#i put a piece of mail in my mouth so i could get the other piece of mail

[falling-hand-in-unlovable-hand]

nothing like almost putting a huntsman spider in your mouth to really get the adrenaline flowing

[roosterforme]

Old Habits Die Hard Part 16 | Bradley Bradshaw x Reader

Summary: After you visit Chicago, you understand just how hectic your life is about to become. And Bradley finally gets a very important piece of mail. There are things you want to say to him, but you don't know how. 

Warnings: Angst, swears, smut and fluff

Length: 3000 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female Reader (fuckboy college student Bradley)

Check out my masterlist

Bradley helped you pack your bag and sat with you while you waited for your ride.

"I wish I could come with you. But I guess I'll have to wait to see Chicago when I visit you in the fall," he whispered, kissing your neck and holding you.

You were going to check out your new school for a long weekend since you'd be moving to Illinois next month. You were kind of terrified to go alone, but you needed to meet your advisor and look at your course of study. If you had the money, you'd take Bradley with you, but it really wasn't an option. 

"I'll scope out the city and see what looks fun," you told him, running your fingers through his soft hair. 

"Don't do the fun stuff without me though," he murmured. "Promise me, Sugar. Promise me you won't visit that big, silver bean. It looks dumb as hell, but I really want to see it."

You laughed against him and nodded your head in the crook of his neck. "I promise."

"And no deep dish pizza either."

You gasped and pulled away from him. "Now that's where I draw the line, Beer Boy."

Bradley laughed and pushed your hair away from your face. "I'll miss you." His face was so earnest, you had no doubt that he would. 

"I'll call you as soon as I land. Behave without me this weekend."

"I will," he whispered against your lips. "I'll be thinking about you the whole time." You dipped your tongue into his mouth and eased yourself further onto his lap, and just when you started to get cozy, your phone alerted you that your ride had arrived.

He walked you down to the street and kissed you one last time before you got in the car to leave. The urge to make some big proclamation about your feelings was filling you up inside, but you had to tamp it back down. Your feelings were honestly scaring you a bit since Tyson's birthday party. Nothing was making much sense to you now, and you needed to keep in mind that you wouldn't be seeing Bradley on a daily basis starting next month. The idea of it felt like too much weight to carry around with you as he stroked your neck with his fingers and told you he'd miss you so much.

You watched the Virginia countryside in the morning light, and when you landed in Chicago, the juxtaposition of continuous urban sprawl was alarming. You figured you would get used to it in time, but the sheer volume of traffic and city noise started to give you a headache almost immediately. 

You managed to get a taxi to your hotel, and you quickly changed to meet with your advisor. Sometimes you wished you had a closer relationship with your parents so you had someone to rely on. It made you want to put all of your trust in Bradley, and you wanted to be the person he could trust with anything. But you'd only known each other for a few months. 

But you texted him anyway. You snapped a picture as you rode past 'the bean' and promised him you weren't going without him. You texted him photos of the school campus as you walked along, searching for your advisor's office. 

When you found her spacious workspace, she jumped up and introduced herself to you. "I can't tell you how happy we are to have you joining us for the fall semester. Have a seat. And please call me Carmen."

"Thanks, Carmen. I just got lost walking through the campus, but it looks amazing here."

She just smiled at you and promised to take you on a tour tomorrow morning. "Now, I want to give you a brief overview of what will be expected, and then we can select your first semester classes later this weekend. However, I must say, I am so impressed with your undergraduate studies. I've spoken extensively about you with your advisor from UVA, and he assures me that we couldn't have picked a finer PhD candidate to add to our program. So welcome, once again."

You weren't used to hearing such high praise about yourself, and you felt a little uncomfortable in the leather seat. What if they had all actually made a huge mistake? What if you couldn't hack it? You'd be sleeping in the park under the bean, calling Bradley to come out to Chicago and rescue you. 

"Wow," you managed to say with a soft laugh. "I guess the pressure is on then."

When Carmen nodded with a very serious look on her face, all pretense of teasing on your part vanished. 

"It's going to be intense if you want to graduate in four years. And that's one of the things that will be required for you to keep your scholarship. You'll need to maintain a high GPA as well, so you'll be spending a lot of time in the labs and working closely with me."

You pressed your lips together. "It doesn't sound like I'll have much time for a personal life."

Carmen laughed and shrugged. "That's probably true. But when you finish your schooling in just an additional four years, you'll have your pick of careers. You told me in an email that you wanted to be a college professor someday? Well, after we're done with you, I can almost guarantee you'll be able to work anywhere you want to."

You let that sink in for a few minutes while Carmen told you more about the graduate dorms and your monetary compensation.

------------------------------

Bradley spent all day Friday in the study room, bored out of his mind and missing your body perched on his lap. He read his final novel for his English class, and he would have no problem finishing his final paper this weekend. His economics class was so easy, it was boring, and he'd already finished reading his political science textbook.

He'd started counting down the days until graduation. He was ready to move on, simply dying to hear back about flight training. Then he would be able to make some decisions, because at the moment, he was feeling so lost. He was happy for you though. You knew exactly what you wanted, and you were going to get it. He just hoped he would be that lucky this time. 

When his phone went off with texts from you, he scrolled through the photos you sent him, stopping on a selfie of you smiling in front of a fountain. He set it as his background. Then he texted you back.

Dev was sorting the mail when Bradley got back to the Beta house, and the rest of the guys were getting ready for the weekend parties. "Here," Dev told him, tossing a thick envelope to Bradley when he walked past.

"Thanks, man," Bradley replied, expecting it to be the annual information on his mom's life insurance policy. But when he turned it over in his hands and saw the US Navy emblem on the front, he nearly tripped on the stairs. He took the remaining steps two at a time and locked himself in his room. 

With shaky hands, Bradley tore into the envelope and sat down hard at his desk.

"Welcome to officer training and the Naval Aviation Academy," he read out loud to himself, and Bradley could see the tears clouding his vision before he could feel them. 

He set the letter down on his desk and cradled his face in his hands and just cried. This was the thing he had wanted for so long, and this time he wasn't going to let anyone take it away from him. 

Bradley wiped away his tears and let himself smile. His grades had improved so much, especially since he had a 4.0 so far for his senior year. In some sick, twisted way, he thought he had Chase to thank for this, because Bradley wasn't sure he would have been able to find the motivation to drink less and study more on his own. 

He wanted to text you right away. He also wanted to tell Hannah. But he would wait until you came back on Sunday night before he said anything. 

So he read through every bit of information twice and sent an email to the officer listed as his contact person for housing inquiries. As soon as he gave up his room here, he'd have absolutely nowhere to go otherwise. He also asked about guest accommodations, so he would have a good idea about what he should tell you for when you came to visit him.

His schedule looked absolutely wild. In his first year, he'd be in Rhode Island, Florida, Texas, and then California. And now he was hoping he'd have time to see you in Chicago.

So Bradley partied a bit all weekend, silently celebrating his acceptance letter. He avoided the hard liquor and the mob of girls asking him what happened to his girlfriend. You'd be back soon enough, and he couldn't wait to show you his letter.

---------------------------

Your campus tour and lunch with the head of the math department went smoothly. Then you picked out which dorm you'd be moving into, with the option of coming early in May to get a jumpstart on your classes. Then you sat down with Carmen again to select your schedule for the fall semester and see which textbooks you would need to acquire. 

You'd be learning about things you never even dreamed of at UVA. And you'd be working with some of the most intelligent and well studied people in the field. It was a lot for you to absorb.

When you flew back to Virginia on Sunday, you were so antsy, you couldn't sit still. When you landed you texted Bradley and told him you were going to get a ride directly to the Beta house, he said he'd be waiting for you.

And he was. You saw him sitting on the porch when your ride dropped you off, and he walked down to get your bag and pull you into a tight hug. 

"I missed you, Sugar." He scooped you into a hug as the car pulled away, and you let him hold you until you were sliding out of his arms. "How much did you love Chicago?"

You kissed him softly and then nodded. "It was kind of a shock to the system, but...yeah, I think it will be good."

You just inhaled his scent for a few moments while he rubbed your back and asked you for some details. Then it struck you; if you missed each other this much after just a few days apart, how were you going to date each other in two different time zones? You held onto him tighter and kissed the scars on his neck.

"Can I show you something? Up in my room?" he asked softly.

You huffed out a laugh. "I would certainly hope you'd wait until we got to your room for that, Beer Boy."

He rolled his eyes and picked up your bag. "That's not what I was talking about, and you know it. But...yeah, I can show you that, too."

You laughed as Bradley chased you up the stairs, and you opened his door, running your fingers along your phone number as you went inside.

"What do you want to show me?" you asked between kisses. Because now that you had him alone, you needed to touch all of him. His fingers dug into your hair, a little rough along your scalp as he pulled your body against his. 

"I want you to read something," he told you, guiding you backwards until you were sitting at his desk. He pointed to an envelope that looked like it had been opened very hastily, and he kissed your neck as you reached for it.

"Bradley," you gasped when you saw the return address. 

You spun around to face him, but he just nodded and said, "Go on, read it."

As quickly as you could manage, you pulled everything out of the envelope and started to read. You made it through two lines before you were out of your seat and climbing Bradley like he was a tree.

"Oh my god, Bradley! You did it!" You were kissing him all over his face while he held onto you. At first you thought he was crying, but then you realized your lips were met with your own salty tears. "I'm so proud of you!"

"Thanks, Sugar," he whispered against your lips. "I got the letter on Friday, and I've been dying to tell you in person. And now you're the first one I told."

"You could have told me during one of our dozen phone calls, Bradley!"

He just shook his head and climbed on top of you on his bed. "It's not the same."

"What are we going to do when phone calls are all we have?" you asked him softly. But Bradley just shook his head.

---------------------------

He didn't want to think about that yet. He didn't want to think about any of it at all. 

"We'll figure it out," he promised. Your hair was spread out across his pillow, and you were looking up at him like you trusted him with everything. Graduation was so close now, and both of you knew where you were headed next. But none of that mattered, because you'd still have each other.

"I trust you, too, Sugar," he told you, even though you hadn't said anything. "You're so smart. You always know what to do. I trust you."

Your hands were in his hair, pulling him impossibly closer to you. "I knew you'd get in," you told him. "I never doubted you for a moment."

Bradley smiled as you kissed him. "You're the only one who feels that way about me."

"Lucky me," you whispered, wiping a stray tear from your cheek before you started to pull his shirt off. Nothing you did felt rushed, and even though you were pinned underneath him, Bradley knew you were the one in control.

He basked in the feel of your hands on his bare skin and your soft body beneath him. You had changed him so much; or rather, he had changed because of you. He had known he wanted to be better, but he really did it for you as much as himself. 

"Sugar." Your lips were on his shoulder, gliding across his skin, leaving a trail of not quite kisses as you reached for the front of his jeans.

He wished he could make you cum a million times tonight. He wanted to watch every inch of you as you got off on him, because soon he would have to go long stretches without you.

He stripped your clothing off as well, and you were already wet and moaning when he dipped his fingers down along your pussy. 

"Beer Boy!" you whined. "I need you."

He needed you more. Once he had rolled a condom into place, he rolled onto his back and guided you on top of him. He was hard and ready for you, but he watched the look on your face as you straddled his abs and let your forehead rest against his. 

"I need you." You whispered it this time as his fingers gently memorized the curve of your hips. Then you eased yourself down his body and guided him inside you with a soft hiss.

Eyes slightly out of focus, you moved above him, the bump of your thighs against his body just perfect. Bradley was mesmerized, just like he always was when he was with you like this. He let his fingertips trail up along your ribs and across your tattoo and you gasped for him.

"So perfect," he said, and you kissed him hard while you rode him. You tasted his lips and his teeth and moved with a rhythm that had him close to the edge.

He guided his fingers to the space between his body and yours where you could rub yourself against him. And then you were crying out into his mouth as your pussy squeezed his cock, and he came too. 

"So perfect," he repeated into your hair as you buried your face against his neck.

---------------------------

You changed into Bradley's tie dye shirt and sat on his floor sharing a pizza with him. 

"What's your dormitory going to be like?" he asked, folding a slice in half and taking a huge bite. 

"It's in this ancient building with insanely intricate architecture. I picked it because it looked fun, which I'm sure wasn't the best decision," you said with a laugh as he finished the piece of pizza. "But the best part? It's all mine. No roommate!"

Bradley grinned. "That'll be nice for when I come to visit."

You smiled. "It's a long walk to the bean, but if the weather's good, it's doable. And there's literally deep dish pizza on every street. Jealous yet? Are you still sure you want to go to Rhode Island?"

Bradley leaned across the pizza box and placed the softest, sweetest kiss on your cheek. Your eyes fluttered closed and you smiled. "If there was any option for me to be closer to Chicago, I would have taken it, Sugar. Promise."

You just looked at him, longing for him to understand how you felt inside, but you were way too afraid to say anything to him. You were in love with him, and it was eating away at you. There was no way you could tell him. Not when you were graduating and leaving so soon. It would have to wait. Maybe there would be a better time later. But not now.

----------------------

One. More. Chapter. Left. A million thanks to @mak-32 for helping me the whole time with this fic. This one is for you!

