#i just realized that the hit! stamp could be taken . a different way.

[aborealisglfry]

GIJINKA VIVIAN UPON YE

[inchidentally]

x. com/ln4norris/status/1785872795974652036 thoughts on this?

this is one of those instances where so many ppl have this wildly different take on smth and honestly myself and the moots I talk to didn't even… realize it could be taken any other way ??

I think part of this is also bc some ppl are pretty new to landoscar so I'll put more effort into replying to this than I normally would bc I genuinely didn't and still don't see this as being some dramatic thing that Lando said!

but for better reference, I've actually compiled the full clips from the person who posted them in their stories originally with two clips of Lando and Carlos separately saying how their F1 buddies are NOT the same as their actual private life friendships bc I think it helps contextualize what Lando is talking about here.

I think the funniest misinterpretation about this is ppl taking these Shared Activities as indicating deep and meaningful friendships and that therefore Lando doesn't have anything deep or meaningful with Oscar… just bc no padel or golf ?? lasjfgsjla

"we don't do as many things away from the circuit [as Lando does with other drivers like Carlos and Max]"

like. in what world is that him saying anything but … that ?? it's not deep ??

esp when it corroborates what Lando said in that clip about how his relationships with the drivers he’s friends with depend on shared activities and that they’re not his actual close friends the way Max F and all his buddies in London are (he even says in the video above that his friends are mostly in London not Monaco!) and Carlos corroborated the same thing!

so for one thing, the reason he's fine with saying this is because he doesn't see it as some huge thing that he doesn't happen to have with Oscar ?? bc it's not some deep meaningful thing that he hangs with other drivers sometimes outside of F1! they're buddies sure but they're not his private life friends. that's normal and healthy !!

but the other thing that's honestly funny is ppl deciding to misinterpret this as either Lando being a callous asshole to Oscar or again, taking rpf too seriously and thinking "yaayyy I can pretend Lando is secretly in love with/has a deep bond with/is fucking [insert driver here] and hates Oscar"

and like Carlos, Daniel and Lando literally have identical bromance formats with each other and other drivers which makes the whole rpf competition thing so hilariously dumb?? they all do the common hobbies thing, the playing gay for laughs thing, the posting every interaction to social media for fan engagement thing, the roughhousing physicality thing - all with at least 3-5 other drivers. and when you count up the like rpf ship points that these people use to say which one is "better" then m@xiel shits all the way on dand0 for bonding and being mutually invested and charl0s absolutely dunks on carland0 for gay physicality and mutual affection and norrib0n comes along and reminds ppl that Alex remains a hero to Lando and Lando still gets starry eyes over him in a way he never will for Carlos or Daniel etc etc etcccc

all of which still end up paling in comparison to the actual, deep relationships these guys have with their girlfriends and with their private life friends! the idea that Lando will ever love a male friend the way he does Max F is like going to a rakes lying down park and stamping around to get hit in the face repeatedly like why would you bother to be that stupid bffr

[sidenote that I am SO glad for Lando to say smth like this video if it drives those fans away from landoscar. no joke. we do NOT want them here and we do NOT want them treating Lily the way they treat Heidi and Rebecca and treated Luisa and Isa. please stay in carland0 and dand0 and whatever else with that l@rry stylins0n misogynistic, closeted gay men as a fetish shit]

the reality is that if Lando was just meh about Oscar and disinterested in spending any more time with him than he needed to then why would he even point this out ? why would he bother to point out - with even kind of an exasperated pout in his voice - that Oscar isn't interested in anything they can spend time together doing if he… doesn't want to spend time with Oscar anyway ??

exactly asfgsajgflagf

and for ppl who are new, literally the reason a lot of us are so Compelled is precisely bc Lando and Oscar don't follow the cookie cutter bromance format and their respect and interest in each other doesn't rely on common activities or playing into fan PR. they're literally the anti-PR partnership not bc they hate each other or have drama but bc every member of their team says how much they've bonded as drivers and that every time we get content of them together they're beaming at each other and seem to have all these cute little in-jokes and softness. but none of it is for show! none of it jumps off the screen or has them knowingly trying to bait fans!

their entire dynamic is for their own benefit alone and both of them have said how happy they are to have their future together settled for so many years. and the whole vibe of landoscar fandom is that we were all fine with the idea of them just being work friends! then Silverstone happened and the Austin filming happened etc etc. and now we're all watching it and writing fic and making gifs and edits bc landoscar is gentle and gradual and sweet and boyish and genuine.

it's been this gradual little dance between two guys who each have a unique preoccupation with each other but they don't do any of the usual blokey things to force a friendship. Lando's fixations on Oscar's name and his hair and how he's taller and bigger than him and the weirdly horny verbal burps that come out aren't something he does with any of his other driver friends. Oscar is so chilled about other drivers and doesn't even do the whole hero worship thing, yet his internet history about Lando is it's own extremely unique thing that has carried over as his teammate in a way he's never been about another driver.

they don't roughhouse or make fun of each other or push each other's buttons for fun and they don't even raise their voices around each other ?? everything is so gentle and not macho at all ! Lando strangely feels awkward and looks right at Oscar to explain why he diverted to visit Daniel with Martin as a spontaneous unplanned thing even though Oscar wasn't even in Australia anymore when that happened and Oscar didn't even feel like it needed to be explained! Oscar learns and adapts to what Lando feels sensitive about and needs some help with and sometimes even keeps an eye out for his physical well being.

and I think something that has kind of been missed entirely is that the context for the latest video was Lando saying how he's always been the youngest or least experienced in a driver friendship dynamic and - as he's said many times before! - he finds the idea of having to be the older experienced leader not at all comfortable!

which leads to smth a lot of us have always found the sweetest part of the 814 dynamic, the fact that Lando realized early on that he doesn't have to Try with Oscar and he can just exist in his feelings with Oscar and Oscar does not push and he does not get annoyed or weird or offended! and that means that Lando is yes, free to be the full range of bratty to sweetheart and everything in between bc Oscar will just smile at him and be patient. but !! it also means that unless Lando uses his words or takes charge, Oscar will remain in that quiet patient position in their dynamic and won't presume to take charge.

so Lando wishes Oscar would be the older one and take the initiative and now he's in a pickle where he's saying they only don't hang out bc Oscar won't share an interest with him and you can see for a second he knows what he's saying isn't true bc they all talked on a fan stage about a padel competition between Williams and McLaren and he remembers inviting Oscar out to golf at the last minute one time and that Oscar only declined bc he doesn't know how to play and didn't want to hold everyone up but ugh !!! like that is SUCH a Lando situation to get himself into and to somehow be mad at Oscar about <3<3

but ever since Oscar arrived with very little fanfare and decided not to draw too much attention to himself until literally recently, when the Alpine drama was finally firmly behind him, he's been so intent on showing his deference to Lando and even as lately as the place swap in Melbourne that he fully understands the driver dynamics within the team and respects it. and the thing is that Oscar genuinely is so happy to wait and see what Lando wants or needs that it would never remotely occur to him to push or insert himself into Lando's social life unless invited!

so yes, being a fan of landoscar is just like this! it'll never be the PR friendly bromance or the l@rry stylins0n conspiracy theory.

and yep weirdly enough for how so many ppl are taking it, this video for us is so sweet bc Lando's publicly muddling around about why won't Oscar do a mutual interest with him but also already having admitted that he's not good at taking the role that he needs to and pulling Oscar along into his social life the way Carlos, Daniel, Max etc have always done with him - all while Oscar is oblivious and doesn't think anything is even wrong ! and oh boy, Oscar being too literal and not being the type to be pushy ends up assuming he's doing the right thing by not trying to invite himself along to anything with Lando!

like, this is how it goes! if you want the whole bromance catering precisely to your ship needs OR you're hunting for huge drama and simmering resentments that turn into huge drama then this is NOT the place for you lasfgalfg

don't get me wrong I eat up the bromances and the doomed drama partnerships too but I just don't find them worth writing all these stupid posts about like I do w landoscar bc those partnerships are what you see is what you get. apparently what gets me going is The Yearning and The Miscommunication.

[saintshigaraki]

the sun has not yet fallen

pairing: bakugou katsuki x gn!reader

word count: 2.2k 

excerpt: You look back towards the setting sun just once. You don’t really know why. Perhaps to find some bravery in the beauty of it, to steal yourself a few extra seconds of this limbo you’ve found yourself in. Where everything is hazy and beautiful and hurts so bad you can hardly breathe.

a/n: me: i hate angst

       also me: writes this fic

tags: angst, hurt/comfort, sometimes love requires work 

in case you want to read it on ao3!

Katsuki is in a bad mood. He was uncharacteristically quiet when he walked through the door which is more often than not a sign he was trying his damndest to hold back saying something just a bit too cruel. And you appreciate the effort, truly you do. 

On any other day, you would’ve let him be to work through his shit alone. He usually does that by cooking up something far too elaborate for a weekday night, and then after decompressing for a bit, he tends to slink back into whichever room you’re in and lay his head on your lap so you can work your fingers through his hair. 

You’ve found over the last two years that that is what tends to work best. Giving him space and letting him come to you.  

But today you’re feeling just as raw as he does. You can’t remember the last time you spent quality time together. You can’t remember the last time he didn’t go to bed so exhausted he was out before his head hit the pillow. You can’t remember the last time you didn’t feel this heavy cloud hanging over your head. You can’t remember a moment where there wasn't a timer counting down and down and down while you do nothing but wait for it to hit zero. You’re not quite sure what will happen when your time is up.

It’s selfish, probably, to want to be with him right now when you know he’s so weary, but you won’t even bother him, is what you tell yourself. You just want to be around him for an hour (or two) you want to stand so close to him you can smell the ever clinging scent of caramel and help him with dinner and think of brighter days. Better days. 

(You want things to go back to the way they were before. You want to cling to him, just for a short while, stuff your face into the crook of his neck while he tells you everything’s okay. That you guys are okay.

But that’s for another day. It has to be.

How many times have you told yourself that?)

You follow him as he stomps towards the kitchen. 

He aggressively grabs the ingredients for whatever he’s making and slams them on the counter, grumbling under his breath the whole time. You stand in the doorway worrying your hands, feeling awkward, and hating that you feel awkward in your own kitchen with your own boyfriend. 

It makes that awful nagging voice in your head grow just a bit louder. 

You approach him slowly while he sets up a pot filled with water and turns on the stove. He’s still grumbling to himself by the time you place your hand softly on his forearm. 

He jerks away immediately and narrows his eyes. You viciously stamp down exactly how awful that makes you feel. How small and unloved. 

“What do you want?” he says bluntly (and a little cruelly but a part of you says just ignore it, maybe if you close your eyes and cover your ears you can pretend that everything is fine, that you guys are fine) . 

That was part of his charm when you two first started dating. You loved that he was blunt, that he got to the point, there was really no guessing what Katsuki was thinking because he’d simply tell you and if it were any other day perhaps his words wouldn’t have bothered you as much as they did now. 

And it’s partly your fault, or maybe even mostly. Because you let it get this bad. You could have told him something was bothering you, that lately, you’ve been feeling a little insecure in this relationship. Katsuki was blunt but very rarely if ever cruel with you or your feelings. He would’ve understood, probably. 

But anytime you thought about broaching the subject with him, he always looked so, so tired. Bone tired. And you thought maybe it was selfish, to want him to comfort you over something this dumb. Over something as frivolous as this. He just needs time. 

(How much time, you wonder. How much more can you take? you ask yourself.)

“Are you fucking braindead or something,” he snaps, dragging you out of your spiraling. 

“I was just wondering if I could help. It’d be nice to cook dinner together.” We use to do it all the time, you almost say. Now you can’t even remember the last time you did. 

“You’re a shit cook,” he says. 

It’s true, and on another day, a brighter day maybe, you would’ve laughed. Or at least smiled. Because it was true. You are an awful cook, a shit one, as he so eloquently put it, especially compared to him. But that never mattered to Katsuki before. 

He always let you cook with him, always wanted you to cook with him, even if the majority of the time you ended up sitting on the counter swinging your legs and watching him do all the work. 

To be fair, afterward, you always cleaned the dishes. It was a lovely, simplistic give and take, one you wish you had again so, so dearly. 

“Yeah, I am,” you agree. You try to smile, but it feels forced. You’re tired, you realize, bone tired. 

You don’t say anything else and he turns away. You know that’s technically a dismissal but you elect to ignore and start unwrapping the vegetables. 

Just as you reach for a knife he grabs your wrist. 

“What the fuck is up with you right now?” he grounds out. 

“I just want to spend some time with you.” 

Your voice sounds frail, even to your own ears. 

And before he even opens his mouth you know what he’s about to say is going to bring all this to a head. And from the look on his face and the awful, gnawing in your gut, you know you’re not going to like it. You know that more likely than not, it’s going to break your heart. 

(A part of you can’t help but wonder if maybe your heart has already been broken. That it’s made up of haphazardly glued together pieces. Perhaps that’s why you feel so fragile. Perhaps the damage is done and you’ve just been waiting for Katsu to bring down the axe. To scatter the pieces. To finish the fucking job.)

“God,” he spits out. And it’s like a dam has been broken and every hateful thing he’s ever thought about you can’t help but come pouring out.  

“You’re so fucking needy, you can’t do a fucking thing by yourself. It’s like all you ever do is breathe down my fucking neck and tell me everything I’m not doing for you.” Distantly, you wonder if that’s true. It might be. Maybe it’s that ugly selfishness you’ve never really been able to hide. You thought you’d done a better job of tucking it away. You were wrong, it seems. 

“So I can’t spend every single fucking second of every single day with you, sue me. I’ve got my own shit to deal with, my own problems, or have you forgotten that I have a life outside of you?”

No, you think. I haven’t. Or maybe you have. You’re not really focusing so hard on his words. You tune them out as much as you can. You’re staring at his face, taking in all the details. The deep red of his eyes, the pale blond of his hair, the sharpness of his cheekbones, the slope of his neck, the little scars peppering his face. You used to sit on his lap and kiss each and every one, no matter how faint. 

You’re so weird, he’d say as you did it, but the tightness of his arms around you always spoke a different story. 

You’re going to miss that, you think. Holding him. Loving him. 

It takes you a while to realize he’s still yelling. It’s all hateful and cruel and so sharp. Like he’s taken a knife to your skin to flay you open, exposing every crack, every vein, every shattered piece of heart that makes you. You let it wash over you, like a particularly violent ocean wave.  

“Sometimes,” he says, his voice finally quieting to a bearable level, “I wonder why I’m still with you.” 

The breath you let out is shaky. No matter how ready you thought you were, there’s simply no amount of time that prepares you to hear those words from him. From the person you thought you were going to spend the rest of your life with. From the person you wanted to spend the rest of your life with. 

The silence between you two is deafening. And heavy. So heavy it feels as though your chest will cave in from the pressure. 

“Yeah,” you say at last, though you have to force the words around the burning iron poker in your throat. And then you laugh, you can’t help it. It’s all so fucked. You hate that it’s come to this bitter monstrous ugliness. 

When had this all started to fester, to rot? you wonder. Is this really all that’s left?

“I can’t help but wonder the same thing.” It comes out more bitter than you'd like. A small jab to try to even out the gaping wound he’s torn open in you. 

But it’s also true. 

You can’t see his reaction through the tears clouding your vision. You don’t really want to anyway. What’s done is done. What’s said is said. 

You grab your phone and keys and walk through the front door, closing it softly behind you. 

He doesn’t say a word.

You think if there was any part of your heart left unbroken, his silence has shattered it to oblivion. 

+

You walk for an hour or two. Until the sun has dipped almost completely below the horizon and it’s surrounded by hazy blood-red waves. 

It’s a good place to think. To set your jumbled thoughts in order. 

It takes a special kind of selflessness to love a hero, you realize. A type you don’t possess, not even nearly. You’ve always been just a little selfish when it came to love. But there’s no room for that when with people like Bakugou Katsuki. 

And that’s okay, you tell yourself. 

It’s a lie. It’s not okay. And the hollow aching in your chest that beats in time with your heart agrees. 

You look down at your phone. 

33 missed calls from Katsu 

You look back towards the setting sun just once. You don’t really know why. Perhaps to find some bravery in the beauty of it, to steal yourself a few extra seconds of this limbo you’ve found yourself in. Where everything is hazy and beautiful and hurts so bad you can hardly breathe. 

It’s not long before you’re biting the inside of your cheek, turning on your heels, and heading home. 

+

You don’t even have your keys fully out of your pocket before the door swings open, with Katuski on the other side looking a bit worse for wear, though you doubt you’re one to talk. 

His eyes are bloodshot and his nose is a bit pink. He’s been crying. You can’t remember the last time you saw him cry. 

(That’s a lie, you realize. You had gotten in the crosshairs of a particularly brutal villain versus hero showdown. The resulting injuries you suffered were severe. You’d apparently been a bit touch and go for a while. When you opened your eyes for the first time after everything, Katsu was right there, looking like hadn’t slept, showered, or eaten for days. Later you found out it’s because he hadn’t left your bedside since you returned from surgery. 

Katsu, you’d croaked out weakly, stretching out a shaking hand toward his face. 

He broke down into sobs so violent they wracked his whole body. It took him over an hour to calm down.)

You got about half a foot through the door before he threw himself at you. Wrapping his arms around you so tight it bordered on painful. He sinks down to the floor. You sink with him. 

He’s sobbing into your shoulder repeating a mantra of, I’m so sorry and I didn’t mean it. Please, please. I didn’t mean it. 

You think about that old saying. What a person says in anger is how they really feel. You don’t necessarily believe that. You yourself have said things out of anger that you in no way meant, that were purely thrown to hurt the person on the other end. 

You want to believe he didn’t mean it, more than anything you do. Because you love him. Because you really do think that Katsu is it for you. That he’s always been it for you. 

You pull away about as far as he’ll let you. 

“Do you love me, Katsuki?” 

The words hang in the air. You feel raw. Like you’re the one who has taken a knife to your own skin and flayed it all open for him. 

You don’t quite know vulnerability until you ask someone if they love you. It’s a different sort of weakness. 

“Yes,” he responds. His voice rough from his tears. “More than anything.”

You watch one last tear fall from his eye.

You hold his face in your hands and wipe it away. Softly. Gently. Lovingly. 

+

You guys are not okay and now that you’ve accepted that you think there’s a chance that one day, you will be. 

[jayeray-twst]

How He Shows You Affection: Cater Diamond

Warnings: None all fluff!

He Takes Pictures of You

“Say strawberry!” Cater ordered with a toothy grin, as he snagged you around the waist and pulled you close, pressing your cheeks together with his arm extended out, holding his phone.

Several months of dating meant you were now quick enough on the draw to smile at the camera for the first snap of the shutter and were even quicker to turn your face to the side, pressing an affectionate kiss to your boyfriend’s cheek before he managed to hit the button again.

“Babe!” he whined a playful lilt to his voice that probably would’ve fooled most, but you saw right through it to the faint blush on his cheeks and the warm look in his eyes.

Cater always got a little flustered when you did little things like that to catch him off guard, which was only fair in your opinion considering how much he did it to you. Your boyfriend had enjoyed flustering you, and gone out of his way to tease, and flirt just to see if he could.

“Let me see?” you asked, making grabby hands at his phone. He immediately passed it over without complaint, pulling you into his arms and resting his chin on your shoulder so he could see the screen too as you looked at the photos he’d taken.

The first was pretty cute, with wide beaming smiles on both your faces, but the second one definitely stole the show. As per usual, even when caught off guard Cater managed to take the picture at the perfect moment, just as your lips brushed his cheek. His eyes were wide with surprise and there was the beginnings of a blush on his cheeks.

“Cute,” you cooed, pleased with the way it had come out, “You going to post that on MagiCam?”

“You know me so well,” he teased, giving you an affectionate squeeze around the middle before accepting his phone back, “We really take the best pictures together babe!”

“If you say so,” you told him lightly.

“I do say so!” he informed you, one hand still holding you to him as his clever fingers tapped away at the screen of his phone one handed, “You’re so photogenic it should be against the rules!”

You huffed in affectionate amusement. Honestly you were pretty sure the only reason you came out looking half so good in all the photos Cater took of the two of you was because he had an eye for it. Cater’s ability with a camera was exemplary, enough to put professionals to shame in your own opinion and frankly you were more than a little flattered that his favorite subject seemed to be you.

His timeline on MagiCam was full to the bursting of pictures of you, doing everything and anything under the sun, almost all of them candid or taken with only a split second’s notice and yet somehow you looked good in all of them. Not only that, but all the pictures were tagged with flattering words about how amazing you looked and how blessed he was to have you and to be your boyfriend.

Looking at it never failed to make you feel warm inside. MagiCam was a huge part of Cater’s life, and when it came to his content you were front and center. It was like his entire timeline was a testament, his own unspoken way of showing his devotion to you more eloquent than any words could ever be. After all if a picture was worth a thousand words than Cater had written entire epochs on how much he adored you.

“Alright all uploaded!” he cheered, pulling you from your fond thoughts and twirling you around in his arms with a bright laugh, “Now that, that’s done we should probably go check up on the A-Deuce combo. They’re supposed to be painting the roses, but knowing the two of them…”

You laughed in agreement and let him drag you off to go check on Heartslabyul’s two most troublesome first years, feeling immensely fond of your boyfriend.

Later when you were scrolling through your own social media you weren’t surprised to find the picture of the two of you from earlier beaming smiles at the camera, tagged with mushy cute things like #loveofmylife, #smilebabe, #aren’twecute?. However the picture of you kissing his cheek was missing.

You fully intended to ask him about it the next day, right up until you caught sight of his phone again. The picture was there both in his background and as his lock screen staring you in the face. You honestly couldn’t do anything in the face of that besides melt and give your sweet boyfriend an affectionate kiss, feeling completely and utterly adored.

He Tells You (And Only You)

Cater was the kind of guy who flirted with everyone, so at times it could be hard to take his words seriously. Compliments like beautiful, wonderful, and precious were a dime a dozen, and not limited to just you either. His whole personality seemed to be exuberant, extroverted and friendly, the kind of guy who had friends everywhere because he had no trouble making friends. He felt almost unreal with how perfect he was.

There were times, especially at the beginning of your relationship that it had made you incredibly insecure. Cater was popular, both through MagiCam and just in general, and you had no idea why he’d want to be with you of all people when it seemed like he could have anyone he wanted. In the face of your worries his words almost felt insincere, shallow and hollow, as if he didn’t really mean them because he said them to everyone he met.

However, the longer you were with him the more you realized something incredibly important. Despite the compliments that fell from his lips at the drop of a hat Cater never, ever used the word love. Sure there was an implication of love, as he said things like “I adore this’ or ‘I’m wild about that’. He said ‘I’m captivated’ or ‘I’m infatuated’ or ‘I’m enthralled’ but never ever ‘I’m in love.’

It was like the words were anathema to him, almost as if he couldn’t bring himself to say it at all. It was then you realized, slowly but surely that a lot of the face he showed to the world was a carefully crafted mask. Just as you’d suspected no one could be quite that perfect, happy and friendly all the time.

Cater got frustrated, anxious and annoyed just as anyone else did, he was just much better at hiding it. There was also a pretty vicious side to him, one that could hurl lethal insults wrapped in so many honeyed words that only those who were looking for it or really paying attention to him noticed.

Funnily enough this actually made you relax. It humanized him, and made him seem more relatable rather than the near perfect being he’d seemed before. Once you realized how much he was hiding you carefully did your best be worthy of his trust, so he could have a safe place to rest. After all keeping up a cheerful mask at all times sounded utterly exhausting to you no matter how good he was at it.

Slowly but surely, he’d begun to let his walls down, coming to you when he had a rough day, sitting in silence with you, cuddling with you, enjoying quiet little moments that you once would’ve thought he’d hate. Instead Cater seemed to relish these stolen moments with you, and as you began to truly see each other for who you were rather than the face you both showed the world you finally got to hear it.

Love. A word he admitted he hadn’t quite believed in and so had never bothered to say. A word he felt was trite and meaningless because of how often it was said over every little thing. A word you’d managed to change his mind about, one that was special and intimate and meant only for the two of you.

“I love you,” you murmured to your boyfriend as the two of you lay cuddled together on his bed, curled up and quietly watching movies together on his laptop. It was something you didn’t say nearly as often these days, as you’d slowly adapted to Cater’s way of thinking that saying it about too many things cheapened the meaning in a lot of ways.

“I love you too,” he assured you, equally quiet, his normal exuberance set aside in placed of utmost sincerity, the words so real and rare on his tongue that you had no choice but to believe them.

He’d only ever said them to you, only ever planned to say them to you, a word that was meant for you and you alone, a little piece of his heart with your name stamped clearly in ownership. It was a privilege you savored and treated with the utmost care, it was the very least you could do to prove your own affections for your boyfriend who cared so very much.

He Makes Things For You

“How do I look?” you asked your boyfriend shyly as you emerged from the dressing room.

