#if I could scrub that film's existence from my mind I would

[sweetiechenle]

would you film my s*x tape? ⋆˚𝜗𝜚˚⋆ haechan

pairing: non-idol!collegestudent!haechan x collegestudent!afab!reader

summary: you and your best friend haechan are strapped for cash and desperate to make some... quick. thank god he has the best idea ever to make a sex tape!

warnings: minors do not interact 18+ only, smut, masturbation, swearing, marking, porn with plot, face fucking, possessiveness, unprotected sex (don't do this), dirty talk, oral (receiving and giving) fingering, manhandling, praise, creampie, pet names, fluff, crack/humor, this is so unserious, you are all freaks in this

you thought the line was crossed after the internet bill cost more than an arm and a leg or when the water was shut off because of an overdue bill, but this was probably the worst thing that could’ve happened. all you wanted to do was take a nice long hot shower, you stripped off your pajamas and climbed into the tub. turning on the water you jumped back and let out a small scream, scrambling to turn off the water, you let out small cries as the ice-cold water continued to pelt your back. finally shutting off the shower, you shivered, stepping out and wrapping a towel around your body, holding it close.

leaving the bathroom, you march down the hallway, finding your best friend and roommate, haechan, on the couch. he looked up from his phone when you stopped in front of him with your arms crossed.

he smirked, ‘not sure what i did to deserve this’

rolling your eyes and huffing, ‘did you pay the gas bill? The water was freezing!!’

haechan quickly stood up, ‘i thought you did!’

‘no it was your turn this month!’ you cried.

he fell back on the couch, letting his body slump in the cushions, ‘fuck’

you sighed, moving to sit down next to him. ‘im so fucking tired of being broke, dude’

‘yeah, you’re preaching to the choir’ you replied with a lifeless laugh.

‘our jobs fucking suck, our pay fucking sucks, these prices fucking suck. we have tried everything and now what else is there to do? ask chenle for money!? yeah fucking right, i’m not owing that little shit anything’ he vented.

you sighed standing up, ‘i don’t really know what else to do either, we are too busy to take on a second job, we tried delivering food and driving others around, but it’s never enough’ you agreed with him.

he grabbed your hand when you stood up, you looked down, ‘don’t worry, i’ll think of something’ you nodded, seeing the sincerity swirl in his chocolate brown eyes you nodded.

later that evening haechan, and you sat down for dinner in front of the tv watching whatever you could pay attention to, pushing your money problems to the back of your mind. you placed your empty bowl on the small table in front of you, ‘i’m not doing the dishes with the water being this cold’ you smiled. haechan laughed and grabbed your bowl, taking it to the sink to do the dishes himself, you followed him into the small kitchen. you stood and stared at his back, his shoulders now much broader than the boy you first met ten years ago, his slender fingers moving around the bowl as he scrubbed the food off, he turned back at you and it was so hard not to notice his plush, pink lips that moved into a small smile every time he saw you, and it always made your heartbeat skip. it was so hard to decide if you wanted to be him or be with him.

‘i thought of an idea’ he said nonchalantly, glancing back at you to see your reaction.

‘oh god’ you laughed, nervously you asked, ‘should i be scared?’

‘probably?’ haechan answered, finishing up the two dishes and facing you in the kitchen now.

he ran his hand through his chestnut-colored hair, his hands flying everywhere as he started to explain his thought process behind this ‘genius idea’.

‘we should…’ he paused, and you quirked your eyebrow up, ‘make a sex tape!’

you snorted and double up laughing, ‘you’re fucking insane’ to continue the theatrics you pretended to whip non-existent tears.

‘no, okay, listen… it’s a crazy idea, but think of all the money we could make’ he sighed, now growing embarrassed due to the idea he was so confident in before. his cheeks grew red, scratching the back of his neck, ‘as we said earlier, we tried everything, but not this’

‘fuck’ you breathed, he was serious, mind going a million miles a second trying to come up with anything better, ‘they make so much money on only fans and stuff i fear you might be right’ it’s not like you didn't want to have sex with your best friend and roommate, you always thought he was attractive and had a body you dreamed to have in your bed. of course you would never tell him that to his face, his ego would get too big you'd have to move out. being best friends since middle school had its perks, each other's first kiss, each other's first small sexual experience at the end of high school, something you both agreed to never speak of after it had happened. so, you figured with something like this it would be something similar, you would make a couple of sex tapes, post them, and then rake in the cash and never speak of it ever again. however you didn't want something this extreme to change any aspect of your relationship with haechan, yes you were attracted to him and he was your favorite person but you liked where your relationship was at right now.

he pumped his fists up in the air, whooping as you finally agreed that one of his plans was feasible. ‘i know! i think it's probably one of the best ideas i’ve ever had’ he said proudly. ‘i can borrow one of jaemins nice cameras to film, we have to research what could make us the most money too’ he noted.

you nodded, ‘we should lay down some ground rules too, i don’t want to just jump into this and both do something we regret’

he turned to you, acting genuinely confused, ‘what would we regret?’ you inhaled his cologne as he moved in closer to you.

you looked up at him as he caged you between him and the kitchen table, you shuddered as your lower back made contact with the cold surface. you looked down now too nervous to look into his eyes that stared down at you, ��i-i don’t know haechan, i just don’t want anything between us to change’ you said now feeling small even though your heart was jumping for joy.

‘you don’t? that’s a shame’ he clicked his tongue in disappointment, his voice low. not knowing what to say, you gulped waiting for him to continue, ‘when it comes to you, i don’t think there’s anything i could regret sweetheart’

oh, damn him, if you weren't supported by the table your knees would've already given out and you would've sucked his dick right then and there. what he said lit your body on fire but the subtle pet name went right to your core, shamefully feeling your panties growing wetter. he always played these games when he wanted something, using cute pet names and pleading in a cute way where anyone would say yes, but this time seemed different. hearing the sincerity in his voice made the situation feel all too real, you couldn't believe this was real.

‘wha-’ you gazed up at him through your eyelashes, ready to ask for further explanation but he stopped you, placing his finger over your open mouth.

‘do you trust me?’ he whispered.

all you could do was nod at him, while your best friend was playful and mischievous, you knew he could also be serious and forthright. it makes you think back to the time when mark wouldn't let haechan drive his car ever, saying he would never in a million years trust him. on the other hand when there was ever tension between his friend group he would be the one to go out of his way and get everyone all together again and diffuse any tensity. there were some things most people wouldn't trust haechan on but if he said you two could climb mount everest, you'd meet him at the spot.

‘good’ he replied, ‘get some sleep, we have a long day tomorrow’ he smirked and stalked away from you, hearing his bedroom door shut you let out a long breath. the air around you seemed too thin and you took that as your cue to also head to your room. you got ready for bed, climbed into your sheet and turned off your lamp, falling back into the mattress you stared up at the ceiling mind blanking and trying to process everything that happened an hour ago. you turned and grabbed your phone, wincing as the light burned your eyes. opening up the search engine you turned on incognito because there was no way this was ever going into your search history. typing in ‘popular porn categories’ you nervously waited as the page loaded. ‘seriously?’ you said to yourself as you read the words ‘milf’ and ‘lesbian’, so those were off the table. continuing to scroll you made mental notes of everything that could get you clicks, words like ‘creampie’ and ‘anal’, some things you weren't against, but stuff that seemed pretty straightforward.

you put down your phone and sighed, bored and unable to sleep. so, doing what most girls do when they are bored and in bed: masturbate. you slide your hand down your body, stopping just above the waistband of your pink sleep shorts. automatically thinking of haechan and imagining it was his hands sliding into your panties. soon, you reminded yourself. you finally reached the sweet spot, you tried your best to suppress your moans as your fingers worked in circles around your clit, occasionally taking your fingers down to dip in between your folds and pump them in and out, closing your eyes and making up a picture of haechan in your head on him above you, wishing it was his cock being driven inside of you. biting down on your bottom lip as your hips lurched forward due to the friction, you let out a small cry as you came all over your fingers, ending it by rubbing the stickiness over your worn-out pussy.

you cursed silently, getting up and going to the bathroom to clean yourself. after you gave yourself a well-deserved whores bath you got a clean pair of undies and slipped back into bed, now tired enough to go to sleep.

you wake up to a sunny saturday morning, stretching your limbs out you get out of bed and grab your phone, heading to the kitchen for what little breakfast you can have. you and haechan were never big money makers, at least not yet. you had a job doing entry graphic design for a yearbook company, paid like shit, but at least you were working towards something while going to school. haechan was majoring in software engineering but couldn't find any companies willing to hire someone without a degree, he seemed to always miss the chance to apply for internships so he was stuck at his job of being a mystery shopper, which also didn't pay that well. so, you both lived paycheck to paycheck and scraped what little you could to do things with friends and go out, haechan always telling you to go bat your eyes and act cute with every man in clubs so you both could get free drinks.

you opened the pantry and opted for the generic-branded cereal, hoping to every god in existence there was some milk in the fridge, you slowly opened it and silently cheered when there was a bit left. having all the ingredients you made up your bowl of cereal, sat down in the creaky kitchen chair and dug in. looking around you noticed haechan wasn't home, his shoes were gone along with his house keys, he never mentioned going anywhere so you opened your phone and checked on ‘find my friends’. you zoomed in on his little contact picture that was set years ago and obviously the perfectly, most embarrassing picture. he was at jaemins, for some reason unbeknownst to you. you continued to eat and scroll through whatever social media app could hold your attention. after breakfast, you cleaned your bowl (despite the cold water) and sat on the couch to pass the time until haechan came home.

you heard the door swing open, immediately standing up you walked without even thinking up to haechan. he gave you an inquisitive look as to why you came upon him so suddenly. then you noticed the camcorder in his hand… jaemins camcorder, oh.

‘i didn't know you left this morning’ you explained.

‘i was at jaemins’ i know you wanted to say, ‘i was getting this.’ he gestured to the video camera in his hand, taking off his shoes and throwing his keys onto the table.

you were rooted in place as you watched him move around the apartment nonchalantly, ‘did you tell him what it was for?’ you asked restlessly. scared that he confided in jaemin of your little plan to make more money, if he did, you could probably never look into the poor man's eyes ever again.

‘oh god no, i told him it was for a project you were working on but couldn't come to get it yourself’ haechan answered and that consoled your worried mind. ‘he expects it back by thursday’ he winked at you, and closed the door to his room, leaving you a loss for words at the front door.

you went back to your room, confused as to why haechan didn't bring up anything about the sex tape(scapades), like he knew nothing about it while it was his idea in the first place. he was probably nervous and getting ready, didn't want to ruin the mood or overthink any decisions that were already put into place from last night. you decided to lay in bed and watch videos and play on your phone to pass the time. after a while of shifting around in bed and switching between the same ten apps, you didn't realize the time when haechan softly knocked on your door, saying that dinner was ready.

you got up and opened your door, surprised by the setup he put together, there was a white sheet over the coffee table in front of the tv with multiple candles lit (needed them for when your electricity got shut off), there were wine glasses included a plate of food that looked absolutely delicious. ‘wow, haechan you really outdone yourself’ haechan was romantic when he wanted to be, asking gift and flower suggestions for whatever girl he decided to get involved with during that time. it always stung a bit, but you could never turn him away as a best friend.

‘anything for my favorite girl’ he smiled, and led you to the couch, taking your hand as you sat down. you blushed at his comment, almost feeling like this was a real date at a real fancy restaurant. but of course reality is that you are eating spaghetti on a couch in pajamas before getting absolutely railed by your best friend. you almost laughed out loud at the absurdity of it all. he poured some wine into your glass, and turned towards the tv to put on your favorite movie. it was all really sweet and made your heart swell with adoration for the boy next to you. even with the cards he was dealt in the situation he exceeded expectations and went out of his way to make everything special for you. you dug into your food and took a sip of wine, ‘ugh’ you gagged, ‘this is the cheap shit’ you both laughed at the reaction and he gave you a of course it is look.

‘don’t worry, when we are raking in the cash, i’ll get you the good stuff, and take you on a real, proper first date’ he smiled sheepishly, not confident in his words, worried you'd object to his obvious advances.

it was almost impossible to keep your heart from jumping out of your throat at his words, not believing what you just heard. you coughed, thinking of a way to get back at him, ‘i will be looking forward to that’. he beamed, giving you a toothy smile, your insides twisted, he was too cute for his own good, taking everything in you not to devour him whole right there. you swallowed your spit and turned back towards your food, finishing it off within a couple of bites.

haechan got up and took your plate to the sink, not bothering to clean them. he walked up to you and took your hands in his, looking down at the connection. wondering if he could feel how hot you were, haechan was always a touchy person and cuddled with you more times than you could count. but those times didn't make you feel this way, you knew tonight was different. ‘go get ready,’ he walked you to your bedroom door, dropping your hands he went to his door, ‘the video camera is all charged up’ he went inside and with that you scrambled around your room, thinking of what ‘get ready’ could mean. it was his job to prep you right? pacing around the room reality sunk in and you knew what to do. now going through your small closet, trying to find the only piece of lingerie you had. a gift from a past boyfriend, probably worth more than what you wanted to know.

