#eventually they became more coherent & kind but FUCK man.

[spade-club]

:/ fighting with my partner atm. We rarely ever do and if we are fighting its over this very thing. I got real close to breaking up with them. Its so hard to weigh how I feel and what I should do here. I just want to take a nap. I'm so tired. But I'm at work and when I get home we have to finish talking. I just want to sleep before thinking about all this any more. That last half hour of my shift energy boost better fucking be enough. It never feels like it will be but I always get everything done somehow.

[evendumbo]

Man, just one more thing since I made the mistake of seeing how the conversation was going on twitter and elsewhere with the antis. It's not fun to see people call fans who rooted for a Ted and Rebecca romance crazy, strange, and obsessed. That's just fucking sexist and, maybe even more annoying to me, it's not good faith disagreement. I did not ship Ted and Rebecca throughout my first watch of both seasons one and two. I am generally not pressed by possible tv romances. The ship did not start in my imagination, it was initiated by the writers. It was not only a platonic soulmate story. It was a possible romantic soulmate set-up. I wish people would stop playing. If everyone can acknowledge that Nate eventually taking a turn for the worse was seeded all the way back in the season premiere, then we agree that the writing was deeply purposeful and likely seeded other things. In fact, after I finished the season 2 finale and rewatched seasons 1 and 2 together as a whole, it was the seeds of Nate's arc that I saw first. Then I began to realize the other narrative arcs that had been put into place and I marveled at the kind of work that the writing was doing. This is when I realized that the writing was communicating that Ted had a crush on Rebecca and only then, lo, a shipper was born.

Por ejemplo, I wish those who are saying that tedbecca was fabricated could explain why the Dutch guy had so many parallels with Ted. What would be the point of that? There are an infinite number of ways the writers could signal that he was a nice, goofy, caring guy. They didn't have to reference Kenny Rogers, they didn't have to make him cook for her, they didn't have to have Rebecca say "fuck me" after she consumed something he made, they didn't have to make the dress pink. If this were a regular show and Ted and Rebecca were regular platonic friends, none of this would have been (or at least should not have been) written. Imagine Leslie from Parks and Rec falling for a guy who is written to be exactly like her platonic friend, Ron. That would be weird, uncomfortable, and at least raise questions.

One could argue that, yes, Rebecca and Ted were soulmates but they had no romantic attraction, so the Dutch guy was supposed to be a Ted-shaped soulmate with romantic attraction. I'd counter with all kinds of things, but at least this would be a good faith argument because we can agree about what is clearly on the screen. We just disagree about the interpretation of the narrative. Nobody is "crazy" in this argument. It's fine if Hannah advocates for a purely platonic relationship between Ted and Rebecca, but it's not cool that she talked down to tedbecca fans who became excited about what was clearly on the screen like there was something wrong with us. The possibility of romance between Ted and Rebecca did not come out of thin air or some kind of heteronormative compulsion, it came from your show, girl. We didn't write it! If they were gonna get exasperated about people getting excited about a possible romance, then they shouldn't have written it and performed it like a possible romance.

As I said, it would have helped if we at least were given confirmation that Ted had a crush on Rebecca in season 3. If that had happened and everything else was the same, I would have been a little disappointed, but that would have been an ending that made sense to me, an ending that was bittersweet and cohered with everything else the show was expressing. I would have defended that ending forever. But without an actual reveal of at least Ted's feelings in the world of the show (not another pointless fake-out), I'm left feeling irritated or crazy-made or, as I said before, somewhat abandoned as a fan of the TL narrative style. And, at this point, until I let it go, I also dread the hanging possibility of TL's return. I've had enough ambiguity from these folks 😂. Just vaya con dios, friends. Adiooooos.

I love and respect television and I am deeply grateful to television writers. I have also acknowledged that Ted Lasso looks hella hard to write, so I am humbled by that. It had to reach a great height in order for me to be invested this hard. I am thankful for the show's lessons about faith and ethics and community and will try to take them to heart going forward. I honor the show, the fans, and the artists.

And, as far as people calling tedbecca fans crazy? As the woman said, fuck the haters. 💜

[hangingoffence]

so many questions i have, but i wanna ask about the oc in that unknown soldier piece ur published! who is he? any strong ideas of his character/plot or is he more of a vague oc for drawing purposes? also, any oc uve made for entirely self-indulgent reasons? not for a story or specific idea just 'it would be so cool'/'theyre just like me' kind of motivations

<333 MWUAH MWUAH

His name is Patrick and he exists in the same bubble as Michael and Ronnie.

They all do have backstories but they don't really have like a coherent plotline or a story with a message. They all represent different things. They all have a long long history of being different characters and changing and growing as i grew. There are different iterations of them and these "newest" ones mostly represent my own struggles with adulthood and also they represent my want for male friendships bc ive never really had that.

Patrick form all the three might be the one that I myself relate to the most and the one i project myself most to. He's my fav even if I like almost never draw him <333

Patrick is very quiet and non confrontational. He goes with the flow and doesn't really stick out. He doesn't voice out his thoughts that much and usually gets along with anyone. He's like that one kid in school that you see all the time but don't really know anything about.

He lives with his mother and his step-father. When he was about 12 years old his father died in a car accident, which left his mother depressed and vulnerable. (there's this scene that im debating over where a few weeks after his father's death, Patrick's walking home and see what he thinks is his father at their house's window. He runs in and sees a figure for a second before it disappears. this is just me consuming paranormal content thought lol) His baseball cap was originally his fathers.

When his step-father came into their lives, it was more of Patrick's mother needing a person her age to lean onto and that man taking an advantage of that situation. From the start Patrick and his step-father did not get along. Or more like his step-father did not like him. He became very verbally and physically abusive towards Patrick.

During his teenage years he started drinking which slowly it developed into alcoholism. He also got addicted to painkillers because of his constant headaches. After he turned 18 he immediately left his childhood home and moved to his own apartment in another city. His addictions got even worse when he lived on his own. Though he was able to hold a job, he still found himself being drunk rather than sober.

The main shtick is his struggle with addiction and more directly alcoholism(theres a direct link to finnish alcohol culture in him bc of my background but i wont get into it now). And i like to explore it from Ronnie's perspective. In their 20s they reconnected after having a falling out in high school and Ronnie witnessed first hand the brutal grip that the addiction had on his friend. And knowing that he truly can't do anything unless Patrick himself wants to get better (bc thats the way with addicts they will never recover if they don't want it themselves. you cant force them to quit bc they will go back). Eventually he lost his job and needed to get help from the goverment to survive and to pay his bills and have food. Ronnie at first helped him out finacially but then he realized it's just enabling Patrick's addiction bc all that money he got was spent on alcohol, so he stopped that. But still gave him emotional support but refused to help him out financially.

Through years and years of struggle and after many stern talks with Ronnie, Patrick started to realise his own illness. He saw how bad his health was and how alcohol had fucked him up in every level, he started a recovery journey.

After he got out of the chains he returned back to his hometown and to see his mom. But he was greeted by his childhood home turned into a dumpster. His step-father had left his mother years ago and she was left to take care of herself alone. She had started hoarding due to the stress and depression and had developed early signs of alzheimers. Patrick took her to a hospital and got her some treatment. He struggled with his own guilt of leaving her and letting her get to that stage.

Also he's like the one oc that fears every time i look at them bc they know they will go through some shit

[realcube]

saying things they don’t mean during an argument

 navi | masterlist | taglist 

thank you to anon for this request <3

characters ♡ msby black jackals (hinata, sakusa, atsumu, bokuto)

content warning ♡ angst, hurt to comfort, fluff, swearing, crying, adoption  (sakusa’s) & suffocation (?)

kōtarō bokuto 

♡ you sighed, crossing your arms over your chest - you knew he was a bit boyish sometimes but you never expected him to be so childish in regards to a simple request

♡ ‘bokuto, i have so much on my plate!’ you cried, tightly gripping the sheets underneath you, ‘planning the wedding, going to work, doing almost every chore in this damn house and filing all our fucking taxes!’

♡ you momentarily paused to look at him, expecting a look of sympathy but instead getting an eyeroll which prompted you to continue, ‘and all i am asking for is you to run a few errands! that’s it! why are you so opposed? i thought you enjoyed grocery shopping?!’

♡ bokuto pulled his night-shirt over his head as he stormed to his side of the bed, ‘it’s not fun without you!’  he whined childishly, plopping himself down next to you and gasping when you had the audacity to shuffle away from him

♡ ‘it’s not supposed to be fun, bokuto!’ you yelled, completely fed-up with him at this point, ‘a few errands, that’s all i ask of you!’

♡ bokuto notices how your voice shook and your lashline glistened; he didn’t want you to cry so he begrudgingly gave it, but with a strong comment to go along with it so you knew that he really didn’t want to 

♡ 'fine! i don't need you anyway!'

♡ then proceeded to dramatically pull the duvet over himself and pout, averting his gaze to the wall opposite 

♡ in this context, he hoped that you’d understand his comment and not take him too seriously but since you were already on the verge of tears, this simply pushed you over the edge

♡ you buried your face in your hands and hid under the blanket in hopes he didn’t realise you were crying but his senses are just different when it comes to you so try stifle that sob all you want, he’s still going to hear it and he’s still going to instantly pull you into his arms while frantically apologising 

♡ ‘please don’t cry, (y/n)! i really didn’t mean it- i do need you! i love you so much, my life wouldn’t be the same without you! you do so much for me and i am so sorry for not showing you how grateful i am! like you’re so pretty and kind and talented and smart - only geniuses can do taxes - so i’m just so lucky to be with you and i can’t wait until we’re married. please, don’t leave!’

♡ eventually his praise slowly became pleas as he begged for you not to leave/hate him

♡ he does not want to lose you bc of a silly comment he made-

♡ eventually his endless pleas started to become more than background noise to your sobs, so you finally hugged him back, whispering, ‘i can’t wait to marry you too, kō.’

♡ this action lifted a massive weight off his chest and he let out an audible sigh of relief, his grip on you loosening, ‘mhm, and of course, i’ll run the errands, babe. i suppose, it’s the least i could do.’

♡ you hummed in agreement, glad that a part of your mental stress had been relieved, allowing you to finally relax in his arms and perhaps doze off in his loving embrace 

♡ ...

♡ ‘mm, you smell like marshmallows, (y/n)- can i add marshmallows to the shopping list?’

kiyoomi sakusa

♡ he spoke as if you were making some crazy, otherworldly request but in reality, all you were asking was for him to take paternity leave to help you care for the baby 

♡ you’re not really a baby-expert so you thought that sakusa would be happy to stay home and learn how to care for the child with you - as a couple, as a team 

♡ but he was extremely opposed to the idea, spewing out a much of nonsense as to why he needs to go to work, but a part of believed that he just didn’t want to deal with his child - or maybe, he didn’t want to deal with you

♡ ‘sakusa, how do you expect me to raise a whole baby on my own! they need a lot of attention - i don’t think you understand how big of a commitment this is, you can’t treat it like a hobby!’ you cried, having long before burst into tears because your mind told you the worse - that he didn’t actually love you, he lied about wanting a kid, he lied when he said ‘i do’.

♡ usually during arguments when he notices that you’ve started to cry, he’ll drop everything he was doing to shuffle over to you and wrap you in arms, then whisper sweet-nothings into your ear until you feel better but today, he showed little consideration to your emotions as he continued pacing through the living room while you bawled your eyes out on the couch

♡ ‘i thought you loved (c/n)! you were so gentle around them but it turns out you’re not even willing to take a paternity leave to help take care of them!’

♡ ‘what happened to the man i married?’

♡ ‘kiyoomi, you need to revaluate yourse--’

♡ you wouldn’t allow him to get a word in, which was probably for the best considering he had nothing good to say 

♡ but you were forced to cut yourself off when heard the sound of shattering so you immediately search for the source of the noise and there stood sakusa, his hand resting on the decorative table in the place your framed wedding photo once was - now, it was laying smashed on the ground surrounded by it’s own glass shards

♡ he pushed it off like the petty bastard he was

♡ while you sat stunned, staring the mess he just voluntarily made, he quickly turned on his heel and strolled away at a leisurely pace, 'my life was a lot easier before you entered it.'

♡ that was the last you heard of it for the next three days - you were giving each other the silent treatment 

♡ you couldn’t have any sort of grain for three whole days bc they are all on the top shelf and you usually make him grab it for you but you refused to talk to him- 

♡ you were the first one to break it though as you noticed that he hadn’t went to work for the last three days and curiosity got the better of you 

♡ ‘kiyoomi.’ you called out to him from the kitchen but he didn’t even look up from his book - ‘parenting for dummies’ - causing you to scoff, ‘why aren’t you going to work? did something happen?’

♡ finally, he sighed and shifted his gaze off his book but only to shoot you demeaning look, as if you were stupid, ‘paternity leave, duh.’

♡ the corners of your lips twitched into a smile, which you quickly forced away when you recalled the events that occurred three days ago and the hurtful things he said, instinctively looking over at the decorative table to remind yourself of what he did 

♡ but to your surprise, the picture was no longer laying on the ground, pooling in shards of glass but rather, it sit on the table with a brand new frame - which had both of your initials engraved onto it along with the date of the ceremony

♡ you didn’t need to choke out an inquiry as sakusa noticed your stunned expression and answered on his own, ‘i bought a new frame. i hope you like it.’

♡ of course you liked it; this one was a chic black with silver decals which matched your living room aesthetic way better than the other, tacky blue one did - plus, this one was customised which made you love it even more

♡ ‘i do. i really do. but i don’t like your attitude lately.’ you muttered, shaking your head as you waddled over to the couch 

♡ sakusa was quick to wrap his arms around your waist and pull you down next to him, ‘i’m sorry, love.’ his voice cracked slightly as he whispered in your ear, ‘i cannot put into words how much harder my life would be without you. i just..hope you understand.’

♡ it’s not that sakusa was bad with words; he was just too emotional and overwhelmed to produce a long, coherent sentiment for you so he just prayed that you recognized that everything he said on that day was meaningless

♡ ‘i love you, (y/n).’

atsumu miya

♡ you rolled your eyes, ignoring him and continuing to type your essay until atsumu slammed your laptop closed

♡ ‘please, (y/n)! you know how much this means to me! i’ve been waiting for this festival for years!’

♡ you scoffed, folding your arms and patiently waiting for him to move his filthy hand off your laptop, ‘i do and i’m proud of you. but i have a lecture that day and my exams are just around the corner - and you know how much my education means to me.’

♡ atsumu had to take a moment to suppress a gag at how sickening and condescending your tone was, ‘it’s just one lecture, (y/n)! you’re not going to fail your exams because you missed one lectu--’

♡ ‘you don’t know that.’

♡ atsumu blinked twice, a unimpressed expression painted on his face as he let out a sigh, realising there was no possible way he’s going to be able to get through to you - i mean, he’s been trying for the last 20 minutes to no avail

♡ he ran his hand through his hairs, turning on his heel, heading towards the door and left

♡ but not before peering over his shoulder to shoot you a nasty glare and spitting, ‘you’re so selfish. you can’t even do one thing that’d make me happy - you never can.’

♡ that was the final thing he said to you for the next....20 minutes 

♡ that’s actually a new record for him - usually he storms out of the room, sulks for a minute or two then renters to beg for your forgiveness 

♡ but not today. he was so mad that he needed 20 whole minutes to cool down and come to his senses

♡ but once he did, when he came back into the room, he expected to see you typing your essay or studying as usual since his words don’t usually effect you too much 

♡ so of course he was shocked when he slipped back into your shared bedroom to see you with the duvet tossed over your whole figure, faint sobs coming from underneath 

♡ his immediate reaction was to pull the blanket away and offer himself as your source of heat, so he wrapped you in his muscular embrace, ‘b-babe.’ he stuttered, eyes-wide as he never would’ve thought you’d take his words seriously, ‘are you okay?’

♡ he knew that was a stupid question but he simply asked it to determine how sad you were - and considering you weren’t able to babble out a reply, that wasn’t a good sign

♡ ‘you’re not selfish.’ he reassured you while rubbing circles on your back, ‘if anything, i was being selfish- and nothing makes me as happy as you do, (y/n). i- i really didn’t mean it.’

♡ he paused only to place a kiss on the top of your head, ‘i love you- and to show you how much i love you..i’ll drop you off at your lecture on that day, and take you to the festival afterwards; does that sound good?’

♡ you were finally able to choke out a response but only to explain how unachievable his idea was, ‘my lecture finishes at 5 and the festival ends at 7, and there is a 45 minute drive between the two- you’re only going to be able to spend a little over an hour there.’

♡ ‘and i’ll have a blast in that time!’

♡ you sighed, your lips twitching into a small smile as you buried your face into his chest as you really couldn’t look him in the eye, ‘and why can’t you just go without me again?’ 

♡ ‘who the fuck am i going to play dance dance revolution against if you don’t come?’

shōyo hinata 

♡ you crossed your arms over your chest, internally regretting ever opening your mouth to try calm down fiancé as now, not only is he even more angry, but also most of his anger with now directed at you rather than manager, like it was previously 

♡ eventually, you started to develop a headache from all his screaming and shouting so you politely asked him to calm down, to which he replied, ‘calm down?! you’re the one who made me mad with your rude-ass comment and now you’re telling me to calm down?!’

♡ you preferred it when he was demanding for you to say ‘butt’ instead of ‘ass’ because now that’s he spent more time with bokuto, he’s started swearing more often and to be honest, it’s scary when a 5″4 ginger sunshine is yelling at you, calling you a ‘rude-ass’

♡ ‘shōyō, if i’m completely honest, i have no idea why what i said was so mean and i have no idea what’s going on- why are you so mad at your manager?’

♡ suddenly, he twisted his neck to look at you as if you had just been possessed, ‘what?’ he inquired in a hushed tone, his voice hoarse and oddly sinister  

♡ you quirked a brow, too tired of his constant bitching to pay attention to his tone of voice, ‘yeah, you speak too fast, shōyō.’ you said with a shrug, checking your nails to ensure that he knew that you truly did not care about how he scowled at you, ‘plus, i just don’t understand why this gets you so worked up - i try, i really do, but i guess your volleyball problems just go over my head.’

♡ hinata clenched his fist, realising that he wasn’t going to make any progress by complaining to you. he whipped his head away before storming off, not even sparing you a final glance, ‘you just don’t get it; you don’t understand anything i say and you don’t even make a fucking effort! you just think you are so much better than everyone - well, you’re not! try coming back down to reality with the rest of us, and then we can talk.’

♡ followed by a slam of the door which rattled through the whole apartment

♡ you really had never seen hinata so angry before in your 6 years of being together 

♡ the words he said were far from pleasant and a part of you wondered in he genuinely meant them, perhaps he had been supressing those thoughts for ages and now that he was finally mad, he could let it all out

♡ though you tried to reassure yourself that everyone says things they don’t mean when they are angry, but the tears started flowing on their own

♡ hinata didn’t plan on seeing you for another few hours as he had the idea of heading over to bokuto’s, have a drink and cool down but when he hopped out the shower, he realised he had left his phone in the bedroom - where he left you. 

♡ begrudgingly, he slid into the room with the intention of grabbing his phone then leaving but that went to shit when he noticed that you were bundled up under the blankets, and he could hear distant sniffles coming from underneath

♡ and hinata only has four moods: mad asf, happy asf, loving you & volleyball...asf

♡ so upon seeing you in such a state, presumably because of what he said, elicited his mood to change from ‘mad asf’ to ‘loving you’ 

♡ he pounced on you, causing you to fall sideways and squeal but he simply did not give a fuck

♡ ‘baby! i am so sorry! i didn’t think what i said would make you cry!’ he blubbered, or at least, that’s what it sounded like since you couldn’t actually see him due to the fact he had trapped you under the blankets, ‘i don’t know why i even said that! you’re not like that at all- i don’t think of you like that!’

♡ he paid little regard for your pleas of mercy as you squirmed frantically under the blanket, trying to escape his grip and body weight. he simply continued babbling on about how sorry he was and how amazing you are, ‘you are down here with the rest of us - i just said for no reason. please don’t be mad! you are - what does bokuto call it again? - oh! a humble--’

♡ ‘shōyō! i’ll forgive you if you get off me right now - i can hardly breathe!’

[ghost-like-pale]

a flinch is enough

info: the past never forgets, and techno never forgives. 》 they/them 》 in canon + platonic 》 1.4k words

warnings: sexual assault, explicit descriptions of murder/blood, hurt/comfort, swearing

a/n: this was a request from my beautiful 🌹 anon, thank you for sending this in. i made the implications of sexual assault a a little more subtle but i still hope you like it.

this blog it meant as a way of coping with trauma/mental issues, please don't report it. if you don't want to see what i write, please just block me.

——♤——

the moonlit sky was a beautiful dark blue as you stared at the light. you had been doing housework the entire day due to your counterpart being too busy with whatever he was brewing upstairs. the piglin hybrid usually helped you when he was home, it's his house after all. but today was different, you supposed.

you were so caught up in the moon's doings that you didn't notice the tall figure creeping down the stairs and right behind you. he assumed you were aware of him and went to tap on your shoulder.

as soon as he does you whip your head around, backing away from him as you hold one arm in front of your face and the other in front of your lower body. the shaking of your body became more prominent as time went on.

"(y/n)?"

you couldn't look at him. you weren't strong enough.

"(y/n), please. look at me."

you lowered your arms hesitantly and looked him in the eyes still filled with fear.

"(y/n), i'm not going to hurt you. i promise."

you averted your gaze and drop both your arms. tears leaked out of your eyes and cupped your face with your hands, all the memories coming back and hitting you like a truck.

"i'm so sorry, techno."

you dropped to the floor, your knees buckling under you and techno barely being able to catch you. you felt a heavy, warm cape drape over your figure while a worried piglin grunt escaped techno's throat. he got on one knee and rested one of his hands on your shoulder.

"don't apologize."

two simple words managed to tug at your heartstrings so harshly you couldn't hold it in anymore. you sobbed loudly into your hands, completely losing any posture you tried to maintain. techno was startled, thinking he did something wrong. he quickly snapped out of it, however, and pulled your body by the shoulders into his chest. his firm grasp made you feel secure, stifling your cries a little.

"...are you alright?"

you knew he had no idea how to handle it from here, but you appreciated the concern and kindness he showed. you pulled back from his embrace and wiped your eyes gingerly.

"i'm.. a little better."

"good."

the voices wanted to know who did this - who made you this way. who the fuck hurt you? he tried to keep them quiet, but he wanted them dead as much as his mind.

"can you tell me what happened?"

everything was silent for a few seconds. the voices were quiet, nothing came out of techno's mouth. you sighed and shakily started explaining yourself. techno listened silently, trying to catch every detail and description of the man who scarred you. he had a basic image of him in his mind by the time you were done.

"thank you for telling me."

techno glanced outside the window, the soft glow of the moon telling him it's late. how long had he been brewing? he shuffled a bit and eventually stuck an arm under your legs and upper body. with a small yelp you were lifted a few feet in the air, the cape that you were siting under fell off your back and onto the floor in the proces.

"you need some rest."

you didn't bother trying to stop him. your mind was foggy and your body felt heavy.

"thank you, techno."

"shh, there's no need to thank me."

in comfortable silence you were carried up the stairs and into techno's room. you were confused, you had your own room after all. you didn't mind, though. he placed you on the mattress he slept on rarely. his bed was bigger, the blanket was heavier, the pillow was softer, everything felt better. you wrapped yourself in the plush blanket and felt your eyelids getting heavier already.

"sleep well, (y/n)."

just as he was about to stand up you grabbed a hold of his wrist. he looked at you quizzically, knitting his eyebrows together.

"where are you going?"

"don't worry, i won't be away for long. now sleep."

"fine. good night, techno."

"good night."

—

looking through his bag once more technoblade checked if he forgot to grab anything; he had food, arrows, ender pearls, potions and a small knife. on his hips hung his axe, crossbow and sword, yearning to be used. his bag was full and everything he needed was in his possession. before he opened the door techno noticed the red velvet fabric resting on the ground. with a few paces he arrived in the kitchen and picked up the cape. he swung it over his shoulders and adjusted it carefully. with a loud exhale he stepped out of his house and into the cold weather of the tundra. he whisteled a command and one of the wolves in the pack jumped out of the enclosure it sat in and rushed over to techno's side. he was going to find them.

you've shown him your previous residence multiple times, which is where he was going to look first. it was his best guess. while making his way over to your former abode the wolf that traveled with him was scouting out ahead, hoping it would find it faster than techno.

techno's eyes shoot in the animal's direction when it starts barking aggressively at a moving figure across the woods. the voices screamed at him to assist his pet, to shoot him, kill him immediately, to which he happily obliged. he sped over to his companion, hoping to catch a better glimpse of the person.

"stop him, now!"

techno ordered the animal. after a few seconds he heard a loud thud followed by a yell belonging to a man in immense pain. he made his way over to the barking wolf, it having a slightly stained mouth from its jaws going through the man's flesh and muscles. he found them.

"what's the rush?"

he towered over the other male pathetically writhing on the floor. his calf had a nasty teeth mark, bleeding profusely and covered in dirt and saliva.

"p-please... don't... hurt me!"

"why shouldn't i?"

technoblade hated these kind of men; not even willing to fight or run. just begging and whimpering for mercy. it made him sick. the wolf that followed him all the way here was still barking, ready to tear the man to shreds.

he takes his netherite axe off his hip and hoists it over his shoulder. techno looks the other man right in the eyes, fully aware it fills him with fear. he wanted to feel everything you were put through. he was going to feel your pain.

"i...i've never done anything to you..!"

technoblade froze at the sentence. nothing? he thinks he's done nothing? he's not completely wrong; he's never physically hurt him - he's never even met him before. his train of thought was interrupted by the voices yelling in his head. they were screaming at him to cut him, to strangle him, to burn him, anything. he needed to feel pain.

"does the name (y/n) mean anything to you?"

the horror on the man's face got worse by the second, him figuring out why techno is here. the piglin drops to one knee and gets about an inch away from his victim's face.

"am i going to get an answer?"

"y-yes! we were friends a few years ago."

techno let his axe fall off his shoulder and into the dirt, the blade only falling a few inches away from the other male's injured leg.

"do friends traumatize each other?"

the question filled the victim with dread, his monotone voice only adding to the fear.

"y-you don't know what we did!"

the sudden surge in confidence surprised techno, to be sure. there was nothing more pathetic than a man yelling at the brink of death in such a tone. he scoffed with an amused expression and retracted his axe back into the holder that rested on his hip.

"yeah! they were lying to you, i promise. that's the reason i stopped being friends in the first- GAH!"

his sentence was cut of by a dagger being plunged into his stomach and dragged up to his ribs, cutting open his body. he mewled and moaned in agonizing pain, unable to form any coherent words.

"you disgust me."

technoblade stood up, his ears twitching and voices pleased. the blood on his hand dripped on the dried leaves as he called the wolf he brought with him. as the animal sped over to technoblades' side the screams of the impaled man were completely gone. looking over his shoulder he sees the lifeless body of the man who has haunted you for a long time.

he'll never hurt you again.