Normally trying on clothes with Cater was a lot of fun. Even if you didn’t enjoy shopping all that much Cater made it into an experience. He had an extremely good eye for what would look good on someone and what wouldn’t. and put a lot of interesting things together. He was also perceptive enough to know what would make you uncomfortable and what wouldn’t, and work within your comfort zone.

It made him the idea shopping partner, and lots of fun, especially since he was more than happy to try on anything you asked for him as well. Honestly it was a bit unfair just how good Cater looked in pretty much everything. There were a few times you’d purposefully tried to pick silly things and yet, whether it was sheer force of personality or because he was simply that handsome he always seemed to look good. Still it was fun to try, and the two of you always had a good time together, laughing and teasing joyfully, and you almost never left empty handed.

This however was different. Cater had always had an eye for fashion, and had occasionally dabbled in making his own clothing. However, he’d never really taken it all too seriously before, despite the fact that perfectionist Riddle recognized his talent and had let him design the outfits for when they had to dress up for unbirthday parties.

Despite that, it had never occurred to you that Cater might want to try designing something for you. However he’d apparently wanted to do just that, as he’d shyly approached you with the suggestion when you’d complimented some of his work. That in itself had let you know how very important this was to him. Cater was never shy, so the fact that he’d been so hesitant to ask said a lot.

Which was of course why you’d agreed without a moment’s hesitation. Honestly even if he hadn’t been so shy about it you would’ve said yes. Cater knew your style inside and out and you trusted him more than words could say.

Your trust turned out to be well founded, and the outfit he’d made for you was utter perfection. It was done in colors that flattered your skin, eyes and hair, and had a cut that flattered your figure. You weren’t sure you’d ever felt so simultaneously beautiful and comfortable before. You absolutely loved it, you just hoped Cater loved it too.

“You look beautiful,” Cater told you, quick on the mark as ever with a compliment as he hopped up from the couch he’d been waiting on, “But then again you always do.”

You huffed at that, but didn’t protest as he circled around you, holding still so he could view you from all angles.

“Do you like it?” he asked, once he reached your front again, uncharacteristically shy again.

“Cater are you kidding I love it!” you told him fiercely, not willing to let any sort of insecurity stand.

“Pretty sure you’d have to say that even if it was ugly babe,” Cater told you a little wryly.

“I wouldn’t want to hurt your feelings,” you conceded, unwilling to lie, especially when you knew how much Cater valued honesty, but also unwilling to back down, “But in this case I’m definitely not exaggerating! Have you seen me?!”

You twirled in front of him arms spread for emphasis, “I look amazing! I feel amazing which, as you’ve told me, is just as if not more important! If you don’t believe me we can march right over to Pomefiore and get Vil. I’m sure you’d believe him!”

“No need for that,” Cater told you with a huff of amusement, his eyes warm and full of affection as he gently tugged you to him, his warm hands clasping your elbows as he peered into your eyes, “You really do like it babe?”

“I really, really do,” you answered him, with all the sincerity you could muster, “So much so I might just have to wear it every day. I’m not sure my other clothes could ever compare.”

“No need to go that far,” he insisted, though the bright look in his eyes belied the words, “I can always make you more.”

“So long as it doesn’t put you out,” you replied, “I’d love to wear your clothes Cater, anywhere anytime.”

Your boyfriend gave you one of his rare soft smiles, tugging you into his arms and just holding you, clearly grateful for what you’d said. You hugged back, quietly scheming to yourself determined to help Cater realize how talented he was. He deserved it, but in the mean time you would simply savor how much he clearly loved and trusted you, letting you be his first real model. You really couldn’t have asked for a better boyfriend than Cater Diamond and you were now even more determined to make sure he knew just how much you adored him in return.

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[fleetingpieces]

My One in a Million Chapter 8

Hiiiii! I'm back from the dead and finally got back to writing again <3

Sorry it took ages—and sorry it's not a great chapter— but thank you so much everyone for the patience and support, it means so much!

Thank you @inloveoknutzy @donttouchmycarrots and @knittingdreams for beating, love y'all! <3

Tag list: @whataboutmyfries @justdyingontheinside @heyoitslysso @sunflowerfox87 @hereforwolfstarr @potterlocked24-7 @ttylfedora @domesticatedbeetlenamedjorge @lovemeleo @im-lana

CW: Mentions of food

Ao3

Masterlist

Chapter 8 - The morning after

Remus woke up the next morning with a splitting headache. He blinked a few times to get the tiredness out of his eyes—which seemed to want to stay glued shut—and stared at the ceiling for long moments.

His first thought was that, for a second, he thought he could hear Padfoot’s laugh. Vague images of a dream he’d had came flooding back to him; long corridors, empty beds and his gaming console. The sound must have been a remnant of that.

The second thought was that the ceiling of his room was weird. He couldn’t quite pinpoint where the bugging sensation came from, but something was off and he was way too tired to figure out what it was. Maybe he should just go back to sleep. Groaning, he turned around to do just that, and that’s when he got a good look at the rest of the room.

He sat up with a start, regretting it instantly when nausea hit him like a wave. Closing his eyes, he stayed still until the feeling ebbed away, then opened them again slowly.

This wasn’t his room. There was no sign of any of his stuff; instead, he saw a big mirror, a dark wood chest of drawers, and a trail of scattered things that either belonged to different people or to someone with diverse tastes: a blue hair tie, a black snapback, t-shirts that at a glance he could tell were of different sizes, with stamps that varied from Disney to Strand.

One by one, memories from the night before popped up as the fogginess from sleep left him completely. That’s right, Sirius had offered his home to him after he’d found Remus outside of his flat; he’d come in to take a shower and had sat on the couch as they watched a movie and drank. Things were a bit hazy from that point on.

Had he really pouted and asked Sirius to stay with him like a little kid? Fuck, please let that be a part of the drunk hallucinations. He turned around slowly, glancing to the other side of the bed with his heart beating fast in his throat, but the spot next to him was empty.

Breathing a sigh of relief, Remus threw the blankets to the side and planted his feet on the floor to get some resemblance of stability, but frowned when he stepped on something. Looking down, he noticed a pillow and a blanket lying rumpled on the floor, next to his side of the bed.

A pang of guilt made its way to his chest when he realised Sirius must have slept on the floor while Remus was on the bed, covered from head to toe and warm. Sirius had been so careful with him. Every touch had been gentle, not invasive but rather trying not to overstep, trying to comfort. So, so very careful.

Remus felt slightly ashamed for thinking Sirius would take advantage of him. Not to mention for the way he'd bawled his eyes out in front of the man. He’d made a fool of himself yet again, something that kept happening a lot as of late and to which he wasn’t used to.

“Oh, God.” He remembered how he’d felt his mother’s hand brushing his hair before he fell asleep and he desperately hoped he hadn’t called out for her in his dream. Bringing a hand to his forehead, he could almost feel that phantom touch, tracing fingertips over his hairline.

He rubbed his face in embarrassment. He wasn’t sure if he was ready to face Sirius after all that, but there was no way he could fall asleep again and a quick glance at the clock on the opposite wall told him it was barely eight in the morning. It was still too early to call Leo or go back to the clinic, plus he didn’t know how everything had panned out.

Remus glanced at the bedside table where his phone was lying face down and stretched over to grab it. He flipped it from hand to hand, back and forth, the small thing weighing him down every time it fell on his palm with a soft thud.

He could call.

He should call.

But what if something had gone wrong? What if Cocoa had had a complication during the night? Would they have notified him already if that was the case? Did he want to find out like this, far away from him and helpless to do anything? He didn’t want to show any more weaknesses in front of Sirius, he’d already shown more of his vulnerable side than he’d ever intended to.

Nodding to himself, Remus got up and threw the phone on the bed. He took two steps towards the door. The doctor had told him to go in the afternoon; he could wait a couple of hours before going back to the clinic and then he would know and—

A huff escaped him as Remus hurried back and dialed the number, plopping down on the mattress.

“Thank you for calling Mercy Animal Clinic. This is Jennifer, how can I help you?”

“Yes, hi, my name is Remus? I brought my dog in last night for chocolate poisoning and I—I was just calling to check on him?”

“Of course, Sir. What is the patient's name?”

“Cocoa,” said Remus, gripping his phone a bit tighter. Jennifer hummed and asked for a few more details to confirm his identity, to which Remus replied on autopilot, his mind going blank in a subconscious attempt to protect himself.

“Just a second, please.”

Remus busied himself counting the floorboards while he waited, trying to calm his nerves, but it had the opposite effect as he became very aware of how long Jennifer was taking to find what he wanted to know. He’d started tapping his foot when the receptionist finally came back on the other end of the line.

“Yes, everything was ok during the night and Cocoa will be ready to go home after lunch,” they said cheerfully.

Remus’ breath stopped completely and then he exhaled loudly. He could have sworn he felt his heart unclench, invisible fingers letting go of their painful grip and allowing blood to stream freely again. His shoulders dropped, releasing all the pent up tension that had been building there since he’d stepped into his apartment the night before, and he laid down, covering his eyes with his free arm.

“Sir?” Jennifer said hesitantly.

“Yes. Ok. Ok. Thanks, I’ll be there.” He hung up and let the phone fall at his side.

The silence of the room was an echo of his own head as Remus tried to let the words sink in. He peeked at the ceiling from under his arm. Cocoa was fine. The phrase repeated itself a few times until Remus took a deep breath and swung himself up.

The hall was quiet outside of the room, but he could hear some noises coming from ahead. Remus bunched the sleeves of the jumper he was wearing, not too willing to admit how comfy and warm he was in Sirius’ clothes. Especially not when he was assaulted by memories of Sirius helping him walk through this same corridor the night before and Remus almost gave in to the embarrassment. Sirius probably thought he was pathetic.

Groaning, he steeled himself as he padded the rest of the way, but his step faltered before going into the kitchen, a hand rising to settle on the wall. Something smelled amazing in there. Like melted butter and Saturday mornings back home, with his mom humming as she stood by the stove and the sun streamed in through the open windows. The sound of the sizzling pan was accompanied by a rock song playing in the background, a cool guitar distortion filling the room, followed by a gravelly voice singing a capella.

And there was Sirius in the middle of it all, moving around the kitchen gracefully, head bopping and singing into a ladle. He slid across the floor like Tom Cruise in that old movie as he moved to the fridge and a chuckle bubbled out of Remus’ chest, taking with it most of the heaviness still clinging to him.

Sirius jumped up, accidentally closing the fridge door with a bang, and turned to face Remus fully. It was only then that Remus realized what he was wearing: he had black ripped jeans and a black tee, his hair was pulled back in a loose ponytail; and on top of all that, he had one of those aprons that had a buff man printed on the front, that read “Kiss the chef”.

Remus stared for so long that Sirius followed his gaze and looked down, only to look back up quickly with a blush. “It was James’ idea of a joke.”

James, as Remus was quickly learning, took special pleasure in teasing his friends, although Lily claimed he always failed when it came to her. But Sirius clearly treasured anything that came from his best friend, no matter how silly or awkward.

Clearing his throat, Remus stepped into the kitchen and peered at the stove. “What are you making?”

“Pancakes!” Sirius exclaimed, seemingly glad for the rapid move of the subject. “I thought you could use some hangover breakfast,” he added with a shrug before turning back to the mixing bowl on the counter.

“Oh,” Remus said dumbly, taken by surprise. He scrambled for something to add. “Did you get the recipe from the same place as those cookies?”

Sirius spluttered and threw an offended look over his shoulder. “Mon Dieu, I’m never going to live that down, am I? I’ll have you know, these are my speciality. But I won’t give you anything if you keep that attitude up.”

Laughing quietly, Remus breathed a sigh of relief that Sirius wasn't looking at him with pity or mentioning his sorry state from the night before. So much had happened between them in just one day, he wasn’t sure how he was supposed to act anymore. He shuffled awkwardly to the island and, as he leaned on it, the name of the song Sirius had been dancing to dawned on him.

“I can’t believe you’re actually listening to Black Dog,” Remus said, covering his face, not sure if he wanted to laugh or cry.

“Hey,” Sirius turned to point at him with the batter-covered ladle, “Plant speaks to me on a spiritual level. I’m sending good vibes to Cocoa.”

Remus raised an eyebrow, making an effort to keep the corners of his mouth down. “You do know that the lyrics have nothing to do with dogs, right?”

“Yeah, but it’s the feeling that counts,” he waved his hand dismissively, sending a few vanilla-colored drops flying, “and the song title.” Smiling at that logic, Remus shook his head—as weird as it was, he found it reassuring. Sirius peered at him as he flipped the golden pancakes easily. “I’m glad you look better. How are you feeling?”

Remus tensed up, but it didn’t look like Sirius was making fun of him. Focusing on some point by his feet, he rubbed at his neck. "Yeah, um. Thank you for your help. And sorry about...everything. I guess it was one thing after the other and it was just too much.”

“We’ve been through this, you have nothing to be sorry for,” Sirius smiled tentatively. “Have they contacted you from the vets?”

“Actually, I called just now.” His heart rate picked up as excitement coursed through his body. Saying the words aloud made them even more real, allowed them to settle in and gave way to tiny pinpricks of impatience. “They said everything’s good. I can bring him home after lunch.”

Sirius turned to face him fully and his hand went to grip Remus’ forearm, his smile turning so bright it was almost blinding. “Remus, that’s great.”

Remus smiled too, staring straight at him. “Yeah,” he breathed. After a second too long, he coughed discreetly and moved back. “I just feel like I won’t be able to relax fully until I see him, you know? I wish I could go over now.”

“Yeah, I get that,” Sirius said as he leaned back too, fingers moving to play with the strings of his apron. “Just a few more hours, eh?” Remus hummed noncommittally and, sensing that he needed a bit of a distraction, Sirius turned his attention back to the food. “In the meantime, can you get the plates from over there?” He pointed at a cabinet as he got the pan out of the stove.

Remus did as he was asked and brought them over to the counter, where an array of toppings were waiting. His stomach grumbled as he watched Sirius cutting up some strawberries to place over the pancakes and then drizzling chocolate on top of everything, singing under his breath to the next song on his playlist. It was all oddly domestic. It was nice.

They sat in the living room to eat, though instead of sharing the couch like they had last night, Sirius—now without the ridiculous apron—sat across the coffee table on one of the armrests. Remus took a bite of the fluffy sponge and closed his eyes with a hum. “Ok, you were right. These are awesome.”

Sirius had just taken a mouthful himself, but he beamed before he swallowed and licked some of the chocolate off his finger. “Glad you like them, Re. I don’t think my reputation could have survived another fiasco.”

“Are you sure this wasn’t just a lucky mistake?” Remus joked, if only to ignore the way his stomach jumped at the nickname, prompting Sirius to throw a napkin at him.

For the next two hours or so, the conversation was light and easy while the music kept playing at a dim level. But, as time went on and the plates got piled up on the coffee table, Sirius started getting distracted.

He kept glancing at his phone like he was checking the time or waiting for a call. Remus would have thought that he was overstaying his welcome—Sirius had a life to get back to, after all—if it weren’t for the fact that the man kept the conversation going and going, asking questions and gesturing excitedly when he was telling a story about how he and his friends had once managed to get a flock of pigeons inside a train full of passengers. At this point, Remus was pretty sure that Sirius was not capable of lying.

A lazy breeze drifted in from the open window, bringing in the smell of morning dew and ruffling Sirius’ hair so that a few strands fell in front of his face. As he brushed them back, he raised his eyes and pinned Remus with a look that was slowly becoming very familiar. That look that said he wanted to say something but he was choosing his words carefully.

Remus was pretty sure he knew what that meant. So far, everything he’d blabbed about the night before had been skillfully avoided—mostly by Remus averting his eyes every time Sirius looked at him like that. He wasn’t looking away now though. Wasn’t sure he could, honestly; not with such intensity and thinly-veiled concern directed his way. Sirius opened his mouth, the words starting to form at the back of his throat when Remus’ phone pinged.

He jumped slightly and went to quickly fish it out of his pocket, holding on to the getaway it provided. Talking about his behaviour or the few hints he’d let slip about his past was not something he was ready to tackle. A quiet sigh dropped from Sirius’ lips as he got up to take the plates back to the kitchen, while Remus stared at the notification flashing on his home page. “Oh, Padfoot just uploaded a new video?”

The sound of ceramic banging in the sink startled Remus into looking up. “Um...you ok?”

“Yes! Too much soap,” Sirius’ voice came back, muffled slightly by the running water.

Remus snorted and got comfortable on one end of the couch, resting his back on the side and pulling his knees up. He wiggled his toes as he waited for the page to load, digging them into the plush sofa and then tapping his feet when the video finally started. It began like usual, with the starting screen of a game and Padfoot’s cheerful voice.

“Hello everyone and welcome! You’ve all been nagging at me to play with Prongs more often, so I hope you appreciate how much effort it took to get his ass out of bed.”

“That’s so not the introduction I was expecting,” another voice complained.

“Oh, I’m sorry, did you want to do it?”

“Why, yes, thank you. Hello y’all! By popular demand and because I know you like me more than this silly goose, I am here to play some games and have fun! Mostly at Padfoot’s expense.”

“You’re the only person in the world who could say ‘silly goose’ and not have everyone laughing at them.”

“I know, it’s a skill I honed for years.”

“What the hell,” Remus laughed, shaking his head fondly.

Sirius came back into the room, drying his hands absentmindedly on his pants as he took his seat back. He sat at the very edge of the cushion, leaning slightly forward with his hands clasped between his knees, eyes down.

Remus made a questioning sound, waving the phone in front of him. “Do you mind?”

“No,” Sirius croaked, gesturing with his hand for him to go on as he cleared his throat.

A small line of confusion pulled Remus’ brows together. Something was definitely going through Sirius’ mind. Deciding to give the man some time, Remus focused his attention back on the video and made a note to ask later if something was bothering him.

Padfoot was talking about the game they were going to play and Remus could feel his energy even through the screen. He always got like this when he was trying something new. Remus pictured him bouncing on his chair, waiting impatiently to start playing, tapping the buttons in anticipation. “He’s like a kid on sugar, isn’t he?” he said without thinking.

A cough came from Sirius’ spot. “Well, I… I think it’s...nice? He sounds happy.”

The corners of Remus’ lips tugged up in a small smile at that. “Yeah. That’s good.”

“Huh?”

“He didn’t seem his usual self in the past few streams. I’m just glad he’s ok, is all.”

Out of the corner of his eye, Remus saw how Sirius’ hands gripped his knees tightly, slipping through the holes in his jeans. Remus watched in silence but, just when he was about to ask what was going on, the video changed. A small square appeared on one of the corners, showing a man sitting in a chair, not much to see in the background, his face covered with the black dog that was his signature logo. Remus sat up straighter. It wasn’t often that Padfoot appeared in his videos and he couldn’t help the interest that sparked inside him whenever it happened. He scanned the small image until something caught his eye.

“Huh? ...Wait. That’s—” Remus froze for a second before promptly throwing his phone to the other end of the couch. “Oh my God.” He covered his mouth, feeling the pull of his mouth as a grin lit up his face, his wide eyes not leaving the small device lying innocently face up. “Oh my God, oh my God.”

“What happened?”

Remus turned to see Sirius looking at him with a confused little smile, probably wondering if he was still drunk or just bonkers.

“He...he’s wearing my merch. My merch.” And one of his favourite hoodies from the collection, at that. “How—How does he even know about me? I know he likes to keep in shape but…”

The faintest blush crossed Sirius’ cheeks. He rubbed his hands together, looking down at them and then back up at Remus’ still astounded face. He took a deep breath and exhaled in one go. “You know, I’m...” He trailed off, mouth opening and closing a few times.

Remus tried to bring his thoughts back to the room, to the man in front of him and not the one on the screen. He bent forward to grab the discarded phone, his mind still reeling as he paused the video. “Yeah?” he prompted Sirius to go on when he straightened back up, smile still in place—he wasn’t sure he could wipe it off even if he wanted to.

Sirius’ grey eyes roamed his face, then went to the phone in his hands before they finally settled on his bright expression and he sighed, smiling and shaking his head. “No, nevermind.”

Remus tilted his head, but Sirius simply shrugged. “Are you sure? You can say it, whatever it is.”

“I don’t think it’s the right time,” Sirius admitted, letting his head fall back as he worried his lip.

Curiosity flared up, dazzling and hot, and Remus tried to water it down, unwilling to trespass Sirius’ boundaries. Instead, he looked down and tried to organise his whirring mind, eyes going to the clock on his phone. “Fuck,” he muttered. He really wanted to finish watching and keep talking with Sirius, but it was getting late. “I should probably get going.”

“Oh,” Sirius blinked as he raised his head up. “You can stay if you want to.”

“No, I…” Remus stood up. “I should go get the key from Leo. I will probably see both his mom and mine, which means it won’t be a short visit and I’d like to be at the clinic as soon as possible.”

“Do you want me to come with you?”

Stopping midstep, Remus turned to look at Sirius, eyebrows raised. “Come with me?”

“Yeah, to the clinic? You are not too fond of them.”

It wasn’t a question, but Remus replied anyway, surprised that Sirius had caught on to that at all. “No, I’m not,” he said, dumbfounded. He shook his head. “But it’s ok, you did a lot for me already.”

Sirius rolled his eyes. “Remus, anyone in my place would have done the same.”

No, they wouldn’t.

“It’s fine, really. Leo will probably come with me,” he said. He wasn’t sure how Sirius could think that everyone was that selfless, that any person would have helped an almost stranger without thinking it was too much effort. Remus chose not to say anything about it, knowing fully well that was not the case.

[laineystein]

40 little things I love about Israel (AKA the Israel the media won’t show you):

1. Beach libraries! Bus stop libraries! Colorful, well stocked, pop up libraries everywhere!

2. In Israel, the swings at a playground are spaced in a circle (instead of a line) so children can look at one another. It encourages interaction and community - very Jewish!

3. There were mice/bird issues in Israeli neighborhoods so the government released cats to combat the issue. When they realized it had gotten out of hand, vets started spay/neutering and vaccinating all of the stray cats so they’re all well taken care of.

4. There are flowers everywhere!

5. Beautiful graffiti! A lot of it uses the natural texture/shapes of structures to make art. So colorful!

6. A lot of neighborhood streets are themed. There’s a neighborhood in Ashdod that is named after strong Israeli women - my favorite!

7. The respect for the military. We give to those currently serving, we have holidays for those who have fallen in service, and our rehabilitation centers for those injured in service are top notch.

8. There is art - sculptures, mosaics, paintings - everywhere! We even turn useful things (benches, trash cans) into art. Or exercise equipment…like outside…at the beach. All art.

9. Makhtesh! (Mountains that were washed over with water causing them to collapse into themselves, causing massive crater-like valleys)

10. Trees! Someone is born? Plant a tree. Someone passes? Plant a tree. Just want to plant a tree? Plant a tree.

11. Promenades! Also referred to as “teyelet” in Hebrew. Pedestrians, bikes, flowers, cafes. Not sure where to go? Find the promenade and start walking. You’ll figure it out.

12. Jews are from all over the world - and they bring their food with them to Israel. Moroccan? Italian? Yemeni? Russian? Syrian? Slavic? Polish? German? French? Brazilian? Spanish? We have it ALL.

13. Similarly - Kosher? Pareve? Vegetarian? Vegan? Gluten-free? Israel’s restaurants typically have options for each and/or are very amenable to making changes when they can.

14. Super diverse geography! Mountains? Deserts? Beaches? Forests? Cold weather? Warm weather? YUP.

15. Public transportation is very efficient. You really don’t need a car. It’s also extremely affordable so there’s really no reason *not* to use it.

16. This one will blow your mind: religious tolerance! Does Israel have a lot of Jews? Sure! It also has Muslims, Christians, Atheists, etc. Israel prides itself on being very knowledgeable/aware/respectful of different religions and beliefs and caters toward each in the government, education, military, etc.

17. Museums! So. Many. Museums. Indoor, outdoor, UNDERWATER. All the museums!

18. Free in vitro-fertilization programs! (Healthcare in general is amazing)

19. There will be rosemary and sage that just grow wildly near the road? And you can pick it and cook with it? And we do? Often.

20. Such varied communities of Orthodox Jews. Hasidic Jews are such a small subset in the Orthodox community. They all have different traditions and appearances. It’s really wonderful.

21. Simchat Torah is a party in the streets. Honestly, all Jewish holidays just hit differently in Israel.

22. Salads. Colorful salads! Savory salads! Sweet salads! For those of you who are weary of Salad culture, Israel will change your mind. We eat salads at nearly every meal.

23. We have the best coffee. That’s it. We just do. (Our coffee and cafes are so good that Starbucks doesn’t survive in Israel. Who needs it?)

24. Lemonana. Or lemonade with mint. Just trust me.

25. The Dead Sea. Come see it/experience it before global warming makes it disappear!

26. Prisoners can vote in elections! We even have polling places in prisons to facilitate this. We actually put polling places in many places to ENCOURAGE voting by all Israelis.

