#i wrote his last name as times again damnit

[feelo-fick]

it can't be too hard right?

it's easy not to think about things, he tells me i don't think all the time! wait...

—

a scene from a fic that i have no clue if ill finish, let alone post, but look i made fanart of my own thing that doesnt even exist :D

[lowkeyrobin]

DIEGO HARGREEVES ; the house

summary ; yours and diegos last look at the house you were raised in

warnings ; language

disclaimers ; platonic, set in a no-doomsday au where the house was sold after reggies death in 2024, also Reggie wasn't as abusive and the kids had special normal kid core memories cause I want them to have some sort of peace damnit, y/i = your initial

track ; the house that built me, miranda lambert

word count ; 1.1k

masterlist

Colorful Christmas lights hung around the home, just the way Mom would always hang them up. But this year, they weren't hung up by Mom. They were hung up by someone else's mom, someone else's protector, someone else's safe space.

You and Diego stand close together, solemnly walking up the front steps.

The umbrella logo had been removed from the glass front doors, leaving two red, wooden doors in their place. In some of the front windows, you could see fake battery-powered candles and snowflake decals.

Diego knocks on the door, looking in the little window above. A warm light illuminates the front space.

A woman opens the door, unknowing of who you were.

"Hi, can I help you? Are you a friend of Adam?"

"Uh, no" Diego replies. "We used to live here. Uhm..." He looks to you for reassurance.

You turn to the woman. "Can we walk around for just a moment? We never got to say goodbye after our parents passed. I promise we won't take anything other than our memories. Just to feel it, relive it one last time... I just wanna find myself again. This house built us. Our parents died unexpectedly, we couldn't come to even go to the funeral."

The woman's face softens. "Oh, of course" She steps back, allowing you entrance to the home.

The old black and white checkered floor was no more, replaced with some sort of white wood, contrasting against the dark oak accents. The light was warm, different than from what you remembered. This front room was always so cold.

"Take your time," She speaks. "I'll be in the kitchen. Would you like some hot chocolate? It's cold out there"

"No, ma'am," Diego answers, tapping the snow off of his boots on the welcome mat.

She nods, retreating to the other room.

You and Diego look at each other, quickly rushing to the stairs in front of you. On the side, in black paint, rests all of your handprints.

The first was Luther, always number one. He wrote his name like he was creating text to head the newspaper. Then there was Allison, her name painted underneath in cursive. Next was Five, his a little blotchy as he had to do his twice. He wrote his name in his palm, covering up his legal name, which Grace tried to get him to use, Max.

Then there was Klaus and Ben, theirs overlapping each other. Klaus had a mini paint fight with Ben, who'd disapproved immensely. Klaus' name was barely legible, Ben's neat and tidy. Next was Viktor, his hand perfectly placed on the side of the staircase. His name was written underneath in italics, slightly messy since he was in a rush to give the paint to you and Diego.

Speaking of you and Diego, your handprints rested on the end. You'd created a little heart, kind of, out of your hands. You took the left, he took the right. In the middle rested Mom's hand in dark pink paint. He'd begged and pleaded for her to join in for a good ten minutes. He was always a mama's boy.

Little eight-year-old Diego couldn't have been happier in that moment.

Your name was messily scribbled beside your hand, Diego's just the same. Grace wrote Mom with a little heart in cursive in her palm.

Your hands caress your little hands, remembering the cold paint on your hands, the mess it created on the floor.

"You think our height board is beside the hallway closet?" Diego asks softly.

"Wanna find out?" You ask

He smiles, leading you across the house. Beside the white door that led into a cleaning closet rests the height chart on the side board. L, D, A, K, F, B, V, and Y/I. Color coded, too.

Diego chuckles, seeing the height that represented him at ten. "God, I was so short. Allison was so tall"

"She still is" you reply, looking up at your final height checks. Luther's was at twenty-one. 6'3. "Wow. I never realized we all left at different times like that"

Diego nods, looking over Ben's final height at sixteen. He felt his heart trying to fix itself in that moment.

"I thought Klaus left at eighteen?" You comment, looking at the last number he had, being seventeen as he'd run away.

Diego shakes his head. "Seventeen. We left at nineteen, we got a little help from Mom, remember?"

"Oh, yeah"

You're both silent for a moment before you silently agree to go up to your rooms, wanting one last touch of Five, Ben, and yourselves.

You separate ways as you enter your rooms, sitting on the floor. You could remember where every last poster and item had gone like it was yesterday. From the bed placement to which one of Luther's records you were borrowing that day, it all stuck in your head.

The memories kept in the floorboards spoke to you.

Diego used to sneak into your room when he had nightmares up til the age of fifteen. He was mortified of the dark.

Viktor used to read with you on days off from training, all day long.

Luther sat in your room to listen to music with you while you tidied your room.

Klaus would often smoke in your room at because you were the only one with a table fan to wash the smell away out the window. Turning the lights on, even with a closed door, would've got you in trouble. Reggie was a night stalker.

Ben would trade posters with you everytime he wanted to reorganize his room.

Five would make you puke in your room by teleporting you around a kajillion times.

Allison would come to your room so you could style her hair.

You close the door as you leave, moving to Ben's. You can't enter, like the wound was torn into your skin just an hour ago. You look over the blank walls, your eyes set on where his old bookshelf sat.

In Five's room, newspapers were always plastered on the walls, much to Reginald's dismay. The foot of his bed usually housed a row of uniform shoes. There used to be a trunk under his bed where he kept his stuffed animals, which he'd outgrown before he disappeared. He couldn't bring himself to let go of them.

Diego approaches from behind, resting a light hand on your shoulder.

"You remember when Allison made a journal full of homes from magazines that she'd want to live in?"

You chuckle. "Yeah"

You're both quiet for a moment before he speaks again.

"Weird being here again"

You nod. "Hard to say goodbye to what raised you"

He nods. "I miss Mom"

"Me too"

[fandomtherapy44]

Dean x reader So American One-shot

Summary: A vague plot based off this incredible song and my love for Dean Winchester

Paring: Dean Winchester x reader

Word count: 2,011

Song: So American-Oliva Rodrigo

Divider

saradika

Drivin' on the right-side road

He says I'm pretty wearin' his clothes

And he's got hands that make Hell seem cold

Feet on the dashboard, he's like a poem I wish I wrote

I wish I wrote

Dean Winchester the guy that stole my heart and shattered my heart in the span of three months. It was my last year of high school. In the last stretch I was the top of my class. Going to Harvard, I never went out of line, always on time for curfew. My parents expected me to be perfect. So I never went out with friends or party’s I was asked out but the answer was always no. My whole goal was to get there and to continue to be perfect but then I met him.

It was the last three months of school. A normal school day with me focused on my work and my teacher announcing that we were getting a new student. All of my classmates were talking about who would join a school in the last three months. Then everyone went quiet when he walked in I wondered why so l looked up and it was the most handsome guy I had ever seen. “Uh hey my name is Dean Winchester and I'm looking forward to all the party’s for the end of senior year!” He fist bumped the air and everyone whopped and clapped in agreement but me. “Dean, why don’t you take a seat next to Y/n.” Damnit. He walks over to me with an egoist bob of his head. “Hey I’m Dean.” He held out his hand with a smirk. “I know.” “Well miss Knowitall what’s your name.” “Look dude can you leave me alone and focus on your work.” “Gesse I was just trying to be friendly.” 

Couple weeks had passed and Dean did not stop try to talk to me which got really annoying. “Hey Y/n you going to the football party this weekend?” “No” “Why?” “Because Dean I have to work on the Graduation speech.”  “Ooh you're the valedictorian smart and pretty.” I was a little too flabbergasted to respond so I just kept working as I always did.

The bell rang and I got up quickly to not have to look at Dean but my teacher had other plans. “Y/n just one minute You too Dean.” Why me!? “Yes Mr.Baker” Dean and I were now at the front. “Dean these last few weeks your grades have not been the greatest.” “Mr. Baker, what's the big deal? It's almost the end of the year.” “That’s exactly the problem Mr.Winchester if you do not pass the next test you won’t graduate.” Damn that sucks but why am I here. “Seriously!?” “Yes Seriously but I think a tutor would really help you.” Oh no no no. “That’s why I have Miss L/n here.” NO “If she is willing to take you on I think you can pass she’s top of the class.” Both of them look at me in questioning. I looked at Dean’s face and for some reason I did something I never thought I would I said yes.

That was over ten years ago I went to college and continued to be perfect but I never forgot that Damn handsome Dean Winchester. I got my dream job at the top too. I never really dated after Dean. I couldn't, I couldn't give my heart again. 

And he says I'm so American

Oh God, I'm gonna marry him

If he keeps this shit up

I might just be in lo-lo-, lo-lo-, lo-lo-, lo-lo-lo-lo-lo

“Thank you for doing this.” We were at the coffee shop early in the morning before school. “Yeah sure but you have to be committed, that means no party’s no girls…” “Hey I am going to be Mr.School I might even go above you.” “Okay Mr.school when you get more than a c then we'll talk.” I tapped his book. “Damn ok so Miss scholar has jokes.” He gave me his smile and that was the first time that my heart quicked a little bit. 

I was getting drinks with friends. The music was loud and lights blinding but I could still see him through all of that. I was sure it was him even though we were both eighteen when we last saw each other. That golden brown hair the green in his eyes looked like the sun mixed together with the tops of pine trees. The freckles dusted over his face like glitter. It didn’t matter if it had been ten years since I had seen him, I memorized every detail of him. He was chatting up some beautiful blonde woman and it was like I was back in highschool before he and I got together. 

I gave my friends an excuse that I had to work early the next morning and got up at a quick pace and shuffled my bag over my arm and I practically ran to the exit. When I entered the dance floor there were so many people that I couldn't see my footing and I tripped over my own foot. But luckily someone caught me. 

I was pacing back and forth in the hallway sweat running down my forehead looking at the clock every minute. The door opened very slowly and Dean walked out with head hung low. “Oh Dean, maybe I can talk to the teacher for you and you can retake it.” He holds up his head and brings a smile on his face. “No need cause I passed!” I paused for a second and I hit his shoulder. “Dean Wincheseter! Don’t you ever do that again!” He was laughing at my fake hits now. “OKAY okay I won’t teach now let’s go celebrate me gradienting highschool.”

I start to follow him and then think about how it’s almost eight. “Wait Dean, it's almost eight and I have curfew.” “Come on Y/n this is a big accomplishment on both of us. And you deserve it more than any of us.” He was right, I had worked my ass off. I deserve this. “Okay well if I'm going to break a rule then we are going to do it right.” “Great what’d you have in mind?”

We were on this cliff that overlooked the city that I found when I was a freshman and that was probably the last time that I was here. I looked over to Dean biting into his burger and the juice dripping down his lips and I couldn't stop thinking about… “Y/n y/n?” Dean was waving his hand in front of me. “Huh sorry.” “So how does it feel to break a rule miss perfect?” I sipped my drink to really think about his question.

“I haven't been here in years because I wanted to put my all in school work so my parents could know that their sacrifices meant something. I haven't had a damn burger in so long so I could only eat “brain food” my parents would say. I haven't breathed in the night cold air in the fear that I would get a cold. So to answer your question Dean it feels fucking amazing.” I grabbed my burger and took a huge bite. Dean looked a little shocked at that but happy too.

“Well it looks like we both taught something to each other. I’m glad I can leave you like this.” “Leave? You're leaving?” “Yeah my brother and I only went to school here while our Dad was doing … work.” “So this is kind of also a send off for me and I couldn't imagine spending it with anyone else. I just wanted to thank you for helping me.” “It was nothing really.” “No Y/n you are the first person who’s looked at me and saw more.” “Well you saw more then miss perfect.” “As I said before smart and beautiful.” At this point we had gotten closer on top of the old chevy impala and he leaned in and kissed me.

I apologize if it's a little too much, just a little too soon

But if the conversation ever were to come up

I don't wanna assume this stuff

But ain't it wrong?

I think I'm in love

I looked up and it was a very tall handsome man with shaggy brown hair. If a moose had a human from this would be him. “Are you okay?” I stopped to shake my head. “Yeah I’m fine thank you.” “Here, why don’t you sit down.” He brought me over to the bar. “Hey can I please get some water for…?” He looked at me for my name. “Y/n.” “Here you go.” “Thanks.” “No problem.” I glugged down my water. “Oh I didn't even get your name.” “It’s-” “Sam!” A voice called out from behind him. I looked up and nearly choked it.was.DEAN. I got up quickly and spilled the water all over me but that didn't matter. “Ah thank you but I got to go!” I got up and ran out. Dean came up to Sam. “Who was that huh Sammy?” Dean raised his eyebrows up and down. “No, just some girl needed help.” “What was her name?” “Y/n” “Y/n? Huh”

It was the next morning and the whole night my head was filled with sweet fluffy dreams of him and that's how I knew I woke up because it's not reality. I went to my regular coffee shop. It was the same one from those years ago. I turned with my drink in my hand and I collided with a hard chest. “AHH Im so sorry.” I grabbed napkins and started to wipe and I looked up and it was the man I had been trying to avoid. “Y/n?” “Dean Hi” I wanted the earth to swallow me. “How are you doing?’” “Good look Dean I got to-” “Go work of course well if you want to catch up I'll be in our spot tonight.” Dean walks out. And I'm left to wonder what to do.

I drove to the spot it was still abandoned as the last time we left it and just as breathtaking. I got out of my car and I saw that old chevy Impala and Dean standing there. I breath in deeply to prepare myself. “Hey.” “Hi.” “So how’s life?” He asked me. “Uh good you?” “I wish I had the same answer.” He leaned against the Impala. “That bad huh.” “You have no Idea.” “And I'm guessing you went through college being the badass you are.” He always made me laugh. “Badass I don’t know about that but yeah college you?” “Yeah, college was never really for me. I went into my dad’s business.” “Well, whatever makes you happy, but college is missing out on one of the smartest people I've ever met.” He laughs.

“Wow, that coming from miss.Scholar is huge.” “Oh, shut up.” I pushed on his shoulder. “Look I'm really sorry how we left things.” “It's okay Dean you to go.” “No, it's not I regret it every day.” “We were kids we couldn't control our situation.” “Still.” “Well, were adults now so how do you feel now after seeing each other again.” I said standing closer to him like all those years ago. “I feel like I should have held the girl tighter who changed my life closer.” “And I feel like I should have held the boy closer.” At this point we were right up against each other. And I did something I thought I never would do again. I kissed him. 

And he laughs at all my jokes

And he says I'm so American

Oh God, it's just not fair of him

To make me feel this much

I'd go anywhere he goes

And he says I'm so American

Oh God, I'm gonna marry him

If he keeps this shit up

I might just be in lo-lo-lo-lo-lo-lo-lo-lo-lo-lo-lo-love

[gaslighttragedy]

The Silver Shadow

Summary : In this story, Bucky and Andrea, an unconventional pair forced to work together even though they are constantly arguing; Sam is usually the mediator between them. Bucky does not trust Andrea, and Andrea does not trust Bucky. (Prologue is a flashback.) Pairing : Bucky Barnes x Original Female MC named Andrea, her FC is up to you, but I imagine a Shailene Woodley type character. (Bucky not seen in prologue. Main Interaction is with Tony Stark.) Words : A little under 1K. Warnings : Nothing notable in this prologue. Note : Suspension of disbelief is required ; I took a lot of liberties with the story, timeline and series of events. Other note : I wrote this in 2021, and let it in my google doc drafts. I found it, and thought maybe i could do something with it. I had a few ideas written down for the next chapters, so if people like this, I might continue? Prologue | Next Chapter Masterlist

Montreal, Summer of 2012.

The clicking and tapping of fingers on the black computer keys were the only thing that could be heard inside the small room. That small room was serving as the temporary headquarters for what the brunette doing the actual typing considered her best operation yet. Usually, she'd have some music playing in the background, but the playlist she'd been playing had stopped a while ago and she didn't bother to start a new one. No, she'd been having way too much of a blast. Infiltrating the Canadian Government's website to change every mention of Prime Minister Harper's name to Asswipe McStupid was the most fun she's ever had on a job. The real reason she was infiltrating the server was a tad bit more complex, but the prank added a little bit of flair to the task. Plus, it paid well, since she risked actual prison if she got caught. But then again, she always, always, had a fail-safe.

She only had about two minutes left to put the final touches on the malware she'd then upload on the government's server while the files she needed were uploading to her computer before the intrusion was traced back to her location and she was typing as fast as she could. That's when she heard it. 

BOOM. BOOM. BOOM.

Fuck! She was supposed to have more time, god damnit! How could they have found her so fast? It was impossible! As she continued typing frantically, she was trying to understand where she messed up. Prison was not an option, and she didn't want to use her fail-safe. She'd never had to use it before on a big scale, say, on the military ops that would surely find her now.

BOOM. BOOM. BOOM.

Louder, this time. The pounding she was hearing seemed to come almost directly from behind her. How did they get up to her so fast? She was on the 19th floor! It's not like they had power suits or jet packs to get to her that fast! The file she needed from the server was already exported to her computer, and she barely had time to close up everything before she heard the last barrier between her and the rest of the world fall behind her.

BOOM. 

As soon as she heard the door go down behind her, the cybercriminal threw her hands up, and for just a second, it felt like time stopped. She didn't hear a sound, which was surprising, since she thought a thousand men would be there to arrest her. That's usually what happens when you get caught stealing secret files from undocumented government projects. But she didn't hear a thing. The overwhelming desire to turn around was strong, but she stayed there for what seemed an eternity before she heard his voice. 

"I knew you were strong, but that's..." He said, with a little bit of… could it be envy in his voice? 

She'd heard his voice before. Everyone in America knew that voice. He'd been on TV, on the radio, and his name was as admired as it was feared. He'd made a spectacle a couple of years back, and because of it, his name would go down in history. 

"Jarvis," he continued, "Is she really stopping the suit right now?" 

"It appears so, Sir. I've lost all control of the suit's motricity." 

The brunette sighed as she finally dropped her hands to her side, simultaneously releasing Tony Stark from her hold. 

"I thought I made my position on your offer very clear, Mr. Stark." She said as calmly as possible. 

"And I thought you might want to reconsider." He replied with confidence. "Your abilities, they're worth putting to good use."

The hacker got up from her chair and started to pack her computer as fast as she could. She was losing time, and the longer she stayed in this spot, the more likely she was to get caught. She turned to Stark, who was still trying to convince her to do something she'd never agree to.

"Mr. Stark, as I've said twice before, I'm not joining your team of superheroes, or whatever you called it…" 

"Avengers." He said, cutting her. 

She casually dismissed him with the back of her hand, making the red suit rattle. 

"Avengers, Shmamengers. I don't care. I'm not doing it. Final answer." 

"This is not Who Wants To Be A Millionaire. You can't just say final answer." Tony said, aggravated. 

As she put her black messenger bag over her shoulder, the woman approached the famous Tony Stark and patted him on the shoulder of this suit, and with the flick of a wrist, put a big dent on it. It wasn't a warning, because he knew she'd easily overpower him. She did it just for fun. Just to mess with him. 

"Goodbye, Mr. Stark." She said with a sly grin.

"Jarvis, please advise Fury that Silver Shadow is a no-go." He sighed to his AI as the brunette was leaving the concrete building. 

[forabeatofadrum]

Hello and happy Sunday to you all. Thank you @confused-bi-queer, @cutestkilla, @you-remind-me-of-the-babe for the tags, and a tag back to @aroace-genderfluid-sheep.

My Klaine fic is still being written. Toffee the hamster has been found, but it's taking a while to finish it. An anon did give me a title idea, namely The Class Menagerie, and anon, I love you for it,

In other fic related news, I started posting Dancin' on that bamboo ceiling, the fic series that explores Asian identity and racism through Glee, while also trying to find a way to place glee's own racism towards its Asian characters. I was quite nervous to post it and a bit stressed. So stressed that I straight up confused Mike and Wes in one of my summaries and in the series' summary I accidentally wrote that Mike moved to China, not from China. Oops. It's been fixed. Five fics are posted and I am not at all surprised that the Klaine-centric one has the most hits, since people still prefer shippy fics over gen fics. I just hope these Klainers (hi!!) are encouraged to also read the others.

