#but pretty much everything else is kept like in canon

[kirsctein]

I don’t really get it when ppl write Neil younger than he is for no reason??? Is it for shock factor?

[spamtoon]

(Out of nowhere, you are approached by a familiar lightbulb-headed Cog.)

Ah, it's you, cat. Thinking you're oh-so-slick. Muttering and whispering under those raggedy whiskers of yours... Thinking I am unable to hear it all...

Well, you've simply underestimated my fantastic hearing. You probably want to know the reason why I'm here, taking a 'break' from my incredibly important scientific breakthroughs? It's quite simple, really!

(She gets close, and squints her eyes.)

I know what you are.

Farewell, now!

(She then leaves the way she came from.)

(Spam giggles immensely, covering her face... it always seems like she's giggling, isn't she? This lasts... at least thirty seconds. Longer than usual.)

And I know what I am too, Sparky! You broke through something, that's for sure. Really, broke through...

(She looks down, continuing to laugh nervously.)

You know, I find it odd you Havent tried to bulb blast me into the stratosphere by now. I mean knowing how you acted with Frostbite. Is there something peculiar about me that you perhaps can't quite track? Something about me that you... don't know what I am?

I know, I know, I'm talking to nobody again. But you were there when I had a moment today with the one the only Frostbite The Bravecog. You may be remaining. Lurking in the shadows. Knowing about these thoughts that I'm thinking.

(The giggling resumes, lasting far shorter this time.)

Your brother's a piece of fucking barp, by the way

(She braces for impact for a few seconds, wincing while smiling, before comically looking around to realize nobody's there. She sighs.)

Wow, okay maybe toony superhero show logic doesn't apply in this situation. Cool.

WAIT I JUST FUCKING REALIZED WHAT SHE MEANT but like. Dude if she meant that then what's the point I mean the whole ahh sellbot department barping knows unless you're Really low on the ladder. Heheh... maybe she did mean what I thought she meant.

Oh i'm so fucking screwed. What kind of bitch gets filament fever

[i-eat-mold]

just here to say that gertrude robinson is the single funniest character. she is THE character. she dies before the show even starts. shes an old lady that adopted an edgy teen and traveled the world. She is the avatar of one of the fourteen elditch horrors that feed on primordial fears, she had basically infite knowledge of everything and her plan to stop one of the rituals of a cult of another one of said list of eldrich horrors was to blow it up with a bunch of c4. we only find out about this because she stored all of the explosives in a random storage unit and the aforementioned edgy teen with mommy issues (who by the way, is dead, but when he died she sneaked into the morgue to put him inside a book) speaks through the book to the woman's succesor who, by the way, has no idea what the fuck is going on because neither she nor anyone else has bothered to explain shit to him, and tells him that she kept something important in the unit. we only find out about this after 100 episodes of the show. She feeds her subordinates to an all consuming monster/god, but its ok i guess. Later on (earlier on? at the same time? in a different timeline? after?) the literal end of the world and the end of the end of the world shes back and still has to deal with this stupid teenager who at least doesnt spend half his life focused on dyeing his hair and the other half about finding murder books (not as books about murder but as in, books who actively murder). She is a well experienced arsonist despite having no affiliation with the actual official arsonists club that is yet another cult to yet another one of the previously mentioned eldritch horrors. She is, however, metaphysically tied to the Chosen One, the Messiah of said cult, or some shit. She is absolutely terrible at her actual office job (on purpose). She dismembered a guy (who was her assistant) and probably commited several undocumented crimes against humanity. Once again, she has all seeing abilities and barely noticed her favorite assistant was torturing a coworker. She dares her murderous boss to kill her and gets surprised when he does so. When asked what to do about a literal Monster Pig, her advice is to encase it in cement. She was such a bitch. Her plan B was always to set things on fire. Her plan A was often to set things on fire. One of these instances was approved by her boss (the one who killed her). It is canon that the reason she started all this shit in her life was because the fire cult killer her cat. She sacrified another one of her assistants who became an avatar of the literal concept of Insanity but it was just a other thursday for her. She knows on a first name basis pretty much every person and monster affiliated with the eldritch horrors that she tries to keep at bay on the daily. She stopped a ritual for The Lonely by making the place a tourist destination. She has an ebay account. Instead of performing a ritual for the God that she was affiliated with, she wanted to destroy it and planned to 1. blind herself, and 2. set fire (yet again) to her workplace. It didnt work, because and her boss, who was also the one who was going to perform the ritual, finds her right before and kills her after she says he has no balls to do so. Also she is voiced by the mother of the main character's voice actor (who he named with his own, full, legal name) and the series' writer, which are the same person. Shes the worst, shes the best, i love her, we will never get anyone like her again, we need more characters like her.

[mononijikayu]

boy, i, boy, i, boy, i know i know you got the feels — fushiguro megumi.

“You… want to be with me?” he repeated slowly, like he needed to say it out loud to make sure he understood. “Yes!” you said, more firmly this time. “I like you, Megumi. A lot!” For a long moment, he didn’t move, didn’t speak. “What..what do you mean by like? Do you mean…like like…..or…” You looked at him confused. “But of course I like you, Megumi. You’re like my best friend!” He lowered his head. “I see.” When Gojo Satoru heard all about that, he laughed so hard he fell off a chair. Fushiguro Tsumiki was worried but Fushiguro Megumi just slapped his arm while he coughed for air.

Genre: Alternate Universe — Canon Convergence;

Warning/s: Romance, Love, Fluff, First Love, Faling In Love, Hurt/Comfort, Strangers to Friends, Friends to Lovers, Feelings, Confessions, Anxiety, Self-Esteem, Awkwardness, Teasing, Sibling Relationship, Light-Hearted, Slice of Life, Humor, Protectiveness, Happy Ending, Teenage Angst, Young Love Is a Pain, Teenagers Going Through It, Sorcerer! Reader, Mild-Tsundere! Megumi, Mild-Tsundere! Reader, Gojo Satoru as a Brother;

Words: 7.8k words.

note: i wrote this maybe twice or thrice. i didn't like multiple drafts, so i kept rewriting. this was supposed to be more and more about the introspection of young people. i don't think i had that sort of phase. mine was pretty different. so i had to look into that feeling, like what would it feel like as a teenager to fall in love like this? anyway, i hope you enjoy this a lot. i love you all!!! <3

masterlist

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IT WAS HARD TO EXIST THE WAY YOU WANTED. You feel like you’ve been like that all your life—too much. It doesn’t help that you were born a Gojo, like your brother. The expectations that came with the name were already heavy, but add that to everything else, and you stood out whether you wanted to or not.

You’ve always been taller—taller than the other girls in your class, taller than most of the boys too. It’s the kind of height that made you stick out awkwardly in photos, your limbs feeling too long, too noticeable, and like they never quite fit where they should.

And just as much, you were too loud. You were the kid who couldn’t sit still, who laughed too hard, and who spoke before thinking. You always had an opinion, a comment, or some joke to crack.

But while some people admired the confidence, others found it overwhelming. You’d hear them whisper about how you didn’t know how to take up less space, how you didn’t know when to stop talking. Even if they didn’t say it out loud, you could feel it—their exhaustion with your presence.

But none of their words mattered—not really. Because you never felt alone. Not when you had your brother. Satoru, with all his power and his cocky grin, had a way of making things lighter, easier. Like nothing in the world could ever bother you as long as he was there.

He always knew how to turn everything into a joke, how to lift the weight of the world off your shoulders like it was nothing. When people teased you for being too much, for being the loud Gojo girl who towered over everyone, he’d shrug it off like it was all beneath him. He never made you feel like you were too much for him.

With Satoru, it didn’t matter if you were awkward, clumsy, or too tall. He’d laugh with you, poke fun at your height like it was something to be proud of. And when people couldn’t handle you, when they stepped back because your energy was just a little too wild for them, Satoru was always there. He made you feel like the world was yours to take, that being "too much" was just another way of being more than enough.

Gojo Satoru was larger than life. He was the type who filled a room with his presence, never shy, never hesitant, always overflowing with energy. You followed in his wake, figuring that you’d grow up just like him—bold, confident, and, if you were lucky, a little ridiculous too.

People gravitated toward your brother, and you always figured they’d do the same with you, that you’d never feel small because you’d learned from the best how to be big, even if it wasn’t in the way you looked.

But of course, he had his own life too. And he was older than you. He had duties and dreams and hopes that he was going to chase after. Slowly but surely, you realized that your brother was not always going to be in your life.

You realized that he was going to live a life beyond you. He has to. And in the mind of a little girl, that had triggered some things. And you were inconsolable. You had never felt more distraught in your life.

“What are you even crying about?”

You had looked up, with your tear ridden blue eyes.

Blue–green gleams burned against your own orbs.

Then, there was Fushiguro Megumi.

Satoru had introduced you to him when you were both kids. It was a warm summer afternoon, and you remembered standing beside your brother, peeking curiously at the quiet boy who looked so out of place at your energetic, whirlwind of a home. 

“This is Megumi, little sis.” Satoru had said, patting the boy’s head with a wide grin. “He’s going to stay with us for a while with his sister. Take care of him, okay?”

You remembered Megumi’s solemn face, those intense, dark eyes peering up at you with a mix of wariness and confusion. Something about him stuck with you right away. He wasn’t like Satoru at all.

Where your brother was loud, brash, and always moving like a force of nature, Megumi was quiet, reserved, and even a little distant. But in that stillness, there was a calm that made you feel safe in a way you hadn’t expected. His presence was grounding, like he didn’t need to be loud to make an impact. The more time you spent around him, the more drawn in you became.

Even as a kid, you knew there was something special about him, something that made your heart skip in a way that confused you at first. He didn’t chase after attention like others did. He seemed comfortable being on the sidelines, watching quietly as if the chaos around him couldn’t reach him. And somehow, that pulled you in even more.

You’d find yourself watching him—whether it was during meals when he’d quietly pick at his food while Satoru jabbered on about nonsense, or when he’d curl up in a corner of the house, reading a book that looked too difficult for his age. You admired how steady he was, how he always seemed so unaffected by the noise and chaos that surrounded him.

One time, you even tried to mimic that calmness. You’d sat beside him in the living room, crossing your legs and folding your hands neatly in your lap, glancing over at him to see if he noticed. Megumi had looked up from his book, raising an eyebrow slightly. 

“What… are you doing?”

“Trying to be calm.” you’d announced proudly, puffing your chest out a little. “Like you.”

He blinked at you, his serious expression almost comically puzzled. “Why?”

“Because you’re… cool!” you’d blurted out, cheeks heating up. “You’re, um, like a cat. Quiet and… mysterious.” Even back then, you were terrible at explaining yourself, but the words just tumbled out in your eagerness to be understood.

Megumi’s lips twitched, and you’d swear you saw the faintest hint of a smile. “A cat?” he echoed, looking almost amused.

“Yeah!” you’d nodded enthusiastically. “Cats don’t need to be loud or run around to be interesting. They just… are. Like you.”

He’d stared at you for a moment, then ducked his head, ears turning pink. “That’s… a weird thing to say.”

You’d deflated a little, afraid you’d embarrassed yourself, but then Megumi had quietly shifted a bit closer, still looking down at his book. “But… thanks.” he’d mumbled, voice barely above a whisper. “I guess.”

That small, almost shy acknowledgment had made your heart swell with a warmth you didn’t quite understand. From then on, you found yourself seeking out his company more and more, content to sit beside him even if neither of you spoke much. Back then, it was simple. You just wanted to be near him, to be a part of that quiet space he seemed to create around himself.

But it wasn’t long before that simple admiration started to turn into something more. You’d catch yourself staring at him a little longer, noticing things like the way his eyes softened when he looked at you or how his hair would fall just a bit over his forehead, making you want to brush it away. Whenever Satoru teased him and made him blush, you felt an inexplicable urge to do something, anything, to make him smile instead.

Years later, that feeling only grew stronger, until it became impossible to ignore. And now, standing under the sakura trees, feeling like your heart might burst out of your chest, you finally realized why. Megumi had always been special to you, in a way no one else ever could be. And the thought of telling him that was terrifying—but also, thrilling.

You took a deep breath, trying to steady yourself. “Hey, Megumi,” you called out softly, stepping closer to where he stood. He glanced up, surprised by the sound of your voice cutting through the silence. “Do you remember when I said you’re like a cat?”

Megumi frowned slightly, as if trying to recall, then gave a hesitant nod. “Yeah, I think so. Why?”

“Well…” You bit your lip, fighting the urge to look away. “I still think that. But I also think… you’re more than just that.”

His eyebrows knitted together in confusion. “What do you mean?”

“You’re…” You took a deep breath, the words coming out in a rush. “You’re everything I’ve always wanted, Megumi. You’re kind, and you make me feel safe. And… and I want to be with you. Always.”

The silence that followed was almost unbearable. Megumi just stared at you, his eyes wide, his mouth slightly open as if he couldn’t believe what he was hearing.

“You… want to be with me?” he repeated slowly, like he needed to say it out loud to make sure he understood.

“Yes!” you said, more firmly this time. “I like you, Megumi. A lot!”

For a long moment, he didn’t move, didn’t speak. “What..what do you mean by like? Do you mean…like like…..or…”

You looked at him confused. “But of course I like you, Megumi. You’re like my best friend!”

He lowered his head. “I see.”

When Gojo Satoru heard all about that, he laughed so hard he fell off a chair. Fushiguro Tsumiki was worried but Fushiguro Megumi just slapped his arm while he coughed for air.

But as you grew older, those feelings started to change, become more complex, more uncertain. It wasn’t just a childhood crush anymore; it was something deeper. You found yourself thinking about Megumi in ways that left you feeling vulnerable, like there was a part of you that would always be reaching out to him, even if you weren’t sure he’d reach back.

It hits you suddenly;like lightning straight to your heart. You’re sitting on the couch with Megumi and your brother Satoru, casually chatting about nothing in particular, but every time Megumi glances your way, something flips inside you. It’s ridiculous, really, how just the smallest brush of his fingers against yours sends you spiraling.

You try to stay composed, but your mind is racing, wondering if he feels it too. Does his heart skip when your knees touch? Is he trying to steal glances at you the way you do when he’s not looking? Your thoughts swirl—Catching feels like butterflies—and it’s getting harder to focus on the conversation.

Satoru notices immediately, of course. The knowing smirk on his face is impossible to miss.

"Hey, you good?" he asks, voice laced with amusement. "You're looking kinda flushed. Maybe it's the heat—oh wait, maybe it's just Cupid."

You shoot him a glare, but the grin on his face only widens.

"Shut up." you mutter, crossing your arms, though the heat in your cheeks betrays you. “Focus on everything else except me.”

He leans in closer, eyes glinting with mischief. "Ooooh, are you catching feels?" He snickers, clearly enjoying your discomfort. "This is too good! I thought you were just spacing out, but nope, you're totally—boom-boom-boom from head to toe."

Megumi glances over, raising an eyebrow. "What are you talking about?"

Before you can even attempt to answer, Satoru’s all over it, teasing mercilessly. "Oh, nothing! Just my dearest sister here having a bit of a heart-fluttering moment. But don’t worry, Megumi, she’s just having a moment. But boy, I know, boy I know, my sis has the feels!"

You want to disappear right then and there. Of course, Satoru would turn this into a full-blown spectacle. You manage to meet Megumi’s gaze, and to your surprise, there’s a slight flush on his cheeks too.

"Ignore him, okay?" Megumi says, voice calm but softer than usual. He smiles at you, for a moment. You could feel yourself getting hot. He was pretty when he smiled. Oh my god. “He’s just…annoying again.”

“Nuh-uh!”

“Spoken like a child.”

It gives you a little hope, just enough to make you wonder if maybe—just maybe—his heart beats the same way.

But before you can dwell on that, Satoru’s voice cuts through the moment, "You’re both hopeless! Just admit it already. This is too entertaining."

You groan, burying your face in your hands, but there’s no denying it anymore. You’ve got all the feels, and Satoru isn’t about to let you forget it. “Shut up!”

“No!” He snickers back at you, tongue out. 

“I’m telling mom about this!”

“Hey, don’t! Mom’s gonna yell at me!”

The doubt crept in slowly at first. You couldn’t help but notice how different you were from the girls Megumi seemed to glance at from time to time—small, delicate girls, the kind that looked like they belonged in some romantic movie. Girls who were easy to hold, easy to protect. Girls who fit perfectly into that image of what you thought a guy like Megumi might want.

It’s not like you’d caught him staring or anything, but you’d seen the way his eyes lingered on them, just for a second longer than usual. It wasn’t anything obvious, but you noticed—of course, you noticed. And once you did, it was like a seed of doubt planted itself in your mind, growing roots and spreading.

You’re not like that. Not even close.

You’re too loud. Always have been. The kind of loudness that people notice before you even say a word. The one who laughs too hard at jokes, talks over people without meaning to, and fills every silence with something because you hate the quiet. Megumi, though? He thrives in the quiet. His calm, composed presence is so opposite to your own chaotic energy that it feels like a constant reminder of how you could never be his type.

And then there’s the height thing. You’re not sure why it bothers you so much, but it does. You’ve caught yourself slouching a little around him, trying to shrink yourself because standing next to Megumi, you feel like you’re towering over him. You feel awkward, too tall, like you’re out of place in his world of composed strength.

It’s silly, right? He’s not short, not by any means, but standing next to him? It feels like you take up too much space, like you’re the hurricane and he’s the calm in the storm. How could someone like that ever be into someone like you?

And it’s not just your height. It’s everything. You’re messy, clumsy, always blurting out what’s on your mind without thinking. Megumi’s quiet, reserved, the kind of guy who takes his time to process things, to consider every angle. Meanwhile, you’re tripping over your words, interrupting without meaning to, and trying way too hard to fill the silence when you know you should probably just shut up.

You groan inwardly, sinking further into the couch as Satoru continues to tease you, his voice still echoing in your head. "You’re totally catching feels, sis." he had said, laughing like it was the funniest thing in the world. And maybe to him, it is. But to you? It’s terrifying.

Because you know—you know—that you’re not the kind of person Megumi would go for. You’re not the small, delicate girl who looks like she stepped out of a dream. You’re loud, too tall, too much. And even if Megumi’s too polite to say anything, you can’t help but think that deep down, he’s got to notice it too.

Maybe that’s why you’ve been trying to ignore these feelings. They don’t make sense. How could they? You’re so different, and not in a way that balances out. More like in a way that makes you wonder what you’re even doing here, sitting next to him, pretending like you belong.

You risk a glance at Megumi. He’s focused on the TV, his usual thoughtful expression in place. He’s probably not even thinking about you, not the way you’re obsessing over every little detail. And why would he?

Guys like him don’t go for girls like you.

One evening, you found yourself sprawled on the couch, a bowl of popcorn balancing precariously on your stomach as you stared at the ceiling, sighing dramatically for the tenth time in five minutes.

Satoru, who was sitting at the dining table messing with his phone, finally looked up, one eyebrow raised. “Alright, what’s the deal? You’ve been sighing like you’re auditioning for a soap opera. You’ve been out of it for a while.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help a small laugh. “It’s nothing. It’s just… falling in love is so hard.”

Satoru’s eyes twinkled with amusement. “Oh? Now we’re talking about love, huh?” He grinned and wiggled his eyebrows like he was about to drop some great wisdom. “Who’s the unlucky guy? Is it Hibari Kyoya this time? Or….well…Jeon Jungkook?”

You groaned and buried your face in the couch pillow. “It’s not about one guy! It’s the whole process. It’s exhausting. Why can’t it just be easy?”

Satoru walked over and plopped down beside you, stealing a handful of your popcorn. “Easy? Love is supposed to be fun. I’m fun, and I’m great at love. What are you doing wrong? Tell big brother, little sis.”

You shot him a death glare, which only made him chuckle. “You make everything sound like a competition. I can’t exactly just… Gojo Satoru my way through love.”

“I mean, you could.” he said, popping a kernel into his mouth. “Have you tried being as charming as me?”

“Oh, please. I am charming!” you said, sitting up and throwing a piece of popcorn at him. “It’s just… ugh, you know what I mean. It’s like every time I like someone, they’re all obsessed with those cute, tiny, delicate girls. And then there’s me.” You gestured at your tall frame with both hands, adding a dramatic flair. “Loud, unignorable, tall-as-a-tree me. Freak of nature, if you will!”

Satoru snorted. “You make it sound like you’re a giraffe or something. And please, you’re hardly a freak of nature. I’m tall and petite all the same.”

“Sometimes it feels like it!” you huffed, crossing your arms. “Do you know how hard it is to casually lean on someone when they’re two heads shorter than you? I could break them!”

“Good point.” Satoru said with mock seriousness. “Being tall and fabulous is clearly a burden.”

You shot him a look. “Don’t patronize me, you’re not helping.”

Satoru laughed and patted your head like you were a puppy. “Come on, what’s wrong with being tall? It’s your thing. Own it. Besides, nothing you can do about Gojo genes. We are tall.”

You sighed again, this time more dramatically. “It’s not just the height, Satoru-nii. It’s everything! The girls guys like are all quiet and soft, and I’m like… a walking megaphone with legs for days.”

Satoru smirked. “First of all, you’re not a megaphone. Maybe a karaoke machine, at worst.”

You threw a cushion at him, but he ducked easily, still grinning. “And second of all,” he continued, “you’re focusing on the wrong stuff. Guys don’t just like small, quiet girls. That’s a myth. Trust me, you just need to find the guy who appreciates that you could easily dunk on him in basketball.”

You couldn’t help but laugh at that image. “Oh yeah, super romantic. ‘Hey, babe, let me dunk on you real quick.’”

“Exactly!” Satoru said with a wink. “You’ve got to use what makes you awesome, not hide it. I mean, look at Meg—” He cut himself off, eyes twinkling mischievously. “You know, I thought I was gonna set it aside, maybe you’re too logical about things but….”

Your heart skipped a beat, and you instantly went into defense mode. “W–what about Megumi?”

“Nothing, nothing!” he said, holding up his hands innocently. “Just saying, he’s quiet, and you’re loud. Could be a good balance. You never know…”

You blushed furiously, tossing the rest of your popcorn at him. “Satoru-nii! He’s your student! I can’t just and someone under your care—ugh!”

Satoru laughed like this was the most entertaining thing he’d heard all week. “Hey, all I’m saying is, maybe you’re thinking about this whole ‘falling in love’ thing too hard. Maybe you’re already in love and just don’t know what to do about it. Or maybe….you just don’t want to talk about it, per se.”

You glared at him, but he kept going, grinning like a cat who had caught a mouse. “Besides, if Megumi ever needs someone to keep him grounded, who better than you? You’d definitely shake up his boring, quiet life. He likes color too, you know. He’s just…more somber about it. You know how he is!”

You groaned and flopped back down on the couch, hiding your face again. “I don’t even know if he likes me, okay? He’s probably never looked at me that way before or ever, and I’m just… me. What if he thinks I’m annoying?”

Satoru rolled his eyes dramatically. “Please. Everyone thinks you’re annoying, and they still like you.” He dodged another pillow you threw at him and continued, “Besides, Megumi doesn’t hang out with people unless he likes them. Have you ever seen him willingly spend time with anyone else besides me? Or Kugisaki or Itadori?”

You blinked. That was a good point. Megumi did spend a lot of time with you—more than with most other people. But still…

“You think so?” you mumbled, feeling a glimmer of hope creep in.

Satoru gave you a soft smile—an unusually sincere expression for him. “Yeah, I do. And even if he’s not into it right now, anyone who can’t appreciate you for who you are is an idiot. You’re a catch, even if you do throw pillows like a five-year-old.”

You snorted, wiping at your eyes. “Thanks, I guess?”

“Anytime, little sis!” Satoru said, leaning back and tossing another piece of popcorn into his mouth. “Now, if you’re done complaining, let’s figure out how you can subtly drop-kick your way into Megumi’s heart.”

You rolled your eyes but smiled anyway. “I’m not drop-kicking him.”

“Too bad. It would’ve been fun to watch.”

“You’re so annoying, I hate you.”

He grinned. “No you don’t!”

HE WISHED HE WASN’T SUCH A KLUTZ ABOUT THIS. Fushiguro Megumi sat there, staring at his phone screen, his thumb hovering over the “send” button like it was some kind of bomb he wasn’t ready to detonate.

He had typed the message about ten times, erased it nine, and now, here he was, sweating over the tenth. All he needed to do was press send. That’s it. Just one tap, and he’d finally take a step toward telling you how he really felt.

But, as usual, his mind spiraled with doubts.

What if she doesn’t feel the same? What if this ruins everything? What if she’s just being nice to me because of Satoru?

He groaned, running a hand over his face. Why was this so hard? He could face curses, fight dangerous opponents, and handle life-or-death situations without batting an eye. But when it came to you, his brain turned into a tangled mess of uncertainty.

His internal crisis was interrupted by a loud knock on his door.

“Fuuuuuuushiiiiiiiguuuuuuuuroooooo! You in there?” Yuji’s voice rang out cheerfully. Before Megumi could even respond, the door swung open, and Yuji and Nobara barged in, grinning like they had just walked in on something juicy.

“Wha—what are you two doing here?” Megumi stammered, quickly locking his phone and shoving it into his pocket, hoping they hadn’t seen anything.

“Whatcha hiding?” Nobara asked immediately, her eyes narrowing with suspicion. She crossed her arms and gave him a look like she was about to crack a case wide open.

“Nothing.” Megumi said too quickly, which only made Yuji and Nobara more curious.

Yuji flopped onto the bed, making himself at home. “Come on, Fushiguro! You look like you were about to do something important.” He raised his eyebrows suggestively. “Something to do with a girl maybe?”

Megumi felt the tips of his ears go red. “What? No! It’s nothing.”

“Oh my god, he’s blushing!” Nobara exclaimed, smirking like a cat who’d caught a mouse. She nudged Yuji. “You know what that means.”

Yuji nodded sagely. “Yup. It’s definitely about a girl.”

Nobara laughs. “Oh, but not just any girl! You know….Gojo–sensei’s sister?”

“Wait!” Yuji’s eyes widened as Megumi looked away, the blush turning even more bright. “Fushiguro? Gojo–sensei’s sister!?”

Megumi groaned, feeling his face heat up even more. He could never hide anything from these two. It was like they had some kind of embarrassing moment radar. “No, it’s not! Leave it alone already!”

“Aha……” Nobara’s eyes sparkled with mischief. “It’s about Gojo Satoru’s sister, isn’t it? You’re so obvious about this!”

Megumi nearly choked on air. “Wha—no! I mean……” He trailed off, realizing that he was only digging himself deeper into a hole. “It’s not…It’s not what you think it is!”

“Oh my god, it is!” Nobara practically squealed. “You like her, don’t you?”

Yuji was grinning from ear to ear now, thoroughly enjoying Megumi’s suffering. “I knew it! You’re always all flustered around her.”

“I am not flustered. I am not….” Megumi muttered, looking away, which only made him look more flustered. “This is too much from you two!”

“Dude, you are so flustered, right now!” Yuji said, laughing. “It’s okay! You should just tell her how you feel.”

Megumi sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “It’s not that easy.”

“Why not?” Nobara asked, throwing her hands up in exasperation. “You’re both into each other. I mean, she practically looks at you like you hung the stars in the sky. What’s the problem?”

Megumi blinked, caught off guard. “She… does?”

Nobara rolled her eyes. “Duh. How are you this dense? It’s so obvious! She’s always laughing at your jokes, even when they’re not funny.”

“Hey!” Megumi protested weakly.

“And she’s always finding excuses to be around you,” Yuji added. “Plus, the way she looks at you when she thinks no one’s watching? Come on, man, she’s into you.”

Megumi felt a flicker of hope, but his doubts crept back in. “But what if I’m wrong? What if I ruin things between us?”

Yuji and Nobara exchanged a look before turning back to him.

“Yo, Fushiguro!” Yuji said, clapping him on the shoulder. “You can’t spend your whole life worrying about what ifs. Just tell her. Worst case, things get a little awkward, but knowing her, she won’t let that happen.”

Nobara nodded. “And honestly, with how close you two already are, I’d bet money that she’s waiting for you to make the first move.”

Megumi let their words sink in, the knot of anxiety in his chest loosening just a little. Maybe they were right. Maybe he was overthinking everything. After all, you’d been dropping hints for a while now, hadn’t you? The lingering glances, the way you always seemed to gravitate toward him in a room full of people…

He pulled his phone back out, staring at the unsent message again.

Yuji peeked over his shoulder. “Ooh, you were gonna text her? What’re you waiting for? Send it!”

Nobara nodded eagerly. “Do it, do it, do it!”

With a deep breath, Megumi finally pressed send.

“Hey. Are you free tomorrow? Let’s talk.”

He tossed his phone onto the bed and slumped back against the wall, exhaling like he’d just run a marathon.

Nobara grinned triumphantly. “See? That wasn’t so hard.”

“Yeah.” Megumi muttered, though his heart was still racing. Now all he had to do was wait for your reply.

Yuji and Nobara, clearly pleased with themselves, exchanged a high-five. “Mission accomplished!” Yuji declared, grinning.

Megumi rolled his eyes but couldn’t help the small smile tugging at his lips. Maybe this wasn’t going to be so bad after all.

The moment Megumi pressed send, his stomach dropped. What had he just done? Now there was no going back. He couldn’t unsend the message, couldn’t take back the quiet confession it represented. All he could do was wait for your response.

Yuji and Nobara were still grinning like a pair of mischievous siblings who had just successfully pulled off a prank. Megumi, on the other hand, was wondering if he should just bury himself in his bed and never come out.

“So….....” Yuji leaned in, his eyes wide with excitement. “What now? You think she’s gonna reply right away? Maybe she’s been waiting for this all along!”

Nobara snickered. “I bet she’s freaking out right now, staring at her phone like, ‘Oh my god, THE Fushiguro Megumi finally texted me to talk. What do I do?!’” She mimicked a dramatic swoon, nearly falling off the chair, which only made Yuji burst out laughing.

“Would you two stop?” Megumi groaned, pulling a pillow over his face in an attempt to block out their teasing. His ears were still burning, and the last thing he needed was them making it worse.

“Come on, man! This is exciting!” Yuji said, playfully tugging the pillow away. “You’ve probably  been into her for ages! Didn’t you guys meet as kids? And now you’re finally doing something about it! You should be happy!”

Megumi peeked out from behind the pillow, his expression somewhere between annoyance and anxiety. “Yeah, or I could be about to make the most embarrassing mistake of my life.”

Nobara rolled her eyes. “Ugh, seriously? You’re not gonna make a mistake, Megumi. Trust me. That girl is totally into you.”

“Yeah. Pretty obvious to us.” Yuji added, “if you could see how she looks at you, you wouldn’t be worrying about this.”

Megumi hesitated, feeling a small flicker of hope again. Could it really be true? Did you look at him the same way he looked at you? He was usually pretty good at reading people, but when it came to you, his emotions seemed to get in the way, clouding his judgment.

His phone buzzed, and all three of them froze.

Yuji’s eyes widened. “That’s her, isn’t it?!”

Nobara practically lunged for the phone. “Open it, open it, open it!”

Megumi’s heart skipped a beat as he grabbed the phone, hands suddenly shaky. He unlocked it, and there it was—your reply.

Hey, yeah, I’m free tomorrow. What’s up?

It was simple, nothing out of the ordinary, but to Megumi, it felt like the weight of the world had just lifted off his shoulders. You didn’t sound nervous or weirded out. You just… replied. As if this was the most normal thing in the world.

He exhaled, not realizing he had been holding his breath.

“Well? What’d she say?” Nobara leaned in, practically on the edge of her seat.

“She said she’s free.” Megumi muttered, trying to sound casual, but the small smile tugging at his lips gave him away.

“Oh, look at him!” Yuji teased, nudging Megumi with his elbow. “He’s smiling! Megumi, man, you’re whipped.”

Megumi shot him a look. “I’m not whipped.”

“Yeah, you are.” Nobara said with a smirk. “And honestly? It’s kinda cute. I never thought I’d see the day when you, of all people, would get all flustered over a girl.”

Megumi rubbed his temples, feeling the beginnings of a headache. “Can you two go now?”

“Fine, fine.” Nobara stood up, stretching her arms above her head. “But remember, if you mess this up, we’re totally going to say, ‘I told you so.’”

Yuji chuckled, giving Megumi a thumbs-up as they headed for the door. “Good luck, lover boy.”

“Don’t call me that.” Megumi grumbled, but there was no real bite to his words. He was too relieved, too nervous, and, if he was honest with himself, a little excited.

As the door closed behind them, Megumi sat back down on the bed, staring at your message. His heart was still racing, but this time, it wasn’t just from nerves. There was something else—hope. Maybe, just maybe, this would turn out okay.

He typed out a quick response.

Cool. Let’s meet after training? I want to talk.

And with that, he tossed the phone onto the bed again, burying his face in his hands.

What am I even going to say? He had no idea, but tomorrow was coming whether he was ready or not.

Little did he know, you were sitting in your room, staring at your own phone, your heart racing just as fast.