27. The siren on Yom HaShoah. How the entire country of Israel comes to a stop no matter what they’re doing.

28. The views. There’s always a mountain you can stand on to see the ocean, the skyline, the desert.

29. There’s always new and old parts to cities and they somehow blend together really well. Israel is full of so much history and the Israeli people continue to build on that without disrespecting the past.

30. Sheirut Leumi AKA an alternative to compulsory military service that allows young Israelis to serve Israel in different ways ie. working at Independence Hall, explaining Israel’s history to tour groups, and any other visitors.

31. So many options to volunteer! Food pantries, hospitals, nursing homes - giving back to the community is a key tenet in Judaism and is common in Israel. (Our bus stops have monetary donation boxes!!)

32. The shuk aka the massive open-air market in Jerusalem. Google it. It’s magical. (There are a lot of shuks throughout Israel but the most well known and largest is in Jerusalem.)

33. Banks are like works of art? They’re architecturally stunning? It’s like being transported back in time. Even newer banks are built in older styles.

34. So many parks and botanical gardens. And they’re all FREE!!!

35. Halva. I could eat pounds of it.

36. The sunsets. Nothing compares.

37. Universities are fun to visit? All are welcome. They often have tours open to the public and they’re designed with that in mind.

38. Our money has braille on it! And we have a theatre that is dedicated entirely to the deaf and blind communities. How cool is that?

39. Light shows. We like to light up buildings and we hold events showcasing lit fountains and other light adorned structures. I don’t know but it’s a big thing.

40. Kosher everything! Kosher glue on stamps! Kosher food fed to animals at the zoo! Kosher McDonalds!

[whatifyoulivelikethat]

pause, m | myg | 2

pairing(s): yoongi x reader

summary: Life is like a cassette tape. It seems like it’s constantly repeating, flipped from side A to side B, and the songs can’t be skipped. You can only pause, rewind, fast forward, play after you’ve already heard the song. After you’ve already lived it. All Min Yoongi knows is his own tape, until it smashes right at his feet, and then he has to learn to dance to a different beat.

warnings: rated M (18+) - please be warned this story has a physically and verbally abusive relationship; language; emotional manipulation; gender stereotyping; non-idol!AU; music producer!Yoongi x dancing fanatic!reader

rated M because I know how sensitive a topic domestic abuse is.

The music reader listens to is inspired by Frederic, specifically their songs ‘oodloop’, ‘OWARASE NIGHT’, and ‘Kanashii Ureshii’ and you can look up the MVs on YT. They have subs, yes the lyrics inspired certain scenes, no I have no idea what is going on, and I don’t know why they’re dancing like that lol

–

1.

-

She slapped him across the face.

You froze.

The cassette smashed.

“I hate you, Min Yoongi!”

She shouted it so loud that you heard it over your music. Your finger instinctively went to your earbud and tapped it, pausing the sound. You couldn’t believe your eyes. What had this guy done? What had this guy done to be yelled at like that the second he stepped off the night train to stand in front of his girlfriend?

“Useless piece of trash, always fucking late!”

Slapping him over and over, so loud because the train station was completely empty except for you and these two, yelling obscenities and the guy was just standing there, taking it, saying, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, sorry for what? Why did she keep hitting him? Why? Stop it. Stop hitting him.

“Such a fucking waste of life, I can’t believe I have to be your girlfriend!”

Stop it.

“No one will ever fucking love you, you shithead, so I’m stuck with your stupid self!”

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry…”

Mumbles. Fear.

Stop it!

“You think anyone will ever do anything for you the way I do? I’m all you have!”

Within two seconds, you crossed the space between you and them.

You smacked her hand away from him.

Pause.

You hesitated to press play. Standing in front of this random guy you didn’t even know, fury in your chest so strong that you forgot you were a stranger, glaring at this scowling, rage-filled woman with vehement disdain. You had no idea what the fuck was going on, you had no idea why he was being slapped so much, you had no idea why this woman was so angry and maybe there were very good reasons for it all, but somehow.

Somehow you didn’t think so.

Play.

“Stop it. He said he was sorry,” you barked, narrowing your eyes.

Her pretty face twisted with rage. “Who the fuck is this bitch, Yoongi? A whore you picked up?”

“I… I don’t know her…” the man behind you rasped, trying to move around you, but you kept yourself between the two, shouldering your backpack.

“I don’t know him. I just know you shouldn’t be hitting someone like that.”

The woman snapped at you, rising to her full height, challenging you. “This isn’t any of your fucking business. This is between me and him and doesn’t concern outsiders. Tell her, Yoongi.”

But you didn’t let Yoongi tell you, cutting him off as he tried to speak.

“This isn’t my business, but I’ve seen enough examples to be able to spot domestic violence when I see it,” you growled.

The woman scoffed, flipping her hair. “Domestic violence,” she snorted. “He’s a man. It’s not like I hit him that hard. I’m a woman.”

You curled your hands into fists.

“You stupid bully.”

The woman looked taken aback. “What?”

“I said, you’re a stupid fucking bully,” you snarled, taking a step forward and forcing her to take one back. “You think this is nothing, until you have children and your children have to watch this shit over and over, every night, thinking it’s right, thinking it’s the way it should be, but you’re fucking wrong, because this is not a relationship, this is not love, this is fucking bullying and you are a stupid, dumb bully who can’t admit you have an inferiority complex and your kids will spend years in fucking therapy wondering why they don’t understand how to make relationships with other human beings because their mom was a terrible fucking example, so do me a fucking favor and get the fuck out of here and leave this guy alone, because you are an absolute sewage of a human being.”

She gawked at you, slack-jawed, probably never been talked to in such a forceful manner before, but you didn’t care, because you didn’t spend years in therapy to watch this shit happen right in front of your face.

Never in your entire life had you ever been so angry at a stranger before.

The woman seemed to gather her bearings and spat at the floor, staining the concrete with her spit. You raised your eyebrows, unintimated. She stamped her foot at your lack of reaction, pointing accusingly at Yoongi behind you.

“Don’t you ever think about coming back home. I’m burning all your shit.”

She turned her heel and stomped away.

You almost expected Yoongi to run after her, but he didn’t. He just stood behind you and breathed laboriously. You suddenly realized that you might have done something mildly insane. She said she was going to burn all his shit.

“Hmph,” you heard the mumble behind you. “All I had was clothes anyway.”

You turned around. He wasn’t looking at you. His black hair was all over his face, and his face mask was half-pulled down, revealing his red cheeks. You looked away quickly, taking a step back.

“Are you… okay?” you asked quietly.

You saw his eyes shift around. He didn’t actually respond. Just shrugged.

You bit your lip.

Silence.

“There… are no more trains,” the Yoongi guy whispered.

“Y… Yeah.”

Silence.

The lights above you were harsh, casting large shadows all over the concrete. Nothing but the sounds of the city and the darkness above, the moon witnessing it all.

He turned away from you, walking over towards the benches. Walking away. The crumpled paper of a man, shrinking as he took one step, then another, farther and farther away from you, and you opened your mouth to shout after that black back, extending your hand in the air.

“H-Hey!”

Pause.

He turned his head around to look at you with broken and lonely eyes.

“If you want… I have a couch and some blankets.” You swallowed, knowing how crazy it was. “Because… You shouldn’t go back. I…” Don’t want you to end up like my dad. “Even if it’s one night.”

I want to break this cycle.

“Just one.” You lowered your hand, holding up one finger. “One.”

Yoongi didn’t say anything.

Only turned around wordlessly and walked back to you, stopping in front of you. Saying nothing.

He didn’t say anything the entire walk.

Didn’t say anything as you opened the door and gestured him inside. Showed him the couch, got him the blankets. Asked him if he wanted anything else. He shook his head instead of talking. You ran to your room and got him a spare pillow. Held it out to him. He took it silently. Ran off again and got a new toothbrush from your stash of toothbrushes. An unopened travel toothpaste. Asked him if he wanted anything to eat. A glass of water. He shook his head.

Showed him the bathroom. A shower?

Shake, shake.

Okay.

You told him if he was cold to let you know. You would find another blanket.

Yoongi said nothing.

You nodded and turned away, letting him be. It was hard to look at him. You didn’t want him to think you pitied him or anything. But he reminded you too much of your dad if you stared at him too long. You had gotten him everything you could think of and let him know that if he needed anything to tell you.

You went to your bedroom and let out a big sigh.

No dance party tonight.

You went to your computer and opened Spotify. Put your headphones on and listened to the music, letting it carry you away. Before you knew it, one song flowed into another. You slowly began to bounce your head to the music, the cheerful, quirky beats making you smile, your hands moving on their own, lip-syncing the lyrics.

A happy tune with sad lyrics, but it made you smile at the same.

You failed to notice Yoongi appear at your door, holding his phone. He needed a charger. Did you have one? And then he saw the back of your head, bouncing along, headphones on.

He retreated back to your living room, clutching his phone. Decided to go to sleep instead.

Hours later, you finally decided to sleep, placing your headphones down. Was Yoongi sleeping? You padded over to the dark living room, seeing a bundled form on your couch. His coat was over the blanket. His head was under the blanket. Was he cold? You went back to your room and collected a pink knit one. Walked back to the living room and moved his jacket aside onto the armchair, putting the extra blanket on top of him.

His phone was on your coffee table, flashing. It was low on battery.

You checked if it was Android or iPhone. Android. Good, because you didn’t have a lightning cable, although you would have gone to the twenty-four-hour convenience store nearby to get one if he did have an iPhone. Back to your room. Got a charger and struggled to find an outlet in the dark. You’d think you would know where your own outlets were, but apparently you were too sleepy to remember. You felt around in the dark and poked at an outlet, stabbing the wall repeatedly before plugging it in. Maybe you should have turned a light on, sheesh.

You snaked the cable around and plugged his phone in. It vibrated approvingly and you gave it a thumbs up, even though it was an inanimate object.

Let’s just say living alone made you weird.

You let out an exhale and wandered off to brush your teeth.

Not noticing Yoongi had woken up and been watching your struggle. Saying nothing.

Pause.

Fast forward.

-

Morning.

You yawned and nearly jumped when you saw the unmoving pink blob on your couch. Oh, right. You were surprised he wasn’t awake, but you shrugged. The blankets were over his head, blocking out the sun. You tried to stay quiet, opening your fridge, staring at the contents.

Staring at it with a million question marks.

You had… kimchi. Eggs. Cheese. Definitely expired take-out. You took that out and dumped it in the trash can, grimacing at it. A stranger didn’t need to see how disgusting that was. You went back to your fridge. Um. It wasn’t that you couldn’t cook, it was that you didn’t have jack shit. And if you cooked on the stove, you would definitely wake up Yoongi.

Your stomach screamed in rage.

Feed me!

Ah, well. Sorry Yoongi. You settled on a kimchi-egg-cheese pancake thing. Was it going to be good? Sure. Was it not the most elegant thing in the world? Maybe. What can you do?

You began to chop the kimchi.

-

Yoongi turned over on the couch, groaning. He heard the sizzle of the pan. Smelled spice. Eggs. The world was unfamiliar. No one was yelling at him to get up. No one was doing the blankets off of him and calling him a lazy pig. 

"Motherfuc–!"

A female voice cursed in a loud whisper. You cut yourself off, muttering.

"Stupid oil, ugh."

Not his girlfriend. 

Slowly, Yoongi pulled the blankets off his head. An unfamiliar scent, different laundry detergent than he was used to. The sofa smelled different too, like vanilla with a hint of stale popcorn. Probably from being dropped in the cushions and forgotten about until months later. 

His stomach growled. 

The smell of the food enticed him. He got up, seeing you at the stove, wearing black pajamas with the sleeves rolled to your elbows, and a cream scrunchie holding your hair up. You made a face at the pan and scolded it. 

"Who's the boss here?" you hissed hotly at the sizzling food. "That's right, me, because I'm about to eat your ass, so simmer down and stop trying to singe my arm hair off."

Yoongi blinked. 

He got off the couch as you continued your quiet tirade, shoving your hand into a bag of cheese and sprinkling it on top, laying down a generous layer. 

You should cover it, Yoongi thought. To let the cheese melt. 

You grabbed a pan lid, and covered it. The lid definitely went to a separate set because it was a different shade of silver, but it didn't matter. You mumbled triumphantly at the pan. 

"Ha, take that, you stupid eggs, who's in the hot seat now, eh?"

Yoongi stared.

You lifted the lid and checked the cheese. A billow of smoke floated out. You seemed satisfied and turned off the gas. Lifted the pan and spun around. 

Froze. 

Yoongi blinked at you. 

Your eyes were wide, still holding the hot pan. 

Silence. 

A good ten seconds past. 

You slowly put the pan on the cork potholders at the counter. Two plates were at the counter with two sets of chopsticks.

"Uh... I made a kimchi-egg pancake t-thing..." you stuttered. "With cheese on top. You don't have to eat it. But I'm not going to poison you or anything. Er, well, that's something a someone who would poison you would say, huh? Oh, maybe I should have checked the expiration date on the kimc–"

"Why do you talk to your food?" Yoongi asked pointedly.

You turned bright red. 

"Um... bad habit. 'Cause I live alone..." You shifted your eyes. "No one... to talk to."

Yoongi stared at you. 

You turned around abruptly and grabbed a knife. Took off the pan lid. The kitchen was suddenly filled with the delicious smell of eggs and kimchi. The cheese bubbled as you cut it into pizza-like slices.

Yoongi sat down at the barstool, staring at it. He was the one who usually cooked. He hadn't had a home-cooked meal by someone else in forever. Not since he lived with his parents. 

That was a long time ago. 

"I seasoned the eggs beforehand and poured it on the sautéed kimchi..." You placed a plate with a pair of chopsticks in front of him, ears still red. You avoided looking him in the eye, scratching your cheek. "I, uh, have to go grocery shopping," you mumbled, taking a slice. "Sorry it's not that fancy..."

Yoongi picked up the chopsticks and took a slice. He blew in it carefully and took a small bite. Spicy, savory, delicious. He took another bite. And another. The food was hot, almost burning the roof of his mouth. This must be a dream. He wasn't in his nightmare. He wasn't going to question it. 

As long as he wasn't in his nightmare, he could pretend this was reality. 

Yoongi didn't notice you watching him with relief. 

He took another slice. The meal was quiet, but not suffocatingly so. It was calm, only interrupted by chewing. You reached into the cabinet below you and produced a water bottle. Put it next to him. Didn't say anything. Yoongi are three more slices, throat prickling with the spice, lips puffy, before he opened the water bottle and drank from it.

"If you want, I can direct you to a shelter."

Yoongi put the water bottle down. Stared at his stained, now empty plate. 

"Or you can call a friend to shelter you," you continued. "You can even get a restraining order if we involve the police–"

"No."

He said the word with harsh finality. 

"It's not that bad."

It wasn't. He was just being a child, running away. 

"... Okay."

Yoongi looked up. For a split second, there was immense pain in your eyes. Why? None of this was happening to you. You didn't know anything. You were just some stranger. Why was he even here? Why had he come here to sleep on some random couch? So dumb. Some random woman couldn't save him from his problems. 

... Your kids will spend years in fucking therapy wondering why they don’t understand how to make relationships with other human beings because their mom was a terrible fucking example...

Yoongi stilled as he remembered your words from last night. That was far too specific. His brows furrowed. You let out a sigh and took his plate.

"Do you want a shower?" you asked. "I have spare towels."

Yoongi tilted his head. "I don't have a change of clothes." He stared at the hardwood floor. "And my other clothes are probably burned by now."

You placed the dishes in the sink and began to wash them. 

"We can go buy some. I need groceries anyway."

He didn't understand why you were being so nice to him. It was strange. You didn't know him. Well, actually... he didn't even know your name either. 

"Uh..."

You looked up from the dishes, hands covered in soap. Yoongi did all the dishes at home. He did all the housework, in fact. This was weird, watching another person do housework. His voice was quiet, timid, crumpled like a piece of paper. 

"What's your name?" 

-

"Do you want white or black?"

You held up two multi-packs of t-shirts in his size.

"Uh... Black."

You dumped the black in the cart and put the other back. Yoongi stayed behind you, not picking out anything. You were wearing your backpack, a black cap, red wide-knit sweater, and black jeans. Black combat boots, the familiar staple for you. The two of you are standing in an aisle at the local convenience store. Yoongi was still wearing the same clothes from last night – black parka, black turtleneck, black jeans, black face mask. 

He mostly stared at the floor, following your boots. 

"White or black?"

Yoongi looked up to see you on the other side of the cart, holding two multi-packs of underwear. White briefs and black boxer briefs. He felt his cheeks heat up as you blinked at him. Instead of speaking, he grabbed the black boxer briefs from your hand, intending to chuck them into the cart.

Except his jacket sleeve caught a strand of your red sweater, the Velcro sticking to and unraveling it, so that when he twisted his hand to throw the plastic pack into the cart, the yarn tangled around his fingers and got caught, rapidly getting pulled around. Your eyes widened, gasping as the red string was yanked from your sweater. 

"O-oh!"

"Fuck!"

His hand was tangled in it and the part around your wrist tightened, the missing yarn causing the constriction. Yoongi cursed again, trying to shake free, panic rising. Oh no, fuck, what if you got angry? What if you started yelling at–?

You laughed. 

You started laughing. Yoongi froze, slowly lifting his head to witness your laughter. Your shoulders shook, shaking your head, big smile on your face. The yarn hung in the air, shaking a little.

The red string connecting you to him. 

Yoongi stared. 

At you.

His heart thudded in his chest. 

Thump. 

"Hold on," you chortled, reaching over and following the red yarn.

Thump.

His heart was like a bass drum. Consistent and loud, rhythm in his own ears. You untangled the mess slowly, carefully, wrapping the exposed end loosely around your wrist. Finally, it was off his fingers. Your fingers were centimeters from the back of his hand. You grasped the red yarn tightly. Yoongi looked at the end, trapped in the Velcro of his parka.

Thump. 

A fleeting feeling. 

Happiness.

You ripped the red yarn off, the end frizzy and scraggly. 

Another fluttering feeling. 

Sadness. 

You backed up, going back to the cart, tucking the end in next to your wrist, all chuckles. Thump, thump, thump. He couldn't breathe. It was impossible. What was going on? Why did he suddenly start shaking all over?

"I'm sorry," he blurted, breathless in panic. 

You shook your head, waving a hand. 

"Don't worry about it. This thing is old anyway." You pointed to the rack. "Is four enough? Or do you need more?"

"U-uh..."

"Let's get one more. I can always return it if you change your mind."

-

"Do you have a job to go to? Because I have to go soon," you were saying as you shoved the groceries into the fridge. Yoongi was unwrapping the plastic and cutting off the tags from the few clothing items you two had bought. 

"Um... yeah, I work at a music studio..." Yoongi mumbled. "I make my own hours."

"And it ends right before the last train, right?" you affirmed, nearly dropping the green onions and making a mad dash for them before they touched the ground. Whew. You shoved them back in your fridge. You didn’t really have an organization system. You probably should. Being an adult was hard.

"... Yeah."

"Cool, you should take a shower now then. I'll get a towel, hold on!"

You scrambled out of the kitchen to find a towel in the linen closet, the fridge door still open. 

"... Alright..."

-

Pause.

Fast forward.

-

Yoongi spent the entire train ride tense. You sat in your usual spot, humming along, bobbing your head to your music in your earbuds. Neither of you attempted to sit next to the other. Yoongi fully expected his girlfriend to be there as he stepped out of the train, at the last stop. He thought he was going to get yelled at once again. He thought she would be there to smack him upside the head again. He braced himself as the doors opened, exhaling deeply as he walked out of the sliding doors.

"Ugh, I need some energy," you mumbled behind him, yawning. 

No one was there. 

The bright streetlamps only illuminated the concrete. 

"Hey, Yoongi."

He turned his head to see you tilting yours. 

"You coming?"

You bounced on your heels. He remembered your usual routine. 

"Wanna race?" you asked with a big grin. 

-

Morning. Night. Morning. Night. 

Empty station at the last stop. No one but you and him getting off. 

Morning. Night. 

"Hey, Yoongi."

Morning. 

"You coming?"

Night. 

“Wanna race?”

Repeat.

The cassette tape replayed over and over, flipped around in the stereo, day in, day out, stuck on replay, a weird reality that wasn't his until it became his, seeing your face when he woke up, watching you cook breakfast in the morning, chastising inanimate objects when you thought he wasn't looking.

Your lips asking him once again. 

"You coming?"

Then you and him, breaking out into a run, racing to your apartment. 

At first, Yoongi didn't smile. 

Then one day, he did. 

And he kept smiling, smiling as he ran breathlessly with you. 

-

"What are you doing?"

You froze. 

Literally one second before you heard those words, you had been wiggling your arms like an octopus in front on your full-length mirror, flapping the long sleeves of your over-sized blue sweatshirt, your billowy knee-length gray shorts following suit. You reached up to your Bluetooth headphones to take them off.

And realized, with heated cheeks, that the music was not coming from your headphones, but the Bluetooth speakers on your desk, blaring the odd twangs of guitar and quirky drum beats, paired with whiny, almost nonsensical lyrics. 

You turned around. 

Yoongi stood at the entrance of your bedroom door, staring. He was wearing a black t-shirt. Black sweatpants that were slightly too short, exposing his pale ankles. 

The song went into the guitar solo. 

He blinked at you. 

"Uh... dancing?"

Blink. 

Normally after work, Yoongi would either be asleep or watching television in your living room. You told him cable came with the apartment and you never watched TV, so he should at least watch some in your stead. You usually went to your room. The first couple nights, you only danced in your chair. Then you got up and danced next to your desk, and then you were back to your wacky mirror dancing, thinking that if it was though headphones, then Yoongi wouldn't notice. 

But, of course, you had disturbed him with your music blasting through the speakers, which had never been disconnected all this time because, well, how were you supposed to know? They must have connected because your over-ear headphones died.

"That was dancing?" Yoongi echoed.

Your eyes shifted. "Er... it's stress relieving?"

Yoongi stared at you.

Blink. 

The song changed. One of your favorites. 

Your shoulders began to bounce. Your head tapped to the beat. Then your heel. 

Blink. 

"Are you possessed?" Yoongi asked with a deadpan look. 

The tune was getting to the good bit with the xylophone. Fuck it. He had already seen you octopus it up. You began to bob your head from side to side, breaking out to a big grin, shooting him some finger guns before going back to your full-body jiggle and arm flapping, singing along on the top of your lungs, prancing around your room, Yoongi staring at you the entire time in mild shock. He probably thought you were psychotic, but who cared, because you were clapping along to the snare drum, skipping in circles, pointing at him at certain parts in the lyrics and playing air guitar. 

His normally downcast cat-like eyes were huge.

You grabbed his hands at the guitar solo and he yelped, his arms rippling as you swung them around, you stumbling through the lyrics, singing the absurd words, and Yoongi gawking wide-eyed.

The song went to the final chorus and you wiggled like a fucking squid. 

Only to see Yoongi burst out laughing and wiggle his arms with you, tiny wiggles compared to your full-blown tentacle swings, but it made you laugh too, because it was all stupid and ridiculous and very embarrassing. 

With a start, you realized you had seen Yoongi laugh. 

And he looked so wonderful laughing, perfect teeth and pink gums, huge smile and scrunched-up face, black hair falling back from the strength of his chuckling, revealing his lovely fair-skinned features and those cat-like eyes sparkling.

Sparkling with brightness. 

The song ended and you were panting breathlessly.

Yoongi raised his eyebrows in disbelief, half-smirk on his lips. 

"Your music taste is nuts."

You smiled as the next song started. 

"Nah, this is just my nighttime dance party music. It's supposed to be crazy."

You flapped your sleeves to the beat of the drum. Grinned at him. 

"Because every night should be a dance party."

And you started dancing again, Yoongi watching you and laughing, even joining in sometimes. 

From then on, every night was a dance party. At one point, Yoongi started to bring you songs and weird beats he discovered for you to dance to. He even said a few times, "Hey, I made this. Can you make a dance from it?"

You'd dance to anything. 

You weren't great at it. 

But it was always hilarious. 

And it was always worth it, watching Yoongi laugh all night. 

-

Pause. 

Fast forward. 

Wait. Are you sure?

You can always rewind. 

You don't have to press play. 

Pause.

Play. 

-

“Do you like rap?”

You were sitting next to Min Yoongi on the night train. There were still people around, not yet the last stop. He was clutching his phone, face mask on his chin. He looked a little nervous.

“Yeah, of course. I like all music,” you said cheerfully. “Something you want me to dance to?”

Yoongi chuckled a little, giving you that little half-smirk. “No.” He took a deep breath. “I’m a… music producer. And I… I make music. And I wondered if you wanted to listen to a little bit my mixtape.”

“I do.”

Yoongi looked taken aback. You grinned.

“I definitely want to listen to it.”