I am also nervous because I don't want to come off as if I am speaking for everyone yada yada. I did add the disclaimer that I am one sole person writing this and I am also alway open for more feedback, but it feels so nerve wracking. I usually write for me and me alone, but not this time, I guess. And even so, I am one Chinese person and damnit China is big. Catch me frantically googling whether people in Hubei speak Mandarin or something else etc. (Which I knew the answer to, cause my sister is from Hubei, but I'm just so nervous!!!) (This is also why I remember that Mike's family is from Hubei.)

Also some things in Glee are so fucking stupid. I am already thinking about changing something in Blaine's chapter so it lines up with canon, but I am still trying to explain why Tina's last name is Cohen-Chang.

Writing this fic is uhhhh A Lot, since I am delving deep into the racism that I have experienced and also the stories of other Asian people who I have spoken to about this. (JY, Todd, I haven't seen y'all in literal years, but you're in this fic.) (I do still talk to Cilla regularly.) (And a shout-out to my sister who constantly has to deal with people saying "she is too pretty to be Chinese"!). I am excited to explore this and I keep thinking about things I can add, but it is heavy, as you might expect. I do try to keep some humour and joy in it, because unlike Glee, I also want to show that being Asian can be fun and can lead to connection. I am looking forward to Mike, Tina, Wes, Blaine and Yu-Jin being friends! Here's a more upbeat part of the sad shit that I shared recently:

"Yes, yes, yes!" Yu-Jin cheers when Mike and Wes step inside the bedroom, both wearing a tangzhuang. "God, if only my grandparents could see me now," Wes says as he studies himself in the mirror. "Tina's making photo's," Blaine says. Tina's new phone has the best camera of them all and she'll send the photos to the others later. She definitely wants to save the mirror selfies that she made with Yu-Jin. Tina's hanbok has become to small and it's straining her in places, but she loves the way she looks and that's what matters.

And now, the weather: @quizasvivamos @blurglesmurfklaine @coffeegleek @esperantoauthor @otherworldsivelivedin @caramelcoffeeaddict @sillyunicorn @bazzybelle @dragoneggos @raenestee @tectonicduck @nightimedreamersworld @urban-sith @thnxforknowingme @captain-aralias @justgleekout @cerriddwenluna @tea-brigade @ivelovedhimthroughworse @moodandmist @whogaveyoupermission @bookish-bogwitch @ionlydrinkhotwater @1908jmd @special-bc-ur-part-of-it @larkral @chen-chen-chen-again-chen ​ @artsyunderstudy ​ @martsonmars ​ @facewithoutheart ​ @shrekgogurt @boyinjeans @rockitmans @bitbybitwrites @blackberrysummerblog @whatevertheweather

[sometimes-you-write]

Trapped Inside My Mind

[Plain text: "Trapped Inside My Mind". End plain text.]

Multi-chapter.

Chapter 1 : The ancient evil trapped in amber.

Chapter summary : You, Finn, and Jake are meditating with Princess Bubblegum in her castle when suddenly she has to check on something very, very important.

Of course things go wrong and now you have a world to save.

It was supposed to be a relaxing day, damnit!

Masterlist

]|[«»]|[««»»]|[«»]|[

Fandom : Adventure Time.

CW/TW : none unless you count swearing.

Author's note : I'm so happy I wrote this and I hope you guys enjoy it.

English is not my first language so tell me if I wrote anything wrong.

The reader here is gender neutral and will use they/them pronouns.

Also there is no use of Y/N.

]|[«»]|[««»»]|[«»]|[

"Guys, what I am supposed to be meditating about?" Asked a thirteen years old human boy as he whispered.

His name was Finn, he had white skin and blonde hair which was hidden by a white hat that resembled a bear. He was wearing black shoes with white socks, dark blue shorts, a blue shirt with short sleeves, and he was carrying a green backpack.

"Don't know." Surprisingly a yellow dog replied. "I'm thinkng of pillows stuffed with spaghetti."

His name was Jake, he was a magical talking dog who could walk in two legs. He had yellow fur, floppy ears and two cute big eyes.

Finn and Jake were also brothers.

"Pillows stuffed with what?" A third voice asked, wondering if they heard wrong.

That person was you.

You, like Finn, were a human. You were wearing brown boots with black socks, gray jeans, a white shirt with short sleeves, a duffle hooded jacket of your favorite color, and you were carrying a leather satchel.

"With spaghetti." Jake replied again.

You felt a hand on the top of your head before you could say anything else.

"Clear your minds."

"Right! Sorry, Princess." You said while she was doing the same with Finn and Jake.

Her name was Princess Bubblegum, she had pale pink skin and long pink hair, long enough it reached her ankles. She was wearing casual pink yoga pants and shirt, pink shoes, a hot pink cardigan sweater, and a golden crown with a blue gem.

Princess Bubblegum, PB for short, had invited you and the boys to meditated with her in her castle.

Apparently, meditating helped you become stronger in a spiritual way.

While Finn complaining that it was "boring", you and Jake were all for it.

You don't know how Jake feels, but you were a little stressed.

Last week, you, Finn, and Jake, were on a mission to rescue Hot Dog Princess's knights from a maze they got lost in.

The three of you found them easily and were about to get out, but one of the knights said something about a magical creature that granted wishes in the center of the maze.

You weren't interested, but the two boys were, they both seemed to have the same wish.

The ancient psychic tandem war elephant.

In the end you all entered the labyrinth to find those wishes and, to not get lost, Jake has tied his legs to something and start to stretch.

You may wonder, how was that possible? Well, that's because Jake had shapeshifting powers! He could change into anything he wanted… but it seems that even he had limits.

The deeper you went into the maze, the more he stretched and the more he stretched, the smaller he became.

You tried to stop him, but he wasn't listening.

You finally arrived at the center of the maze, where you guys found what seemed to be a mud snake.

You thought one of the knights was going to wish for Jake to be okay... but you forgot they were... slow. One of them wished for a box while the other literally exploded.

Poor Jake was so disoriented that he ended up wishing for a sandwich. That left you and Finn.

You were going to make your wish and save Jake, but it seemed like the snake was enjoying watching him die and said it was Finn's turn, so you couldn't do anything.

You knew how much he wanted to wish for the elephant, you were about to tell him that you can wish the elephant for him, so that he could save his brother, but it seemed that he had other plans.

He wished for the elephant and began to communicate with him telepathically.

And apparently because the elephant was there, he was also granted a wish and ended up wishing for everyone to be healed.

And with that Jake and the knights were okay, then the elephant took all of you home.

You still had a wish, but you didn't use it yet, you just kept it in a jar and hid it in your closet.

The snake had said that there were no do-overs.

You expected today to be a relaxing day.

You took a deep breath and tried to clear your mind, but all that effort went out the window as PB gasped in fear.

"I have to go check on something!"

"Can we go with?" Finn asked.

"Perhaps you are ready to go with." PB answered after a few seconds.

"Are you sure, princess?" You asked. "We can stay here if you want."

"Yes, i'm sure."

"Alright." You said as Finn and Jake bumped their fists.

"Guys, you'll need to put these on." PB said as she took off a pair of earrings from her ears.

After putting each earring, which were apparently also tiaras, on Finn and Jake's heads, she removed a necklace from her neck and put it on yours.

Everything around you turned a transparent blue for a second.

"Neat." You heard Jake say.

Then PB touched the gem on her crown and then a transparent blue bubble surrounded her head.

Oh, so that's what happened a second ago.

"Stay close to me." PB said before clapping her hands.

Then her butler, Peppermint, appeared and blew a very large bubble, big enough for the four of you to get inside and once inside the bubble began to float upwards, up to the tree on the top of the castle.

"At the heart of this tree is an ancient evil, held in a prison of amber…" You gave PB your full attention.

The bubble burst once you reached your destination.

"The Lich."

You gasped at what was before you.

There, trapped in amber, was the Lich.

The first thing you noticed were its horns, they resembled those of a goat, the left one was intact while the right one was broken.

Then you looked at it's face, it had horrific green lights as pupils peering out of its empty eye sockets, and pale undead skin pulled tight against its noseless skull. Its skin is frayed away from its lips revealing a wicked and perpetual grin. Its arms are bare bones with various decayed tissues, showing off its skeletal hands. It was wearing loose robe with multiple layers and a large cape that is severely torn at its end.

You had never seen anything like this, not even in the three years you were in the land of Ooo.

"Jesus christ." You whispered.

And if that wasn't enough, you started hearing things, they sounded like meaningless whispers.

"What's that sound?" Finn asked as you looked around trying to figure out where the sound was coming from.

"He is casting spells… trying to get in your head and control your bob, but these gems are protecting our minds from his influence." PB said making you touch the necklace she gave you. "If we lost the gems, we'd be defenceless, he would have full control over us."

"That's freaking nuts." Finn exclaimed.

You stared at the Lich fow for a few seconds before looking back at PB.

"Beyond Iceberg Lake lies the ruins of the Lich's tower, where he was converting the planet's life-force into unholy power to destroy all of Ooo." PB explained. "But before he could, the Legendary Billy attacked him and pummeled him into the resin of this tree."

Billy, you remember meeting that guy, like, a few months ago.

Your train of thought come to a stop when you heard the sound of something breaking.

"Is it just me or do you guys also hear that?" You asked nervously.

"I thought i was the only one." Jake answered.

"I… what the nuts?!" PB screamed with fear.

You, Finn, and Jake, turned around and gasped in shock.

The Lich has escaped! But how?!

"Dude, be a big sword!" Finn told Jake, who did so without hesisation.

Finn then grabbed Jake and used him to hit the Lich… but it didn't work because he ended up escaping.

PB gasped and shout. "Quickly! To the other secret room!"

]|[«»]|[««»»]|[«»]|[

PB had taken the three of you to a room with a closet, a chest, and a window.

"There's only one know weapon that can harm the Lich…" PB said as she opened the closet. "The gauntlet of the hero."

Inside the closet was a large gray gauntlet with one eye, which was closed, on the back of the hand and a blue gem on the back of the wrist.

You've always wondered why Billy didn't have his gauntlet when you met him, it turns out it was here all the time.

PB put the gauntlet on your right hand and said. "You have but one chance. While the Lich isn't at full power, you must smite him with this."

"Cool." You said in amazement after witnessing the glove shrink to your size.

"His only desire is to destroy life." PB whispered while grabbing a crystal ball, the ball showed an underground entrance. "If you fail, he'll kill everyone." Now the ball was showing the Lich with fire in the background.

"No! That will not happen!" Finn declared as you nodded.

"That's right!"

PB smiled, then walked towards the chest and opened it. "Finn, this is for you, The Lich's lair is supposed to be cold. I just don't want you to get sick." She took out a pink sweater and gave it to him. "Take this sweater, I made it myself. I'm not great at knitting, but please wear it… I care about you, Finn."

"I love it." Finn replied after putting it on.

PB then hugged him, you and Jake didn't hesitate to join the hug.

Not a second later, the four of you were startled by the sound of the window opening.

All of you gasped.

"Hey, hey, hey!"

"Mothertrucker! You again?!" It was all you said the moment you realized who it was.

His name was Ice King, he was a crazy and annoying old wizard. He had pale blue skin, a long nose, long white hair and beard. He was wearing a dark blue robe and a golden crown with three red gems.

"So, I've been thinking about this a lot lately and, well… gosh i'm so nervous."

"What the heck do you want?" You asked with annoyance.

He looked at you and asked. "Will you gave me your blessing so i can marry Princess Bubblegum?"

It took you a few seconds to comprehend what you had just heard and when you did it… you were furious.

"Not in a million years! Get out of here you old pig!" You yelled before running towards the window.

"What?! Why are you calling me that?!" He asked angrily.

You didn't even answer him, you just closed the window.

"No! Not the latch!"

"Quickly now, guys." PB said. "Track the Lich by his trail of death."

"Here i go!" Finn exclaimed before he started running.

"Oh no, you don't!" You interrupted and grabbed him by the back of his sweater. "You are going to stay here."

"What?! Why can't i go?!"

"I need you to protect the princess, Finn." You said. "You know how batshoot crazy the Ice King is, you need to stay here and make sure he doesn't kidnap her."

You weren't exaggerating, the Ice King was crazy, he was obsessed with marrying a princess to the point that he even kidnapped them.

And you may wonder, how can Finn, a thirteen years old boy, protect PB from Ice King, a wizard?

Well, that's because kicking the Ice King's ass is easier than one might think.

Yes, even to the point a thirteen years old could kick his ass.

"I guess you are right." Finn said quietly.

"Come one, Jake!" You shouted before running out of the room.

"Here i go!"

"Be safe." You heard PB say.

]|[«»]|[««»»]|[«»]|[

The two of you were running through the candy forest following the Lich's trail of death, which was not a difficult thing to do.

"Be honest with me, did you want Finn to protect PB or was that just a excuse so he won't come?" Jake asked.

"Actually is a little bit of both, if Finn is with the princess, he will protect her from the Ice King and he won't get close to the Lich." You answered. "is a win-win scenario!"

You knew Finn very well, you knew he could defend himself.

But if the Lich is as bad as PB says he is, you didn't want to risk the young boy getting hurt or worse.

"Running this fast makes my stomach hurt." Jake commented after you crossed a bridge.

"Come on, Jake!" You looked back at him, still running. "we are getting close to the-"

You couldn't finish what you were saying because you bumped into something.

When you looked up, you realized it wasn't something but someone.

"What the fuck, Ice King?!" You shouted before pushing him out of the way.

"Hey! Wait! I'm serious about Bubblegum."

Neither you nor Jake paid attention to him and kept running.

Suddenly, the Ice King began to float and got in front of you while saying. "Look, i wrote her name all over my arms and legs!"

"Aaaahh!" You and Jake started screaming in horror and disgust.

The Ice King showed the two of you his arms and legs which had written "Princess Bubblegum" all over them.

Forget the Lich, this was the most horrifying thing in the world!

You and Jake started running again, still screaming.

Ice King started following you. "It's not fair! She always hangs out with the three of you!" He looked at you and said. "And it's not like you want to marry her!"

"Of course i don't want to fucking marry her, you pig! She is almost three decades younger than me!" You yelled.

"Why do you keep following us?!" Asked Jake who was already getting tired of this, you shared that feeling.

"I told you already! I want your blessing so i can marry Princess Bubblegum!"

You and Jake just ignored him and kept running, hoping he would get tired of this and leave.

Of course that doesn't happen and now you're stuck inside an ice dome.

"Come on, give me permission to marry her. I'll… i'll-"

You interrupted him. "I have already told you! Not in a million years!"

"Oh, come on! If you bless our wedding, then maybe she'll really love me."

"I told you no, you idiot! Now get out of the way before I punch you!" You warned him.

"I will! When you bless our wedding!"

Without hesitation, you punched him in the face with the gauntlet.

Hey, you did warn him.

"Aaaahh! My nose!" He screamed in pain.

"Jake, get us out of here."

"I'm on it." Jake said as he shapeshifted his fist into a bigger fist and punching the ice walls.

]|[«»]|[««»»]|[«»]|[

Soon you and Jake found yourselves on a beach and ran towards the shore.

"Hey! This is the place Finn and I found you frozen!" Jake commented.

Once you were on the shore, Jake pointed to the lake and said. "There! Out over the lake!"

You could see the Lich rise from the water and start floating away from you.

"Jake, turn into a boat!" You told him.

"I'm your dinghy dog!"

You and Jake started following him but then you noticed that you were doing it very slowly.

"Jake, wait! I will see if can use this thing!" You shouted as you put the gauntlet in the water. "Now, how do I use this?" You asked yourself before tapping it with your left hand.

Suddenly, the eye on the gauntlet opened, revealing a green eye and a black triangular pupil, and shot a beam from the palm.

"Aaaahh!" You and Jake started screaming, not expecting that.

At least that helped! You and Jake were going faster now.

"We are getting closer!" Jake shouted.

"On the count of three!" You shouted before pulling the gauntlet out of the water and pointing it at the Lich.

"One… two… three!"

But before you could blast the Lich, the Ice King got in the way! And he had…

"Finn?! Princess?!" You shouted with horror in your eyes before poiting the gauntlet away from them and into the water. "No!"

You and Jake ended up being shooted to the sky.

"Oh, no." Ice King commented before he, PB, and Finn, ended up getting soaked. "Oh gross. This water stinks"

Once you and Jake were on the shore, you yelled so loudly that your throat hurt. "Ice King!!"

"Look! Look what you made me do to them!" He yelled as he showed you PB and Finn, who had their wrists frozen.

"I didn't made you do anything, you stupid son of a-!"

PB interrupted you. "Guys! Don't let the Lich reach his well of power!"

Before you or Jake could say anything, you heard an explosion going off.

"What is that?! "Finn asked alarmed.

"Oh no! He made it!" PB shouted.

"Princess, don't worry! We still got time!" You hoped you were right.

You and Jake started running and ended up finding an underground entrance.

"Hey, where are you guys going? What's going on?" Ice King asked.

You just ignored him and got inside.

Soon you and Jake found yourselves in a…

"A underground subway?" You asked in surprise while looking around and taking note of the skeletons on the ground.

"You were here before?" Jake asked.

"No, but i know what it is. We had these things back in my time… damn, I sound old saying that."

You suddenly heard something akin to someone shushing before the witnessing all of the skeleton getting up.

"Oh, fuck!" You cursed before activating the gauntlet and blasting all of them. "We don't have time for this."

"Then let's go." Jake said before he started running.

Before you could follow him, you felt something grabbing your satchel. You looked down and saw it was a skeleton.

"Oh hell no!" You yelled before stomping on its head, breaking its skull without problem.

You were next to Jake when you two felt the floor shake, you looked down and saw that it wasn't the floor, you were on top of a giant skeleton!

You, without thinking, activated the gauntlet and blasted it, unfortunately you accidentally also made a hole in the floor and the two of you fell down there.

]|[«»]|[««»»]|[«»]|[

You and Jake didn't stop screaming or falling but then you saw a pipe.

You grabbed Jake with your left arm and grabbed the pipe with the gauntlet before you two turned into pancakes.

Not far from you was another hole in the floor, you got closer to it and saw…

"The Lich." you whispered.

The Lich was in front of what appeared to be a well filled with… green stuff, for the lack of better word, and then dipped his hands there.

"He's getting his powers back. weird." Jake commented before climbing onto your back.

"Well, not for long." you whispered before blasting him.

Unfortunately, he dodged it.

You keep blasting him, but he keeps dodging.

You jumped down and started falling towards the Lich to blast him in the face.

But he grabbed you by the wrist, the one with the gauntlet.

"Oh, no." You said nervously.

The Lich got his face close to yours and brought his skeletal index finger to his non-existential lips.

He shushed and the gauntlet exploded.

You and Jake were in pure shock.

The Lich then grabbed Jake and threw him across the room.

"Jake!"

You tried to get the Lich to let go, but he grabbed you by the chin and made you look at him.

Your frightened eyes staring back at his empty eye sockets.

After the Lich finished examining you, that's what you think he was doing, he threw you to the other side of the room.

You ended up hitting the back of your head against the wall.

You lost consciousness for a couple of seconds but managed to stay awake.

"Ice King, let us go right now!"

You prayed to God for that not to be Finn, you prayed to God for that not to be Finn.

You looked up and saw Ice King with, yep, PB and Finn.

"You get to be kidding me!" You shouted angrily.

"Jake!" Finn screamed watching his brother dodge a green fireball thrown by the Lich.

Finn then hit the Ice King with his frozen wrists.

"Aaaahh! Why do people keep hitting my nose?!" Ice King screamed in pain and dropped Finn.

Once on the floor, Finn broke the ice on his wrists and ran to his brother.

"Jake, are you okay?!" Finn asked.

"That's it! I'm gonna bark him!" Jake exclaimed before grabbing his brother and using his shapeshifting powers to stretch towards the Lich.

