#entire personality is ‘i don’t know how to talk about love without talking about violence’

[ivynightshade]

fatima aamer bilal, excerpt from coffin heart? bury me.

[text id: if your teeth do not graze my bones, i do not wish for you to kiss me.]

[hp-hcs]

i didn’t realize the riddle brothers were a "buy one get one free" type of deal, but alright — simp! overprotective! yandere! riddle brothers x gn! oblivious! bullied! slytherin! reader

requested by 🎀!

2.5k words, not to brag 😌

i love writing the bros’ interactions with each other as like, actual sibling-core yk? they r just so cutie patootie

the reader's patronus makes an appearance in this, but i tried to make it as accessible to everyone as possible, so it's never explicitly stated what animal it is. it is implied that it’s able-to-fit-under-a-table sized though

also this is totally just pre-slash nothing that interesting happens

warnings: couple mentions of blood, mild descriptions of wounds, implied violence, implied bullying, murder

not edited!! this is my first like, really long fic so constructive criticism is welcome!

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

A well-timed shove to the small of your back sent you tumbling down an entire flight of moving stairs. 

You groaned as you hit the bottom, sprawled out on your back on the cold stone floor. You laid there for a moment, winded. You could hear the occupants of a nearby painting titter at your gracefulness (or lack thereof), so you rolled your head to the other side to give them an award winning smile and an unabashed middle finger. 

You could hear them all grumble about kids these days and how I never would’ve treated my elders this way. You just rolled your eyes at their pettiness. 

“Uh…what are you doing?” A decidedly alive voice interrupted your momentary satisfaction.

“Ah- evening, Riddle!” You said cheerily as soon as you recognized the speaker, scrambling to your feet and dusting off your uniform. “Nothing! Just…tripped. Couldn’t see very well in the dark, that’s all.”

Tom blinked, his lips twisted into a frown. “.....Fine. But don’t let me catch you out of bed past curfew again. You’re a Slytherin, for Salazar’s sake. Act like it.”

And that was it. Tom turned on his heel and continued down the hall without another word. Tom Riddle: prefect, teacher’s pet, and obnoxious hardass extraordinaire—he just...let you go, with no threats of detention or loss of house points. 

Huh. 

~~~

Tom, having just returned from a full night’s shift of prefect hall duty, flopped face-down onto his bed, his cheeks aflame as he let out a muffled shriek into his pillow. 

His brother, in the process of getting dressed for the day, paused at the scene in front of him. 

“Dude, what’s your deal?” 

“L/n,” Tom said by way of explanation, kicking his feet as he shrieked into his pillow again. “They acknowledged me. And they know my last name.”

“Most people know our last name, Tom,” Mattheo rolled his eyes.

“No- you don’t understand,” Tom said emphatically. “L/n is like…the cutest person to ever exist. And they’re so sweet, and smart, and funny, and-”

“And terrified of us?”

“Well…”

Mattheo rolled his eyes, putting his hands on his hips. “You talk about them too much. It’s getting insufferable.”

Tom just scowled and flicked his fingers to cast a wandless spell that straightened Mattheo’s tie and neatened his uniform. “The way you dress is insufferable. Slob.”

Mattheo stuck out his tongue at his brother before ruffling Tom’s hair to purposely mess it up. “Dick.”

“Idiot.”

~~~

Mattheo glanced up at you as you hovered uncertainly by the corner of his desk. 

“Can I sit here…?” You mumbled shyly, your cheeks flushing as the pretty dark-haired boy in your year smiled up at you.

“Course!” He grinned brightly before realizing that might have been too enthusiastic of a reply for eight in the morning and quickly tried to cover up his slip. “Uh…Y/n, right? I’m Mattheo.”

“Yeah, I know who you are.”

Mattheo’s stomach dropped.

Fuck, that’s not good.

“You let me copy your homework in third year for that essay on the properties of wormwood, or whatever.” You said offhandedly, like it wasn’t batshit insane to remember that pointlessly tiny detail. “Thank you for that, by the way. Potions sucks ass.”

Before Mattheo could even think, the words left his mouth. “I could tutor you if you want.”

You looked at him oddly, but grinned after a second. “Yeah, sure. That’d actually be really helpful. Snape hates me, man.”

“Really? Even though you’re in Slytherin?”

“Mhm, his baseless nepotism only extends so far.”

Mattheo barked out a startled laugh as your deadpan humor caught him off guard. You just grinned at him in response, causing the tips of his ears to immediately burn bright red.

He cleared his throat awkwardly, ducking his head in embarrassment. “Um…do you wanna meet in the library after school today? For our tutoring session,” Mattheo hurriedly added. 

“Sure, alright.” You shrugged. “See you there.”

He beamed, giving you that stupidly adorable grin once more. “Awesome! Yeah- yeah, cool. Awesome. See you there then.”

~~~

You were still shit at potions.

It had been six weeks of tutoring, and you’d learned pretty much nothing. Although, that wasn’t an issue on Mattheo’s part, but rather on his annoyingly hot older brother’s. 

Tom Riddle was surprisingly funny. For someone who gave off almost exclusively stoically austere bastard vibes, he enjoyed cracking jokes and enlisting your help in pulling pranks on his brother a bit too much.

It became your routine. Every Tuesday and Thursday after school, you would meet the two brothers in the library, waste like three hours joking around and getting absolutely no work done, and then going back to your dorm and ranting to your roommate about how fucking cute they are and how you would gladly pay for the opportunity to make out with one- no, both of them. 

(Your roommate is so fucking tired of hearing about the Riddles. You’d better buy them a latte and a cake-pop as an apology.)

~~~

You struggled to get up, your legs giving out. You cursed under your breath, putting a hand to your forehead as it throbbed in pain. 

It came away sticky with blood. 

This wasn’t going to work, you realized belatedly. With what remained of your strength, you were able to reach out and grab your wand, murmuring a quiet, “Expecto Patronum.”

A spectral creature formed in front of your eyes, remaining motionless as it stared at you. 

“Go find Riddle,” you mumbled to the Patronus, your eyelids growing heavy. 

You barely registered the wispy glowing animal immediately bounding off at your instructions, your vision doubling before your body went completely slack, the wand slipping from your fingers and hitting the tile floor with a clatter. 

~~~

Mattheo doodled mindlessly in the margins of his parchment as his brother droned on and on about the properties of willow bark in potions and really, this is important, Mattheo. Pay attention.

“Why isn’t Y/n here yet?” Mattheo asked his brother for the third time. 

Tom rolled his eyes. “I don’t know, Matt. Just like how I didn't know when you asked me five minutes ago. Maybe they just don’t want to see your stupid face any more, huh?”

“What if they’re in trouble? Or hurt?” Mattheo worried, chewing on his thumbnail and ignoring his brother’s insult. “They’re never late, Tommy.”

Tom wrinkled his nose at the use of the dumb (albeit endearing) nickname Mattheo gave him when they were children, but the sinking feeling in his gut at hearing his brother’s distressed tone didn’t help to ease the niggling worries at the back of his mind of maybe they are in trouble.

As if on cue, Mattheo shivered as something icy cold brushed against his ankles. He glanced down. A glowing spectral creature nudged his leg, looking up at him expectantly with unnervingly empty eyes. 

A Patronus. 

Y/n’s Patronus.

~~~

They followed the Patronus down the deserted hall, the animal occasionally pausing to make sure the boys were both still following it before bounding forward again.

The Patronus stopped in front of a bathroom door, giving them both that same unnervingly hollow-eyed stare of expectancy.

Tom gulped and pushed open the door, fearing that he might find the worst.

He did.

~~~

Your eyes cracked open slowly, and you winced at the multitude of stinging and stabbing pains that wracked your body.

You had to blink a couple times for everything to come into focus. You were in a small room with white walls and white flooring, and the gentle dawn illuminated the quiet space with soft rays of light. The steady beep of a vitals monitor faded into the background as you stared down at yourself.

You weren’t wearing a shirt, for one, or even a hospital gown. Pretty much your entire upper torso was wrapped in bloodstained gauze. The jagged edges of a brutal slash across your chest peeked out of the top of the dressings, and you had to close your eyes and hold your breath for a moment to keep from throwing up. Once you’d calmed back down, you opened your eyes, startled to see that you weren’t alone.

Mattheo had pulled up a chair to the side of your hospital bed and crossed his arms on the mattress, using them as a makeshift pillow. His dark lashes fanned across his cheeks, his breaths slow and even. He looked so peaceful and...unguarded in his sleep. You reached down to brush a loose curl away from his forehead.

“Having fun?”

You startled, jerking your hand back. 

Tom leaned against the doorframe of your room with an amused expression, quirking an eyebrow and wiggling his fingers in a wave.

“Shut up,” you hissed back in a whisper, your cheeks flaring red. 

Tom’s amused grin only grew at your dark blush as he invited himself into your room fully, closing the door behind him.

 “Your secret’s safe with me.” He jokingly winked, tapping the side of his nose.

“You’re insufferable.”

“So I’ve been told.”

“What am I doing here?” You quickly changed topics, refusing to even look down in Mattheo’s direction. 

Tom sighed, any amusement on his face rapidly vanishing. “You sent us a Patronus, thank Merlin. Pomfrey said you would’ve bled out if you hadn’t.”

You had no memory of casting the Patronus charm at all, but you trusted Tom’s recollection of events better than your own jumbled and spotty one. “Bled out?” You questioned, your heart hammering in your throat as your voice climbed an octave in anxiety.

Tom nodded, his face carefully schooled into a blank and neutral expression. “You were hit with the Sectumsempra spell. You've been out for three days now.”

Your brow furrowed. “Malfoy got hit with that last year though—and was in and out of the infirmary in less than a day.”

“Snape knew the counterspell and found ‘im just in time last year,” Mattheo mumbled sleepily, his eyes still closed as he tuned into the conversation at hand. “But whoever hit you with it just left you there to die.”

“Charming.” You mutter under your breath.

“Regardless of what happened in Malfoy’s instance,” Tom interrupted briskly. “You were on the brink of literal death. So I’ll ask you this one time and one time only. Who did it, Y/n?”

~~~

“I brought you a cookie from the Great Hall,” Mattheo grinned widely, climbing into your hospital bed next to you and unwrapping the napkin in his hand. “And the notes from today’s Charms lesson, but those’re boring and we both know you won’t actually read ‘em.”

“Aww, you know me so well.” You teased, breaking the cookie in half and handing him one of the pieces.

Mattheo cupped the cookie fragment in his hands like it was a priceless treasure, staring down at it in unrestrained awe. 

You just shook your head at his antics and brushed the odd reaction off.

~~~

You woke up this morning and just felt like shit. You were nauseous, and dizzy, and felt borderline faint. Tom’s voice, usually soothing and comforting to hear, sounded like nails on a chalkboard right now. He rambled on and on about the delicate process of making the temperamental Felix Felicis potion. 

“Tom,” you interrupted, your voice scratchy and quiet. “Can we take a break? Please?”

He blinked, surprised at being interrupted, but nodded slowly. “I suppose…? Why?”

“Don’t feel good,” you mumbled, setting your textbook down and rubbing your eyes. 

“I wouldn’t expect you to,” Madame Pomfrey said brusquely as she bustled around your hospital room, shooing Tom out of the way to stand by your bedside. 

(Poppy Pomfrey remains the only person who can and has shooed Tom Riddle III and lived to tell the tale—and all without a single ounce of fear.)

“I’ve raised your dosage so that you can be out of here in time for your N.E.W.T.s.” Pomfrey elaborated upon seeing your confused look.

“Fantastic.” You mumbled dryly, grinning sleepily up at Tom as he grabbed onto your hand and interlaced your fingers together. He ignored the way his heart skipped a beat in favor of letting you hold his sweaty palm.

“Go to sleep, L/n,” Tom muttered under his breath. “Potions can wait.”

~~~

Tom lay in your hospital bed beside you, running his thumb over your knuckles. “Please? We promise we won’t do anything.”

“Yeah,” Mattheo chimed in from the other side of your crowded bed, one arm tossed over your waist as he rested his chin on your shoulder. “Or at least, nothing we’ll get caught for.”

You sigh, tired of their ceaseless pleading. “Alright, alright, fine. I’ll tell you who it was.”

Both boys leaned in close.

