. I also would not have predicted that she'd be one of the final survivors.

12. I legit thought Hiro was going to snap at one point after his long period of denial at the beginning. I thought he'd snap and kill someone or get killed, so when he survived until the end, I was very surprised.

13. Tbh, I did not predict the endgame survivors for either Danganronpa. I think literally all I would have gotten right was Makoto, Kyoko, and Hajime. Everyone else was quite a surprise to me.

14. Not to compare another Danganronpa character to MHA, but I was super fond of Taka right off the bat because he's so Tenya coded, those two are definitely cousins or something.

15. Someone add onto my agenda of doing a Danganronpa x MHA fusion somehow, I'll make thoughts on another post.

16. I really loved Kyoko's dynamic with Makoto, idk why, and I just fucking love Kyoko in general, she's so cool. Sherlock Holmes, step aside.

That's about it! I'll make a post about the second game later.

[cheswirls]

WOW there was rly no other mention of figarland in film red and op wikis article hasn’t updated w 1086 so i had to go back and brush over to see where it was

after skimming the back half okay i have. new perspective ONE is that garland isn’t stated to be a world noble which i assumed the first time. he’s head of the knights and given a position of power in the holy land, obviously, if he can judge world nobles so freely (like.. enough to sentence one to death) and he does look like he’s in a position of power and knows it, like he gives off that air. but it’s not a stuck-up born-with-it air like other celestials

and then i realized that hes the former king of god valley, like in a very recent less-than-100-yrs-ago type. and uta was speculated to be a figarland after her relations w shanks were revealed.

at first i thought it would make sense, then, how shanks has gotten away with so much. (back when i thought garland was a celestial) that it explains why he was able to stop the war, and why sengoku said ‘because it’s you, i’ll allow it’ bc he didn’t rly have a choice in allowing it. that him seeing the elder planets was kinda like how mingo leveraged and weaponized his knowledge of the holy land. because it’s you, they said. and it would make sense, because shanks could have been born a celestial dragon but if he was found at god valley as a baby, or was placed on the oro jackson or w/e a la uta and the red-haireds, then he would grow up a pirate despite his heritage, but obviously if he would out then no one could deny him such. they sit at the top of the world for a reason

and then i backed off bc i realized it didn’t outright say garland was a world noble anywhere. so now my connection of shanks is coming from the god valley collection, and more in particular, the final words he says. on surface level he’s referring to mjosgard, but this is oda and nothing is ever only surface level. so if we are juxtaposing with shanks, then garland’s words surely are meant to be a foreshadowing. either into his character or shanks’. it really got me thinking on who shanks talked with the elder planets abt. luffy, or teach? but then, also, maybe roger? maybe rocks?? like, was he talking about a future problem, or something from the past coming to light instead????

anyone that protects scum is worse than scum themselves. my first thought immediately went to luffy. if we’re meant to tie garland in w shanks, and taking his words as some sort of future foreshadowing, and going off the assumption that shanks is going to be different bc god valley wasn’t around when he was growing up, then it’s gotta be him doing just that. like it’s gotta be more than snide words to mjosgard. maybe it’s abt shanks’ whole character, since 1076 (which i went back n glanced at to see if figarland was mentioned - nope) revealed that the crews under shanks’ fleet are kinda wishy-washy, and they joke abt protection money. shanks having so many common ppl -pirates no less- under him that can’t fend for themselves would be a good indicator in regards to what garland said. like i can see him saying that abt shanks. but, again, i can also see him saying that abt luffy. (i can also see it inadvertently coming back around to affect sanji, if the two ever interact, as yet another form of sanji rejecting his royal blood. but i digress-)

something abt god valley is going to be startlingly impt very quickly. its almost definitely been hit w an island-wiping beam like lulusia was, to have vanished like that in that manner of speaking (how sengoku warded others from investigating on their own and jus listening to him) and how the elder planets referred to lulusia in the original chapter it was blown to bits (a very different perspective this time around!!!! intriguing and eye-opening, rly wanna know where the nerona family lived before moving to the holy land. it couldn’t have been mother flame that did in god valley tho, or at least not whatever version they used on lulusia, since they talked abt it like they were testing a prototype. maybe they did have an ancient weapon at one point, and this is vp’s man-made counter to it like the blueprints franky had were the countermeasure to pluton?? vp took research on the void century from ohara over 20 yrs ago, and god valley vanished over 40, so if he (and therefore a rogue stella) found out a way to counter an ancient weapon, it would have to be after both. meaning the method of eliminating god valley and lulusia is similar but not the exact same, like an imitation

i wonder if god valley wraps all the way around, actually, bc roger and garp teamed up to protect celestial dragons. figarland is a judge onto the celestials in present day. the elder planets are partial to shanks, and garp views all celestials as scumbags (a la his convo w stelly) and dragon’s goal was to declare war specifically on the celestials. ik luffy’s mother has got to be impt, but i am starting to buy into his mother or grandmother being a world noble less and less, the more these egghead chapters reveal. garp and dragon just aren’t framed as having any partiality among celestial dragons. you would think if dragon met someone, that even if something terrible happened and they were judged by god’s knights, that dragon would take to heart that not all world nobles are bad (like we’ve been seeing w/ various donquixotes since the timeskip) and reconsider what he wants. but he doesn’t, so it doesn’t make sense for that to have happened. garp is the same way, and has been portrayed as such by his refusal to take an admiral slot since he made his debut in the manga. 

but god valley fits into the puzzle somewhere, and shanks is the missing piece to something. like somehow, someone got a baby shanks aboard the oro jackson. was it garp, after the fighting w rocks was over and his guard duty was essentially done?? was it someone else at the time, either a celestial (mother???) or a former resident of god valley? i guess we technically don’t know when garland retired to the holy land, so god valley could have not been a kingdom for many many years prior to the roger+garp vs rocks crew showdown. but both of them being there and teaming up makes me think it has to do with shanks, or shanks was a result and/or consequence of such. and the garp connection makes me think there’s a dragon connection, too. there’s 16 yrs between shanks and dragon. if dragon happened to be a former marine, would he have been there? did he have something to do with shanks being looked after by roger’s crew?

and then i am. tepidly circling around the idea that shanks could be tied to luffy’s mother, somehow. if oda is setting up shanks and garland to be opposites or foils or something, and if garland’s final words are a reference to shanks and luffy in the future, then? ??????????? idk. i think comparing shanks and luffy wouldn’t be far off either, especially if there’s a hidden middle man tying them closer together. like they don’t have to be related, that’s not necessarily what i’m getting at. but it would be very interesting if luffy’s mother had something to do with nobility tied so closely to the world nobles.

[bunji-enthusiast]

Bros gotta be a wet sap, totally an old romantic. He is technically an old man after all lmao.

Bunji Kugashira wasn’t the kind of man who indulged in fleeting passions or moments of shallow intimacy. His life had been shaped by violence, loyalty, and regret—traits that were woven deeply into the fabric of his being. In the midst of all his battles, all the faces he’d killed, all the betrayals he’d witnessed, one thing remained clear in his mind: he wanted something real. Something that went beyond the endless cycle of death and bloodshed. He wanted commitment. He wanted to give someone something he had never received in return—a sense of trust, a promise to be there, even when the world felt like it was collapsing into shadows.

But that was before you.

When he met you, everything became a blur of confusion. You weren’t like the others. You were soft, not in the way that meant weakness, but in the way that suggested warmth, tenderness, the kind of human connection he had long abandoned in the cold corners of his violent existence. Bunji wanted to keep you at arm's length. He wanted to keep you safe from the darkness that clung to him like a second skin. He told himself that you were just a friend, someone to share a quiet moment with, someone who made him forget the weight of his past, but never more than that. To ask for more was to risk exposing you to the storm that raged inside of him.

And yet, the more time passed, the harder it became to keep that distance. You were always there, your presence a steadying force in a world of chaos. Your laughter was a balm to his wounded soul, and your eyes, always so full of understanding, made him question everything he had ever believed about himself.

He couldn't ignore it any longer. The tension between you two had been growing for months. It started in small, almost imperceptible ways—a lingering glance here, a brush of fingers there. The air between you two crackled with unspoken words, with emotions that neither of you could fully grasp or control. Bunji tried to push it away. He tried to ignore the flutter in his chest when you smiled at him, the way your warmth seemed to melt the coldness that had taken root in his bones. But it was all becoming too much. His resolve was crumbling.

One evening, after a long day of moving through the shadows, Bunji found himself standing at the threshold of your apartment. He hadn’t meant to come. He hadn’t meant to let his thoughts wander this way. But here he was, his body betraying him, his mind a tangled mess of doubts and desires. He knocked on your door, unsure of what he was even doing there. When you opened it, the sight of you—quiet, serene, so utterly human—did something to him that he couldn't explain. His breath caught in his throat.

"Hey," he said, his voice rough as usual (what the hell was that tone inflection?) as though he had to force the words out. "—need to talk."

You stepped aside to let him in, your usual warm smile there, but there was something else now—a quiet recognition, a sense that you too had felt this shift in the air between you two.

"I’m listening," you said, your voice gentle, but the way you looked at him—so open, so trusting—made his chest tighten. He didn’t deserve it. Not after all the things he’d done, the life he’d led, the blood he’d spilled. But in that moment, with you standing there, all of that seemed irrelevant.

Bunji took a deep breath, trying to steady himself. He was used to pulling triggers, used to taking lives without hesitation, but this—this was different. He was terrified, but not of dying. No, he feared the vulnerability, the quiet fragility of this thing that was slowly blooming between you two. He had spent so long building walls around himself, never letting anyone in. And now here he was, standing in front of you, feeling like the walls were collapsing, bit by bit.

“Can I…” He hesitated, his fingers brushing the side of his jacket as he fought to keep his calm. “Can I kiss you?”

The question hung in the air between you, thick with the weight of everything unspoken. He was asking for permission, for something that, in his world, wasn’t given freely. He was asking for something real. Something that would tether him to you in a way that was beyond the superficial. And the tension in his body—so used to holding back, to keeping control—was now at its peak.

You didn’t answer immediately. Instead, you stepped closer to him, the faintest trace of a smile playing at the corners of your lips. Bunji could feel the heat radiating from your body, the subtle pull of gravity as you closed the distance between you. And in that moment, something shifted in his chest, something like relief, but something more.

Your fingers, gentle and soft, brushed against his cheek, the touch so light it was almost like a question in itself. The way you looked at him—so unafraid, so accepting—was everything he had longed for, even though he hadn’t known how to admit it.

Bunji closed his eyes, letting the moment stretch out, letting himself forget everything except for the thundering of his heart, the scent of your skin, the electricity that ran between you two. When you finally spoke, it was so quiet, so soft, it almost felt like a dream.

“Yes,” you whispered.

And with that simple word, everything inside of him shifted.

He leaned in slowly, his lips brushing against yours, testing the waters. The kiss was gentle at first, as though he was still afraid of breaking something between you. But then, as if his body could no longer deny what it had longed for, he deepened it, pulling you closer, the sensation of your warmth overwhelming him in the best way possible. His hands, which had once only known violence, now traced the curve of your back, memorizing the way you fit against him, the way you made him feel like he wasn’t just a man made of scars and darkness.

It was a kiss that spoke of everything they had both been too afraid to say. The years of isolation, the pain, the weight of his own guilt—it all melted away with each passing second. In that brief moment, the world outside didn’t matter. There was only you, and him, and the quiet certainty that this was what he had been waiting for all along.

When you finally pulled back, Bunji was breathless, his hands trembling slightly as he cupped your face. His eyes searched yours, looking for something, anything, that might betray the quiet hope he felt blooming inside him.

But there was nothing but quiet understanding in your gaze. You had given him the gift he had always feared—trust. And in that moment, Bunji realized that maybe, just maybe, he wasn’t the monster he had always believed himself to be.

Maybe, just maybe, he could still be something more.

[heylinhenchman]

📊 🔗 💧 🎁 🌺

THORUGHT (yeah) PROVOKING QUESTIONS | PERMACCEPT.

📊 - How does your muse feel about the state of the world? Could it be better? Could it be worse?

OUR World ? Well he wouldn't be surprised, he's savvy enough to have seen where it was going. But tbh if he were in our world his older self would probably be getting pretty chaotic neutral in support of a better environment. Can't enjoy a world that's slowly imploding on itself (also makes a buck getting weapons/blueprints to rebels just like grandmama). He still does in the nebulous modern-fantasy type world of xiaolin showdown, but with Magic and Heroes and all, it's generally expected they'll fix things and keep things 'GOOD N HAPPY' (even if it costs them (magic, resources, time, energy),,, but it don't cost HIiiMMmm).

🔗 - What are your muse’s standards for meaningful relationships? How quickly do they form relationships like these?

A meaningful relationship will ALWAYS involve the other party knowing about and/or accepting Jacks multifaceted life. Jack masks in a lot of ways with a lot of aliases. Someone's gotta be able to put up with Villain Jack, Jack Spicer Son of Important People, and Jack Spicer, that nerdy goth guy who just, is so weird (and lovable). These relationships are pretty rare, because Jack doesn't like to go into details about his family (beyond their various attempts to hinder him); and if he meets you as a civilian he doesn't always want to expose himself as a villain. Meeting him and accepting him as a villain is usually your quickest route to his trust.

From there a lot of meaning comes from a mutual understanding they cant, and trust that they wont, try to control each other. Nobody tries to make him good, and Jack is more willing to respect someones boundaries than just the average acquaintance.

Jack is a bit starved for connection, but he's also not exactly experienced with a considerate one. So he's always on guard while seeking a crumb of compassion or understanding.