‘ah-ha!’ you pulled it out of the pile of clothes that remained on the floor, it was somewhat misshapen from being at the bottom of the wreckage but salvageable. it was a red teddy with lace and a thong that hugged your curves perfectly. it was comfortable and sexy while also leaving some stuff up to the imagination, you knew haechan would love it. mentally thanking yourself for shaving everything before the gas got turned off, you slipped it on and checked yourself in the mirror, twisting and turning admiring the way it snatched your waist perfectly. you moved to your small vanity and put on light makeup, with plenty of mascara, knowing it would be picture-perfect to let the camera witness as it flows down your cheeks knowing you'd probably end up crying in pleasure soon. you threw on your robe and peeked outside of the door, haechan was nowhere to be seen but you were ready, hyping yourself up there was no backing out now.

you moved towards his door, softly knocking and waiting for him, clit quivering in anticipation. you pictured all the ways he'd have you tonight, silently hoping this would take off and you'd have no choice but to make more videos to appease the viewers that didn't even exist yet. haechan opened the door, he opened his mouth to say something, but closed it quickly. ‘you look beautiful, doll’ he breathed, like he was a tiger, and you were the prey, he took his time taking in your appearance.

you blushed, ‘you look gorgeous too’ he was in a tight-fitted black shirt along with those famous gray sweatpants, and you could barely control yourself. he looked like a god, his brown hair now dark, the light only coming from his room. his features were highlighted under the warm glow, his eyes growing dark in hunger, his nose perfectly sculpted and you were ready to beg him to let you sit on his face, needless to say, he was absolutely divine.

he opened his door wider, ‘shall we start?’ his eyebrow up in question. you nodded walking into his room, entrapped in his space and musk, you could get lost in the space forever. he grabbed your hands like before, ‘do you trust me?’ he was sincere, and you nodded, ‘because everything is about to change’

you nodded, whispering, ‘i can't wait’ you looked up at him, silently pleading for him to do anything at all. he leaned into you, noticing how his eyes kept moving from your eyes to your mouth, bracing yourself and closing your eyes, his breath was on your cheek.

‘the camera is rolling baby’ and with that he graced his lips with yours, moving to a rhythm you both fell into immediately. you could feel the sparks fly as your heart soared, his lips fitting perfectly into yours, soft but also rugged with the way he grabbed your waist and pulled you closer. your body now flush with his, shrugged off your robe you let it fall to the ground, haechan stopped his movements and took a step back. breathing hard and looking over your body in a very new way, staring at him feeling like daniel being thrown into the lion's den, chest heaving up and down you whined due to the surprising lack of contact. ‘fuck, you are so fucking hot baby’ he moaned, going back to the position you were both in. you gave him a coy smile, ‘did you wear this just for me? do you know how crazy i get when you walk around the apartment looking like a total slut? now here you are, in something that barely covers anything’ he grabbed the strap over your shoulder, pulled it back with his finger, and let it slap back on your skin. you sucked in a breath, feeling the slick pool into the thread, on your thighs. ‘not sure what i did to deserve this baby’ he ghosted his hands over your body, grabbing onto your lace-covered tit. you moaned at the contact, his lips now on yours again, moving much rougher and more hungry and teeth clashed together and tongues dancing in dominance. haechan picked you up, lips never leaving yours until he threw you on the bed, landing with a thump, going limp you grabbed the sheets in anticipation, watching as he threw off his shirt and pants. your mouth dropped, ready to take him right now if he wanted. his defined body shone with sweat, abs glistening, eyes finding his happy trail and erection confined in his briefs your mouth watered at the sight. you figured he was blessed with a good length, but now you were wondering if it would even fit.

taking the situation into your own hands, getting on all fours you crawl to him at the end of the bed. ‘haechan, please let me suck your cock’ you begged, yearning for nothing else but to feel his fat and heavy member choke you. he said nothing, acting unimpressed like your pleads didn't meet his expectations. whimpering in desperation, ‘i can show you what you deserve my pretty boy, please use my mouth’ he groaned at the pet name, stroking his length. he took a step in front of you, face now in front of his thick cock.

‘lay on your back’ he ordered, obliging immediately, he grabbed you and brought you towards him, head now hanging slightly off the bed. you watched him upside down stripping himself of his briefs and letting his member free, it slapped against his toned stomach, never taking his eyes off of you as he spit in his palm and pumped his erection. he had such a pretty cock, and your core burned at the beautiful sight in front of you. thighs instinctively rubbing together to create some friction. ‘open up’ mouth falling open he teased the tip on your lips. he pushed his length into your mouth, trying to adjust quickly, haechan started trusting at a small pace, letting you get used to the feeling. haechan shudders at the hot feeling, groaning as you gag on his cock. drool piled up and spilled out of your mouth and all over heachan, he trusted faster losing his mind over the noises you continued to make. you grabbed the sheets under you until your knuckles went white, mind spinning from the position as your best friend fucked your mouth with full force. he grabbed your boob under the lingerie and pinched your nipple making you shiver and cry around his length. he pulled out and you coughed and whipped the spit from your face. moving back into an upright position, collecting yourself, and watching as haechan went to grab the camcorder that sat on his desk. he brought it to your face, ‘did you enjoy sucking my dick?’ he asked.

‘yes’ you breathed, ‘your cock is so pretty and big’ staring into the camera lens, haechan watched you through the screen, his dick jumped in excitement at the lewd scene in front of him. his hand reached behind your head, you accepted it melting into his touch. grabbing your hand he pushed your lips back to his pulsing member, head red with anger and ready to let go. instinctively opening, he pushes it back into your mouth, raggedly pushing the back of your head down his length until your nose touches his pelvis. gagging and slurping up your spit as best as you could, it dribbles down your chin as you moan around him, making him groan at the vibration. as glassy eyes stared into the camera, the camcorder picked up the whimpered sounds as hot, wet tears glided down your cheeks. after a couple of last thrusts haechan lets go of your hair, pushing you off of him, and moves back, ‘give me a show baby, take it off’ you oblige and start with the straps, trying to make it as sexy as possible for the camera. you smile innocently, as you free your tits, moving your hand to play with it, before lifting your lower body to strip yourself naked.

haechan moans, as you toss the garment to the floor, staring up at him he cages you in, climbing on top of you and kissing your neck, violently sucking on the skin and lightly biting, ‘im going to leave so many bruises, so everyone knows you're mine’ he whispered against your sensitive skin. you mewled at his words, the thought of being his. ‘please,’ you gasped through rugged breaths, ‘make me yours’ he placed his knees between your thighs, feeling your wetness as it pooled onto the sheets and him. your hips buckled forward, trying to get some sort of pressure onto your sopping cunt. he continued moving downward, the camcording moving with him, letting it see what he did. he kissed over your boobs, giving them little kitten licks as you moaned at the contact.

finally reaching your entrance, he motioned for you to take the camera and film him, which you did with shaking hands. now pointed at him, he stared into the lens, as you watched him through the screen he delved in, giving your lips small licks which turned into harsh lapping sounds as he abused your clit. he never looked away from the camera, the eye contact making you moan as it felt so intimate, yet so dirty. this really was the best idea he ever had. you hissed as his finger slid into your entrance, so hot and warm, you distinctively moved your hips towards his hand, wanting more. he added another finger, stretching you in preparation, ‘fuck, you are so tight’ he observed, pumping his fingers in and out of you. the coil in your stomach tightened and the air around you felt so heavy, you knew the band was about to snap. shuddering, your eyes and head rolling back ‘i think i’m gonna cum chan’ you whimpered. but, he stopped and his fingers exited your hole with a squelching sound, crying at the loss of contact your head moved back towards his, shooting daggers.

‘i want you to cum on my cock beautiful. watch you fall apart as i fuck you stupid’ he confessed, grabbing the camera from you. now turned back towards you, you gulped, body buzzing and hot at his nasty words. he grabbed your ankles, forcing you closer to him. haechan pushed your legs against your chest, giving him perfect access to your swollen lips. he casts the camcorder downward, ready for the money shot. lining up his tip with your entrance, he pushes in, causing you both to gasp and sigh at the contact. finally bottoming out, his hips reach your thighs, giving you a minute to adjust he started to thrust lightly, making you keen at the feeling of being so full, that, and the wet sounds of your bodies, almost made haechan cum right there on the spot. ‘fuck, you feel so tight baby, you don't know how long i’ve waited for this’ he whimpered, trying to keep himself composed. moaning at his confession you grabbed his arm and brought him down suddenly to kiss you. now in a missionary-esque position, haechan sat the camcorder down on the bed to face you both, sloppy kisses were exchanged, and you both gasped into each other mouths when haechan went deep and hit your sweet spot. moving up to his knees, and grabbing the camcorder, he pulls his hips down harder, drilling into your weeping cunt. you grunted growing incoherent as you babbled about how his dick was so big and for him to keep going, ‘you take me so well pretty girl’ he groaned, zooming in on your fucked out expression, ‘it’s like you were made for me, you're mine baby, all mine’ he breathed, his rhyme becoming sloppy and harder, faster.

you could feel fire start to poll in your lower abdomen, sinking your nails into haechans forearm as he moved circles in your burning clit with his free hand. ‘cum with me baby please’ he begged, ready to release inside of your warm pussy. you tensed feeling the lightning strike as you felt the earth stutter on its axis. groaning loudly, you finally let go, waves of pleasure coarse over your body, walls convulsing griping haechan like a vice. he whimpered above you, stilling his hips as he coated your insides white, curses flew out of his mouth as he made small trusts, loving the feeling of overstimulation. your thighs vibrated and jerked, letting your orgasm die down, haechan pulled out slowly, making you both hiss. he sighed contently, getting up and heading to the bathroom and coming back with a washcloth. he videotaped as his sticky substance dripped from your hole, cleaning you up thoroughly as he continued to zoom in.

‘well… that's a wrap’ he said cheekily and turned off the camera, placing it on his bedside table. you laughed at the comment, moving closer to him as he climbed into bed beside you. heart floating as he pulled you closer, bringing your head to rest on his chest. ‘i think that would win at fucking sundance’ he whispered, making you snort and playfully hit his chest. you both sat in comfortable silence, his fingers ghosting your back, moving up and down.

‘did you mean it? what you said?’ you asked, feeling small in his embrace.

‘what part?’ he ventured, grabbing hold of your shoulder.

‘when you said you had been waiting for this moment, was that real or just for the tape?’ you felt stupid needing clarification. you both had decided to make it overzealous so it would do numbers, he wouldn't think twice to say any of that stuff when money was on the line, or maybe he had meant it and in the heat of the moment confused about what you were also thinking.

‘of course i meant it love, if you can't tell, i’ve been in love with you for a while’ he confessed.

you gasped, head lifting off of his chest to gaze up at him, eyes shown in full sincerity, he went on ‘there's no one else who understands me as you do, you continue to put up with my shit, you're honest when i need it most, but you also support me in everything i do. you spent a week trying to find any companies that would take me on, going as far as to call continually when i never asked you to in the first place’

you groan remembering the hiring manager that had said ‘his resume wasn't good enough’ to which you gave them an earful telling them they would be stupid not to accept him. ‘you laugh at my stupid jokes and you always let me win in league, you are effortlessly beautiful without even trying, even after you have woken up after 15 hours of sleeping, seeing your face walk out of your bedroom door is the best feeling, i get so excited when you come home from work, like i’m a dog waiting for its owner’ you cry as you both sit up, holding each other.

‘haechan… i don't-… you’re my best friend, the person who knows me better than i know myself,’ he wipes small tears pricking from the corners of your eyes, just as they are about to fall ‘you always know when i’m down, you help me with tasks whenever i get frustrated and you never complain, you are my rock and i know i can always rely on you for anything, you’re my home.’ you finished your turn of the confession with a simple, ‘i love you too’

haechan gives you a small kiss, ‘no more crying, we should rest’ moving to turn off the lamp next to him, he puts you in an embrace and lays you down back in your previous position, kissing your hair you let your eyes flutter shut. ‘what if i told you i was a secret billionaire?’ he mumbled.

you squirmed, pretending to be annoyed at his antics, he gripped tighter, trapping you in his warmth, whining ‘please, go to fucking sleep’ you grumbled, finally settling down after a long day of shooting.

you stirred awake as the sunlight from the window hit your eyes, blinking you stretched and sat up, groaning as every muscle seemed to ache after last night. ‘good morning girlfriend’ haechan sang, walking into his room holding a plate of food for you.

‘girlfriend?’ you questioned, grabbing the fake porcelain from him.

he shook his head from side to side ‘mmm well we’re married in my head already, so that’s we can go with for now’

you sighed and nodded, smiling, ‘okay boyfriend, whatever you say’ picking up the bagel you got ready to take a bite when haechan gave you a nervous smile without saying anything, still standing in front of you ‘... what's wrong?’

‘don’t get mad, but hypothetically, what if i told you i forgot to hit record last night’ he cast his eyes downward, obviously trying to hold in a laugh.

you groaned, knowing he was still messing with you, ‘i saw the red light on the camera stupid, you can’t fool me.’ he looked up hearing the crunch from the toasted donut, happily eating away. ‘now come here and massage my back’ he immediately obliged, coming behind you to rub your pain away. ‘and make sure to delete everything before giving the camera to jaemin. please.’

haechan stopped, ‘but he said he wanted to see!!’

you turned around ready to grab him by the neck and not in a good way, ‘HAECHAN’. all he could do was laugh and hug you as tight as he could, never wanting to let go.

‘holy shit babe, come here and look at this’ haechan called from the kitchen, you came buzzing in, eager to see what he had to show you.

‘what is it?’ you mused, glancing down at his phone as he handed it to you.

you gasped, seeing the number of money your videos have made over the past couple of months, ‘that's enough to pay for four months of rent!!’ after a couple of months and making more videos, you started posting them to a private channel online and promoting them in various placing, thus helping you both reach pretty decent number for amateur porn. you even moved into his bedroom and turned your old one into a perfect little studio. 

‘i know!!’ he got up from the table and hugged you in celebration, ‘and we owe it all to our first subscriber and top donator… maybe we can ask him to film for us some time’

you dropped your arms and grimaced, ‘jaemin’

it really was the best idea he ever had, and you love him for it.