PART 17 (the final chapter)

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[barbiecrocs]

Handle or Handled

Nanami Kento

tags! brief choking, piv, a mean Nanami, slutty reader, brief mention of masturbation, car sex, degradation (use of slut), orgasm denial, mention of food kink (kinda)

WC. 1651

Barbie's note... Yall, I was kinda lazy with this one, but that don't mean its bad. I like it so that says smth yk. Anyway have fun yall!! kiss kiss

You have no idea what you do to him. Turning on his sadistic switch when you step out of the house in nothing, but a two-piece lingerie set with a sheer cover-up just to water your plants and collect the mail. Your slutty and unassuming look is what makes him want to break you so badly. Did you have no acknowledgment of the corrupt people in the world? The people like him who want to break that pretty face into bits and then make you clean it up naked on your hands and knees. But hey, he wasn’t exactly the nicest guy so why would it matter to him? 

 You prance around in summer wear all year long. Tiny shorts in the winter, then swimsuits in the summer. Did you never get cold? He had to do a double-take when he looked across the street and saw you washing cars for unneeded money. He was sure you just wanted the attention and he was willing to give it to you, pulling up a chair on his balcony with a nice cold beer and taking in the view. Shirt see-through, jean cut-offs up your ass, and these plastic platform sandals that went clickety-clackety up his porch stairs when you came around to bring him cookies. He never ate them, the only thing he ever did was jerk off to them, his grown imagination running wild in hopes that he could just simply bring the cum-clad cookies back over to you and watch you gulp them down with seconds in mind. Seconds that he would gladly serve to you hot and ready.

 Just then the doorbell rang and the suddenness almost made him cum in his pants. He had been holding it back for a while, telling himself that he wouldn't tend to that type of thing right now. If only he knew what the day held for him. 

 He frantically looked around his living room before finding an apron that lay across his sofa. He swung the door open only to find no one, then directed his eyeline a bit lower. You, in a black tank top, jean mini skirt, and your signature black Chuck Taylors, panting as if you were coming down from a high. Your hand rests next to his head on the door frame, your other hand on your hip, and your body covered in a thin sheet of sweat. "Thank god you answered. I desperately need your help. I would've asked the other neighbors, but they either don't like me or are too old. Plus, I think you're the fittest guy here." You stared at him for a second until you realized you hadn't told him what you needed help with. "Oh, right. I kinda need you to help me push start my car." You give him a sheepish smile, that drops when he wipes his forehead in what you assume is frustration and annoyance but is actually him trying to hide a very mischievous and impish grin. "I'm sorry. It's wrong of me to bother my neighbors with my problems. Please forgive me." You begin to turn away for a graceful exit before he puts a hand on your shoulder. "It's fine. I can do it." You quietly cheer as you lead him to your car which was only at the beginning of the block. 

  You hand him a pair of rubber gloves and before you can say a word, he rolls up his sleeves and gets to pushing. A gasp drops out of your mouth from seeing the muscly arms you dreamed about. His strong arms wrapped around your waist as you rode him on your couch. Or him putting you into a choke hold while fucking you from behind and degrading you. You nearly drooled then snapped yourself out of your daydream for being so silly.

 You realize that he was already more than halfway to your house and you get in the car to direct it all the way.

 "Wow Mr. Nanami, you've got big muscles." You yell, driving into your driveway. "Want to touch them?" He flexes, his playfulness catching you off guard. You never suspected him to return your energy or anything of the sort so you lay it on even thicker, trying to see how far you could take it. "Don't think I won't." You both smirk as he puts a hand on the top of your car. "You don't know what you would be getting yourself into if you took that next step." You pull him closer by the pocket of his apron, "I'm a big girl. I think I can handle myself, hop in."

 It's all a haze of bottoms coming off until he's in between your legs with the bottom half of his face soaked from your teased cunt. He had been denying you of your orgasm for the longest, trying to make this encounter last for hours to get you to crumble in his hands. Even five minutes would be enough, but he wants to drag everything out of you for as long as he can. "Nanami..." You groan, taking a while to finish your sentence since you lost your train of thought in the last wave of pleasure. 

 “Please let me cum!” Breaths of air continuously push out your mouth as you grip any and everything closest to you with your eyes shut tight. He shakes his head between your legs, but it goes unnoticed so he nips at your inner thigh, “Look at me, slut.” A gasp leaves your mouth at the drop of his pet name and you lock eyes with him immediately. “That got your attention, huh?” You nod slowly, scared that if you take too much attention away from holding your orgasm, you’ll explode. You almost can’t hold it in even while crossing your legs, "Nanami please, fuck! Let me cum!" Your gaze into his eyes deepens, but he still shakes his head, “I want you to work for it.”

—

 You look back at him from your position on his lap with an unsure and teary expression, only to see him checking out the view of your ass. He scoots the front seat up to tip you forward and catch a glimpse of your wet pussy from behind. "Well, what are you waiting for? Put it in yourself." Your tears are painfully close to spilling out of your eyes. "But Nanami, this position is kinda embarrassing-" You cut yourself off when he spanks your ass, "Did I ask for your input? If it wasn't a question, then I expect you to follow my orders to the T. Embarrassment should be the last thing on your mind when you flaunt around in tiny skirts and tight shirts all year long." Your eyebrows raise vividly and a dopey smile etches onto your face, “So you noticed? Glad to see that my efforts haven’t been overlooked.” A deep and unholy-sounding chuckle erupts from his throat and heads straight to your cunt which now has its own heartbeat. “God, you’re such a fucking attention whore.” He begins to line himself up with your entrance since you stalled on the idea.

 "Nanami, you're so mean." You pout, completely oblivious to his current actions. "I know. You can handle it though." He slams himself into you and you cum instantly with a roar of his name. Your core goes tight, heat rushes over your body, and your legs spazz while your toes bend and flex themselves to take away from your built-up orgasm. The look that Nanami gives you is a mix of disappointment and dissatisfaction and his hand slides up to your neck, “Didn’t I tell you to hold it?” You nod and the hand on your throat makes its presence known with a firm squeeze. ”Fuck. Did you just get tighter?” You hadn’t even noticed it, but another orgasm was starting to build and just as your body was starting to relax into him, you started moving again. The thought of another world-shattering orgasm being around the corner was enough encouragement for you to get moving unlike before. You catch Nanami by surprise with your sudden enthusiasm, but he easily picks up his sadistic and impish demeanor again. Asserting dominance and supremacy by grabbing you by the hips when he feels you tighten even more and working you down onto him faster. Bumpy moans of his name drag out of your mouth as you get worked closer to your release. You open your mouth to beg, but before the words can come out he grants you permission to cum. Heat spreads over your body once more and your fingers dig into the back of your driver seat almost to the point of tearing through the leather. You would’ve screamed his name if not the tightening grip on your neck as he cums with you.

 You both decompress and his hands uncuff your throat and hips. Your hand comes up to your neck and you can’t help but wonder if he left a beautiful bruise for you to wake up to. He sees your caressing and takes it as concern, “Come on, I’ll take you inside and get you cleaned up.” You almost accept his offer and start to gather your clothes until you realize that you still have more juice left in you and wouldn’t mind going for another round. You get back onto his lap and start to grind down on him which instantly provokes a boner. “Oh? Done so soon?” He smirks “Don’t tell me that you’re older than you seem, old man.” Just in that sentence, you unlocked another side of him, apparently, he doesn’t like being called an old man. “You’re making it very hard to be nice.” You show a small smirk and turn around on his lap to where you are facing him, “That’s fine. I can handle it, remember?”

[quietlyimplode]

ignite your bones

After the fall of General Dreykov, and the remnants of the Red Room still at large, Natasha first year at SHIELD is anything but healing. Labeled a traitor and a turncoat, Natasha tries to find her footing in a strange new world.

Whumptober 2024: Day 30 - holding back tears

Warnings: grief/loss, dissociation

Word Count: 1.3k (gif not mine)

Summary: sometimes crying for yourself and all that you’ve lost, can be cathartic

a/n. One to go - for those that have come along for the ride, followed it all from start to finish and perhaps have been lurking in the back, thank you for all your comments and likes. I think until made to upload and post every day I forget how hard it it, how tedious and oftentimes him is much I want to keep fic to myself because it’s such a feat in putting it out there. So for those that have interacted I thank you from the bottom of my heart for encouraging this. Until tomorrow dear ones.

(Also if you’re American; please vote blue like your life depends on it, because you never know how much your politics affects everyone else’s, oftentimes our lives depend on it to)

Masterlist

Whumptober Masterlist

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A response comes days after Maria takes her letter. Natasha is unsure how it got to Olivia, and even less sure how the response comes back.

The folded paper in her hand is more than a note, it’s the first piece of mail she’s ever received.

Natasha tries not to think too hard about it; if she thought about all the firsts she’s had since arriving here, then she’d probably be overwhelmed.

She can’t bring herself to open it.

There’s so much hope that hangs in the balance.

If it’s not what she expects, if Olivia can’t give her what she wants, she knows she will be devastated, the kind she won’t ever get over.

She doesn’t feel brave enough.

Not yet.

Clint brings breakfast and seems to notice something is wrong.

He asks her, but she shrugs him off, pretending to smile even as he cocks his head in worry.

They debrief and she mumbles her way through it. Natasha can’t concentrate, thoughts seem fleeting, and she worries about the ‘what ifs’ that hide under the bed.

They eat lunch in the cafeteria and Maria joins them. Natasha sits passively, not eating and watching everyone else in the room.

They watch her too. They seem to side eye her and she openly stares.

She doesn’t care enough to be subtle. If they’re looking, then she will too.

After they beat Clint in front of her, she doesn’t care about appearances and there’s no Thompson to threaten her for misstepping.

Maria tells her that both of them have a meeting and asks if she wants to go to the library.

Truthfully, Natasha just wants to be alone.

She shakes her head, and tells them to drop her back.

She’s still not allowed to be left alone in SHIELD. Probably worried about what could happen to her, or perhaps what she might do to others.

Clint gives her one last look of worry before the door shuts.

Natasha sits on the floor, across the room, staring at the bed.

What if Olivia knows more?

What if she can tell her something, anything about her past?

What if she can’t?

It feels like a battle of wills, stuck in the in-between of knowledge and not.

Natasha picks at her nails, unconsciously bites the inside of her mouth.

She hears Clint knocking and chooses to ignore it.

He calls out and she replies that she’s okay, just wants to be alone; and, to her surprise he leaves.

She’ll never get over having her own space and her requests respected.

Another first.

She stares at the bed.

She can do it.

But what if?

.

Natasha swallows.

She knows she’s lost time. The world feels quieter in the dark of night, even though her room has no windows. It’s the principle. Night holds a special quietness within it.

The cadence of the universe seems to be something she’s always been in tune with, and probably, has saved her once or twice.

The letter is in her hand.

She can’t remember getting it.

Just like she can’t remember why there are half crescent moons embedded into her palm where her nails have been digging in.

There’s no writing on the outside.

She can see and feel the writing.

Olivia must press hard, when she writes.

The paper seems to be stock printer paper.

Not lined.

The black pen has a shadow that she can see.

Taking a deep breath, she opens it.

‘Natasha,’ it reads.

Tears well in Natasha’s eyes.

She can’t help it and it surprises her as she swipes them away.

‘Thank you for your note.’

Natasha bites down heavily on her lip, trying to hold herself together, taking a deep breath.

‘I know. She was safe with you. If we could save all those we loved, then the world would be a much kinder place. I have so much to tell you. And likewise, I think you can fill in some gaps for me. You’re not alone.”

Natasha forces herself to take a shaky breath.

‘I’ll be here to answer all the questions I can. But first, you must make agent. Once you’ve done that, meet me in Seattle. I’m sorry that this isn’t easier, and for all that’s happened along the way. Meet me in Seattle and we will talk more.’

The letter signs off with a cursive O.

Natasha lowers the paper, feeling emotions that had been pushed down, repressed for years.

Tears stream now, and she lets herself sob.

She holds the letter to get chest.

Memories, feelings, grief, loss, pain and hope all curl in her chest and she cries.

Natasha feels her breath catch as she lets out a moan, and she lets a wail go, the sadness of losing herself, her past tied into starting a new life, even if it had not given her the safety that she had expected.

It was something.

Olivia had given her hope of something she had never even dreamed of.

Answers.

Why her? Why had it been her abandoned and sold to the red room?

She cries for her younger self, that she could never go back and save.

Memories of Yelena pushing back her newly blue hair and hugging her, telling her she’d miss the red but how cool she looked with it.

Memories of her first kill, the trial of the silent knife as she was given her first weapon, and the training they’d received turned into something vital.

She takes a breath but lets the tears continue.

Such indulgence in emotion, she thinks, as she sniffs and tries to swallow, feeling her ears block and unblock.

Reading the letter again, more tears come.

Natasha doesn’t know how long she lets herself cry, but for the first time ever, she does it without reserve, without restraint and lets herself feel the feelings that flow through her body and cries herself to sleep.

.

Clint knocks and waits until she opens the door.

He’s slightly earlier, worried since the night before, that she had been grappling with bigger thoughts.

He knew what was in the letter from Olivia and what it promised.

So did Maria.

They’d had a discussion as she’d walked him to the car, about Natasha becoming an agent.

There’d be a board review before the decision, where they’d have to give evidence of her debriefs, her progress and usefulness to SHIELD.