💧 - How would your muse react to losing a best friend? How would they cope?

Jack gets attached to objects more than people sometimes, but it doesn't mean he wouldn't grieve in his own way. Jack... tries to be logical about these things. But maybe in a really neurodivergent way. It's that with objects he was suppose to protect them and was capable of repairing and potentially keeping them forever. If he loses an object that's his fault and it's maddening. People... aren't... forever. He's used to abandonment and he's understands entropy. But as much as he knows that, there's no preparing for the loss of someone important to you. Kinda sore subject for ... this ask but his best friend is his grandma when he doesn't have any other connections via RP. He knows life is fleeting, but he has admired her since he was young and she supports him like nobody else and has given him so much. He thought she'd find a way to live forever, and she does live for a long ass time. Even if you can accept that someone is gone, logistically, and that it went as well as one could hope. There's still a very literal physical void and emotional reaction you have to literally deal with with at some point.

Jack doesn't let a lot of people in, he doesn't have a lot of people who root for him, every single one means so much. He's really reactive at first. There's a cold couch-sinking depression, there's a lot of hot, wet with tears anger, there's a bit of hysteria. He'd shut himself off for a while, even if he had any other friends, he wouldn't really want them to see him in the state he was sure to be in. Unlike I, who trusts the psychiatric community, Jack doesn't believe in therapy. So he would stew his feelings, making unfavorable judgements and assumptions until he felt comfortable enough to come out again. Then he'd refuse to talk about it. He'd call anyone who brought it up insensitive. He'd claim it's over and he doesn't want to talk about it. It becomes a trigger for flash anger. But from time to time he'll be struck by some sorrowful thought or impulse to connect with that friend again and feel himself start to choke up and need to fuckin escape pronto.

On the hopeful side though... He clings to sentiments. Whether the friend left him physically or if they left this earth. He tends to cling to the things they left him. Even still make thing in their memory (in a way its like, the good things about em live on in the things he emulates, ya kno?).

🎁 - Does your muse celebrate their birthday? If yes, how do they celebrate? If no, why not?

Not really. His parents used to make a big deal of it when he was younger, but as he got older, it's started to just be his mom, and people she thinks should be his friends. He doesn't really like to think about aging much, but also, struggles to remember how old he is sometimes, cause he just lies a lot.

🌺 - Does your muse have a favorite flower? Why do they like it?

HOW COULD IT BE ANYTHING BUT THE MONKEY ORCHID? Orchids are just persnickety plants and who doesn't love a challenge ?

He also hates lavender. It gives him a headache and reminds him of his aunt.

[muted-like-sunset]

Hi hi! I just wanted to say that I love your spark series so much and I can’t wait for the next chapter! (Don’t rush and take care of yourself) Anyways, I have a request. How would Peeta react to his s/o having a cat (or any pet really) that they’re super close with and love to the ends of the earth. Say that that pet went missing one day, and reader just kinda freaks. I’m talking panic attacks, crying, etc. Pet is found, reader chills. Also, pet would have survived the bombing of 12 but reader wouldn’t know until they got there after the quarter quell. I’m sorry if this is a lot, you don’t have to add everything lol 😅

Fritz | p.m.

Things are hopefully getting better on my end, so maybe I'll post more! I hope you all enjoy <3

A oneshot about the relationship between a person and their cat.

peeta mellark x fem! reader

word count: 5.2k

trigger warnings: mentions of grief, animal illness, brief unexplored loss of a child, violence, anxiety, symptoms of a panic attack, illusions to bombing, illusions to fire, mentions of blood, crowds, yelling, illusions to choking, poor body condition (animals and people), brief mentions of pregnancy.

(mostly) unedited, all mistakes are my own.

Fritz sleeps stretched out at the foot of my bed. He’s a relaxed cat, mostly spending his time sunbathing and watching any birds that brave the smog of the seam, so this is not unusual for him. I smile at him, reaching out a hand to rub between his ears. His purrs vibrate the palm of my hand and I giggle, cooing to him. 

“Fritzy baby, you soakin’ up the sun?” I murmur to the pile of black fur. He stretches out at my attention, rolling lazily onto his back and stretching his front legs as far as they’ll go. 

My sister found him on the street when he was a kitten. His belly swollen with worms and his fur so caked with coal dust we had to bathe the screaming, hissing kitten six times for the water to run clear. He'd been a scrappy kitten, but enough rabbit meat and he settled into the house cat lifestyle nicely. 

He pushes his head against my hand as I pull away and I gently push him back. 

“I've gotta go, honey.” I tell him even though he doesn’t understand. He meows as I stand, elongating the middle into somewhat of a howl. “Oh, hush. You won’t be complaining when I bring you something back.” 

The promise of food seems to placate him since he chooses to jump off the bed and slink into some other part of the house, his bell ringing.

Our house is small, two bedrooms and the main area are the entire thing, save for the small bathroom connected to my parent's room. I once shared the room with my older sister Annabelle, but she was reaped just before I turned seven. I barely have any memory of her, just fleeting images of silver eyes and the soft sound of her voice. I want to miss her more than I do, but having never really gotten to know her, there isn’t that much there. 

Don’t get me wrong, I still wake up screaming for her sometimes, something leftover from childhood I guess. While I have no real memory of life with her, I distinctly remember her death. I'd been in the school cafeteria when it was televised, the male tribute from District 2 got a hold of her. Her screams echoed through the halls and everyone spent the rest of the day in complete silence. I hadn't even had time to react, teachers and older students alike rushing to take me away from the screens. my parents had been at work and wouldn’t hear of her fate until a few hours later. 

It’d been incredibly isolating, witnessing her death and being the sole member of my family to know. I'd gone home that day to find Fritz complete with the little bell she’d gotten him when mom let us keep him. The sound of the bell had kept me awake at night, the sound mingling with my parents' sobs when they thought I was asleep. She’d said his bell would keep us safe, that the ringing would keep away monsters.

I'd left the bell on him ever since. 

I shake my head and tug on my too-small boots before I head out, hoping to get some hunting in before the reaping begins. 

~~~~~

Fritz creeps down the long hall curiously, peeping around corners with focused eyes and slow movements. I press my back to the door, knowing I have a few minutes before my parents will be joining me. Peeta is probably doing the same across the street, though I seriously doubt his parents will leave the bakery to live with him. Now that their son is a victor, the Mellark’s bakery is going to be the center of a frenzy of Captiol people’s orders. A desperate attempt at having something close to their most recent victors. 

Given that my family owned pretty much nothing, Peeta's parent’s bakery is as close as they can get. 

I hear Fritz's bell jingle as he trots back up the hall, startling a bit at his reflection in the long mirror in the entryway. I snicker at his misfortune, standing and scooping him off of the ground. He's a bit thinner than when I left, most likely it had fallen on Katniss's sister to make sure he was fed. Her cat Buttercup is her life and I know she made sure Fritz was well. 

Bringing him to the living room I set us up on the couch, cracking open one of the many magazines Effie left behind to customize the house. The heaviness of the day’s events, of moving into this new house weigh on me and I find myself drifting off to sleep.

When I wake, I expect the gentle pressure of Fritz’s body weight on my chest. There’s always been a soothing aspect to it and it’s his favorite place to sleep. Still, he has a mind of his own so him not being right with me isn’t terribly surprising. 

I sit up and stretch, wondering if my parents have returned yet. I turn to check the windows, looking for any indication of the time, and find gentle sunlight shining through. I checked again, standing and making my way to the door to step outside. There, it becomes clear that I've slept through the night and into the next morning. 

I furrow my brow and go back inside, turning to the stairs and taking them two at a time. I find the room set out to be my parents and slowly open the door. 

There they are, their faces gentle in sleep. With a little sigh of relief, I shut the door quietly and move to search for Fritz. The second floor comes up empty, so I return to the downstairs. The search winds up the same and I feel tightness settling in my chest. Still, there’s the basement to check and even then he could be hiding somewhere in the house. I grab a bag of the Captiol cat treats left behind as a gift and hurry for the basement stairs.

“Fritz?” I call, turning the corner into the empty room. My eyes dart around, listening in silence for the sound of his bell. When it’s clear he isn’t there, I turn for the stairs again. From the edge of my vision, I spot it. Shelves up to a cracked open window at the ground level. I take the stairs again to the ground floor and head to the front door. 

“Fritz!” I call again, my voice growing a bit panicked. I open the door, stepping outside. He’s a cat, he’ll be fine. There’s nothing in District Twelve that could really hurt him. He wouldn’t make it into the woods, there’s nothing that can hurt him. 

Despite my mantra, the anxiety claws its way into my throat and forces my voice from me. I call for him down the street, my voice laced with anxiety. 

Peeta’s front door tears open across the street, a frightened Peeta Mellark standing in the doorway. He looks around, eyes settling on where I stand in the center of the street clutching my chest. I try to force myself to breathe through the panic, but the air feels much too thin. Seeing my state, he comes carefully down the stairs to my side. 

“Y/N? You okay?” He asks, voice tense. I suck in a breath. 

“Fritz is gone!” I cry, the sobs ripping their way from my too-tight throat. “I woke up and he’s just gone!”

Peeta is quick to jump to the rescue. 

“I need you to breathe, Y/N. I’ll find Fritz, okay?” He reassures me, not moving any closer. “He can’t be far, probably just out prowling the new neighborhood. I’ll ask around, but I need to be sure you’re safe first.” 

I want to scream at him, to make him understand the fear clutching my empty lungs too tight for them to ever expand. Still, the rational bits of my brain band together with the resounding realization that Peeta, as usual, is right. Shoving the heels of my palms into my eyes, I force myself to take deep breaths in through my nose and blow them out of my mouth. The first breaths are short and quick, shaking on entry and accompanied by sobs on their exit. Gradually, I begin to notice sensations in my body again. The rocks digging into the soles my feet and the weakness in my legs come to the back of my focus, nudging at my mind. 

“Can I touch you?” Peeta asks, voice so soft I almost don’t hear it. I nod, not trusting myself to speak. His hand is gentle on my back, rubbing in firm circles. I focus on the sensation, timing his circles to my breaths. One circle, breathe in. Second circle, hold. Third circle, keep holding. Fourth circle, breathe out. The cycle is soothing, so much so that I don't fight him as he leads me to the porch steps. There, we continue our cycle until I feel like I can open my eyes again.

With the anxiety steadily leaving my body, I feel the weight it has left behind. Every bit of my body feels as though on the edge of sleep. My arms and legs are weak and my body screams for me to lie down. Shakily, I pull my hands away from my eyes and shove hair out of my face. Peeta swims at the edge of my returning vision, worry etched onto his face. 

“There she is.” He murmurs, continuing his circles. “Keep breathing, honey. You’re doing great.” 

We stay like this for a few minutes before I gather the strength to let him leave. As much as I want to follow him home and curl up in his embrace, I know I won’t sleep unless Fritz comes home. 

“I’m okay.” I self-soothe, repeating the words a few times. Peeta watches silently, nodding to my words. 

“You’re okay.” He agrees, reaching up his spare hand to tuck a stray hair back into place. “You stay right here, okay? I’m gonna go find Fritz and bring him right back to you. Give him a piece of my mind for worrying his mother so much.” 

I laugh weakly, nodding at his sentiment. When I manage to crack a smile Peeta returns a grin of his own, standing from the porch steps and taking a careful step back. He pauses for a moment, awaiting permission to leave. When I nod he nods back, walking backward a few paces before turning and heading down the street.

“Fritz!” His deeper tone reverberates through the still morning air. “C’mon kitty!” 

I wait on the steps for about a half-hour, shivering slightly from a combination of the adrenaline leaving me and the cold morning air, before I see Peeta rounding the corner into Victor’s Village. Tucked safely into his arms is Fritz, black fur sticking out starkly against Peeta’s off-white shirt. His bell jingles with every step Peeta takes and, as they grow closer, mingles with the sound of Peeta’s gentle scolding. 

“Had your mother worried to death, Fritz. Just stay home, ya hear? She was about to tear the entire district to the ground looking for you.”

I’m on my feet in an instant, reaching my hands out when I get close enough. Peeta passes him into my arms easily and he grips my shirt with his claws, settling his head onto my shoulder. My hand comes up to his back, holding him against my chest as tears spring to my eyes once again. 

“Where?” is all I can ask, but Peeta knows exactly what I mean. 

“Your old house, curled up on the bed like he owned the place.” He teases the cat in my arms, reaching out a hand and rubbing between his ears.   “Don’t worry, I gave him a stern talking to. He’ll think twice before wandering too far from home again, right Fritz?” 

I laugh at his antics, clutching the purring cat tight. 

“C’mon,” Peeta grins, resting a hand on my lower back to guide me. “Let’s get some tea.” 

~~~~~

“There is no district Twelve, Y/N.” Gale whispers, hand never leaving my arm. 

I start to sit up, gripping his arm frantically. 

“I got them out,” He reassures, pushing me to lie back down. “your parents, they’re safe. I got them out in time.” 

I try to ask about Fritz, but it seems so trivial. People could have died, but I cannot let the cat go. Fritz and his bell are all I have left of Annabelle and I have to know where he is. 

I try again, forcing Gale to listen to me. 

“Did you get Fritz?” I ask, voice deadly serious. Gale shys away, refusing to meet my eyes. “Gale, did you get him?” 

“He got spooked by the sound, Y/N. He ran off.” He admits, his hand heavy on my arm. I pull myself from his grasp, backing to the corner of the bed where it meets the wall. 

“Get out,” I demand. When he doesn’t move immediately it drives me to rage. “Get out! Leave!” 