You sigh again and roll your eyes at their overprotectiveness. “Alright, it was-”

~~~

Tucker Thompson and Devin Dobbs: Gryffindor Sixth Years Found MURDERED at Hogwarts! Dumbledore: “No comment at this time.”

You tilted the newspaper so Madame Pomfrey could read the article over your shoulder as she replaced your IV bag. 

Pomfrey just sighed and rolled her eyes. “I don’t understand how Skeeter is still employed at the Prophet.”

“Cause shock value will always hold weight in the media?” You answered dryly around a mouthful of depressingly plain infirmary wing toast. “And Skeeter’s good at nothing if not coming up with bullshit shock value titles.”

“That may be true,” she began, snatching the paper from your hands. “But patients shouldn’t be reading about such dark subjects, and certainly not while under my care. And don’t talk while eating. I rather like your company, and would hate to see you choke.”

You rolled your eyes at her suffocatingly motherly behavior. “So are they? Thompson and Dobbs; they’re really dead?”

Madame Pomfrey hesitated.

You let out a relieved breath of air that you tried (and failed) to hide behind a cough. “That’s…terrible.”

She narrowed her eyes and studied you for a long moment, her fingers mindlessly worrying the deckle edge of the newspaper in her hands. “It was them, wasn’t it? Your boys.”

“My boys?”

“Yes, yes, Riddles one and two. Your boys.”

“Oh- we’re not…”

She raised an eyebrow, pursing her lips as she tried to hold back a laugh at the utter obliviousness of teenagers. “Do they know that, dear?”

You spluttered out a half-assed rebuke to her statement, but Pomfrey quickly interrupted you.

“They’ve been staying here for hours every day for the last month. They want more than just your friendship, hon.”

“No way. We’re just friends.” You insisted firmly. “That’s all.”

Madame Pomfrey rolled her eyes. “Uh huh. Friends. Keep telling yourself that.”

You stared after her, open-mouthed in bafflement, as she rolled up the Prophet, tucked it under her arm, and turned around without another word—leaving you with zero reading material and a million questions.

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

you have to love how pomfrey could not give less of a fuck that the riddles murdered two students as long as she gets her ot3 absolutely iconic behavior

[sailornymph]

i’d like to request general uchiha relationship headcanons? like relationship dynamics, how they’d treat you, whether or not they’d be into pda… stuff like that. thank you!!

‘SOMEONE LIKE YOU’

the uchiha men relationship hcs

cw : itachi’s death

authors note : my first two requests!! :)

♡ ︎madara uchiha

— this man is a handful, the overall madara experience is honestly

— he is attracted to your strength, then your face

— he is far from traditional, why follow what is known as the norm, when he isn’t a ordinary person

— he’s such a perfectionist, but he hides it behind his pride

— he’ll plan a really nice picnic thoroughly, from start to finish and if it doesn’t go to plan, just a little, he is mentally cursing himself

— he gets jealous easily, and isn’t shy about letting it be known. you allow a child to kiss your hand because of their admiration for you, he’s taking your hand back, wiping it, scoffing at the child

— you’re the first person he openly shares his plans with and if you’re a uchiha, he wants you to help him (to a certain extent)

— he is open to pda, but he is a respected leader, so it will be to a minimum. he’ll hold your hand, have an arm around you, even hug you, but that’s it

— he doesn’t really listen to what you’re talking to him about, but it’s because his mind is so focused on the clan and it’s future. when you get upset about him not listening, giving him the silent treatment, he gets upset and demands you retell him everything swearing that he will listen this time

— leading up to his death, he will make sure you are far from danger, allowing you to live the rest of your life safely

— 8/10. he seems dangerously wild and reckless to many, but in the midst of his chaos, he is always thinking of you, keeping your safety in mind, if you would like something, how you would feel, etc.

“where will we go?” you asked, gently combing through madara’s long thick hair.

“you don’t worry about any of it, i will take care of it and make sure you are someplace safe-

“i want to stay and fight alongside the others,” you admitted, making him look back at you.

“i won’t let you, many of them will die in battle, i will not lose you too,” his face hardening, but regardless, he faced forward, allowing you to continue combing.

“you won’t lose me”

“i know, because you will be far away from here, somewhere safe”

“madara”

“do not argue with me on this, please, i’ve thought over this too many times, you will not fight,” he raised his voice, but quickly stopped himself, shaking his leg, his way of calming his nerves.

“will you fight then?”

“i will come back to you,” he indirectly answered.

“and you don’t have another solution?”

“i’m afraid war is the best answer,” he said, pausing, examining you through the mirror, as you combed his hair. you didn’t want to throw your entire life away, you loved the clan so much, but your love for him outweighed the clan, you would go anywhere with madara, even he knew this.

“i am sorry, darling, if i could have known another way, then i would chose it for your sake, but i don’t, i will get revenge on all of them”

“i trust you, i’m worried, but i know you’ll protect me”

“i wish i could have given you a life without war and violence, if i didn’t make it back to you, you unfortunately have my blessing to move o-

“i couldn’t dare be with another, after experiencing you, i only want you, not someone like you. there isn’t a man i know as strong as you, who cares so deeply for the wellbeing of his clan or family,” you said, making him smirk.

“i am amazing, aren’t i?” he snickered.

“yes, so you better come back to me, promise me”

“i promise,” he turned kissing your lips, intertwining your pinkies. he would come back to you, and begin the next stage of his plan and he would spend every moment with you.

♡ itachi uchiha

— to be with this man, you will be find the most precious love, but you have embraced pain and suffering, because that is what you will be rewarded in the end

— he may be a mass murder, but he’s a gentleman to you lol

— he is quiet and very observant, and attempts to be traditional with you, but he isn’t living a traditional lifestyle, so he’ll eventually go with the flow, simply stopping by whenever he is free in between missions

— he isn’t the jealous type, but is protective. he had no intentions of dating, until after meeting you, he is very aware of your attractiveness. he could care less about strangers fawning over you, it is when it begins to become uncomfortable for you that he will intervene

— he’s a criminal so no regular couple activities, but sometimes you’ll make dango together and share them, or he’ll surprise you with breakfast

— he isn’t into pda, but he doesn’t mind having his arms around you, when it’s cold, putting his cloak on your body, or even kissing your hand (if no one is around)

— he listens to you and is very engaged during any conversation with you. he will ask questions and make small comments

— he secretly likes when you are doting on him, especially when he doesn’t feel well

— feeding him soup, placing a cool cloth on his head, helping him around your house, washing his hair, you’re the only person who has ever gotten to see him in such an intimate way

— your last memories with him, he will make sure they are nothing short of sweet, waking before you, surprising you with breakfast, ending the night with a soul crushing hug and kiss. his heart breaking even more, wondering and wishing how your lives would have been if things didn’t end up this way for him

— 8.9/10. other than the lack of normalcy and how he went and let his brother kill him, taking him away forever. he is far from perfect, but he is gentle and vulnerable always and everything he does for or to you, you will be able to see the love being poured into it

“did you enjoy today?” itachi asked, that peaceful smile appearing on his face.

“i did, but i always do,” you told him, as he wrapped his arms around you.

“i love you,” he blurted out.

“i love you too, tachi,” you grinned.

“i never thought i would never love again, after the things these hands have done, to my village, my clan, my parents, my brother-

“stop it, you were a child-

“i was apart of the anbu-

“following orders given to you by your superiors, you sacrificed yourself for them, you did what many could never bring themselves to do,” you told him, beginning to raise your voice.

“alright love, i hear you,” he smiled.

“good, i hate when you talk like that, even if the world hates you for what you’ve done. i love you for what you are,” you told him.

“i have only one regret-

“itachi”

“that i didn’t meet you sooner, or that i wasn’t born in a different village, so that we could have met long ago,” he sighed, reaching for your hand, bringing your fingers to his lips.

“but you have me now, and that’s all that matters,” you reassured him, your smile faltering seeing the sadness in his eyes.

“my baby brother, sasuke, he has grown strong enough to avenge them all,” itachi said, staring at you with a unfamiliar, distant look.

“what are you saying?”

“how did i get so fortunate to meet someone like you,” he said, ignoring your question, reaching to hold your face.

“itachi”

“i don’t think i could ever forget your blissful touch, so determined to make the headaches and fevers go away, and for a time, they did,” he began to wipe away your tears, not allowing them to fully run down your face.

“you're not going to die, stop talking like this, i don't want to hear it,” you said, but he only smiled.

“i'm sorry, my love, could i just hold you tonight? no more talking, just us, and our love” he asked. biting back your tears, you nodded, as he kissed your lips, for the final time, wrapping his arms around you. this would be his last moment with you, before his death.

♡ indra ōtsutsuki

— so sorry for you if it is an arranged marriage because this man will treat you like garbage and not care about how you feel, at all!

— but for the sake of the need for happiness, let’s say he actually fell in love with someone

— he is the type to fall hard, he wasn’t looking for love at all, when you somehow managed to catch his eye, he can't get you out of his head

— he is very lowkey and secretive, so no one else finds out until asura catches him sneaking off from training to surprise you with flowers. he tells their father and when he is back home, he has to hear an earful about keeps something like this a secret

— very obviously old fashioned and leans heavily into society norms, as his partner, your role is to take care of the home-life, especially since you most likely are nowhere as strong as he is

— he is very jealous hearted, however, thankfully, he won’t direct it to you. asura keeps trying to be a little too nice for his liking, he’ll make sure to be rougher than usual, during training. the other men in the village are basically eye fucking you, it’s okay, just know they will disappear only to reappear someplace random, with a nasty bruise or two

— he doesn’t listen but tries to make up for it. you wanted a purple kimono with white flowers on it for your birthday, all he heard was kimono and will gift you a red one with a dragon on it and proceeds to be genuinely confused by your frowning

— once the relationship is no longer a secret, he will always have his hand on your lower back

— he yearns for your comfort and affection. he is stuck with these feelings of rejection, but you are always there to remind him of his worth

— 7.7/10. he may be a menace to many other people, but to you, other than human flaws, he loves so passionately.

“indra…what happened?” your heart sank at the sight.

“don’t look, turn around,” he said. his closest friends, both of them laid dead.

hesitantly, you turned your back to the scene, your breathing becoming rugged, as he wrapped his arms around your body.

“walk forward,” he muttered. he didn’t want you to see what was here. what he had done. to them, his friends since he was a child.

“indra-

“with immense stress and sadness, i’ve found that the sharingan will evolve,” he said, making you turn, facing him. his usual red eyes transformed into a newer version, tears pouring down his face.

“what did you do?” you asked, beginning to choke on your tears, as you held his face.

“i’m stronger than him, why am i not worthy? i helped those stupid people and it wasn’t enough to please father,” he said, the rage seeping from his aura.

“just because he can’t see your worth, doesn’t take away from who you are. you can still teach many people to learn and walk in your ways, indra,” you told him.

“what could you possibly see in someone like me?” he asked bitterly.

“how could i not be so in love with someone like you,” you countered.

“indra, what have you done?” asura and his father approached, making him glare in their direction.

“as many times as i am reincarnated, i will be sure to always find you again,” he said, about to face his brother.

“indra, don’t-

“wait for me, each time, i will always come for you,” he kissed your lips, his susanoo picking you up, tossing you into the nearby wheat fields. getting up to run towards the battle, a few villagers grabbed you, holding you back.

all you could do was cry, they had brought him to this point, it was all of their fault. you would wait for him and be there when he finally got the recognition he deserved.

♡ obito uchiha

— he’s not my favorite, but he is probably the best

— he feels broken, but for you to come along and fall in love with him, he will do everything in his power to not lose you

— you have been around him as tobi and you were amazed by the switch, suddenly he’s goofy and making joke after joke, although, you prefer plain old obito because you love his authentic self

— when it is just the two of you, he’s calm and a bit too serious, but he is very attentive. nothing you say or do goes unseen. from your favorite color to the name of your worst enemy, even if he isn’t responding he’s listening

— extremely jealous, but hides it very well, for your sake. you’re out shopping, he’s dressed as tobi, and the shop owner is staring, occasionally complimenting you too much. he’ll laugh about it as tobi, but come back later to slaughter them

— he is constantly thinking of ways to be romantic, asking konan to teach him origami, picking flowers, trying to learn recipes

— he feels love is rare to come by and the fact that he has found that cares for him genuinely, he wants to make you happy

— it is rare to be with tobi, but if you’re with him, he’ll say something like “lookie here, my angel,” spinning you around or any kind of pda. obito is a bit more hesitant, other than holding your hand or waist

— even in his final moments, his mind will drift to you, you are somewhere far away, safe, and he can’t help but wonder would you be proud of him for doing the right thing in the end

— 9.6/10. a love as pure as this is hard to come by. he loves so deeply and passionately, in the end, he hopes you would forgive him for the evils he has committed and simply remember all of his genuine love

reading a book, you could hear tobi’s goofy voice, making you place the bookmark inside. he was talking to someone. finally, as the the footsteps began to become distant, you sat up.

“hey,” you said shyly, going to stand up, staring at his disguise.

“hey,” he said, as the mask was pulled from his face, as you approached.

pressing his lips against your own, you hummed, breaking the kiss.

“let me look at you,” you smiled, staring at his face, before he covered his face with your hands.

“you don’t want to look at someone like me”

“i actually want nothing more than to look at someone like you, so handsome, such a good boy”

“i haven’t been a good boy, all the chaos-

“for me you have, and that’s all that matters to me,” you smiled, pecking his lips again, before placing a kiss on each of his eyes.

perhaps there was a mistake, he didn’t understand how he of all people ended up with such a beautiful partner, inside and out — but he would love you the best he could, for as long as he could.

♡ sasuke uchiha

— he is very interesting. if you’ve been together since teenagers, he stressed you the hell out and was super nonchalant about it

— if you managed to still be together after everything, then you will get to see firsthand, sasuke trying to unlearn old habits and try to understand how he can love you the way you deserve

— however, if you begin dating sasuke while he has the other emo haircut, then you are experiencing an entirely different person. when his old classmates told you about the things he did, you couldn't even believe them, until he told you it was all true

— sasuke is quiet, a bit awkward at times, but not shy. he will come across as a bit traditional

— he still struggles with being jealous, but not as easily nor as much as when you both were younger. back then, any guy who talked to you for too long was getting threatened by him, now he can't help but be a little upset at your coworkers who get more time with you

— he is terrible with all the new technology, all of the younger kids are using, so expect old fashion, but romantic advances

— writing you small notes, sending you flowers, walking you home from dates kind of man

— he cannot bring himself to do any pda, not even holding hands, the most he can do is walk close to you

— he’s always halfway listening, he gets stuck in his head at times, while nodding at your words. if he were to take you out on a date, he will randomly remember something you said and he will bring it up

— he struggles with communication badly and seems almost childlike with an anxious expression, as he struggles to find the words to say to you

— he feels embarrassed telling you how much you mean to him, so he’ll get you something instead. you didn’t think he was listening when you told him about your favorite fragrance, so he went and bought it, as a surprise

— 9.3/10. he’s trying his best. trying to redeem himself, all while fixing his relationship with you. he still has many things to work on, like his inability to communicate, but your history together, along with the changes he has made, how could you not love that face?

“did you enjoy tonight?” sasuke asked, as your shoulder brushed against his own.

“i did,” you smiled.

“good,” he hummed, before the two of you went back to a comfortable silence.

“sasuke,” a voice called out that you immediately recognized.

“naruto,” he nodded, as the hokage and his wife approached.

“you're back in town and didn't stop by?” naruto grumbled.

“i am spending time with y/n,” he said, making the couple's eyes shift to you.

“y/n? how are you? i haven't seen you in a while,” naruto smiled, as you politely bowed.

“how are you two-

“i need to get y/n to her house, she has work in the morning,” sasuke interrupted.

“you don't live together?” he exclaimed, gaining a few looks from people passing by.

“no-

“maybe after the proposal or wedding,” sasuke shrugged, while your eyes widened.

“that’s great to hear, i better be invited, stop by when you’re free, we have to leave, it’s date night,” naruto winked.

“it was wonderful seeing you again, y/n,” hinata smiled, as naruto excitedly pulled her to the newest ramen restaurant.

once the two of them were gone, you both began walking. nervously clutching your handbag, you didn’t know how to bring up his words-

“what is the matter?” sasuke asked.

“you told naruto we would live together after the proposal or wedding, is that true?” you asked, staring at your feet.

“yes, married couples live together, don’t they?”

“yes, but you’re sure want to do these with someone like me?”

“i haven’t been the best partner to you, and i’m trying to make it up to you, however, my promise is still the same as it was back then,” he said, his hand brushing against your own.

you smiled thinking of the memory, sasuke was leaving, joining orochimaru, when he stopped at your house to say goodbye. you cried bitterly, as he held you close, promising if he didn’t die, and finally became stronger, he would come back for you. he wanted to marry you, and while it wasn’t much of a priority anymore, younger sasuke guaranteed that it was only you, he planned to restore his clan with.

“it was a long time ago, i made those promises, am i someone you'd do these things with?” he asked, hesitantly.

“of course”

“even after everything-

“when you left, i tried dating. it was a failure, none of them were ever good enough. i searched and i couldn't find someone like you, so i decided to wait until you came back to me because i knew you'd get stronger,” you smiled.

“i love you, a lot,” he said, stoically.

“i know dear, i love you too,” you laughed.

quietly huffing, he felt like he was moving in slow motion. for the first time in years, he reached for your hand, interlocking your fingers.

“we should go ring shopping, once you're done with work tomorrow,” he said.

“sounds great, can i ask you a question?” you said, your face burning in exhilaration.

“anything”

“do you still want to restore your clan?”

“only if it is something you wanted, i doubt work would allow me to have too many children, maybe one or two,” he admitted.

“that’s completely manageable, have you ever thought of baby names?” you caught him off guard, but he recovered quickly.

“only if it was a girl, i was thinking sarada, for reasons,” he glanced over at you.

“it's unique, i like it,” you said, as he finally stopped in front of your house.

“thank you for walking me home”

“you are welc-

“would you like to spend the night? i mean, its late and-

“would you be okay with me being here?” he asked, smiling as you nodded shyly.

“lead the way,” he nodded, taking off his shoes, following you into your home for the night.

[littledovesnow]

a growing family | part 3

a/n: i told y’all not to worry with the dramatics at the end of part 2!

word count: 2.85k

warnings: canon-level violence, pregnancy, minor medical inaccuracies, stitches.

read part one here and part two here

-----

"Love," Coriolanus sighed in relief, though it was short-lived as he ran his eyes over your body. "Love, you're bleeding."

You looked at your right arm, frowning when you saw the distinct red color dripping from the cut. “Oh.”

Coriolanus darted over to your side, removing the coat you wore to reveal the flesh wound. He placed his arm on your back and directed you to one of the few pieces of furniture in the bunker, having you sit.

“What happened?” You asked, trying to piece together what had happened outside.

One Peacekeeper stepped forward with a first-aid kit, and Coriolanus allowed him to examine your arm in more detail. He simply moved to your other side, letting you keep one of his hands in your own.

The mayor and Commanding Peacekeeper were in a whispered conversation, and from what you could determine it wasn’t going well.

“Hey!” Coriolanus spoke up, anger flashing in his eyes. “What the fuck happened out there? I thought you had the area off-limits.”

“We- we did. The rebels must have had inside information.” The mayor stammered, looking weary as he watched the Peacekeeper stitch your arm. “I do apologize, Mrs. Snow, it was-”

“Don’t talk to her. Talk to me. Tell me how you managed to let some- some shitheads into the square without a proper pat down or looking in their bags.” Coriolanus was furious at this point, not only was his beloved getting sewn together, this had derailed his entire tour to gain trust from the districts.

The mayor wasn’t keen on answering, and the Commanding Peacekeeper looked like he was about to burst into tears, leaving one of the smaller, probably new Peacekeepers spoke up.

“I saw who I think placed the bomb. Looked like one of your assistants.” The man nodded to the mayor, who felt all the color drain from his face.

Coriolanus’ gaze shot to the mayor. “How convenient. Your assistant would know just when and where my wife and I would be.”

You winced as the Peacekeeper stitching you up pulled on the final suture, covering the short line in some gauze.

“I’m sorry, ma’am.” The man apologized softly, tossing the used supplies into a small orange bin in the corner of the bunker.

“It’s alright. Thank you for the help.” You smiled, letting a sigh of relief when you felt a distinct kick in your rib. “The babies thank you, as well.”

Coriolanus swiftly turned around and took your hand, helping you up. “We’ll be leaving shortly, love.”

You didn’t give a glance in the direction of the mayor, who was now in the grasp of two Peacekeepers, tears streaming down his face as he knew what fate awaited him.

“I hope Clementine is okay,” you frowned, hoping all the children from the school were safe with their parents.

“I’m sure she is.” Coriolanus made a mental note to send a personal thank-you to the family of the young girl, with a promise to help them whenever needed.

-----

Back on the train, you watched as your OB/GYN wiped the ultrasound gel off of the wand and your bump, wanting to give you a quick examination following the day’s events.

“Are they all good?” You asked, thanking your husband as he passed you another towel.

Nodding, the OB/GYN placed the wand back in the holster on the side of the machine. “Both fetuses are doing splendid. Though, I do hope you keep the stressful situations to a minimum from now on. We want to minimize risks, as this is a rather high-risk pregnancy.”

You nodded, wanting nothing but the best outcome for you and your budding family.

Coriolanus thanked her, watching her disappear into another car.

Once you two were alone, he rose from his position next to you. “I don’t think you should continue on the tour with me. Too many risks.”

Rolling your eyes, you heaved yourself off of the couch to follow him, much to his disdain. “Coryo, I’m not made of glass. I could just as easily slip back at the apartment. I think I’m safest when I’m with you.”

Coriolanus couldn’t argue with that, and as much as he preferred you safe back in the Capitol with your friends and his cousin, he knew you would be happier with him. “Just, please try and keep yourself away from any danger. I’m increasing Peacekeepers in the rest of the Districts, and they’ll do a personal sweep of the squares before we get there.”

You hummed, soft smile coming to your face as you and Coriolanus looked out along the plains as they sped by, setting sun casting a beautiful golden light on everything. “Can you do me a favor?”

“Anything.”

You took Coriolanus’ hands and moved them to your lower back, thumbs just over your hip bones. “Can you massage my back?”

Laughing, Coriolanus began to knead the ever-present knots near your kidneys, pressing a soft kiss to your shoulder. “You only keep me around for my hands, I swear.”

“Well, they are pretty useful.”

-----

The following handful of districts were rather uneventful, the only real issues were women who wanted to give you unsolicited advice on pregnancy and motherhood.

Coriolanus had to bite his tongue each time someone said what an honor it was to be pregnant, how horrible childbirth felt, or the post-partum depression and how to avoid it.

They were all topics you two had discussed at length, having plans and even back-up plans for various outcomes. You two were well-prepared for how young you two were.

Currently, you were looking at your reflection in the mirror, silk robe covering your undergarments and most of your bump. You looked at the two dresses behind you through the mirror’s reflection, unsure of what one to wear.

The dress you were leaning towards was a beautiful dark brown, to pay homage to the forestry the district was known for. The only downside was you were unsure if you could fit into it, bump seeming to have doubled in size over the last few days.

“Oh, I can’t wait to be able to fit into my old clothing. You two are causing havoc with my wardrobe.” You whispered, not wanting to wake your husband, who was catching up on some much-needed rest.

As quietly as you could manage, you left the private car you and Coriolanus had been sleeping in, moving to a more communal car, one with phones.

You sat yourself down, dialing Tigris’ number and watching the trees grow nearer.

“Hello?” Tigris’ voice sounded muffled, and you cursed under your breath.

“Tigris, I’m so sorry. I forgot about the time difference!”

“Don’t worry, I was just about to get up anyway!” Tigris replied, a lie, but she knew better than to cause you more worry. “How is the tour? Coriolanus lock you in the train yet?”

Laughing, you twirled a piece of your hair as you spoke to her. “No, no, but I’m sure he wants to. I just think I’d go stir-crazy faster than anything if he did that. I was actually calling to see if you can help me plan something for our return to the Capitol, since it will be close to Coryo’s birthday.”

“I don’t think he’s going to want to do anything other than make sure you’re okay. Isn’t your due date not too long after coming back?”

Sighing, you jumped slightly when you felt a hand on your back, looking up and smiling when you saw the sleep still present in Coriolanus’ eyes. “Yes, but we can still do something. Listen, Ti, I gotta go. I promise I’ll call you in a few days!”

Tigris bid goodbye to you, and you placed the phone back on the receiver and watched Coriolanus pour himself a mug of coffee.

“I can’t wait to drink coffee again.” You yearned for the caffeinated beverage, mouth watering as the aroma reached your nose.

Coriolanus chuckled, taking a seat next to you. “I’ll make a buffet for you full of the foods you can’t have now. What shall we put on it, hm?”

You snorted, leaning your head on Coriolanus’ shoulder. “I’ll make a list.”

Your husband hummed in response, moving to wrap his arm around your shoulders and pull you into his side. “What are you thinking about? I can smell the smoke coming out of your ears.”

Smacking his chest, you looked at the rising sun. “Do you think we’ll be able to finish the tour before I go into labor? A lot of mothers of multiples don’t make it to full-term.”

Coriolanus was silent, the thought had been bouncing around in his mind since you two found out the tour had to be delayed until now. He wanted nothing more than to be back in the Capitol by the time his children wanted to make their debut, having completed the tour to its entirety, but he also knew the odds of not finishing the tour before you became parents.

“I think we’ll get as far as we can. I can always return once you’re discharged and home happy and healthy.”

You sighed, looking up at him. “Are you scared to become a father?”

Coriolanus looked down, meeting your gaze. “I think deep down, I’m always going to be scared of the unknown. But I also know that we’ve watched your sister’s children dozens of times growing up, and they’re still here. I think we’ll both be at wit’s end, but it’ll all be worth it.”

Somehow, he always knew what to say to calm your nerves, even if he didn’t realize it.

-----

You were more than ready to have your body back as your own, as the unusual sweltering heat in last few districts you and Coriolanus were going to visit was getting the best of you. You were all in District Nine for a few days, letting some weather pass before moving on to the next district.

Coriolanus had been keeping an eye on you like a hawk ever since you had experienced false labor pains the other day. He nearly blew a blood vessel when you froze mid-walk in the peaceful fields outside of train station.

It was as if he knew you were thinking of him, Coriolanus walked into the car with a worried look your way. “How are you feeling, love?”

“Tired. Swollen. The usual.” You mumbled, leaning back when Coriolanus began massaging your shoulders. “What time are we supposed to head to the mayor’s place?”

“Well, I’m going to be meeting him in about an hour. You, however, should rest. I can see the bags under your eyes, dove, you can’t keep pushing yourself. It’s not healthy.”

Shaking your head, you craned your neck to peer up at Coriolanus, who was looking out the train’s window. “Coryo, I could sleep for an eternity right now and still be tired. I’ll be fine, if I need to sit or leave, I will. I know my limits.”

Frowning, Coriolanus turned his head to look down at you, sigh escaping his lips. “I just,” he moved to sit next to you, hand going to your bump. “I worry about you, you know. I don’t want anything to happen.”

You could see the turmoil going on in his head, thinking of his late mother and sister. You knew he wanted to avoid history repeating itself as much as he could, wanting to make sure his children saw the light of day.

“How about this, we tour the District’s town square together, and then while you make your speech and all that, I’ll have a couple Peacekeepers escort me to the train.”

Coriolanus mused over the idea for a few moments, hand absentmindedly rubbing circles as he felt a few kicks from one of the twins. “Fine.”

-----

You walked alongside Coriolanus, looking at the buildings as the mayor talked about how he wants to update some of the more important ones. “The schools, the hospital. Our supplies, buildings, they’re in need of some updates. We hope, once you’re elected, you’ll be able to help us with increasing our profits with grain, so we can work on updating the most-needed areas.”

Coriolanus squinted his eyes as he looked at the decrepit-looking hospital, thankful you wouldn’t have to give birth in one of the districts, but back in the Capitol with proper medical equipment and medications.

Thinking the same, you instinctively wrapped a protective hand around your belly, wanting to protect the babies from whatever you could.

“Now, it’s not something we had planned, but would you two like to tour the hospital? I know it’s probably not what you see in the Captiol, but we do need some updates inside.”

Shaking his head, Coriolanus moved to wrap an arm around you. “We don’t have the time for it.”

“Oh, well, perhaps another time, then.” The mayor mumbled, finishing the tour near where Coriolanus would be making his speech.

Thanking your earlier self, you looked up at Coriolanus with tired eyes, letting out a small yawn. “I’ll see you back on the train, Coryo.”

Frown deepening, the mayor looked between the two of you. “Won’t you be staying to hear your husband’s speech, Mrs. Snow?”

“No, unfortunately.”

Coriolanus pressed a quick kiss to your lips and then one to your forehead, “I’ll be back as soon as I can. I love you.”

“I love you, too. Knock ‘em dead.” You smiled, following the Peacekeepers back to the train station.

-----

“Alright, Mrs. Snow. Are you ready for your last examination on a train?”

You laughed at the comment, and your OB/GYN squirted the ultrasound gel onto what felt like Panem’s next district. “So ready, I can’t wait to be back in the Capitol.”

Coriolanus watched in wonder as the screen lit up with the ultrasound, still in awe over the fact that he was so close to becoming a father. “Are you sure she’ll be back in the Capitol before she goes into labor?”

The doctor fiddled with the wand for a moment before looking at the man. “I can’t say with certainty, but your wife still does have four weeks before most twins are born. You’re due back in the Capitol in eight days, plenty of time.”

You watched as her facial expression grew more serious, causing your heart rate to speed. “What’s wrong?”

“Well, it looks like the fetuses are getting into position for birth, but Fetus A isn’t allowing their sibling to get proper position.”

“What does that mean?” Coriolanus asked, squeezing your hand.

Looking at you and Coriolanus, the doctor took a few measurements before wiping the gel. “They’re in a breech position. Now, they can move back into a normal birthing position before you’re due, but if they don’t, we will need to go a C-section.”

Frowning, you pulled the shirt you were wearing over your stomach, sitting up with Coriolanus’ help. “Is it safe for them to be that way?”

Nodding, the OB/GYN turned off the computer. “For a little while longer, it’s fine. I want you to call me if anything feels different or if there’s less movement than normal. Now, you’ll start to feel dizzy more frequently, so you need to be sure to hydrate plenty and rest.”

She sent a look towards Coriolanus. “I wish you the best of luck with the rest of the tour, you have my vote, Coriolanus.”

Thanking her, Coriolanus chewed on his lip as he helped you off the makeshift exam table and out of the medical car, back to your private one.

“I really don’t want to have surgery, Coryo.” You mumbled, tears welling in your eyes.

“Hey, hey, it’s alright.” Coriolanus wrapped his arms around you, calming you. “You heard her, there’s still time for them to move back into the right position. I’m sure they will, they want to give their mother a good birth experience.”

You let out a watery chuckle, pressing your cheek into Coriolanus’ chest. “Are you nervous to be heading back to 12?”

Knowing the change of subject was more to calm your nerves than anything, Coriolanus didn’t reprimand you for bringing up the subject.

You had only asked about his time as a Peacekeeper a few times since that summer, and once was to ask why Sejanus hadn’t come back on the train with him. You still had no idea about the cabin, the lake, his last moments with Lucy Gray before returning to the Captiol, to you.

Shaking his head, Coriolanus was brought back to the present when he felt a sharp kick to his side. “That was a strong one, huh?”

You snorted, but looked at him, waiting for an answer.

“I’m not nervous, no. It’s been years since I was there, I’m sure most of the guys there don’t even remember someone who was with them for only a few months.”

Letting the half-answer slide, you and Coriolanus swayed softly as the train moved from District Nine to Ten, both soaking up the silence and peace as your last weeks as a family of two.

-----

a/n: i'm thinking there will be one more part, posted either later this week/early next week.

taglist: @urfavnoirette @aoi-targaryen

[screeblees]

Angry ! Yandere x Comfort ! Reader Headcanons

Angry ! Yandere is Male and Reader is Gender Neutral

I used three quotes from @aonungstoefungus post “Yandere Prompts” you can see here. I really liked all their prompts!

Find my Masterlist here !

Please enjoy!! <33

❥ Angry ! Yandere who spent his life filled with anger always raging just beneath the surface of his skin, resting right under the boiling point.