[artbyblastweave]

An aesthetic decision I really like about the Mad Max setting- focusing on Fury Road in particular here- is that the timeline and the setting deliberately defy coherence. Countless elements of our world have carried over- the guns, the vehicles, the musical instruments, the religious concepts, and nominally some of the actual people- but the world is geographically impossible, you don't see much contemporary architecture even in a ruined state, and there's no version of the timeline where this can be the same Max Rockatansky as the original films. But it is. The incongruities are deliberate. The setting is mythic, these are campfire tales told about Max, the King Arthur or the Omnipresent Jack figure of the new age. The world that was is swallowed in myth, the world that exists is borrowing some of the old world toys, and being up-front and bombastic with signifiers of the mythic and abstracted nature of the setting absolves you of the need to make the worldbuilding make sense- or rather, to make it make sense in the way you'd have to take a stab at if you had a year-by-year internal worldbuilding timeline of How Everything Went Down.

Fallout 1 is not exactly like this. It can't be, because you could kill a man with an overhead swing of the setting bible. But it's tapping into a similar impulse. People in the first game are using old world tech, but they don't really live in the old world; they live in settlements using materials scavenged from the old world, or in old world towns that were unimportant enough back then that their current identity totally overwrites whatever came before. They don't live in LA: They live in the Boneyard, which gives you a pretty good idea of how much of what we think of as "LA" would be recognizable as such if we were exploring the space in first-person perspective. When you encounter an area that has a direct, well-documented, and unambiguous connection to the old world, it's a Big Deal, and they're hard places to get to- places that the average person living their life in the wastes would die trying to access. Of particular note in this dynamic is The Brotherhood of Steel- for all their technical understanding of the knowledge they hoard, they've clearly seems to have undergone a few rounds of Canticle-style cultural telephone, mutating from Recognizably The American Military into a knightly order. Fallout 2 does this to a lesser extent- it has more settlements directly named after their pre-war counterparts- but it's also a game about a society that's starting to pull back together and form into something resembling the old world, for better or for worse. And it reproduces the trend of stuff with a direct, legible connection to the old world being inscrutable and dangerous to outsiders- specifically with the reveal that the Enclave consider themselves to be the direct continuation of the pre-war government, that they've just kept electing presidents out on that stupid little oil rig. I haven't really made up my mind on whether the timeframes of the games- 84 years followed by 164 years- actually work for the vibe they're going for, in particular it doesn't work with Arroyo- but on the whole, the vibe coheres.

You get into the 3d games, and it becomes much harder to continue to pull this off. One major tool that Fallouts 1 and 2 used to maintain that sense of abstraction was the overland travel map; you were visiting island of society in a vast sea of Nothing. You had encounter cells that consisted of burnt-out, looted shells of cities, maybe good for a camp site but not as anything else. Another important tool towards this end was the isometric camera angle. In a topdown worldspace you can scrub out a lot of environmental details that would be immediately recognizable to the player as artifacts of our present society if you were exploring the space in 1st person. The examine button can feed you vague, uncertain descriptions that convey enough detail to make the item recognizable while also conveying that there's been a level of information decay. Once you move into a 3d worldspace you lose both of these elements- the worldspace is what it is, I can walk across it in eleven minutes stripping it for loot as I go. I can read every sign on every still-standing building, and I've got eyeballs on every old-world bit-and-bobble with a handy interface description of what I'm looking at. And you hit random encounters in the 3d games at basically the same rate, in real-world time, that you did in the isometrics- but the isometrics could successfully abstract it out to represent that you were hitting something noteworthy every couple of weeks, while in the 3d games it's kinda inescapable that you keep getting jumped every single day walking back and forth up the same stretch of road. Not only is it recognizable, it's cramped.

I think that Fallout 3, to its credit, did a decent job of navigating this and trying to maintain the islands-in-a-sea-of-nothing vibe from the isometrics- most of the settlements are built slapdash in places that were obviously never intended for long-term human habitation (bomb craters, overpasses, suburbs), the landmark-heavy city proper is textually a difficult-to-navigate deathtrap, and the poison-sky green filter, memeworthy as it is, does help shore up the impression that you're inviting death by trying to move through the space. Fallout: New Vegas I think addresses this by going in the total opposite direction; It's set in an area of the country where the infrastructure was abnormally well preserved, and the pre-war culture was revived artificially, and from a thematic standpoint it's really interested in digging into the implications of those two things. The fact that the lonely-empty-decontextualized-void aesthetic isn't long for this world dovetails well with the cowboy themes. They have a fair number of future-imperfect context-collapse gags but they don't overdo it by any stretch of the imagination.

Fallout 4, from many directions, is sort of catching the worst of the heat here. The world is recognizable, aggressively so. In fairly-authentically recreating the suburban sprawl of the Northeast, Bethesda simply surrounded the inhabitants of the commonwealth with too much Boston for a sense of true distance from our world to be possible. Everyone still has the accents. They still know the names of all the old neighborhoods. They're still doing the "Park your car" bit. It's still Boston. And it's a busy Boston, too- you can't throw a rock without hitting a farming settlement that's doing well enough to attract tribute-seeking bandits. It's densely packed with points of interest, and those points of interest are packed to the brim with salvageable materials that, going off of the new crafting system, should be in enormous demand to the people who've been living in this area for 210 years. The game doesn't really advance a satisfying explanation, even an aesthetic explanation like fallout 3's poison sky, for why everything around you hasn't been stripped clean before you even came off the ice, why all these environmental storytelling tableaus are just waiting for you to find. It doesn't spend nearly enough time hammering out what the 200-year chronology of the most-livable area seen in a Fallout game looks like- Why don't you see something comparable to the NCR emerging? Something something CPG massacre (which is mentioned twice in the whole game, AFAICT.) And what's being lost here, right, is the ability to use the sands of time to smooth over rough spots in the worldbuilding, in the chronology. You can't hide behind the idea that the world you're experiencing is mythologized. It's presented as real, and it doesn't make much sense if it's real!

And to top it off- Fallout 4 probably has the highest density of characters who were actually there, by some means or another. The Vault Tec rep, Daisy, The Triggermen, Nick Valentine, Eddie Winter, the vault 118 inhabitants, Arlen Glass, Oswald, Kent Connolly, The whole of Cabot House, Captain Zao, The kid in the goddamn fridge and his goddamn parents, and uh. The big one. You. You, the player. Which is such a goddamn splinter under my skin, from a storytelling perspective. You were present in the before-times- but only nominally, only to the exact degree necessary to establish that that was the case. The ugly shit is alluded to, but not incorporated into the character's day-to-day in a way that's obvious to the player, you're there for like six minutes and it's pretty nifty if you overlook that bit at the end where everyone got nuked. Your ability to talk about the world before is always vague, vacuous, superficial. The dirty laundry you dig up on terminals around Boston never seems to meaningfully impact your character's worldview, their impressions of the then and the now. All of which combine to make this the simultaneously the most specific but also the most frustratingly vague game in the series. At its best, Fallout's love of juxtaposing the then and the now would make it a great setting for the Rip Van Winkle routine. But it requires a strong, strong understanding of what the world was like before and after, a willingness to use the protagonist to constantly grind the jagged edges of those things against each other, a protagonist with a better-defined outlook than Bethesda's open-ended-past approach allowed for- and it has to be in service of a greater point. And for Fallout 4 to do anything with any of that, the game would have to be about something instead of being something for you to do. Maddening. Maddening.

[lafiametta]

Anora prompt: Sunday

A little post-film hurt/comfort, as a treat! :)

He wakes up to the sound of his phone going off and blinks his eyes open just enough to see who could be calling him at nearly two in the morning.

“Hey,” he says, his voice thick with sleep.

“Hi,” she replies, and in the brief pause he can hear the faint sounds of a scratchy intercom and a baby crying. “So I know it’s late, and you’re probably sleeping, but can you come pick me up?”

“Where are you?”

“The emergency room. I’m still in the city.”

Igor doesn’t respond immediately, his mind still not fully awake, compounded by the spike of low-grade panic about what might have happened to her.

“It’s just...” she continues. “It turns out I’ve got a concussion and they won’t let me leave on my own. And my sister’s not answering. She must be at her boyfriend’s or something.”

A concussion? Wasn't she at work? What the hell happened? He doesn’t ask these questions, though, because he knows that waiting for answers will mean more time before he can get in the car.

“No problem. It will be maybe forty five minutes. I'll try to hurry.”

In the darkness of his room he throws on some pants and a hoodie, shoving his feet into sneakers, then grabs the car keys from the drawer in the kitchen, and leaves the apartment quietly so he doesn’t wake up his grandmother. The roads are fairly empty this late at night so he makes good time through Brooklyn. The tunnel spits him out downtown and from there it’s a straight shot north to the location she shared with him.

After wandering around the building for a few minutes, he finally finds her, sitting near the door in one of the waiting rooms.

His breath stills a little when he sees her. She hadn’t mentioned any other injuries besides the concussion, but as she stands up he can see that her arm is wrapped in a sling and there’s some scrapes and bruising along one of her cheekbones.

“Are you okay?” he asks, as he quickly glances over the rest of her to check that there’s nothing else.

“Yeah,” she says, but her eyes look weary, like she can’t wait to close them. “I’ll live.”

There are a thousand questions he still has, but they can wait. Right now he needs to make sure she gets taken care of.

“Are you ready to go?” he asks. “Do you need to do anything else?”

“I’m good. Just let me wave to little miss control freak over there” —she turns and with her unencumbered arm catches the attention of one of the nurses behind the desk, then points to him as if offering up proof of his existence— “and we can get the fuck out of here.”

They stop at a twenty-four-hour pharmacy on the way back so she can pick up the prescriptions for pain medicine they’ve given her. Along with the prescriptions she buys an energy drink and a gallon of milk.

In the car she finally tells him what happened, but only in the broadest possible strokes. There was a client, a guy she had never seen at the club before, and he was fine at first, but then he kept drinking and started getting possessive and angry. He grabbed her—grabbed you where? Igor thinks, his hands tightening with fury around the steering wheel—and when she pulled away he smacked her on the side of the face.

“Asshole. I fuckin’ got him back, though,” she says, and Igor has no doubt that she did. “That’s when he knocked me down and I hit my head. Sprained my arm too when I fell.”

And where the hell was your security? he thinks. Where were all your bouncers? Just looking at their phones and not paying any attention to what was happening? Cyka blyat! he wants to yell, but instead he breathes out and focuses on driving the car.

He’s never had a problem with her job, even though he knows that a lot of men would. Is taking your clothes off and dancing for money any more shameful than beating people up for money, as he’s sometimes asked to do, or having to clean rich people’s toilets or scrub their floors? It’s just a job, like any other—and it’s one he knows she’s very good at. He doesn’t like the danger that it puts her in, though: the risk that some mudak—like the one tonight—is going to walk in the door and think because he gives her money he has the right to do whatever he wants to her.

“So what happened? Did you call police?” At least if they arrested the guy he can’t try to come back.

She shakes her head. “He ran. Turned out the credit card he was using was fuckin’ stolen.”

“How did you get to the hospital?”

“Jimmy called me an Uber.” Her voice is tired and she looks just as spent, curled up in the seat with her legs tucked under, the side of her head leaning against the headrest. “Thanks for coming. And for picking up when I called. You didn’t have to.”

Igor nods, warmed by her gratitude. “I am glad you called me.”

“You were fuckin’ asleep though, weren't you?” She’s smiling a little, even as her eyes are half-closed. “I made you drag your ass out of bed?”

“Yes, I was sleeping,” he says. “I have to take my grandmother to church tomorrow morning. Or this morning.” He looks at the clock on the dashboard; by the time he drives her home and gets back, he might be able to get in a few more hours of sleep before he has to get up again. “But it’s okay.”

He parks the car in front of her house and then helps her inside. He’s never gone inside before and he’s pleased by how neat and normal it all is, houseplants in the windowsills and little throw pillows on the couch. There’s no reason to be surprised—why shouldn’t it look normal?—but it makes her seem softer somehow, a little more real. Everything’s dark and quiet, with only the hiss of the radiator, so her sister must still be gone.

He grabs her a glass of water for the pills while she changes clothes, her jeans and boots exchanged for sweatpants and fuzzy socks.

She’s sitting on her bed when he brings it to her and for a moment he's distracted by the floor-to-ceiling pole a few feet away. It must be for practice, he realizes, and then does his best to dispel the mental image he’s conjured as quickly as he can.

“They said somebody should stay with me,” she says, more quietly than he’s used to hearing her, “to make sure I’m okay.”

“Okay,” he says. He can’t stay for long—he needs to get a little sleep before church—but her sister will be back eventually and then he’ll go.

She lies down, carefully arranging herself so that her injured arm drapes over her side. There’s some space next to her on the bed—space she’s left for him, he suddenly realizes.

“Stay,” she says, and he can’t tell if it’s a question or a command. It doesn’t really matter, because he’s quickly shoving off his shoes and laying down next to her, his body curling instinctively around hers. Her dark hair smells like citrus and cigarettes and it’s all he can do not to reach out and run his fingers through it.

After a few minutes, Igor hears her breathing turn slow and even; he knows if he falls asleep too there’s a chance he won’t wake up in time for Sunday service. But he can wait a little longer. He doesn’t have to go just yet.

[send me a one-word Anora x Igor prompt]

[bogbees]

I think perhaps an aspect of this weird media "think of the children" sanitized bullshit is in part bc we no longer have movie rental places. not entirely mind you, there's the uprising in purity beliefs that are at front of it. but, those places would have posters on what the movie rating system was and you'd have to see that poster every time.

like. i remember being 4 and staring at this poster at my local convenience store-movie rental place (not a blockbuster, too off the map), and i need to stress, this poster was at my eye level. i didn't have to look up. I didn't have to ask my dad to lift me up. it was at my eye level and illustrated so my 4 yr old brain could grasp there were movies intended for the whole family, for older kids, and for adults only. you just had to find a specific symbol that matched the picture you wanted: the whole family or just two adults or whatever else!

granted, there were aisles dedicated to children's movies and adult movies, but still. that information was there. posted on the wall of the movie section of the convenience store.

you don't see that information anymore. so it's kinda forgotten. and so ppl are insane and respond "so you hate kids," when someone suggests movies should have more sex and violence. you have adults making crazy discourse over children's media. you have ceos trying to scrub films clean so that anyone can consume it and make more money.

there's no psychical space to go and be among other people looking to rent a movie. so you're going crazy from the comfort of your own home, forgetting people exist. forgetting there's like, guidelines on what's appropriate for what age group to watch bc you're alone.

or smth. idk. Tank Girl was my favourite movie when I was 4 so perhaps my opinions are skewed. yes i didn't learn ab the kangaroo mutant orgy until I was 13. yes that's bc i was allowed to only watch it with my dad's supervision until then.