He backs up a bit, holding his hands up in surrender. Still, he stays in the room. Blinded by grief, I turn and grab blindly at the tools by my bed. My hand clumsily finds a scalpel, cutting myself in the process. I thrust the blade out at him and he leaps back, demeanor changing entirely. 

“Go away!” I sob, lashing out at him again. Peeta. Fritz. District Twelve. Gone, just like that. 

I didn’t even get to say goodbye.

~~~

I step off the plane with Katniss and Gale at my sides. Steeling myself, I try to take in the vast rubble of home. We’ve touched down in the square and already I see the destruction. The Justice Building is rubble, large gray stone lying across the square. From here I can see the stone building that used to be the seamstress’ shop in much the same state. 

“Are you okay?” Gale asks, keeping his eyes trained on me. Katniss surveys twelve with a hardened eye, hellbent on making snow pay. 

I nod, pulling my eyes from the rubble. 

“Can I go home?” I ask, looking back to the crew. Cressida nods and gestures for me to take the lead. I hesitate, watching them carefully. I don't want cameras on me when I see the Seam. The coal dust caking the streets made the entire Seam a ticking time bomb. Katniss seems to understand my hesitance. 

“Actually, can we go alone?” She asks, voice strong and sure. She stands unmoving at my side, eyes daring anyone to tell her no. 

The crew seems unsure, but Cressida only takes a moment before she agrees. Katniss nods, turning to let me go ahead of her. The walk through twelve is quiet with only small comments from the two behind me. Katniss and Gale fill the conversational space I have left behind with little questions for me that they know I won’t answer. They’re unsure around me, have been since I came back from the quarter quell.

I don’t blame them.

As expected, the Seam has burned completely to the ground. There’s an occasional standing beam or foundation in the homes that had them, but you can still see clear over them. With the homes gone, I trace the familiar landscape with my eyes. I choke down a sob and hold my hand out to Katniss, wanting some support. She’s quick to take hold of my hand, cementing me in reality. She asks no questions, only offering me her steadiness and bravery in the face of what was once our home. 

We walk closer to where the Everdeen's and my family lived, closer to the far edge of the seam where it meets the meadow. At the sight of my home, mostly rubble and ash with some of the fireplace still intact, I release her hand. I step over some mostly burned boards that used to be part of our entryway and settle where the heart of the home used to be. 

If Fritz had gotten spooked during the bombing, this is where he would have run to, straight into the Seam. The coal-caked Seam. The sight of all of the destruction prompts the sob from my body as I sink to my knees in the ash. My hands fumble for something concrete, something that proves that my house had been here. That I’d grown up in this very spot, that this had been the home I had to return to after my sister was reaped. Then, there’s a sound. Some curious noise that quickly becomes desperate. 

I whip my head to the side, climbing back to my feet and spreading ash on my face as I try to wipe the tears from my eyes.

“Fritz?” I call, stumbling towards the sound. 

There, weaving out of some collapsed wood planks and crumbled stone comes his too-small form. He’s scrawny and absolutely covered in ash but I’m so absolutely relieved to see him that I don’t care. 

The sobs break free of my throat again when I get him in my arms, rocking myself. He’s too skinny, I can feel every individual rib and his hip bones poke out. Still, he’s safe now. I’ve got him again and all will be well. 

With him in my arms, I mourn the loss of my home. The life I lived before, a life in the future with Peeta. Peeta weighs heavily on my mind, and before I can stop myself I start telling Fritz everything. It’s a great relief, the nonsensical rambling and sobbing to the being who simultaneously wouldn’t understand and always seems to. I tell him everything that has happened since I last saw him. About finding out Peeta was gone and recovering in the hospital in District 13. I go on and on about Finnick and Beetee having made it out, finally expressing my grief and rage that they’d been saved and Peeta hadn’t. I tell him everything as I stroke the fur on his face until there’s nothing more to talk about. Until the breath entering my chest is easy and my muscles unclench. Then, I return quietly to Katniss and Gale who have stayed respectfully towards the road.

“I have everything I need,” I tell them softly, feeling the weariness settling in my bones again. Fritz pushes his face against my neck and I stroke his ears gently. 

The team says nothing of my appearance or Fritz when we return, instead guiding us into the hovercraft. They must have gotten what they needed. 

~~~~

“And there, in District 13, dead by morning!” Peeta shouts. There’s commotion and suddenly the camera is knocked down. I step closer to the screen, eyes running over every detail as people move around me. There's shouting, some struggle, and then Peeta renters the frame. His head hits the tile floors loudly, the crack making me jump. 

“They’re gonna kill him!” someone gasps, but I try to tune it out. They can’t kill him, not after the games. The Capitol still adores Peeta despite my perceived wrongs, they won’t kill him for loving some girl they hate. Will they?

There are more sounds of him being beaten before the camera cuts off, the Capitol seal and anthem playing for its entirety before the screens shut off. There's tense silence for a moment before the room erupts. People buzz about trying to confirm his words and after a minute, Coin speaks up.

“Get everyone to the shelter. It's safer to assume he knows something than to assume otherwise.” She commands in a short voice, tone daring anyone to question her. The alarms begin moments later, a sound I’ve only ever heard during the few practice drills I’ve been here for. It’s all-consuming, beating into every ounce of your body. Even if you didn’t know what it meant, the sound itself makes you want to escape it. 

I have to find Fritz. 

I take off from the room, hands over my ears and trying to keep my breathing calm. I have to push through people as I get closer to my apartment, but knowing that Fritz is stuck inside with nowhere to go drives me forwards. The crowds break just before the residential halls, most everyone already on their descent downstairs. When I hit the door, I start searching for him. 

With nowhere to escape the sound, where would he feel safest? I search under the beds, in cabinets, and finally in the closet before I find him. He cowers at the back wall, trying to be as far from the alarm as he can.

“C’mere Fritz, it’s okay.” I call, trying not to let my voice shake. The sound of the alarm is making my body shake with anxiety, and I only notice how bad it’s gotten when I see my own hands reaching for him. He allows me to collect him in my arms and I grab a blanket from the bed, wrapping it around him in an attempt to help drown out the noise while keeping him still. 

With him securely tucked into my arms, I realize how limited our time must be. I take off for the stairs down to the shelter, running easily through the hallways. Every empty hall I come to makes me move even faster, not wanting to be locked up here when the strike happens. My feet finally hit the metal stairs and I spot Primrose Everdeen in the same state. Buttercup is thrown over her shoulder, her cradling his head as she begins her descent. Then, someone is calling our names.

“Prim! Y/N!” Katniss yells. There’s someone coming up the stairs. 

“We’re coming!” I yell back, tears brimming in my eyes. The alarms and my heartbeat make every step unsteady and I have to do my best to not fall down the remaining flights. Gale rounds the staircase and his eyes fall on us. He doesn’t yell as I expect him to, instead nudging the two of us in front of him and herding us down the remaining stairs. The doors are almost closed when we hit the lowest floor and Katniss is reaching through them to us. She tugs Prim and myself into her arms, wrapping us in her shaky embrace. Gale dives through at the last second. 

“What we’re you thinking!” She shouts, pulling back. I have to fight the tears back, but Primrose is determined.

“I couldn’t leave him, Katniss!” She shouts back, not hesitating for a second. Katniss eyes the two of us for a moment before pulling her sister back into her arms. 

“I know, I know. I’m sorry.” She soothes, rocking her in her arms a bit. She eyes me again. “You guys are okay?”

I nod stiffly, eyes darting past her to try to find my parents. They sit on a bed together, arms around each other. My mother is wide-eyed, my father crying. 

~~~ 

The bruises on my throat feel like the only proof Peeta is even alive. They won’t tell anyone that he’s here because they aren’t sure how to tell people he’s not the same. 

How could he be?

I let the image of him back to the front of my mind. Bruised and hollow-eyed but alive and it makes my heart hammer harder in my chest. Even though his eyes had been so angry when they came to rest on me, even though the Capitol made him into someone else entirely, I am so relieved he’s alive that it makes my legs weak. It's selfish to the point I feel sick but I don’t care.  

Mrs. Everdeen enters the room to check on me again, she’s speaking but I don’t listen. I can’t bring myself to care if he’s irreparably damaged my voice. I have no need for it anymore. With Peeta safe in District 13 I don’t care to do much of anything except get out of this room so I can see him again. I’ll have to see him from the observation room, but I don’t care.

She speaks again, moving her face into my line of sight. Her eyes are worried, brows knitted together. I do my best to focus on her. 

“-cat?” I manage to catch the end of her sentence. I squint at her, swallowing and focusing on her lips closely. 

“Can you tell me your cat’s name?” She asks. She’s trying to get me to use my voice. Still, I perk up at the mention of the little creature I haven’t seen in days. 

It's a struggle, but I manage to get out a rasp that sounds something like “Fritz.” 

She nods, having me say it a few times. Then, she rests her hands at her sides.

“Well, I don’t think he did any permanent damage.” She sighs, clearly upset at the sight of my bruising. She’s a mother before she’s a healer I suppose, a close friend’s mother at that. I want to ask her to release me, to let me rest in my quarters instead of the hospital wing, but my voice simply isn't there. 

I let her leave. 

~~~

They have tried Katniss, they’ve tried Primrose, they even tried Madge Undersee. Every person sent into that room with him has set him off. I lean my head against my hands as they continue to drone on about how it’ll take him time to readjust and how he’s showing promising signs. I have yet to see the signs they’re talking about, but I want so badly for him to look at me with some ounce of love that I don’t interrupt them. I don’t even speak into I hear Fritz’s name.

“What was that?” I ask, head darting up. 

“That got her attention.” Haymitch mumbles and I shoot him a glare. Dr. Aurelius seems unaffected by our antics and ignores Haymitch. 

“Perhaps seeing Fritz would be soothing for Peeta.” He offers, his face devoid of anything but calm. 

“Or maybe,” I start, pulling myself out of my chair and stepping towards him. “he’ll kill him.”

“He won’t kill Fritz, Y/N.” Dr. Aurelius sighs. “He’s actually mentioned him during our sessions. He’s fond of him, he just doesn’t know why. I think that seeing Fritz will help him strengthen his actual memories of not just his life, but of you.”

This makes me pause.  I want to say no, to maybe start screaming until they lock me back in my hospital room, but the idea of Peeta regaining some positive memory of me is enough to make me consider. No, I don’t want him near Fritz. Would he actually hurt him? Thoughts swim in my head for a minute before anyone speaks. 

“He doesn’t have to, Y/N. It’s just an idea.” Dr. Aurelius soothes, eyes watching me for a moment before drifting back to our window to Peeta’s cell. 

“Fine,” I mumble. “But he hurts Fritz and I’ll kill him myself.” I’m leaving the room, letting the door swing shut behind me when I hear Haymitch pipe up again. 

“She won’t.” He assures someone. He’s right.

~~~

They let me bring Fritz to his room myself before they make me hand him off to Dr. Aurelius. On the way, I prep him as though he could understand what I’m telling him. 

“Peeta’s not himself, but he remembers you. You’re very lucky because he absolutely hates me and anyone that could maybe like me, but not you. Dr. Aurelius said that you can help him get better, so I need you to do your best because I…” I trail off, catching myself on the words. I hadn’t thought about it before but I suppose it’s true. Here, in the hallway where no one can hear me, the words can’t hurt. So, I test them out. “I need you to do your best because I love him. Very much.”

I’m silent the rest of the way to his room, only breaking to press a kiss to Fritz’s head before I hand him off.

The observation room is quiet despite being full of nurses and doctors. Haymitch collects me as I come in and I let him guide me to the glass. We watch as Dr. Aurelius brings Fritz in. He speaks to Peeta for a moment before leaving the two alone. 

It feels earth-shattering for him to leave the two unsupervised, but I have to trust that Peeta would never hurt Fritz. 

I bounce on the balls of my feet as the two watch each other, breath hitching as Fritz makes his way to Peeta’s bed easily and leaps onto the mattress. Peeta reaches out a thin hand and plops it between Fritz’s ears, petting him just the way he likes. He scratches beneath his chin, a real smile making its way to his face at what must be Fritz purring. 

“Hey, buddy.” Peeta murmurs and my heart hammers in my chest. To hear him so affectionate with the little cat in front of him makes my heart soar and I touch a hand to the glass. That is the Peeta I left in the jungle. That is the Peeta that held me when I cried after the jabberjays left their mark on my mind. The Peeta that searched for Fritz when he made his way back to the Seam. This is Peeta Mellark. 

I’m sobbing, one hand frantically wiping tears from my eyes to keep them from obstructing my view and the other pressed hopelessly to the glass as though I could reach out to hold them. Until now, Peeta’s recovery had seemed near impossible. Watching him stroke Fritz’s fur so peacefully, so happily, feels like a miracle. 

~~~

I sit with Fritz on my stomach, his back feet resting on my legs and front legs stretched up over the curve of my belly to rest on my chest. Peeta and Belle are in the kitchen, their faces and hair certainly caked with flour as they play more than they bake. Peeta will clean up after she’s tucked into bed, but for now, things are peaceful. 

Fritz has slowed down, taking much longer naps when Belle isn’t dragging him off for playtime. I’m great up for him, for being there for Belle when Peeta has one of his episodes, for when I have nightmares. He sleeps in her bed instead of mine now, but I don’t mind. He’s watching over my daughter as he watched over me. I wonder if Annabelle somehow knew I would need him when she dragged him in off the street or if it was just her kind heart. I see her in her namesake, with her Seam grey eyes and gentle demeanor. She is every bit the future Annabelle would have wanted for me, and so I rise and make my way to the kitchen. 