——♤——

thank you for reading, hope you liked it.

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@esylwen

[wkemeup]

Sunrise (4)

summary: After an explosion takes his arm and his only sense of belonging, Bucky is content to live out the rest of his days in the hollow comfort of the dark. This is, until Sam drags him down to the local VA and he meets you. (Modern AU) pairings: bucky x reader chapter word count: 5.2k warnings: symptoms of depression, PTSD, anxiety, some really sweet moments to balance it out, more book recs 🧡 series masterlist / series playlist

“You’re staring at the doors again, sweetie.”

Chin resting on your hands, arms folded out on the countertop of the library’s front desk, you tore your eyes away from the entrance to find Mrs. Jefferson peering over at you from over the bridge of her glasses. She smirked as she returned to her book, knowing she’d caught you in the act.  

“Have patience,” she said simply.

“Book club is tomorrow and—” you sighed, a heaviness returning to your body as you slumped back against the counter, stare drifting back to the doors at the entrance. The sun was beaming outside, reflecting in beautiful rays as it illuminated the walkway and touched over old oak and the colorful bindings of novels. 

You frowned. “I really thought he was going to come.”

“This James Barnes... he’s a soldier, yes? Like my boy?”  

You nodded, disappointment burning like a lump in your throat, though you swallowed it back. “A Sergeant. Sam said he came home a little under a year ago.”  

“Then he’ll come,” Mrs. Jefferson pressed confidently, sliding her glasses up her nose, the chain of purple beads clicking against the gem stones on her sweater. “Boys like that don’t break their word. Even if he is a bit of a hesitant one.”

You knew what she meant by that. Hesitant.  

No one liked to talk about the dangers of a soldier post-war. It was uncomfortable; the idea that they could still be fighting a battle long beyond the absence of a weapon in their hands and the threat of present danger. Heroes weren’t supposed to have chinks in their armor. They weren’t supposed to crumble and break under the weight of what happened beyond borders and the guilt they carried.  

They were supposed to be strong; a symbol of a great country and a willing tribute to place upon a pedestal. It was unacceptable to be a burden, unacceptable to do anything other than seamlessly integrate back into a society that they never really knew to begin with.  

It was all a farce; a rigged game set to line the pockets of the rich and exploit everyone else in its path – sent off to fight for a cause no one really understood or believed in. It left behind good men and women to the rubble; Bucky Barnes among them.  

Sam hadn’t told you much about Bucky before you met him, but you knew enough to tell that it was a struggle to get him to leave the apartment. He was isolated and quiet and hardly recognizable from the man you’d seen in photos. Only, it wasn’t the lack of his left arm that drew your attention when you first saw him, but the lingering sadness in his eyes.  

Sam had a picture hanging in the office that often pulled you in. Bucky stood on his left side, smiling so wide it left lines on his face. He was bright, light as a feather, only weighed down by Steve’s arm slung around his shoulders. You wondered if the man in the photo would have flirted shamelessly with you, if he’d have corny pickup lines or offer to take you dancing. He looked like the sort of man who had girls chasing his tail, a line of heartbreak in his wake. He was beautiful.  

It was strange to see him like that, comparing him to the man he was today. Now, it was like a cloud lingered over his head, draining the color from his skin and chipping away at his soul until it dimmed and crumbled and faded away.  

But you’d seen glimpses of the man in the photo. He was still beautiful; a little hurt and dragging his feet, but beautiful. His smile wasn’t quite as wide and the cloud was still present, but there was a peak of sunshine peering through. A single ray puncturing over stormy skies, but it was something. He’d laughed and teased and it was more than Sam had known him to do in months. You were determined to see the sun touch his skin again. If only he’d let you guide him there.  

“I’m going to go restock on the second level,” you conceded, pushing yourself up from the counter and sauntering over to the cart lined heavy with books.  

“Alright sweetie. I’ll be sure to page you when your Sergeant shows up.”

You felt a heat burning in your face at the very idea of ‘your Sergeant’. Mrs. Jefferson chuckled to herself, eyes still down on her book. She waved you off, not giving you a chance to object, even if you could string together a coherent sentence.  

***

Bucky couldn’t get out of bed.  

He’d been in this predicament hundreds of times before; staring up at the ceiling, wasting the days away as the curtains blocked the light and shielded him from the reminder of another sun daring to rise beyond his window. His energy would be drained and his willingness to so much as brush his teeth was obsolete. He’d known what it felt like to not be able to get out of bed.  

This was different.  

He had somewhere to be. He actually wanted to get up. He really fucking wanted to.

But the pain in his arm had flared to one of the worst episodes he’d had in months and it rendered him useless; the arm that was both there and not there. He could feel his left hand curl to a fist, could feel the itch on his palm, but when he tried to scratch it, he was only met with thin air, his right hand sinking to the mattress in search of the sensation that didn’t exist.  

It was infuriating.  

The nerve endings in his shoulder were going haywire. It felt like his arm was being ripped from his body and it took nearly all the energy he had not to let it consume him. He’d even gone as far to bite off a piece of his cheek in an effort to suppress the lump in his throat.  

Sam would have frowned at that, spewed him some bullshit about how crying can be therapeutic and Steve would nod his head annoyingly in agreement, but Bucky was tougher than that. He had to be tougher than that. If he allowed himself to unlatch that gate, it would consume him whole. He’d drown.  

Hinges squeaked at the front entrance as the door swung open and a pair of heavy footsteps came rushing into the apartment.  

“I’m coming, buddy! Hold on!” Sam called, the plastic swish of the grocery bag handing off his arms dropping to the floor. Bucky tried to concentrate on the sound of running water, the bottle of pills shaking in the small orange bottle, and not on the pain threatening to tear him in half.  

The door to his bedroom flung open and Sam rushed in with a glass of water and his fist closed around two red capsules. He paused in the frame, a frown pushing down at his mouth, and Bucky could only imagine what he looked like; disheveled, sweating, laying in day old clothes and muddled sheets. His right hand was shaking.  

“Alright, help me out, Barnes,” Sam said, setting the glass down on the bedside table. He placed a steady hand on Bucky’s back to help push himself upright. Bucky swung his legs off the side of the bed, finding his balance before Sam placed the pills in his hand.  

Bucky threw them back into his mouth, holding his hand out for the glass of water that would come next. It landed in his grip and he gulped down the medication. There was no instant relief with pain like this, but the knowledge it would soon wear off to something manageable was enough.  

“Thanks,” he mumbled out, voice tense as he struggled to find it.  

“Insurance companies are assholes,” Sam scoffed, shaking his head, though he patted Bucky on the knee. “Cutting off coverage for a fucking vet with no warning like that? Can’t believe you’ve been without this stuff for almost a week. It’s messed up.”  

Bucky had come to expect it. He knew something had to go wrong eventually with how things were starting to turn around. He’d actually been looking forward to seeing you at the library and almost went that next day if it wasn’t for the sudden attack on his own body. He'd tried to deal with it on his own, thinking he might sleep it off, but then it became unbearable. Insurance wouldn’t budge and he didn’t have the energy to argue on the phone with them all day. Thankfully, Sam did.  

Except now it was a day before the next book club meeting and Bucky didn’t know how he was supposed to face you. Part of him wondered if you'd be disappointed, if maybe you’d steal a glance over the doors and hope that it was him walking through, only to be let down as each day passed by. The other half wondered if you’d care at all.  

But he’d seen the way you’d smiled at him, how you’d lit up at the idea of him stopping by.  

You’d care.  

He wasn’t sure if that hurt worse, seeing as he never showed up.  

“You could still go.”

Bucky sighed at Sam’s suggestion. He wasn’t teasing him, wasn’t wearing that shit-eating grin. He was being serious. It was the kind of look that reminded Bucky that under it all, Sam was one of his closest friends, one of the few that stuck around when everything went to shit.

“She’ll want to see you,” Sam continued, nudging Bucky’s side with a soft smile, but Bucky shook his head, unconvinced.

“What am I supposed to say to her, Sam?” Bucky groaned, pinching at the bridge of his nose. “’Sorry I stood you up, but I felt like my hand was being sawed off on an arm I don’t even fucking have?’”

“Why not?” Sam shrugged, earning a glare in response he let roll off his shoulders with ease. “She’d understand, Buck. She knows what comes with the territory here. She’s a lot more familiar with this stuff than you think.”

Bucky narrowed his eyes, a pang of jealousy burning hot in his chest. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Maybe you should ask her why she got involved with the VA in the first place.”

Bucky pressed his lips to a thin line, a silence coming over them. That was an immensely personal question; one akin to someone asking him how he’d lost his arm. He wasn’t sure that was an answer you’d be willing to share.  

Sam exhaled a heavy breath, patting Bucky three times on the knee before he stood up. “Let the meds kick in, but promise you’ll try to go, alright?”

Bucky stared up at Sam for a moment before he conceded with a short nod. The pain in his shoulder was starting to lessen, at least. It didn’t feel like his arm was being torn from his body or a knife was plunging into a part of him that didn’t exist anymore. It would likely get back to a place he could deal with within the hour.

“I promise,” Bucky said. “I’ll go.”

***

A brush of warm air filtered in through the vents as Bucky stepped inside the library. It was bigger than he remembered with large stain glass windows on the outer walls, filtering in a colorful sunlight onto the aisles upon aisles of books. At the center, just ahead of the entrance, was a reception desk. Bucky exhaled a tense breath in an attempt to rid himself from the nerves rattling in his veins and made his way to the woman sitting behind the counter.  

She was reading quietly in her seat, a pair of glasses on a beaded chain perched at the very tip of her nose. She didn’t look up in his direction until he stood at the edge of the desk, and only then, she caught glance of him over the top of her glasses before a smile rose on her lips.  

“Can I help you, young man?”  

Bucky cleared his throat. “I’m supposed to meet someone. She, uh, works here. Y/n.”

The woman nodded. She wore the kind of smile on her face Bucky was familiar with. He’d seen it in Sam about a dozen times in the last week; the kind of smile that said ‘I was right.’

“You must be Sergeant Barnes,” she said as she picked up the radio from the desk.  

Bucky nodded quickly, glancing over his shoulder. He wasn’t sure what he was looking for, but he felt jittery. He tried not to let the fact that you’d clearly talked to this woman about him throw him completely off his game. If he even had game to begin with…  

“Yes, ma’am,” Bucky replied with an even tone. She smirked.  

“Y/n,” she called into the radio, “you have a guest at the front desk.”

The woman held up a finger to him though it trembled with age, signaling for him to wait a moment. Bucky nodded, tucking his hand into his pocket as he silently made his way over to the series of chairs lined along the wall.  

He gripped his fist tight inside his pocket, trying to ignore the pulsing in his shoulder. It had lessened considerably since Sam brought him his meds, but it hadn’t gone away completely. Showering had taken longer than usual and it took him nearly four minutes just to pull a shirt over his head. His army jacket hung over his shoulders, wrapped in a protective layer, loose sleeve at his side. 

“If you’re pulling my chain, Mrs. Jefferson…”  

Bucky perked up at the sound of your voice. You were crossing the main entrance from the staircase, half jogging to the counter where the woman, Mrs. Jefferson, was grinning to herself from behind her book.  

You draped over the counter, toes barely keeping hold on the tile floors as you attempted to reach for her book, but she snatched it from your grasp just in time. You huffed, sinking back down the floor.  

“It’s not funny!” you whined and Bucky almost felt a little guilty for not making his presence known yet, but you were just so cute the way you slumped your shoulders and glanced back at the entrance.  

Mrs. Jefferson pointed over to where Bucky had slowly begun to make his way towards you, but you folded your arms over your chest. Bucky cleared his throat when he stood a few paces off your shoulder, but you didn’t seem to hear him.  

Mrs. Jefferson caught Bucky’s eye before she turned her attention back to you. ���Sweetie, he’s—”

“He’s not coming, okay?” you groaned and Bucky felt a stone drop into his stomach. “I—I thought he would but… I was wrong.”

Bucky parted his lips to speak but suddenly his throat was dry. Mrs. Jefferson’s smile started to fade. Clearly, Bucky wasn’t the only one who heard the disappointment in your voice, the sliver of heartbreak, too. He tried to speak, to call your name, to say something, but he was marbled stone.  

“I’m going back to work.”

There wasn’t time to pull his words together before you slammed head first into Bucky’s chest. He stumbled back a few paces, surprised, and you gasped, hands flying to your mouth.  

“Oh God, I’m so sorry! I didn’t—” You stilled, taking in who was standing in front of you. “Bucky?”

He pressed out a smile, though his ears were burning red. “Sorry I’m late.”

“No! N-no, you’re totally fine! I didn’t—I didn’t think you were—” You blinked a few times before your eyes darted back at Mrs. Jefferson who only smirked from behind her book, adjusting the glasses on the tip of her nose. You turned back to Bucky, brushing out the hem of your skirt and wrapping the thick layer of a lavender colored cardigan tightly around your waist, almost like a blanket.  

You exhaled a nervous breath, a nervous smile lifting into your cheeks. “I’m happy you came.”

“It would have been sooner, I swear,” Bucky replied quickly, watching helplessly as your smile brightened into a laugh. “But, um, my uh—”  

He chewed on the edge of his lip. Was he really going to tell you what kept him held up in his room for days on end? Would it bitter the sweet way you looked at him to know that he was a mess under a poorly constructed surface, tied together with string and scotch tape? But you were looking at him so fondly, he wondered if there was anything he could say that could take that away.

“My arm,” he admitted, waiting for a flash of disgust on your face that never came. You softened a bit, but your eyes never left his. He cleared his throat. “It, um… It was just acting up. I ran out of meds and the pain it—it got bad. The kinda pain that sorta makes me wish I had the arm just so I could saw it off myself.”

Shit. He hadn’t mean to say that much but there was just something about the way you looked at him that made him feel like he couldn’t say a damn wrong thing. You pursed your lips, nodding in as much understanding as you could offer. You gestured to the staircase and Bucky followed you without question.  

“I would have been here last week,” Bucky finished because he needed you to know. He couldn’t stand the idea of you being upset, of that sliver of disappointment in your voice when you’d accepted he wasn’t going to show. He needed you to know he’d tried.  

“You don’t have to explain yourself to me,” you said simply, though he could tell you appreciated it nonetheless. You offered him a smile, one that washed away any feelings of doubt that crept up to the surface. The pain in his shoulder was long forgotten when you looked at him like that.  

“I just wanted you to know.”

I just wanted you to know I’m trying.

He had something to look forward to now, a reason to get out of his bed and open the curtains and look at the fucking sun for once. He had reason to shower and go outside and shove away all the thoughts of self-doubt and paranoia because there was something incredible waiting for him beyond the door.  

I just wanted you to know you’re the reason I’m trying.

“Come on,” you grinned, leading him to the staircase. “I have a few books in mind you might like.”  

Your hand extended in his direction, but you caught yourself when you realized what you were doing. It was seamless enough that you easily played it off as you tugged your sweater tight around your body, but he noticed. It was an intimate gesture, a closeness he hadn’t known in years.  

He hadn’t remembered what it felt like to crave something like that.

***

It didn’t take long for Bucky to settle on The Martian by Andy Weir. It was the first book you pulled from the shelves, one amongst a series of alternatives you had ready in the event this one didn’t appeal to him. All it took was a single glance over the back cover, a slight incline in his brow, and he was sold.

“I trust you,” was all Bucky had said; so simply, as if it didn’t take the breath straight from your chest.   

Bucky didn’t have a library card you realized as you brought him back to the front desk. He’d sheepishly asked to check it out on your account, but you were determined to see more of him and you hoped that by getting him his own card, he might be more inclined to come back. Not that you explained it that way per say, but he didn’t object at least.

It had taken a lot less time than either of you anticipated and you found yourself following him to the exit, both of you dragging your feet.

“So, um…” he started, a nervous chuckle in his voice. “That was easy.”

“Yeah,” you scratched at the back of your neck, glancing to the clock hanging high on the eastern wall. “I hope you like it after all this trust you’re putting in my judgement.”

“I’m sure I will.”

A short silence swept over. Neither of you moving to leave. A couple swerved around you in an effort to get to the doors. The silence wasn’t awkward, but there was a nervous energy in it, like you were both waiting for the other to make the first move. Only, you both did it at once.  

“Would you want to—”

“I’m off at four—”

You bit down on your lips, suppressing a laugh. You gestured for him to go first. His looked so sweet with the pink in his cheeks. A man who had been once rendered as a weapon and he wore a blush in his cheeks. Your stomach held butterflies in its cage.  

“There’s a coffeeshop nearby,” he continued nervously. “I was thinking I could replace that coffee of yours I spilled last week…”

Your cheeks were starting to ache from how wide you were smiling. “Give me five minutes? I just need to wrap things up with Mrs. Jefferson and then I’m yours.”

Bucky’s eyes widened for a second, a flash of something unreadable on his face. He shook it off quickly and nodded, telling you he’d wait by the chairs along the wall until you were ready. It wasn’t until you were halfway to the desk that you’d realized what you’d said.  

I’m yours.

A harmless saying; one people used every day in passing. Still, you felt that same surge of energy at the thought. From the twists in your stomach and the stammer in your heart, you knew that if he’d asked, it would be true.  

***

Bucky watched as you scurried back to the main desk, a few quick glances back over your shoulder in his direction like you were making sure he was still there. You were smiling so wide, he wondered if it ached in your cheeks. He’d never known anyone to smile as much as you did, like you had this limitless supply of joy eager to be tapped into. He couldn’t help but feel a twist in his stomach, knowing he had been able to syphon some of that joy and bring it to the surface. It was him you were smiling at. It felt like a dream.

He glanced down at the book nestled into the sleeve of his bag; a stunning ombre in shades of orange to red to black, a lone astronaut in the center – like he was floating adrift. You’d told him it was a story of survival, of the intricacies of humanity and human connection. It was funny at times and filled with science beyond your pay grade, but it was mesmerizing.  

There was an unspoken hope he could read in your eyes that he might connect to the main character, Mark Watney in his search for connection, in his desperate hope to free himself from the isolation, in his resilience. You’d said Mark was an exceptional character, one with courage and determination to be admired.  

Bucky wasn’t sure he could stand up to the likes of Mark Watney, but he would certainly try.  

The glimmer in your eye as you spoke about the book, almost as if it were an old friend, was enough to convince him. For the first time in years, he felt the urge to read when he got home, just so he could see the look on your face in book club when you realized he’d already started it. He wanted to make you proud, wanted to see more of your smile. It was his new drive.  

A few minutes later, you came jogging back up to him. Your purse hung over your shoulders, a few new books of your own tucked under your arm. You’d done more than finish your shift at the desk though, he realized, because his eyes flickered to a reflective shine on your lips, one that hadn’t been there before. You’d put on lip gloss.

His heart flipped.  

“Ready?” you asked, gesturing to the doors. All bright eyes and sunshine as you looked at him.  

“There’s a café called Luciana’s not too far from here. I’ve heard good things about it. Might be quiet,” Bucky offered and a flash of something unreadable crossed your features. “Do you know it?”

“I go there every Sunday before book club! It’s my favorite,” you replied, nearly skipping in your steps. “Replacing my coffee and getting it right down to the same shop? I’m impressed, Bucky.”

He chuckled, hanging his head as he followed you down the descending staircase and into the heavy flow of pedestrian traffic. He’d forgotten how busy the sidewalks could get at rush hour and the smile quickly drained from his face, though he wouldn’t let you see.  

Bucky tried to focus on you as the strangers circled in around him, how you were laughing at the coincidence of it all, starting on a tangent of your favorite donuts at the shop. Your voice was like a beacon and he did his best use it as a guide.  

But he could feel the quicken pace of his heart inside his chest, how it thumped through his ribs and pulsed into his head the closer strangers got to him. He swerved out of the way of a tourist who was too busy looking down at his phone to notice Bucky in his path. He kept his head down, hand clenched tightly in his jacket pocket, eyes staring at the concrete.  

Teenagers were whispering behind him, snickering under their breath, and Bucky could hear the harsh ‘shhh’ of a father at wit’s end. His lungs felt tight, certain that the boys were mocking the loose sleeve hanging down by his side. He could have taken it if here were on his own. His ears would flush red and a wash of shame and embarrassment would flood his senses, but he could have taken it.  

Not with you by his side. Not when you could be privy to the harsh stares and the cruel voices, the validation to a fear he’d known to be true long before he met you – that he was a broken mess of who he used to be and he would never find that sense of normalcy again. He was kidding himself into thinking that you could ever want someone like—

“Bucky?”

When he looked up at you, your smile had fallen away, replaced with concern. It must not have been the first time you called his name. He didn’t know what to say. He felt small, like a child, embarrassed that even on a good day the influx of people still rendered him to a state of panic.  

“Come on,” you said quietly, glancing around to an alley off your shoulder. “Let’s take the scenic route.”  

He followed gratefully, staring at your shoulder blades as you led him away from the busy hustle of the crowd and along empty side streets and residential neighborhoods. It would take longer this way, but you didn’t seem to mind. You were too busy admiring the architecture of the brownstones and the beautiful array of plants and flowers hanging along the windows. In the open space, you skipped a few paces ahead, arms out wide and twirled around, simply because you could. You laughed and it echoed up along the buildings.  

Bucky could have handed you his heart right then. He could have pulled it straight from his chest and set it into your palms. He wondered if you would handle it with the tender sort of care he hoped you would. His heart was fraying and damaged, after all. It required a gentle touch.  

You fell back in line with him easily and you checked to make sure the next block wasn’t too busy before you led him down another side street. He tried to ignore the voices telling him he was a burden, that his baggage was dragging heavy at your feet, but it crept to the surface no matter how many times you smiled at him.  

“I’m sorry,” he mumbled out, willing his voice to be stronger than it felt. “I don’t know why this is such an issue for me. I was fine on the way over.”

“You don’t have to apologize, Bucky,” you said gently, slowing your pace until you came to a stop.  

Bucky dragged his feet, stopping along a bush of pink hydrangeas planted outside a stunning brick townhome. From the corner of his eye, he watched as your hand reached out to him instinctively, almost in slow motion, and you only paused as you realized what you were doing and pulled back. You cleared your throat.

“I’m not ever someone you have to apologize to about this stuff, okay?” you continued with a kind of sincerity in your voice, Bucky didn’t have a choice but to believe you. The way you looked at him nearly pulled him to pieces. “It comes and goes. Waxes and wanes. There’s no fault. No blame. Just tell me if something’s wrong, so I can help. That’s all I ask.”

Were you speaking from experience? Did you know someone who had been as shattered as he was? Was it the reason Sam wanted him to ask about why you were involved with the VA to begin with?  

It was quiet on the side street; the only sound the distant footsteps from traffic up ahead and the low rumble of car engines in the distance. A bird chirped from a low handing branch above.  

You shoved your hands into your pockets in an effort to keep yourself from reaching for his. He was surprised at the twist in his stomach when he wished you would have tried just one more time. Maybe he could have had some courage to take it.  

“Okay,” Bucky agreed, feeling a weight lift from his chest. When you smiled again it was small— a little heavy— but it touched your eyes. There was a relief in it, maybe an appreciation, too. It swept away some of the anxiety from his veins.  

“Okay.” Your smile widened as you continued to walk down the sidewalk. Bucky found himself feeling a little lighter as he followed behind.  

When the two of you approached the main street again along the block Luciana’s was tucked away in, Bucky didn’t feel as though he was suffocating anymore. He could sense his reflexes picking up, a subtle increase in his heart rate, but he walked a little closer to you, your hip bumping against his every so often and he found that it grounded him. It kept him firm on the surface when he felt like he was floating up into a distant unknown. He wondered if you knew the extent to which you affected him.  

Luciana’s was quiet inside as Bucky jutted out ahead of you to reach for the door. A soft strum of an acoustic guitar and a Spanish speaking singer’s intricate melody hummed over the speakers. He felt a solid breath of air fill his lungs, tasting of coffee beans and fresh pastries.  

“Welcome to—” a voice called from behind the counter before she paused, eyes falling on you. “Y/n!”  

A woman ran out from behind the counter, dressed in a stained apron and a long, bright pink dress, and held her arms out to you. You laughed as she enveloped you to her chest.  

“My darling! It is not Sunday, you know. You’re getting your days mixed up!” she exclaimed, wagging her finger at you. She didn’t even give you time to explain before she turned to Bucky, who suddenly felt a burn of heat on his face. “Ah! You finally brought me one of your boys!”

Bucky narrowed his eyes, turning to you quickly. His stomach dropped.  

“She means at the VA,” you explained, a little embarrassed at her implication as you shuffled your feet, eyes darting at the floor. Bucky raised an eyebrow in realization, eyes flickering back to the woman – who he assumed to be Luciana herself – as she scurried back around the counter. He noticed then that she was wearing slippers on her feet.  

“Come, come!” She called eagerly, waiting with a tapping toe at the register.  

You and Bucky exchanged a glance, a breath of a laugh escaping before you stepped up to the counter. You didn’t hesitate in your order, though you took some extra time in looking over the pastries and donuts after Bucky told you to pick something out for him. You put so much thought into it, it was really quite sweet. He waited until you reached down for your purse to slip his card over the counter to Luciana.  

She wore that same smile he’d seen on Mrs. Jefferson at the library. That smirk. Like they knew something he didn’t.  

You heard the ring of the cash registered and looked up at him, agape. You swatted his arm without thinking twice about it and there was a comfort in that. He laughed, taking his coffee and settling in at a table by the windows as you followed behind.  

As he watched you across the table, your eyes glancing out to the pedestrians as they walked back, nursing the steaming mug of coffee between your hands, that morning suddenly felt like it was a life time ago.  

Had he really been paralyzed with pain, unable to move from his bed, just a few hours earlier? It felt like a century had passed in between. In a rare indulgence, Bucky let himself wonder what it would feel like to spend all his time with you; if maybe time moved so fast it swept him off his feet or if it moved slow enough to allow him to catch every second.  

All he knew was that he wanted more.

[senju-sekhmet]

The Leash (Part 6)

Summary: Your rescue was supposed to be as smooth as these missions can be. However very quickly, Tobirama faces off against an enemy that has no form, color or smell - and time is running short, very fast. Unless he figures out what truly holds you hostage, your life will be lost. Warnings (for the finished work): Blood, illness, descriptions of heavy injuries and graphic violence, torture (both depicted and implied), needles, morally grey territory, human experimentation, panic attacks, character death ~6800 words (this chapter, finished work: 80.000) Previous: Part 1; Part 2; Part 3; Part 4; Part 5 Read on AO3!  Disclaimer below the cut!

DISCLAIMER! -i reckon I don’t need the paste it again… but in short: this is a purely self-indulgent work which contains a lot of my own headcanons and whatnot. this chapter especially so! lots of talking and thinking - curious to see what you think!! THANKS FOR READING <3 Ikuro greeted him with a warm smile at the interrogation headquarters. "You produce results fast," he commented after Tobirama explained to him where his research had led him so far. They were sitting in the small office adjourning the holding cell block again. Tobirama could only muster a huff in response. "It is possible I'm being put under pressure by time." His tone was perfectly caustic again.