[pavlovianpanic]

fking. hear me out. bob finds out josh filmed everything and secrets the tapes away & decides to hire an editor to put it together, the lawyers can figure out the rights & contracts later, better to ask forgiveness etc etc... it gets tossed into the indie film circuit with anything tying to the Washingtons mostly scrubbed...

Two branching paths that might make fun threads:

Josh comes back with SAR along with the other kids & after a period of whatever stability means to him/you as mun, finds out about Bobs project while it's still in production (& how would he feel? Mad at Bob for taking over his project, how much does he regret filming everything, is he excited someone salvaged it?)

Or,

Josh gets rescued later & only finds out about the project when he's watching some b horror shlock on Tubi and sees his old b-roll turned into a film and brings it up to Bob

(It's been a hot minute since I was in the film school so just ignore anything too stupid, I'm mostly just vibing)

// @mountainrented

i think regardless of the circumstances, this is a complicated thing for josh in that the footage is three things to him:

most consciously, it is a collection of his greatest regrets, while subconsciously it is his greatest work.

the mediator between that would be that he was really convinced this scenario he set up would be something his friends would love, something that teeters between a conscious thought and a subconscious thought. did he really believe that? i think he knew this would hurt them. so, there's a detachment there, which leaves it as a mediator.

i think, for josh, it would show a display of his father's ultimate greed, also invoking confusion in the varieties of:

is this a sense of pride in me / my project / my idea / my breakdown as something worthy?

so worthy to face all the means that come with this sort of thing, from the legalities to the idea that this behavior by josh is permissive all in the sake of "art"?

is art worth the degradation of the human mind, body, and spirit? is it worth a son's mental deterioration?

ultimately: was it worth it to lose hannah and beth via death and josh via an entire ego / mental perishment to get this production to the public (even if it's an underground public)?

this does not help a man with established disorganized patterns of thinking.

where does this leave josh? is his mind, his productions, his ideas, everything he creates ... does that belong to his father? was that always how it was going to be? even without this prank, this revenge, had he sweat, poured blood, and shed tears for a project of his own volition, would his father do the same? would it always be a robert washington project with josh's name on the label (in likely fine, fine print)? does this behavior assert the fear that josh always had: he would be a shadow of his father, more a conglomerate or piece of the washington family machine, and would never breakout with his own name, even if that name was shared with a movie mogul? pre-existing struggles with identity, proving himself to his father, distancing himself in some ways while utilizing his advantages, being born into nepotism yet actually seeming to have the talent (and the drive, taking psych for the reasons i've established shows him as devoted, albeit a huge party boy).

is josh just a cog in the machine? is his father the machine? the mountain now? something bigger? are we really cursed?

and is this curse now captured on film? because what's really out there ... i imagine josh must have caught something on trailcams, right? likely a lot of the footage was destroyed in the fire, but perhaps there were pieces of salvageable footage or footage from other angles / outdoor cams he could have set up. also, cabin footage from mike and jess's time, given that i feel josh was going to exploit them via film the way hannah was exploited, i have thoughts on why this could have been his idea all along even with mike and emily as the original couple, and how he adapted to jess and mike, which kind of already worked to what he was planning, and how matt originally fit into that and why now it's a weaker em/matt plan but still a strong mike/jess plan blah blah but anyways.

it leads to an even bigger mystery, doesn't it? something that father washington was always warned about or eluded to. — @mountainrented / @mountaindmned

[pocketmouse-fr]

FR Username/Numbers: LocalHellcat#596191 

Basic Clan Lore: 

My entire account and its various tabs is a hodge-podge of various locations within the wind-domain area of Sornieth and also the surrounding borderlands! Some are more concrete than others. One’s a space station. Anyways.