AND SO IT HAPPENED. It was a crisp, sunny afternoon when you found yourself standing under the canopy of sakura trees, the pale pink petals drifting lazily to the ground. Everything about the moment was making you feel queasy, like your stomach was doing flips. Why was this making you feel so sick? Why was your heart pounding like this? You could still feel the heat from your nervous sweat, which only made it worse. How is feeling so much love making you feel like you were going to die? You hated this. You really hated this. 

Your elder brother, Satoru, had this knack for making every situation simultaneously better and worse. Walking beside you, he was grinning like he knew something you didn’t, that classic, cocky smirk plastered across his face.

“Good luck, little sis!” he teased, ruffling your hair like you were a kid. “I’m sure Megumi’s gonna love whatever awkward thing you’re about to say.”

You shot him a glare, your nerves bubbling up with his every word. “You’re not helping.”

“Who said I was trying to help?” He winked, clearly enjoying your suffering. You glared at him. “I’m just here for moral support... and to watch you squirm.”

“Thanks.” you muttered, the sarcasm dripping from your voice.

Satoru laughed, clapping you on the back. “Come on, it’s Megumi. He’s practically family. What’s the worst that could happen? He rejects you? Nah, you’ll be fine.”

you wished your brother didn’t have Infinity, just so you could land a good punch on him. Now, standing there, nerves making you feel like backing out entirely, you glanced at him one more time.

To your surprise, his teasing smirk faded, replaced with concern. "Hey, hey, don’t cry!" He waved his hands in front of you frantically. "I was joking! I didn’t mean to make you upset."

"It wasn’t funny!" you snapped, blinking rapidly as the threat of tears welled up. Why did he always have to push your buttons?

Satoru looked genuinely worried for a second, which was rare. "Okay, okay, listen..." His tone softened, a little less of that cocky edge. "If Megumi doesn’t like you back, that’s okay. There’s plenty of people who will love you better, alright? Genuinely."

You sniffed, still feeling that tight knot of anxiety in your chest. "Yeah, right."

"I mean it," he insisted, stepping closer and placing a hand on your shoulder. “Your good ol' big brother is one of them, okay? You’ll always be loved, doll. You’ve got me, forever. No one’s ever gonna change that.”

You sighed, rolling your eyes but feeling a bit better, even if his logic was as goofy as always. "Still doesn’t make this any less terrifying, you know."

Satoru chuckled, ruffling your hair again. "Well, if all else fails, you can come hide behind me. Infinity’s good for that too, you know!"

By the time he finally left you alone, after throwing in one last, “Don’t mess it up, though!” you were already sweating. Actually sweating. Harder than ever before.

"Great. Just great." you grumbled to yourself, imagining all the possible ways this could go wrong. “Love sucks! This sucks!”

But sooner or later, you knew you would have to face it. And so you waited for Megumi. You waited patiently as you created stupid little scenarios in your head — things that shouldn’t even be. 

And after about fifteen minutes, here you were, facing Fushiguro Megumi, your heart pounding so loudly you were certain he could hear it. He stood a few feet away, hands buried deep in his pockets, staring intently at the ground as though it held the answers to life’s greatest mysteries.

Is he nervous too? you wondered. Somehow, that thought gave you the slightest sense of relief, but only for a fleeting moment. The truth was, you hadn’t been able to focus on anything since this morning, and now that you were actually standing in front of him, the anxiety was threatening to spill over.

Megumi’s hair, slightly ruffled by the breeze, caught your attention. His gaze remained fixed downward, his usual calm, almost brooding expression in place, but something about the way his shoulders were tense told you he wasn’t as composed as he seemed.

"I…" You started, your voice catching in your throat. Great, now you are losing your nerve.

Megumi’s eyes flickered toward you, his expression unreadable but curious. He waited, his silence urging you to continue, even though the words seemed to have tangled themselves up inside your head.

You tried again, taking a small breath, "I don’t really know how to say this without sounding like an idiot."

He shifted slightly, his eyes finally lifting to meet yours. “You’re not an idiot.” he said softly, though the hint of amusement in his voice wasn’t lost on you. “You aren’t one. Never…never have been.”

He looked… nervous? Which made you feel a little better, since you were pretty sure you’d forgotten how to breathe about five minutes ago.

Alright, you thought, trying to psych yourself up. You’re just going to confess. It’s simple. People do it all the time! You can do this. It’s Megumi—your Megumi.

Except now that you were actually standing in front of him, your brain decided to throw you a curveball. What if… what if he doesn’t like tall, petite girls?

You winced at the thought. Megumi was tall and handsome, and here you were, small, like a walking marshmallow. What if he preferred someone else, someone who needs his help? Does he like girls who seem to be more dependent on him? What if he liked girls with long, model-like legs? Wait, I don’t have those sort of legs! I have an athlete’s legs, but thinner! Oh my god…I, am I his type? Or worse, what if you were just a friend to him?

Before you knew it, words were tumbling out of your mouth.

“Um… Megumi?” you started, your voice way too high-pitched to sound cool. “There’s something I need to say.”

Megumi glanced up at you, his eyes narrowing slightly in that focused way he had. Your face felt like it was on fire. “Yeah?” he said, his tone casual but with a hint of curiosity.

You hesitated, suddenly regretting every decision you’d made that day. But you couldn’t back out now. You were already knee-deep in awkwardness.

“I know I’m, like… not like all the other girls or anything. Not to mention, I'm loud and awkward and just....” You winced as you said it. You feel your cheeks getting redder by the second. “And maybe… maybe you like taller girls or maybe more chic girls? Like, you know, girls with long model legs who look good in anything. Or at least girls who don’t have to deal with….you know, I….I don’t know. But I just….”

Megumi blinked at you, his eyes widening slightly as the words sunk in. For a moment, you thought you’d really messed up—like he might just walk away or start laughing. But then, something unexpected happened.

His face turned an alarming shade of red, and he blurted, “W-What? No! That’s not— I don’t care about any of that!” His voice cracked slightly, and you could tell he was flustered. Megumi. Flustered. Your heart did a weird little flip at that.

“I like you… exactly how you are. I don’t care if you have…if you have athlete legs and not model legs.” he said, quieter this time, as if saying it any louder would somehow make it harder for him. His eyes darted to the side, but you could see the sincerity there. “I… don’t care if you’re short or tall or… whatever.” His blush deepened as he added, “You’re… perfect.”

It took a second for your brain to catch up to what he was saying. Wait—he thought you were perfect? Did you… did you hear that right?

You opened your mouth, but all you managed was a strangled, “Oh.” Which was, you know, super eloquent. Good job, me.

Megumi shifted on his feet, still avoiding your gaze. “I thought…” he started, his voice so low you almost didn’t catch it, “that you didn’t like me because I’m… well, you know.” He made a vague gesture with his hand.

You stared at him, confused. “Because you’re… what?”

His expression was a mixture of embarrassment and frustration, like he really didn’t want to explain, but felt like he had to. “Because I’m… brooding. I’m not…I know I’m not the most fun of people to be around. And I just….I know it’s also hard to talk to me. And I'm way too quiet, I don't talk for hours sometimes.” he muttered. He cleared his throat and added. “I’m not exactly the most… open or easygoing person. I figured you’d probably want someone who’s more… fun.”

You blinked. “Fun? Megumi, you think I don’t like you because you’re… broody?”

He shrugged, still looking like he wanted to disappear into the nearest bush. “I mean… yeah.”

You couldn’t help it—you burst out laughing. Megumi’s eyes snapped back to you, looking completely baffled, as if he hadn’t expected that reaction at all.

“No way!” you said, still giggling as you wiped a tear from your eye. “That’s one of the things I like about you!”

His eyebrows furrowed. “Wait… what?”

“You’re serious and quiet!” you explained, your heart softening as you looked at him. “But you’re also kind. And you care so much about everyone, even if you don’t show it the way other people do. I think it’s…” you swallowed, suddenly shy again, “...really cute, actually.”

Megumi’s expression softened in a way that made your chest ache. He looked like he didn’t quite believe what he was hearing but was too relieved to question it. "Oh."

"Yeah...."

“So… you like me?” he asked, his voice a little hesitant, like he was afraid the answer might change if he said it out loud.

You nodded, feeling your cheeks heat up again. “Yeah… I do.”

There was a beat of silence where neither of you moved, both too flustered to figure out what came next. The sakura petals continued to fall around you, and for a moment, it felt like you were in a scene straight out of a cheesy romance.

“And you… like me?” you ventured, your heart thumping hard.

Megumi looked away, rubbing the back of his neck, but you could see the tiniest smile playing on his lips. “Yeah.” he muttered. “A lot.”

You stood there for a while, both of you blushing like tomatoes, staring at anything but each other. But somehow, despite the awkwardness, it felt perfect—like you’d finally figured out what had been right in front of you all along.

“Maybe we should, um… go get something to eat?” you suggested, trying to break the tension before you spontaneously combusted from embarrassment.

“Yeah.” Megumi agreed, a little too quickly. “Food. Good idea.”

You started walking, side by side, still too nervous to hold hands or do anything couple-like, but grinning like idiots who’d finally realized how much you liked each other. You'll be okay, together.

epilogue

The café near Jujutsu High was cozy, with soft lighting and the faint hum of conversations from other patrons filling the space. Megumi and I sat across from each other, still awkward but smiling. The post-confession giddiness hadn’t worn off, and every now and then, our eyes would meet, followed by a quick blush and looking away.

I nervously poked at my dessert with my fork, stealing glances at Megumi, who was doing a pretty good job pretending to focus on his coffee. I should say something, I thought, but before I could open my mouth, a loud, familiar voice shattered the peaceful atmosphere.

"Well, well, well! What do we have here? My adorable little sister and Fushiguro Megumi! On a date! How cute!"

I whipped my head around, and there he was—Gojo Satoru, in all his obnoxiously tall, grinning glory, standing at the entrance of the café like he owned the place. His trademark sunglasses were perched on his nose, and he had his phone in hand, ready for whatever chaos he was about to unleash.

Megumi groaned and slouched down in his seat, his face flushing a deep shade of red. "Why are you here?"

"Oh, just taking a casual stroll around campus when I happened to spot you two. And, being the fantastic older brother I am, I couldn’t resist stopping by to see what’s going on."

I sighed, knowing full well this was about to get much worse. "Satoru-nii…please don’t."

But Gojo Satoru was already snapping pictures of us with his phone, zooming in obnoxiously on both of our embarrassed faces. “Oh, these are perfect. You both look so adorable! I can’t wait to send these to Yuji, Nobara, and the rest of the gang.”

Megumi’s hand shot up in protest. “Stop—”

Too late. Gojo Satoru’s fingers flew over his phone screen as he quickly shared the photos. I could already imagine the messages popping up in the group chat: Yuji losing his mind with excitement, Nobara teasing Megumi, and the second and third years chiming in with their own commentary.

“Satoru-nii!” I whisper-shouted, trying to keep my voice low enough not to draw the attention of the other café-goers. “You promised no embarrassing photos!”

Gojo just grinned, looking far too pleased with himself. “Hey, you didn’t say anything about dates. Besides, this is for posterity. Your first date with the brooding Megumi! Awww, it’s like watching a baby deer trying to walk for the first time. My future brother in law and my sister’s first date! Oh this will be cute in the wedding powerpoint!”

Megumi looked like he wanted to crawl under the table, and honestly, I wasn’t too far behind. I glanced at him, feeling bad for dragging him into this chaos. “Gojo–sensei, we aren’t….That’s not—”

“Say cheese!”

But then, something unexpected happened. Maybe it was Gojo’s teasing, or maybe it was just the ridiculousness of the whole situation, but I felt a sudden surge of boldness. I scooted my chair a little closer to Megumi, leaned into him slightly, and—just to spite Satoru—rested my head on his shoulder.

Megumi stiffened at first, his body going rigid in surprise, but after a second, I felt him relax. He glanced down at me, and despite his still-flushed cheeks, there was a soft smile tugging at his lips. He didn’t say anything, but the way he subtly leaned into me in return spoke volumes.

Gojo, of course, gasped dramatically. “Ohhhh! Look at you two! All cozy now! This is too precious, I’m dying.”

“You’re gonna be dying for real if you don’t stop.” Megumi muttered, though he didn’t sound as angry as he usually did. He seemed…happy, even if he wouldn’t admit it. And honestly, that made me smile too.

Gojo, ever the drama queen, pretended to clutch his heart. “My little Megumi, all grown up and in love! My precious little sister, grown and down bad! This is truly a day to remember.” He took another picture, but at this point, I didn’t care. Neither did Megumi.

After what felt like an eternity of Gojo’s teasing, he finally waved us off with a laugh. “Alright, alright, I’ll leave you lovebirds to it. But don’t think I’m letting this go anytime soon! I expect wedding invites, you hear me?”

He sauntered out of the café, phone still in hand, leaving us in peace once again.

I let out a long sigh of relief, finally able to relax. “I’m sorry about him. He’s… well, he’s Satoru.”

Megumi shook his head, still leaning into me a little. “It’s fine. I’m used to it by now.”

We sat there quietly for a moment, neither of us moving. Despite the embarrassment, I felt a sense of warmth spreading through my chest. Leaning into Megumi, feeling the weight of his shoulder against mine, it was nice. Comforting.

I looked up at him and saw that soft smile again. He wasn’t embarrassed anymore—he looked…content. Maybe even a little happy.

“You know.......” I said, my voice quiet, smiling. “I think this might be the best date ever.”

Megumi glanced down at me, and for the first time that day, he chuckled softly. “Yeah… I think so too.”

[afloat-at-sea]

I’ve had ‘sorry, we’re closed’ swimming in my head for a while now so honestly these were initially inspired by that game – at least like loosely. In any case, it was perfect timing for me to insert crk right back into everything I do!!

(more art under cut btw)

right SO I didn’t mean to make this a full fledged AU but they’ve been so fun to draw and that plan went immediately straight out the window. I don’t have a name for it yet but I do have a lot of disjointed ideas I’ve been throwing together 🤷 🤷

in any case I’m placing angels and demons as like a fun aesthetic foundantion for the whole AU but I don’t super want to rely or base it on too many preexisting religious contexts. feels more fun this way. I’ll come back and make a tag for this when I’ve named it

+ more AU brainstorming :)

I’d imagine the beasts and ancients would still be each other’s counterparts in this but it’d be much less about the souljams and more about balancing each other out. let’s say we’re talking about shmilk and pv; they’d have a back and forth spreading deceit and truth. the closer they get to each other, the more they settle somewhere in the middle. knowledge after all is not that cut and dry. I also think they would probably be in charge of widespread knowledge as a whole. the way it’s kept, distributed or skewed. pretty big responsibility but they have their whole existence to learn to get it right

it’s a process. they’re not close immediately or even on speaking terms for a long while. I’m sure shadow milk doesn’t make it easy to be. without the souljam being a plot point, things are a lot more about resenting being replaced. being discarded and tossed aside with no second thought and then a shinier, prettier thing taking his place. they’re meant to guard each other, make sure the other doesn’t go too out of line.

shadow milk is typical shadow milk so I’d expect beast-yeast eps 7-8 would most likely still happen in some form or another. it’s only after that that they even begin to try and mend whatever grievances they have with each other. for pure vanilla it’s pretty much the motivations he has after he’s awakened in canon, for shadow milk it’s about being stuck together. hold your friends close and your enemies closer type deal. plus he’s debilitatingly lonely. I don’t think some grand romance would happen anytime soon. give these little freaks another century or so to work on it. eventually I do believe they become pretty inseparable though.

+ ALSO I still think beasts would have been made with their powers and purpose there to begin with and ancients would have to prove themselves worthy kind of closely to the way they would in crk.

plus I’d like the ancients to be a little less benevolent in this. they’re flawed people regardless but I think inherently being placed in a role that was created to hold someone else in line would do things to people. esp if said people want you super dead

that’s as far as I’ve thought up. I’d love to sit down and properly brainstorm about how the rest of the cookie world would function under the beasts and ancients

[pruneunfair]

Ranking every manhwa villainess and white lotus I could find.

Keep in mind these are all opinion based.

#22: At the very bottom of the list is Sumin Jeong from Marry my husband

Now, like almost everyone else on this list, Sumin is kept a level that is below the FL Jiwon so she can never best the hero. However unlike the others here, Sumin has not once been shown to be anything other than a dumb and evil bimbo who talks like elmo even before Jiwon regressed, her reasons for wanting everything Jiwon has make no sense and she has no flavor to her, no backstory that makes sense, no real charm since it's lost as soon as possible, all she has going for her is a distinct design.

#21: Charlotte-the villainess maker

Honestly, Charlotte is about as forgettable as the comic she's from. She doesn't do much, just basic bland white lotus tropes over and over. She is portrayed as a sweet heart but she's secretly a jealous vindictive mean girl, she loses everything to the FL because she's too basic for the not-like-other-girls readers, nothing really revolutionary about her, but this could be chalked up to the story shes from canonically being an abysmal mess written by the FL when she was 14, Sorry Charlotte.

#20: Iris Van Conrad-Today the villainess has fun again.

A step up from Sumin when it comes to backstories, still not the greatest but it makes a little more sense. She's more passive aggressive since her actual plots are destoryed in nanoseconds by the plot, she gets dunked on so much I wonder if she's supposed to the Villainess or a discount Meg Griffin. Considering the fact to that Reilynn is pedo coded, Iris is less of the two evils.

#19: Aisha Selir-divorcing my tyrant husband.

Shes okay, But like Charlotte, Aisha isn't very noteworthy, as usual, any attempts she makes to best or outsmart Robelia are met with utter failure, she could be something really great if she were just allowed to make a mark on the plot. Like actually have Alexandros take responsibility instead of blaming her for her existence. Her design before the art shift was pretty enough and I'm pretty sure she's being possessed by a vindictive soul so that might explain why Aisha suddenly became a villain when she's described as being dainty, sweet, and a general damsel and saintess in the story within DMTH.

18: Fonta Magnus:the tyrants only perfumer

Fonta is the type of antagonist that would be adored as a isekaied protagonist. She doesn't really do much though since she gets defeated over and over with the same plan of copying Ariels ideas (how original, no pun intended) I like her though just because her design reminds me of cartoon goth girls, specially Gwen from total drama island.

#17: Benela Verdi- the princesses jewels

I don't care if she seduced Ariannas father or killed her brother, Arianna was out there acting like she wouldn't do the same just to get with a sexy man. Benela may suffer from the same problems every other villainess does but if ranked them based on that then almost all of them would be on the bottom. This image of her drinking her stress away is accurate to how I felt reading this one.

#16: Claudine von Brandt-Cry or better yet beg

I absolutely adore Claudine and she's not really a villain but unfortunately the narrative says she's a so she'll have to count. It's why she's this low since she's just a woman who gets in the way of the main ship

As you can probably guess, her only crimes are being condescending to Layla and valuing superficial values such as wealth and status, crimes that somehow make her worse than Matthias in the narratives eyes. Justice for my girl Claudine ✊️

now we are moving up to the middle tier

#15: Diana-for my derelict favorite

This girl has more protagonist material then Hestia ever will. Sorry but Hestias entire thing is just being a rich girlboss, simping for Cael and damning any woman who broke his heart including Diana, who is the saintess that opposes murder, Wow! Who would have guessed that the saintess woman wouldn't endorse literal murder! Could she have communicated better? Yes, was she always in the right? Hell no. But she's got more character in her pinky toe then everyone else in their entire bodies to I salute to her.

#14: Irene/Aileen Hascator- I didn't mean to seduce the male lead

I have a weird relationship with her. One minute I'm impressed because she actually does manipulation pretty well at first with making the lives of those who won't swear loyalty her unbearable in very smart ways, she'll buy all her friends expensive dresses so she can stand out in a simpler one, she'll defend the black sheep and make her into her friend to keep up her sweetheart facade, unfortunately it's all so she can get with a boy where she goes nuts on anyone who gets near him.

#13: Freya van Furiana- how to get my husband on my side

I really loved this manhwa, almost all of the characters are complex and 3 dimensional with a great commentary on abuse, ED, and family dynamics, with that said I was a little disappointed seeing Freya as another basic white lotus who only wants Izek for herself, it won't take much even a little more character traits would help because Freya isn't just some random girl who became the ogfl, she was the childhood friend of Izek and Ellen, so we should've gotten to see a little more too her then what we got

#12: Mielle Roscente- the villainess turns the hourglass.

Beautiful design, basic but rather solid goals, a charming personality, Mielle has all of that in the bag. She secretly wants Aria and her mother out of her life since they aren't of noble blood (before the terrible Arias a noble plot twist) and she's really entertaining. However I'll never understand how she managed to destroy Aria in the first timeline if she's such an idiot now. The first timeline also takes the blame off of Arias shitty actions with "Mielle tricked her into being evil!" It ruins the charm since Aria, as a villainess should be allowed to suffer the consequences while not wanting to quit.. since you know, she's not meant to be a good person.

#11: Isabella de Mare-sister I am the queen in this life

NOT YOU!

THIS is the Isabella I'm talking about

Absolute genius, she knows that Ceasre is a bastard and not just in the literal sense, she doesn't even love him and just wants that sweet sweet power and wealth. Fooled Ariande for years that she was on her side and as a bonus she can easily say she wanted revenge for Alfonso to the public if they ever found out she was behind it all. But the best part about first timeline Isabella is her villain monolog that women mean nothing to men, putting your life in their hands is a fatal mistake and if you want to make it to the top, you gotta crush the opponents. But alas we never see this version of Isabella after Ariande goes back in time

Higher tier now, the best of the best who managed to make it this far

#10: Rhyse/Lise Sinclair- not your typical reincarnation story

Yeah shes technically being controlled by the author or hell maybe she is the author I have yet to finish this one but for once we get a comic that doesn't immediately pit two women against eachother and actually gives a solid reason for her to be at odds with Edith. When something doesn't go her way, Rhyse doesn't throw a fit and turn on the water works no no no. She stands there, awkwardly, almost like the real Rhyse is wondering why she feels so jealous and angry with Edith for stealing the spotlight. She's incredibly ominous too when that purple mist surrounds her to force the other characters back into place. All while she's making friends with Edith in a possibly geninue friendship.

#9: Isis Frederick- the villainess reverses the hourglass

I'm pretty sure most of us can agree she's the real villain of TVRTHG since she basically started and encouraged the whole operation to begin with from afar, the puppeteer if you will. Killer design, a great fear factor and an evil sister done better. Wish she had more time to shine.

#8: Diane Poitier- I abdicate my title as empress

What already sets her apart from other evil concubines is that she was there before Adelaide so her reasons for being upset that another woman is showing up to marry the Emperor is reasonable, obviously her actions aren't but I still felt bad for her since no one in that palace gave a damn about her, Diane got ruthlessly belittled and ignored for not being useful to their liking or simply being too desperate and when Adelaide tries to not make an enemy out of her, Diane is looking for anyone to direct her anger on but the redemption arc as short as it is, makes up for it.

#7: Leila- villains are destined to die

My favorite ogfl turned villain. Leila is pure evil no questions asked. She steals the body of Yvonne which played a part in taking the latters reputation to a degree in the fandom and starts brainwashing everyone around her. That's what makes her so terrifying, one minute you could be at your highest and you feel like you rule the world, and next minute it all comes crashing down when the face of your long lost sibling arrives with fake tears in her eyes, ready to destroy everything you hold dear.

#6: Soleia Elard- seducing the villains father

I can't believe I'm saying this but a classic black magic witch is a unique villain in the manhwa world. During her introduction she's already causing mayhem by trying to kill Yerenica with black magic, and at first you'd think she's another "I want my hubbies affection!" Chick but no, she just wants to marry Erudian to have his child and use said child to avenge her family and destroy everything, characters are all frightened by her because she actually gets shit done instead of failing every minute of the day, and even after all that, she's allowed the privilege of life by getting a redemption arc.

#5: Cosette Weinberg- I was the real one.

She deserved so much better!! 😭 Cosette, my baby, you were set up to be such an amazing villain with high intelligence and well thought out plans, why did they have to give you the good old plot induced lobotomy! Girly wasn't just smart but there were actually times I could get behind Cosette. When Keira gave a maid 100 lashes after she insulted and wished death on Keira, it was Cosette who took advantage of an actual truth with only a little bit of exaggeration, they were both evil but only one of them was rightfully called out for it. Honestly just read the novel, the manhwa did it dirty.

#4: Marianne Edenverre- into the light again.

Nah someone get this baby to a church and give her the aggressive baptism 10 times over, I'll always be wondering how the hell did that 10 year old get her hands on a demon in the first place, the fact that the family never found her hiding behind a door or closet staring into their soul like a paralysis demon is surprising cause I imagine she would do that and be like "it's just me sillies, I would never mean to scare you 😛" she's a well written villainess who I wish would have a little bit more screentime but her powers and what she can do honestly confuses me (like that whole body-swap thing)

Final 3 everybody, you ready for this?

#🥉: the 3rd place medal goes to Dodolea Castor from My in laws are obsessed with me

Another real villainess, putting everyone off guard with her initial gacha life brat persona only to be hit in the face with disturbing levels of cruelty that can only match a psychopath, she looks straight out of an uncanny mr incredible meme with that light skin stare shes got. Straight up laughs at Therdeos trauma while being well aware that she tried to SA him and how it affected the poor guy and later proceeds to attempt to kill and later kidnaps his wife. There's no remorse, no regrets, just the souls of innocents behind those huge eyes.

#🥈 : the second place medal goes to Verta Alberhart from depths of malice.

She isn't even the antagonist, no that's the protagonist! And honestly, the only white lotus in the main lead spot I've ever read so far. And while she has a messed up backstory that explains why she's so bitter, she still full on embraces it. Vertas way of being granted a second chance isn't even because of some goddess or divine power, she just snatches the body of a suicidal noblewoman and wreaks havoc on all of the disgusting noblemen in her path. She cries on the court trial of her fiances murder while secretly laughing knowing she set the whole thing up and slowly ruins the life of anyone who fucked around and found out.

At long last, we reached #🏅, and the crown goes to none other than...

Rashta Ishka from the remarried empress!

Hear me out now, this isn't just me being biased. Rashta earns first place because even though she is rendered an idiot who's only use is being worse so everyone else can look good, she still managed to do something unfathomable. She earned the respect of a fandom that initially hated her with all the fiber of their being and now she has a growing fanbase of real people, not fictional characters, actual fans. People are literally turning on one of the most popular manhwas that started it all for its treatment of Rashta (because who would guess that people are uncomfortable with the fact that a former slave is the ultimate evil and not the guy who tortures people just for shit talking the FL) and even though there is still a big part of the fandom who despises her, she still lives in everyone's head rent free. The trashta meme is more well known than Navier as a character and her character arc will always be superior and far more interesting than everything else in the story, after all remarried empress did start to decline after her death.

Jesus christ this took so long, I had to do so much rereading and fact checking but it was worth it.

[itsgrimeytime]

like father, like son || Rick Grimes (TWD) x gn!Reader

AVAILABLE ON AO3

request for @zomb-1-egutzz

Inspiration: I Wanna Be Yours by Arctic Monkeys

Summary: Taking care of Carl, was like instinct. Ever since you've met him, you've just cared for him like your own. You don't know why, you just slotted into his side. And you thought that was pretty simple. But, what you had never thought about, was what it would mean for Rick.

TWs: mention of Lori's death, mention of Hershel's death, mention of Beth's death, angst, crying, essentially a panic attack, pent-up emotions, cursing, blood, gunshot wounds, injuries, unrequited love (but not really), and all things TWD.

[[A/N: hey bestie <333, hope you like it. I write as a stress reliever but this one kinda hurt a little bit. And just fyi, Carl is alive and well, (canon is not real, so it will not hurt me). Also, Rick is down bad in this. Terribly down bad. Enjoy :))) ]]

You were a long-time family friend of the Greene's, and when you had nowhere else to go, you went to Hershel's farm. Even before the apocalypse, you helped when you could on the farm, and you knew all of them really well. A little like they were family.

But when it all started... everything went to shit for you pretty quickly.

And you... you had nowhere else to go.

With your family's blood on your hands and visions of unhinged jaws (that you didn't think you'd ever wash away), you ran as fast as you could. You just let your feet guide you and ended up on the Greene farm.

You still remember how hard they hugged you when you showed up, even with the blood (their blood) all over you. They held you then and kept you breathing for a long time. You don't know what you would've done without them.

But one day (after weeks of being helpless and grieving a loss you just couldn't get over, not really), you just pushed it all down with one motto: keep breathing.

You didn't get to enjoy life anymore, how could you? The world was ending, and all you needed to do was stay alive.

You didn't have to like it.

So you asked Hershel how to shoot a gun, and taught yourself how to use a knife. You knew Hershel didn't like it, the violence, but you wouldn't hear it. Because if your family had lost their lives, you sure as hell weren't losing yours.

The Greenes were worried about you, you could tell. Every day that went by where you didn't smile or laugh, and instead, practiced shooting bottles or killing a few walkers for the thrill of it, they stared at you just a little longer. With just a mix of worry and pity.

You didn't want to worry them, but you were just doing what you had to, to survive.

If you thought about your family... you'd probably run into the walkers. Tear the life out of your body yourself. How were you supposed to enjoy life when they got that privilege ripped away? It wasn't fair.

So, you avoided everything else and kept your focus on five things: breathing, shelter, protection, water, and food. That was it. You would even offer to go get things out of your own volition, and all your trips made you good at killing walkers. You did it effortlessly early on, and you're pretty sure the Greenes couldn't decide if that was a good or bad thing.

But everything changed when a Dad showed up begging Hershel to save his kid.

That day had made your head spin, seeing a little boy have a gunshot wound. It made your eyes burn, and your head fill with what plagued your nightmares (unhinged jaws and bloody hands). You avoided the kid at all costs.

You hadn't initially known Rick, or even really wanted to (him, Lori, and Shane were definitely far too much for you to handle) but you were kind of the mediator. Hershel hated the violence that his group had, but he loved you. And Rick's group agreed with your 'violent' ways, so naturally, you sat right in the middle.

You didn't want it, perse, but you got used to it pretty quickly. You truly couldn't count on both hands how many times you had to step physically in between Hershel and Rick. So, somehow, someway, you'd earned his trust and respect.

That being said, you didn't really talk. Rick had a lot on his shoulders, with a pregnant wife, an injured son, and whatever the hell he and Shane had going on (you stayed the fuck away from that). And you weren't really a 'get to know me' kind of person at the time.

But, everything shifted when his kid got better.

You watched him kind of roam around the farm a lot. Rick and Lori had a lot going on, you understood that, and you know Rick tried but he still looked... lonely. And there was something heavy in you that knew he wasn't going to really have a childhood, that he lost something so precious.

There was nothing different that day, at all. You woke up, made sure your knife was safe in your pocket and went out. You did that often, even though Hershel and the girls hated it, just disappeared into nearby neighborhoods or whatever buildings you could get into (you were getting good at picking locks). That day you were looking for anything you could get your hands on, anything.

Endlessly walking through a culdesac, darting in between each house, trying to find anything of value. Food, water, something to help with shelter-

Instead, you found something else.

In the dead grass of one of these classy houses' front yard was one soccer ball. It was dirty, but not too bad for the apocalypse (you had seen far worse, and were probably worse yourself actually). With a thought, you picked it up in your hands, squeezing it, and it wasn't flat either.

You weren't sure why (or maybe you knew exactly why), but that's all you brought back to the farm.

Every day, when your brain would get to be too much, you'd throw it around in your hands or dribble it around the yard. At first, Maggie had looked at you oddly, but now, it seemed to relax her (and Beth and Hershel). It was healthier, or they, at the very least, thought so.

You could pretty much immediately feel his eyes on you though, a little longingly. Maybe that's why, when you'd never kicked it too far in the entire time you had it, you kicked it too far.

It rolled up and hit him in the back of the leg.

He turned to look at you, blue eyes sparkling a little, and then down at the ball.

On instinct, you spoke, "Shit."

The kid looked directly at you then.

"Don't say that, kid," you mended, quickly -maybe even a little awkwardly.

"Carl," he spoke then.

You questioned, "What?"

"My name's Carl," he explained with quite the intention in his voice, "-not kid."

You laughed a little, maybe for the first time in a while. You could nearly hear Maggie's gaze snap to you at the sound. She was always the most worried.

"Well, Carl," you hummed, playfully, "-you gonna pass me my ball back?"

He pressed his lips together in a thin line like he was thinking -the hat on his head wobbled a little. It was endearing.

"Only if you let me play too," he negotiated, a big grin on his face and something in you softened (for the first time in a long time).

You tilted your head, hand on your hip, "You drive a hard bargain, sir."

Carl laughed, and you felt your smile grow bigger. Now, you felt more eyes on you, Rick and Lori. Or at least Rick.

Apparently, you were making quite the spectacle.

"Alright, Carl," you finally replied, "-you've got a deal."

That was when it all started when Carl changed your life. Every day that you could, you'd play a game of soccer with him, eventually it developed more into a chatty sort of game. He told you a lot, and you told him about the things you used to do as a kid.

It felt like you had a hand in helping him keep his innocence. It was nice.

You remember the eyes sort of fading off of you, well. Except for one.

Rick was always watching. You couldn't understand if it was a Carl thing, or a worrying thing, or what exactly. But, you did notice it.