Ikuro, on the other hand, was entirely unfazed. Tobirama decided he appreciated that about the man; he never had been fond of fainthearted individuals. 

"I suggest we start with the least valuable prisoner," Ikuro then turned more serious, placing his broad hand on the table. "There is, after all, a chance this might backfire."

Tobirama nodded. A sensible thought. "That would be Akio." Then, he frowned. "However you noted he's broken already. Our goal is to gain information, too. All we'd confirm would be the drug wasn't lethal. And ascertain the bodily effects of this drug." As he spoke the words, he found the sensible approach - the logical one - didn’t sit too well with him.

Ikuro hummed affirmatively. "What do you suggest, Tobirama?", easily catching the uncertainty.

Tobirama crossed his arms. Frankly he had to ponder the question. There was merit in trying it in those who knew about the leash - but the danger of permanently harming or even killing them was there, too. However did they really know anything about the leash? Would they even relinquish their knowledge?

Had he reason to believe his drug could be considered  that  dangerous to not… take this risk?

He had no time. You had no time. "Let's try the strongest of them."

Ikuro's pale eyes lit up and flashed his teeth in a grin which otherwise might’ve let a shiver run down Tobirama’s spine. "That would be Zenji. The … polite fellow in the middle holding cell. You met him when you first came here."

Tobirama couldn’t have stopped the roll of his eyes even if he wanted to. He gave an exasperated groan. "Great. I’m thrilled to meet him again." That man would test his patience. Tobirama would refuse to guarantee for his safety.

Luckily, he wasn’t made to make any such promises. Ikuro rose to his feet, Tobirama followed suit. Before they set for the cells though, Tobirama explained his plan. Ikuro only nodded in agreement. An eerie kind of calm was settling over him when they finally entered the Stone shinobi’s cell block. It was not an unfamiliar feeling; rather a welcome kind of dissociation that had been well practiced in the warring states era. They all had, at some point, committed atrocious acts. Tobirama never looked back, his logic had been sound.

Just like this time. And what would follow here might be another ugly entry in a list of infamous cruelties - but another necessary one.

As they walked, he could feel the glances of the other prisoners on him as he passed them - and he spared none of them a single glance.

Once they stood in front of the cell, the lanky man’s eyes lit up in way too much delight. "How's the lady?", Zenji gloated immediately.

Tobirama ignored the question. If that was how he’d play it - he was ready. The ire burning under his skin was causing him to tremble almost still. A discussion, the man knew, might easily lead to bloodshed. And being riled up into beating up a chained up man was below Tobirama’s dignity. Although thinking about it provided some needed relief.

"Why are you keeping them like this?", he inquired quietly, hissing through clenched teeth, wondering about the fact all the cells were adjourned - what they did here, the others could hear.

Ikuro considered Tobirama with a thoughtful glance. "Additional pressure. They hear what we're doing to each of them on top of their own, ah, sessions."

Tobirama had guessed that was the reason.

He still felt like bloody murder. Rage like this - born from revenge - was a low motive, and Tobirama frankly despised himself for this. The only thing that mattered was whether one acted on their emotions or not, he knew. Yet he just had to remind himself of the fact that within less than a week, you'd run out of the despised drug  they had tethered you to. And that the man in front of him, Zenji, might know how to save your life.

All things were relative, after all.

Ikuro unlocked Zenji's cell. The man was chained up in the same fashion he had been before - no movement allowed except maybe a wiggle of his toes. The chains were suspended from the walls of the cell and over and over painted with various seals, a few of which Tobirama recognised. Chakra sealing seals mostly, as well as other, sinister uses.

They both stepped inside and Ikuro locked it again.

Zenji gave a haughty laugh. "Not gonna speak to me? Awh, come on. Maybe I'll give you a hint about the leash if you do." He wriggled his eyebrows almost suggestively. 

The blood was rushing in Tobirama's ear. His muscles were taut like a bow's string and it took every ounce of his willpower not to at least verbally jump at this man. Don’t, he chanted inwardly, don’t. Briefly, he closed his eyes and shook his head slightly as if to clear the berserk haze that wanted to settle over him.

Surprisingly, it worked somewhat.

Ikuro stepped to Zenji's side. "You're getting a treat, Zenji." A second later, his big hand had grabbed the back of his skull by his hair.

Tobirama stepped closer, procuring the vial from his pocket. 

Zenji laughed haughtily. "Ah, ah," his eyes were trained on the vial. "Trying to recreate the leash?"

Tobirama stood right in front of him then, glare icy while the rage inside burned ever hotter. His expression was perfectly neutral, he didn't even bat an eyelash. "I'm going to tether you to the leash, eventually." His voice was nonchalant despite the rage that wanted to eat him up. 

Zenji's eyes widened momentarily. Was there a hint of fear in them? But it was gone as soon as Tobirama thought he'd seen it. "You're gonna fail," the Stone shinobi spat, his smugness becoming caustic swiftly. "You can't ever hope to do that."

Tobirama tilted his head to the side, eyebrows rising slowly. "Why is that?", he asked, lazily, disinterested. Perhaps there  was  merit in trying to engage in a conversation with him, after all.

Zenji tried to whip his head from Ikuro's grasp, who just pulled harder at his scalp. "As if you'd be able to recreate it like that. You're fucking running out of leash and Y/n is gonna fucking die." His voice was dripping with hatred and no small amount of pleasure.

For just a second, Tobirama imagined ripping his throat out with his bare hands if just to ease the fury that was burning through every fiber of his body now; the gory picture helping momentarily not to  act  on it. Or at least verbally lash out. Still, he knew he’d despise himself for it - such an act was beneath him. The man was key to finding out how to save you. He had to keep telling himself in order to keep the white-hot rage crawling under his skin only. How he managed to retain his poker face was beyond him. Maybe the gruesome image did help.

He drew his lips into a condescending sneer. "I'm one of Konoha's most distinguished scientists. Don't think for a second I couldn't recreate anything your village came up with." His voice was dripping with arrogance. 

Zenji was retorting with a sneer of his own. Ikuro's lips were drawn in a fine smile. "You're fucking desperate is what you are," he snickered, "That drug is impossible to recreate. Too complicated." 

Tobirama gave only a lazy sigh and topped it off with an annoyed roll of his eyes. "Yes, I suppose for the likes of you that might be true." He leaned in a little. "I'm not  you  , though. Eventually, I will. And in the meanwhile, I'm going to test every single one of my experiments on you. You know," he mustered the man then a little as if he was nothing more than an object. "I'm wondering if you're actually afraid."

Zenji's eyelid twitched and he threw himself into the restraints binding him. Ikuro's grip was unrelenting, but he frowned slightly. "Afraid? Afraid?!  You can't even risk me!", his voice was shrill and his face became contorted by fury.

Interesting. Ikuro thought so too - his pale eyes had narrowed and stared at Tobirama intently.

Tobirama remained impassive, just swishing the vial back and forth with a leisure movement of his wrist. The truth was he was far from that. He wondered if beating on this man until he spilled the beans really wasn't an option. But he was so close. Zenji had already made a mistake, and Tobirama had caught onto it, of course. Still, he needed confirmation. "I don't see why." He knew better than to keep up with this kind of verbal wrestling. That would only yield power to the prisoner.

Still, the hint had been obvious.

Zenji clenched his jaw tightly now. He, too, seemed to have realised his mistake. 

A shrill voice floated over the corridor. The loony witch from the far end, Tobirama figured. "Zenji, you fucking idiot!" 

She did sound coherently pissed now.

Unluckily for Zenji, that was the confirmation he needed. Time to take a shot at the obvious target. Tobirama leaned back, genuinely smug now. Both eyebrows arched up, his tone as sweet as sugar. "You're the only one left who knows how to create the leash, hm?"

Zenji apparently decided to break through the figurative front then - his lips drew in a condescending sneer again. "Alright, smart science boy. Assuming you brought all of the remaining leash with you to this godforsaken village," he began in a tone that made Tobirama's neck hair stand up. "Your precious lady has had about seven days to live, give or take, since we got here."

Tobirama already wanted to beat his face into a pulp now - how he spoke of your life in a simple calculation; an unfortunately very correct one - it was maddening. His heartbeat thundered through his skull as his world was incinerated in white-hot ire; he could barely feel the pain in his jaw from how hard he bit down on his teeth.

Zenji continued. "Now I kinda lost feeling for time in this fucking cell, but it couldn't have been more than two. So how about this, Tobirama Senju - all I have to do is last a few more days and then my knowledge will be meaningless because-" he leaned forward, wearing a huge, fat grin, "- Y/n's gonna have left this world, screaming and writhing in agony."

Tobirama's heartbeat was through the roof now. His fists clenched so hard, the vial might break in them but he did not move an inch.

"Unless,... you put her out of her misery beforehand."

For the fraction of a second, eerie silence filled the cell.

Tobirama's fist shot out before Ikuro could even do so much as realise what was about to happen. A sickening crunch echoed through the cell as it made contact with Zenji's lower jaw, who howled in pain in response. 

"Tobirama!" Ikuro cautioned, pale eyes ablaze now. The situation was getting out of hand.

Tobirama almost didn't even register the warning. All he heard was the rhythm beating inside him as a fine tremor of fury shook him. His scarlet stare held him pinned, eyes ablaze - if looks could kill, Zenji would be dead now.

This man. How dared he. 

How dared he to insinuate- To even think Tobirama would- That he couldn’t-

Zenji spat blood before Tobirama's feet. "I'm gonna fucking relish telling you it all once she's dead," he repeated, blood trickling down his chin, but mien filled with hatred. "You're never gonna crack how the leash is made in five days!" He drew his lips into an ugly grin, marred by the blood blood of his split lip.

Tobirama's fist balled again to deliver another blow to his face, but Ikuro cleared his throat authoritatively. In an instant, Tobirama's free hand had grasped around Zenji's broken mandibular bone and forced it forward with a lot more pressure than necessary. He made sure to put extra force on the side he had punched, just to be safe. If Ikuro had cautioned him not to worsen the prisoner’s injury, Tobirama did not hear it. He didn’t care, either. Zenji should be grateful Tobirama didn’t punch him again.

The prisoner howled in pain as he was barely able to resist his mouth being forced open simply due to the injury, Ikuro supporting by tilting his head back now. "Time for your medicine," Tobirama announced in an ice cold tone as he poured the contents of the vial into Zenji's mouth.

In an attempt to gag or wheeze it right back out he already tried to constrict his pharyngeal muscles, but Tobirama had seized his cricoid and pressed down harshly enough to force him to swallow - or else he'd suffocate.

Which he did, just a moment later.

For good measure, Tobirama kept the pressure up a few seconds longer, however.

When he released him, Zenji wheezed. "Fuck you," he spat, but his pupils began to dilatate already.

"Start," Tobirama commanded Ikuro in a pressed tone, shaking from fury still, who nodded and rested his hand on Zenji's head in order to assault the man's mind.

Tobirama meanwhile went for his throat to monitor his body with his chakra - sadly, he really did need to keep him alive. Which was difficult, as his focus was still clouded by the rage - the maddening fury he’d chastise himself for later. 

The effects of his drug were - initially - comparable to the leash. The sensory overload of the brain worked the exact same way he had witnessed in you after indigestion - though now, it mingled with Ikuro's chakra, who was smothering him in what probably was a genjutsu or some other kind of mental assault. Tobirama couldn't help but marvel the expert level with which the man proceeded, comparing it to the brute force he had used on Akio. There was something to be learned here in the ways he didn't just smother him but let his chakra seep through every little crack of Zenji's mind, delivering mental stabs whenever he felt a crack in his mental fortress while coating him in a constant onslaught of pressure; a thick blanket of neverending slices at Zenji’s mind that made Tobirama shudder. It was much like watching a snake kill its prey - winding around the struggling victim tighter and tighter; the hopeless struggle of the despondent creature seemed to still as it starts to realise its demise while the snake viciously enjoys every drip of agony it can milk from it until finally, the unfortunate soul can no longer breathe.

Zenji's chakra on the other hand was sluggish - but not as subdued as Tobirama had hoped. The effect was there and the man definitely should feel his control over his chakra being significantly hampered, but it wasn't the same as Tobirama had seen in you. Stunted, yes, but not as frozen.

He was on the right path, after all.

Still, the screams Ikuro elicited from Zenji were music to Tobirama's ears. Just like the fact that physically, the man was fine. Tobirama flat out refused to heal the broken jaw, however. He didn't know how long the session lasted, but somewhere along the line, Zenji hat stilled. His head had tilted forward, the body limp. 

"Enough," Ikuro announced finally, frowning.

Tobirama gave the man another brief once-over to make sure he was fine - besides the abused mind - then he removed his hand from his throat. His head felt dizzy. The ache in his heart was as agonizing as ever now that the rage had subsided. Ikuro clicked his tongue and waved his hand for Tobirama to follow. They headed back to the office. This time, he didn't feel the gazes of the other prisoners on his back.

Interesting. 

Once in the office, Ikuro crossed his arms. "I don't think I need to explain-"

Tobirama cut him short with a wave of his hand. He didn't have time for a lecture. "I lost my composure. It won't happen again."

Ikuro stared back for a moment longer, then he walked to the desk. "Should I get the impression you're too emotionally biased to interrogate this man, someone else will have to conduct your experiments here."

"Understood." Like hell Tobirama would allow for that to happen.

Ikuro nodded, then folded his hands in front of him. "This was an interesting session nonetheless."

Tobirama crossed his arms in front of his chest. "Well, I'm glad you perceived it as such." He didn't cut back on the sarcasm. 

Ikuro exhaled a sigh. "We have ascertained that Zenji is the only one who knows how to create the leash. And when I tried to pry open his mind, I found your little experiment made him a lot more susceptible to my methods." A fine smile formed on his lips.

Tobirama frowned slightly. The compliment felt sour still - he remembered how this was what you had suffered, and how it hadn't been near what the leash could do. In fact, by the end of the session Zenji's chakra control had been almost normal again.

No withdrawal effect, either. 

"I did not break him still," Ikuro continued, "But I could take brief glimpses at the leash's creation, if I upped the pressure a lot."

That comment alone sent a jolt down Tobirama’s spine and he took a quick step forward. "Tell me."

"I'll show you," Ikuro held Tobirama's gaze with unwavering determination, and Tobirama stared back into the pale, turquoise eyes.

Then suddenly, he felt an image being pushed onto him - a genjutsu. Almost instinctively, he wanted to release it simply for the intrusion it caused - then he remembered what this was for. It was quite delicate anyway - fragments, loose images and echoes of sensations. Zenji's, Tobirama realised. He was holding a bottle filled with a clear substance. His chakra did something - a process that Tobirama could only guess at because every time he - Ikuro - tried to look closer, it was as if someone shoved him away. Still, there were some leads. Ways in which his chakra threaded through the liquid. Tiny - but something to go with - pieces of a puzzle. Where he still was missing about most parts of. It hinted at the utmost delicate process that seemed to be the creation of the leash - but it was proof. Proof that it truly was something of a chakra weaving process that created the leash.

"Release." Ikuro announced.

Tobirama's head was swimming again. A hand raked through his hair. 

This was a lead. He should feel excited. Hopeful. Eager to work on it. Yet his mind wouldn't push past the crushing sense of dissatisfaction with this experiment, his outburst - and worst of all, Zenji's promise.

I'm gonna fucking relish telling you it all once she's dead.

Five days. He just had five days left and all he had was a vague lead and an experiment with a lukewarm result at least.  Time  - he was running out of  time . His heart was thundering in his chest as his breaths came deeper than usual. He closed his eyes briefly. 

If only he had more time.

Giving up was not an option. He'd just work harder. He'd sacrifice who knew what to make this work.

He breathed in deeply to try and alleviate the budding agony and dread inside him. It didn't work well. The pain stabbed at his heart, the sorrow had gripped him again. Tobirama was sure that if he closed his eyes, he'd see your face - in sheer agony. 

Unless,... you put her out of her misery beforehand.

He swallowed the lump down his throat. It felt dry. The emotions that were swirling inside him were tiring him out; much like the days before, it was all too much. First the rage, and now the looming sense of doom and this utter despair he felt he couldn’t escape. He didn’t want to feel more, he couldn’t he was spent, but he did nonetheless, like a wound that couldn’t, wouldn’t stop bleeding. He was taking deep breaths against - against all this.

His gaze wandered to the clock. 

Damn. You should have been awake for quite some time now.

"I will be back as soon as I have synthesised my next experiment. This is a start." He bowed curtly to thank Ikuro, who nodded in reply. "I need to go. See you soon."

Then, the world around him lurched as he teleported straight to your room. 

________

 Your nightmare had been exceptionally vivid this time.

Not just a horrible patchwork of memories from the past few weeks but a concise, terribly real scenario. Every single bit of the memory had felt like as though you were back in the dreadful hideout for sure. The screams echoed off the wall as they carved your flesh like a sculpture, the pain a thousand times worse due to this damn drug. By the time it had ended, your tormentor had cut you apart.

But you wouldn't die.

You never died. 

The agony just never ended.

It all faded into a memory of pain supplied by your abused body. Eventually, the world was black. Then you slept.  And when you woke, it still was dark. 

With a sigh, you removed the blindfold from your eyes. Everything stayed dark. You forced yourself to take even breaths. 

This had been the third time you had taken the leash since you had been rescued.

How many more would follow?

Your breathing picked up. 

Dark. It was all too dark. 

Your eyes wandered to where you knew the window was, curtain drawn closed. You really had to tell Tobirama to keep that open if you now started to become afraid of darkness so much. Then again, that might lead to more questions. Questions you didn’t want to answer. For now, the pain in your whole body was a dull echo, but you knew that’d change drastically again when you moved. No matter. You had to. The world was closing in around you and and your heart was hammering against your ribs so harshly you thought it might jump out.

Yelping past clenched teeth you dragged your haggard form to the window again, staggering through the darkness, not even bothering with the nightstand lamp this time. You didn’t need to. You whimpered deplorably from the aches that now flared through all of you, echoes of the torment that stabbed and burned. 

You still felt so weak. It was dumb to think you had recovered much already - and without your own chakra, no less - but still. You absolutely detested this  weakness. 

This helplessness.

You grasped the curtain for support as much as you had to to pull it open. You had to fumble for it with a shaking hand, the other grasped the window sill below.

“J-j-just o-open…”, you stuttered as you ripped aimlessly at it.

Your breaths were coming so fast now your sight was blackening, your limbs feeling fuzzy. The panic was driving tears into your eyes and wrenching sobs from you.

Was this how you’d start every day, now?

Bright sunlight flooded the room finally. Instantly, both your hands clung to the sill then for support while you doused in the sight of the village. The very obvious signals your body was giving you to rest again were ignored in favour of relishing in this moment.

Safe. You were safe.

You sniffled as the tears dried down and the fright ebbed down. Somewhat. You wanted to stay like this longer, but you knew you really shouldn’t. Besides, the more you calmed, the more unbearable the pain became in all of you. Plus, if Tobirama caught you now, he’d be livid. He hated repeating himself. It wasn’t as though he was wrong, anyway. 

You opted for sitting on the bed again and looking out of the window from there. A small comfort. 

“Okay,” you murmured to yourself in preparation of the way back. With a deep breath you let go of the window sill and turned around. 

A moment later your shaky foothold tipped, the ankle twisted - and with an agonised yelp that nearly had been a loud scream, you fell to the floor. Instinctively you broke the fall correctly, your training ensured that. Even in this deplorable state.

But the pain was searing. It damn near was equal to the torment - or at least it felt like that. You curled into a fetal position on yourself as your mouth was open in a silent scream. 

You didn’t want anyone to get in now. 

Tears were flowing freely over your cheeks. You kept silent. Silence had been a lesson well-practiced - though of course the Stone shinobi had made you scream so much your voice still was hoarse, that had been after a lot of silence.

You’d endure this, too.

Even so, lying on the cold floor - it felt just like after all the times they’d tortured you and then shoved you back into that dark pit. Helplessly on the ground with the agony fresh on your mind and weakened by the leash, by all the misery you were in. Unable to move from sheer pain alone, really-

Your chest was closing in again.

The room was becoming darker.

No, no, no. Not now. It’d be fine eventually - right? Wait, what if it wasn’t? Shit, where did that come from now? You mustn’t think like that. But here you were. Alone. On a cold floor. In pain- Bleeding?

No- You were sure if you opened your eyes now, they’d open to nothing but darkness. “N-no…”, you whimpered miserably, your arms covering your face as you curled up even tighter.

Cold.

Everything was cold, you are alone - There is nobody here, they’ll come again, and again for you.

…

“What the hell?! ”

You had no idea how long you had been laying there when the familiar, furious voice ripped through your consciousness like a horn’s blow. The world was slowing down again. You suddenly became aware of the fact you had been wheezing erratically. Trembling. The tears - an odd tear would run over your cheek. But you had stilled perfectly. You heard fast steps approaching. You tensed.

They stopped in front of you. Clothes rustled.

“Y/n?” - the voice was different now - panicked. Softer.

Slowly, you opened your eyes to see Tobirama’s black clothes in front of you. He was crouching. His hand was on your shoulder, you realised. A warm touch.

Your breathing levelled out.

You were safe.

You had just fallen down. Silly.

“I fell,” you admitted defeatedly, your gaze seeking his face hesitantly. This was embarrassing enough as it was, but Tobirama - he looked perfectly anguished himself. His scarlet eyes mustered you up and down, there was urgency in his expression. You sighed and began to heave your chest off the ground with your arms, ignoring the pain again.

“You shouldn’t have-,” he began in a scolding tone, but the moment you moved, it became stern. ”No, don’t do that.” The worry was mellowing it down still.

His arm snuck around your shoulder to heft you up from the floor. You became utterly stiff from the pain that shot through you as you were moved, but you uttered no more than a hiss past your clenched teeth. Your arm moved to rest around his waist for support, but the way you fisted the fabric of his black shirt was telltale, nonetheless.

Which Tobirama picked up on easily. “Just one step,” he muttered tersely. Frankly with the force he put in his grip he might as well carry you, but you appreciated the fact he granted you this shred of dignity. You took the step as gracefully as possible, which was simple given how Tobirama shouldered near all of your weight. You whimpered as you sat down the ankle you had fallen over on the floor.

“Easy,” Tobirama supplied immediately, holding you closer, his free hand securing your waist tightly.

His arm released you only momentarily as you leaned forward to spin and sit on the bed, but his palm lingered on your shoulder the whole time. He grasped your legs gingerly to help swing them into bed again when you turned to lie down.

You stared up at the ceiling once you had pulled the blanket over you. The trembles had ceased; your breathing was normal again.

You were safe.

Tobirama didn’t waste time, either. “What have you been doing?”, his tone was as strict as it was accusing. The mellowing worry had turned down a notch now that you were in bed again it seems.

You felt bold when you turned your gaze to meet his again. He was frowning, the scarlet eyes were ablaze. “I did say you could knock next time,” you answered in a small voice.

The answer was prompt. “So you’d have time to get back into bed, you mean?”, strict was becoming angered rapidly.

“Yeah, I don’t think I’d have made that in time.” He crossed his arms in front of his chest, the face scrunched in a frown and the eyelids narrowed to slits. No, he was pissed off. You sighed.

Your scathing comment didn’t even make him bat an eyelash. “Yn/!” If anything, the quip had angered him more, if that outburst was anything to go by. “You must rest,” he began sternly. “Most likely that stunt has ripped at your healing wounds and inflicted damage - setting you back. Not to mention you need to recover more strength first.” He extended a hand as he argued, frustration leaking into his voice.

“I know, Tobirama,” you snapped back. Both of your aching arms rose to your face to cover it. “I am painfully aware.”

He fell silent for a moment, the comment earned you a low huff from him. “So then why do I see you anywhere but your bed whenever I come around?”, again, his tone was unfazed. More stern, in fact. You knew your comments were riling him up.

Because I feel like I’m suffocating when I’m alone in the dark and that fucking window is the only thing that convinces me I’m free.

“I’m going a little crazy here,” you supplied, figuring that wasn’t even a lie. “I’m either drugged, becoming delirious or flat out in pain, as you know.” That much definitely wasn’t a lie. 

It made Tobirama balk a little. Peeking past your hands you saw his shoulders droop, his arms at his side now. Weird. You had expected something along the lines of ‘it’ll be over soon’ or ‘pull yourself together’ - not in an ignorant or diminutive way, but rather something to remind you this was temporary. That all you had to do was be stronger for a little while. Tobirama wasn’t great at comfort to begin with, so he’d stick with the logical aspects of the situation, naturally.

“Tobirama?”, you inquired then, when he didn’t speak up again.

“I know,” he then answered, the anger fading somewhat. His mien remained firm, but he took a seat on the edge of your bed now to level out the height difference somewhat. Because that hadn’t escaped your notice either. “It is a difficult situation, but you  must  rest. I don’t want you going on walks now. At all.” His gaze lifted up to your eyes again - the frown still present.

Your hands dropped to your side again. Now was your turn to avoid his gaze. “I just wanted to pull the curtains back, Tobirama,” you explained in a quiet voice, your ironic undertone vanished. “I had to look outside.”

You heard him take a sharp breath and then - “Y/n, you mustn’t-”, then he abruptly paused. For a few moments, the room was completely silent. "Is… that why you were crying?", he asked suddenly, his voice dropping the strictness, completely soft again. 

You didn’t answer him, but you closed your eyes. You had to, they were becoming wet again.

“Y/n…”, Tobirama whispered brokenly, his hand reaching for yours at his side. His grip was tight, his thumb ran smoothing circles over your skin. You exhaled a little gasp when you felt his chakra graze over your network in the way you were so familiar with, so warm and welcome.

“I’ll try not to get up again,” you murmured after a moment of quiet comfort. “Maybe just leave the curtain open.” You sighed. It wasn’t as though you didn’t understand his objections to you moving around - your ankle was testament to that - but the panic was just so much worse.

Tobirama didn’t reply to that directly but simply kept caressing you both outwardly and inwardly. “Alright.” He finally spoke. “Perhaps… I can try to be here earlier, too.”

You opened your eyes again to find his gaze was cast down at your body again, his eyebrows furrowed in worry again. You never had seen Tobirama in this much distress since these last few days. “You don’t have to. You’re busy,” your voice was becoming more somber again.

“We talked about that already.” Back to the firm tone, shutting the discussion down, it seems. Tobirama hated discussing in the first place, and with your time basically dictated by a vile drug that he had to administer regularly there wasn’t even much arguing ground on your behalf. You rolled your eyes.

His hand released yours and was pushing the blanket aside then, “I’ll see what I can do for you now,” he mumbled, then, already focused as he turned himself to face your side more.

You gave a low sigh. “I’d say save your concentration and chakra, but-”

Tobirama’s voice instantly was terse again. “Y/n.”

You rolled your eyes. “Exactly.” You resigned and helped by pulling up the gown somewhat as he placed both palms on your abdomen again. You felt his chakra’s presence intensify as he began and couldn’t help but gaze at his face while he first examined you and then went to heal - his eyes closed, eyebrows furrowed in deep concentration. Over time, that became more dismayed. Of course.