Clint was ready for it.

He’d been making Maria practice with him, giving evidence to support her, so that he was ready for all the arguments they may raise.

She even had her own.

He’d asked her why, and Maria had shrugged.

Clint didn’t know what had passed between them when he was in hospital but he knew Maria had been affected in a way that maybe even she didn’t understand.

What he did know, was that Maria knew Natasha’s worth, and even perhaps more than that, Maria knew her own worth - just how vital she was to the functioning of SHIELD.

Coulson had also been promoted.

The strike teams that had been sent after them needed to be replaced. Coulson had asked Clint if he wanted to become a part of one, but Clint wasn’t sure what that would mean for Natasha.

He hadn’t given a straightforward answer, instead asking Coulson the one question that was on his mind- What would happen to her?

Coulson hadn’t responded. Clint thought maybe because he didn’t have the answer just yet.

Clint sighs and knocks again.

Natasha opens the door; and smiles shallowly at him.

He can tell she’s been crying, eyes rimmed red and face flushed.

Speechless, he fumbles over words to ask if she wants to go for breakfast.

Nodding, she zips up her hoodie, and he realises it’s the first time she’s worn something other than the SHIELD issued clothing.

.

[velvet-paradox]

Heartstrings (Part One)

Fandom: Sleep Token (Band) Pairing: eventual Vessel x Female reader Length: Medium Summary: Memories haunt our beloved frontman, some he'd like to forget and some he's been hiding. Warnings: eventual NSFW, 18 + ONLY, strong language, tobacco use, alcohol consumption, supernatural (no, not the show) element, a twisted little game. Tagging: @synnersaint as always, @megangovier20 

NOTES: I’ll be reposting to @roman-is-a-horse as well as that’s my little hole in the wall for all things masked men and Sleep Token

ENJOY!!!

He's exhausted. He's all sweat and grit, dirt beneath his fingernails, mud on his boots. 

He could care less. 

What he needed was sleep. Glorious, pillow soft sleep. And the deity let him. 

He dreamt of monkey bars, chipped green paint, orange creme popsicles, a dizzy tire swing blurring in the distance, a familiar face hanging upside down from a wound up swing set. The air is light and the sun is high. He learned why ancient Egyptians rimmed their eyes with kohl. Learned the proper pronunciation for Persephone. Had his first kiss. Got into his first of many, fist fights and tasted blood and why you don't pick at knuckle scabs. The taste of woodchips. 

And then he met you.

Vessel woke with a jolt, restless leg syndrome, jerking him at the worst of times but helpful on the stage. 

"You're pretty when you cry." That silky voice that lulled him to the dreamworld sang down to him. Above his head, resting oh so carefully upon his pillow was Sleep, taking the form of a smoky red cat with six black slits for eyes. The deity grinned sharp, bone white fangs before leaping into the air at Vessel's recognition that he was indeed crying, his cheeks and lips streaked with salt. Sleep hung in the air above him, wagging its tail.

"Bad dream?" Sleep asked, resting its face on its paws like some teenager, coiling the phone cord, awaiting the latest hallway gossip.

"I'm fine," Vessel sniffled and turned on his side, an attempt to ignore his maker.

Sleep rolled onto its' back, little red paws pointing up to the ceiling before floating in front of his face and purred. "That's not what I asked."

Vessel blamed it on his uncomfortableness, the bed was cold and the sheets icy against his bare legs. Sleep wasn't buying it, squinting all six eyes at him as he tossed and turned for the rest of the night. ....

"That's not fair!"

"Life isn't fair, brother, get used to it."

"You big troll, that's the last can!"

"Watch it you little gremlin or I'll step on you and put you out like a light."

Brotherly threats floated up stairs along with the smell of someone cooking breakfast. Cinnamon butter, scrambled eggs, no doubt since his heathen brothers refused to eat them any other way. Roasted earthy mushrooms, peppered bacon.

Vessel clung to the staircase watching three others maneuver around someone's rented home in the highlands. Through a large bay window he could make out the silky green grass and sparkling yellow daffodils dancing in the wind.

SpaghettiOs. 

III and IV were giving II shit in between grabbing plates, poor thing was jumping up and missing terribly the can of the tomato sauced rings. Vessel shook his head and jumped down the last two steps before they all stuttered to a stop, III hid the can behind his back as if he were about to be scolded.

"Never gets old, huh?" He asked and snagged a piece of less burnt bacon.

"Not a chance." III resumed his taunts until II gave up, growling low in his throat and angrily shut off the stovetop, marching outside into the daylight.

"Package came for you this morning." IV mumbled through a mouthful of eggs as he found him out on the porch swing. Vessel took the box with more questions than answers.

"Who knows we're here?"

IV shrugged and joined him on the bench, crossing his legs as the wooden slats swayed.

Vessel looked it over. Just a standard brown box, wrapped in a weeks worth of clear packing tape. Just several stamps -international corners, a beating or two in a mail office dented one of the boxes sides. He took the switchblade IV handed him, scoring the edged until it came loose.

He shook whatever was hidden, another box came tumbling out into his lap along with a folded piece of cardstock. He handed it over. Though as he dug around inside, he should've looked at the note first because IV's eyes, already on the large spectrum, had bloomed into bright blue saucers.

"What? What is it?"

"Look and see."

Vessel dropped the note to the ground as it were on fire. Explosive. A grenade of nostalgia and pain, if not sudden death.

ARE YOU GAME?

No.

No no no no no.

He could feel IV's eyes on him as he fumbled with the spare box, careful with the folds, peeling back the layers on carefully placed and wrapped tissue paper. His fingers ghosted over the jewelry or what was left of it before holding it up in the afternoon sun.

Vessel began to panic, anxiety was never far from him as he thumbed over one of the personally laid coins like a treasured rosary and if he were totally honest; it was just that. ....

Vessel had recently gotten into a band called Immortal the previous summer, expressing himself in a similar manner of covering his face (still experimenting with paint on his hands, he was always on the look out for the best greasepaint his first high school job could afford), in black and white paint, cut off jackets and ripped denim. Had attempted to look as cool as possible with a cigarette behind his ear. He never smoked it, just toyed with his mothers' addiction. The girls dug it so there was always that.

His friends chased squirrels until the popular girls noticed them, could've been a dare, could've been a prank but that didn't stop them from turning and chasing them instead. Their shrills squeals of laughter sang through the halls, tickled pink for attention in the back of classrooms.

The boys had ditched him once again as they left him at the playground, holding on to his bullet belt as he made his way, by foot, across town towards his job. He was going to be late, but the owner of the coffee shop couldn't care less; he was probably a few beers in as it was only three that Saturday afternoon. 

Louie could really pound them down.

He was almost there when he stopped short. There on a park bench were a pair of shapely legs. Just sitting there in the air. Torn fishnets with shin high striped socks and boots, scuffed and beat up, much like his own when he looked down.

He crept by slowly, curious if they were a mannequin's legs or if they were real or, God forbid they were just that. No body attached! How scandalous! 

A murderer on the loose and Vessel would be the first witness to the crime. His stomach had flipped at that.

But still, the young man proceeded forward, cautiously now as he left his usual path and got closer, squinting when he saw one of the ankles twitch. 

Vessel made calculated steps around he bench and saw- gratefully of course, that the legs were indeed attached to a body, the body of a girl his age that he'd never seen before. She was laying upside down with her eyes closed, arms bent and on the ground beneath her head so she wouldn't roll off and crack her skull. An opened can of SpaghettiOs sat next to her, along with a sad looking purse.

"What are you doing?" 

"What's it look like I'm doing, smart guy? 'm thinkin'." Was her response. She didn't even bother to open her eyes and acknowledged him. Foreigner for sure, he thought.

"Upside down?"

"I get all the cobwebs out better this way," then she cracked one eyes open, searching for him in this state and she smiled, the brightest smile he'd ever seen on a person. Stunning. Absolutely fucking stellar. "You should try it."

"Doesn't all the blood rush to your head like that?" Vessel turned his head to see her face better.

"That's the point, silly! When my brain talks to much the best way to shut her up is to rush her out, let her out. Come on, try it. There's plenty of room." She quipped and wiggled over in the bench, using her hands for leverage.

Vessel looked at his watch; twenty minutes until his shift started and he'd need to be there and get his apron on and punch in his timecard and Louie might not be drunk and waiting for him patently at the doors with a pained expression and angry, uncaffeinated patron waiting to get their fix.

He had trouble moving his body and wincing when one of the bullets jabbed his hip bone, but all in all he managed her similar position. Fucking wild. His jacket creaked when he moved his hands to the earth below, mimicking her position.

"Good job. Now watch me. Just breathe in and out like this, don't think about anything other than that and you'll be clear as a Koi fish pond."

He frowned but went along with it, looking at her as instructed he slowly shut his eyes, long legs growing tired he let them hang over the back of the bench instead and controlled his breathing.

He wasn't thinking about school or work, his thesis he had yet to start that was due in two weeks time. Not what he was going to have for dinner or which skirt II was trying to get under this week. Probably Jessica. II was always after Jessica.

"See. How do you feel now?" She asked. 

Vessel couldn't even answer her at first, too caught up in the sensations, more aware of her perfume when his senses kicked into overdrive with his heartbeat pounding in his ears like this.

"Weightless. Clear." He mumbled.

"Exactly."

Then her hand was on his, carefully he opened his eyes and his world felt like his house of cards were about to tumble down if he breathed too loudly. 

"I'm Y/N." ....

He thought about you as he ran the rest of the way to coffee shop, the little blue and white striped awning coming into view as his boots pounded pavement. He was just seconds away from being late, clocking in just in time and wrapping a brown apron around his jacket in the backroom.

He thought about as he rang up a pretty dark skinned girl, fresh faced and smiling at him.

He thought about you when a crotchety old woman barked her order and waited too close to the counter until he could brew it, which she made him do it twice. He thought about you when a regular by the name of Johnny Two-Step came in, grooving to the beat of whatever song which was playing softly in the background. 

He thought about you on the walk home, every park bench he passed by, with his hands in his pockets were shockingly empty.

Would he ever see you again?

Where you from? What were you doing here in this small seaside town? And why were you eating cold SpaghettiOs right from the can like a cat with a tin of tuna? ....

"Straight from the can?!" III asked the following day, sitting on his roof with an open notebook, ready for some action along with a stolen can of his father's beer. It would go unnoticed. They always went unnoticed.

III's dad would give a shrug and mumble about needing to slow down though he never did, he just went out and bought more, stocking the fridge in the garage for the next day.

"Never seen anything like it."

"I would hope not! Sounds like she's a screw or two loose."

"Maybe."

Maybe you did. Maybe you were what his mother would call 'quirky' or carefree, the possibility of being a hellion might be written in the stars for you too. Either way Vessel was into it.

"No no no, that's not how you do it. Here, you're just gonna' make a mess of it. Now look, you take the can like this..."

Vessel couldn't help be drawn into the kitchen of a house party a few weeks later, he'd toyed with the cigarette again, holding between his two front teeth as some girl in an obscenely short dress chatted him up outside. He told her to hold that thought and maneuvered through the bodies. Sweat and beer lingered on the air, music pulsed and couples and a possible throuple but Vessel's standards were making out in a dim corner.

The snap of a beer can had him joining the little circle around the sink. A few guys cheered. A few girls made noises, he couldn't decipher whether it was a good or a bad thing at the moment.

Vessel towered over the group, watching II wipe his mouth over the sink before slipping his trusty balaclava back up over his nose. He saw someone and when he looked, his eyebrows shot up to his hairline in an instant.

It was you.

It was really you!

You cheered in delight, gave him a high five and grinned.

"Whose next? How about you pretty lady?" You waved Jessica over, who was shy at first but followed your lead in her pink and yellow bellbottoms and halter top.

After your next shotgun you hugged Jessica who looked worse for wear and slumped against II who was more than happy to help her stand and move out out of the kitchen. II passed him in the doorway, giving him a fist bump to the shoulder, talking to his love interest, lost in the haze of beer and clouds of weed smoke.

"You! There you are you big tall drink of water."

Vessel turned just in time to see you, focused and barreling straight towards him, a look of drunken excitement on your face. You weren't stopping and then you were lunging at him, embracing him in a hug that should feel all sorts of foreign and wrong but... was welcomed and warm and you smell like floral perfume and beer foam.

You looked up at him with silly grin. "Hi."

"Hi yourself. Having a bit of fun I see."

"Wanna' shotgun a beer with me?"

"Maybe later. How many have you had already?"

You made a goofy sound in your throat, released his waist and took his wrist in your hands, dragging him outside. Something made of glass shattered somewhere inside the house as you two ducked out and sat down in a little gazebo on the property. Vines and little white flowers coiled up and around the lattice.

"You gonna' smoke that?" You asked, digging those same weathered boots into the dirt.

"You want it?"

"Can I share it with you?"

"You can have it. I actually don't smoke."

Your expressions ranged and rivaled those of a comic strip as you looked at him. "What the what?! You don't smoke, yet you just casually have a cigarette behind your ear?"

Vessel shrugged. "It's just an accessory at this point."

"Next thing you'll be telling me is you're not a real jester!"

"A jester?"