This turned out to be a bad idea because the Lich ended up hitting him in the face with a fireball.

"No!" You and PB shouted.

Jake started falling with Finn under him.

You felt your heart stop at the sound of a gem breaking.

"Finn." You whispered watching the young boy get up… his eyes turning black with green pupils.

Finn clutched his head in pain and screamed. "Stop!"

He stopped after a few seconds and started walking towards… the well.

"No!" You shouted before standing up and running towards him.

You grabbed him by the back of his sweater and dragged him away from the well. Once you were away he tried to fight you, so you did the first thing that came to your mind.

You took out your necklace and put it on him.

]|[«»]|[««»»]|[«»]|[

Everything around you… turned black… and so very cold.

You looked around… but could see nothing but absolute darkness.

You felt so cold that you quickly pulled up the zipper of your jacket.

Then you heard an unknown voice calling your name.

You looked around and discovered it was the Lich.

"Aren't you cold?" He asked.

Yes… yes, you were cold.

"Walk into the well."

You tried not to do that, you really did, but you couldn't stop.

You started walking towards the well but then you felt something akin to arms grabbing you around the middle trying to stop you, but you were stronger so you kept walking although with a little difficulty.

Then you felt like you couldn't move anymore, you tried to move your legs but you couldn't.

You looked down but saw nothing.

What's happening?

You looked up and saw the Lich throw fire at you.

You tried to move but couldn't.

But the fire didn't do anything to you, it didn't even touch you.

You took note that the Lich seemed surprised.

Why?

Then the Lich started screaming.

He also started moving weird, from your point of view it seemed as if he was hitting himself against something.

Now he started laughing and laughing, to the point that it was causing you a headache.

Then he disappeared.

]|[«»]|[««»»]|[«»]|[

You gasped once everything was clear again and you could see again.

"Finn! Buddy!"

You saw Jake on the other side of the well with Finn on the ground over what seemed to be dust.

"Jake?" Finn asked before exclaiming. "Jake!"

"Finn!" You shouted. "Are you alright?!"

"Yes! I'm alright!" Finn replied with a smile and asked. "Are you alright?!"

"Yes!" You tried to go towards them, but you couldn't move your legs. "What the-"

You looked down and noticed that you were trapped in ice, from your feet to your knees.

"Why are my legs frozen?"

"Finn saved you!" Jake said.

"Finn! You did it!" PB exclaimed with a smile.

"We did?" Ice King asked. "Hey! Yeah, we did!"

That made you raise an eyebrow.

Did he actually do something or is he just talking nonsense?

"You guys! This experience has brought us all so much closer together." Ice King looked at PB and said. "Princess, I'm sorry for all of this. I love you, and I've decided to set you free!"

That made you sigh with relief.

Ice King melted the ice on PB's wrists and let her go. "Go free!"

"Noooooo!!!" You, Finn, and Jake, shouted in horror.

And why is that?

Because he dropped her into the fucking well!

"Whoops! I've got the dropsies!

None of you said anything, you didn't even insulted him.

You all just stared at the well.

]|[«»]|[««»»]|[«»]|[

Next chapter ]|[ Masterlist

[bigbadripley]

Chapter 1 - Slide

Marc Spector/Steven Grant x Female!OC

Summary: Marc never expected to see his childhood friend Simone ever again. To Simone, Marc may as well have been dead. However, when Simone met Steven 15 years after Marc disappeared, she couldn't help but notice how familiar he was.

⚠️ 18+!! | 2,816 Words | Third-person omniscient | Dark?fic/Angst/Eventual Smut | AU/AT | Warnings: Heavy language, OC with religious trauma, childhood trauma, sexual trauma. Mention of childhood sexual, physical, and emotional abuse, the effects of child abuse in adulthood, murder, suicide, alcohol use, description alluding to smut

A/N: I update warnings with each chapter. Only proceed if you can handle the themes included in the warnings. I wrote this entirely as a trauma dump.

Minors DNI, DL;DR, if I miss a warning, please let me know.

Chapter list

"I don't care if we on the run Nothin' matters when we one on one Lookin' at us 'cause we goin' dumb We on the same wave, you the same way You know I be down if it's with you Where we goin'? Baby, what's the move? We should take a trip up to the moon Get a room" -"Slide" by H.E.R. 

It was a face-off from the second the door closed to the apartment. The kind of argument Marc and Steven had only face-to-mirror, locked in the bathroom. 

Steven wanted to call her, ask her out, and get to know her for himself. 

Marc wanted to throw her number away, change his name, and flee the city. 

"She didn't recognize us!" Steven exclaimed, trying to build a case for himself. Marc detested this,

"She will. You give it time, and she will. She's smart as hell. No wonder she's a goddamn doctor."

"This isn't one of those situations where you poofed, and she never heard from you again, is it?" Steven asked, reflecting on Marc's track record. Though with Layla, it wasn't his fault, Steven didn't know the whole story of what happened with Simone. 

Marc wasn't sure where to begin or if he even should. His history with Simone goes back to when his brother was still alive and conveniently ended when he left town at 18. 

"Look, when I left Chicago, the last person I spoke to was my dad. She didn't know." Marc finally answered. Steven looked at Marc in the mirror with disappointment,

"Damnit, Marc!" He shouted. Marc tried to defend himself,

"Moni's family wasn't the greatest either, and she had all these plans so we would leave together, but she had dreams and ambitions. I didn't wanna drag her down. Now look where she is."

Steven turned away from the mirror and left the bathroom, ranting about how, once again, Marc ruined their chances of companionship before Steven ever had the opportunity. Marc sat back, listening, knowing Steven would never understand no matter how many ways he explained why it wouldn't work. 

"It's really something, innit? I get keen on someone only to find out you broke thei-" Steven stopped pacing and ranting abruptly. Marc could have sworn it took him a full minute to finally speak up again. "Did you love her?"

Marc took control of the body to answer. "Man, she was the only love I knew then. We were the closest you could get without being family or dating," Marc started. Steven couldn't believe what he was hearing. "I can't believe she's here, of all places," Marc said in a whisper to himself.

Steven refused to give in. He wanted to see Simone again, and he was going to make sure he would. "I'm calling her."

"Like hell you are, Steven! You think you can have a happy relationship and hide the fact that you live in the body of a ghost from her past forever?"

"We'll cross that bridge when we get there. I'll go out with Simone, you'll remember all the good times you had, and you'll want to work it out. We all win."

Marc started to realize how mental it all sounded. The very idea of talking to Simone after all these years seemed gut-wrenching, but he supposed there was a reason Steven existed.

"You're serious about her, eh?" 

"I really am, mate."

 While Marc and Steven went back and forth over what to do, the woman they argued over was eating a salad and texting her flatmate about the encounter. 

Joyce: Sounds weird. Probably a stalker, be careful.

Simone: Idk he was attractive and lovely as can be 

Joyce: So are most serial killers lol

Joyce: Or was that not your thesis? 🤣

Simone: Remind me again who the psy is here ?

Joyce: Fuck off. Just don't let a creep get in your snatch again, or in my flat. Ttyl

Simone: 🖕

Simone chuckled to herself, thinking about the ex that Joyce was referring to as she forked up bits from her salad. Lettuce, cucumber, tiny tomato. She actually wanted Harbo's twin snakes, but she couldn't figure out where the craving came from. 

The sweet and sour candies used to be her favorite as a kid, but she hadn't had them in a decade, maybe more. 

Well, that's not true. I had some last time I was in Chica-

Her phone dings, causing a disruption in her thought. She saw it was a text from an unknown number instead of Joyce this time. 

Hello, It's Steven. Just making sure you have my number, also.

Simone read the text in his voice, even following it with the nervous laugh she imagined him doing. 

What a sweetheart. 

 When Steven called Simone to see if she was free for dinner that Friday, he didn't expect her to say yes, even if he was hopeful she would. He could have jumped for joy when she took him up on it. 

Now, he was getting ready to meet her, and he felt a lump in his throat that wouldn't go away.

"I'ma be sick, bruv." Steven said nervously as he buttoned his shirt. Marc stared back at him in the mirror,

"You're gonna be sick? I can't believe you're dragging me into this."

"I'm the one she's expecting, not you." Steven scoffed. 

Marc wanted to punch him but realized Moni might end up doing that instead. "Yeah, and when she realizes, you'll be getting that hook."

 Though Simone still felt that he was familiar, she knew she was with someone entirely different. So different; she was relieved to take a break from the ordinary shitty men she was used to. 

We may have known each other in a different life. She thought.

Regardless, Steven couldn't believe how quickly his cares and nerves melted away once they started chatting. At first, he was even more anxious when he saw her in the most stunning dark blue dress, but she quickly loosened him up. 

"Can't help but notice the American accent. Where're you from?" He asked.

"Chicago, Illinois, born and raised." She answered. 

Steven only asked because he needed to get to know her for himself, no matter what Marc told him. One question left both of them curious, though. "What brought you to London?" He wondered, tearing a piece off of the appetizer rolls.

Simone knew the question would come up, but she wanted to avoid getting into heavy stuff on the first date. She decided to answer honestly but without detail. "I have an internet friend from here who offered me a place to stay when I was having a rough time, and I fell in love. I couldn't stay away."

"In love with the city or someone?" Steven asked, interested in everything she had to say. Maybe her voice made things seem easier to listen to. He was convinced he could hear her read the phonebook to him.

She shrugged, "Oh, gee, I haven't been in love for as long as I can remember." She said. It wasn't exactly the answer to his question, but it was truthful nonetheless. 

Dinner conversation became more casual as they became more comfortable with each other. Simone still could shake the feeling that she knew this man, but she wasn't convinced she had ever met anyone with such kind eyes. 

She got into some banter but continued to crack jokes and get to know him. She was confident that he was too good to be true and knew she had to pull out the big guns to test his integrity. 

"Can you keep a secret?" She asked, leaning in closer to him. They had long since finished their meals but were far from leaving, too interested to part yet. 

Steven leaned in closer as well, "Who would I tell?" He asked. Simone thought for a moment, realizing it didn't matter much unless they knew people mutually. 

Only Steven and Marc knew they would be in on this secret together.

She felt it would either be the biggest mistake to tell him this so soon or the best idea she ever had. She took a deep breath,

"I was a dominatrix to pay my way through university." She spilled. 

Steven's eyes got wide, making Simone nervous about his response. 

Have I piled on too much too soon? 

"Wow, really? What's that like?" He asked. He knew what it meant but wasn't entirely sure how it worked. Still, the image of her in leather was strangely arousing to him. 

Simone kissed her teeth, having never been asked that before. "Well, I never let the clients touch me or anything. Wealthy men would pay a ton to just be humiliated. I didn't do all that for long, though." She explained, not once diverting her eyes from his. She needed to get a read on his honest feelings, as the last thing she needed was someone in her life who wasn't sex-positive again.

Steven was interested and didn't mind the fun fact about Simone. "Did you... like it?" He asked. She shrugged,

"Weirdly enough, yes. It was a good change of pace. I spent so long out of control of my own life, and I was finally able to take charge of something." She admitted. 

Marc was listening to get talk about this nonchalantly and was in shock by it. The girl he knew would have been embarrassed to speak of these things, even if she thought about them. She was taught these things were terrible, unholy, immoral, and ugly.

How long did it take for her to figure all this out?

Having just met Simone, Steven was delighted at how carefree and open she was. He was very fond of everything about her, down to the snort when she laughed. 

 Simone offered Steven a ride home at the night's end, and he accepted. The car ride was just as lively as the dinner conversation, though not nearly as long due to him not living far from the venue. 

"How about I pick you up at the same time next Friday?" Simone asked as they pulled up to his building. Steven's heart fluttered at getting a second date, and he accepted happily. 

 The week passed as any other week would: Simone had her appointments, and Steven had Marc in his ear, trying to get him to cancel the date before it was too late. 

None of these things stopped the pair from having the other in their mind, and the days leading up to the date were consumed by sending memes back and forth. 

Steven: Have you decided what we're doing on Friday?

Simone: Still stuck between a couple options. You'll love them!

Steven: I'll be happy to do whatever so long as you're there. 😋

 The real issues started after the second date. Simone and Steven had a fantastic time bowling, Simone wiping the floor with him and bragging incessantly about it the whole ride to Steven's apartment. 

When they got there, however, the air in the car felt thick and hot despite the cold weather. Once Simone's eyes locked onto Steven's and their laughter died down, there wasn't a single person on the planet left. For Steven, there was only Simone, and vice versa. 

Marc knew what was coming. He saw it in her eyes.

Steven felt like he would almost drool on himself, staring into those big doe eyes.

"Can I kiss you?" He asked her, sounding slightly timid. 

 Though he was the one who asked, Simone wasn't one to waste an opportunity to leave a mark. She unbuckled her seatbelt and lunged for him, leaning over the center console and meeting his lips with hers. 

Never had Steven felt a kiss that warmed him all over like this. At first, he was surprised but found himself guided into it by her. When her tongue slipped between his lips, he was delighted it still faintly tasted like the fruity candy they shared at the bowling alley. 

Simone was thrilled by his eagerness to kiss back, yet she felt a strong familiarity with it. Maybe it was his lips, hands on her back, or the tenderness of the whole thing. 

It was new, yet not. 

Had to have been in another life.

She pulled away with a grin that plastered itself on her face, feeling like it was stuck there for the foreseeable future, and she proposed a third date, just the same as she did before. Steven agreed once again.

 Though Steven was on cloud nine, Marc was pissed and didn't waste any time letting Steven know. 

"Do you have any idea how far up shit's creek you are?"

Steven shrugged, "The creek's quite beautiful from where I am. Jealous?" he asked. 

Marc had never known him to be so careless. Like he hadn't thought any of this through. Like Steven expected a normal, happy relationship. 

Marc was okay with letting him play the boyfriend for a bit, but it was clear that it would get out of hand, and Steven would end up heartbroken. 

"I was gonna let you crash and burn and learn your lesson, but you need to know something. Simone's been giving you the eyes." Marc warned.

Steven, carefree for a moment, suddenly cared a lot more. "The eyes?"

"If she gives you the eyes, she wants to sleep with you, and Steven, you have no idea what to even do with a girl like her," Marc warned.

He only knew from experience. How she gave him those eyes once before, he acted on it, and it ended up being one of his biggest mistakes.

Back then, she wanted to, but they didn't. She's different now. 

Steven was quiet after that, panicking internally over this information. It occurred to him that, aside from the body he resided in having experience, he, as a consciousness, has never slept with anyone.

"You gotta help me, Marc."

"Fat chance, man."

"That's bullshit! If it were any other woman, you'd help me."

"No, you're right, but I specifically asked you to keep Simone out of this, and now here you are, the third date planned, and you haven't even considered the fact that she'd wanna have sex with you at some point. You dug this hole. You figure it out." Marc snapped. 

Steven started to feel guilty for being selfish about this. He had considered the prospect of sex but didn't think he would make it this far. He expected to be rejected by now. "I'm sorry, Marc."

"Oh, no, it's okay, buddy. Still not helping you." He replied in a tone that didn't seem like it was okay at all. 

Marc was jealous after sitting in the background of every interaction with Simone that Steven had. 

Every time he made her laugh, every time she gave him those eyes. He wanted to take over for the kiss but knew that would be hard to explain. 

Simone was just the same as when they were teenagers, but now she's come out of her shell. She was successful, confident, and her own woman in every right. Marc felt that if he had kept her around back then, she wouldn't be anywhere near where she is now. 

But no matter how much he tried to tell himself it was a bad idea to have her back: he missed her so much it hurt. 

 It was every bit Simone's intention to sleep with Steven as soon as he allowed. She felt the chemistry was undeniable, and if that kiss indicated how that would go, it would be a great time. 

Simone knew how most men thought, and in many ways, she had conditioned herself to think how a man would but with the rationality of a woman. This developed for her when she finally left home, started university, and got to know people outside her community. 

She spent a great deal of time pondering having sex with Steven, almost enough to make her believe she was a nymphomaniac. 

Mama would say I'm a whore. A jezebel with impure thoughts. 

Simone hated when her mother's voice popped into her head, but she was typically successful in drowning her out with her own thoughts.

Does he top or bottom? Doesn't matter. Does the bump in his pants deceive me? Probably won't matter. Does he know where the clit is? That matters. A lot.

Simone couldn't imagine him being a mediocre lay with looks like his but wondered if she could get past it if he were. She had a great time with Steven and hoped, prayed even, that he wasn't as shy in the sack as he was outside of it. 

If he was, she wondered, would he let me take over?

[c-is-for-circinate]

✨ wip wednesday again!✨

This worked very well last time! So let's go for it again. (Maybe I can get the next chapter of something up in less than two months this time.)

Rules:

Post up to five (5) filenames of your WIPs; not titles, file names.

Post a snippet from one of them. Snippet must be words you wrote in the last 7 days. We’re posting progress here. If you haven’t made any, go make some and come back to post.

After you’ve posted, people can send you an ask with one of your file names. You must then write 3 sentences in that file.

That’s it! You can invite others to join in or just post.

wips (aka the ones I wanna work on this week):

and they were SPOUSES (oh my god they were spouses)

dndau

pinecones damnit

for fuckssake dustin

oh mike wheeler

Poke me in the ask box here!

Snippet (pinecones damnit):

“Jeeze,” Steve says.  He’s got his sunglasses on, even though it’s finally a little overcast today, and he’s wincing in a way that’s either a hangover or a migraine.  Robin frowns at him.

“Is your concussion being weird or did you actually manage to have a good time at your ‘family outing’ yesterday?” she asks.

“Yeah, try neither,” Steve says, rubbing at the bridge of his nose.  “The open bar was a mistake.”

“Was this the incredibly rich uncle who’s the reason you don’t actually think your parents are rich?”  He’s sunburned, just a little, on the tips of his ears and nose.  Apparently incredibly rich people are too good for sunscreen or shade.

“Did you know peacocks scream?” Steve sighs.  “Tell me wherever we’re going involves coffee.”

“Good news is, yes, today’s plans definitely include lots of coffee,” Robin confirms, and she can tell Steve’s rolling his eyes at the idea of her drinking caffeine by the way he flinches again.

[fictionallyinparadise]

I finally wrote something based on this post but it's the comfort specifically while I think about how the other stuff would work

Content Warnings: Mentioned violence (not descriptive), mouth horror, description of blood, attempted brainwashing mention, torture mention (not descriptive), feel free to ask for more.

His eyes opened again, staring at their hands. A slight tremor, the weapon they stole dropped a few feet behind them. Clean from any bodily fluids physically but not mentally. His head was pounding, the accelerated heart beat not helping the noise.

Freedom was here yet it felt so far away. He had no fucking clue where he was or what was around. There could be traps or other threats about. Worrying over that made their head hurt more. "Damnit. How do I get home?" D'zca muttered, starting to wander around. Nobody was out, likely all fixing the damage he caused. As if they had actually planned to do so much damage to aid their escape. There weren't any thoughts, just...violence.

Which was what those bastards wanted technically. Mindless actions. Just not the kind they wanted.

D'zca kept walking, legs shaking with every step. They stretched their wings out to try and balance themselves, though it just added weight. He ended up stumbling into a nearby wall, cursing under his breath. "D'zca? Where are you, baby?" A familiar voice called out. They stood still, repeating how his name was said over and over. It eventually sounded like a fake name after the seventh mental repeat. The torture technology that these other Ricks had made was incredible, but nothing could mimic the way their Rick said his name.

He was here. Real and here, not a trap. They approached, stumbling like a newborn deer. Thankfully the scientist spotted them. Rick caught up to him halfway, wrapping his arms around them tight. Was it to keep them upright or to confirm they were real?

Either way, it was appreciated.

"Sorry it took so long to get ya, sugarcake. I got a little caught up in 'how do I make sure these shitheads don't try shit again' and-" Rick stopped himself from talking, taking a breath. "I'll talk your ears off when we get home."

Home.

D'zca lifted their head from his boyfriend's shoulder, blinking his smaller eyes. "How long have I been gone?" It felt like a week, maybe three. It had to have been.

"A day and a half."

He blinked all their eyes at that.