Much like the last time, the procedure took its pretty time simply for how intricate the work was - how little chakra he could actually use in terms of overloading you still, and when he did, he’d have to put it to its best use. The thoroughly comfortable feeling was settling in soon however as the aches dulled and you began to relax under his treatment. You’d never deny this wasn’t good, no. Especially when he directed his attention to your ankle, the sensation was warming, itchy almost in how the joint began to ache less in tune with the healing warmth swirling inside of it.

After quite a while he retreated with a finishing brush over your network, which you let warmly hum in response. As much as you could, anyway. It’d never not feel alien to you how your chakra was there - inside you - and yet not ready at your disposal. When Tobirama drew his hands back, his face remained scrunched up. 

“As I said,” and here he was again, scolding, naturally. “There was quite some damage to your wounds. And you sprained your ankle.” He crossed his legs and rested both arms on the edge of the bed. “I’ve repaired quite a lot of it. Y/n, you’re barely-”

You wanted to prop your head up your palm and rest on your side, but you were positive he’d yell at you. You opted for quipping again. “-healed and need to rest.”

His frown deepened. “I can also just physically stitch you up if the sight of those ripping serves as a better reminder for you. Because that’s what you’re doing, internally.”

Ouch. He fought back. “No, thank you.” You deflated and sighed. “I’m trying.”

That served to mellow him down significantly again and his shoulders slumped somewhat. He didn’t speak up again though, but his gaze had fallen to the floor, seemingly lost in ponder.

You simply eyed him for a moment before you tilted your head slightly. “Well, I ruined the mood, didn’t I?”, you attempted a little laugh, but Tobirama could only shrug his shoulders in what you think might’ve been an ironic motion. You frowned. “What’s wrong, Tobirama?”

His gaze lifted to gaze at you from the side, cautiously now. It didn’t sit well with you. “Just stay in bed, Y/n.”

You arched up an eyebrow. That was not what truly had been on his mind now. The lack of sternness in his voice proved that. “I know I should,” you began, “but that is not what is on your mind.” His nostrils flared slightly. “Tell me, Tobirama. Is everything getting too much for you? You don’t need to take care of me, too. That’s why I am here.” It still baffled you how much he did in the first place, yet-

“No,” he firmly cut you short. His arms crossed in front of his chest as he slightly leaned back. “I’m fine taking care of you and researching this leash.” You believed that much with how much conviction he spoke it. 

“Then what is it, Tobirama?”, you demanded now. “Because I have the fleeting notion it’s to do with me.” And you didn’t like that at all.

He closed his eyes and sighed. “It’ll be fine, Y/n. Don’t worry about that. Just rest and get better.”

Anger started to flare in you. To be bedridden and get basically yelled at for drawing curtains back was one thing. But to actively be kept in the dark was another one. However you’d still try reason first before you went to demanding things because open confrontation only got you so far. “I’m injured, Tobirama. Not mentally capacitated. You might as well tell me, because I caught on the fact something  is  weighing on you and at the very least I’ll now worry as to why that is. Even if you tell me not to. So, please.”

Tobirama straightened and squared his shoulders a little. "Honestly, the only thing you have to worry about is your own recovery." He was getting more terse again.

You were onto something. You narrowed your eyes. "Fine. Don't tell me. I'll just get up after, scream until someone gets around and demand to speak to Hashirama." You had every intention of going through with that. You'd have to be fast though - weakness would settle in soon.

Tobirama clenched his teeth, his head whipped around to you to stare at you downright menacingly. "You will do no such thing."

"I absolutely will, unless you tell me."

Tobirama’s eyes closed slowly. He shifted back to his original position. When he opened them again, his scarlet pupils darted to the side to pin you with an intense stare, his mien was grave now. Your pulse picked up. Instinctively you braced yourself by heaving your chest up with both your elbows. Thanks to his recent treatment, the pain was dull, for now. Tobirama didn’t even protest when you moved. It just served to make you more tense.

“Creating more of the leash is proving to be a difficult task I’ve not yet accomplished,” he finally churned out, slowly, against his will, almost.

You gulped.  Wait. That meant- “How much is left?”, you asked before you could even comprehend what you just said.

Tobirama closed his eyes, inhaling deeply. He didn’t want to tell you. You weren’t sure if you wanted to know anymore. “Five and a half days at our current rate.”

Around you, the world seemed to lurch like when he teleported you with the hiraishin seal. Your ears felt stuffy, your vision became a tunnel focusing on the face of your beloved and yet gazing right through him as darkness threatened. You felt numb.

Five and a half days.

Right now, you had five and a half days left to live.

And you wouldn’t pass peacefully, that much you had experienced before.

Your elbows gave out as you limply crashed back into the bed, staring up at the ceiling. Breathing was becoming harder as the figurative weight of the news was bearing down on your chest. Before you knew it, you were wheezing again. Ugly sobs were breaking past your lips and a wet sensation rolled down the sides of your face. Tears, you realised.

Faintly you realised Tobirama shifted. A hand took yours in it firmly, another on your shoulder. He was talking, but you didn’t hear anything. Not right away, anyhow. It was only when you felt his chakra again that you became more grounded again, but even then, it still was hard not to burst all over again.

“Y/n,” he pleaded, over and over again. Your blurry vision shifted to focus on his face, closer to yours now. It looked as agonized as you felt. There was a tremble in his deep voice. Your breathing levelled out slowly. Your free hand slowly reached for the one he had put on your shoulder as you sought his gaze again.

“Tell me more,” you urged, gulping.

“I’m not sure if-”, he hesitated.

“I want to know everything, dammit!”, you almost shouted.

Tobirama’s eyes closed, he winced as though you had physically slapped him.

And then proceeded to tell you - everything. What this leash was - besides what you knew it did to you - what he knew so far. The problem he faced. Instantly, you realised the task he faced was not just ‘difficult’. It was near impossible to achieve in such a short timespan.

“I’m doing all I can, I swear,” he finished, and the sincerity of the statement had the timbre of his voice shaking. His scarlet eyes were glistening - the hand you put on his on your shoulder reached for his face. No, you’d never question his resolve to save you. Neither his determination to keep you from any harm - his secrecy had just been another facet of that.

An eerie calm gripped you.

“I know,” you whispered, stoic. A sad smile stretched your lips. “If there’s anyone in Konoha who can figure it out, it’s you.” You believed that with every fiber of your being.

Tobirama frowned, tilting his head slightly. His breath shook.

“You need more time,” you added, your thumb caressing his cheekbone.

“There isn’t any, Y/n,” he answered, broken.

“Not if we proceed like this,” you agreed, somber. You couldn’t believe your next words, but here you were. You knew exactly what you needed to do - duty, if you will, albeit calling it that was odd considering it was your own survival that was on the line. Still. You were the one making the sacrifice. 

“You start giving me what you have of the leash at the greatest possible interval.”

Tobirama’s face fell completely, the words hitting him almost like you had slapped his cheek. 

“What?!”

[bakubaewritings]

Lost (4)

Warning Cursing 

(1)     (2)    (3)     5(coming soon)

If you’d like to be tagged in the next part feel free to comment or private message me <3

The air was thick with tension; it loomed over the two of you like a dark fog,  in complete silence. No one dared speak a word. Outside there was no sound of traffic or bird song, just silence.

"Y/n." Emotions consumed Todoroki all at once. He wanted nothing more than to reach out and hold you in his arms. He missed you; he missed everything about you, how you smelled, how your skin felt against his, the sound of your voice, the taste of your lips. Those long sorrow-filled weeks without you, without speaking a word to you after having you run out of his life, due to his fault.

"Get out," your voice was low and harsh. The coldness in your tone bitterly nipped at Todoroki's hopeful aura. His eyes began to swell with tears at her words.

"Y/n?" He beckoned again, walking over to the hospital bed. He craved your touch, the warmth that radiated off your skin was so much more than superficial. It warmed his heart; in your time together you had become his safe place. He found comfort in your voice and calmness in your eyes.

However, the look painted all on your face was not one of joy; it was rage and disgust.

"Get out, Todoroki." Your voice grew louder, down an octave as it fell to a low growl. He wanted to convince himself that you didn't mean him. However, he understood. You deserved to feel angry at him for his actions; he would be fooling himself to think you'd ever be able to forget and forgive.

"I know you want me to go, but hear me out Y/n, please." His hands balled to fists at his sides. Heat radiated off him in waves as his emotions began to fule into his quirk. The way his heart pounded against his ribcage rang in his ears. Shoto had never been one to show so much emotion, he was always calm and cool, however when it came to you, maybe he wouldn't demonstrate it, but you were what connected him to his genuine emotions. You had introduced him to emotions he'd never felt in his life. You had become his gravity, the center of his whole world. You kept him human, while still pushing him to follow his dreams, something he'd never really had as a child.

You stayed silent, biting down on the inside of your cheek in an attempt to distract yourself from the urge to begin sobbing. You refused to look him in the eye; to you his eyes only held betrayal. You'd already spent the entire summer attempting to scrub away the image of Shoto and Momo. You didn't need a reminder.

"I betrayed your trust, and I know that . I was an awful partner ,and you have every right to be upset and angry at me. I know me simply saying sorry will not erase the situation; what I did was unforgivable, but for what it is worth Y/n L/n I am so sorry, I never met to hurt you at all." There was a brief pause, Todoroki swallowed the lump in his throat. It took every bit of strength to hold back his tears. He made his way towards you; his gaze never left your face as your eyes desperately tried to keep starting at objects around the room.

"Y/n you know me, you know me better than anyone. You know how much I love you, and I'd never do anything to hurt you purposefully." He was next to you, knees firmly on the ground.  You could feel his quirk radiating off him in polar temperatures. His face burned in the white hospital sheets that clung to your lap.

"You didn't kiss her." The words fell from your lips as clarity began to paint your thoughts. Shoto hadn't properly hugged a girl that wasn't in his immediate family before you, he was always reserved and respectful, never one to demonstarte so much emotion, especially kissing a fellow classmate in a dormitory gym. It was completely and utterly out of character for the bi-hair colored boy.

"I'd never, disrespect you like that Y/n." His words muffled against the sheets, you could feel his burning skin through the thin fabric as the heat began to dance on your thigh. "I love you."

There they were, for the first time in what had now been months you'd finally heard him utter those three words. You'd remember how patently you waited for him to feel comfortable enough to understand the feeling of love between two people that were more than just friends.

"Forgive me for assuming it was mutual but you can't blame me Todoroki, You became so distant from me. All it became was Momo this and Momo that. How was I supposed to feel?"

His head shifted from your lap. He looked up at you with small tears wetting his long lashes. "I have no explanation, to be quite honest, I was oblivious. I should have taken your feelings into account, you were always so patient and understanding, and I took advantage of that. I assumed you didn't need me as much to help you, and when Yaoyorozu asked for my help, I just wanted to be kind, just like you. You're always putting others before you, helping people with everything you can. It's the quality of a true hero, an amazing hero. I wanted to be like you." You'd be lying to yourself if you said his words did not affect you. No, every sentence was another tug at your heartstrings.

" I did notice we weren't spending as much time together, and I didn't like it either. I let another girl occupy the time I should have been giving to you. The one girl who's been by my side through it all. I have no excuse for what I did, I know it was incredibly wrong, but please Y/n, I love you. Give me another chance." Your hands, so petite compared to his much larger frame, came to cup the sides of his head lovingly. However, that was also when you noticed it, the diamond that shone brightly on your finger, placed on there by his own brother.

Dabi, Todoroki Touya. The man who had comforted you in the last days, a man who you'd grown incredibly close to, a man who you were to marry.

Unfortunately, the cold band did not go unnoticed by the youngest Todoroki either. He flinched away from it in confusion. He was peering down at it in a clear face of disdane.

"Y/n?" It sounded more of a warning than a question. Like a desert, your words had dried out in your troat. Your mind only drew blanks. How were you going to explain that you were to marry his brother?

The sound of the door creeking open tore your attention from one another.

"Hey, little brother, finally decided to make a comeback." An apparent scowl was on full display on Dabi's face as he walked into the room, a white paper bag in hand, letters decortating the bag displaying the name of your favorite restaurant.

"Touya? What are you doing here?"

"Bringing food for my Fiance." He said nonchalantly. Oh, how you wanted to smack him square in the face. The atmosphere changed into a hostile one. Shoto's eyes looked as if they were to pop out of his head at the moment.

"Fiance?" He asked blankly. His face was fully corrupted with anger and confusion.

"Yep, you can ask the old man about more details, but after you graduate this little cutie is gonna be the next Mrs. Touya Todoroki."  Your mouth hung open, every word of of Dabi's mouth was laced with venom. He wanted nothing more than to crawl under his perfect little brother's skin.

"What the hell is going on? Y/n?" He looked at you for any sort of answer, he hoped you'd just laugh it off as a joke. A hilarious way to make him feel awful for what had happened, but when you gave no such indication of a joke he knew. This was real.

"I.." You couldn't speak. No string of words that formed in your brain were coherent. There was nothing you could say that would fix the situation. Of course, you had to tell him all this eventually, but this was way too soon.

"Someone explain what the hell is going on?" A deep growl came from Shoto as he glared daggers at Dabi.

"Why don't you leave Shoto, Y/n needs to rest. She doesn't need you here with your petty apologizes."

'Dabi." You let out a gasp at his words.

"You leave Touya. You have no part in this. Y/n is mine."  The two men advanced at each other, getting into a fighting stance.

"Shoto, Dabi stop!" You pleaded with the two boys. The gap between them getting smaller, ready to use their quirks against each other at any minute. Shoto's right side had begun to cover in a thin sheet of frost, while the left began to heat up. Dabi, on the other hand, his aura turned dark as a blue glow emitted from his hands.

"Enough!" You shouted out, now using your quirk to gather any water from the room and using a technique to shape it as tentacles and pull both boys apart from each other.

"Dabi, Shoto and I are going to have to talk about this. This is sooner than I'd would have wanted, but It's going to happen." You huffed, at the dark hair colored boy, turning to Shoto, "we may have a lot of talk about, and you will get an explanation, but both of you need to control yourselves and not try to kill each other! Now can I please get discharged then we can go to Endavour and, he will explain everything because I'm, not wasting my breath talking about this whole bullshit anymore!" Wide eyes stared at you, as your voice rose in anger. You were annoyed, you couldn't seem to catch a break. You just wanted to disappear.

Pent up anger and frustration towards everything had been coming undone just by seeing  Shoto.

"I'm so over this bullshit!" Never one to curse, never one to raise your voice, always the perfect little lady. The facade was coming undone.

"I can't catch a god damn break; when everything seems to be going okay another damn brick is thrown my fucking way. I'm just trying to get better, does no one care how I feel?" Your voice was getting louder by the second. A crowd of people, doctors, nurses, and even your fellow classmates were at your door.

"Does no one care I had no time to grieve? Does That asshole of a god damn man take pleasure in fucking with my future? Does my own family really care more about our god damn imagine than to let me actually live and be myself?" To be honest, eveyone had faded from your eyes. All you see was an empty red color as you continued to rage.

"Grieve?" The word played in Shoto Todoroki's head like a broken record. Grieving what? He asked himself.

You hadn't realized, but you were standing now, your water tentacles wrapped around the men's torsos tightening with your quirk.

"Doll, calm down now, please. It's getting a little too tight." Dabi struggled to attempt to wiggle out of the grip.

"Too tight!?" You know what's tight?" You yelped, hot tears falling from your cheeks. "This god damn burden, I have pushed my god damn chest inward. I'm going insane!"You cried, falling to the ground. You lost your control on your quirk, and the water splashed into the ground.

Shoto's mind was moving 50 miles a second in attempting to understand what was going on. Had you felt a burden for being engaged to his brother? Surely he knew his father was responsible, but why you had agreed to, he still coudn't understand. Nevertheless, he was first to rush to your side. Falling against his chest, you laid silent, letting your tears finish falling.

Crying, felt like the only thing you could do for these last months.

"Let's get you home. Okay, let's get you out of this place." Shoto whispered softly in your ear, brushing yout hair back so you can bury your face deeper in his chest. He couldn't lie, having you this close again, this made his heart sore.

Now Dabi could only stand and watch holding back his own emotions as the girl he'd come to love fell right back into the arms of the man you truly belonged with.

[sillyrabbit81]

Her Heavy Cross

Summary: Three years after tragedy hits, Lana she decides to start dating again. She meets Will through a dating app and they begin an online romance. After months of constant requests, Lana relents and agrees to meet and go on an irl date with Will. But is Will who he says he is? Lana is quickly pulled into an intense relationship forcing her to confront her tragic past. Will Lana face it or will she close her heart forever?

Pairing: OMC x OFC

Word Count: approx 3.5k

Warnings: swearing, smoking

Authors Note: The story started as a Henry Cavill fanfiction but I changed it to be an original character, but shades of Henry are still there. Hope you enjoy the story and thanks for reading.

Part 1 Part 3

Part 2

I stopped breathing. My voice was strangled. "You're Will?"

Liam nodded. He had a massive smile on his face. "I hope you understand. I can hardly use my real name or photos on a dating app."

I made some sort of noise in agreement, but my thoughts were reeling. There's no Will. Will is Liam. Liam fucking Cross. Will lied to me. No, Liam lied to me. He told me he was a personal trainer. Whose photos were the ones he had online? Did he steal them? Who the fuck is this guy?

I was breathing again, but now my breath was ragged.

"Hey, it's ok, come and sit." Liam put his arm around my shoulders and guided me back to the table.

"Don't touch me." I spat out venomously.

He backed off immediately. Not looking at him, I walked the rest of the way myself. Sitting down, I crossed my arms and said, "why would you do that? Why would you lie like that?"

"Lie?" Liam sounded shocked. "I used a fake name and photo, and I apologise for that. I can't..." he paused for so long that I almost looked at him. "I can't exactly date in the usual way."

"How often do you do this?"

"I met another girl about a year ago in London. We went out a few times, but it didn't work out."

"Who were the photos of? Do they know you do this?"

"He is a friend from school. He knows."

I leaned my elbow on the table and rested my head in my hand. I needed a fucking cigarette. I reached into my bag and pulled out my emergency stash. I hadn't smoked in 3 weeks. Damn him.

I lit up and took a long drag. It didn't taste the best, but then the nicotine made it worthwhile. I finally looked at Liam.

"I thought you quit," he said.

"I have," I said tartly.

For a while, neither of us spoke.

I debated whether or not I should be as angry as I felt. On the one hand, the explanation made sense. I mean, if he had told me when we first started talking that he was really Liam Cross, I would have thought he had a few kangaroos lose in the top paddock. On the other hand, I felt like a fool. Is it that easy to fool me? I didn't even notice that he never sent me any pictures of himself. I didn't send him any either, but social media wasn't a big part of my life. I could easily go months without taking pictures of myself.

I went back and forth, arguing both sides until I stubbed my cigarette into the plastic ashtray and couldn't draw it out anymore.

"I get why you did what you did. But it's a bit of a shock."

Liam looked relieved. A curl had fallen onto his forehead, making him look like a lost puppy. Well, maybe a lost wolf cub. A wild and untamed wolf cub.

"I have some questions, though," I continued. Liam smiled and waved his hand in a go-ahead gesture. "So, other than your name and job, what else isn't true?"

"I was as honest as I could be. I am a guy who would rather stay home and read or watch movies or play video games than go out. I am looking for a serious relationship. I want a woman to come home to, but one who understands how busy my life is. I want a family, someone to take care of. All those things are true." He spoke with confidence like he had been thinking about what he wanted for a long time, but it sounded like a laundry list to me.

Liam moved his chair closer and went to take my hand. I pulled away.

"I'm sorry I upset you. It was not my intention to deceive you. I know what I want, and I know what kind of woman I want. In the circles I work in, there aren't many women like that. I wanted someone unconnected to the Hollywood world, someone who doesn't want to be famous. I didn't know how else to find someone like that."

I looked at Liam. I was held transfixed by his gaze. His blue eyes were so clear and sincere. I tore my eyes away.

When he spoke again, Liam's voice was small. "I am really sorry. I... Fuck." Running his fingers through his hair, he said, "I don't know what to say. Lana. I'm still the same person."

"But you're not." I shook my head. "It's not just that you lied online; I get that. But why did you lie here? You could have said, 'Hi, Lana. I know you thought you were meeting Will, but Will is actually me. I did that because I'm famous.' Instead, you played along with the charade and made me feel like a bloody dickhead."

Liam was quiet. He dropped his head. "Is that it then? Is this over before it has a chance to get started?"

I shrugged. My leg was bouncing. I tried to stop it, but it started again. I crossed my legs.

"Do you want me to go?" Liam asked.

"Do you want to go?"

"No." Liam leaned towards me, his hands close to my knee. "But I will if you want me to." He let the back of his index finger brush against my bare skin. It was the lightest of touches, but it thrilled me.

Feeling tongue-tied, I shook my head.

We sat like that for a while. Liam's finger continued to rub against my knee like he was trying to calm a skittish horse. The anger in me stilled under his touch. I didn't want it to. I wanted to stay angry. He was so gentle I couldn't help it.

Eventually, I gave a small smile. "Say something," I said, unable to stand the silence any longer.

Liam's face creased as a warm smile spread across his lips. "I'm happy you're here to meet you finally." He put his hand out, palm up on my knee. I put my hand in his, and it was immediately swallowed by his much larger hand. He sighed, seemingly relieved and said, "to touch you."

"Say something else." I implored. My fingers caressed his palm. I traced the lines I could feel and the rough callouses that formed below his fingers.

Liam became serious. No, not serious, something else. He looked at my hair and reached with his other hand to brush it behind my ear. "Your hair is redder than I thought it would be."

"Is that bad?" I asked unsurely. Being a redhead was hit and miss. Some guys seemed to love it, and others ran a million miles. We had a reputation, after all.

He shook his head, "it's beautiful." His eyes kept searching my face, and I turned my head to look away, feeling heat rise to my cheeks under his gaze. He put his hand under my chin and gently guided my face back.

"Don't look away. I want to look at you." My cheeks were on fire now, and I felt warmth spread all through my body.

Liam's hand moved down to my neck. His index finger caressed my ear lobe as he cupped my neck and all coherent thoughts fell away. Gently he put his thumb under my chin and lifted it stretching my neck. My whole body was aflame now. My lips parted as I gasped.

"I want to kiss you." Liam's voice was hoarse and wanton, yet firm. He wasn't asking to kiss me. He just told me what he wanted. I broke out in goose flesh and shivered. Yes, this is what I needed. I needed a man who knows what he wants. I didn't trust myself to speak clearly, so I licked my lips and closed my eyes.

Liam groaned. His hand left mine and held the back of my head, his fingers sliding through my hair. I felt his warm breath on my lips, smelling faintly of beer, earthy, almost like freshly cut grass. I could feel myself quivering in anticipation.

Then his lips met mine, so softly, I thought I had imagined it. Then he kissed me again, his lips firm but still so soft. He pulled me closer, and I reached out and grasped his shoulders.

His lips parted, opening mine as they did. Liam's tongue gently licked at my bottom lip. My tongue met his, and I moaned. I wanted more. I kissed him back with more ferocity than was probably necessary. I couldn't help it. Spurred on by my kiss, his hand turned into a fist in my hair. His lips moved against mine harder and faster.

My thoughts were gone. I could process nothing but the duel sensations of pleasure from his mouth and the ache from my stretched throat and pulled hair. It drove me wild, and instinct took over. I wrapped my arms around Liam, trying to get closer to him. My chest met his, and I felt his hard body against my soft breasts. I wanted to feel his whole body against mine, his hardness against my softness.

Then he slowed, his kisses become softer and longer, his tongue withdrew into his mouth, and I felt the loss if it. The loss of his heat against my body made me feel cold. Liam let my hair go and slowly sat back.

I opened my eyes, blinking several times as I adjusted to the light. I looked at Liam, his eyes were bright, and I watched as he suppressed a grin. Then I watched, fascinated as he moved in his chair and tried to hide the hand that moved between his legs as he adjusted himself. I had to look away. I laughed because otherwise, I think I would have died.

"What's so funny?" Liam asked though he sounded amused.

"Not funny, I just can't help it." His eyebrow popped up. "I just enjoyed that."

"Back to being direct, are you?"

I shrugged.

The twitchy lip was back. "Maybe not." I wanted to crawl under the table. "Do you still want to go to dinner?"

I nodded. "Where are we going?"

"Apparently, it's not far from here, on the harbour. It's a seafood place. I remember you telling me you like seafood."

I nodded vigorously. "That sounds perfect."

As we walked to the restaurant, Liam held my hand. We didn't say much, but it wasn't awkward. Sometimes I would look at him and catch him doing the same. I would look away first, giggling as I did. Liam would chuckle and squeeze my hand.

I was disgusted with myself for acting like a schoolgirl. I was a grown woman with a marriage under my belt. Yet, even as I wondered why I was acting like a 16-year-old, I knew the answer. Liam was gorgeous, successful and wanted me.

I looked at him, and again he caught me. This time I forced myself not to look away. I returned his gaze and studied his face.

Turning his body to face me, Liam's eyes drifted down my body, lingering on my breasts. He slowly smiled. I felt naked, like he knew what I looked like without clothes.

Liam took a step towards me, forcing me to take a step back. Again he came closer, and again I retreated until I felt my back against the wall behind me. Liam's arms came up, and he put his hands on the wall beside my head. As I searched his face, I saw a naked hunger. I swallowed hard.

I wanted to look away, to say we should keep walking, but I also wanted to stay there trapped by Liam's arms. Up close, his arms were so big, and they looked like they could break me without much effort. He pressed his whole body against me, and one of his legs slipped between mine. My bones became jelly, like I would slide down the wall if his firm body weren't holding me together.

I put my hands on his wrists and felt my way up to his shoulders. Every muscle in his arms was tight, and I could feel each in turn as I moved my hands. I shuddered as my hands reached his triceps, and he flexed for me. My hips buck against his leg in an involuntary move, and I felt the sweet friction between my own. Liam made a noise from deep in his throat and took a step back so quickly I almost fell.

"We should get going, or we will lose our reservation," Liam said coldly and started walking. I was confused and struck immobile for a moment, then had to take a few jogging steps to catch up to him. This time he didn't take my hand. I didn't look at him for the rest of the way.

"I believe this is the place," Liam announced. It was beautiful, right on the harbour with the Harbour Bridge's views to one side and the Opera House on the other. The water was dark and reflected the bridge's lights, twinkling like it was another sky.

I finally looked at Liam. He was smiling again. He put his arm out and made a slight bow, indicating I should go first. I was still confused about earlier. He was so hot and then so cold, I didn't know what to make of it. I didn't want to make a scene, so I went in, but I also didn't want him to think he could get away with it.

The maître de greeted Liam by name and ushered us both upstairs and to a private balcony overlooking the harbour. We sat and were given a quick rundown of the evening's menu. It was a degustation, so the menu was set, and there would be eight dishes. The sommelier followed quickly behind, giving drink recommendations. Liam asked for paired wines, and I agreed. Eventually, we were left alone.