❥ Angry ! Yandere who blew up rather often in his youth, fighting his peers like there’s no tomorrow, swinging fists and rocks and gripping his opponents hair in his hands. By the time they were pulled apart, the other was almost always left with a black eye or a broken nose at the least.

❥ Angry ! Yandere who tried every breathing exercise, every meditation method, every mindfulness activity, every health coping habit, every anger management program, every “calming” drug he could get, every single thing he could find. Yet nothing, nothing, ever helped.

Until you came along…

❥ Angry ! Yandere who felt a blanket of soothing fall over him the very first time he heard you speak in your almost melodic voice - melodic to him at least, it worked on him so why would anyone else’s opinion matter?

❥ Angry ! Yandere who feels the overwhelming need to be in your presence otherwise risking himself only becoming more irritable (than he normally is). Even if you don’t know he’s there, it still helps to just listen.

❥ Angry ! Yandere who became aware that it isn’t just your voice but you, as a whole; your scent, your voice, your tone, your kind demeanour, your actions, your expressions, just you in your entirety. And he can’t get enough.

❥ Angry ! Yandere who is known for his barbarian behaviour at any perceived slight done towards him. This infamous reputation helping to ensure most steer clear of him, even you, at first. Although you tried to avoid him, it seemed like he was everywhere you went, even places he’d never dared to go before, even out-of-character for him to be in. ( “What’re you lookin’ at?” )

❥ Angry ! Yandere who was pleased when you eventually accepted that he was just everywhere you went and weren’t even cold towards him when he approached you for himself instead of eavesdropping on all your conversations or creepily watching from afar! Or maybe you were just too scared to talk back to him in fear of pissing him off and being at the receiving end of his violence. Oh well, you’d accepted him now.

❥ Angry ! Yandere who realises it isn’t just tranquillity that he feels around you - his heart now feels like it would burst out his chest and for once it wouldn’t be in anger, but in absolute obsession. Of course he’d like to call it love but he knows it is more than that, you are the air he had gone so long without and had now taken a breath of, you are the balance and stability he had never had in his life, in fact, you are his life, his whole world. He’s even waxing poetica in his head for you, that’s how lovesick you make him.

❥ Angry ! Yandere who began recording you talk whenever he’s close enough for a microphone to pick up. Listening to his library of you to keep his head level all day, and to get to sleep at night (among other nightly activities).

❥ Angry ! Yandere who is very forward about wanting to be your friend, inserting himself into conversations and making a point to talk to you at some point every day - the times you speak directly to him helping them feel the most soothed he’d been in a long time.

❥ Angry ! Yandere who’s volatile mood is entirely dependent on you; if you give him your full attention and maybe even a smile then he’ll go about like he’s the most peaceful, untroubled soul around, barely anything will change his mood (other than you, of course) - on the other hand, if you give him minimum attention or he can’t find you, he’ll be twice as furious and violent as his worst day before you came along. So although you could make him seem like a steady, quiet person and bring out the best in him, you also have the potential to turn him into hell’s own with the suffering that will be caused by him for the rest of the day, maybe even the rest of the week.

❥ Angry ! Yandere who scared most of your friends away, leaving you rather isolated from your peers and only more open to him hanging out with you during the school day. Your remaining friends either being entirely online or skittering away at the sight of him, neither of which he really minded as they made way for him.

❥ Angry ! Yandere who was ecstatic to find that you even talk in your sleep, taking great joy in visiting you when you’re deep in REM sleep just to listen to your sleepy mumbles, and if he’s feeling brave he may hold your hand. He found comfort in knowing that no-one else got to listen to you whisper what he likes to call sweet nothings. (They’re for him and only him.)

❥ Angry ! Yandere who seethed when he saw someone take interest in you. Who the fuck did they think they were. The next time you saw them they’d been beaten black and blue and avoided you like you’d give them the plague. (No-one gets to have you but him.)

❥ Angry ! Yandere who eventually realises the only way for him to really have you is to take you.

❥ Angry ! Yandere who follows you home one night and just sweeps you off the street, he’s truly sorry for being rough with you but it was for your own good, you needed to be home with them and there was no way you’d come willingly and you would not want to see how irritated that would make him.

❥ Angry ! Yandere who’s furnished basement was just the perfect place to keep you, he’d cleaned up the place and made sure it was escape-proofed and child-proofed. He wouldn’t want his sole source of comfort going through unnecessary harm (or having the tools to leave him).

❥ Angry ! Yandere who was on a high after bringing you home knocked-out, tied up and blindfolded for extra safety, which broke almost as soon as you woke up. Your scared, timid voice was endearing at first, but he grew irritated once you began screaming and crying and making your throat go hoarse (despite your intense fear).

❥ Angry ! Yandere who had previously planned to be lenient with you realised that was not going to work. Clearly you needed strict rules, boundaries and schedule and so he would supply you that, some of said rules being;

Speak when spoken to

No even trying to escape

Be respectful

Don’t dare hide anything

Speak like you did before

Answer calls on the first ring

If you want something, ask for it

Don’t flinch away

Stop fucking shaking

Accept your punishments

Don’t run.

❥ Angry ! Yandere who grows sharp with you, finding himself having to punish you far more than he’d thought within your first few weeks together. Maybe being even a little sadistic in his retaliation… ( “What, you thought you were just gonna get away with that?” )

❥ Angry ! Yandere who found himself mocking and insulting you in response to your shying away from him or showing your fear of him, especially before and during punishments in which you would shake. ( “Aw, you gonna cry? Go ahead, its not gonna change anything.” )

❥ Angry ! Yandere who always felt much better after taking his anger out on you during punishments, then lovebombed you with his gifts and touch. The gifts could range anywhere from something he stole from your house to something really nice he bought with his own (partially stolen) money. He really enjoys having an arm around your waist or shoulders or a hand on your wrist or thigh (or even your neck), he loves you being in reach of him and it makes him feel secure to grasp onto you, to have you grounding him. (Even if he’s a little strong on the grasping).

❥ Angry ! Yandere who believed himself to have semi-successfully trained you to behave for him, to stop trying to hide and escape and rebel, but still, any hint of your mind straying from being a good soother for him pushed him to the boiling point, spitting threats promises at you of what would happen if you continued that line of thinking. ( “Don’t even fucking look at the door. I am trying to have some faith in you after all.” )

❥ Angry ! Yandere who enjoys spending hours downloading content for you to consume and talk to him about (once you’d accepted your situation). He asks probing questions just to hear you talk more and loves having you as his own personal sleep aid asmr and podcast throughout the day, urging you to rant to him once he comes home each night as he cuddles you in your chosen seating, whether that be the couch, the bed or even the floor. 

❥ Angry ! Yandere who finds classmates remarking on the consistent calmness he presents in himself now that he has you all to himself all safe at home with your melody on speed-dial. After all, you and your calming aura is all for him and only him to enjoy, how much happier could he be…?

[lincolndjarin]

Best Kept Secret

chapter twenty one : te mirci't

ao3 link ✿ series masterlist ✩ main masterlist ✧

pairing : bodyguard!Din Djarin x afab!princess!reader

rating : 18+ mdni

word count : 9.0k

summary : reader does a lot of thinking, and a lot of expressing of said thoughts

warnings, etc. : language, angst, canon typical violence, smut smut smut smut, p in v smut, food play sort of kind of, din djarin nearly creams his pants over the concept of domesticity, sort of a dom/sub thing, switch!reader & switch!mando, din has a breeding kink and it's addressed, reader has like zero chill this chapter, dirty talk, men whimpering (hooray!), light bondage, use of handcuffs, unprotected sex

a/n : ik y'all are hype about breeding kink din but i'm gonna real quick say that i will not throw in like a surprise pregnancy in this fic, cause it hasn't been tagged with that thus far and sometimes it irks me when i'm knee deep in a fic and suddenly the reader is pregnant without warning and it wasn’t tagged,, so yeah. it would be different if i advertised this as a pregnancy fic from the get go but i didn't so i'm not gonna spring that on people. (reader could still potentially end up pregnant at the END of the fic (possibly maybe who knows) but there will not be any surprise pregnancy, sorry!) that's it lmao, just wanted to throw that out there.

“It means I love you.” 

You aren’t entirely sure how long you stare at him, looking rather silly with your jaw practically on the floor. 

How many times has he said it without you even knowing? How long has he loved you? Maker, your mind is racing as you try to recall when the first time he said it would have been.

You’ve already said it to him. 

Albeit you didn’t realize what you were saying but you’d said those words to him. And hearing you say them had worked him up so much that he’d fucked you like it was his last night alive. 

He doesn’t seem to have much to say now that he’s dropped that bomb on you. You just stare at each other in this blistering silence for an eternity. Until the smell of burning has you shooting out of bed, scrambling towards the oven as you grab the lone oven mit off the counter, removing the smoking baking trays quickly, propping open the single window above the sink and tossing the ruined cakes under the faucet.

“Kriff.” You lean up against the counter, staring at where he’s currently getting up from the bed to join you. Are you a terrible person if you just ignore it? Because currently the last thing you want to do is think about it. “I’m gonna start a new batch, I lost track of time with this one.” You whisper towards him, never actually meeting that thin black line of his helmet. 

“You don’t have to say it back.” He whispers back to you, taking a seat at the table. 

You know you don’t have to. 

Honestly the pressure of having to say it is the least of your worries. The most troubling part of this situation is the question that now plagues you which is, do you love him? 

You rinse out the last batch of batter from the bowl before starting a new one.

You’ve always been so hesitant with him. Even from the start. You wouldn’t let yourself think about him, then you wouldn’t let yourself feel for him, care for him, want him. At one point you wouldn’t even let yourself like him. 

So to think about if you love him? 

The only thing you’ve ever let yourself do is hate him. And you never even really did that. 

“I didn’t mean to upset you.” He leans forward in his chair, his elbows resting on his knees. 

Shit. You’ve been quiet for too long.

“I’m fine, sorry, just… upset about the cakes.” You both know it’s a lie. But neither of you says a thing. He just nods. You work in silence, willing your mind to think of anything else as you scrape the burnt cake tin off into the sink before refilling it with the new batch of batter. As you slide the tin into the oven you turn, unable to face him you turn your gaze elsewhere, to the single shelf in his home. 

A few days ago when you were here it was covered in assorted pieces of metal and scrap. Now it’s mostly bare. In a desperate attempt to change the subject you walk over, picking up one of the few remaining scraps. 

“What happened to all your stuff? You hold a small metal ball between your fingers as he walks up behind you, resting his head on your shoulder as he leans down. You feel the chill of beskar against your skin. 

“I used it all.” He’s still being far too vague about all this and you frown, holding the ball up in front of his face. 

“You forgot this piece.” He takes it from you as you say it, you don’t remember him taking his gloves off but they are, his bare hands holding it like it’s a precious gemstone. 

“This isn’t a part of my secret project,” He murmurs, rolling the ball between his fingers. “this belonged to the kid.” 

You have to remind yourself not to pry, that you promised yourself you’d let him talk about it on his own. His free hand snakes around your waist as he stares longingly at the metal piece, you say nothing, giving him the option to go on if he wants. After a brief moment of pause, he continues. 

“I tried to buy him a proper toy. Just once. He used to play with this, I thought maybe he was just bored because we spent so much time on the Crest. On one of my jobs I stopped and got him this little stuffed frog toy.”

You think of the frog he picked up from the lake all those moons ago. A pang of sorrow in your chest.

Every time he talks about the kid it seems like he’s talking more to himself than to you, this time is no different. He adjusts himself, standing up straighter so his chin rests atop your head now. He sways you gently to a song that only he hears.

“He tried to eat the damn thing, I tried to explain that it wasn’t for eating but he didn’t seem to care. Once he realized I wasn’t gonna let him eat it he lost interest, threw it into the fresher and went off to find this again.” He sets the ball back onto the shelf and just holds you for a moment. Just when you’re about to reach down to touch the hand he’s resting on your stomach he speaks again, in a whisper, like he isn’t sure he wants you to hear what he’s saying. “I used to worry that he was bored. Spending so much time on the ship with just me, without any of the things a child usually grows up with.” His grip on your waist tightens. “I thought for the longest time that he’d be happier somewhere else. Now I wonder if maybe he was content with what we had.” 

The more you let him talk out his feelings the more you realize that deep down Din is one thing above all. 

Someone who doesn’t think he is deserving of love. 

You turn around in his grip so you’re facing him and don’t hesitate to wrap your arms around his waist, holding him tight. You might not be ready to tell him you love him but that doesn’t mean you can’t show him that he is cared for. He doesn’t move for a moment but eventually holds you back. 

He makes no effort to pull away so you don’t either. Staying like that until you have to get the cakes out of the oven before you burn another batch. He follows you in silence as you set the new batch on the table, he reaches for one and you smack his hand away. 

“You’re gonna burn your hand, stop that. And I still need to frost them.” 

You turn back to the book for the recipe, happy that the two of you seem to be in mutual agreement to not talk about the current situation. As you start pouring the sugar to make the icing you hear a hiss of air, on instinct you turn to face the noise, not realizing until it’s too late that you shouldn’t. 

You should feel regret.

But Maker, how could you. 

Your eyes fixed on the way he parts his plush lips to take the chunk of pastry he tore off into his mouth, his finger lingering on his bottom lip and that tongue. Darting out to lick his fingers clean. The way the corners of his mouth turn up ever so slightly. You know you shouldn’t look, he’s got the helmet pulled up just enough that you can see the tip of his nose which means he doesn’t even know you’re looking, there’s metal between his eyes and you. You can’t, this is so bad, shit. You just keep finding reasons to not look away, especially now that he’s smiling. You always thought his smile would be condescending, maybe a triumphant smirk, but it’s so… dorky. He’s got such a dopey grin.

Stars, he’s got a dimple. 

Are you still breathing?   

And you can finally see the facial hair you’ve only ever felt brush up against you. Surprisingly well kept, with a few small bare patches. You want nothing more than to lean forward and kiss each one of them but you’re quickly reminded of how bad this entire situation is as you hastily turn back around. Stirring the bowl in front of you, acting as if nothing happened. Only a few seconds after you’re facing the counter again do you hear the airlock reseal. 

You hear a sharp inhale and a part of you worries he knows you accidentally looked but he hisses again before cursing.

“Fuck, that’s hot.” You can hear him breathing heavily through his mouth into the modulator.

Thank the gods.

“I warned you.” You chastise him, turning around and pouring a generous amount of the cinnamon sugar icing onto each of the cakes while they’re still hot so it absorbs into them. “These need to sit overnight in the conservator.” 

“Okay, should I put them in now or when I get back tonight?” 

You know what he’s really asking. 

He wants to know if he’ll be staying with you or coming home alone.

The answer is obvious to you as you nudge the conservator open with your foot, sliding the tins onto one of the shelves. 

“I’ll do this now since you won’t be around to. Should we go?” You slip your shoes back on, watching as a bit of tension leaves his shoulders. 

“Sure.”

★

It’s a quiet walk back but it isn’t really uncomfortable. You just want to get him back to your room, where he’ll hopefully help you forget about this whole mess. 

You waste no time when you get to your chambers. You drag him to the closet, struggling to remove his armor, carefully setting each piece on the floor while he simultaneously lifts your shirt up over your head. Once you have every piece of beskar removed, you find yourself tumbling to the floor as he practically tackles you into the blankets. Both of you fumble for the lamp until finally you manage to flip the switch and it’s like he can’t get the helmet off fast enough because in what feels like a single second, you’re shrouded in darkness, you hear the the sound of air, a thud onto the ground, and his lips are on yours. 

You’re waiting for something more to happen, he’d been so urgent just a moment ago but now that you’re here he’s just kissing you.  

Of course you aren’t complaining. Every kiss with him feels like a blessing from the Maker themself. You’re just a little surprised. 

You had sort of hoped he had plans to ravage you solely for the purpose of distracting you from the question, still searing your every thought, demanding your attention. But instead he kisses you one last time before laying atop your chest, arms wrapped around you. You think about teasing him but there’s something cathartic about this. His willingness to just be with you without searching for more. So you let him.

And when he inevitably falls asleep, his monstrous snores filling the small space, you’re left alone with your thoughts. 

Well, thought. 

Do you love him? 

Do you want to love him? 

Loving him means too much. 

You tangle your fingers in his curls, in an attempt to soothe yourself. 

Loving him is complicated. It means you’ll have to finally answer the rest of the questions you don’t want to so much as think about.

Kids? Marriage? Kodo? Any sort of future.

Loving him puts him at risk. 

He’s always been at risk. His choice to love you meant putting his life on the line. Everyday he wanted to be yours was a day that he could be dragged off by one of your husbands unlimited guard members and killed. 

Loving him means understanding that you’re on a clock. A clock to get off of Naboo as quickly as possible, to somewhere far away to hunker down. To hide from the inevitable onslaught of search parties that would come after a missing royal. 

They’d send bounty hunters.

Kodo doesn’t even like you, but if you ran off with the man he hired to protect you? He would stop at nothing to get you back. The thought of what he would do to Din when he inevitably found the two of you makes your blood run cold. 

But you need to push those thoughts away. Yes, they are important but they shouldn’t impact your feelings. Because at the end of the day you either love him or you don’t. 

And you can’t even seem to figure that out. 

You’ve never been in love before, you don’t really have a frame of reference. 

You’ve certainly never felt for anyone the way you feel for him. 

Is that love? 

If you weren’t already married would you have said it back?

You aren’t even really a wife at this point. 

You’re a prisoner. 

You aren’t sure when he woke up but he brings you back to reality with a kiss to your chest. 

“You should be asleep, princess.” His voice is gravely, still thick with exhaustion. You run your hands along his vast shoulders in an attempt to soothe him back to sleep. 

“So should you.” You whisper into the darkness, he hums softly in response. 

It goes quiet again. His arms tighten around you and you know he remains awake, every so often he’ll place a chaste kiss to your breast. 

Would it be cruel to bring it up again?

At this point he doesn’t seem bothered in the slightest that you didn’t reciprocate the sentiment and you can’t keep fighting these battles alone. 

If you love each other, talking about these things is something you would do. 

It might be nice. To not be alone with these thoughts for once. 

“Din?” 

He hums again in response. You feel the scratch of his stubble against your chest as his head turns in your direction. 

You should let him sleep. Shut up and not bother him with this. 

“What does love mean to you?”

It’s such a corny question but you really are curious.

“What did you say?” For a moment you’re worried you’ve upset him but his tone makes you think he genuinely didn’t hear you. 

“What’s it like, to love someone?” 

He chuckles softly and a wave of relief washes over you. 

“That’s an awfully complicated question, cyare.”

“Okay, then, how did you know?” You purposefully avoid saying the words, “that you loved me.” 

“It sort of snuck up on me. It started my first week with you, when being with you started feeling less like a job and more like an honor.” 

Does he have to be so good with words? Even in this state, barely awake, he manages to be a goddamn poet. 

“Eventually it got to a point where I couldn’t ignore it anymore.” He mumbles his words into your skin. 

“When was that?”

“When you gave me a birthday.” 

Right before he had ended things. 

You don’t have to ask to know now that that's why he did it. 

“And that was when you were sure?”

“Yes. That was when I knew I loved you.” 

If he’s upset about you not saying it back he doesn’t make it known, he says it so casually.

“What does it feel like?” You run your fingers along the scar on the back of his head. 

“It feels like being afraid. There is a certain vein of fear that I had never known prior to meeting the kid, when I los-“ He hesitates. “When he left, I didn’t think I’d ever feel that fear again.” He sighs. “When I met you I learned how to be afraid all over again.” 

You sort of understand that feeling.

You felt it when you thought Kodo knew. And you felt it when you imagined Kodo’s reaction to your hypothetical children with Din. 

You felt it just moments ago. When you asked yourself if you loved him. 

“It’s like all the air leaves the room, replaced with terror. That terror eats away at everything until there’s nothing left.”

All you can think of is the night you found him in the hallway, and you’re certain you’ve never felt that level of fear.

“It’s not all fear though. I assume it’s different for everyone but the fear is only a part of it. For me it mostly feels like devotion and temptation. I know what it is to be devoted, for decades I followed my creed without question, and when I finally did abandon it, it was a matter of life and death, fueled by that fear.”

He sounds half asleep as he says it, like he’s telling himself a bedtime story, and you don’t dare interrupt. 

“That’s how I feel about you, except in your case, nothing could make me question my devotion to you, not even a matter of life and death. And as far as temptation goes…” He laughs quietly to himself. “I was unfamiliar with that feeling before you.”

“Temptation?” You whisper to him.

“When will you understand what you are to me, sarad’ika?” He sits up a little, you can’t see him but you feel his nose bump against your jaw as he rests his face in the crook of your neck.

“I know how you feel about me, you tell me quite often.” You’re only half-joking.

“Not how I feel about you, what you are to me. You are so much more than the one I never meant to love, I swear you were created just to tempt me.” You let your hand rest on the nape of his neck as he absentmindedly brushes his lips up against your throat. “If you asked me to remove my helmet, I would.” He murmurs against your throat. 

That’s a rather serious claim.

“You could have asked me from the moment I met you. It took time for me to realize I loved you but I have always, been sworn to you.” His fingers trail up and down your torso. “From the moment I first saw you, when you tried to remove my helmet, I promised myself that if you ever tried again, that I wouldn’t stop you.

Maker. 

How the fuck do you respond to that?

“We can talk more in the morning. Get some sleep.” He kisses your temple and lays back down against your chest.

He can be annoyingly eloquent when he wants too. You can’t help but wish you were as capable of putting your feelings into words the way he does. Seriously, how are you supposed to top, “When I met you I learned how to be afraid all over again.” 

Maybe tomorrow you could try and show him how much he means to you. Since you can’t seem to find the right thing to say, and even if you could he’s already asleep again, snoring at an ungodly volume like he didn’t just profess his profound love to you.

But talking to him helped, from how he describes it, you might just love him too.

★

This morning is much more coordinated than your last. 

Din wakes you up before the girls arrive. You have plenty of time to pick out one of the simpler pink gowns in your collection, along with a matching pair of slippers. You leave him there with plenty of time to spare. 

The girls don’t question it this time either. Neither of them tries to go into the closet and they waste no time dressing you. Lysa finds you a nice pink nightie from the dresser but you honestly aren’t all that thrilled about it this time around.

It’s getting harder and harder to care about this. 

Being dressed up like a doll every day.

Din certainly doesn’t care about what you look like so why even bother at this point? You’re antsy to get back to him and you’re about to hastily thank and dismiss the girls as they finish but Elaine speaks first. 

“Princess, would you join me for tea this morning?” 

You have no logical reason to refuse and you do enjoy time spent with Elaine.

You just want to be with Din.

But you can’t tell her that. 

“Certainly, shall I meet you in the gardens again?” 

“I will see you there, my lady.” Both girls give you small bows before leaving. Only a few seconds after they’re gone the closet door opens and there stands your Mandalorian. He makes his way to you, wrapping his arms around you and pulling you close.

“Shall I escort you to the gardens, my lady?” He leans down a bit so your eyes are level with the line of his visor.

“Lead the way.”

It’s a short walk and you’re once again surprised by how quickly Elaine has set things up, a table and chairs wait for you in the gazebo.

“Do you think you could find something to do for a few minutes on your own?” You say quietly enough that you know only he can hear it as you approach. 

He doesn’t respond but as you step into the gazebo he doesn’t follow you in, once you’re seated he walks off into the garden. 

“Seems like things are better between the two of you?” She pours you a cup, making it the way you like it before handing you the saucer. 

“Much better.” You smile as you take a sip. 

“May I speak freely ma’am?” She sets her cup down and crosses her arms, staring at you. Her tone has gotten so serious so suddenly you’re a bit stunned. 

“Of course.” 

“Lysa and I stopped coming to help you undress in the evenings many moons ago, we stopped waiting for you to summon us.” 

What a strange thing to say. 

“Okay?” Is all you can manage, still unsure as to what she could possibly mean by that statement. 

“Well, my lady, we just assumed you didn’t need the help anymore…” She stares at you expectantly but you’re still giving her a confused look. “You know…” Her eyebrows are raised but you just shake your head slowly, giving her a blank stare. “With getting undressed.”

Oh.

Oh.

Not much you can really say about that, she’s right, and you hadn’t even noticed because someone else was undressing you. Still, she can’t expect you to outright admit that. 

“I don’t need you to say a word, my lady, I just needed to talk to you, to warn you.” Something about her tone makes you shiver, even out here in the sun. 

“About?” 

“You’ve been reckless, princess.” You set your cup down. 

“Spit it out Elaine, you’re making me nervous.” You laugh anxiously but her expression remains stern.

“Kodo won’t take your absence from dinner lightly. And you’ve been too blatant about your friendship with the Mandalorian. You should act with more caution.” 

Well, you had wanted her to be blunt, you can’t be too shocked about that. 

“He is not a man who takes kindly to disrespect. He will retaliate if you aren’t careful, that’s all.” You nod as she takes a sip of her tea.

That’s all she says on the subject, quickly moving on to another topic.

Her warning was genuine and you’re thankful for it but you push it from your mind. You will right this wrong and attend dinner with Kodo this week.

★

Tea is short after that.

You aren’t in the mood for small talk anymore, you just want to spend the rest of the day with Din.

You whisper a genuine thanks to her before she departs, and you rush over to where he stands in the flowers.

“Cabin?” He asks. Thankfully he doesn’t risk holding your hand in broad daylight but he lets his knuckles brush against yours. 

“Cabin.” You follow him towards the pond and once you’re close enough he scoops you up into his arms to keep you out of the water. “Din! What if someone sees?” You whisper yell at him, eyes scanning the vacant gardens. 

“This isn’t any less damning than you walking in on your own. Besides, no one’s around, promise.” He pushes open the door before setting you down, locking up behind the two of you. “I’ve lived here for long enough to know that nobody comes out this far except us. Now, what do you want for the rest of the day?” He kicks off his boots and you set your slippers next to them.

It’s past noon at this point, you have nothing planned. 

“Do you want to just stay here? I think today I just want to stay here.” You walk over to the bed, lifting your skirt and taking a seat. 

“Works for me, I’m going to get some chores done if you don’t mind.” He removes his gloves, tossing them on the table before kneeling beside the dresser. 

“I don’t mind at all.” You scoot back a bit to rest against the wall, you’re actually quite curious to see what he’ll do, and you need time to think of how you’re going to show him how much he means to you. 

You watch as he takes out different weapons and tech that you don’t recognize. He tosses his gloves to the side and starts methodically cleaning every item. 

You’re sort of hypnotized by his attention to detail, it lets you think.

What does he like? 

Green, you, the kid, classic ships. 

None of those things can really show him how much he means to you though. 

He’s setting different things aside as he finishes any maintenance required, every so often he looks up at you before returning to his work. You feel a little useless just sitting here so you get up to take the cakes out of the conservator. 

Suddenly you have his attention. 

You don’t dare say a word, letting him just observe in peace. He drops whatever he’s working on, you don’t look but you can feel his visor trained on you. 

You take the tins out, setting them on the table before finding a dull knife. Each cake is small enough that you can fit your hands around each tin if you hold your fingers in the shape of a circle. You carve each cake out of its tin and he watches you intently the entire time, you can see him in your peripherals. 

So he likes… watching you do a shitty job at taking cakes out of tins?

It’s crass but you go through the list of things that have worked him up before. Things you’ve said to get him to give you what you want during sex. 

Two instances come to mind. 

The time you unknowingly said I love you.

And then last night, when you told him he could finish inside you.

And now? Your head tilts up just in time to watch him adjust himself in his trousers before sheepishly tuning back to his work when you catch him watching you. It takes a second but eventually things start to click.

He likes watching you look at home in his cabin. He likes the intimate feeling of a simple life. Watching you bake, saying I love you, having kids. 

Things a normal couple might do. 

He tosses something up onto the bed, you stare at it for a moment as he starts putting other things back into the dresser.

Handcuffs. 

Thick, padded, and metal. 

You know he intends on using them on you but you act fast, hurrying over to him, taking his hand. 

“What are you doing mesh’la?” He chuckles as you sit him down on the bed.

This is gonna be a shot in the dark, but if you’re confident enough, (and right) it’ll be worth it.

“Just, let me take care of you.” 

“You already take care of me.” He insists, starting to get up but you firmly plant your hands on his shoulders, pushing him back down. Your plan is rapidly forming in your mind.

“I mean it, now stay put.” He sighs loudly but nods, tilting his head to the side in confusion. No sense in being coy, might as well be clear with your intentions to see if he’s actually into it. “Don’t be a baby, I know you get off on this kind of thing.” The moment you say it he scoffs but you’re already across the room, taking one of the little cakes and putting it onto a plate. 

“Excuse me?” “His voice is already terribly defensive but you just laugh it off. 

“You’re not the only one who can make observations. You think I didn’t notice the way your tone switched when I offered to bake for you?” He starts to argue but you cut him off. “And I’m definitely not going to ignore how quickly you came when I told you you could finish inside of me.” That surprisingly shuts him up. This might actually be the only time you’ve caught him so off guard that he doesn’t have a response. 

You bring the plate over to the bed, setting it on his nightstand.

“You like domesticity.” You lean in to whisper to him. “You want me to take care of you, don’t you Mr. Tough Mandalorian?” You can’t gauge his reaction because of the helmet but you can gauge the tent in his pants perfectly fine. 

“Djarin.” He certainly doesn’t sound stern now. 

“Djarin?”

“Din Djarin.” You hadn’t even realized until just now that you didn’t know his last name. 

You straddle one of his thighs, spreading his legs with your knees.

“Well then, let me take care of you, Din Djarin.” You like the way his name feels in your mouth and based on the way his cock twitches against your leg you’d reckon he does too. 

He’s always been so open with you and you’ve always kept him at a distance. 

Right here right now, if you weren’t dealing with the worst possible circumstances (your husband), you know that you’d tell him you love him, that you ache for him, that you know fear because of him. You know you love him. And you’re pretty sure he knows it too.

You just aren’t ready to say it. 

So you’ll have to show it. (And maybe say a few things that you are ready to say.) 

You love each other, at the end of the day you can’t keep censoring yourself when you think about him, he doesn’t deserve that. 

You want to show him what he deserves. 

You reach behind him and grab the cuffs. As you do his hands wrap around you to tug at your corset strings, an act that he’s getting rather good at. 

“You gonna put those on for me, mesh’la?” He drawls. Once he’s loosened your corset enough so that you’ll be able slip out of it you lean back again.

“No.” You grin at him and he immediately shakes his head. 

“Absolutely not.” He says the moment you start smiling.

“You’re always in charge, just let me be in charge, I’m doing this for you.” You grab one of his wrists but he easily pulls it away. 

“You were in charge last time.”

True, but irrelevant.

“Do you love me?” You stick your bottom lip out a little. 

“You’re terrible.” 

“I know.” But it works, because when you grab his wrist again he doesn’t pull away. 

“You know I can get out of these right? Very easily.” He says, watching you close the first cuff around his wrist, removing the belt around his torso and the one around his waist. 

“I know that too, but you love me, so you’re going to leave them on until I take them off.

“This feels less like you’re taking care of me and more like I’m your prisoner.” He mumbles. 

“Oh hush, you’d be happy either way.” Once again he seems at a loss for words as you cuff his other wrist, he sets his hands in his lap. You smooth out the fabric of his cowl before carefully removing it, folding it and walking it over to the table and setting it down. “I’ll make you a deal.” You say, turning back to face him. “If you don’t like it then I will stop and we can do this your way. But if you don’t then I will assume I was right, and you do want me to take care of you.” You straddle his thigh again and play with one of the releases on his chest plate.

“You’re being purposefully vague. What does taking care of me entail?” The impatience on his voice trails off as you start releasing his chestplate, finding the little locks, undoing them one by one. 

“Well… I just think that you like certain things, and I think you’re too embarrassed to admit it.”

“What things?” 