"...a day and a half?"

Rick nodded, his face dropping at the question. "They really did a fuckin' number on you." He muttered. It wasn't a question, just a statement that had revenge plans brewing behind it.

"Already showed 'em." D'zca muttered, wings drooping down.

Rick was silent for a moment, the sound of fabric rustling implying he was searching for something. "Is it okay if I activate your human disguise? Everyone's already gonna freak the fuck out about you being kidnapped and tortured. Finding out you're an alien would probably give Jerry a heart attack." He paused after that, as if to add a correction to his last sentence but decided against it. "Not that I'm ashamed that you're an alien but like, you mentioned that you didn't want to reveal the truth so-"

"You can do it." D'zca mumbled with a weak attempt of a smile. Slender and strangely soft fingers brushed against the side of their neck before stopping.

"Did...did they fuckin' rip your threads out to re-do them?"

They froze at the question, lips parting to the painful they spent hours achieving. Blood crusted around and on their lips like a dry lipstick, the taste permanent on his tongue. Salty metal with an unnerving sweetness to it.

"I tore them."

"What? Why?"

"...to talk back."

Rick raised a brow, gently pressing to the spot on their neck that would activate the human disguise Rick had made months ago. "What did ya say, hun?"

"...that you made a fighter, not a bitch." D'zca muttered after opening and closing their mouth a couple of times. Their jaw was sore from grinding their teeth so much.

"Attaboy. Let's get you home, baby." The sound of the portal gun followed as well as the weightless feeling of being returned home. The garage; it's familiar smell and sights. The screwdriver that kept rolling back and forth on the desk, the assorted screws scattered on the floor, the blueprints crumpled up near the garbage can, the smell of rich metals and oil.

Home. It smelled like home.

Rick carefully laid them on the makeshift full bed that was made whenever D'zca was first brought here. The flannel sheets felt softer than a feather, cooing the oracle to sleep.

They reached out a sleepy hand towards his partner, tugging on his labcoat. The question was understood without words, Rick laying next to them. His face was the same as those bastards but it was...kinder. More smile lines, eyes that always carried softness to them until someone said or did something to make that go away.

"Just let me know if you need me to leave." He whispered. "I'll understand. You're safe either way. I've got you...and the garage's got you. So, two forces to be reckoned with."

D'zca managed a smile at that, eyes closing. Tired and sore, it was hard to resist sleep. The feeling of something warm being put around him- Rick's coat or blankets, he couldn't tell- and that was all. They frowned slightly, curling closer towards their partner.

A careful arm wrapped across the oracle's body, waiting for a moment. Then those thin fingers curled into D'zca's, squeezing his hand gently. Just that arm around them completed the feeling of being at home.

Rick always gave amazing hugs. Even if he was covered in something, those arms were always perfect. Warm, secure, and carrying the scent of chemicals and cheap cologne. It didn't take long for D'zca to fall asleep, breathing in the scent of home and Earth's oxygen.

[warmaidensrevenge]

Decisions, decision.

Eddie Munson x Plus size reader

If you want to read my other work you can find it HERE

Warning: fighting and cursing

Part 1, Part 2

Part 3

Every one wants a happy ending but life doesn't work like that. You have to work for it. Pain, blood, sweat and tears are the price for true love.

🖤🖤

You sat on your bed and opened the shoe box. There were so many. Eddie was never the best writer. It took you a long time to get used to his sloppy writing. But you never expected this many letters. You ran your fingers over the folded up notebook paper and picked one at random. You opened it and saw water marks on it. He was crying when he wrote this.

' it's been 1 month since you left. And it feels like forever. This has been the worst month of my life. I miss you so much. So does Wayne.'

You put down the letter and picked up another.

' I have to tell you something. I fucked up. Do you remember Samantha Stone? Well I was drunk last night and I hooked up with her. It was a mistake and I'm sorry. Damnit y/n I'm so sorry. I know I said that I'm in love with you. God why did I do that. I was so fucking stupid.'

' fuck will you come home already. I really need to hold you. Please just come home'

' y/n I'm sorry I have to give Samantha a chance. I can't keep loving you when I'm with her. It's not fair to her.'

'one week and you come home. I hope me being with Samantha doesn't stop us from hanging out. I miss you.'

' I've been waiting so long to tell you this. But y/n I love you. I'm in love with you. You are the best thing in my life besides my baby. I didn't think I could ever feel this way towards anyone. But I do. You make me so happy. I wish I could tell you this. I should have told you this a long time ago.'

You put all the letters back in the box. You couldn't read anymore.

...

When you left Eddie grabbed his keys to go to Samantha's. He sat on her bed listening to her cry and yell and cough.

" it's because of y/n right? I knew it. You know you say her name in your sleep."

" I'm sorry"

"No Eddie I'm sorry. Sorry you wasted my fucking time.... You know what you two deserve each other. I really hope Vance kicks your ass."

That was Eddie's que to go. He could take Vance he knew he could. But he didn't want to. He was only violent when he had to be. Against Jason or his buddies. Or when some drunk douche would get grabby with you at the Hideout. But he would take on a hundred Vance's just to get you away from him. Eddie knew that one day Vance was gonna hurt you. It was only a matter of time. And he wasn't going to let that happen.

...

It was Monday morning and Eddie just pulled in to the schools parking lot. When he was suddenly pulled out of the driver seat.

" Come here you fuck." Was all he heard before getting thrown to the ground. When he finally moved his hair out of his eyes Vance was there. Trying to throw a punch. But Eddie moved and got up to create some distance between them. Getting ready.

" Do you really think she's gonna pick you? Please you're a pathetic piece of shit."

" Hey man. I don't know what you heard-"

" Oh? So you're saying your cuntwad is lying? That you're not after my girl?"

"It's not like that man. I love her"

"You mother fucker" Vance charged tackling Eddie.

They were rolling on the ground when you saw them. Shit no. You ran over to try and stop them. But by the time you reached them they were throwing blows.

"STOP STOP! VANCE STOP! EDDIE PLEASE!" You tried pulling them off each other.

You don't know who did it. Or when it actually happened. But you were now on the ground bleeding from your mouth. Your gasp and body thudding to the ground made the guys stop. You were dazed for a moment but Eddie kneeling next to you brought clarity.

"DON'T YOU FUCKING TOUCH HER" Vance screamed tackling Eddie again.

" FUCKING STOP!" you screamed at the top of your lungs. Eddie had Vance pinned to the ground with the collar of his shirt in one hand and a balled up fist raised up by his head. Kids surround you guys now. You felt someone help you up and walk away from the crowd.

Robin had led you to the lavatory and was helping you clean up.

"See that's why I like girls. Guys never use their words. It's alway a pissing contest with them"

" please Robin tell me I'm not missing teeth."

Robin inspected your mouth. " No you're good. But your lip is really messed up."

That's when Eddie stormed in pushing Robin away.

" Munson what the hell you can't-"

Eddie gave her a look that made her shut up real fast.

" I uhh guess I'll leave it to you."

You watched Robin leave when she opened the door Steve was looking past her to see what was going on.

"Oh common he's in there." Steve said before Robin pushed him away as the door closes.

You shut your eyes because you didn't want to see how bad Eddie was.

" I'm sorry y/n. I-i didn't mean to hit you. I just - I just saw red"

You opened your eyes and looked at eddie. He hit you. Eddie hit you? You always thought it would have been Vance who hurt you. But no it was Eddie. You looked at him. All he had was a small cut on his brow and his shirt was torn. He had grass and leafs in his hair. You looked down at his hands. They were all bloody and bruises started to develop. He had bits of skin embedded into his rings.

" Y/n Im so sorry."

...

You hadn't seen or spoken to either one of the guys. They both got suspended for a week. You picked up the phone to try and call one of them but you couldn't choose. You wanted to call Vance because technically he was still your boyfriend and he was hurt. You wanted to call Eddie because he was your best friend. But you had thought since they didn't call you either, that they must hate you now. Vance hating you because Eddie kicked his ass and Eddie hating you because he got in to a fight in general. Either way you never felt so alone.

You decide to go finally confront these issues. You got in your car and drove to your first destination. You stood on the porch building up the courage to knock. You took a deep breath and closed your eyes. After 3 knocks the door swung open. You opened your eyes just a bit to only make out his dirty white shoes. He didn't say anything.

" I -im sorry. I just can't do this. I never wanted it to come to this. I love you for fighting for me. But I just can't do this." You said as you turned to leave. You were sobbing as you drove to the next place.

You only had to knock once before the door opened. The smell of cigarettes and cologne with just a hint of musk punched you right in the nose. You hung your head because you couldn't look at him. You felt so awful.

"I know this is not easy. And I'm so sorry this happened. I wish I could take it all back. But I just can't. I don't know what to say other than I'm sorry and I love you. I can't picture my life with out you. But I'm -im so scared of you. I know it wasn't easy dealing with that situation. But what if it happens again? What if you loose your cool at something stupid I said? I know you didn't mean to hurt me but the fact of the matter is you did. And now I need time to heal this wound I have in my heart. Eddie I want to be with you. I want to be with you always. But I can't. Not like this. Not when I feel like this. But please please Eddie...wait for me. lts gonna take some time to get over this. but I promise I'll do my best to get back to you. Please love just wait for me."

" y/n I will wait as long as it takes. And not a minute less. I promise. I will wait for you."

@let-love-bleeds-red @salenorona23

[sometimesoliloquy]

The Handmaid’s Tale 5x04 “Dear Offred”👀

Dragged my heels typing this one up...😬

Last episode ended with “NEVER TOUCH MY DAUGHTER AGAIN” (to crazy lady, re Hannah) and this one started with “DO NOT TOUCH MY DAUGHTER” (to crazy lady, re Holly Nichole). June being ferocious protective mama bear of both her babies❤️. This scene also reminded me of the flashback where a woman tried to steal baby Hannah in the hospital, except much more insidious with the Gilead vitriol. And while then June was frozen, post Gilead June immediately and ferociously defends. I really don’t think this woman has any idea who she’s dealing with...

“Was...was she ok? (nervous laugh)” 😂 Ok this is NOT the therapy June needs. This woman is terrified of June and it’s kind of hilarious but also not funny bc she is so clearly not equipped, and wtf is Luke doing there to give disappointed sighs and talk about her with the therapist in the third person like she’s not there? “How do we know she…uh, you…won’t get physical again?” I half expected the therapist to reply “well a rolled up newspaper often works”. 🙄

Poor Tuello looks so defeated (again!) when his girlfriend dumps him (again!), this time for “God”. Sorry, Mark, guess you can take the Serena out of the Gilead, but you can’t take the Gilead out of Serena!

At this point all I wrote in my notes was “SO DISTURBING” so honestly I have to replay to look it up... oh ok I think it had to do with the Gilead colors and insignia going up in her new office, just like it’s creeping into Canada... (could have been a lot of things in this episode, though, honestly).

At first I kind of thought maybe Luke and June were being too hard on Mark and their expectations were too high, but then I remembered that he definitely didn’t have to let Serena bat her pretty eyelashes and flounce off to Gilead to orchestrate the live funeral event of the year, which gave her the means for more reach and power...DAMNIT, Mark! June did warn you, and so did I. You are a disappointment. I told you not to let me down!🙄😒

So, once again Tuello doesn’t get it, and Luke doesn’t get it. June is the only one who understands how dangerous Serena is, her reach and ability to spread the poison of Gilead into Canada and the free world (driver’s license or not)… June is like, once again, I will take care of this myself (I knew that gun wouldn’t stay buried long!).

I just noticed June’s gold locket, bet you anything there’s a little picture of Hannah in there.🥺

I am loving this I-don’t-give-a-shit-anymore-cus-I-almost-died-and-I’m-in-pain-and-fuck-this-shit Janine... she reminds me of “welcome to the fucking looney bin” Janine before Aunt Lydia took her eye and broke her. And now she is maybe going to be the one to finally teach Lydia some goddamn compassion and humanity. I’m fucking glad she’s not letting Lydia off the hook for her bullshit this time. She’s like, I beat death, again, I’m not afraid of you, bitch!!😆

Fucking ECRU.💀 Serena’s real name is Karen.

June finally says it: “He doesn’t know what he’s doing and he seems to forget none of it worked the first time”. They’ve all seen this before, the slow creep of Gilead that people didn’t take seriously enough until it was too late. They played by the rules then, too. June doesn’t play by the rules anymore. Playing by the rules got her family torn apart and her stuck in Gilead, and Gilead taught her not to play by the rules.

Even if Moira and Luke do not seem to be alarmed enough by the threat of history repeating itself, they are right in a sense: this isn’t the same situation as with Fred, and June can’t just shoot Serena in her glass Gilead tower without going to prison (or extradited back to Gilead for execution?? not totally certain how the new territory works, but it’s not no-man’s-land) and losing Nichole. Losing her other daughter. The “it’s not worth losing your family over” really made me sad, though, since TESTAMENTS SPOILERS: we know that June is ultimately going to lose her family anyway, both her daughters, at least for many years until they’re eventually reunited.

I am happy the Moira/June dynamic seems more comfortable and copacetic. Even if it’s mostly because June is trying to adhere to Moira’s playbook: the (useless) therapy, trying to curb her anger, not tearing anyone else apart with her bare hands (and teeth) lately. I do also think Moira gained some different perspective and understanding from their trip to the Mayday women, though.

Not news but I continue to be impressed by the constant ways Serena finds to be a flaming hypocrite. Like she can now write and wears her little power pant suits. I love how she only wears the Gilead dress now as basically a costume, to use as a tool for her advantage as needed--we first saw that when she switched back from civilian clothes to the teal for her reemergence as “Gilead power couple” for Fred’s trial, then for her field trip home and now for her weird pregnancy Gilead glamour shots.🤰🏼💁🏼‍♀️

LOL wow I realized why Ezra looks so familiar to me and it’s because he played “Nostradamus” on Reign (the wildly historically inaccurate but gorgeously costumed CW period drama from years back).

“My wife is going to kill you and I’m going to let her”... I wrote my more in depth thoughts on this the other day so won’t go into it here but yeah, I found the specifically possessive language very striking in this scene.

The Serena mentioning Nick thing was the one thing I was looking forward to this episode but honestly I was underwhelmed. Maybe it’s because I actually felt bad for Luke this whole scene, or because I wanted her to mention more specifics for certain viewers who seem to need reminding. Anyway. I know that Serena was obviously just saying it to be a c*unt and verbally kick Luke in the balls, but the thing is I couldn’t help thinking that, despite the jealousy he understandably would have felt (and still feels), I’s think Luke actually should have also derived comfort from knowing that Nick, that someone, was looking out for June (he doesn’t even know how much). And he did seem to be grateful for that at the end of the Luke/Nick scene in 2x08, when he knew Nick as just a “friend”... but after knowing they were lovers I think maybe his jealousy and insecurity gets the best of him. I was just thinking, I feel like I used to have a higher view of Luke, because I remember, I think probably after 2x09, and after Luke listens to her tape in 3x05(?) being really moved thinking like “damn, both these men really love June so much, as hard as it would be for their heart and ego, I don’t think either would begrudge her the love of the other.” And tbh I definitely still feel that from Nick (if anything more so), but I no longer feel like that’s the case the other way around.🫤

Wow, JLaw did not sugarcoat it for Lydia. What he’s saying is fucked but but he’s right, she shouldn’t be surprised. She’s been willfully operating with blinders on as regards the (most) horrible things the majority of commanders do to handmaids, in able to rationalize the horrible things SHE does to these women, in the name of god’s plan and babies and shit. June told her in 4x03 but she was able to tell herself June was a sinner, a wicked woman not to be believed. Janine even tried to tell her about Esther (as she points out earlier this ep) but she was able to dismiss that as an outlier. It takes Janine throwing the facts in her face, again, after almost dying, and Joseph confirming it, to finally take the blinders off.

Am I crazy or is this yet another different baby (Nichole)?? Obv I know it’s a different baby from last season but for some reason I feel like she looks different from s5 ep 1-3?? Maybe it’s just the lighting.😂🤷‍♀️

I spy a former Handmaid murder gang at the protest 👀! Also, FUCK this guy, I’d have to hold back from shooting him too, especially after he punches Moira… Speaking of which, this is the second time this season someone’s shot a gun into the air so far... seems like maybe a metaphor for s5, gearing up for shit to go down and then nothing happens?😬

The car scene and especially Luke handling the gun made me SO UNCOMFY. I think it made me more uncomfortable than the sex scene (and that was awkward as fuck). I don’t know, I think it was that he seemed to be “play acting" and posing with it like “look at me being cool and murderous, are you into me now?” I just don’t buy it. I can believe that he hates Serena and wants her to fuck off and maybe even wishes her dead, and that’s understandable, but I don’t think he would do it himself. And that’s also understandable and fine but it just feels like he’s acting this way because he thinks it’s what June wants, and that feels weird.

“The Chain” is an interesting song choice here...I feel like it can have multiple meanings... from this site https://www.musicbanter.com/lyrics/Fleetwood-Mac-The-Chain.html:  The "chain" is the marriage or relationship that they had before her partner decided to be unfaithful. The line "Run in the shadows, damn your love, damn your lies" indicates that the infidelity is known and bitterly accepted. The woman tells the man, "I can still hear you saying you would never break the chain" repeatedly throughout the song and brings him to task for the vows and promises made when they got together. Ultimately she tells the man that if he does not give her all of his love and commitment right now, he will lose her forever. So... is that about Luke bitterly accepting June’s affair with Nick? ...And his fear that if he doesn’t fully dedicate himself also to June’s fight (which means becoming more like Nick--or what he thinks Nick is), he will lose her forever? Dunno. Would love to see other’s thoughts on the meaning here...

Deliciously karmic Serena handmaid vibes with this new teal weirdo... Serena looks mildly perturbed at the ominous feeling that the shoe is now on the other foot. I kind of wonder about Ezra. What’s his deal? Is he really looking out for Serena? Or does he work for the Wheelers and their ulterior motives? Or something else entirely?

June and Luke lying in bed after (don’t make me say it again)... reminded me a little of the opening scene in ep where they’re in bed: in that scene he is sleeping with his back to her and she is laying on her back eyes open staring at the ceiling, remembering Serena’s cruelty and how she wants to make her pay for it...they’re totally disconnected. In this scene they are now physically connected, he is facing her and holding her, and she is slightly turned towards him and seems to almost surrender to the embrace, but then her face turns and is similar to the previous scene: looking up, detached. She is physically present and connected to Luke but still mentally seems elsewhere. 🤔

[robininthelabyrinth]

Instead of freeing Nie Huaisang after the indoctrination camp Wen Chao keeps him and forces him to act as entertainment in an effort to humiliate the Nie's. Jokes on him though, as Nie Huaisang uses his new position to send coded messages.

In Here, With Me - ao3 (chapter 1/2)

- Untamed verse -

Left behind in the indoctrination camp when all the other sect heirs escaped, Nie Huaisang found himself in Wen Chao’s clutches, left to his amusement – and his amusement was to force Nie Huaisang to serve at his entertainment.

Are you telling me you’re a clown?!

“Rude, da-ge,” Nie Huaisang huffed, rolling his eyes at his brother’s note. “Very rude. I’m an entertainer.”

Although a rather large portion of his brand new entertain-the-troops routine was being laughed at, yes…

Damnit, da-ge! Leave a man some self-respect!

Sadly, there wasn’t enough space for him to get that sentence in along with the rest of the information he was sending back home, battle plans and supply lines and the rest. Just enough for a single additional sentence –

Sometimes the most dangerous place is the safest.

A little later, he got his brother’s response: Stop making sense. I hate it when you do that.

Nie Huaisang smiled.

-

“Can you stop shoving me around?” Nie Huaisang complained to Wen Chao after the first day of being the Wen sect’s punching bag. “You want me to entertain people, I can be entertaining! In ways other than slapstick!”

“Oh yeah?” Wen Chao sneered. “Like what?”

“I can tell stories,” Nie Huaisang said promptly. “I can paint. I compose poetry on the spot, including lewd poetry. I can do astronomy readings and calculate fortunes. I can juggle my saber. I can –”

“You can not.”