"I'm sorry about earlier," Liam said. "You make me forget where I am." He smiled. His mischievous look made him seem almost boyish.

"Why does it matter where you are?" I asked harshly.

"I don't want photos out there of me kissing you in an alleyway."

"I see." I did see. My heart sank. I knew it was too good to be true.

"What's wrong?" Liam was frowning.

"Nothing. I mean, it would be terrible if anyone knew you were kissing me," I said. I was probably a little too sarcastic.

"You know what I mean, Lana."

"Yes, I do." I stood. "This was a mistake. I should have left after your first lie."

Liam grabbed my wrist and stood up. "I don't think you do understand. A photo of you showing up with me means they will start hunting you down, find out who you are, search your social media, look into everything. They will probably publish your name, age, occupation. Dig up every bit of dirt they can. Are you ready for that?" I had to admit I was not. "All of this happening while we are still getting to know each other. It's a nightmare you don't want."

"You're right," I said softly. "I don't think I'll ever want that."

He let go of me and sighed. We both stood there for a few moments. Eventually, he spoke, "I don't want to put you in a situation where you're uncomfortable. You were right, and I shouldn't have lied about who I was. I want to honest with you about what being in a relationship with me means. Part of that is being very private about the relationship until you're ready to go public. It also means not telling friends or family who you don't trust to keep quiet."

"You know that this isn't normal right?" Liam nodded. "Ok, just so we are clear, dating you would be like dating a married man? No one can know."

"A married man?" Liam looked startled. "No, not like that. This isn't about me or to protect myself but to protect yourself. I'm not ashamed to be seen with you. You need to decide when you want the public to know about us. I already have almost no privacy, but I won't make that decision for someone else."

"Lots of celebrities date someone not famous, and no one talks about them."

"Yes, they do. At first anyway, the longer they're together, the less they get talked about if they are smart with publicity. Don't you read magazines, follow Twitter gossip, Instagram or anything?"

"Not really. I mean, if there is a tv show or something I like, I'll follow updates on filming and interviews with the actors, but that's usually it."

"Things can get vicious online with gossip."

"Are you trying to scare me off?" I said, a bit pissed. "Because it's working."

"No. I want you to know what can happen."

I started to sit back down. Liam pushed my chair in as I sat.

"If we were to date, would I have to do anything? Like, can't I just be in the background?" I scrunched my nose up, "I don't have to be all on Instagram selling diets or anything, do I?"

Liam chortled. "No, nothing like that."

"Good." I think people would laugh at my big thighs if I tried to do that anyway.

"And that is why I like you." Liam took my hand and lifted it to his lips, his whiskers tickling as he pressed a kiss to my palm. I shivered.

Our first course arrived then with some wine. It was a beautifully sliced tuna sashimi with orange and ginger. It melted in my mouth and exploded with fantastic citrus flavour. I'm sure I moaned aloud. I just hoped it wasn't a When Harry Met Sally level of noise. The white wine with it was also delicious, slightly dry, but easy to drink.

"My god!"

"Good, huh?" Liam asked.

"Sho gud," I said after I had already put more in my mouth. Liam laughed, and I quickly finished chewing and took another drink. "Sorry."

"Don't apologise. I'm enjoying watching you enjoy it."

"Buckle up then champion because if the next seven courses are anything like that, you're going have the time of your life." I don't think I could have said anything more cringe-inducing. Hiding my face with my hands, my cheeks felt hot. But Liam laughed and took my hands away. His face was warm, so I laughed as well.

The next seven courses were amazing, scampi tails, lobster and beef, beautiful salads with roe and sorbet for dessert. It was astonishing, something I had rarely experienced before. None of the ingredients were new to me, but I've never had food prepared with such exquisite care and attention to detail. Little edible flowers and streaks of sauces were laid out on the plates, making the food a feast for the eyes.

The wine was impressive. We had five glasses all up, each one a flavour to compliment the food. I know I was a little inebriated by the end.

Liam wasn't sober either. The wait staff seemed to take it in stride, carefully clearing away our plates while avoiding Liam's flailing arms as he told me stories. Liam liked to talk with his hands when he was drunk, evidently.

As the night went on and the alcohol flowed, we both became much more relaxed and open. Our conversations flowed as they had on the phone over the last couple of months. He told me stories about his family and growing up in London. He mainly talked about his two brothers. I told him more about my older brother, David and the horrible things he did to me as we grew up. We compared notes to see whose siblings were the worst.

When the bill arrived, Liam paid. He insisted, saying he asked me out so he should pay.

"Don't you mean begged me to out with you?" I asked, teasing.

Liam pretended to be offended but conceded immediately, "I suppose asking nearly every day for a month is begging. I'm glad I did." He put his arm on the back of my chair and leaned in close, our noses nearly touching. "Did you enjoy dinner?"

I felt heady being so close to him. Either it was him or the wine. I closed my eyes as his nose nudged mine. I heard someone coming up the stairs, and I pulled away.

The waiter returned Liam's card and offered to call us a taxi.

While we waited in the restaurant's foyer, I thanked Liam for a great night and kissed him on the cheek. His rough face pricked my lips, making them tingle.

I ran my finger along his jaw, feeling his short, sharp beard and his smooth skin on impulse. I smiled as I went.

"What are you doing?" Liam asked, his voice playful.

I shrugged, "I don't know. I've just had the urge to do that since I first saw you."

"Do you like it? The hair, I mean." I nodded. "Then I'll keep it as long as I can." Liam took me in his arms. "You feel nice," he said, voice a little slurred. I blushed. I felt like I had spent most of the night blushing. Liam kept picking strands of hair off my face and putting them behind my ear. I looked up into his eyes as he played with my hair.

"Come back to my place, Sweetheart?" Liam asked. I laughed and raised an eyebrow at him, and he laughed with me. "I don't want tonight to end yet. I've waited so long to meet you."

Andy's face appeared like an apparition. For a moment, Liam was Andy, and I was standing in his arms again. He had been taller than Liam but not as muscular, hair not as dark, skin not as pale. But then Liam said my name, and Andy vanished. I had definitely had too much to drink, or was it the old guilt resurfacing?

I shook my head as if it would erase the thoughts. I put a smile on my face and pretended to think it over, "Mr Cross, you're very bold."

"Indeed, Miss Walker." Liam grinned, playing along. Mrs Walker, I thought but didn't say.

"Very well, Mr Cross, I shall accompany you back to your home."

"Very good, Miss Walker." Liam lifted my chin and placed a light kiss on my lips.

Part 3

[seedleaflesssapling]

Ver 2.0? Turning Point?

I can't really identify to which point in my life that i started to doubt myself but im pretty sure that it was because of UP. Damn, that school, my uni. It do really have the ability to make you feel small; i was in a disadvantaged side when i entered it, you know. I was acquainted, no we did not really talked one-on-one, but i heard when we did introductions - Pisay, UP High, science comprehensive schools, Xavier University, who wouldn't be intimidated by that when you came from Col. Ruperto Abellon National School (who would know where that is? I was lucky enough for a teacher recognized it and my classmates be like 'ahhhhhh,' .....really?! I dont even know where xavier is, it just sounds cool). Another thing is that, i wasn't a stem shs graduate - a leverage(?) or excuse (?) that i always use for them to know that i am at disadvantaged side here, not their competitor, probably a NOBODY. They, being stem graduates, have capstone projects you never thought that they have at that age, but i would hear them saying that it was publish in this journal (whatever, idk the journals lmao, i dont even understand their studies 2nd lmao, but that was some smart shit you know, a shit that makes me feel pathetic for being too proud of my what? Correlational study from inconsistent surveys?!!! Wtf, wtf, wtf). But it was a very good peer pressure you know, i kinda turned it that way. Being left behind, being on the rock bottom, i have no other place to go but up. It wasn't the goal, like making or taking the top spot, i just need to survive.

Inevitably, the exams came. I had hard time adjusting chem but math was kind to me. Who would have thought that i would get two 1.0 at my math subjects for the first semester, the sem that i thought i would barely pass. I was even a CS for that sem. Who would have thought? Our first chemical engineering subject that involves computations was on the list the next semester and the first exam, out of 100 i got something like 20ish. WTF. THAT WAS MY FIRST FAILED EXAM. but no, never did cry but tears were flooding inside. So apparently, i have to focus more on this subject and i did. Some were still failing, but i raised my average up. We also had physics, my first ever physics. I really love physics that time or that sir rommel is just a very good professor. I got the highest score on our second LE, everybody else did fail. Small victories. Not that they lose, but i just won. But i heard one time they were talking about me re: passing the physics exam and even getting a high score. They were uhm.. a guy i really look up to cause his good, the other was a girl that idk but i think she didn't like me back then. They were friends but eventually the girl transferred uni because who cares why. i heard the guy saying something like sin.o gid na si franklin nga taas iya score man, maybe even worse than that, i still look up to the guy even until now. But wtf. I really took it in that time, like i wanted to cry but did not. With all that, i got a fair grade at physics. I still got 1.0 at maths that sem and even maintained being on the CS list. S M I L E. BECAUSE WE HAVE A MIDYEAR CLASS. VERY EXHAUSTING FOR SOMEONE WHO DONT WANT ANYTHING BUT JUST ADJUST, SURVIVE, AND FIND MEANING OF BEING A UP STUDENT. It was just one subject and it was math, but i got 2.0?!!! I have no excuse to that, i am very grateful for the family who accommodated me. After midyear class, i did got sick, it sucks, really sucks. I wanted to file an LOA for the next academic year, it is the only thing i can think of for me to go back on track (i haven't said that my parents pushed me to graduate with latin honor and i wanted to also for my resume to look good because everything else in me is effed up). I really wanted to pause and be free for a while but i also wanted to graduate on time (mostly because i want to give the bitches who dared to have expectations be put on my shoulders not the satisfaction, but the audacity to tell them 'i aint did it for ya') so i asked mama. THANK GOD, SHE DID SAY NA KUNG ANO LANG KAYA MO, AMO LANG DA IH 😭😭🤧🤧 so i enrolled, but went to school late, haven't attended the school opening but all is good. I did kind of reset, just enough for me to face school again.

Second year, it was fucked. I did really love coding on octave and doing sheets at ms excel though. On that year, we have formed the che 103 bagsak group. Together with two of my classmates on 103 and math 55, we became buddies after failing che 103 on the first LE, another 30 over 100 exam hahahahaha. We made bawi just enough for us to pass the subject hahahahahuhu. I have thermodynamics sub, i barely pass. Thank G na wala ko nag removal. If ever i did, i am so sure that i wont make it. My GWA for that sem was not enough for me to be a CS. Who cares? I still did, actually but mama was never been too pushy since then, even since after midyear, after getting that 2.0 grade from the only subject i am good at. Btw, my math 55 for first sem, second year, was 1.25. Not a 1.0 but still, it's good. Second semester that year was when pandemic hit so there's nothing much to tell. I was, sorry but i was really, glad to be away from school for a while, not until for a while became forever. Virtual university set-up was very hard. With too much from taking in whatever i see and hear on my surroundings, even just at home, everything is difficult. It is very hard to find motivation and discipline in studying when i was surrounded with people who do nothing. Even to this point i am writing, everyday is like a battle, but is mostly an internal one. Self vs self, a war no one knows who will win. So the confidence, the tower of knowledge i did build, exponentially went down. I did really well when i was in grade 10, i did my best that time and it can be seen at the achievements i had that year. Being consistently on top 1 the whole year, placing second on division MMC (even getting the highest score on the written elimination round for the whole cluster), doing well sa physics under maam andico, placings on cluster journalism competitions - it was like a record best, best record (?) Whatever. But it wasn't enough you know, i eventually came fourth like wtf. I had read from somewhere Newton saying like the two years when he did write the three laws of motion and the calculus stuff were the two best years of his life, and it kept me thinking that what if mine already passed? That it was when i was in high school?

But, back when i was in school, every time that i was belittling myself or even at random times that i would feel nervous for nothing, my classmates and close friends would say na:

Uno mo man ang Math, uno mo na na (it was a one or two time thing, what if chamba lang to???)

Ikaw man highest sa first le sa thermo (it was really an absolutely one time thing, i barely passed that sub)

Alam ka man sa physics (i was just invested on physics and maybe nachambahan lang na ang ginpractice ko solve kay parallel sa exam ni sir)

Alam ka, d ka lang confident (OKAY???!)

I was ignoring those shit cause who cares if i did really good that time. Yeah, it felt good but it wasn't fulfilling. Satisfied but not happy. But with recent events, i think i would be changing. This post will be a written contract that i will push to be better, to start trusting myself, and build that confidence glow behind me; to believe that i am bright and i can hack it, whatever it may be.

For coherence, i would itemize na lang all of the events that brought me to epiphany lol

It was Friday, 17 Sep, when Dean, in our plant design subject, gave an activity for us - to come up with solutions that would address problems he presented. 1 off grid island community (either you address the water, electricity, and phone reception/signal problem under a 100k budget) and 2 vinegar packaging with a 500 mL volume and should cost less than the cost of vinegar. The due's on Monday, 20 Sep. The challenge is that you should come up with an idea that is not the same with those who already turned in their proposed solutions. I haven't turned in mine until Sunday afternoon. We are 23 in class, hence there should be 23 proposed solutions for each problem. However, only 20 or 21 turned in their solutions and as a student who decided to do it three days after the sheet was given, i was at the second to the last of the entries hahaha. I have limited choice since a lot have been proposed. And ngl, i did entered my idea for the first problem at Sunday evening and for the second problem it was on the afternoon of the next day. Those were basic solutions cause who am I? Am just your basic guy.

Tuesday, 21 Sep (#NeverForget #NeverAgain), class again for plant design (PD). Dean discussed stuffs which im ngl, i did not listen because im bored (not until he said 'we'll have a 5-min break and we'll have a quiz after that' like wtf, how will we do our quiz???!). After the short break, I did study cause i panicked as hell, he presented the prospects of the course, that we will be divided in groups and that the leaders were chosen based on the solutions they turned in the activity previously given. So there's no quiz, i was calm the whole time after that until my name was called. Like wtf??! Your basic guy will be a leader???! Hello!!! So i chat people, asked them if it was a good thing (course it was!!!? So dumb right?!). And then, i asked another leader and she agreed to my argument that we should only be divided into six instead of seven as what dean has decided. So i chatted dean (pic below). I just accepted the role half-heartedly.

As leaders, we should be hiring people for our team and we should make pubs. I dont have a canva account to help me do pubs. I made mine at MS ppt HAHAHAHAHAHA but im good so its cute. We were assigned with projects and i get to have the 4-member team. The vacant roles were project maven and liaison officer for a 3-member team. In my pubs, i included scrummaster as position to be filled, cause who am i to lead?! So yeah, that's it. I did the pubs Wednesday and I submitted my resume Thursday (third to the last hahahaha but my resume's cute hahaha).

Thursday. So i had this invite by a classmate to join the Shell event long time ago. He was reaching out for someone to ask Dean for his approval because Dean did not replied to the email he sent. So, i volunteered. I really want this competition cause this will be my first and maybe last competition as a UP student. So i DMed dean and blah blah blah he asked for selection process. I relayed the message and apologize to them for being me because i was thinking that it was me who made him come up with the decision of having the team be selected. Like, wtf i was just asking for his approval. Getting kicked out of the team was not my intention. Those whom i chatted that night were telling me that it wasn't my fault blah blah blah. So i half-heartedly agreed to them.

Friday came, yesterday, the interview. I am very anxious for someone who will be the one asking the applicants lmao. I already have been interviewed before for college applications and somehow remember the feeling, nerve wracking, whatever. To calm my nerves, i listed questions which i never got to ask properly btw, but at least i have concrete ideas on what to ask. The first interviewee was my very closed friend and so we just laugh and laugh and laugh HAHAHAHAHA. IDK if dean saw it but who cares. And the next and next and next. 3:30 passed by fast and guess what??? YOUR BASIC GUY HAS THE MOST NUMBER OF APPLICANTS TO THE POINT THAT DEAN CUT MY LIST. IT WAS EXHAUSTING BUT VERY FLATTERING. I FEEL SO HONORED. i really thought and very scared at the thought that no one will apply to me but wtf, just wtf. Ranking my applicants was damn hard. 1 i have a dream team but one was cut by dean; 2 this could make my friends mad; 3 this will be the group for the whole year; 4 i am really exhausted. But still, i submitted the list. I was hoping for the people i chose to choose me back. Only two out of three did, i am forever grateful.

Still on Friday, the classmate who invited me to the Shell thing and Dean had a zoom call and discussed about the competition. That classmate told dean what i told him the other day that i might be the reason for the decision of having the selection process done. He told me this through a voice memo, katamad daw magtype. A voice message that i played over and over again. Dean actually find me interesting (?), Invested (?) Idk exactly but the classmate told me na 'may nakikita daw talaga sya sayo. Na grabe ka ka-practical as a person like yung ideas mo daw sa plant design napakasimple lang pero napaka practical to the point daw na madami nag apply sayo kanina. And then, you need more confidence lang daw talaga' so ig, you basic guy is a practical guy now. It's just flattering.

Now, whatever happens, i must meet those expectations right? This could be a lousy motivation but what is if there's none? I dont know why im writing this. I just thought i should get my thoughts out. Ver 2.0? Turning point? Let's just do good 😌

PS I put this on my bio on FB, guess im getting more public, and if you happened to read this because you saw the link on my bio, send me a message about you thoughts.

PPS if your initials are JTZC, these have been my week and i miss you even though you're not interested in me anymore, you are hard to forget

[vidimillion]

Jasico in Atlantis/Treasure Planet &/or Pirates AU?? Mostly just thinking about that fantasy treasure huntin' adventure flavor...

it took a while for me to get the time to write this and even longer to get the inspo for it. honestly was a blast to think up tho. thanks for the req!

jason grace is the son of the king, groomed to one day be the one to take the throne. whether he liked it or not.

the young prince was the king's ideal son— handsome, smart, athletic, kind... the picture perfect image of a leader. a young man who liked to read stories about adventure and ride horseback into the kingdom, where he'd look at the other kids his age, playing around.

look. look, and never join.

his older sister thalia, the ex-crown princess, has not been seen since jason was a little kid. at least, not officially, because in reality she had been visiting her baby brother in secret for years. she'd been on the run the whole time, but always found a way to come back to her brother.

jason loves her, he does, but he resents her a little for leaving the pressure of the kingdom (and their father) on him. though every time he asks her, she only smiled at him and whispered, "don't worry about anything. I have a plan."

he never understood what she meant. he wanted to believe her, but as his eighteenth birthday and thus his coronation grows closer, he still doesn't even know what he's supposed to be believing in.

a few weeks shy of his coronation, thalia asks him to meet her at the beach three days before the big day. he never expects her visits, them being few and far between, so her setting a schedule was a surprise to him. he worries about being caught, with their father doubling down on security as the coronation draws closer. she insists though, and jason yields. three days before his coronation, he sneaks out to go to the beach, but she isn't there.

he walks around for a little while, trying to look for her, and for a second he worries that she was caught by someone while she was waiting for him. before he can begin to freak out, he hears a low hum in the distance. he walks around the beach, by the rocks, and decides to try the cliff to find the source of it. by the time the cliff is in view, the humming starts to sound like a baritone song. his mind doesn't think to question it, doesn't recognize anything amiss, and before he realizes it he's running for the cliff's edge and he's staring straight down into the sea.

when he wakes up, it takes his hearing a while to come back, and the first thing he notices is the moon is still high in the sky.

"—lure him into the water, I didn't want you to make him jump off a cliff!"

that voice sounds like thalia, jason thought, the first coherent thing he's conceptualized in a while.

"I can't help where he goes, I just tell him to go!"

that sounds like the voice he heard before he jumped.

"hey, he's awake."

that voice sounds... hot.

jason's eyes open to a black-haired, olive-skinned boy with a jawline that could cut fucking glass. he mumbles groggily, "Did I die?"

Hot Guy smiles like jason told him a half-funny joke, "Why do you think you did?"

jason groaned like he was both in pain and was immensely tired. "You look like an angel."

that was definitely not the answer Hot Guy expected, because he immediately flushes red and sputters. jason's eyes focus behind the Hot Guy and sees thalia wolf whistling at him, and a fucking siren with a long sea-green tail bursting into laughter. "You're not dead Jay," thalia says, "but we're definitely very far from home."

(more under the cut. like a lot more.)

apparently, his beloved sister became a fucking pirate after running away. jumping from ship to ship, she’d been gaining a reputation for herself before pledging her loyalty to one of the most formidable pirate crews on the seven seas (and the only one that's all-female). the 'plan' she'd had, that she'd foreshadowed for almost years, was just to get her half-siren friend percy (who can apparently go from siren to human form at will, which jason thinks is awesome) to lure jason into the sea where they could get him.

jason politely admits that it sounds super stupid. thalia does agree, but enforces the fact that it did work.

the ship jason is currently on is apparently, percy's. he's the captain of a crew of five, six if you include him, named hazel, frank, leo, piper and annabeth. thalia just likes to visit sometimes.

they're tiny, and they're all very young, but jason's doubts about their capabilities vanish once percy tells him that people call them the six. jason's heard of them, obviously— his father has been trying to catch them for months now. his father was already furious knowing he wasn't able to capture a crew so small in size, imagine what would happen if he found out the oldest one of all of them is nineteen.

jason, on his first few days on the ship, feels numb. thalia had percy set him up in the med bay, at the back of the ship where the only thing he can hear is the crash of water. he thinks about his kingdom, his father— what was he going to do without an heir? what was the kingdom going to do without a king? he feels relieved, he feels guilty, he feels like he's failing the one thing he was born to do and feels like he has a chance to pick what he wants to do.

jason closes his eyes, thinking, and doesn't notice someone had come in until a cold hand lays on his forehead. he jolts his eyes open and it's nico, the Hot Guy who was with thalia and percy. nico tells him he was just checking jason's temperature and he turns to leave, but jason stops him and asks him to stay. there was "no" already on the tip of his tongue, but jason didn't stand for it. nico desisted, only to wonder why jason was so adamant about making him stay.

jason asks why percy didn't call him a part of the crew. hesitantly, nico tells him it's because he isn't. he's not an official pirate of any crew, and instead runs around ship to ship and coast to coast, either striking deals with the more reasonable pirates or taking out crews of them all on his own.

jason asks him why he keeps moving around like that. as a short answer, nico tells him it's for his father's work. jason feels like there's more to it than that, but he doesn't push.

the medicine thalia insisted he take was making him a little loopy. he barely recalls what he was saying, but apparently it was stupid enough to make nico laugh and respectful enough to make him stay. the medicine doesn't make him too loopy for very long, just a few hours, but the next night when jason found himself wanting company again, he played stupid so nico would stay with him.

(hazel, nico's half sister and apparently the only reason he sometimes travels with their ship for a few days, was the one in charge of taking care of him while he was forcefully bedridden. he realized she knew what he was doing when all three of them were talking one day and she gave him a thumbs-up behind nico's back.)

nico leaves once jason's off bed rest. he asks hazel whether or not she knows when they're gonna pick him up again, and she tells him the week and a half he was there with them was actually the longest time he's ever stayed.

he keeps asking for a while after nico's left. after four weeks, he stops asking.

six months later, they pick nico up again at a bustling port. it's also the same port where jason decides to leave.

jason spends the first night off the ship in a warm little inn, but he doesn't sleep. he thinks he really should sleep more when he didn't realize a fucking intruder got into his room until he heard the soft thump of their feet on the floor. he gets into a melee battle with the black-hooded figure, still quick on his feet even though he hasn't slept in weeks, but eventually the intruder has him pinned down to the nearest flat surface. jason almost bites them before the figure rips off their mask to reveal— it's just nico.

somehow, they end up sitting on the roof of the inn, sharing a bottle of wine nico denies he stole but jason absolutely knew he did.

nico asks jason why he decided to leave the crew, even after getting so irreversibly close with all of them— which he knows jason did.

jason answers that by telling him about his kingdom, back across at least three seas by now. he tells nico about how the town square shines gold almost all hours of the day and glows even at twilight, but the further you get from the kingdom gates the more you see filthy alleys and dirty children. he tells nico about the times he'd go into town in disguise and see how many horrendous things are happening, then eavesdrop on council meetings and figure out why.

he also tells nico about his father, and he keeps it as brief as he can but nico understands what he means.

he tells nico he has to go back, get his kingdom and his crown no matter what chaos he knows would've erupted. he thinks of the councilmen, of dukes and lords he knows will be doing anything for a chance at the throne, now that the crown prince is missing. he tells nico about them, then he tells nico about his people, and he doesn't need to tell nico the rest to know he gets it.

nico still asks why he has to be the one to go back, when on the sea he has percy, piper, leo, thalia, freedom. in return, jason asks why nico is always running.

because i have to, is the answer to both their questions. maybe i'm wrong, but i think i have to.

three days later, after additional goodbyes and promises to write, they start a journey back to jason's kingdom. jason tells nico he shouldn't come, that it'll be a journey of peril that won't get any easier when they do get to the kingdom— nico just glares at him and continues to pack two horses even more aggressively. jason relents.

so now it's just the two of them, both running back and running away, but at least this time they've got a friend.

[eerythingisshaka]

The Coffee Prince Pt. XV

[T’Challa x Reader]

Word Count: 4.2k

*Part 1* *Part 2* *Part 3*  *Part 4* *Part 5*  *Part 6* *Part 7* *Part 8* *Part 9*  *Part 10* *Part 11* *Part 12* *Part 13* *Part 14*

Your vision is blurry and your surroundings sound like you are underwater.  A brightness keeps your attention steady but your mind is clear of any coherent thought.  The nothingness should be peaceful, but your heart beats sluggishly, heavy with each thunk in your chest and you feel yourself get nauseous.  Then a nagging tone reverberates in your head over and over until you’re forced out of the vacuum in your mind.

“(Y/N)?”  you hear.  The haze in your eyes clears to reveal the coffeeshop and eventually the individual sitting in front of you.

“Are you ok?  You are just staring.”  T’Challa says.  He takes your hand in his and uses his napkin to dry your coffee dampened hand.

You snatch your hand back quickly, knocking into your cup as it tips in your direction.  T’Challa snatches it back as quickly as he can but it doesn’t take much for a hot liquid to make its presence known.   The splash hits your white sweater dress, heat hits your stomach as the coffee soaks thru and ruins the fabric.

“Oh!  Fuck!”  you yell out, pulling the offending area away from your skin and getting up to leave.

T’Challa follows you out, apologizing.  “I am so sorry!  I didn’t mean to startle you.”

You burst outside, trotting to create some distance.  You have to go home at this point.  There is no way you can work with this mess on you.

Your wrist is grabbed as you are pulled around by T’Challa, but you whip your hand back.

“What the hell was that back there?”  you ask.

T’Challa looks at you in confusion.  “I was trying to help-”

“Yeah no, I know what you were doing, but why?  What are you here for?”