Rot is implied to travel between a lot of the various villages and towns represented! However she has one in specific she would claim has her “home-base”

~~~

Located somewhere along the ridge that connects the plague to the winds, there exists a dense fog that legend says if you get lost in, you may find yourself within a forest unlike anything you've ever seen. 

Swamplands tainted by visceral growths, vertebrae grow up the mangrove trees like vines. Branches that reach up and cover the sky with their own false night, silvery black leaves twinkle with what little light is able to peak through. The waters themselves are a dark muddy red and green swirled hue, slicked with an oil like film.

There's said to be a village, at the center of it all, made by dragons whose lives lead them to choose this forest of death to be a fair, more hospitable home. Rumors say it’s lands are made tainted from an ancient Collapse, but those haven’t been proven.

Plans For Dragon: IMMEDIATE PLANS (effective upon arrival): Outfit + Silhouette + Crackle Tert 

My rambles got very long winded from this point forward! Click the Read More with caution!

Outfit-

Development of her outfit as she travels, gains a liking to leathers made from prey she's caught

She eventually gains a friend with very similar interests! The two initially bond purely over the convenience of having two sets of hands to perform tasks with better speed.

Gains proficiency with a crossbow as a long distance option for darting prey she can't outright kill.

Hat was a parting gift from Runt or Ravager I think

Wolf cape was gained shortly after she left home, as she wandered along towards the Wind domain she felt a strange calling for, she within the ever twisted and discomforting wasteland spotted a pristine grey wolf. Not a speck wrong with it, no hidden third ear, no mutated patterning. She decided then and there it had to be hers.

The wolf was smart however, it had to be to survive so long untainted by the wasteland's reach, and it evaded her each and every time.

Each time she slipped and skied through the rotten lands, the ever mutating gunk of the plague soaked into her skin with every failed attempt. 

Her body stretched into a more exaggerated Silhouette. Still scrawny and torn, unable to fly or swim like any other Guardian, but now she knows how to trick the mind, force foe and prey to view her as so much larger than herself.

Using this reach, and experience, did she manage to outsmart the grey wolf that vexed her, and it was as her blade made contact with it, and she could claim her prize.

Feasting upon the flesh and skinning the hide into a cape for herself, fashioned and somehow.. Perfectly suited to her.

Crackle:

Remnant from her first Collapse

The Godfall's blood soaked into the young hunter's skin as she slashed, hearing the howls of her siblings by her side as carnage and war soaked the air around her. Adrenaline pounded through her veins and the sky screamed in her ears as she felt something change. A crawling across her skin that drove her deeper, and deeper into this bloodlust. One could lose themselves if they didn't have patience. 

It felt like a blissful hell of eternity, until the sun finally broke and the titan's body fell from a final swing. Was it hers, her siblings, her parents? She didn't know, but she could feel a sharpness form to her eyes as she gazed over the bodies for any twitch of movement. Anything not quite dead yet. 

It wasn't until she was scrubbing off that night, when she realized that what looked to be stubborn flaked blood was now her. Stained and permanently soaked with the blood of her first befallen entity. A mark of victory. A mark of change.

Hatchling Headcanons:

Extremely curious hatchling

Many circumstances of her ending up very much where she should not be due to her initially smaller and sickly size. 

Love her to death, babygirl cats only have so many lives, etc etc

Cus she can’t fly or swim very well, she is a CLIMBER. She will go UP. 

notable incidents include the two times Pig and Sow lost her for multiple hours only to find her tiny little ass climbed to the VERY TIPPY TOP OF THE MAIN CARNIVAL TENT

The breeze is Best up there, obviously.

And her siblings don’t know how to get up there yet so she can be ALONE!

That didn’t last long, of course, once they were able to fly up there themselves but it’s the thought that counted

Spent a lot of her youth Observing the workshops and the various goings on. A fascination with tinkering set in early.

Has tried to make things before but got bored quickly and ran off to do something else. She grows into the routines easier with age and patience being learned.

Headcanons:

After her success with the Grey Wolf, Rot would wind up lost within a fog that rolled in as she neared the borders of the domains. Leading to her eventual stumbling past the barrier into the Everrot, a rarely spoken pocket-dimension of a forest. Mostly due to the fact those who wander in don't often tend to come back out. Where she walked along the trails, recalling her mother's tellings of being aware to never stray far from them when in mysterious lands.

She's attacked twice, once by a large bear-bird like beast she dealt a few solid blows to with her cleaver. And the other by a...strange beast. Clad in metals and furs, it looked almost like a skydancer, but there was something deeply, deeply wrong with it. 

she swung to possibly kill the beast, and put that trapped soul out of its misery, but it seemed to know when pursuit is unwise and fled 

Surviving the trek let her to arrive at the Village at the center of the gorey forest, where she was PROMPTLY greeted by two curious creatures. One being a quick-witted but scattered talking Aether, who chattered to her about "odd visions" she may have seen, and another being a very enthusiastic mirror who kept asking her every question he could think of; who she is, where she's from, why's she smell funny, what's that big thing on her hip?

She resists kicking them away and merely growls asking where their inn is. ..Or if they even have one. The two look at each other and shout in unison "HIBISCUS!" before darting off further into the town. The aether grasps onto the mirror's back as the two run away fast as lightning.

Rot takes a deep breath, sniffing the air, and using their scent trails to follow them. Perhaps this "Hibiscus" they speak of will be any level of more helpful.

Upon meeting this Hibiscus, a retired Thronebreaker, who turns out to be the keeper of the local Tavern. Rot will learn the Skydancer they ‘met’ to be Asterion, an “infected” dragon she’s then advised to stay away from if she can. He was at one point their best hunter, and that skill has not left him even in his new corrupted state.

Whether or not she heeds these warnings depends on how she’s feeling that particular day

Somehow she gets roped into doing his job in his steed until some other idiot shows up.

Hibiscus offers her a place to stay in one of the upper rooms, she takes an eye around the surrounding supports to which he assures with a grin that the building will be able to support her. One of their frequent residences is a sizable imperial after all.

This satisfies her concerns for the night. Taking studying sniffs as she heads up the stairs to the room the brightly colored coatl handed her the key too.

There she passed out for the night, and in the morning figured out her next proceeding plans of action. 

First Objective: Escape

Second Objective: Wait what do you mean that’s pretty hard to do without a collapse on the horizon?

This does not go as she had planned it too. Finding herself unfortunately even more stuck and walking around and around in circles aimlessly in the forest. She realizes in order to escape this place.

She learns from Hibiscus some of the nature of this place, namely the legends of its origins and the curse upon those who become trapped within its walls.

Escape is not impossible, but it requires a few conditions

Rot proceeds to be trapped until one of the yearly Collapses, in which the gateway separating this world and Sorneith becomes thin enough to allow transport. 

You can enter at any time, she quickly learns, but leaving is a different story.

Rot builds a proper home in this village eventually, building it out of one of the old dying willow trees and driftwood and leather she makes. Materials and beasts within the forest provide a reasonable source.

She eventually learns the pathways, and learns the Aether is an oracle who can let her know where the Infected skydancer is wandering at the time so she can plan her trail route out of the forest accordingly.

Sends a letter home like “Sorry I vanished for 3 months I got lost in a fucked up forest.”

She's

Meets a strange dollmaker named Actaealba who takes an interest in her hide to add to his collection, but she proves too difficult of a hunt for his own. Now the two have a .. tenuous truce.

Actaealba finds beasts he wishes for his collection, and Rot goes to collect the body.

She refuses to do this without proper compensation via gil or gem. She hates working with this asshole.

Actaealba is also the imperial that Hibiscus alluded to

The two end up very good friends but they’ll never tell anyone else that. Rot refers to Actaealba as “Alby” cus that’s the only part of it she heard when he told her and he’s “tired of correcting her.”

Rot collects pelts she finds interest in to add to her slowly amassing collection, however particularly spectacular ones can lead to arguments between the two beings

Sometimes they get a little carried away during arguments

Sometimes arguments end with them both quietly wandering to the local craftsmen Tigerlily’s home to request a healing tonic or two.

No one acknowledges this

They’re like. Ferrets.

No further elaboration.

Plans for what Rot does:

Nomadic by nature, she uses the Everrotten Forest as a home-base of sorts she rounds back to through her travels over Sornieth. Her ever pungent bloodlust fueling her desire to keep moving. 

This absolutely has nothing to do with her odd habit of helping people along the way. Absolutely nothing.

That’s a lie. I’m lying to you, she’s unintentionally extremely helpful. Often slaying beasts that have been harassing villages, or putting down some-dragons’ loved ones whose bodies refuse to rest.

She takes the salvageable parts of the bodies and sells them for market. Sometimes she'll take the job of a sellsword, but that's not particularly common.

Butchers meat from her kills and wrap them in specially prepared leaves to preserve them for sale.

Her cleaver never leaves her side, and is her tool of choice for butchering large beasts down to more workable sizes.

Due to the fact she is Little. She’s forged herself a set of butchering knives made from sharpened teeth. 

During her explorations, she gathered the vertebrae-like vines and found them to be almost wood like when she broke them in half.

Using this information, she uses them and carves them to make handles for her tools. Giving her a durable set of butcher's knives she spends her mornings sharpening.

Writes letters to home in her journals often, whether or not they truly get sent varies, but she finds a strange comfort in describing the events she has experienced to the family member she believes will enjoy the tale the most.

Daddy’s horrid lil princess, etc etc /hj

“Writes” mostly to her siblings actually, whether it’s describing a temple or odd cult she stumbled upon to Riot, or drying “good smelling” plants in pages for Ravager to turn into a candle for her eventually.

She will never admit it to their faces, but she cares very deeply for her siblings, and though her thoughts may stray far from them at times, she will always return to wondering how they’re doing.

Okay maybe she’ll admit it like. Twice. Can’t let them think she entirely hates them.

Even if she would sell them out for the heart of a Godfall but shh

I think her family has one HELL of a time getting letters to her though, “The middle of Hell’s nowhere” is not a good address, Rot!”

It is entirely possible, after Tigerlily and Flui set up an enchanted mailbox for her.

Tigerlily built the box and Flui enchanted it

She owes Tigerlily a small favor for this but Flui is easily paid off via shiny bugs

Intended Payment: 555g

PIGLET APPLICATION #05 ROT THE BUTCHERESS.

RULES OF ENGAGEMENT:

These Piglets are for lore clans with a tumblr presence (sideblog, FR posting on mainblogs, etc you simply have to be a lore clan who engages with the community here on tumblr.)

Other players with their siblings (and myself with their parents) will be not only welcome to but encouraged to write interclan letters/in character messages to their siblings, and you'll have to be okay with everything that comes with that (On-Site DMs, the potential of a message going unanswered/etc) I would also appreciate if you ping me for the stuff you do with them because I want to see what they get up to <3

If you win one of the siblings, please refrain from applying for another, this is so everyone interested gets an opportunity and a fair shake at taking one of the girls home!

If you're the selected winner, the dragon is yours to do what you please with! (Regene, change species, rename, change gender identities/pronoun preferences, etc) I ask only that you have a lore/character reason for breed or name changes, as they'll be connected to a wider group of dragons that would need to know these things (What kind of dragon their sibling has become, What to call them in letters, etc) and if you can keep them a modern breed so they can keep their cleavers, well that'd just be nice for their old man Pig.

Please honor the basic lore of the dragon you win, you're welcome to rewrite/reinterpret the lore they arrive with, but please don't eliminate that history entirely, since they'll be interwoven with other clans/players!

[and a big thank you to Khadjin for reminding me I never mentioned this yet!] my lore deviates pretty substantially from site lore. however every aspect can be explained within the context of the site, please don't feel like you have to adopt my headcanons to participate in these!- my "Lesser Gods" are nothing more than magically afflicted/overcharged spirits or magically mutated dragons created in a reactor explosion somewhere in Lightning and some timeloop silliness, and the 'Gaps' are highly concentrated leylines caused by this incident. the eleven gods of sornieth remain the only true gods in my lore much like the site on the whole!- the Piglets and their parents simply lived under the affliction of spirits, cults, and mutated dragons and contextualized them as "Gods" the very same way we create urban myth/legends. While they would know of The Host and the Gaps because of the direct effect both have had on their parents, they are not required to have continued to believe in them as "Higher beings" and can have learned in their time away from their family that these things are likely, little more than the arcane gone haywire.

BLANK APPLICATION

Please copy/paste and fill this out in a Reblog here on tumblr or send it to me through my submit box here so I can keep track of things on a per-dragon basis for the course of the 48-hours each application will be active!

FR Username/Numbers: Basic Clan Lore: (just a general description of the lore/area of your clan you intend to place this hatchling in!) Plans For Dragon: (A little description of any of your ideas, headcanons, story beats, etc you're thinking of for the dragon you're applying for! This can be anything you've got in mind, scries, outfits, etc, feel free to go as big or as little as you want, I wanna see what's going on in your head!) Intended Payment: (These dragons will be PWYW, but I need everyone to acknowledge they're not free, so whatever you're planning on paying/trading for them, even if you change your mind when the time comes, stick something here.)

RINGLEADER'S HEADCANONS

These are just some smaller lore bits and pieces you're welcome to use or disregard for each child, things that I couldn't fit into the bios in a way that made sense. much like the example outfit photo up-top, this is for fun or stuff to help get ideas flowing, if you're stuck!

While all the hatchlings have a song blurb that fits them in their bio, Rot actually ended up with a second one stuck in my head working on her, and it's been categorically "IN MY BLOOD" by Wage War. specifically? "Learned that all good things are earned and learned to live off the land // I close my eyes and hear those words from my old man: Never start what you can't finish with your own two hands." as she's not only the daughter most like her father in lifestyle, but the one with the most prevalent taste for a fight.

If her sisters have been somewhat bear-coded, big and dangerous with a noted regality, Rot is the veritable cougar or wolf. Powerful and deadly with a slinky, thinner frame built for stealth over brute strength. For this reason, she fights with her cleaver differently- using the heavy piece of steel to dig into the ground and anchor steady whilst she whirls around it with smaller, more maneuverable weapons.

She's got Pig's oddly southern drawl, and while her sisters may not have taken it on as prevalently, Rot sounds every bit like she grew up in the backwoods, rumbling a 'darlin' on smoky, rough vocal chords.

Magically primed in the Godfall, Rot now bears the ability to camouflage herself via bending and twisting light off her scales- it is a clumsy, unhoned talent at the moment, and requires the regular intake of magic harvested from other sources.

THIS APPLICATION IS OPEN FROM 5:30 PM DECEMBER 10TH, 2024, TO 5:30 PM DECEMBER 12TH, 2024. REBLOGS AFTER THIS TIME WILL BE DISQUALIFIED FROM THE RUNNING.

And here's the pinglist! (Aren't you all glad I'm done with this now?)

@hor-wod-flir @harpyartisan @fuiran @terra-tortoise @bawkrya

@pocketmouse-fr @spongyspingy-rising @avalonianrising @clansunsharp @khadjin-fr

[begrudginglytumbling]

Part One, Part Two, Part Three, Part Four, Part Five, Part Six

Part Five!

Now with gifs!...since I’ve learnt the most basic of basic gifmaking and it was actually quicker than trying to pause at just the right moment, which has been enough of an issue previously to make me swear through gritted teeth.

Time for Love O2O - that’s both the film and the series since the little overachiever just had to get cast in both.

Ready?

Bai Yu plays a character called Cao Guang in both the film and drama. In the film he seems to be a smushed together version of what in the drama are two separate people.

Now then do you see this slightly bewildered expression while looking at a computer screen? Because this was basically me watching Love O2O, both film and drama.