“Momma!” Belle squeals at the sight of me, tossing her chubby hands up in the air and giggling loudly as flour dusts the room. I laugh, taking in the sight of the two of them. Peeta grins back, scooping our daughter off of the stool she’s propped on and setting her on the ground between us. Fritz hops up on the stool as soon as she’s vacated it, watching the chaos with a trained eye. Belle runs for my legs and I hold her close, letting her cake flour onto my clothing. 

After all, there are worse things.

[princessmisery666]

Words Unspoken - Part 4 - My Girl Mini Series (end)

Summary: The Dagger mission is a success, and the consequences of Bradley’s voicemail catch up to him sooner than he expects.

Warnings: fluff, angst, smut (finally!), unprotected sex, best friends to lovers.

W/C: 5.3k

Characters: Bradley Bradshaw, OFC (Bailey) Small Parts/Mentioned: Nick and Carole Bradshaw, Pete “Maverick” Mitchell, Natasha “Phoenix” Trace, Jake "Hangman" Seresin.

Pairing: Bradley Bradshaw x OFC

Notes: set after the events of Top Gun: Maverick. 

A/N: thank you for sticking with me 😘😍

Betas: @cockslutpadalecki - checked the smut but its changed a lot, yet thanks and credit are still due as they are to @writercole too, I never would have finished this series without her input // @deanwinchesterswitch - as ever a thank you is never enough and one day I hope to thank you in you in person 😍 or with cold hard cash 🤣

Graphics: made by me on canva. Dividers: @writercole

Master Lists: My Girl - Series // Top Gun: Maverick // Main

Words Unspoken

Arriving back at base, the phone in my pocket vibrates again. After the successful dagger mission, I went for a drink with Maverick to talk through our issues. It’s been sixteen hours since I left Bailey the voicemail. I don’t need to check my phone to know who’s calling. I had eighty missed calls by the time we made it back to Fightertown. I’ve ignored every one. 

She hasn’t left me any messages or texts, which is part of the reason I haven't called. I don't know what to expect, and I'm not emotionally ready for that conversation. It's been taxing enough dealing with Mav. I can't deal with drama from Bailey too.

The text notification beeps, and this time, I pull the phone from my pocket to read; If you’re not dead, answer your damn phone!

I reply, simply saying; I’m okay. Will call you tomorrow.

A call immediately comes through from her number, and I decline it, shutting the phone off before shoving it back in my pocket.

I know I should call her. Reassure her that I am, in fact, okay and explain myself, but honestly, I’m afraid. I need time to let the adrenaline of the mission pass and my nerves settle. I’ll call her tomorrow. Right now, I just want to sleep.

I’m so exhausted, and my body aches more than I knew it possibly could. I open my bedroom door and freeze. Bailey is standing in the middle of the room, her back to me, phone pressed to her ear, a hand tangled in her hair. “...need to hear your voice, just to know you’re really okay. Call me, please.”

I assume she’s leaving me a message after I ditched her call. She hasn’t noticed me yet, so I could turn and run. It’s a fleeting thought that barely forms before I sigh, “shit!”

She spins to face me, and the relief is short-lived before it shifts to anger.

“We had a fight, and you ignored me for two weeks!” She drops her phone on the nightstand, picks up a pillow from my bed, and throws it at me. It misses by a foot. “You thought you might die and said goodbye in a voicemail!” 

“How’d you even get in here?”

“Trace let me in when I told her you said goodbye in a damned voicemail!” Another pillow follows as her voice gets louder. It hits my hip as I dodge around it, doing my best to hide a wince as the sharp movement jolts my injured ribs. She doesn’t seem to notice, continuing her rant. “A VOICEMAIL BRADLEY!? And not only that, you tell me to leave Sean AND THAT YOU’RE IN LOVE WITH ME! WHAT CROSSED YOUR DAMN MIND?!”

I step inside the room and shut the door. Probably not a smart move; there are no pillows left, only heavy objects. “You gotta give me something here, sweetheart. Are you mad at me for leaving you a voicemail, not telling you I might die, or telling you what you already know is true? Pick a fight.” 

“Pick a fight. Pick a fight, he says.” She throws her arms up in the air, but it does nothing to dispel the frustration she clearly feels. “How about we start with the message? Why did you think that was a good idea?”

Good question. Why did I think that was a good idea? I gather up the pillows, moving as slow as I can as not to jolt my ribs. As I walk toward my bed, Bailey jerks out of my way like she’s afraid I might touch her. The unfamiliar reaction sends a chill through me, dread dropping like lead in the pit of my stomach, like the sudden loss of altitude. I toss the pillows back in their place, unnecessarily plumping them to take a second to calm myself while my back is to her. 

“Well, I thought about sending you a letter,” I say, turning to look at her again. “But you’d probably have received my death in service notification before it arrived. Postal service,” I shrug, “so unreliable.”

She shakes her head, disbelief blasting out in a humorless laugh. “So this is just all a joke to you?”

“It’s kinda funny.” It’s not; it's terrifying. Still, I shrug, feigning nonchalance. “It’s either laugh or freak out about it like you are.”

She cocks her hip, eyes squinting slightly, and purposely relaxes her body in an attempt to look indifferent. “I am not freaking out.” 

“Kinda are.” 

“I’m angry.” 

“Borderline freaking out,” I counter. “Tell me, how many times did you talk yourself down and leave the airport before actually getting on a plane and flying here?” 

“None.” She answers too quickly and avoids looking at me, so I know it's a lie.

“Oh yeah? So that’s at least three times.” Her mouth twitches, but she fights the smile and wins before it fully forms. “Tell me, what did Sean have to say about that?”

“Now you give a shit about what Sean thinks?”

“Stop avoiding the question.” 

“I didn’t tell him. You did.” What is she talking about? I must look as confused as I feel because she elaborates without me having to ask. “I listened to your message on speakerphone, didn’t know he was still there, and he heard the whole thing. We um…we fought, and I kicked him out.”

“So, really, you’re freaking out because I was right?”

“Bradshaw,” she shakes her head, pointing a warning finger at me. “I swear if you say I told you so, I will not be held responsible for your medical bills.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it, darlin’,” but I smirk, unable to stop the arrogance from showing in some form. 

I hesitantly close the distance between us, and her familiar, sweet scent assaults my senses. I want to hug her so desperately that my chest aches, but she’s too pissed to allow me that comfort at the moment, so I take her hand in mine instead. “I deserve it; you have every right to be pissed at me. But can we not fight? It’s been a long couple of weeks, and I don’t have it in me to fight with you.” She doesn’t answer, nor does she pull away when I lean in to place a kiss on her forehead. “I’m sorry.”

“What are you sorry for?” asks Bailey, glancing up at me. 

I pause because I’m not sure I’m sorry for any of it. I told her how I feel, and I’m not sorry for that. My confession made Sean leave, which wasn’t my intention, but I have absolutely no remorse for that. “Which part should I be sorry for?” 

She takes a half step back and drops my hand, “Stop answering questions with questions,” she growls, frustrated.

We stare each other down for a second, and I don’t know what she wants. Do I give in to it all and kiss her like I should have years ago? Does she even want that anymore? She hasn’t told me how she feels. So what do I do?

“Bailey, I…”

The knock on my door cuts me off. “Yeah,” I call out, unable to mask the annoyance.

It opens, and Phoenix stands in the entryway, “I was just checking on Bailey,” she smiles, “but I see your back.”

“Thanks, Phoenix,” I say, trying to let go of some of the frustration for the interruption. 

“Thanks again,” Bailey calls as Phoenix winks at her, backing out.

When I shift my gaze back to Bailey, she barely makes eye contact before dropping her head. The door clicks closed, and the silence is too much to bear.

Apparently, unable to look at me, Bailey speaks to her feet. “You were saying.”

What was I saying? I don’t know. All I know is she’s here, in front of me, simply asking me to man up and say what I’ve already said to her voicemail. But my mouth seems to have other ideas, and I end up impersonating a fish out of water. 

She takes a deep calming breath and sits on my bed, folding her leg under her. She stares down at her legs, rubbing her thumb over our names on the locket. An image of her thumb being red and sore springs to mind at how many times she’s sought comfort brushing it over the inscription. 

I rush to sit next to her, close enough that her knee nudges against my hip to at least get some of the contact I desperately crave.

“What happened with Sean?” I ask, genuinely curious to know how that conversation went after he heard my confession. Plus, that’s probably the easiest subject to cover right now.

“He got mad, said he always knew you were in love with me,” she shrugs, staring at her restless hand, picking phantom lint off her jeans. “That was usually the topic of our fights,” she admits, huffing a breath. “Whenever we’d talk, he’d get jealous, said he could see that you were in love with me and I was blind if I didn’t see it. But I didn’t, I don’t,” she implores. “I let the notion of us go. Moved on and got with Sean. Stayed because I thought I actually loved him…” 

That stings. It means I was right. I was partly responsible for the pain he caused her. My fear and indecision practically pushed her into his arms.

“...On the road trip before you left, I thought maybe something had changed, and that night on the Bronco…” Her hand finds the locket again, thumb caressing the metal. “I didn’t want to put any extra pressure on you. But then, the next morning, I knew we both wanted it. You practically said it, but then I gave you an out, and you took it. You didn’t fight me on it, and I was relieved I hadn’t messed up our friendship. Over time I guess I convinced myself,” she pauses and corrects herself, “I realized it was all in my head. I was seeing stuff that wasn’t there.”

“That’s not true-”

“Do you want to hear this or not?” she sasses, her eyebrow raising as she finally meets my gaze with a determined one of her own.

She needs to know how wrong she is about us, about me. And I really don’t want to hear any more about her relationship with that asshole. But I can’t say I’m not curious about what made her finally end it, aside from their fight. I should let her finish. It’s probably better that I understand how completely wrong she is about everything before I correct her.

She takes my silence as a sign to continue. “I got off track, sorry,” she sighs, and it's loaded with weariness. “Sean wasn’t buying it, said I was delusional and that he wouldn’t play second best to someone…”

I’ve stopped listening. All I can focus on is the movement of her lips, the uncertainty in her expression. She doesn’t believe what Sean believes. She doesn’t believe the words I spewed into her voicemail. For one of the smartest people I know, she’s pretty clueless. How does she not know that it’s all true, that I’m the idiot for not kissing her that night or following through the next morning? Because I’m the one who should have admitted that she’s been it for me since the day we met. I’m the one who fucked us up more times than I can count because I thought… You know what? Enough thinking, Bradshaw.

She’s rambling now, but I cut her off with a quick kiss. A peck that makes her squeak in surprise. I draw back and cup her cheek. Uncertainty lingers in her eyes, the question of whether we are crazy for doing this. I imagine my expression is a reflection of hers, and our eyes flick between a shy, yearning gaze to each other's lips. She hasn’t pulled away yet; that’s a good sign. Right? She remains entirely still, so before I can change my mind, I creep closer again. 

“I love you,” I whisper over her mouth, and she inhales sharply. I don’t have to wait long before she leans into it and kisses me back. God, it’s better than I dreamed. 

I kiss her twice, three times, and then our tongues meet. Her hands lock around my neck, and my stomach flips. This is our first true kiss. The sensations are overwhelming - blood rushing in my ears, heart hammering in my chest, hair rising on my skin like I touched a live wire. It all feels so extraordinary yet so familiar. Maybe I’ve dreamt about it for so long that it feels like we’ve done it a hundred times before.

Rising on her knee, she maneuvers over me to sit on my lap. It’s still not close enough, and I run my hands down her sides, grasping her hips to bring her with me when I stand. Her arms tighten around my neck, squealing into the kiss she plants on my neck. 

I still for a second, holding her against me, fighting through the pain lifting her causes my ribs. I try to lose myself in the sensations of her lips feathering over my skin, the grip of her hand fisting my shirt, fingers of her other hand stroking at my nape, and just stand there holding her against me. When she nips my earlobe whispering my name, I finally turn and lay her on the bed, head resting amongst the replaced pillows.

She wraps her legs around my waist, eagerly kissing me as I move over her trying to keep most of my weight off her, but she keeps me pulled close. I don’t want to stop kissing her, but my lungs start to burn, and my ribs sting when her legs tighten. I can’t help but grimace, hissing into her mouth.

Loosening her hold, she pushes her head back into the pillow, eyeing me with concern. “Are you hurt?”

The pain must still show on my face because she unlocks and drops her legs. I shake my head, tugging her leg at the knee, trying to encourage her back. “I’m fine.” The concern morphs to disbelief, and before I can lie again, she not so lightly jabs me in the ribs, making me recoil, folding in on myself and flopping down beside her on the bed, hand cradling my left side. Before the bed stops bouncing, she’s propped up on her elbow, looking down at me.

“What happened?”

I close my eyes and take a deep, shuddering breath, waiting for the pain to ebb. Once it’s back to a dull ache, I open my eyes, and my breath immediately catches in my throat. She looks so beautiful with her kiss-swollen lips and brow creased in concern. It takes every ounce of willpower not to reach out and yank her toward me. I settle for running my thumb over her lips, and she kisses the pad before I cradle her cheek.

“Mav took a hit for me, he went down, and I went after him. I had to eject,” fear flashes across her features, and her eyes drop. “I landed in the snow after I hit a tree. I’m okay. Nothing’s broken, just bruised.”

Quietly she asks, “Can I see?”

Hoping she doesn’t freak out again when she sees the bruising, I slowly slip off my shirt. My undershirt proves to be a little more difficult, and Bailey helps, gingerly pushing it up and off over my head. Her fingers hover over the injury as I lay back against the mattress.