And eventually, Carl convinced him to join too.

"C'mon, Dad," he pleaded, "-just one game."

"Carl, I gotta-"

"Please," he turned on the puppy dog eyes, you laughed a little at how he softened immediately. His eyes shot to yours a second at the noise, you didn't think much of it.

"How are we supposed to play wit' just three of us?" He relented, just a smidge, "-Don't we need equal teams?"

Carl frowned.

Your mouth was open before you could even stop it, "Oh, please, I'm good enough to take the two of you on my own."

Rick's lips quirked into a smile, you had the thought that he was handsome before shoving it far away, "Are ya?"

"I am," you reiterated, just doing what felt natural, "-you too scared to try, Grimes?"

Carl laughed at that, almost giddy, it made something in your chest warm. Mission accomplished.

And with a breath, Rick readied himself -blue eyes solid on yours, "'S see whatcha got, Y/N."

That wouldn't be the last time the three of you would play soccer together, but it would be the first time you really got to know Rick. It remained that way, where you just played with Rick and Carl on days they could or days you could.

You'd found a connection, and it was nice.

But then, you were kind of a friend to Carl. You truly cared about him, yeah, you weren't on the level of a parent for him. Not at all. That just wasn't your dynamic, you didn't want to step on any toes.

Lori's or Rick's.

Before you could stop it, the fateful day arrived.

You were strung between a delicate mix of concern and disbelief. The overthrow of the farm was big, and maybe so was finding the prison, but this... this day was much worse.

You'd known Lori a little bit better then, she talked to you a little (because you were always around Carl). And she seemed nice, really, just in a fucked up situation that she could hardly handle herself. Nevertheless, to handle it for Carl. Plus, the whole Shane situation... He was dead now, and that really couldn't be easy on her conscience. (You kind of gathered the situation a little bit, when you were getting to know Rick. He hadn't said anything, but you understood enough.)

And when she went into labor, you hated that you weren't hopeful. Hated it.

Carl went with Maggie to help deliver, and your heart twisted in your chest (so insanely worried) but you needed to help the others.

When Maggie came out of the room, with just Carl and the baby -blood all over her hands, your heart sunk to the bottom of your chest. Lower, if it could. There was this little spark of hope that Carl was okay, but then you looked at him, really looked at him.

Rick was crying, and belligerent, and he did the very same. Just looked at his son, "No, no, no-"

God, he... he didn't-

You don't think you could ever forget the next moment.

A sob was racking up your throat, heavy and so suffocating as you watched Rick just lose it and Carl stayed steady in place, only looking at the ground. And you felt like you were going to throw up.

Stomach twisting, as your eyes got cloudy.

You hadn't even noticed it, maybe because your mind was reeling, but then you heard the slap of footsteps and then a body running into yours. Carl, Carl-

Hands shaking, your hands wrapped around him, holding him tightly -swallowing back what you could. Your body moved on its own.

You crouched down, you couldn't stop the tears then, eyes skimming over his face. He was just looking at you, blue eyes filling with tears, and before you knew it you were cupping his face and wiping all of them away.

"Oh, baby, baby-" you were whispering, just for him to hear, "-I'm so sorry."

And then, you pulled him into another hug. That time you didn't let go, you would hold him until he did. Tears wetting your shoulder you only squeezed him tighter -kissing him on the forehead when it felt like your soul was crushed into pieces.

That was where it started.

You still went on trips, but you stayed around a lot more. Because, as you were caring for Carl, you also started caring for Rick. They went hand-in-hand. That was much more important than anything else.

It started with going on trips, and getting Carl books and candy when you could. It grew from there though, you started siphoning off some of your food to give him extra. When he would get hurt, even small little cuts, you were immediately there -patching him up. Making sure he was completely fine.

And Rick... well, he was more complicated. It was dragging him away from the farm when he seemed so tired he could barely stand, it was getting him out of bed when he didn't want to even breathe, it was making sure he was eating, and it was sometimes guiding him back to reality when he saw Lori.

He started getting better eventually, and you did convince him to go see the baby. He'd been avoiding her as much as physically possible; you told him he should.

"She's a piece of Lori that you'll always have, Rick. Her and Carl."

He'd look at you a certain type of way you couldn't label then, but eventually agreed. So, you thought it was going well. As he became more conscious again though, similar to his previous self (sometimes you thought maybe even better), he started noticing.

Rick saw all that Carl had gathered, the finger pointed back to you. He was eating candy, the finger pointed back to you. Carl fell and scraped his knees, you were near immediately by his side while Rick watched (the finger pointed back to you).

And when you ate, you'd done how you always did, almost on instinct. Siphoning off some of your food and piling it onto Carl's plate.

You're not sure when Rick caught that, at all, really. But you knew he did.

Because, eventually, he started sitting beside you, and as quick as you'd siphon off to Carl, he'd siphon some of his off to you.

The first time he'd done it, you froze -staring at your plate.

"Rick, you don't-"

He didn't even flinch, blue eyes taking you in -grateful, "I do."

"Well," you reasoned, "-don't do it every day. You need to eat too."

"Don't ya give some to Carl every day?"

"Yeah, but-"

"No buts," he promptly finished, smiling at you in a new type of way, continuing his conversation with Daryl.

He'd done similar things, and eventually, your care spanned over to Judith. It wasn't as pressing as Carl, as Beth usually had her dealt with, but you'd been the one to feed her a few times (sat right beside Carl). And you won't lie you did do the baby voice a few times.

You didn't know it then, but Rick was looking at you in a new type of way.

And then, things happened in rapid succession.

The Governor did what he did, and Hershel died right in front of your eyes. You grabbed Maggie that day so tight, holding her as you both fell to the ground. It felt just like when your family... Your heart was thrown out of your chest and stomped into the dirt.

The fall of the prison didn't give you much time to grieve. You'd escaped with Carl and Rick, Judith had disappeared and you hoped with everything in your chest that she was still alive. God, you had never felt so low in your life.

Those days weren't good, and you had holed yourself up -lock and key. The only person who could through to you was Carl, despite how much Rick tried.

Breathing, shelter, protection, water, and food, but just for a bigger audience now.

The Claimers only proved you right. Seeing Carl like that, the threats of what they were going to do to him? You would've snapped if Rick hadn't.

"He's mine."

That day, you felt yourself come back again.

You held Carl tight against your chest, rubbing his hair over and over. Just before that, you scanned his whole body carefully -looking everywhere for anything at all. You would've killed them again if you could have if there was.

Holding him, you recenter yourself -calming the shake of your hands and the beating of your heart. You whispered, "You're okay, you're okay, you're okay-"

Carl had stopped you then, leveling his blue eyes on you, "I'm okay."

You smiled, maybe a little teary, reiterating, "You're okay."

And then, you saw Rick.

That was the thing about you, you were hardwired to care for them both at this point (for maybe more reasons than one, but you wouldn't admit that out loud). Making sure Carl was entirely fine, you kissed his forehead and spoke.

"Imma go help your Dad, okay?"

Hunting down a rag and a little bit of extra water, you slowly made your way over to him. He still had his eyes closed, and his hands were shaking; you simply sat right in front of him -wordlessly. You hardly even breathed, not wanting to startle him at all, but somehow still wanting to to bring him back.

You waited, patiently, for his eyes to open again, and when they did, you smiled a little.

"Hey, Grimes," you whispered, brandishing the rag, "-Thought you might need a little help, that okay?"

He looked at you in the same type of way he always did, one that you still couldn't label.

Before speaking lowly and a little slurred in his accent, "Yeah, 'at's okay."

You took a careful breath and leaned forward -gently scrubbing the blood off of his skin. Moving slowly, his eyes fluttered shut, and something in your chest tightened. He trusted you so much.

Your heart lept into your throat at the thought, and you took the moment to just look at Rick. How he differed from the first time you saw him, the time in his face. Longer hair that curled, the stubble that climbed up his cheeks, he was so different, but still somehow the same. Your heart stuttered in your chest.

That wasn't new, but it felt like it was.

With a breath, you continued wiping away what you could -pushing all around his face, smoothing over his lips, and dabbing a little on his facial hair. You moved slowly, not wanting to irritate his skin, but it made it take a little longer. As you did so, your fingertips brushed along his skin -just a little. It made your head spin.

You leaned back, satisfied, before grabbing his hands -left one first. You looked at them a moment, eyeing the callouses and the rough skin along his palm. His life was riddled on them, practically written there.

You cleared your throat, blinking back into focus.

Scrubbing away on the back and then flipping it to the front, you repeated the process.

He was looking at you now, blue eyes intently focused. You felt his steady gaze as you curled your hands around his, and for a moment it felt like you couldn't breathe.

Your heart beating heavily in your chest, you tried to stay focused.

When his skin was a sort of pink instead of blood red, you let go of his hands. Decidedly, you patted his cheek with a smile (the buzz of his skin against yours made your head spin).

"All better," you chimed, playfully.

He laughed a little then, and you felt something in you stir. Long ago dormant. Handsome, your mind spoke.

It was suddenly very hard to ignore it now, though. This close to his face, and he kind of looked like he-

With a breath, snapping your eyes from his and clearing your throat. "I'll um, go see if Carl needs me."

He just smiled at you in a certain type of way.

The two of you never talked about it again, but you did find him looking at you more.

And then Terminus.

To think about it now, made your skin crawl and bile rise up your throat. Beth died right in front of you, shot right through the head. She wasn't... There was no way-

You felt part of yourself crumble that you didn't think you could get back. God, she was so young-

You had new nightmares; they made your stomach twist and your sleep come to a relative halt. It wasn't just your family now (although it kind of was), it was Beth and Hershel. They had both been so sudden, your mind was still reeling. The gunshot bouncing through your ears, even now, as you lay on a blanket -Carl just beside you.

Your eyes snapped to him, watching the rise and fall of his chest. Alive, it thrummed along your mind, alive.

You watched it for a few moments, letting your mind settle on that fact. Carl is safe, Carl is fine. Something in your shoulders relaxed, and your breaths weren't as heavy in your lungs.

Alive, alive, alive, alive.

Your stomach twisted because you didn't know if Judith was.

Instinctively, you shot up in your spot, breaths hollowed out in your chest. You blinked a few times, bringing yourself back to the ground beneath your fingers. Chancing a look at Carl again, you found him still fast asleep.

You exhaled a long breath, you weren't going to sleep tonight. Every time you closed your eyes, you'd either see... them or Carl could be hurt, there was no good reason to sleep.

Shaking your hands, you stood up. You stood there a moment, taking in the night -the buzz of the bugs, the shine of the stars, and the (luckily) very distant groans of the walkers.

"Ya okay?"

You startled in place, shit. Rick was on watch duty, you forgot. You tried to volunteer, but he'd refused ("'Aven't seen you sleep a second."). You weren't sure how to feel about how attentively he seemed to watch you.

You bit at your lips a second, swallowing, and wiping your hands down your legs. Your eyes were fogging up, and your throat was clogged. You felt a little like you couldn't breathe-

"Y/N?"

You blinked, deliriously, and your eyes were watery now, and it felt somehow like your lungs were filled. A bit like every breath got stuck in your throat.

"Hey, hey, look at me, sweetheart."

And then, Rick was suddenly in front of you. You hadn't even heard him move, the pounding of your heart was so loud-

With the gentlest of movements, he held your jaw, bringing your eyes to his.

"Hey," he spoke gently, concern flitting through his eyes, "-hey. 'At's goin' on?"

You swallowed, something clawing up your throat (but your heart was softer in your head now), your eyes falling to his jacket, "I just-"

"C'mon, talk to me," he hummed, bringing his eyes to yours again -something heavy in his eyes, worry.

"I just," and you felt your voice catch in your throat, you felt the tears slip out of your eyes, "-I just... I just miss them, and... and every time I close my eyes, Rick, it's just-"

His thumbs rubbed away your tears, gently moving back and forth, "I know, baby, I know. I miss 'em too."

Something in your mind noted that 'baby' was new, but you weren't focused on that. Your mind was running at 100 miles an hour, and all you could see clearly was Rick.

Your body acted on instinct, as you threw yourself into him -digging your face into his shoulder and wrapping your arms around his neck. He seemed slow to react for a moment, but carefully, his hands came to wrap around your waist.

You took a deep breath in, just smelling the woodsy smell he always seemed to carry around with him. It made the tension in your body melt, and he seemed to notice it -tightening his grip slightly.

"I gotcha," he whispered, maybe like he was a little scared to break the moment, "-'s gonna be okay, I promise."

You fell asleep on his shoulder later that night, one of his arms tight along your side. And if he shushed everyone that morning afterward (wanting to keep you close as long as possible maybe), kissing your temple whenever you stirred, looking at you a little like you were the most precious thing in the world, you'd never know.

It was easier after that. Any time you felt it all coming back up, Rick would be right there, hand smoothed along your shoulder, pushing you into his side, or brushing his hand along yours while you walked. You weren't sure if you could get used to it all.

And then, a good day came.

Judith, baby Judith was back.

You felt the sob wrack up through your throat, as you smoothed your hand over her little hair. Your breaths were shaky but you were smiling, and so were both Rick and Carl. All of you were huddled together, crying, and for a split second, it felt like maybe you were a little family.

You bit back the thought but peeked up at Rick just to find him looking right back at you. Something in your chest fluttered.

Finding Alexandria was a little like a fever dream, all of you weren't trusting it, especially since Terminus. But eventually, something in you relaxed as you watched Carl know people his age and find friends. You weren't as scared anymore.

That being said, you had your own home, but it stayed empty. You were constantly in the Grimes' house. Whether for Carl, Judith, or Rick, you were always there. And Rick didn't seem to mind at all. (Sometimes you thought he preferred it.)

That day was a normal one, you'd crossed on over to the Grimes' -bouncing a little on your toes. It was your day to watch Judith, well, it always kind of ended up being a team effort at the end. But, if Rick had something to do, you'd be on baby duty.

Walking in like you always did, the house was eerily quiet.

You pursed your lips, "Rick?"

He called out, from the kitchen you'd guessed (you could hear the sizzle of a pan), "In 'ere!"

You moved with a practiced grace, smoothing around the piles of toys like you lived here (and in essence, you kind of did). Just as you entered the doorway, you started again.

"Hey, where are our kids?"

And then you stepped into the room and got a look at Rick. Clean-shaven Rick. Sharp jawline, blue eyes, Rick.

Your mind went completely blank.

He turned to you then, sort of smiling, "Our?"

Blinking, you cleared your throat, "Sorry, what?"

"You said," he was stepping closer, something shining in his eyes, "-our kids."

It was hard to focus, but you'd gathered what he said.

"Shit, sorry," you started, scrambling a little, "-I didn't mean to-"

"No, no," he dismissed, eyes intently focused on yours (somehow you think his facial hair distracted from his eyes, were they always that blue?), "-you're right, darlin'. 'Ey are as much yours as 'ey are mine."

You took a deep breath in, deflecting a little and motioning to his face, "When did you...?"

"This mornin'," he answered, turning back to the pan (breakfast, you guessed), "-why? It look 'at bad?"

Your head was spinning, but you answered anyway.

"What, no," you answered, instinctively, "-it looks good. Great, actually."

He smiled at you in a sort of way you couldn't read, wearing his pajamas and hair slightly tussled -your mouth went dry.

"Yeah?"

You willed everything in yourself to say something witty, playful, like normal. But he was still looking at you, focused, and all your brain could think was blue-

"Yeah," you answered quietly.

He hummed a moment, hand coming up to rub at his jaw. Calloused fingers against the most certainly smooth skin, you briefly thought about touching it yourself.

You cleared your throat, "Sorry, so where are th- our kids?"

Rick's eyes smoothed over your face a second before he smiled, shaking his head, and dropped his eyes back to the pan, "Judith's still sleepin', and Carl is at a friend's."

"Which friend?" you asked, instinctively.

"He's fine, baby," he laughed a little like he was testing the word, "-ere's no need to be worried."

Baby rattled around your head for a few seconds, especially coming from that face. The last time he called you that, you were on the verge of a mental breakdown. And come to think of it, with how you were reacting to a shaved face, maybe he was onto something.

"Grimes," you leveled, but there wasn't any bite.

"I'm serious," he added, looking at you (blue, blue) -trying to convey it to you.

You pursed your lips, deadpanning, "You forgot, didn't you?"

"Maybe," he smiled at you, almost fondly, and your knees nearly buckled.

God, you needed to get a hold of yourself.

"I'll figure it out later," you remarked -passively, "-What are you making?"

He seemed to pause, eyes skimming along you like he was suddenly taking you in, before stepping to the side, "Come n' see for yourself."

You had the spare thought that he was doing it on purpose, before swatting it away and gathering by his side. Mindlessly, your brain noted his elbow bumping into you and the swarm of body heat that radiated off of him. You blinked it away.

He had a few things going, typical breakfast stuff, but you did decisively notice what looked to be a single portion of your favorite.

"Is that-"

"For ya? Yeah," he answered, unflinchingly, "-'Figured I could be sweet today."

You quipped back, looking up at him, "What a change of pace, Grimes."

He laughed at that, your eyes smoothed over his smile before dropping back to the food. Your breaths felt a little hollow in your chest for an entirely different reason.

You stood there and helped portion of the food, focused on placing plates out for him to then fill. You could feel his eyes steady on you as you did so, just until he started portioning. You promptly grabbed one of the other foods and portioned it yourself.

As soon as you finished, Rick spoke up.

"Did ya mean it?"

You looked at him, curiously, "What?"

"Our kids," he answered, something flickering behind his eyes, "-Do ya really think of 'em as your own?"

"As long as I'm not... overstepping," you clarified, dropping the pan into the sink, "-yeah, of course, I do."

He smiled a little, the flicker stronger now, "Really?"

"Well, yeah," you laughed, a little uncertain now, "-Should I not?"

"No," he echoed out, something heavy in his tone, "-you should. 'Ey're yours."

"Then, why-"

""S just nice to 'ear," he explained, pulling another one of the pans into the sink -sliding in just beside you.

"Why?" you questioned.

Rick looked at you, eyes flickering along your face, seeming to decide on something, "Can I show ya somethin'?"

You quirked a brow, playfully, "What is this something?"

"A gift," he answered, naturally.

You blinked, a little deliriously, "For me?"

"Yeah," he hummed, taking your wrist in his hand (your brain turned to mush) and guiding you through the house, "-'Course it is."

"Where did you get a gift?"

"On a run," he answered, easily, pulling you into his bedroom before letting go. He wandered over to his closet.

"Why-" you laughed a little, "-Why were you thinking of me on a run?"

Rick didn't hesitate a second, hands skimming over some shelves, "I'm always thinkin' of ya."

Your lips snapped shut, as your eyes just followed him around the room.

Since he was so preoccupied, you let your eyes roam over his jaw, the angular lines of his nose, the curve of his Adam's apple, the slight push of his lips, and the curl that seemed to trail down his forehead. You almost adjusted it yourself, but you fought back the urge.

"'Ere it is," he sighed, relieved, before seeming to gather something up in his arms.

You tried to peek over his shoulder, but he decidedly kept them too raised.

"Ya ready?" He chimed, excitingly.

You quipped, smiling, "I was born ready, Grimes."

Rick laughed at that, and you bit back the grin that threatened to slip across your face. There was something so domestic about all of this, it made your breath rattle in your chest, and your heart skip a beat.

And then, he turned around.

Your breath caught in your throat.

He held in his hands, a brand-new soccer ball, still in the package. Your brain buzzed for a moment, it was so sentimental. It made your head spin, making you a little breathless. A grin grew wide along your face, lips curling up.

"No way," you muttered, leaning forward and skimming your fingers across it, "-that is so sappy, Grimes."

He laughed a little, and your eyes flicked to him where a pink dusted up to the top of his ears. Your smile shone even brighter.

"Figured you could let me and Carl try to gain a little on your record," he smiled.

"What was it again?" you grinned, taking the ball into your hands, "-Four to zero?"

"Six," he corrected, instinctively (like he remembered), "-Six to zero."

Wordlessly, you gently took the box into your hands, his eyes steady on you.

"How long did it take to find this?"

"I was lookin' for the past few runs," he answered -vaguely.

"Looking?" You questioned, "-You plan this out, Rick?"

He hummed, smiling, "Maybe."

You quirked a brow, not quite looking at him, "What's the occasion, Grimes?"

He fell quiet then, and you promptly dropped your smile and looked at him. Eyes skimming along his face, he didn't seem upset. He seemed entirely the opposite, actually.

Blue eyes looking at you like they always did.

"Rick?" You asked, concern smoothing through you, "-Everything alright?"

He smiled a little, shaking his head a little, "God, you're... you're... you're unbelievable."

"Um," you flustered a little, holding the ball tighter to you, "-is that a good or a bad thing?"

"Good," he answered, with probably the biggest grin, "-great, it's a great thin'."

"Yeah? Well," you muttered out, a little frazzled, "-um, thank you."

He laughed a little bit, then but it slowly dissipated into the air. Leaving you and him, and his crazy blue eyes (seriously, how have you never noticed that?).

Rick spoke breathlessly then, rushed as if it was just waiting to come out (like it was building, building, building, until it burst), "I love you."

You dropped the ball (and box) right onto your feet. It stung a little.

"Shit," you hissed, before scrambling, "-Wait, that wasn't to you. I... I just I hit my toes with the box, and it hurt-"

He smiled at you even brighter then, eyes dropping to your feet, "Ya alright?"

"Yeah, what," you cleared your throat, "-I'm fine. I'm just... a little in shock, I guess."

"Yeah?" He asked, something lilting in his tone and you almost felt like he got closer to you.

"Yeah," you breathed out, "-I just... I never could've imagined a man like you, um, loving me."

He was definitely getting closer, blue eyes flickering between the two of yours, "A man like me?"

"It's a good thing," you explained, "-You're just caring, and I love your kids, and-"

His face was breath away from yours. Your lips moved before you could think about it.

"-handsome," you finished a little breathlessly.

He grinned then, crinkling at his eyes, and something there, deep in the blue. You couldn't tell if it was mischievous or loving or maybe even teasing-

"Am I?"

Something in you snapped.

You practically jumped forward, arms wrapping around his neck, and lips pressing to his. Rick laughed into it (which made you laugh a little too), but his hands sank to your waist entirely on instinct.

It was a little desperate, as Rick tilted his head just the right way and seemed to pour everything into his lips. Which were very much already good on their own. It made you dizzy, and you nearly stumbled in your steps, but he held you a little tighter and kept you in place.

Before, pulling you forward even more.

It sent a shock through your spine and made the breath slink out of your lungs.

Speaking of breath-

You pulled back, taking a deep breath in -mind a little hazy, "Jesus Christ."

Rick laughed, but still pressed forward, leaving little kisses on your lips -surface level. Again, and again, and again, and again-

Laughing, you moved your hands to his face, pulling him back, "Rick, you need to breathe, yeah?"

"Not as bad as I need ya," he retorted, before pressing kisses along your jaw.

It made your head spin, and maybe you were a little dizzy but you didn't think it was from the lack of oxygen.

"Rick," you urged, laughing.

He mindlessly moved down to your neck, a little like he couldn't get enough. It zapped through your spine again.

"Rick," you repeated, maybe with a little less laughter, "-c'mon, I have to tell you something."

He groaned, before pulling back to face you, blue eyes focused. Rick looked at your smile, and bit down his own.

You took a breath in, and cradled his face again (his skin was soft), "I love you too."

He grinned big and wide then, something shining in his eyes, "Ya don't know how long I 'ave waited to 'ear 'at."

"How long?"

He answered, with ease, "Since I saw ya givin' Carl your food."

"Rick," you almost soothed, "-that was forever ago. Why didn't you say something?"

"Was never the right time," he hummed, kissing you at the hinge of your jaw, "-I was goin' through somethin' and then ya were."

You hummed a moment, finally pushing back the loose curl.

"And I just-" he exhaled a breath, "-I wanted to make sure ya felt the same. Didn't want the kids to lose ya."

"Even if I didn't love you, Grimes," you soothed, trailing your hands along his jaw, "-They would've never lost me."

He just looked at you then, a little like he couldn't believe you were in front of him. Couldn't believe you were real.

"They're our kids," you offered with a teasing smile, "-are they not?"

"Yeah, 'ey are."

And without another breath, he kissed you so hard that it felt like your breath was knocked out of your lungs. But there was no way in hell that you were stopping.

You'd waited long enough for this.

He grinned against your lips, mindlessly kicking the soccer ball out of the way to get closer to you. Whispers of 'Ours' between every press of lips like he couldn't believe it. Or maybe like it was all he'd ever wanted.

And apparently, he had waited just as long.

[itneverendshere]

Perhaps Rafe x Shy!Bartender reader at the country club. Maybe she was driven there and was supposed to get picked up, but shit got in the way. And she is far from home. Rafe is there that day for golfing or something and it’s her first day. He is instantly smitten and waits until her shift is over to properly ask her out, and notices she has no car to get home and gets protective

i looooved this and in my head this is EXACTLY how rafe and pogue!reader from this request met. this is the same universe, im making it canon rn

it could be you and me - rafe cameron

pairing: rafe x pogue!reader (bartender!reader universe) word count: 3.5k

Rafe slid through the regulars, heading toward the golf course. He had plans to join Topper for a round or two.

Like usual, his presence drew glances—partially because of the rumors that seemed to follow him everywhere he went. Being the epitome of privilege, born into the wealth that afforded him everything, made sure that all eyes were on him, everywhere he went on that stupid fucking town.

But that day, he’d been off his game from the moment he woke up.

He felt out of place, restless and mostly, bored. Every day in this place felt the same to him, the pleasures he used to get from being a kook were burning out, days starting to blend together, the endless cycle of parties, and drink to losing its allure.

Doing the same thing, over and over again. 

Nothing was new or exciting anymore.

He was bored out of his mind. Golf wasn’t exactly his passion, but it was a way to pass the time, pretend like he shouldn’t be in the office finishing whatever paperwork his father had shoved down his throat the night before. 

He needed a drink if he wanted to get through the rest of the day without breaking something or someone's jaw. He approached the clubhouse and noticed a small crowd gathered at the bar. It wasn’t an unusual sight—it was one of the most popular spots in the club—but something, or rather someone, caught his attention.

Behind the counter, there was someone he’d never seen before.

You wore the standard uniform of the club's staff—white blouse, black slacks, hair pulled back into a neat ponytail—but there was something about you that made him stop in his tracks.

You weren’t a kook, that much was clear and you were new. A fresh newbie by the looks of the growing line.

You were busy, pouring drinks, smiling politely at the members, but he could tell you were nervous from the way you overdid it. You were trying to make yourself small for those people. It didn’t help that they treated you like you were invisible, snapping their fingers or raising their voices to get your attention.

Fucking assholes.

He didn’t know why he felt so irritated for you all of the sudden.

He’d done the same thing times and times again, he was no better than any of them, on a good day. But he hated watching it happen to you.

Rafe couldn’t stop staring, feeling like a creep as he listed all the little things he noticed about you. Your hands moved quickly, but delicately, as if you took great care in everything you did.

Eventually, you turned to reach for a bottle on a high shelf and he finally caught a good glimpse of your face—a glimpse that nearly made him drop his golf club on the spot. Your eyes narrowed as you focused on pouring the right amount of alcohol on a drink, your lips pursed ever so slightly as you kept concentrating.

You were beautiful, yes, but it was more than that. He’d seen pretty girls all his life, he made sure he surrounded himself with them. But you were something else. 

For the first time in what felt like forever, he felt a genuine curiosity, to know more about someone in this fucksass place. He didn’t think about hooking up, about asking for your number.

You didn’t belong here and maybe that’s what made you so good.

The shift seemed never-ending, even though it was your first day. Most of the club members hadn’t even bothered to learn your name —either way, you were having a hard time keeping up. 

You hadn’t wanted to take the job, but you didn’t have much of a choice. The country club was the only place hiring that summer, and you needed the money. Your friend had driven you there earlier that morning, promising to pick you up after your shift. But earlier, when you had glanced at your phone during a ten-second break, you saw a text from her saying she’d been held up—something about the car breaking down.

“Great,” you muttered under your breath, shoving your phone back into your pocket as you handed a gin and tonic to a bald asshole who didn’t even bother to thank you.

You were stuck here, away from home, and the last thing you wanted to do was ask one of these people for help. Your nerves had already skyrocketed, between the constant drink orders, the lack of polite smiles, and trying your best not to spill anything or offend any of these spoiled kooks, you were losing your mind.

Being the center of attention wasn’t your forte, and being behind the bar was giving you a migraine as the members kept barking their orders, complaining when their drinks weren’t perfect, barely acknowledging your mere existence.

You could feel their judgmental stupid eyes on you, like you were some sort of animal—a pogue. The buzz in your stomach kept getting stronger with every minute.

You wished you could disappear for an hour, but you needed the job and so, you had no option but to take it like a big girl. By the end of the day, your hands trembled as you reached for another bottle, your muscles aching from trying to keep up with the endless demands.

As you handed yet another whiskey on the rocks to an ungrateful rich cunt, you noticed someone approaching the bar from the corner of your eye. Unlike the others, he didn’t immediately shout his order or snap his fingers.

He just stood there, watching you. It was hard not to recognize him—Rafe Cameron. You’d heard stories about him, of course. Everyone in the Outer Banks had. He was practically royalty, the golden boy of one of the wealthiest families around.

You hated being stared at, it made you feel even more out of place than you already did. You could feel your cheeks turning red just from that alone.

“Can I get you something?” you asked, politely yet barely audible over the noise of the crowd.

Rafe leaned against the counter, his eyes never leaving your face, “What do you recommend?”

He sounded amused, he was genuinely enjoying himself.

He probably didn’t know this was your first day on the job and everything about him screamed Country Club boy. You hadn’t had time to memorize the menu. But you didn’t want to look like a stupid in front of a kook, let alone kook royalty. 

“Uh, well, the mojitos are pretty popular,” you offered, hoping that was true.

He raised a brow, “Mojitos, huh? Alright, I’ll take one.”

You nodded and got to work, ignoring the way your hands were shaking. As you muddled the mint leaves and squeezed the lime, you could feel his eyes on you.

What was his problem with the staring? Was there something on your face? Were you doing this whole thing wrong? It was unnerving.

When you finally handed him the drink, he took it with a nod, but instead of walking away, he stayed there, sipping it in front of you, like some kind of test. 

“You’re new here,” he remarked, more as a statement than a question.

Oh, so he did pay attention to his surroundings.

You swallowed nervously. “Yeah, first day.”

He took another sip, “Not a bad start."

Was he trying to be funny? You gave him a small, tight-lipped smile, not entirely sure if he was mocking you or being genuine.

Before he could say anything else, another customer called for your attention, and you turned away to help them. 

Rafe didn’t move for a solid hour.

Even as you worked, he stayed rooted to his seat, every time you glanced in his direction, he was still there, watching you, not looking the least bit shameful about it.

But eventually, he left. By six thirty, the club was mostly empty, save for a few stragglers lingering at the bar and some late-night golfers finishing their rounds. You wiped down the counter one last time, wondering how the hell you were going to get home.

You’d almost forgotten about the earlier text from your friend, but now your anxiety was back. You didn’t have anyone else to call and walking home alone at night was terrifying, small town or not.

You pulled out your phone and stared at it, praying for another solution to pop into your head.

“Come on, think…” you muttered to yourself, running a hand through your hair. It was a mess after being up in a ponytail the entire day but it was starting to give you a headache, so you took it down, hoping it would help you think clearer. It didn't.

Taking a taxi would cost more than you could afford, especially on your shitty bartender’s salary. You were pacing back and forth behind the bar, wondering how your luck had already gone down the drain on your first day working. 

In your panic, you didn’t notice someone else standing outside the glass doors of the clubhouse, watching you with a keen eye.

Rafe had finished his round of golf earlier and had been hanging around, talking to a few of his father’s friends. He almost laughed at how stressed you looked but took pity on you when you almost broke down into tears right there and then.

He couldn’t have that.

You didn’t see him walk up to the door and push it open. The sound of it swinging shut behind him startled you, and you looked up, your eyes widening as he approached you.

“Hey, you okay?” He didn’t move closer, just stood there by the door, giving you space.

You stared at him, still trying to catch your breath, not exactly hiding how freaked out you were.

“I— I’m fine,” you stammered out, clutching your phone tightly, as if it could somehow find you a safe way home.

Rafe bit his lip, not convinced.

“Y’sure about that? Cause you look like you’re two seconds away from a meltdown.”

His words, though blunt, weren’t meant to be harsh. At least you didn’t think they were, but hearing them out loud made you realize just how close you were to losing it publicly, in your workplace.

You exhaled shakily, pressing a hand to your forehead.

“It’s nothing, I just…uh, I don’t have a ride home,” you admitted reluctantly,. “My friend was supposed to pick me up, but her car broke down, and now I’m stuck here.” The last part came out in a rush, as if saying it faster would somehow make it less true.

On the other hand, this felt like the luckiest day in his life.

“That’s it?” he asked, sounding relieved. “I can take you home, no problem.”

You blinked at him, caught off guard by the offer. “What? No, I— I don’t want to impose, it’s late, and—”

You were so cute it almost made it impossible to scold you.