You click the last release and remove his chest plate, walking over to the dresser to set it down carefully before returning.

“You like that I baked for you.” You remove his gauntlets, setting them on his nightstand.

“Who wouldn’t like that?” You swear you almost hear him stutter. 

“Oh but I think you really like it. Because you know I did it just for you.” You remove his pauldrons and kneel between his legs to remove the pieces of armor on his thighs. “You like when I hold you, you like seeing me here, in your home, in your bed.” You slide his remaining armor down his legs, setting them aside before standing again and spreading his thighs with your knees to slot yourself between them, your hands grip the edges of his helmet. 

“Can I?” You whisper. 

After a moment's hesitation he nods. 

Your fingers snap the airlocks and you gently lift. 

Before closing your eyes you allow yourself one peek. 

You’re graced with a bashful smile, and you know that it’s okay, so you squeeze your eyes shut and completely remove the helmet, setting it on the bed beside him. Almost as if on instinct he leans forward and you feel his lips on yours as you gently push him back. 

“Let me do it, Din.” You laugh softly. “You don’t have to do everything.” You lean forward this time, hands on either side of his face, running your tongue over that bottom lip you wish you could see. “I’m going to take my dress off.” You mumble into his mouth before pulling back, you turn around and quickly slide your gown down your body, you grab the plate on his bedside table before closing your eyes and turning back around. His restrained hands play with the front of your nightie. 

“What are you-” His unfiltered voice is like warm honey, deep and raw, but you silence it by putting two fingers from your freehand to where you assume his mouth is. He starts to speak again so you gingerly slide your thumb between his lips and you hear any more questions he might have flicker out. 

“Can you go more than five minutes without asking me a question?” The moment you say it his lips purse like he’s going to ask again, you place your thumb over his tongue. Once you’re certain he isn’t going to interrupt your actions again you remove your hand from his face and tear a chunk of the cake off of the plate. “Open.” You laugh softly as you bring your hand towards his mouth, he immediately starts to protest again but you take the opportunity to stuff the pastry into his mouth, you get lucky and actually manage to get it in on the first try. 

If you’re being honest, you aren’t completely sure if this is going to work. You’re still acting on a hunch. A very presumptuous hunch, that deep down he wants nothing more than a quiet, soft life. 

A home. 

Unless of course you’re wrong. In that case you’re going to be rather embarrassed. Which is starting to be a worry as you realize he isn’t moving, two of your fingers just barely past his lips, he still hasn’t moved and you fell you nerves starting to get the best of you, just as you’re about to withdrawal and apologize for the entire silly affair, his lips close around your fingers. You can’t help but gasp at the feeling, accidentally taking a step back in surprise.    

His fingers immediately grasp at what fabric they can on your undergarments, trying to pull you closer again. You’re about to say something smug, along the lines of “I told you so.” But you’re stopped dead in your tracks.

Because Maker, he whimpers. 

You let him tug you back between his legs. The cold metal of the cuffs brushes against your thighs. 

You reach down and tear off another chunk of the cake, his bound hands guide you back to his mouth, which you're shocked to find is still open as you gently feed him. This time you don't flinch back, his lips close around your fingers and his tongue licks them clean.

This is the temptation he spoke of. 

You respect his creed. You’ve sort of taken your own creed, a vow to yourself not to look. But right now it takes all of your restraint to not look. Nothing could possibly make you happier than knowing what he must look like right now, lips wrapped around your fingers, trying to pull you closer. 

But just like him, you resist those temptations, finally pulling your hand away. 

“I told you I’d take care of you.” You whisper, a slight teasing edge to your voice.

“You’re a strange woman, sarad’ika.” He whispers back.

“So you don’t like this?” You tear off a piece for yourself, popping it into your mouth, feeling the icing coat your tongue. You bask in his silence before picking up the remaining pastry, gently feeding him, tossing the plate blindly onto the bed.

The only answer you need to your question is the way his tongue drags across your palm when he’s finished, you waste no time after that to push him down into the mattress. Letting your lips find his.

His mouth tastes just like it did the first time you kissed.

Vanilla. 

His arms go over your head, trapping you in his embrace. 

“Tell me I was right.” You pull back from him, grinning.

“I wouldn’t exactly go so far as to say that you were right.” His mouth latches to your chin, peppering a trail of kisses back up to your lips but you pull further back, as far as his arms will let you, eyes still shut.

“You’re a terrible liar, you know that right? Because about thirty seconds ago you were quite literally eating out of the palm of my hand.” He continues trying to kiss you to silence you but you keep turning your head to the side, he settles on your jaw eventually. 

“That doesn’t prove anything, I’ve barely eaten anything today, maybe I was just hungry.” He mumbles against your skin. 

“Mhmm, sure. Are you sure you don’t like playing house? I think you like imagining me as Mrs. Djarin.”

Whoops. Where the hell did that come from? 

“Don’t say that.” His voice isn’t playful anymore as he sits up, keeping you in his lap. 

“Kriff, I’m sorry Din, that was too fa-” You hear a metal thud behind you on the floor and his hands are no longer cuffed, they hold your waist now. 

“If you don’t mean it, don't joke about that.” His breath is hot on your face and his grip on you tightens. 

If you don’t mean it. 

So you were right. 

Your mind screams at you to be rational. You have a husband, there are a million reasons to apologize and to move on from this. 

Stop using the husband that was forced upon you as an excuse.

You can’t keep holding back when it comes to Din. It isn’t fair to him. Not when he gives you everything. 

“If I do mean it, can I joke about it?” Your voice is the quietest it’s been all day. 

He takes your hands and brings them up to his face, so you can feel him nod. 

“I’ll keep joking about it if you tell me I’m right. I’ll joke all night long.” You laugh a little as he brings one of your hands to his mouth so he can kiss your wrist. 

“You’re right.”

You can’t help yourself.

“About?” 

“I like this.” He drags his lips down your arm before dropping it. “I like when you take care of me.” 

“Turn the lights off.” He doesn’t hesitate once you say it, the curtains are all already closed 

Once the lights are off he flips you onto your back, you hear everything on the bed clatter to the floor as he tosses it aside.

His bed is lower than yours so his hands grab you by your hips, lifting your bottom half into the air a little, making you squeak in surprise. 

“Tell me another joke.” He says under his breath as he spreads your legs so he can grind his still clothed erection against you. 

“I thought you were going to let me take care of you?” You scoff at him, hearing his zipper.

“I am,” You gasp as he drops you back down onto the mattress, climbing on top of you. “I’m letting you tell me jokes.” You can practically hear his grin as he guides the blunt head of his cock into your folds. Lazily rubbing it against your clit and leaning down to whisper to you. “You started this with all your talk, is that all it was? Talk? I thought you said you meant it?”  

You’re trying to remember how he got the upperhand so quickly but it’s hard to concentrate when he keeps nudging himself against your most sensitive spot.

Everything always happens so fast with him, just once you’d like to turn things around on him and have it work.

“I-I meant it.” Is all you really manage to get out, he brings his cock down a bit to tease your entrance, never actually pushing in. His voice has that condescending tone to it that tells you he’s willing to play this game for a while and you hadn’t really factored in just how aroused you’d get during your display a few minutes ago. You’re soaked and there’s a good chance he’s going to draw this out in retaliation. He swipes his tip back up to your clit, the both of you hiss in unison. 

You still have one ace up your sleeve as you recall your conversation from last night. 

“So you liked one of my offers?” 

“I might have been interested in one of them”

One thing you know he wants. 

“Come on, sarad’ika. Where are your jokes?” He chuckles against your skin as he kisses your shoulder. 

“I was just trying to think of a baking joke. Can you give me a second?” You gasp out as his free hand reaches underneath you to squeeze your ass before coming up to rest on your hip. 

“I know you can do better than a baking joke.” You can feel him grin against you now, his teeth lightly graze your shoulder.

“It’s a shame, you would have liked it.” He goes back to teasing your entrance, pressing himself into you just enough to make you squirm but not enough to actually be inside you. You try to shift your hips downwards but his hand keeps you pinned in place. 

“I liked your jokes about Mrs. Djarin.” 

It’s now or never.

“Well you liked my cooking as well, so I thought I’d make a joke about a bun in the oven, you’d like that wouldn’t you? Filling me u-”

His hips buck forward and his grip on you tightens to the point of a sharp pain. To seemingly both of your surprises, in an instant he’s buried nearly to the hilt in your heat. 

“Maker, Din!” You’re gonna have a brand new set of bruises tomorrow. 

“Sorry! I, fuck- sorry.” He’s grunting in your ear, not bothering with your shoulder anymore, burying his face into the pillow next to your head. 

“Dank farrik, Din…” You’re reeling from the sudden motion, your head tilted back into the mattress. You need to catch your breath but the muffled groans coming from him distract you. The sting from the sudden stretch you're experiencing is quickly fading and you bring your hands up to his head, one resting in his hair and the other at the nape of his neck. 

He wanted to make this a game so you’re going to play, and you’re going to win.

You’re still panting a little as you turn your head to the side so you can whisper into his ear. 

“Stars Din, it’s that easy to get you worked up, huh?” His breathing is starting to level out, his grip on you lightens up. “I thought I was easy to rile up but look at you, all this just at the thought of a bun in the oven.” 

He isn’t making noise anymore, he’s still against you, listening intently as you run a soothing hand down his spine and back up again. 

“I can’t imagine what you’re going to be like when you actually get me pregnant.” 

You’re surprised by your own words, like your brain is on auto-pilot and you can’t filter yourself but he fucking whines so you don’t care in the slightest. High pitched and needy, muffled by the pillow. His hips start slowly rocking into you and you bite back your moan, wanting to maintain your advantage. 

You tangle your fingers into his hair, pulling his head out of the pillow, savoring the whimper that comes from his as you do.

“Oh come on, you can’t even  handle the thought of it?” You breathe out the words and his head falls downwards as you release him, he bites your shoulder. “What does it for you?” He unclenches his jaw, starting to bury his face back into the pillow but you pull him back up again.

“Is it just the idea of finishing in me?” 

He doesn’t answer, to be fair you’re barely holding it together either at this point.

“Or do you just want everyone to know I’m yours? Want everyone to see that you knocked me up?”  

You get your answer with that because he’s trying to bury his face back into the pillow. A low wail leaves his lips as he frantically ruts into you. How quickly everything’s escalated has you hurtling towards your climax and you can tell by the desperate whine that leaves his lips as he presses them into your collar bone that he won’t be far behind. 

“I know you can do better than that, Din.” You mock his tone from earlier but he’s unfazed, pounding into you until finally you can’t tease him anymore because he’s reduced you to gasps and moans.

It doesn’t take long after that. 

One after the other.

You first, when his hand travels downwards, it takes only a few precise circles rubbed into your clit and your grip tightens in his hair, your walls flutter around him.

Just like that he’s going over the edge with you.

He pulls out, finishing on your stomach. 

You shouldn’t feel upset but there's the tiniest bit of disappointment as you feel his cum against your skin. 

He collapses onto the bed next to you, pulling you into his arms.

“I love you.” He presses a kiss into your hair. 

“I know.” 

★

You sit in the quiet dark for a long while, until finally, you have to ask.

“Do you actually want kids someday?” Your voice breaks the silence of the pitch-black room. “Little Djarin’s running around?” 

He rolls over so he’s hovering above you now.

“Are you trying to start round two?” He chuckles, resting his forehead against yours, your nose bumps against his. “I’ll need a few more minutes before I can go again, sarad, but I can keep you occupied until then.” He kisses you quickly, already starting to move his mouth south but you stop him. 

It’s so effortless right now. To be happy with him, in the darkness, pushing away thoughts of royal responsibilities. Letting yourself be with just Din, even if it’s brief. 

“I’ll take that as a yes?” You ask.

“Yes. Someday.” He kisses your sternum, laying down on your chest.

“With me?” 

“No, with Elaine.” You smack the back of his head when he says it, he laughs against your skin. “Yes, with you.” 

You let him lay on top of you as you nod to yourself. 

“Is it weird that everytime we have sex it turns into a competition?” He starts to laugh once more as you say it.

“It’s weird that you keep losing.” 

You smack him again.

★

Your peaceful break from reality is brief, as always, as you sit up. 

“We have to go. I can’t be out all night.” The last thing you want to do is return to your room right now, you want to stay here, the cabin feels more like home than any room in the castle ever has. 

He seems as unhappy with this as you are. The two of you dress in silence once he flicks the lamp back on, you turn around until you hear him reattach his helmet. 

You hold his hand on the walk back. You don’t have much to say right now, you’re certain at this point that you’ve made it clear that you love him.

That you just aren’t ready to say it. 

And he doesn’t seem to mind. 

You’re ready to just sleep. Your blanket nest seems more and more inviting the closer you get to the castle. 

The two of you sneak in through the back entrance and as always the castle is quiet at night. You keep your hand in his as you make your way up the steps. 

It isn’t until you get to the hallway where your chambers are located that you hear it. 

A persistent banging sound and someone yelling incomprehensibly. 

Din immediately drops your hand. 

Neither of you speaks as you walk but he shifts himself so he’s walking ahead of you, as you get closer you recognize the distinct, nasally voice. 

In the dim light of the hall you see Kodo, banging on your bedroom door.

“Wife, come now, you can’t ignore me, I’m your husband.” He hisses, you can smell the alcohol on him from here.

Shit. Shit. Shit.

“Kodo, are you okay?” You plaster on a faux look of concern as you approach, Din tries to put his hand up to stop you but you ignore it. 

He turns to stare at you, his clothes are askew and he isn’t even wearing his crown. 

“Wife! Where have you been?” He slurs, leaning in for a kiss that you sidestep, he doesn’t seem bothered by your rejection. 

“I went on a walk.” You answer quickly and he takes hold of your waist, you try not to look too repulsed.

“You skipped dinner yesterday, dear wife.” He teeters a bit, leaning towards you as you again try to avoid his kiss but this time he holds you firmly in place, it’s sloppy and you have to wipe a bit of spit from your face after.  

“I did, I wasn’t feeling well.” Your voice is getting smaller and smaller as you feel fear bubbling in your chest.

“Where are your guards?” There’s no respect in Din’s voice, no “your highness” or “your grace.” No one speaks to Kodo that way, not even you, but he’s too drunk to even notice. 

“I dismissed them, as is customary when one is visiting his bride’s chambers.” Kodo lurches forward, his hands sloppily grope the fabric of your skirt and you make an audible groan of discomfort. 

“We should get you back to your own chambers, come now dear husband.” You try to sound patient, you know he’s capable of violence and you don’t want to push him in this state.

“Why would we do that, wife? Come now, tonight I shall join you in bed. I missed you last night.” He hisses the words and you know he didn’t miss you in the slightest, this is a punishment.

This is what you get for disobeying. 

For skipping your dinner with him.

This is the inevitable thing that has made you unable to tell Din you love him. This looming promise of Kodo.

There’s nothing you could possibly do right now to escape the fate before you. The fear you feel right now is certainly not the fear of love that Din described to you. 

But that quickly changes.

You don’t get a chance to react as Din takes a step between you and Kodo, he doesn’t even wind up, he just drives his fist forward and you hear the sickening crunch of your husband's nose just before he slumps to the floor. 

As you stare at Din, you know your fear has changed. His shoulders heaving, his rage fills the corridor as you listen to his ragged breaths through the modulator. He turns around to face you, but you just stare at his hand, where the evidence of this potentially deadly mistake is dripping down his fingertips. You have never been more terrified for another person's life the way you are right now for Din. 

You’re mesmerized by the little speckles of your husband's blood, a stark contrast to the yellow fingertips of his gloves.

And suddenly it feels like all the air leaves the corridor as you finally look into his visor, you don’t see Din though, all you see is what they’re going to do to him for this.

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[ltbarnes]

‘Tis the Damn Season

Stark U #6

Summary: It’s Christmas Eve, you’re too drunk, you’ve basically avoided Bucky and Steve for six months and the last person you’d want to meet at this party just happens to be yelling in your face. The panic attack is inevitable, really.

Pairing: college!Steve Rogers x reader, college!Bucky Barnes x reader, college!Sam Wilson x reader, college!Natasha Romanoff x reader

Word count: 7.8k

Warnings: so much angst, past SA, alcohol, talk about violence, Christmas celebrations, things finally start to happen, kissing :)

A/N: Happy holidays to anyone who celebrates and to those who don’t, I hope you have a good few days anyways <3 This is the first I’ve posted since July which is awful of me so sorry

Series Masterlist

Main Masterlist

You didn't see them all summer. The day after your last exam was over, you bolted back to your hometown and spent the entire summer selectively ignoring messages from Bucky and Natasha and Steve and Sam asking what you were doing and how your summer was going and maybe you could all meet up and go somewhere and—

It's December now, and every goddamn day since June you have been trying to figure out if what Bucky said to you when you were sick was a fever-induced hallucination or if he really, actually, said that he wanted you to take his last name someday. It made you panic, because the entire spring term you tried to convince yourself that your feelings towards them were batshit crazy and any inkling to them feeling the same was a delusional reach, grasping for crumbs that in reality were just friendly gestures. And then he says that.

"She's just practicing her future last name, Stevie."

So, yeah...things have been weird. Three months have passed since classes started and none of you want to mention what happened right before summer break. Actually, with each day passing you feel more like maybe it was just a hallucination or a very vivid dream, because both Bucky and Steve act like it never even happened. Bucky even had his mouth latched onto some blonde sophomore at a dumb, stupid frat party on Halloween. You went home right after and cried for two hours. But it's not hard to conclude that even if there was some spark or connection or anything beyond friendship with either of them before summer, it has died out completely.

The subject will probably never be broached. You're too scared of confrontation and definitely too scared of revealing unreciprocated feelings for that to happen. The slightly tense atmosphere in the loft is entirely your fault—your lack of communication with anyone in the group during the summer has made them a little confused, you guess. You mostly spend time in your room, giving excuses of studying and talking with parents on the phone and 'I'm just tired, sorry'.

Spending too much time with Natasha scares you too, because she reads you so well and you don't want her to know how hurt and unhappily in love you are. She'll try to do something about it and then Steve and Bucky will catch on and then you will end up rejected and labeled as crazy, because who the fuck falls in love with two people?

That doesn't mean you've managed to avoid her. Living in the same apartment as her definitely makes that hard, but just the fact that she won't let you makes it impossible. Last week she even broke into your room when you had it locked, because apparently she knows how to pick a lock open in under ten seconds. She absolutely knows something is off, but so far she hasn't brought it up.

Natasha is the sole reason why you're now standing in the backyard of some rich kid's house just off campus, surrounded by smoke from cheap cigarettes and fairy lights hung up between the trees and one too many shots of vodka in your blood. It's December utterly and thoroughly—there's snow on the ground but people still haven't accepted the fact that wearing their short dresses and tank tops without jackets does not work anymore. Ice drops hangs from the tree where you stand, listening to Natasha talk with a drunken girl looking for her phone.

It's fun, sure. Not the worst party you've been to and not the best either. You talked to the girl you've been sitting next to in History class earlier for almost twenty minutes. Got free vodka. It's Friday and you don't have any exams to study for. None of that makes you forget that things aren't the same.

"Nat. Nat." You poke her shoulder repeatedly, obnoxiously probably, until she glances over her shoulder with a slight glare.

"What is it?"

"I'm gonna get 'nother drink. Inside," you tell her, pointing with your thumb towards a hedge even though it was meant to be the door. Natasha seems to understand anyway.

"Okay. Don't wander off too long. And come back here right after."

"Yes, ma'am." You give her a half-assed salute before turning around, swaying slightly in your step. It's the uneven and slippery surface of the snow-covered ground, you tell yourself.

There's a lot of people here, is what you note as you push yourself through the seemingly endless crowds of the living room. You kind of hate that they haven't played a single song you like and if Steve was here he would agree, because he doesn't listen to any music made after the internet was born. Bucky would then make fun of Steve and you would laugh and everything would be right in the world. Instead you're pressed to kitchen drawers of a dark kitchen, cheap vodka mixed with soda running down your throat.

The kitchen is crowded too, but either way it's a respite from whatever the hell's going on in the living room. Jumping up and down and calling it dancing (you were doing the same the hour before). You're too drunk to be miserable about everything happening in your life this entire term and much too drunk to feel the absolute atrocious taste of your drink.

In half an hour you will probably throw up and tomorrow will be spent nursing a horrible hangover, but those consequences seem insignificant right now. You just keep thinking about the image of Bucky shoving his tongue down someone's throat that wasn't yours. It was heartbreaking. That he's not here is a good thing, because you'd either witness the same thing again or actually bring it up to him, and that's much worse. God knows it's only a matter of time before Steve does the same thing.

Someone pushes into you, forcing the liquid from your cup to spill from the confines of the red plastic onto your dress. It's black, so it doesn't really matter, but the alcohol still seeps through the fabric until it reaches your skin.

"Shit, fuck—"

Your hand tries to somehow dry your dress by fanning the fabric, which obviously doesn't help very much, and the paper towels placed on the counter in front of you escape your drunken mind completely.

Fresh air and icy winter winds are the only options, so you push through and stumble into people on your way outside. It takes a lot longer than it should. You can't really see much considering the dizziness and darkness inside, but somehow, magically, you are eventually dragging your way towards Natasha who stands in the same place as before.

"Nat. Natty—I spilled. Look."

The black dress with the now wet patch is lifted towards her by your hands, highlighted for her to see. You sway as you tell her.

"Jesus, you can barely stand straight," Natasha answers with a stabling hand to your shoulder, shaking her head to herself instead of focusing on the very urgent fact that you spilled on yourself.

Natasha turns to the girl she's talking to, saying something you can't bother to decipher, before stepping aside with a guiding arm around you.

"We gotta get you home before you embarrass yourself for real," she mumbles underneath her breath.

"I heard that," you whisper, a loud hiccup following. Whoops.

She rolls her eyes, fishing her phone up from her pocket.

"Who—who you writing? To?" you ask, slightly aware that your sentences lack correct structure but not really caring. As long as the message comes across, right?

"I'm texting Steve. I can't drive and you sure as hell can't."

Even in your state, panic instantly sets in over the mention of his name even though you live in the same goddamn apartment.

"Nooo. No Steve."

Your hand grasps for her phone. Nat pulls it away from your reach much quicker than you can comprehend.

"Yes Steve. You're a mess and he's the only one with the patience to take care of this level of drunk. I don't care that you're avoiding them for some stupid goddamn reason," she tells you.

"Nat," you whine. "He can't see me. I spilled!"

She just glares at you. "I swear to god, Y/n...nobody cares that you spilled your drink. I can't even see it."

"I'm so drunk!"

"Yeah, I know. Just—just stay here, okay? I'm going to get you some water so you can sober up by the time your precious Steve comes for us."

Natasha is heading inside before you can process her words. Waiting in place for a few minutes turns into an eternity in your mind. She should know better than to leave you unattended and then expect you to stay—really, it's her own fault. You will accept no blame if Nat gets mad at you for going inside again. It's cold and you need to go to the bathroom. Also, you're mad at her. Telling Steve to come get you? That's just...embarrassing.

Once again you're shouldering your way past people on about the same level of intoxication as you. There's a bad remix of a Christmas song playing loudly. Makes you wanna punch whoever's phone is connected to the speaker. The bathroom is so, so far away. It's something the architect of this house should've thought of before he put it at the very end of this long hallway you're currently making your way through, but clearly he didn't have you in mind.

"Fuck! Watch where you're going, asshole," some girl seethes at you as your shoulder nudges against hers. A nudge is an exaggeration—you brushed against it at most. She's probably an aggressive drunk, that's all.

You don't answer, instead fumbling for the door handle to what you believe might be the bathroom. Some couple is making out in here, the girl with her ass planted on the edge of the bathtub and the guy nearly devouring her face. Doesn't look very pleasant, if you're honest.

"Out. I need to pee."

Your hands find their way to their shoulders, ushering the lovesick pair out of the room without much protest from either of them. They're still making out as they walk out.

Despite your less than sober state, you manage to remember to lock the door after they leave. Some of the mascara that previously inhabited your lashes has moved down to rest under your eyes. You rub it away, smudging it slightly, but it just makes you look a little more like one of those cool girls you always see on campus. It will do.

You kind of want to throw up, but decide against it. That hasn't happened since you were a freshman, and you'd like to keep it that way. Staring at yourself in the mirror occupies your time in the bathroom instead, swaying slightly with your hands placed on the cold sink. If Steve saw you now he would be so disappointed. At least you imagine he would be—that fatherly look on his face as he tells you how you need to be more mindful with your alcohol consumption. Did you even watch who poured your drink? Never go anywhere alone at a party. Especially not a frat one. You know better than this, Y/n.

Steve's imaginary voice is interrupted by someone banging on the door, shouting for you to hurry the fuck up. It's been over ten minutes, but to you it just feels like three, and Natasha has been looking for you ever since she returned to the garden with a glass of water in her hand and no one to give it to. It's not her banging on the door, unfortunately, but instead a dickhead guy who has no patience. Can't a girl spend some time alone in the bathroom doing nothing anymore?

The guy glares at you as you push the door open, stumbling out into the crowded hallway while paying him no mind. It's dark save for the red LED-lights plastered on the walls, making it feel like a seedy dive bar instead of a seedy house. You don't see much.

"Hey! Hey, you—the girl with the black dress!"

Someone pushes their way past the people talking and making out and leaning against the walls, shoving through them as he searches for your attention. Of course, you don't really think it's you he's after. Half of the people at this party are wearing black dresses.

A clammy hand finds purchase on your shoulder, halting you in your less than gracious steps and turning you around with ease. Head tilted back, gaze running upwards until they settle on the face of a quite attractive guy. He doesn't look pretty happy to see you. You're not very happy to see him either.

The blood drains from your face, stealing away all that alcohol-induced heat within a second as his curly hair and green eyes look down at you with that same contempt he had when Sam dragged him away from the kitchen almost a year ago. You had hoped you never had to see him again. It was a naive thing to wish for.

"Y/n, right?" he asks bitterly. You don't answer, but he takes your silence as a yes. It was probably a rhetorical question anyway. His slightly crooked nose was perfectly straight the last time you saw him. His face is committed to your memory, burned in to taunt you on sleepless nights and everytime an unknown man walks a little too closely when you're out alone. "Your little boyfriend broke my fucking nose. You know that?"

Another rhetorical question. Definitely more threatening. Might be the tight grip he has on your arm too. Either way, his mere presence has apparently stripped away your ability to breathe normally. It feels like you've been running to the point of nausea, dark spots dancing before your eyes as he shakes you in attempt to get an answer.

"You ruined my fucking reputation. For what? I barely touched you. Such a sensitive fucking bitch, going around telling everyone that..." His voice trails off, ushering you into a quiet corner when he realizes people are staring. "Got nothing to say now, huh? Been so good at running your fucking mouth before, haven't you?"

"Let me go," you whisper, voice wavering. You don't sound assertive at all, instead weak and fearful. It's what you feel, as an upbeat, slightly bad cover rendition of "All I Want For Christmas" booms through the house. Girls shrieking in excitement over in the living room reaches your ears. You would have joined them if you weren't currently cornered by the guy who assaulted you in your own kitchen a year ago.

"No, we're going to fucking talk. What the fuck were you doing, going around saying shit like that about me to everyone?"

"I...I didn't..." Your lips part between words, breathing out shakily, trying to articulate sentences long enough to make sense. Why can't you speak? Why can't you even think?

"You didn't what?" he seethes. "You're such a fucking bitch, you know that? Acts all innocent and hides behind her friends. My nose is fucking crooked forever because of that fuckhead you sent after me."

Is it the alcohol that renders you this goddamn useless? There's just tears springing to your eyes, unable to say anything in defense of yourself. Can't even walk away.

He pushes you against the wall, knocking the breath out of you. To other people it probably looks like you're hooking up. At least that's what you hope they think, because otherwise you want to wonder why no one is intervening.

"Joshua, please let me go," you tell him again, even more pathetic this time. You're crying now, curled in on yourself in attempt to make yourself as small as possible.

"Fuck, you're so—"

"She told you to let her go."

The assertive, familiar tone booms through the hallway. It doesn't really, can probably only be heard by the people around you, but it feels like it when Steve's tall figure pushes through with hasty steps towards where you and Joshua stand, followed by a glaring Bucky with his jaw clenched so fucking tightly. A sob of relief is drawn from your lips, muffled by the back of your hand.

Joshua steps back instantly. Kind of funny to think that he's so scared of those two, and sad to think that he only respects a 'no' when it comes from men.

"Nice nose job," Bucky speaks up, pointing at his own nose as he stares at Joshua's crooked one, courtesy of the damn good punch he managed to land with his left fist all those months ago.

"Fuck you," Joshua growls, taking a step forward in attempt to appear more threatening or something. He doesn't really succeed—both Bucky and Steve towers over him in both length and build, unrelenting in their stance. As if they're stone walls keeping out the enemy.

Steve rolls his his eyes, shaking his head with a sigh. "Just get out of here. Don't go near her ever again, you hear me? Bucky's glad to fix your nose otherwise. Break it right back. Can't promise the result will be very good, though."

Bucky stands slightly behind Steve, raising an eyebrow in Joshua's direction that tells him there's not even a trace of a lie in the blonde giant's statement.

"You—fuck this." Joshua throws his hands in the air, aiming the most distasteful glare over his shoulder in your direction, before pushing past Steve and Bucky with a shove.

Your body instantly deflates, the tension melting off your limbs as you close your eyes and lean back against the wall. Gentle, firm hands instantly reach your cheeks, your arms, searching for any trace Joshua might have left behind on your body.

"Hey, hey. Y/n, are you okay? Did he touch you? Sweetheart, look at me."

Bucky's voice draws you out of the anxious, panicked state you slipped into, fluttering your eyelids open to see his worried frown and an equally worried Steve looming behind him. Wet cheeks and red-rimmed eyes greet them, pupils dilated from the alcohol.

"Y/n, are you hurt? How long have you two been talking?" Steve adds, looming over you in such a way that his large frame blocks out any of the colorful lights plastered on the walls.

They already know you're drunk—Natasha was the one to call them here to get you, after all. Maybe your silence and obvious intoxication makes it clear to them after a couple of seconds that an answer from you is a few minutes away, a few miles of distance from this foggy, packed house. Nothing more is said or requested from you. Instead your trembling form is led away and out into the biting cold by gentle hands belonging to your friends. Even your slight shock can't shield you from freezing your ass off as soon as you get out into the fresh air again, teeth beginning to chatter within the second step on tightly packed snow.

"What the—where the hell have you been? I swear to god, Y/n, I was gone for two minutes! I've been looking for you everywhere!" an angry Natasha yells, running perfectly towards the three of you down the slippery lawn to where Steve is currently helping you into the backseat of his car.

"Nat," Steve says, giving her a pleading look that silently tells her it's not the time for a scolding.

"What? I told her to stay put when I went to get her a glass of water and she just disappeared out of nowhere. Slippery motherfucker while drunk, I swear she'll be the death of me—"

"Nat," he repeats, sternly this time. In that tone only he masters, silencing even the most eager tongues with a single exhale. "She met Joshua. And she's not okay. So please, leave your yelling for tomorrow and get in the car."

Steve holds the passenger door open, gesturing for the seat beside Bucky. He's turning the key, letting the car warm up properly while he clutches the wheel tightly. Natasha's irritated frown turns into a concerned one, nodding silently before slipping inside. Steve closes the door shut behind her.

You lean your head against the frost-covered window, fogged up by your breath two inches away from it, and close your eyes. Steve leans over you, reaching for the belt and fastens it over your torso. You forgot. He never does.

It's no surprise, doesn't startle you despite your absentminded state, when his warm hand cups your cheek, turns your head to face him. Soft, blue gaze and ridiculously long lashes. It's nothing but contrasting against the clouds released from your mouths with each breath—warm, concerned...loving? Maybe.