“You really could have died,” she says, and it only seems to sink in at this moment.

There’s no adequate response for me to give. I put my life in danger every time I climb into a cockpit, and I can’t promise I won’t do it again because we both know that's not possible.

“Bailey,” I implore, and she brings her tearful eyes to meet mine. “I’m sorry I didn’t call after our fight. I’m sorry I said goodbye in a voicemail. I’m sorry I’m an idiot and didn’t do this sooner.” I lean in and press our lips together, lingering while I fight the urge to take it further, but I need to say this. “I’m not sorry that I’m in love with you.” My fingers run through her hair, eyes searching hers for any sign that she forgives me for all of it. I’ll beg forever if she asks me to. “But if I’m too late… if you’ve moved on and you don’t want me-“ 

“That’s not-“

“Do you wanna hear this?” I snark, and she mimes locking her lips and throwing the key over her shoulder. “If you don’t want me or if this,” I point to my bruise, “is too much, we can go back to how things were. I’m not saying it’ll be easy now that I know how it feels to kiss you, but I need you in my life. You're a part of me, and I can’t be without you. So if you don’t want us, I’m fine with that, or at least I will be. It will take time, but I’ll…”

Warm, soft lips cut me off, and it takes a second for me to process. My brain catches up as she starts to pull away, and I quickly slip my fingers around the back of her neck, holding her against me. For a brief moment, hope surges through my veins, only to be stalled when she pushes back against my hold.

“I’m in love with you, too,” she whispers, so ardently her whole body seemingly sighs, releasing years of tension from words unspoken. 

“You are?” I press, hoping she’ll repeat the words I’ve been dreaming of since I was a teenager. 

“I love you, Bradley,” she repeats, caressing my face as a shy but content smile forms.

“I love you, Bailey.”

“Prove it,” she challenges with a smirk.

My hand cups her cheek, our lips meeting again, this time in a slow tantalizing kiss, mouths moving in tandem. 

I push up onto my elbow and moving in sync, like a dance we’ve been practicing for years, she lets me lead in laying her flat again, climbing over and pinning her beneath me. The time for talking is done. I don’t have any words left, and with the way her body molds to mine, I’m not sure I remember how to form words anyway. I’ve said all I can say. Now it’s time to show her.

We take our time, lazy and tender, exploring each other. It’s not the desperate, heated passion I thought our first time would be. My hands roam under her shirt and over the soft flesh of her stomach, the muscles flexing beneath my touch. Tugging the cup of her bra down, Bailey moans when my fingers brush over her pebbled skin. Her body arches toward me, and then she’s pushing against my shoulder. 

“We’re both overly dressed for this occasion,” she jests, and the smirk she flashes me is new.

Like a stealth strike, it hits me out of nowhere. This is the woman, the love of my life, the one person I've shared all my experiences with, and I'm about to experience her in ways I've only ever imagined in my dreams. Fuck. I could come from that thought alone.

I free her long enough for us both to completely undress, and then she’s back in my arms, limbs tangled together. The pain radiates outward from my chest, searing through the nerves and tissue, no longer allowing me to ignore it, as the slightest movement wreaks havoc on my ribs. I grimace, eyes squeezing tight as I try to fight through it. “Fuck. Ow. Oh shit,” I grumble against her mouth, and she draws back, worry etched all over her face.

“We should stop,” she says, concern and an air of disappointment in her tone. 

“Absolutely not. Just let me get comfortable.”

She waits for me to lay on my good side. The grimace on her face, a gesture of shared pain, is adorable, and I grunt a string of curses when the rising chuckle turns to a sharp stab.

I still want, need, as much contact as possible, but it’s proving to be complicated. So I have to settle for holding her hips and kissing her. She whimpers into my mouth, and her hand smoothes down my chest, careful to avoid my injury, and grips my cock.

She groans, “Shit. I knew you were big.”

So she has thought about it too.

I don’t want to stop kissing her, but the need to taste her is overpowering. I need it more than I need to take a breath. I break the connection, kissing her neck, and cautiously slip lower - damn fucking ribs -  to her breasts. I nudge her knee with a slight tap of my hand, and she widens her legs just as my hand reaches her sex. I swirl my tongue around her nipple, sliding a finger through her folds. She’s so wet and warm. My cock twitches in anticipation of being buried in her.

“Get back up here,” she demands when I move low enough that my cock is out of her reach.

“Need to taste you,” I mope. 

She’s shaking her head when she cups my jaw. “There’s no way you can do that without hurting yourself more, and I’m seriously going to die if you're not inside me in the next two seconds.”

I groan needily, the sound near a growl rumbling low in my chest. Holy fuck. I never knew she had a mouth on her. But I like it. I’m gonna be the one to die if she keeps surprising me by fulfilling all the nasty fantasies I’ve had about her.

I guide my middle and index finger through her slick, teasing around her clit. She’s so wet already that there’s little resistance when I slip them inside her. Curling my fingers makes her squirm, and a sweet moan falls from her lips as she licks them.

“Well, at least let me make you come first,” I say, thumb gently circling her clit. The moment I apply a little pressure, her back arches, and she cries out. 

Fuck. It’s going to take a lot of willpower not to embarrass myself.

While I work her over, she continues to pump me, adding a little twist of her wrist and thumbs over the head of my dick. I wanna close my eyes and revel in the feel of her touching me in all the ways I’ve been craving but watching her face contort in pleasure is like a winter sunrise, blinding but beautiful. I can’t look away. Pushing in deeper, I twist and scissor my fingers, hitting that sweet spot, and her grip tightens around me. 

“Right there, huh?” I ask redundantly. Bailey whines in response, so I add a little more pressure.

Eyes fluttering closed, she mutters, “Fuck, Bradley,” as her pussy clamps around my fingers, her climax soaking my palm.

Once she’s recovered, she releases my dick and props herself up on her elbow. There’s a hint of desperation in her now. Her other hand clamps around the back of my neck and pulls me to her mouth, teeth nipping at my bottom lip, sucking on it as she pulls back.

“I need you,” she begs, looking up at me with hooded eyes. “Please.”

Does she know what she’s doing to me? Those big innocent eyes and reddened pouty lips. I don’t know how much more I can take. I yank her closer, and instinctively she throws her leg over my hip.

“Fuck!” I shout up to the ceiling. 

“Shit, I’m sorry,” she mutters. 

“It’s okay,” I pant through gritted teeth, closing my eyes. Gasping and crying out due to an injury and not because I’m buried deep inside her wet heat is so not how I imagined our first time. I hate that I can’t claim her in all the ways I want.

“Maybe we shouldn’t,” Bailey suggests, and my eyes pop open. 

“We most certainly should,” I say, “I’m just gonna need to take it easy.”

“I have an idea,” she says, teeth cutting into her bottom lip as she rises onto her elbow. “Lay down.”

“We’re still doing this, right?” I ask before moving even a millimeter. “Otherwise, I’m not moving.” 

“We’re still doing this,” she assures me, “but with as little effort from you as possible.”

I frown, brow pulled tight, “that doesn’t sound like us doing it to me.”

“Would you shut up and do as you're told?”

I huff as I follow her earlier instruction, moving slowly to lay beside her. Once I’m settled, she moves to straddle me, careful to ensure her knees don’t touch my injury.

Fingers wrapping around my cock again, she slides the length of me through her folds, coating me in her slick. When she lines me up with her entrance, I nudge at her clit, making her hiss, and I can’t help but gently rock up to do it a few more times.

“Bradley, stop,” she scolds, rising back up. “You’re supposed to be taking it easy.”

“But,” I whine, rocking up again, seeking it out, and her eyes flutter when I hit it, “I wanna see those faces.”

With a stern glare, she pins me down, hands on my shoulders. “I will just stop.” 

“Okay, okay, I’ll behave,” I smirk, “well maybe.”

She ignores me and eases back down. “This okay?” she asks, leaning down to kiss me softly. 

“Uh-huh.” It’s all I can manage because the feel of her silky walls around me is taking all my coherent thought to remind myself I’m hurt and not to fuck up into her.

Steadily lowering herself, she moves her hand, lightly trailing her fingers over my stomach. The hitch in her breath matches mine when her ass meets my hips.

Eyes closed, she hums delightfully and drops her head into the crook of my neck. “Are you okay?”

“I’mma need a second,” I admit. “I don’t want this to be over quicker than it should be.”

“So let's go slow,” she suggests, and I can feel the smug smile against my throat. Turning, I kiss the side of her head and lift my hips to encourage her to move.

She sets a steady leisurely rhythm, kissing along my jaw to capture my lips. I swallow her whimpers, and she steals my groans as she rises and falls. It's painful, my ribs burn, and it will hurt like hell tomorrow, but I can deal with it because Bailey is riding me. It feels better than anything I ever imagined, and nothing will stop me from enjoying this. 

Her fingernails sting, leaving behind small indents in the curve of my shoulders as my palms mold to the mounds of her breasts, kneading the smooth flesh - velvet and fire, passion and sin. Our bodies work in tandem like they were purposefully made for each other. Her pace is sweet and sensual; she’s controlling our movements, dictating our trajectory.

Her walls tighten around me, pulling me in deeper, making my cock twitch feeling how close she is to release. Locking eyes with her, I push my thumb into her mouth, and she sucks on it with fevered enthusiasm. 

“Fuck, I’m gonna need to feel you do that on my cock, real soon!” 

She smirks proudly, releasing my thumb. “Oh, you will, I promise.” 

The now wet digit trails down her neck and over her left nipple, pinching and tweaking the flesh until she hisses, arching her back so forcefully she shucks me up the bed. “Oh shit, Bails, take it easy. I’m injured.”

She laughs at my partly jesting tone but doesn’t slow or stall her rolling hips. “Don’t do that again then!”

I slip my hand between our bodies, and she tips forward so I can reach to thumb her clit, swirling a circular pattern that causes her to come undone almost immediately.

“Holy fuck, Bradley, oh–oh, god, yes!” 

I can’t hold back any longer, spilling into her with stuttered jerking thrusts until I’m done. She falls forward, hands slapping into the bedding to prevent her from falling on top of me. She buries her face in my shoulder as she whimpers and pants for breath.  

“Fuck, I wish we’d done that sooner,” she wheezes.

“Me, too,” I say, kissing her shoulder. 

We lay together, and I tell her about the dagger mission. She was never a fan of Hangman. She’s met him a couple of times but decides that now she hates him when I detail how he made the connection between Mav and my Dad and brought it up in front of everyone. I make a mental note to pre-warn Hangman before he sees her again. She’ll likely slap him on sight.

“I stopped thinking, and I just reacted,” detailing what happened. “I went after Mav, we stole a jacked-up F14, fought our way back to the carrier, and there was a moment... I really thought it was the end. The ejection handle didn’t work, the guy had us dead to rights, but Seresin saved our asses.”

“Huh,” she scoffs, “he’s still an ass.”

I don’t want to talk about what could have been anymore. I’ve got everything I wanted right here with me. So I reach over and smack her ass. “Enough talking,” I say. “I’m exhausted. Let’s get some sleep and I’ll tell you all the ‘Hangman’s-an-ass stories’ tomorrow.”

“Deal,” she chuckles, kissing me quickly before jumping up and heading for the bathroom. 

As she exits, I hand her a bottle of water, slipping in behind her to take my turn. It only occurs to me now, as I enter the main room again, that I didn’t lock the door. Task accomplished, I pivot to find Bailey pulling my shirt up her arms.

“Oh hell no,” I say, sauntering over and pushing it off her shoulders. “You’re never to be dressed when we’re alone ever again.” 

“Sorry,” she laughs and drops her arms, letting it slip to the floor.

“You’re forgiven, now back to bed,” I demand, patting her ass and pointing over her shoulder. 

She goes without protest, and I follow. We lie there exchanging lazy, sloppy kisses, needing sleep but wanting to live in the afterglow a while longer. Eventually, we settle, her leg over mine and her head on my shoulder as she cuddles into my side. 

This is how it should have been from the moment she woke me to go on our road trip. I should have taken her then and there, not wasted so much time. I start laughing as the thought reminds me of her insulting my manhood. 

“So,” I say, sleepily but unable to keep the cocky grin from my tone, “did I get big enough for the future Mrs. Bradshaw?”

She sucks in a breath, nearly choking, but coughs it away and hums an affirmative.

“If that is a shock to you,” I chuckle, “you definitely haven’t been paying attention.”

“Bailey Bradshaw does have a nice ring to it,” she says, a broad smile in the kiss she presses over my heart. “I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

I don’t want to fall asleep. I want to live in the aftermath for a minute longer, but exhaustion sets in, and I can’t fight it. I start drifting off, the warmth of Bailey next to me grounding me to the present, keeping me from falling asleep, the day repeating on a loop. I saved Maverick today, and I got the girl. My girl. Maybe it’s the adrenaline beginning to fade or the lifted weight of a revealed secret, but I can hear my dad, clear as day, “I’m proud of you, son.” and I can see my mom smiling up at him. “We’re both so proud of you, Bradley.” 

Thank you for reading 📖

Master Lists: My Girl - Series // Top Gun: Maverick // Main

[parkswritessometimes]

Only For You

Egotober Day 11: Game

“Hey ya know, I can record for you today.” Chase rolled his eyes as Jackie sat next to him. “I know you weren’t feeling well last night, so why don’t you take the day off and I’ll record for ya.”

Chase sipped his morning coffee, pulling the blanket closer to his chest pretending he didn’t hear Jackie’s comment. He scrolled through his phone, finding the latest Twitter drama a lot more interesting than whatever Jackie could offer him.