“You’re not imposing,” Rafe cut you off, “It’s not safe for you to be out here alone, especially at this hour. Just lemme give you a ride, okay?”

You hadn’t imagined him like this, speaking to you, a pogue so…normally. There was something in his voice, how gently he spoke to you, that made you pause. He wasn’t pushing or demanding.

He was offering help, sounding nothing like the Rafe you’d heard about.

You hesitated, glancing back at your phone again as if you might find a better solution, but you knew deep down you weren’t finding shit.

There was no one else you could call, your sister was busy and no other option made sense. As much as you hated the idea of relying on someone you barely knew, a kook of all people, you didn’t want to sleep on the streets.

“Okay,” you finally agreed, your voice quiet as you looked up at him. You hadn’t expected him to be so tall, “But just this once.”

Rafe’s lips twitched, “Just this once,” he echoed as he gestured toward the door. “C'mon, let’s get you out of here.”

He led you to his car, a sleek, black SUV that practically screamed money. He opened the passenger door for you, and you slid inside, feeling a bit out of place. You’d never been inside such a luxurious vehicle. The plush leather seats were…something. You sat quietly, too scared to break something as he got in on the driver’s side.

The drive started off in silence. You kept your eyes focused on the road, wrapping your head around the fact that you were in Rafe Cameron’s car, being driven home by him.

It sounded delusional. 

After a few minutes, Rafe spoke up.

“So, where do you live?” he asked, glancing over at you.He knew you were a pogue, that was a given. But he’d never seen you around before.

You quickly gave him your address, and he nodded, adjusting the GPS on his dashboard. As he did, you couldn’t help but admire how calm and collected he seemed. It was unsettling how comfortable he was in situations like this—small talk with strangers, a situation that always had you squirming.  

“Thanks, by the way, I really appreciate it.”

“Don’t mention it. It’s no big deal.”

Except it was. You were even prettier up close, and your perfume scent was messing with his head, if it wasn’t for the GPS's stupid robotic voice he’d be lost by now.

It was a big deal to you too.

It wasn’t every day that someone like Rafe went out of their way to help someone like you. The fact that he’d done it without a second thought, without expecting anything in return was very, very confusing. 

“First day at the club, huh?” Was he trying to make small talk with you? Oh wow. His tone was so casual, as if this was the most normal conversation in the world, like you two had known each other for years, and weirdly enough, you didn’t mind. “How’d it go?”

You hesitated, not sure how much you should say. Your instinct was to lie and avoid making things awkward.

“Oh, it was great,” your voice raised an octave as it always did when you tried to lie your way out of conversations, “Everyone was really nice!”

Rafe’s eyes didn’t leave the road as he let out a low chuckle.

"Bullshit.”

Your smile faltered. “W-What?”

“C'mon,” he said, still grinning like an idiot, “I watched you get run ragged by those assholes all day. You looked like you wanted to set the bar on fire.”

You opened your mouth to lie again, but the self righteous girl in you decided to take charge. 

“Okay, fine, it was awful. Those people are the worst. They treat everyone like shit and act like they’re God’s gift to the world just because they’ve got money.” Your voice grew louder as you vented, all the frustration from the day spitting out, “I mean, who the fuck do they think they are? Just because they can afford to spend their summers at a country club doesn’t make them better than everyone else.”

Rafe’s laughter broke through your rant, you stopped short, realizing who you were talking to. You turned to look at him, wide-eyed, your heart sinking. 

“Oh my God,” you whispered horrified, hand covering your mouth, “You’re a kook.”

He was laughing so hard that his shoulders shook, his hand gripping the steering wheel as he tried to catch his breath. “Holy shit,” he managed to wheeze out between laughs, “You really hate us, don’t you?”

You groaned, covering your face with your hands.

“I didn’t mean you specifically,” you mumbled, face burning, “I just...I don’t know what came over me.”

Rafe shook his head, still chuckling as he pulled up to a stoplight.

“Nah, it’s fine. You’re not wrong about most of them. But, y’know, not all kooks are complete assholes.”

You peeked at him through your fingers, still mortified. “So you’re not an asshole?”

“Oh no, I am,” He snorted, “Just not to you.”

You let out a breath you didn’t realize you’d been holding, lowering your hands to your lap, “Good.”

You couldn’t stop staring at him. He was different than you’d imagined—more down-to-earth, less of a caricature of the wealthy villain you’d built up in your mind.

“So,” he said after a while, his tone still light, like he was holding back, trying not to scare you off, “What made you take the job at the club? Guessing it wasn’t for the stellar company.”

You laughed, shaking your head. “Needed a job for the summer, and they were the only place hiring.”

“Lucky us,” he said, and when you looked at him, he was giving you that same playful smirk. “You might be the only decent person in that place.”

Your cheeks warmed again, having to look away, fiddling with a loose thread on your shirt. “I don’t know about that."

He glanced over, noticing the shy way you avoided his gaze, and his smirk softened. “I do.”

You must’ve hit your head earlier. Was he flirting with you of all people? He was going to send you into cardiac arrest. You didn’t know how to answer, so you stayed quiet, the silence only broken by the the car’s engine and the GPS’s occasional directions.

When Rafe finally pulled up in front of your house, you hesitated before unbuckling your seatbelt. It felt like you had something more to say, but you weren’t sure what.

He seemed to sense it too because he didn’t rush you, just turned off the engine and leaned back in his seat, waiting.

You finally turned to him, “Thanks again, Rafe. For everything. I really appreciate it.”

He nodded, his eyes locking onto yours in a way that made it hard to look away. 

“Anytime. Seriously. If you ever need anything, let me know.”

The offer seemed so sincere, so out of character for the guy you’d heard about, that it left you momentarily speechless. He kept proving you wrong. 

“I will.”

With a final nod, you pushed open the door and stepped out, the cool night air hitting you as you closed the door behind you. You took a few steps toward your house before turning back, catching one last glimpse of him sitting there. 

Rafe's grip on the steering wheel tightened involuntarily when you looked back. He'd offered to drive girls home before—plenty of times, in fact—this was different.

When you waved, he felt like a schoolboy who only got to see his crush at school and spent the entire weekends daydreaming about her. 

Once you walked inside, he leaned back in his seat, exhaling a breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding.

He couldn’t stop thinking about you sitting in his passenger seat, looking so out of place yet so perfect at the same time. Like you belonged right there, next to him.

There was something so refreshingly genuine about you. You weren’t like the kook girls he knew—the ones who flaunted their wealth, who expected the world to bend over backward for them. You were unpretentious, and honest in a way that made him feel like he could drop the act for once.

He didn’t have to be Rafe Cameron, the reckless, arrogant kook. No, with you, he could just be Rafe. And that was something he hadn’t realized he was missing until tonight. He was done for.

He knew he wasn’t going to stop until you were his.

The thought of anyone else having you, of you smiling at someone else the way you had at him tonight—it made him want to break someone’s teeth. He had a reputation, and he knew that if you heard even half of the stories about him, you’d probably want nothing to do with him after tonight. But he didn’t care.

He could already see it—the two of you, together. He’d give you the world, everything you deserved, and more. He’d make sure you never had to worry about a thing. You were perfect, too perfect for this world, and now that he’d found you, he wasn’t going to let you slip away. 

He’d make sure of it—you were going to be his girl, nothing was going to stop him.

[doctorbitchcrxft]

Wishful Thinking | Supernatural Series Rewrite | Dean Winchester x Fem!Reader

Pairings: Dean Winchester x Fem!Reader ( ...? )

Warnings: MENTIONS OF SEXUAL COERCION, canon violence, canon gore, depression, anxiety, y/n's in rough shape okay

Word Count: 6384

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You couldn’t piece together why Dean had run out on you. In truth, that fact couldn’t occupy too much of your thoughts given everything else that was going on.

The next morning, you began packing when you received a text from Dean telling you to do so. He clearly didn’t intend upon finishing your conversation from the previous night any time soon.

“I’m surprised at you, (Y/N),” a familiar voice said from behind you. 

“Please don’t lecture me right now,” you said evenly; you were in no mood for Uriel’s scolding.

“Why didn’t you stop him?” he asked.

You slammed your toiletry bag in your duffel and turned to face him. “Stop who? Samhain?”

“Sam.”

Your stomach dropped. “I wasn’t gonna kill him for using his powers in that dire of a situation.” 

“You disobeyed a direct order, (Y/N),” the angel chastised.

You picked up the alarm clock off the nightstand and threw it at him. “Fuck you!” 

Uriel was on you in a second, a hand around your throat. You clawed at his hands, choking on air as he spoke to you. “The only reason you and Sam Winchester aren’t dead is because you have both proven useful. The second he steps out of line and becomes more trouble than he’s worth, he dies. And if you aren’t the one to kill him, you’ll die, too.”

Just as your vision started spotting, the pressure around your throat and Uriel disappeared. 

****

You and Dean were downing shots like there was no tomorrow. There was clearly a lot you both wanted to forget about, and Sam noticed how much distance was between the barstools the two of you were sitting on. 

Uriel had apparently delivered a similar message to Sam after he visited you, but also put in a little detail to warn Dean to stop stepping out of line. He told Sam to ask Dean if he remembered what Hell was like.

Sam was almost completely sober, and he kept pressing Dean about the issue. “It just doesn't make any sense, Dean. I mean, why would Uriel tell me you remembered Hell if you didn't?”

“Maybe because he's a dick,” Dean grunted, taking another shot. “Might have something to do with it.”

The younger man shrugged. “Maybe, but he's still an angel.”

“Yeah, an angel who was ready to level an entire town. Look, I don't know what—”

The waiter coming back over cut Dean off. “Radical. What else can I get you guys?”

“Uh, I think we're good,” Sam replied.

“You want to try a couple of fryer bombs? Or a chipotle chili changa?” the teenager tried.

“Nope. We’re still good,” you said, giving him a tight-lipped smile.

“Okay, awesome.” The waiter bounced away.

Dean returned his attention to his brother. “Sam, honestly, I have no idea why Uriel told you what he did, okay?”

Sam huffed. “Right.”

“What?” Dean snapped.

“Okay. Fine. Then look me in the eye and tell me you don't remember a thing from your time down under.”

You took another shot, knowing it was better to stay out of this conversation.

“I don't remember a thing from my time down under.” When Sam said nothing, Dean continued, “I don't remember, Sam!”

“Look, Dean, I just want to help.”

“You know everything I do. Okay? That's all there is.”

The waiter bounded back over, annoyingly asking about dessert, and you convinced him to just bring you the check. 

“Alright, so, where do we go from here?” Dean sighed. taking a sip of the beer in front of him. 

“I'm not sure. Uh, looks like it's been pretty quiet lately. No signs of demon activity; no omens or portents I can see.”

“That's good news, for once.”

“Yeah, just the typical smattering of crank UFO sightings and one possible vengeful spirit. Here, check this out. Uh, up in Concrete, Washington, eyewitness reports of a ghost that's been haunting the showers of a women's health facility.”

Dean choked on his beer while Sam continued reading. 

“The victim claims that the ghost threw her down a flight of stairs. I can see you're very interested.”

“Women, showers,” Dean hummed. “We got to save these people.”

It felt so odd for them to just be talking about mundane hunts while the three of you were staring down the barrel of the possible end of the world.

What bothered you even more was Dean’s joking about looking at other women. He hadn’t even looked at a woman since the two of you got together. Now that your relationship was up in the air, it seemed he wanted to go back to his old ways. It hurt your heart, but you knew you had no true claim to him anymore. You weren’t even sure if your relationship was salvageable. 

Although, everything you’d done had been for him. You stressed that multiple times. The fact that he was seemingly ready to just jump back into the dating pool when you hadn’t even finished your conversation from Halloween night made your blood boil. He was on incredibly thin ice, and you took a long chug of your beer to keep your anger from spilling out.

****

The next day, Dean dropped Sam off to talk to the girl that’d been pushed down the stairs.

You and Dean were supposed to be going to check the showers at the fitness center for EMF. However, you just couldn’t help yourself. “Thought you’d wanna go check out the shower girl.”

His head jerked toward you. “What?”

“That was your whole reason for taking this case, right? Saving naked women?” 

Dean rolled his eyes. “Come on, (Y/N). I was kidding.”

“Okay, but I really don’t think you should be joking like that given the state our relationship’s in,” you responded.

“And what state is that?” he asked.

You shrugged mockingly. “I don’t know. You ran out before we could even talk about it.” 

“Are you seriously gonna lecture me about running out? Seriously,” he spat.

“Pull the fucking car over, Dean,” you ordered.

“Why, so you can get out and run away again?” 

“No, so we can talk about this without you killing us both. Pull over now,” you said through gritted teeth.

He did as you asked, turning to face you. “Okay, what?”

“Seriously?” you scoffed.

“What? I’m just asking, what do you wanna talk about?”

“How do you not fucking know?” you fired back.

He threw his hands up. “I don’t know, because there’s a million different things potentially on the table.”

“Okay, then, let’s start with why’d you run out on me?” you asked.

“Fantastic place to start, (Y/N), especially considering you told me you wouldn’t make me talk about it,” Dean remarked sarcastically.

“I told you I wouldn’t make you talk about Hell. I told you why I ran out on you. You owe me the same,” you said.

“Maybe I just needed time to process everything, goddamn!”

“Then why didn’t you just tell me that to begin with? How can I trust that’s true?”

“Why are we even having this conversation if you can’t believe anything I say?!” 

“Because you keep expecting me to be fully upfront with you while you get to have as many secrets as you want! You lied straight to Sam’s face and to me before last night about Hell! I think the only reason you’re pissed is ‘cause you can’t hide from me anymore!” you shouted.

That seemed to quiet him down, and he thought for a minute.

“And another thing, everything I’ve fucking done for months has been for you. And I know you’re hurt, and I am so sorry,” you told him earnestly, “but you look at me like you don’t even know who I am anymore! I’ve changed, I know that. But so have you. And I don’t look at you any differently despite knowing every awful thing you had to do. Why can’t you give me that same grace? Especially when I did all of it to save you?” You took a breath, trying to swallow the lump quickly forming in your throat. “I’m sorry I lied to you. And I’ll do everything I can to get your trust back because no matter how much you piss me off, I still love you. But please don’t hold what I did for Uriel against me, okay?”

“I don’t,” he responded quietly. “But can you at least understand that I miss who we were before I went to Hell?”

“Absolutely,” you told him. “I miss those versions of us every day.”

“And I’m sorry I ran out on you. (Y/N), I never wanted you to see me like that. I ran out on you because I was angry. The one person I was terrified of finding out who I really am and what I did down there knows, and it fuckin’ hurt.” His voice was gravelly as he spoke, clearly trying to hide the lump forming in his throat.

“It doesn’t change how I see you, though,” you insisted.

“But maybe it should!” Dean said, the tears forming in his eyes. “Maybe you should look at me like I’m a monster because I am.”

“Do you really believe that’s true?” you asked softly.

“How could I not?” Tears slid down his cheeks steadily. “I did… horrible fucking things down there to people who maybe didn’t even deserve it. I can never forgive myself for that.” 

“But you have to try,” you told him, scooting across the bench seat to cradle his face in your hands. You swiped the tears away with your thumbs and stroked his cheeks. “Anyone would break under that kind of pressure. You lasted even longer than I would have. And I’m sorry that happened to you. It wasn’t your fault, Dean.”

Dean tried earnestly to stifle his tears. His back was straight as a board as you slowly wound your arms around his neck and pulled him down to rest his face in your neck. Finally, finally, he relaxed himself into you and allowed himself to cry.

****

Your relationship with Dean was nowhere near repaired. As much as it stung, there was a lot of broken trust within both him and you. At least now, everything was out in the open. Well, mostly everything. 

Following your talk, the two of you went to the fitness center to search for any sign of the paranormal. Sam called to tell you he’d meet you there. 

“Look, Dean,” you told him. There was a man on the front of the newspaper he was reading who’d won one-hundred sixty-eight million in the lottery. “How come we never get that lucky?” 

He chuckled, looking over the headline. 

Sam approached the bench you sat on with Dean outside the fitness center after you flagged him down. “Well, you pick up anything?” he asked. 

“No EMF in the shower or anywhere else. This house is clean,” Dean sighed.

Sam shoved his hands in his pockets. “Yeah. I'm not surprised. I kind of got the feeling back there that crazy pushed Mrs. Armstrong down the stairs.”

You and Dean stood to walk to the car with Sam, and a child blew past you with two others hot on his tail— they were apparently not his friends.

“Run, Forrest, run!” Dean called after him.

Sam sighed. “I don't think anything's going on around here.”

You walked past a pier where a man stood shouting at a police officer about something that had grabbed him and thrown him into a tree.

“Something's going on,” Dean said, subtly nodding his head toward the other men, halting you and Sam. 

When the man started mentioning Bigfoot, Sam decided to step in. “Excuse us. FBI.”

The police officer scoffed. “What?”

“Yes, sir. We're here about the... that.”

“About Bigfoot?” The officer seemed skeptical; understandably so.

“That's right,” Sam nodded, turning his attention to the witness. “Sir, can you tell me exactly where this happened?”

The man’s directions led you to the center of the woods, and every little sound made you jump. Living in a cabin for four months had only worsened your fear of the woods. 

“What the hell's going on in this town?” Dean asked as the three of you walked along. “First there's a ghost that's not real, and now a Bigfoot sighting?”

“Well, every hunter worth his salt knows Bigfoot's a hoax,” Sam noted.

“Maybe LSD in the water supply?” you shrugged, turning around as you talked and mindlessly stepping backward. Dean grabbed your arm, pulling you to his chest. “Dude, what the hell?” you questioned. 

Dean nodded to what you were about to step on, spinning you around to look at it. “Okay, what the hell?”

You looked down at the very large footprint Dean kept you from tripping into. 

“That, uh... is a big foot,” Sam breathed out.

You followed the ginormous tracks to the back of a liquor store that had been broken into.

“So, what? Bigfoot breaks into a liquor store, jonesing for some hooch?” He noted the spots that were empty on the shelves. “Amaretto and Irish cream. He's a girl-drink drunk.” You elbowed Dean. “Amaretto and pineapple’s good.” You smiled while Dean shoved shooters into his jacket pocket. 

Then, a few discarded magazines leading to a trail out the front door caught your eye. “Dude. He took the whole porno rack.” “Well, I'll say it again,” Dean added. “What the hell is going on in this town?”

Baffled, the three of you made your way to a bench outside the store. “I got nothing.” Dean threw his hands up. 

“It's got to be a joke, right? Some big-ass motherfucker in a gorilla suit?” Sam tried. 

“Or it's a Bigfoot. Y’know, and he's some kind of a alcoholo-porno addict. Kind of like a deep-woods Duchovny.”

A girl on a bike passed you, and a magazine fell out of her bag. You exchanged a glance with Sam, and Dean picked it up. 

“A little young for Busty Asian Beauties,” Dean noted, brows furrowed. 

You followed her to where she dropped a box full of alcohol and porn off with an apologetic note attached at the back of the liquor store. Then, the three of you followed the girl home. 

“What's this, like a ‘Harry and the Hendersons’ deal?”

Sam chuckled at his brother, knocking on the front door of the little girl’s house. 

“Hello?” she asked, opening it.

“Hi! Are— Are your parents home?” you asked her, bending to her level. 

“Nope,” she shook her head. 

“No, fabulous,” you murmured. “Awesome.”

Dean was up next. “Um... Have you seen a really, really furry…”

She immediately looked scared. “Is he in trouble?”

Although a little gobsmacked, Sam chuckled, “No, no, no. Not at all. We just— We wanted to make sure he was okay.”

“He's my teddy bear. I think he's sick,” the little girl sniffled. 

“Wow. Uh... Amazing. 'Cause you know what?” Dean said, incredibly chipper. “We... are, uh... teddy bear doctors.”

The child’s eyes lit up. “Really? Can you please take a look at him?”

“Absolutely,” you nodded. 

She took your hand and led you inside. 

“What’s your name, angel?’ you asked her.

“Audrey.”

“Audrey, nice to meet you,” you replied. “I’m (Y/N).”

“He's in my bedroom,” the little girl said. “He's pretty grumpy.” She knocked on the door of her room hesitantly. “Teddy? There's some nice doctors here to see you.” She opened it to reveal something you’d never seen before. 

A big, living, drunk teddy bear was sitting on her bed watching television. “Close the fuckin’ door!” he shouted in a gruff voice. 

Audrey shut it, whispering, “See what I mean?”

Your eyes were wide as saucers, and you turned back to the boys to see a similar reaction in them. 

She explained to you that she’d wished in a well for the teddy to come alive over the top of the teddy bear moaning about how awful life was. 

“Audrey, give us a second, okay?” Sam said. He turned to you and Dean, hushing his voice while Audrey tried to comfort her teddy bear. “Okay. Are we... Should we... Uh, are we gonna kill this teddy bear?”

“I mean, how?” you questioned. 

Dean chimed in, “Do we shoot it? Burn it?

Sam shrugged. “I don't know. Both?”

“How do we even know that's gonna work? I don't want some giant, flaming, pissed-off teddy on our hands,” Dean scoffed. 

“Yeah. Besides, I get the feeling that the bear isn't really the, you know, core problem here.”

You turned to the little girl. “Audrey, where are your parents?”

“My mom wished they were in Bali, so I think they're in Bali,” she replied. 

“Oh, okay,” you said. “I’m really sorry to tell you this, but your bear is sick. He’s got—”

“Lollipop disease!” Dean cut you off. 

“Lollipop disease,” Sam nodded. 

Dean shrugged, “It's not uncommon for a bear his size. But, see, it's— it’s really contagious.”

“Yeah,” Sam nodded, “so, is there someone, maybe a grown-up, that you can stay with while we treat him?”

Audrey considered for a moment. “Mrs. Hurley lives down the street.”

“Good, yeah, good. Uh, we'd like you to stay there for a few days, okay?”

“Okay.”

Dean found out where the wishing well was from Audrey, and the three of you set off in that direction. Just as you arrived, a little boy threw a coin into the fountain. You watched him leave, skipping, and grab his mother’s hand. 

“Think it works?” Dean asked, pulling you out of your thoughts. 

You turned to face him. “Got a better explanation for teddy back there?”

“Well, there's one way to find out.” 

Dean took a coin out of his wallet, stuffing him back in his pants as Sam asked, “What are you gonna wish for?”

“Shh!” Dean scolded. “Not supposed to tell.”

Within five seconds of him chucking the sandwich in, a man in a red shirt came up holding a giant sandwich. “Somebody order a footlong Italian with jalapeño?”

Dean smirked, “That'd be me,” and you rolled your eyes. He excitedly led you and Sam over to a table outside the Chinese restaurant Audrey had described to you and began to scarf down his sandwich. “I think it works, guys,” he said through a mouthful of food. “That was pretty specific.”

“The teddy bear, the sandwich—” Sam sighed. 

You pulled the newspaper Dean had been reading earlier out of one of the pockets inside his jacket. “I’m guessing this, too.”

Sam discreetly nodded to a couple at the table next to yours. “I'm guessing that.”

You snickered, as did Sam. 

Dean tried to sneak a glance at the couple. “Well, that definitely goes on the list. What are we supposed to do, huh? Stop people's wishes from coming true? I mean, it sounds like kind of a douche-y thing to do.”

“Yeah, maybe. But come on, man. When has something like this ever come without a price tag?”

“And usually a deadly one,” you argued. 

“I don't know. It's a damn good sandwich.” You and Sam gave Dean a look. 

“Alright, fine.” He rolled his eyes. “We'll put a hold on the wishing till we figure out what's going on.”

A waiter came up to your table. “Uh, gentlemen, gentlemen. I'm sorry. We don't allow people to eat outside food here.”

“Well, how can you expect him to eat the food inside here?” you scoffed. “Health department. You’ve got a pretty serious rat infestation. We're gonna have to shut this place down under emergency hazard code 56C.”

Sam tried to hide his smirk, but Dean’s was completely overt as he stared at you. 

****

Under the guise of needing to investigate the fountain, you made the waiter have his manager drain it. 

Dean swept away coins while you felt around the outside of it for a compartment hiding a hex bag. 

“Typical fountain; plaster Buddha,” the older brother announced. “Nothing I can see.”

“Yes, nothing. We keep a clean place here,” the manager insisted.

Sam began to escort him away. “Sir, I'm gonna have to ask you to leave during the preliminary investigation, okay? Thank you.” Dean tossed one of the coins he swept at you. “Oh, come on. Aren't you a little bit tempted?” You shook your head. “Hell no.”

“Why not?”

“Wouldn’t be real,” you shrugged. “I wouldn’t trust it.”

“I don't know,” he replied, “that bear seemed pretty real.”

Dean tried further. “Come on, if you could wish yourself back, you know, before it all started… Think about it. You could’ve avoided all this angel business. Maybe gotten out.”

You stood, putting your hands on your hips. “Of what? Hunting?”

He nodded. 

You scoffed. “That’s not what I would’ve wished for.”

“Alright, well, what, then?” he pushed. 

Without even thinking, you said, “That you’d never gone to Hell.” Dean held your gaze intensely, that unreadable look you’d become accustomed to on his face. 

Sam came back over, causing Dean to shake himself out of his trance. “What is that?” the older brother asked, looking down at something. 

You walked over to the side of the fountain he was on, bending over the side and brushing the coin with the tips of your fingers. “Some kind of old coin. I don't recognize the markings.”

Dean tried to pick it up, failing miserably. “Damn.”

“Lift with your legs,” Sam deadpanned, and you burst out laughing. 

“Is that motherfucker welded on there?” Dean grunted, standing back up. “Huh.”

You tried again with a crowbar, but it snapped in half. The hammer you used broke, too. 

Sam panted, “Coin’s magical.”

“Ya think?” you scoffed. 

****

Sam sent you back to the motel to try and figure out where that coin came from. Dean hadn’t stopped puking since you got back, so you were the one doing the research. 

“How’s it going in there?” you asked through the door. 

Your answer was another heaving sound followed by him coughing and groaning. 

Just then, Sam opened the door to hear Dean yakking again. “Is he…?”

You nodded. 

“The wishes turn bad, Sam. The wishes turn very bad,” Dean called from the bathroom, voice strained. 

“The sandwich, huh?”

“The coin’s Babylonian,” you explained. “It's cursed. I found some fragments of a legend.” You showed him your laptop that was open to an article with grotesque drawings lining its sides. “The serpent is Tiamat; the Babylonian god of primordial chaos. Their priests were crazy freaky into black magic.”

“They made the coin?” Sam asked, eyes scanning the screen. 

You nodded. “Whoever tosses a coin in the wishing well, makes a wish, it turns on the well. Then it starts granting wishes to all comers.”

“But the wishes get twisted. You ask for a talking teddy—”

“You get a bipolar nut job.” At the sound of Dean hacking again, you pointed toward the door. “And he gets E. coli. You stood from your chair, crossing the room to get Dean a fresh set of clothes. As you rifled through his bag, you continued, “This thing has turned more than one town to shit over the centuries. It's even wiped a few off the map. I mean, one person gets their wish, it's trouble, but everybody gets their wish…”

“It’s chaos,” Sam finished for you. 

You put Dean’s clothes on the bathroom counter, recoiling at the smell. “Take a shower before you come out of there, okay? Don’t want you stinkin’ up the whole car.” You turned back to the room, shutting the door behind you. 

“Any way to stop it?” Sam asked. 

“We gotta find the first wisher. Whoever dropped the thing in and made the first wish; they’re the only one who can pull it back out and reverse the wishes. And things are goin’ downhill fast.”

****

Later that night, you played Solitaire on the floor of the room while Dean slept. Sam was awake, too, on his laptop. He invited you to stay for a bit while he finished researching for the night.

Then, Dean started to stir. You could only imagine what he was dreaming about. 

“No,” he said, softly at first. “No!” 

You sprang to your feet, shaking him gently. He grabbed your wrist, twisted it behind your back, and pinned you down on his bed. 

“Dean, stop!” Sam shouted, leaping up to help. 

It was then Dean realized what happened and let you go. Sam backed off, and you hesitantly rolled over. 

“God, (Y/N), I’m so—” he cleared his throat, voice more gravelly when he spoke again. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay,” you promised him. 

“I didn’t hurt you, did I?” he asked, not doing a very good job of hiding the genuine fear on his face. 

You shook your head. “No. I promise, I’m okay.” He nodded, but his mind seemed distant. 

The room fell silent for a moment before Sam spoke up again. “Uriel wasn't lying, was he?”

Your breath caught in your throat.

“You are. You remember Hell, don't you?” Sam continued. 

Dean scrubbed a hand over his face. “What do you want from me, huh? What?”

“The truth, Dean. I mean, I'm your brother. I- I just wish you'd talk to me,” Sam argued, sounding slightly defeated. 

“Careful what you wish for,” Dean remarked. 

“Cute.”

“Guys, stop,” you sighed, suddenly feeling exhausted. 

“Come on, can we stow the couple’s therapy, huh? We're on a job. I want to work. What do you got? Please?” the older brother urged desperately.

Sam clicked his tongue, returning his attention to his laptop. “We got teddy bear, uh, lottery guy, invisible pervert guy. They all must have wished sometime in the last two weeks. But who wished first, and how are we supposed to know who else wished for what when?”

“Well, it helps when they announce it in the paper. Goes back a month.” Dean tossed the paper at Sam.

He read out the title on the page Dean had turned to. “Wesley Mondale and Ms. Hope Lynn Casey have announced their surprise engagement.”

Dean flicked his eyebrows. “Ah, true love.”

****

“Wes! You didn't tell me that you called the florists for the wedding,” the beautiful woman in front of you cheerily called back to her betrothed who you assumed was within the home. 

You followed her into the living room where a greasy man wearing glasses that in no way suited his face sat on an armchair that clearly needed to be cleaned. 

“You're the best! I'm gonna go get my folders.” The woman, Hope, hugged Wes around the neck tightly and practically flitted out of the room. 

“That’s sexual coercion, y’know,” you said. 

“What?” he asked, startled. “Who are you?”

“Health department,” you shrugged. 

“Yeah. And florists on the side,” Sam chimed in. Dean added, “Plus FBI. And on Thursdays, we're teddy bear doctors.” Wes furrowed his brow. “Huh?”

“Doesn't matter who we are,” Dean responded. “What matters is what we know.”

You nodded at the box of coins on the wall behind him. “Coin collector?”

Wes stood shakily. “Uh, yeah. My… grandfather gave them to me.”

“You make a wish on one of ‘em by any chance?” you asked. 

Hope bustled back into the room, dropping her stack of papers on the table. “Okay, now. I have a lot of ideas, but, y’know, we don't have all the money in the world. Wes is between jobs right now. Means more time for me! Y’know, I'm thinking a Japanese-y, ikebana kind of thing.”

You nodded. “I can… totally see it.”

“So, Hope, uh, tell us how you two lovebirds met,” Sam prompted. 

You smirked, excited to hear this story. 

“Oh, best day of my life,” she grinned. “It's the funniest thing. We both grew up here, but I never really knew who he was. Not by name anyway. Until one day last month, it was like I just— I just saw him for the first time. He was just... glowing. Oh, just glowing!”

Wes cleared his throat. “Uh, babe, can you— can you get us some coffee?”

Hope nodded like an excited labrador. “Yes!” She kissed him over and over, making Dean smirk and look down at the floor, hiding his smile behind his hand. 

As soon as Hope was out of the room, you murmured, “Wes, we know. So tell us the truth.”

He averted your eye contact completely, adjusting his glasses nervously. “My— My grandfather found the coin in North Africa, y’know, World War II. And, uh, he brought it back. He, um, he said it was a real wish-granting coin, but that nobody should ever use it. Um... It was all I had, and when he died, I thought, ‘Well, you know what? Why not give the coin a shot’?”

“Well, time to wish it back,” you ordered. 

He chuckled. “Oh. Ha, no, no, I’m not.”

You stalked toward him slowly, your voice eerily calm. “If you don't stop it, something bad's gonna happen.” Your eyes practically burned as you pinned him to his spot with your intensity.

“How do you know?” he squeaked.

“Just a hunch,” you replied, voice low. 

As you continued to stare Wes down, Dean piped up, “We really wish you'd come with us.”

Wes nodded hesitantly, only relaxing his tense shoulders when you backed off.

Dean gave you a strange look, but you ignored it. Wes gave Hope some lame excuse, and the three of you sped toward the Lucky Chin restaurant. 

“I don't get it. So, my wish came true. Why does that have to be a bad thing?” Wes asked. 

“Because the wishes go south, Wes,” Sam replied. “Your town is going insane.”

Dean eyed Wes in the rearview mirror. “C’mon, you're gonna sit there and tell me that your relationship with Hope is functional; that it's what you wished for?”

“I wished she would love me more than anything,” he replied simply. 

“How’s that going for you?” you asked, voice even, eyes pointed forward. Looking at the man sitting beside you made you physically sick. “That seem healthy? Consensual?”

“Well, it's a hell of a lot better than when she didn't know I was alive.”

“I’d choose your next words very carefully, Wes,” you said calmly. “You imply that what you’re doing is okay one more time, and I will go fucking nuclear.”