You connected your earbuds to his phone and listened carefully. His words, his beat, his rhythm. Yoongi sat beside you, wrapped in his black parka, looking nervous as he chewed on his lip, but you didn’t notice, bobbing your head to certain bits, mouthing the chorus, raising your eyebrows as he altered the framework of a traditional song. He had only five tracks on the playlist, but you listened to them all, holding his phone. When the playlist ended, you clicked back to your favorite parts and replayed them, over and over, listening to his strong, raspy voice.

Yoongi sounded confident when he was rapping.

Like he was meant to do it, perfectly expressing himself with his simple words and elegant phrasing, his anger, his sorrow, his hopes. You could tell there was an underlying theme, an uncertainty about the future. As if he was taking steps to an invisible, unlit path, and he wasn’t sure whether to run forward without a guiding light or go back to all he knew.

You handed him back his phone with a smile. You understood him a little better now.

“Well?” he asked, still biting his lip.

“I really like it,” you said. “Especially your vocals. It’s different from other voices I’ve heard.”

“… It’s not that–”

“And I like your lyrics. They’re simple, but they pack a punch and make you think.” You smiled widely. “I like music that makes me want to listen to it over and over again. That’s how your rap makes me feel.”

Yoongi looked stunned.

You pointed to his phone. “You could release it just like this, if you wanted.” You tilted your head. “Hm, maybe a few more songs though. It seems like you’re trying to tell a story.”

He blinked rapidly, putting his phone in his pocket. “Y-Yeah… I’m working on a few more that I want to add.”

You nodded. “That’d be awesome.”

The train screeched to a halt. There was no one in the car. That was your cue. You stood, stretching first and then shouldering your backpack. Yoongi stood as well, pensive and silent. The train doors slid open. He walked out first and you followed. Streetlights harsh and bright on the concrete. Yoongi did his usual routine of looking to the edge of the train station.

Both of you froze.

“Get the fuck over here, Yoongi.”

You recognized her. She might be wearing a different dress and a different coat, but it was the same woman all right, with the same harsh scowl.

“I knew you wouldn’t be a man and face the music. Instead, you went off prancing with some whore.”

“She’s not a whore,” Yoongi muttered, pulling up his face mask.

You didn’t say anything. There was a sudden pressure on your chest, an overwhelming, tense heaviness, because you knew what was coming.

“Are you telling me that you’re not going to come home to the woman you supposedly love, the one you were supposedly going to marry and give a comfortable life to?” the woman accused. “Are you telling me that you can’t take responsibility for your actions? That you’re not a man, but a child?”

Yoongi took a step towards her.

The weight in your chest felt like a ton of bricks crushing you.

Another step.

“Yoongi.”

He turned his head, dark brown eyes flickering to you.

You smiled.

Smiled even though the moment was killing you.

“I… I have to finish this,” he mumbled, the sparkle in his eyes dulling with every passing second.

You kept the bright smile on your face.

Like a cheerful-sounding song with sad lyrics.

“Okay.”

Pause.

You wanted to rewind. You wanted to rewind so bad, even if it was only to ten minutes before this painful moment. With a shaking hand, you pressed play.

“My door is always open for you, Yoongi.”

He made eye contact with you. He nodded.

“Goodbye.”

You turned and ran.

Ran and ran, hoping he was running after you, but you knew he wasn’t, you knew he was walking towards that toxic woman and you could do nothing about it, you couldn’t care, you just had to keep running, running and running until you hit your front door, fumbling with your keys and running inside, slamming the door closed.

You froze.

You wanted to scream.

Instead, you ran to your room and threw up a specific playlist, a playlist full of cheerful-sounding songs with agonizing lyrics, hopeful beats tainted by upsetting words, and danced the night away, danced and danced. Not wanting to think about the blankets on the couch, the suitcase you had dragged out to let Yoongi borrow and put his clothes in, not wanting to think about his toothbrush on your bathroom sink, not wanting to think about all those nights dancing stupidly in this bedroom with him, and focusing only on dancing alone, singing the night away, on and on and on until you couldn’t stand anymore, couldn’t sing anymore, and you just fell on your bed and passed out, completely drained.

Physically.

Emotionally.

Empty.

-

3.

--

masterpost

[dustofbrokenheart]

The Covenant: Presents and Kisses

Reid Garwin x Reader

Word Count: 1,858

Summary: It’s reader’s birthday and Reid has some surprises up his sleeve. Dedicated to the lovely @saviorsong​. Happy Birthday! 

The café was a small, single room operation so sound from both the dining area and the kitchen traveled throughout. And everyone heard when your boyfriend came out of the bathroom, throwing the door open with such force that a bang rang out from where it hit the wall.

The poor barista almost dropped a drink they were making out of surprise.

“Babe, that was the biggest shit I’ve taken this month,” Reid practically shouted as he made his way back to the table.

You didn’t bother to acknowledge that particular comment and kept your attention on Tyler who had also tagged along with you guys. It was better to not entertain poop talk seeing as how you were in public.

“Babe! Did you hear what I said?”

“I think everyone did,” you replied pointedly. He dropped into his chair, hands clutching at his stomach.

You continued chatting with Tyler about a class you were taking and Reid still kept fidgeting and groaning. He was normally dramatic but he was really hamming it up.

You turned to him with a raised brow. That was all it took for him to increase his complaining.

“I think it was the food. It’s gotta be food poisoning, I feel so sick.”

“But we ate from the same plate.”

A glance at the table showed a shared plate that had long been eaten with not a drop of sauce left on the it after you both had all but cleaned the dish. If he actually had food poisoning, shouldn’t you be feeling it too? Your stomach felt perfectly fine, if not satisfied.

“Everyone reacts differently to these things, you know.”

Tyler nodded seriously, corroborating Reid’s claim. Those two were thicker than thieves, always ready to back each other up.

“No telling how bad this could get. I’m gonna head home but you should stay, Ty can hang out with you,” he said.

“Really?” Your tone was colored with incredulously. “Today of all days?”

He completely ignored that and bent down for a kiss. You were extremely tempted to turn away but ended up giving in. Reid may be an idiot, but he was your idiot. Keeping up with the sick-as-a-dog routine, he gingerly hobbled out of the café.

And since he was your idiot, you knew something was definitely up. You didn’t claim to be the smartest person around but Reid wasn’t exactly subtle.

Immediately, your attention turned towards Tyler. If one was plotting, then the other would know.

The brunette raised his hands as if to keep things peaceful. “Okay, okay. Don’t be upset.”

“It’s my birthday and my man just ran out under suspicious circumstances. I have every right to be annoyed.”

“Exactly! You’re the reason why he left!” He paused for an awkward second. “Wow. That came out totally wrong. What I mean is that he’s setting up something nice for you.”

“He is?” you asked suddenly touched.

Reid was a romantic sort. Maybe not always so smooth about it, but a romantic nonetheless. And he did do things for you often, even if a good number of things were in an attempt to apologize for something stupid he did, but he had never done a birthday surprise.

Well, not one where he had kept it a surprise for this long. Normally he couldn’t keep quiet about his plans so you were a bit impressed that you hadn’t noticed until his terrible acting just then.

Tyler nodded again, this time in excitement. “Yep. He needs a few hours to get it ready though…we can either stay here or walk around. Your birthday, your choice.”

His methods may be, well, unconventional, but your heart beat a little faster knowing he was planning something. Your mind wandered, thinking up various possibilities. Two hours couldn’t go by fast enough.

***

It ended up being close to six o’clock before you returned home.

You closed the door gently and toed your shoes off. The quietness seemed that much thicker with anticipation weighing heavily.

A trail of rose petals wound around the living room and trailed down the hallway, presumably to the bedroom, but you got distracted by a tantalizing aroma. 

You followed that into the kitchen instead and found a skillet filled with something delicious. Other bowls with other fantastic side dishes were arranged randomly around it on the countertops.  

And then you noticed the cake. Unlike the others, the cake was displayed on the table, a package of candles lying next to it. You walked closer to get a better view and couldn’t the grin hat spread across your face.

Clearly, he had made the cake himself. Not that that was off-putting to you in any way. It was really quite cute.

He had made a small two-layer cake which in of itself didn’t look too bad. The sides were not traditionally frosted so, the parts that were visible, you could see that the shape and the softness looked about right. Kind of. 

In lieu of normal frosting, he had attempted to coat them with a crumb frosting of some sort. Despite his best effort, the crumbs didn’t hadn’t spread evenly with some parts having barely any and others having too much.

It looked like he also had issues with the frosting on top. You guessed that he had tried to apply it while the cake was still warm because it was thinner than it should have been, almost glaze-like. Some had even started to leak over the sides before it was cool enough to harden up again.

Even with flaws, it was still the sweetest, frumpiest birthday cake you could ever remember someone making for you.

You stuck out a finger trying to taste the crumb coat when you felt a sharp smack to your ass.

“Oww!” Rubbing it, you saw Reid standing behind you with a towel in his hand. “Did you really just spank me with a towel?”

“It’s not time for cake yet,” he said. He was shirtless, tattoos on display, baggy cargo pants riding low on his hips. There was a hint of tiredness in his eyes but it was mostly irritation. “This part was for last. You were supposed to follow the roses first.”

Ah. He was irritated that you messed up the plan. But you were so excited to see what else he had in store that you didn’t answer back with a sharp quip of your own. “Then lead the way.”

With a sigh, he put his hands on your shoulders and walked you out of the kitchen. His grip was gentle though so you knew he wasn’t seriously frustrated with you.

The path of rose petals came back into view and you realized they were from a real flower and not plastic. A warm feeling spread through you and it only grew the closer the closer the path drew you to the bedroom. Reid stayed just behind you the whole way, your gentle guide.

“The flowers are beautiful, Reid.”

“I know. And a normal person would’ve followed them from the start.”

“Sorry,” you giggled. “The food all looked really good though. Three Michelin stars across the board.”

“Yeah, yeah. Just open the door, would ya?”

You pushed the door with your fingers, thoughts racing. What were you going to find? That fancy stationary set you’d been eyeing online? A fluffy, tail-wagging puppy? A chest of kinky toys?

With Reid it could any one of the three. Maybe even all three.

Tons of balloons were inflated and rolling around the floor, so much so that you had to kick a few out of the way to be able to step in. Even a birthday banner hung over the bed when he had thumbtacked it into the wall.

But the gift was unmistakable.

The large woven basket was sitting on the dresser, fibers dyed your favorite color was hard to miss.

Then came the stuff that was practically overflowing from said basket. You rummaged through it like a old woman at a yard sale, pulling out something new with every handful.

Jewelry. A soft blanket. Cans of your favorite type of drink. Hand painted ceramics. Some hard cover additions you’d been meaning to add to your personal library. New head phones. Dozens of origami creatures. A tee from your favorite team. Coffee mugs and several blends of beans. Hand-held tools  to replace your old ones with. And not only a stationary set but a wax letter stamp seal as well.

And everything from the basket to the last gift followed the same theme: it was all in your favorite color.

You jumped into his arms and he caught you. “I’m—this is…this is…”

“What?” he said, his breath tickling your ear and fingers gripping your thighs tightly. “Impressive? Inspiring? The best goddamn gift you’ve ever seen?”

“Touching,” you whispered.

You couldn’t see it, but you could sense the soft expression on his face.

“How did you even manage to find some of this stuff in this color?”

“It wasn’t easy, let me tell you…”

He went on explaining how he started with the just the stationary (you were right and he had noticed you looking at it) in your favorite color.

Then he added the headphones, also in your favorite color.

Then he’d painted the ceramic pieces himself.  

Eventually thinking up even more potential presents to get, he’d come up with the idea to do everything in that color. The tools were the hardest but he was very proud that he’d been able to pull it off with the help of a custom order from a local business.

“This is super touching. Thanks for putting in this much thought and effort,” you said finally lifting your head up to give him a kiss.

It was meant to be a quick peck but Reid’s lips followed yours when you tried to pull back, turning it into something more passionate. He even managed to lick his way into your mouth before you finally parted, panting for air.

“Mmm,” he breathed, lips back on yours. “You’re eager to get to the next event.”

You made a confused sound in your throat which he swallowed. One of his hands traveled up your leg and over your hip to come to a rest on your lower back. He turned you and that’s when you noticed the bed.

The comforter was already pulled slightly down and more rose petals were scattered all around. He laid you down on the mattress and prowled up your body. The petals were even more fragrant now that you were closer to them.

“What’s the next event?” you asked coyly although it wasn’t hard to guess.

“One kiss for every year you’ve been alive,” he said with a cocked smile. “It was either that many kisses or that many orgasms—I figured all those orgasms might be too much for you though.”

You bit his bottom lip and snuck your fingers under the waistband of his cargo pants suggestively. “How about both?”

He watched in rapture as you removed your shirt, eyes glued to your chest.  

“Anything for you, babe. Happy Birthday.”

_______________

Yay! Thanks for reading. I hope this was alright. 

In my mind, Reid is the type of romantic to make you things, hence the food, origami, and ceramics. But sensual time will also be included just because. 

Honestly, he probably heard what Caleb did for his s/o and, in typical competitive fashion, decided he could do better. He roped in Tyler to keep reader distracted and spent a few hours cooking, decorating, and assembling the massive personalized gift basket. 

They likely did reach fulfill the birthday kiss count but how many orgasms they managed to achieve is up to your imagination. 

[queenoftheworldisdead]

The Cult

Summary: A few years after the return of the stones Steve leaves S.H.I.E.L.D. and the Avengers for good. He starts a religious movement. Newly wed James and his wife (reader) visit his old friend at his compound.

Warning: oral sex and sex Bucky x Reader, Dark Steve x Reader Cult AU

This one got away from me its super long. Sorry

The small prosthetics shop you owned normally catered to low income families and people that had little to no insurance. So it was quite the surprise seeing the brunette Avenger waltzing through your doors.

"Don't you army guys get the Stark industry discount?" You teased the sullen soldier as he ignored you completely.

So that's why they call him the winter soldier.

"Or are you spying on me for the competition?" You say as you watch him examine the different prosthetics throughout the store. When he finally stopped in front of a display case that contained a very popular prosthetic. You had to stop yourself from giggling at the irony of it all.

"That one is called 'The Hero'" you could practically feel his eyes roll as you rounded the counter to open up the display case. " It's my most popular and affordable multi-grip bionic arm for folks that have below elbow and upper-limb differences. Would you like to try it on?"

"Yea sure"

"Oh Ok..." you hand him the arm and scurry over to the door to lockup and put on your 'Be right back sign' with the estimated time of your return.

Walking to the back to your workshop you wave him over to follow you. Stopping at your workshop table you pat the top and motion for him to come closer.

"Aren't you friends with Tony or something? I mean I love my stuff, but compared to his my stuff is trash"

He only scoffed in response. Taking off his jacket as he enter the room that's when you saw it. His left shirt sleeve knotted at the top.

As he placed the garment on your table you sensed his apprehension when it came time to remove the shirt.

"Honey you don't have anything I haven't seen or haven't not seen before" you joke trying to lighten the mood.

By the look on his face you could tell he didn't find you the least bit amusing. With his right arm he grabbed the shirt at the hem and pulled it up and over. The sculpt of his body was amazing. Suddenly it felt as if the heat in your little back room shot through the roof.

"Take a picture it will last longer" he joked with a half smile and with that the mood shifted in the room. You tried to think of a retort, but your brain was fried. Instead you opted to examine his left side tracing your finger around lazily before going to grab your notepad.

"Well you will need something customized for sure. Come back in a week and I should have something ready for you."

As he redressed while you stole glances at his exposed muscles. When he looked back at you, you pretended to write down more notes on your note pad.

"They don't let you take that kind of stuff with you when you retire" Bucky could tell it was a question you had wanted to ask the moment he walked in. He was referring to his now missing infamous vibranium arm.

It had been over a year since the Winter Soldier first entered your shop. Your prosthetics were durable, but were no match for his super strength. It was almost a bi-weekly occurrence that he would enter your shop in need of repairs or a new prosthetic.

"OOOOOH! Looking sharp." You call out to Bucky as he enters your shop for the third time this month. His hair was freshly cut and his face clean shaven. Showing off a jawline that could definitely cut glass. "Got a hot date tonight?"

"That depends on if you say yes" He frankly as he pulled a bushel of flowers from behind his back.

You were dumbfounded as he smiled down at you with those gorgeous blue eyes. The only thing you could do to reply was nod your head like an idiot.

Waking up with your husbands head between your legs was the best way to start your three year anniversary. Looking down at the tuft of brown hair tickling your thighs you were tempted to pull on them, but decided against it.

Bucky's hot breath on your folds made you involuntarily squirm alerting him that you were now awake. You could feel the grin on his mouth feathering over your clit. The anticipation of his touch had you grasping the bed sheets beneath you.

"Good morning Bucky" you say with a squeeze of your thigh.

He didn't answer only flattening his tongue to finally make contact. Bucky pressed it down your center, separating your folds and the sensation had your head falling back onto the pillow. You had to fight the urge to flip him over and ride his face.

His tongue going over every inch of your sex. You reach down and thread your fingers through his hair almost tempted to take the strands and pull him closer.

When you began to grip too tightly though he bit your inner thigh. Hissing you released it and Bucky rewarded you by kissing the area. Grinning to himself as he trailed kisses back down to your soaking pussy.

Before you knew it he took your left leg and swung it over his shoulder. Locking you in with his arm around your thigh, Bucky swiftly brought your mound flush to his face.

You gasp on impact feeling the devilish smile on him. Taking your clit in his teeth gently holding it there as his tongue flickered over it. Your back arched up from the bed as he sucked it completely into his mouth.

Releasing your leg his arm moved down your inner thigh. His thick finger spreading your lips apart. You sucked in a breath when one finger sank into you.

"Look at me baby" the vibrations of his voice on your clit had you buzzing.

His eyes waiting for you to rest on him. You couldn't do it the sight of him like that would make you cum immediately.

"Look at me" his voice became more demanding. Whimpering a soft no in defiance.

When his second digit joined in the fray you cursed out. "Fuck! James" you cry as you look down at him.

Bucky was making you uncontrollably wet. Flattening his tongue he licked and nipped on your folds. Cleaning your thoroughly whilst his finger pumped deeper and faster into you. You lost control of your thighs and squeeze his head, grinding your pussy on his face while you clutch the sheets.

"James...I-I can't take it" you could feel the pressure build in you. Your breathing became heavy as you rode out your orgasm on his face.

"Shit James" you moan as your head falls back on to the pillow.

"Happy anniversary" he said pulling back to sit on his haunches.

"Happy anniversary to you too" you pant out. You wanted to sit up on your elbows but you just felt too weak. The bed dipped as Bucky climbed out of it. "Where are you going?"

"I had planned on making you breakfast" he walked over to place a kiss on your head.

"Oh. I thought women from your time did the cooking while the men brought home the bacon" you tease him. Rolling over on your side you watch him grab a pair of grey sweat pants from the dresser.

"Seeing as though you work and I'm retired some might say the rolls have reversed."

You weren't going to argue with getting breakfast made after a great orgasm. If this man wanted to pamper you, you wouldn't fight it.

"I like my bacon crispy" you call out as he walked out of the bedroom. Your legs were still a bit weak, but you managed to pull yourself out of bed. Stretching as you walk to the bathroom.

After you brushed and showered you got dress to go to the mailbox. You were expecting a package that you wanted to surprise James with, but with all the pandemic madness it was arriving later than excepted. Through the mail slot you picked up the papers and huffed disappointingly at the lack of parcel. Shuffling through the pile of mail you head into the kitchen to check on James.

"Smells good." The aroma was making you hungrier.

"Sounds like you were doubting me" he said with his bare back to you.

"Never of course not" you lied. He had burnt more than one meal throughout your relationship so you always tried to monitor him on the sly. "You got a letter, no stamp which is super weird" trying to change the subject you slap it on the counter behind him. "Ooooh is it some secret spy stuff"

You expected him to huff and brush you off, but he didn't. He looked as if he was frozen in place.

"James?" You became concerned and started walking towards him.

He turned to the letter, dropping the spatula to grab the letter. Opening it he started to read, his face contouring throughout the process.

You moved passed him to start on the coffee until you smelled it. The bacon was starting to quickly burn. James was so lost in thought that he didn't smell the smoke coming off the now very over cooked bacon.

Spinning around you rush to turn off the stove. The blackening bacon emitted more smoke as you ran it under the sink. The smoke detector shrieked out and you dropped the pan to open the kitchen window to air out the room. As you started to cough Bucky was unmoved.

"Bucky what the hell!" you scold him.

Clutching the letter in his hand you couldn't tell if it were the smoke or the letter but his eyes were red and watery.

"It's Steve" you looked at him confused until it hit you. Steve was a buddy from his past. Another man lost out of time.

*Flash back

When they realized Steve wasn't coming back after returning the infinity stones a decision was made. They didn't want to cause more damage to the time line than what they had already done and Bucky knew exactly where to look.

Steve was dragged back to the proper time line by his Avenger buddies. He did not take his friends intervening into his second chance with the love of his life too well. The chance to not be the man out of time.

The frustration and the feeling of betrayal ate away at him. Bucky had taken the brunt of his ire. He began seeing himself as a soldier stuck in a constant war and of all the people that could understood Bucky should have. Steve's mental state was breaking down and a festering hatred for S.H.E.I.L.D. and the Avengers grew. The super soldier was turning into something his friends could not recognize.

Then one day Captain America vanished. S.H.E.I.L.D. and The Avengers scoured the four corners of the earth looking for him. Despite their combined resources  

James took Steve's disappearance the hardest. He blamed himself for the deterioration of Steve's mental state. Steve saved him, but it seemed he could not return the favor.

The guilt and pain of losing and betraying Steve took its toll on him as well. S.H.E.I.L.D. did not want to risk harming Bucky's mental state. With his history with brainwashing they thought it wise to relieve him of his duties. So within a year after Steve's disappearance Bucky was forced into a mandatory retirement.

*Present

In the letter Steve told Bucky he had started a settlement and invited him to visit. He left instructions on how to contact and find it. When he asked you to come with him you said yes without hesitation. He didn't think to question how a letter with no postage found its way to the house. It nagged you a bit, but you brushed it off as Avenger/spy stuff. It also nagged you that Bucky had searched for Steve a long time just for him to randomly make himself known on your anniversary.

You hated flying, but you did it for Bucky. The journey out of the country took several hours to complete. Once you two landed you were dismayed to find you had to immediately board a helicopter. When the propellers started up you fastened your seat belt and held on to Bucky's arm for dear life. Your never were completely shot and you were exhausted. As the small plane travel over the tree tops you couldn't bring yourself to look.

This was your first time out of the states and you cursed Bucky for taking you to god knows where instead of Hawaii.

As the chopper started its descent your were able to calm down. When you felt it hit the earth you looked out the window. This wasn't an airport. This was a makeshift tarmac in the middle of the tallest trees you had ever seen.

Scanning around you spot a Jeep. "James do you know those guys" pointing to the man standing outside their vehicle.

"No, but I'm sure he must be a transport to the town"

"Who builds a "town" way out here?"

When the propellers slow to a stop James unbuckled and you followed suit. Grabbing some luggage he exits the chopper.

"Your taking me to Hawaii when this is all over, you know what scratch that Paris" you huffed out as you struggled with your bags.

A tall man pushes off the jeep and walks over. Looking up at James, his face ferociously serious.

"Mr. Barnes I presume" he extended his hand to shake, but Bucky only looked at it.

"Well I'm sure your not Captain America so who are you" you tried to break the tension.

The tall man eyed you as if you had offended him for speaking out of turn.

"Right this way we will take you to him"

Rude

He turns from you two to walk to the jeep. "Are you sure about this James" you ask softly so that the man can't hear. Bucky looks down at your nervous face and softens his gaze, placing a hand on your lower back.

"It's alright I got you" he reassures you then kisses the top of your head.

Despite his effort that did little to comfort you. When you reached the Jeep Bucky tossed the bags in the trunk then you piled into the back seat first followed by your husband.

The vehicle started up and headed towards a dirt road. Each side of it aligned with trees. The hum of the ride lulled you to sleep and you passed out on his shoulder.

The halting of the jeep woke you. From the back seat you could see a massive wooden gate.

The compound was amazing, encased by a tall log fence surrounding the premises. As you passed through it the site wasn't what you expected. Once inside you could see plowed fields on one side and cattle, sheep and the odd chicken enclosed in its own gate on the other.

It stretched out for a while before you saw cute little wooden houses, some with flowers or little gardens of their own and laundry lines some with or without clothes hanging to dry. You had assumed you would see tents or some kinda shabby twig shack.

Further down the road you saw a much larger structure. As you approached the jeep decreased in speed. There were groups of children playing care free. Some running along the vehicle to beat it to its destination before giving up and turning back.

When the jeep slowed you saw him. There he was, Captain America, standing in front of a massive wooden church. It was the biggest structure out of all the houses you passed along the way.

You could feel Bucky's muscle tense in your arms. Stroking his arm you try and sooth him.