Why the bewilderment?

Well, I’ve come to expect a certain level of odd sitting and leaning from Bai Yu. I almost expect all his characters to be some form of Bi Disaster now. But Cao Guang? So far I’ve never seen Bai Yu sit so straight. It’s slightly unnerving, in a similar way to if someone went into your house and moved things just slightly to the left. There’s not enough of a difference to cause major problems, but there’s enough for your mind to feel uncomfortable and twitchy because something is just off.

I mean, don’t get me wrong, he still does his Bai Yu thing, but it’s almost muted, I suppose is the best word to use for it.

We’ll start with the film version, which also has the alternate title of One Smile is Very Alluring apparently.

Before this moment, he’s actually sitting properly at the desk. Both feet were on the floor and everything which was just weird. But then he stood and transitioned into a lean, that made it a little less weird.

This is, technically, also further evidence that if something is at Bai Yu butt height, he will lean/sit on it. I think I’m going to have to start capitalising it since Bai Yu Butt Height now seems to be a Thing.

(I could not get this paused at just the right moment, so here, have a gif)

And look here! He’s sitting kinda properly and only vaguely uncomfortable looking, but that has more to do with the situation than the sitting.

Seriously, so weird.

If we stick with just the general premise of ‘does he sit or doesn’t he’ then being on a horse counts...even though watching the game scenes hurt me in a major secondhand embarrassment way. Just...the outfits, people, and the hair...I just...I can’t.

At one point he gets his arse handed to him multiple times, which leads to quite a bit of time on the floor.

Even the set refuses to let Bai Yu get up and support his own body weight apparently. The weirdness of him standing under his own power is obviously just too much.

Too odd.

Too strange.

He must be returned to his natural state of being.

The car magnet he’s got implanted in his backside did manage to do its job though...even if it was in the background and barely lasted a couple of seconds at most.

Now then, the drama. Admittedly I only got to episode 11 then I started skipping because I got a bit bored with the main pairing and general story. But the bits I skipped to? Yeah...I may have gone a little over fixated on the whole way of sitting thing since I found myself analysing the degree of leg bend when his feet weren’t in shot to gauge whether or not both feet were planted on the ground or if one was on top of the other and...yeah, let’s just say it was a good thing when I got to the end of this drama. For what remains of my sanity if nothing else.

Look, most of the time, if he’s not standing and walking, he’s like this.

Sitting properly, feet on the floor. And yeah, it counts as not supporting his own weight. But what happened to the floor is lava? How hard was it for him not to cross his legs, or put one foot on top of the other, or rest his feet on something else?

He does cross this legs sometimes, and you can even see it fully a couple of times.

Like here, this is what I’ve come to expect. This is a normal seated look for this man.

He sits.

He flicks one leg over the other.

He’s happy.

Simple.

But most of the time, he doesn’t have his legs crossed in this drama. Which led me to leaning forward and squinting at the screen when moments like this came along.

Because those legs are crossed. I’m sure of it.

Cao Guang, as a character, is not the kind of person to sit like this often. Bai Yu, as a person, can’t seem to stop himself fully though.

And look at this.

When it comes to this desk, this is the weirdest he sits. Which isn’t weird at all! It’s still kinda sitting properly!

And then this. This is one of those moments where I spent way too long staring at his legs trying to determined if he had one foot on top of the other.

From the angle, and the shadows, and the different heights of his knees, I have decided that yes, he does had one foot on top of the other. He is playing the floor is lava when the camera can’t see his feet.

(...don’t judge me for diving off the deepend on this one. I’m already judging myself hard enough)

Cao Guang might not be much of a weird sitter, but he is still a slight leaner if the opportunity presents itself.

Especially in Bai Yu Butt Height circumstances.

But in general, he’s less of a full body lean, and more of a light, quick lean. And it always seems to be on things he himself has placed there.

Like a moped,

or a camera.

He does sit on the floor in a sweaty mess after having his arse handed to him in a 1 on 1 basketball game.

Seriously, if you want a sweat physically dripping off of him Bai Yu, then this is the scene for you.

Further sittingwise you have some general sitting in what I think it meant to be a foreign country(?).

And the delightful lift-and-turn he’s got going on here.

(and I’ve only just realised that ErXi has her hand up as though if she can’t see the teacher, then the teacher can’t see her. I adore this woman, she’s just so cute)

Hospitals.

Every character of Bai Yu’s I’ve encountered so far has a different way of sititng in hospitals.

Zhao Yunlan looks like he’s barely seconds away from either sliding to the floor or giving himself back problems, Xie Nanxiang is partial to a lean or a cross legged sit. Cao Guang? I would describe it as he sits like a bloke - legs spread, elbows resting on his knees. This might honestly be the straightest Bai Yu character I’ve ever encountered.

Of course he also has an in-game character in this. The wig is less cringe worthy than in the film, but there is something about his eyes in this that freaks me the fuck out so you won’t be getting on the floor pictures or looking in the direction of the camera pictures because looking at it too much seems to trigger a mild fight, flight, or freeze response in me. And I’m in no mood to deal with such ridiculousness.

So, in game character. He does spend time on the floor, only a little though. Most of his time is actually spent walking. But then they get in a boat and Bai Yu gets to indulge in his favoured elbow hook seated position generally reserved for benches and breakfast bar surface things when he’s on a stool.

Ok, last but not least, the moped!

This is a moped that birthed a headcanon for me.

It would seem that regardless of character, if something is a form of transport with wheels, then Bai Yu will find some way to sit or lean on it.

And y’know what? He is fully capable of looking damned good while doing so.

So that’s it? I think the conclusion I can draw from this one is that Bai Yu’s sitting, leaning, and lounging habits are things he can either turn up or tone down depending on the character. It’s just that more often than not the characters he plays allow him to turn it up. But Gao Guang was one of the more subdued ones, more straight blokey vibes, than Bi Disaster ones.

Both film and drama are available on Netflix (at least here in the UK they are).

They’re also on YouTube - film - drama - with subtiles and pretty good quality.

And both are on DramaCool - film - drama

The drama is on Viki too.

Part One, Part Two, Part Three, Part Four, Part Five, Part Six

[popculturebuffet]

Why You Should Watch Final Space: A Memorial for one of The Best Shows in Adult Swim's History

Saturday.. it felt like I emotoinally got hit by a truck. And I want you to keep in mind the kind of good day I was having: I went out with one of my best friends, Cory, found amazing presents for my Mom and Brother's christmas , ON SALE no less, and saw the trancendent David Bowie Documentary/Immersive David Bowie Experince/Trip Moonage Daydream, a film i'd been wanting to see since finding out it existed months ago and it did not disapoint. And I capped it off by binging a bunch of quantum leap, which I have been lately at my mom's suggestion (yes i'm a 30 year old man who still listens to my Mom), and loving.

So during this I get a message from @weirdkev27. Olan Rogers Final Space, which wasn't already in the best straits having been canceled last year and with Olan Rogers struggling so hard against corprate dumbassery to continue it somehow he took the step of making a spirtual succesor, Goodspeed, via kickstarter to drum up intrest.

So the nightmare entity that is WBD rewarded this work by.. taking Final Space off EVERY platform. And that's not hyperbole. In addition to the usual stripping from HBO Max they've scrubbed it from every digital platform with only scant episodes remaining at BEST. It makes me fearful enough to make plans to get at least a few episodes of close enough off youtube before THAT'S gone too.

It's a move that somehow goes BEYOND previous dickishness. Deplatforming it from HBO Max was bad enough, WBD COULD make money simply selling them to other streamers and their stock isn't remotely going up. They are not in bad finacial straits. There is ZERO need to keep doing this. But making it ENTIRLEY unpurchasable both makes no sense and is just making things WORSE. Removing tons of shows and films already made them look bad.

It's a decision that rightfully angered Rogers who again, has been working his ass off to SOMEHOW continue this only to be hit with this (And who I dunno MIGHT OF FOUND SOME WAY TO BUY THE SERIES FROM YOU IF YOU ASKED), and for me as a fan and someone whose been following this situation... it drove me to dispair.

Now granted I get it, not everyone would go into despair over not being able to watch a cartoon, espcailly when there are .. other means and WBD just made said means entirely valid by cutting off all standard avenues of watching something. It's not like I can't watch the show.

No what made me despair was EVERYTHING it meant. It meant WBD despite MASSIVELY bad, continuing press, dropping stocks and no one BUT wall street being on their side, REFUSES to listen. It meant that my worst fears of any show not caught in the initial purge being removed no matter how succesful or unsuccesful are frighteningly true. WBD cares for NOTHING but what they can sell for parts. It has me BEGGING for a comcast buyout which I acknowledge is not a great thing: Comcast is only a marginally better company and their subsidary universal's treatment of Dead Meat and other content creators has been legendarily awful this month, and monopoly's are bad. But at this point we have people's life's works getting thrown in the shredder every other week, no teling what will go and stay in no saftey. It's getting me to watch Primal and Harley Quinn soon simply because I DON'T know how much longer either has left on the platform after sitting on them for far too long. There's no telling if something will last a week or 5 minutes, and no way to get them once it's gone.

As someone who reviews animation for a living, got a patreon to prove it , this is horrifying and if Netflix's removal of Hemlock Grove is an indicator and not just a fluke, this might get worse. I could easily see a one season wonders like I Love Arlo or Twelve Forever getting removed. It'd probably mean the end of the Will Arnett Vehicle that wasted having will arnett Flake, but one good does not make up for the bad and even not liking the show people should have the option to make the mistake of watching Flake because they like Will Arnett.

It felt like what I do.. didn't matter for a second. That no matter how hard I love something it'll just go away. It wasn' tjust this either: Owl House is ending (With Disney cheekily deciding to spread out the finale movies to promote it as if they realized it's worth montiarily but still not enough creatively to try making more (or Dana turned them down which yeah, if so fair enough), Ducktales is gone, Amphibia ended, and a lot of the best shows left are on Amazon (Which is thankfully safe but has a small pool) or in WBD's clutches like Craig of the Creek. Which is probably safe for now but we don't know it'l lbe forever. I felt like giving up. I mean depression and a manic episode will do that to you, but it didn't mean part of me truly didn't feel that it was over. That no matter what i did it'd just die and nothing I dose matters. Thankfully my cry for help was heard by my good friend Marco who you can find here on twitter (and you can find yours truly HERE if your at all curious and he reminded me of something: That talking about these works, both in the past with all the hope that there was a bright future and no idea what laid in store and now keeps them alive. That my work, for it's highs and lows, keeps a light on these fine works and might get people to check them out

Hence this article. Instead of just raging against WBD for being monsters I should eulogize the work and get those on the fence about it, espically since it DOES end on a massive cliffhanger or who may of not liked the first episode or so to dive deep into final space. And for those who loved it it not only gives you a tool to spread it to your friends, but something to remember it by while we wait for it to turn up somewhere else in the future like Sym-Bionic Titan, or to somehow luck into one of the few remaning blu ray sets (Seriously if you have one I will make an offer. A low offer but an offer). And yes this is in addition to other planned works for the week but when the inspiration strikes sometimes you gotta go with it. So to start us out

What Even Is Final Space?

Final Space is an animated series by Olan Rogers, an animator who started out on youtube (even publishing FS' pilot there) before the show's pickup by TBS. If that sounds like a bad omen it indeed was as TBS' attempted animatoin lineup fell apart: Tarantula only lasted a season, The Cops never got made because Louis CK is a piece of shit and Close Enough struggled in limbo till it got picked up by HBO Max, a blessing and a curse.

Final Space is the story of Gary Goodspeed (Played by Rogers himself) , the son of the legendary John Goodspeed who as part of the Infinity Guard (Think Starfleet), was a great hero who tragically died sealing a rift in space. After being abandoned by his mom Gary wandered around, became a petty crook and in trying to impress one of the Infnity Guards best and brightest, Quinn Argone (Tika Sumpter) .. and ends up accidently destroying a bunch of ships and a taco stand, instead earning him a 5 year prison sentence.

Naturally his sentence, being stuck aboard the Galaxy 1 with his only companions being HUE (Played by The Legendary Tom Kenny), a seemingly emotionless AI who punishes him for the slightest wrong due to his rigid programming and K.V.N., a cyclopic orb played by Fred Armisen whose INTENDED to keep Gary sane but does the oppsite by being just that damn annoying. As a result Gary tries sending Quinn tons of mildly creepy vlogs (though hte fact he's sending them at all is questionable), and is barely holding on by a thread when adventure calls and a tiny green orb of a creatue (with two more orbs for maxiumum adorable) wonders near them and is rescued by Gary, who quickly dubs the lil guy Mooncake (Rogers again)

Naturally things can't be THAT easy or we wouldn't have a series and it turns out Mooncake is sought after by the Lord Commander (David Tennant), an utterly terrfiying tyrant with empires at his beck and call who wants Mooncake as the key to get into "Final Space" as part of a plan to become a godlike entity known as a titan. He sends his former right hand Avacato (Coty Galloway, a friend of rogers), and uses Cato's son , Little Cato (the always amazing Steven Yuen in the first roll I saw him in and his breakout voice acting roll) as a barganing chip. Avacato quickly forms an incredibly homoerotic (as in once psychically contacting each other by saying "Feel me" and appearing in a majestic wheat field with Gary suddenly shirtless, their pratically together levels of homoerotic), but incredibly sweet and genuine bond with Gary.

The two quickly get a fifth to the group with Quinn, whose investigating a hole in space near earth that the Infinity Guard is refusing to investigate for reasons you can probably guess, and soon teams up with our heroes are her only option of closing it. Together they must try to save little cato, close up the hole, and hopefully bond as a crew with Avacato learning to trust his new friend/love of his life and Quinn learning to do the same and realize the importance in saving little cato. KVN sadly dosen't learn to stop being annoying.

Naturally as the series goes on things get complicated. I wont spoil how as the series is heavily serialized, but needless to say things only get worse before they get better and along the way our heroes pick up more crew: Little Cato, who turns out to be an adorably hyperactive ball of energy who takes to Gary as a second dad, Nightfall(Sumpter Again) , a hardened older alternate quinn trying to badly prevent her own history from repeating itself, Bolo, a badass entity voiced by keith david who soon proves crucial to the series myth arcs and their success, Ash Grayven, an adorable teen cyclops voiced by Ashly Burch with a mysterious and terrible dark power who quickly became one of my faviorites, her brother Fox, voiced by Ron Funches before his career REALLY took off in the rol ltha tmade me love him, a tender giant with a gattling arm hand, a hatred for violence and for ventrexians, the Catos species, which give shim and LC a rivarly, Clarence, played by Conan O'Brian (Yes you read that correct), a skeezy little man who isn't at all fond of gary but is fond of half brained scheems and who adopted Ash and Fox, and Biskit, a tiny white cat again played by Rogers whose a technical wiz with no social skills or politness in his tiny body.

Together they try to survive out there in the void dealing with the Lord Commander and eventually other baddies: Todd H Watson (Played by Alan Tudyk) a forgetable villlian in a muppet suit despite again being played by Alan Tudyk, Cheryl, Claudia Black, Gary's fanservicey serial criminal mom who abandoned him and blames him for her marriage failing, and Invictus, the mysterious nightmarish entity behind everything.

Tone wise Final Space admitely starts off slightly rocky: Gary is a bit shouty (something that would get toned down as the series progressed , especially in Season 2 as Rogers, being a great dude, actually took fan feedback seriously), some of the jokes don't land and it takes a bit for the characters who aren't gary or Avacato to grow on you with HUE and Quinn not being the most likeable to start, HUE being Gary's warden and not shutting up about it and Quinn having to learn to both get help from others and that the mission to rescue LIttle Cato IS important. Understandably keeping one of the main characters imprisoned and not shutting up about it and refusing to rescue a child being used as a baragning chip, arne't great but both grow on you as they do: Quinn learns to stop being as regimented and let Gary in, and HUE is incredibly likeable once i'ts clear he actually does like gary and his previous behavior was him being literally programmed to do his job. Once the sentence is up he not only gladly keeps being Gary's AI, but admits too that KVN sucks.