"Are you okay?" he whispers, thumb rubbing over your cheek.

You nod. "Yes. I am now."

Bucky puts his foot on the gas, turns on the blinker, and pulls away from the curb, out onto the streets. It's nearly soundless. The usual rumble from wheels against road is cushioned by the snow.

"This was a mistake. Sorry, I can't—" Sam gags, moving his head out of the bathroom before returning his presence within a few seconds. "You're a real shitty guard, Nat. Why'd you let her drink this much?"

All four of your roommates are gathered in the bathroom, surrounding you as if you're a newly born lion cub in a zoo, while you puke your guts out into the toilet. Steve is kneeling on the floor beside you, a comforting hand rubbing your back, while Bucky sits a few feet away with a glass of water in hand, ready for whenever you need it.

"Fuck you. You weren't there—she was like a goddamn ghost, just slipping away everytime I blinked. Looked fucking everywhere for her. 'S not my fault," Nat answers, residing on the floor of the shower in lack of space.

"Not true," you murmur in answer, your voice echoing off the ceramic surrounding you.

You're pretty much done throwing up, it's just the exhaustion following that's keeping you slumped over on the bathroom tile. Your hand stretches out in Bucky's direction, reaching for the glass of water that's gulped down within a few seconds.

"Careful. Gonna get sick again if you do it this fast," Bucky says, unable to help himself from brushing away the stray drops of water running down your chin.

The gesture is nothing new from him. He did it when you were sick all those months ago too, and you haven't forgotten it at all. His thumb gently rubbing over your skin as if you're precious, something deserving of gentleness, is engraved into your mind. You're thankful for getting most of the alcohol out of your system, because you might not have remembered this moment in the morning if not. Fuck it if you forgot the way his pupils widen just slightly, as if he didn't mean to, as if he couldn't help himself.

"I'm fine," you whisper in answer, clearing your throat. "Got it all out."

"Good." Steve's hand moves up from your back to your head, stroking it for just a second before withdrawing his touch. "Let's get you to the couch."

"I don't wanna go to the couch. Wanna be in my bed." You're pouting. Maybe there is some trace of alcohol left in you.

"Steve and Buck will feel much less like creepy stalkers if they stare at you sleeping on the couch instead of hovering around your bedroom all night like a bunch of pervs," Natasha speaks up. A snort follows after, as if it was a joke and not a statement. Definitely tipsy too, despite unwilling to admit such a weakness.

Steve raises a reprimanding eyebrow Natasha's way, telling her to shut her mouth with just his gaze. She smirks in answer.

"Don't listen to her. A fucking liar," Bucky remarks, but there's still some form of amusement in his expression. He can't even deny the statement—he is going to watch over you. Doesn't really matter if it's in the living room or in your bedroom. "Now let's get you up. C'mon."

With a push from your arms against the cold tile, you're standing on two legs again. Steve is hovering his hand near your back, ready to support if the vodka decides to topple you over. But you're fine—just tired now.

For ten minutes it feels things are back to normal again. On the living room couch, nestled in between them, your head leaning on Steve's shoulder as a stupid Hallmark Christmas movie plays on the tv. Sam and Natasha are in their rooms sleeping, and for a few moments you forget why you kept your distance. Everything would have been good if this is how the night would end. If Steve didn't have to address the past six months.

"I've missed this. With us," Steve whispers as he strokes your shoulder absentmindedly, like it's second nature to him to have his hands on your skin. "You've been so distant lately. For months, Y/n."

The room instantly becomes tense enough to make you nauseous. A clearing of your throat, an attempt to sit up out of Steve's hold and away from this conversation that you'd much rather avoid is futile—it's instantly stopped by Bucky's hand on your chest that pushes you right back.

"No," he says sternly. "You're gonna sit right here, sweetheart, and tell us why you've barely let us see you since fall term started. 'Cause it's sure as fuck not something I take lightly. Why have you avoided us?"

You look away, shaking your head to yourself as you try to talk yourself down. You will not break. You will not confess a single thing. You are going to act like everything is fine and you are not currently freaking out being sandwiched between the only two men you would gladly be sandwiched between under different circumstances than this.

"What are you even talking about?" you answer meekly. It's clear as soon as the words come out of your mouth that no one is falling for your innocent act, not even sweet, naive Steve. Then again, you're doing a particularly bad job. "Both of you think I've been distant?"

"Cut the bullshit, Y/n. If we've done something wrong, just say so." Bucky bites his cheek, glancing down for just a second, but it's enough to let his vulnerability slip. He's hurt.

A wave of guilt instantly washes over your body, an unusual feeling. During all these months of avoiding any interaction with Bucky and Steve besides the necessary ones, you didn't think that they'd actually mind your absence that much. They might not be hopelessly in love with you like you are with them, but they're still your friends. Friends miss each other.

"Or if it's something personal, you can tell us, you know? Is it anxiety, or are you feeling generally low, or...?" Steve chips in, trying to drown out Bucky's accusatory tone.

"No, no...I'm not depressed, Steve. And none of you have done anything wrong, I promise," you say hastily, shutting down their concerns as quickly as possible while trying to buy yourself time to come up with an excuse. "I just...needed some alone time."

Bucky rolls his eyes, shaking his head. Sassy man. "Bullshit again. You've spent a bunch of time with Natasha. Sam, too. It's us you're avoiding." He points to himself and Steve with his hand. "It's been almost six months, Y/n. What the hell's your problem?" He pushes himself off the couch, standing up and blocking your view of the tv. It's as if his frustration is all contained while sitting down.

"Bucky," Steve scolds, glaring up at his friend. He's not appreciating the tone at all, that's for sure.

"There's no problem, Bucky," you tell him, shaking your head. Trying to dismiss this entire conversation before you reveal too much.

"No! Y/n, I'm going fucking crazy! This is the first time you've even let me touch you in half a year!" Bucky yells, a pleading tone in his voice that breaks your heart just a little. Because it's true. You have barely even hugged since June. You've barely talked for more than five minutes at a time.

"Don't yell at her, for god's sake, Bucky," Steve adds, his hands on your shoulders and ready to get up from the couch any second.

"What the hell's going on with you, huh?!" Bucky continues, ignoring Steve's statement. His eyes are solely focused on you, void of the usual softness. There's just anger. "Cause if you can't stand us, then tough fucking luck. I can have your fucking things moved out by tomorrow for all I care. Can move right into Walker's dorm. Bet he'd accept you with open fucking arms if you get to your knees and—“

The drop of your heart down to your stomach can almost be heard, an echoing, hollow sound. You're sure of it. Bucky shuts his mouth, as if he realizes what exactly was about to come out of it. What is not even a second of silence feels like a whole minute, before Steve shoots up from his seat beside you and grabs Bucky by the collar, rattling the whole room with the force in which he nearly tackles Bucky against the wall with. The tangy taste of iron starts to fill your mouth, your teeth biting down on your lip hard enough to draw blood. There's tears lingering in your eyes but you can't hold them back, not anymore.

"You don't fucking talk to her like that, you bast—"

"I love you! It’s ‘cause I fucking love you guys!” you yell, a pathetic sob marring the words. “So I’m fucking sorry that I’ve avoided you two but I’m trying to get over these goddamn—these feelings, but I can’t, okay! I can’t!”

The bitter delivery is punctuated by the sleeve of your sweater wiping away the tears furiously, cutting Steve off and drawing both of their wild eyes towards your figure now standing up, just a minute away from a complete breakdown. You don't even process the fact that Steve cursed. It would've been teased about endlessly in any other situation.

"I will go. I'll leave if that's what you want," you seethe with a voice so unsteady that it's almost unbearable to listen to. "But I don’t hate any of you. I don’t, and I get why you’re mad. But fuck you, Bucky. Fuck you for saying that.”

More tears fall. It's futile to wipe them away when they'll be replaced the second after. You want to say more, hit Bucky where it hurts, but you cannot get the goddamn words to form on your lips. Opening your mouth and closing it again, shaking your head, comes before hastily walking towards your room and locking yourself inside without giving them a chance to answer.

As soon as the door is slammed shut, your hand comes up to your mouth to muffle the sobs. Sinking down to the floor as if you’re in a movie, forehead resting against your knees. The rate of your heartbeats could be considered dangerously high, but you just blurted out a whole love confession for two of your roommates in the midst of a fight. How the hell could everything turn to shit so quickly? Half an hour ago all of you were joking around in the bathroom, and now you're not sure you have the courage to face any of them again.

It's a rash, impulsive decision fueled by anger and betrayal and shame, but you rush over to your closet and pull out an overnight bag that's soon filled to the brim with enough things to last you a few days. You're crying the entire time.

When you pass the living room again, Bucky isn't there anymore. But Steve is. Barely a glance his way is spared, with hasty steps heading towards the hallway. You remind yourself of a furious toddler when you angrily put on your jacket, stick your feet into your winter boots. The bag is slung over your shoulder, hand resting on the door handle.

"Don't go. Y/n, please don't leave."

Steve stands at the other side of the hallway, a broken down expression on his pretty face.

"Bucky went out of line, but he didn't mean it, I swear. He's just too prideful to admit it," he continues. You shake your head, biting down on your bottom lip. "Please, honey. It’s Christmas Eve. It won’t be the same if you’re not here tomorrow.”

"I just need some space," you whisper, brushing away a stray tear with the sleeve of your jacket. You’re so embarrassed and hurt that you can barely look him in the eye. "I can't be in the same apartment as him right now."

Steve sighs, looking about ready to just throw you over his shoulder to get you to stay. But he won't do that. That's not Steve. So instead he glances down to the floor, shaking his head to himself.

“Did you mean it?” he asks softly. “The thing about—you said you loved us. Did you mean it?”

It takes a few seconds before you nod tentatively, sniffling and keeping your gaze on a spot past Steve. He doesn’t say anything.

Steve gathers courage enough to walk up to where you stand by the door, grabbing your cheeks with his hands, thumb running over the tear-stained skin gently. For a few moments, he just looks at you. Loud thoughts running amok in that perfect head of his.

“Nothing I say right now will do my feelings any justice, so I’m gonna save any big speeches for tomorrow. But just…stay. It’s 2 am, it’s freezing out and you’re still drunk. I don’t want you out there on the streets alone. I need you to stay, even if it’s only for your own safety. Don’t have to talk to any of us if you don’t want to.”

His words makes you nod automatically. All it took was his hands on your skin and the flicker of hope his words ignite in your chest, and you conceded within a second. No hesitation left in that exhausted body of yours. He‘s not saying outright that your feelings are requited, but it doesn’t feel like a rejection either. He doesn’t seem disgusted by your confession, by the knowledge that you’re in love with both him and his best friend.

“Good girl. Let’s just—let’s get you to bed, okay?”Steve tells you, squeezing your shoulder gently. With your confirmation in form of another silent nod, he nestles the bag out of your grip and takes off the jacket from your torso.

The bed feels so soft and warm and comforting when you lie down. Steve tucks you in. It’s achingly sweet and you don’t really deserve it after avoiding him and Bucky like that for so long, but he looks out for you nonetheless.

“Steve,” you whisper, drawing his gaze up to meet yours. “I’m sorry. For being so distant.”

He shakes his head. “You have nothing to be sorry for. You were scared,” Steve answers. “Don’t worry about anything, okay? Get some sleep. You’ve had a tough night, Y/n.”

The softest of smiles grazes your lips, puppy eyes gazing up at Steve. Your wonderful, caring, perfect Steve.

“Are you alright? It must’ve been hard meeting Joshua again. And what Bucky said, it…it was far from okay.”

“I will be,” you whisper.

He nods, observes your face for a few seconds. Leans down to press a kiss to your forehead—what kind of college guy even does that? And then he leaves the room, turning the light off behind him.

You’re woken up by a red headed, crazy woman sitting on top of you over the sheets, shaking your shoulders.

“Wake up, fuckhead. You’re gonna open the presents I got you,” Natasha urges, grinning down at you as you blink your eyes open, groaning.

“Fuckhead?” you ask, a tired chuckle from your lips as Natasha climbs off the bed.

“Yes. Don’t like it, huh?” she teases. “C’mon. The guys are already waiting.”

With slow steps and a loud yawn, the slightest trace of a hangover plaguing your body, you drag yourself out into the living room. Around the ugly, little tree that Sam insisted on cutting down from the campus gardens last week (he almost got arrested by the security guards) the three boys sit. Your gaze falls to the floor, scratching the skin right above your lip nervously, once Bucky looks up at you. Can’t really read his expression, but you figure you’ll lay the fight aside for the day. It’s Christmas, after all.

“Merry Christmas, sweetheart,” Steve says, urging you to sit down next to him right there on the carpet. You offer a soft smile, and an even softer ‘Merry Christmas’ back. You’re still unsure about yesterday. Despite there being no rejection from either of them, the uncertainty is kind of killing you. A pit of anxiety rests in your stomach, an uneasy feeling corrupting every cell as you sit down on the floor next to Steve.

Not even ten minutes later, the living room is drowning in a sea of wrapping paper. Natasha went overboard with the gift shopping this year, it seems like, but her absent father is also some kind of Russian oligarch or something so she tends to use up as much of his money as she can. You’re not complaining.

The special edition of The Hobbit, signed by the director of the movie, that you managed to get on eBay and cost you a fucking fortune is received with a whispered ‘thank you’ from Bucky. He holds it in his hands tightly, staring down at the book without a word, and you don’t know if he’s happy for it. Maybe he’s not happy with anything touched by you at this moment. He hasn’t gotten you a gift, it seems like, or maybe he threw it in the trash and burned it yesterday.

Steve got you three books that he’d heard you say you wanted months ago, and a dainty silver necklace with a bee pendant hanging from it. “You know, uh, I usually call you ‘honey’ and I thought it was a little funny, maybe. But I can exchange it if you don’t like it. It’s no problem,” he had said, even though there were tears of gratitude in your eyes. Your arms were thrown around him a second later, hugging him tightly as you thanked him profusely for the most thoughtful gift.

Now you’re leaning your back against the couch, still on the floor, watching as Sam and Natasha are tinkering with his new Nintendo Switch that he got from her (overboard with the gifts, as previously mentioned). He’s so happy it almost makes you zoned out as you watch his childlike excitement. It’s nice to see the two of them so calm and sweet with each other too. Usually bickering and getting on each other’s nerves all the time otherwise.

“Y/n, can we talk?”

Your head tilts back, looking up at Bucky standing nervously in front of you, his hand rubbing the back of his neck. There’s a deep hesitation within you, a pride that wants to say no and remain in your angry state forever without confrontation. But it’s Bucky. You hate this animosity between the two of you, the tension. Despite being pissed off and hurt and afraid that he doesn’t want you, you can’t say no, so you nod and push yourself up to a stand.

Bucky closes the door to his room behind him gently, clearing his throat and looking at anything but you. A sigh comes out of his mouth, shaking his head, before he parts his lips to speak.

“I’m so sorry, Y/n. What I said was disgusting and unforgivable and so fucking out of line. You didn’t deserve that at all. So out of proportion to what I was mad at you for,” Bucky says, running the palm of his calloused hand over his face.

“It was,” you answer honestly. There’s no use in denying that what Bucky said was stupidly hurtful. He nods, looking away from your gaze.

“It made me angry thinking that you ignored me, because at first I didn’t know what I had done, you know? And then I thought for a few months that me and Steve had been too overbearing and that you tried to keep your distance because you thought we were annoying or something. But that’s not the case. I should’ve known better by now than to think that you would do anything to purposely hurt us.”

You gulp, nodding, looking down to the floor. “I’m sorry too,” you whisper. “I didn’t know that you guys thought I had something against you until last night. Obviously, you…you know now that’s not the case,” you tell him, embracing yourself with your arms. “But last night, Bucky, I…you hurt me. I know you were angry, but saying those kind of things isn’t okay.”

“I know that. God, I know, Y/n. I’m so sorry. It was fucking childish of me, retorting to saying that Jo—“ Bucky shakes his head, hands coming up to tug at the roots of his hair. “And it felt stupid giving you that present in front of everyone, so now you think I didn’t get you anything, too, and—“

“You got me a present?”

“Yes. Of course I did, Y/n. But I saw how much Natasha had bought and that necklace Steve gave you and my gift felt stupid in comparison to that. Just didn’t want to give it to you in front of everyone,” he says, a little awkwardly. A little boy giving his mother a drawing he made in kindergarten, he reminds you of.

“Bucky…that doesn’t matter. I don’t care what you have gotten me. I’ll like it no matter what if it’s from you.”

He shifts in his place, contemplating something, before picking up a sweater on his bed, revealing a wrapped present hidden underneath. Bucky took the gift from the pile without anyone noticing before, throwing it into his room so no one would see.

With a tentative hand, he reaches it out to you. Doesn’t watch as you unwrap it, instead biting on his thumbnail. You reprimand him for it, and the hand returns to his side.

“Is it a book?” You run your fingers over the cover, a hardcover with nothing on it. Blank.

“It’s a photo album. Shit, it’s stupid. I don’t know,” Bucky answers, looking about ready to snatch it back, but you open the first page up before he has a chance to.

A picture of you, Natasha, Sam and Steve on the first page. It was taken last year in November. You’re all running after one of Sam’s model planes, fall leaves singling down from the sky. It’s a beautiful picture.

“4 grown idiots running after a kid’s toy - November 12th, 2022”

“It’s just pics I’ve taken with my phone, so it’s nothing artsy or anything, but…uhm.” Bucky runs his hand through his short, brown hair.

You flip the page. You’re looking out through the kitchen window, the sun shining through and casting shadows over the room and your figure curled up on the chair.

“Angel in the sun - March 25th, 2023”

A soft chuckle is drawn from your lips, resisting the urge to run your finger over the photo, but you don’t want to smudge the blank paper. On the same page there’s another picture of you with your arms around Natasha’s shoulders, nearly wrestling her to the ground with the force of your hug. You look so happy.

Bucky looks nervous as you glance up from the photo album at him. “Know it’s not much, but…yeah.”

A loud huff of hair escapes Bucky as you throw your arms around him. It takes a second or two for him to hug you back, but he soon has his chin resting on top of your head, arms around your waist.

“I love it,” you whisper, holding onto him tightly enough to constrict his breathing.

“You do? I can take it back if you don’t like it.”

Your grip around him releases, arms coming down to your sides so you can take a step back and look him in the eyes. “This is everything, Bucky,” you say softly, feeling a lump in your throat that can turn into tears any second. “The fact that you took the time to make this for me is just…it’s the most thoughtful thing ever. And these pictures are so beautiful, Bucky, and just the thought of you sitting down and glueing them onto the page and writing captions and—“

His lips against yours. Oh god. Oh my god, Bucky has his lips pressed against yours. Gentle hands hold your jaw, his head leaning down to compensate for the height difference, and Bucky Barnes is kissing you with urgency and desperation.

The shock is enough to make you unable to return the kiss. He seems to take your surprise as rejection despite the fact that you literally yelled ‘I love you’ in his face last night. Bucky steps away and takes his hands off your skin, running his hand over his mouth, shaking his head.

“I’m so sorry, don’t know what the hell came over me, I—“

On your tiptoes, fingers grabbing his sweatshirt to pull him closer, and you nearly smash your lips against his to shut up any of that doubt he carries. It’s not a graceful or very romantic kiss, but by the sound akin to a very mild growl that comes from Bucky and his hands sliding down to your waist to pull you closer, you guess he likes it anyway.

It doesn’t last more than 20 seconds. A harsh knock on the door to Bucky’s room interrupts it, forcing you part from his lips and get down from your tiptoes again.

“What the hell are you doing in there? C’mon! I’ve made goddamn Christmas brunch!” Sam yells, drawing a soft chuckle from your lips as your forehead meets Bucky’s chest.

With a soft smile, nothing said, you back away from Bucky. Slipping out of his room and leaving him there all flustered and semi-hard from a 20 second make-out session. The first ever between you, though. He thinks it’s pretty understandable.

As Bucky follows you into the kitchen, sitting down at the table by Steve, he leans towards his best friend and whispers into his ear low enough to make anyone else unable to hear.

“I kissed her, Stevie,” Bucky says with a shit eating grin on his face. “I finally fucking kissed her.”

The blond man turns his head enough to look over at Bucky, the red flush of his cheeks and ears enough to tell anyone what’s been said.

“Are you serious?” Steve asks.

“I kissed her and she kissed me back, I swear. I gave her that photo album I’ve worked on for weeks. She said she loved it, Steve.”

“I guess it’s my turn then, isn’t it?” Steve answers, a shy smile on his lips as the two of them watch you sit down opposite of them at the table, glancing through the window out at the heavy snowfall. Natasha puts a newly toasted bagel on your plate.

“Go get our girl, Stevie.”

[soapieanxiety]

Historical Iceland: Part 2 - Electric Boogaloo

So we don’t have as many manga panels as we did for Iceland's early childhood, so I’m going to rely more on my historical knowledge and knowledge of Iceland's character to do some of the analysis in this part.

So we left off at around the 1100s, and Norway still hasn’t met Iceland yet. That’s going to change pretty quickly though, as we’re going to have to talk about the Age of the Sturlungs (it has a lot of names, such as the Sturlungen period, but no matter what name you call it, the content remains the same). The entire period can be summarized as a period of Icelandic history rifled with violence that ended with Iceland becoming Norwegian territory.

The King of Norway had originally wanted Iceland to be under its direct rule and encouraged the violence between the Icelanders. That’s basically how the whole thing started; I’m really simplifying it like I haven’t even mentioned Snorri Sturluson. He was the catalyst for the violence in Iceland, and it gets complicated from there. But the point is that the path for Iceland to meet Norway was not a pretty one.

If you want a full-blown ramble about just this era of Icelandic history, let me know. I’ll do it, but I’m trying to keep it short because there’s a lot to cover for this part.

Now during this time, I cannot imagine Iceland is having a good time. This happened after a particularly peaceful era of Icelandic history, and I don’t think Iceland had seen violence to this level yet in his life. Now I’m going to say that he officially met Norway once Iceland became Norwegian territory at the end of the violence. However, if you think he should’ve met Norway before that, then I can see where you are coming from.

I can’t imagine how Iceland felt when Norway entered his life. The immediate emotions I think he’s feeling are relief and anger. Relief to finally meet his brother, but angry that it took this long. Especially after all the violence to get to this point. However, I do think relief and love for Norway won in terms of how a younger Iceland feels about Norway. Norway 100% loved Iceland from day 1, and when he finally got to hold him, Bro was not putting him down. I can’t see Mr. Puffin liking Norway though; that bird holds grudges, and he was probably mad at Norway for leaving Iceland alone for so long.

So for a while, it was just Norway and Iceland. I imagine the two bonded during this time; Iceland clung to the first person who was a representation like him, and Norway was trying to make up for not being there. There was stuff that happened between this era and the one I’m going to talk about next. But like guys, I’m supposed to make it to the 1920s without writing a novel. If you want a more in-depth analysis of this period of Iceland's life, just let me know.

Ah yes, we’re about to talk about every historical Nordic fan's angsty dreams, the Kalmar Union. The Union between all the Nordic countries crashed and burned. It’s definitely what fueled a lot of Sweden and Denmark’s rivalry, but I’m not here to talk about that. The Kalmar Union was different compared to everything else Iceland had encountered in life. He officially met Denmark, who would be one of the most influential people in his life. Right behind Norway, in my opinion.

However, the Kalmar Union can be described with one word. Disastrous. I imagine Norway shielded Iceland from most of the chaos of the Kalmar Union. Meaning Iceland didn’t get to know the rest of the Nordics. He was mainly with Norway. I do believe he met Sweden at around this time; however, I don’t think he knew Finland yet. I have my reasons for that, and I’ll share them later. My point is, that Iceland was heavily shielded from what was happening during the Kalmar Union. Norway was extremely protective of Iceland during that time.

When the Kalmar Union ended, it then became just Norway, Iceland, and Denmark.

With the Kalmar Union ending in 1523, I imagine things chilled out for Iceland (for a bit). Things went back to semi-normal as Norway continued to baby him, but Denmark was becoming a bigger figure in Iceland's life. While I don’t think Iceland grew particularly close with Denmark in this period, preferring to stay with Norway. The impact of Denmark’s presence was still present.

(Look, it’s my moots, pfp.) Iceland went from being completely alone to having to deal with the rest of Europe. Iceland was able to start trading with the rest of Europe and was starting to get more connected with the continent. Some violent conflicts were happening in Iceland because of the reformation, which gave him a spook and reminded him of the Sturlungs Era. I can see him being freaked out about that. However, I think the biggest event of his life in this period was absolutely the Turkish abductions.

I’ve talked a bit about the Turkish abductions before and how I view the event and its impact on Iceland's character. But I’m still rambling a lot about it here.

Bottom line, this was a particularly traumatic event in Iceland's life. He’s never left Northern Europe at this point, and now he and a bunch of his people have been forcefully taken away to the Middle East. He doesn’t know the language, doesn’t know what’s going to happen to him and his people, and he doesn’t know if Norway and Denmark know what happened. He’s terrified, and I don’t blame him.

Luckily enough, Turkey found him and recognized him as a representation. He took him in and took care of him and made sure he’d find his way home. I imagine Turkey’s presence in this traumatic event is why we see that Iceland respects Turkey today. What happened to Iceland was incredibly traumatic, and his bond with Turkey was the best thing he got out of that entire experience.

I believe that Iceland was with Turkey for 9 years. That’s how long it took for most of the Icelanders to go back to Iceland. The money paid to get the Icelanders back had to be sent three times because the first two people delivering it would spend it before they got to the Ottoman Empire. Another ransom was paid 9 years after the initial ransom was paid off to get more Icelanders back. But I don’t think Iceland was there for 18 years. With how chaotic it was to get the Icelanders back, I imagine Iceland was experiencing so many emotions. Terrified of the situation. Grateful that Turkey was taking care of him. Angry that the ransom money to get him back was being spent on goods instead of helping his people. Incredibly homesick at being in an unfamiliar environment.

When Iceland got sent back home, he was clinging to Norway a lot. He didn’t want to be left alone so he could be taken again. Norway happily obliged and was extremely grateful to get him back. Denmark was happy to have him back as well, but mainly because it made Norway happy. Denmark and Iceland weren’t that close yet. Iceland spent most of his time with Norway.

Before we talk about a major event in Iceland's life, I want to briefly explain why I believe Iceland was extremely shielded from the rest of the Nordics by Norway. Yes, he knew Sweden and Denmark were a part of his life. But Norway was very protective of his younger brother, especially after the abductions. Iceland didn’t go out to meet new people often and was closed off.

Finland didn’t meet Iceland until the 18th century, and I think that’s a great testament to how closed off Iceland was during this period of his life. Norway’s overprotective nature added to this as well.

We reach another incredibly traumatic part of Iceland's life; he’s got a lot of those. Sweden took Norway and Iceland was left with Denmark. Iceland was extremely angry at the situation. Norway was the person he was closest to in life. Norway was his big brother, the one who saved him from extreme loneliness, and now he’s gone. He’s gone, and there’s nothing Iceland can do about it.

Iceland was just overall angry at everyone. Angry at Denmark for losing Norway. Angry at Sweden for taking Norway. Angry at Norway for leaving.

The only thing Denmark had of Norway was Iceland. Denmark then became overbearing and protective of Iceland, even though they weren’t that close. Iceland, who was extremely upset at the loss of his brother, didn’t appreciate Denmark’s behavior. Their relationship was pretty rocky during this time. Especially with Iceland’s fight for independence coming up.

Iceland and Denmark did get close though. They only had each other, and Denmark wanted to keep Iceland close and Iceland was desiring independence. They grew to care for each other. Enough so that Denmark would later claim that he practically raised Iceland. I think this is because, during his time with Denmark, Iceland started aging pretty quickly. I believe he was around 9 years old physically when Norway left, but by the time Iceland was made a sovereign state in a personal union with Denmark (1918), he was 14–15 years old. (I’m going off the canon that Iceland is physically 16-17 modern day; I prefer 17.)

While Denmark was reluctant to let him go, especially after he grew to really care for Iceland. He eventually matured and realized it would be best for Iceland to have more freedoms. Eventually, Iceland will gain independence but that’s for part 3.

There it is! That’s part 2. Thank you so much for reading. The next part will go over Iceland's independence, WW2, his relationships with the other Nordics, and modern day. This one took a while to write. I did a lot of research to make this as accurate as possible, and I glazed over some things. I wanted to be as in-depth as possible but also keep it as short as possible. (I didn’t want to make 4 parts.) Despite my friends arguing I’d make 20 parts if I could. (They’re right 😔)

Link to part 3

[starchants]

hi! i don’t know if you write for angel (btvs) but could you maybe write dating angel hcs? sfw & nsfw?

angel / angelus x neutral!reader ; dating headcanons.

word count — 994.

themes + warnings ; potentially a warning for stalking but like in the way that we see he does with buffy like idunno if that qualifies as stalking but i’m mentioning it, technically i refer to angelus (my bby) as well, some violence but like it’s protective angel and oh yeah a small bit of NSFW CONTENT.

author’s note — hi my lil starling <3! i do most certainly write for angel, i hope you enjoy <3! p.s. i’ve studied and have so many headcanons in my own mind about angel (and angelus) from over the years and some get displayed here but i can explain more in another post if you or anyone else wants !!

support mention ; if you feel like supporting, a nice ‘like’ will suffice on my blog, i know some writers love to ask nicely if you could reblog or comment etc. yet on my blog (no hate towards them as everyone likes appreciation in different ways), but if you’d like to reblog or comment feel free after all this is a safe space for any fan-individual to have fun :’)

masterlist

oh the moment he saw you, he was hooked and angelus who was so far hidden back in his mind had let his obsessive qualities come full force into angel.

everywhere at night since then, if he ever caught your scent or saw you, he would ✨ politely ✨ follow you around to make sure you felt and were safe. god help anyone who made you not feel safe at all, excluding him.

this man, even without fully having met you as of yet, would physically harm or potentially “accidentally” kill someone if they dare touch you even with a slight bumping into you or make you even the slightest bit uncomfortable.

realistically as i’ve noticed in btvs and angel the series + my own personal headcanon, angelus isn’t a 100% gone like they tend to try and portray in both series. sure like angel has his soul most of the time but that anger? how he moves or snaps when he loses his mind? how he seems to not entirely be himself when he loses control? that’s all angelus in my opinion. i personally headcanon had angel knows that angelus is always lurking in the back of his head, which is why he’s always in there, and angel is afraid of him coming out but as we’ve seen in both series that he basks in people referring to him as angelus sometimes and gets cocky about it.

so we move on with the knowledge that angelus is a sneaky bastard hiding in angel’s mind and sometimes pulling the strings 🫡

the obsession that angel has with you is completely different than his obsession with drusilla. he wouldn’t want to make you crazy or do anything to harm you. in fact, it’s the opposite, he wants to keep you safe from everybody and everything but also let you shine like the prettiest diamond in the dirty rough world that you’ve found yourself in.

the moment that he officially meets you and gets to see your pretty eyes staring into his own, the pretty smile upon your face, and your sweet voice talking to him ; he feels like this is perfectly meant to be. that you were meant for him and him only. he gets even more possessive and cocky about you from this moment forward. i’m referring to him being cocky as in, when buffy chose angel over riley and he smugly made that face at riley as he followed buffy like a puppy out of the room.

speaking of like a puppy, he tends to act that way with you! he’s your sweet good old boy who has playful tendencies and some anger problems but he does good if you try to teach him how to behave. after all, when he was alive as liam, he wasn’t exactly the nicest person to anybody let alone any partner. but he’s learned over the years, both with his soul and without it as angelus, that he has to be better when attempting to care. you are the only one who gets to teach him and show him how to be a good lover as you notice he’s trying, not to mention he will open up and explain how he was prior to you with his past relationships.

you like gifts? he’ll be very good at gifting you random things that he finds and knows you like or that you may potentially like based on what he knows about you. considering he listens and hangs on to every word that you say even if it’s a joke. if you like written love letters? oh my goodness this man has got you. he can say some of the most romantic things to you in his letters plus it’s more “old school” and easy for him to do. you’ll get some heavy devotion confessed in those letters so you better keep them in that pretty little wooden box that he buys you once he realized you left those letters by your bed <3