After parking the car the driver walked around to your door and opened it. Helping you out much to your surprise. Bucky filed out after you. Moving past you to walk straight up to Steve.

Captain America out stretched his arms and engulfed Bucky in a bear hug. It took a moment before Bucky lifted his own arms to hug him back.

You watched from the sideline, both men fighting back tears. The reunion had long sense been over due.

"Punk who is this?" Steve broke the hug and looked at you.

Stepping back to put your hand over your shoulder bringing you into a side hug. "This is my wife Y/N"

Steve eyed you and smiled. You felt so small all of a sudden.

"Welcome Y/N" his hand out stretched to receive yours. His smile blindingly bright.

"I've heard so much about you. I mean not just because your Captain America." If you would've blinked you would have missed  it. There was a slight twitch in his eye. You reach to shake his hand and he clasps his hands over your own.

His grip was firm but not too much. Slipping your hand out it felt as if his hands resisted the break for just a moment. Almost as if his fingers tips linger to tickle atop your skin.

"No one calls me that any more. Here... Here I'm just Steve."

"Well, Steve this place is very impressive" you smile at him. "I must say I expected little grass huts not actual houses." You didn't miss the smirk on Steve's face.

"Every building was built by hand. We teach all the men how to do carpentry" he boasted. "And we run everything on solar energy."

"But no running water I'm afraid, but we are working on  it"

"Wait, just the men?" You corked a brow.

"Ha... the women are welcome to learn too, but they tended to gravitate else where"

You had an assumption of what he might have meant, but you didn't want to press him on it. James was reuniting with his dear friend after such a long time. You didn't want to ruffle any feathers.

"After a long trip like that I'm sure you two must be hungry"

He was right. You hadn't eaten since you left the US. The plane ride had your stomach in knots so you couldn't eat there either.

Leading the way Steve rounded the opposite side of the church with Bucky right on his side. Both chatting about past missions or the war you weren't quite sure. Bucky looked so happy, the smile on his face made your heart ache. You were happy for him, but Steve would glance back at you as he spoke to Bucky. There was a smile on his face all the while but his eyes looked as if they hid something.

The aroma of the food hit your nose taking your attention away from him. As you looked about for the location of the food your stomach to growl.

You weren't sure if it was a special occasion or if this was a nightly occurrence. In the distance you saw women setting the tables with food and plates. Each table aligned next to each other. When the bell rang you were startled. It must've signaled that dinner was ready because people where gravitating to the tables taking a seat.

Steve of course sat at the head of one of the largest tables. Bucky sat next to him while you sat across from your husband. As people filled in the people sat and talked amongst themselves. The food look great, but you wondered if it would be bland. As you looked around the room you could feel eyes on you when you turned to look at Bucky he wasn't looking at you, but when you looked at Steve you saw him as he just looked away.

When Steve rose from his chair the room grew quite. All eyes looked at him.

"Let us say grace" his voice boomed. The woman next to you nudged your arm, her hand turned up right ready to receive yours. Awkwardly you take her hand.

"Steve's too" she whispered into your ear before she lowered her head. You turned your head and found Steve's hand waiting expectedly. His head down with one eyes open looking towards you to take his hand. Timidly you take his too the then he closes his eyes. You look around the room and even Bucky was bowing his head, so as to not be rude you did the same.

This was very awkward for you. As your hand rested in Steve’s you felt his thumb trace slowly around your palm. It took everything in you not to snatch your hand away. You didn't want to cause a scene in this peaceful moment, but you sure as hell would tell your husband what just happened.

When he finished the prayer you pulled your hand away swiftly. Rubbing against the fabric of your jeans as to scrub him off. Bucky was once again in deep conversation with Steve and everyone else resumed talking. Leaving you to feel lonely and out of place.

A little girl not older than 10 you thought came with a pitcher to refill your glass. The poor thing poured too much spilling on to your lap.

"Shit!"  You looked around and every one had paused. The little girl was almost in tears. "Oh no it's okay sweetie" you took a napkin and blotted your wet blouse.

She looked passed you for only a second before she cried and ran off.

"Shit fuck" you sighed out.

"You shouldn't be cursing like that" the woman that sat next to you admonished. For a moment you forgot where you were. Of course a place like this would look down at that kinda language."

"Sorry my bad" Looking at Bucky he only smiled knowing how you were, but you caught Steve’s expression before he changed it. Unpleased.

Oh great

Your clothes weren't getting drier and your body was running on E.

"Um Steve" you reluctantly turned to talk to him as you dabbed yourself. "Where are we going to be staying I think I would like to change out of this and call it a day." Yawning as you spoke to him. The effects of the long day was taking its toll.

"You will be guest at my home." Steve waved over to one of the women at the table. You go up and walk over to Bucky. Wrapping your arms around his neck you lean down to give him a kiss. "Have fun" he kisses you again before you depart.

The woman Steve called older was a bit elderly. Smiling at you she wordlessly guided you to Steve's house. Walking through the grassy knoll you could see a house just past the church. It was larger than the houses you saw along the road. Facing opposite the church she walked up the stairs through the back door. The door lead to the kitchen. You continue following her until she stops in front of the guest rooms door. Your bags already waiting for you.

"Thank you Mrs." you say to her as she smiles back at you before gingerly walking off and out of the house.

Closing the door you strip down. You wanted to take a bath, but  you remembered there was no running water. The queen bed called out to you. Flopping on it you drift off to sleep.

You awoke to a faint sound. Through your tired state you listened intently. Someone was crying. Your heart fell when you realized it was Bucky.

"James?" you groggily call out. Getting off the bed you walk over to him.

"Are you alright?"

Clearing his throat he assured you he was fine. Hugging tightly you rub his back and you could feel his tears fall on your shoulder.

You couldn't imagine how he must've felt to loose a friend and find them again in the ways they have. The emotional toll it must be taking on them both.

This was the worst time to talk about this, but you were never much for holding your tongue. Stepping back from the hug you took a deep breath and blurted it out.

"James I don't think I like Steve"

Bucky looked at you quizzically, you felt like shit.

"What do you mean" he looked a little upset but still listened.

"I feel like he lingers. His touches, his eyes on me. He just makes me.." You say as you sat down heavily on the mattress.

He swooped down on the bed to get close to you. Placing his hands on your shoulders rubbing you.

"Steve and I are from a different time. The Punk has always been awkward around beautiful women"

Dipping down his head to be level with yours he began kissing you. The salty taste of his tears fell on your tongue as he   passionately kissed you.

Pulling back you thought that maybe he was right. Maybe all of this was making you paranoid or weird. Steve was from a different time and this place felt like it was from a different world.

"Your right its just a little different here. I'm sorry" you try and back track.

Pushing you backwards you hit the rough mattress. Bucky stripped himself of his clothes. His hands reached for your knees spreading them apart so that he could position himself between your thighs.

Wrapping your legs around his waist you press him to your sex, grinding on him with a desperate need. He dived to your lips kissing you again rougher than before. This time with a hunger that you both shared.

"Fuck Bucky... Fuck me" you pant in-between breaths. His cock growing harder as it slicks with your juices. Lining himself up he pushed into your need and you claw into his back as his cock stretches you.

"Y/N" he moaned into your mouth as he began pumping harder and harder. His pelvis slamming into you and despite the pain of the fullness you could feel a damn of pleasure waiting to break.

"Bucky baby" you moaned as he kissed down your chin to your neck.

The modest home walls were thin, Steve stood out side his guest room. Stroking himself to the music of your love making unbeknownst to you. Sweat beaded off his forehead as he imagined you. Placing a palm on the door-frame he grunts as he feels himself reaching his peak. As Bucky shouts your name Steve whispers it in the empty hall.

*Ding Dong

The sound of the church bells could not be ignored. Your eyes opened with annoyance at the noise. The light of dawn had not even begun to crack the sky.

Patting the mattress you discovered your husband gone. He had been know not to sleep well some nights and would walk around your house, but you felt uneasy and worried this time. Something felt off.

*Ding Dong

Throwing your feet off the bed you stand to get up. In the darkened room you feel around for the dresser to find a long shirt and your cell, but it was missing. Feeling along the wall you search for the light switch, but when you find and flick it nothing happens. From what you could see, he wasn't anywhere in the room. You bit your bottom lip and pushed yourself forward toward the door.

Opening the door you peer out the area was darkened too.

"James" you whisper into the hall. Leaving the room you begin to walk down the tiny hall of the unfamiliar house.

*Ding Dong

Feeling around the wall you search for your husband. At the end of the hall you could make out the large living room window. Despite its size the light that came from it did little to illuminate the room.

"Shit!" You cursed as you bumped into some corner table. The panic building in you helped dull the pain.

"James" you call out a bit louder as your eyes scanned the room.

*He wasn't here.

Off to the right you could see the entry to the kitchen. You gingerly walk into it hoping to find him, but your stomach tightened when you saw the back door wide open.

*Ding Dong

The bells of the church was louder here. Building up the nerve you slowly walk to it.

Before the bell could chime again you felt something impale you hard from behind. The pain from it was so immense your vision went from blurred dizziness to black in an instant.

Your back ached in discomfort as your eyes fluttered open. Laying on the floor you turn, but your shoulder hit a ceiling. When the smell of cedar hit your nose the panic really set in. There was very little light that broke through the seams of the  wall, but you couldn't see through it. It felt like you were running out of air as your heart picked up speed.

Your finger tips felt around and you filled with dread. You were surrounded by four walls.

"Bucky!" You screamed. You bang your hands on the wooden ceiling. "James! Help me please!"

Your were hysterical you needed out. If this was a nightmare you needed to awake. You shouted and screamed for your husband, but he didn't answer.

"Buckyyyyyy!" You screamed.

You beat the ceiling even as you felt blood trickle down on your face from your bloodied fist. The air felt thinner and thinner as you whaled.

"Bucky" your voice fainter now as you felt yourself slipping away. You couldn't catch a breath, your hands too heavy to hold up. Falling limp on your chest as you try and call for him again, but the darkness consumed you once more.

tag list: @shadowcatsworld @sllooney @tinystudentfirepurse

[male-reader-requests]

Dog Days Pt.1

Pairings: Mirio Togata x Male!Reader 

Word Count: 2,344

Warnings: This is technically part two to Puppy Love but it can be read as a stand-alone. This is also going to be split into 2 parts just because this one is already stupidly long, and I promise the next installment of this will be better and have more to do with the request!

-

When people first meet Mirio they tend to akin him to the sun. He's very bright and nice and lives to make people happy, and that's who he is. He doesn't hide behind a mask of lies to please others, that's just who he is.

When people meet (M/N) on the other hand they always think he's lying. No matter how nice and polite he is to everyone around him they always think he's some sort of delinquent, that he's a horrible person. "There's no way someone that tall could be good, no way someone with a quirk like that is a decent person."

Sometimes (M/N) wishes they were right.

(E/C) eyes shown with disdain as they looked on at the wreckage before them, blinking lazily as red shown in the dark. Mirio had somehow convinced him, despite (M/N) really not wanting to, to come see class 1-A and help out with training. It had seemed like a good idea, sort of, but now (M/N) just wanted to go to sleep.

This had all started because of that broccoli haired boy, what was his name? Midio? Medusa? Mizuza? Whatever his name was he'd found (M/N) and Mirio sometime this morning.

The two of them had been outside, Mirio messing with the flowers and grass while (M/N) worked on a paper for his History class. It was an odd, but cute sight if you ever saw it in person. Mirio had his head pillowed on one of (M/N)'s thighs, the taller male making use of his many pairs of hands. Two hands were typing away at the laptop in his lap, two of them were propping him up against the ground, and the other two were playing with golden hair. 

Truthfully Mirio would have loved to have (M/N)'s undivided attention, but him passing his classes was also important so he chose to stamp down on that feeling. It was a nice and sunny day, warm and on the weekend. The two of them didn't have any plans but they did want to spend the time together, and Mirio had used that as a weapon. 

Soon after (M/N) had finished his essay the green boy had shown up, talking to Mirio about some kind of training that (M/N) was too tired to remember but somehow the two of them had gotten dragged to a cityscape training field.

Aizawa was there, looking as tired as (M/N) felt, along with 19 students. Scratch that, there was 20, one of them was just ridiculously short. 

All of them were dressed out of uniform, most likely in their hero costumes, and were staring at Mirio and (M/N) as if they were forgien objects. 

(M/N) sighed, (E/C) eyes closed as his hands stuffed themselves in the multitude of pockets in his clothing. He hated dealing with children, 99% of them were afraid of spiders, but he hated dealing with teenagers more due to them not having come to terms with their fear of spiders. He wasn't a mean guy, but when someone is being rude to you over something you can't control it can make you pretty pissy.

And now here (M/N) was, looking at the wreckage brought on by an anger issue having pomeranian. He was hiding, well not really hiding but going stealthily behind the profanity-wielding child, in the shadows in a hope that they'd just call the match off.

(M/N) wasn't really much of a fighter. He could fight well, hell he could kill a man if he so pleased, but that wasn't really his thing. Due to the arachnid-ness of his being, he was much stronger than other people. Like actual spiders, he was somewhere between 100 and 150 times stronger in proportion to his weight, so (M/N) decided to use that strength to do wreckage clearing and rescue missions.

But now this blond Bitch was getting on every single nerve in his body and making him think of changing over to a confrontation hero. 

"Come out you eight-legged freak!" the blonde yelled, hands sparking as he shouted to the sky. 

(M/N) sighed as he sat on the ground, head propped up by one set of elbows as the others slowly gathered silk from his back. The kid was good, he could admit that, but he needed lots of polish. A literal shit load of polish, and then he would be a great hero.

With another sigh (M/N) looked up at the sky in wonder, wondering why he had to have been the one here, before whistling sharply. It got the kid's attention quickly, spinning around ready to attack, only for his hands to get attached to his body by a mass of silk slowly turning him into a cocoon. 

He thrashed about, screeching as he slowly tilted back before falling with a less than dignified yelp. Groaning as he forced himself up off the ground (M/N) moved over to the kid, watching as he yelled out some pretty creative insults. (M/N) then promptly sat on his chest, ripping the ribbon off of the kids neck before holding it up in the air. 

A buzzer went off before some red-haired kid made his way into the wreckage. Not wanting to see the kid mauled (M/N) got up, leaving the kid to pick his friend up. On the way out he met Mirio, giving the blond the ribbon that was meant for the two of them. 

"You were great out there!" the blond was practically vibrating. He'd always enjoyed watching (M/N) use his quirk, watching him fight. "Yeah?" (M/N)'s voice was low and tired, but there was a slight smile on his face as he gently ruffled the blonde's hair.

He left after that, Mirio entering the training area to watch as Bakugo was drug off by Kirishima.

-

Izuku didn't really know what he'd been expecting, but this wasn't exactly it.

Earlier that day he'd found Mirio and uh... his boyfriend? together. They'd been talking softly about something but had stopped when Izuku had approached them. He then word dumped on them about how his class was doing some kind of special training and that it would be much appreciated if they could come and help.

Mirio had jumped right on, but the other boy had been a bit hesitant. Izuku could tell why now.

Mirio and (M/N) had thrown everyone's names into a bag and were drawn at random, fighting whoever until they either got through the whole class or were too tired to continue. The fights had all been stupid easy so far, Mirio taking everyone out quickly, or making them surrender. 

(M/N)'s fights had been a bit messier. It was obvious he was uncomfortable fighting, his strength going on display when he'd hit through a wall on a missed punch. Everyone was wary of him, they knew nothing about how he fought and what kind of strengths he had other than the eyes and the arms. 

The first person against (M/N) had ended up being Jiro. It had been a quick match, (M/N) capturing the girl in silk, but now after she seemed slightly dazed as she sat on the floor in the back of the room. 

As Izuku looked around the room he realized that everyone that (M/N) had fought was actually more or less dazed, looking extremely sleepy. Confused, and a bit concerned Izuku made his way over to Jiro who had been hit first, but was cut off as Aizawa declared (M/N) the winner of his fight between him and Bakugo.

Mirio went to go greet the other male before going to his fight, (M/N) coming in looking tired.

There were soot marks all over his skin thanks to dodging Bakugo's attacks, and Izuku watched as he rubbed at his eyes, smearing it like cheap eyeliner. He watched as (M/N) yawned and made his way over to a corner before sitting, letting his head fall back and close his (E/C) eyes. The red ones stayed open.

It was a bit unnerving to look at that, to watch as pure red eyes moved around in their sockets to look around. It was hard to figure out where they were looking exactly since they were one color without a pupil, but Izuku got the general idea that he was looking around at everything. 

Midoriya had heard things about (M/N) from other students and in passing, most of it coming from Mirio gushing about him at any given point, but he knew he was strong. 

A lot of people, mostly the second years, seemed weirded out that (M/N) had already decided to become a rescue hero. It wasn't very common that people decided what kind of hero they would become in their 3rd year, most waited until they had a bit of experience to see what they were best at, and even then most people wanted to become confrontational heroes, to be the person who took down the bad guy and saved everyone. (M/N) seemed content to stick to the shadows.

Maybe it had to do with his arachnid quirk, not wanting to be seen or to be put in any danger? Maybe it was just a personal preference though?

Midoriya hadn't realized it, as per usual, but he was mumbling to himself. Lost in his own little world he didn't notice that 6 red eyes had shifted to look at him, (S/T) ears tuned into the mess of words pouring from his mouth.

For (M/N) he was used to people talking about him behind his back, he was odd even in a world of superheroes. He had 6 arms and 8 eyes, he was far from normal so people talked about him. Most of it wasn't very good, people talking about how creepy he was and how he wouldn't be a good hero because he wasn't good with people, but the drivel coming from the bush-boy was statistics and questions about his quirk. 

All of it curiosity without any of the disgust and distrust.

Curious, (M/N) focused all 6 red eyes on the boy, his figure slowly coming into focus.

Like an actual spider (M/N)'s eyes were put into groups for seeing different things. 3 of them were for noticing motion in a blurry wide-angle vision, 3 of them were specifically for judging the distance between things, and the 2 that weren't red were the only ones that actually focused on things and saw in color. These ones were for locking onto things when he needed to. 

Right now the green-haired boy was a blurry figure that actually just looked like a tall bush. He was roughly 8 feet away, mumbling to himself.

Confused, and slightly concerned as to why the boy had taken such an interest in him, (M/N) let his head drop onto his shoulder, cracking his eyes open to squint at the male. He didn't seem to be noticing his surroundings, but the other students were ignoring his words so this must have been a normal thing. 

Sighing, (M/N) sat up so that he was leaning forward, scooting himself around so he was actually facing the kid. 

He was a little under average height, messy hair and wide eyes, freckles. He looked like the sort of kid you'd want as a younger brother, cute in a sort of boyish way, but now he looked like a deer in headlight. 

Midoriya, who had been lost in his own world, hadn't noticed that (M/N) had moved, but now the tall male was a bit closer. He was sitting cross-legged, arms propping him up on the floor and on his elbows, but all 8 of those eyes seemed to be trained on him as his head tilted slightly to the side.

It... was horrifying in all honesty. (M/N) was tall, he was a big guy in general, but as he peered at Midoriya it was terrifying. Like being under the eyes of a predator.

"What's your deal?" (M/N) said softly, the words slurring slightly with exhaustion. 

Midoriya knew he was being spoken to, knew that (M/N) was talking to him, but at the moment he was a mere statue in a garden. He was stuck. 

The area where (M/N)'s eyebrows should have been furrowed, confusion crossing his features. The kid had been mumbling to himself just fine a moment ago but now he was completely still, eyes impossibly large.

Concerned, (M/N) drug himself to his knees, leaning forward to lightly tug at the kid's uniform. It was like setting off a firework, fine for a second or two before he exploded. 

He immediately tried to jump back, only to stumble and fall like the clutz he was.

(M/N) blinked owlishly at the kid, who was also blinking in confusion. 

The kid wasn't... actually scared of him, right? He was a teenager, he could get over his fear and realize that (M/N) wasn't going to hurt him... right?!

The kid looked scared though, and it felt like a punch to the gut.

Sighing lightly (M/N) waved a hand at the green-haired male, moving to stand up. 

"Sorry for startling you," he mumbled, pulling his hood over his head before stuffing his hands in various pockets.

Times like now (M/N) wished he had been born without so many limbs, even if it was just so that he could have sleeves to hide himself with.

[muyurei]

Cultural Relics Are Not To Be Messed With – Chapter 3

Chapter 3: How can this person be so childish!

“What happened?” The little man muttered.

“Something doesn’t feel quite right...” Before Qi Chen could even finish speaking, he was already being dragged by the little man to take a look at the commotion.

They stood amongst the crowd and tried to look in. A private car had been parked on the side of the road, and the owner seemed to have gotten off. He stood in front of the car, and it was evident that he felt rather exasperated, helplessly yelling at the middle-aged woman: “Do you just cross roads without looking at the traffic lights? Are the pedestrian lanes here painted for fun?! You really just went ahead and walked straight to the middle of the road, it was a good thing I reacted quickly without getting a heart attack, ah, otherwise you’d be hit in the head now! Is your luck bad or is my luck bad today? Can you really stand on your legs with no problem? Just a little wound? Good, good, I won’t be detained for this...”

“No... I didn’t mean to... I–... I don’t know how I got to the middle of the road.” The woman was obviously in shock as well, both of her hands clutching the strap of her shoulder bag, and her explanation almost sounded incoherent from how much she was stuttering.

The fabric of her tweed coat had been scraped, the lapels on the lower part of her knitwear around her legs were stained, and her socks that reached up to her knees were torn as well, but she was frozen, as though a wooden statue, not caring one bit about her appearance, continuously repeating those words over and over again.

A young woman helped support her, slowly leading her to the side of the road, and said: “Dajie, do you have a fellow family member’s phone number? Would you like to contact them so they can come and pick you up?”

(t/n: dajie = elder sister)

“My– my family? Yes, my family! I came here to eat, and I just planned to go down to this area to buy something, I had no intentions of crossing the road... I, I just felt a little nauseous, and then someone called by name, and then... then, it seemed like someone was pulling me along, and when I realized where I was, I– I’ve already been... I almost got hit, by then,” The woman was still frantically explaining.

Her face was pale and full of fear. After the young woman reminded her of her family, she hurriedly looked down and rummaged through her bag anxiously. Her hands were still shaking when she pulled out her phone, and because her hold wasn’t firm, the phone fell to the ground. Clack!

“Hey– you...” The owner of the car heard her explanation, and he looked at her with an odd expression, thinking that the woman was probably... not in her right mind. He picked up the phone and gave it to her, shaking his head. “I still have an urgent business to attend to. Are you sure your legs are okay? Then, I’ll go now. Don’t just stand here on the road, please call your family to come pick you up.” After saying that, he returned to his seat and drove away in his car.

As soon as the owner of the car left, a man, who they soon discovered was the woman’s husband, suddenly sprang through the scene in a hurry. He crossed the road, passed through the crowd, and went straight to the place where the woman was standing. He held her close as he took her bag, and he nodded to the young woman who had been assisting her. “We’re so sorry for the trouble... please, let me take care of this.”

“Eh?” The young woman looked a little surprised. “But we haven’t contacted anyone yet...”

“We were just eating in that restaurant, on the second floor.” The man turned around and pointed at the building across the road. “She told me that she would just go for a quick trip to the supermarket to buy something. After she left, I went to the bathroom for some time, and when I came out and saw that she hasn’t returned yet, I looked out of the window and saw all these people crowded around this area, so I went out in a hurry.”

The woman looked at her husband, who had just arrived, in a daze. Immediately, she grabbed the man’s sleeve and went into a fit, looking as though she was on the verge of crying as she told him in panic: “I, I did it again, what should I do? She, she called out to me again! It’s that voice! Really, I didn’t cross the road on my own accord! What should we do... what about Ah-Ming...”

(t/n: ah-, a prefix used as a term of endearment )

“It’ll be fine, it’ll be fine... let’s just go back and get a good amount of sleep. You must be tired after being occupied with the museum for the past two days.” The man comforted her with his words and then told the young woman: “Thank you. I’ll take care of her now.”

...

Qi Chen and the little man saw that there was no need for any more help from outsiders like them, so they turned back and went to find a place to eat.

“Eh, by the way...” When Qi Chen arrived at the food court, he suddenly remembered something, so he faced the little man and patted him, asking, “What did you say to me back then?”

Xiao Hei Pi asked with an innocent face: “What I said back then?”

(t/n: xiao hei pi: little black-skinned guy)

Qi Chen: “Just before the woman cried out, I mean. What were you about to ask me? I was distracted and I didn’t clearly hear it.”

Xiao Hei Pi glanced at Qi Chen and innocently replied: “The interruption was so sudden, I can’t remember what I asked anymore.”

Qi Chen: “...” Are you a goldfish?

In turn, what happened that noon was considered no more than a small incident. It soon dissipated into obscurity, and no one took it to heart.