"The makeup! You're not a clown either? Some practicing mime? Although if you were a mime you wouldn't be talking, would you?" You drunkenly mused and Vessel wondered how many beers you’d already rushed into your bloodstream.

Vessel snorted and shook his head. "Afraid not. I'm just a guy."

"A handsome guy." You huffed and lit up the cigarette, leaning back on your elbows as you smoked.

Vessel snorted, unaffected by the tobacco hanging around your heads as you both looked up at the moon. Tethered to it's soft glow over the treetops. "I've been called a lot of things, but handsome ain't one of them."

You bolted upright, cigarette renting space between your teeth and burning his eyes as you grabbed his face like you were old friends. 

"That's a damn shame. I'm going to make it my mission to tell you everyday I see you how good you look. Even if you are talking mime!"

Part Two Part Three

[maxybabyy]

inspired by this gif

He shows her a photo first. It’s not the one that he ends up ordering, but it’s close enough; the same pleated skirt but the cut of the shirt is different, the colour scheme changed too. Max, half distracted by the sim race she’s trying to join, says, “This is of course very American of you, Daniel.”

“Yeah? Did you bring the ears from last year then?” He asks and makes her squeeze further into the corner until there’s almost no space between them. “Gonna be a kitty cat again, Maxy?”

“For this, I will need also the –“ she says after squinting at the screen. She claps her hands enthusiastically and throws them up in a high V, the controller left in her lap. “The sparkly things for my hands, no? I think this will be very important, Daniel.”  

“I will get you some pompoms, baby.” He says, pulls her into a kiss when her hands still haven’t come down. “Maybe then you can do a little routine for me, yeah? Show me who you’re really cheering for?”

In the end, Max is let into the discord call and is allowed to join the race – even if she is away from her sim set-up. Daniel sits beside her and looks through uniform options, tries not to lose himself in the images of her on her knees, skirt spread wide over her thighs as she sucks his cock.

Max has a last-minute shoot with Red Bull, so he meets up with some of the others for a drink or two before the party.

It’s fine, if a bit uneventful. None of them has put much effort into their costumes. Alex looks great, but only when his girlfriend stays close enough to add complexity to the otherwise bland costume.

Max has been live blogging the shoot in their texts, another fluff piece to take the heat off Checo’s race in Mexico. And then at the end, sent just over an hour ago, a picture of the pompoms Daniel had made sure to order resting on a wide shot of Max’s thigh in the backseat of a car.

Daniel hadn’t replied, didn’t see it until now, but. He goes, downs the cup of shitty but expensive vodka and makes his excuses to Lando, who hasn’t stopped staring at both Oscar and Carlos at either end of the room like he’s at a fucking tennis match.

Max has her own drink in hand when he finds her, straw sucked deep in her mouth as she nods at whatever Charles is saying. Her cheeks are flushed, and she’s obviously having a good time if the way she’s smiling is anything to go by. She must know he’s watching because she turns to look at him, eyes bright as she waves the pompom at him.

She looks fucking amazing.

The uniform fits perfectly, and even with the sensible white long sleeve that she’s wearing underneath, she looks fucking hot. When it came in the mail, he hadn’t told her it was a Chicago Bulls costume; the ‘Bulls’ on her chest the closest thing to Red Bull he could find. But he looks at her now and thinks, ‘Maybe they should do a rebrand.’

She’s wearing the same sneakers that she always is, black and practical, and her hair is tied back in her usual high pony, only this time with a striped ribbon instead of a beige hair tie. It shouldn’t be as hot as it is, but Max has always been in a league of her own. In racing, in life, in Daniel’s heart –

“Hey there, pretty lady,” he says and leans in close when Charles has escaped with a choked-up laugh. “I would offer you a drink, but someone already beat me to it, huh?”

Max lets out a laugh, shakes her head. “We are of course not in Austin anymore, Daniel.”

There’s a smushed ‘3’ painted on her cheek in red; the font unlike what is usually used for jersey numbers, and instead oddly reminiscent of what it would look like on the RB19.

“Did you come here from the big game too?” He asks instead and puts a hand on her waist, his thumb poking under the fabric to rest against her skin. “Bet your team won real easy with all the attention on you, pretty girl. Hardly any eyes on the ball, I reckon.”

“Daniel! It was only golf with Checo. Always, he was very interested in the game, I think, but –“

Daniel breaks her off with a kiss when he cannot help himself anymore, pulls her closer to his chest for a moment before he steps back. “Did you come here with a boyfriend? A friend, maybe?”

Max stares at him, teeth biting into a lip that must have been painted red once. There’s still a bit of lipstick left, maybe there’s something on him now too. She must see something in his face, because she says, flushed, “Tonight, it is just me from the – the big game, of course.”

“Yeah? No quarterback waiting for you at home? I bet you looked hot cheering for your team,” he says, looks at the hand now wrapped around his neck, the pompom resting loosely against his chest. Max gives it a little shake over her head, the rustle loud in their tiny self-imposed space.

“It was a very lovely game, that,” Max hums, rubs at the eye black on his cheek. “The team, I think, is very good this year. We can of course win the ra – “ she takes a sip of her drink to hide the stumble, glares at Daniel when he laughs at her. “I can do the pyramid very well, so we will win the next match also.”

Daniel does want to hear more about Max’s ideas of cheerleading competitions, of the trophies and championships she would have won in that too. But more than that, he wants to drag her into the bathroom and make her come; fuck her open and loose so when they get back to the hotel, he can fuck her right.

“That’s your type then? Athletes?” He asks. He doesn’t kiss her, but he wants to, knows she wants it too. But they’re so close, almost there.

“It is very hot, I think, when they are also into the sport,” she says, her breath hitching when his free hand finds its way under her skirt, to the almost non-existent thong she has on. “When they are very good, I think that is very lovely also.”

“Do you have a favourite? Someone you’re just dying to meet, to fuck?”

Max whines softly, presses against the leg Daniel has shoved in between her thighs, “You are so stupid Daniel,” she says, breathy and hoarse. “You look of course very handsome in your little outfit, but always race car drivers are the –“

He kisses her, doesn’t let her finish. 

They’ve strayed from the plan; from the loose script he had in his head. But Daniel doesn’t care, feels greedy with it that even in this – drunk and unserious as they pretend to be people they aren’t – Max still cannot pick someone else, someone who isn’t fully and completely him.

[alm0ndla1t]

༘⋆ - YOU’VE GOT MAIL.

༘⋆ FT :: xavier thorpe x fem!addams!reader

༘⋆ TW :: mentions of the word ‘dead’ once, angsty content (??). some lines from the show are used

༘⋆ SYNOPSIS :: you did your all to hide xavier’s parting gift from your family. who would’ve thought the object of your desire would become known to them so soon…

⊹ ⋆ﾟ꒰ఎ ♡ ໒꒱ ⋆ﾟ⊹

I get caught red handed as the foreign, high-pitched sound of a message notification fills in the pause of a family discussion during dinner. I freeze, accepting my fate as the center of attention as we sit in dead silence. I always liked my solitude and the quiet, let alone words and things beginning with ‘dead’, but this one was making me nauseous, and not in a good way. This is where it ends. What a drag. The taste of my favorite dish or my father’s neverending stories of his years at Nevermore could not have made it up to the void I felt inside of me.

I slide my right hand into my pocket slowly and imperceptibly, disabling the sound of my phone. I see a familiar contact name as my phone screen lights up. Xavier. Of course it has to be him. Oh the place and time. Brushing off the brim of emotions that overwhelms me, I take the knife and the fork back in my shaky hands and force out a few words of explanation that my parents deserve.

“My apologies, perhaps bringing a phone to a family function wasn’t the best idea. Will note for next time” I end up murmuring indistinctly with a fake smile, looking down at my plate in humiliation. My eyes then anxiously wander across the room, examining my family’s faces. Everyone is eyeing me back in utter confusion. That, however, doesn’t stop my mom from engaging into the conversation furthermore, as she puts the napkin back on her lap.

“Y/n, darling,” she said softly. “Would you mind explaining how you happen to possess the soul-sucking electronic device of meaningless affirmation in the first place?”

The question was expected and I should’ve came prepared - no one in the house knew about Xavier’s thoughtful gift to me, except for Wednesday, of course. The alien and humbling feeling of excitement, mixed with admiration, has overfilled me to the point where confessing to my sister on the spot was inevitable. The timing was especially right, as next came the unsettling messages from our stalker that we’re yet to decode.

“It was a parting gift from my friend when I left Nevermore for this winter break” I clarify blandly, making eye contact with my mother. My train of thought, which was more a contemplation of my eventful life anyway, was cut off by a voice at the end of the table.

“Does the friend in question happen to be the handsome young man from that one time at the Nightshade library?” Uncle Fester asks frisky and somewhat mockingly, stuffing his mouth with salad.

I am in the beam of spotlight once again as the family is left on a cliffhanger. Hurts to admit, I overreacted. This is where it ends. My ego are pride are shattered in a million pieces. Who knew that the terrible loss of a subjective self-identity of a heartless, disastrous hellbound teenage girl would come so soon.

Hastily picking up the food on my plate with a fork, I utter the following in a grumbly indistinct manner, trying hard not to blush. “Yes, it was him.”

My parents meet each others gazes as they smile. They let me rest from the discussion for half a minute, murmuring sweet nothings to one another, and just when I begin to think my blaze of glory is finally over, my mom picks the conversation up again.

“So, mind telling us more about it? What is his name?”

“Xavier Thorpe.” Wednesday shot back before I was even able to respond. Perhaps the complete disgust of the ongoing discussion has pushed her to my rescue, hoping to end this nightmare as soon as possible.

My mother hums in approval and continues the love interest trivia, raising her brow. “He’s Vincent Thorpe’s son, isn’t he?”

“Wait, what?!” Pugsley says at the edge of his seat, excited from overhearing his favorite psychic’s name.

“Yes, yes he is. I am not sure as of where me and Xavier stand and I would appreciate it if you give me some time before we talk about this again” I let out a sigh as I finally say what’s been on my mind. “For now, excuse me, I have to go. Thank you for a wonderful meal.”

I get up and make my way upstairs, to find some peace and quiet in my bedroom. Laying on my back and staring at the ceiling in complete despair, I pull out the phone from my pocket after some time, checking the messages.

“Hey! I was thinking of asking you out for coffee, how does that sound?”

I am doomed. So doomed.

[sunnylands-world]

Bloody rose's

Pairing: step dad Mafia draco x reader

Summary: you happen to walk in on your step dad in a meeting with his enemy in the mafia while pregnant with his child and Draco has to keep them quiet…

Word count:629

Warning: mentions of gun's, talks of harming others, pregnant reader, I think that's it

Universe: step dad draco in the mafia

A/n: hope you like it 🤍😌@b-bewley1979

Your hand rested on the swell of your belly as you walked the house in your skin-tight black dress. The cotton was soft and elastic. It was your favorite dress to wear around the house, especially since you were carrying a child now. Draco and your baby. When you found out you were scared of the baby coming into this world with a father working in the field he was in, but he assured you he wouldn't let anything happen to either of you with a kiss on your forehead and your belly making you smile.

You were now at the kitchen island as the cook prepared lunch. You tried to help her, but she insisted that you needed your strength, which made you laugh. She was an older woman who had been employed by the Malfoys for years. She was awfully nice to you when you moved in.

"I'll get Draco," you said, standing up, and she nodded, continuing with lunch. You walked down the hallway before you encountered the stairs which were not fun to walk during pregnancy, holding the rail. You headed up towards his office, knocking, but there was no response, so you opened the door, seeing Draco leaned back in his chair. His snake tattoo is nearly visible under his button-up with the black cover-up on top and a few buttons open.

"Draco the-"

"I had no idea your stepdaughter was pregnant, congratulations!" a voice you recognize caught your attention. You didn't even see Harry enter but you knew not to speak to him because the reds were enemies on the green side of the Mafia.

"Yes, with my child, so if you don't mind, hurry this the fuck up so I can go down for lunch with her" Draco said, sitting forward. Harry fixed his glasses, a smirk coming at his face.

"Ah, so it's yours, " he beamed, but you could hear the sarcasm in his tone. He stood walking toward you, but the guard blocked you, lifting his weapon.

"Listen, Harry, I'd hate for something to happen to your friend Ron, who we caught last time trying to steal my things, so I suggested you keep your mouth shut or I'll cut your redhead friend up and mail him to you." Draco glared. Harry swallowed, adjusting his tie.

"Ho-how did you find out -"

"him breaking into my warehouse trying to steal my weapons like the broke piece of shit he is?" Draco stood coming to your side and putting his arm around you protectively.

"Well the asshole is clumsy as Fuck. He nearly killed himself by setting off a bomb in my building, which made me have to switch locations and I am very, very, very pissed about that. I was going to kill him but my beautiful princess here begged me not to. I think you should say thank you. " He moved from your side, taking a knife from his pocket and putting it to Harry's neck.

"Say it," he ordered. Harry was on edge and shaking.

"Thank you" Harry gave in, breathing, when Draco removed the knife.

"Be quiet and perhaps Granger will still have a husband," he murmured, and Harry nodded.

"Blaise get this pussy out of my sight" Draco scoffed and Blaise nodded, grabbing Harry by the collar and dragging him out.

"You know you didn't have to tell him the baby was yours," you say quietly looking down towards the carpet.