“Chaser, come on man.” Jackie groaned, poking Chase’s arm. “Don’t ignore me.” Chase placed his coffee down on the table, his patience growing thin. His hangover migraine was worse than normal and he just wanted to do his job and go back to bed. He pocketed his phone before picking up the blanket and walking away.

“Chase. Hey. I saw the video. Can we please just talk?” Chase froze in the middle of the hallway. Shit. Shit. Shit. He thought he deleted that video. No one was supposed to see it! Was it still up? Fuck. 

He didn’t mean to spill his guts out to the camera, it just kinda happened. Everything in that game was so raw. It was like that game was reaching into his soul and plastered all his deepest insecurities on the screen. Every day was the same, nothing ever changed. He smothered the emptiness with starvation and alcohol, a stupid, desperate attempt to feel something.  But nothing ever came. Jack was in a coma, Henrik was gone, and his own wife took his kids and won’t give them back. 

“Chase, hey. Chaser-Racer. Come on man, you gotta talk to me.” Jackie’s hand gently grabbed Chase’s shoulder, sending a shiver down his spine. How long had it been since someone last touched him, showed him any sort of physical affection? His best guess was the last time he saw his kids three weeks ago, but that was such a brief fleeting moment. “Chase.”

The tenderness in Jackie's voice caused a flood of tears to rise in Chase’s eyes. He was so used to anger in his ex-wife’s voice. Hostility in the comments. Marvin’s snarky remarks. The judgmental cashier at the liquor store. But here Jackie was, being so kind and using the softest voice he could muster. 

“I-I don’t know what happened. I didn’t drink that much.” Chase mumbled, his eyes focusing on the ground. “I didn’t-I didn’t mean to post that video, I don’t even remember doing it! I privated it the second I woke up and-”

Chase's words were cut off the second Jackie pulled him in for a nice, warm hug. Chase clung to the red hoodie as tears finally came out. Chase pressed his body into Jackie’s, needing to be as close to Jackie as humanly possible. 

“Jackie I didn’t mean to-I’m sorry. I know I fucked up. I know I put us in danger.” Chase stammered through every excuse he could think of. Any reason for Jackie to stay with him. Stay here and protect him.

“Chase, I say this with all the love in my heart, shut the ever-loving fuck up. You had a bad day and made a mistake. I’m not mad. Just, take a break man. Let me record today while you go and visit Jack. Okay? It’s been a while since you went to say hi.” 

Chase shook his head into Jackie’s chest. Recording was the only thing he was good at. It was the only thing that made him worthwhile. That's the only reason Jackie and Marvin put up with him. It was his purpose, his worth. If Jackie took that away from him, he wouldn’t have anything. 

“Chaser, let me do this for you. I’m so worried about you. Chase, please.” Jackie breathed. Chase swore he could feel his older brother's tears hitting his scalp. Chase silently cursed himself under his breath. How dare he hurt Jackie like that. How dare he make Jackie cry over his selfish move. How dare he manipulate Jackie into caring about him that much. 

Chase's chest shook as he attempted to get oxygen into his lungs. He distantly felt Jackie’s thumb brush over his beard, a silly habit he had developed when he was first created. Chase’s lips pulled apart, forming a small soft smile. His eyes glanced up at Jackie’s, wanting, needing his big brother's support.

He had forgotten how beautiful Jackie’s eyes were. Beautiful blue iris’, full of promise and hope. Eyes that had made endless promises of love, of kindness, of life, and hope. Jackie had fulfilled every promise he had ever made to him.  

“Take a break, for me,” Jackie whispered. Chase nodded as he leaned into Jackie’s gentle touch. His big brother had done so much for him, if this could be the thing to make Jackie happy he’d do it. He’d find a different way to provide, to be useful. 

“Okay. Okay, Jackie. For you. For you. Only for you.”

Prompt by: @tracobuttons

[nights-legacy]

Funny Way of Showing It - Shinsou x Sister! Reader Pt. 1

Main Masterlist MHA Masterlist

+You are the sister of Hitoshi Shinso. You are the same age and were both adopted by Aizawa and Yamada as a young children. Everyone knows how Hitoshi wanted to be in the hero course but instead you got in. You have a force field quirk that can be both used defensively and offensively. He says he's proud of you but why then is he pulling away from you?

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

I jumped in excitement after my letter of acceptance finished. I got into UA. Class 1-A even! I ran out of my room to Hitoshi’s. I knocked on the door lightly, not sure if he had finished his yet. I heard a humph inside before someone approached the door. I recognized the humph as a bad one. I set my head on the door frame as he opened the door.

“Hi.” I said. He nodded before turning back into his room. He plopped down on his bed. I sat down Indian style next to him. “So…did you get in?”

“Yeah.” He said solemnly. I cocked my head to the side. He glanced at me before sighing. “I got in but I got into General Studies, that’s it.” He said while closing his eyes. I saw an irritated look pass over his face before it went neutral. “How about you?”

“Yeah, I got in too.” I shrugged and looked away. I pursed my lips, feeling bad now. I know how bad he wanted to be in the hero course. I didn’t really care where I ended up. In reality, I was just trying to support Hitoshi.

“What class?” I heard him shift. He sat up, propped his knees up, and propped his arms on his knees. He looked at me expectantly. I sighed and straightened my back.

“Class 1-A.” I said biting my lip. I didn’t want to look at him but I did anyway. He was looking down with a slight upset look in his face. “I’m sorry Hitoshi. I know how much you wanted…” He held his hand to stop me. I snapped my mouth shut.

“It’s alright, sis.” He said. He set his hand down on mine. “I may be disappointed in placement but that doesn’t mean I can’t be in the hero course one day.” He smiled. I nodded before he pulled me into a bear hug.

“Ah!” I yelled and giggled.

“I am so proud of you though!” He said enthusiastically. “You didn’t even think you would get in let alone the top hero class. See, I told you your quirk is worth more than a shield.”

“Yeah, you were right.” I rolled my eyes and pushed him off by elbowing him. He groaned and let go. I looked over at him, he seemed happy but I knew that this would bother him more than he would let on. A few chuckles from the door caught our attention. We looked to see our dads standing there.

“Congrats you two.” Dadzawa said. He had a soft smile on his face. PapaMic was nearly jumping in place.

“Did you two know?”

“Weeellll…” Papa started. “We knew that you two got in but we didn’t know your placements until your letters were delivered.”

“Just in case loud mouth here couldn’t keep his mouth shut.” Dad threw his thumb over his shoulder. We laughed as Papa looked at him in annoyance. “Also, just because you are now my student, doesn’t mean I’m going to be easy on you young lady/man.”

“I wouldn’t have it any other way.” I said hopping up. “Just please, all I ask is don’t expel the entirety of the class like that one time. That would suck.”

“Crap. Yeah please don’t do that again. I mean I wouldn’t be able to deal with them being all mopey.” Hitoshi laughed, pointing at me.

“Hey!” I exclaimed offended before pouncing on him. I wrestled with him, ignoring the bounds of laughter behind us. The wrestling went on for a bit but ended up with me pinned by Hitoshi sitting on my back. “Fine I give up.”

“Wimp.” He said. I rolled my eyes before hitting him with a small force field. He flew off my back and I got up and bolted. “Hey! No force fields in the house!”

~Time Skip~

The weeks leading up to class starting were nerve racking. Preparations, the little paperwork, and other things. All that, along with Hitoshi being distant and quiet now and then. Well, more than his normal quiet behavior. The day classes started was the worst yet. We left for school but he hadn’t said one word to me. He wouldn’t even look at me straight.

“Have a good day, Toshi.” I said as we made it in the doors. He nodded and walked off without a word. I sighed and walked to my classroom. I took a breath and walked into the classroom. At least half the class was already here.

“Heyo!” A couple of others waved to me. I shyly waved back. I sat down and kept to myself. The last few showed up and stood in the door. A familiar yellow sleeping bag caught my attention. I rolled my eyes at his antics as the students at the door got spooked. I sighed and got up when he said we are going to do quirk testing.

“What about orientation?” I chuckled when Dad gave out an annoyed sigh. The day went on and I made a few friends. I stayed away from the loud, explosive blonde that had been the subject of the news a while back. The red head Kirishima was really nice and Yayorozo was pretty cool too. I groaned, rubbing the back of my neck as I waited in the classroom for my dad’s to finish.

“So how was your first day kiddo?” Papa came in the door with Dad in tow.

“Exhausting.” I said giving dad a look. He just shrugged. “But no one was expelled. So that was good. I am curious though. What made you not expel that Midoriya kid? Everyone thinks it was just a ploy to make everyone do their best but I know different. So what was that?”

“I saw potential in the kid. Nothing more. See how long he lasts.” He said. Papa and I shared a look.

“Uh huh. Sure.” I said. I got a side, stink eye. I laughed before Papa spoke up.

“So have you talked to Hitoshi today?” I looked at him before looking at the surface of my desk. I shook my head sighing. “What has gotten into that boy? You two barely go a day without talking.” I just shrugged, staring out the window.

The next couple of days passed the same. Hitoshi and I would go to school together, silently. I would wish him a good day and I would either get nod or a wave in response. He did not speak to me much out of necessity at home either. I sighed as I pushed around my breakfast on my plate. I looked up as Hitoshi washed his dishes.

“So how’s school been on you?”

“It’s only been two days.” He said blankly. I flinched. “But how was hero training on you?” He looked over his shoulder at me. “I heard a couple of guys in your class really got into it.”

“Ye-yeah. They did. Apparently they were childhood friends that’s turned into a rivalry or something. It really hyped the rest of us up for our turns.” I said. He hummed and turned back. I bit my lip. I went to say something else but he spoke again.

“Must be nice.” He set the dishes down hard in the drainer. I flinched again. He wiped off his hands and walked towards the front door. “I’m heading out first, see ya later, sis.”

“By…” The front door slammed. I sighed before scraping the remnants of my breakfast and washing my dishes and leaving. I walked to the train station and made it to school. Dad announced we were going to the USJ. The whole class was excited. The day was going to be great. At least that’s what we thought.

“Y/N.” I felt a hand on my shoulder. I looked up through my haze to see Papa. I had gotten hit pretty hard by some of the villains. Some were able to outsmart me and get around my shields. I was holding my side where I just knew I had a couple of broken ribs.

“Papa.” I whimpered as I tried to move.

“Don’t move too much.” He knelt down. He moved my hair and held my face, checking me over.

“Dad, he…” He shushed me. Someone called him and he looked over his shoulder. I felt myself getting more dizzy. I heard him speak with someone. I collapsed into his lap.

“Y/N!” I heard him yell before I blacked out. I woke up sometime later in Recovery Girl’s office. I groaned as I pushed myself up. I heard the curtain being pulled back.

“Oh good. You’re awake.” Papa said.

“Yes but what about Dad?” He smiled but sighed. He sat down on the edge of the bed.

“He’s holding. He’s beat up pretty bad but he’s strong. You know that.” He brushed hair out of my face. “You dad will be okay.” I nodded. Recovery Girl cleared me and we went home. We walked in the door and Hitoshi shot up from the couch.

“Thank god your back.” He said in relief. I felt emotionally and physically drained so I just walked past him to my room, giving him a small ‘yeah’. “Y/N…” I walked into my room, let my bag drop, and carefully changed clothes before climbing into bed. I heard my door open. “Y/N.”

“I’m fine, Hitoshi.” He heard him pause before he moved forward. I felt him place a hand on my shoulder.

“Are you sure? I mean, you went up against a whole fleet of villains. Real villains. Normally, hero students wouldn’t even see that until…”

“I know. Wouldn’t see that until further into the course. I know Hitoshi.” I sat up. I looked at him. I could see worry laced in his eyes. “I’m fine. I mean I gotta get used to this right? The bad guys, the danger…” I looked down at my hands. “You’re more cut out for this than I am.”

“Y/N…you are cut out for this. I believe in you.” He said grabbing my hand. I looked at it before up at him.

“You have a funny way of showing it, Hitoshi.” I deadpanned before pulling my hand from his and turning over with my back to him. I could almost feel the surprise rolling off of him. “Goodnight, Hitoshi.”

“I, um, goodnight.” He left my room without another word.

@spicy-therapist-mom @dxnaii-rxse

[alloftheimaginesblog]

Life Without Colour (PART FOUR)

Soulmate AU: Your vision is in black and white until you meet your soulmate. You and your boyfriend, Steve Rogers, aren’t each others soulmates but you love each other. He introduces you to his friends, the Avengers, and a very odd thing happens.

Characters: Steve Rogers x Plus Size Female Reader, Bucky Barnes x Plus Size Female Reader

Taglist:  @domainoflostsouls​  forgetthisbull  handon-h-art  yourspecialcrush  giulsgotmusic  mrsbarnes-rogers  luosymekawa  linzeyzarcone  forgetthisbull   calamityreads  talgra 

Warnings: this one takes a darker turn; trigger warnings for kidnapping, drugged, threats/slight violence, Hydra, angst

Note: this is over 6000 words, enjoy!! x

PART ONE

PART TWO

PART THREE

PART FOUR

PART FIVE

PART SIX

A few weeks had passed since you first saw colour; a few weeks have passed since you and Steve talked through everything and made peace with Bucky Barnes being your soulmate which mean a few weeks have passed since you last saw or spoke to Bucky Barnes. After your 3am phone call, you hadn’t seen him. You’d told Steve about the phone call when you were both awake the next morning, telling him as much of the conversation as you could remember. He seemed fine with it, knowing about Bucky’s nightmares and erratic sleeping schedule. In fact, he appreciated the gesture that Bucky reached out to ask what you were comfortable with. What Steve appreciated more though was your honesty and the fact you were straight with Bucky and told him that you and Steve were happy together and nothing would change that.