Dean discreetly flicked his eyes to yours in the rearview mirror. “You're not supposed to get what you want, man, not like this. Nobody is. That's what the coin does. It takes your heart's desires and it twists it back on you. You hear of the whole, uh, ‘be careful what you wish for’?”

Wes mockingly replied, “ ‘Careful what you wish for.’ You know who says that? Good-looking jerks like you guys. The ones who've got it so easy because you happen to be handsome.”

“Easy?” Sam and Dean scoffed. 

“Yeah. Women— women look at you, right? They notice you.”

You were quite literally biting your tongue to avoid ripping this guy’s head off. 

“Believe us, we do not have it easy,” Sam told him. 

Dean added, “We are miserable. We never get what we want. In fact, we have to fight tooth and nail just to keep whatever it is we got.” You could’ve sworn you felt Dean looking at you, but you couldn’t focus on him at all. 

“But you know what? Maybe that's the whole point, Wes.”

“Yeah, people are people 'cause they're miserable bastards, 'cause they never get what they really want. Take a look at Michael Jackson, hmm? Or Hasselhoff.”

“You know what? Hope loves me now— completely. And it's awesome,” Wes chuckled. “Besides, look around. Where's all this, uh, insanity you guys were talking about?”

You couldn’t hold it back anymore. You quite literally dove across the back seat, raising a fist at Wes and hauling him up by the shirt collar. 

“Whoa! Whoa!” Dean shouted, while Sam begged you to stop. 

Wes’s lip trembled pathetically, and your fist connected with his face in a sickening crack. 

“You son of a bitch!” you shouted. You reared back again, only stopping when the sight of a child holding a truck over his head with three other kids inside caught your eye. 

Dean screeched to a halt near the truck, promptly pulling you off Wes and out of the Impala. “What the fuck, (Y/N)?!”

“He’s holding a girl hostage, Dean!” you argued. “Using magic to force her into sex? I’ll fuckin’ kill ‘im!” 

“Relax!” he urged you. “We’re gonna fix this. But we can’t fix this if you kill this guy, alright?” 

Suddenly, a sharp pain pierced your chest. Dean noticed the immediate change in your demeanor, eyes filling with concern. “Whoa, wait, what’s going on?” he asked. 

Your knees buckled, and he caught you easily. He sank to the ground with you, cradling you as you choked on what felt like your own blood. 

“No, no, no, (Y/N)?!” Dean rushed out, cupping your face. “Talk to me, sweetheart, you can’t leave me. Not like this. (Y/N)?!”

You felt blood dribble out of your mouth and down the side of your face, feeling all of your strength leave your body. And then, the world went black. 

****

You blinked repeatedly, squinting up at the bright sun. Then, you threw your arm over your eyes to shield yourself from the light. A small smile tugged at your lips when you realized the ground under you resembled the leathery seat of the Impala. Dean must’ve put you in here when you got knocked out.

Wait… were you knocked out? Or had you been dead?

You sat up, taking in your surroundings. You watched out the front window as Dean mocked cowering away from an eleven-year-old, and three other kids behind him looked horrified before they turned tail and ran away. 

You got out of the car, cracking your neck to get rid of the uncomfortable tightness in it. When Dean saw you, he immediately took his attention away from the kid and turned it to you. He practically sprinted over to you and scooped you up in his arms, holding you close to his chest. His breath tickled your neck as he breathed you in, and you wrapped your arms around his. Although a little dazed, you welcomed the comfort of his embrace. 

“What happened?” you asked as he put you back down. Dean then proceeded to do what he’d done many times before when you’d been hurt. He tucked your hair behind your ear with one hand and cupped your chin with the other while he scanned your face for injuries. 

“Dee, I’m okay, I promise.” You gently grabbed his wrist, stroking it with your thumb. 

“You— You were gone,” he said. “I didn’t— I—”

It was your turn to cup his chin, forcing him to look at you. A tear slipped down his cheek, wetting the palm of your hand. “It’s okay. I’m here. I’m fine.”

Then, Sam came over to you. “(Y/N)!” He bent down to hug you, and you happily returned the gesture. “How you feeling?”

“Uh, fine, I think. What the hell happened?” you asked. 

“Hope,” Sam explained. “She heard what you said— and did— to Wes, and she was not happy.”

“And I’m guessing she doesn’t even know who he is now— since I’m, y’know, upright,” you jested. “All the wishes are gone?”

Sam turned to see Audrey walking with her sunburnt parents and a normal-sized teddy bear down the street. “I guess,” he chuckled. 

“Then, so are we,” you said, heading back toward the car. 

“Hang on a second,” Dean said. 

You and Sam turned to face him.

“You were right.” 

Sam looked confused. “About what?”

“I shouldn't have lied to you,” Dean admitted. “I do remember everything that happened to me in the Pit. Everything.”

Sam looked at him expectantly. “So tell me about it,” he prompted.

“No,” the older brother stated plainly. 

Sam snorted. “Uh…”

“I won't lie anymore. But I'm not gonna talk about it.”

“Dean, look, you can't just shoulder this thing alone,” Sam told his brother. “You got to let me help.”

Before Dean could snap, you gently added, “It’s different than a bad day, Sam.”

Sam became slightly hostile toward you. “I know that.”

“Sam,” you sighed. “You don’t. I’m not tryin’ to hurt you here, but your four months was very different than my four months and Dean’s forty—” you quickly tried to cover up your mistake, “four months. There is no forgetting. There’s no making it better. There’s no talking it out. Because experiencing what he did? In real time? Unless you were there with him, you’d never understand it.”

Sam gave you a bizarre look; almost like he wasn’t processing what you were saying. However, he dropped it and got into the backseat of the Impala. 

****

Later that night as Sam slept soundly in the backseat, you and Dean sat beside each other in silence for a while. It felt strange to be in the front seat again; almost as if you were earning “girlfriend privileges” again.

Dean finally spoke up. “I don’t need you to fight my battles for me.” You turned to face him, but he didn’t take his eyes from the road. “I’m not trying to.”

“But you did.”

You sighed, crossing your arms over your chest and facing away from him. “Dean, I was trying to make that conversation a little easier for you, okay? I’m sorry.”

It was almost as if you’d dumbfounded him because he didn’t speak for quite a few moments after that. “What’s goin’ on with you?” he asked. 

“What do you mean?” you grumbled, still staring out of the window. 

“You’re not… you’re not you,” Dean replied. “You’re— You’re erratic, you’re lashing out; you’re scaring the crap outta me.”

Your heart nearly cracked in your chest, tears springing to your eyes. You couldn’t bring yourself to face him. “I’m sorry,” you whispered. 

“What’s goin’ on?” he asked, his voice gentle. “Sweetheart, you’re supposed to be the stable one here, remember?”

As you choked down your tears, you nodded furiously. You could still feel Dean’s occasional glance to you for the next several miles, almost as if he was hoping you’d crack. Although, when your muffled cries subsided, you just faded off to sleep.

Series Rewrite Taglist: @polireader @brightlilith @atcamillanorrman @jrizzelle @insomnia-bookworm @procrastination20 @mrs-nesmith @djs8891 @tiggytaylor @staple-your-mouth @jesstherebel @rach5ive @strawberrykiwisdogog @bruhidkjustwannaread @mxltifxnd0m @sunshine-on-marz @big-ol-boat @mgchaser @capncrankle @chervbs @simpingdeadcharacters @nesnejwritings @stillhere197 @tearsforhan @take-it-on-the-run @iloveyou2mia @maxinehufflepuffprincess @ohgeehowdigethere @seninjakitey @berarenado @s0urw00lf @princessleahorgana @quarterhorse19 @isla-finke-blog @silverdoragon @karacaroldanvers @gayandfairycore @examishbookwyrm @star-yawnznn @real-sharena-h @fandomloverrr @metalmonki @onlyangel-444 @yu-winchester @benniwiththefanni @daisychaingirl @immagods @missmieux @yoongi-holland @littledebbieinabigworld

[xxsinisterbunniexx]

☣︎ Adverse Reaction ☣︎- X Virus x Female reader NSFW

Warnings: dubcon

Originally published on AO3, which you can read here if you’d prefer :)

Tags: aphrodisiacs, kidnapping, choking, slapping, degradation, praise, orgasm control & denial, fingering, face fucking, overstimulation, creampie

Summary: You were kidnapped by a mysterious man in a gas mask and now found yourself disoriented and restrained in a sterile lab. Your captor aims to use you as a test subject for a deadly drug, but it may not have the effects he intended.

Words: 6.2k

As always

☣︎ ☣︎ ☣︎all canon will be flexible to make way for sexy☣︎ ☣︎ ☣︎

Okay so I think this may be my fav fic I’ve written like ever???? I had so much fun writing this and I’m really shocked there aren’t more X Virus fics. I made him such a sarcastic little fuck here and I just adore him so much <3

Also like I KNOW I said I would be slower with fics when I posted my last one since I finished posting the ones I’ve had on AO3 for a while but I’ve been working on this one for a couple of months and I really did just finish it

They say humans have an innate ability to know when they’re being watched, something we honed through evolutionary changes in order to protect ourselves.

So when you were walking down the street unable to shake the feeling you were being watched, something told you you needed to get back to your apartment quickly. Something kept creeping into your vision, causing you to whip your neck around, only to find there was nothing there.

“I’m going fucking crazy…” you muttered to yourself, picking up the pace.

You started to feel a few raindrops hit you, because the world just hates you.

Just great.

Only a few seconds passed before it became a torrential downpour. You started to pretty much run to your apartment. You made it to the back door, where you always entered.

You were so frantic, both from the lingering fear and the way you were getting absolutely soaked right now, that you immediately dropped your keys.

Another hand grabbed them before you could. You whipped around barely catching a glance at who picked them up. He was tall with messy brown hair, a black hoodie pulled up over it. He was wearing blue goggles, but they were pushed up onto his head to reveal his eyes. The most notable thing about him was that most of his face was obscured by a gas mask. Your stomach filled with dread at the sight of him.

He pressed you up against the wall, holding a cloth over your mouth. His teal eyes narrowed at you as he held a finger over his mouth, signaling you to be quiet. It was the last thing you saw before everything went dark.

—

You woke up feeling like someone had smashed a brick into your head. You were sitting in a chair, head lolled to the side. When you tried to raise your head, you only felt dizzier. Your eyes seemed to swing across the room, never focusing on anything. The room smelled sterile and was surprisingly well lit, the bright lights only serving to further disorient you.

You tried to move, only to realize you were completely restrained. Your head fell downward, eyes finally focusing on the restraints that held you. They looked medical grade.

Everything about this situation was making you feel worse and worse. You weren’t kidnapped by some random sick fuck. This guy had professional equipment and from what you could make out, a seemingly legitimate place to do it. It being whatever sick shit he planned on doing to you.

You started to pull on the restraints, moving as much as you could, which wasn’t much given how tightly you were bound.

“Don’t struggle. You’ll only waste your energy.” A cold voice made you snap your head up and to the side.

There was a figure standing over by the table, looking preoccupied with something else. Your eyes were still blurry so you couldn’t quite make out what he was doing.

He started to approach you, setting what seemed to be a clipboard down next to you on the table. You whimpered, trying to get out of the restraints even more.

You heard him let out a tired sigh. “Don’t freak out yet. I’m just making sure you’re intact after your little nap.” He then shined a light in your eye, observing your eyes’ reactions before writing it down on his clipboard.

Your eyes finally focused and you were able to see the man in front of you, recognizing him as the guy who had kidnapped you. Those teal eyes were unmistakable. He no longer had a gas mask on, and you could see his whole face clearly now. He was… much more attractive than you would have expected.

“Cause… of the chloroform?” You almost didn’t recognize the sound of your own voice, still disoriented.

He immediately burst out into a sick laughter, “Chloroform?! That’s what you think that was?” You didn’t understand what was so funny about that.

“What are you stupid? Watched too many movies?” He asked you rhetorically. When you gave no answer he continued, “Chloroform doesn’t actually make people pass out.”

You were shocked by the sudden change in his demeanor. One second he was cold and flat and now he was acting absolutely insane.

He recollected himself, his voice much calmer. “No, what I gave you was much better than chloroform. It was something I created myself.” He sounded pretty proud of that.

You were unsure of how to react to that. You trembled as you watched his movements. He read over whatever was on his clipboard, clicking his pen a few times before his eyes settled back on you.

“That was the final thing I needed to check before the test. Your blood already came back normal.” His tone had gone back to being flat.

“Blood…?” You looked down at your arms, and sure enough there was a gauze pad and band-aid on your right arm. He had taken it while you were sleeping.

You felt sick. What other things had he done to your body while you were asleep? What the fuck was he even going to do to you?

“Wait… test?” You asked, knowing you really didn’t want to know the answer.

“A new drug I just made myself. You’ll be the first person I try it on.”

“Drug? I don’t have any health issues… I don’t need that.” You said, sounding more desperate as you went on.

“I know you don’t. That’s why you’ll be the perfect test subject. No other conditions to muck up my results. Your death will be purely from this drug.”

Death. He really just said that. You felt like you were going through all the stages of grief at once. You needed to escape. He couldn’t do this to you. You had people that would be looking for you. But you were restrained so tightly and already weakened from whatever he’d already done. It was no use.

Despair washed over your body, pitting in your stomach. You started to tremble violently as the sobs began to wrack through you, tears prickling your eyes before falling into your lap.

He crouched down to be at eye level with you. “Stop crying.” He said in a cold tone, wiping your tears. The action was mechanical and lacked the warmth it would normally entail. “It makes it harder to see the results.”

You watched in horror as he got up, turning to the table beside him before picking up a syringe full of unknown liquid. He pushed a few beads of the liquid out, flicking the syringe to get out any air bubbles before turning back to you. There was a complete lack of emotion on his face.

“Please…!” You cried, squirming as much as you could given how tightly he had you bound. “You don’t have to do this! I won’t tell anyone about this or your experiments if you let me go!”

“Stop squirming!” He raised his voice, anger showing through. “Don’t you know that’ll only make this hurt more?” He asked as if you were stupid.

He cleaned your arm with an alcohol pad, waiting a few seconds for it to dry.

Why even bother cleaning it if he’s gonna kill me anyways?

Your stomach dropped when you realized your death might not be quick. He had only said it would kill you, not that it’d do it instantly. He seemed like the type of sick fuck that would get a kick out of watching you suffer, taking notes on his stupid little clipboard while you die slowly.

You winced slightly as the needle pierced your skin. In seconds he had injected the liquid into your body. Whatever it was, it was too late to do anything about it.

He made some notes on his clipboard, his eyes shifting between you and the paper. He was observing your every move.

I’m just some damn Guinea pig to him…!

Then he started to undo your restraints. You looked at him with bewilderment. He glanced at your face as he shifted to undo the other side. “Try to escape if you must but you should know that in less than a minute you’ll be too weak to do anything.”

Hatred of this man started to boil through you. You hated the fact that he was using you as a goddamn lab rat. You hated his matter of fact tone. You hated his stupid little clipboard. You may be too weak in a minute to escape but you already decided that the second the restraints were fully off, you were going to make a huge mess of this sterile fucking lab. You’d knock over all the vials on the table, all his equipment, anything you could get your hands on was going to end up on his precious white floor.

The final restraint was off and he backed away from you, clearly waiting to see what you’d do so he could document it.

Before you could even attempt to get up, you started feeling the effects of the drug. Your body started to heat up, your heart beating rapidly. Maybe it’d beat so fast you’d go into cardiac arrest and get to die quickly.

You tried to get on your feet, but your legs felt like jelly.

“I told you you’d be too weak to-” He said as you ignored him, trying to push your feet. “And yet you try anyways.” He said, another tired sigh coming from him.

You started to pant, using your arms to push yourself up. He looked surprised you were even able to do that, and then you immediately fell onto the floor.

You were kinda happy about it, honestly. The floor was cold against your skin, which was burning up. You had started to feel a little dizzy too, so nothing like a little horizontal time to fix that.

Then you started to feel the heat radiating from between your legs. It was quickly becoming a more prevalent issue. Your clit was starting to throb, cunt aching, desperate for any type of stimulation.

Now is so not the time.

Just what the fuck had he injected into you?! You thought it was supposed to kill you.

To be fair, it was. Your captor was also standing over you, wondering why you hadn’t died yet. Maybe you were special and it would just take a little longer?

Regardless, he now felt the need to act. He never wanted to interfere with his experiments, but if you were going to grovel on the floor like that then he wouldn’t even get to see your face when you died. That’s like… the best part.

So he figured he might as well get you up and on the table, makes it easier to do the autopsy later anyways.

“Hey, get up.” He lightly tapped you with his shoe.

You didn’t respond to him. While playing dead surely wasn’t your best strategy, you couldn’t get up even if you wanted to.

He groaned and grabbed your arm, trying to pull it over his shoulder to get you up. You were so limp that once he got you all the way up, you swung forward, crashing into his chest.

“Jesus…” he groaned, clearly annoyed by having to hold you up. He was struggling to get the right grip on you. Clearly he didn’t often deal with live people.

Finally, he settled on one arm around your thighs and the other around your waist, awkwardly dragging you to the table. Your face was buried in his neck, your whole body leaning into him.

This type of hold wasn’t doing you any favors given your current issue.

You felt so hazy. Your thoughts were racing and yet none of them seemed to make any sense. The thoughts that were ringing out the loudest though, were the ones about your captor holding you right now. His skin was so warm and he smelled so good and he was so close and… you just had the urge to bite him. It was a light bite, one that more resembled an act of seduction rather than self defense. He let out a slight groan, but this time instead of one of annoyance it was a sound that was congruent with your action.

He slammed you down on the table by your shoulders, his face inches from yours. “Just what do you think you’re doing?”

You looked up at him, panting and flushed. He was pissed. Not much to do about it though, and also not much to fear anyways, you’d be dead either way.

He looked over your face, no doubt trying to analyze the meaning of your action. The confusion was evident. You didn’t blame him though, your actions were completely illogical. Even you couldn’t explain why you had just done that.

But the more he stared at you, the more you ached. You tried to subtly rub your legs together, any amount of friction would help sate you, you hoped. His eyes immediately caught the action, then flickered right back to your face.

It was funny really, watching a guy as intelligent as him slowly put the pieces together. It was like you could see the little hamster inside his brain start running faster on its wheel.

He grabbed your chin, pulling your face down to meet his eyes more. He was still scanning over you, like he was trying to solidify his conclusion.

Lightly, he used his thumb to press on your lower lip. He was testing the waters. Your mouth immediately fell open for him, and you ran your tongue over his thumb, sucking it into your mouth.

Immediately, his face went fully red. That didn’t seem to be the reaction he had expected. “What is wrong with you?!”

You too wondered that. This guy had kidnapped you, drugged you, and now all you could think of was how badly you were aching to have his cock stretch you.

“This wasn’t- did I make a mistake…?” He questioned himself. Well at the very least, you were glad this wasn’t intentional.

But at this point whether or not it was intentional didn’t really matter anymore. You pressed your thighs together even more, trying anything to sate the dull ache you felt between your legs.

The motion caught his attention again, and his eyes stayed fixated there for a moment, before slowly making their way up your body, to the dip of your waist, passing over the curve of your breasts, until his eyes stopped again, right at your mouth where you were still sucking on his thumb. You felt like he needed a little push, so you grabbed his arm with both of your hands, pulling his thumb out of your mouth and pulling two of his fingers in. You looked him in the eye as you ran your tongue under them and sucked.

It was just then when he got the most vile smirk on his face. The most emotion you’d seen him show thus far, aside from that little outburst when you had dared to call his precious work chloroform.

He leaned in closer to your face. “You want me to touch you?” His voice was so smug you wanted to rip out his vocal cords. It was his fault you were even like this, even if it was apparently an accident.

Your hatred showed on your face and he was just eating it up. “You do don’t you?” You kept your mouth around his fingers, not wanting to give him what he wanted. Yes, you would entice him but you drew the line at verbally begging him to fuck you.

“Not going to talk, huh?” He pulled his hand away from your mouth, moving it to grab a strand of your hair. “Let’s try a little experiment then.” He said, letting your hair slip out of his fingers.

He let his fingers lightly run over the skin of your neck, causing your whole body to jolt and shiver. Your panting got louder. You grabbed his hand, holding it in yours.

“Hmm. How interesting.” He sounded way too smug.

“Fix whatever you did to me.” You squeezed his hand tighter.

“Nothing intentional, since that’s what you’re implying.” His teal eyes met yours, and you could see the lust growing in him. “You just seem to be having an interesting reaction to the drug.”

He suddenly grabbed your face, tilting your chin up to look at you again. “But you’re being quite demanding aren’t you? What makes you think you deserve to be touched?”

You were so desperate at this point, writhing around on his table. “Please…” your voice sounded whiny and pathetic. “Please just help me.”

“Aww, that’s better.” He squeezed your face a little harder before letting go, turning to the table next to him and grabbing a pair of scissors.

“Wait…!” You practically screamed, bracing for the blades coming your way.

“Jumpy little thing, aren’t you?” He said as he cut through the fabric of your shirt. “Spare me the dramatics.”

Once your shirt was fully cut open in the front, he pulled the remainder of the fabric off of you, leaving you in just a bra.

He cupped his hands over your breasts. “Aww, this is cute. I’ll let you keep this for now.” He picked up the scissors again and cut through your bottoms, leaving your panties intact.

He trailed his hand down your body, his cold fingers making you shiver once again. He suddenly hooked his fingers into your panties and yanked them down. They were already so soaked there was a line of your arousal still connected to them. “No resistance? Wow, I guess you really are that desperate.”

If only he would shut the fuck up this would be perfect. He was being so annoying, but you had to keep your mouth shut, can’t give him a reason to be even more of a dick.

He pushed your legs apart, your arousal clinging to your thighs, a sticky mess all stemming from your aching cunt. He was completely entranced by it. “Fuck…” He cursed under his breath before letting his eyes drift back to yours. Your hips bucked up, shamelessly wanting him to just touch you already.

“Ohhhhh, you need it bad, don’t you, darling?” The use of a pet name was only scornful coming from his lips. He was taunting you, trying to make this more humiliating than it already was. However, it was becoming increasingly clear that his own control was waning. Maybe… just a little bit more enticement from your end and you could get him to snap and give you what you really wanted.

But you sure as hell still weren’t going to beg him… more than you already had. You slowly ran your hand down your body, along your curves and toward your cunt. Just as you got past your stomach, he grabbed your hand, slamming your wrist down onto the table above you.

“You’re that desperate you’ll touch yourself right in front of me?” He asked rhetorically, not even giving you a chance to answer. “That’s the most pathetic display I think I’ve seen in a while. I kind of want to take pity on you.”

His free hand snaked down to your cunt, just barely brushing over your clit. Your hips immediately bucked up and you let out a strangled whine. Just that tiny touch sent electricity all throughout your body.

He was entranced by your reaction to his touch. “Tell me, are you always this sensitive, or are you really that affected by the drug?”

Your brain was already going hazy, so you didn’t hesitate to answer him. “I’m not… usually like this.”

He brushed his fingers over your clit again, this time with just a bit more pressure, but still not nearly enough to sate you. You let out another needy whine.

“Amazing. It’s like you’re in heat.” He was becoming increasingly satisfied with the drug’s effects on you.

“I just know my fingers are gonna slide in your sopping wet cunt easily.” He pushed two long slender fingers into your cunt, as deeply as he could.

You arched off the table, hips bucking to try to feel him even deeper. “Fuck….!” You moaned out. You could feel every inch of his fingers against the inside of your cunt. Even without moving it was driving you crazy, the drug was making it feel so fucking good.

He let out a low groan, loving the way you were squeezing around his fingers already. “You fucking love this don’t you? Huh?”

“C’mon, tell me how much you love it.” His eyes suddenly went dark. “Tell me you fucking love it or I’m not moving my fingers.”

You could barely register what he was saying, your head already going fuzzy just from having his fingers inside. “I… love it…” you managed to breathe out.

“Oh, that wasn’t very convincing.” He started moving his fingers at an unbearably slow pace. “You’ll have to beg with a little more conviction than that if you want it.”

He was barely moving his fingers at all, and yet it felt so fucking good you had to bite your lip as hard as you could to keep from moaning loud enough for the entire country to hear.

Each stroke of his fingers was making you tighten more and more. Your arousal dripping out of you and onto the table, making obscene gushing noises each time he pushed his fingers back in.

“Faster…” you whimpered, feeling miserably pathetic. “I need it…”

He grabbed your face, tilting it upwards. “Still so demanding. You think you deserve this? You think you deserve me fucking you with my fingers?”

He stopped his fingers entirely, and yet just the feel of them inside you was causing your stomach to tighten, electricity shooting through your body, all to one place.

The pressure built and built, not even giving you time to say anything before you were already convulsing around his fingers, your cunt buzzing with pleasure. It was harder than you had ever come before. It felt like you were coming in slow motion, squeezing him hard and long each time your cunt convulsed.

He groaned when he felt you squeezing around his fingers. He couldn’t even come up with a way to taunt you. All of his attention was redirected to how tight his pants felt and the way his cock throbbed harder and harder each time your muscles tightened.

He was completely enraptured by you. Consumed with the need to touch you, to make you writhe and moan and bend to his will. He was already aching to fuck you but he knew he couldn’t give into his desires too soon. It would be a waste. He needed to know more about the drug’s effects. He needed to test it. He was way too into this, his only way to justify it was to call it an experiment.

“I didn’t even move my fingers and you came?” He was laughing, in awe of how easy that was. He was impressed with himself for making a drug that was able to affect you this much. Even if it was by accident.

You were still reeling, because, well he still hadn’t removed his fingers from you.

He got an evil smile on his face, downright diabolical. Your eyes widened a bit in fear. Whatever he was thinking it couldn’t be good.

“Surely, you understand. I made this drug by accident but…” he took a long pause, purposefully keeping you in suspense, drinking in the fear in your eyes. “It would be a waste to not test all the effects of the drug. I’ll need to collect as much data as possible.”

Without removing his fingers from you, he brought his thumb up to press on your clit. Your body jolted, back arched and trying to cling at anything under you, only for your hands to scramble at the cold table below you.

“So reactive.” He purred, starting to rub your clit in tight circles while he slowly pushed his fingers in and out. “Such a good whore.”

Your cunt twitched when you heard his words, already wanting to come again, craving it more than anything else.

“Oh, you liked that did you?” He leaned down, getting closer to your face again. “You like being called a whore.”

All you could do was shake your head, biting your lip hard enough to make it bleed to avoid moaning for him.

“No?” His voice was mocking. “You don’t like it? You don’t like being called a whore?” He started pounding your pussy with his fingers. “You don’t like it when I talk to you like the dirty fucking slut you are?”

Your stomach was tightening again. You could try to deny it verbally all you wanted, but each time he called you a whore you got closer and closer to the edge until you broke again. It felt so good, too good even. You felt like you were losing your mind.

He could feel you coming again, but he didn’t stop. He wanted to see just how far he could push you. What would your reaction be? Would you break and beg him to fuck you? Would you have tears running down your pretty face as you spread your legs wide for him?

“I can tell you’re coming again. You still wanna act like you don’t like being called a whore?”

You weakly gripped his arm that was pumping his fingers in and out of your cunt. “Please…. I can’t stop-”

“I don’t care that you can’t stop coming. Be honest. You like being called a whore.”

You shook your head again, a strangled moan escaping you when he pressed on your clit even harder. “Yeah, you like it. Nod your head and admit you like being called a whore. Nod your pretty little head.”

You began to nod your head weakly.

“That’s it. Good girl. Good fucking girl.” He shoved your bra up with his free hand, wasting no time latching onto your nipple and sucking hard. All the while, he was still moving his fingers.

Somehow it felt even better, and you wanted him to never stop. The feeling was addictive. Your body felt so different than usual. You were insatiable.

“Fuck…! Sso good…” your words started slurring, your brain feeling fuzzy. You were like a fountain, each thrust of his fingers causing more of your arousal to spill out of you.

He let go of your chest to wrap his hand around your neck. “You’re hopeless, you know that? Just a pathetic, helpless little girl who can’t help but get wetter and wetter. Cause I’m fucking you with my fingers, isn’t that right?”

You started to choke and gasp for air, but it only made your cunt tingle.

“I could fucking kill you right now. Do you get that? Do you even have a brain up there in that pretty little head?” His sharp eyes bore into your glazed ones, trying to fight from rolling them back.

“Don’t…. sstop.” You moaned out in a choked voice.

He laughed in amazement at your state. “Is this all you care about?” He said, pushing against your g-spot extra hard. “You don’t even care if I kill you.”

He was being so cruel, so awful, and yet it only felt better and better. A huge orgasm finally hit you and you felt a gushing heat release from you.

Watching you come so hard from being choked and threatened made his cock throb, a screaming reminder of how painfully hard he was. He couldn’t take it anymore.

He quickly unbuckled his belt, sliding it off and throwing it to the side. You eyed him while he pulled out his cock, dripping onto the table in anticipation.

You found yourself craving the cock of the guy who kidnapped you. More than you’ve ever craved anything before. Consequences be damned. You needed this.

He needed it too. You could see it on his face, just how worked up you were making him. It made you want him even more.

He ran his hot hard cock up your slit, coating himself in your wetness. He bit his lip, trying to stifle his groan. He ran it over your clit a few times just to tease you before pushing into your entrance.

He took a deep breath, pushing in slowly. Your cunt was sucking him in and it felt so good, but he didn’t want you to realize how much you were affecting him.

Meanwhile, the stretch of him was putting you into a state of euphoria. You could feel his thick cock throbbing inside of you.

He pulled back slowly, letting you feel every inch leave and the emptiness that followed. It only lasted for a split second before he rammed back into you, setting a brutal pace.

You spread your legs wider, addicted to the feeling. You’d already came so many times and yet you weren’t satisfied. You needed it again.

Your body was starting to tense, quickly gaining the feeling again.

“Are you about to come already?” He asked aggressively, while you were completely fucked out, only able to focus on the feeling of his cock. “Hey.” He growled out, his voice sounding low and gritty. “Don’t you dare come again, you’ve came enough.”

You whimpered, knowing that he was fully serious. “What?” You whined. “But- I can’t- I just-” There were tears brimming in your eyes. “Please?” Your voice became whinier as you frantically tried to get permission.

“Look at me.” He demanded. “I control when you come. Understand? You only come when I allow you to.”

You tried. You really did. But his cock was hitting just the right spot, over and over. “Please. Please just let me-” You couldn’t even finish your sentence as your orgasm washed over you.

He felt you tightening around him, reveling in the feeling as he stopped moving. However, he was angry. Pissed even. You weren’t able to follow even the simplest of instructions.

He pulled out, yanking you up and pushing you to your knees on the floor. He grabbed your face, forcing you to look up at him as he towered over you. “You think you just get to come whenever you want? You think just because you’re a little pretty I’ll go easy on you?”

He spoke again before you could even try to explain yourself. “You’re no better than a fucking animal.”

He pressed down on your lower lip. “Open.” His authoritative tone left no room for disobedience. You obliged, taking his cock in your mouth.

“Suck.” He commanded.

You could taste yourself on his cock as you started bobbing your head. It was humiliating and yet… you were only getting wetter, dripping onto the floor. He was right, you were acting like an animal.

“Does sucking my cock make you that wet?” He laced his fingers into your hair, forcing you down on his cock. “Fuck… you look so good.”

You gagged on his cock, tears brimming in your eyes but you still made eye contact with him. “You’re acting like a perfect little slut right now.”

“Do you wanna come?” He taunted. “Why don’t you use your own fingers? Slide your little fingers into your cunt while you choke on my cock.”

You hesitated, not sure if he was really going to let you. Your fingers lightly brushed over your clit, causing you to moan on his cock. You needed to come.

“Yeah, fuck yourself with your fingers.” He encouraged. “Make yourself come while you suck me off. You have my permission.”

You filled yourself with your fingers, moaning when you hit your g-spot. Your fingers weren’t as long and thick as his, but it would have to do.

He groaned when you moaned around his cock, the vibrations making him shiver.

He was fucking your throat at this point, his tight grip in your hair almost as painful as his cock hitting the back of your throat, but you could barely feel it. The pain was insignificant compared to the way your cunt was tingling. Both your drool and your arousal were dripping onto the floor.

“Look at how messy you are.” He laughed. “You look like such a whore right now.”

You kept pumping your fingers into your pussy hard, desperate to come again.

“C’mon you can do better than that. Show me how much you want it. Grind your little pussy on your hand and come.” You obeyed, bucking your hips forward to reach deeper inside yourself.

With his permission, you released around your fingers. He pulled out of your mouth, getting too close to coming himself.

“You thought you could make me come in your mouth?” He pulled you back up onto the table. “If I’m coming anywhere, it’ll be inside your cute little cunt.” He pushed inside of you with no warning.

“That’s what you want isn’t it? You want me to come inside your pathetic pussy? You want me to make a mess out of you?” He gripped your hips hard enough to leave bruises. “Nod your head. You answer when I ask you a question.”

You nodded your head, your cunt becoming numb with pleasure. Your head felt like TV static as he pounded you again.

“You want me to use you huh? This is what you want. You want me to fucking break you.” He kept rambling on. “Look at your dumb fucking face. You’re so fucking pathetic.”