T’Challa keeps a cool head, maintaining his signature royal calm.  “I decided it would be nice to talk to you, since I saw you there.”

“You decided?”  You cackle into the air, white puffs from the cool weather give you a poetic feature of your anger.  “So you were just waiting for the right moment to come up to me?  Because why?  You were scared?  You were busy?”

T’Challa looks less sure of himself as he responds.  “No, not at all.  But I thought we agreed on space.”

“How long do you take space from someone?  Five, six months from a person you claimed to love?  I-”  you take a minute to gather yourself.  “I am going to clean this shit off of me.  You go and do whatever the fuck you were planning to do after your 5 minute check in.  Thanks Doc.”

You make your way as fast as you can to your car to get back home.  Feeling your anger fester inside is exhilarating as you speed down the street.  You stop at a red light and hype yourself up turning up the radio to some Flo Milli shit, ready to catch a body.

A horn honks behind you beginning you back to your original task of driving.  Assuming you missed the light change you look to still find it red.  As you check your rearview, you recognize the driver, T’Challa, urging you to pull over with some finger pointing.  

You can’t believe he is even following you.  This is the worst time to talk out of all the months you waited for him.  He will have to follow your lead.

Soon as the green light comes up, you put the pedal to the floor.  Zooming down the road, you try your best to whip around corners and maneuver around cars to shake T’Challa off your path.  Checking your mirror again once you were less than 5 minutes from your place, you can’t see him.  You sigh with relief, honking your horn once happily that you prevailed.  

“Take that!  Thinking you can just slide back like nothing happened, bitch please!”  you felt your boss energy hit a high as you turned onto your neighborhood. 

Once you’re parked, you head up the stairs to your floor, keys jingling as you search for your door key.

“I am glad you made it.”

At the top of your steps, T’Challa is waiting at the door, hands folded in front of him, in his black heavy trench coat.  You wouldn’t have guessed he followed you home at all, since he looked like you kept him waiting.

“T’Challa!  I seriously didn’t ask you to come here!”

“You shouldn’t have to,” he says.

You sigh, stepping to the door and pushing him aside.  “I am on the clock still, I just don’t have the time to even get into it with you.”

Stepping inside your apartment, you look around at the mess you have been too out of it to clean.  You turn to the door to close it behind you, but T’Challa holds the door open.

“Are you just going to follow me around the whole damn day?”  you exclaim.

“We have had enough space.  I can talk while you change.”

“I won’t be listening,”  you say, stepping away and heading for your bedroom.  You dig around your closet for something to replace your outfit feeling yourself get more upset with each flick of a hanger.

T’Challa closes the door behind him, picking up trash and wine bottles.  “I was hoping I would find you well.”

“I’m in a rush!” you shout from your room.

“When we left each other, it took everything for me to not come to you and check on you everyday.  I wanted to respect your wishes so I kept myself busy and distracted my thoughts.”

You pick out a brown sweater with navy blue stripes and some black slacks.  Not nearly as cute as the white sweater dress but you had little time left.

T’Challa continues, “And what helped me is that I knew you were happy and safe.  I did not have to worry about someone trying to take you from me, as long as I stayed back.  But I  didn’t like the man I became when you were out of my life and it became harder to not at least check on you, so I did frequent the shop more in order to catch a glimpse of you and when I had, I felt the wave of disappointment.”

You step out into the doorway of your bedroom.  “Why?  Because I looked like I hadn’t slept soundly for weeks?  Like I had a cloud of anxiety over my head, wondering when you might pop up?”

“Why would you be anxious to see me?”  T’Challa asks.  “I feel nothing but calm when I am around you.”

You laugh.  “I can’t believe that.  It’s awkward running into an ex in any situation so that alone makes it stressful.”

He nods, looking slightly relieved.  “As long as there are not other reasons, I am glad.”

“So why say you were disappointed to see me?  Your plan of liberating me didn’t work and you felt bad for me?”

T’Challa shakes his head.  “I was disappointed because my selfish nature became apparent.  You look well, and I didn’t notice any of the conditions you are saying.  It was like the day we first met, when you came to me and I was glad.  I wanted to come to you in the same nature and see you smile back, but I knew I couldn’t achieve that same effect.”

“So why come up to me today?  If you already knew I wouldn’t be happy to see you, why do all this?”

You see his eyes fall.  Similar to the way he looked when you left him in Wakanda, T’Challa looks hurt by your words.

“I was hoping I was wrong,”  T’Challa says quietly.  

You can’t think of words to say next, although that is only a half truth.  Your mind filled with words to say but your jaw locked itself tightly.  

“All I’ve done is ask you to leave me be.  You say I am fine, and I agree.  It’s been great not having you around.”  You felt a sting in your mouth saying that.  Why were you lying?

You walk across to your front door to open it, but he lays his hand on the door.

“You didn’t deserve to go through that alone,”  he says.

“I feel like we agreed on that already.”

“I mean after.  The break was a mistake.”

“No, it’s what I wanted and you’re ruining it.”

“Umhle…”

“No!”  you push him in his chest, making him step back.  “Don’t call me that!”

“Listen,” he says.

You push him again, hoping he feels the weight on his heart that you have had to go through for months.

“I won’t!  You have nothing left to say that I wanna hear.  You talk so damn much!”

Your hands fly up to knock his chest again, but he catches them by the wrist, pushing them above your head and back against the front door.

He looks at you fiercely but not with anger.  He looks like he is on the brink of crying as he pins you there, protecting himself from your mania.

You lay your head back, closing your eyes.  “I don’t want to fight you.”

“Then stop.”

“I know, I know.”  

He let’s your arms go, and you feel your heartbeat in your ears.  Seeing him there in front of you felt like a dream but nt like the ones you’ve been having.  You put a hand up to his cheek just to ensure that he is real.  He leans his head into your hand gently, allowing your touch and breaking his steadfast stoicism.

What you don’t see coming is your lips finding his.  It’s a small peck, but a crack in the cold war between you two.  T’Challa looks at you in doe eyed observance, but doesn’t step away.  

“Are you ok?” he asks quietly.

You kissed him hard, ripping at his coat to get to his solid body underneath.  Your blood pumped with adrenaline as you pushed him toward your couch, pulling up at his shirt.

T’Challa holds your forearms tightly, holding your progress back.  “What are you doing?”

“It’s not obvious?”  You free your hands to grab the hem of your dress, pulling it over your head, standing before him in nothing but your undergarments and knee high boots.  

T’Challa loses this battle, bringing his hands perpendicular to the width of your hips.  You wrap your arms around his neck as his lips meet his shoulder, planting delicate kisses that make your insides curl up.

You don’t want this right now, you wanted to get down to business.  You take his shirt off swiftly.

“Fall back,”  you tell him, shoving him to the couch before jumping onto his lap.  Your hands travel his body, retracing those familiar hills and valleys that make up his muscular form.   You feel his heart race as your hands lay under his jaw, tickling your palm.  You go to unfasten his pants when he stops you again.  

“Wait,” he whispers.  

“What?  You have a condom don’t you?  The right kind?”

T’Challa nods wordlessy.  But he takes your hand, reaching it toward his forehead to run your finger along his widows peak.

You feel the softness of his curls through each pass along his hairline.  T’Challa keeps a steady gaze on you, taking your hand to his lips to kiss your fingertips.

“I always liked it when you did that.  How something so small about myself could make you so content,”  T’Challa says.  

You sit there feeling a wave of guilt wash over you.  You didn’t feel that at this moment, you just wanted to feel something other than your sadness, your loneliness, your stress.  

“And you haven’t called me by your special name for me yet.  Can you remind me?”  T’Challa says with a wide grin.  

You ignore his growing happiness, thinking things are back to normal or even on the road to being.  You get up from his lap, picking up your dress.  

“You can leave now,” you say solemnly.

T’Challa stands up, “Something is wrong, I knew.  Umhle, we can talk-”

“Please, if you respect anything that I ask you for, when I say leave just leave!”  you shout.  You run to your bedroom, shutting the door behind you.  Putting on your replacement outfit, you hear T’Challa shutting the apartment door.  

You weren’t ready for those sweet moments with T’Challa, calling him ChaCha and admiring his features lovingly.  It is still tough to believe that he is even with you.  Was he being truthful with his words?  Had the separation been hard on him as much as it had been for her?  No, it could never be.  He has family and a country that loves him, what did you have?  And to think he would even have a chance at your body again further shows his delusions of grandeur, you thought.

--

A couple weeks later, you are packing your desk up as your last day at work has finally come upon you.  This job was one of your first ones you got with benefits as an adult and you were so proud to have accomplished earning that income.  But it was a stale position with no means of working up so you knew at some point you would have to cut loose for something better.  You get a few polite goodbye messages from coworkers on your way out.  It’s more than you expected, because your social meter was forever low there.  

As the spirit of unemployment takes you to the elevator, your phone beeps with a message from an unknown number.  

Hey!  Would you like to hang out today?  This is Shuri!

You feel a smile come on your face as your favorite little Wakandan texts you, though you do wonder how she acquired your phone number.  You instantly agree and set up a time and place right as the elevator doors open.  As you ride down, you begin to question why T’Challa couldn’t be more like Shuri?  She is so open and fun and light, while he is so serious and guarded.  When he looks at you, it’s like he is reading your every expression and trying to read your mind.  You know he will not miss a single twitch of your lip, so you have to be as cool with him as you possibly can or he will ask what’s wrong and be concerned.  Like the last time you were together, you just wanted him to take you but then he had to get all sentimental and killed it.  Why did he have to do that when that’s obviously not what you were asking for? Then the embarrassment fills you; why did you have to jump on him like some thirsty bird?  One minute alone and you couldn’t just talk?

As you drive off from your workplace for the last time, you pass the coffee shop once again, feeling more sad than you have all day.  Would you have any reason to come by there anymore now that you don’t work down the street from it?  Is he going to be there any time now?  You assume there’s no chance of that as you turn down the road to head home, mind wandering hopelessly on the chance meetings you both had there, up until your last time seeing each other on your couch.  

A few days later, you and Shuri are sitting in a warm bistro in a nice part of town where they serve drinks in mason jars and greet you with the fact that all their furniture is repurposed wood.

“I’m glad you could come here,”  Shuri says between bites of bread nestled on top of her tomato bisque soup.  She looks amazing in a sheer jumpsuit with red and cream colored ruffles, with a nude colored bralette and matching biker shorts underneath with a heather grey wool coat to cover the ensemble/  

“Thanks for inviting me!  And happy birthday girl, you’re growing up before my eyes!”

Shuri rolls her eyes.  “Aye, stop.  I’ve been carrying a country on my back ever since I became a teenager.  Nothing has changed since I am now an adult.”

You poke your lip out at her.  “Just look at her.  Thinking she’s grown already.”

Shuri chuckles, tossing one of her stray braids back behind her shoulder.  “Anyway!  I just wanted to come see you because you are amazing and I should see amazing people in my life more often.”

You place a hand to your chest.  “You really are too generous with your words, Shuri.  I should thank you, no matter what I owe you so much.  And you didn’t have to make a special meeting with us at all, I know you want to be with family and all.”

Shuri nods.  “Of course, I have a flight later to spend the evening at home with Mama and T’Challa and the country is throwing a party in my honor which is going to be so tiring!  I tell you I would rather be here in a quiet space wearing comfortable clothes.”

“It does suck to have a whole country praise you for existing,”  you say in a bored tone, faking death with your eyes crossed and your tongue hanging half out of your mouth.

“Ok, ok, I get it.  Royal child problems.  But it’s still not my style.  A birthday always turns into an event for others other than yourself.  If I did what I wanted, they would think I was kidnapped for ransom, but I am just home doing video games.”

“OH I love playing video games!”  

Shuri shakes her head.  “No, like making them.  I work with developers at Nintendo, XBOX, Sony, and even some mobile games to help them tweak their software.  Pokemon has been trying to get my attention for a while.”

You sit there in amazement.  “Oh....and that’s all for fun?”

Shuri laughs.  “Of course!  I thought you said you like video games!”

You laugh with her unsure why her evidence of her intelligence still amazes you so but you can’t help it.  This young girl is a literal genius and the world barely knows of her, richer than any white man that flexes their wealth and yet she is here at a bistro on a block she could buy tomorrow if she wanted.

“So have you still decided on moving out of your place?”  Shuri asks, sipping her tea.

“I have, yeah.  It’s just the right thing to do since I can’t afford to be there anymore.”

“Because you didn’t want it being paid for anymore,”  Shuri says matter-of-factly.

“Right.  I couldn’t keep accepting that kind of help from you all-”

Shuri raises her hands.  “That was all T’Challa.”

“...and that makes it even worse.  We weren’t together anymore so why should he pay for me to live.  It didn’t sit right with me.  And then Tavia not being there makes it sad and lonely and then I am angry and moody, so the apartment is cursed as far as I am concerned!”

“Sure, that’s fair.  Well when it is time to start packing and moving things, you know who to call,”  Shuri offers.

“Thanks, I probably will have to cash that in.  And how is Tavia by the way?  Is she settled somewhere or back in Wakanda?”

“She is in the States, yes.  We relocated her, she is getting basic needs met by us until she finds a job and is able to sustain herself.”

“She has family in Kentucky, is she there with them?”

Shuri nods.  “If you tell anyone I told you…”

“I won’t!  That was supposed to be secret?”

“Some worried, if you knew, you might try to find her or consider moving there,”  Shuri fidgets with the silver rings on her fingers as she says this.

“I know,”  you say.  T’Challa probably thinks you will pull something like you did in Wakanda when you snuck to see Erik and Tavia.  “I wouldn’t do that.”

“I’m sure, especially after the last meeting you all had.  I knew an amicable departure was low probability but I hoped.”

“If she had any humility, I would’ve grown to trust her.  But she is more angry with T’Challa than Erik.  Even more angry at me for some reason!  I won’t get into that though, she is who she is and I will keep my distance.”

“Perfect.  To  distance!”  Shuri picks up her ceramic cup and clinks it with yours.  “So I take it you haven’t seen T’Challa still, right?”

You choke on your drink when she asks this.  “I mean, what chance do I have?  I completely cut him from my life.” “Of course, right.”

You think in silence a moment.  “So he hasn’t brought me up has he?”

She shakes her head, “No, not in ages.”

You feel a piece of your heart break off.  How long is ‘ages’?  Not since Wakanda or…

“Huh,”  you say.  

“Yes, he has been very busy, but that reminds me.  I have a business proposition for you.”

“Go on…”  you drag out cautiously.

“If you are looking for either a quick side gig of supplemental income or a full time career change, why not consider being at the center with me!”   We have an opening and although the talent manager is a bit tough, she is sure to enjoy interviewing someone like you.”  Shuri winks at this, while you know full and well that she is the hiring manager.

You bite your lip thinking hard about this.  “I mean...what would I do there?”

Shuri sits back and thinks.  “Well, you could supervise the games we host at the center, basketball mostly right now.  You could help serve lunches, we would just need to get you a food handlers card.  There’s tutoring positions if you have strength in certain subjects.  We also have a dance group that practices, the coach would like an assistant.  And then we have a nursery area as well.”

“Wow, that’s a lot of spots to choose from!’

“You don’t have to make a decision today.  Take some time to think about it and what position would serve you best.”

You nod, looking off into your cloud of thought.  “You know what, fuck it.  I think I wanna help with the dance group.”

“Really?  Have you danced before?”

“I used to be in a dance group in high school and like halfway through college.  I had to stop because of expenses and I had no time to study anymore so I had to stop.  But I can still get down and I feel more comfortable being an assistant, you know.  Routine is set, just help through the steps and stretching and stuff.   All good.”

Shuri claps her hands together once.  “I am so pleased.  It really is my birthday now!  I’ll have you fill out an application just on an obligatory basis and then I’ll let you know when you start.  Can’t wait to see you girl!”

At the end of the meal you hug Shuri and part ways, wishing her a happy birthday once again.  Your body feels lighter than air as you think about the new adventure ahead.  You also remind yourself to look clear some space in the living room and get a music video playlist going so that you don’t look foolish in front of these young girls.  People don’t do the dougie like they used to.

--

Pulling up to the community center parking lot for your first day, you do a mental checklist to make sure you have all that you need.  Water bottle, towel, gym bag with spare outfit, and you’re dressed for movement in your black and pink leggings, oversized tshirt and lightweight tennis shoes.  You fluff your puff ball  of hair on top of your head and go inside the building.  

You hear a cacophony of voices that echo in the hallway as you walk toward a staircase.  Bottom floor housed the basketball courts and swimming pool.  The first and second has classrooms, daycare and the administrative offices.

As you get off on the first floor, the cutesy decor let you know this is the daycare area.  Rainbows and cartoonish animal pictures and alphabet letters pepper the walls as you walk by.  Past a door there is a long window that allows you to look inside and see an army of children playing in a toy filled wonderland.  A fake fairytale woodsy vibe seems to be a theme with 5 -6 children sitting under a faux tree that is masterfully crafted in one corner of the room.  Your standard rubber puzzle piece flooring is jumped on by 2 year old polka dot socked feet.  A whole restaurant is set up in the middle that would probably pass health code standards as some girls pretend to serve each other dinner.  A fence separates another side of the room that has the little newborn babies, barely doing much else than opening their eyes and going to sleep.  A caretaker holds a cute chunky chocolate drop of a baby in her arms, couldn’t have been more than 2 months old.  

“Poor mama.  Probably has to go back to work and leave her precious child here by themself.” you mutter, knees softening as you fawn over the baby.  You feel a tear creep up and spill from your eye but you wipe it quickly, catching your gym bag strap as you collect yourself.  

“God, stop crying over babies already,”  you scold yourself.

“You should’ve seen her mother the first day she brought her,”  T’Challa says behind you.  “It was like we were kidnapping her, it was heartbreaking.”

“Dammit,” you curse under your breath.  He keeps time better than a watch.

Masterlist

RagTag

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[rayne-storm]

AUgust 14 - Chefs

Title: WENN LIEBE IN DIR IST… UND GUTES ESSEN

Fandom: Tanz Der Vampyr

Alfred/Herbert, Graf/Sarah

This is my favourite musical. Straight up. You cannot get better than this. Maybe "Master and Margarita" but I haven't found a good bootleg of it.

I really hope you guys like this one!!!

Oh, there they were again. That damned truck with it's bombastic orchestral music, the catchy paintings, and the obnoxious sign boy. Alfred knew they were doing this on purpose, parking there because they knew how much it pissed off the staff of his own restaurant. Sure, it wasn't really "his" restaurant. It really belonged to Abronsius, the eclectic perfectionist who taught him everything.

And there the sign boy went, platinum hair flowing ever so delicately on the wind. He chatted up anyone that came by, and of course the mesh shirt mixed with the weird cape thing only made the spectacle that much more intriguing.

Alfred must have been glaring for too long because the blond eventually turned and winked straight at him through the window.

Damnit!

His face must have turned red because Abronsius asked him what was wrong, and he quickly made up some excuse about the heat before going back into the kitchen.

"You know," Sarah - the newest pastry chef - whispered, "their food's really good, and the sign dancer guy is single~" she teased.

Alfred felt his face pucker like he'd eaten a lemon.

Yes, the man was attractive, but from what Abronsius had said, they were all bad sorts there. But… well… whatever. Whatever. He had soups to make.

---

Three nights later. They were back. He had the evening off. Fuck. He was pissed. Abronsius had denied him a raise again. He shouldn't have been surprised, but if always stung when he was educated on exactly why he wasn't worth an extra two dollars an hour.

He knew he was young, sure, but he wasn't stupid or incompetent, he didn't have wrong priorities. He wasn't any of the things that stodgy old bastard said. And all he had wanted was two (2) more dollars. It wouldn't have even made him the highest paid (even discounting the profits he knew the old asshole was keeping).

So he wanted to make the man upset. As the sounds of Tchaikovsky drifted towards him, he couldn't help smirking. He hoped Abronsius was watching. Hoped Abronsius saw him ordering off the competition's menu, and he fully planned on eating right outside the restaurant, in full view from the large glass windows.

"Well hello there, finally come to see what all the fuss is about?"

Alfred nearly jumped out of his skin. He hadn't heard anyone approaching, but there he was: the sign guy. Blond haired, pale skinned, and just, umf, fucking beautiful.

Alfred felt his heart rate increase just from the sheer proximity.

"I-I-I, uhm, yeah. Uh, m-mostly, well, I, uh, wanted to p-piss off my boss."

Real smooth, dipshit!

Sarah was right. He was hopeless.

The guy grinned and, of all things, kissed his hand.

"Well, I'm glad you did. I thought I might have to venture into that tacky place to properly say hello."

Alfred honestly didn't disagree. The restaurant was called Knoblauch, which just meant "garlic" and the interior was kind of gaudy. Not that he would have ever dared say so.

"I, uh- wait. You wanted to see me?"

"Every day since I first spotted your adorable pout, yes."

It was effortless the way this guy flirted and Alfred was just getting more and more shy.

"I'm… um… that's sweet. Thanks."

"So did Sarah get you to take a look? She's been very chatty about you, you know."

Ah fuck.

"I, uh, I mean, maybe I guess, but, uh-"

"She says you're a single hopeless romantic, and I really hope she's right," the man interrupted, and whoops, there went Alfred's ability to speak anything but flustered gibberish entirely.

The man leaned down and grinned.

"My name's Herbert von Krolock. What's yours?"

Oh, Alfred knew this man knew, but he couldn't help answering anyway, stuttering it out.

Herbert grinned. "You're so cute! Do you wanna have dinner with me? Now?"

"U-u-uh, um, I mean, uh, I…. Yes…?"

Herbert took his hands (both of them, like this was some kinda romcom), and led him over to the side of the food truck, music playing louder there, and the magnificent frescoes truly visible. They were gothic scenes, dark balls. Alfred couldn't help liking them, for whatever reason.

Then another beautiful man appeared, pale and salt-and-pepper tied in a neat bun.

"Oh, the boy finally came. What shall we have tonight?"

Herbert smiled and nudged Alfred, who realized in a panic he had no idea what kind of food they even sold. The man seemed to take pity on him, luckily.

"Let's start you with a sampler, then. I know it's a wide variety… I'm glad you stopped by. Sarah speaks highly of you," he added with a small smile.

If he survived this Sarah was getting the bougiest fucking brunch ever.

Hebert led him to a small table over to the side to wait.

"You know, Graf is head over heels for her, but he's afraid his age will put her off," the blond murmured conspiratorially.

Alfred couldn't help snorting softly.

"She has a thing for older guys, actually. He should go for it."

Herbert grinned brightly. "I'll try to let him know that…"

Alfred couldn't help smiling. Was it something in the air? Who knew? He just… was having the best night he'd had in a long time.

The food was ready and Herbert got it, stopping only briefly to greet visitors. Alfred was a little surprised, since he always seemed so sociable before, inviting people in.

"What's the look for, hmm?"

Alfred was startled again by the quietness of Herbert's steps.

"O-oh! Nothing, really. Just… you always seem so chatty when…"

"When you spy on me from your little restaurant? I am. But tonight I'm on a date with a very cute guy, and he gets all my attention."

Alfred once again lost all coherence, nibbling at a strawberry to hide his sheepishness.

Herbert just chuckled, and began telling him about the food truck.

Graf (the owner, Mr. Sexy Older Guy) had taught himself to cook after dealing with a very hard childhood, and one day he decided he would take his knowledge out and feed others. He quickly became popular as a caterer at parties, the rich-people kind, like masquerade balls and that kinda thing.

He still did them sometimes. But his true love lay in cooking for the masses, it seemed, out on the street, in parks, at games. He decided to take the Balls and Parties with him.

"That's… really cool," Alfred admitted.

"Yeah? I think so. But we might have to give it up… he's thinking of doing a world tour in his golden years," Herbert began with a wry smirk, "as though he ever plans on retiring… but he wants an apprentice. I'm no good at anything except cold foods and people-pleasing…"

Alfred sighed and shook his head. Just his luck. He found a new favourite place and they were closing.

"I mean, you seem pretty good at what you do…" Herbert added suggestively.

"Wait, wait, what? Me?"

"Yeah. You. You're not the only one that spies from time to time. You seem really passionate about food. And fast. And competent in general."

Everything that Abronsius berated him for not being.

"I… is this all just a ploy? To poach from the competition?" He asked, stiffening. It was one thing to be all flirty and friendly, an entirely other thing to-

"What? No. Of course not! I'm not so shallow I'd do that."

Herbert looked genuinely hurt and offended. Fuck.

"I… I… I'm sorry it's just… I'm pretty often reminded that I'm a young, stupid know-nothing that'll never make it on my own and all…" Alfred muttered bitterly.

"That old hack doesn't know what he's talking about."

Graf's voice came from nowhere, and you know what? Alfred could live in a state of permanent heart-attacks. That was fine.

"What? You know him?"

"That pompous blowhard is the reason I never went to culinary school. Way back when, he made everyone's life hell because it had to be his way or nothing, because he knew how to cook 'properly' and we knew nothing."

"....so I take it he hasn't changed much."

"Nope. Almost ruined food for me. I decided I'd never go through anything that would turn me into a rude monster like that."

"Well, I'm quitting tomorrow, so I don't blame you."

Graf chuckled. "Why bother with that courtesy? Just come work for me. Rub it in his face. Bring the girl too. Take his two best kids from him."

Yeah. That… that sounded good.

"You know what? I think I will. If you'll excuse me, I have a call to make."

He walked over to the other side of the truck, a little ways away, where he could look in and see the kitchen. And there was Sarah, flinching at something the old bastard was saying.

He called her number.

He almost couldn't believe it when she picked up.

"Look outside," he directed. She did, and gave him a wave and a bright smile.

"How do you like it?!”

"So much I'm gonna work here. I quit. You should too. They asked for you by name."

"Say no more."

She hung up, and without further ado completely stripped off her uniform, leaving her in a sports bra and leggings (cause let's be real it got fucking hot in that kitchen sometimes), and she just sauntered on out.

Herbert started laughing, and Alfred turned just in time to see the look on Graf's face as his dulcet darling was strutting over.

"So, you want to give a recently unemployed girl a job?" She asked with a bright smile.

Alfred was glad he wasn't the only one who sometimes forgot how to speak.

Herbert took over, and the pair quickly bantered a deal, and Alfred just took a minute to watch.

They looked good, all together like that. Almost like a family.

Of course, then Herbert glanced up at him, and gave him another of those heart-stopping winks.

Well.

Carpe noctem and all that.

[coseteasteria]

Another fic that I wrote for the best person ever:

@llamagoddessofficial​!! This is based off her paladin AU that I’m totally obsessed with. It’s about 1,106 words, so kinda short. But still! This is Sans meeting MC for the first time :)

Sans had always loved the snow.

He loved watching the little eddies of ice swirl around him as he looked out from a warm fire. He loved watching the pines move and sway in the cold wind. But most of all, he loved looking at the hundreds of snowflakes and knowing that somewhere out there, his little crystals were swirling around as well.