he’s a very gentle lover to you and not super controlling over you but he does know how to manipulate you / persuade you if he desperately needs to but you can usually tell and i feel like you’d call him angelus when he tries to do that. both himself and angelus are at your beck and call, even if neither one of them could admit it. now i can ramble on about soft angel and soft angelus some more but i feel like we should briefly get into some of the other good nsfw stuff 😈

angel is always in control no matter how hard you try to be in control. he is so used to being in control whenever he was angelus that he grasps at being in control over you whenever you have sexual relations, outside of that basically you are in control.

i feel like angel is a very gentle lover and of course definitely is experienced which can lead into him being a lot to take in / wrap your head around as he can be overwhelming with how much devotion and love he gives you. he pays nearly so much attention to you, it may freak you out with how sensitive he is when it comes to your micro expressions and movements. his goal is to ensure that you experience everything in the most euphoric sense.

angelus is a good boy once you break him down enough, and as i previously stated, happens to always be in control and if you take your time along with playing his games you will be rewarded overtime with him being your good boy to treasure. angelus wants you to perceive his role in life and break him down, play games with him, leave him sounding like a depraved lunatic man for you.

the pair of them love you so much and would do anything for you, especially in bed, just let them love you how they see fit damnit!

[maxdibert]

Hi. Since you defend Snape's actions for being a victim of his socio-economic circumstance, would you defend Voldemort in the same way? After all he grew up in an emotionally and financially neglectful orphanage, during world war 2 at that. Do you think his actions are also a circumstance of his upbringing? Could he have changed? Was his future violence influenced by being stuck in a house, as a perceived muggleborn, that held prejudice against muggleborns and could have been therefore ostraziced or bullied just like Severus was? Of course Tom had a huge advantage of being attractive and charismatic and had the type of personality that allowed him to "thrive", but still he suffered a lot and I would even say he suffered more than Severus. What do you think?

The thing with Tommy is that Rowling basically labels him a psychopath from childhood because she literally says that since he was conceived through a love potion, he cannot feel love himself. So, she already frames him as a person with antisocial conduct disorder, which I’ve always thought is nonsense because you can end up killing people en masse without having been conceived without love. Rowling's idea of love and its consequences is entirely conservative and has very misogynistic undertones regarding the role of women in the equation, especially when it comes to maternal love.

The fact that she blames a "bad mother" and not the father who left without taking responsibility for his offspring is sexist as hell, but well, we're not here to talk about how Rowling lets her male characters get away with behaviors for which she would crucify any of her female characters while at the same time having female characters whom she only treats positively if they adhere to traditional notions of femininity related to motherhood but condemns them harshly if that traditional femininity involves personal tastes, hobbies, or personality traits. Rowling, you’re a fucking misogynist with a highly patriarchal view and a desperate need for male validation, but I’ll let you be for now.

I’ve always thought that if Dumbledore hadn’t stigmatized Tommy from the start, maybe things could’ve been different. But he labeled him as a sociopathic child from minute one and abandoned him to his fate. He saw a child with obvious behavioral problems in an utterly dysfunctional environment with all kinds of deficiencies—an orphan left to fend for himself in a post-war orphanage. He decided the kid was bad and stuck that stereotype on him throughout his life.

I don’t know if, with better treatment, he could have turned out to be a more decent person because Rowling decided he should be a sadistic sociopath from the cradle. But there are functional psychopaths everywhere. Top company executives are functional psychopaths, high-ranking officials are often functional psychopaths, and celebrities can be functional psychopaths. You can have an antisocial personality disorder and still be functional if treated properly. Could this have happened with Tommy? I don’t rule it out, honestly.

What I am sure of is that Tommy had a lot of resentment toward Dumbledore, and that resentment wasn’t unfounded. Dumbledore left many boys and girls who didn’t fit into his ethical and moral standards, or whom he simply found too complicated to manipulate, at the mercy of the "dark side." It’s no coincidence that those boys and girls ended up making wrong decisions.

Dumbledore was a figure of authority in the magical world, especially at Hogwarts. He was someone from whom everyone sought validation, and probably teenagers without strong parental figures needed that validation even more. And he made sure to despise many of those teenagers instead of working with them and trying to guide them properly, which is the role of a good teacher—especially one directly responsible for them during the school year.

I think if the Marauders started to disgust me when I saw the SWM scene in the fifth book, Dumbledore started to make me sick from the sixth book, when his treatment of Tom is exposed. You can’t label a child like that and then try to undermine his ambitions constantly when he’s a teenager. You’re only going to provoke increased resentment and opposition to everything you represent.

I also think Tommy has many parallels with Snape in the sense that both had Muggle fathers they clearly hated and despised. Their hatred toward Muggles likely began there, compounded by living in post-war conditions and being in a miserable orphanage of that era, which must have been hellish. They both probably wanted to distance themselves from everything that being a Muggle represented.

It doesn’t seem like a coincidence to me that both characters are half-bloods with Muggle fathers and have issues with Muggles because their experience outside the magical world—their experience with Muggles and the Muggle side of life—was absolutely dreadful. But at the same time, they are quite different because Voldemort, according to Rowling, couldn’t feel love and, I assume, couldn’t feel affection either, besides being a narcissist hungry for power.

Although, if you ask me, at its core, I think he was just a sadist angry at his parents. It always comes down to the parents, right? xD

[dungeonmeshi-confessions]

I often take issue with a lot of the way this fandom mischaracterizes Falin. I know a lot is having fun and for the bit but it feels so wrong to not see this discussed as much! Obv there are pressing matters when discussing mischaracterization of characters like Kabru or Toshiro but I feel like there could be more room for people talking about Falin’s as well. I feel like Falin is often reduced to being part of farcille (I don’t even dislike farcille, far from it, it’s just I feel it’s sort of a labru effect, where a character is sort of mushed to be a specific thing for a ship, and a lot of content contains those specific mischaracterizations, making it harder to enjoy without a lot of curation) or being the one who became falingon, or being an ideal existence who exists to contrast and reflect the ugliness in others in the party and not in a way that humanizes her. I know people are having fun and that’s fine but also I think falin warriors need to rise, this is my promise as a falin warrior to make people do her better. Self proclaimed falin lovers who don’t love her as character but merely a concept will come to my house and see my beliefs for once.

I think Falin is a person who masks herself as normal so well, that people mistake her for someone who is generally kind instead of a strange go with the flow type person who doesn’t really care at all about social norms but also has reduced herself to having few desires to be more acceptable, she doesn’t care about most people except for those she’s close too, it’s a more selfish thing on her end in that sense but it’s not at all wrong. True she’s very empathetic but she doesn’t care for others as much as some would think, she dislikes violence but would hurt others for the people she cares for (those being laios and marcille, others like her but I don’t think that fondness is as required as others think of her with, and she’s ok with that she enjoys them as she finds them interesting and fun to spend time with, they just aren’t in that mental box). Falin literally left magic school and didn’t contact marcille for 4 years bc she didn’t want to do magic school and in her mind it’s fine and normal to just get up and leave, yet if she did this to anyone who isn’t marcille and maybe laios (see laios abandonment out of fear incident that deeply effected both peoples worldview) many may consider that action strange and terrible. Falin is someone strange, she keeps it on the down low and to a degree as she understands the social contract and thus works to make things easier for herself and those she cares for, being easygoing to avoid conflict and stepping in to keep peace is a genuine form of autonomy that allows her to keep people around but not have to decide always. Honestly she often gets a pass because she can easily fill that preconceived social conceptual role of a passive strange girl dragged around by her “weird” brother, with ppl failing to realize she’s taking an active part in the touden shenanigan of being 2 weird siblings.

The story largely tells of laios’s disconnection from others (due to his autism experience, I’m not taking criticism on this) so it makes sense people want to discuss it, much like how other party members have a disconnect from people that’s literally how the entire party was formed (and how many non party members are defined). But as a contrast Falin is a character who’s disconnect is so great she doesn’t even care about it, she plays into concepts of the inhuman long before she is a dragon, laios may want to be a monster to escape that rejection but Falin wouldn’t see a point in becoming one, as by who she is and how she is treated she already is one. Falin is the concept of the “changeling” (a myth created because people couldn’t accept their autistic children), the possessed, the pixie dream, the witch. But that doesn’t matter to her because Laios cares for her even when the village hated her, that marcille became her first friend who connected with her after that. Because of that it’s fine that others don’t like or understand her. Even if Falin is physically human there’s a deep disconnect from her autism. Though those closest to her can’t see the real Falin that doesn’t matter to her, she’s unaffected by loneliness of that type. Her experience is so different from others that even when re-angles by the Falingon people don’t realize their similarity.

Honestly the falingon isn’t even totally different from falin in a sense just more dragon like, with less inhibition, and has had all of the people she likes and dislikes swapped around. There’s multitudes to her, there is hate in her, there is love in her, there is falin in the dragon. Stripped from human context is falin, a person who already has always felt a fundamental disconnect from humanity. A girl who’s now getting on her feet and choosing to make her own choices for the first time. One who declined to marry toshiro because while living on that foreign land would be enriching and fun for her and she could play as a lover she feels it would be dishonest to his feelings. You can’t tie down a dragon.

Falin is her own person.

——————

If you think describing these traits is a form of villainizing her, WRONG!!!!

These are cool fun interesting traits.

.

[cherienymphe]

The Less I Know The Better X (JJ Maybank x Reader x Rafe Cameron)

Warnings: NON-CON TOUCHING, eventual DUB-CON, jealousy, manipulation, underage drinking, drug use, mild unhealthy relationship, eventual violence, one sided kiara x jj, non canon ages, pogue!reader

➥ banner by @vase-of-lilies​ | divider by @firefly-graphics​

➥ series masterlist

summary:  When you start dating Rafe Cameron, no one is more surprised than you when your best friend JJ takes it really well. However, no one is more surprised than JJ when he’s forced to see his once frumpy BFF in an entirely new light, suddenly terrified of losing what he never knew he had to the person he hates most.

~

JJ liked being right.

In fact, JJ loved being right.

He loved that satisfaction that came with knowing he wasn’t as dumb as he thought. With knowing that his street smarts weren’t just in his head and were good for something. He loved knowing that his intuition, that the gut feeling that had been eating away at him was right.

Now, was one of those times.

Did he hate that he’d made you cry? More than anything. He hated watching your face fall, watching your eyes turn glassy and your lips tremble. JJ hated the way your breathing picked up and your words started jumbling together and just watching your face completely crumble. He hated that he’d done that, but he hated that Rafe had almost killed you even more.

He hated that you’d argued…again. He hated that Rafe had interfered, getting in between a discussion that wasn’t any of his business. JJ remembered how much he’d wanted to punch the other guy then, not just for inserting himself, but for what he’d done that led to the argument in the first place. He hated the way you placed yourself in front of Rafe, as if JJ was the bad guy, the aggressor. As if Rafe needed protecting from him instead of probably the other way around.

More than anything, he hated that you’d slapped him.

You had never hit him before, not seriously anyway, and it had stung more than just his face. The comparison had been less about Rafe and his dad…and more about you and him. The fact that you could see plain as day how bad Rafe was for you, how badly he’d screwed up, and still find a way to make excuses. JJ hated it.

…but he loved being right about Rafe more.

He wouldn’t lie. He didn’t like that it had to come to this. JJ really didn’t like that you almost had to die in the process. Just the thought of you in that truck with Rafe, scared for your life that you’d mistakenly put in Rafe’s hands. It was enough to make him see red, and he tossed a twig into the fire, jaw clenched. God, did he hate that…but he loved being right.

He loved that Rafe, in true Rafe fashion, had screwed up like JJ always knew he would.

Now, everyone else saw it too.

“Ward’s completely cracked down,” Sarah sighed from next to him. “He found any stash Rafe was hiding and threw it out.”

JJ snorted at that, under the impression that Rafe was going to be shitty with or without the drugs.

“He hasn’t let Y/N see him in weeks…”

He, and everyone else, perked up at that.

“I thought we didn’t see her much because she was spending more time with Rafe, somehow,” Kie murmured.

Sarah shook her head, the fire glinting off of her blonde hair.

“My dad’s like…well, a warden. Rafe’s on complete lockdown…and she comes by…every few days, just wants to see him…talk to him, and Ward is completely against it.”

JJ’s gaze found the ground at that, frowning.

“He hasn’t been her biggest fan, but seeing how much she cares about Rafe,” Sarah whispered. “I mean, she was willing to take the blame for the crash, you know?”

“Stupid,” John B. commented.

“…or sweet,” Kie argued.

JJ rolled his eyes at that, taking another sip of beer.

“Either way, my dad’s much nicer to her, now. I think he even likes her a bit, probably feels bad for her. I don’t think he gets how anyone can like Rafe as much as she does, but…”

Sarah trailed off with a shrug, and all JJ could think about was you going back and forth to Figure 8 to try and see Rafe. It made him sick, and he sat his beer down.

“He almost killed her,” JJ finally spoke up, looking around the fire at each of them. “…or did you forget?”

His eyes rested on Kie as he said that, and she at least had the right to look sheepish, glancing away.

“His truck rolled how many times? And hit a tree? She was bleeding, she had a concussion, and Topper said she could barely walk.”

His voice was getting louder, tone growing colder.

“That’s his fault. Not indirectly, but straight up his fault!”

Pope sighed, stabbing at the ground with a stick, shaking his head.

“JJ’s right,” he finally agreed. “It’s Rafe, so I don’t think any of us expected this to be smooth sailing, but… This isn’t some little thing.”

JJ gestured to Pope with a shrug.

“He could’ve killed her,” he continued with a nod. “…and her wanting to protect him by taking the fall isn’t really what I would call sweet. It’s concerning.”

“Thank you,” JJ breathed, standing and throwing a quick glare at Kie.

She frowned back at him with huff.

“Yes, all of that’s right, but what are you saying? We need to tell her to dump her boyfriend? Her first boyfriend who, up until this point, didn’t treat her like anything less than perfect?”

“Up until the point where he almost killed her, you mean,” John B. threw in, causing Sarah to throw him a look.

“I’m just saying that Y/N is going to do what she wants to do, and I don’t think ganging up on her and telling her to dump Rafe is going to work,” she continued.

Everyone was quiet at that…because Sarah was right.

…and JJ hated it.

It hadn’t just been weeks since Rafe had gotten high, crashed his truck, and almost killed you in the process. It hadn’t just been weeks since you’d slapped him, looking at him like he’d said the worst thing imaginable to you. It had also been weeks since he’d stayed over at your place, showing up at your door self-mutilated and relieved when you fawned over him. It had been weeks since he’d woken up to the sound of you and Rafe, staring in your bedroom like some creep while the other blond fucked you.

It had been weeks since he realized that he was jealous of Rafe, that he wanted to be in his place.

Weeks since JJ realized he wanted to be your boyfriend instead.

The admission had been met with so much pushback, so much denial. He had stumbled away from your door, quick to leave your house altogether. JJ’s head had been spinning, heart racing as he thought about you and everything he’d been feeling these past months. You were his best friend, and you were dating the guy he hated most, so of course he was irritated more than usual.

Of course, he got angry at every mention of him and every thought of you two. It made sense that the sight of you kissing was enough to make his stomach churn. Why wouldn’t he be distrustful of your new boyfriend when it was Rafe Cameron? You meant the world to JJ and Rafe was nothing but trouble. His feelings weren’t out of the ordinary.

…and that was what he’d been determined to prove.

The night before movie night, he’d found himself at some small get together on the beach. He had been determined to find some girl, fuck the shit out of her, and release every bit of anger and annoyance and frustration that he’d felt for months. That was the plan, anyway, and it was a good one. She was pretty and funny and JJ’s type if he ever had one.

Then he’d gotten her alone.

…and nothing was right.

Her lips hadn’t felt right, her hair hadn’t felt right, and her hands didn’t feel right on him. She didn’t sound right, and the more she sank herself down onto him, the less into it he became. It was like an out of body experience, JJ staring down at himself as he tried to fuck himself up into this girl, but he just couldn’t bring himself to.

It was only when he finally came, murmuring a name that was not hers, did it hit him.

She wasn’t you.

She didn’t have your hair or your smile. The moonlight didn’t glint off of her skin right, and her voice was off to him. Even as she rolled off of him, collapsing beside him and out of breath, he knew that she was perfect in her own way. She probably had plenty of guys ready to trip over themselves for her, but he wasn’t one of them…because she wasn’t you.

He had left with a fuzzy head, pinching his nose and sliding down against a tree.

His throat had been tight, alcohol on his breath, and JJ could feel tears kissing his eyes. He felt… He still hadn’t been able to quite process how he felt. You were his best friend, had been his entire life, and he wanted you. He’d watched you grow up and snort drinks out of your nose and cry so hard you’d thrown up. He watched boys make fun of you and punch them in the face for it. He watched girls do the same and trip them in the hall for it. You were… Well, you were supposed to be like a sister to him. That’s how it was supposed to go.

But now he’d watched you wear the same bathing suits he’d admired on other girls. He watched you put on the kind of lip-gloss that had his gaze traveling back to your lips, wondering what it tasted like. He smelled you until the scent was burned into his brain. He watched you kiss Rafe and ignore the way it made his chest tighten.

He’d watched you have sex…and wished that it were with him instead.

JJ wanted you, and he didn’t know if he wanted you because you were with Rafe or because he felt he was losing you or because…he wanted you. The thought of just having sex with you didn’t rub him the right way. He didn’t just want some fun night with his best friend…he wanted you.

He wanted to ride around on his bike with your chest pressing against his back, arms tight around him. He wanted to feel your breath against his neck as you slept. He wanted to kiss you at parties and take you out on fancy dates and buy you the kind of dresses that made you twirl and smile and giggle at yourself in the mirror.

JJ thought about that night, about the pregnancy test, and he knew in his heart that it wasn’t the pregnancy scare. It was the irresponsibility of it all. It wasn’t even about you having sex. It was Rafe. It was you and Rafe. It was all of this happening with Rafe, because JJ was sure that if it had been him instead, his reaction would’ve been completely different. He might not have been mad, at all.

JJ was sure that he might’ve even been happy.

When JJ heard a knock on his door, the last person he expected to see was you.

His dad was God knows where, and he was taking a break from working on his bike, getting something to drink when he heard it. His gaze had softened at the sight of you on his doorstep, clearly troubled. He ignored that you were wearing Rafe’s jacket, gaze focused instead on your mostly healed bruise and the tightness around your eyes.

JJ wouldn’t be surprised if you’d been crying yourself to sleep every night.

“I’m sorry,” you quietly choked out, eyes watering again.

JJ didn’t hesitate to wrap his arms around you, holding you tight as you shook. Your hands rested on his back, sobbing into his shirt while he shushed you. He pulled you inside, arms still around you while you cried. He didn’t stop himself from closing his eyes, breathing you in and relieved to find that Rafe’s scent had mostly faded, only yours remaining.

“I’m sorry,” you repeated. “I’m so sorry.”

“Hey, hey,” JJ whispered, pulling away. “It’s okay.”

He wiped your face, mindful of your eye as he led you to the couch. He pulled you down beside him, brushing his fingers over your cheeks, his other hand rubbing your back.

“You w-were right,” you forced out, more tears falling. “I knew you were…and I hated it.”

You looked towards your lap, sniffing and wiping your face.

“I know Rafe messed up. I know he did,” you mumbled with a nod, swallowing. “…but he didn’t mean to.”

You looked up at him again, more tears escaping, and JJ sighed. He brushed a finger over your face, drinking you in with a racing heart. In this moment, more than anything, he wanted Rafe gone. How was it that the guy could almost kill you, even accidentally, and your first instinct was to protect and defend him?

“…but that doesn’t matter.”

You looked away, leaning back into the couch.

“You get how that doesn’t matter, right? How his intentions mean nothing?”

You didn’t respond, and JJ sighed, looking around.

You were alone with him for the first time in weeks. JJ couldn’t describe how happy that made him, and he licked his lips, blue gaze traveling to the fridge. His fingers tapped against his leg, fighting with himself over the temptation, but he told himself that he was doing this for you. It would do you good to…let go.

“You want something to drink?” he wondered, eyes meeting yours. “Figure you need it.”

You looked at him for a few moments, blinking and thinking to yourself. You eventually nodded, and JJ smiled, getting up.

“Okay,” he said, clapping his hands together. “We got beer, but you know my dad. The hard stuff is also an option.”

You were frowning slightly when he looked at you.

“Won’t your dad get mad if it’s gone?”

JJ fought back a smile, knowing that you weren’t talking about the beer. He made his way back to you with some gin and brandy, throwing you a comforting smile.

“I’ll replace it before he notices,” he assured you.

JJ was sure he’d seen you drink hard liquor twice before in his entire life. Once to try it, and once unknowingly. It was telling of just how awful these past few weeks had been for you to see you down half a glass of brandy without really tasting it.

“Woah,” JJ commented, taking the glass. “Take it slow.”

You wiped your mouth, eyes becoming glassy again as you took a deep breath.

“You know Ward won’t let me see him? Says that I mess with Rafe’s head or something…”

JJ exhaled, leaning back.

“Yeah, Sarah told us,” he admitted.

You looked at him at that, scoffing to yourself.

“I know what you guys think of me. I know what you probably say,” you whispered.

JJ took your hand, rubbing his thumb along your skin.

“We think you’re too nice,” he told you, and you swallowed. “We say you’re too good for him.”

You looked down at that.

“…and you know it.”

JJ watched you take another drink, gaze lingering on your throat as it bobbed.

“You don’t…you don’t understand,” you softly said. “He and his dad, they… Ward is so hard on him.”

JJ felt anger flare up, and he struggled to swallow it down.

“I don’t understand? I don’t understand what that’s like?”

You frantically shook your head, taking another drink.

“No, no, that’s not… Of course, you do. I know that you do,” you hurried to say.

“I’d argue that I have it even worse than he does, but I don’t know. I find a way to cope that doesn’t involve hard drugs and reckless driving,” he spat.

JJ fought the urge to raise his voice, floored that you couldn’t see what was wrong with what you’d just said. No, he didn’t fully know what Rafe was dealing with, but even if Ward was putting his hands on him like JJ’s dad did him, the difference in their coping mechanisms was glaring.

“He doesn’t have anyone, JJ!”

He faltered at your outburst, blinking as you started crying again. You turned on the couch to fully face him, so close, breath shaking.

“You have John B.,” you slowly started, hands on his shoulders. “…and me.”

You sniffed.

“You’ve always had us,” you explained. “…and you have Pope…Kie…and now Sarah.”

JJ frustratingly exhaled, looking away.

“You have so many people that are here for you and begging you to put yourself first and who look out for you,” you told him, trying to meet his gaze. “Rafe doesn’t have anyone else.”

He turned to look at you now, eyes hard, and you flinched at the look in his gaze.

“I’m all he has. I am the only one he can count on-.”

“…and that’s healthy to you? That’s okay?”

You sat back down, face falling.

“I never said it was,” you mumbled, defeated. “I was just explaining…”

You trailed off with a huff.

“I’m all he has,” you whispered. “…and they won’t even let me see him.”

JJ gently grabbed your arm, pulling you closer until you were leaning against him. One of his hands gently grazed your back, a soothing motion that worked as he felt your heart slow some. He leaned back, staring at the ceiling and wondering to himself about the mess both of you found yourselves in.

“He’s not a bad person,” you mumbled.

It was hard to say how much you’d drank in the past two hours, nothing more than an inebriated mess now who occasionally whispered a stray thought or two. Much to JJ’s dismay, it seemed that you were back to Rafe.

“He’s not,” you tearfully said, shifting to look up at JJ.

He looked down at you where your head rested on his lap, tears running past your ears.

“I know that you don’t agree, and you’ll probably never agree after what happened, but…he’s not a bad person, JJ.”

He looked up, ignoring how you pulled on his shirt.

“He’s so sweet to me,” you chuckled. “If you even knew…you’d love him like I do.”

JJ’s heart stopped at that, at those words, and he frowned. You seemed to realize what you said the same time he did, the silence so loud and so charged. JJ looked down at you, but you were staring past him, eyes focused on the ceiling with parted lips. You looked as shocked as JJ felt.

“I think I love him,” you said to yourself, and JJ swore he was going to be sick.

You suddenly chuckled to yourself, but it lacked humor, running your hands down your face.

“I think I love Rafe Cameron…who…almost killed me, and who I haven’t seen in weeks…because his dad won’t let me.”

You nodded to yourself, a bitter laugh escaping. JJ watched your face crumble again, his heart clenching as you squeezed your eyes shut. You turned your face into his stomach, shoulders trembling, and he rested his hand on your head. Why didn’t you get that it wasn’t normal to cry when you realized you’re in love with someone? He didn’t even want to longer on the fact that you felt like you were in love with Rafe, too disgusted.

When he decided to get up, he realized that you’d quieted. Your soft breathing reached his ears, and he realized you were asleep. You didn’t even stir when he stood, curled up on the couch as he grabbed the empty bottles, making a mental note to replace what you’d drank. He leaned against the counter, staring you down and deeply swallowing.

You were in deeper than he realized, and his nails dug into his palms.

He hated that all of this was because of Rafe, hated that he’d driven you to this. Maybe it wasn’t right to think that if you were with him, you wouldn’t be going through this, but JJ didn’t care. It was the truth. He would never put your life in danger, and you wouldn’t have to muster up the courage to make some grand speech that you two were dating. You wouldn’t have to go around begging the rest of your friends to accept him.

He angrily exhaled, forcing himself to calm down. He needed to get you home, anyway. He didn’t know where his dad was, and that meant he didn’t know when he’d decide to grace JJ with his presence. He could be gone for another day or another hour.

When he shook you, you didn’t stir, and he was forced to admit that you probably drank more than you should have. You were practically dead to the world when he called your name, frown deepening when he called you again with no answer.

JJ sat down at your feet, looking over you and feeling his shoulders sag. Even in your sleep, you wore the brunt of your problems with Rafe on your face. Lips pursed, face scrunched, and breathing shaky. He reached out, fingers grazing your cheek and wondering to himself if you’d ever realize it didn’t have to be this way.

Relationships weren’t supposed to be this hard.

His thumb brushed along the underside of your jaw, JJ swallowing as it danced down your throat. JJ’s eyes fell to your chest, watching the way it rose and fell with your breathing, and he swallowed, feeling his skin grow hot. He was reminded of that girl from a few weeks ago, how she’d been naked and so needy for him…and he’d felt nothing in comparison to what he felt now.

JJ liked to blame it on the alcohol.

No, he hadn’t had as much as you, but he’d had some. It clouded his judgment, lowered his inhibitions, so it was easy to blame his dad’s liquor. It was easy to look back and say he hadn’t been in his right mind, the alcohol in his blood skewing his perception of right and wrong, but there was a small voice that told him it was all him.

The alcohol wasn’t to blame as his fingers pressed into your leg, hand dancing along your skin and heart in his throat at the feel. It was hot today, so hot, and before where you used to wear nothing but shorts, you’d adopted skirts and dresses too. Probably for Rafe, he bitterly thought.

You were almost always cold, your skin reflecting that, but the combination of the high temperature and alcohol had made you feel so much warmer than you normally were. JJ’s thumb grazed your thigh, and he released a shaky breath, feeling almost possessed as he watched his fingers dip between your legs.

You were dead to the world.

No protests or noises left you when his hand traveled further, his hand warmer now as your thighs surrounded it. He was holding his breath, tunnel vision clouding his mind as his fingers sought out what his mind had been subconsciously craving for months. It wasn’t right, he knew that, but it was like he couldn’t stop, finally exhaling when his fingers grazed over you.

JJ moved closer, swallowing and lashes fluttering as he gently rubbed his fingers over you, tongue darting out to lick his lips. You were so soft and warm, and when he glanced at your face, your expression had evened some. Your frown wasn’t as deep, and your lips parted in time with JJ’s. He briefly closed his eyes, swallowing and telling himself that he needed to stop.

…but the truth was that he didn’t want to.

When he pushed your underwear to the side, JJ audibly gasped, eyes closing when he dipped a finger into you. Everything after seemed to happen so fast, his mind going blank as he practically hovered over you now, curling a finger into you and groaning at the way you gripped him. He looked at your face again, watching all of the tension leaving as he slowly thrust the appendage into you.

When he added another, he hissed, his other arm shaking as his hand gripped the back of the couch. You made a noise, relief filling JJ as he realized you weren’t stirring…just enjoying it. It was an almost inaudible moan, but it went straight to JJ’s cock, pants feeling tighter and arms straining. The more he dragged his fingers in and out of you, the wetter you became, making a mess on his hand and between your thighs.

Maybe Ward was right to think you messed with Rafe’s head…because you were messing with his too.

JJ gritted his teeth, breathing choppy as he stretched you out, dipping his fingers into you and massaging your walls. You moaned again, louder this time and hips bucking, making JJ’s head spin. He moved closer, forehead grazing yours while he fingered you, deeply inhaling and basking in the feel of you clenching down on him.

You were so tight and so warm and so wet.

His mind only had one goal at the moment and that was making you come. He wanted to know what it felt like when you completely let go, body convulsing and trembling during your high. He hadn’t seen it, hadn’t stayed to witness it that morning, hurrying out of your house with denial on the brain. He wanted to see it, now though, feel it.

Your breath was hitching, and his face pressed into the crook of your neck, his own breathing picking up as your hips lifted slightly. You were close, he could tell, and he leaned back, sitting up on his knees and gaze falling to where you were wrapped around his fingers. He was glued to the sight, watching you drip around him, and when you did come, he didn’t know where to look.

Your mouth fell open, a high pitched sigh escaping and making his heart flutter, all of the tension disappearing from your features. JJ could’ve kept staring at your face the whole time, but he was too distracted by the sight of you coming on his hand. The wet sound of him fucking his fingers into you was addicting, and it was only when you stopped fluttering around him did his heart slow.

The ringing in his ears stopped, and the warmth on his skin disappeared, leaving only a cold feeling.

He pulled his fingers out of you, backing away and standing on shaky legs. He stared down at you with wide eyes, the full weight of what he’d done just hitting him. Turning away, JJ closed his eyes, pressing his fists to them and thinking how wrong it was what he’d just done, but the worst part of it all was that he didn’t hate it.

His softening cock, an effect of ruining his pants, was proof of that.

[writer-in-theory]

nothing can be certain except (death) and taxes

Summary: When the words on a person's skin are the last words their soulmate will say before death separates them, Steve has never hated being loved so much. Pairing: Steve Harrington/Billy Hargrove Rating: Teen Word Count: 2.3k Content Warnings: Temporary Character Death (EMPHASIS ON THE TEMPORARY), Canon-Typical Violence, Descriptions of Injuries Read On AO3: Coming soon (to a theatre near you) A/N: This is my contribution to the Harringrove Relay Race! Thank you so much for letting me participate again, this was so much fun to work on. @harringrove-relay-race

Steve always hated the idea of soulmates. 

The idea of a perfect match out there for him could have been a comfort, if it weren’t for the words carried on his arm his entire life. How cruel was it, for the universe to have perfect matches but only confirm them at the end of their time together? The words could’ve been a comfort, if they weren’t the confirmation of the last words he’d ever hear from his soulmate before they left the world permanently. 

I love you.

How cruel of his soulmate, to leave him with those words. 

Steve didn’t know Billy was his soulmate—there was no way of knowing, really—but he knew. It was obvious in the way that Steve’s entire world changed the moment Billy moved to town, and in the way that even hearing his voice was enough to bring a smile to Steve’s face. 

The other man hadn’t made it easy, especially in the early days when he was more a feral cat who struck out at any signs of affection made toward him. He could be rude, and often picked fights first rather than try to talk things out, but he was also fiercely protective of the people he cared about, and the more people who cared in return the more Billy seemed incapable of going without a gentle touch, even if it meant most of the time he and Steve ended up tangled together in a pretzled mess when they spent time with one another.

And the thing was, Steve was happy. Totally, painfully so. He looked upon Billy and wondered how anyone could ever make him feel so much all at once. Then he’d look down at his own arm and wonder how much it would hurt to go back to how it had been before, without Billy.