You had but a moment of sentience. Enough to try to say anything to put him in his place. “Well what- fuck….! ….about you? You’re not even on a drug.” You panted heavily in between your words. “You’re fucking me because you want to.”

He slapped you across the face. “Shut your whore mouth.” The look in his eyes alone was enough to make you wish you were dead.

Your bones chilled like ice and you remembered why you should fear this man.

He gripped your throat, his eyes piercing into your very soul. “You think I like this as much as you do? You think I need this as much as you do?”

You were stunned to silence, only able to make sounds of pleasure.

“You think you can manipulate me like this? You think this will make me want to let you go?” His cock was slamming into you hard. “I will never. Fucking. Let. You. Go.” Each word was punctuated with his cock pounding into you.

“You’ve given me a new obsession I hope you know.” He was sounding more and more insane as he went on. “I’m going to keep you and test more of these on you over and over until you fucking break.”

“Ahh, fuck, you wrap around me so good.” He growled. “You’re gonna make me fucking come inside you.”

You were so high off his cock that really anything he was saying to you was just noise to you. Nothing else really mattered if you could get him to keep fucking you.

“Kiss me…”

“You want a kiss? That’s all you want?” He leaned down, joining his lips with yours as he fucked you at a slow steady pace. His tongue intertwined with yours sloppily.

He pulled away after a few moments, panting heavily. His thrusts were getting erratic and you knew he was close to coming.

“God… your fucking cunt is perfect.” He buried his face in your neck, his voice cracking as he pulled your body closer to his, your chests pressing against each other.

“Come for me again. Be my good girl. Please.” He almost whimpered, your cunt already milking his cock, begging for his cum.

He bit down on your neck as he came inside, making a mess of your cunt.

It was only then, that with him panting on top of you, holding you close, that you finally felt satisfied.

—

You were sitting in the lab, curled up contently in the corner. It’s where you spent most of your time these days. There were other places to go but why would you want to be anywhere where Cody wasn’t?

Plus, he didn’t really mind it. You were his precious lab assistant after all.

You tried to keep up with what he was working on, but most of the time his thoughts were a little too all over the place to follow. So you were happy with just being in each other’s presence, occasionally glancing up to watch him work on his projects.

He suddenly stood up, catching your attention. He turned towards you with a telling smile on his face.

“I’ve got something for you.”

“Is that why you’ve been up for days?” You asked. He had the tendency to get a little too invested in this work, skipping regular meals and sleeping.

He dodged the question, pulling out his latest creation. “This time, it’s a pill. Since you always complain about the needle.”

You stuck your tongue out, eagerly waiting for him to give it to you. He smiled at you, placing it on his tongue and connecting his lips with yours.

You swallowed the pill, already eager about its effects.

He towered over where you were sitting, lifting your chin up. “Let’s get started.”

Like okay MEOW like I made him so sassyyyy what. Like when I was going back and editing this I was like omg Cody stopppppppp~ He's very different from any of the other characters, like I feel like he's not quite as impulsive as Jeff or Toby so he wouldn't like immediately try to fuck you. Like this man would have every intent to kill you. That's why it was so fun to write him slowly devolving and losing control like I had the time of my life with this one.

Feel free to leave me feedback/constructive criticism in the comments! I always love seeing people's thoughts!

~pls remember to distinguish fiction from reality

[godmadeaterribleerror]

Chapter 6 - It Rises Fast

Series Masterlist - Main Masterlist

Author's Note: Me not include pop culture references in my writing: impossible. I'm channeling my inner Marvel studios writer. Enjoy!

Chapter Title from Labyrinth by Taylor Swift

Word Count: 11.9k

Chapter Summary/Warnings: A few steps forward. Contains usual tags.

Tags: Bucky Barnes/Female Reader, enemies to friends to lovers, canon divergence, slow burn, smut, angst, fluff

Chapter 5 - Chapter 7

Read on A03!

“Take off your shoes.”

Bucky frowns at you from the doorway. “What.”

“Shoes.” You raise your brows at him, not bothering to hide the smile tugging at your lips. “They’re these things you put on your feet, for walking around outside-“

“I know what shoes are,” he grumbles your name, his grip on the strap of his bag tightening until the cloth is scrunched. “I’m not taking mine off.”

“Then you’re not coming inside.”

“That’s ridiculous-“

“Maybe,” you shrug. “Doesn’t matter though. My apartment. No shoes.”

Bucky’s scowl deepens. “Why.”

“Because I said so.”

“That’s not an answer, sweetheart-“

“Isn’t it?” You wrinkle your nose at him, remaining planted in his path, and you’re going to win this stare off.

You haven’t won anything in a while, but you’re going to win this. Bucky isn’t setting a damn foot in your apartment with his muddied boots, because you’ll have to clean it up, and you’re not good at cleaning things up, and if the Boy eats the dirt that will be a whole thing for you to deal with.

There is not enough time to deal with more things.

And you really need this small, pointless victory against Bucky. Where he just takes off his shoes and comes inside, because he’s won everything else in the past week, and he doesn’t need this like you do. 

The victory. You need the victory.

Not his company. 

You don’t need Bucky’s company. It might no longer be crawling over your skin to speak to him, it might even be an odd relief to be around him, but you don’t need his company.

You may be starting to trust him more than most other people, enough that you’re allowing him into your apartment, but that doesn’t mean you need him. In any way. At all. 

You’ve worked very, very fucking hard not to need anyone but yourself. You’ve bled and remodeled everything in your body so you can power yourself wherever you could, and Bucky does not get to ruin that. He doesn’t get to take care of you once—it’s his job, he did it because it’s his job, not because it’s you—and just burrow his way right into your life.

He can still see right through you, and that’s dangerous, not good.

You never have to swallow your thoughts or chose your words around him—like you’re choosing a weapon—but that’s just because it would be a waste of energy. No point in putting on the Show when no one’s watching. When you try to tell him I can do this, and he’s looking right into you and know that’s a lie.

It hadn’t been a fluke, at the theatre. You hadn’t been okay. You’d been crumbling and fraying apart into nothing, and you couldn’t have stayed there, or you would’ve passed out. You had still be able to taste your own bile on your tongue, still been able to hear his voice scraping in your ears.

“I- You have to come home.” You’d whispered into the phone, your dress scrunched at your feet.

Bucky wouldn’t burst back into the bathroom. You were pretty sure he wouldn’t. There was no reason for him to.

You kept an eye on the door anyway. Just in case.

“I don’t need to do anything, honey-“

“Please. I- It’s getting bad, and I don’t know how much longer it’ll hold on-“

“Just do the damn future thing-“

“It won’t work-” 

“Course it’ll work, babe, I’m giving you permission-“

“No- It’s-“ You’d let out a long, slow breath, and your brain felt fogged. Heavy. Better, but not enough. “You need to come home. Please. I- I’ll do anything you want, but I can’t make it another week, Miles, I- I really don’t feel well-“

“You never feel well.” He’d snapped into the phone. You’d been able to hear the distain in his voice, and you deserved it, but you couldn’t keep going.

The time between episodes was shorter. The pain was longer, and worse, and you’d almost passed out two or three times in the theatre box. You’d had to keep looking back to check that Bucky was still there, because—and the asshole never gets to know this—it had been reassuring. If you passed out, he’d get you out safe. He was good at his job, and he always caught you on the subway, and Hydra hadn’t gotten to you yet, so you’d be fine. 

As long as Bucky was around, nothing was going to get to you. 

Which was incredibly annoying.

You hated it when Sam was right. 

“I need you home,” you’d mumbled, clutching your stomach as it growled with hunger, then twisted with pain. Or at the idea of Miles being home.

Maybe both.

But the bond was breaking. This was a place that you didn’t have the luxury of choice. 

So you begged.

“Please, I- We can do whatever you want while you’re back, go anywhere, I just- I can’t keep this up, it hurts-“

“Fine.” Miles had snapped, and your stomach has twisted again. “I’ll be back on Monday.”

He’d hung up, and you’d let out a long, weak noise of pain, like some kind of dying animal. Bucky hadn’t burst through the door.

Some very hollow, lonely part of you—one that was even more wasteful than the rest of you—had wanted him to. But he hadn’t.

It was good he hadn’t. He would’ve asked questions about what the hell was wrong with you, and why you were still just curled up on the floor, and when you tried to say I’m okay, just catching my breath, he would’ve seen right fucking through it.

And everything was falling apart around you, but you could deal with it. You’ve always dealt with it, alone, so you did not need Bucky.

“If I take my shoes off,” he mutters, watching you carefully from the door. “That’s it. I’m allowed inside.”

“Yep.”

He narrows his eyes, scanning over your best, completely casual face, and you’re not sure what he’s looking for. If this is a trick, if there’s a little hidden caveat about your words where he’ll end up banished into the hall, if you’re just making fun of him, or hiding glass on the floor to hurt him.

You wouldn’t do that. You just don’t want shoes in your apartment. And you think he knows that, because Bucky grunts and drops his bag in the doorway, kneeling down to remove his boots.

It gives you time to glance over your shoulder, and do one last quick sweep of your handiwork.

You’d cleaned, before he arrived. Not because it was Bucky that was arriving, but because you didn’t need him to see more of you than he already could. Bucky doesn’t need to notice the pile of dishes in the sink—nobody would eat off them but you anyways, and you could survive a dirty plate—or all the laundry on the floor from when you’d been too tired to bother putting it in the basket.

He’d just see that you didn’t care enough to clean for yourself.

You don’t need that.

And he especially doesn’t need to see the Hydra papers, resting on the kitchen counter only an hour ago and covered in your handwriting and pointless attempts to crack the code. You’d hidden them in your bedroom, with the sweater he’d given you at the diner.

You were trying not to think about that part. How you wanted to keep Bucky’s sweater, and there was no good reason for it. It was a nice sweater, but you had nice sweaters. It smelled good, too, but that didn’t matter. It was warmer than all your other sweaters, but the heat would fade the longer Bucky was away from it. 

You didn’t need Bucky’s sweater. It was weird to keep it. 

But you’d still picked it up as you cleaned, looked at it for a long moment, and thrown it into the back closet without a second thought.

If Bucky asks for it, you’ll go grab it. You’d only hid it from Miles.

He wouldn’t like you having a men’s sweater that wasn’t his. And you’d needed to clean overall, for when he got back. He won’t be kind about mess you’d declined into, all on your own, and it was a leverage you couldn’t offer him. He already had one noose around your neck. Seeing how pathetic you were on your own would only offer him another rope to try and drag you away from the only good, useful parts of you. Of your life. 

You couldn’t be dragged away. You were only still moving because of those pieces of your life. The parts that weren’t for you, that you’d tricked other people into needing you for. 

If Miles got the final say and made you leave, you’d be stripped raw, left alone.

No more Sam, no more work, no more-

Bucky doesn’t get to be on that list.

He is. You’re less lonely when you’re around him—there’s something comforting about know he’s going to be there, all the fucking time—but Bucky doesn’t get to know that.

He doesn’t get to know why you caved for the security. That you’d been sick and tired and cold, and Miles had texted that he bought his tickets home, and you didn’t want to be alone. Even if Bucky never looked at the cameras, at least you’d know you weren’t completely, totally alone. 

You don’t think he’ll ask why you changed your mind. He hadn’t at the diner.

You don’t have a good, convincing lie if he does.

You’ll figure it out, if you have to. You’ll talk in circles around him until he drops it, throw his every question back in his face with spitting words, and try not to let it eat you that he doesn’t even flinch.

He never flinches. You’re a crude, worthless little animal, but Bucky never fucking flinches.

Even now he pushes back to his feet with a neutral expression, scanning silently over your apartment, and sets his boots neatly off to the side.

“This is your apartment.”

You hum, nodding. “It’s not clean. Sorry.”

Bucky doesn’t need to know that this is clean. 

The way his lips twitch slightly make you this that he already does.

“You want to show me around?”

“Do I have to?”

“If you want the cameras in, yeah.”

You frown at him. “Don’t you have the blueprints?”

“I do.” He shrugs, still not moving from his place in the doorway. “It’s rude to just walk around someone’s house, kid. Don’t know if anyone’s told you that yet.”

“What are you, a vampire?”

“Why, you keepin’ garlic and a cross ready for me?”

Bucky holds your gaze, that fucking smile pulling at his lips, and he won, but this doesn’t feel like you lost. He’s joking with you. Relaxed.

Grinning.

If you stay in this second too long, it feels like you’ll be trapped in it. Like everything will still and slow until it’s just a picture.

You’d felt that at the diner. This odd, delicate sensation like mist through your blood, born from Bucky grinning at you.

You scoff, breaking the spell, and time keeps moving like nothing happened at all.

“Shut up.” You side-step, opening his path inside. “C’mon.”

It’s a quick tour. Bedrooms. Bathrooms. Living room and kitchen, office, roof.

“Close the door when you’re up here.” You mutter, rubbing your arms as the wind bites at your skin. “I don’t want the Boy falling off the roof.”

Bucky blinks at you. “The boy?”

“My cat. He’s an idiot.”

“Your cat is named boy-“

“No. Follow me.”

Bucky rolls his eyes, but trails after you, back down the stairs.

And he closes the door behind him.

“Why didn’t I know you had a cat?”

You shrug, glancing at him over your shoulder. He’s frowning, like this is, somehow, an actual problem. “You never asked.”

“You talk all the damn time, would’ve thought you’d mention a cat by now-“

“I talk all the time because it’s my job, not to share everything about my life.”

Bucky scoffs behind you. “You do share everything about your life.”

“No, I-“

“You didn’t go to college. You have siblings, but your parents are dead, and you used to date around a lot before the Blip.” Bucky talks right over you, and it’s enough to make you stumble. 

He catches you, with an arm on your wrist, before you can fall down the stair.

And he just keeps talking.

“You met Sam when you were pretty young, you like a lot of stupid things, but you won’t apologize for it, and you can’t speak Mandarin.”

You manage to roll your eyes at the last one, even as Bucky keeps staring into you. All the way into you.

Right down to your rolling, wrecked and glinting core, without ever flinching or wavering away.

“That last one doesn’t count.” You grumble. “You could’ve guessed it.”

“But I didn’t.” He shrugs. “You tell me everything, do- Butterfly, and you didn’t ever mention you had a cat.”

You blink at him. “Butterfly?”

Bucky frowns at you, every line of his face deepening, and for a second you think he didn’t hear himself. 

Then he glances down at your wrist, releases it, and shakes his head to himself.

“Yeah.” He shoots you a challenging glare. “You got a problem with it?”

You do. It’s not one you can articulate, but it makes something like molten iron settle over your skin, and you don’t like how normal it feels to be there. To hear him. To look at Bucky and not turn away.

“Shut up.” You mutter, and start back down the stairs. ‘You’ve got camera to install, James. Focus.”

He does focus. Bucky sets up a little camp of metal and wires and other, black and gray camera parts, and gets to work on what he’s actually here for.

But he doesn’t drop the cat thing, either.

“What his real name?”

You frown up from your laptop, and Bucky hasn’t even look away from his work. “What?”

“Your cat.” He grunts. “What’s his real name.”

“Don’t worry about it.” 

He shoots you a glare. “I’m not worried. I want to know your cat’s name.”

You shake your head. “You have to earn the Boy’s name. He has to like you.”

“Then where is he.”

“Hiding.” You shrug. “You’re being loud, Bucky. He doesn’t like it.”

Bucky’s facing away from you, but you can still hear his scowl. “How the hell am I supposed to get him to like me if he won’t come out.”

You can’t stop your snort. “You like cats, Bucky?”

“Yes. They’re good animals.”

You hum, fidgeting with your hair as he continues to work on the camera. “What constitutes a bad animal?”

Bucky pauses for a second, and he seems to be actually thinking about his answer before he grunts, “I don’t know. But cats are good.”

“I mean, yeah.” You hum, leaning back in your chair. “Have you ever had a cat?”

“No. I was poor, and then I didn’t get to have anything.”

“Wow, that’s a bummer.” 

Bucky lets out a long, heavy breath, and you make sure your grin is a little softer when he glares at you again.

“There’s no good response for me to have there, James.” You hum, raising your brows at him. “How would you feel if you asked me something and I gave that answer-“

“You do that all the time.” He snaps, and you frown at him.

“No, I don’t-“

“Yes, you do.” His tone is the same smug one, from only minutes ago on the stairs, and when Bucky turns back to his work, and you could swear there was a smirk on his face before it moved from your view. “All the time.”

“No-“

“How do you think I knew all that stuff about you, kid? One time I asked you why you were walking around like a zombie, and you said cause you slept on the bathroom floor.”

You don’t remember saying that. But it does happen often enough, and you have developed a dangerous habit of just telling Bucky things.

And Bucky doesn’t lie about that stuff. You think he doesn’t see the point in it.

“Oh. I’m-“

“I do it too.” Bucky shrugs, cutting off your apology before it can leave your mouth. “My therapist says it’s me tryin’ to push people away.”

“You have a therapist-“

“Court-mandated.”

You blink at his back. “Huh.”

“Yeah.”

“So you didn’t have a pet?”

He snorts, climbing back down his ladder. “No, I didn’t. But Steve used to make be feed ducks and rats with him. One of the ducks would follow me around, too.”

You hum, watching him grab more of his weird little scraps and twirling your hair between your fingers.

His voice really is nice, when it’s just talking. It’s smooth. Like a river, or soft air.

You’d like to hear it a little more.

“You name your duck?”

He raises his brows at you. “You name your cat?”

“Shut up.” You mutter. “Are these cameras up to code?”

Bucky gives you an odd look. “Do you care?”

“No.”

He smirks. “Thought so.”

“I said shut up-“

“Follow your own advice first, butterfly.”

That seems to be sticking. It’s sinking into your skin, along with the deeper, smoother part of his voice, and it’s dangerous. 

“Did you name your duck?”

Bucky sighs, scanning over you with a frown, and you give him your most trustworthy, sweet and innocent look. His eyes flash, and you know he sees right through it. 

It doesn’t seem to really matter.

“Named it Glinda.” He mutters, frowning at the parts in his hand, and you chew on your lip as his words click together in your head.

“Like-“

“From the Wizard of Oz book. Loved that book.” Bucky pauses, and the look he gives you isn’t as cautious as before. It’s not open, but it’s not guarded either. Like he’s offering you something, and you’re really not sure what. “She had pink feet.”

You shrug, giving him a small smile. “Many ducks do.”

Bucky’s  mouth twitches, but it’s all you get. “What about your cat, you gonna-“

“I told you, Bucky, you gotta earn it.“

“Well, tell me what he looks like, then.” Bucky turns around, heading back to his ladder. “So I can keep an eye out.”

“He’s black.”

“Ah. That makes sense.”

You frown at his back. “What’s that supposed to mean-“

“You seem like a black cat person, butterfly.”

He needs to stop calling you that. It’s doing soothing things to the rope around your throat, strangling you more and more as the hours pass by.

The close Miles gets to coming home.

“I’m not insulting you.” He adds, before you can insist that he elaborate on the exact meaning black cat person. “So don’t throw anything at me.”

You scoff. “I wasn’t going to throw anything at you-“

Bucky only hums. “Whatever you say, sweetheart.”

He’s relenting really fast. 

You still scowl at his back.

And the apartment falls into silence for a long, moment, and you don’t hate it—it’s not a silence that’s scratching at your ears, demanding you try to do more than just sit here and watch Bucky—and that’s worse than starting to like Bucky’s voice.

“So you liked the Wizard of Oz?”

He sighs. “Yes.”

You hum, hiking one knee up to your chest. “You should read Wicked.”

“I don’t know what that is,” Bucky drawls your name, and you roll your eyes.

“It’s a book-“

“I coulda gotten that myself-“

“Based on the Wizard of Oz.” You snap. “It’s following the Wicked Witch. There’s a musical, too-“

“Stop trying to make me like musicals.”

“I’m not trying to make you do anything, James, I think you’d really like the Wicked book, and also some other, completely unrelated musicals-“

“If you suggest Mamma Mia one more time.” Bucky turns back around, pointing whatever pointy tool is in his hand at you with a glower. “I’m not finishing these stupid cameras.”

You give him a dry, amused look. “We both know that’s not true.”

Nostril flare. You win. “Yeah, well, I’m still not watching it-“

“And that’s a you mistake to make,” you shrug. “But, I wasn’t going to recommend Mamma Mia. I was going to recommend the Lion King.”

Bucky’s jaw twitches. “The what.”

“Lion King-“

“What is that.”

“It’s like Hamlet, but cats.”

He rolls his eyes, returning to the camera. “That sounds… strange.”

“Most things are.” You hum, glancing back down to your computer. 

You haven’t written an email in an hour. You’re not behind, but you’re not ahead, either, and you need to be ahead because when Miles comes back, you’ll have to take the whole week, so you’ll fall behind, and you’re not useful if you fall behind-

“I think you’re a black cat person because you’re smart.”

“What?” Your attention rips away from your computer, and Bucky just shrugs.

He took off his jacket, to work. 

You can see all the muscles in his back, flexing with the movement.

“People don’t like black cats cause of all those superstitions. You’re too smart to fall for that shit. They’re just cats.”

Your grin splits over your face before you can stop it, and there’s an odd, soft warmth to the feeling. “You think I’m smart-“

“You think you’re smart, butterfly.” Bucky’s tone is dry. You really wish you could see his face. “I’ve heard you call yourself a genius.”

“I was joking, though. You think I’m smart.”

“Yeah, I do. Because I’m not blind and deaf. Throw me the pliers, kid.”

“Wha-“

“The pliers.” Bucky twists on the ladder, nodding to his tool set. “I need them. Toss them up.”

You roll your eyes, but push out of your seat all the same, grabbing Bucky’s pliers and walking over to the ladder to pass them over.

Bucky frowns at you as he takes them. “I could’ve caught them. ‘S why I said to throw them.”

“I couldn’t throw them.” You snap. “I have shit aim, Barnes.”

“Well, you seem to manage to hit me just fine. Dead in the face.”

“And I’m aiming for your chest.”

That pulls a short, deep laugh from his chest, and it almost echoes through the apartment. Through your skull. Through your bones.

It’s a strong laugh. And it’s real. It’s not a show to make you think you’re entertaining, to try and warp you into whatever pliant thing he needs. It’s a laugh you trust, that you like, that you want to hear again.

Shit.

“If you could have a pet.” You stand at the base of the ladder, and it feels like roots are growing over your legs. Keeping you near Bucky. “What would you want?”

He grunts. “I don’t need a pet right now-“

“I’m not offering a pet right now, I’m just asking a question. Any animal, which one?”

Bucky pauses, looking down at you with a frown. “Any animal?”

“Yep.”

“Cat.”

You give him a flat look. “Really, Bucky.”

“Yeah, am I supposed to say ostrich or something?”

“No.” You shrug. “I’m just getting worried you’re going to steal my cat.”

“I’m not gonna steal your cat,” He drawls your name, and he’s gotten really good at saying it. It’s making you lean a little further into the ladder, even though he told you earlier you didn’t need to steady it. “I don’t think it’s real.”

“My cat is real-“

“He doesn’t have a name, sweetheart.”

“He has a name-“

Bucky shakes his head. “I think you lied, couldn’t think of anything but Boy in the moment, and now you’re tryin’ to come up with something better.”

“That’s a stupid thing to lie about-“

He laughs again. Your grip on the ladder tightens. “You’ve lied about stupider.”

“Yeah, but I was joking.” You grumble, glaring up at him, “I have a cat, James.”

“Sure, kid.”

You scowl at him. He sounds bored, and passive, and you can hear his stupid smirk, and he’s saying and doing all the right things to light up your every nerve, to make all the boiling, bursting, loud and demanding pieces of you push to the surface. 

“Stop doing that.”

“I’m not doing anything. Well,” he pauses, grinning down at you. Grinning. That’s a grin. “I’m installing the cameras, like you asked, but that’s it.”

He knows what he’s doing. You hold his gaze, and he’s looking right into you, just like always, and he knows what he’s fucking doing. 

“My cat is real.”

“Sure.”

“I told you, Barnes, he just doesn’t like loud things-“

“That makes two of us.”

You frown up at him. “What-“

“Done.” Bucky starts to climb back down the ladder, looking around the rest of your living area with a drawn brow. “What next.”

“I was going to get us food. What do you mean, loud things-“

Bucky cuts you off with a shake of his head. “You don’t need to cook for me. I’m not that hungry, anyway-“

“I’m not cooking for you,” you stick your tongue out at him, whacking his chest before you can stop yourself.

Bucky doesn’t flinch. Or look away.

But, for a second, you could swear his jaw clenches, and his ears turned a little red.

“Then what are you-“

“We’re ordering.” You shrug. “I told you, we’re diversifying you palette. No more war rations.”

“Oatmeal is not war rations.”

“Yeah, but I’ll shoot myself before I eat it.” You pull out your phone, and Bucky rolls his eyes.

“That’s a little dramatic, sweetheart.”

You ignore him, scanning over the open restaurants on the screen. “How do you feel about spice, Sargent Barnes?”

He doesn’t answer, and when you look back up at him, his arms are crossed back over his chest, and his whole body is braced. He’s staring again. Unblinking, right into you, making that unwavering heat settle right back over your skin. 

“Buck-“

“I can handle spice.” He grunts, marching past you, back to his tools.

His shoulder brushes yours on the way past. 

It feels like it seeps him into your skin, and leaves a tattoo. 

Not a brand. A brand would hurt, and sear, and you’d be scratching to try and remove it.

With this, with Bucky, you just stare at him, sorting through his tools with a scowl.

His arms look strong, too.

“You, uh,” you clear your throat, and it feels like something is being evaporated in your gut. “You sure?”

“I lived in Wakanda.” He grunts. “I’m a super-solider. Spice is fine.”

You nod, and Bucky better not notice how you’re suddenly dead quiet, trying to grab the soft, colorful mist that’s moving up your spine and shove it back down wherever it came from. 

You don’t have a damn clue. 

But it’s making you stare at him longer than you should, and you’re only dragged out of it by Bucky looking back to you. By lighting rushing over your body at the attention, and making you swallow, all your words rushing out without control.

“I, uh, I’ll order then go down to get it, you can keep working on the cameras, and I can read you the menu or make the choice for you, but it’ll take a while to get here, so if you want a drink or something I can try and head to the corner store-“

“You want a drink?”

You shake your head a little weakly. You don’t know what the fuck he’s doing to you, but it needs to stop now.

“Then I’m good. Only drink socially.” Bucky grabs another, half broken camera, and moves on to his next target. “Take a breath, butterfly.”

You’re going to punch him. It won’t hurt him, but it would be cathartic, and it would wipe that casual, easy grin off his stupid, handsome face.

He really does have a nice face, now that you’re looking at him and not trying to pick apart his next move or strategy to break you further down. His features are sharp, firm, almost carved. If you saw him on the subway, you would’ve stared. Would’ve wondered why his eyes looked so heavy, and if—when he smiled—every other part of him would light up as well.

They would. 

When Bucky smiled, you were learning, it would start in his eyes and move out, but only if it was a real smile. The one that had been off-putting at first, and was quickly blooming through with the rest of him. A real smile or laugh, when it was from Bucky, would start in his eyes and move somewhere deep and shimmering in your body.

Only when it was real. Not a part of any show or mask or game, just a teasing comment you made while ordering the food, and a chuckle that rolled through your whole body once more.

And it goes back and forth like that, for a while. Too natural conversation, where you’ve both given up on biting each other in a way that will scar, and now you’re waiting for him to look at you more. For those brief moments while he works and you wait for the food—he let your order for him, and that feels important, but you don’t know how to say why—where he’ll really grin, and laugh, and look at you, and he can see you but it’s making him relax. Making him laugh.

You’re starting to wonder if he’s not seeing as deep as you both seem to think. If there’s one last veil or illusion that you’re putting up, because if he could see the you you—the feral, needy, screaming one—there’s no way he’d be so comfortable. He’d go back to sneering and mocking you, because Bucky knows what evil, twisted liars look like, and that’s what you are. He knows how to put down big, wrong things. He should know how to recognize them, too.

And you’re worse, because nobody made you into what you are. What you struggle and parade around to hide.

But if Bucky can see that, he’s not mentioning it. He’s acting like it’s not there at all.

You can’t bring yourself to point it out to him. Not when you need him- 

To finish the cameras. And stick around so you don’t have to start over on this with some stranger you can’t trust.

You can trust Bucky.

This is getting away from you too fast. Bucky’s grinning at you and you don’t know how to deflect it, because no grin as ever been that strong and moved that fast into your body, as if it’s reinforced and designed to go right into the cavity of that soft, previously untouched part of your body. 

Leaving you vulnerable.

Yet you still trust him. 

When the food arrives, it a relief. You get to wander out and get it, giving you a second where you don’t have to stare at Bucky and think about his smile.

But then it’s silence. And there had been moments of silence in your apartment, but they didn’t hurt, and the silence of the elevator and lobby hurts, and you want to go back to Bucky-

You need to get a grip. You don’t need Bucky.

But he grins at you again, when you return to the apartment. 

And it makes you feel soft. 

That’s going to be a problem.

“What’d you get?” Bucky leans against the counter as you unpack the food, and you pretended you can’t feel his attention all over your skin. 

“Indian. This is yours.” You slide the box across the table. “Wash your hands, James.”

He glances between you, his hands, and the food, and shuffles over to your sink.

“You got a lot of books, butterfly.”

You glance up at him from your stool. “I like to read.”

He shrugs, and the muscles in his back flex again.

You need to stop noticing that. It’s not helpful.

“Most of them look like they’re covered in dust.”

“I don’t have a lot of time.” You mutter, poking at your food as you speak. “If you want to borrow one, you can.”

Bucky shakes his head. “You’re not tricking me into reading, kid.”

“I’m not trying to trick you into reading. And you said you like reading-“

“Yeah, and I’ve read everything I like-“

You snort. “You sound so old.”

He gives you a flat look. “We’ve had this conversation, I am old-“

“Yeah, but you also have to adapt, Bucky. You can’t just stick to the same five books for your whole life.” You wrinkle your nose at your food. “That sounds so boring.”

There’s a pause, and when you look up, Bucky’s giving you an odd look again. 

“It’s more than five.” He grumbles. “And what should I read?”

You open your mouth, then close it, eyeing him carefully. It doesn’t seem like a trap. Bucky doesn’t really trap you with these questions. He doesn’t ever ask things unless he wants to know.

You still need to be careful.

“You really want to know? My opinions?”

Bucky shrugs. “You got opinions, don’t you?”

He doesn’t say that the way most people do. Like it’s a problem. 

So you nod. “Yeah.”

“What are they?”

“I-“ He wants to know. You’re not being too much if he actually asked to know. “You like the Wizard of Oz?”

Bucky nods. “And the Hobbit. Sam mentioned they made more of those books?”

“Yeah, three more. And movies. But you’d hate the Hobbit movie.”

“I hate most movies.”

“You wouldn’t hate Mamma Mia.”

You give Bucky your best winning smile, and there’s his grin again. Real. Starting in his eyes.

“You’ve got a mouth on you, butterfly. Anyone ever tell you that?”

That should’ve struck something wired and spiked in your body. Should’ve made you gnash and claw at him.

Instead, your smile just widens. “Yeah. You.”

He laughs again. There’s the echo, and you don’t think it’s the apartment.

It’s just over that cavity of your chest, before sinking and floating everywhere, until it’s left a depression on something in you. The soft thing.

This is so strange. And really fucking dangerous. You get more vulnerable, more visible, every time Bucky laughs.

You still don’t pull away.

“You really would like Mamma Mia,” you hum, pushing on before Bucky can cut you off. “But for books, you should try Percy Jackson.”

“What’s that.” Bucky mutters, but it’s not hostile. It’s relaxed. Almost curious.

“Children’s book series.”

“I’m not a child-“

“So? Children’s media is often better than adults- Oh, that’s another thing you’d like.” You spin your fork in your hands, and Bucky still doesn’t cut you off. “Avatar.”

Bucky frowns. “Sam showed me that already. With all those dumb-looking blue people.”

“No- I mean, yes, but that’s not the Avatar I’m talking about. Mine animated.”

Bucky nods, his words slow. “And it’s a children’s show.”

“Yep.” You lean forward, holding Bucky’s gaze. “I’m serious, Bucky. You’d like it. If you like fantasy, these are good, and you should avoid things like Game of Thrones.”

“Hm.” Bucky gives you another odd look, brows knitting together. You know this one, now. It means he’s thinking. “Sam said the same thing. Said it was violent. I told him I could handle violence.”

“Yeah, I’m not worried about the violence.”

“Then what are you worried about, butterfly?”

His attention is drilling into you. It’s going to leave a mark.

You still don’t pull away.

“I think you could use things with happy endings.”

Bucky blinks. Nostril flare. 

You surprised him.

“Really.”

“Yep.” You twirl your fingers back between your hair, holding his searing gaze. “Try Star Wars, too.”

Bucky grunts, his attention dropping back down to the plate in front on him, and before he can grumble something about your recommendations and not needing them—even though he asked—the Boy jumps up on the table with a squeak.

He moves right over to you, giving Bucky a distrusting look, and Bucky looks like someone shot him. 