It was an old folk tale, often told to children when the howling winds of a blizzard became too much for them. Long ago, the Earth was consumed in heat and fire. The gods had not yet Thought of water. They watched the souls they created cry out in pain and pray to the gods for relief, for death, for anything to save them. No one prayed harder than those in the Euszuhrsus Mountains, the ones closest to the evil sun. Eventually, the goddess Tui'asr grew weary of the cries of pain and pushed the sun south, blessing the souls of the Euszuhrsus Mountains with long nights and short days. She then took the prayers of past, present, and future mortals. She froze each prayer into a crystal and sent them down onto the Earth. The mortals’ desires for quenched fire created water and ice, and the prayers became snowflakes.

Sans chuckled a little bit. Although the tale was one for children, he didn’t deny the unbelievable amount of comfort it gave him knowing that the prayers for his safe arrival surrounded him. It made him feel less alone.

The howl of wolves cut through his thoughts like a knife. He jumped to his feet and looked around, pulling out his spear. His eye lights darted around his camp, looking for the telltale glow from the wolves’ eyes. While wolves were not uncommon in his mountain, they were still hell to fight if they caught you off guard. But Sans was not unfamiliar with battles against wolves. The furs he wore could attest to that.

Suddenly, a feminine high-pitched scream came from the direction of the wolves’ howls. Sans gasped as his soul constricted in a panic. It started practically dragging him towards the scream.

need to find her.

need to find HER!

The next thing Sans knew, he had teleported into a clearing, nearly growling with a strength he didn’t know he had. His eye lights darted around, but he quickly froze as he saw a ginormous wolf pinning down a small figure, growling while opening its disgusting mouth.

save HER!

Sans’ eye began to burn with blue fire. He dodged out of the way of two smaller wolves and slammed into the disgusting beast on top of HER. He flung it into a nearby pine. Sharpened bones appeared and pinned the wolf to a tree. It went limp. Sans turned around quickly and snarled at the other two. They began to whimper, but Sans didn’t do mercy. More bones appeared and made quick work of the cowards. The snow was stained a dark red.

Sans stood, panting, as the fire in his eye socket sputtered out. That had been such a waste of magic. He had a spear right there, for Tui'asr’s sake! When did he become so stupid?

A groan came from behind him and Sans whipped around, coherent thoughts leaving him. fuck, what did that beast do to HER! He quickly stooped over the small figure. However, the lack of light made it hard to see. He quickly scooped them up (as quickly as he could anyway, SHE they were the same height as him) and teleported back to his camp. He looked down and saw…

A very shocked and cold-looking human woman with her mouth open.

she’s perfect.

she’s human?!

***

You had always hated the snow.

You hated the uncaring ice that swirled around you that tried to make you as miserable as possible. You hated the sound of pines creaking and cracking in the cold wind, reminding you far too much of the old men back in your village. But the one thing you could acknowledge is how beautiful the snowflakes looked. Each one unique, they made a kind of fascinating dance as they chilled you to the bone.

Of course, you’d never come to the Euszuhrsus Mountains by choice. They were far too cold, and you missed the sun. However, the poor souls who lived here needed supplies, and that’s where you came in. As a merchant, your job was to get supplies to those who needed it the most. No matter the weather. Of course, you hadn’t actually been to this village before. You had only been a merchant for a couple of months, and many people wouldn’t give you a job on account of your femininity. Honestly, just because I’m a woman doesn’t mean that I can’t handle myself. And the man who gave me this job wouldn’t even give me the supplies to carry here myself! Granted, it’s smart to get a list of what the village needs before sending a caravan, but still!

A growl snapped you out of your thoughts, and you turned quickly. However, the wet snow underneath your boot (good for walking, but not for traction in snow apparently) made you slip and fall backward into the snow. Just then, three wolves stalked into the clearing. As you struggled to stand back up, the biggest of the group sprinted towards you and pinned you to the ground, banging your head against a hidden rock. Its claws dug into your arms, and you let out a scream of shock. You could see his sharp fangs glinting in the small amount of moonlight that could make it through the clouds. You closed your eyes and waited for the end of it all. So this is it. I guess my father was right about me.

Suddenly, the wolf flew off of you and hit a nearby tree. Stars floated around your vision. Or… was that magic? Squinting, you saw a large silhouette glowing with a strange blue light. Before you could even blink, all three wolves were dead.

You groaned as you tried to sit up, realizing that the hit to your head was harder than you thought. The silhouette appeared right next to you. It scooped you up into its arms (you ignored how comforting they were) and you began to panic. Where was this being taking you?! Total darkness enveloped you as all the wind flew out of your lungs. Then, you appeared near a fire and fur tent. You looked up to see your savior and saw…

A very shocked looking skeleton monster.

He’s amazing…

This should be interesting.

[mistabullets]

can i please request a scenario where reader (fem or gn whichever you prefer) takes josukes virginity? thank you in advance!

Love Kinda Guy

Word Count: 5.4k

Characters: Josuke x Reader

Content Warning: afab reader, slight violence at the beginning, near death, first time, vaginal fingering, vaginal sex, slow burn

Note: all characters are aged up!

**

You’ve lived here for all your life, even born at the local hospital. Morioh is the kind of town where everyone knew everybody and everywhere. All the famous landmarks you have remembered and memorized like the back of your own hand, like the man who lives in the tower or the strange love boulder. You acknowledge all the faces you passed by. Oh, there’s the foreign but overall a nice chef who runs one of the best restaurants in town making chitchat with the famous mangaka who happens to reside in this small town. Then you see the pretty lady who has a renowned beauty shop, talking to your fellow classmates, perhaps giving them useful love advice. You know most of your classmates by last name; Nijimura, Hirose, Yamagishi, Hazamada… and then, Higashikata.

Josuke Higashikata. He would have known by the time both of you graduated from high school, you would have been celebrating one year together. Certainly, not you.

While you’ve known him since middle school, you didn’t develop feelings for him until all these nonsensical and unexplained events began popping up. Your first real interaction with the young man was quite odd. He had attempted to approach you about a serious matter regarding the events unfolding in your hometown, particularly about a serial killer eyeing you for quite some time. However, he had fucked up and slipped and stuttered his words. Despite being aware of each other’s existence for years, Josuke had a bit of difficulty discussing with you whatever he had on his mind because… well, he realized just how pretty and gorgeous you were. But you thought he was acting strange, possibly had mistaken you for someone else. So, you had apologized, making your way back home.

Shit, Josuke thought to himself, hurrying to catch up with you. He hadn’t meant to be so flustered like that! The young boy, after investigating the home of Kira Yoshikage had realized you might have been his next victim and feared for your safety. None of them knew where he was or where he may have been hiding, what if the impulses got the better of him. Josuke bit his bottom lips, indicating his nervousness and the anxiety building in his chest. He had contemplated contacting Jotaro or finding Okuyasu somewhere around the school to help him out. However, the smaller your figure became, further away from his field of vision, the more likely you were to be on a missing person case, perhaps dead and your body dissipated. He thought about Shigekiyo, how he had disappeared without a trace.

And he couldn’t let that happen again. Without further hesitation, he went after you. And for his actions of that day, perhaps you wouldn’t be alive to see a better future. Since that fateful encounter, your heart, unbeknownst to Josuke, was his.

**

You were lucky Josuke had gone with his guts and trailed after you. While the Kira did not attack (and he never did, too frightened since the discovery of his grievous crimes by Josuke and the others), something else did. On your stroll home, the streets were vacant, and the neighborhood was quiet. It was mundane, peaceful, nothing expected to go wrong—

Thwish. Before you could turn around and see the noises from behind, there was already thunk, and your vision was clouding with blooms of white. Pain and shock seared throughout, rushing to your head as you attempted to come up with a logical explanation of what had just happened. Though you couldn’t see, an arrow had punctuated, piercing the back of your neck and hitting your larynx, penetrating through the front of your neck. Panic rose in your chest as the metallic taste of your blood was now choking you. There was nothing you could do but wait for the arms of death to take you out of your misery as your further suffocated from your own body fluids. Your peripheral vision blacked, encompassing the rest of your sight. You weren’t sure if your mind was playing tricks, rapidly losing oxygen, but you could see a photograph wisp away in the in wind.

You tried to scream for help but only the liquid horror of blood was released. While you tried your best to fight against whatever was happening, your body had already given up and accepted its fate. You saw the sun and the sky one last time before your face met the concrete beneath you. However, right before you drifted into unconsciousness, you heard the soft clacking of footsteps, calmly approaching you. Was it death? Your assailant? You weren’t sure. Eventually, you felt yourself being engulfed by overwhelming darkness.

**

You opened your heavy eyes to tranquil twilight and the radiance of another body, catching the faint smell of his cologne. Still in a daze, you reached for their face, believing yourself to be in some sort of heaven. But you felt the warm cheek flushed against your palm followed by the inquisitive concern of a male’s voice, “Y-Y/N, are you okay?”

It took a moment to register the voice, but you finally recognized it was Higashikata, since you had talked to him earlier today. You realized he was holding you up. Glancing up, you saw a blush dusting his soft features for the accidental gesture you made. Now how did you end up in the arms of this man, you wondered to yourself. You remembered that you were walking home from school and how odd Josuke had been acting before your departure. In your line of sight, there was an arrow beside you on the sidewalk. Then it clicked. Recalling the piercing pang and how it spread to your head and chest; you would never take for granted the sweetness of oxygen again, thinking back, that just a moment ago, it was hard to breathe. Instinctively, you reached for your neck, where the source of pain had started. But no wound, no scar tissue.

Then you noticed the pink humanoid with silvery-blue armor hovering above Josuke. You let out a noise of astonishment but couldn’t help but shrink back further into the boy’s strong grasp. He realized what must have triggered your reaction. It made sense that you could now see Crazy Diamond. While you didn’t seem to take notice, a light blue aura radiated around your figure and you emitted your stand. It was a small fairy creature with white skin in a cool azure attire. It had crystal-like eyes, reminding you of aquamarines. The top of its head was fluffy white, blending with the skin, similar to a cloud.

“That’s your stand,” Josuke informed, admiring just how cute and soft it was, “do you know its name?”

It rolled of your tongue naturally, as if you’ve known this being all of your life, “Blue Sky.” You looked up at Josuke again, “can you tell me more? I’m so lost right now; this is a lot to take in.”

“O-Oh! Yeah, of course. But how about tomorrow? Let me get your home safe.”

You nodded, realizing just how handsome the boy was and how comfortable you had gotten in his arms. He helped you up. And since then, you became one of Josuke’s trusted companion and became part of the effort to protect Morioh from the mysterious evil lurking in the streets of your hometown.

**

And eventually, you became Josuke’s lover. It was over a year after he had saved you by the time your boyfriend summoned up the courage to ask you out. And it took him long enough. At this point, everyone was just waiting for him to make a move. Okuyasu would tease Josuke about how he already had a babe waiting for him and Koichi would point out how oblivious he was to your feelings. But that wasn’t the case at all! Josuke knew he had admirers, he had gotten love confessions in his locker, and thought of himself as at least above average, even with his ridiculous haircut. He just felt you were too good for him! To him, you were way out of his league. So, he let things brew. He wanted to get to know you more. After Kira was no longer a problem, he had the urge to hang out with you more and more. Sometimes you with others, like Okuyasu, Koichi, or Yukako.

But after a while, once he became comfortable around you and gained a better insight into your sweet and caring personality, it was just the two of you. Sometimes, now that he reflected back, it seemed like he was borderline dating you. He would take you out to dinner, see if you wanted to see a new movie with him, or just enjoy each other’s company at the local park. Josuke, despite being such a handsome young man, never really had a partner up until he met you. So finally, after a heart-to-heart from Koichi and Okuyasu occasionally chirping in with his usual bad advice, Josuke decided to finally confess.

It was private, at the local cafe, in a secluded corner of the patio. You can tell he was nervous, since he was chewing thoughtfully at the corner of his bottom lips. Plus, the blush contrasting with his chiseled features and how he averted his blue eyes away from your gaze was a dead giveaway. But Josuke had come to learn that you were patient with him. Sure, you would tease him occasionally, but were never rude or mean about it; always reassuring him and telling him to take his time. But he couldn’t wait any longer! As soon as the server came back with glasses of water, Josuke immediately downed, as if he just came back from the deserts after being stranded for weeks. You quirked an eyebrow curiously as the boy across from you slammed his cup down and began to form coherent sentences. “S-So, Y/N… uh, how’s your day going? S-Shit, no that’s not it—“

“Hm?” you hummed, and he looked up, staring into gaze, your (e/c) eyes bringing him some sort of calm. You just looked at him so tenderly.

“Sorry! Listen, you probably know, just how uh… pretty—no, beautiful you are. And you’re so super sweet and you’re really cool and chill. Uh, basically, what I’m saying is… I like you! Like, like you that I wanna date you, so uh, if you want to—ah, I sound so not cool, I should have hit up Jotaro or something—“

“Don’t worry Josuke. I… I actually like you too,” you admitted bashfully, now a blush covered your cheekbones. He looked up and can’t believe how you became ten times prettier.

“H-Huh? You do?” he asked, his voice edging with bewilderment and disbelief. Josuke really had doubted himself. Shyly, you reached for one of his hands on the table and gave it a light squeeze. The boy before you was speechless! You were holding his hands, holy shit—

“I do. I would love to go out with you. It’s about time you confessed, Jojo,” you teased but a gentle smile plastered your lips, accentuating your features even more. God, you were just so pretty.

“W-Wow, that was… easier than I expected. S-Sorry it took so long,” Josuke admitted. His thumb rubbed against your knuckle as he became accustomed to your soft hand, and how the fingers nestled between his perfectly, it seemed. Relief has unleashed the coil of anxiety building in the pit of his stomach, accepting that this is not a cruel joke nor a dream. This is reality.

“It’s okay, I’m just happy you finally said something,” you reassured him, “so… I guess you could say this is our first official date. Let’s continue, Jojo.”

Date. Holy shit, this was a date. But he nodded and agreed, the butterflies fluttering in his stomach

“Ah, sure!”

**

It was a good thing you were so patient with your boyfriend. He needed a lot of it. You were his first after all. While you didn’t have much experience yourself, you did have a couple of partners before you had met Josuke. He wanted to take things slow; he was actually afraid of coming off too clingy for your taste since he was a love kinda guy, according to his own words. It took him two months to finally give you a kiss on the lips! It was quick, sweet, and to the point. Both of you wanted more. But you weren’t going to push your boyfriend to his limits and Josuke wasn’t going to ask for more of you. However, for his lack of experience, he made up with his thoughtfulness. Josuke knew what you liked, what were your favorites, and what to get you for special occasions. He would make a mental note if you happened to eye at a particular object and surprise you with it the next week, despite just have a simple part-time job. Dates with him were always fun. After he knew and understood you weren’t going to up and leave him, he acted like the usual Josuke you loved but now this time, he’s your boyfriend that you hold hands with and kiss when the moment was right.

However, his friends would occasionally give him hell about how your relationship progress was miserably slow. Okuyasu was nearly beat to death when he asked the simple question of when you were and Josuke going to seal the deal and do the deed. Fortunately, Koichi, the voice of reason, was there to calm the situation before Josuke can pummel his fist into his friend’s face. Jotaro and his old man would occasionally call, checking in on the younger Jojo… Jotaro was personally sickened by how love-struck the younger man was but his father would egg him to make a move (which resulted in Josuke yelling at his nearly deaf father and Jotaro simply saying “good grief” as he stepped away elsewhere). Even Tomoko would leave condoms in her son’s dresser and excuse herself to go “run errands” whenever you came over for dinner at the Higashikata residence. But Josuke wasn’t ready for that. He wanted it to be special and he certainly didn’t want it to seem he was wanting to get in your pants. You understood it clearly and kept telling the boy to figure out his own pace. With your reassurances and patience, he did.

Finally, it was the one-year anniversary. Summer had come with open arms, both of you had a bit more wisdom to share and had learned a lot but were relatively still the same. While there were some minor conflicts but both of you had figured out how to resolve issues when they arise. You felt pride swelled in your chest whenever Josuke would wrap one of his arms around the small of your back or just reach for the familiar softness of your hand when out in public. It was gratifying to see how far you and Josuke had gone. Not a lot of people can say they have been with their partner for a year and you yearned for many more years with your boyfriend to come. Tonight was a special occasion. Josuke had actually saved all of his funds to take you out somewhere a bit fancier for dinner, at least for eighteen-year-olds.

“Hey, so… ma left for the weekend. Said she needed some time with her lady friends. I was, uh, actually wondering if you wanted to spend the night?” he asked, eagerness could be heard from the tone of his voice.

You gave him a soft smile, “Sure. I’d love that actually.”

He bit the bottom of his lips but quickly erased it with a smile. “G-Great!”

You observed your boyfriend curiously. He was on to something.

**

Both of you returned later in the evening and settled on the living couch, excited to show your boyfriend the present you had bought him. When the boy had settled for a movie to play in the background, you presented him with a neatly wrapped rectangular box. Intrigued, Josuke tore off the wraps and opened the box to find a unique comb, one from 1942. It flipped out from its mahogany shell, similar to a pocketknife. After knowing your boyfriend for two years now, you knew he really liked his hair, but he has a collection of different combs. “Aw, babe… you shouldn’t have,” he commented, admiring the old antique, “Oh! I have something to give to you~ Close your eyes.”

“Oh boy, I wonder what it is,” you said teasingly, closing your eyelids despite how cheesy it may be. You could feel your boyfriend lean in close to you and your lips slightly puckered, inviting him. However, instead, you felt the cool metallic lace of a necklace wrap around your neck. After he had clasped it, you open your eyes and admired the jewel, a pear-shaped aquamarine color. For once, he had caused you to blush at the gesture, but an adorable smile spread your lips. He was watching you attentively, like a puppy dog. When he saw your gorgeous face lit up with a smile, he couldn’t help but attack your face with kisses.

“I’m glad you like it.”

“No Josuke… I love it,” you emphasized, returning the favor and locking his lips with yours. Your arms wrapped around his neck, pulling your boyfriend closer, your heart fluttering in your chest, “And I love you.”

He pulled away, mouthing I love you, too before his lips crashed on your delectable lips, tasting the faint chapstick you had applied earlier. You anchored yourself, hands clutching onto his shoulders as the kiss intensified. While both of you waited to have sex, it doesn’t mean you never have gotten into a steamy make out with Josuke. But he usually stopped himself if he felt things were going too fast. When you felt the slight push of his tongue against your mouth, you invited it, relishing in how tingly and warm you felt. The atmosphere was different than your usual evenings with your boyfriend; it was heavy, tense, and anxiety was pooling in the pit of your boyfriend’s stomach, feeling your plush breasts push up against his chest and the pliable thighs nestling on his lap. He wanted you tonight and only you. The young man pulled away from your sweet, impeccable lips and he gave you a sheepish grin, as he was attempting to search for the right words and sound cohesive.

“Hey, Y/N… I…” he gulped, collecting his composure and reach for one of your hands, “think I’m ready for the next stage.”

You fluttered your eyes at him, eager to please, “Really?”

Josuke contemplated his words before murmuring shyly, “Yeah, uh, really…”

“Well, what do you want me to do?” aching to reach for the noticeable bulge forming a tent in his trousers.

“W-Well, I want to please you. I don’t want you to just suck my dick–ah, that sounded stupid… but uh, I just wanna make you feel good, ya know?”

“Oh,” you gasped, a little bit took aback but more than pleased to hear this, “I’d love that, Jojo.”

God, he so adorable right now, you thought to yourself, considering your boyfriend’s indication; it’s endearing that he wants to focus on your pleasure rather than his own carnal desires. The hand cupping Josuke’s emitted a light blue glow, using your Blue Sky to bring a sense of calm to him, to help him relax his nerves since he was clearly fidgety. Usually, your stand could be used to lull an enemy to sleep or to alter one state of mind to a sense of empty stillness, reducing them into complacency. But it could also be used to pacify one when they are seriously injured or suffering from a panic attack. Or, for Josuke’s case, to ease them into comfort, considering he was probably wanting to make his first time with you perfect and he didn’t want to fuck that up. Your boyfriend didn’t seem to notice that it was your power, but he felt like he could express himself freely under your loving gaze. He tilted in for another peck to the corner of your mouth and he beamed. Deciding to be a bit cheesy, he scooped you up, carrying your bridal-style. You couldn’t help but giggle.

“Let’s take this to the bedroom then, shall we?”

He carried you to his bedroom, which was actually cleaned and tidied up for once. The bed was even made. He must have been planning for this particular evening. Josuke gently threw you on his bed before proceeding to hover over your body, his face nuzzling against yours. You spread open your legs, allowing his hips to settle in between your pillow thighs. His clothed erection accidentally rubbed against your inner thigh and you could tell just how excited he was just to ravish you. Your boyfriend took this moment to continue where you last left off in the room, engulfing your mouth with the warmth of his, tongue pushing against your lips. You allowed the fleshy appendage back in, now better tasting the cherry cola he had earlier while at dinner. Soft noises elicited from your boyfriend, as he whimpered against you, one hand reaching for your heated cheek as the kiss deepened. You entangled your arms around the boy, pulling his larger frame closer to yours. He pulled away, a trail of saliva connecting your mouths and breaking apart, his lips now exploring the side of your neck and feeling your quickening pulse as arousal bloomed.

You hissed in a breath as you felt the pinch from your neck; it’s not like Josuke hadn’t given you hickeys before but they were always light, not noticeable to the inattentive eye. But the marks he was giving you were darker and would certainly be noticed by your friends later. You heard him murmur sorry against you, lightly peppering your bruised love bites with apologetic kisses, before trailing down to your throat. Helping your boyfriend, one hand reached for your blouse and fumbled to unbutton, but eventually got a few off. Josuke decided to take off the rest, his anxious fingers becoming clumsy, but he managed. You wiggled out of the top and threw it into some forgotten corner of his bedroom. Your boyfriend took a moment to admire the cute bra you were wearing; he couldn’t help but burrow his head into the mounds of your chest, one hand experimentally reaching to cup one breast. He listened to your heartbeat, hammering in your chest before attempting to find the clasp of your bra.

“Here,” you whispered gently, reaching from behind and awkwardly arching your back to reach for behind, but managing to unhook your bra. Josuke slipped it off for you, letting out an audible ohhh as your breasts were finally free from their constraints, drinking in the sight of your naked chest, how you were slowly becoming bare and exposed. Tentatively, he cupped one of your mounds, feeling the perked nipple against his palm while he leaned back down to give the unattended breast a probing lick. You hummed contently, encouraging the man above you to continue with his exploration of your body. He gained more resolve from hearing your quiet noises, enclosing the nipple around his mouth while he was playfully pinching the other one in between his index finger and thumb. Josuke took his time with your breasts, wanting to understand the spots which made you moan.

After surveying every inch of your chest, Josuke decided it was time to explore what was downstairs. Sitting himself up, he pulled off the dress shirt, his body becoming hotter with each noise you made for him. He then proceeded to strip off your pants alongside your underwear in one painfully slow motion. Letting out an audible gasp as your sex was now exposed to the cool air, you spread your legs apart, not particularly shy at the notion of your boyfriend ogling at your glistening core. This wasn’t your first time. Before partnering with Josuke, you had a couple of significant others. But they were nothing compared to your lovebug; he was always considerate of your feelings and emotions, never overstepping his boundaries unless he had your permission and that, you were thankful for. It was cute, watching him over the past year, waiting for the grand moment it was time. He was truly a hopeless romantic, you pondered, but it was what made Josuke, well, Josuke. Your lover was captivated by the sight of your pussy; sure, he had seen some in those porno magazines, stealing some from Okuyasu… but never this up close. He gulped, the gears in his head making their motions, not ready to freeze and come to a halt.

“God, you’re so pretty like this. But, uh… where should I touch first, babe?” he inquired, trying not to seem lost. You retained a giggle, sitting up yourself now but your legs still fully spread and leaning yourself up against the headboard. You reached for his hand once again, bringing it to palm the heat radiating below.

“So, you know what a clit is?” Your boyfriend nodded. He kind of knew. “Well, it’s right above… uhm, the entrance. Press one of your fingers against it but not too firmly. And just rub it. But at your own pace though,” you explained. Another nod, Josuke pressed the pad of his index finger against your pink pearl and slowly, carefully started to rub at it. He noted your labored breathing, how it seemed to correlate with the pleasure escalating and how slick it made the insides of your thighs. His pace quickened, wanting to hear more of your cute whimpers and moans. “Mm, s-slow down… now, put your fingers inside of me. P-Push in one for right now, then another when I’m… ya know…” you said shyly, averting your gaze downwards. You were becoming wet, but you figured with how muscular and tall your boyfriend was… that he may have been pretty big down there. Your boyfriend readjusted himself, a digit caressing the slit, collecting the fluids you naturally lubricated, before pressing it against your entrance. Slowly, he pushed in, breaking the tension and groaning from how your tight heat seemingly swallowed his finger up. You whimpered, Josuke leaned in, planting kisses on your neck and jaw to alleviate the sudden intrusion. “N-Now, go in and out. But not too fast, okay?”

“I gotcha babe.” He may be horny, but he would never want to hurt you. Reaching further into your velvety walls, he carefully pulled his finger out before pushing it back in. He did this a few times, before experimentally curling his finger against the tight muscle. He stroked a particular spongey region of your canal, which caused you to let out the loudest moan he’s heard from you all night. He gave you a playful smirk, proud that he had pulled such a noise from your pretty lips, “Is that your g-spot, babe?” You nodded, unable to form a coherent sentence at the moment. Josuke found a method to his ministrations, and before long, he slipped his middle finger. You hissed at the stretch, reaching for Josuke’s pompadour, not really caring about the possibility of messing it up in the moment. Josuke didn’t really care either, relishing in your moans as he picked up the pace, filling you up with his thick digits and making sure to touch the sensitive spot inside you. Scissoring your insides, he pressed the pad of his thumb against your swollen clit, rubbing it with vigor in an effort to make you moan his name. Eventually, stars occupied your image as you felt yourself on the brink of orgasm, the grasp in Josuke’s hair becoming an iron grip. He messily pressed his lips against yours, as if he was drinking in your noises, while still keeping up, fingerfucking your pussy. “A-Are you enjoying yourself, babe?” he mouthed against your neck before peppering love bites.

“O-Oh, Josuke—I’m going to cum, i-if you keep that up… ahh, s-so good!” you groaned, bucking your hips against his hand and chasing after your own release. You bit down on your lips, nostrils flaring before you felt the tightness in your core uncoiled. Throwing your head back and arching your back, you whimpered your lover’s name as the walls of your pussy clenched around the thick fingers. Josuke continued to fuck you with his fingers, letting you ride out the waves of your climax. Once you had settled from your high, catching your breath and letting out small pants, he pulled out his sodden digits. Out of mere curiosity, he popped them into his mouth, tasting your love juices, the essence of you. It was an odd yet sweet flavor. Like natural honey.