"But I'm not ashamed of you or my child," he said, putting one finger under your chin and slowly kissing your lips.

"Come on, I'm sure lunch is ready and I'm starving!" Draco exaggerated, walking you out. You shook your head, amused.

Draco never missed an opportunity to point out everyone who had the most power.

Request open 😺

Draco's lovers and requests

@alexxavicry, @sarahthehuffpuff, @supercoffeeblogs, @thatwattpadobsessed, @amyclare04, @kyracanwrite, @animeloverfreak310, @imafangirl22, @phildunphyisadilf , @jac1ndaa

[landhoe-norris]

here are all twelve fics and one art that the wonderful participants of the winter break fic exchange in the carlando server made and posted.

i want to thank @boohowdy and @ruffboisebvettel for helping me with the planning and execution of this, for the cheerleading and for always being available for anyone who had any questions.

huge thanks to everyone who participated. thank you for putting your hearts and souls into your work; thank you for always being there for each other, and thank you for allowing us to share in your multitude of talents and creativity. you are all amazing people, and the carlando server is lucky to have you all.

*

watch this space, I'm open to falling from grace by tiredtiredsharl (@wolfiemcwolferson)

Summary: Lando is used to not seeing the people who live in the building. He comes and goes at odd hours and he uses the laundry room on his days off in the middle of the day and he checks his mail at 3:30 in the morning, so it’s more weird to him that he runs into Carlos twice in a five day period. He had started to think that he maybe made it up - got dosed at the bar or had a vivid dream about a man who was every single fantasy he’s ever had - tall and broad and hair and hands and lips.

Someone new moves into 4B and nothing is as it seems.

*

are you a future or a fairytale – am i naive or is this real by Missha (Mishtique) (@mish-tique)

Summary: It takes Lando a few semesters before he finally settles for studying photography at an international university. He hopes that this is the time when he finally settles and turns out to be happy studying – his parents just pray that he won’t change his mind again. They want him to settle down, find a nice person and become stable.

He just wants to be happy and live his own life without having people trying to micromanage it.

His sudden decision to also rent a room on campus comes with a surprise in the form of a Spanish, older, and-blessed-with-visuals-shaped-by-the-gods Alpha.

Carlos Sainz Jr is both the best and the worst thing that could happen to him during his first year in uni. Especially when the alpha keeps walking in on him wearing his, his – pretty clothes.

Or: 5 times Carlos catches Lando with something special + 1 time Lando wears something special for Carlos.

*

i love you forever, not maybe (you’re my one true love) by csjr (@boohowdy)

Summary: Lando is starting to suspect that off-camera, he’s quite the soft and gentle guy. What did he say once in an interview? He protects love? I’d love to be protected, Lando thinks.

or: the one where Lando is a student, Carlos is a F1 driver, and they go through a lot before they get their happy ending

*

Twin Flame by Phebes (@phebess)

Summary: 98% of people know exactly when they've met their soulmate. 2% do not.

or: the soulmate slow burn that nobody asked for

*

All The World Wondered 🔒 by biscuitydenim

Summary: Crimean War AU

*

Pull Everything to Pieces by kolyarostov (@landinrris)

Summary: Daniel’s here because he left classified documents on a train for someone to find (and find them they did). Max is here because he was in charge of tailing a suspect who was dealing illegal firearms and lost track of them (and thus the guns that were eventually found at the scenes of various crimes). Pierre’s here because he royally fucked up a diplomatic meeting with the French ambassador (Carlos thinks it was probably accidental nudes). Carlos is pretty sure Nico’s here because no one actually likes him. What he doesn’t truly know is why Lando’s here— but it can’t be good.

Or: Carlos gets sent to the bottom of the MI5 ladder after a training fiasco, and he'll do anything to make up for it.

*

That’s what happens in the movies, anyways 🔒 by Belzebubcat (@waddlingpenguin)

Summary: Lando isn’t sure what he expects. Maybe he thought Carlos would kiss him or- or say it back. That’s what happens in the movies, anyways. He leans in, eyes on Carlos and presses a kiss to the corner of his mouth.

Carlos doesn't respond.

There are no fireworks.

No string quartet playing in the background.

It’s nothing like what happens in the movies.

*

Those Lazy-Hazy-Crazy Days of Summer (With You) 🔒 by Toasted_Teacake (@the-toasted-teacake)

Summary: Carlos invites Lando to spend a few days at the Sainz villa under the guise of golf. Lando thinks he might finally be ready to fall.

*

it's the heart that really matters in the end 🔒 by LucysFault (@ruffboisebvettel)

Summary: So here Lando is, completing one step of the journey alongside his son, and a family somewhere out there are on the same path but just starting out. It’s like Candyland in his mind. They’re moving over the finish line while the other family have just had their piece placed on the board.

Or, Lando and Carlos meet in a hospital cafe, Daniel and Charles are their kids, and some springs are worth waiting for.

*

Impractical Magic by goldenboygate (@goldenboygate)

Summary: Charles and Lando were born into a family where falling in love means you end up dead. They take different paths in life, Charles wanting nothing more in life than to feel the exhilaration love brings, and Lando too afraid to ever put himself out there.

When Charles gets into trouble with one of his boyfriends, Lando must figure out how to help him while trying his best not to fall in love with the one man who can take his life apart, Detective Carlos Sainz.

*

Take My Breath Away by kabutocat (@foo1ishheart554)

Summary: Art. Lando and Carlos as Maverick and Iceman from the original Top Gun.

*

take my sweater with the loose threads by sadcornyfuck (@enjoythebutterflies)

Summary: Carlos is a patient man, waiting his entire life for a moment like this.

*

Te amo - I love you 🔒 by NamarieCarlando (@jolandax13)

Summary: Carlos and Lando are roommates. And in love. They just don’t know the other feels the same. But when Landos suppressants run out and he goes into heat, their feelings are finally revealed.

[tiny-minecraft-rabbit]

The Little Post Rat

Gift for @baconlamb for the 2024 @mcytblrholidayexchange

This is my very first age regression fic, something I've wanted to write for a while and am so glad I got the opportunity to do so!

Word Count: 1.5k Characters: Age Regressor Watermunch and Caregiver Martyn Inthelittlewood AO3 Link Here

Being a post rat meant being on the move. It meant traveling from place to place. It meant being quick and nimble and never being in the same place for long, as there was always someone waiting to get their mail. 

That being said, this was the first time in a long time that Watermunch had stayed in a single place for so long.

She had never set up a postal network before, but Le Terrière had seemed as good a place to start as any. There were plenty of rats here, and they had lots of things to say. Establishing a local system and beginning on deliveries was easy, she had made a few on the very first day. After that she built an office and planted roots within days. However, the rats that were as passionate about delivering mail as she was were far and few between; so actually recruiting to help expand the post office was much harder. Her plans to connect the hotel’s Rattic to the greater world of post were put to a standstill. 

She found that she didn’t mind too much. Getting to stand still for a while was nice. It left time for other things. It left time to relax and be herself. 

Water laid out a nice big blanket on her floor, already feeling herself slipping as she set out the small number of toys she had. She only had what she could fit in her post bag, which wasn't a lot. Mostly it consisted of her childhood plush doll—a sweet little rat-girl with a cotton dress—and colored pencils that were usually used for making notes and writing letters. She also set out snacks, slices of baguettes and cubes of cheddar. It was probably a bit filling when she hadn’t had lunch yet, but who was she to deny herself bread and cheese. 

Once everything was set out she plopped herself down and started to color. 

It did not take long her for drawings to slip from her usual style to something much more childish. She was drawing herself and the others around the attic. She made Eloise and Bek holding hands and Ratman with his car. They were squiggly and brightly colored, and she smiled to herself as she did. 

At some point her thumb slipped into her mouth and she hummed happily around it . 

This was nice. It had been so long since Water had really been able to be little. While traveling every now and then she would slip and feel the fuzzies in her brain try to take over, but she was never in a stable enough place to really get small. At most she would allow herself some kid snacks and a bit of doodling. She hadn’t been truly regressed like this in ages. 

She pulled her doll close, pointing to her newest picture to show her, “Look Ms. Fluffybottom, that’s Sniff and Scott. See, 'cause she is wear-wing a green sweater and Scott has all the colors on him.” 

Ms. Fluffybottom didn’t say anything in return, but Water could tell she was very impressed. 

She was starting to get bored; there was only so much coloring a little rat could do before they got tired of it. She poked around her office, quickly finding the scissors and glue. Now, this was a proper activity! She colored a nice big drawing of a rat and cut them out (going extra slow so she didn’t accidentally snip something wrong). Then she got started on making the rat outfits on a separate piece of paper. She was having trouble getting the size right, but she wasn’t going to give up easily. 

Then, there was a knock on the door. 

She froze, staring at the door with wide eyes. The only times someone had bothered knocking on her door was when she was staying at different hotels between deliveries. She could wait for some hotel staff to go away, but she doesn’t think she could wait for someone from the attic to just go away. A lot of them were her friends and the rest were a curious bunch of rats. 

It made a part of her want to come out of little space and deal with the rat at the door like an adult. 

Honestly, she tried, willing herself to be big and think adult thoughts; but as she stood up and felt herself toddle on shaky feet, she knew it wasn’t happening. 

She must have taken too long, as she was only halfway across the floor when another knock rang out. “Hey, Munch! You in there?” 

Martyn. 

Water was even less sure about opening the door now—while Martyn was one of the more fun rats in the attic, he was also one of the meaner ones. There was no telling what his reaction to her would be. He might make fun of her!

She could just ignore him, he’d leave eventually, probably– or he’d break in. Martyn was also known for not always following rules, like how you were supposed to be invited into homes, not just enter them whenever. 

“I’m com’ing,” She exclaimed. She took the last few feet to the door in big steps, so it wasn’t as far away. 

Martyn smiled down at her as he leaned on the doorframe, “There's my favorite Post Rat. What are we up to today?” 

Water smiled back, a bit bashful, “I’m… colo’ing.” 

“Coloring, huh? Is that an important activity or did you want to join me for a food run?”

Her eyes widened and she quickly shook her head. Leaving the attic was scary! There were humans down in the hotel; and cats! She didn’t want to go down there now . “Not- Not today. So’m other time?” 

Martyn tilted his head, “That’s no problem; but is something up? Need someone to talk to?” 

“No- No. Just w’eally want to col-wor,” She insisted, looking back at her blanket and Ms. Fluffybottom. 

He hummed and took a step into her office. She let him, her hands firmly gripping the bottom of her shirt as he finally caught sight of her little set up. She was so worried for a moment, that he was going to find it weird or silly. All her things were laid out for him to see.

“Well, that looks fun, doesn’t it. Mind if I join you, then?” he asked, surprising her. 

Water hesitated. She had never had company before! Having someone come and play with her had never been an option before, and even if it had, she doesn’t think Martyn would have been her first pick. But, looking up at Martyn, there was a wobble to his smile. He seemed like he needed some fun just as much as she did.  

“You… you can’t make fun o’ me, aw’ight? We’ just gonna sit and col-wor,” she replied, giving him a pointed glare.

“Cross my heart,” Martyn promised. He seemed sincere enough to her. 

With that Water took his hand and dragged him over to her blanket. Martyn was quick to take up a colored pencil and start his own doodles. She pulled out another piece of paper and started a new drawing: she was delivering mail to the Queen-Rat herself in England! 

Soon after she went back to trying to make outfits for her paper doll. They were still coming out wonky in size. Martyn noticed and offered to help cut them out. Water watched him with wide and curious eyes as he traced her doll on a clean sheet of paper and told her to fill in the outline with whatever pattern she wanted. When she finished, he cut it out for her, much faster than she could have. 

She squealed with delight as the stripey dress and postman jacket fit perfectly on the paper doll this time. She hugged him, thanking him for it. 

When she glanced over at Martyn’s drawing, she was delighted to see he had drawn a pirate ship with himself and Ren on it. Ren even had his signature red coat and a cool pin sword. Martyn had a spy glass. He was really good at drawing. 

She decided to tell him as much; “Yours is w’eally cool. I w’ike the ship.”

“Thanks, Munchy. Yours is pretty good yourself,” he replied, pointing at hers, “We going to hang these up somewhere then?” 

Water’s eyes widened. “Can we?” 

Sure, she always could have hung her drawings, but it seemed silly to do it herself. Martyn was offering to hang them– he thought they were good enough to hang up! She very much wanted to see her art up on the wall.

“Sure, we can!” he answered and delicately scooped up her drawing. He didn’t take long to find some old sealing wax in her office. It was the cheap kind, and he was able to warm it in his hands until it was just tacky enough to stick the pictures to the wall with. 

He placed his and hers right next to each other.

[saltsicklover]

Trouble - Fan Mail Pt. 6

Title: Trouble - Fan Mail Pt. 6

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 2700

Rating: T

Warnings: Mentions of blades and straight razor, angst. Steve being an ass and Sam finding shit too funny. Overuse of names. 

-- To be continued. I hope you enjoy! Let me know if you want to be added to the tag list :) --

Disclaimer: I do not own Bucky Barnes, or anything related to Marvel within this piece. Not Proof Read or BETA'd. All mistakes are my own.

I do not consent for my work to be edited, reposted, or translated.