“I told you.” You hum, holding out your hand for the Boy to bump against, and Bucky doesn’t even respond.

It’s almost adorable, the open, nervous look on his face. How he’s gone so still, as he watches the Boy parade around the tabletop. As if he’s afraid that one wrong move will send the Boy scampering off, and that would be the worst thing in the world. 

Then the Boy sits, staring at Bucky with a blank expression, and it’s the funniest thing you’ve ever seen.

Bucky’s in a staring contest with a cat.

The cat is winning. 

Neither of them notice when you sneak out your phone, and take a quick photo. For blackmail.

It doesn’t matter that you’ve never seen Bucky look so relaxed, even as he remains as still as a statue. There’s no tension in his shoulder. No lines on his face. His lips are slightly parted, and he has really nice lips-

Not the point.

“Let him smell you.”

Bucky gives you an almost alarmed look, his voice a hushed whisper. “What?”

“Show him your hand, dummy.” You lean over the table, grabbing Bucky’s flesh hand and pulling it up from the table. 

He doesn’t fight you. There’s a brief second where Bucky’s eyes flick down to where you’re touching him, and you worried you went too far—assumed Bucky would be okay with you touching him when he isn’t, because nobody would want you touching them, not casually when it’s easy, not when they’re Bucky—but then he looks back to the Boy, and lets you hold him forward, right in the Boy’s line of vision.

The Boy sniffs Bucky for half a second, then dips his head down and butts Bucky’s hand without hesitation.

It’s not worth fighting your smile at the look of pure joy on Bucky’s face, as the Boy leans into his touch, demanding more and more attention with every second.

Your cat is a whore. And a traitor. 

And Bucky looks at you with a soft light in his eyes, and you could swear time slows down, just a little, to let your memorize how happy looks on Bucky’s face.

That can’t be good.

Bucky looks back to the Boy—starting to purr and pace over the sit right in front of Bucky’s food—and lowers his voice to a murmur.

“You like me?” He looks back to you, smug glee all of over his stupidly handsome features. “I think he likes me, sweetheart.”

“Congratulations.” Your voice isn’t nearly as dry or flat as you were trying to make it sound. “Am I invited to the wedding?”

“No.” Bucky doesn’t miss a beat, raising his brow expectantly. “What’s his name?”

“Boy.”

“You said you’d tell me,” he drawls your name, still scratching the Boy’s ears. “C’mon. What’s his name.”

You hum, forcing your attention back down to your food. “I’ll tell you next week.”

“That’s not fair-“

“It’s my cat, James.” You give him a sweet smile, rising your brows. “You want my cat’s name? Come back next week to find out.”

Bucky rolls his eyes. “Why next week.”

The air in your apartment feels lighter, and you’re not rotting in the dark, and you’re not alone and it’s in a way that doesn’t hurt. And you don’t have friends, but you do have Bucky-

You can’t say that. It’s insane, and stupid, and everything you’re trying to avoid.

“I’m going to give you some books.” You shrug, poking at some lingering chicken on your plate. “I’ll need them back, with proof you read them.”

“Proof-“

“You’ve been taking college courses.” You give him a pointed look. “Write a book report.”

Bucky gives you a long, assessing look, then mutters, “You’re joking.”

“Yep. I’ll ask you like two questions and then I’ll tell you the Boy’s name.”

Bucky’s brows draw back together, but he seems to physically shake whatever was passing through his head away, and his gaze moves back to the Boy.

“Are you going to tell me your name, buddy?”

You bite on this inside of your cheek, forcing your voice into a drawl. “He can’t talk, Bucky.”

“I’ll get it out of him. I’m a master interrogator, case you forgot.”

That gets a giggle, and it’s just like this for a while. The Boy moves into Bucky’s laps, and you keep talking, and you’re saying everything you think but Bucky’s not cutting you off. He’s jumping in more and more, and bouncing off of you like he’s been doing it a million years, and it’s good.

You’re really, truly, not lonely. The sun has long set, and the pain is still wracking through your body without thought, but sitting in it across from Bucky, trying to convince him to try watching a boring, normal comedy movie when he gets home—although it’s late, and the cameras are long installed, and he’s making any attempts to get up—is a lot better than trying to sit in it alone. 

You’d like to stay here, for a while. And you will. It’s your apartment. But later it will be emptier. 

There will be an equal amount of people, but it will still be emptier. 

You’ll be emptier. And Bucky takes up a lot of space in places you can’t really see. Odd shimmering spaces between the air where everything blurs, and you can feel something running and rolling up your spine to try and grab it, and touch it, and have it, and keep it-

Your phone buzzes on the table, while Bucky’s muttering about how movies haven’t gotten really stupid looking. 

Miles

landing in a hour

see you at baggage

i’m driving back

You frown at the message. Not at the contents of it—you’d known it was coming—but his contact name.

He still has a little heart next to his name. It’s purple, because he says that’s your favorite color. 

It’s not. 

He doesn’t really care. And you’re not allow to remove the heart.

And you have to pick him up. There’s not really a choice. 

There never is. 

So Bucky has to leave.

“What wrong with you.”

You blink up at Bucky, and he’s staring at you again. 

It’s making you boil again, but it’s over your gut. Like sickness.

“I, um-“ You swallow, taking a slow breath. “I- I need to go see someone.“

Bucky raises his brows. “Someone.”

“Yeah.”

“Sam?”

“No.”

“Then-“

“I’ll tell you on Tuesday.”

That makes the lines appear, and Bucky blinks at you with a low, firm voice. 

The commanding voice. 

You’re going to throw up.

“Tuesday.”

You nod, forcing yourself to hold his gaze. “I- You’re getting Monday off.”

“You can’t give me days off, butterfly-“

“I’m visiting someone.” You mumble. “Please. I’ll do the check-ins, I just- I need a day.”

You’re trying to find the way the tell Bucky that it’s not him. That this was alright, and you don’t want him to leave, and if he could actually just snap that his job is guarding you, so he’d not taking the day off because Hydra doesn’t take the day off, you’d really appreciate it.

But he just nods. And stands up. 

There’s no reason for you to tell him. Telling Bucky would be dangerous, and a big part of driving him off in the first place was to prevent him knowing about your situation. 

But you still asked him to install the cameras. 

And his job is to save you from Hydra. Not yourself, or your own choices. 

He hasn’t even saved you from Hydra. No one’s given you any updates, and there’s been no further contact, so really, Bucky’s just followed you around and grumbled and invaded your life like a parasite-

That’s not fair. He’s not a parasite. He didn’t even want you to make him food.

But he’s not your friend, either. You don’t do friends, and Sam and Happy don’t count. You haven’t tricked him, and you like talking to him, and you feel alive without being consumed by it when he’s around, but Bucky’s not your friend.

The rule had been not friends, so no comments on your life or choices, and he’s respecting that. 

Getting his tools and putting on his boots and petting the Boy goodbye, and you’re going to be alone-

You need to get it together. No weakness where it’s visible. Fall apart in the dark. 

Miles is coming home, so you’ll just have to fall apart in the dark.

“I won’t be at work.” You mumble, walking Bucky to the door. “We can meet at the Subway.”

Bucky gives you a blank, unreadable expression. “At the Subway.”

“Yeah, I- The apartment is- Just, the subway is crowded, and it will be-“ You cut yourself off with a frown, scanning over Bucky carefully as things start to draw themselves together in your head.

He’s still just staring at you. 

The subway is crowded. 

Crowded means noise.

And-

“You hate the subway.”

Bucky grunts, pulling his gloves back on. “I hate most things, kid-“

“No, you don’t.” You dismiss him with a hand, because that’s not true. You just spent two hours talking about things Bucky likes, and you’re not stupid. You’ve seen him looking at the art on museum tours. “But you hate the Subway.”

Bucky pauses, giving you an odd look—completely blank, you still don’t know what that one means—and sighs. “I don’t love it. But I’m fine.”

“You said you hate loud things-“

“I do.”

“The subway is loud.” You cross your arms, raising your chin at him. “Why do you hate loud things, James.”

Bucky’s jaw twitches, and the breath he lets out is slow. Controlled. “’S too much. Stressful. The, uh- Shell shock. Doesn’t like it.”

Your stomach clenches, and turn, and you’re a piece of shit. You took it too far. You always fucking take it too far, and if you could look past your fucking self, you would’ve put that together, and never crossed that line, and you’re a blinded, selfish, vile piece of shit.

“We’ll meet at my car.”

Bucky blinks at you. “Wha-“

“We’re driving. On Tuesday.”

“You-“

“Don’t argue with me.” You glance at the clock on the stove. Not enough time.

Miles never likes it when you’re late.

“Yes, ma’am.”

You twist back to glare at Bucky, but that was… sincere. Nothing mocking on his face, or in his tone, and he’s saying that like it’s what you deserve. 

It’s not. Bucky can see you. He should know that.

And at the same time, Bucky calling you ma’am doesn’t set off anything sharp and toothy in your throat. He says it smooth. With a slight accent, and it’s nice to hear, and you feel a little dazed under his attention again.

“See you Tuesday.” Bucky grunts, then looks over your shoulder, directly addressing the Boy. “And you next week.”

Your eyes widen. “The books-“

“Text them to me. That’ll be your morning check-in.” Bucky winks. It’s not hateful, or crude, and you’re dizzy. Just like on the pole in the Subway, but now it’s only Bucky, and you’re dizzy. “I’ll hand in my reports, and you’ll tell me your cat’s fucking name.”

You can’t stop your smile. You have to go.

“Good night, Bucky.” You whisper, and he nods, slinging his bag back over his shoulder.

“Night, Butterfly.”

This is… very confusing. You want him to come back. You don’t need him, but you want him to come back.

But you have other things to worry about.

Other, bigger, deeper graves you’ve dug for yourself, that nobody—no matter how many careful games or tricks you pull—is going to be able to save you from. 

——————

Bucky wasn’t following Her.

He wasn’t.

It was his day off, so he’d moved therapy up. Easier not to cram it in on a video call around midnight. Good reason to break out his motorcycle, and take the long way around the city to get there.

So wasn’t following Her. 

He was passing by Her apartment, and through her neighborhood, for a quick sweep, because it was his job. And She may have given him the day off, but She wasn’t his boss.

She’d texted that She was alive, this morning, but Bucky didn’t trust it. The Moon had been bursting like fireworks in Her eyes, when She’d told him to leave. She’d tensed looking at Her phone, not looking at Bucky. She’d been chewing and turning over Her words before they were spoken, and She’d been reserved, and Bucky was very good at knowing when he wasn’t wanted somewhere.

He’d been wanted there. 

Or, at least, tolerated there. Before the counter had buzzed, he’d been at least tolerated there.

Wanted was generous. 

Most people didn’t want Bucky anywhere.

But most people didn’t talk to Bucky, either. Didn’t listen to him if he wasn’t talking about strategy or Hydra or the Soldat. Even Sam had heard that duck story, a few times, but he’d never asked if Bucky named his duck. 

She asked a lot of stupid questions. Asked them almost as much as She rambled. 

Bucky liked answering Her stupid questions. And Her rambling was nice to listen to. Gave him a good excuse to look at Her.

He’d gotten really bad at not looking at Her.

But he was not following Her.

She just happened to be on the street that Bucky was driving down. That happened. People walked in New York—that’s what sidewalks were for—and She was not an exception from that. Bucky had even picked up that She liked walking. It was a part of the fact that She was never static, and seemed to think that She’d drop dead if she stopped moving. 

She wouldn’t. She’d stopped moving, when Bucky had been at Her apartment. She’d been smiling at him across the counter, and Her fork had been spinning in Her fingers, but Her leg hadn’t even been bouncing. She’d been still, with Bucky, and it hadn’t been about fear or worry or getting that little pout on Her face that meant She was overthinking.

Right up until the end, She’d been relaxed.

But in the quick two or three moment Bucky had seen Her on the street—he’d looped around the block, once or twice, just to check, and it didn’t matter that he’d be late to therapy, because Raynor could goddamn wait—all that ease had been gone from Her body. 

She’d been bouncing on Her feet, and fidgeting with the cuffs of Her fancy jacket, and constantly looking around as if she was afraid of an attack. 

But She wasn’t even alone.

There had been a man, with his arm around Her shoulders, moving her through the crowded sidewalk.

Bucky hadn’t gotten a good look at the man’s face. He’d been wearing sunglasses and a baseball cap, but they were in quality condition. He hadn’t had any dirt on his clothing, either, and if Bucky had to guess the value of his watch—based off only a glimpse—he’d round it to stupid expensive.

The man looked like he ran in Her circle. The one of her office, with all the suits and pressed slacks and upturned noses. Like they were always smelling something bad.

She didn’t do that, though. Bucky had noticed it a little while ago. She’d raise Her chin, but not Her nose. As if She was a commanding officer back in the army, giving or defying an order. 

It was part of that authority aura She had, whenever She moved through the world. And the more Bucky watched it, the less it reminded him of Stark, and the more it seemed like Steve. Authority not by inheritance, but earned. Shoved upon. A higher tension in the shoulders, because Bucky had long learned that people who were born with authority never felt like they needed to hold it. It just was.

People who hadn’t—like Steve—remained tight long after whatever change occurred. It had been damn near eighty years, when Bucky met Steve again, but he’d carried himself the exact same way as in the army. 

And She carried herself the same way.

But She hadn’t in Her apartment, eating some fairly good Indian food and smiling at Bucky.

She didn’t carry it on the street, either. 

She’d been wearing sunglasses, same as the man around Her, but Her lips had been in a thin line, and Her step had been small. Careful. Delicate.

Like prey. Not the predator Bucky was used to.

Less than a doe. Smaller. More nervous in Her steps.

A bunny.

It didn’t suit Her.

The man around Her didn’t really seem to suit Her, either. And that wasn’t any of Bucky’s goddamn business, because today was his day off, and that wasn’t his job anyway.

But he was still thinking about it, in the waiting room of the office. He needed to stop. 

He just couldn’t goddamn work out how. She’d looked so strange, and Bucky had met everyone in Her life by now. The list was short—Sam, Her assistant, Her cat, and that Hogan guy from Stark’s circle—and She would’ve mentioned anyone else by now. 

Especially a man, who put his arm around Her shoulders.

And Bucky would need to know who it was. For Her security. He’d gotten the cameras in Her apartment, asking for one more name of people to monitor shouldn’t be crossing a line.

But there had to be a reason She hadn’t told Bucky about this guy. Bucky couldn’t work out what the reason was, but there had to be one. If the man was important to Her, She’d want Bucky to protect them too. 

Bucky would not protect that man. It wasn’t his job. She was. 

If She asked, he might end up doing it—because She asked, and She always got what She damn wanted—but it wasn’t like he was going to volunteer.

It wasn’t his business. None of this was. He’d installed the cameras, but he wouldn’t check them. She’d kill him, and start trembling again, and Bucky would have to deal with how that made him feel sick. He wouldn’t check them. No matter how much a little voice at the back of his skull was hissing to check them, work out who the hell that guy was, name and profile and history and what he meant to Her-

It didn’t matter what the man meant to Her. It shouldn’t matter. 

Bucky couldn’t stop goddamn thinking about how close they’d been standing together. Really close. And the man had been almost shoving Her through the crowd, which was damn rude, and no way to treat a beautiful woman-

Not his job. 

Not his business. 

Day off. This was Bucky’s day off. He was sitting on this couch, with Steve’s notebook in his pocket, thinking about anything but Her because this was therapy, on his day off.

Raynor’s plant was dying. The leaves were starting to yellow, and wilt.

Bucky kept his gaze trained on that, just to think about anything but Her.

“I hear you have a new job, James.” Raynor raised her brows at Bucky, and he felt his whole body tense. 

Goddamnit.

“Who told you that.” 

“Nobody told me.” Raynor shrugged. “Sam had to file a lot of paperwork for you to move most of your sessions to Zoom.”

“So Sam told you.”

“No, the papers told me.”

Bucky rolled his eyes. “Sam filed the damn papers.”

“James.” Raynor sighed. “We are not here to point fingers, or get into petty arguments about what Sam did or didn’t tell me-“

“So he did tell you-“

“Why don’t you tell me.”

Bucky shrugged. “Nothing to tell. I’m doing Sam a favor. That’s  it.”

“Have you been working on your amends?”

“It’s a full-time gig, doc, and this is part of my amends-“

“How so?”

Bucky paused. It was, technically, classified. And he didn’t love Raynor, but she wasn’t Hydra. He was pretty sure. It was hard to tell, and Bucky didn’t have a perfect track record with being the right amount of paranoid about who and who wasn’t trustworthy-

“I am aware that the job is in relation to your pardon.” Raynor added, and Bucky’s stare must have been going on a creepy amount of time. “And that you will not be able to share specific details.”

“Then why’d you ask how it’s part of my-“

“As I’m sure Sam has told you, amends are not only cleaning up your messes. I am curious as to how this job is affecting you, James. As a person.”

Bucky scowled. This is what he was trying, really fucking hard, not to think about. “It’s not. It’s a job.”

“What is the job?”

“You said you knew, ’s not my problem to explain it-“

“It is in therapy.”

“Just look in the fuckin’ papers Sam sent- C’mon.” Bucky scowled, and Raynor was reaching for the notebook. “This isn’t that big a deal-“

Raynor gave him a flat look. “It is in therapy.”

“Do you know how to say anything else-“

“Yes. Tell me about the job.”

Bucky leaned his head back, squeezing his eyes shut, and a little voice that sounded suspiciously like Her’s was humming in his ears as he tried to find the words.

Tell Raynor how annoying and pretty I am. Tell her that I’m making you feel alive. Oh, tell her about the oatmeal. Does she know you’ve only been eating oatmeal for months? That you only eat real, people food when Sam makes you? She probably doesn’t. You should tell her, or, because it would be really funny, tell her about the duck. See if she asks the name. She won’t, only I have, but that could be a good test to see if it’s actually that big a deal that I asked the name-

“James.”

Bucky blinked, and he’d gotten lost. In the thought of Her.

That wasn’t good.

“It’s a job.” He grunted. The faster this was over, the more he could ward off further thoughts of Her. “Sam’s friend needed a bodyguard, and-“

“Sam’s friend?” Raynor raised her brows. “Had you met them before?”

“No, she doesn’t seem to get out much.”

Raynor hummed, and made a note. Bucky needed to figure out how to read something based off only the moment of the pencil. “Do you get along with her?”

“After she stopped trying to kill me, yeah.”

“Kill you-“

“Metaphorically. She didn’t want a bodyguard. Tried to drive me off.”

Raynor nodded slowly. “Did it work?”

“Still have the job, don’t I?”

“And how does she feel-“ Raynor paused, tilting her head at Bucky. “What’s her name?”

Bucky muttered it—he was getting too good at saying it, and it was straying too far from a codename and into something soft and sweet on his tongue—and Raynor’s eyes widened.

“I recognize that name, what does she-“

“She was in Stark’s circle.” Bucky muttered. “Still runs his charity. CEO.”

Raynor leaned forward. “And how is that for you?”

“It’s nothing.”

“James, Tony Stark tried to kill you. I wasn’t even aware Sam had friends in his circle, that is… odd given Sam’s own history-“

“She and Sam go way back, apparently.” Bucky let out a long, slow breath, and he hoped Raynor didn’t ask how far back. He didn’t know. “And she met Stark during the Blip.”

“How did she-“

“I don’t know her whole life story,” Bucky snapped, and he didn’t, but it also felt wrong to share what She’d told him with Raynor. She wasn’t the one stuck on the couch, and She’d told Bucky all that shit about meeting Stark at the party. Not Raynor. He was trying to keep lines, keep Her trust. He wouldn’t tell Raynor what he didn’t have to. “She worked for Stark. That’s it.”

“And you and she are on… amicable terms?”

He’d call it more than amicable. She smiled and light and warmth flared in his chest, and She’d been smiling a lot in the past few days. 

She hadn’t been smiling, when he’d seen Her on the street. 

Not thinking about that wasn’t working really well right now.

“Yes.”

Raynor hummed, watching Bucky with a careful expression he didn’t love. “Tell me about her.”

Bucky scowled. “Why.”

“She’s a new person in your life. Like I said, amends are not only about moving past the Winter Soldier. It’s about moving forward, as James Barnes, a civilian-“

“I am not a civilian.” Bucky muttered, and Raynor gave him a flat look.

“You understand what I am saying, don’t be pedantic. Tell me about her.”

Raynor said Her name, as if Bucky needed clarification, and he sighed. There was no getting around this. He was too tired to try anyway.

“She’s fine.”

Raynor glared at him, and that obviously wasn’t enough.

He needed to be careful. If he said too much aloud, it would be real.

“She’s…“ Bucky tipped his head back again, running a hand over his face and trying to ignore that voice like Her’s in his ear.

I’m beautiful. I’m funnier than you thought I’d be. I’m kind and it’s not an act. I’m smart. I talk a lot, but you like it, and you like my laugh, and you like how I walk, and you like me, a lot more than you should-

Fuck.

He’d have to get back to that thought later.

“She’s sweet.” He muttered, and he could almost hear Her snort. She was not sweet. She was fiery, and loud, and Bucky liked that a lot more than sweet, but this was not something Raynor needed to know. “Smart.”

Raynor raised her brows. “Did she come around to you working for her?”

“I don’t work for her. I work for Sam.” 

“Well-“

“And she came around.” Bucky shrugged. There was nothing else to say. 

Not that he wanted to share with Raynor.

“How do you feel about her?”

Shit.

“I told you-“

“You said she’s sweet and smart.” Raynor gave him a pointed look. “Those are characteristics. Not your personal feelings.”

Bucky’s hands fisted in his lap. “It’s a job-“

“It’s your first relationship built in isolation of Sam.” Raynor drawled, and Bucky rolled his eyes.

“I only know her cause of Sam-“

“And is that influencing your treatment of each other?”

No. It wasn’t. There had been moments where Bucky forgot She knew Sam, since he’d ruled out Hydra. And when he had remembered, it had become more of an afterthought to Her.

Raynor must have read Bucky’s answer in his silence, because she sounded way too satisfied when she continued. “What do you think of this woman, James. Honesty, please.”

“There- She’s a lady.” He needed to get a grip. She was a lady, maybe the most lady lady he ever meant, but there was more to say. Bucky just didn’t have a damn clue how to say it, or a desire to try. Trying felt like it would break a very dangerous dam in his body.

Raynor wasn’t satisfied.

“Is there any attraction?”

Bucky sat up straight, a little too fast.

Raynor’s eyes widened. 

She’d noticed.

“What’d you mean-“

“I mean physical or emotional desire for closeness.” Raynor said, her words way too damn slow and careful. “If this is the woman I’m thinking of, I’ve seen pictures. I am not trying to make any assumptions-“

“So stop talking.” Bucky grunted. 

He didn’t want to talk about it.

Of course there was goddamn physical attraction. Bucky wasn’t an idiot. He had eyes, and She was inhumanly beautiful. He might not be able to help looking at Her, but he had control of it. Of himself. 

Bucky was in complete fucking control of himself, and Her being pretty was not going to break that.

More than pretty. Her voice hummed, starting somewhere near his heart and traveling up to the base of his skull. The most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen. Mean and delicate. Too easy to like, easier to the job for, and control is overrated anyway-

Control was not overrated. Bucky had it. He needed it. He would not let go of it for one beautiful lady.

“How about we do the exercise.” Raynor’s voice was soft, and she must have put together that Bucky really wasn’t going to entertain this. “Start with your name.”

Bucky let out a long, slow breath. The exercise meant this was almost over, and he’d be able to go back to his empty, lonely apartment. 

“My name is James Buchanan Barnes,” he muttered, holding Raynor’s gaze and keeping his voice bored. “It’s Monday. Your plant is dying.”

Raynor frowned, but Bucky just kept going.

“I like that I got to ride my bike here today, because I haven’t in a while. I don’t like that you didn’t just ask me about my new job over the Zoom calls, because I know you were trying to damn trap me.”

Bucky narrowed his eyes at Raynor, and she just shrugged for him to keep going.

“I need to check my phone.”

“Why?”

Because She should’ve texted with a check-in, but Bucky’s phone hadn’t even buzzed.

“Because I’m expecting a work update.”

Raynor sighed, and if she didn’t believe him, she didn’t push it. “And what you want?”

He wanted to know Her cat’s name. He didn’t know why it was such a big secret. Why he needed to earn it. 

He wanted to earn it.

Fuck.

“I want to go to the library.”

Raynor blinked at that, and Bucky continued before she could cut him off.

“I’m trying to get into reading again.” He muttered, and Raynor nodded slowly.

“That’s good. Personal interests are important to getting better. How about we make your homework getting two books and reading through one of them, and I’ll see you next week.”

“Over Zoom.”

Raynor nodded. “Until you get another day off, over Zoom.”

Bucky grunted, pushed up off the couch, and before he could get out of the office, away from Raynor and her dying plant, Raynor cleared her throat.

“Remember, James.” Raynor gave him one last, firm look. “Feeling things means you are making large steps forward. Try not to fight it.”

He wasn’t fighting it. 

Bucky wasn’t fighting anything.

He knew what Raynor was implying. He wasn’t an idiot. And Her voice had been implying the same thing.

You like me. A lot more than you should.

A crush. That was what the warmth over his skin meant. What it had meant, back in the 40s, before Hydra took simple, useless things like crushes away from him.

He did not have a crush on Her. Physical attraction did not need to mean a crush. He wasn’t even flirting. 

Bucky knew how to flirt. He was good at it. He’d flirt with women in bars on easier nights—he hadn’t done that since he met Her, but that wasn’t important, he’d just been too busy—and he’d flirt with Sarah to get a rise out of Sam. Being able to do that again was just part of the better.

And She was not.

She was just more beautiful than anyone had any right to be, and talking to Her was easier than talking to most anyone, and Her voice sounded like Bucky imagined stars sounded like, and the Moon was locked in her eyes, but that didn’t mean he had a crush. 

That was insane. Irrational. It didn’t fall anywhere into place, so it wasn’t. He didn’t.

She kept washing that bright and warm feeling over his spine, and it was spreading fast through the rest of his body, but that didn’t mean he had a crush. 

He needed to know who the hell She’d been out with, who She’d given Bucky the day off for—following Her around was supposed to be his job—but that was for Her safety.

Not because the idea of Her shaking and feral made his chest and hands strain. Not because seeing Her with the man had set off that twisting gut feeling.

Not because he liked Her.

And Bucky did. Like Her. But that was normal. They spent time together. She was funny, and kind, and somehow drove off all the heavier, darker thoughts from Bucky’s head by being so consuming he couldn’t think about anything but Her, as long as he was in her presence.

And a little while after, too.

Goddamnit.

He needed to find something to do with the rest of his day that wasn’t thinking about Her. About why, when his phone finally buzzed with Her check-in, it was like lighting through his blood.

Sorry. 

I’m alive

See you tmr.

Tmr meant tomorrow. Sam had taught him that one already.

But the message felt too short. Too rushed. And Bucky couldn’t stop picturing the man with Her, and wondering who he was, and trying to stamp it down wasn’t working, and he didn’t have a crush but goddamnit he couldn’t stop fucking thinking about Her-

Control.

He was in control of this. Things were getting better in weird, too-quick ways where She was burrowing into Bucky’s head against his will, but he was still in control.

He didn’t have anything to do for the rest of the day.

Her smile seemed to be imprinted, a little behind his vision. 

Bucky really did want to know the name of Her cat, and he’d gotten two of the books on his drive back, but is brain was too wired to think about something that wasn’t cut and dry and simple. Strategy was simple. It would or wouldn’t work. He used to like reading because it wasn’t like that—there were many possible answers, so Bucky couldn’t be wrong about his—but Raynor had set him on edge, and the thoughts of Her were starting to make him warm again.

She’d said Bucky could use things with happy endings. She’d given him all those recommendations with such fucking certainty, like there was no possible world where She was wrong, and Bucky didn’t like them.

If She was wrong, maybe that would shake Her off Bucky’s thoughts and skin. She would just remain beautiful. Remain a shifting, impossible presence, and not whatever strange animal was capable of invading him like this. In a way he needed to be bothered by, but couldn’t manage to. 

He hoped these movies were shit. Bucky needed them to pass the time and day, and be it. Kill it—thoughts of Her, and Her voice, and the man holding Her closer than Bucky was allowed to be—with apathy and boredom.

That’s why he was doing it. Not because some small, long dead part of him was starting to sing and thaw, and he wanted to test if it could bloom.

She was not the reason Bucky did anything. He would not become just another person who looked at Her and feel for Her grace and beauty and life. 

You could be more. I look at you more, James, don’t I. I smile more. And that weight on my shoulders looked lighter, when you were in my apartment-

Bucky dropped on the couch with a scowl.

This wasn’t for Her. It was for him. To get back in complete, total control.

So for the first time, Bucky sat on his couch, and turned on the TV.

End Note: We're moving to Saturday updates going forwards, just for my own scheduling reasons. This one has been a little slower starting than all my other stories, so I thank you for sticking through the slight plot lull for the relationship development.

Thank you so much for reading!! If you like this story, please reblog, share, or leave a comment! <3

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[awfulalignmentcharts]

what the f%#$ does ____ mean on that stupid ass ship chart

saw a few questions, so ask (the air) and ye shall receive.

top section

"describe their vibe" — you can interpret this at will. it's just a space to put whatever you think encapsulates the vibes of their dynamic/them as a relationship. it can be like a list of tropes, a dumb tweet screenshot, some other type of image, anything really.

everything else should be straightforward lmao.

rest of the shit below the cut so i don't take up your dash space.

continuums section

"repressed vs (sexually) open" — as it sounds. repressed as in like they're a prude or open as in they're down to bang on the regular.

"no libido vs terminally horny" — not horny to very horny lmao

"aggressively romantic vs allergic to PDA" — kinda like how private the character is/how embarrassed are they by the notion of displays of romance. do they prefer lowkey displays of romance or are they dramatic about it?

"(severely) mentally ill vs mentally stable" — fairly self-explanatory. are they full of mental problems or are they actually mentally sound?

"kms'ing over being in love vs blushing giggling twirling hair" — pretty much their reaction to being in love, specifically with the other person. do they hate the fact they love the other person, or are they super giddy that they're in love?

"doomed by the narrative vs blessed by the narrative" — it's a little open to interpretation but my usage of it for individual use is like how fucked over by the canon events are they individually? (if the relationship's doomed, they're probably both on the doomed end; if the relationship ISN'T doomed but one was severely fucked over by the story's events, then they could be in the doomed section while the other one could be hovering elsewhere)

"big spoon vs little spoon" — self-explanatory. it's cuddle time. who's the big spoon, who's the little spoon.

"the weapon vs the wielder" — ngl, this continuum may not actually work too well for some healthier ships, but the general vibe of it is like the weapon is the one who tends to do things at the wielder's behest. the weapon is commonly more of a warrior type, more of the "protector" (and may also have self-worth issues), while the wielder is the one that typically gets protected, may have a great deal of importance for some reason, and is sort of the "user" of the weapon. you're more than welcome to make your own interpretations of it lmao

the pyjamas — based on this image: (who's the sleepy old man with the candle that goes snork mimimimi vs the beautiful wife who's likely also a damsel in distress)

"jealous vs chill" — should be fairly self-explanatory, but like is the person chill with their partner, or do they easily get jealous when the attention isn't on them?

"has zero game vs insane game" — are they bitchless or can they pull bitches? regardless of charisma (or lack thereof), can they actually get laid or not

"functional vs soggy loser" — are they a functional member of society with their shit together or are they born-in-a-wet-cardboard-box, perpetually soggy, capital P Pathetic?

the other shit

"what brings them together?" — what are some reasons that this ship actually has grounds? what do they have going for their relationship?

"what is keeping them/kept them apart?" — were/are there any reasons why they haven't just kissed yet? what are those reasons?

"poorly describe their meetcute" — describe how they met but be funny about it.

"list their reductive fandom tropes/fandom appeal" — reasons why people might ship them or like the ship. (e.g. enemies to lovers, angel and demon dichotomy, etc.)

"who's the armrest?" — two guys. one likes to turn the other into an armrest by sticking their arm on the other's shoulder (or something; done possibly with the intent to annoy). who's the one that's being used as the armrest more often?

"who's the headrest?" — two guys. one puts their head on the other more frequently. who's the one that's more often turned into a head rest?

"who fell first?" — who fell in love first?

"who fell harder?" — who fell in love harder?

"who cooks" — should be obvious lmao

"who cleans up more messes?" — can be literal messes, or who more often deals with the fallout of the bullshit one of them gets up to.

"who's the bigger yearner?" — who yearns more?

"who confessed first?" — should be literal.

touch

should be fairly self-explanatory, but it's kinda like what is or isn't off limits to contact of any form from the other person. say character A is entirely red while character B is entirely purple. A is allergic to any form of contact anywhere from B, while B fucking loves anything from A.

[tomieafterdark]

Toxic!Eren drabble (18+ minors dni) 

Synopsis: you want to break up but your bf is too toxic to allow that. 