“Which one?”

“Juggle a saber!”

Nie Huaisang crossed his arms. “I can too! Or, well, da-ge always says that’s what I’m doing when I’m trying to train…”

Wen Chao sniggered. “Oh, this I’ve got to see. Someone get him a sword!”

“I can’t use a sword!” Nie Huaisang exclaimed. “Saber, saber! One side sharp only! If I tried it with a two-sided blade, I’d cut my arm off and then where would you be, huh? Without any entertainment, and no hostage, either!”

Wen Chao rolled his eyes. “Saber, then.”

Everyone looked at each other uncertainly – the saber wasn’t a common weapon for Qishan Wen.

“Just get me mine,” Nie Huaisang suggested. “What, are you all afraid I’ll fight my way out if I have my own spiritual weapon with me? Me?”

They were not afraid of him.

Nie Huaisang gripped his proper Nie saber that was warm under his fingers, with the clean blade that (currently) showed no sign of words, and smiled.

-

The Jiang sect won’t listen to my warnings.

Nie Huaisang gritted his teeth and stared at his saber. You’re joking, he wrote on the blade with his finger and a bit of qi. I warned you a whole week ago. We’re attacking tomorrow! With overwhelming forces!

I’m trying my best! I can only smuggle so many cultivators nearby without permission. What am I supposed to do, write off the whole place as a loss and just kidnap all their disciples to keep them from getting murdered?

Why not? If that’s all you can do, at least it’s something.

-

“The wine that’s going to the main table is on the bottom left,” Nie Huaisang said when he found Wen Ning standing there.

Wen Ning jumped. “Oh! Nie-gongzi…”

“You’re here to rescue Jiang Cheng, right? And you’re going to drug the wine? Bottom left.”

“…thanks.” Wen Ning hesitated. “Do you need a rescue, too?”

“Oh, no, I’m good. Tell Jiang Cheng that I’m sorry I couldn’t help more, and next time he should listen when my brother says to run away. He doesn’t say it often, so when he does, he means it.”

Wen Ning hesitated still.

“What?”

“Did you really break Wen Zhuliu’s hand before he could melt Jiang Cheng’s core?”

“It was,” Nie Huaisang said with great dignity, “an accident.”

-

“Listen, I get you,” Nie Huaisang said to a confused-looking Wei Wuxian. “Revenge is nice, rescue is sweet. But I need you to let Wen Chao get close enough to the Nightless City that me making my way there as the terrified last surviving witness is at least plausible, or we lose our best in to get info from the Wen sect. So just, you know, wait a bit longer, okay?”

-

“Meng Yao!” Nie Huaisang hollered, throwing himself into Meng Yao’s arms. “Oh, it’s so good to see you again!”

“Uh,” Meng Yao said.

Wen Ruohan laughed.

Nie Huaisang burst into tears and buried his face into Meng Yao’s neck.

Wen Ruohan laughed harder.

Meng Yao smiled awkwardly, but that was probably the fact that Nie Huaisang had already sealed his spiritual energy and had a knife to his belly.

“You’d better be here as a spy,” Nie Huaisang whispered in his ear as the Wen sect ignored them.

“Definitely,” Meng Yao murmured back, though his tone wasn’t as definitive as Nie Huaisang would prefer. “I need Wen Ruohan’s head to get my father’s approval.”

“Does my brother know?”

“…no.”

“Who does?”

“Huaisang –”

“I have my own ways of passing information. Well?”

“…Sect Leader Lan.”

“I look forward to finding out if he confirms it,” Nie Huaisang said, patting Meng Yao on the cheek, and then blubberingly begs his way into sharing a room with the man. He’s gotten pretty good at getting Wen Ruohan to agree to these sorts of silly requests – the man had just the same awful sense of humor as his son.

-

“I can’t believe you survived this long as the Nie sect’s spy,” Meng Yao marveled when it was all done.

Nie Huaisang shrugged. “I’ll give you lessons,” he offered with a grin. “If you like. It’s my one skill, apparently!”

“The war is over,” Meng Yao pointed out in return, shaking his head and smiling. “My father has accepted me back into the Jin sect and given me a new name. What use do I have for the skills of spy?”

“Of being a Nie sect spy,” Nie Huaisang corrected, and put his hand on Meng Yao’s shoulder. “If things don’t go well for you in the Jin sect…Think about it, will you? If da-ge won’t accept you, then I will.”

[fourmarkdove]

Upstate.

Title: Upstate. | Masterlist

Summary: When the Captain learns you’ve kept a secret all these years, he’s more furious than he’s ever been.

Pairing: Syverson x Reader

Words: 5.5k

Warnings: 18+ Smut. Angst, breeding kink, daddy kink, size kink, rough sex, dirty talk. Infertility/PCOS. 

A/N: Had this in my drafts forever and sort of forgot I wrote it. Comments are welcome! Thanks for reading!

~

It wasn’t supposed to take this long to get pregnant.

It just wasn’t.

You went on the pill shortly after you met, which wasn’t the most glamorous story, but that one drunken pounding against the ladies bathroom wall just days before he was set to ship out set the tone for your relationship. At least in the beginning.

He did two more tours after that. The first time he was on leave, he dropped to a knee, all suntanned and scruffy, after dinner at your favorite little fish shop on the pier.

“We haven’t known each other so long, but your sweet voice on those phone calls, babydoll. They keep me goin’ when I feel like there’s not much reason to.”

That last time he promised, “We’re gonna settle down for good. You an’ me an’ our brood. Daddy just has some unfinished ass to kick, but don’t you worry, sweetness. Nothin’ but picket fences and backyard barbecues soon as I get back.”

You said of course you’d marry your coarse, burly soldier and there never was a happier man who swept up his girl on that pier in a yellow sundress.

You never thought you’d see the day when your hardline, take no bullshit, don’t give em’ an inch Captain would shed a tear - let alone in public - but he did just that the moment he turned his shoulder and saw you in the just barely off-white dress.

He swept his woman off your feet, saying he wanted to be a gentleman and treat you right. But you knew by the intensity of his gaze and how he barely glanced at the pretty white lingerie before he started tearing it off your body that he was going to have trouble being gentle. Not that you minded. You had no regrets when it came to this swollen beast of a man filling every hole, manipulating your body in unnatural positions because you were smaller and he was strong as a horse and built like a brick wall. He’d pin your wrists to the bed above your head and gorge on your heaving tits, or grip behind your knees and have your feet bouncing behind his thick neck, until you were a sweat slick, foul mouthed whore begging for more of his meaty shaft pounding you into a moaning, senseless mess. You thought growing up there’d be something magical and pure about being a new bride dressed in white giving yourself over, blushing and shy, to the man you promised to love forever.

The reality was so much more visceral. All you wanted for days on end was his thick body forcing your thighs open, his hands gripping your flesh, fingers leaving bruises on your hips, crushing kisses that nearly made you faint, the salty taste of his sweat and cum dripping from your lips and cunt, rolling down your thighs, smeared onto the teeth marks he left around your nipples and on your ass like a soothing balm. The only soundtrack in the house was the grunting feral sounds over you as if he willed his very being into yours through the force of each veiny thrust. And the lewd slapping of flesh against flesh, sometimes muted just a bit by the rough hair trailing down his torso leading to his monster cock. The sound of his thighs clapping against your ass and thighs as he fisted your hair and drove himself into your cervix never ever got tiresome.

When he’d get too close, he’d devour your cunt, biceps and forearms flexing and lifting you to his face, swallowing every drop of your slick mixed with his, swirling his thick tongue over your sensitive clit, feeding the mixed liquids back inside your slit. He’d drop to a knee and spread you over his shoulders if you didn’t make it to bed, or in bed, he’d trail down your body, nipping and biting, picking up your skin between his teeth, flashing those blue eyes up at you. He loved going down on his woman maybe even more than burying his throbbing cock, so he’d always glance up to see your lashes flutter, eyes roll back, lips part and scream silently as he gorged on your sex. His beard scratched between your thighs and made you that much more sensitive but fuck you loved it and he loved marking you. He’d sink his sharp canines into the crease of your thigh and bite down just hard enough to make you cry out and arch for him.

By the time you were begging to come and whimpering his name like a prayer, he’d force his heavy, uncut cock all the way inside and start grinding, flexing every muscle in his core powering the grunting snaps of his hips into yours, seeking both of your release. And his mouth would get so filthy pressed to your ear.

“Gonna fuckin’ fill you up with all this cum. Not gonna be able to walk straight for weeks. That’s right spread wider for me. Fuckin’ give me that cunt. You’re gonna take it all like a good girl aren't ya? Get you all round - knocked up with my seed over and over. All that thick cream in these balls is just for you. That’s right. You want it? Milk it, babe.”

He growled and groaned, slapping his balls against your ass, all of the things that made you gasp and close down on him. You’d come first. Always. pulling the head of his cock right up against your cervix. He’d keep thrusting through your orgasm and his followed quickly after.

His big body could crush you under his weight but you loved it, practically demanded it, so he’d half roll off, resting mostly on his side and forearm and hip, while he panted into your hair on the pillow. But you wanted him all over your skin. The musky scent of his, still rolling down his hot skin, sweaty and thick with pheromones and sex, from working so hard to get both of you off over and over, you had no way to explain how you loved it - except by licking up the side of his neck and suckle kissing behind his ear while he panted into the pillow, his bicep and forearm heavy across your chest or around your hip, still holding you possessively.

He’d chuckle, still panting and turn his head on the pillow. Voice still rough from the beating his vocal cords took while he growled, huffed, groaned and barked instructions to you, he’d whisper in those quieter moments.

“Insatiable, kitten. Gimme a minute. Daddy knows what you need.”

You’d turn over in his weighty, tree bough arms and nuzzle into his hairy chest, feeling his thumping heartbeat hard and steady under your fingers. Tree trunk legs could pull all of you into him, and he’d fold you into his center, so not a single inch of you would have to touch sticky bed sheets when he rolled over onto his back. Thick fingers spread across your back, soothing over your roughed up skin, lifting your hair off of your sweaty neck, until the cool air in the room and his perpetually hot skin balanced to the perfect temperature somewhere in the middle.

It went on like that for three, six, nine months once he was home for good. Only two things changed as the months went on. His chocolate curls grew and spilled onto his forehead - which you loved to run your hands through - and you conceded the beard stays if the curls do too.

You came off the pill immediately, from that first night he came home, and never went back to it.

“Sweetness, don’t stress about it,” he’d coo gently, finding you curled up in bed or in the bathroom, sitting alone in the empty back bedroom in the new house. He’d try to squeeze the sadness out of your body every single month with his huge bear arms.

“It’s fun to try again, ain’t it?” he’d wiggle his eyebrows, and make you giggle through the tears. The more playful he was about it, the harder he leaned into trying everything he could to make it easier on you, so that meant a lot of research on websites. He never in a million years thought he’d be reading up on ‘luteal phases’.

He never had to be told twice that you might be ovulating. You’d whisper it to him sometimes he’d sense it. In bed, he’d smell that wet heat before you even backed your ass up against him, wiggling your aching core against the base of his raging erection. Slipping his big hand down your tummy and into your panties, he’d slide a long couple fingers through your slick heat, spreading your pussy lips achingly wide before withdrawing his hand and wrapping his other arm around the front of your shoulders.

“Mmph looks like you’re ready,” he’d groan, checking the viscosity of your juices. Spreading your slick between his fingers, he’d lick at it, gripping you tighter as you’d smirk and work your hips mercilessly on his dick.

That one taste would be enough to work him into a rutting frenzy though. “Got damnit, I need a taste,” he’d growl, climbing down and burying his face between your thighs. His mouth and beard would come up glistening with your juices and he’d look positively lust drunk on the stuff. Spreading his knees, he’d hoist your thighs up onto his, spreading your knees over his hips, so he’d be able to have a perfect look at your swollen cunt.

Pupils dilated and breathing hard, he’d pinch the hood of your clit and stroke it between his finger and thumb, making you squeal and writhe, pulling your own hair. He was in awe of your pussy every time he actually looked at that tiny, suckling hole - how in the world did you manage to stretch and accept his girthy cock? It had to hurt, right? It HAD to. Gripping your hips, he pulled you up to himself, one forearm supporting under your ass, and the other around your back. Touching foreheads, he nuzzled you lovingly.

You kissed him hungrily, sinking your teeth into his bottom lip before letting go. Hair mussed and giving him the darkest look, rolling your hips in his lap, you purred deep. Much to your confusion, he was the one to slow things down, smiling in his gorgeous blue eyes, kissing over your forehead, temples, eyelashes, nose, each lip.

“I wanna give you everything, babydoll,” he sighed, dropping his head to kiss over your shoulder.

Arching your back, you had him grip onto your hands and ease you, still spread over his hairy thighs, back onto the bed.

“Put a baby in me,” you demanded. He huffed out a sharp breath, puffing out his cheeks, before plunging two thick fingers into your cunt, scissoring his fingers to stretch you out. You shrieked and moaned in pleasure, arching deeply.

He could have been gentle but those five little words; that demand of yours. You were his new CO and when he received orders, he ploughed through at a punishing pace.

“Gotta prime these walls,” he grunted, thrusting his fingers in and out, turning his hand so he could rub sloppy juices spilling out of your cunt. Leaning over, he pressed his palm against the mattress next to your head and did something near a one handed push up, coming nose to nose with you.

“Why we gotta prime walls, baby?”

You whined as he flexed and slipped a third thrusting finger into your slurping cunt, begging for something larger to grip onto.

“We prime…” you panted, clawing across the tense muscles in his chest, “because you’re gonna… paint my walls… with your seed.”

Giving you his tongue, he withdrew his fingers and smeared his fingers over his precum-leaking meaty member. Just pushing it down to the right angle and you arched, digging your toes into his tree trunk thighs as you accepted his cock into your aching insides. You cried out, tossing your head back, but that just made him latch onto your throat and thrust into your cervix like a battering ram.

You screamed his name two, maybe three times, and he bared his teeth, growling and swearing, struggling to hold on, planking on his forearms desperate not cum yet while your smaller slippery body, squirmed and writhed under him. One second you were hissing and gasping, sinking your teeth and nails into his shoulders or biceps. The next you’d sob and dig your feet in, because you were so stretched and so sensitive. If he could just hold on that second longer, you’d grab at his ass, let your thighs open up and release your massaging death grip on his cock still buried as deep as he last thrust before you clamped down on him to begin with. Then he slowed just a bit to kiss your panting mouth as the orgasmic shockwaves relaxed. Your deep purr indicated you were ready for more, so he’d catch under your knees and fold you in half, pounding your body at a different angle.

When it was time, he bore his teeth and groaned, burying his face in your neck, getting sloppy with his thrusts until the last two that were exceptionally deliberate, seeding white hot cum directly to the source, his slit ground mercilessly against your cervix, for a direct shot at emptying himself into your womb.

When all was said and done, you’d toss him a pillow and he’d kneel between your legs, pushing the pillow under you to keep your hips elevated. Hooking his arms under your thighs, he kissed all around your sensitive mound. Kissing inside your thighs, he could thumb your swollen lips apart and see how completely full he’d filled you, to the point of leaking, but neither of you minded. If it wasn’t too tender, he’d clean you up with his tongue before lying down with you again, closing your legs, and drawing both your knees up over his hip.

You assured him every time that the pain was hardly anything as you shuddered and clung onto his imposing frame. It was only the last couple of months that instead of giggling and demanding ice cream in bed after what you both agreed was the best sex anyone on the planet was having, you just wanted to be held.

“Shhh, shhh... I got you, sweetness,” he’d soothe, drawing up blankets, rubbing you all over. He’d tuck you into his chest, and you’d curl up even smaller, your soft little body trembling against his twitching muscle always felt amazing before. But not when it came with tears. You hid your face away when he asked what was wrong, but he felt the little puffs of held breath and silent tears falling into his chest hair.

Finally, finally, one night spent cradling you in his arms and kissing your tears away, he convinced you. And you didn’t just break your silence.

You shattered.

“Doc told me years ago... it isn’t... I’ll never have…babies of my own. My hormones are all wrong for it. She said shots, maybe IVF but… even conceiving… even if possible, it’d be…”

The worried lines around his eyes and across his forehead smoothed out as he stared at the blinking red light on the smoke detector above the bed. He stayed quiet, putting an arm behind his head.

“I hoped I would have found a better way to tell you all this before now.”

“You knew before we met?” His voice was uncomfortably calm. “Five years ago.”

“Yes, but I didn’t mean to—“

“Ya kept it from me. No indication whatsoever there were problems on the home front, though.”

“I hoped I wouldn’t ever have to say anything because we’d somehow be pregnant by now and—“

“Ya let me think everything was fine. Told me, “Come on home, soldier. Let’s try workin’ on that family again.’ And I did. Every tour. I came crawlin’ home to you.”

Sitting up against the headboard, he flicked on the bedside lamp and scratched his beard, eventually dropping his upturned hands on his thighs, displaying his defeat.

Even though you wore his shirt from the night before and he was naked, barely covered by the bedsheet, you felt entirely exposed. You wanted to dissolve into liquid and melt into the floor or shed your skin and slink into a nook and never come out again.

His wide eyes plead with you: ‘give me something substantial to grasp onto. Toss a rope and a damn good reason for all of the lies to a drowning man.’

There was only one reason, but you couldn’t bear saying it out loud. You couldn’t the entire time you knew him.

Slipping his hand behind your neck, he thumbed your chin up to look at him. “You thought I wouldn’t want ya if I knew, huh.”

Your bottom lip quivered but he didn’t let you collapse into yourself. Looking over your tense, teary, flushed features thoughtfully, he stayed silent. He had a way of looking still as a sheet of ice while a raging current boiled just underneath. That kind of stillness gave those under his command confidence because even amidst chaos, he made solid decisions. Ones that saved their lives, kept them out of harm's way.

In that moment, you felt no confidence. Sitting on your knees expectantly, you trembled all over. He moved his thumb down from your chin as he inhaled audibly, and furrowed his brow exhaling forcefully, wrapping his massive hand around your throat.

The moments waiting made your ears hot and the blood rush to your face. Tightness crept across your chest. You broke the silence first or you’d have lost your mind.

“You’re angry.”

He chuckled ruefully and went placid in an instant. “Angry. Mmm... Yes, that is one way to describe it, darlin’. Never more so, as a point of fact.”

Swallowing down tears, if he wouldn’t let you drop your head, at least you could close your eyes.

“No.” His calloused thumb stroked up and down the side of your neck. “No—no, you don���t get to do that. Not with me.”

“Please, Sy!” You burst, holding onto his wrist with both hands. “Please say something! I can’t take it!”

He sniffed and took his hand back, rubbing them together instead of touching you any longer. His broad shoulders lifted and dropped. “Not quite sure what to say.”

“I’m so sorry.”

He couldn’t look at you, not entirely, so he arched a brow and gave a sideways glance. His voice was rough and deep with more emotion than either of you anticipated. “I was uh… unapproachable?”

Lifting your head from your hands, it made your heart shred into a pulp seeing the lifted brows and pained expression tensing his features. “What?”

“Unapproachable,” he graveled, cursing the emotion that made him choke up. “Fuck. I know I can be direct. I been tryin’ real hard to be gentle with you. Did I give the impression you couldn’t, ya know, tell me things?”

“No, of course not, Sy. I tell you everything.”

His smoldering ember pile only needed a breath of fresh air before it came roaring to life, consuming these new logs you’d placed on top.

“Gotdamn it. You knew this was important to me. The way you carried on, let me believe we had a life together. A future. With our family. Do I even know you?”

Smoke from the fire burning inside him made your eyes sting and water.

“Please, stop it, Sy,” you pleaded, pulling away from his grasp. “Please!”

The flames of anger - or was it hate - turned his pupils dark and made him somehow appear even larger with each deep breath.

“How do I know where the lies stop and you begin?”

Embers of his rage floated in the air and easily took to you like the driest kindling. You exploded unlike you never had before. Fists balled and panting, you squared your shoulders up and shifted your weight.