You are responsible for your own media consumption. This is a work of fiction that may contain mature themes. If you are sensitive to those subjects, please do not read.

The tension hung between the super soldiers, sticky and all consuming as the hours turned to days after the fight. Bucky sent his letter, begging 201 to be real, to be the woman he is so desperately hoping she is on the other side of the postal route. 

He walked the letter down to Miss Brown himself, making sure that Steve couldn't intercept it on it's way. The moment Miss Brown locked her eyes on Bucky, the letter clutched in his grip, she knew she was in for a treat, but Bucky just handed the letter over with a polite 'thank you' before continuing on his way, leaving no room for her to make a quip about it. 

Bucky wasn't going to let anyone get in his way, not even Miss Brown and her kind smile. He couldn't afford to chance it. This letter was going to get to her, that he knew for a fact. 

The next day, he ran into Steve and Sam in the kitchen, his gut twisting with anxiety as he locked eyes on them. Sam's chest rumbled with leftover laughter, a joke spoken that has disappeared into the air around them. Steve keeps his gaze down, finding the dark coffee in his mug the most interesting thing he has seen all week. Bucky tries not to let it bother him, instead opting to nod a hello towards Sam as he passed. 

Steve's body was cocked away from Bucky, attempting to box him out. Bucky swore he could almost feel the cold radiating off of him- he hated it, but not as much as he hated their last encounter. 

Bucky has to remind himself that he hasn't done anything wrong. There is nothing in any handbook that explicitly states that he cannot have a pen pal. And why would there be? He isn't spilling government secrets, he isn't endangering others, everything about his writing to her is normal. It's the most normal thing that he as found himself a part of in a long time. He wasn't going to feel bad, and he wasn't going to let Steve make him feel bad about it either. Absolutely not. 

"What's with all the tension?" Sam questions, a shiver running up his spine. Goosebumps overtake his skin. He moves to run a warming hand over his skin, aiding them to disappear. 

"Ask Rogers," Is all Bucky mumbles as he pours himself a cup of coffee. Steam spirals from the decanter, rippling upwards and spreading across his face. The hot liquid spills into his cup, sloshing as it's filled. Steve rolls his eyes and Bucky puts the decanter back into the machine with a little too much force, the glass clanging loudly against the walls of the machine. Sam raises a questioning brow at Steve, a tight expression covering the blonde's face. 

"We got into it a couple'a days ago," Steve brings his own mug to his lips, the mug pressed firmly to his mouth keeping unwanted words from pilling off his tongue. Bucky clutches his mug, knuckles turning white as his skin stretches harshly over bone. There is so much not being said. Bile creeps up Bucky's throat, burning. 

A noise escapes Bucky, a rough and ragged sound somewhere between a laugh and a groan. The sound earns looks from the other men, eyebrows raised with anticipation. Sam knows there has to be more than they are letting on, but he is hesitant to question. The friendship Steve and Buck share is older than time and more complicated than string theory and Sam knows better than to stick his nose into places it doesn't belong. The tension, however, makes him feel like he is stuck in a foxhole, communing with God, so he pushes. 

"Sounds like there is more to it than that," Sam's tone is firm, his eyes shifting between the men. Bucky folds his arms over his chest defensively, looking through his downturned gaze straight at Steve. The blonde shifts awkwardly from leg to leg, beginning to cave under the stares of the other men.

"I'm just looking out for your safety, Buck," Steve mumbles, "Someone's gotta have your best interest in mind, especially when you don't," Sam watches as Steve's eyes make a full revolution as Bucky scoffs. 

They haven't had a fight like this in a long time. Before the war, they never fought over girls or where to spend their time. They often bickered, mostly Bucky to Steve, telling him that if he doesn't slow down he will have an asthma attack, a fit, Bucky would have to carry him home. Steve was always high off of someone's fist, pulling his face from the dirty pavement with blood flowing from his nose. Most of his shirts where stained down the front with blood from instances like that. 

Bucky fought for him, on more than one occasion, when he couldn't convince Steve that it would have just been easier to run. Running isn't always cowardly- sometimes it's necessary for self preservation. Run- live to fight another day. 

"Okay, hold up," Sam puts his hands up, one palm towards each man, attempting to deescalate the rising testosterone. "What got this whole thing started? What makes you think that Buck isn't looking after his own ass?" The whole situation seems to be becoming more ridiculous with each passing moment. 

"Steve think's 201 is trouble," Bucky mumbles into his coffee. Steve turns bright crimson, a blush crawling to live beneath his skin. Bucky can feel the frustration bubble through his veins, palm going itchy, stomach folding over itself. 

"I can't help it, Buck," Steve rubs at the back of his neck, moving to run over his bearded cheek. Bucky sends him a sort of angry shrug, his eyebrows furrowed tight. Bucky is truly finding it hard to care. 

Sam watches the interaction, the pieces falling into place in his brain. 201, Buck's pen pal, Ace! The thought hits Sam like a bullet. It strikes him, a laugh erupting from deep within his chest. The sound is full and hearty, drowning the tension in the air with a swirl of joy. It catches his friends off guard, their expressions bewildered and offended. 

"You think Ace is trouble?" Sam manages to cackle, his words falling out through laughter. "Ace? Oh you've gotta be kiddin' me!" Sam howls now, tears invading his vision as a cackle rips through him. "She couldn't hurt anyone if she tried! Hell, even with her straight razor she looked soft. There is nothing tough or menacing about her!" 

Sam is doubled over from laughter, each giggle complete with an incoherent thought about Ace and her inability to be anything other than sweet and sincere. Steve and Bucky share a confused glance, their faces tangled up as they look at Sam, head tucked between his knees as tears stream down his face. The unbridled joy that pours out of him is infectious, causing the men to snicker a bit at him. 

For the first time since the fight, the tension between Steve and Bucky seems to lesson, Sam's laughter washing over them and carrying the tension from their bones. After a moment, Steve is giggling a bit, too, leaving Bucky standing there a bit more confused than when it first stared. 

"Are you going to just laugh to yourself you asshole or are you going to tell us what's up?" Steve giggles, hand coming up to press against his chest. They watch as Sam wipes his face with the heels of his hands. He takes a couple of deep breathes, steadying himself. 

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry!" Sam finally gets out, "I'm good, I'm totally good!" The air in the room shifts again as they the super soldiers are still waiting for Sam to clue them in.

"Steve, you might want to hold back Buck for this next part," Sam tells them, backing up a bit to put more distance between himself and Bucky. There is already the kitchen island between them, but Sam moves to put Steve between them as well, a cautious hand out in front of him. Neither of the other men move, their feet still planted firmly in place. 

Steve is too curious and Bucky is too nervous, but neither of them show it. Steve urges Sam on with a couple revolutions of his wrist. Bucky just stares at him through his scrunched brows. 

"A few weeks ago, I wrote to Ace-" Sam begins, only to get cut off by Steve.

"Ace?" The other men question in unison.

"Yeah, Ace, that's what I call her. I didn't know her name because metal man didn't want to share it, so I had to steal it from his mail with a little help from Miss Brown; but, that's not the point of this!" Sam begins, his face flushing raspberry hues, prickling to live up his neck as he swallows thickly. 

Bucky's hands a clenched, tension grasped in the spaces between his fingers and palm. 

Sam clears his throat, "I wrote her and I told her that we needed to meet, plain and simple. I'm with you on this one, Steve. Someone had to make sure that this whole situation came up legit," He shrugs a bit, a sly smirk painted over his lips. 

Steve visibly relaxes at the news, the thoughts of him being 'crazy' or 'overbearing' or hell, even being 'paranoid' fly out the window. Sam voicing his concern for Buck really fills Steve with a sort of calm, knowing that his newest friend cares for his oldest. The thought warms his heart. 

Bucky, on the other hand, is fuming. But, he's not sure if it's because his friends don't seem to trust him to make his own choices, or if it's because Sam got to meet her first. That thought leaves Bucky feeling physically aching. The jealously snaking around the inside of his chest cavity, pulsating with each breath. His knuckles are pure white, almost like his bone is going to bust through the skin while the slight whirring sound grates through the room as the plates of his hand push together with force. 

He hunches his shoulders a little further, the jealousy making him want to shrink away into nothing as it takes over, bit by bit. The grip he has on his emotions is slipping, falling through his fingers like globs of wet sand. He aches. 

"What was she like?" Steve questions, almost like he is asking more for Bucky than he is for himself. Bucky leans in a bit, waiting for Sam to answer, that sly smirk still adorning his face. 

"At first she was guarded, closed off. Maybe protective?" Sam shrugs a bit, gesturing, "But she cornered me into her work station and insisted on giving me a shave. I have to admit, I was a bit nervous with that blade pressed up against my neck,"

Bucky chuckles at that, the low sound rumbling through his already smoldering chest. The thought of his pen pal with a blade pressed against Sam's skin while she put him in his place was just too good. 

"She was kind, attentive to her work, firm with her words, and definitely good with a blade," Sam rubs a hand over the stubble that has come in, the movement involuntary at the thought of a razor pressed against his warm skin. The memory of the sound makes him shudder, goosebumps running down his spine.

Steve and Bucky both watch Sam intensely as he fidgets a bit, thinking about what else he wants to say about his encounter with Ace. He mulls over an idea, the boys can see the cogs turning in his mind through his eyes. 

Sam bites his lip, mumbling, "She wasn't going to write you back," 

"What?" Bucky questions, "I didn't hear you,"

"She wasn't going to write you back," Sam says a little louder this time, wincing as the words leave his lips. 

Bucky's heart drops into the depths of his stomach, the jealousy coating his insides slides away as the nausea takes over. He goes cold, then hot, then cold again, sweat slicking over his skin. Bile creeps up the back of his throat. 

She wasn't going to write him back. The thought turns Bucky's stomach. He almost lost her and he didn't even know it. She almost got away from him, slipped through his fingers, ended up as a passing thought, a fleeting fancy. Almost. He didn't even know it. Fuck, how could he not have known?

But, she did write it back, the letter is currently tucked in his pocket with the others, sitting firmly against his chest- against his heart. She did write back, and he repeats that thought over and over to himself as he wipes his the sweat from his forehead with his sleeve. 

"But, she did write back," Bucky speaks after a few moments of silence, the thickness of the air surrounding them seems to quell at his words. His voice is small, and he looks a bit like a kicked puppy when he speaks, but that doesn't change the words that come out of his mouth. It doesn't change the reality that she did write him back. 

Sam and Steve acknowledge his words with a nod a small smile. 

"Is that all, Sam?" Steve asks, turning his attention back. 

"She asked me to look after tin man," He smiles, gesturing over to Bucky, who's face has turned scarlet at his words. He can feel the blush running deep beneath his skin. Both Steve and Sam break into large smiles, their faces glowing with the knowledge. 

Now that everything is out, the tension around the men completely falls away. All of the anger and the resentment that hung between the soldiers for the last couple of weeks is gone. They can breathe, each drawing a deep breath into their lungs and letting the oxygen spill into their veins. 

"Are we good, man?" Sam turns back to Bucky, his eyebrows raised in question. Bucky just nods, a small bit of jealousy still stinging. Bucky can't believe he knows what she looks like before he does. 

"Yeah, Sam, we're good," Bucky offers, and with that, Sam turns to leave. 

"Wait!" Bucky calls after him, catching his attention before he rounds the corner. Sam meets his eyes with a questioning look. All Bucky can do is stand there and wring his hands together, unsure of how to broach his question without sounding insensitive. The words are stuck on his tongue.

"Buck?" Steve prompts a bit, encouraging his friend. 

"What's- uhh, what's she like?" Bucky starts off, emphasizing words to try and get a different meaning across. Both Steve and Sam look at Bucky, brandishing their best smirks. Sam just crosses his arms over his chest, leaning his body against the wall. 

"What's she like, huh?" Sam teases, earning him a grumpy stare from Bucky and a light laugh from Steve. 

"She's..." Sam starts, "She's beyond beautiful, Buck." Sam bites his lip a bit, watching the wonder and frustration bloom over his face in equal measure. "She glows, like light reflecting from broken crystal. She's honest and maybe a little broken- it's that look in her eye that got me though," he chuckles a bit, "When she asked me to look after you, her eyes were so big, like you could see through them and right into her soul," 

Those are the last words, Sam leaves him with before disappearing, leaving Bucky to over analyze each one. Steve leaves him a moment later, a small smile bidding him goodbye. 

And so, Bucky stands in the kitchen alone, feeling lighter than he has in days, brain stuck on the idea of her soulful eyes. He brings his hand up to his chest, pressing the letters closer to his heart. He can feel the faint beat through the letters, and suddenly a thought hits him-- This won't be letters forever, at some point, there will be a women standing in front of him and he will have to look at her, right in the eyes. His reflection will stare back and maybe her soul will too. 

This will not stay on paper forever, it just can't, and Bucky panics. 

TAG LIST 

@vicmc624 @cjand10 @songoficecreamandfireworks @crazymusicgirl104 @stany0url0calwh0res111 @ladifreakingda

[this-is-lightning]

Supercorp FicRec P. 29

The next part in my ongoing ficrec series. I go through my bookmarks on AO3 and select the ones I like the best and add a little commentary on why. 5 fics per part. 