Qi Chen thought that he was about to spend the rest of his afternoon being in the same room as that bad-tempered Executive Team Leader Long, but upon arriving at the office, he didn’t see him at all. His desk was still relatively empty, with the rebooted computer and the empty coffee cup being the only signs that showed any indications of the desk owner’s earlier presence.

Before he joined the company, the company had just finished working on a rather major project, and these past two days had been that project’s closing phase. Compared to the team members, the team leaders were much busier. Most of the time, aside from Qi Chen, there weren’t even that many people who stayed inside the office room.

“Long– Eh?” Logistics Team Leader Hong Ming stomped inside the room with her dozen-centimeter high heels. “Are you alone here, Xiao Chen? Shouldn’t Team Leader Long be back by now? Have you seen him?”

“Ming-jie,” Qi Chen greeted her. “When I came out to eat, I saw Team Leader Long come in the office with some coffee, but when I returned, I didn’t see anyone at all.”

“Well, what about you guys? Did you see where Team Leader Long headed to?” Hong Ming asked, turning her head and asking the other group members who were sitting outside.

One person said: “I saw him and Team Leader Hu go to Building B. They probably went to the supervision office.”

“He just returned and he’s already gone to the supervision room?” Hong Ming was surprised.  “Aiyou, so now he’s consuming his rat poison at noon? Just when did he become so disciplined!”

(t/n: aiyou = an interjection of surprise, usually like oh!)

Qi Chen: “...”

“Xiao Chen, are you busy?” Hong Ming patted on the stack of documents she had in her hand. “I still have to go somewhere, so would you mind helping me deliver something to Building B? Do you know where the supervision office is? It’s in the corridor past the second room to the west.”

Qi Chen’s innocent face asked: “West is... left or right?”

Hong Ming gave him a face that looked as though she had just been taken for granted. “Up is north, down is south, left is west, and right is east. West is obviously left.”

t/n: 

Qi Chen: “...” You’re making so much sense right now. 

“Ask Team Leader Long to sign these documents. You can just put them on my desk once he’s done.” Hong Ming explained, and after a few more words, she gave the documents to Qi Chen and then turned around to walk away, her high heels clicking on the floor and her long, curly hair almost hitting Qi Chen’s face.

After finishing the remaining tasks that he had on hand, Qi Chen took the small stack of documents and left the office.

The offices, meeting rooms, reception rooms, and such were all located in Guanghe Company’s Building A, whereas the archive rooms, supervision rooms, and everything involving the company’s internal affairs were located in Building B. The two buildings were connected by an indoor walkway located on their second floors.

As Qi Chen was walking along the corridor going to the other side, he looked down and casually flipped through the papers that had to be signed by Team Leader Long–

–Only to see that the first few sheets that had been stapled together were just normal A4 printing paper. The front page contained the company letterhead, and the bottom right corner of the paper had the company seal stamped on it. However, despite the text content in the last few pages being the same as that in the previous pages, the papers that were used here were slightly different. They were a light yellow color, almost slightly astringent to touch, and they were also thin and transparent.

To say that the text content in the last few pages and the first pages were the same would have to be an overstatement. It contained a seal that didn’t look like Guanghe Company’s at all; it was more like a seal you often found in totem patterns. It wasn’t an ordinary round seal – it was square, and the text on the paper had been written in Zhuan Ti. 

t/n:

He was about to try to understand what the characters that were written there meant when he heard the low voice of a man from in front of him. “What are you standing there for? Blocking the path, are you a crab?”

(t/n: you know how crabs walk sideways/horizontally? and because they walk/stand sideways they also block vertical paths)

The sound of that person’s voice was very elegant, but coupled with the speaker’s tone...

Haha.

Qi Chen didn’t have to look up to know who this person was, but how could this person walk so silently? Did he have paws for shoes? The boss is such an expert at pretending to be a ghost!

He flipped the documents back to their proper arrangement in his hands and handed it in front of the person who was supposed to receive them: “Team Leader Long, I was looking for you. These documents need your signature.”

Team Leader Long, who didn’t even look at the document, but glared only at Qi Chen who was carrying them: “No time for it!”

Qi Chen: “...” How can this person be so childish!

Seeing him look away with an expression that made him seem like he had no plans of taking the documents, Qi Chen said in a deadpanned voice: “Oh.” Without changing his tone, he said, “Ming-jie said that this contained all the subsidies declared in your name for your recent business trip. If you don’t sign it, you won’t be able to submit it. Ah, she also said that your suggestions had been included in it. Are you sure you don’t want to sign? Are you sure? Then, I’ll take it back and I’ll tell Ming-jie that–”

“Wait a minute!” Team Leader Long finally turned his head and snatched the pile of documents from Qi Chen, still glaring at him in the process. He turned around, took two steps away so he could place the documents against the wall to sign them. Feeling around for a pen and a stamp, he first planned to sign the last page at the end that had those ghost-like symbols, reading through them, and then roughly tapped on the seal at the second-to-the-last page of the documents.

Qi Chen respectfully reached out his hand, waiting for the documents to be signed to be returned to his hands, feeling very much like a small eunuch serving his lord.

Because of this, after Team Leader Long accepted the documents, he glanced at him twice and soon walked around him to go back to the office with the papers. He might as well have told him, ‘You kneel there and wait,’ it couldn’t have made a difference.

Qi Chen: “...”

Just yesterday, he felt that he and Team Leader Long wouldn’t bump too much into each other, being in different teams in the company, so there shouldn’t have been a situation where Qi Chen may provoke him. Thinking about it now, it really... these past few events... it really becomes more and more of wishful thinking than the truth...

Guanghe Company goes by the standard clock-in-at-nine (morning), clock-out-at-five (late afternoon) work schedule. According to Xiao Hei Pi, it was common to work overtime, and it was also not unusual for business trips to depart at night. No one was left to idle about in their work – once they were done, not a minute will be delayed spent getting off work.

When it was five o’clock, everyone in the office packed up their things, turned off their computers, and was ready to leave work.

Qi Chen wasn’t in a hurry, so he first sent his friend a quick WeChat message. He put on his coat, took the navy blue scarf he was wearing earlier in his hands, and walked out. The little man he ate with earlier walked next to him with his shoulder bag and invited him out for dinner.

“I already made plans with my roommate back in university. He accompanied me in two trips to help move my luggage and tidy up my dorm here at work, so I’ll be treating him to dinner today.” Qi Chen apologetically declined the little man’s invitation.

The other man nodded understandingly. “Oh, of course, of course, you can go ahead. I’ll head to the cafeteria to eat now, then.” After he said this, he then went on to the crowd of people on their way to the basement floor of the building.

Qi Chen thought at first that the workplace canteen must have an employee discount, so even if the food there was a monstrosity, many people would still go here to eat. However, Xiao Hei Pi, the little man, said that there weren’t any discounts at all, and the meals here were much pricier than those outside. Qi Chen doesn’t know why his colleagues still choose to eat in this cafeteria every day, and thought, maybe they’re all masochists?

Ceylon Square in the east of Jiayang District has opened a brand new self-service barbeque restaurant. Rumor has it that the meat and vegetables there were fresh, and the sauces were full of fragrance and flavor. Qi Chen and his college roommate, Xu Liang, decided to eat out here, since it was close to Xu Liang’s workplace, and was only one bus stop away from Guanghe Company.

Qi Chen didn’t have to wait for a while before Xu Liang arrived.

“It’s a good thing you got off work early today. I saw that everyone outside had started lining up for a table here.” Xu Liang said as he set his coat and scarf aside. He rolled up his sleeves, pouring himself some warm water, and wiped his cups and plates.

“You’re pretty early yourself, too. Why is that? That new batch in your museum’s all sorted out now?” Qi Chen had already ordered a few plates of meat, and after the waiter brought over the oil for the grill, he began to grill them piece by piece.

Xu Liang works at the museum across Ceylon Square, just around the corner, and was the only one in their dormitory aside from Qi Chen to stay in Jiangshi. The two of them had originally gotten along well with each other, so after this, they naturally got closer, texting on WeChat almost every day.

Qi Chen previously heard that a tomb had been dug up in a village called Baihe River, located on the western outskirts of Jiangshi, and a small batch of the objects buried with it was sent to the museum that Xu Liang worked at. The previous two days had been their finalization period for finishing the arrangement of these funerary relics in their exhibition area.

“En. It’s all done now, and the exhibition will open this week. A few of them were really beautiful. I took some photos when we were setting them up, I’ll send them to you later. I’ll just go pick out some sauce first, I’m starving to death.” Xu Liang said, and he got up to go to the sauce station.

The thin slices of meat that Qi Chen had been cooking were now ready to be eaten, sizzling on the grill. The aroma of the barbeque was enticing him to just eat in.

Qi Chen crinkled his nose, convincing himself that Xu Liang was Xu Liang, he was himself, and Xu Liang would understand, being friends Additionally, he thought that, with being friends, there was no need for politeness between them, so the sneaky Qi Chen stretched out his paws and moved his chopsticks to pick up the slices of meat. 

Xu Liang picked his sauces according to his preferences and took a few more dishes of meat and vegetables. When he returned to his seat, he saw Qi Chen sandwiching the meat slices coated with a thick layer of sauce in the crisp lettuce leaves, taking a big bite, and then looked at Xu Liang with his puffed cheeks and a face that said he was innocent.

The plate of meat slices on the table was empty, and a new batch of meat slices had already been placed again on the grill.

Xu Liang: “...”

Seeing him eat made Xu Liang’s stomach rumble even more... so he took out his phone, scrolled through his photo album, clicked on the latest photos he took, and then placed it in front of Qi Chen. “You glutton! Go look at the photos first, this batch of meat belongs to me!”

Since bright light can damage the relics, the lights in the museum were always very dim, and turning on your camera’s flash wasn’t allowed, so the photos that Xu Liang took weren’t very good. Although the main focus in the photos could obviously be identified as the relics in the display case, they weren’t very close to the camera, and the occasional staff members entering and exiting could also be seen in the background.

“Check out that bronze mirror, and that jade bracelet...” Xu Lian pointed out as he ate.

Qi Chen let out an “en,” his slender fingers sliding through the photos in the phone’s gallery. “Bracelet with gold and jade engraved on it? But I remember that these burial goods that were found weren’t from a distinguished nobleman... this craft style looks a lot like those relics made in the earlier times that were unearthed in Hejia Village– Eh?”

His sentence was interrupted when he slid to the next photo, and he froze the moment he saw what was in it. “This woman works in your museum?”

“Which one?” Xu Liang looked at the phone handed over by Qi Chen with a puzzled expression. Qi Chen pointed at the woman in an elegant red knitted outfit behind the relics display case.

“Ah–you mean Qin-jie? She’s from one of our office branches. Why? Do you know her?”

Qi Chen shook his head. “Not really. At noon today, around lunchtime, I happened to see her on the roadside. She was almost hit by a car while standing in the middle of the road and got a bit scratched in the process, but she kept saying that she had no idea how she ended up there. She felt like... she’s not in the healthiest state of mind right now, and was later picked up by her husband.”

Previous | Index | Next

(As of 04/16/21: Somewhat(?) edited.)

[murderousginger]

Cops and Robbers

Peaky Blinders story Chapter 1

Masterlist

Warnings: none. General fluff and sass.

Word count: 4,020

--- Note: I blame @blinder-secrets for her thirst photos and @imagine-that-100 for her general amazingness and telling me I have to write this. Enjoy. 😂 ---

You had been calling them your boys since you were 8. At seven, your mother had taken you to have a playdate with Ada while she talked to Polly about grown up business. Much to your mother's and Ada's dismay, you were much more interested in playing cops and robbers with the boys. 

At first, Tommy would only let you be the damsel in distress, because even back then Tommy made all the rules. You grew tired of being the damsel quickly, and had no problem voicing your opinions. 

"I could be a robber!" You insist, stamping your foot down one morning after church. 

"No you can't, robbers don't wear pretty dresses," John said, earning an elbow in his side from Arthur. 

"John's got you there, (Y/N)," Arthur said. "And why's you wanna play with us, anyhow? I bet Ada's got another doll for ya. Playing with boys is dirty work."

Tommy nods as Arthur puts John in a headlock and the mass of them get into a wrestling match.

"Robbers can wear fancy dresses if they steal them!" You exclaimed, jumping into the fray. 

Arthur let up on his grip on John once he realized you had joined the tousle and did his best to back away, but you gripped onto Tommy's shirt and went rolling on the grass, kicking and hitting until you rolled on top of him and pressed him into the dirt.

"Let me play, Tommy Shelby, or I'll tell everyone I won," you said. 

Arthur chuckled and John let out a loud laugh as Tommy's face went red.

"I only let you because you're Ada's friend and we're not supposed to hurt girls," Tommy huffed as he dumped you off of him. "If you want to play, fine, but you get to be a copper with Arthur."

"I want to be a robber!" You yelled, upset that you weren't getting your way.

"I have to be a robber, you see, because I'm too smart to be a copper," Tommy said, losing patience. "And I want John as my robber. So you get to be a copper. Maybe next time if you don't go crying to Pol."

And after that day, they were your boys. You played with them. You fought with them. And you loved them with the fierceness of your heart. They stopped Timmy McKee from bullying you at 11, and you helped them in little ways here and there, like helping Tommy get a note to a girl, or sneaking Arthur his favorite candy after he got in trouble for a fight, or even helping John with his homework a time or two. You even got Ada to join in the games a few times and became better acquainted with her. She became your confidante in things you weren't willing to tell the boys.

Your mother was unimpressed, voicing her worries to Polly about you being "boy crazy" at such a young age, but Polly just smiled and brushed her comments off.

"She's not boy crazy," Polly said before taking a drag of her cigarette. "She's power hungry. Dangerous ambition. I like that one."

Your mother had huffed but let you be, and stopped fighting it after a few choice words from Polly through the years. Your father shrugged and decided that if you wanted to adopt more brothers, you were allowed to do so. 

Polly quickly became Aunt Polly, and you became another rowdy body at the table, dirty feet and mouth wide.

The years went on and you stuck around, helping the boys with their mischief and gossiping with Ada about boys and the girls fawning over the Shelby boys. You were just as much a sister as their own blood, and they tormented you as such.

When they went off to the war, you decided to help with Finn and help run errands for Polly. With the men folk fighting, Polly was running the small illegal business Tommy had started, keeping contacts open and illegal activities flowing through Birmingham.

Before the boys returned, you had found a nice job in London working at the Sabini club. You filled drinks and kept your head down. The club was filled with drugs and debauchery but as long as you filled drinks and kept your mouth shut around the right people, you were a blessing. You were always on time and kept away from the extracurriculars that occupied and ruined many a barmaid before you. 

Sabini had gotten so fed up with barmaids being found unconscious or otherwise preoccupied with a gentleman in a dark corner that he made a rule that no one could drink on the clock. All drinks bought for the girls were to be given once their shift was over. Like drinks were the only problem. 

You kept in touch with Polly, asking about the family and letting her know how you were doing. The money from the club paid for a modest flat in Birmingham near your mum that you mostly visited when you had multiple days off and could find a ride. Otherwise you paid one of the other girls, Liza, a small fee to sleep on her couch. 

You knew the boys were back from the war, and that Tommy had reclaimed his business from Polly. You knew Tommy wanted to expand his presence and power, and his brothers were all too eager to help him along. You even knew that they must have been doing something right, because you could hear the whispers about "those Peaky Blinders" and "that gypsy Shelby family" all the way into London. You hadn't properly seen most of the family in years and yet people in Birmingham gave you respect you otherwise wouldn't have had. You talked to Polly here and there, checking in like, and you talked to Ada when you caught her. 

Ada was always busy, with her head in the clouds and a man after her heart. You left her to her daydreams and followed yours to the money that could fix almost anything. Money may not buy happiness but it helped with comforts, and that was as close as a girl like you could imagine you'd get to being happy.

The night at the club started like any other. You wore your flapper dress with gold and maroon and your matching maroon heels. You took drinks to the patron tables; quick to slink away with a smile before a hand wandered. You were getting surprisingly good at staying just out of reach and keeping a confident smile on your lips even when you wanted to hit a man with your tray.

There was never a scarcity of available girls or men, and so any wandering eye moved on rather quickly if they determined any amount of work was required. So if you smiled and slipped through the crowd confidently, you were safe from most wandering hands. 

As you went to put an order in at the bar, you noticed another set of girls gossiping while they waited on their drinks. 

"What's the news tonight, ladies?" You said, joining the two to make a circle. "A regular find a new victim? Sid skip out on his tab again?"

"How about those Blinders taking a seat in the middle of the club?" A brunette named Grace said. 

"Blinders?" You said, "In London? What are they doing here?"

"No one's asked," she giggled. "They haven't been served yet. Once Sabini finds out, I'm not sure they'll be walking out on their own two feet."

"Well then," you said with fake contemplation, "I guess I'll have to go see if I can get a tip before that happens." 

You winked at the girls as they gasped and giggled. 

"You wouldn't!" Grace said. "Oh you're so bad!"

You took your tray and with a wink and a smile you backed away from the girls and made your way to the middle of the room. You found three men sitting at a table, coats and hats still on, looking very uncomfortable as they watched the show around them. 

"John, stop gawking," Tommy's voice rumbled. "Arthur, calm down." 

You slipped past a woman sniffing drugs off of her hand and another man pressing a different girl against a nearby table as her hand inched toward his crotch. 

"If you missed me so much, you could have just asked Pol when I'd be back in Birmingham next," you said dryly. "What are you drinking before you start this fight?"

Arthur squinted at you before he tapped his hand on the table. 

"(Y/N)!" He exclaimed, "Why, I haven't seen you in years. You were just a kid."

"We all have to grow up sometime," you said, patting him on the shoulder. "Tommy, John, causing mischief as always?"

Tommy was frowning, looking at you closely, and John was frozen in his spot as you moved around the table. 

"What are you doing here, (Y/N)?" Tommy finally said. "Pol didn't mention you worked for Sabini." 

"She wouldn't have, though, would she Tommy?" John said. "Not unless there was good reason." 

"A girl's got to make a living," you said. "If you taught me anything, Tommy, you taught me nothing comes in the way of money or family." 

"Unless it is money or family," Tommy said. "How long have you been hiding in London?"

"About a year," you said. "Running for Pol introduced me to plenty of people, and Sabini liked that I keep my mouth shut when business comes through."

"Well then," Tommy said. "How about you get us all a round of whiskeys, and one for yourself, for this unexpected reunion?" 

"I can do that," you said evenly, "but my drink won't be able to be poured until I'm done for the night. House orders." 

"House orders?" Arthur murmured. "They got fucking in the aisles and snow in every corner but a barmaid can't get a drink?"

You shrug. John still hasn't stopped watching you, so you move closer to his side of the table.

"You're being awful quiet," you nudged, "that's not the John boy I know." 

"I can't tell if I see any of the (Y/N) I know," John said. "That dress doesn't look like anything I remember." 

His eyes move over your figure slowly, and you feel your eyebrow raise in defiance. You shimmy slightly as his eyes go from your hips to your heels. 

"Robbers can wear fancy dresses, if they steal them," you said with a smile. 

A wide smile spreads across John's face as he recognizes the statement. 

"So is that what you've been up to, (Y/N)," Tommy rumbled. "Have you been playing cops and robbers without us? Find better partners?"

"You'll always be my boys, Tommy," you said. "I think aunt Pol would tell you if I got myself tied to another wagon."

"Pol only told us not to bother you," Arthur said. "That you had your own life going and you were doing fine at it."

"Seeing as you're big enough to work for Sabini, you're big enough to answer for yourself," Tommy said, a spark in his blue eyes as he leaned his elbows on the table and lit a cigarette. "How about you come back home and be our robber again? You can barkeep at The Garrison and keep us company in the back. You'll make better than here. If Harry can't keep you, I'll pay you myself." 

"But I thought I was a copper, Tommy," you said playfully. His jaw ticked as you moved your dress to sparkle in the low light. "Remember?" 

"I'm starting to think you're too smart to be a copper, too, (Y/N)" Tommy said as he pressed his hands together and pointed at you, "but don't get a big head about it." 

"I might be amenable to that," you said, smile widening into a Cheshire grin. "Only girl to best Tommy Shelby might finally get recognition." 

Arthur chuckled, opening his arm to you. You walk over to him and he moved his hand to your waist and pats your hip as he looks over to Tommy. 

"I missed this one, Tom," he said. "Finally found a mouth that gives you a run for your money."

"That mouth still get you in trouble, yeah?" John said, leaning back in his chair and putting a leg on the table. "Hard to believe Sabini could muzzle you." 

"No one muzzles me, John boy," you said moving out of Arthur's reach as you point at John. "Is your dick still doing all your thinking?" 

John turned red and sat up as he started to scowl. Tommy and Arthur both chuckling low.

"Right, well, before too long I suspect we're going to get a visit from your boss," Tommy said, smacking the table for attention. "So you need to go quit. Don't fight me now, (Y/N), just go quit. Arthur and I have some business to attend, but John, you can take the car and take (Y/N) home in Birmingham. She's done in London. I'll talk to Harry in the morning and you can start tomorrow night. Don't," he waved at your dress, "wear that. Dress how you like, but not that."

You open your mouth to fight Tommy, only to see Sabini's men whispering in the back. You close your mouth and nod, gripping your tray. 

"Looks like you have less time than you thought. I'll be outside in ten minutes, John boy." 

You walk quickly back to the bar and find Liza, the girl you stay with, and let her know you won't be staying any longer. You say goodbye to a few of the girls and with a few hugs, you slip into the back to get your coat and bag. You stop at the bar and tell bartender Jack that you quit, deciding to let him tell whoever else needs to know. 

"I'm done, Jack," you said. "I'm going back home." 

Jack looks confused before getting angry and raising his hands. 

"But you're my best girl, (Y/N)!" He tells over the music as he throws glasses into the sink. "You're the only one that's not distracted by snow or dick."

"You'll find a new best girl, Jack" you say walking backwards toward the door before turning your back and walking away. "Get 'em off the snow and they're all your best girls!"

You shrug your coat on the rest of the way before looking around the exit and noticing three men surrounding the Shelby table and voices getting louder. 

"Now's not the time to test your fighting skills, (Y/N)," John said as he hooks arms with you and walks you out of the building at a dizzying pace. 

"What's the rush?" You asked, being towed along in your heels. 

"Tommy's about to take over," John said matter of fact-ly, ushering you toward a car parked near the front. 

"I'd get your door but you're not a girl," John teases, opening his own door and jumping in. 

You open the door and barely slide in before he's turned the car on and started moving forward. 

You jump as a loud crash comes from the club and the music stops. All you hear is Arthur yelling into the mic "by orders of the PEAKY FUCKING BLINDERS." 

John laughs as you slam your door shut and you take off into the night to return to Birmingham. 

As the club got farther away, John settled into his seat. He cleared his throat. 

"I didn't even ask if you needed to pick up anything…" he said, leaving the statement open.

"I don't have much at Liza's, and she can keep most of it," you said, planning your purse on the floorboards and opening your long coat. "Anything I'm missing too bad I can always write or come get."

"Hmm," John sounded. 

"Hmm," you mimicked back.

A silence filled the car. 

"Alright, John," you said as you took your coat off. "I'm still me. You're still you. It's been a few years, but for fucks sake, relax." 

John exhaled a chuckle before bumping your shoulder. 

"Still read me like a book, I see," he said. 

"Still haven't picked up a book, I see," you said as you bumped back. 

"I let Tommy do the thinking," John shot back. "Tommy's the brains, Arthur's the brawn…"

"And you use your Shelby blues to whore any girl that'll have you," you sang back, crinkling your nose, "I see things haven't changed."

"You have," John huffed back. "When did you become a girl?"

"I've always been a girl, John boy," you spat back, "you've just been too dumb to notice." 

John laughs and you lay your head on his shoulder, squeezing his arm. 

"Might've missed this," you whisper right before you let out a yawn. 

"Yeah? Well curl up there and take a nap," John said. "I'll get us home." 

"Okay, John boy," you said as you curled your legs up on the chair and leaned on him more. "I am a little sad I couldn't get that drink with my boys. Maybe tomorrow."

"Maybe," John sounded.

---

"(Y/N), wake up," John whispered as she gently shook you. "We made it back to the garage. I need to walk you home."

You whimper and try to dig yourself more into his shoulder, not wanting to wake. John chuckles and lightly taps your jaw.

"Rise and shine," he sung playfully.

"Why couldn't you have just driven me home?" You whine, finally moving off of his shoulder. 

"Because," John said and stepped out of the car. "Tommy's got a bottle of whiskey hidden in the garage. Thought you wanted that drink."

Your eyes shot open as you tried to wake up.

"Whiskey?" You murmured.

"Thought that would wake you," he said, pulling a half empty bottle from behind some things and shook it at you. 

"Just one," you said, trying not to rub your eyes and ruin your makeup. "One. Then home."

"Ohhh," John razzed. "Spoil sport. That's not my fun (Y/N)." 