It's worth sticking with though; The voice peformances are phenomoinal with rogers doing FOUR rolls, sometimes all in the same scene, and probably more i've forgotten, and easily being the standout in a cast full of actors I love in anything (Tennant, Burch, Yuen, David and Funches) and actors I love because of this series (galloway, black and sumpter). If Rogers needs something to help get him by while he tries to revivie this series or find a new project, he'd make a killing with voice work, as would Galloway.

Animatoin wise while the art style seems simple, it's incredibly gorgeous, with space depicted with shocking accuracey, and some truly gorgeous and haunting shots. It really makes everything feel as epic as the scopes says.

The writing once it gets to buisness really hit's it's stride ballancing comedy with the characters tragic pasts and loveable personalitiess; In the same episode we have the gang bet the ship on a game of the calvinball esque thimbles, a game with visors, laser bats, comblicated rules and dismemberment equalling points (which gary gladly abuses once he finds out to shoot clarence).. and then sequges into Ash's tragic backstory of her sister being sacrificed to a serpent god, her killing everyone present except said god, and her having to learn to let go of her pain in the belly of said beast. The show can be goofy as hell while still having a deep mythology, characters you love and cry over and some truly horrifying moments. And again a literal pissing match which you have to see for yourself.

I both wanted to show it off.. and to also prove that this did in fact happen and was indeed fun depsite having absolutely no right to be.

The show ballanced that with true moments of heartache, epic grandeaur and heart. Most of which I CAN'T share as while i've dropped some spoilers here, there's only so much I can spoil without just telling you about it beat for beat.

So please find a way and check out Final Space, Talk about it, tell your friends. Keep this series alive... both to show all this effort Olan, his writers, his animators, and his voice crew all put in didn't go to waste, and to show that people care. That this mattered. And that this show won't go away no matter how badly they try to write it off. It's back to back for life. Thanks for reading, consider joining my patreon, have a good evening.

[pinky-the-elephant-room]

Lapis Lazuli

⊙ AN: Hello! I spent an entire month on this prompt. It's my love letter to Gojo. He has affirmed my kink for mentor characters. This is very very AU. Keep that in mind as you read.

Warning: Brief Explicit Smut, Dubcon, Smoking, Alcohol, and Casual mentions of death. Read at your own personal risk. Gojo Satoru x Fem Reader

⊙⊙⊙⊙

She put her lips around the cigarette and took a deep, satisfying drag. Already she could feel nicotine working its magic and giving her the much-needed relief she so desired.

“Ara, you know smoking isn’t good for you.” A voice mocked behind her. Y/N could feel irritation bubbling inside of her, and she turned around abruptly to face whoever was interrupting her alone time. It was a curious-looking man with white hair and a blindfold around his eyes. She knew Jujutsu sorcerers came up with weird ways to cover up their eyes, but he had to be the tackiest. “And what’s it to you?” she asked before puffing out a white film in his direction.

If he felt any discomfort by the smoke, Y/N didn’t get the satisfaction of making him cough. He just stepped closer, and she heard his taunting voice once again.

“It’s just a shame that a beautiful woman like you developed such a nasty habit.”

If his goal was to annoy her, well, he managed to accomplish it with ease. She was only acquainted with him for a few minutes, and he already irritated her more than any of the suitors sent by the elders did. Wait, was he a suitor?

Her spine stiffened, and she put out her cigarette bud by crushing it under her heel.

“Alright, let’s get this over with, pretty boy. And seriously, a blindfold? Regular sunglasses don’t do it for you?”

She let her comments settle only to get a smirk in return.

Y/N studied his customized uniform. He seemed like he had it together until you got to his face. Well, whatever, some of the sorcerers had to have a screw loose to keep working in this unfortunate career.

“Let’s get one thing straight,” she continued. “I’m not interested in marriage. I never will be. I’m ready to accept my fate and die a premature death. Give the elders a sob story of how I wasn’t to your liking. And we won’t have to play a charade for weeks on end.”

She waited for him to digest her words and walked up to him to pat his shoulders once.

“I’m glad we had this talk,” she said with a brilliant smile.

In return, he responded with a creepier smile, and Y/N immediately felt the humor dissipate.

She gave him a weird look and went on her way to her dwelling, more like a prison.

Y/N stared at the dormitory that was tucked away from the rest of the campus. Most students didn’t even know she existed, and the knowledge was only on a need-to-know basis with the teachers. She gave a dispassionate sigh before stepping inside the building. She took her time taking off her shoes and glanced at the caretaker who walked in.

“Y/N-sama! I’m glad your back. Someone is here to see you.”

Again? Was it the same suitor she encountered earlier?

Y/N held in a furious growl and walked towards the living room to give him a piece of her mind. Only it wasn’t the white-haired man but some other scrub.

“Who are you?” she demanded. Y/N heard the older woman behind her shift nervously, no doubt twitching at her lack of manners. The man gave her a hasty bow in greeting before straightening up.

“L/N-sama, it’s a pleasure I’m here at the decree of the elders-“

Blah, blah, and blah. Y/N, at this point, tuned him out. She stared at him contemplatively. If this man was her suitor, who the heck was that other man she encountered in the courtyard? His presence had indicated a powerful sorcerer. Whatever his capabilities were, his creepy self would have been more entertaining than the dull man in front of her.

As Y/N settled down to start the Miai officially, she sipped the green tea given graciously by the old caretaker, who she thanked quietly under her breath.

Still, Y/N couldn’t help but wonder what the mysterious man’s eyes looked like.

⊙⊙⊙⊙

The sunset over the horizon, and she couldn’t remember the last time she stopped to watch the beautiful surroundings. Y/N arrived at Tokyo Jujutsu High just a few weeks ago, and the treatment plan was already helping. No doubt it was due to Ieiri-san’s expertise. Maybe it was possible to enjoy a few more years frivolously before she succumbed to the grave.

Y/N eyed the black dress with colorful flower patterns she had on and smiled. Looking beautiful even at the worst of her failing health was a much-needed break from her awful reality. Ever since she came to this school, she accepted her inevitable fate, but that didn’t mean her corpse couldn’t be fabulous when it was being buried.

She fished out the lighter from her purse and held it up to light her cigarette. After a few flicks, it still wouldn’t light, and she let out a groan. At this point, it would be a mercy to throw the useless lighter away and buy a better one. But it held too many precious memories for her.

Y/N once again flicked the cigarette lighter with a scowl, only for it to spark a few times before failing once more.

“Here, let me.” A hand reached over and took the lighter out of her hands.

She glanced up and was startled to recognize the strange white-haired man from the other day.

“Hey… Aren’t you the guy who said smoking was bad?” she asked with heavy sarcasm. “Should you be helping me with my nasty habit?”

“And shouldn’t you be getting married by now? After all, time is not on your side, Y/N-chan.”

She turned to give him her undivided attention. “So, you did know who I was. But I’m afraid I don’t know who you are.”

He bowed exaggeratedly, almost verging on disrespect. “The name’s Gojo Satoru. Teacher here at Jujutsu Kaisen.”

Y/N’s eyebrows raised in surprise. “The most powerful sorcerer, am I correct? The elders don’t really like you.”

“And you’re the elders’ pet project-" With a flick, he had lighted her cigarette with no issue and handed over her belongings.

She scowled and reached for her cigarette.

“I think I prefer you smiling at me,” Gojo said with a chortle.

Y/N refused to entertain him with a response and turned back to the beautiful scenery she was appreciating while taking a drag.

“I have a question for you. The last time we talked, you said you didn’t want to get married. But your curse is unique in that it’s generational. You won’t be able to survive unless you pass it on. Why haven’t you?” he asked while leaning into the side of her face. She could smell hints of his masculine scent. “Unless you’re the type to wait for romance?”

Y/N let out a scoff and chuckled disbelievingly at his statement.

“When you’re born with a fate like mine. You don’t harbor hopes. Instead, you make plans. I planned to survive until my 20s and die alone. I’m ending the curse on my terms.”

He clapped his hands almost as if he realized something important.

“So, you’re a martyr? How noble.”

Y/N took a deep inhale and held the smoke in before blowing it out in a circle.

“Nothing noble about not wanting my curse to pass down to my progeny. More like decency, something the old geezers have forgotten in their lives.”

Gojo let out a giggle at the insult, and Y/N gazed at him incredulously.

“Ah, gomen. It just warms my heart to know someone else hates the same people I do.”

This was the most powerful sorcerer in Japan? Well, Japan was screwed. Good thing she would be dead before everyone else would realize it.

She sucked in the cigarette smoke accidentally and let out harrowing coughs. Gojo came to stand next to her and forcibly took the cigarette from her. He calmly waited for Y/N to quit coughing before interrupting her.

“Another question for you. Indulge my curiosity. Why are those old men protecting you with such intensity? And specifically, forbade me from interacting with you? What’s so special about you, Y/N-chan? Other than the fact you used to be strong until you got sick from the same curse that made you strong.”

She coughed a few more times to settle her irritated chest and wiped the wetness from her eyes. The way he was pestering her was almost cute, like a puppy begging for food. Almost.

“Don’t you think it’s pretty presumptuous of you to demand answers? After all, we only just met, Gojo-sensei. “

“Gojo-sensei, huh. But I think you’re too old to be my student unless you’re looking for lessons late at night. In that case, I’m happy to offer my services,” Gojo replied with a salacious grin.

She ignored the sensation of her ears becoming hotter and rolled her eyes.

“Well, this has been enlightening, but I have somewhere to be.”

“Already? What a shame, and we were so close to becoming friends too.”

Y/N never knew how unnerving it was to see a full-blown pout from a grown man.

She left without another word, and as Y/N made her way back, she heard Gojo yell out.

“Tell Shoko I said hello, Y/N-chan!”

Y/N scoffed and continued uninterrupted towards her appointment.

She made her way to the office of Ieiri Shoko, the brown-haired woman with permanent raccoon eyes. She was skeptical of the woman’s skills at first despite being assured by the elders she would be taken care of by Tokyo Jujutsu Tech. It wasn’t until Ieiri-san’s curse technique relieved the pain her body experienced that Y/N admitted being here had some merit.

“Well, it doesn’t look like you’re improving, but you’re not getting worse either,” Ieiri-san murmured.

As the resident doctor was putting her stuff away, Y/N took it as a sign to slide black straps of her dress back on.

“Hello! I’m here,” a voice announced before the door was broken in.

Startled, she hurriedly tugged the top of her dress back securely and glared at the unconcerned man.

“You can’t just barge in. My patient’s still getting dressed,” Y/N heard Ieiri-san scold her colleague.

“Souka, I’m terribly sorry,” Gojo replied, sounding anything but sorry. In fact, he seemed pretty satisfied.

“Y/N-chan! Konbawa, what a coincidence.”

“Coincidence, my ass,” Y/N grumbled underneath her breath. “Ieiri-san, I’m going to take my leave. Thanks for your hard work.”

She bowed to the doctor and stepped out of the office without acknowledging the other individual in the room. As she left, Y/N heard the two of them conversing amongst themselves. Thinking that he was probably being kept busy by the resident doctor, her shoulders slumped, and a sense of relief coursed throughout her body.

“So, how was the visit? Any good news?” A voice breathed into her ear.

Alarmed, Y/N aimed for the sensations with her fist.

Only to hear the smack of her knuckles against a palm. Agitated, she looked up to see a familiar face whose eyes were covered.

“Whoa, I see your reflexes are still sharp despite being forcibly retired for how many years now?”

“Three years,” she hissed, unhappy that this strange man was bringing up a topic that was still sensitive to her.

If he cared about her displeasure, his face didn’t overtly show it other than a raised eyebrow.

“So…?” he gestured for her to continue.

Y/N fought the urged to give in her to frustration and quietly answered. “Nothing new. Still dying.”

“Well, you wouldn’t be dying if you had someone to pass the curse onto.”

“And I told you exactly why I couldn’t do that. Or are you thick of hearing?” Though she answered with a smile, a bit of her anger was leaked through her words.

Gojo let out a laugh. “Oooo, so she does get mad. How cute.”

He then came closer, and Y/N eyed him warily. She wasn’t scared of him, even if he was unnerving. Due to his sheer presence, her senses were on high alert and were uncomfortably aware of everything.

Gojo bent down slightly at her eye level and whispered.

“That woman who’s taking care of you is not trustworthy. She’s a spy for that old man in Kyoto.”

Y/N stiffened, and a frown materialized on her face. Surely, he was mistaken. Kyoko-baasan had been the utmost help when Y/N was relocated from Kyoto to Tokyo, taking care of her every need. But there were incidences even Y/N admitted were suspicious. Like how she always made a phone call at 10 PM without exception. Even though the older woman informed her she had no surviving family. Who else would she talk to with such an urgency but Gakuganji-sama? Now everything made sense.

“Don’t worry as far as you’re concerned; your health is her top priority. Her reports are disgustingly in detail about every inch of your body. It’s almost disturbing.” Yet Gojo seemed confused somehow like he expected Kyoko-baasan to poison her or something.

She sighed. “Of course not. Me dying would ruin all of their ambitions.”

“And what sort of plans are we talking about here?” Gojo asked, pondering with a fist under his chin. “Like the evil, underhanded tactics for the greater good kind?”

Though it was clearly a joke, Y/N couldn’t help but feel there was a hint of seriousness underneath that levity.

“Nothing you have to worry about. But I think it’s time I made my way back. It’s been a long day.” Thanks in no part to the man in front of her. But more importantly, he was asking about information he didn’t need to know. For her safety. If the elders were man-eating sharks, then Gojo Satoru was an unknown predator. At least she was knowingly swimming with sharks. If she swam with him, who knows what he could turn out to be?

“Of course. I’m teaching my adorable students tomorrow, so I’ll be taking my leave as well. Ja ne Y/N-chan!”

The man waved goodbye enthusiastically as he waited for Y/N to make herself scarce.

Step by step, she walked farther and farther away, yet his gaze seemed fixed upon her. Funny how ominous his stare was despite being covered. Goosebumps erupted across her skin, and she hurried her pace, glad to escape his scrutiny.

⊙⊙⊙⊙

“I’ll be back, Y/N-sama.” Kyoko-baasan said as she bowed.

Y/N needed her out of the house for a little while. Ever since Gojo had revealed her, it was hard not to notice the older woman’s heavy gaze throughout the day. It was suffocating, to say the least. So, an impromptu trip to the supermarket it was.

“Come back safely,” Y/N replied, not taking her eyes off the T.V. She gave it about ten more minutes before turning off the T.V. and tossing the remote aside. She had maybe an hour tops to do whatever she wanted without added scrutiny. Yawning, Y/N slumped against the sofa and stared outside of the window.

Only to jolt with surprise when she saw Gojo Satoru staring back at her with a grin.

‘What the actual fuck’, she mouthed to herself.

Y/N was pretty sure she hated this man. Sure, he was the supposed sorcerer that fought evil that plagued humanity. But she was pretty sure Gojo was the evil haunting her. She gingerly stepped out, making sure to take her time in the vain hope that she might have been hallucinating.

“Yes? Did you need something?”

“Weeeell, I saw your handler step out, so I thought it might be a good time to visit you.”

“She’s not my handler, Gojo-sensei.” Y/N waved him in reluctantly and watched the sunny weather outside longingly before following him.

“You’re right, not a handler but definitely a spy. Can you quit with the sensei stuff? I think you should call me Satoru.”

“Gojo-san, would you like something to eat?” she asked, praying he would say no and get to the point of why he was here.

The man just sighed heavily and with grave disappointment, asked for something sweet.

“Sorry. No can do we’re all out, which is why Kyoko-baasan is out grocery shopping.”

“If you knew why did you ask?” his frown became even more severe.

Y/N shrugged. “Just to be polite.”

Instead of getting annoyed like she expected, he just let out a chuckle. “You know I’m getting the feeling that you might not like me very much. That is such a shame because I like you very much. Imagine all the fun we can have.”

Ignoring the way he purred the last few words, she asked, “Fun? What kind of fun are you talking about?”

Gojo raised an eyebrow, and his grin became more wicked.