Masterpost

we're playing to a full house, darling (but this show can't go on) by the_ominous_owl

Kara’s struggling to find work. Lena’s struggling to find herself. When fate (with some help from Cat Grant) casts them into the same orbit they find themselves completely off-script, because while everyone knows about the sins of the father, they're somewhat less clear about the sins of one’s siblings. Throw into that an audience hungry for stories at the expense of fact, a showrunner with a plan nobody saw coming, and a co-star who steadfastly refuses to keep it in his pants, and you’ve got a tale so dramatic even the protagonists have noticed. or the one where they’re both actresses with a surprising amount of baggage for two people who haven’t met yet.

w: 37,360

r: teen and up

The actress trope done very, very well. Slowburn. Lena's got it so very bad but shes got baggage. Kara is captain oblivious. They figure it out tho. Lots of intimacy and feelings. There's a part two bt that ones still a wip.

It's Funny Right up Until It's Not by ThornedRose44

It's funny because it's harmless… It's funny because it's never a big deal… It's funny because it's forgotten by the next day… It's funny because she's fine. She's always fine… Until… she’s not...

w: 12,131

r: mature

Yea so this one cut deep. Happy ending but were digging into the "haha quarterly assassination lol" witch is really not funny at all. Angst but so so heartfelt and wonderful. Some-when after S5.

musings from 504 by sapphic_luthor

“We got Supergirl’s mail again,” a voice calls from behind a massive, unidentifiable sculpture as it steps through the door. He sets the piece down just as the words leave his mouth, and then the dark-haired boy spins to face you, hand outstretched to drop a letter onto the countertop, and he breathes, “Oh, fuck.” You look toward your new roommates, and register the panic on their faces. “Wait,” you say, but your mind is jumping to conclusions that your mouth is far too embarrassed to vocalize, so you find that you don’t have any follow-up. “Are you--” you start, but you know it’s true even before you ask. “Seriously?”

w: 7,670

r: teen and up

So how much do we all think Kara's neighbors know about her life? An outsiders perspective on the Superfriends. Funny and fun and heartfelt.

Bizarre Love Triangle by powergrapes

One day, two women meet on the subway. The recently dumped Lena is recovering from a broken heart, and Kara is grappling with the open-ish relationship she has with her long-distance boyfriend. They decide that they’re going to become friends. The kind of friends who also have totally casual, no-strings-attached, nobody’s-catching-feelings sex. What could go wrong? As Alex puts it: “Kara. This is the dumbest thing you’ve ever done. And I’m including the time that you set fire to your own hair and nearly burned the house down trying to do some spell you found on MySpace to make Troy Bolton materialize in real life and marry you.” Or: Lena and Kara go around New York City eating food and banging each other until their feelings eat away at them, and Alex tries not to have an aneurysm about it.

w: 113,061

r: explicit

So so so well written. Gets pretty angsty but the payoff is so worth it. Lots of feelings and fun and fluff too. And very VERY good smut. A MUST read!

The Luthor Family by MyCatIsMyEditor

Following Lex’s death Lena finds herself guardian to the four year old nephew she never knew existed. She also finds herself in need of help. Who better to help her than her best friend and National City’s favourite Kryptonian. It’s just a little awkward that her nephew is scared of Supergirl. OR Kara and Lena raising Lex’s son while slowly getting together with a bunch of cute fluff and some angst thrown in as they work together to be the best parents possible to a scared little boy.

w: 95,676

r: mature

Digs a lot into the issues with fostering a child who was neglected and abused. But its very well done and there's a lot of fluff too. Kara and Lena slip into the parent role very well. But of course this whoe situation digs up issues of theirs too. They build a wonderful family and support net and finally get to be so so happy with everyone at their side.

Don't forget to leave some love for the writers on AO3! Much love and happy reading!

[commander-heart-eyes]

Supercorp fics if you want some 3a.m. fluff/humour

where lamps go to die | WastedOn

When Lena finds out Kara and Supergirl are lovers, of course she’s happy for them. Ecstatic, even. She’s always sworn no one could be good enough for her Kara, but Supergirl comes close. Nevermind that Supergirl abandons Kara on dates, drags her onto dangerous battlefields for “the story,” and doesn’t seem to give a flying hunk of kryptonite that Kara is constantly being kidnapped to bring Supergirl down. No, Lena is thrilled.

—

The DEO stages a relationship between Kara Danvers and Supergirl to foil Cadmus. Lena doesn’t handle it as well as she could.

Extra! Extra! Read All About it: Lena Luthor cheats on girlfriend with Supergirl? | me

Before Lena can hand over her credit card, Andrea is giving the barista her own with a, “It’s on me.” She turns to Lena with a cheeky smile. “It’s the least I can do, you know, for stealing your girlfriend.”

“Excuse me?” Lena gapes.

“Oh.” Andrea’s teasing smile is replaced with a confused eyebrow raise. “You didn’t know?” she asks with a small frown.

“Didn’t know what?” Lena practically snaps, feeling her patience thinning.

She hears an "oh shit," somewhere to her right and realizes that half the customers are watching them with bated breaths. One woman near the back even has the audacity to take a few photos. Lena gives all of them her signature Luthor glare, and with a twinge of satisfaction on Lena's part, they advert their eyes and find their respective phones quite interesting.

OR: National City’s newest and hottest couple deal with their personal lives being broadcasted to the whole world.

An interrupted press conference | MyCatIsMyEditor

Lena's press conference for L corp's newest line get's an interruption thaat leads her to her answering some unexpected questions about her personal life.

this feeling in my chest | zor_elluthor (0gasstationcoffee)

Five times Kara saves Lena's life due to something pretty gay

Trust me to catch you (and I’ll dip you down) | me

Years later, when thinking about this moment, the details may be fuzzy.

She may not remember the time.

Or the day.

Or the conversation.

Had Kara’s hair been up or down?

Was she wearing her glasses?

What was that song called?

What had they been doing earlier?

But despite all this, Lena knows… she’ll always remember how it feels. The feeling of gliding across their apartment, laughing the whole way. The feeling of warmth in Kara’s arms. The feeling of knowing, just knowing… that she wanted to be with Kara for eternity.

The best thing of all is only just started | me

Lena barely has time to put the bracelet around Kara’s wrist before the blonde’s pressing her lips onto her girlfriend’s—finance’s. She almost falls back from the force of Kara crashing into her, but she quickly recovers and throws her arms around Kara’s neck. Lena isn’t sure if she is dreaming, but if so, she never wants it to end.

It wasn’t until much later when Lena re-told the story to her friends and family, that she realized it was perfect. Sure her hair was still dripping wet, she still had the goggles rung around her neck, Kara had a twig in her hair, and both their clothes were soaking wet… but Lena found that she wouldn’t have had it any other way.

musings from 504 | sapphic_luthor

“We got Supergirl’s mail again,” a voice calls from behind a massive, unidentifiable sculpture as it steps through the door. He sets the piece down just as the words leave his mouth, and then the dark-haired boy spins to face you, hand outstretched to drop a letter onto the countertop, and he breathes, “Oh, fuck.”

You look toward your new roommates, and register the panic on their faces. “Wait,” you say, but your mind is jumping to conclusions that your mouth is far too embarrassed to vocalize, so you find that you don’t have any follow-up. “Are you--” you start, but you know it’s true even before you ask. “Seriously?”

inspired by @jailerat and @eiwenmaclor on tumblr.

[crash-and-cure]

Dear Crash,

I had too much for a reply on your post so I'm writing you here :) I tend to read other writers' fic either late at night or during the day (at work or in between life bs) and so I feel bad, because I don't usually take the time to really tell people how good their writing is, like specifically. But I want to be better, and I feel like if I'm not going to celebrate a 21K first chapter like Burin' a Hole, than what kind of person am I?

Did I know what the omegaverse was bf yesterday? No. In fact, and I mean this without judgement, but bc I have never really read this genre bf, I was a little unsure or wary of what to expect but I have read you other work so many times , that I just dove in. And then I reread it again. There were several things that I noticed reading it a second time, like the significance of having her be a make-up artist and the quote from Kitty, ugh, of course, because she is hiding who she is, the appeal of this career/interest makes so much sense. Elvis reading the mail when she comes to tell him she got another job. There were so many other things that just bowl me over with how much work you put into crafting this piece. The humor too - that Doner party gag, ahhhhh! Perry Mason wins, lollll!

And the way you build these characters, especially E and reader ! Muah, chef's kiss! I love the flipped expectations bf they present, I really appreciated that reader is not just using suppressants to save her father's reputation (bc I don't think that would be motivation enough), but because of her history with alphas, and having watched what her mother went through, and fear of abandonment, and the genuine fear of the intensity of being mated to one. I could see why she does what she does. One of my favorite passing vignettes is the image of Elvis holding up traffic trying to get her to come back to the show after they fight while she walks to the bus stop with a suitcase.

And, of course, the last part ... well, let's just say I have a feeling that section is now one of my go to comfort readings when I want to smile and shiver and be inspired in my own writing.

I'm probably fangirling out too much here, but I'll just end by saying thanks for your fucking brilliance and I'm so grateful I found your work! 21 K fucking words!!! I guess I'm an alpha!elvis stan now, which i never predicted by am so in to, picturing angry alpha austin elvis here....

xoxo

Norah

Thank you so much ☺ I love to hear what people loved most about my pieces and I'm so happy to see when they pick up on those details!

When I started writing this one, there was so much to think about in terms of how the ABO dynamics interacted with the era. Which was a lot of fun to speculate on and at times also overwhelming TBH, but once I figured this out and the details within the request I was able to go from there. When I got the request the thought she was a makeup artist while also being someone who hides who she is was too good of detail to leave so happy to see you picked up on it. The humor was an important aspect to me to really showcase their friendship (what's a light threat of cannibalism between best friends lol).

That being said the build up of the relationship was one of the most crucial aspects to the story for me as to why of all the omegas that froth at the mouth over him, why reader? So them being friends since they were kids and being shaped by one another was something I really wanted to explore. Knowing how he was described as a kid, that definitely factored into how he was expected to present in this world, so reader had to be on the opposite end of that spectrum. Her being his most ardent supporter since the get-go, and basically being the extrovert that adopts the introvert was something I thought fit well into that why.

The readers motivations were also in the same vein of asking why not go for it? Especially making a bold reader, you're right on the money that saving her piece of shit father's reputation was her lowest priority. Fear of abandonement is something I think many people can relate to so the fact that in this world an abandoned mated omega going into heat oftentimes = death, doesn't help either. It doesn't help that the fact that her primary example for an A/O relationship fell apart so spectacularly and both parents to some degree laid the responsibility for it's destruction at her feet, and she unintentionally internalized alot of the blame and now believes that there is something inherently wrong with her.

Something I also had to take into account was why Elvis didn't go for it earlier either, and I can't believe I forgot to mention it in the story, but there is this idea (potentially false) that Alpha's tend to unintentionally injure Beta partners in the act which he would never want to risk (edit: as well as the very real fact that an A/B couple can't reproduce which of course is heavily stigmatized especially in this era). But just because the physical aspect wasn't there didn't mean he didn't view it as a relationship in all other ways, as in his mind for all other intents and purposes reader is his. He to a lesser extent was also traumatized seeing reader so emotionally effected by her situation, utterly unable to imagine how a mother could do that to her kid so he wanted to always keep her close to him. So when the reality that she is an omega comes to light and she wants to leave the temporary pain of a less than willing claiming bite is outweighed by the knowledge that with it she'll never be able to leave.

Believe it or not that vignette was a last minute edition, because I wanted to demonstrate readers near iron will to truly make the fact that she eventually just gives in to him all the more poignant.

I put alot of work into that final section, wanting to make it hot but also elevate it given the omegaverse setting so I'm honored to hear you feel inspired by it.

Thank you so much for taking the time to write this all out, especially when you're working on your own amazing story as well! I'm honestly so grateful for all the love and support I've been getting from you and all of the other lovely readers out there.

Again thank you so much Norah!

[ravenrose18]

Shadows of Everyday Life

Warning This story mentions and details the following: abusive relationships, self-harm, bruising, hitting, torture, child abuse, etc.

Chapter 7

Dean nodded as she continued to pack all of her belongings. He smiled warmly as he helped her do so and he gathered more of the clothes she had in the dresser near her nightstand. "Anytime, Raven. I am always right here.. by your side." He assured her as he then noticed a piece of mail with her ex's name on it, it was from a loan company. Dean raised a brow as he looked at her and then just threw it back on the ground. He figured he wouldn't even bring it up - so he didn't add fuel to the fire. He then looked around as it seemed pretty much everything was packed away that he could help with. He held his hand out to her as he smiled widely, "Ready to head out?" He asked gently as he soon felt his phone buzzing in his pocket like a phone call. He raised a brow and he got it out and it was his shop mate, Sean. Dean sighed - as he probably was inviting him to their normal morning coffee and whiskey talks while they planned out the work day for his other colleague Scott. They were brothers, Dean answered, "Hey, what's up Sean?" He asked.