"Last time Harry saw me I was a teen getting my da from the Garrison because he was too drunk to walk home by himself and mum was a mess," you said, getting out of the car with your bag and fixing your dress. "I'd prefer I be a little put together for my first day working for him."

"How is your da, speaking of?" John asked as he held the bottle out to tease you, "and your mum?"

"Passed," you said flatly, reaching for the bottle. John's smile faultered, letting the bottle dip into your hands. "Pa, at least. The war. Mum works at the washer. I help out." 

"I'm sorry to hear that," he said. 

You shrug, taking the cap off the bottle. 

"We all lost something in the war," you said before taking a long drag from the bottle. 

"You're still as wild as ever," John said, nudging the bottle up until whiskey splashed down your chin. You gulped and lowered the bottle quickly as you dabbed the whiskey with your wrist.

"And you're still as much trouble," you said, licking the whiskey from your lips. 

John tilted his head, watching you closely for a moment in the dark garage. You watched him back, eyebrow quirked in a question. He squinted before taking a step forward and reached out to wipe a bead of whiskey from your chin and put his finger in his mouth. 

"Only as much trouble as you're willin'," he said in a low tone before taking the bottle from you and taking a big swig himself. 

"John boy," you said, taking the bottle back for another swig. "What are you doing? I know all your tricks. I helped you make a few of them."

"Thought you said you just wanted one drink," he taunted back, a boyish grin spreading across his face in triumph.

You take a deep drink and hum as you hand it back to him, watching him take one last drink before putting the cap back on and setting it on the ground near the car. 

"I need to be drunk if you're going to try me," you said smiling as you walk backward out of the garage, motioning for John to walk you home. 

"So's you're giving me a chance," John said as he tried to keep a serious face before laughing and looking down. 

He kicked a rock at his feet before looking back up at you. You raised your hand, beckoning him to come to you. Every step he moved forward, you stepped back, grin widening as you let out a giggle. 

"How about this," you said, a finger raised to stop him as you stepped out of your maroon heels. "Take your boots off. We do this as we've done before. First to the street wins."

"Wins what?" John asked, already leaning down to untie his boots. 

You pick up your heels to place them in your bag and realize you left your coat in the car as a breeze outside of the garage makes you shiver. 

"Wins the choice of if you get to kiss me goodnight or not," you said, watching John's eyes light up as he struts to your side with his boots in hand. 

He gives the slightest nod and you're already running down the gravel driveway, laughing far too loud in the dead of night, but you don't care because John is right behind you laughing just as loud. 

You both race on the gravel, too busy laughing to complain about the pain. You can hear him right behind you as you feel a warm hand circle your waist and pick you up, spinning you around so he's the first to the road. 

"No fair!" You shriek, kicking and twisting in his arms.

"You didn't give any rules!" He laughs back, putting you down once both of his feet are flatly on the road. You pout as John sets you down on the gravel, a big smile on his face. 

"I win," he said in the cocky tone you've heard him use on so many girls before. 

"You cheated," you retorted.

"You expected more from a Shelby?" He said, eyebrow cocked as he mocked you. 

"Shut up and take me home," you said, defeated. 

John laughed and took off his coat, encircling you in the smell of tobacco and warmth. He held his arm out for you to take and begin your walk down to your home. 

"I'm just a few down from mum," you said. 

"Why don't you live with her?" He asked, chewing on his lip.

"After I started taking more jobs with Pol, she decided what I was doing wasn't 'lady-like' and would hurt my chances at a husband. Said I couldn't live under her roof if I wanted to work like a man, so aunt Pol found me a spot down the road." 

"Yer mum can be a right bitch," John said, causing you to laugh. 

"You don't know the half of it," you say, squeezing his arm. 

"We all turned out alright," he said. 

"We did," you agreed. 

You walk in comfortable silence until you get to your doorstep. You let go of his arm and go to give him his coat but he stops you. 

"I'll get it 'morrow," he said, shuffling his feet. "Gotta get yours back, anyway." 

You nod, not sure what to do. You fumble your bag, reaching for your keys. John clears his throat, stepping forward.

"I think I won a choice earlier," he said, nose to nose with you. 

"You did," you said breathlessly. John smirks, looking you in the eye before licking his lips and looking at yours. He leans in and you freeze to the spot as his lips barely graze yours.

"Goodnight, (Y/N)," John whispered against your lips, raising every hair on your body. 

John turned around, shit-eating grin on his face as he trudged back to the house. You exhale, frustrated. 

"Goodnight John!" You yelled. 

All you hear is his deep chuckle somewhere in the dark.

[jordanstrophe]

Evercrest Island, part 5

CW: Whump, dislocation, kidnapped whumpee on a boat, restraints, manhandling, dragging, creepy whumper 

Masterlist

Eden laid defenselessly on the boat, his arms wrenched uncomfortably over his head latched on the rail. He was stuck listening to the ocean flowing beneath him, hours had passed and he hadn’t seen the man yet. He heard the clicking from his cane stamping into the metal platform above him, he couldn’t help to flinch every time it tapped around. The man's threats were stuck in his head, repeating over and over, he could easily kill him if he wanted to. He hadn’t yet so what kind of sign was that? He had to be smart if he wanted to get out of here alive.  

The loud tapping shuttered the stairs, as Thaddeus finally climbed down. Eden jumped up with posture, pressing himself further against the rail. The man looked down at him with a tilted smile, crouching next to him. 

“Look.” He motioned out into the ocean, in the distance, was a small island slowly getting closer. He could see a beach, trees surrounding it with a rooftop poking behind the treetops. Eden didn't take his eyes off it as he couldn’t help but to be fascinated and curious. That is, until horror twisted in his stomach, realizing he was being taken to a remote island in the middle of the ocean.

How was he going to escape this? What was even here? Where was his hope now?

“Wh-what is that?” Eden asked, panic cracking into his voice. He looked up at him with wide eyes darting with fear.

“A place we'll be staying at for a while.” He smiled, leaning his chin against the palm of his hand, reaching out to stroke a hand through Eden’s hair.

“Don’t touch me!” Eden barked, twisting his body to evade his touch. There was no way he was going to roll over for his kidnapper that easily. Thaddeus's face changed from amused, to annoyance, as he huffed before rising to his feet. Eden froze when he took in the height of the man, towering over his cringing fetal position.  

He took his cane, lightly touching it to his stomach. Eden gasped, squeezing his eyes shut waiting for the blow. This soon? Was he really going to hurt him this soon? Ge gasped when instead the rod was shoved beneath his shackles, ripping him to his feet by his wrists. 

“Up, on your feet. Let’s go.” He ordered, grabbing his arm and pulling him along. Eden’s entire forearm was almost covered by the grasp of the man’s hand, every resistance in his posture was met with a rough tug. The boat automatically parked at a long dock at the island, the whole boat jostled to a stop as his legs shook, having to use Thaddius weight to steady himself. He glanced around with a puzzled expression, who's controlling the boat if Thaddeus was right here? 

“Wait! What do you want with me?” He cried, his heart beating fast in his chest. 

“Hush now, just do what you’re told.” He grabbed his arm and hoisted him up the dock. The dock was rusted and rotten, falling apart in most areas, creaking beneath his feet. They reached a dirt trail through the forest leading to a massive structure, it almost looked like a lair. Just the sight of the building shot adrenaline through Eden’s body, as he stuck fight or flight mode. 

“Stop! I’m not going with you!” He yelled, pulling back on the man's weight. Thaddeus only sighed, reaching back with his other arm to grab his coat to get an extra grip, but Eden ducked under his arm, being much shorter had an advantages somewhere. He felt the grip on his arm tightening immensely, as he let out a yelp. He could tell that was just a fraction of his strength, but it was enough to hurt. He continued to fight back, as Thaddeus in return continued to drag him along by his arm. He was hardly on his feet anymore, desperately trying to fight away from his grasp. He dug one heel into the ground, swinging his other leg as hard as he could right into the back of his knee, as he jerked in surprise, losing his footing and grasp. Eden bolted from him, treading back down the hill, making it all of five precious yards before he was full on tackled from behind. 

He slammed to the ground, Thaddeus' whole weight pinning him down, as he moved his grasp down to his leg. 

“Wait! What are y-” His cries were cut off as his back was drug across the sharp rocky ground, letting out a cry. Thaddeus had one hand on his ankle, and the other on his leg as he drug him back up the hill by his legs. His waist wasn’t even touching the ground from their height difference, as his back grazed the dirt. He panicked and cried the whole way, till Thaddeus slammed open the metal rusted door, dust and rubble flying around it. 

He let most of his body hit the floor, but he still had a tight unforgiving grasp on his ankle.

“Do I need to break a leg?” He asked with a terrifyingly calm voice.

“N-No! Please n-no, don’t!” He huffed, out of breath as he cringing his whole body in submission. 

“I’m s-s-oryy... Please!” He cried, not able to control the tear that began to fall down his face. His whole body quaking with fear under the man's mercy standing over him, staring down at his collapsed figure, deciding his fate. 

He made his decision, pulling the cane from his side, slamming the tip into the ground next to Eden’s head, as he clamped into a curled defensive pose, covering his head with his bound wrists, the deafening slam echoing through the building. 

“p-please..” He whispered one last time.

“We could have done this the easy way...” He sighed, shaking his head with an exhale. A second hand wrapped around his ankle, as he heard the crack before he felt the pain. The bone in his foot twisted out of its socket as sharp pain shot through his ankle. He let out a sobbing cry as he arched his back off the floor, every tug and twitch trying to pull his leg only shot more stabbing pain. His cries shortly turned to whimpering sobs, as his leg was finally released. He immediately pushed himself sitting up, placing a shaking hand grabbing onto his jeans to try and cope with the twisting agony. 

Thaddeus crouched to his level, as Eden looked up at him with tearful eyes, both filled with fear and anger. 

“Are you going to cooperate now? We could have done this painlessly.” He said, with his eyes blazing cold with no sympathy. Eden reluctantly nodded his head with a bitten back sob. He didn’t have a choice.

He never did.

“Good boy.” His expression turned soft as he ruffled his hair. He flinched in response, but didn’t pull away this time. “I’m going to pick you up, okay?”

“O-okay.” He rasped, his voice cracking with a sad voice. Thaddeus gently wrapped his arms around his back and knees, weary not to jostle his legs as he carried him away.

@just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi @heathenwhump @whumps-and-stuff @yet-another-heathen

(╯°□°）╯ *:･ﾟ✧ Thank you for reading!

[janetbrown711]

"I didn't mean to hurt anyone," wakko?

Wakko never thought of himself as a worrier. He always held out hope that somehow, someway everything would work out- that Good would prevail and Evil would fall. He believed with all his heart it was his and his sibling’s destiny to defeat Salazar. He knew Dot was going to get better, and that Yakko would finally be able to relax for more than just five minutes. 

However... being on his own for the first time challenged that. 

He had taken the baker’s advice and went straight to the apprenticeship with the blacksmith. It had been excruciatingly difficult, and Wakko put a lot of blood sweat, and tears into the work he did. He had been revolted to find out that he was only paid a ha’penny a week. Sending letters had cost at least three ha’pennies so by the end of week one, he had had to get crafty. 

He ‘borrowed’ paper from the blacksmith and wrote as neat and concise as he could manage before putting in the one ha’penny and the letter in an envelope (also ‘borrowed’ from the blacksmith) and snuck it into the mailman’s bag when he wasn’t looking. As for how he got food, he would take a piece of fruit or bread from the man when he wasn’t looking. 

It wasn’t easy to do though, the blacksmith was a good person; he was stoic and old, hardly ever talked, except the occasional warning to Wakko that he shouldn’t touch or eat something, despite how delicious it looked. He was patient, though at the same time very distant. It was hard for Wakko to read him. 

However, Wakko had gotten too comfortable too fast, as he had gotten caught stealing the blacksmith’s food and he fired him, said it was “a betrayal of his trust”. His words had stung Wakko, and he left without fighting, but not without taking a few pieces of paper and envelopes- Yakko and Dot would kill him if he didn’t write. 

The letters. 

Wakko thought he would love writing them, but it got harder and harder the more time passed. Wakko embellished how he was doing a lot, but he could tell Yakko wasn’t being entirely honest either. His words were fancy and he tended to dance around questions Wakko had asked. Wakko wished he had the energy and paper to argue with him, but he didn’t. He hated being lied to, but they quite literally couldn’t afford to bring it up. 

After he got fired, he wandered and worked as an errand boy for a senile, but wealthy woman. He didn’t like it though- she was rude and she constantly spat on him, or hit him with her cane, which left him with nasty bruises. 

He was almost thankful when she dropped dead one day. 

He stole as much silverware, stamps, papers, and envelopes as he could fit into his hat before he alerted anyone of what had happened. 

Still- seeing a corpse hadn’t been... pleasant. 

It reminded him that, yes, death was a thing and was inescapable and could happen to his little sister at any moment while he was gone. 

Needless to say, he did his best not to dwell on that, and sold all of the silverware as soon as possible and gave almost all the money to Yakko in the letter he wrote. 

That should help delay Death for a while... hopefully, Yakko could buy her a new blanket, or a shawl. She always got so cold in the winter with just her skirt. 

Wakko then went to work as a berry picker at the farm of an old cat couple with a few other children his age, though none of them liked talking. However, he only worked there for the month of May because he had gotten fired once they found out he had been eating more berries than he turned in. Wakko was hungry, and the farmers didn’t pay him enough for him to afford enough food anyway, Wakko thought that was bull. 

However, he quickly regretted that decision when he had gotten a letter from Yakko that admitted that Dot was going through another rough patch. His brother wrote that he and Dot missed him a whole awful lot, but that they weren’t giving up yet. At least that was nice... 

Still, Wakko couldn’t help but feel guilty. His selfishness had gotten him fired from two jobs, and because of that, his siblings were suffering. Sometimes he wished he could just magically fix everything with the snap of his fingers, but he knew that wasn't how it worked. If it was, he would’ve done it already. 

After that, he was determined to find a job that would stick. Unfortunately, that was only getting more difficult, as the town that had once been not quite prospering still functioning well enough was starting to fall apart due to the King’s taxes only rising. The only good thing that came out of that was that prices were starting to lower which meant that if he could find a spare coin on the ground, he could probably actually afford something. However, that also meant jobs were going down, and so it was damned near impossible to find something to do. 

Wakko had spent a whole month without a job. He lived on the street and picked up fallen coins and didn’t write- couldn’t write- a single letter. The last one he had sent had been about the farm, and he had lied and told Yakko it had burned down so he couldn't write to there anymore. Wakko could imagine how worried Dot and Yakko must’ve been. The thought of their worry kept him up at night. 

Still. 

A little voice in his head told him not to give up, that he come to far to call it quits now. He promised he’d return in a year, and that’s what he’d do. 

“Bravery is not the absence of fear, it’s doing something in spite of it.” 

Wakko had a vague memory of someone telling him that a very long time ago, but he couldn’t recall who.

During the late summer, he had worked different jobs every day. Some days, he’d deliver packages for a fraction of what the king’s mail delivery costed, others he’d return library books, and on some, he’d shine shoes. It was exhausting to run around for days on an empty stomach, but somehow he managed to scrape on by with just enough money to send to Yakko and Dot and survive. 

Despite the feeling that summer would last forever, autumn arrived and it was the harvesting season. Wakko had heard that farms were in need of help, and he went off to go work at the pumpkin farm that was just a few miles out from town. Wakko had been delighted when he heard about the opportunity and had run seven miles to get there before anyone else. The farmer, a middle-aged Rabbit, had been pleased with his enthusiasm but warned him that he couldn’t pay much and that most of his payment would be in food and shelter, but Wakko didn’t care. He hated sleeping in alleys with a passion and swore never to do that again. Plus, he knew Yakko and Dot were probably pissed at him for not writing for several months, not giving him an address to write to, or anything. Plus, Wakko was not going to pass up on an opportunity for someone else to pay for his food. 

However, he had thought working on a farm during the spring was hard, autumn was much, much harder. The town where he worked somehow managed to get more snow than Acme Falls, and earlier, so he often had to wake up before the sun rose and attempt to “fight off the freeze” as the farmer called it. Wakko didn’t care what it was called, it was agonizing. He ended up with blisters and sore arms and had even cut himself on the ax he used to chop branches quite a few times. 

However, none of that mattered when he read the letters Yakko and Dot sent.  Wakko hadn’t realized just how much he had missed them until he saw their handwriting on the paper in his hand. 

Dot had apparently gone through another rough patch during the time Wakko couldn’t write but had gotten much better, even being able to go out of the ‘house’ and take walks by the river. Yakko wrote that Dot still missed him terribly, and was really mad that he hadn’t written in forever. Yakko then went on a tangent about how much it had worried him, but that he was still relieved and happy that Wakko was safe and okay.

Wakko’s reply had been full of apologies and embellished about his current situation (saying things like ‘i have an actual bed and it’s really comfortable’ and ‘the food is amazing’ and ‘i barely have to work at all’ and ‘I haven’t even hurt myself once!’). He didn’t want to worry Yakko any more than he already had. 

In truth, the farmer wasn’t a very nice person, though he was nice enough to provide shelter and food for Wakko and the few others that worked alongside him. However, he did get annoyed when Wakko injured himself, and didn’t provide bandages, so Wakko would have to make do by tearing up pieces of his pillowcase. Soon enough, he tore it all up and there was no more pillow, which hadn’t been fun for sleeping. He also shouted and swore a lot, but Wakko mostly tuned it out, having had good practice after the senile dead lady. 

Still, a job was a job, and Wakko wouldn’t have traded it for anything in the world. He was able to keep up his promise with one ha’penny being sent home every two weeks, which Yakko noted was becoming “more and more useful in Acme Falls, as the economy was clearly in shambles”, whatever that meant.

Unfortunately, the harvest came to an end sooner than Wakko had hoped and he was back on the streets in the blink of an eye. He had a few survival strategies he had picked up from observing his older brother over the years, but surviving on the streets in the snow was a lot, a lot harder than surviving on the streets, not during the snow. 

And even more unfortunately, there were little to no jobs available anymore. The only ones that were available required him to walk far distances in the snow even during snowstorms. Of course, he took them, but they were grueling and made every muscle in his body ache. 

And so he resorted to his least favorite solution: stealing. 

Whenever he’d walk past the market, he’d snatch an apple or a loaf of bread if he could manage and hide it in his package until it was safe and he could eat it. He stole matches so he could start fires in the garbage. He stole books that belonged to the library for kindling for said fires. He felt insanely guilty every time, but no matter what way he looked at it, there was no other option. 

His main motivator had been survival. He knew he needed enough money for a ticket home in December, but knew that that’d be near impossible if he attempted to pay for his own things- especially with the taxes taking nearly all of the money he had earned with doing the jobs- and god only knew how guilty he had felt that he hadn’t been able to send any money home for Dot. Still... he figured coming home would be an at least okay replacement. 

He hoped. 

He wrote letters but didn’t give return addresses, fearing what Yakko would say again. He knew he must’ve been outraged that Wakko hadn’t written or sent money in awhile, and he prayed Dot was doing okay and that they didn’t need the money he wasn’t able to get. 

He didn’t have the heart to write about his worries about not being able to come home after all...

Wakko shivered as he thought of that, before snapping back into reality realizing where he was. He had an awful tendency of getting distracted while he was doing errands, it was a problem. 

Especially if he was trying to focus on nabbing some food. If he didn’t focus, he was likely to get caught. 

Shaking his head to get back to the present, he looked around and saw an empty stall selling some type of fruit he hadn’t seen before, but figured it’d be enough. He casually sauntered on over there, and began to walk past before snatching one with his tail and quickly putting it into the box of books he was returning to the library for an old dog man. 

“Hey! Kid!” Wakko froze when he heard a voice behind him. He peeked over his shoulder and saw it was the man who owned the booth. 

“Stop right there!” He shouted. Wakko bolted. 

He ran through the crowded market, but unfortunately for him, he slipped on some ice on the path and came crashing to the ground, books going flying everywhere, and his fruit was squashed to a pulp. 

“Hey-! Kid- are you alright?” The man’s anger faded into concern and Wakko muttered to himself and trying to gather his stuff, ignoring the throbbing in his head, and stinging in his-likely scraped- knee. Eventually, he heard the man approach him, but to his surprise, he started helping Wakko put the books back into the box. Wakko didn’t look at him much, but could feel the man giving him pitiful looks. 

“Look- I know what you’re gonna say and you’re wrong. I-i... I swear that I’m a good kid, okay?” Wakko sniffled as he put a blue-colored book down.

“I wasn’t going to say anything of the sort,” the man replied, handing Wakko a green book. Wakko took it hesitantly, still not willing to look him in the eyes. 

“I was going to offer you some more of that fruit you took, but you ran in such a hurry, I couldn’t get my words out,” He said. Wakko didn’t know if he believed that.  

“I-i just need enough money for my sister and a train ticket...” Wakko mumbled. The man nodded. 

“You got family?” He asked. Wakko nodded. 

“Sister and brother in Acme Falls,” he said. 

“That’s quite a ways away. I suppose you came here for work but that ain’t working out well, is it?” He asked. Wakko frowned and didn’t answer. He wasn’t liking his tone...

“Here, I’ll give you a bag of clementines if you’ll let me. I can even help you with those books if you need,” The man said, standing. 

“I can take care of myself,” Wakko scowled, but realized that was probably a really stupid thing to say. He was starving...

“B-but I’ll take the clementines...” Wakko added. The man nodded, and stood up, and headed back to his booth. Wakko did his best to ignore the looks the crowd was giving him as he followed. 

“Here you go, sixteen clementines. That should do you good for quite some time. Oh- and here,” The man dug under his booth and Wakko stood awkwardly with his tongue sticking out. 

“This should get you a train ticket, and hopefully enough left over for those siblings of yours,” he said, handing Wakko a little brown sack. Wakko gawked at it. 

“I-i can’t accept all this. I’m sure you need it,” Wakko refused. 

“Nonsense. I got all the clementines I could want. And besides, I don’t need to ride on a train to return to my family any time soon,” He waved it off. 

“B-but the king’s taxes-” 

“I know how to make due. I know you need the money, and if you know what’s good for you you’ll accept,” He pointed at Wakko, and Wakko realized he wasn’t wrong. He just wished he could do something for the man in return, but knew he couldn’t. 

“Th-thanks mister... it’s been a really long time since someone’s been this nice to me,” he looked at the ground. 

“No problem kiddo. Stay safe out there, winter is a dangerous time. Might want to bandage that knee of yours,” He pointed to Wakko’s bleeding knee. Wakko nodded. 

“Thanks, will do, mister,” he said, grabbing the sack of clementines, putting it in the box with the books, and put the little brown bag of money in his hat. He then waved goodbye and headed on to finish his task, get paid, them immediately lose said payment to taxes, but smiled internally. The tax collector didn’t know about the money in his hat, so he didn’t collect it.

It looked like Wakko was going to be able to come home after all. 

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11

[phantom-wolf]

Day 8: Pirates and Cowboys

Old life, New Beginning

A/N: I'm going to put content warnings in the tags and also before the story just in case

For @usukweek

Content warnings: character held captive/ prisoner, mentions of robbery, use of guns, mention of insects, 10 year age gap, minor character death, suggestive themes 

Summary: In 1875, Arthur Kirkland decides to travel to Europe. On his journey the ship he's on is attacked by pirates. Lo and behold one of those pirates is Alfred Jones.

You can also read it here:

A familiar four clicks accompanied the movement of his thumb as the hammer of the single action was cocked. A spatter of blood and gore soon accentuated the deck as one of the pirates took the bullet that tore from the blond's revolver. He instinctually ducked as bullets whistled by and nearly found their mark. The only thing roaring in his ears was the sound of his own heartbeat, unimpeded by gunfire but rather spurned to a faster beat as adrenaline flooded his senses. The ringing in his ears that would've been acknowledged by a novice went unnoticed.  Fragments of wood dispersed as bullets embedded themselves into the deck and masts of the ship. 

The male found himself in a less than ideal position, forced to take cover in a location that left his rear exposed and able to be flanked. He couldn't afford to let his attention divert to this fact in the chaos of battle. All he could do was hope that the others could fend off the invaders and that there was no second point of entry. Another click distinguishable from the sound of the hammer was audible as the last chamber of the Peacemaker was emptied. Instead of wasting time reloading he reached for the second gun in its holster, a relatively newer Smith and Wesson model three he had bought off someone whose name he couldn't recall. Before he could properly grip and raise the weapon he sensed a presence behind him and felt metal dig into the back of his head. Instinctually he froze and mentally cursed himself for acknowledging the weakness while doing nothing to prevent it. 

"Hand away from your weapon."

Weighing his options he complied, slowly feeling himself relax as the barrel was removed from the back of his head. He turned to face the perpetrator, sizing him up, taking note of his broader figure, dirty blond hair and estimating his age to be in his thirties before his focus shifted to looking down the barrel of the weapon. A gleeful delight overcame him, a catalyst for confidence whereas in a different situation he may not have had. There wasn't a round chambered in the barrel. His eyes flicked to the other man's blue ones before a laugh escaped his lips full of contempt and amusement, the tension in his shoulders relaxing as the fear drained from him.  Pointedly he stated "If you're going to be aiming a weapon at someone it should be loaded." 