Recently I had a conversation with someone and it kind of inspired this drabble (If you feel like Eren is not like canon Eren here, it is because his personality here is also based on whoever inspired this smut), except he did not fuck me after saying he would leak shit if i backstabbed him. Also a tiny disclaimer: I feel like this is obvious but I will say it anyway, everything written in this is purely fictional and should be kept that way. If anyone tries this with you in real life, get help. This is also not an accurate representation of my dynamic with whoever this smut is based on, he just has his “moments” and I like making smut out of them. That is all.

About ten minutes ago, you told Eren you wanted to break up. Things aren’t working out, and he’s way too much for you right now. Instead of having a normal reaction, he does the unthinkable—threatening to leak certain information about you and certain pictures.

It hurts you deeply, not to the core but close enough. Trust isn’t easy to build up, and it was even worse for you considering your past wounds that still haven’t healed. Every bit of trust you had built up just shattered in that moment, as if it was never there to begin with. 

He is dangerously good with words, sometimes it makes you feel like you’re his puppet and he pulls the strings whenever he wants to. Even if you can resist his words, his intense stare will pull you in instead. He has the most beautiful eyes, of course no one can resist their pull. 

When you were upset about him threatening to leak your information and photos, he just started pulling the strings without a care in the world which is what led you here; back arched, face buried in the plushie, whimpering and crying as he pounds you with no mercy. 

Your mind is foggy, you still haven’t processed the words that came out of his mouth when you wanted to break up. You did not, in a million years, expect those words to come out of him. It pretty much feels like a knife to your throat. Just as you are about to get lost in thought and perhaps cry some more, he grabs a handful of your hair and pulls on it harshly. 

“Get a grip.” He says coldly and lets go of your hair. 

You try to argue back, but he is 5 steps ahead and starts circling your clit before you even open your mouth. Whatever you were wanting to say just comes out as incoherent blabbers and whimpering as your insides squeeze tighter around him. He chuckles in response and mutters “that's what I thought” under his breath.

Since he is 5 steps ahead he is also aware you will cum any second now, which is why he switches positions quite hastily. He has your legs resting behind your ears as he teases your entrance by barely giving you the tip. He knows you get needy and will do or say anything to cum. You look up at him, that smug sadistic look on his face puts you in subspace faster than you can blink. At this point he practically got what he wanted, you won't want a breakup after this. Whatever else he does to you is just for fun. 

“Please..” you plead, looking up at him with puppy eyes. You had cried so much earlier that your face was glowing from it.  

“Repeat what you were telling me earlier babe,” he says while continuing to tease your sensitive entrance with the tip. “Tell me how I am too much for you and how you don't want to continue this!” You can hear the anger in his voice now, he does not take kindly to breakups unless he is the one doing it. This was peak betrayal to him. 

Something about him turns you into a horny nymph, even though this was your chance to resist and actually break up with him, your body and mind were both betraying you completely. You were so desperate for him, being manhandled and fucked disrespectfully hard by him was the only thing on your mind right now. His firm grip on your thighs, as he was pushing them back further, was not helping. He could feel your pussy squeezing and fluttering around his tip, even if you were not saying a word right now the rest of your body was very loud and clear. 

You feel your eyes watering again, from the frustration this time. It doesn't help that he is staring right into them, all while caressing your face. Staring into his eyes, especially with the state you are currently in felt like a trance. You were so lost in his eyes, you weren't even aware of how you were trying your best to move against his tip, completely desperate for any friction you could get.    

You have no idea how much your crying turns him on, same with your frustration and desperation. It was about time he reminded you again of how badly you need him, a reminder that no one but him could get you to act like this just for dick. He was equally desperate for you, probably more frustrated than you but he is so stoic and cold on the outside. You would never know. He had enough of messing with you though, and by the looks of it you were nearing your edging limit. 

His right hand lets go of your thigh, creeping up to your neck instead. He keeps eye contact as he chokes you very lightly. He is so close to your face, staring deep into your eyes with a predatory look. It makes you shudder, but it also makes you want to spread your legs even more for him. 

The way he suddenly bottoms out fully, with no warning, has you seeing stars. You had been in this position with previous partners, but none of them reached this deep inside of you. You have to bite your cheek to not scream, especially when you look down on your stomach for a split second and you can see his dick print on it. You suddenly remember that back when you had just gotten to know each other, you texted him saying you want him in your guts. Looks like you got what you wished for. 

He chokes you harder while pushing your head back, making you look right into his eyes again. His stare is so intense, you want to look away sometimes. His stare made you feel so vulnerable and exposed, it cut right through all your layers and saw right through your soul. It would not be too far off to say his eyes were fucking your soul. 

“I-I’m gonna cum-” you whimper, struggling to keep eye contact. You know exactly what you have to say next if you don't want him to suddenly stop and edge you even more.

“I’m sorry for causing unnecessary drama-” you cry out. “I-I was wrong..I do not want to break up..I love you!” 

“That's right.” He smiles and starts thrusting into you even harder, he drops eye contact now and the focus shifts to between your legs. He is obsessed with how you take all of him in so well, he loves watching you swallow him whole and he especially loves that you are so sensitive that you quiver and squeeze around him at every movement he does. 

He doesn't stop fucking you when you cum. Not even slowing down the pace. 

Instead, both his hands are on your hips now slamming you against his pelvis. You keep squirting, but he doesn't stop even for a second. You are so overstimulated at this point, every few thrusts make you cum all over him. 

You are close to tapping out at this point, eyes rolling at the back of your head. You are in safe hands though, he may be toxic and not allow you to break up because he is too possessive and wants to almost own you, but with that comes him being extremely careful of you. He pulls out and slaps you lightly to wake you up, fully attentive of you now. 

“Babe, are you okay?” He asks, albeit in a cold uncaring tone, but that's just how he sounds in general. He really does care.  

He comes back and slaps you again lightly, holding a glass of water in his other hand. You wake up this time. 

You don't really say anything when you regain consciousness nor do you drink the water, you just mumble “I am fine” under your breath and start straddling him. There is something about his caring nature that turns you on so much, his attention to detail is already attractive as it is but when it shows like this during sex it just makes you want him on a different level. 

The breakup was history at this point, now you were on top of him whispering dirty things in his ears. You wanted him to fill you to the brim with his cum, then fuck you with all the cum in you and cum in you some more. You had never met a guy that unlocked this side of you, it feels unreal, he is so perfect it drives you mad. 

“Please fill me up, I need you so bad..” You were crying in his ears as you quickly slid his cock inside of you, wasting no time and starting bouncing on it. “I truly am sorry for earlier, I could never be without you!” 

He is both amused and extremely turned on by your behavior, mostly turned on though as he wastes no time, putting you on your back with your legs on his shoulders. Eren had no idea how hot he looked, the sounds he was making was music to your ears. You were staring in awe as he came inside of you. 

You truly can't get enough of him, so when he collapses next to you on the bed, you crawl over to him licking him clean hoping it will lead to a round two in the shower perhaps. 

Author's note: I did not proofread this. If you find any mistakes, take it to the grave pls. 

© 2024 tomieafterdark | All rights reserved

[deleteddewewted]

Modern 40k Ideas:

I have an idea for the greater Modern 40k universe I’m making. These are meant to be canon ideas for the supermarket romance fic series mainly cause I plan on making some spinoffs or extra fics for the series with other characters.

All of the Emperors sons, the Primarchs, were made because Big E was once a broke college student trying to make ends meet so he donated sperm. He would go to a sperm bank every so often and make a quick buck donating. So not only did a bunch of families get the ability to have children but it would explain why the Primarchs are all so ethnically and culturally diverse.

The only reason why the Primarchs are all united in adulthood was because when Big E was donating he said he was fine with the kids that were a product of his donations could reach out to him for whatever reason since he knew that they might have questions down the line about their health history.

Most of the Primarchs met when they were in their teens since many of them lived in very different parts of the world. Horus who lived in the same city as Big E got to meet his biological father much sooner than the rest of his brothers.

Relationships and dynamics are all pretty much the same since they all got to connect when they were young and kept in contact up until the events of current modern au timeline.

Horus is not currently in the picture as he’s serving a 4 years prison sentence for wire fraud. Big E could have sued him and gotten his son life in prison since wire fraud wasn’t the only thing Horus did but he felt betrayed and saddened that his closest son would betray him that he didn’t open his mouth at all when the authorities questioned him to ask if he knew anything else about his sons business.

Rogal Dorn and Perturabo both lead the graphics team but they don’t lead the marketing department. Neither one of them know how to run a social media account and Guillimans even worse so they had them lead a subsection of the department that focused only in the appearance of promotional material, email marketing, flyers, and ads.

Guilliman pursued business and ventured into his own small business while still working for Big E. Big E takes this as a betrayal because he feels like Guilliman had taken all of the resources he had given him and miss used them for his personal gain. He hadn’t, Guilliman wanted to make his own company that had nothing to do with the company his father runs. Guillimans business is actually a nonprofit with a focus on helping ex veterans.

Big E is in a bit of a hiatus from work. Not really. He’s still around doing things here and there but overall he stays out of it because he was planning on passing the business to his sons anyways.

Big E hadn’t planned on having his sons join him in his business but everything just aligned perfectly that it made sense for him to include them. He secretly does adore his children. He never planned on having any of his own, mainly because he didn’t find the point in it but now that his sons are with him he’s more than eager to make sure that they learn how to bond with one another.

Horus Heresy was just a big family argument that led to Horus being arrested but the rest of his brothers who took his side ended up serving a very reduced prison time or just community service.

The entire company focuses on humanitarian efforts across the world. So funding for medical access in impoverished communities, access to clean water, food assistance, education, etc. This all came about because Big E grew up in poverty and worked his ass off to get out of that situation. Having had the foresight to understand that not everyone has the same access as he did or the same chances as he did, he made it his mission to help as many people as possible.

[bunni-v1]

Pls the thing with Jamil from your Yuu being wary of scarabia post and why he kept Yuu around like that. Elaborate I’m begging you it’s too interesting of a dynamic before and after. I can pay you in my adoration keep it up here!

🍓Okay so I really haven't touched twst in a long time, but this idea continues to haunt me. I think about it so frequently, and I've been into twst again because of Malleus statue, so I decided to revisit this concept. It's more of a big long ramble, but I do hope you like it <3

TW: Manipulation; Creepy behavior; Power imbalance; This IS written with implied romance (but it's pretty fucked up and toxic); Possessive behaviors; unedited

Info: Jamil x Reader; Angst

Disclaimer: Jamil is an incredibly complex character with very contradictory actions throughout the whole of book four. This is my take on his character, and it may not align with how you view him. It's important to note that the only canon interpretation of his character is what is in-game and official depictions.

Post referenced

Jamil is very aware of you far before you're aware of him. He makes it his job to know who to avoid, and you're very high up on that list. You have a reputation that he's pretty certain you're not fully aware of, and trouble seems to follow you wherever you go. It's not really something he wants to have to deal with.

For whatever reason, though, he does end up bringing you back to Scarabia. In part, this is almost a power play on his part. You make him have a sense of power he doesn't really have with anyone else around NRC, even as vice housewarden. You rely on him, and your naivety is something addicting to someone who craves power. Not to mention he also considers that you could help him sell his story much better.

Kalim abusing the magicless, helpless human from another world would only make his case for upheaval all the better amongst his dorm members. So to start it's all part of his plan, a means of stroking his ego.

However, the issue comes in when he makes a genuine connection with you. You are kind, generous, and understanding with no real ulterior motives -- a genuineness he hasn't really experienced before. Of course, he doesn't actually open up to you much. He keeps you pretty distant, despite how he does his best to play up that warm and welcoming persona. But he does give you crumbs of his real struggle, shrouded in manipulation.

He finds himself... attached. Jealous of any time you spend with Kalim, wanting to keep your attention on him, and desperate to sell the idea of Kalim as a monster to you more than others. It's an odd feeling for Jamil, who doesn't usually care for more than surface-level appearances and feelings. It's just another addition to his ultimate overblot, and he's quite terrifying when he does finally blot.

One of the very first things he does is isolate you from your "friends" (if you can count the tweels and Azul as friends at this point), making sure your attention is on him. He wants you to worship him, he wants that reliance that he craved so much in the time you spent together, he wants to feel powerful. Next to you, he feels so very powerful.

I don't even believe he would do anything violent or too cruel, mostly just worshiping and demanding attention and praise. It's not much different from what you normally go through, though a little less blatantly violent and aggressive. That's what makes it so awful to you, though.

Before everyone else was just blatantly being... evil. Jamil manipulated, lied, extorted, and so much more. You liked Jamil, you genuinely thought he wanted to be friends with you and meant well. He reveals otherwise in your time (sort of) alone with him, and it really shakes you up. It would shake anyone up.

What's worse is you don't have time to process all that terror and anger and betrayal. Everything happens in such quick succession, one moment you're being kidnapped and the next there's a grand celebration. It's all too much for your brain to process, and it only gets the chance to do so when Ace and Deuce -- your safe space -- come to get you.

Your reaction, on the surface, seems incredibly dramatic. Collapsing and sobbing until your throat is so raw you can't make noise, but after the trauma you've endured, it's wholly reasonable. Jamil falls into the former way of thinking, believing you're just being overdramatic and theatrical. You'd been through many overblots at this point, with much more powerful sorcerers... this reaction is a bit much...

After all's said and done, though, Jamil doesn't spare you much thought. Of course, there is a lingering sense of... something. Not quite guilt, not quite regret, just an ache that he doesn't have the time or energy to address himself. He's far too busy dealing with his own reputation and wellbeing to bother you.

Your sobs, though, they keep him up at night. He has dreams where he hears them tear through the silence, and they continue to ring in his ears long after he's woken up. He isn't sure why it's bothering him so much, it really shouldn't, but it does. It's a constant nag at his conscience, just a bug that he swats away when he doesn't want to think about it.

He doesn't have to confront it until he comes face to face with you during VDC auditions. The genuine terror on your face when he looks at you, like he might overblot then and there again, it's sobering. He'd seen that look a million times on his parents faces, horror as they face punishment from the Asim's. It's not a face he'd imagined he would be the cause of -- not a face he wanted to be the cause of.

It hits him hard in that moment just how... evil he was. He knew he was bad. He's fully aware he's selfish and the stunt he pulled was something unspeakable in a lot of ways. Yet, he never thought he would have to deal with someone looking at him like that, someone thinking of him the same way he thinks of his captors.

It's just his luck that he can't avoid you, ending up on the official VDC team and literally living in your space. It's not just you, either, both Ace and Deuce seem to hate his guts with a passion. Grim voices that anger all the time, and Kalim doesn't help the tension with his guilty puppy demeanor. You do end up forgiving Kalim, thanks to Kalim finally making an active effort by himself for once. Jamil won't lie and say it doesn't make him a little jealous, but he also fully understands he doesn't deserve your forgiveness.

He doesn't push or pull, he just allows you to do what you will. It's not his place to push or pull, you are the only person who can decide what you need. He won't apologize unless you seem to want him to by seeking him out, he won't ask for forgiveness unless you seem willing to give it to him. He just allows you to be, which is quite honestly the best reaction you've gotten from any former overblotees.

He, of course, ends up confessing this all to his sister. Heavily edited and censored, for her own wellbeing. Najma tells him he's a moron, but encourages him to make amends with you, or at least try to let you know he's sorry. Without him knowing, she even talks to you about it a bit when you visit the Scalding Sands. There is a notable shift in your comfortability around him after it, though he doesn't know why this is.

He does eventually get the chance to talk to you, though you have to approach him. It's a quiet night when it happens, and he just couldn't sleep and the warm air in the dorm was making his skin far too hot, so he takes a walk and ends up outside of your dorm. His guilt led him there like an idiot, a rare show of vulnerability.

You, who also couldn't sleep, saw him out there and invited him despite better judgment. He accepts, despite his own better judgment, and finally, you talk. He expects anger and hatred, but of course, you cannot manage that even against him. You are understanding and gentle, even with the way you tremble as you speak. He gets to apologize, genuinely, for scaring you and doing the things he did. Explains that he, at some point, was genuine about his friendliness with you. That he did like having you around, but all of that means nothing with what's already happened.

Whether or not you two fix things and are able to be friends is up to you, but you do both get closure.

[archivalofsins]

Be the change you want to see. By that, I mean start treating these character deaths like the prisoners' victims have been treated all series. Start asking what they did to deserve this. Start accusing them of attacking someone else first and deserving it. Throw some cheating allegations in there.

Just start going wild with it.

It's been like that with every other death mentioned so far. Why not again here?

How did this happen? Well, you see, Mahiru went to talk to Shidou and he saw her walking then realized the poison just wasn't working. She just kept living regardless of how and thriving despite the doses. This was taking too long why wouldn't she just,

"You're in my way... hurry up and die."

Who knows. The writing was on the wall everyone had read it but her.

22/01/17 (Mahiru’s Birthday)

Mahiru: My birthday…… the day I was born…… But was there really any reason for me being born? Lately I’ve started to wonder that. Do you ever think about stuff like that, Yuno-chan?

Yuno: Eh? Not really. I mean, Mahiru-san, you’re really the romantic type, right? Not that I have anything against that. But isn’t it a bit much to think that everything in life has a meaning? If it makes you happy to think like that then go ahead, but if it doesn’t, then isn’t that in itself meaningless?

Mahiru: : ……you might be right. I’ve always just lived my life like this, so I don’t really know.

Yuno: We’ve all just gone through a bunch of things in life that happened to lead us here. It’s nothing more than a coincidence. Definitely not fate or anything. Probably. Even if there isn’t a meaning, you can still be happy that it’s your birthday. That sort of thing’s all you need in life really. So happy birthday, Mahiru-san.

The first allusion to the attacks occuring was on Haruka's birthday in 2022. After that the first allusion to Shidou treating the injured was on Amane's birthday of the same year,

22/06/27 (Amane’s Birthday)

Kazui: What’s up, Shidou-kun? You’re looking pretty down. I guess you must be tired, I’ve been relying on you a lot lately.

Shidou: Yeah, I just remembered…… today is Amane’s birthday. I’m just getting a bit sentimental.

Kazui: Hmm, it’s unfortunate, but at the moment we can’t worry about that. ……you understand, right? There’s something that you need to do right now. And if you tried talking to her your words definitely won’t reach her. Don’t look at me like that. We’ll just wait until the situation changes. Let’s do our best.

Shidou: Yeah. I’ll do what I can. I can’t have a child making a face like that. Even though we’re “murderers”…… we’re also the adults here.

Three months later we saw her again on Yuno's birthday. She stated that she was having difficulties moving but if she didn't move too much she doesn't even feel pain.

22/09/02 (Yuno’s Birthday)

Mahiru: ……no, I’m fine. As long as I don’t move too much I don’t even feel any pain. Sorry for making you worry.

Yuno: Oh, really? That’s good then. Mahiru-san, if there’s anything you want then just ask. It’s not like it’s a huge burden, I can just ask for it along with my own stuff.

Mahiru: Ok…… I’m fine for now. Sorry, for making you worry.

Ah, Yuno-chan…… Today’s your birthday, right? Happy birthday.

Yuno: ………… Haha, thanks. Thank you, but y’know. Is it really ok for you to be saying that to me when you’re in that situation? ……you really aren’t suited for Milgram, huh, Mahiru-san.

This news seems to have travelled around the prison. Because when Amane approaches her on her birthday the following year she asks her how her body is feelings.

It has now in canon been going on seven months of her being in Shidou's care.

She tells Amane that she fine and she can move around if she uses a wheelchair. This is the only time this wheelchair is mentioned after this Mahiru begins to drastically deteriorate.

23/01/17 (Mahiru’s Birthday)

Amane: Happy birthday. Mahiru-san. How is your body feeling?

Mahiru: ……ah, Amane-chan. Thank you. Yeah, I’m fine. Now I can move around if I use a wheelchair…… It’s all thanks to Shidou-san looking after me……

Amane: I’ll give you one warning. The two of you are dabbling in something tabooed. If you continue to go against the way of nature like this, you’ll just bring an early death upon yourself. Think hard about this.

Mahiru: Amane-chan……? Are you really Amane-chan……?

Eleven months into her being under Shidou's care while requesting questions for the second trial written interrogation Jackalope notes that Shidou and Mahiru have completely entered the roles of patient and doctor.

23/05/15 (Interrogation Start: Shidou and Mahiru)

Jackalope: Prisoner 05, Shidou Prisoner 06, Mahiru. The interrogations for these two will now be held. Just leave your questions in the comments here. Ask whatever you want to know. This is where you show off your skills as a prison guard. ……hmmm. These two have now totally slipped into the roles of doctor and patient huh. It probably isn’t a good time to be getting interrogated for them…… but, well, it’s the rule.

Over the course of her second trial written interrogation Mahiru's handwriting declines rapidly.

Despite being interrogated together with her and being asked the exact same questions. Shidou doesn't offer to help Mahiru with writing her answers even though she is now completely under his care.

As well as the fact that there have been no rules stating that such a thing isn't allowed and that all prisoners must write their own answers.

Such a drastic and consistent decline in writing alludes to something I've been speculating for a while now. That the prisoners are given all their interrogation questions at once and have to fill them all out at the same time.

We know that Mahiru and Shidou were given these questions together because it is the only way she would come to know that he had kids. As he never brought it up in the timeline before she asked.

Note the next conversation occurs sixteen months after Mahiru began being under Shidou's care.

23/10/24 (Shidou’s Birthday)

Mahiru: You have a family right, Shidou-san……? How does it feel, being married, having kids……?

Shidou: ……yeah, it’s a wonderful thing. Children…… yeah. They really are hope for the future. When you have your own, suddenly it becomes fun growing old. Since as you grow older, you get to see them grow up.

Mahiru: Ah…… how lovely. It was always my dream to become a bride. Though maybe that seems a bit out-dated. I wish it could’ve come true……

Shidou: It isn’t too late. I’m going to make sure you live. So let’s get out of here, and you make your wish come true. ……you still have so much to live for.

Then Kazui asks him later if he has kids so this was new information to everyone and the only place she could have seen that information is on the interrogation card he wrote it.

Q.11 Tell us your family structure.

Shidou: My wife and my 2 kids.

So he could have helped her fill these out and just choose not to despite knowing full and well how servere her injuries were. Which we know he knew because he opens his second voice drama listing them in detail.

Even if they were not made to answer all their interrogation questions at once and Mahiru was given a reasonable amount of time to write her answers. Such as being given one card on the daily basis to fill out that would make the decline in handwriting more odd. Since at that point it would allude to her overall health deteriorating on a daily bases to the point that she can't even write like she used to be able to anymore.

All still while being under Shidou's constant care.

On Amane's birthday Yuno states that Mahiru has finally managed to get to sleep. Implying that Mahiru has not only had pain related issues but sleep ones as well.

23/06/27 (Amane’s Birthday)

Amane: What is it…… Kashiki Yuno. Don’t sit so close to me. Go away.

Yuno: Sorry for barging in when you’re getting into your worldview thing. But Mahiru-san’s finally managed to get to sleep. Humour me with some small talk while I take a break. By the way, Amane. Have you ever wished you were never born? I’ve thankfully lived a pretty fun life so far, so haven’t really. But you seem to be struggling with something. So I kinda wondered if you thought like that.

Amane: ……I don’t think that. Being born into this world is the first miracle any person experiences, and is something to celebrate. Even if after birth I was put through trial after trial, the value of that will never disappear.

Yuno: Hmm. Ok. ……happy birthday, then. It’s good that you were brought into the world, I guess.

This conversation takes place twelve months or one year into Mahiru being under Shidou's care.

At this point her condition has not improved at all. She has rapidly gotten worse she's lost all mobility is implied to be bed ridden and for a time from this point forward will only be approached by others. Her state has declined so much under Shidou's care that she now needs two people to take care of her and is stated to need constant attention/vigilance to make sure nothing happens to further exacerbate her condition.

Meanwhile the second party to get injured during the second trial intermission has only gotten better without any of Shidou's care. So much so that he's walking around checking up on other prisoners. So, it's not a matter of not being able to heal in Milgram, but we'll see that in her last interaction.

On Kazui's birthday that same year Shidou laments that due to him putting all his time into taking care of Mahiru he hasn't been able to help Kazui around the prison.

23/08/05 (Kazui’s Birthday)

Kazui: Hey, it’s been a while since we last talked. You’ve been working hard lately. Are you doing ok? Should I give you a shoulder massage?

Shidou: ……no, there’s no need to worry. You’re surely on edge at the moment too, after all, Mukuhara-san. Since I’ve been devoting my time to Shiina-kun, I haven’t had time to help with the rest of the prison. Sorry for leaving everything to you.

Kazui: No, it’s fine. I haven’t done anything really. ……you take on too much responsibility on your own. Make sure you rest a bit too. Oh, that’s right, today’s my birthday. So how about you join me for a smoke? As a present.

Shidou: ……I guess it’s precisely because we’re in this situation that things like that are necessary too. Happy birthday. I’ll join you. Can you lend me a cigarette?

Presumably it's during this birthday smoke break that Shidou tells Kazui that Yuno has been helping him. His first response is to later go up to Yuno on her birthday and ask why she's doing that.

To which she responds with,

"If there’s someone dying in front of you anyone would do what they could to help."

Further cementing that Mahiru has not moved one step away from deaths door in now fifteen months of being under Shidou's care. Spoiler alert she doesn't die any better than she started trial two.

23/09/02 (Yuno’s Birthday)

Kazui: I heard you’ve been helping Shidou-kun out. ……er, sorry if this comes across as rude, but it’s kind of unexpected. It always seemed like you didn’t care that much about other people.

Yuno: Hmm? What’s with that all of a sudden. I mean, you’re right, I don’t care much. But if there’s someone dying in front of you anyone would do what they could to help, right? And anyway, aren’t you the same? You usually don’t care much either, right?

Kazui: ……I wonder. This old man isn’t as much of a thinker as you are. I mean, until now I’ve been in an environment where it’s all about having physical strength. So I’ve never really thought about stuff like that.

Yuno: Haha, we’re the same in that we’re both liars too. I guess the difference is the reasons we lie. You care about yourself, so lie to protect yourself. I don’t care about anyone at all, including myself.

Now we're in 2024, and her condition is still notably bad. Like still really bad, like at a glance, you can tell something is wrong bad. This timeline takes place twenty-four months after Mahiru was placed under Shidou's care.

It has been two full years.

She has the same injuries from two years ago while Futa is walking around just fine. No wonder he's concerned and going,

"As long as treatment continues, huh. …… I wonder how you’re going to be saved."

Because if the treatment hasn't worked so far and they've all been here witnessing the treatment this whole time. Seeing it not work while Mahiru is just here like but Shidou's a doctor, and he says if I do x, y, and z, I'll be better in no time. Don't worry. The treatment will work. Sure, I've been this way for two years, but it'll work. Shidou is a good and honest person, I trust him. Beyond that, just you showing concern for me has saved me already.

Dr.Malpractice off in his cell wondering what the fuck he can keep getting away with today. At a point they had to have gone yeah we gotta kill him. Like at a point they must have started getting a bit suspicious.

None of these people are unobservant.

24/01/17 (Mahiru’s Birthday)

Futa: ……hey. Oi, Mahiru. You’re in pretty bad shape, right……? Isn’t there anything that can be done?

Mahiru: What’s up, Futa-kun? Yeah, I’m not great…… But Shidou-san’s been looking after me…… And he says if we keep going like this, I’ll get much better……

Futa: ……right. As long as treatment continues, huh. …… I wonder how you’re going to be saved.

Mahiru: Saved……? Are you worried about me? …… You’ve been a lot kinder lately, Futa-kun. …… I feel like I’ve been saved just hearing those words from you.

Then we've got the timeline before the end.

In which Yuno tells the audience and Shidou straight-up she does not know what he's getting at by saying she should become a doctor. Because the only thing she's done is follow his lead. Possibly with the expectation he was doing what he claimed he was going to do- Help Mahiru get better.

Yuno isn't a doctor she wouldn't be able to check him on if he was doing something wrong or not. She just knows that Mahiru's condition has just gotten worse and worse. So more help is needed or she may really die. She doesn't even fully understand the treatment Shidou is giving Mahiru saying she's just helping with whatever he's doing.

24/09/02 (Yuno’s Birthday)

Shidou: Thank you for your assistance with Shiina-kun’s treatment.

It’s been a big help having you here. Both for her and for me. It’s good to know that even if something happens to me, you’ll still be around.

Yuno: No way. I can’t do anything on my own. All I’m doing is helping with whatever you’re doing. It’s just like playing pretend as a nurse.

Shidou: No, you’ve got a good sense for things like this. You’re quick to notice things, calm, and fearless. If you haven’t decided what you want to be in the future, maybe you should consider becoming a doctor yourself.

Yuno: You think so? ……haha, stop it. I don’t want to be thinking about the future right now. And for someone like me to have other people’s lives in my hands…… that’s no laughing matter.

Then we get to the nail in the coffin.

Kotoko's birthday,

24/12/15 (Kotoko’s Birthday)

Mahiru: Kotoko-chan… are you there…? I'm so-rry, for calling out to you. It's a bit… hard, for me to move… I'll need, to also give my thanks, to Shidou-san…

Kotoko: Going out of your way to meet with me. You're such an airhead it's not even funny. Well…. Go on then, if you've got something to say I think I'll hear out the reproach of a dying woman.

Mahiru: The re-proach…? Oh, its nothing like that… [All I want to say is] Happy, Birthday.

Kotoko: ………… You're out of your goddamn mind.

Where even Kotoko could see Mahiru was dying.

She never got a step away from dying. Everyone was always so focused on other things. Could come up with a million and one excuses for why Mahiru's health situation wasn't improving. All because some wanted to put all their faith in the doctor because why would a doctor-

Who openly told us that he committed malpractice. That he couldn't stop himself. That he'd do it again because he couldn't stay away and that's why he wanted this all to end do that same thing again? Why would he do exactly what he warned the audience he'd do if given the opportunity? Which is gain the trust of people due to his credentials as well as the severity of the circumstances then weaponize said credentials to emphasizes his own importance in order to commit the same fucking crime in front of everyone.

While people swear up and down time works differently in Milgram, that's why she's not healing as fast. We don't even know if the prisoners are alive, so maybe they can't heal once they're injured. While Futa is over here like- Man, I listened to the child and stopped relying on Shidou and I've only continued to get better. This shit is ridiculous. Usually, you're told to always listen to your doctor, but what if your doctor weaponizes that blind faith and societal rule against you to cause irreparable harm. Wow, it's always important to get a second opinion and think for yourself at times. Luckily, I got out.

Right now people are emphasizing how Shidou warned us about Amane. Told us something had to be done about Amane. No one is touching on the fact that Shidou and Amane were both voted innocent. How both of their verdicts led to this outcome. How Amane warned the audience about Shidou and his behavior. Warned Mahiru that what she was doing would lead her to an early death.

No one is asking if Shidou was guilty and Amane innocent would he be the only one out of that pair dead right now. Instead we validated both of them seeing full and well how Shidou was caring for Mahiru every step of the way. Feeling the time drag on and seeing her condition worsen not improve. Yet many kept telling themselves no he's actually doing what he said he would do.

He wouldn't do it again.

Milgram is just weird. We don't know enough about the space to say that's not impacting how long it takes for these injuries to heal. So his behavior was validated again and maybe if it wasn't Mahiru might still fucking be here. Because if she was given the space to properly heal instead of being kept at deaths door in immense physical pain and emotional distress for two years.

By this man who can only feel validated in his own existence and as though his life has purpose when he has someone else to take care of then maybe she could have at least spent her last days in less pain than she died in here. Because there is no reason that her injuries should have remained for twenty-nine months.

To the extent that she was still having trouble moving and looking as though she was at death's door to anyone who saw her before she was ever even lost. It sucks but a lot of people including myself have speculated he was committing malpractice again as soon as he was voted innocent and Mahiru was voted innocent but her condition still continued to worsen many suspected that.

It sucks that Mahiru had to suffer due to the audience's and others blind trust in this medical professional. That the work has done everything in its power to display commits malpractice and isn't safe to have around injured or sick people. They literally could not have announced this harder. Maybe he didn't do it. But it's still weird that all the injuries he lists Mahiru having in his second voice drama at most take three to six months to heal and she was still recovering from allegedly the same injuries Kotoko gave her up until she died.

"Head lacerations. Bruising all over her body. A sprained neck. Fractured ribs. Further fracturing of the left arm. And furthermore... This may be outside of my profession, but her mental health is deteriorating as well."

Maybe the number of injuries all together and the inadequate equipment within Milgram made it take longer. Yet she never got better in over two years. She couldn't walk without feeling pain. She started out being able to at least move a little without pain and through the use of a wheelchair but even that stopped.

She just got worse and worse until she died. Then, the one time we saw her up and walking before she died, Shidou was nowhere to be found. Last she said she was gonna go find him to say thank you. Who knows how that went or why she couldn't find him to begin with. Especially since his cell is right next to hers. That would imply he wasn't in it, which maybe.

I just know that if she was given time to heal if Shidou did back off a bit maybe she wouldn't have been in as fragile a state as she was. Well at least she doesn't have to spend another birthday writhing in pain from wounds that seem to never heal.

"This adorable, earnest, sincere ♥ Is bleeding, wailing, this is the end."