The Upside Down had taken so much from too many people, but Steve knew, standing on the second floor of Starcourt Mall, that he would be the one to ensure its downfall, no matter what.

Time moved both too slow and too fast, leaving Steve helpless to watch as Billy stood between El and the Mind Flayer, arms stretched out wide as if to accept his fate without fear.

He heard screaming, likely some of it was his own. He wasn’t sure how he made it to Billy’s side so quickly, just that he blinked and suddenly his knees were stained red from all of the blood spilling from Billy now. 

“Why’d you have to do that, you asshole?” Steve felt like he was choking on every breath, the air stinging against his chest as he watched Billy’s chest stutter and falter painfully. Please, take the air from my lungs. I don’t want it if you’re not here. 

“‘m sorry.” Billy’s eyes were on Max’s then, but the hand Steve was holding squeezed, as if to let him in on the secret too. 

He knew Billy had a complicated relationship with his step-sister, one that he’d admitted could have been better once they got out from under his dad’s roof. If they had more time.

It was like Steve was watching all of the time they were supposed to have melt away around them. It seeped out onto the floor like the blood that was supposed to be keeping Billy’s heart beating. 

“You’re supposed to stay,” Steve said the moment Billy’s attention turned to him. There was a glassiness to the man’s eyes, as though he wasn’t really seeing Steve. He’d take it anyway, because there wasn’t enough time to wait for Billy’s attention to refocus. He wasn’t sure it ever would. “What happened to graduating and getting the hell outta here? Getting in your car and just taking off?”

He’d balked at the idea of driving off without any plan, with minimal bags packed. Now, Steve would do anything if it meant they could have that future. They could slowly make their way to California, stopping at all of the cheesy tourist sites along the way. Steve would wrestle Billy into a dorky hat at the largest ball of yarn in the country and would make a solid attempt at getting arrested for trying to pet a bear at Yellowstone. He’d share sketchy motel rooms with him and complain about how uncomfortable the mattresses were, and even accept the teasing about him being a rich kid through and through.

He’d take all of it, for just a little bit of time.

Billy was coughing now, and the dark blood staining his lips and chin were only another sign of the inevitable. Even through all of that, he managed to say something. 

“I lo—”

“No,” Steve snapped out, hand still holding Billy’s squeezing tightly. No, it wasn’t time. He wasn’t ready to lose him, not when they were just finding out that they’d been right this whole time. “No, don’t say it.”

If he didn’t say it, they could have more time. They could have more, as long as those three words on Steve’s arm were never spoken aloud.

Except the light in Billy’s eyes faded all the same, and the words he’d never actually said felt like a mockery on Steve’s arm.

“Steve, you have to go to the funeral. You’ll be upset with yourself later if you don’t.”

Robin still came by, sometimes. He wasn’t good company, hadn’t been since Starcourt, but she sat with him anyway.

“He’s not dead,” Steve said, arms curling tighter around his pillow like if he just held on it might feel like Billy eventually.

“Steve.” The words were sad, wobbly with tears he knew she was trying to bravely fight off. 

“He’s not. He didn’t say it, so he’s not gone.”

They’ve had this conversation before. Once, three days after Starcourt when she was still required to watch over him in case his head injury from the Russian interrogation turned for the worst. It had been in the late hours of the night, both of them laid in his bed awake and staring at the ceiling. She’d turned to face him, hand coming out to hold onto her friend when he admitted what he knew. 

Billy couldn’t be dead, because if he was then he would’ve said it.

“I know you lo—” The word cracked harshly on her tongue. “I know how important he was to you. But he’s, there’s no way he made it. You know that, right? He’d want you to move on.”

The thought alone had a dull laugh building in Steve’s chest. The longer it sounded the more hysterical it came, until he was laughing and letting out hoarse sobs in between. Robin’s eyes were wide and her lips were parted in both shock and horror at the outburst, clearly not knowing how to handle him now.

“He wouldn’t,” Steve said once the laughter died down, leaving behind only the tears. “The bastard would’ve told me not to move on. He’d expect a mourning widow for at least a decade, maybe two. But I won’t do that because he didn’t say the words so he’s not dead. He can’t be, he’s too stubborn to die in this fucking town.”

“Have you…you didn’t say the words on his arm either.” Max, the little traitor. “You’re allowed to love someone even if they’re not the one, you know? Maybe there’s someone else out there, and that’s not to say you have to stop loving him, just that you can love this person too.”

It was the more reasonable answer, but the mere thought of accepting that Billy was truly gone sent his heart threatening to burst straight out of his chest. There had to be another explanation, because there was no way that the guy who snuck out near every night despite the threat of discovery simply so Steve wouldn’t be lonely in his big, empty home wasn’t his soulmate.

“I can’t mourn someone who’s not dead, Robin. Tell Max and Susan I’m sorry.”

When the Upside Down inevitably came back, Steve didn’t feel his usual amounts of fear.

He was determined—completely focused and ready to take down the thing that had taken too much from him already. 

When Max admitted that the visions being sent to her by the fucking thing were of Billy, Steve thought he’d only ever see in shades of red. 

Because how dare that monster try to twist and mutilate any of Max’s affection for her brother into something like guilt? How dare he try to ruin the shaky truce that they’d come to just before Billy died?

How dare that monster wear Billy’s face, and use his voice?

Even if it took the rest of him, Steve would make sure that nothing from the Upside Down to crawl its way into Hawkins ever again.

“Steve! What the hell happened?” That was Robin’s voice, though it sounded further away than he thought she actually was. 

He was still seeing in tunnel vision, vision slightly blurry and blood pounding in his ears as he surveilled the scene, ensuring no more of those demobats had appeared.

He didn’t even feel the bites taken out of him until the others got near, Nancy’s worried gaze focused on the exposed skin just above his hips. 

“Hey guys, I think I found the gate,” Steve forced out on his next heaving breath.

That was a lot of blood, wasn’t it? It seemed the Upside Down took his promise seriously and would try to take literal pieces of him with it. 

That was fine, so long as this ended with Vecna’s plan stopped short in its tracks.

“Something’s coming,” Eddie called out, eyes watching the treeline ahead of them as Nancy and Robin looked over Steve’s wounds. They wouldn’t be fatal, at least not for awhile yet. He still had enough time to avenge his soulmate’s not-death.

Steve didn’t have his trusty nail bat, or much else in the way of a weapon. But he’d taken down a pack of demobats with nothing but his hands (and teeth), so whatever had the nerve to attack them now would come to regret it, of that he was sure.

It had to be another trick. Maybe this was Vecna trying to take hold of Steve’s guilt now, forcing him to see the one thing that repeated in his head every night in his dreams. Because walking out of the trees now was Billy fucking Hargrove, still in a bloodstained white tank though having also acquired a jacket that looked suspiciously like one Steve used to wear constantly in his earlier high school years. 

“You shouldn’t be here,” the fake Billy called out, “you’re doing what the fucker wants.”

Robin was nudging Steve’s arm, threatening to send him toppling into the dirt with how unsteady his injuries had already made him. She looked more hopeful than he felt, watching him with confusion as if she expected Steve to take off running into fake-Billy’s arms without question.

He knew Billy couldn’t be dead, but why the fuck would he be here?

The fake-Billy was upon them now, stood in front of Steve and looking at him with one eyebrow raised. It was this look that made Steve’s knees crumple in on his own weight, because God that was such a Billy move to challenge him even while announcing his not-death.

“You’re not dead,” Steve gasped out, stumbling back a step in an attempt to stay upright. “I knew you weren’t dead.”

“Then why d’you still look like you’re seeing a ghost, Harrington?”

The smile on Billy’s face was small, a little tug of the corner of his lips like he was still insistent on hiding it around other people. It said enough, though. 

This was Billy, back from the dead. He hadn’t said the words and he hadn’t died, and all of that time Steve thought they’d lost was never really gone after all. 

The kiss was pretty bad, by Steve Harrington standards. He rushed forward too roughly and their teeth clicked together awkwardly as Steve grabbed both sides of Billy’s face and pressed their mouths together. They had a better kiss right after, when Steve pulled back and watched Billy with a wild gaze until the blonde pressed their lips together again, hands holding onto Steve so tightly he was sure there’d be bruises left behind later. He didn’t care, not when it was another sign that Billy hadn’t truly been gone.

There was something desperate and wild in Billy’s eyes too, like he hadn’t quite believed this moment would ever happen either. Steve didn’t know what he had to go through to survive this long in the Upside Down, and while he’s sure he’ll find out eventually he can’t bring himself to care in the moment because all he could think was Billy isn’t dead.

“I lo—”

“I know, me too,” Steve cut him off, never wanting to hear those words in Billy’s voice. He knew, too, that eventually he would just as he’d known that their end did not come in the main walkway of Starcourt Mall. But for now, he could find peace in delaying the inevitable, in letting their hold on each other say everything those words could have and more.

There was still so much to do, too many important parts of their lives to fight for and protect. It felt a little more possible, though, with Billy by his side.

After all, who else could say they cheated the universe? They’d confirmed for themselves what everyone else could only guess at: Steve Harrington and Billy Hargrove were meant for each other, and it was as simple as that.

I am so pleased to hand it off to the amazing and lovely @greyghoulclub ✨

[damn-stark]

Chapter 22 What never was

Chapter 22 of Sugar

A/N- Jealous Choso?

Warning- Swearing, angst, FLUFF, mentions of death, spoilers, violence, SLOW BURN, Naoya, heavy pining, long chapter

Pairing- Choso x Gojo!fem-reader, Suguru Geto x Gojo!fem-reader

Takes place during- Chapters 140-144 of the Manga

(Let me know if you want to be tagged)

————

“Who was that guy with the buns? Is that the guy you keep talking to Tsukumo about?”

Why is Miguel trying to gossip to you like you’re best friends trying to catch up after weeks of being apart? Like if there isn’t an obvious thick tension trapped between you.

Then again it is one-sided considering he and Larue think they did right by hiding Noritoshi Kamo’s existence. They think having the entire family betray you is a problem you can all sweep under the rug. But it isn’t.

“What do you want Miguel?” You break the lighthearted atmosphere he tries to build once you’re away from the tunnel. “And don’t be a smart ass, you know what I’m referring to. So what do you want with me?”

“Larue says you’re screening his calls and leaving his messages on read,” Miguel gets straight to the point.

“I have every reason to,” you mumble coldly. “The only reason I’m talking to you is because you’re involved in this plan.”

Miguel’s eyes bore into you but you don’t bother to look in his general direction.

“Nanako and Mimiko’s—”

“Don’t bring them into this,” you cut him off sharply. “Don’t talk about my daughters to excuse you’re lying and betrayal.”

“We’re family,” he argues and those simple words are like being slapped in the face.

“Yes!” You exclaim. “We were and you all still chose to lie to me!” You stop walking in the middle of the street and turn to face him with your gaze narrowed to a piercing glare. “You kept the existence of Noritoshi a secret for months because of what?” You spat and throw your hands in the air. “You didn't want to cause me more grief?!”

“Because we were looking out for you,” he argues calmly because that’s the legitimate truth for him and Larue. “Because too much happened after Geto’s death. It was the right thing to keep you from spiraling.”

You feign a laugh and shake your head in disbelief. “The right thing?” You repeat quietly. “Everyone thinks they’re doing the right thing for me,” you cry out louder and stare into his eyes with angry tears in your eyes.

You didn’t want to look like you wanted to cry, but your face was already twisted into a scowl, you couldn’t show how fast the blood was pumping in your veins, so this is the only other way you express how frustrated you are.

“My parents, my brother, you and Larue. And you never truly take me into account. The person you’re trying to help,” you continue and step closer to him to make yourself clear. “You were supposed to tell me! If not right away then when the twins got involved. We’re family.”

“And you were supposed to cremate Geto’s body,” he counters right back with just as much fire that makes you gasp and step back in disbelief.

“That’s what we're supposed to do,” Miguel supports his argument. “It’s what he would've done for you. That was your responsibility.”

You continue to watch him with disbelief, but this time you feel your heartbreak at the sound of his cruel words. You want to answer with a cold shoulder and storm off without saying a word, but how dare he bring up Suguru in this argument that was initially about their inability to tell you about the ancient sorcerer in Suguru’s body?

“I knew him for 12 years,” you manage to argue against him even if it drains so much strength to do it. “And I loved him for 11 of those years. He meant so much to me, he was the father of my girls and my greatest friend, I couldn’t even go home that day, so you don’t get to throw that at my face. It was your responsibility to tell me though, but you didn’t, you lied for months.”

Miguel parts his lips but he’s at a loss for words, which is an odd thing coming from him because he always has something to say.

It’s not until a few minutes pass that he breaks the deafening silence that had casted over you. “It’s not going to change anything. What happened, happened, we can’t take it back even if we wanted to.”

You nod and whisper shakily. “I know and I don’t care. You lied, now all these problems exist.”

You didn’t want to be mad about that, you weren’t, but you’ve had time to think, you thought especially hard after Yuki shared this plan with you, and no matter how much you want to go around it, you can’t escape the fact that everything could’ve been different if they simply told you from the beginning. Now your brother is gone, Nanami is dead along with the twins, and the sorcerer society as you know it is in shambles.

“So what?” Miguel retorts. “We’re going to stop being a family because of it?”

You shake your head without thinking because you know this answer. “No. Larue, and you, even Manami and Toshihisa will always be family,” you say from the bottom of your heart. “I will never tell Satori otherwise either. I just can’t look at either one of you and move on just like that. I can’t pretend that I’m not mad because I am. It meant something to me. I am sorry I couldn't do my part…perhaps it’s all my fault, but don’t expect me to forgive you right now. Don’t ask me to. Please.”

You wipe off the stray tears that managed to break out and drop all the anger from your face to show your sincerity and your love for him and the family you share.

“I love every single one of you. You can tell Larue that. You can come visit Satori, just give me some time.”

Miguel scoffs and doesn’t hold back. “And you can forgive Satoru Gojo for killing Geto just like that?”

You freeze as if you were splashed with ice-cold water. You knew the answer to this question, you’ve discussed it with Choso recently, yet hearing Miguel say those words completely spins you out of the axis you stood so proud on. It leaves you speechless even if you already had known your answer. Yet after a few minutes, all you can do is turn away and bring up your excuse to leave. “Okkotsu should have already driven Itadori away, I’m going to check on them.”

Before you can make it far Miguel yells out, “don’t kill the boy. He’s one of the good ones!”

Why does everyone think you’re going to kill Yuta Okkotsu? Why don’t they believe you’re okay relishing in your hate?

Most importantly, why did Miguel's bold remark make you doubt yourself? You’ve always known that Satoru leaving you behind and betraying you 11 years ago hurt more than him killing Suguru, so why are you picking on it now?

Has that blame always been inside you? Like a wound just bandaged over to be pushed aside. Or has Miguel picked at the scab?

No, it can’t be that way. You know your feelings, you don’t blame Satoru for the way things ended. It had to be done…he had to take Suguru away from you…

No! You can’t think that way now! No.

Just breathe. Breathe, and focus on the matters at hand; Itadori and Choso.

Yes, just focus on them and getting this plan to move forward.

Deep breath and shake it off.

Neverthefuckingless, once you return to the entrance of the tunnel, you come across an unexpected problem fighting Choso. Fucking Naoya Zen’in!

What a damn headache! This is not what you needed!

But you’ll handle it even though by the looks of all the blood on the ground, and the blood-shaped wings behind Choso as he faces Naoya, it seems he’s pretty much handled Naoya. Which isn’t surprising. Naoya is strong but not stronger than Choso.

Still, you’ll cut in for the fun of it.

“As I live and breathe. Well if isn't you,” your voice travels throughout the tunnel, making both men look away from each other to find you at the end of the tunnel. “Naoya Zen’in,” you reveal to Choso.

Said man’s shoulders untense and his hardened face falls to a cocky look. “Well, well aren't you a sight for sore eyes,” Naoya greets you with a smug smirk as if it isn’t obvious that Choso has cornered.

“I am,” you quip. “Are you playing nice with my friend, Naoya?”

“Oh, this nobody is your friend,” he points his thumb at Choso, and your gaze flickers on a quick glare before you hide it and use charm against Naoya, considering he thinks you’re secretly infatuated with him.

“Choso is my friend.”

Naoya scoffs in disgust and looks back at Choso so you quickly pull his attention back to you. “How long has it been?” You muster a feigned sweet smile.

“Too long,” he retorts and tilts his head. “And you look like you haven’t aged. It’s a defining quality.”

You keep your smile attached even if inside you’re revolting.

“Hm, thank you,” you know how to play along with him to make him think he has the upper hand. It’s easy to gain the upper hand with men as egotistical as him.

“Now,” you continue in a sweet voice. “Why don’t you tell me what you’re doing here, Naoya? You’re far from home.”

Naoya shrugs. “Business.”

You playfully narrow your eyes and reach in your pocket to pull the Worm out. “Oh? Let me guess, are you here after Yuji Itadori?” You ask as you drape the Worm around your shoulders, letting him see that you’re preparing for a fight if need be.

“No. Why? Should I be scared of you?”

You feign a laugh. “Would you?”

Naoya flashes you a flirty smirk. “Never.”

You tug wider on that smile and notice Choso’s discontent with the way this conversation is developing as you slowly begin to strut toward him and Naoya.

“I’m here on family business and personal agenda,” Naoya shares, completely underestimating you. “Why are you with scum, y/n?”

You try hard not to drop your smile or clench your fists even if his comments about your company are really bothering you.

“Is it because of your dead husband?” He dares to say, causing you to fail in your attempts to keep on a smile. “You must be lonely and in need to be reminded what it feels like to be a woman.”

“Tsk,” Choso remarks in annoyance and steps forward to retaliate in your defense, which is sweet, but you can’t jump Naoya just yet, so you quickly snap your gaze to Choso and shoot him a warning looking so he can stay where he is.

Luckily, he understands you and just burns holes through Naoya’s head.

“We could finally commit to what our family wanted us to do,” Naoya blabbers on, making you gag internally.

“Oh, but there’s my daughter now,” you bring up to hopefully make him shut up.

Yet you expected too much because keeps on talking. “A daughter? Well, that can be taken care of.”

And what does he mean by that?

“She’s no use really, she’s a girl. I’ll give you boys,” he says bluntly, making Choso fists his hands even harder, and for your patience to come to an end.

Naoya crossed a line talking about Satori like that, so when you walk past him and Choso you turn on your heels and grin at him while you walk back to be across from Choso.

“Naoya I owe you my sympathy, I heard your father died,” you feign sympathy as you change the subject. “Tough. But that does mean I also owe you a congratulations, you’re clan leader now—wait,” you come to a halt and begin to tug on a genuine smirk. “Never mind, you were replaced by a 16-year-old boy who didn’t even grow up at your family house.” You chuckle, and his once cocky smirk falls to a scowl. “How pathetic.”

“You know,” he scoffs. “You really haven’t lost that sharp tongue have you, bitch? How about I take care of that for you?”

“Watch your mouth,” Choso snarls.

You lift a hand and assure Choso. “It’s okay, Choso, a real man doesn't fear strong women.”

Naoya scoffs. “I'm not scared of you,” he spats and watches you come to a stop.

“It’s okay,” you speak in a smooth and silky voice. “I can tuck you in after I'm done, I bet you’ll like that.” You giggle, and Naoya clenches his fist and breaks into a menacing stride towards you.

You don’t move though, you pass Choso a quick determined look that means it's okay to act now. And he mirrors it right away to tell you he understands.

So when Naoya is a few steps closer you drift your gaze back to him and ball your hand to a fist to raise it in front of you to show off the fire licking your veins and flesh.

“This is why Geto died,” he remarks. “And why your parents beat you 11 years ago. You don’t know how to behave like a real woman.”

You drop your arm and the smugness you held on your face to pretend to be wounded by his words. Which in turn makes him falter and slow down, but begin to grow smug.

When he gets close enough you slide your eyes up and speak in a fake quivering voice. “Thank you.”

You begin to smirk maliciously and Naoya’s eyebrows twitch in confusion. He parts his lips to probe, but before he can poison this tunnel with more of his whiny voice, you spring your arm up and swing the back of your hand across his face with enough strength that sends him flying back towards Choso.

“So annoying,” you groan as if you were held to secrecy.

And just before Naoya can crash into Choso, or he can find his balance, Choso claps his hands together and shoots piercing blood.

Naoya tries to dodge, but the blood-made arrow is faster and it scrapes his side, making him stumble. Before he can counter, you fist your hand once again, but this time you snap your arm down to slam your fist through the ground, causing cracks to grow from the spot you hit and rapidly spread toward Naoya looking almost like vines.

Once they reach him the cracks then surround him and the ground begins to rumble. Choso steps back, and Naoya snaps his head back at you, but in that moment water begins to shoot out through the cracks before it explodes out and sends Naoya up to hit the cement ceiling.

Before he can react and run forward, Choso and you act; he runs forward and jumps up, making you give him a boost by manipulating the air. Once he’s under Naoya, Choso reaches over and slaps his big hand around Naoya’s throat to slam him to the ground when gravity pulls them down.

However, Naoya isn’t put out. Even if was just rammed with multiple attacks he throws Choso a harsh swing. But Choso averts it and steps back, causing Naoya to get on his knees and push himself back to his feet with his fists clenched ready to fight.

Thus you gather the water you used to attack him and have it shaped into a giant orb behind you.

“If you’re really so tough, Gojo, then actually fight me and don’t cower!”

All right you’ll bite.

“Fine,” you give in and drop the water.

At the sound of the water splashing on the ground, Choso looks back at you in confusion, while you answer Naoya by striding over with your fists clenched.

Before you can get close enough to him though, he lunges over and swings his fist. You manage to quickly swerve and instead counter by manipulating the water and having it fly over to give him an uppercut.

Naoya quickly recovers and groans at you before swinging his leg, making you smug as you gracefully swing your fist to shoot a blast of wind right on his torso.

“Fight me,” he grimaces.

What does he think you’re doing?

Just for that you drag your foot back and summon air to surround your foot before you swing your leg and kick Naoya in the throat with the gust of air, managing to knock all the air out of his lungs and throw him several feet across the tunnel.

All without letting him land a punch. But that’s also because Choso already weakened him.

“Stop playing around!” He yells at you. “Stop using your tricks.”

You slowly turn to face him and see him slowly pushing himself to his feet. You don’t proceed to say anything, you simply smirk at him and then throw your fist out and hastily shoot Fire-Snake out from your fist to ram it into him.

When Naoya falls back to the ground, the fire snake slithers around him to capture his body in place, making the part of clothes it’s touching to begin burning away and peppering Naoya’s flesh with burning kisses that make him squirm and groan and make your smirk deepen.

Alas, before it can deal any great damage to the outside of Naoya’s body, the fire snake opens its fire-made jaw and sinks its teeth into his neck to spread its furious venom through his icy veins before it turns to ash.

“You might want to get healed,” you advise Naoya as you slowly stride towards him. “Once bitten by fire-snake the fire travels through your veins and hits your core to begin burning away all your cursed energy.”

You fall beside Choso, and rest your hands on your hips to look down at Naoya with a shit-eating smirk.

“How dare you—”

“I'm not done yet,” you cut him off. “And since you’re human too it begins to slowly boil your blood.” You laugh and tilt your head to add one more thing. “Oh, and that’s not even counting the poison from Choso’s blood, so you better find someone fast.”

“You little whore,” he grimaces.

“I told you to watch your mouth,” Choso snaps back in a low threatening voice that makes goosebumps grow on your arms and causes your heart to swoon. Him kicking Naoya’s jaw and stepping on his hand doesn’t help whatsoever, it only works to excite you and steal your breath away.

“Sorry,” Choso adds to Naoya, making you blink in confusion—“But you didn’t love your brothers,” he continues. “And I can’t understand that.”

This is probably about something they talked about before you got here. Which! You wish you could’ve been here before to fight Naoya from the beginning. He was already like, half beaten by the time you got here!

He would’ve been more of a pain in the ass, but it would’ve been fun fighting longer with Choso against Naoya.

Regardless though, suddenly, in the silence of the tunnel, the hairs on the back of your neck rise as a menacing presence approaches Choso and you. One far more intimidating than Satoru’s, one that you quickly identify to be Yuta Okkotsu.

He’s finally done with the plan, but you can’t drop the act yet. You can’t tell Choso a thing even if he puts his arm out to shield you from the presence, clueless to the fact that Okkotsu is working with you. You have to look just as shocked as him so as to not give your plan away to Naoya who is still conscious.

“Choso,” you try to assure him that everything will all be okay regardless of the overwhelming presence that’s fallen over you, and regardless of what he’s about to see.

Albeit Choso doesn’t focus on you, he looks back, and when you follow his line of gaze Okkotsu is already over you with an unconscious Itadori.

“What—“ Choso gasps, but, he doesn’t finish what he’s going to say because with one swing Okkotsu knocks him out, making you quickly catch him in your arms before he can hit the floor.

It’s not the way you would’ve wanted it to play out, but Choso would’ve freaked out seeing Okkotsu dragging his unconscious brother, so to avoid any unnecessary fights perhaps it is better to knock Choso unconscious too. When he wakes up you’ll tell him what’s going on if Itadori hasn’t woken up by then.

“Looks like you’re hurt Naoya,” Okkotsu interjects as he walks past you.

You peer back after you throw Choso over your shoulder and pull your phone out to capture a picture of Naoya as he writhes in pain.

And to your surprise, he actually manages to see you and hisses as he reaches over, but he’s too weak by all the poisons so he looks more like a trembling kitten swinging its paw.

“I’ll send this to your brothers and say the beauty of the Gojo clan took down the great Naoya,” you tease and snicker.

And since he can’t answer, you shoot him a wink and walk off without waiting for Okkotsu, to avoid an awkward walk side by side.

“Shall I heal you?” Okkotsu’s offer travels down. “My reverse cursed technique can heal people. In return please inform your superiors of Itadori’s death.”

You bet Shoko that Itadori’s “death” will only be believable for about three weeks, she says shorter than that. With everything Noritoshi has planned though maybe even sooner than either of you predict.

With Okkotsu here, the higher-ups will probably leave Itadori alone though. Hopefully.

——

*LATER*

It hasn’t been long since you left the tunnel, but it feels eternal considering it’s just Okkotsu and you waiting for Itadori and Choso to wake up.

“Oh,” Okkotsu startles you. “I forgot to mention Fushiguro should be here soon,” he lets you know.

Now it feels even more awkward than when you were silent! You could choose not to answer, but the atmosphere is already tense, and that would just worsen the situation, so to avoid any more strain you give him a small acknowledgment.

“Okay.”

You don’t even look over at him though, you slide your eyes to unconscious Choso right by your feet, and continue trying to avoid giving Okkotsu too much thought because once you start you spiral and grow angry. So to avoid any problems or more tension, you just focus on Choso and hope he somehow hears your desperate plea and wakes up to keep you company while Itadori is still passed out.

Albeit he does look very calm this way too. You’ve never seen him sleep, every time he watches a movie with you when neither of you can sleep, he always stays up for the entire movie, you’re the culprit who passes out sometimes. So seeing his pale face be basked by the campfire you turned on, and his delicate features resting ever so calmly you can’t help but feel kind of captivated and tempted; you want to trace the black mark over his nose with your finger with the softest touch.

Is it creepy to think about?

Yes, plus you really need to stop thinking about him in any kind of romantic way. You already agreed that nothing shall be touched about your feelings for him, and his for you. You’ll just have to suffer and stay friends.

So you look away and instead, just go on your phone and mindlessly scroll through your social media.

A few minutes then pass and from the corner of your eyes, you see Choso suddenly rise as if he was part of the undead.

“Yuji,” he quickly calls out with panic.

You put your phone away and get off the piece of rubble you were sitting on to reach him. “Choso,” you call out so he can drift his attention over to you, but his eyes fall on Itadori still passed out, and then quickly find Okkotsu, letting you see the gears in his mind churning to think the worst.

“Yuji,” he exclaims with a mix of anger and fear.

“Choso!” You exclaim and lunge forward to grab his arm and pull him back to the ground as he is getting up to attack Okkotsu. “Choso! Choso, calm down It’s okay.”

His eyes just briefly look at you, but they quickly return to his brother's body on the ground stained with blood. “How do you want me to calm down when—”

“Choso!” You cut him off and throw your hands on his jaw to try and distract him. “Choso look at me. Look at me.”

Choso’s eyes slowly drift over and you gently tighten your hold on his jaw.

“He’s okay,” you assure him and hold his gaze with a soft look that makes him blink repeatedly and leave his lips parted instead of continuing to argue, almost as if he was captivated in the moment—“He’s alive and Okkotsu is on his side,” you assure him.

Choso’s pants slowly calm down to soft breathing and his furrowed eyebrows ease as his face relaxes.

“Feel it,” you tell him and slide one hand off his jaw to press your palm over his heart. “You’d feel it if he was dead. He’s okay. Feel it.”

Choso continues to hold your gaze as if he were finding his confirmation for Itadori’s status in your eyes.

“He’s okay,” you tell him one more time before you pull your hands away and slowly sit back in your previous spot.

Choso snaps his head back to his brother and pushes himself up.

“It was a plan,” you finally let him know. “Okkotsu needed to kill him so the other high-ups could believe it and leave him alone for a while, there was no other way. I am sorry I couldn’t tell you, I was ordered not to. I’m sorry.”

Choso swallows thickly and watches Itadori for a moment, assuring himself that his brother is breathing.

“His wounds are healed,” Okkotsu cuts in to try and ease Choso’s concern. “I made sure of it. Sorry for hitting you too by the way.”

Choso’s head snaps up to drop his eyes on Okkotsu and stare into him for a tense second before he offers him a stiff nod and walks back to sit next to you on the piece of rubble.

“I’m sorry,” you tell him again so he can hear it.

Choso looks at you and doesn’t look upset, he looks as usual, nonchalant. “It was your mission?” He asks.

You sigh and nod. “Yeah. I wanted to tell you, but I was ordered to keep it a secret. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize, it was your job,” he assures you, making your lips pull to a sweet and grateful smile. “Was that Zen’in guy a part of it too?”

You snort and shake your head. “No, he was a surprise. I didn’t expect to see him here, but it worked out you got to see how he is.”

Choso scoffs in amusement.

“That’s the guy you went, “tsk,” too, when I told you what my life would be like if I married him. You see now why I would’ve ended my life?” You tease him lightheartedly as you lean close to him even if he was already so close to you. “Unless you wanted me to be a miserable wife,” you exaggerate. “Which would hurt because I thought we were friends.”

Choso rolls his eyes and a small amused smile crawls on his face. “He’s…an annoying asshole.”

You snort. “You said it.”

“Still I don't know why you let him talk to you the way he did, and why you didn’t let me put him in his place. He had no right saying those things to you, y/n.” Choso speaks almost in a scolding voice that you can’t tell if it’s because he was getting you in trouble, or getting mad all over again over the situation.

Either way, he catches you off guard and you can’t stop your face from burning up, or from displaying your utter disbelief.

“I,” you stammer and clear your throat. “I'm used to it,” you say and hide your smile by looking down. “People, men mostly talk to me like that from time to time. The best way to deal with it is by not dealing with it, or by, you know, being snarky and showing off how much stronger you are than them.”

“Well, either way,” Choso mutters. “It wasn’t right. It isn’t right.”

You acknowledge him with a soft hum before you lift your head and lock eyes since he’s already looking at you. “You stood up for me though,” you tell him sweetly. “So thank you. I appreciate it. It was sweet.”

Choso’s chest rises and his eyes soften. “Of course,” he mumbles as his chest falls.

You share a soft smile and fight the urge to look at his lips as desire slowly develops in the pit of your stomach.

Yet no matter how hard you fight, he’s too eye-catching, and his close proximity is too inviting; you make the mistake of glancing at his thin and pink lips, and part your own, causing his chest to rise again.

However, you win your battle at the last second and turn away to face the fire.

“I did get a photo of him,” you say to distract you and him from what you almost did. “I’ll laugh at it with Satoru when he’s out.” You tug on a feigned smile.

Choso hums, and you hum back playfully but don’t look over at him, instead you keep yourself busy and reach in one of your pockets to pull out the glass swan figurine and fiddle with it.

Truth is you didn’t know if you were going back to the apartment after this particular mission, so all you brought with you is the swan figurine since you don’t trust someone not to leave it behind when you ask someone to pick up your belongings.

“So much for our meatballs,” you comment and once again reach in your pocket, but pull out a small bag of chips this time. “Shrimp chip?” You offer him as you push the bag towards him.

Choso reaches over and takes a single chip from the bag.

“Don't worry I found it in an abandoned store on our way here,” you share so he doesn’t think you took it out of the Worm's mouth. People tend to think that you keep snacks inside of it, which is ridiculous.

“It’s no soba,” he says before he takes a bite, making you look over at him and laugh softly.

“No.” You shake your head. “But right now,” you sigh dramatically. “It’s as good as we got.”