"Yo, I'm at the coffee shop. I mapped out the workday - but then Scott called saying you're not in. Everything ok?" He asked. "I'm ok. I had some things come up and I'm not gonna be in tomorrow either just a heads up. I will probably stop in sometime in the evening though to do payroll since I need to still get that done. But I'll talk shoot ya a text later." Dean said. Sean said ok as he hung up and Dean sighed as he looked to Raven, "That was my assistant, we used to day drink all the time before going to work. I politely declined it this time. I need to stop hanging out with him so much. I drink too much and then I get agitated when I don't have it.. and well now that you're here - I want to lay off of it. It makes me feel like hell." He admitted as his hands shook some, just the thought of whiskey made his mouth water but he ignored it. "Oh, lemme carry that." He said politely taking the bag in his hand.

Raven gazes up at him, her eyes sparkling with warmth as a smile spreads across her face. The soft rustle of fabric fills the air as she finishes packing her luggage. As she reaches for him, her hand finds his, their fingers intertwining in a brief moment of connection. "Yeah, let's take what we packed in the truck," she replies, her voice filled with enthusiasm. Raven pauses, her expression thoughtful as she continues, "I don't mind you drinking; actually, we could enjoy a drink together later, Dean." She leans slightly closer, her eyes searching his for understanding. "But maybe you could try to slow down a bit?" With a playful grin, she gestures toward the bags they need to load. "How about I carry the suitcase, and you can handle some of those boxes over there?" Her suggestion is lighthearted, yet the underlying concern in her tone is unmistakable. She hopes to balance their plans for a good time with a touch of caution as they prepare for their trip. After he finishes his phone call, she watches him, ready to tackle the task ahead together.

Dean's heart felt full as soon as their fingers intertwined, he smiled warmly at her as she said they could enjoy a drink together later. "That sounds amazing to me, sweets." He said as he obliged and he listened to her question. He then nodded as he kissed her hand gently, "Of course, I'll do that. I'll cut out the day drinking.. that is what screwed me up I think." He admitted before he looked at the boxes. He handed her the suitcase and grabbed a couple of them then started to head down the stairs as he carried them. There wasn't much it seemed she was bringing as there were only six boxes and her suitcase. He propped the front door open slightly as he made his way to the truck - putting the boxes in over the top in the back. Raven glanced at him, a warm blush creeping across her cheeks, as she moved her suitcase to the truck. The sound of the suitcase wheels rolling over the pavement seemed loud in the moment's quiet. Once she finished loading her belongings, she stepped back inside the house, inhaling the familiar scent that lingered in the air. With a deep breath, she looked around one last time, her heart heavy with memories, before heading upstairs. Each step felt like a journey through her past as she went to the bathroom, gathering her toiletries and any essential items she had overlooked. As she entered her bedroom, she approached the safe she had kept hidden for years.

Knowing the combination by heart, she deftly unlocked it, her hands trembling slightly with anticipation. Inside, she took out a few important documents and mementos that she couldn't bear to leave behind. Next, she opened the side table drawer, her pulse quickening. There, nestled among stray papers and forgotten trinkets, lay her knife and pistol—items she had acquired for her protection. She picked them up, feeling the weight of the knife in her hand and the cool metal of the pistol, a reminder of her self-defense training. She had learned how to handle them not out of fear, but in response to the uncertainty surrounding her ex, and now, as she prepared to leave, she felt a sense of empowerment rising within her.

Dean continued loading the boxes she had completed into the truck, stacking them evenly as he did. He soon was finished and came back in as he looked around. He went to the kitchen and he saw a six-pack of beer on the ground - he carried that out as well just to spite her ex. He then headed back to look for Raven as he had finished loading everything so far. He looked just about everywhere for her and he found her as he saw her holding the knife along with the pistol. He saw the opened safe in front of her and smiled warmly, "I got one very similar, and trucks all loaded up buttercup." He said gently as he looked at her happily. He felt a sense of fullness as he looked at her - his heart finally mending from most of the pain and grief he had when she left. He finally felt completely at ease - fully confident in life again. Almost as if the void was full.

Raven stood in the dim light, her gaze focused on the assortment of weapons she had gathered for her protection. Each piece—a finely balanced knife, a sturdy pistol, and a set of throwing stars—reminded her of the dangers lurking beyond their current location. She felt a sense of reassurance, albeit a tentative one, as she adjusted the bag slung over her shoulder, making sure her gear was secure and within easy reach. Suddenly, she heard Dean's familiar voice cut through the silence. It pulled her from her thoughts, and she looked up, feeling a wave of relief wash over her as she smiled softly at him. "Oh, that's great news, Dean," she replied, her heart lifting at the thought of leaving. "I've already packed everything else I need, so we can head out now." She deftly stowed her weapons in her bag, ensuring they were close at hand. While she had complete trust in Dean's ability to protect them, the added security of her arms gave her a sense of control and comfort in uncertain times. With one last glance at their surroundings, she felt the weight of the world on her shoulders but was grateful to have Dean by her side. Safe with Dean but the extra protection kept her mind at ease.

Dean smiled as he nodded, analyzing as she packed away her weapons. He was glad she had them to protect herself, especially since he wasn't around to do so for a while in the past. He couldn't believe that it was now the present and that she would be living with him. It warmed his heart and he was happy for her to be under the same roof as him. He was excited to cook her breakfast and bring her coffee the way she liked it. He was.. hell just happy to have the company. His home was always so lonely, and empty. He never was home it seemed because of that reason. He then thought also he didn't have to sleep alone - ever really. He did offer her the other bed just in case to give her the space, but he had a feeling she might be holding him often. Dean realized he needed to go grocery shopping to fill up his pantry a bit — because he was a bit bare. "Let's head back home, sweetheart." He said happily as he headed down the stairs with her and to the truck as he opened the passenger door for her. Raven felt warmth spread across her cheeks as a smile crept onto her lips, a mixture of excitement and nervousness swirling within her. She began to follow him, her heart racing, as she turned towards the bedroom. The door loomed ahead, and for a fleeting moment, memories from her past danced vividly in her mind. With a heavy heart, she glanced around the room, the echoes of her old life flashing through her eyes. As she walked down the dimly lit hallway, each step felt laden with memories, but she pressed on.

When she reached the front door, she paused. The sunlight streaming through the glass brought back the painful recollections of the day she arrived here, coupled with the haunting memories of that terrible night that changed everything. She closed her eyes tightly, trying to banish the images of her departure, the chaos and heartache that had clouded her existence just hours before. With a deep breath, she stepped out, firmly shutting the door behind her—a symbolic act of leaving her traumatic past behind. As she approached the truck parked outside, a sense of hope began to fill her. There stood Dean, representing a brighter future, a life untainted by her previous pain. After placing her bag in the back of the truck, she climbed inside, the interior feeling welcoming and warm. She turned to Dean and beamed at him, her heart soaring with possibility. "Let's go home," she declared, her laughter bubbling up as she added playfully, "We can go grocery shopping later since I know for a fact you don't have any food in your place!" The glee in her voice resonated with newfound optimism, making her feel as if the weight of her past was truly beginning to lift.

Dean chuckled and nodded as he heard the joy in her voice, his heart feeling at ease and his mind not so heavy with negative thoughts anymore. "How'd you know? I think I may have a pack of bacon and some eggs." He said gently as he smiled warmly before closing her door. He then made his way around to the driver's side, he got in and started it up after he closed his door. He pulled out of the driveway and headed onto the road to the highway. He turned the radio on a classic rock station and he turned it on low volume as he smiled warmly over at her. "God, this is awesome. I am so happy you're gonna be staying with me for a while - you know? It feels so good." He said as he rested his hand on her thigh, gently as he drove. His mind was full of all the memories they would share and as Christmas was around the corner he was figuring now he would have to finally buy a Christmas tree. He hadn't had one in probably about four or so years. He hadn't decorated in even longer since he was alone on the holidays, Sam typically would come by to bring him a plate to work - always trying to convince him to come over or to holiday festivities with him. Dean always said no and continued to work it all away. But not this time. Now, he has Raven back in his life and he wants to do it right. Even if they aren't technically together, he wants to make it magical for her. He wants to show her what it is like to be loved. To feel heard. To be protected and secure. His heart had always yearned for a love like hers.. and God was he terrified to tell her how he felt about her. She probably didn't like him.. like that. Dean wasn't so sure of it though, he never really opened up that conversation to her. Yet, at least.

Raven smiled, her cheeks flushing with a soft pink as she giggled at Dean's hand resting on her thigh. The connection between them felt electric. "I'm thrilled too, Dean," she admitted, her voice laced with excitement. "I can hardly wait to see where this journey takes us. Finally being free from that jerk has lifted such a heavy weight off my shoulders. I want nothing more to do with him than necessary." Her mind wandered as she imagined all the new memories waiting to be made with Dean. It pained her to think about the last two years they had missed together—years filled with distance, only occasionally bridged by family gatherings or quick catch-ups with friends. The thought of spending holidays with Dean, of sharing laughter and joy, filled her with a sense of hope and anticipation. She longed to embrace a life where her happiness was front and center rather than shadowed by a tumultuous past. With a gentle movement, she placed her hand on top of his, feeling the warmth radiate between them. Slowly, she scooted closer, seeking comfort as she laid her head against his shoulder. It felt so right, so safe. "Thank you, Dean," she murmured, her voice sincere and full of gratitude. "I honestly couldn't have made it through this without you by my side." Dean glanced over at her as he continued to drive, pulling onto the highway as he did and then getting into the right lane. He nodded as he looked back to the road, "That makes me happy to know that you're excited, I thought you were gonna try to find your place as fast as possible when I first came. I don't want ya rushing out now. I am so excited as well and oh you won't have to worry about him. He won't be able to come near you if he ever tried sweetheart. I can assure you of that." he said sweetly but protectively as he squeezed her thigh gently. He noticed when she put her hand on top of his and he smiled from ear to ear when she did.

As she scooted closer and rested her head, Dean felt whole. He could feel the love and passion she carried and could feel the warmth of her body against his slightly. He listened to her sweet words and nodded once more. "Anytime, Raven. When I first met you, waaaaaay back when we were kids - and I pinky swore that day out on my dad's farm to you that I would always keep you safe. I meant it forever and always - no matter the distance. You could have been in hell, China and I would have gotten there." He assured her as he got closer to his exit to his apartment.

Chapter 8

[jeanie-g]

you rock btw :)

for the spotify wrapped thing, could i get #94 (if it hasn't been taken yet; the back up is #58 if it has been)

Jamie and Trevor (must keep those two alive lol

YOU rock! 💖 we the people have the responsibility to keep this ship alive! (also i have a happy tzjd fic on deck i PROMISE)

[#58] Taking What's Not Yours (TV Girl)

And as the smell on my pillow fades / Her cigarettes might stay like a Roman Colosseum / A dry and worthless monument to our love

Jamie had to pack quickly, was the thing, so Trevor couldn't expect him to remember to take everything.

It still didn't make it hurt any less when Trevor entered his bedroom after saying goodbye and spotted Jamie's mug on his end table. It was red, with this lopsided smiley face and a caption that read, sunny side up.

Trevor had his own mugs, but he remembered when Jamie brought it over, claiming it was his favorite. He was spending 90% of his time at Trevor's apartment anyways. Why not make it official?, he'd said.

Trevor's mouth went dry. It still had the teabag in it.

He didn't know what to do with it at first. Jamie was already on the plane, so he couldn't return it. He could've mailed it, but what if it got lost or broken?

Trevor resolved to store it in an old Amazon box he'd set out for recycling. Then, he shoved it under his bed and forcibly pushed it from his mind.

That wasn't the end, though. More of Jamie's things kept popping up over the next few weeks—spare phone chargers or skate guards, bags of branded chips Trevor would never buy. It struck him like a viper every time, making his brain stall and restart, reopening the wound of the trade when it was just starting to scab over.

One rare rainy night, digging through his closet to find his umbrella (he was pretty sure it was still in its original packaging), he happened upon one of Jamie's toques. It was never cold enough to wear it in Anaheim; he could've probably used it in Philly. Without thinking, Trevor brought it to his nose and smelled it. The sweet tang of Jamie's cologne still clung to it, and Trevor sank to his knees and cried.

Whenever Trevor found one of Jamie's belongings, he just put it into the box and moved along. He even took the care to wash it if it was dirty—a crewneck or a dish. He even kept the dented lid to a candle Jamie bought for airing out the room of sex, even though the candle itself was missing.

He was still finding things months in, however small and insignificant, in the nooks and crannies of his apartment—receipts from In 'n Out with his regular order on them, half-drained moisturizer samples from when he got really into skincare, the cut-out tags of shirts because he hated the way they itched his neck.

In all this time, though, Trevor never reached out to let Jamie know. He couldn't bring himself to. On late, lonely nights, he thought it was because they were the only pieces of Jamie he had left, the only proof that what they had was real at all. On other, more bitter ones, Trevor convinced himself that he was just waiting for Jamie to ask for them back.

But if Jamie ever missed his dog-eared copy of Watchmen or worn-in pair of moccasins, he never told Trevor as much—though he didn't tell him much of anything these days. Because of all the things he left behind, haunting his apartment like a hundred little ghosts, Trevor felt like the biggest one of all.

Jamie had said forever at one point. It felt like a million years ago, and Trevor knew he had to let it go, but he couldn't. He was weak when it mattered.

So, Trevor kept the box under his bed and told no one. He dusted around it, but wouldn't look inside. He kept it pristine, just in case Jamie ever came back.