“You know what? Fine. Here’s the truth: I was barely 18 when the doctor looked at me and said, ‘consider adoption’. I wasn’t even thinking about kids then, only why I had cramps every month but no period.

“We’ve tried correcting hormones for years with so little success I’ve felt like a goddamn science project while my friends moved on, grew up, got married, raised families. Do you know how devastating it is to slog through one of those baby showers? Everyone is so warm and happy, celebrating new life and how their bodies produce something amazing.

“Meanwhile, all I can think about is how if I were to conceive by some fucking miracle, the chances of miscarriage are so high, it’d make more sense to plan some kind of memorial for a child I’ll never meet instead of a cute little fucking baby shower.

“And it’s the one thing you asked of me! What kind of a woman am I that I can’t give you the one thing you wanted?! A broken one. With a broken womb. So yeah, be upset with me. Hate me, Sy. But I promise you’re never gonna catch up. I’ve got years’ worth of a head start hating myself.”

Eyes bleary and completely heartbroken now that he knew your secret, your head dropped and you held it in pain from the headache that exploded from the tension.

You didn’t wait even thirty seconds before he nudged your head back up again with his knuckle. Your chest ached so badly from barely containing the sobbing. The moment you saw his arms were already open waiting for you to fall into, you gasped and let the tears come.

You leaned in an inch and he scooped you up the rest of the way. Helping you settle into his lap, thighs spread over his, he cradled you tenderly to his bare chest, wrapping you up in his entire upper body. Burying your face into his neck, you mewled his name softly when his lips pressed behind your ear.

“Sy, I—“

“Shh shh shh…” his baritone was so deep, you could feel and hear it as he dropped his head low to speak close like it was your own secret space to be alone together. “I’m sorry, sweetness. I know, babygirl, I know. Shh shh…”

Rubbing circles over your back, he gave you time to release through deep sobs some of that suffering you’d been dragging with you.

“I’m disappointed, shh—disappointed we can’t have our own, ‘course. But I think I’m more disappointed that you been upset this whole time over somethin’ we coulda sorted out together. Years ago. Babydoll, it breaks my heart to think of you bein’ this sad. Makes it a hundred times worse if you were upset ‘bout lettin’ me down. And you usin’ that ‘hate’ word in the same breath to describe the love of my life… Geez babygirl, that tears my heart right out my chest.”

Tears streaked down your cheeks. You pressed your palms against his hard as rock chest while he encircled you in his long reach. Tears rimmed his blue eyes as you wordlessly attempted to work out if he planned to let go or hold onto you. Eventually, you collapsed into him, exhausted.

“Look at me, Sweetheart. It’s important. What? Louder. Deep breath and one more time? Oh. No, I know it’s gonna make you cry more but imma make it better, I promise. Lemme see my girl. There she is.”

You sniffled and rubbed your eyes with the back of your hand. Your lips and eyes felt swollen from crying, and your hair was a mess, but he smiled in his soft blue eyes and stroked it back.

“Kids, no kids, doesn’t matter. I wanted you. Ask Parker or any other CO I work with. That very first night I saw you I said, “Imma marry that girl,” and here we are. But since we are married, I wanna know the things goin’ on inside ya. Not just ‘how ya feelin’, are ya hungry, are ya horny’ type stuff.”

You scoffed, kissing his cheek softly. He squeezed your hips tightly, lifting you closer, up higher on his pelvis, angling slightly back onto the pillows. He didn’t want you to get the wrong idea, but your heat, wiggling in his lap, and that you were starting to let go of some things inexplicably made the blood rush to his groin. You’d feel it in a second if he didn’t adjust your seating situation and lie back with you a bit.

“You’re not ‘broken’, sweets. And I don’t ever want to hear ya talkin’ ‘bout my girl like ‘at. You’re all woman, an’ the only one for me. You locked that right down in that pretty blue dress down on the pier years ago. Was it yellow? Nah. Really? With the little red… Huh. Color blind or not, this heart ain’t even mine no more so best be lookin’ after it. Yeah, you can cry now. Come here, babygirl. Daddy’s got you.”

When most of the tears were shed, he thumbed the dimples right above your panty line, just under the back of his lifted shirt you wore. Soothed very nearly to sleep, your fingers wound their way through his hair. He sighed letting his head fall back into your hands; he always loved when you scritched him like a puppy. Wrapping both hands behind your thighs, he held you in place, pressed to him and straightened up his neck when he really enjoyed what you were doing to him.

“Right there?” you cooed softly, raking your nails through his hair, down to the nape of his neck.

“Mmph,” he grunted affirmatively, tipping his chin down. He found one button on the shirt you wore straining against the fabric, exposing your bare skin right in front of his face. So he nuzzled into it. The unexpected tickle of his beard when he kissed inside made you gasp and arch back.

“Hey!” you squeaked and a mischievous smirk flashed across his face. He looped a finger inside his red flannel, releasing the fabric right below your belly button.

His eyes flashed up at you again as he pressed his mouth to your belly, swirling his thumbs in circles over your hips when he slid them inside the oversized flannel draped loosely on your body.

You closed your eyes, curling your fingers in his hair, and listened to the sound of the deliberate, wet kisses he placed from one hip to the other.

Hugging just under the curve of your behind, he ran his scratchy beard against your sensitive skin, but you still cradled the back of his head to you just the same. Finally kissing down to the apex of your sex, using his tongue to moisten the spot first, he placed a slow, suckling kiss that made your clit pulse and hips jerk involuntary.

“Sorry,” you mewled, pawing his hair. His jaw tensed and head lifted just slightly when your body responded so abruptly.

He nuzzled your skin and arched a brow up at you. “Don't be sorry, babygirl. Are you gonna let Daddy make ya feel good?”

A darkness fell across your features hearing that particular pet name for him. You tugged the shirt together.

“I don’t think I can do this, Sy. It’d be the first time not trying for... I can’t think about the… the emptiness. Feels like I’m giving something away too soon.”

“Hmm,” he hummed thoughtfully, collecting your hand from his shoulder. “Tell me what you need and I’ll get it for you.”

“Time… I guess. And you. Fuck, Sy. I must sound crazy. The way I’m talking, it’s like somebody died.

Here I am going on when you’ve actually witnessed people die.

I don’t want to diminish what you’ve been through with my nonsense.

Of course we need to do this.

We need to do this.

I want this.

I need you.

I need us.

I need this.

Fuck me, Captain.

Fuck me senseless.”

You made quick work shrugging out of his shirt and wrapped both arms around his thick neck. Fisting the mattress, he shouldered your ribs so quickly, it knocked you right off balance and onto his arm. Gripping under one of your thighs, he used that massive upper body strength of his to lie you back gently onto the mattress, holding your whole body up with just one arm.

As he eased you down onto your back, you went quiet and he leaned on his elbow to look down over you.

You stared up at the red blinking light on the smoke detector a long time while he pressed his large forearm down against your chest, between your breasts, and spread his palm over your sternum, attempting to give you an anchor point. Your arms laid limp, one above your head, one at your side, almost like you were having a nightmare except wide awake.

He’d seen that vacant look in the eyes of fresh infantry grunts after their first real battle and brush with death. But he never thought he expected to see it stateside, in the eyes of his wife.

Doing what felt natural to do, after all he was trained for it, he dropped his voice and redirected your attention.

“Eyes on me, darlin’. I know you’re feelin’ pretty rough inside. Grief is grief however it comes. Yeah, it’ll take time. But that’s why you’ve got your Unit to fall back on. Unit of two, you an’ me. Makes us a pretty elite team. I’ll do some of the heavy lifting for ya now that I know what we’re working with. I need ya to stay with me though, yeah?”

“Unit of two. I like it. Will you ever… Oh Sy, will you ever touch me like that again?”

He frowned, wrinkles lining his forehead. “Sweets, hell nor high water gonna keep me from lovin’ on you.”

*

Three months later, you returned home from a walk with the new puppy to find Sy standing in the front lawn, one hand on his hip and the other waving at the delivery truck to keep backing up.

“More wood?” you called from across the street over the roar of the diesel truck lift dropping green treated lumber along the side of the house. While your husband signed off on the delivery, you crossed to meet him in the grass with the puppy under your arm.

Looping a sweaty arm around you, he pulled you in by the hip and kissed the crown of your head.

“Thank ya, sir. See ya’ next Saturday,” Sy smiled behind his reflective sunglasses, shaking the driver’s hand.

“Next Saturday?” you repeated, glancing over your shoulder at the new pile of lumber that had been dwindling as he completed projects. Or at least it was. “I thought the treehouse was done, my love.”

“Oh, it is. Come have a look see.” He dwarfed your hand in his, taking you to the sprawling backyard. His truck was parked at an angle on the lawn with his tools laid out in the back and sketches drawn all over sheets on the hood.

Leaning in with his hip, he showed you his drawings, motioning with his hands as to where they should be or already were in the yard.

“Swing set? Done. Slides over there? Done. High and low bars - also done. Rope bridge, climbing apparatus, bouncer thing, treehouse, done.”

Tilting your face, you bumped your head against his chest appreciatively and he smirked. “I want to build out chairs that flip down on the deck. Not sure on the height is all. I don’t suppose you have any input?”

“All the social worker has said is to plan on three siblings from upstate. Two boys and a girl, between the ages of 5 and 10. Sorry I don’t have any help as far as height goes. I think we are more than ready for the little ones next week, Sy. Why don’t you come inside and cool down with me?”

Scratching the back of his neck, he glanced over his shoulder at the freshly installed fence blocking the neighbors’ view. “Better idea, babygirl. How ‘bout we give those swings a try first. Should hold both our weight, I reckon.”

Arching a brow, you folded your arms across your chest, pretending to be annoyed. “Oh, you ‘reckon,’ hm?” you repeated, patting his sweaty chest through his tank top. “Bear, we already have a sex swing upstairs.”

“Yeahhhhh...” he drawled, giving you his most sly smirk, “but this one is outdoors.”

“Captain! I can’t believe you!” you gasped, touching your imaginary pearls before pushing off the wall of muscle your husband provided when he folded his arms across his chest, launching yourself into a dead sprint across the grass toward the swing set. “Ladies first!!”

He chuckled, and jogged behind. “’Course, babygirl.”

~

Masterlist

[forabeatofadrum]

Hello and El WooWoo to you. It is the last El WooWoo Wednesday of the year. That is wack. Thank you @martsonmars and @cutestkilla for the tags. I have written absolutely nothing, which was something I had sort of planned. Sure, I want to continue Ljubim te, and I also want to wrap up my Carry On textfic soon, but today is not the day!

So instead of writing, I’m reading! I have a lot of fic to catch up, from the Klaine 321 Bangs, to the Klaine Advent stories, and of course the new Klaine Secret Santa fics. Of course, the Snowbaz fam isn’t sitting still. So much Carry On Countdown and there is also the Secret Snowflake Exchange fics. Apart from these current challenges, I still have older fic to read. For the summer I made an amazing summer reading list and in the end I barely had time to go through it.

So many fics, so little time. That’s what I am trying to change for now.

Of course I devoured @chen-chen-chen-again-chen​‘s Jelly Babies. I am besotted with Swithin and Gregory, with Simon and Baz being elder queers. The moment where Gregory tells Simon that he hopes that Simon falls of a horse and gets a weird bruise on his arse has been stuck in my head ever since I first red it.

I also just finished Let It Snow - Or At Least Stop Sleeting by @1908jmd​ (who also wrote my Secret Santa gift!), which was adorable and the backgroup characters were extremely funny.

@yeonjunenby​ mentioned several times that they were working on a Snow for Christmas sequel and it cameo out. A Grimm Christmas at the Salisburys was great and Lady Ruth is an absolute badass.

I’ve been looking foward to Work Friends: A Holiday Romance ever since @crissmastrees-and-candyklaines​ shared that snippet of Kurt drawing Mr. Ryerson’s name. It’s so good. “Fuck me.” “Don’t threaten me with a good time.” ALY I AM ON THE FLOOR.

AND WHEN I LEAST EXPECTED IT.... @facewithoutheart​ comes back with a new chapter of On Love’s Light Wings. YEEHAW!!!!

Lastly, I just finished Babysitter for a Vampire by @martsonmars​. God. I love this. I specifically love Simon badmouthing Michael Bublé for Santa Buddy. I know that is not the point of the fic, but Simon is so fucking right. Just, UGH, Marta I love how you write Simon. He’s such a fucking mess. The Santa Buddy moment is only one of the many good gems.

And, okay, okay, I am also reading actual books again. I finished Pride by Ibi Zoboi, which is a modern version of Pride and Prejudice and it takes place in Brooklyn, which is being gentrified. I also finished Carrie Soto is Back and damnit, Taylor Jenkins Reid delivers again.

Since this got long, I’ll put the tags under the cut, together with a surprise!

Tagging @quizasvivamos @crissmastrees-and-candyklaines @coffeegleek @esperantoauthor @otherworldsivelivedin @caramelcoffeeaddict @sillyunicorn @bazzybelle @dragoneggos @raenestee @tectonicduck @nightimedreamersworld @urban-sith @thnxforknowingme @captain-aralias @you-remind-me-of-the-babe @takitalks @justgleekout @cerriddwenluna @tea-brigade @ivelovedhimthroughworse @moodandmist @whogaveyoupermission @bookish-bogwitch @confused-bi-queer @aroace-genderfluid-sheep @ionlydrinkhotwater @1908jmd @special-bc-ur-part-of-it @larkral @chen-chen-chen-again-chen​ @nausikaaa​/@wellbelesbian​ @artsyunderstudy​ @facewithoutheart​

[charlottepuddingsama]

Taste of Her Own Medicine

I wrote a zosan fic; come read it (Ao3 link in the reblog)

Description: Zoro is running late to a meeting with Sanji. When he finally gets there Sanji is swooning over the ex that crushed his heart while she peacocks and shows off her new boyfriend. People like that really pissed Zoro off.

Zoro checked his watch again. God damnit, he was late. Again. Which meant Sanji was going to kill him for it. Again. He couldn’t even pin this on Sanji this time, either, because Zoro was the one to suggest they meet at the fountain. To be fair, when he suggested it he’d been sure that he in-fact knew the way to the fountain. When he reached where it should have been, however, it inexplicably wasn’t there.

Now he’s rushing halfway across town to get to where it apparently actually is, if his phone’s map could be trusted (Zoro did not trust his phone’s map, sure that it was constantly sending him on the slowest, stupidest route possible. He was definitely always better off just going his own way). At least the exercise was warming him up, the sun yet to burn off the late spring morning’s chill.

He was only twenty minutes late, maybe Sanji would let him off easy for once? Zoro sighed inwardly, knowing that would never happen. It was going to be stupid to be yelled at about this, too, since they weren’t even doing anything where timing was all that important. They were just trying to find good birthday presents for Luffy. Zoro was kind of hopeless at presents while Sanji was always amazing at them, always picking out something thoughtful and custom-tailored to the recipient. Zoro most often showed up with an amazon gift card feeling completely stupid about it. Knowing this, Zoro had stealthily suggested they go hunting together so they didn’t, “buy him the same thing.” As if Zoro would ever give as good of a gift as Sanji would. He was actually surprised Sanji hadn’t seen right through him and refused, but the other had actually more-or-less readily accepted the idea. Zoro supposed there was a first time for everything.

The first time for Zoro to not make himself late, however, was not today.

After some wrong turns and two dead ends that might have actually been the same dead end twice, Zoro finally, finally saw the large fountain that marked the beginning of the city park come into view. He slowed his jog to a walk, glad he hadn’t yet broken a sweat. Couldn’t let Sanji think he actually cared about keeping their appointment. Not that it mattered what the cook thought, of course, but if he thought Zoro cared he might somehow get an even bigger head than he already had. Not that Zoro actually cared in the first place, too, of course. He hadn’t been looking forward to spending a whole day shopping with Sanji even a little. Not at all.

Zoro looked around the paved area, searching for Sanji amongst the small crowd mingling by the fountain. The day was still a bit crisp from the morning, but that didn’t seem to dissuade people as they gathered around the mouth of the park. Some were alone, some in groups, and others towed animals on leashes either walking the pets or clearly getting walked by them. Zoro surveyed the whole crowd, looking for Sanji standing off by himself, probably bent agitatedly over his phone with a cigarette in his mouth. None of the loners in the area fit his description though.

Had Zoro somehow actually made it here first after all? That didn’t seem even a little bit likely. He kept looking.

Finally, after a long moment of searching, he managed to spot him. A familiar head of blonde hair, a neat dress shirt, and long legs stood by the side of the fountain striking an impossible-to-mistake silhouette.

He wasn’t alone, though.

In front Sanji was an unfamiliar couple: some brunette girl holding the hand of an average looking boy. Was Sanji hitting on a stranger while her boyfriend was literally right there? Really?

Zoro’s face morphed into an unimpressed look. How classic. He really had no idea what he was expecting, offering to take Sanji around in public where he might run into females in the wild. A strong feeling of annoyance grew in his chest at just imagining the stupid drivel that must be spewing out of that mouth of his.

Zoro began to march over there with intentions to drag Sanji away by the ear when he suddenly stopped himself in his own tracks. His brows furrowed, studying the way Sanji was standing. His entire posture was eerily off. One hand was in his pocket while the other held a lit cigarette. His shoulders were tight and a little high, legs slightly farther apart than normal as if on defense. There was absolutely none of the easy oozing he exuded whenever he normally was chatting up some girl. He wasn’t swooning even a little.

Something was wrong. Something was very, very wrong.

A thrum of worry pulsed through Zoro. It wasn’t that he was worried about Sanji – he could take care of himself, plus, Zoro reminded himself, he didn’t give a fuck about him (how does he keep forgetting that?). Rather, he was worried about what kind of threat these two people could possibly pose to get someone as cool-headed as Sanji so visibly tense.

Looking at the two, he knew he couldn’t place the boy, but the brunette… did he know her? Her face was rather indistinct, no particular piece of it sticking out to him. Her clothes looked well-pressed, and they were probably fashionable, not that Zoro had any real frame of reference for that. Her brown hair was half tied up in two little buns on her head, the rest left to fall down past her shoulders. She just seemed like a completely random, normal person; an auto-generation of any other girl about their age in the city.

Then the girl laughed at something. The sound was shrill and obnoxious in a way that grated on every nerve Zoro had. He wanted to absolutely break something.

Oh. Oh. Ohhhh. Zoro knew exactlywho this girl was. He scowled at the memory.

She was some chick Sanji had dated for a while, maybe a couple months? A name itched at the tip of his tongue, but he couldn’t quite grasp it. Two months was considerably longer than most of Sanji’s little trysts. He had even brought her around to meet everyone once; it was kind of a big deal since they’re friends are not only their family, but also extremely likely to scare any normal person away. Sanji had really, really actually liked this girl, Zoro was pretty sure.

And then she dumped him.

She’d reportedly done it unceremoniously one night, completely out of the blue. She simply told Sanji that she was, “done with this relationship now,” and left. Zoro had heard that line a hundred times over in the weeks following as Sanji wallowed pitifully, hit hard by the sudden cold shoulder. It had not been a pretty sight in the slightest. The ever-enamored cook had eventually bounced back, like he always did, but it really had taken longer than usual. Even Zoro had felt sorry for the guy at the time.

And now here she was. A completely random encounter in a city filled with a thousand other people that could be here instead. And she had the nerve to do, what? Strike up a casual conversation with someone she herself had so soundly dumped, some new boy in her tow? Inching closer, Zoro just barely started to be able to hear them. It was clear even just from her tone that the words exchanged were more than awkward hellos. The girl was gushing about her boyfriend the businessman, annunciating the words as if she wanted the whole park to turn and listen. She played with some expensive looking necklace in a way that was definitely supposed to be noticed, certainly some token from her little purse-mule of a boy.