Everything was fine with you and Steve, every issue had been ironed out and in fact, the two of you had never been closer. You were truly grateful for Steve’s forgiveness and now, the guilt had almost fully disappeared. He had helped you to heal that wound and you had helped to heal his wounds with trust; you had proved yourself to be honest and that it was just one slip up. 

Life had been good those few weeks, you spent more time with Nat and got to know about her budding relationship with Bruce. You’d seen the team a bit more than usual as well. No one else - besides Nat and Sam - knew about the soulmate fiasco and truthfully, it wasn’t their business to know anyway. Bucky hadn’t been around much, he’d called Steve a couple of times just to say that he was doing his own thing for a while as per your wishes. Steve was thankful to Bucky for providing that space even if it meant he had only seen his best friend a handful of times since he returned from Wakanda.

Things were good. Until they weren’t.

Steve and the some of the team got dragged to a mission across the country. It was a big one; Hydra were back and trying to infiltrate the systems. Brock Rumlow, or Crossbones as he referred to himself now, was after Steve and he wouldn’t stop until he got him. You didn’t really know what was happening with the mission, Steve was never allowed to tell you a lot about the missions, you just knew that it was a big one and it was dangerous. You hated when Steve was away on a mission; you hated the not knowing part of it all but you supposed it’s what you deserved for falling in love with Captain America.

You didn’t know how serious it was until you had been bringing the groceries into yours and Steve’s apartment and saw four men - three very large, hulking brutes of men - waiting for you. The scream that rose in your throat never found its way out before a gloved hand was forced over your mouth, holding a rag with something strong smelling over your mouth and nose. Brock Rumlow had you pinned in his arms, forcing you to breathe in the chemicals. You tried to fight against him as the fear radiated through your body, trying to put some of those self defence techniques that Natasha had taught you to good use but he was too strong and everything felt fuzzy around the edges. Your eyes were wide as you struggled, trying to escape, trying to scream; trying to do anything that would help to save you. Your heart pounded painfully against your ribcage and you could feel the panic set in when your vision began to blur. You could see the three men approach, weapons in hand but a gruff voice in your ear said, “Stop struggling and we won’t hurt you.” Whether you wanted to stop struggling or not wasn’t up to you but instead, the choice had been taken away and given to the substance that you were breathing in. As the darkness crept in, you heard a faint voice say, “Get Rogers on the phone now.”

Flashes of light, snippets of sound and quick seconds of vision was what you experienced for a few hours as you drifted in and out of consciousness. It wasn’t until a loud bang erupted a few rooms away that you really began to come back to life. Squinting in the low light, you blinked hard, trying to focus on something to figure out where you were. Wherever you were, it was dark and dim and it smelled faintly of the explosion of fireworks on the 5th of November.

You weren’t hurt, your neck ached from the position you’d been in for what you could only assume was the last few hours. You went to move when you realised that your hands and feet were bound. That’s when you really began to wake up. What the fuck? Your memory was hazy but you remembered Rumlow and his goons in your apartment. You pulled at your hands, trying to get loose but the bonds that tied your hands were too tight. Squinting, you looked around the room, it was dark, with a metal door and a few wooden boxes in the corner. You were sitting on a wooden chair, hands and feet bound to the arms and legs of it. 

Your mind thought of Steve, oh god, Steve. You knew this had been Rumlow’s doing, what if he had gotten to Steve? What if- what if he- No. You couldn’t think like that. Steve had been on a mission states away from you. Rumlow had come to you because he obviously couldn’t get to Steve, he was drawing Steve out and you were the bait. Steve’s going to find you, (y/n). He said he’ll always protect you and he’ll keep that promise.

The more you panicked, the more you began to struggle; trying to break free of the ropes. Your breathing was quick and ragged as you struggled, your heart rate increasing with every passing second. Tears welled in your eyes as your mind raced with the horrors of what was going to happen to you. You froze when you could hear grunting outside, it sounded close.

Fear kicked you hard in the stomach, making you feel light headed and nauseous. You’d never been this terrified before. You thought that the most you could be scared was that time a spider ran across the bed when Steve was in a shower and you had to deal with getting it out of the apartment but no, tied to a chair after being drugged and kidnapped with explosions and not knowing what the fuck was going on... yeah, that’s a whole new level of fear. You tried to slow your breathing as you strained to listen to the commotion outside of the room you occupied. You could hear grunts and what sounded like punches before the metal door of the room was thrown open and there stood Sam Wilson. A sob got caught in your throat as you saw him.

He pressed his earpiece as he rushed to you, kneeling to help untie you, “I got her, Steve. Second floor, take a right, fifth door down. She’s okay.”

“Oh my god,” you sobbed as relief flooded your senses, “Oh my god, Sam!”

Sam murmured words of comfort as he worked on the ropes that bounded you to the chair, “It’s okay, they’re not gonna hurt you. We’ve got you now.”

He managed to get the last one untied when Steve ran into the room. He wore his Captain America gear sans the mask and carried the shield. As soon as he saw you, he tossed his shield to the side and rushed to your aid. Sam stepped to the side, picking up the shield and playing around with it as he allowed you two a moment to reunite. He was muttering about how the shield was much lighter than it looked.

“Steve,” you whimpered, throwing your arms around your boyfriend and allowing him to pull you up. He held you tightly, breathing heavy into your neck.

“I’ve got you,” he whispered into your ear, pressing a kiss to your neck, “I’ve got you, sweetheart.”

“Sorry to interrupt but we gotta move,” Sam said after a minute, “before we get any more company.”

“Are you okay to walk?” Steve asks you, pulling you back to look at you, “Are you hurt?”

“I’m okay, I’m okay,” you say, wiping your eyes, “Tired but I can make it.”

The three of you hurry out, Steve tells you not to look at the bodies on the floor but you do and you instantly regret it. “Are they-”

“Knocked out,” Sam says, answering your question before you finish it, “but won’t be for long so we gotta hurry.”

Everything’s a bit of a blur as Steve and Sam usher you out, careful to take you the safest and quickest path. You feel queasy after seeing the blood and the carnage of the few HYDRA men so your eyes are trained to the ground until Steve has you safe and sitting in the quinjet. 

Steve doesn’t let go of you, always touching or holding onto you in some way or another. You’re silent as Sam begins to fly the jet. Steve’s talking to you but you can’t focus on anything other than his hand in yours, “I’m tired,” you whisper, “I’m so tired.” You lay your head on Steve’s shoulder and darkness quickly encapsulates you.

You gasp awake, jolting upwards, “Whoa, (y/n), it’s okay!” A voice says quickly, “You’re okay, you’re safe remember. It’s Steve, sweetheart; it’s Steve. Look at me, (y/n).”

Your mind whirs, the tendrils of the nightmare still creeping around in your brain. Hands on your face force your eyes to stop fleeting from wall to wall and instead focus on the person in front of you. Steve stares at you, telling you that everything’s okay and that you’re safe now. Steve’s hands are on either side of your face as he makes you look at him. You blink hard, as your eyes struggle to focus on him. You hear the rapid beeping of the machine and you register that it’s your measuring your heartrate. His face finally sharpens and you can see him properly now.

“Slow breath in, sweetheart. You’re safe, I promise you. Copy me.” Steve takes a deep breath and you follow suit, trying to calm the rapid beating of your heart. Steve repeats to you that you’re in hospital and you’re safe, “No one can hurt you in here.”

You look away from him after a few seconds to look around you and sure enough, you are in hospital. The walls are pure white, too white and you’re in the hospital bed, “How did I get here?”

“We got you and you passed out again, I took you here just to make sure that whatever drug they gave you was out of your system. It’s leaving so you’ll be okay, sweetheart.” He brushes your hair back, “How are you feeling?”

“I don’t ever want to be an Avenger, I know that’s for damn sure,” you mutter as you close your eyes and fall back against the pillows, “How you guys deal with the fear is beyond me.”

Steve smiles but it’s sad. You open one eye, “What’s wrong?”

He shakes his head, “Don’t worry about it. You get some rest and I’ll be right here, (y/n). I’m not going anywhere. Doctors want to keep you in overnight just to make sure it’s all out your system, okay? I’m going to wait by your side all night and don’t worry, we have agents at every door in the hospital.”

“Rumlow?” You asked him, voice trembling, “Where’s he?” 

“SHIELD are closing in on him, sweetheart,” he sighs, stroking your hair back gently, “Don’t worry... He can’t get you in here.”

As Steve looked over you as you slept, Sam came into the room, “Coffee delivery.” Steve sipped at the hot coffee happily, “How is she?”

“Had a nightmare about it but she’s okay. She’s scared.” Steve’s eyes were trained on you as though we were watching a newborn infant to check its breathing, “God, what if we hadn’t found her in time?”

“But we did and we got her out. She’s safe, Steve.”

Steve shook his head, “But for how long?” He asked as he rubbed his face tiredly with one hand, “How long before Rumlow or HYDRA or someone else targets (y/n) to get to me?”

Sam swallows, “What are you thinking then?”

“She has to go somewhere safe, somewhere away from the chaos and the danger.”

“How long?”

Steve shrugs, “I don’t know... At least until we know all of Rumlow and his men are locked up.”

“You’ll go with her?”

It’s a big decision and he knows that you should be involved in it but he knows exactly what you’ll say; you’ll say that you want to stay with him and stay by his side even if it means living in terror of every bump in the night. He had been reckless, Steve had thought he was untouchable, he thought that you would’ve been safe but Steve underestimated the lengths these sorts of guys go to in order to win.

He shakes his head, hating the decision that he’s about to make but it’s for the best. It’s the only thing he knows that will protect you; it’s the only way he’s happy with you leaving, “No... but I know someone who will.”

Sam shakes his head, knowing exactly who he means and he raises his eyebrows, “You’re kidding, right? That’s a stupid decision, Steve, and you know it.”

Steve scoffs, “I wish... but... he’s strong, he’s good in a fight and I know that he’ll protect her no matter what.”

“But what if... what if they... you know?”

Steve takes a breath and releases it slowly, “Then I’ll deal with that when the time comes. I need to keep (y/n) safe and this is the only way...”

Sam’s hand is heavy on Steve’s shoulder as they watch you, “She’s not gonna like that decision.”

Steve laughs, knowing fine well that you will fight against the decision for all its worth, “Oh, yeah, I know. Probably won’t forgive me in a hurry either.” Steve stands up, “Will you watch her so I can go make a phone call? I’ll just be outside the door if you need me.”

Sam nods, taking Steve’s seat, as Steve grabs his phone from his jacket, dialling one number. He waits outside the room, just across from the two agents that Fury had placed outside of (y/n)’s hospital room 24/7.

“Steve?” He’d been sleeping, the one time Bucky Barnes is getting a decent sleep and his phone rings and wakes him. He always answers when it’s Steve though, regardless of the time or where he is.

“Hey, Buck... I need to ask you a favour.” Bucky asks what Steve needs and Steve begins to tell him, “Rumlow and HYDRA are after me. They kidnapped (y/n), she’s okay, in hospital but no injuries. She’s shaken up pretty bad and... Bucky, this is going to be a big ask.”

“Whatever you need, Steve, I’ll do.” He’s sitting, tugging a shirt on with one arm,  “What do you need?” Bucky Barnes would go to the ends of the Earth for Steve Rogers and he knows that whatever Steve needs, it’s something big.

“I need you to take her to a safe house.” Bucky freezes, he had expected Steve to ask him to come help for extra protection or something like that but this... this is huge, “I need you to take her. I don’t know how long for, a few weeks maybe months? No one else, it can only be you.”

“But... Steve...” He doesn’t say much but Steve knows what he’s saying. But Steve, I’m your girlfriend’s soulmate and you’re asking for me to take her into a secluded house alone? Just the two of us for god knows how long? Are you sure that’s a good idea?

Steve sighs heavily, “I know, Buck.” His tone almost sounds defeated, “I know... We were finally back on track and the universe hits out with this... I just need her to be safe, Buck, regardless of who he soulmate is or who she ends up falling in love with; I want her to be happy and I want her to be safe.”

“Why can’t you go?”

“They’re after me, I can’t let you or Sam or the team pick up my mess. I have to deal with it. That’s why I need you to go with her. You’re just as strong as me and... I know that you’ll keep her safe. I know that whatever happens, you’ll do everything you can to protect her... I need you to take her until we have Hydra locked up.”

Bucky licks his lips as he thinks about it. He doesn’t really know how to feel about it but he doesn’t really have to, Steve needs him and he’d follow that scrawny kid into the depths of hell if it mean he’d be helping him, “Okay, I’ll help. I’ll need a few days to find a safe house and get it prepped then I’ll fly out, okay?” He agrees to Steve’s ask though he has a niggling feeling in the back of his mind that all of this won’t go to plan. 

“Thank you, Bucky.” Steve closes his eyes as he leans against the wall, “You can’t tell me or anyone else where you’re going or where you’re taking her. I probably won’t be able to contact you so-” I’m leaving you with my girl alone with no contact from me or the team for weeks or months potentially, “- you gotta keep her safe. I’ve got some cash together for you to buy everything with that so you’re untraceable. Fury’s giving us more cash since we don’t know how long you’ll be away for.”

Bucky swears on his own life that he’d protect you with everything he has. Before Steve hangs up, Bucky says, “Steve, I just want you to know that no matter what happens... no matter what feelings arise... I won’t- I won’t do anything, I won’t act on anything, I won’t try and do anything about them...”