“Man babe… you taste so good,” he commented. You blushed, thinking it was a bit embarrassing but if he was enjoying yourself, you were glad. Josuke realized how uncomfortable his erection felt in the tight restraints of his trousers. Gracelessly, he began to strip them off, fumbling with the belt and attempting to unbutton them a few times. However, he managed to pull it off, along with his boxer but not before reaching for a condom in his pocket. You noticed it and giggled; he definitely had this in mind all evening, but you found it endearing how prepared he was for this moment. Your eyes trailed to admire his manhood; as you figured, it was bigger than the usual, but you were sure it would fit. You settled yourself back down onto the mattress, legs opened and showing off your wetness. He tore up the aluminum package and wrapped it around his length; at least he had done some research on how to properly put on a condom. He then aligned himself to your slick entrance, rubbing the head of his cock up and down your slit, but not to tease you; Josuke was genuinely having a hard time putting it in. But you smiled at him as he gripped your hips to pull you closer. Once he was finally lined himself up, he pushed the tip inside, hissing at just how tight you felt.

“S-Sorry… b-but I don’t think I’ll last long… nngh—” he apologized in between his breaths as he sunk deeper within, the girth pleasantly stretching you out. Your legs wrapped around his waist, pushing him further in. He grunted, filling you to the hilt. Your arms reached under the pit of his arms, your hand grabbing for each of his shoulder blades. You reassured your boyfriend above him that it was okay, it was his first time, and he already brought you great pleasure by making you his first. He passionately kissed you, as he began thrusting in and out of your heat. God, it felt so good. It was like his dick molded perfectly, it was even better knowing that you loved him and he loved you. He began picking up the pace, already so close to his own release. He wished he could last longer, make you cum around his cock and bask in the compression of your pussy, to know he had the ability to reduce you to such a mess. But there would be more times together, more lovemaking. You egged on Josuke, moaning his name and raking your nails against his back; despite his inexperience, this moment felt right and natural. “C-Cum for me, Jojo—” you whimpered in his ear, your hand trailing up to grip into his black locks of hair. He gritted his teeth, feeling his white seed exploded inside, being captured into the constraints of the condom. While he spilled his hot whiteness, he smashed his lips against you.

Josuke collapsed against your smaller frame, slipping his cock out of your spent pussy. While you hadn’t achieved an orgasm, you were happy, nonetheless. Being with your boyfriend, no matter the situation, always made your heart pound in your chest. He pressed his forehead against yours, giving a light peck to your lips and a goofy grin spreading his lips. “That was amazing… god, you treat me so good.”

You rubbed small circles into his back, giving him another sweet kiss, “I love you, Jojo.

He reciprocated your kiss before he nuzzled against your chest. It was his favorite spot really. He wouldn’t mind if he was lulled to sleep, using your breasts as pillows. His lips softly ticked the center of your chest before relaxing in your arms, your fingers beginning to untangle and card through his ruined pompadour, from your doing and the sweat.

“I love you, too, Y/N, my love bug,” he murmured against you, before closing his heavy eyelids.

[thebibliomancer]

Essential Avengers: Avengers #230: THE LAST FAREWELL!

April, 1983

“Yellowjacket no more!”

Aw, dang! Hank got raptured!

Captain America, Thor, and Hawkeye is a weird collection of characters to be staring forlornly at the empty Yellowjacket uniform.

Thor hasn’t really expressed much about the Yellowjacket situation in comparison. You think they could squeeze Wasp into the shot. Just her ex-husband is all. She’s just the team leader is all.

Put Wasp on the cover, you cowards.

So last times on Avengers: Hank Pym got himself kicked out of the Avengers and out of his marriage and pretty much deserved it. He was tricked into committing treason by his arch-nemesis Egghead and sent to jail. He sat in jail for, like, a really long time. The wheels really spun on the arc.

He was kicked out of the Avengers/walked before he could be kicked out in #213. He was arrested at the end of issue #217. His trial was in issue #228.

He was kidnapped from his trial by the Masters of Evil. Then in #229, he turned the tables on them all in quite a satisfying manner and slugged Egghead in the egg head.

Then Hawkeye manslaughtered him. He’s dead.

Hawkeye arrowed the science gun to stop Egghead from shooting Hank in the back and then the science gun backfired and microwaved that egg.

This makes Hank’s victory a little bittersweet for him.

Hank Pym: “I defeated the Masters of Evil single-handed... but more than anything, I wanted to bring Egghead to justice. He was a thorn in my side for so many years. I was never able to defeat him for long, not when I was Ant-Man... and not even after I became Giant-Man! He bedeviled me in every identity I assumed. He did me the greatest wrong when I was Yellowjacket. I’d already ruined my Avengers career, when he tricked me into committing a federal crime!”

Hawkeye too is set to thinking by what happened. Maybe humming a bit of Bohemian Rhapsody to himself too.

Hawkeye: “This is unreal! I’ve never killed a man before! I never planned on anything like this happening! Yeah, but I can’t feel sorry for Egghead! If anyone deserved this, he did! My brother Barney bought the farm, stopping Egghead from killing the Avengers. And if I hadn’t acted when I did, Hank Pym would be dead! If I had to do it again... I would!”

Hawkeye: ‘Eh, fuck ‘em!’

hah.

But Hank laments that with Egghead dead, so goes his chance of proving his innocence by turning him over to the law.

Hank Pym: “Egghead was always getting away from me, Hawkeye. It’s almost as if he’s pulled the ultimate escape!”

Fun fact: There doesn’t seem to be an Ultimate Egghead! Why would there need to be? Even more than in the 616, Ultimate Hank Pym is by far his own worst enemy.

Hawkeye basically tells Hank to buck up and that there’s basically incriminating evidence lying all over the place.

He doesn’t say it but even Egghead’s dead deceased corpse is kind of like evidence. Evidence that he wasn’t dead until recently.

Captain Marvel shows up because someone finally came looking for Hawkeye.

Hank is surprised, much like others have been that this is Captain Marvel. He knew the old guy, the super saiyan. And I guess he didn’t hear there was a new one.

Hawkeye: “We’ve had a few changes since you went in the slammer, Hank. C.M. is an Avenger in training.”

Huh. Captain Marvel doesn’t even react to the dead body. Then again, there’s a lot of bodies lying all around the place.

And while Hawkeye is introducing the new Captain Marvel to Hank, one of those bodies stirs.

Moonstone has regained consciousness and assesses the situation. She could blast Hank, Captain Marvel, and Hawkeye with her coherent light pew pew but that’d just weaken her.

Like in the previous issue, Moonstone is one of the few supervillains who knows when to fold ‘em.

So she decides to skeedaddle while the getting is good but whoops.

Getting wasn’t good.

The rest of the Avengers have shown up and cornered her while she was pondering.

So Moonstone decides ‘eh fuck it’ and promises to spill all the beans if it gets her a lighter sentence.

So days later, the mostly off-screen trial of Hank Pym finally ends.

A loooot of new evidence suddenly popping up led the prosecution to withdraw all charges.

The lead prosecution witness, Trish Starr, suddenly reversing her testimony after putting on Tony Stark’s magical mental-scan helmet kind of tanked the case, really.

Wait, they really did just admit the use of the helmet in the trial when its new, unsubstantiated technology whose inventor disappeared?

Damn, I knew the Marvel legal system was wild (considering comic books as legal documents as explored in Dan Slott’s run on the character) but still!

Although it makes sense. Egghead got Trish to incriminate Hank by using the bionic arm to alter her memories. The helmet Tony invented undoes that kind of alteration. This connects the dots quite reasonably. Glad Stern was paying attention when preparing to finish this arc.

Moonstone and Beetle confirming that Egghead was using Hank as a tool also helps.

In fact, not only did the prosecution drop all their charges, the judge also dismissed all the charges. Which feels redundant? I dunno much about law, really. Just the She-Hulk version of law. Which, again, uses comic books as legal documents.

Apparently happening at around the same time, Hawkeye also had his day in court.

Literally a day.

It wasn’t a trial, just a hearing to investigate whether he was guilty of wrong-doing in the death of Egghead.

Newsman with a newsplan: “Though he was threatened with contempt-of-court charges a number of times -- Hawkeye was found innocent of any wrong-doing in the death of Dr. Elihas Starr -- the self-styled Egghead.”

Yeah, I bet Hawkeye was threatened with contempt-of-court a bunch. And I bet you anything that at least one of the times he rejoined with “No, you’re out of order! This whole damn courtroom is out of order!”

And then the judge probably just sighed.

I mean, look at that unbelievable Hawkeye in the bottom left panel.

Anyway, I think Stern must have felt a little pent up having to start his Avengers run finishing off someone else’s story, especially having to devote a recap issue to it since the plot had been interspersed with fill-ins.

Because in the middle of concluding this arc, he throws in two plot beats that I have to assume are to set up stuff of his own.

A day after the trial, the Beetle is being escorted to a cell in a Western Pennsylvanian federal maximum security prison when he bumps into another prisoner.

What neither the Beetle or the guard notices is that the bump to “Sam Smithers” has peeled off some skin on his arm and revealed THAT HE IS ACTUALLY MADE OF WOOD!

Suspect possibly a living puppet.

And elsewhere but samewhen, IN SPACE, specifically on Saturn’s moon Titan, Thanos’ brother Eros is basically complaining about being bored.

When Captain Mar-vell died of having a lot of cancer, he asked Eros to look after Mar-vell’s... uh... -google- robot girlfriend?? Elysius.

Eventual mom to Genis and Phyla-Vells.

Soooooo, Eros has done as Mar-vell’s deathbed wish was and spent an agonizing several consecutive months hanging out in Titan’s beautiful inside forests and just having a real hard time caring about one thing for such a long period of time.

I’m not even being unfair to him.

Eros: “This is the first time in ages that I’ve spent so many consecutive months on Titan! I have ever been a wanderer! I’ve sought out adventure across the wide cosmos. Frankly, I have known romance on more worlds than most sentient beings could imagine. That’s part of the problem. Our friendship has been wonderful, but I’m having a hard time adjusting to it. My previous relationships have all been of a fleeting nature.”

‘Look its not you, its me’ except for attempting to dump someone as a friend, instead of romantically.

Not dump, even. He just kind of wants to ditch her and is asking in a roundabout way if she’s emotionally stable enough to ditch.

She goes, yeah sure, go off and have fun. And maybe she’s getting tired of his company too.

Elysius: “Look... you’ve been a great comfort to me these last few months, but now I need to be alone for a while with my thoughts.”

Geez, how clingy has he been this whole time while desperately wanting to be anywhere else?

Anyway, since she’s fine with him fucking off, he does fuck off. Right to the Hall of Science.

Where Eros’ dad is like ‘oh ffs’ when Eros tells him that he needs to use the LIVING COMPUTER Isaac to look up planets with the highest adventure potential.

Mentor of Titan is a man deeply disappointed in both of his sons for very different reasons.

Anyway, would you really be surprised if I told you that Earth was in the Top 3 planets in known space for adventure?

You wouldn’t, right?

Meanwhile, back at the plot, Hank Pym is on a boat with Trish Starr.

She wants to apologize for that time she incriminated him but Hank isn’t going to blame her for being as much a pawn in Egghead’s scheme as he was.

Trish: “Yes, uncle was like that all of his life. I think he really enjoyed using people.”

And she remembers the first time they met in Marvel Feature #5, where Egghead tried to drain her mind to power his machines. Because. Batteries hadn’t been invented? Because he’s just not happy unless he’s screwing over someone else?

Second one sounds likeliest.

She also remembers the time he car bombed her car but siphoned out most of the gas first.

Trish: “He didn’t want to kill me... only maim me. Nice guy, my uncle.”

Yeah. Its stories like that why its only Trish and Hank also Fred Sloan on a boat at Egghead’s funeral. Yeah, by the way, this is basically Egghead’s funeral.

Fred is only here for Trish.

Hank reacts to Fred so I wondered if he’s important in some way or if Hank recognized him but I checked the wiki and his main importance seems to be... this issue? So I don’t know why Hank reacts to the guy.

So Fred is just here for Trish. Trish is here out of duty, since she was Egghead’s only known family. And Hank is also only here out of duty but more archnemesis ‘can’t believe that asshole is dead and I don’t even get to feel good about it’ duty. I assume.

Hank even gets the honor (?) of laying Egghead to rest. By dumping his ashes into New York harbor.

Mostly because it doesn’t seem like Trish wants to?

So Hank quotes some Mark Twain and dumps the ashes.

Hank Pym: “‘Death... the only immortal who treats us all alike, whose pity and whose peace and whose refuge are for all -- the soiled and the pure, the rich and the poor, the loved and the unloved.’ Farewell, Egghead.”

Trish: “It’s awful to say this -- but I can’t find it in myself to be sorry. I think I’m glad he’s dead.”

And that’s Egghead’s legacy. Mourned by no one. And his death is only not cheered because the only people that cared feel shitty about feeling glad he’s dead.

ANYWAY, there’s some other loose ends to tie up.

So Hank takes a taxi to the Avengers Mansion and I guess finally explicitly explains why the mansion has seemed to change positions over time?

Hank Pym: “I never thought I’d be coming here again. The place has certainly changed since the day Jan and I met here with Iron Man, Thor, and the Hulk to draft the Avengers charter and by-laws. And I still recall the time Iron Man and Thor moved the mansion back from the street to give us more privacy. What a project that was!”

Sounds like a heck of a noodle incident, Hank.

... Why just Thor and Iron Man? Did they... did they literally just shove the mansion back from the street? ... There’s... basements and caves under there. How does that work? That seems like a massive architectural project.

Hank, pls, I need to know more details. You can’t just drop that information and casually stroll away. HANK!

Captain Marvel meets Hank at the door and escorts him inside, captain marveling at how calm Hank is despite everything he’s been through.

Hank shows up to the Avengers meeting and-

Oh god, She-Hulk looks like she wants to punch the suppressed emotions right out of Jan. She-Hulk, pls.

So, Wasp is super formal, calling Hank Dr. Pym and telling him that they want to use the mento-scan helmet to see if he was under outside influence when he did all the very bad things he did.

All of the Avengers are harboring their own concerns.

She-Hulk: “I’ve read legal briefs that were more informal! She’s cool on the surface, but inside -- ! Jannie, why are you doing this to yourself?!”

Are you guys already at the cute nickname stage of your friendship or is that just the way She-Hulk be?

Cap is worried that this is rough on Jan but that she’s doing what she needs to do as the Avengers chairwoman. But he’s more worried about the absence of Iron Man who is still missing and who ignored three calls to assemble.

Thor is just internally like ‘just do the helmet, my dude.’

Hawkeye is literally biting his lip at the tension.

Hawkeye: “Jan divorced Hank after his last breakdown. If we find out that he wasn’t to blame, what’s it gonna do to the both of ‘em? I hate this! That stupid court hearing was a breeze in comparison.”

Huh, Hawkeye has a point. Even if outside influence is proven, its not as straightforward as Jan and Hank instantly getting back together, no harm no foul. There was harm. And the problems with their relationship were deeper than one incident. But it would also create this possible expectation that they should get back together because the specific incident wasn’t Hank’s fault.

And Captain Marvel is still looking at this from an outsiders’ perspective.

Captain Marvel: “They’re really hurting over this... all of them! They all care so very, very much. If I ever become a fully active Avenger, I pray that I can live up to their example.”

So Hank very calmly agrees to use the helmet. But...

Hank Pym: “Sorry... no outside influences. It would have changed a lot of things if there had been, wouldn’t it? But no, I made my own mistakes... and I have to live with them.”

Thiiiiis was the best decision for the story arc. It may seem, in retrospect, the worst decision in the long run, but I can respect the story for standing by what it has done and standing by the growth Hank has had as a result of everything that happened.

I think a lot of more modern marvel comics have gone a little wild with letting the heroes do all kinds of dubious things and also die because it can be easily undone. It was a Skrull, they were being mind-controlled, it was an AU Nazi version of them created by a cosmic cube child. Or by giving the hero some big redemptive moment like Iron Man wiping his mind to make up for doing Civil War. Or Iron Man dying to make up for Civil War 2. You can explore whatever scenarios you want without worrying about dealing with the consequences long-term.

But in this era of Marvel, they were concerned with the long-term. Not to say that there weren’t cop-outs back in this day too. But since books were expected to keep going indefinitely instead of being cancelled and relaunched, there’s less of a sense of ‘this thing is only here to play with for a little while.’ If you wrote a thing, another writer was expected to follow up on it.

And I miss that a little.

So not giving a cop-out bullshit thing that undoes Hank’s actions was bad in the long run for his image as a character. But that’s a long way from now problem, exacerbated by writers like Chuck Austin and Mark Millar who wanted to wallow in it.

For an arc where Hank fell from grace and proved himself again, taking ownership of what a garbage fire his life can be was necessary.

One among many reasons I probably won’t like the Crossing when I get to it, haha.

With Hank’s actions proven as being Hank’s actions, Hank says there’s one more loose end that he wants to help tie off.

He wants to participate as witness when the Avengers hold a court of inquiry for Hawkeye killing Egghead.

This comes as an absolute surprise to Hawkeye, who I guess never read the bylaws. Which honestly, is very in-character for him.

But it being brought up, he insists that all he has to do is enter the findings of the state judge and be done with it.

Hank insists he participate though.

Hank Pym: “Hawkeye is faced with charges because he acted in my defense. It’s only right that I act in his.”

So, the Avengers go to the first floor library, which is apparently the court of inquiry room. I feel like we’re suddenly getting a lot of details about the layout of the Avengers Mansion in recent issues.

So Wasp convenes the court all formal style, so formal style that Hawkeye thinks that stickler Cap(tain America) couldn’t have done a better job. The purpose of the court of inquiry is to determine the validity of the charge of “unreasonable use of deadly force” and determine what if any proper disciplinary action should be taken.

I think Hawkeye is annoyed at having to go through with this (read the bylaws, my dude) because when Wasp asks if he has anything to add to his claim of innocence of the charge, he says he already gave the court copies of the court transcript that cleared him of the same charge, but also decides to speechify a little, because he wasn’t accused of contempt of court enough today.

Hawkeye: “I have already given the chair copies of the transcript of a hearing of the state courts... a hearing which found me not guilty of the same charge. And I have something else to say as well!”

“I don’t deny that my actions caused the death of Egghead. But in no way did I use undue force! I found Hank Pym in mortal danger, and I used the necessary means to save him... period. After all, we are supposed to be the Avengers, right?”

Luckily for Hawkeye, the Avengers are more willing to put up with him than a state court so Jan just goes ‘ok, noted.’

Captain Marvel also has a minor change of heart on Hawkeye. I don’t think we’ve gotten her in-depth feelings on him before (although he did get pissy about her joining the team, we didn’t see her response to that) but she’s impressed because she thought he had more wind than conviction but is seeing that isn’t so. And she’s also impressed by Serious Mode Jan who she thought was kind of flighty.

Captain Monica Marvel seeing all kinds of new sides of the Avengers lately.

Also, this isn’t important and you won’t be able to see what I mean unless I included more caps than I wanted to, but in the panel establishing the court of inquiry, Monica is just standing off to the side. But in the next panel she appears in, she’s moved over to sit on a couch instead.

I think its a framing thing but its still kind of funny to imagine her going ‘wait why am I standing up’ and heading for the comfy couch.

With Hawkeye’s statement given, Wasp invites Hank Pym to speak his piece.

And Hank gets up and gives an entirely unnecessary but probably appreciated defense of Hawkeye.

Hank Pym: “Ladies and gentlemen... I have not always been on the friendliest of terms with Hawkeye. Point of fact, we nearly came to blows a number of times... back in the days when I was an Avenger. But in all the time I’ve known him, Hawkeye has never used undue force.”

“I realize that this inquiry is little more than a formality. I have no doubt that you will find in his behalf. He did, as he said, act only in my defense. Unlike my own recent case before you, there is not the slightest hint of misconduct or negligence. The only thing Hawkeye is guilty of is being a good Avenger.”

“When I last spoke before this body, at my court-martial, I was not in a rational state of mind. I was unfit to be an Avenger. You wisely expelled me. I never expected to speak before you again. And now, I can think of no finer final statement than this... It has been my sincere honor to have known Hawkeye’s fellowship... as it has to have known yours.”

Okay. So. Half a defense of Hawkeye. And half... just a general good-bye and a demonstration that he actually does know how to deliver a defense at a court-martial. Cool.

I imagine if he had a mic, he would have dropped it.

Probably not, actually. Hank isn’t that exact blend of cool and inconsiderate for a mic drop.

Jarvis intercepts Hank on his way out and asks that he come with him to the second floor study. Jarvis has taken the liberty of gathering up the personal items Hank just kind of left in the mansion and packing them for him.

One suitcase has a bunch of Hank’s clothes that he had stashed in the mansion over the years. Including some wacky ties for wacky tie Fridays and a shirt that Hank had just plumb lost.

The other suitcase is a spare Yellowjacket outfit. In case Hank ever needs it.

Then Hank and Jarvis shake hands, Hank thanking Jarvis for everything that he’s done for him and the Avengers. He asks Jarvis to take care of himself because he knows he doesn’t have to ask him to take care of the Avengers.

This is a very touching scene. Its so touching that Jarvis excuses himself to go get misty eyed.

This is a Jarvis appreciation blog because I appreciate Jarvis as well.

Then, as Hank heads back down the staircase, he is intercepted by Thor, Captain America, and Hawkeye.

Yeah, the court of inquiry resolved off-screen because of how forgone a conclusion it was.

The three Avengers basically fall all over themselves to pat Hank on the back. Hank actually looks somewhat panicked by the positive affirmation.

That’s some mixture of funny and sad that I can’t identify.

Hawkeye tells Hank how much he appreciated his unnecessary defense. Thor clasps Hank’s shoulder and tells him he’s a class act, but in Thor-y words. And Cap extends an offer for whatever the Avengers can do to help Hank get back on his feet.

Hank thanks him for the offer but he’s already received an offer from a small research foundation in the Midwest.

Seems like getting exonerated of a treason charge is the best resume of all. That and Hank’s actual impressive resume.

But Cap has some stuff to work out re: Hank because he starts off on the stuff he put on the back burner back in that Ghost Rider issue.

Cap(tain America): “Hank... I know Iron Man would agree, if he were here, that we’re all sorry about the way things worked out. We should have realized the pressures you’d been under, prior to your breakdown. I was group leader at the time! I should have -- !”

Hank Pym: “Hold it right there, Cap! What I did, I did to myself! If I could have admitted that my problems existed... If I’d been willing to open up to you folks... Well, ‘if’ can be a big word sometimes. The fact of the matter is, I screwed up. And you did the only thing you could do! I don’t blame any of you.”

Hank has boarded the personal responsibility train and goddammit he’s riding it to the end of the line!

Good for him. Good clarity for the arc to have in its last issue.

But having started to slightly shout at the Avengers that he’s taking responsibility dammit! (he looks a bit pissed when he’s responding to Cap) Hank awkwardly excuses himself.

Cap tries to stop Hank from leaving because he has reached the bargaining stage of grief, I guess.

Cap: “Hank, wait! It doesn’t have to end like this! We could make a special amendment to the by-laws! We could reinstate you as an Avenger! You could be a special reservist -- !”

Hank: “Thanks, Cap. But no thanks. Trying to play super hero was the biggest mistake I ever made with my life! I was only fooling myself in ever thinking otherwise. But if you ever really think you might need a Yellowjacket again some day...”

He hands Cap the Yellowjacket suitcase.

Hank: “... Here! All you need is a good man and what’s in this case!”

I would hope, anyway. It’s going to be awkward if he opens it up later and its full of wacky ties.

The funny thing, although not really funny ha ha, is that Yellowjacket is the one codename of Hank’s that never really catches on outside of him.

You have multiple Ant-Men, a couple Goliaths, at least one other Giant-Man. There was a second Yellowjacket, eventually. But she didn’t make a big splash.

Despite Hank’s attempt here to pass the torch, Yellowjacket is a codename that remains inextricably tied to him. Which might be the problem. If there were another, more successful or at least more endearing Yellowjacket, Hank’s infamy in the role would not stand out so much.

Alas.

She-Hulk and Captain Marvel try next to intercept Hank. They don’t know him very well but they wanted to say their goodbyes too, despite not really knowing him that well.

Its the thought that definitely counts, probably.

But Hawkeye has some social awareness for a change and draws their attention to Wasp who is hanging back, but who clearly wants to talk to Hank.

So the rest of the Avengers quickly vacate to let Hank and Jan finally have closure. Or re-closure. “I want a divorce and to never see you again” is a kind of closure.

The situation has changed, however.

They both try to apologize to each other and then laugh at the awkwardness.

Hank: “Janet van Dyne, you are one in a million! After all that I put you through, you want to tell me that you’re sorry?”

Wasp: “I think we both made some mistakes along the way, but there were some good times... weren’t there?”

Hank: “Yes. But you can’t base a marriage on just a few good times. I fell for the young lady who reminded me of my first wife... and you thought you’d found the strong, silent hero. But I was never that strong, Jan. You know that now.”

Wasp: “Uh-huh.”

Damn, his prison time really did bring Hank a lot of clarity. That or the pile of therapists Tony kept throwing at him.

Hank also kind of talks over Jan here. Or at least steers the conversation. I don’t know what Jan would have said because Hank tells her that they both have other lives to lead and tells her to take care of herself.

Maybe its for the best, if, like Cap, she was going to try to shoulder all the blame for Hank’s bad decisions.

Hank walks out the door and finds Trish and Fred from the boat waiting to give him a ride to the airport. And then he is gone.

Like in the final image of the COURT-MARTIAL issue, Jan watches at the window.

“The last time Henry Pym left these walls, Janet felt like crying... but couldn’t find any tears. Today, at last, she has found the tears... for her former husband... for her team... for herself. Today, there is pain and remorse and release. There will be time enough for joy and hope tomorrow.”

Emotional catharsis can be like that.

In that the book kept going ‘Jan is really holding her emotions in and that’s probably not overall great for her’ its good that she can let it out now.

Kind of laughing at Captain Marvel and She-Hulk who only recently just met Jan being the ones going there there while the men she has known for years are just awkwardly standing in the background.

And that’s the fall and rise of Hank Pym. Apparently collected in trade as The Trial of Yellowjacket, which is a decent enough name too.

Overall, a good arc. That is kind of hampered by the need for filler and a writer change near the end. But honestly, Stern catches the ball and runs with it. He concludes the arc just as good as Shooter would’ve.

This arc is all kinds of iconic for Hank, although, unfortunately, most people are only aware of the beginning and maybe have a hazy understanding of what the ending does.

Although. This is a really good send-off for Hank. A really, really good send-off that would have worked best if he did like he said and quit superheroing forever.

That’s not to be, obviously, not in a perpetual narrative machine like Marvel. But it feels like it could have been and maybe should have been the last word on his character.

I enjoy Hank in Busiek’s Avengers and in Avengers Academy. And also, conceptually, Hank telling Reed “it’s on, bitch.” I very don’t enjoy Ultimate Hank Pym. So its a balancing act. The perfect exit for the character vs but I like some stuff when they brought him back.

Anyway.

After this, Stern gets to move on to his own material. Which he already planted the seeds for in this issue.

That’s a pun.

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