That kind of thing really pissed Zoro off. Dump someone for no reason? Fine, whatever. But then go shoving yourself at him? In public and at random? She had to know how Sanji was physically incapable of being anything but overly polite to women, abusing that to get her kicks. Zoro grit his teeth as he watched Sanji gush at her that she looked as beautiful as always, that he simply adored how her hair grew out since he’d last seen her, that he was so happy she was so well taken care of. Underneath the gushing Zoro could practically feel how upset this whole encounter made Sanji, a self-pitying tone sewn into each sentence. It was like he was a slave to his own actions. The girl clearly let her ego be boosted by his attention and that made Zoro even angrier.

Zoro eyed the boy she had tugged along. He may have been some business guy or whatever, but he certainly didn’t look very impressive. His haircut was basic, his jacket was a bit too big and made him look like he was playing dress up, and his expression seemed far away as if zoned out. Zoro had him beat in muscle and looks easily. Zoro’s shirt was tight against his well-built chest, his jeans were slung low to show just a peak of his boxers, he’d have a healthy little glow from his jogging, and he raked a hand through his hair to give it a little volume. He was fully aware of exactly how good he looked in comparison and just pissed off enough to decide he might as well use it.

He wanted to see if little miss ex could handle a taste of her own medicine.

“Oi, Sanji,” he called, finally making his way to the trio. Sanji’s shoulders jumped to his ears. Zoro thought he looked like an animal frozen in crosshairs, waiting for its instincts to lead it to fight or flee. He turned slowly to look at Zoro, his face in a very un-handsome expression of combined panic and agitation.

Zoro fought his instinct to give just as nasty an expression back knowing he was now being watched by the brunette; his little show had now officially begun. Instead, he gave Sanji an easy smile as he sauntered over to him, eyes only on him, pretending to not even notice the couple right in front of them. This, of course, only lead to Sanji scrunching up his face in incredulous confusion. If this idea was going to work Zoro was going to have to wipe that look right off him.

When he was beside him, Zoro slung an arm around Sanji’s shoulder, letting himself drape over the other. Sanji was only one centimeter shorter than him and just as strong, so it always surprised Zoro just a bit how slight his naturally thin frame felt in his arms. A small, stupid rush of protectiveness briefly filled his chest and for once Zoro indulged it letting himself draw Sanji close to him. Sanji went stiff as a board and his eyes blew open in surprise. Zoro took advantage of his surprise, not letting him even think about getting a kick in as he reached out with his other hand to grab hold of Sanji’s stubbled chin.

He drew the other in for a quick, soft kiss.

The sharp scent of tobacco filled Zoro’s senses, but underneath it lied the familiar aroma of spices that followed Sanji everywhere he went. The scent was familiar, but the feel of Sanji’s lips against his was new. For all the times he’d bitten a mark into Sanji’s pale flesh, nipping along skin usually hidden later by shirts, Zoro couldn’t actually remember them kissing. If they ever had, they certainly would never do it as gently as this. He counted to ten in his head, wanting the kiss to look real while still public-appropriate.

Zoro was perfectly prepared for Sanji to remain like cardboard, perfectly fine carrying the kiss by himself. Suddenly, though, as if some sort of switch had gone off, Sanji softened, easing into Zoro’s hold like butter into warm bread.

All at once Sanji’s plush lips gently pressed back, allowing his weight to fall where Zoro’s arms had guided it. The count in Zoro’s head faltered for a second, mind going dumb from shock. Zoro had kissed plenty of people before, was a damn good kisser himself, but somehow nothing had ever felt like this. There was something in the way Sanji relaxed into him, how perfectly their lips slotted together, and the sensory of the strong scents and rough stubble and pillowy softness of lips. It all made even such a simple kiss simply intoxicating. Had they really never done this before? Why the hell not?

At ten (or was it eleven? Twelve?) Zoro drew his head back, ending their kiss with the soft sound of lips parting. He didn’t go far, though, hand still on the other’s chin, their breath mixing in the space between them. He opened his eyes, not knowing when he’d closed them, to find Sanji staring at him with a dazed expression and a gentle, pink blush spread across his cheeks. Zoro couldn’t help but smile, a strange feeling like fondness welling up in his chest. It was probably just hormones, like always, reminding him of the other times he’d made the typically put-together Sanji blush in more heated circumstances. Yeah, that was it, had to be.

“Thanks for waiting,” Zoro said, for once owning up to being late. Sanji blinked owlishly at him, as if trying to place where they were and what they were supposed to be doing. At that cute look something compelled Zoro and he made no move to stop it, giving a sweet kiss to the bit of forehead poking out from blonde bangs as if in apology.

“Ahem?” an impatient voice said, jarring Zoro back into reality. When had he left? It was like he’d had complete tunnel vision. Now, though, the situation around him came back into sharp focus. The mild chill of the spring air, the bubbling fountain behind him, the obnoxious couple in front of him, the reason why he did what he just did. Yes, right, he’d had a reason for doing that. One, singular, solitary reason and absolutely no other. A mission, even. Right.

Zoro dropped Sanji’s chin, ignoring the tingle in his hand and the definitely non-existent desire to hold him elsewhere. He instead hooked his thumb in one of his belt loops and assumed a pose hanging off of Sanji who was now tucked rather snugly into his side. The girl had her arms crossed and looked huffy. He raised an eyebrow at the two, acting as if they’d been the ones to interrupt him. “Sorry, didn’t see you there,” Zoro said casually, just knowing an egotistical bitch like her would be bothered by that. Sure enough, the girl’s eye twitched just a bit. Zoro held back a smug smile at getting a reaction so easily. “And you would be?”

Indignation flashed in the girl’s eyes. Had Zoro asked that rudely? Oh, pardon him. She stood herself up to look taller, as if looking down on him despite being a few inches shorter. Zoro refused to be phased.

“I’m Alice,” the girl introduced herself, not bothering to introduce the boy with her. It was probably for the best as the boy’s eyes had followed Zoro’s thumb down to where it rested, clearly distracted.

“I’m sure Sanji has told you all about me,” she added with fake sweetness, an almost sadistic smile crawling up her face. Alice, right. Alice was definitely the name Sanji wailed into his empty wine glass when Zoro and the others had tried to take him out on a boys’ night to cheer him up. He actually used to kind of like that name, but now it was forever tainted with the memory of this haughty cunt in front of him.

Instead of admitting to the recollection, though, Zoro looked at her blankly. “Alice…” he said, as if mulling the name over. As if he needed to search long and hard to find any semblance of someone in Sanji’s past named Alice. “Hm,” he said at length, “no… I don’t really remember having heard about someone by that name. Have you ever mentioned an Alice, babe?”

Despite addressing him, Zoro didn’t dare look at Sanji’s face. Even just the hint of doubt or disbelief or anger from Sanji might be enough to shake Zoro off his game and have this all come crashing down more humiliating than when they’d started.

He looked at Alice, instead, who looked at him like he’d grown a second head. The very concept that Sanji might not have cried his heart out about her every day since their parting was clearly a new one. It made Zoro so happy to have so suddenly shut her down with just a few words.

“Hold on! W-we’ve met before!” Alice protested, apparently recognizing him now. Zoro noted that she didn’t wait for Sanji to confirm or deny if he’d ever deigned to mention her once their relationship had ended. Zoro wondered if she was scared to know. Hearing something like that from the man himself might just shake her precious little ego. Zoro would love to see that happen.

“Oh, we have?” Zoro asked mildly, showing a clear disinterest in whether they had or not. He pretended to mull the concept over in his head just as he had her name. He certainly remembered the party Sanji had brought her to. He remembered that it had sucked because her laugh was too annoying to ignore even from across the room and cross-eyed drunk. Finally, he shrugged simply, clearly not caring one way or another. “Guess it just wasn’t very memorable.”

At that Alice looked absolutely stricken, an arrow piercing directly into her pride. Bullseye, Zoro thought to himself, narrowly remembering to keep his face schooled. He so badly wanted to give her the same wolfish grin he reserved for his enemies at tournaments, but his own internal satisfaction would have to suffice.

In his peripheral, Zoro saw Sanji take a long drag off his cigarette. Hopefully that meant he was willing to quietly play along. Possibly it meant he thought Zoro had genuinely forgotten about her and that he was about to get pummeled into a paste in about five seconds.

“S-So then, you two? You’re together then?” Alice asked, clearly affronted and looking for something to refill her sails. Zoro wondered if she was beginning to consider him her replacement. He wondered how he measured up.

Suddenly, though, she seemed then to get herself a second wind, puffing herself up in her coat. Zoro refrained from frowning, if just barely. And here he’d been winning.

“It’s so adorable to see new couples, isn’t it Darek, sweetie?” she said sweetly, grabbing on to her boy’s sleeve. The boy in question nodded absentmindedly, eyes locked on where Zoro was oh-so-incidentally toying at the waistband of his boxers with his thumb. A charming one, wasn’t he? “We’ve been together for four months now. It’s just so hard to find the one you’re truly meant to be with, but so rewarding to know they’re all yours. How long has your cute little thing been going on for?”

So she was considering him to be her replacement. Moreover, it seemed clear that if that were the case, he’d be the winner. This was her alternative hypothesis, the situation that would set the world just a little bit more right than it was right then. If their relationship was new she could brush it all off as certain to be doomed in a week or two, as so many new relationship were. Well, he’d better set her little worries to rest, now shouldn’t he?

“This little love bug,” Zoro said, pressing a sweet kiss to Sanji’s cheek, forcibly holding the other’s shoulder’s down when they jumped, “Has been all mine since August.” Would he most likely be paying for “love bug” with his very life later? Yes, yes he would. But it was so, so very worth it to see Alice’s face as she did the math. Zoro distinctly recalled The Wailing Remembrance of Alice having begun in that hot and muggy summer month. Logically, then, that made Zoro one hell of a rebound, and one that stuck quite nicely, too.

Alice was clearly taken aback, her refilled sails deflating again catastrophically. The cutesie pda, Zoro’s complete disinterest in with her, and the dawning evidence that maybe Sanji hadn’t been so hopelessly lost without her was doing exactly the job Zoro had hoped it would.

“B-but I thought you two hated each other!” She cried, looking between the two and sounding a bit desperate, “That you couldn’t stand in the same room without arguing!”

She, of course, had seen firsthand at the party the animosity between the two. She also had probably had to sit through at least a couple sessions of Sanji bitching about whatever thing Zoro had done to purposefully annoy him. Well, Zoro figured, you know what they say: when in doubt, gaslight, gatekeep, girlboss.

“Oh?” Zoro said, cocking his head to the side, “Why do you say that?” He said it as if she was insane, as if she hadn’t seen their fights herself, as if they weren’t literally known for their arguments with each other. He said it like it was completely and entirely natural for them to be like this now. It helped that Sanji hadn’t moved an inch, hadn’t given a single physical sign that this wasn’t exactly what they usually did. He made it seem like he was perfectly comfortable being held close to Zoro’s chest. That it was where he belonged.

They had even, in fact, gone a whole five minutes without arguing.

Alice’s mouth opened and closed for a minute, her mind clearly trying to calculate and recalculate this encounter, but the numbers just didn’t seem to be adding up in her favor. Zoro almost pitied her, except that she had very much started it and brought all this upon herself.

Finally, she looked to her boy as if for some sort of support. All she found was that his attention was firmly on Zoro’s chest, eating up the eye candy readily. He even went as far as to lick his lips.

“Darek!” Alice scolded under her breath, scandalized, slapping his chest for attention.

“Ow!” Darek said, shocked out of whatever daydream he’d been having.

Zoro finally let himself give a toothy smile. He considered his damage officially done. Alice had clearly been knocked down a peg or two, and her little walking-wallet of a boyfriend had been reduced from oh-so successful businessman to just another ogler looking for the next pretty thing. This was a resounding victory.

Now for a victorious escape out of this situation as fast as possible.

“Come on, babe,” Zoro said, turning his head to nuzzle into Sanji’s hair. How did he always forget just how soft those golden strands were? “I’ve made you wait long enough. I owe you a date.”

Zoro smiled into the last sentence, making it sound like their “date” was the only thing on his mind. Like he’d been thinking all week long about getting to see the other, the thought being his lone reason to keep going day after day. Which couldn’t be farther from the truth, obviously. There had been absolutely zero percent of him that had put any emphasis on this little outing even once this past week. He hadn’t done laundry for the express purpose of having something he liked to wear, he hadn’t trimmed up his sideburns and played with different hair products all week, and he definitely was not currently wearing cologne. The smile was simply an affectation of the truth, just for the sake of the ruse. That’s it.

Before anyone had time to say anything more, Zoro gently ushered Sanji to turn away from the other couple. To his relief, Sanji went willingly.

“W-wha-hey! Wait a minute!” Alice blustered, stomping a foot.

“It was nice meeting you,” Zoro said, not even looking back at her, just waving his free hand slightly.

“I told you, we already met!” she fumed, but Zoro paid it absolutely no mind. He grinned like an absolute shark, amazed he was getting away with this.

“Wait!” She yelled again.

Then, she played dirty.

“Sanji,” she said, a whimper in her voice.

Sanji stopped dead in his tracks. Zoro did too, not wanting to have to actually drag the other. He closed his eyes and cursed in his head. They had been so close.

Sanji took a long drag off his cigarette. As he sucked in, the moment seemed to stretch out, becoming longer than it was before. Finally, he blew a long exhale, smoke leaving his mouth fluidly. He tapped the ash off the end of his cigarette, dropped it to the pavement, and ground it out with his toe.

Zoro didn’t look at his face. He didn’t want to see even an ounce of hurt from such a stupid, shallow, nobody of a girl. It was so ridiculous for someone like that to make someone like Sanji feel anything at all, let alone pain. It made bile rise in Zoro’s throat and blood rush in his ears, but he kept his cool. He’d tried his rescue strategy. This was now nothing but Sanji’s fight.

Sanji turned his head over their shoulders. Zoro expected whimpering or pitiful noises, or maybe simply his standard gushing. Assurances that Alice still lived in his heart, that she always would. He’d tell her that she was the most beautiful girl in the world, that nobody could compare, that he would never want anyone else more than he wanted her. Zoro felt an unusual nausea in his gut.

“It was good to see you, Alice!” Sanji called brightly, his tone clear of any whining or gooeyness, much to Zoro’s surprise. No hurt? No presentation of wounds? No flattery? No begging?

“I’m glad you’re doing well.” Zoro was nearly in shock; Sanji sounded completely genuine. Did he… get over her? Just now? In this moment?

He hazarded a look at Sanji’s face and found a brilliantly beaming smile that reached his clear blue eyes. It was a smile that could put a thousand suns to shame, a smile that could launch a thousand ships, a smile worth the world over in gold and then some. Somehow, Sanji was really, truly happy.

Something inside Zoro absolutely melted and something else bloomed warm in his chest.

Before Zoro could even start to think about processing that, Sanji turned to him, and he was simply lost. For a brief second that stretched into minutes, days, years even, nothing else existed but him and Sanji and Sanji’s blue eyes shining back at him. He wanted nothing more than to kiss the beautiful man in front of him.

Then Sanji spoke, and Zoro forced himself out of that moment. Back to reality. Again, when had he left? He couldn’t recall.

“Come on, then, dearest,” Sanji jeered, his eyes now gleaming mischievously and smile saccharine sweet as he prodded. Zoro cognitively knew that he was always annoyed by that expression yet couldn’t seem to summon up the actual feeling of being annoyed. “I believe you promised me shopping?” Zoro felt a hand slip into the far back pocket of his jeans.

Now they really did look like a disgustingly lovey-dovey honeymoon-stage couple out for a date. Sanji gave his ass a teasing squeeze, snickering as Zoro felt his whole face grow red hot. Who had initiated the touching again? It couldn’t possibly have been him. This was far too intimate for him to have started, surely.

Zoro gulped heavily and remembered that he had a part to play here. He once again ushered them forward down the street. The last thing he heard from the girl – her name already returning to a blank spot in Zoro’s mind – was her yelling at her boyfriend to get his jaw off the ground and stop drooling already.

Zoro let Sanji lead them down a couple blocks, dazed and distracted. During the whole encounter he’d kept himself perfectly calm, but now that it was over his heart was beating hard in his chest. He replayed the whole scene in his head, impossibly surprised that it actually worked. How in the hell had it actually worked? How had they passed so easily for an actual couple?

Zoro was still wondering at how miraculous their success was when Sanji broke his concentration.

“Hey, Zoro,” Sanji said, casually as can be, leading them down some sort of alley between buildings.

“Yeah?” Zoro grunted, freshly shaken from his thoughts.

“Could you do me a favor?”

“What do you want, shit cook?”

“Well, would you mind ever so terribly-“ Suddenly, a foot came flying at his face and Zoro was too startled to block it in time, “-GETTING YOUR BIG, DUMB GORILLA HANDS OFF OF ME!”

Zoro went flying into the wall of the alley, back hitting with a sharp snap of pain. He was fine, though, nothing he couldn’t brush off.

“What the hell was that for?” Zoro scowled. He peaked at the wall behind him; the brick was only cracked a little, just barely resembling the outline of a person. Nothing identifying, so it was fine.

“Don’t fucking touch me,” Sanji sneered, adjusting the collar of his button-up and dusting off his pants as if the mere presence of Zoro in his bubble was sullying.

“Heh, I can think of a few times you’ve liked me touching you just fine,” Zoro retorted, wiggling his brows suggestively.

“You’re such a pervert,” Sanji said with disgust.

“You’re one to talk, love cook, swooning after a girl with her boyfriend literally right next to her.” Zoro swiped his thumb under his nose, checking for blood and finding none. Nothing seemed broken, that was good.

“Hey!” Sanji protested, looking angry. Had Zoro gone to far with bringing it up already? He knew the situation wasn’t exactly typical. Still, the whole thing still kind of pissed him off, so why shouldn’t he talk about it? “I didn’t ask for your help back there!”

“Oh?” Zoro asked, a smirk coming to his face, “So you admit that what I did was helpful?”

Sanji’s face grew red, frustration and agitation clear. “Oh, go die in a hole, you moron.”

“Whatever,” Zoro shrugged, putting his hands in his pockets, and leaning against the cracked brick coolly, “I was just pissed off, that’s all.”

“You?” Sanji asked condescendingly, “What the hell did you have to be pissed off about?”

“Don’t like that girl, is all,” Zoro answered plainly, closing his eyes as he relaxed, his heart rate finally dropping back to normal after all the excitement. The physical distance from Sanji and the sting of pain had broken his strange headspace. He was feeling like his usual self again, now. No weird, overly emotional thoughts swirling around. “Didn’t like her when you talked about her, didn’t like her when you brought her around, and I didn’t like her when I saw her just now, either.”

Zoro could feel Sanji study him for a moment, as if trying to decide if he bought that. “And what exactly has she done to you to make you hate her so much?”

Zoro huffed, rather done with the interrogation despite it hardly having begun. “I just can’t stand her attitude, that’s all. She’s so holier-than-thou, and then goes around parading herself like she’s the best thing since sliced bread.” The nerve of that girl, honestly. Zoro worked up a little mucus in his mouth and spit at the ground. “She thinks she can just waltz around hurting people to make herself feel better. Pisses me off.”

“Hey, you can’t say that about a beautiful lady!”

“Oh, piss off,” Zoro said, rolling his eyes, “First of all as far as I could tell she wasn’t even that good looking, average at best.” He will fully admit to his radar being finely attuned to men only, though, so maybe he’s wrong, but she really didn’t seem like anything special to him. “And secondly you never would have taken that kind of crap from a guy. You would have kicked him to the moon and back the second he tried that shit. But with her, and every other woman ever, you let her walk all over you. Not exactly a good idea when the girl’s a grade-A bitch.”

They stood there in that alley for a long moment, Sanji just watching Zoro and Zoro just watching him back. They both knew he was right.

“Tch,” Sanji spat at length, “I was raised a ladies’ man, and that’s just how it is.” Zoro knew that, too. This wouldn’t change anything. He doesn’t know how it happened, but somehow that behavior just got hard coded into Sanji. It was fine except that it was annoying and opened him up so easily to those who would misuse his kindness. There weren’t many of Sanji’s exes that Zoro didn’t outright hate, now that he thought about it, and certainly none that he properly liked. Maybe that was why.