It’s the reassurance Steve needs and he feels a lot lighter now that Bucky’s said that. He smiles as he release a long breath, “I know you won’t, Bucky. I’ll see you soon.” Steve hangs up and walks back into the hospital room where Sam has Marvin Gaye playing quietly on his phone, “Do you just play Marvin Gaye to anyone in a hospital?”

Sam rolls his eyes, “It was too quiet, man! How did it go?”

“He’s onboard.”

Sam claps him on the shoulder, “You sure this is what you want? You know that I could take her or you could and I could hold the fort?”

Steve sighs, “It has to be him.” He shrugs, “I... I can only hope that nothing happens but god knows... All I know is that she’ll be okay with him.” The pair look over you as Steve’s thoughts swirl. This might be one of the last times you’re together in a romantic sense, he doesn’t know if you’ll come back loving Bucky or hating him and it makes him feel sick at the thought but he’s okay with it. He wants you to be happy and if that means it’s with Buck, then so be it.

“Absolutely not.”

“(y/n), come on-”

“No, Steve!” Your voice is raising due to the sheer stupidity of his request, “You’re saying that because you’re being targeted that means I’m a target too, I understand that, but what I don’t understand is why you’re asking me to go live in a safe house with Bucky for god knows how long! He’s my soulmate, Steve, I- I can’t.”

“The plans have already been made.”

“Then unmake them!” You’re angry and he gets it and to be honest, he doesn’t want this to happen either but it has to. He’d told you the next morning when the drugs were completely out of your system. Sam was back at the apartment checking for bugs, just in case Rumlow’s gang planted some when they were in and then he’d take you back to the apartment for you to pack a bag, “I’m not going Steve.”

“Yes, you are.” He crosses his arms over his chest and looks at you with a furrowed brow. He understands that you’re an adult who can decide their own fate but Steve is choosing this one for you, “You might not understand right now but when you come out the other end of this safe then I hope you’ll understand then.”

You shake your head as tears threaten to fall. You’re angry at Steve, that he made this decision and you knew you would be going no matter what fight you put up. It annoyed you, made you feel small and made you feel like a child who couldn’t make their own decisions, “Not without you, Steve. Why can’t it be you?”

“I’m trying to keep the fight away from you,” he says softly, hand on top of yours, “Bucky’s the only way you’ll be kept safe.” Silence falls for a moment before he speaks again, “I know what this means. I know what this could mean for... for us. I know that you could come back in love with Bucky and he for you. I know that you could come back and break up with me on the spot... That’s a risk I am willing to take.”

You shake your head, “No,” you whisper, “I’m not willing to take that risk, Steve.” You could trust yourself, that wasn’t the issue. You knew that no matter what, you wouldn’t do anything to jeopardise your relationship with Steve. But... you and Bucky were soulmates and that had to be for a reason and it worried you that being alone with him for an unlimited amount of time would cause something to stir. You trusted yourself not to cheat on Steve but you didn’t trust your heart not to hurt Steve.

Steve crouched down beside the hospital bed and lifted your hand to his lips, “I know, sweetheart,” tears burned at his own eyes as he spoke to you, “I know the risk. I know that you could come back and we could break up instantly and if you want, we could break up right now so that whatever happens, you wouldn’t have to feel guilty about it-”

You swung your legs out of the bed, throwing your arms around him, “No,” you wept sadly into his shoulder, “that’s the last thing I want.”

He held you tightly, knowing that this very well could be one of the last times that the two of you had together in a relationship, “I’m doing this because I want to protect you, (y/n)… Bucky can protect you.”

“I-I love you, Steve,” you whispered, pressing a soft kiss to his neck. My god, how you loved him. He had changed your life, brought so much joy and happiness to it, “No matter what, I love you.” The two of you stayed like that for a long time, just needing to feel each other and needing to be with each other because... who knew what would happen over the course of the next few months?

With doctors granting you permission to leave the hospital and after having Sam debug the apartment, Steve took you home for your last night with him. The car ride to the apartment was quiet and your hand never left Steve’s as he drove you both home. You had relented with the decision, knowing full well that regardless of whether you said yes or no to leaving with Bucky, you would be going anyway. You and Steve had talked things over, about Steve’s duty to the job and to taking down Hydra, about Bucky and how he wasn’t going to overstep a line with you or anything like that. The pair of you spoke about the non-existent contact you’d have.

“Hopefully it won’t be too long,” Steve said, “maybe just a few weeks but these days, Hydra is everywhere and nowhere all in the one, it could be months. Bucky managed to find a safe house relatively quick. For obvious reasons, I don’t know where it is or what continent it’s on but he said that it’s secluded and it’s safe. He said that it comes with minimal furniture so tomorrow morning, you’ll leave.” You squeezed his hand tightly, not wanting to speak for fear of bursting into tears. Steve glanced over at you and gave you the tiniest of smiles. He lifted your hand and pressed a soft kiss to it.

When you reached the apartment complex, there were three black SUVs parked out front, Steve saw you looking, “SHIELD agents,” he told you, “We’ll have agents outside the apartment and one in each of our neighbour’s apartments.”

“Jeez,” you murmured, “I’m only here for one night, it’s like I’m a bloody Kardashian.”

Steve smiled slightly, glad to hear you make a joke, he wrapped an arm around you as you walked into the building, “Only the best for you, my love.”

You were rather apprehensive about going back into the apartment. It had been yours and Steve’s safe place and now... it seemed compromised almost. Steve seemed to pick up on your worry, “Don’t worry, sweetheart,” he said as he took the keys out of his pocket, “It’s been cleaned, debugged and also...” He unlocked the door to reveal red rose petals running from the front door into each room.

“Steve,” you whispered, looking at him with a smile. You walked into the apartment, hanging your coat up and kicking your shoes off. You followed the petals into the kitchen where there was a candlelit dinner waiting for the two of you.

“It’s not much but I had Nat come round and make it special since it’s our last night together.” Note; ‘last night together’ is different from ‘last night together for a while’. A pang of sadness shot through you, you leaned up to kiss him softly, whispering that you loved it.

“There’s a bath waiting for you if you want it. Some Chinese takeout if you’re hungry.”

You hugged him tightly, “Just hold me for a while.” So, the pair of you stood in the kitchen, holding each other in the dim light not knowing what would happen next. 

It was a few minutes later Steve tugged you to the kitchen table where you both sat down, “You remember our first night here?” He asked you as he handed you some take out cartons and began to eat.

You stifled a laugh, “Yeah, no electricity for three days and no hot water either!”

Steve laughed with you, taking a fork full of chow mein, “Yeah, having to eat Chinese take out on the floor with torches and candles all around us. Could’ve cried when the electricity finally turned on.”

You rolled your eyes, “You could have cried?! What the hell, Rogers? You teared up like you were watching your first born son marry!” 

The ice had been broken and the two of you could freely talk and laugh without boundaries. You both carried on as though it were a normal night, a date night with no mention As the night went on, you had a nice romantic bath as Steve cleaned the dishes and when you were finished, things ended in the bedroom.

You always loved laying on his chest, listening to the slow rhythmic beat of his heart and his steady breathing. Most people, if they knew it was their last night with someone would probably fuck until dawn but neither of you wanted that. You wanted nothing more than to lie with him, talking and just being there and being present. Steve wanted to hold you, wanted to tell you how much he cared and loved you and he just wanted to be with you.

“Whatever happens,” you said softly, “I just want you to know that this was real; this is real - that although we’re technically not soulmates, I truly believe that we are.”

Steve pulled you tighter into him, pressing a kiss to your forehead, “I want you to know,” he said, “that no matter what feelings you start to have for Bucky, no matter how you feel towards me in the end up... I won’t blame you. I won’t expect you to love me like this on the other side. I won’t expect you to still want to be with me. I know that I’m forcing you into this situation and that kills me to do but I have to do it so whatever happens, it’s not your fault.”

You look up to him as you both whisper your confessions of undying love before kissing him gently. It’s a soft kiss, full of emotion and full of such sorrow. It’s a goodbye. You would say goodbye officially tomorrow but this was the real goodbye, this was the intimate goodbye, the letting go of the intertwined hearts and this was it. The kiss soon turned more passionate and then the two of you were confessing your love in the most intimate of ways.

“How are you feeling about all of this?” Natasha asked you as she sat on yours and Steve’s bed. You were in the process of packing your bags.

“I feel like I’m perpetually on the verge of tears,” you answered, as you folded some t-shirts and squeezed them into the bag, “It’s hard, you know? I understand why but my god, Nat, I hate this.”

Nat studied you carefully and you knew the question that was on her mind. What if you fall for Barnes? To be honest, it had been the question on everyone’s mind that morning.

“I’m shit scared,” you admitted to her, dropping the bag onto the bed beside her as you ran your hands through your hair, “I am terrified. I am so in love with Steve and what if I come back madly in love with Bucky? Or better yet, in love with the two of them?”

Nat stood up, placing a gentle hand on your arm, “Hey, whatever happens, it’s going to be okay. You can’t stress about something that might not even happen. You have to take it day by day and if you fall for him then so be it. If you don’t, great. If you’re in love with the two of them then that’s something you and Steve have to talk about and sort out when you’re back. Don’t stress about it now.” She pulled you in for a tight hug, a very un-Nat thing to do, “Just know that I’ll be helping Steve sort out the Hydra mess, I’ll keep his ass safe and in line and hopefully it won’t be too long before you’re allowed to come home.”

“Thanks, Nat.” The two of you pulled apart, “You’ll need to keep a diary or something to update me on everything I’ll miss... especially with you and a certain Dr Banner.” You placed your phone on top of the counter, you couldn’t take it for fear of tracking so there was no point in having it. You sighed as you placed it down.

Nat rolled her eyes, “Yeah right. Let’s get this wig sorted.”

The Avengers were never too good at disguises, it usually always consisted of sunglasses and a cap so, in order to hide your identity further, Nat had brought you a wig the opposite colour, cut and style to your hair just now and some contact lenses of a different colour to your natural eye colour.

After a few minutes, you looked in the mirror, staring at someone who looked like a stranger, “Oh god, I hate it.” The top you wore wasn’t at all flattering for your body type. You tugged it down, wishing that it wasn’t quite so figure hugging. You didn’t mind things that clung to your body, you’d worked through a lot of the body issues you had but the top was a horrid colour and paired with this hair and these contacts... you didn’t feel like a Kardashian anymore. 

Nat laughed, “That means it works. Honestly, you look fine, stop worrying... Let’s go show the boys.”

You walked into the living room with your packed bags to see Sam and Steve standing talking. Steve smiled when he looked at you, “You look... interesting.”

“Shut it, Rogers.”

“I mean, it definitely works because I look at you and I don’t see (y/n), I see a complete stranger,” Sam offered.

“You ready?” Steve asked softly, taking the bags from you, “Got everything?” You nodded, murmuring a ‘think so’. He smiled and pulled an envelope out of his back pocket, “I wrote this letter this morning. I want you to read it when it’s time...” Your confused expression made him explain further, “I want you to read this letter when you start to feel things... things for Bucky. If that happens.” You took a breath, mind whirring with the possible things that could be in that letter,  “You’ll know when to read it.”

It was then that there was a knock on the door. Sam answered it to see Bucky Barnes standing wearing a cap and, you guessed it, sunglasses. He wore leather gloves to cover his metal hand and carried a bag over his shoulder. He lifted the sunglasses to look at you, “Ready?”

Oh god, it’s happening.

“I don’t want to cry because I’m scared of the contact lenses,” you whimpered as tears threatened to fall. You hugged Nat and Sam, thanking them for their help, before Steve said that he’d walk out with you both. He picked up your bags and the three of you left the apartment to the black car that was outside. Bucky packed the three bags in the trunk before hugging Steve.

You couldn’t hear what the two of them said in the brief encounter but you supposed that it would be Bucky reassuring Steve that you’d be safe and that he wouldn’t act on any feelings that may grow. Steve clapped him on the shoulder and Bucky got into the driver’s seat of the car.

Steve turned to you and wrapped you in his arms. God, you just wanted to cry. You wished that you didn’t have to go, you wished that you could just stay with him but you couldn’t. You had to leave. They’d already gotten to you once and Steve wouldn’t dare let it happen again.

“I love you,” you told him softly, “I love you so much, Steve. I-I love you.”

He held you tighter, “I love you, sweetheart. Everything’s going to be okay. I’ll get this sorted so that you can come home to me.” You pulled back and he brushed your cheek, wiping your tear gently, “No matter what happens, it’s okay.” You hugged him again before he leaned down and kissed you softly. Bucky, who had been watching in the rear view mirror, looked away, “Goodbye, (y/n).”

“Goodbye, Steve.” He opened your car door and you slid inside.

“Thank you, Buck,” Steve said, clearing his throat, “Be safe.” He closed the door and Bucky started the engine, pulling out of the apartment complex. Your eyes were trained on the spot where Steve was, watching as he got smaller and smaller until you couldn’t see him anymore. It was only when he was out of sight that you allowed yourself to really break. Fuck the contact lenses, I’m too sad to care. 

Bucky glanced at you as he drove, feeling a pang of sadness for you as you wept in the seat beside him. He knew that part of the reason you were so upset was because it was him that was taking you, had he not been your soulmate you would have probably been okay but because he was your soulmate, it filled you to the brim with worry, guilt and pure sadness. All he could do was drive. Nothing he could say could help you. He reached to his side, taking a pack of tissues from the door’s compartment before handing them to you.

“Thank you,” you whispered, taking them from him. He couldn’t do much to help but he had done enough to make you feel comforted and to make you feel as though you weren’t alone. You wiped your eyes as you stared out of the window, wondering where the next few weeks would take you.