You turn to face him and reach over to touch his wrist and bring something up. “After this whole ordeal is done we have to go get some delicious ramen, it's the best there is. I mean It’s made by non-sorcerers, but the lady is nice and the greatest cook. I would marry the ramen if I could, that’s how good it is.”

Choso swallows his chip and quieres with a tiny amused half smile. “Marry food?”

You nod eagerly. “Yeah! It’s delicious!”

“Well,” Choso says softly. “I’ll take your word for it, but if it isn’t good you’re the one stuck with it.”

You chuckle, making his smile spread wider.

“Happily,” you assure him and sit back, catching in that moment Itadori opens his eyes.“See,” you point out and look to Choso. “He’s okay.”

Choso’s eyes look past you to watch his little brother sit up in confusion at his change of surroundings.

“Hm?” Itadori probes quietly the moment he finds his attacker sitting nearby. “I’m…W—”

“What a relief,” Okkotsu laughs nervously and only confuses the poor boy even more—“I think it was around September, Gojo came to see me. He asked me to watch over you so I had to put this act on.”

“Act?” Itadori presses.

You shift your feet forward to prop your elbow on your leg and rest your chin on your hand. “You really think my brother would leave you by yourself without backup?” You cut in, making Itadori slowly look back at Choso and you. “I can’t say he knew he’d be gone, but Satoru is smart even if he might not look it.”

Itadori’s eyes narrow on you. “I thought you were backup?” He asks.

You share a dry laugh. “I was help, but not back up,” you tell him the truth. “At least not the kind he needed, considering I too have a death sentence on my head. That’s why Okkotsu is here.” You feign a smile.

“Instead of allowing a different executioner or having all information about you being hidden I decided this workaround was best,” Okkotsu adds to the conversation so Itadori could further understand. “But they aren’t dumb, so in order to get Jujutsu headquarters to approve me as executioner I entered a binding vow to kill you. So I killed you. Sorry about that.”

Choso leans close to you. “I don’t understand,” he whispers.

You lean over to him and whisper back. “Just listen, he'll explain.”

Choso stays close to you and listens to Okkotsu carefully as if he didn't see his own brother alive.

“Then why am I still alive,” Itadori asks what Choso was questioning too.

“Because of reverse cursed technique,” Okkotsu shares. “At the same time, your heart stopped, I instantaneously healed you with reverse cursed technique. I thought it might work based on what I’ve heard about you.”

“Can you do that? You use RCT too.” Choso asks you as he keeps watching Itadori and Okkotsu talk as if Okkotsu is going to just attack his brother.

“No,” you sigh in disappointment. “I wish. Only a few can. The boy is one of them and my friend Shoko can too. It’s very impressive.”

“You mentioned,” he says.

You shift around and face him with a smirk. “Which reminds me, we’re going to be leaving our hideout now, so we’ll see more people and you won’t have to be stuck with me anymore.”

“I don’t mind,” he quickly rebuttals, making your breath falter and your eyes widen slightly—”Besides,” he adds. “I don't think other people will be as kind as you are to me. I still am a curse.”

“Half,” you correct him. “I see human. So half. You have nothing to worry about. Besides, I’m sure people should be more focused on other things instead of your appearance. If they are bothered then they got a problem or…you know,” you purposely leave hanging and wiggle your eyebrows even if your insides are slowly twisting at your own joke.

“I don’t,” he mutters, making you laugh softly.

“They like what they're looking at,” you clarify, making him blink in surprise and drop his head to scoff.

“There’s plenty of pretty women,” you continue and avert your gaze to fiddle with the swan in your hand.

Choso slowly drags his eyes up and watches you wiping the pad of your thumb over the glass. “I don’t need pretty women looking at me,” he mumbles, causing you to scoff breathlessly and lift your gaze to pass him a quizzical look.

“No?” You ask slowly. “You’re living now, it's normal.”

Choso's brown eyes lift off the swan and find your fire-kissed eyes shine even brighter. “Well,” he mumbles almost timidly but doesn’t finish because you cut in.

“As your friend I encourage it,” you try to comfort his worry. “It’s nice. Being loved by someone is a gift, like, you’re seeing radiant colors, the sun rising beyond the horizon, and the stars painting the dark sky for the first time. And loving someone is,” you sigh and smile. “It’s like breathing. You can’t live without it, it’s such a sweet relief…so I encourage it,” you laugh nervously.

“You might even find your own swan,” you mention and show him the swan he gave you.

Nevertheless, that makes him confused.

You smile at the swan. “Swans find one partner in their lifetime,” you share softly. “They fly around from pond to pond, lake to lake, and find one swan out of every place they visit and can visit and mate for life.” You peek over at him but quickly look away. “That’s what I mean,” you finish explaining.

Choso swallows thickly and shifts his feet, making the little pebbles scrape against the ground. And you now feel…stupid for saying all that, so you keep your eyes averted, and thank the fact that he can’t hear how fast your heart is beginning to race.

“Well,” Choso breaks his silence. “I didn't mean…you,” he says, making you snap your eyes over to him to watch him with hope you shouldn't have risen in the first place.

Yet the moment your softened red-orange eyes find Choso’s gaze every word he had just struggled to come up with, ‘poof’, vanishes and he’s just left with lips parted.

You keep looking into his eyes as you wait for what he’s going to say, but he can’t say a thing because the sound of Itadori muttering someone’s name steals your attention.

“Fushiguro.”

Out of the shadows comes Megumi Fushiguro, just like Okkotsu mentioned earlier. He looks just as broody as usual.

“Who’s that?” Choso asks you.

“Itadori’s friend and classmate,” you remind him. “Megumi Fushiguro. Urchin head,” you smile at your own joke.

“What’re you doing?” Fushiguro asks Itadori. “Let’s head back to Jujutsu High. The barrier around the school is loosening. As long as no one directly sees your face, it should be no problem for you to go back,” he assures Itadori. “We’ll rejoin the older students—”

“Stop,” Itadori cuts emotionally. “Don’t act like everything is normal. Don’t act like nothing happened! I killed people!” He cries out full of anger. “Because of me, lots of people died!”

“Yuji,” Choso tries to intervene, but you grab his wrist to stop him and let his friend handle it because no matter how close all three of you got during your time in hiding, he needs to hear from and talk to people he trusts more. You know you’d want that.

“It’s our fault,” Fushiguro argues. “Don’t be selfish and give up all alone. We aren’t heroes fighting for justice, we’re Jujutsu Sorcerers.”

Hmm…he kind of sounds like Suguru when he was in high school…

“No one can ever truly judge us so we must continually prove the worth of our existence,” Fushiguro continues to explain as Itadori gets on his feet. “And we don’t have the luxury of thinking about ourselves. We’ve just got to save people. I believe that was the original principle behind your actions. So start by saving me Itadori.”

You smile in admiration at his words and see Itadori’s eyes widen in reaction to what he hears too.

Hopefully, now he understands what you couldn't make him understand. He’s been beating himself up for too long because of it.

“Noritoshi Kamo has made plans for those involved with Jujutsu to face off in a Culling Game,” Fushiguro continues to share, making Choso’s hand fists out of annoyance over the simple mention of his father's antics.

“And Tsumiki is ensnared in that. So I’m begging you, Itadori. I need your strength.”

You look at Itadori as if this is some soap opera to you, and watch him as he looks at his friend with disbelief.

“Okkotsu,” Itadori mutters with his eyes on Fushiguro for a few seconds longer. “Sukuna is plotting something involving Fushiguro. He probably took over my body in Shibuya because I ate ten fingers all at once. I have ingested 15 fingers so. Even if I ate all remaining 5 in one go, I doubt he’d be able to take control, but,” he says coldly and looks at Okkotsu with a determined glare. “If I ever switch with Sukuna again, don't hesitate to kill me. I think you could do that.”

Okkotsu nods and assures Itadori. “Understood I’ll do what I can.”

You look at Choso and see him look concerned over what Itadori just ordered someone to do with what seems to be so much ease. But there’s nothing you can say to comfort him if you have no solution for that yourself. So you let it be.

“Fushiguro,” Itadori drifts his attention back to his friend. “What should I do?”

“First,” Fushiguro responds and lifts a finger. “We’ll go back to Jujutsu High and contact Master Tengen. We need to find out how to remove the seal on the prison realm. Also,” he lifts a second finger. “What are Noritoshi Kamo’s concrete objectives and future moves. The culling game is Jujutsu terrisom like never before. To fix this mess, we need to find the answers to these questions and I think only Master Tengen knows.”

“Maybe Tsukumo knows,” Itadori suggests.

You lean forward and cut in to answer. “This was her idea. We’re meeting up with her next, she’s hiding at the school.”

Itadori looks over at you and his eyebrows furrow in confusion. “Hiding?”

“She’s avoiding the higher-ups, she tends to do that,” you let him know.

“Hm.”

“The problem is Master Tengen’s concealing barrier, over 1,000 doors are continually shuffling,” Okkotsu interjects to add the major concern. “But only one leads to the tomb of the star corridor where master Tengen resides.”

“And we can’t contact Master Tengen if we don’t pick the right one?” Itadori asks, causing you to nod and hum.

“Mh-hmm, but—”

“Sorry Fushiguro, I have to ask.” Itadori cuts you off which if he just wanted answers from him he should’ve said.

“What happened to Kugisaki?” His sudden change in tone and questions surprise you and now you feel bad. Especially when all he gets is silence from Fushiguro.

“Oh…” Itadori whispers shakily as you see him fist his hand tightly. “I get it. I get it!!” He exclaims and drops his head as he handles his emotions.

“About that barrier,” Choso breaks his silence and catches Fushiguro by surprise, while you smile softly. “There may be a way past it.”

“Oh,” Okkotsu says softly. “You were listening?”

“What do you mean, Choso?” Itadori chimes in.

Choso gets up and steps forward. “Y/N once went in last year to steal the Death Painting Wombs,” he points back at you. “We can do the same.”

You nod and slap your thighs before you get up. “More or less of the same thing,” you add. “But yes we can go in. Choso and I planned it already. All we need is to meet up with Yuki and we can go. But first…”

Dinner!

After you pick up some fast food then you finally head to the school and Yuki. Which, since she is holed up she’s easy to find.

“Honey I’m home!” You announce happily and run past the students walking down the stairs to arrive in the hidden room.

“About time,” Yuki greets back with a small smile.

You offer her a small smile and don’t say a word to Maki Zen’in, you look at her and see the burn marks, but that’s all you do because Satoru told you that she and her classmates don’t like you after last year's events. Which is understandable. Plus you’re also kind of scared of Maki Zen’in. If she turns out anything like her relative she’ll be a terrifying person.

“I’ve brought you your dinner,” you let Yuki know and show off the bag before you run over and wrap an arm around her as a form of a quick greeting. When she takes the bag with her food you then jump over the couch and sit by her. “It’s a bit cold now, sorry it’s a long ways here.”

“It’s fine,” she assures you. “I don’t mind it cold actually.”

You glance at Maki talking to Okkotsu and whisper. “We brought her some too, it’s in the bag, give it to her.”

Yuki looks back at you. “Why don’t you?” She retorts.

You shoot her a pointed look and scoff. “Yeah right. She’s scary, you do it. Besides,” you yawn and lift your legs to rest them on Yuki’s lap as you sit back. “I brought it here.”

“Like if that has anything to do with anything,” she quips and peers back at Maki and Okkotsu.

“Is it okay for you to move around?” You catch Okkotsu ask.

“Yeah no problem,” Maki assures him nonchalantly.

“Here Maki,” Yuki says and hands Maki the food you had brought her before she interjects on the matter they were just speaking of. “It can’t be helped with burn scars. Even reverse cursed technique leaves a mark. I’d expect nothing less from someone physically gifted through heavenly restriction. It was her inborn physical toughness, not curse tolerance, that saved her life. It’s bad about the business with the head of the family.”

You scoff in amusement at that last bit.

“Well,” Maki says. “I wasn’t going for it. Megumi,” she changes the subject and looks over at Fushiguro. “What about Master Tengen’s barrier?”

“About that,” he mutters.

Alas, he doesn’t get to finish because Choso then steps forward and pats his shoulder to cut in. “I’ll explain.”

Since you already listened to his plan, and you went over it with him not so long ago you close your eyes to try and get a quick power nap, maybe?

“Between the doors and the tomb lies the cursed warehouse where Jujutsu High stores cursed tools and objects,” you hear his explanation in the background. “It holds the remains of my younger brothers Noranso, Sho-oso, Tanso, Sanso, Kotsuso, and Shoso. Even if they are remains, with the six together, a side effect of my cursed technique should provide some guidance.”

“Good!” Yuki exclaims and then moments after that you feel an elbow hit the side of your boob.

“Ow,” you whine and open your eyes, catching Yuki getting up as she takes a bite of her food—“you just hit my boob,” you snap.

“You were asleep.”

You pout in annoyance. “I didn’t even get to,” you grumble and lazily push yourself off the couch.

“That’s fine but,” Maki adds to the previous topic. “Who’s this guy?”

You glance over at Choso and before you can properly introduce him, Itadori responds, making you look over at him with curiosity.

“For now, think of him as my big brother,” he shares, making you smile proudly for Choso.

And when you look at him again you see him look completely baffled before he throws his head up and exclaims out of excitement. “Yuji!!!”

This is the first time you’ve heard him yell like that, he’s usually so soft-spoken, both because he's reserved and nonchalant. So hearing him shout with so much emotion actually makes you happy and even prouder that it was Itadori who got that out of Choso.

“See,” you tell him right away as you meet halfway to follow the others out of the hideout. “What did I tell you? He just needed time.”

Choso's lips pull to a wobbly smile and you can’t help but smile wider and with more admiration.

“You were right,” he says in a happy quivering voice.

You wrap your arm around his shoulders and give him a friendly partial hug. “I’m happy for you,” you let him know, making him look over at you with his eyes glossy and his smile unbreakable.

“Thank you, y/n,” he says in a soft voice.

You respond with a grin and steal a glance at his lips, which he answers by looking at your own lips.

But, neither of you do a thing about it, you pull your arm off his shoulders and look away, catching Yuki watching you.

Thus to get away from your temptation you skip over and catch up to Yuki as you walk out the door and step outside.

“Now that everything is tense here will you be staying longer?” You ask her since she still likes to bounce from place to place.

“Hm, no,” she answers without thinking about it. “I’ll take a vacation after this.”

You scoff.

“Why don’t you and your girl come with me?” She nudges your arm. “You deserve it.”

You draw out a deep breath. “I don’t think I can,” you break it to her right away. “So much to do here. I mean, I would like to take a vacation, but I don’t think I can anytime soon.”

“You have a mountain of people who can take care of your community while you’re gone, I mean Larue still lives there,” she brings up.

You avert your gaze and mumble, “yeah I know, but I need to take care of stuff here. It’s not…it was easier when Suguru was with me.”

“Oh.” Yuki proceeds to go quiet for a moment before she comes up with a way around your predicament. “Well, we don’t have to just leave. We can plan it.”

You hum and look over at her. As she feels your stare she looks at you and stares into your eyes before she quips. “Your eyes still creep me out. They’re like little torches.”

You laugh and smirk as something pops into your mind. “You know who likes my eyes?” You ask playfully.

Yuki's eyebrows furrow and she presses. “Who?”

You grin. “My sexy pirate husband.” You snicker.

Yuki rolls her eyes and groans.

“Wait who?” Itadori asks from the front of the damn group.

“Don’t—”

“Will Turner,” you share happily even if he was eavesdropping.

“Who?”

You happily pull your phone out and quickly find a photo of the man you’re talking about in your gallery. “Him, a character from a pirate movie,” you show off proudly. “Sexy pirate husband!”

Choso had walked to Itadori’s side amidst your conversation with Yuki and slowly looks over his shoulder to see who it is you’re speaking about.

“Isn’t he dreamy?” You coo and lean your head against your phone.

“Tsk.” Someone lets out with clear annoyance, but you don’t see who.

“He’s a fictional character,” Yuki likes to point out.

“So? He’s still hot.” You snap and keep admiring the picture. “Especially in that one scene where he grazes his lips over his lover's leg.” You giggle. “I never wanted to be someone so bad until the day I saw that scene. I combusted that day.”

“You need to obsess over a real man,” she teases.

“Like Legolas,” you add quickly and snap your fingers.

“Fictional elf,” she remarks.

“You sound like Suguru,” you mutter and put your phone away. “It’s okay, I've got plenty of love to go around.” You touch your chest and she rolls her eyes, making you snicker and see in that moment Maki Zen’in looking back at you. Not Yuki, you.

Since it is quite a long walk towards Tengen, there’s a lot of time, and she keeps glancing back at you as if looking for something in you. And you have an idea of what it is.

“If you’re looking for an apology,” you cut in bluntly. “You won’t get one.”

Maki looks back again and keeps her eye on you.

“You wouldn't get one even if you had died. I did what I thought was right that day.”

“You almost killed us, was that right?” She argues, and you chuckle.

“If we wanted you dead,” you mention with a smirk. “We would’ve killed you. I could’ve killed you before you lifted your weapon that day. But you’re here. You all are.”

Maki doesn’t counter with anything anymore, there was just no reasoning that would change your mind and nothing to throw at you that would affect you in any way she wanted, so she leaves it be and you continue.

“I’ll tell you this. To all you kids…” you pause and let out a deep breath, and all the kids you’re referring to look back at you one way or another.

“Don’t feel sorry or drown in guilt,” you continue with confidence so they believe what you’re saying. “Because there will come a time in your sorcerer career in which you will face a difficult situation. It’s a part of being a sorcerer. If you go on to think about it you will destroy yourself, so the best thing to do is let it go and live your life.”

Suguru faced a difficult situation and he drowned in the aftermath. He was never the same after that. You’ve faced difficult situations and you chose to get better because of it. That’s what you want for them as students, so you hope they listen, and you hope Itadori especially takes that advice.

“We’re here,” Yuki announces. “Just past those doors will be the main doors that lead to the barrier.”

You look around and it’s quiet, so you point it out. “Hey, there’s no guards.”

“There’s a lot to do,” Yuki says as she walks ahead when Fushiguro opens the doors. “Besides the last time you came here, you came to steal.”

True.

“Meh,” you let out and walk in after her.

Once everyone is inside, Choso opens the door and right away you’re bombarded by a thousand doors and memories.

The last time you were here you burnt all the doors down except for one, this time there’s no such disaster, Choso follows his brotherly instincts and leads everyone to red double doors at the top row of doors.

Perhaps if you had him last year you could have come and left before Satoru found you, maybe you could have found Suguru and saved him that day…

“Without a doubt, my brothers sleep beyond those doors,” Choso shares as he gently touches the door. “Let’s open them.”

You stay where you are and watch Choso and Itadori pull open the doors and welcome a dark eerie sight you recognize, meaning you’re on top of the dead forest.

“Let’s go,” Yuki urges the group and walks to the doors. “Deep in, there’s an elevator to the tomb.”

She jumps down first and Choso and Itadori follow. You let Okkotsu and Maki follow behind them before you land in the eerie dead forest.

“It’s even more eerie than I remember,” you murmur with distaste and break into a quick pace to catch up to Yuki as she leads the group forward now, past the warehouse, the place where Choso’s brothers are being kept, but can’t get into just yet.

They’re all just past his grasp, all he’s wanted in this world, but he has to leave them behind for now to help Itadori. Which shouldn’t take so long, but you can imagine his impatience and frustration by being so close, but not being able to reach them. It’s also why you can’t help but admire him though, he’s willing to walk away without them and wait longer for the little brother he just met.

Yet where there’s admiration you also mostly feel bad for him when you look back and see him with his hand pressed against that metal door, and a look of longing on his pale face.

You can relate to that longing, you've missed your brother too. He’s trapped now too waiting to be let out. You’d tell Choso that, comfort him over the fact that he’ll get them out soon enough because this is something you’ve talked with him about, but as you keep peering back you see that Itadori is with him, so you let them have this moment and continue at Yuki’s side. Pius you shouldn’t say a thing, he’ll just give you his rare and charming smiles, and your heart will swoon and sigh, while your mind clears and thinks about nothing else but him and how much you like to see him smile. And you can’t be swooning over him, you’ve told yourself that already.

However, when you’re on that elevator ride down, you end up beside him and you can’t help yourself. Besides it’d be rude not to, right?

“There’s only one way out,” you whisper so your conversation is not the center of attention in the silence. “You’ll take them with you on your way out.”

Choso sighs deeply and nods. “Yes, I know.”

You look over at him and he looks at you.

“You did what you promised,” he whispers with his eyes softening. “Thank you.”

Why can’t he just stay nonchalant? Why does he have to look at you in such a gentle way?

“In the end, I didn’t do a thing, you did, so don’t thank me,” you argue since it’s true.

“You still came,” he rebuttals.

“Well—”

“I thought you said to listen when someone is giving you gratitude,” he argues, making you grow flustered and grin at the floor over the fact that he’s using your own lesson back at you.

“Take it,” he insists.

You let out a deep breath and then look up at him with a softer smile. “You welcome Choso.” You give in.

Choso holds your gaze and hums.

The elevator doors proceed to open and you force yourself to quickly look away before your desire burns hotter and you’re tempted to close the gap and feel the warmth of his lips on yours. Nonetheless, when you step out behind the others, you wish you could be enveloped in that sweet moment again because now you see blood stained on the ground and their faces become clearer than the sky.

You didn’t know them long whatsoever, but the deaths of Kurio and Amanai still had an impact. Amanai’s death is why you hate non-sorcerers the way you do now.

“Blood stains?” Itadori is the only one that probes. “What happened here?”

You fall behind this time and stare at the large blood stain that they couldn’t remove, a bad memory of a sad day.

“It was 11 years ago,” you mutter and continue to lag behind.

“Y/N,” Choso calls out when he sees you fall behind.

You hesitate before you look over at him and break away to fall beside him and continue to follow the group.

“Are you okay?” He asks.

You meet his worried gaze and assure him with a gentle nod.

“Now that I think about it,” Yuki adds thoughtfully. “That’s when everything began to get distorted.”

You enter the tunnels that lead to the last barrier and approach the spot where Amanai died.

“All right, everyone the main shine is through here,” Yuki shares as she approaches the end of the tunnel.

Nevertheless, when you all walk out instead of seeing the row of buildings and the spot where Amanai died, you actually walk into a purely white room with nothing but what seems to be an endless room.

“Uh, this not the way to the shrine,” you point out.

“Damnit,” Yuki hisses.

“There’s nothing here,” Itadori points out the obvious, and Fushiguro follows to add a comment.

“This is the main shrine?”

Then again you never seeked the main shrine so what if this is it?

“No,” Yuki clarifies. “It’s rejecting us. Tengen doesn’t interfere with this world, but I thought contact was possible now that Six Eyes are sealed. I was too optimistic.” She mumbles.

You groan. “Well Tengen probably has the answer on how to get Satoru out,” you spat in frustration. “We have to keep trying.”

Yuki peers at you over her shoulder with a glare directed at the being not welcoming you in. “There’s probably archives with answers on the Prison Realm in your family home.”

You scoff. “My family home?” You remark as if it’s a joke.

Yuki nods. “The big families keep secrets no one else does, our answers will be there.”

You step towards her and argue “Yuki without Satoru gone I am not welcome home. I'm disowned in the eyes of my parents and the rest of my family.”

“I know,” she rebuttals. “But I am sure they’ll let us in when you tell them what you’re after.”

You part your lips to argue, but she’s right, so you just huff and already begin to dread what you have to do.

“Let’s head back then,” Okkotsu interjects. “We can break apart, some of us can get answers on how to get Gojo out, while some others go and help Tsumiki, she doesn’t have time.”

You groan and ball your hands into fists as you grow nervous about going home. You’re not even out of this space and you’re already starting to feel nauseous.

“Leaving so soon?” A voice booms out, causing your shoulders to jump, and your hand to fly over to grab Choso’s arm as if it were instinct.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you,” they add behind you, so you look back and see a tall…creature with a weirdly shaped head and four eyes.

“Child of Zen’in, Child of Gojo…”

Tsk.

“…Michizane’s descendent, Death Painting Womb, and Sukuna’s vessel.”

Tengen?

.

.

.

.

A/N- Just make out already!

Tagged- @deniseabad1928 @secondary-character-25 @starlightanyaaa @notsaelty @d4rno @moonnime @kodzukein @yozora7154 @heijihattorisgf @elegantweirdorchest

[sunflowersbones]

The Hand That Feeds - V

Warnings: This fic will contain NON-CON, DUB-CON, abuse of power, violence, guns, gun violence, emotional manipulation, alluded to Mafia!Bucky. My warnings are not exhaustive, proceed at your own risk.

18+ only. This is a dark!fic and explicit. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary : Your best friend’s and yours entire lives have revolved around violence, death, greed and fear. You’ve always had each other and took comfort in the fact that none of this was your doing; you never had a choice. But what happens when time winds its roots around you, such that even when given the opportunity to leave, he neither leaves nor lets you leave. {mafia au}

NOTE: well well that was ride. I'd really appreciate it if you guys would talk to me though. Feed back on the writing or just chit-chatting about the characters is completely welcome. Hope you enjoy!

~

You pace around Bucky’s room, waiting for him. The warm orange of his walls had always comforted you; this room used to be your safe haven. You feel jittery all over; your anxieties are building up; you just want this over with.

The door slowly swings open as Bucky enters; unlike the last time, he does not carry anger in his voice; in fact, he’s deathly silent. His tacit nature alarms you, his stare makeing you increasingly uncomfortable; you decide to speak up, but he beats you to it.

“I can’t believe you fucking tried to leave like that, like a thief.” He marches towards you with his hands extended, his fingers pointing at you. His sudden change in behaviour surprises you. You move back, alarmed; you trip on your heel and clumsily land on the bed.

You’ve never seen him so angry before, at least not towards you. Your fear might have reflected on your face, for he stops in front of you and takes a deep breath, his anger melts into pain and then annoyance as he shakes his head, looking at you.

“How could you?”

“I don’t want to be here,” you grit back. “It’s not safe.”

“Not safe!?, not fucking safe!?” He shouts back as he hits the wall beside him with his fist.

“The only reason you’re safe and that your family is safe is because of me.” He snarls, pointing at himself.

“You think everybody else who once worked for my dad has the luxury of protection?. You know, if this was anyone else, they’d be greatful.”

You feel your anger overclouding your fear as you shout back. “Grateful!?, grateful for what?; grateful for you deciding how I should live my life?, grateful for you treating me like I’m your personal property now, grateful for you touching and prodding me?” You feel your voice crumble as tears well up in your eyes.

“I used to be scared of this world, Bucky; but now I’m more scared of you.”

He looks at you like you just stabbed his heart as he rears back. He immediately rushes over to the shelf nearby and draws out a gun.

He loads the gun and turns over to you as the blood drains from your face. Before your mind can even comprehend what is happening, he shoves the gun into your hand, his hands wrapped around yours.

“If I am what you’re most afraid of, then why don’t you just kill me?” he whispers to you, his voice almost unrecognisable as he forces you to press the barrel to his chest. You’re a sobbing mess now; your hands quivering in fear, your fingers terrifyingly close to the trigger. Unable to move, unable to do anything to stop this, your eyes pleadingly gaze at him.

“That is what you’re doing anyway, so why don’t you just actually do it?”

You try to pull your hands off, but he’s much stronger than you are.

“Please Bucky, please just stop.”

“I’d rather you do it, Y/N; I’d rather die. I’d rather die than live without you.”

“I love you,” you wail back. “Please, please don’t do this. Stop, just stop.”

“You love me?” he whispers back his eyebrows slightly furrowed. “I love you. I love you, I love you, I love you...”

As he continues chanting, you feel his hands loosen around. You use this opportunity to move your hand and throw the gun away. You hear it clatter on the floor, away from him, as you sob a sigh.

“I love you so much more; you don’t even know; you can’t even comprehend.” He cries out as his hands move forward to hold your face. He kisses you, as you feel his hands go down to toy with your dress. The irony of the situation mocks you.

He rears back to rid his shirt, while his desperate hands scrunch your dress. You gasp as you feel him hard as he presses himself against you. He leans in to kiss your cheek, his heated breath tickling you. He’s overwhelming you; all of this is overwhelming you. You can’t think straight; you need some time.

 “Bucky, can’t—can’t we wait for a while?”

“No. No, there’s no need for that.” He whispers his voice filled with pain, determination and lust. You hear him unzip his pants and pump his cock. His hold on your shoulder painfully strong as he pushes you into the bed.

“No more waiting.” he buries his face into your neck as his teeth slightly graze you. He slowly pushes himself inside you. One of his hands lands on your hip while the other latches on to your hair. You moan as he fucks you, his thrusts slow yet deliberate.

You move your arm around to hold onto the sheets to ground yourself as he rocks your body back and forth. But his hand snatches yours and places it on his cheek, his large palm covering yours. His pace slightly increases, his eyes gaze into yours as he kisses your palm. He moves his face slightly to the side as he sucks on to your thumb.

The feeling of his wet mouth makes you mewl. You hear his breath hitch a little as your aching core clenches him hard. He moves his hand to your jaw as he kisses you again.

“I loved you yesterday,” he says, thrusting into you. “I love you today, and I will love you tomorrow.”

“Till death do us part, doll.”

And those were the same words he said to you a week later, as you were surrounded by your family and friends as they celebrated your wedding.

Your mother and Bucky’s parents gleamed. You look over to Steve only to find a glad, warm smile. Nat’s eyes were nearly tearing up as Tony, Sam, and Clint fooled around. All of them are happy, elated even. But what not one of them is; is surprised. It's almost as if everyone expected it would happen; it was only a matter of when. It was almost as if your misfortune was preordained.

And as you say those words back to him, his face and smile the same as ever. You convince yourself that the blues in front of you are the ones you’ve always loved. You convince yourself that their shade still remains the same, that they haven’t twisted into something deep and darker. That love for you has always been true blue...

*

@scott-loki-barnes @cjand10

[ofallthingsnasty]

Please indulge me with what the life of being arlong’s human pet entails

Gladly 😏 Sorry this took so long, I just couldn't write this without re-reading the Arlong Park arc and Jinbei's flashback. (But I have to say it gave me so, so much inspo for more stuff with him hehe - he just ticks off every violence and degradation box there is, what a character 🤭) anon is referencing this post tw. gn reader, violence, noncon, torture, free use mention, dead dove: do not eat, dehumanization, (inevitable) death, minors dni, read the tags and read them twice

Nothing good, I can tell you that.

I know I talked about being his pet - but really, the term 'pet' is already way too generous. It implies that you’re in some favored position, maybe even loved - and really, you aren’t. You see, Nami is of use to him, is a valuable member of the Arlong Pirates due to her skills - and you? What exactly do you have that could gain you any favors with him? 

Nothing. You’ve got nothing but a too-soft body and a broken down spirit. Entirely useless for his endeavors as a pirate - but perfect for kicking, abusing, tormenting and blowing off steam. (And, he finds, you’re actually a nice example - much better than expected, especially when he parades you around in his towns, beaten and eyes utterly empty. When he’s feeling particularly foul, he makes you crawl in front of the villagers just like the World Nobles do. Just to show those little humans what he’s capable of. Nothing better to make them see how weak they are when he can just make you wipe your feet with your own dignity.) What he likes best about you is your fear, your terror - it’s probably what made him take you in the first place, because you becoming his little pet was more of a spontaneous thing, not planned. (He should have made an example out of you but your eyes... The way you cowered in front of him in nothing but raw, visceral fear was delicious back then and still is.) His personal little punching bag and stress relief rolled into one measly fucking human who does as he says because they’ve been scared into submission by his rampages and abuse. Still, I think he didn’t start out as severe as he treats you now - at first, you were shoved into some corner and unsure what to actually do with you, he just made you clean and serve his crew. To wring some measly fucking use out of you. To have some sort of justification for housing you at Arlong Park - because keeping you like this is just a waste of money. But there is a big difference between scrubbing the floor until your knees are raw to ‘earn’ a living and being forced to lick it sparkly clean with a foot on the back of your head - somehow, you end up down there all the same, each day you spent with him and his crew melting away their (already incredibly small) inhibitions as soon they realized no one is going to stop them from doing… just about anything to you. (And that’s one of the worst parts about this, really. That you’re free to anyone, with just a couple of privileges reserved for Arlong. Half of them spit in your face in disgust, the rest are more physical, for better or for worse.) I think he is a big fan of all things utterly degrading, just to put you in your place for the fun of it: addressing you like you’re an animal and not a person, having you crawl around Arlong Park (naked or not - really, that’s up to him), using you as furniture, strangling or pushing your head into his little pool long enough for your legs to give out - you’re so easily overpowered and always surprised when he catches you, it’s such a sight. And of course, you have other uses as well - and he doesn’t give a shit when he makes you vomit by forcing himself down your throat or you tearing when he’s too rough. You’re there for his entertainment only. It’s like someone giving a kid an inflated sword toy to hit their friends with: once he sees how far he can take it, there is no stopping him. His hatred for humans has few exceptions and you don’t fill any of them, not even when you try your best to be well-behaved. 

And one day, he’s going to kill you, intentionally or not. Like some threadbare teddy bear, your head is simply going to pop off, played with a little too hard, for too long. Be it some nasty infection you caught from a cut too deep or him holding your head underwater for too long or him simply kicking you too hard in the face - whatever it is, you’ll be wishing it had been the barrel of a gun instead.