“And anyway,” Sanji cut in, breaking Zoro’s wandering thoughts, “Why the hell do you care how I’m treated anyway?”

What? Did he say that? No way he’d said that. “I don’t!” He didn’t! Zoro felt his face grow hot, which didn’t make any sense. This was stupid. “I-It’s just the principal of the matter, is all!”

“Oh really?” Sanji asked, clearly unconvinced.

“Shut the hell up, bastard,” Zoro snapped, now really well and truly done with this whole affair. He took a breath, cooling himself down. Sanji always got him so worked up it was stupid. “Whatever, believe whatever the hell you want, I already told you the truth. She was a cunt and that’s all there is to it.”

The words clearly ticked Sanji off, but that was good, got him distracted from whatever bullshit he was spewing about Zoro caring about him or something. Idiot.

“You know, you could really do with learning some good manners towards ladies.” Sanji scowled.

“Yeah, yeah,” Zoro said, waving off the idea for the billionth time. “Last time I treated a girl any differently she caved my head in with a stick. Won’t be making that mistake twice.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Sanji asked, making a dumb face as if Zoro had said some sort of convoluted metaphor.

“Forget about it,” Zoro dismissed, having not intended to bring Kuina into this. He shoved off the wall and decided it was time to get out of this alley and back to what they came here for.

“Whatever,” Sanji said, rolling his eyes, apparently too done with Zoro to bother to pry.

Zoro walked until he was passing Sanji by, heading toward the mouth of the alley. Sanji stood silently, looking like he was thinking about something.

Just as he passed, Sanji said something quietly, “She really was a bit mean, wasn’t she?”

Zoro stopped there, just in front of the other. He didn’t get it. He didn’t know why Sanji was like this. Why was it so impossibly hard for him to admit when a woman was bad to him? So inconceivable to fight back? It made Zoro so impossibly upset sometimes. But here he was with this one little admittance. This one time this one woman was a bit mean to him. Zoro shouldn’t shoot this down. He couldn’t bring himself to if he wanted.

“Yeah,” Zoro huffed, a bit of a smile playing on his lips with the magnitude of the understatement. “And stupid too,” he added.

“Stupid?” Sanji asked, hackles raised all over again, “What the hell do you mean by that?”

“Sheesh, isn’t it obvious?” Zoro asked, huffing a short laugh through his nose, “First she dates you, which already brands her as an idiot –“

“Hey!”

“- And then she brings around that chump as if he’s supposed to somehow make you jealous. Seriously, as if he’d ever hold a candle to you.” What a joke.

Sanji didn’t say anything to that, and Zoro looked back curiously.

Sanji was just staring at him, eyes a little wide and face dusted pink. “Hah?” Zoro questioned, one eyebrow quirked. “What, did I say something wrong?”

Sanji looked at him for a moment longer, the silence stretching between them yet carrying surprisingly little tension. Finally, Sanji seemed to shake himself out of it. “It’s nothing, moss-for-brains. And get out of my way,” he said, shoving Zoro by the face.

“Hey! Cut it out!” Zoro yelled, shoving Sanji’s hand off his face.

“Ah, deal with it, grass-head,” Sanji said, pulling out a cigarette and his lighter, “Let’s find whatever the hell kind of present Luffy would want already.”

Zoro grumbled but followed along, ready to get this errand over with and the weird events of ten minutes ago behind him. This event would be receiving absolutely no post-facto analysis. There wasn’t a single thought, feeling, or action that needed a second look at or processing time to rectify with his current world view, and he was eager to put it all out of his head.

“And hey,” Sanji said. Zoro sighed inward, sure this was going to be something weird about the thing that just happened, “Thanks.”

Yup. Weird. Weird, weird, weird. It was so weird for Sanji to thank him, he almost hated it. He did hate it. He absolutely definitely hated it. That must be what the rosy feeling in his chest was: hate for how weird it was.

“Yeah, well, you know,” Zoro said, shrugging the whole ordeal off as they did with almost everything that’s happened between them, “Don’t mention it.”

This, as so much else, would be their little secret.

A comfortable silence rested between them as they each took a moment to breathe.

“By the way, are you wearing cologne?”

“IN YOUR DREAMS!”

[turtle-steverogers]

hii, it's the unsent project anon again!! sometimes i think about steve. instead of going back in time for yk, he goes back in time to see his mother again. and has a dance with his mother because he never got to before for several reasons. it would be more rocking from foot to foot than anything else. and steve can barely see through his clumped up lashes from the tears while she strokes the side of his head before cradling it (its a bit of a stretch because he is all big and healthy now) while muttering, "my stevie, my boy" and steve just grins "it's me, ma".

(he would come back after spending some time with her, with a heavy heart but still)

was thinking about this at like 3 in the morning

anon i genuinely think you're trying to murder me lakjdflksjfaskdjflksf

anyway i wrote another fic

-

There are extra white jackets in the back closet, and Steve steals one that’s approximately his size, despite the shoulders being a bit too tight. Pants are a little harder to come by, but he manages to find a pair that look like they’ll fit him in some poor chap’s locker. He tugs them on, grimacing at the way they hug his thighs and fall only to his ankles. They’ll have to do.

He’d already scoped out the hospital the night before-- he knows she’s on the third floor in a private ward. Good, he thinks. She deserves it, if nothing else.

He is focused as he moves through the halls, head down as he passes other nurses. There’s a clipboard discarded on a table near the children’s ward and he swiftly picks it up, squinting at it. He doesn’t process any of the words on the page, but his act seems sound, because nobody stops him.

He makes it to the stairwell at the end of the hall, pushes open the door and takes the steps two at a time. The smell is one that is achingly familiar-- the walls grey and hazy. The air seems thicker, the lights yellow and dim. And though he’s been removed from the past for over a decade, it still feels like home. Like normal. His normal.

But he does not belong anymore, and he will not stay. He’s already been a ghost once. He’s hesitant to be one again.

Especially now, when he is out there somewhere. Most likely in the shitty tenement he shared with Bucky, but also possibly at the grocer he worked at, his ma’s telegram in his pocket. Savoring the bits of her that he could salvage with the knowledge he’d never see her again, even while she’s alive.

Closure has been something Steve always felt he lacked. But he’s seen hell now-- lived in its fiery pits for more years than he can count. He can take some goddamn closure for himself.

The third floor is nearly vacant. No one is in the hallway when Steve steps out of the stairwell, but he can hear voices in the rooms that line the sides. Coughs echo ominously off the walls, and Steve’s toes curl in his shoes, a brief wave of anxiety washing over him. He hadn’t missed these hospitals, and he’d hoped to never deliberately step foot in one again. But this is necessary. This is worth it.

He walks swiftly towards the end of the hall where the private wards are and stops in front of the first room. The name next to the door is incorrect, so he continues on until he sees it, heart stopping in his chest, then speeding up enough to make his lungs tighten.

Sarah Rogers-- TB. Alternative uniform required.

Steve closes his eyes against the blood rushing from his head. He wants to tell himself it’s been so long since he’s felt this detached from reality-- this out of place in a space that should feel so familiar-- but it hasn’t. The feeling, he’s realizing, never truly left him when he woke up from the ice, and the reverse here is strange.

And there’s something even stranger about reconciling this, because he’d lost his ma far before he’d ever died. This grief is an old wound-- one that’s scabbed over only to bleed circumstantially. He’d grown used to living with this particular, bone deep pain. He isn’t sure if he’s here to lance that, or if he’ll walk away with a deeper wound. He isn’t sure it matters, either.

He pushes open the door.

The room is lit with natural light. There is a desk with a vase and a water pitcher on it, along with a few medicine bottles and a tissue box. The bed is pressed against the far wall, the covers barely disturbed save for the frail figure that lies in it.

Sarah turns her head and looks at Steve.

Steve’s world stops.

He hadn’t seen his ma when she was this ill. His last memories of her are of when she was healthy-- cheeks red and full of life, eyes alight with an optimism he still valiantly tries to uphold. Life had not been kind to Sarah Rogers, but she was the kindest soul Steve had ever known, even in the shadow of his father’s violence.

Is, he corrects himself as he looks at her. She is the kindest soul. She’s there. She’s right there.

She’s right there, and she looks weak. She is gaunt and frail, eyes sunken in and cheekbones sharp against papery looking skin. There’s an exhaustion in the lines of her young face that Steve recognizes as the long standing effects of illness-- your body praying to be done fighting while your mind begs otherwise.

Steve resists the urge to turn and run.

Sarah’s face does something strange as she looks at Steve, and he realizes that he’s been standing there for longer than would be normal for a nurse-- shell shocked and silent. She opens her mouth to say something, then stops, eyes widening as she seems to process what she’s looking at. Or who she’s looking at, most likely.

A wizened hand comes up to cover her mouth and she gasps, fear flashing through her eyes and no, no, no--

Fuck, he’d thought of this. He’d had a fucking plan for this, but he can’t remember it now and he really doesn’t want his ma calling security on him, because he has so much to say, and--

“Ma,” he says frantically, taking an aborted step forward. She shies away and he stops, hands flexing at his sides. “Ma, it’s me. I swear it’s me, I can explain.”

Sarah looks suddenly furious. “This is not funny, young man. I don’t know who you think you are, but I’m going to have to ask you to leave this instant.”

Fuck, her voice. Her goddamn voice, as weak as it is now, still has the same strong cadence. The subtle Irish twang. And fuck, Steve can’t help it. He bursts into tears.

“Fuck,” he says, falling to his knees. Why did he think he could do this? Why did he think he could stomach the weight of everything that’s happened since he last saw her-- handle standing in front of her with blood on his hands, underneath his fingernails. In his goddamn soul. What would she even think of him now?

He sobs, biting down on a knuckle to keep silent, his other arm going around his stomach. It’s how he used to cry when he was much younger, and more frantic, and that seems to convince Sarah more than anything.

“Steven?” she says. She sounds incredulous. Damnit, she probably thinks she’s hallucinating. Steve had hallucinated a couple times when he was ill enough and his fever was high. Mostly his father, but he’ll digress.

He looks up, and he can barely see her through the tears that clump on his eyelashes. Sarah’s face does something complicated, then softens, and she reaches out a hand. Steve looks at it and sobs harder.

“Oh, Stevie. My boy, come here,” she says, because maybe he is a goddamn hallucination, but her instinct was always to comfort those in pain. She was a nurse, after all.

Steve is goddamn helpless.

He manages to get to her bedside, chest heaving as he buries his face in her stomach.

“I’m sorry,” he sobs. “It’s me, ma. I promise it’s me. I can explain, I swear.”

“I don’t doubt that you can explain,” Sarah says sternly, and fuck, he’d missed her chastising him. He can’t help it, he laughs, breathless and watery. “What happened to you? Why are you--” Big. Healthy. “Steven, you can’t be in here. I’m highly contagious.”

Steve shakes his head. “Don’t matter. I can’t get sick.” And oh, his accent is back. He hasn’t had one in years. Decades. A goddamn century.

Sarah lets out a strangled laugh that quickly turns into coughing, and Steve briefly wonders how close she is to death. She died in Winter, and it is sometime in Fall right now. Close then, he thinks. He hugs her harder as the coughing dies down.

“A stór, do you hear yourself? You had pneumonia last Summer.”

Summer. Last Summer. In this world, it had only been a mere few months without her. A fresh wave of grief washes over Steve, and then he can’t help another laugh, then another, and suddenly he’s cracking up into her stomach. Laughing like the insane man he feels he often is.

Sarah freezes, then reaches out to lift his face, their eyes meeting. His laughing stops. She gasps again.

“It really is you,” she murmurs, thumbs moving to the outside corners of his eyes, where there are two identical freckles. Little stars, she used to call them.

Steve offers her a brave smile. “Yeah, ma. It is.”

Sarah shakes her head. “What happened?” she asks again.

“I… so much,” Steve breathes. “I don’t know how to explain it all. I-- I don’t know where to start, but god, I just wanted to see you. I needed to see you.”

Sarah studies his face. “You’re so tired,” she says, thumb stroking his eye again. He leans into the touch, closing his eyes. His lip trembles.

“So tired,” he agrees.

“You don’t need to tell me everything,” Sarah says. “I’m not sure I want to know. But I just… Steven, you look so different.”

Steve laughs, wiping at his eyes. “In a few years, there’s a war,” he says. Blunt-- they’d always been so straightforward with each other. “A scientist-- god, please don’t be mad-- a scientist offered, or… offers? Offered me an opportunity, and I took it.”

“Of course you did,” Sarah murmurs, looking fond and angry despite. She seems to set that train of thought aside. “Germany?” and oh, right. It’s already been in the news, the new reign.

“Yeah.”

Sarah hums. “My dear, you look like you’ve seen more than just war.”

Just war. As if any war was just anything.

As if his war ever truly stopped.

He casts his gaze down.

“Yeah,” he says again, and he thinks of Bucky, who’s also yet to come home from the war. Bucky, who is probably somewhere at the docks right now, untouched by anything but insecurity and financial hell. He desperately wishes they both can soon. This visit, he hopes, will bring him one step closer.

Sarah must read his mind, because her face clouds over.

“Bucky…?”

“Survives,” Steve says quickly, then backtracks. “Kind of. We both kind of died, then came back to life in the future and--” Sarah looks horrified now, and Steve shakes his head. “It doesn’t matter. He’s alive. We’re together.”

“Alright,” Sarah says slowly. “As long as you’re together.”

Steve nods, and fuck, he wishes he could have brought Bucky, too. Sam as well-- showed his ma his new friends. The brave new family he’s made for himself. The thought has his eyes swimming again, and he screws up his face, trying not to cry. He’s a goddamn mess. It’s ridiculous.

“I must admit, I’m quite confused,” Sarah says. “And sweetheart, you’re not talking.”

Steve shakes his head, and her arms come around him. He melts into the hold-- savors the feeling. Memorizes the pressure, her smell, and pockets it away for later.

“I just missed you so much is all,” he croaks. “And I-- ma… I’ve done so much. I’ve hurt so many people. Killed so many people, and I still feel so lost, and everything hurts and oh Christ, I’ve just-- I miss you.”

He had sworn to himself, before coming in, that he wouldn’t unload any of this onto her. But her warmth is all encompassing, and he craves her comfort. Her approval. Her strong, sure tone telling him everything will be okay.

That he will be okay. He has to be. He doesn’t know what he’ll do if he’s not.

“Lord’s name,” Sarah murmurs, and Steve huffs another laugh. She runs a hand through his hair. “I don’t know what happened to you. I don’t know how any of this is possible, but I do know you, dearheart. And I know that you are a good person. A gentle person-- my gentle boy, if you’d had a choice, you wouldn’t have chosen violence. But you know more than anyone how mean the world can be. You might have had to make hard decisions, done bad things, but you, Steven, are not bad.”

Steve’s lips part. It doesn’t fix everything, the words-- it barely scrapes the surface of the wall of pain and guilt that suffocates him. But for a moment, the world seems clearer. Quieter. The ache in his chest lanced for one, freeing breath.

“Ma…” Steve says. He doesn’t know how to thank her-- what to say-- because here she is, offering him warmth and closure, even though she might still think he’s nothing but a figment of her imagination. He craves her compassion; her generosity. Swears to uphold it as best he can.

You always stand up, she once told him. He will still, he thinks. He always will. And he will now.

He’ll go home to his family-- his life-- and goddamn live finally. He’s been surviving for so long, he realizes. It’s about damn time for him to stand up and live.

“You’ve still got the same heart,” Sarah continues. She pokes his freckles again. “I can see it in your eyes.”

Steve lifts a hand to cover hers. Her hands are as soft as they always were and he turns his face to kiss her knuckles, then leans forward to kiss her cheek, eyes closing as memories of doing that before running off to school or to play flash through his mind. She smells faintly of vanilla. He wonders if she still dabs it behind her ears.

“Thank you,” he says. “Thank you, ma. I love you. I love you so much-- thank you for being there for me. For raising me, and loving me.”

Sarah hugs him. Outside the room, there are voices; shuffling. He needs to go. The window is open, and they’re only three floors up.

“Loving you is the easiest thing that I’ve ever done,” Sarah says. She looks at the door. The voices are closer now. She kisses his forehead. Another echo of a life long gone. “Go now, Steven. Go home.”

Steve looks at her one last time, drinking in the love in her eyes. And as he climbs out the window, the too-tight doctor’s coat ripping around the shoulder seams, he can’t help but think that he’d gotten her eyes right whenever he’d painted her.

Her love won’t be something so easily forgotten.

-

Bucky catches him before he can collapse as he reappears on the launch pad. He lowers them to the ground, cradling Steve’s head with and letting him practically climb into his lap as he weeps, overwhelmed.

After a few minutes, he pulls back. Bucky’s watching him, concerned, and Steve leans in to gently kiss him.

“Steve?” Bucky asks, wary as they pull apart. He reaches out to swipe some tears off Steve’s cheeks.

Steve shakes his head. “It’s fine, I’m fine,” he says. “All the stones are back-- everything’s okay. It’s over. It’s all over.”

Relief washes over Bucky’s face and he kisses Steve, smiling. “Oh god,” he murmurs. “Thank god.”

Steve wraps his arms around his neck, humming in agreement. Sam and Bruce are somewhere-- Steve can hear them talking-- but it’s distant.

They’re quiet for a long time, breathing in each other. Bucky’s arms feel so goddamn safe that Steve feels his resolve slipping again. He can tell Bucky things. He can be here with him now. Home.

“I went to see her,” he whispers.

Bucky stills where he was previously rocking them lightly.

“Her…” Bucky says, then shifts. “Your ma?”

“Yeah.”

“Oh,” Bucky squeezes him tighter. “How-- how was that? How did she…”

“She was confused. I don’t even know if she knew I was real.”

Bucky pauses, then kisses behind his ear. Steve thinks of vanilla again.

“I’m sorry,” Bucky murmurs.

“No, it was-- good. Needed. I feel… good.”

“That’s so good, honey.”

“She asked about you-- wanted to know if you were, um, alive. I told her you were.”

“Yeah?” Bucky asks, and there’s a small smile on his face now. Bucky had loved Sarah as if she were another mother, and Steve had done the same with Winnifred. It was a privilege to have had both of their protective arms. “What did she say?”

“She said, ‘as long as we’re together’.”

Bucky smiles, eyes crinkling at the corners. Steve wants to reach out and touch, so he does, because he can do that now. Bucky is tangible. He is here.

“She’s got a point,” Bucky says. He goes back to rocking them and Steve rests his head on his shoulder. He hears Bucky start to say something, then stop.

“What?” he asks, pulling back.

Bucky studies him. “Did you want to stay?” It isn’t accusatory, just curious, and Steve considers it.

“Maybe a little,” he admits. “Just… instinctively. It’s an opportunity I might have taken up if someone offered it ten years ago, but… I’m a ghost there now, like I was a ghost here, and I don’t want to do that again.” He bites his lip, shaking his head. “I can’t. I wouldn’t be able to.”

Bucky nods, cupping Steve’s cheek and thumbing his jaw affectionately. “I hear you,” he says. “I was just wondering.”

“And besides, my ma told me to go home before I left,” Steve said, cupping Bucky’s cheek in return. “So I did.”

Bucky smiles, and presses their foreheads together.

“We can do that now,” Bucky says. “We can go home. We can rest.”

And there are still things to do-- Steve doesn’t think there ever won’t be things to be done. But that can wait for another day.

“Yeah,” he agrees. He’s grungy, dirt digging in bone deep from the whirlwind of the last few weeks. He smirks, climbing off Bucky’s lap. “But I call first shower.”

Bucky snorts and stands, pulling Steve up.

“Yeah, whatever, asshole.”

Yeah. The world can wait another day.

-

There’s a bottle of vanilla in the spice cabinet. Steve sees it as he’s looking for the cinnamon. The kitchen is empty, but for the first time in years, he knows he’s not alone.

He takes the vanilla out and dabs some onto his fingers, gently rubbing it behind his ears. He closes his eyes, letting the smell wash over him. He can still feel his ma’s arms around him, keeping him warm.

Home. He’s home.

-

thanks for reading yall aflkdjflaksjdf