His attacker had enough common sense to look slightly embarrassed, eyes widening slightly before narrowing once more, his finger curling tighter around the trigger and his thumb brushing against the hammer of his revolver in an attempt to regain control of the situation "There are five rounds, all it takes is a quick rotation of the cylinder. So I suggest you cooperate."

The pirates' attempt wielded no fruit as another snicker left the other's mouth." This was poorly planned on your part. If I was a- duller gentleman what would stop me from pulling my secondary and shooting you on the spot?" 

The pirate looked affronted. "The fact that by the time you would've pulled it out I would've taken the end of this weapon and hit you over the head. Or simply pulled back the hammer a few times and shot you before you could me." Arthur could see the stranger practically bristling as he continued. "Anyway, what's wrong with you? Who decides to look down the barrel of a gun pointed at them?!" To his utmost amusement he could hear the man murmur under his breath about how in all the years- 

"You're confident in your abilities I'll give you that. And you're lucky I'm no gunslinger." Arthur started, peeking over the barrel that served as cover and scanning the deck for any other resistance from the other crew members of the merchant ship. Finding none he decided not to risk being shot by the thieves who had boarded during their conversation. It had seemed the victors were decided. "To answer your question, a very clever man."

"Or a very stupid one" The pirate grumbled and narrowed his eyes, giving him a glance over before stopping on his face. Despite the now rather medium length beard that accompanied his features and some grey poking through his wild blond hair he could see a multitude of things flash through the other's expression, the two most prevalent being surprise then recognition. 

"You're- Arthur Kirkland." 

Arthur let another curse leave his lips not caring enough to hide his rather foul mouth as the stranger shouted to the others and he was guided on board the pirate's ship. 

--

Now he found himself imprisoned aboard some ship he knew nothing about. A rich orange light filtered in through a circular window of some kind, slowly retracting and leaving strange shadows in its wake as the sun started to set. Left to his own thoughts for entertainment, he mulled over the irony of the situation and mused that if he had wanted to be in a cell he would've walked himself into the local sheriff's office. He mindlessly swatted festering insects away as they found their way into his holding through the opening, torn between being grateful for the ventilation while also loathing it for being an easy access point for flies. He'd come acquainted to the soft creaking of wood and boisterous voices above drowning in whatever alcohol they could scrounge up. Several days, ten since his capture and a few days on board his previous vessel had granted him the mercy of letting him adjust himself to the sway of the waves underneath them. His body ached and he wasn't sure if it was from the hard floor below him or from the moisture that was in the air. It was however a definite reminder that he wasn't as young as he used to be.

 A nearer, heavier creak caught his attention and he turned his head to the source spotting a silhouette in the doorway. With the illumination of the kerosene lamp his visitor clutched he could make out the details of a familiar figure. Deeming him as non hostile he relaxed and decided to greet his company. "Come here for free entertainment? If you did I apologize. I'm not very interesting."

"I came here to give you some food"  The familiar voice of the pirate who had found him in the first place spoke. "And to deliver some news. As for that second part we both know that's not true."

At the announcement of food Arthur sat upright and moved to the bars. "We'll thank you for the compliment" He murmured more focused on what the other carried then the conversation. He kept his composure despite the rumbling of his stomach, stamping down any ebbing curiosity that threatened to reveal itself. News was an inconsistency in routine that had been made over the past several days and frankly he wasn't sure if he wanted to know what that meant.  "What is it this time?"

"Some dried beef and some beer today." 

A little humorous and witty remark rolled off his tongue easily."You pirates' meals are quite bland, you know that don't you Alfred?" 

Sensing the humor in his words Alfred chuckled. Somehow he managed to juggle the beer, meat and lamp by keeping the drink close to his body with his arm and gripping the wrapped cloth that had the dried meat with the same hand, letting the other carry the light source."You're lucky you're not eating the biscuits. The bugs like to make their homes there."

At that Arthur grunted, disgusted but not surprised. "The bugs make their homes everywhere. It doesn't surprise me they are embedded in your food as well."

"Your food now." Alfred responded with a light hearted grin deciding to take the lasting conversation as an invitation to stay. He'd done this every time he brought food and drink. Arthur held no hostility to him, not minding the company either. Afterall, if he had been in the pirates' place he would've done the same thing. Extra money wasn't something that was stumbled upon frequently. He supposed he should even be grateful that Alfred hadn't decided to shoot him right then and there. Although conversing with the man led to one of the answers he was searching for. Turns out Alfred didn't like to kill civilians if he didn't need to. At the time he had figured the situation was under control and sensing the opportunity for an ambush had done so. He'd much rather use intimidation tactics to manipulate the situation. What the quartermaster hadn't realized was that the newest edition to the crew, Jackson had been shot until after. These things tend to get lost in the chaos of gunfire and screaming. 

The lamp was set down as a hand slipped between the bars with the cured meat clutched in it, which he eagerly took and was soon followed by the beer. He knew it was beneficial to them to keep him alive, however that was a very...broad term. He doubted the bounty poster specified that he had to be in pristine condition to claim the reward. So he was happy to accept some of the more quality food. 

They stayed in silence for a few moments, Arthur slowly tackling the meat and washing it down with beer until Alfred broke it. "You're to be brought up to the deck today".  

Upon hearing those words Arthur nearly choked on the beef, managing to swallow without incident. "What?" 

Alfred shrugged nonchalantly, although had appeared concerned when the other almost choked. "I did say I had news for you."

"You could've mentioned it earlier!" 

"Yeah I guess so. But then you wouldn't have eaten, insisting to go now. This way you have energy. So finish your food and then I'll bring you up." 

Arthur seeing no other option simply ate a little faster. 

---

Arthur was grateful for the sun's position upon stepping out onto the deck for the relative lack of light. He was sure if the sun had been higher an unforgiving headache would've blossomed behind his eyes at the sudden influx of light. His joints popped from the exercise he found himself able to partake in. It felt nice after being confined to a small cell for a little over a week. He was still weary however. Years of experience had taught him that nothing was easy in this world. Nothing was given, everything came with a price. Not even stealing was without its dues. This situation was quite the reminder. 

He sensed Alfred's eyes on him and turned to look at him. It was at this moment Alfred spoke up. "Captain Williams wants to talk to you." 

There it was. "Oh? And why's that?" 

"That's something you'll have to ask him yourself. But don't worry! Whatever it is, it will be alright. After all, you got me on your side! I'll do my best to protect you!"

Arthur raised an eyebrow at this statement dubiously. "My hero" he retorted with a roll of his eyes, sarcasm dripping from his words. 

Alfred seemed to brighten up at that not seeming to either notice or care that it had been sarcasm. Not wanting to ruin the man's mood, Arthur wordlessly followed Alfred to the Captain's quarters. Williams was waiting for them, looking up as the door opened and Alfred greeted him. "Mr. Kirkland" Was the simple greeting he'd received. At least the captain seemed to hold a little respect for him. 

Arthur gave a small nod of his head, tilting his hat in recognition. "Captain Williams. To what do I owe the pleasure?" He asked hoping his sarcasm from earlier didn't bleed into the words for his own sake. When he locked eyes with the older man's brown ones he was met by a stare not so unfamiliar. Experienced, calculating, straight to business. A non verbal and pointed reminder to not cross the pirate captain. He met the challenge with his own confidence only tempered as to not get on the man's bad side. 

"A deal has been made between myself and Jones. You'll be considered part of the crew and will fill in for the member you shot and killed.  During this time you will not take a cut of any bounty we receive until the price on your head is paid in full." The captain responded. "You may discuss Jones's part of the deal on your own time with him." 

It didn't seem like he had much of a choice in the matter. Very well- he'd chose limited freedom to a cell any day. "Thank you" He said mustering up as much sincerity as he could and giving Alfred a side glance. 

Alfred gave him a faint smile quickly tilting his head to motion for them to depart, thanking his captain as he did so and turning to leave the cabin. Arthur spun on his heel but before he could take a step forwards William's voice rang out again. "Oh and Kirkland, if I hear any stray word about a mutiny that has passed from your lips. I'll take your tongue."

A small sly smirk threatened to etch itself across his lips however he was smart enough to keep himself straight faced. Of the same breed indeed. "I would never even consider doing such a thing" He responded turning his head to make eye contact with the one in charge. "Thank you for your mercy, Captain. I will serve you well." 

"You better. You're a three hundred dollar investment." 

---

Once they were back out onto the deck a peaceful silence fell between them, Arthur relishing in his new found freedom of sorts and Alfred undecided if he should interrupt the quiet. The sun had long departed by now, leaving the celestial bodies of the stars and moon to paint the night in light. The waves below reflected this light, swirling it in unpredictable patterns before being swallowed by the depths and replaced. The temperature had dropped a few degrees but neither seemed too affected by it. The silence was broken by Alfred who found himself uncomfortable with it. "What was being a cowboy like?" He finally blurted. 

Arthur looked at him startled out of his thoughts at the outburst. "Did the stories I told you when you visited with food not paint a good picture?"

"They did. I just wanted to know if you had more" Alfred responded embarrassed with himself, a  faint red painting his cheeks and the tips of his ears. "Sounds pretty fun." 

Arthur grunted graciously deciding not to comment on how red the other got.  He took a moment to think of his response wording it in a way as to not get too personal. "Fun isn't what I'd describe it as. It's hard work as many things are in life. You have to be observant, be able to think on your feet. A thousand pound animal isn't going to stop stampeding because you told it to. Then combine that with upwards of a thousand other animals of the same size and the horses you're riding on top of it. It definitely makes for a good excuse to always be on guard. But generally things didn't get too exciting. The only 'exciting' thing I could count on daily was the game of: will I get bit by a snake when I get off my horse to take a piss and die a few hours later? Or on a more rare occasion, if bandits would be stupid enough to try to rob us. The real fun happened once we arrived in town after a successful transfer of cattle. Once we arrived we had to load the cows into a train cart then we got paid. After going a few weeks without a bath or proper entertainment I'm sure you can imagine what happened at the saloons" the wink accompanying that statement  went unnoticed. "I'm sure you can relate to such sentiments out at sea yourself. Minus the snakes of course". 

Truthfully Alfred enjoyed hearing Arthur tell his stories. He'd get so enthralled as he talked about his past experiences, spoke with a passion that let Alfred know that Arthur had enjoyed the job. It was one of the times where Arthur became truly expressive, a little less on guard. When Arthur got going his words painted such clear imagery that Alfred hadn't needed to be there to feel like he experienced it. Admittedly as much as he enjoyed hearing him talk in this moment he got… distracted. He accidently ended up staring at his lips briefly, wondering how they'd feel pressed against his own then dismissing the idea and blaming it on the fact he hadn't had much company lately. He blinked shaking his head of any stray thoughts and cleared his throat. It caught Arthur's attention but when he didn't say anything the cowboy now turned pirate continued. 

"I worked in the northern plains. Montana actually. So it has taken me a while to get here. The local deputies and pinkertons had started poking around on a lead that someone matching Arthur Kirkland's description was in town. Some folk from the East must've recognized me while I was celebrating a successful drive. Upon seeing the unwanted attention I decided that frankly I have been chased enough to last a lifetime and thus my decision to come to Europe. Offered the merchant ship my gun if anything were to happen and some cash as well. However nothing is ever that simple clearly." 

He partially processed the others words, nodding along but was too distracted giving the other a once over to truly hear what was being spoken. The older man's attire alone stuck out now that he had been declared part of the crew. The Englishman had a white, tall crowned hat with a narrow brim that was curled upwards on the sides. He adorned a navy pullover shirt made of cotton with a black vest made of the same material. He also wore grey wool pants with an additional layer of fabric to reinforce the seams. Of course his clothing wasn't in pristine condition, various stains and the occasional stitch from where it had been mended littered the outfit. They'd taken away the black bandana that had originally been tied around his neck, fearful that it may be used as a weapon against one of the crew or himself. 

"Wait a minute Arthur. I'll be right back" Alfred chirped, turning to head underneath the deck and deeper into the ship. Arthur watched him go before turning his attention back to the ocean, focusing on the feeling of the breeze in his face and the sound of crashing waves that surrounded the ship. 

Alfred returned with his bandana in tow holding it out and offering it to him. Afterall with the freedom now granted if Arthur wanted to, he'd have better things to use against them than a bandana.  "You will probably need some new clothes more suitable for the sea. But for now we can't buy anything since we aren't in port and we technically aren't making anything off the next several exchanges-"

"We?"

"Oh right! I gave up my cut as well until your bounty is paid off and the credit makes a profit. Technically I promised them six hundred dollars so we're going to be living on some scraps for a while."

Arthur raised an eyebrow in suspicion and curiosity, cocking his head as he looked back to Alfred."Why go through all the trouble to save me?"

Alfred gave a disarming half smile upon sensing the others suspicion trying to prove he had no ulterior motives and a shrug. Sure he found him attractive but that was not why he saved him. "There's something about you I like. You're clearly clever, a hard worker and we needed a new member of the crew. And I think you have a story to be told. Would be a shame if it were to end prematurely." 

"Don't we all have a story to tell-" He murmured, shifting his body to lean against the closest mast of the ship and crossing his arms as he was securely balanced. "And you didn't take any of the crew from the merchant ship?" 

"We offered but they declined." 

Arthur gave a hmph of disbelief. Pirate's tended not to give people many choices. The two options usually consisted of join their crew or die which brought the next question to mind. "Are they fish food now?" 

"No, we let them go." Alfred responded. When Arthur proceeded to stare at him with his eyebrows raised for further explanation he continued. "Captain Williams tries to avoid casualties where they can be avoided. He also doesn't like to take people who are likely to turn tail at the slightest hint of freedom. Took a lot of convincing to get him to accept you for that reason. As for your job on the ship you'll have to learn how to rig the sails and some level of carpentry. If those aren't your thing perhaps you could help the doc out and learn from him- or maybe the cook." 

The older male took a minute to digest this information weighing the situation. He supposed it would've worked better for him if they had been killed. There would've been fewer loose ends, less mouths to talk if the wrong parties came looking. Oh well. "And for your information I do know some carpentry and my way around a needle. Ropes shouldn't be an issue either although you'll have to teach me any particular knots you use." 

"Good and no problem. Isaiah is the ship master. He can show you some duties and I'll also be helping out when I can. The others will also show you how we operate if neither of us are available.  We all have a part to play after all. In reality most of our time is spent on ship maintenance."

Arthur couldn't help but be curious."You're going to have to be more specific when you mention maintenance because frankly I have no idea what that entails."

 Alfred paused mentally counting off, his fingers moving from a curled position to straight as he counted with them before disregarding whatever he had been doing. "Cleaning the decks, checking rigging and ropes, checking for any potential leaks or holes and repairing them. You also eventually may get to make sure everything on the gun deck is properly stored and cleaned- just to name a few. Oh and did I mention cleaning bird shit off the deck?" 

"Sounds-" a pause and despite not trying to be rude he couldn't exactly color himself enthusiastic at the prospect "...delightful. When do I begin?" 

Alfred looked smug, probably happy that some of the more unpleasant tasks were going to be now dished out to the newest member of the crew. With a clap on the other's shoulder he chirped "Your duties start right now!". With that he began to back away towards the stairs leading to the lower decks. 

"Wait where are you going?!" 

"I'm going to sleep. Isaiah is at the stern. I'll see you in the morning!" 

"Where's the stern?!" Arthur called letting his frustration seep out through his words, scowling at the retreating pirate's back. "What does Isaiah look like?" 

"Guess you'll have to figure that out yourself. Goodnight Arthur!"

Cheeky bastard. He didn't even get to shave. 

---

Both their hands were calloused, jagged chunks carved out of them from one experience or another. The years had only added to the collection of scars and disfigurations. The black bandana that had first accompanied the cowboy-ex-outlaw-pirate was now draped over one of each of their hands, both using their free hand to knot the material and bind themselves together. Together, promising to watch over each other despite what altercations that could find themselves apart of. In life and death they'd take care of one another. 

A cheer arose from their spectators as mugs were risen and beer sloshed onto the floor which would promptly have to be scrubbed later. "How about that Mr. Outlaw. You're now properly married to a pirate however fitting that may be."

"Cowboy" Arthur corrected. "I prefer cowboy although, I suppose neither occupation is particularly civilized. And the correct term is matelotage." 

"He does learn! Would you look at that" came a playful quip from one of the crew members. 

"I've learned quite well. It's you who still gets confused when I rattle off cowboy terms at you." A flippant and well timed reply caused snickers to erupt amongst the band of people gathered around. 

Alfred decided to interrupt after chuckling to himself. "Arthur I don't think there's a single civilized thing about you" earning a playful eye roll in response. 

"I don't think either of us have ground to talk" Arthur hummed giving him a small smile. The newly wedded partook in the drinking activities and celebration for a little while until Arthur directed a suggestive and flirtatious wink towards his beloved, earning him a smirk. To further drive his intentions he gave a slight tug on their bound hands. "Boys, thank you for the celebration but I suggest you clear out of the cabins for a while. Enjoy your drinks!" 

---

Alfred found himself ahead of Arthur, deciding to clear some of the rooms up ahead, his gun raised as he did so. Upon entering one he was thrown off balance as someone barreled into him from a blindspot. He stumbled but caught himself, his body twisting to take the brunt of it as his back collided with the wall and he tried to throw off his attacker. They struggled for a brief moment until Alfred found himself a second too slow. A sudden crack filled the space as the weapon was brought down against his head. A sharp pain rattled his skull causing him to fall forward as the stranger stepped away. He nearly face planted onto the wooden floor only managing to distribute some of the weight with his hands, his jaw hitting the floor and causing his teeth to clack together. He helplessly watched his weapon clang as it hit the floor and bounced out of reach. He doubted it would be of much use to him anyway with the way his vision was doubled and the room was spinning. He let out a groan as everything slowly became bearable, rolling into his side to look up at who had ambushed him. 

His attacker stood over him, weapon drawn and pointing at him. Perhaps this was karma for being over confident. In a final act of bravado and defiance he stared at the other man, their gazes interlocked. His pain only manifested through a clenched jaw and partially squinted eyes, managing a cold but accepting smile. "You know I don't like killing civilians. If I were you I'd stand down." Whether the next unfolding of events was pure luck or divine intervention he wasn't sure. An echoing boom sounded from the hallway ripping through the relative quiet of the lower decks. His attacker slumped lifelessly and collapsed partially on him before he could scramble out of the way. He blinked, staring at the corpse before his attention was caught by approaching footsteps. 

"Unfortunately for you, I don't share such qualms" The familiar accented voice of Arthur sounded. 

Alfred scooted away from the body, a relieved smile tugging on his lips and letting his tense body now relax. Needing a reprieve from the close encounter he decided to diffuse the situation with humor. "Took you long enough. I got a smack to the head thanks to you" He said no malice or bite to his words just teasing affection. Feeling the adrenaline leave him and feeling safe with Arthur's presence he took a breath and leaned back, closing his eyes. 

"You're gonna get a smack on your arse if you keep it up" The other fired back, relief flooding his voice as he moving over him and crouched beside him to inspect the wound on his head. Deciding that nothing could be done here he placed a hand on the other cheek, encouraging him to open his eyes. "You need to get up Al" He murmured, standing up to a more appropriate height to help him up. He outstretched a hand expectantly. 

"That sounds kind of hot Arthur" He teased indeed, opening his eyes and taking his cowboy's hand. Once up he felt the others hand on his back to support him. He gave a grateful smile before wincing and running his hand over his left temple to see if there was any blood. Thankfully there wasn't. 

"We'll try it sometime if you'd like. But for now let's focus on the task at hand. Just because I'll get your cut if you were to die does not mean I want you dead. Let's get you back to the ship to be looked at by Johnson." 

"We need to-"

"The others have everything under control. You're going to the ship. End of discussion." 

Alfred decided not to waste the energy with arguing especially because Arthur was right. He took half a step, stumbling as his vision doubled again. At that Arthur pressed against his side and wrapped an arm around his shoulders for some extra support. "Thank you" he whispered, enjoying the others' warmth. His thoughts were interrupted by a gentle kiss to the right temple. 

"A reminder not to go too far ahead alone next time."

"Of course my love" He agreed. When they reached the doorway sunlight flooded Alfred's vision. He hissed squeezing his eyes closed upon finding a newfound sensitivity to the light. Arthur paused and shifted around a moment before he felt something pressed to the top of his head. He opened his eyes slowly, the sunlight limited by the narrow brimmed hat on his head. It was a little small but it would do. Alfred found himself grateful for the fact Arthur incorporated his old attire with a more seaworthy one. 

--- 

All Alfred knew was that the sensation of having Arthur over him, the other pinning his arms above his head while their lips captured each other's hungrily was addicting. No matter how many times they'd done it for the past few years, it always managed to thrill him to no end. The way their bodies arched into one another, lips worshiping and marking everywhere they possibly could. And afterwards basking in glory as they settled down from their escapades. Surely they realized that with the life they lead they sacrificed the longevity of it to do so. But they could at least enjoy each other until the end of it. 

[queenkrissy11-fandomaccount]

Loose Ends - Three

Bucky Barnes x Y/N Rogers

James is asleep soundly in the play pen next to my bed. Quietly, I make my way into my closet and softly close the door behind me. Behind a pair of red six inch heels I haven’t touched since I found out I was pregnant is a worn leather box. I feel the same wave of emotions I get every time I touch it. On top are pictures of James in every stage since he was born. Taking his first steps. His first time in the snow. On uncle Steve’s shoulders at the race tracks. A picture Steve took right after he was born. My hair is stuck to my forehead with sweat but I have the biggest smile on my face and a tiny baby James on my chest. Below that is the pictures from every ultrasound and countless letters. They’re all addressed to Buck but not a single one even got a stamp. I lost the nerve every time. I reach up and clutch the small charm on the necklace. I haven’t taken it off since he gave it to me four year ago on my birthday. 

I don’t realize I’m crying until I feel the warmth on my cheek. I hear James start to fuss and wipe the tears away.

“I’m coming baby,” He buries his soft face into my chest once he’s in my arms. I start rocking him when I hear a knock at the door. The house was small and the knock could be heard from anywhere in the house. 

I slide James onto my hip and answer the door. 

“You’ll never guess who’s back!” Steve says as he makes his way inside. Bucky files in behind him, a slow trudge to his step. He looks at James and doesn’t move for a moment, his features softening. Then he turns back to me. He knows and he is not happy. 

I sigh and move James towards Steve, “Can you take James back to your place for a bit? I need to talk to Buck.” 

Steve’s all too eager to get his hands on his nephew, “Told you Buck! Look at that face!” Steve looks back at Bucky and freezes. He glances back to James and then whips his head to me, “You have got to be shitting me.” He shakes his head and jogs down the steps, back to his house. 

“Look Buck, I can tell you’re upset. No one has to know. You can get out now and pretend none of this ever happened. I won’t force you to be a part of his life. He’s been fine without you this far, he won’t know any different.” I was ready to go on, to reassure Bucky we don’t need him if he doesn’t want us.

“Are you joking?” His tone is calm but I can tell he’s furious. “You think there’s even a chance I don’t want to be in my son’s life? That I would abandon him? That I would abandon you?” 

“You did it once, what’s to stop you from doing it again?” I regret the words as soon as they leave my lips.

He doesn’t look mad anymore, he looks broken. “You thought I was abandoning you, Y/N?”

Before I had a chance to respond he wrapped his huge arms around me and pulled me tightly to his chest. It was like a weight had been lifted. His arms really felt like home. I don’t feel shattered with him around me, I feel put back together. “Baby, I am so so so sorry. I shouldn’t have left because you weren’t ready. I should have stayed and been there for you. I should have been here for Jameson.”

“No. I’m sorry. I should have told you as soon as I found out. I shouldn’t have left you on your knee to begin with. There isn’t anything I regret more.” My hot breaths were hitting me right back in face as I breathed into his neck. I take a deep breath. I missed how he smelt. I missed how he felt. I missed him and I didn’t realize how deeply until now. Now that he is in my arms and I’m in his. 

We finally part and sit on the couch. “I shouldn’t have left. I was so hurt by you not being ready. It wasn’t worth it, I should have stayed until you were ready instead of storming off.” 

I sigh, “I shouldn’t have said no to begin with. I was ready to be with you, I just wasn’t ready to tell Steve.” 

Bucky lets out a strangled laugh, “Well I think he knows now.”

I let my face drop into my hands. He’s pissed. I know it.

“Well, do you want to meet your son? I’ll try to tame the beast if. you can keep James out of ear shot.” Bucky has the purest look in his eyes as he nods and I feel like a monster for keeping them from each other for the last year and some months.

He leans down and kisses my forehead. We share a smile and he takes my hand. No matter what happens, we’re facing it together