She laughed forcefully and waited for him to drop the act. “W-wait, you’re not kidding? That’s a terrible idea. Imagine how many people we would piss off.”

“All the more reason to do it. You’re not planning to live, and I hate my superiors. We kill two birds with one stone.”

“Wait. What does me dying have to do with your..your plan?”

Gojo got up from the sofa where he was casually lounging like he owned the place since she welcomed him in and approached her.

She flinched when he put both of his hands on her shoulders in what he intended to be in a reassuring manner. But all it did was ignite the fire underneath her skin.

“If you’re going to die, you should at least do it with a bang. And trust me, any night with me ends with a bang.”

Maybe if Y/N weren’t so flabbergasted, she would have laughed at the cheesy line, but now it hardly registered as she stared horrified at his daringness. Not horrified if she was honest more like fascinated. He seemed like he wanted to invite trouble.

She nervously swallowed and blinked rapidly. “So, in your brilliant plan, I die while having the time of my life, and you get to pick a fight.”

“Nonono,” Gojo quickly shook his head. “In my brilliant plan, you die because of mind-blowing orgasms rather than horrifying curses. It’s a better way to go, in my opinion.”

“Oh my god. You’re serious.”

He let go of her shoulders, and immediately Y/N missed the heat from his palms. He took hold of her hand and bent down. Y/N felt shivers down her spine. It almost felt like he was looking through her behind the darkened sunglasses he wore.

Gojo gingerly kissed the tips of her fingers. “Think about it and let me know. I’m always around on campus, so when you decide, you know where to find me.”

He didn’t stick around long after turning her world asunder. It seemed like he said what he wanted to and left Y/N to her thoughts. Needless to say, when Kyoko-baasan returned, and she found Y/N to be a bit distracted, she couldn’t possibly even speculate the reason for Y/N’s conundrum.

⊙⊙⊙⊙

She was here again in the same courtyard where she comes to get away from everyone. Y/N eyed the moon blearily in the night sky. Funny, how in Tokyo, it seemed so small, barely visible amongst the steel jungle that was the biggest city in Japan. In Kyoto, it seemed larger than life itself. Sometimes she got too sick to go look at the night sky. Figures how another mundane thing had changed inevitably because of her fate.

Not for the first time, Y/N wondered if it was possible to see such a sight beyond the grave. She lifted the whiskey and poured it into the glass. Well, it’s not like she would know anytime soon and downed the alcohol in one go.

The alcohol burned her throat, but she didn’t mind. On a night like tonight, the burn was almost healing in a way.

“Who’s there? It’s past curfew no one should- wait, Y/N, is that you?”

She looked groggily to see a familiar shape.

“Heeeello~ Good morninggg!”

Gojo watched, amused as she waved at him cheerfully.

“I think you mean good night.” He reached over to grab her bottle and sniff at it. “Whoa, whiskey, huh? Hitting the hard stuff, I’m more of a sake guy myself.”

Y/N patted the space next to her on the bench she was occupying. “Sitssh, sensei. I haven’t *hic* see you in a while.”

“What’s this? Y/N willingly asking me to spend time with her? I must be dreaming,” he said while taking Y/N’s wine glass of all things and poured himself a drink.

She watched him eagerly as he gave himself a generous amount before drinking it all down. Y/N stared at the empty glass as if stupefied why there wasn’t any more alcohol, and then realization hit her. She pouted and pointed angrily at him.

“Hey! That’s mine,” she grumbled, swaying with reddened cheeks.

“Not bad for whiskey,” Gojo commented, licking his lips a few times. “Nah, you’ve had enough, Y/N-chan”

He put the bottle and the glass a few inches away from the drunk Y/N just in case.

They sat there on the bench for a few minutes Y/N as she comically counted the visible stars in the sky, and Gojo mischievously recorded her antics on his phone.

“So, why are you out here in the middle of the night and drinking?”

He put away his phone, and as soon as the question left his mouth, Y/N stopped mid count. She turned next to him, surprised as if she forgot he was there.

“Sensei, muusst not be smart..hehehe.. Everyone knows whyyyy.”

“Hmm, explain to me then.”

She leaned into his face as if she was going to tell a secret.

“Sometimes…..Sometimes I get sadsh. I’m sad today.”

Gojo reached over and played with her long, dark hair. He then tucked some of the hair obscuring her face behind her ear.

“Why are you sad?”

“Be-because I don’t want to have a kid. But—tt I also don’t wanna die.”

The word “die” came out as a sob, and soon enough, Y/N covered her face.

She looked up from her hands, curiously peeking at Gojo. Not only were her cheeks now wet, but her vision was quickly becoming blurry due to all the tears welling up. When she blinked, trails of wetness tracked down her face while droplets seemed to glisten in her eyelashes.

“I’m scared, sensei. I don’t wanna die,” she whispered.

Y/N felt him wrapped his arms around Y/N and let her blubber in his secure hold. She was no doubt making a mess of his uniform.

“I sh—orrry. Your uniform is dirty now, sensei.”

Her voice was muffled against his chest.

“When are you going to stop calling me sensei? You’re not that much younger than me.”

Y/N looked up and swayed forward to bump her forehead against his softly.

“I like sensei, though,” she said, her warm breath smelled vaguely of alcohol. “And I like you.”

Gojo blinked when he felt Y/N’s soft lips against his. Her arms snaked around his neck, and she brought him closer. Absentmindedly, he briefly returned Y/N’s kisses. His lips were soft, and she coaxed his tongue to come and play.

“Wait-“ he gasped. Y/N continued to kiss him lazily while her hands reached down to fiddle with his pants. Gojo shoved and held her at arm’s length away. “Now you’re just being unfair.” With a flick of his pointer finger, Y/N eyes rolled back, and she collapsed into his arms. The last thing she clearly heard was, “What am I suppose to do with you?”

Y/N hours later would awake to something touching her face lightly. She grumbled and smacked the sensation away. Just as she was settling to go back to sleep, the sensations returned to bother her some more. Irritated, her heavy eyes snapped open. Her vision was filled with crystalline blue, a brilliance she had never witnessed before. The beauty of it took her breath away. The sight had entranced her so much that it took her a minute to realize she was staring at Gojo Satoru’s eyes. Her cheeks heated from his proximity.

“Yo! You know you’re quite clingy when you’re drunk,” he said cheerfully. If she weren’t so used to heavy drinking throughout her retirement, Y/N would have undoubtedly been nursing a headache. But dealing with him early in the morning, she might get a hangover anyway.

“What do you think you’re doing in my bed, Gojo-san?”

“And now I’m back to Gojo-san. See, last night you couldn’t get your hands off me, so hence why I’m in your bed.”

Her? Couldn’t keep her hands off him of all people? Then she remembers last night how she had cried in front of him and how she clung to him in her moment of weakness. And then… Then proceeded to, Y/N groaned and turned to the amused Gojo.

“Can we pretend last night didn’t happen, please?”

“No way! I want to treasure it for the rest of my life.” Gojo then tried to scoot over on Y/N’s side of the bed.

She shot him an annoyed look. “Again, why are you in my bed with me? Don’t you have any shame?”

“Not really, no,” he smirked. “But then, how can you be shy after last night?”

“We only kissed! I’m not stupid; I can remember perfectly fine. And speaking of last night, how did Kyoko-baasan not notice you bringing my drunk self back home?”

He wagged his finger at Y/N and tapped her nose. “So cute. You think I can’t get past an old woman? Please, I’ve been sneaking in and out of this dorm for months now.”

Y/N narrowed her eyes. “You did what?” He ignored Y/N’s protests and tugged her by her waist closer to his body.

“Let’s not talk about that. Instead, let’s talk about how you said you liked me. Does that mean you’re considering my offer, Y/N?” Gojo asked, his voice became huskier as he uttered her name.

It made her heart race the way he said her name without any honorifics.

“I don’t want-“ she began.

“Don’t lie to me. Your voice quivers when you do.”

Gojo turned her face to face him. “Tell me what you want. Let me hear it.”

Maybe it was the soft tone of his voice or the way his alluring eyes seemed to beckon her. She couldn’t help but melt against him.

“Yes. I want -“Y/N felt Gojo place kisses along her wrist and hand. “I want you.”

“Mhmm. Music to my ears.”

He leaned in, staring intently at her mouth. She placed a hand on his chest to stop him.

“But I have a few rules. If we’re going to start whatever this is. You have to promise me that you're going to respect my wishes no matter what.”

“Y/N, please.” His voice became stern, and all the playfulness fled his facial expressions. “I would never do anything to make you uncomfortable. If you invite me into your bed, it’ll be because you want me there. Today notwithstanding.”

Y/N became uncomfortable and squirmed at the direction the conversation had taken. “No, I’m not worried about that. I’m saying you must promise that you’ll wear protection each time because I mean it when I said I don’t want kids. I don’t want them to suffer like me.”

“Of course,” he replied before slanting his lips over hers.

She hazily stared at the window as sunlight broke through the uneven blinds and covered her mouth. Y/N let out a groan which she muffled to the best of her abilities while he held her hips tightly from behind. She hadn’t realized that when she extended an invitation that everything he said would come true. If she was going to die, then this really was the best way to go. Her feet rustled in the sheets, trembling from the force of her pleasure. She could faintly hear downstairs Kyoko-baasan getting ready for the day as she prepared breakfast. Y/N’s eyes clenched tightly as she finally felt him spill in between her thighs and collapse behind her, spooning her. A little breathless, she laughed, feeling immensely relieved as if a pressure that had been weighing her down was now gone. And it had everything to do with the delighted man next to her.

⊙⊙⊙⊙

“Hurry,” she managed to gasp out while her lungs were straining. “Right now, please!”

He only looked at her with mischief shining in his eyes before burying his face in her shoulder. Y/N could almost feel the smirk as he continued to nibble on her delicate skin.

She bounced on his lap, widening her legs so that he could hit the angle she so desperately needed. But the infuriating man refused to listen to reason. She shook his shoulder with her free hand that wasn’t desperately clinging to the bedsheets and pleaded.

“Gojo-“

“Say my name, Y/N. You let me eat you out earlier until you screamed, but you still won’t say my name?”

She hesitated for a moment, but it proved to be a moment too long because he immediately seized her and prevented her from moving.

“Say.” He thrust hard into her causing her to see stars. “My.” Another slam. “Name.” The noises her cunt was making were embarrassingly loud and wet.

“Satoru-“

He laughed, almost too gleefully. “There! That wasn’t too hard.”

Gojo laid her back on the bed, hovering above her. Y/N dazed, watched captively as emotions danced in his enchanting blue eyes. How many times was it now? She forgot, but without fail, they seemed unable to break eye contact each time. His eyes seemed to beckon, and Y/N was helpless at the avalanche of emotions that built up. The only times she looked away was to close her eyes as her body became overcame with rapture.

A few hours later, Y/N would listen with one ear, and the suitor’s words would come out the other ear. It was hard to focus on anything else except for the cum still nestled in her thighs. He had left her earlier with a promise while slipping her panties to keep his juices secure inside her cunt. Every time she moved or made herself comfortable, the sticky panty clung to her inner thighs, making her fully aware of precisely what she was doing an hour prior.

How was Y/N supposed to connect with anyone when all she could think about was Gojo? The way he teased for hours until finally giving in to his own weakness when it came to her. It made everything unbearable. He was gone on a mission, so he wouldn’t be back for hours which meant that she was here alone with nothing but wet panties and her mind to occupy her.

“Y/N-sama,” she snapped out of her thoughts to look up. “Are you okay? You seem distracted.”

Of course, Y/N was distracted. She wasn’t in bed with the person she wanted but instead here entertaining someone she wouldn’t even remember by tomorrow.

But instead, she smiled and replied sweetly, “Of course I’m ok, now what were you saying?”

⊙⊙⊙⊙

“Moshi moshi. It’s me, Gakuganji-sama.”

“Y/N, how goes the search? Surely, you’re aware of your responsibilities and are ready to move on,” the old man gruffly replied.

It was the opening she was waiting for. “I am, and that’s the reason I called today. My curse is no more.”

Y/N didn’t hear any response for a couple of minutes, almost as if he was struck dumb. “Is that why you sent back Kyoko?” he asked after his momentary shock.

“Hai. Please reward her handsomely. She took the utmost care of me.”

“Never mind that. Who is the father?”

Y/N took a deep breath, knowing he wasn’t going to like the answer. “Gojo Satoru.”

“Nani?” he yelled. “How did that annoyance get close to you in the first place? I hope you’re ready to shoulder the burden of your decision by choosing that man, Y/N.”

“Of course, I expect nothing less,” she replied.

The old man cleared his throat. “With this, my duty has been fulfilled, and you are no longer our responsibility.”

“I know, and I thank you for the care you have been given over these years.” Though the old man couldn’t tell, Y/N did a deep bow, her body moving through the custom unconsciously.

Just as she was about to say more, Gakuganji-sama abruptly hung up. Y/N stared at her cell phone, perplexed, and checked the screen several times to make sure he indeed just hung up on her.

She turned stunned to look at the unusually jovial Gojo, who seemed more than content at the way things turned out.

“Just admit it, you enjoyed that way too much.”

He snorted and whistled innocently. “What can I say? It’s the little things in life.”

Placing a careful hand on her developing bump, Y/N rose from her chair to grab some water. Talking to the principal of Kyoto Jujutsu high always made her sensitive nerves go haywire.

Gojo’s eyes behind his darkened lens followed her curiously. “So, you want to tell me what you’ve been hiding from me finally?”

She sharply inhaled and forced herself to gulp the water down her throat lest she choked on it. She knew that he was curious about the elders’ relationship with her family’s curse. Why they seemed so keen on protecting and providing for her.

“It’s a long story.”

“And I’ve got time now that baa-chan is not following you everywhere.”

She sighed and looked pleadingly at Gojo, who instead beckoned her to continue.

“Well, it goes back to my ancestor. She was born a few years after Sukuna was sealed. She was a phenomenal sorcerer and powerful to boot. But with such fame comes enemies. She died young, and it wasn’t a pleasant death. She suffered, and in her dying breaths, she gave birth to a baby girl. But her suffering turned into a curse, and instead of becoming a curse herself, she passed it onto her daughter. And since then, every girl in my family has passed down the curse from mother to daughter.”

Y/N continued, “My mother, she only had me to get rid of the curse. After she gave birth to me, she abandoned me and then went to live a normal life.”

She remembered being in an orphanage for several years until some men in suits came for her. Then she was passed from family to family in debt to the elders who safeguarded her until she became a first-grade sorcerer. Y/N dutifully completed her missions for many years, knowing that her lifespan was even shorter than an average sorcerer. Then finally, her curse sidelined her with sickness. Her existence was lonely with very few people to call her own, Y/N didn’t want anyone else to suffer like she did.

“Then what does it mean for us-” Y/N jolted out of her reverie when she felt Gojo’s hand caress her stomach. “When we’re having a boy?”

A genuine smile blossomed on her face. “It means that my curse is broken.”

“Huh? How does that work?” Gojo wondered as he tilts his head to the side.

“The curse is passed down from mother to daughter, but when a boy is born, the curse is broken. And the curse breaker is always immeasurably powerful. That’s why the elders have taken care of my bloodline for generations. For that slim chance when a boy is born, and the curse is broken. The elders, in exchange, get an asset.”

He immediately frowned and placed a reassuring hand on Y/N. “I won’t let it happen to him.”

She squeezed his hand in return. “I know, and that’s why Gakuganji-sama is furious because they’ve lost their chance to influence the next generation even without knowing it’s a boy. Because they know if you’re the father no one will get close to him.”

With a cheeky smile, he bent down to lightly kiss her lips. "I love how much faith you have in me.”

She licked her lips, savoring the taste of the man in front of her. “What kind of wife would I be if I didn’t trust my own husband?”

“Good point. But how can I get my wife upstairs and naked? She’s been ignoring me all day!”

She rolled her eyes and let Gojo take her by the hand.

⊙⊙⊙⊙

Gojo POV

“Go on, say Papa!” he urged the toddler in front of him.

The cherub baby furrowed his eyebrows with an intense look. It was almost comical how serious the tiny human seemed.

“Mama!” the toddler pointed at him and clapped. “Mama!”

Gojo gasped and looked towards Y/N with a betrayed look. “You’ve corrupted my son!”

“Of course, he’ll choose the person who gave birth to him, not the parent who runs away at the sight of his diaper,” she replied with a bored tone.

Gojo trudged sadly and handed over his son. “Here, since he likes you better.”

Y/N sighed, “You’re just saying that because he’s hungry.”

“That too! As expected from my wife, she’s so smart.”

She ignored him as Gojo blew kisses to her and made heart signs with his hands. Y/N smiled gently at her two-year-old and tried to feed him mashed peas.

“So, Sukuna’s vessel, you are going to try to save him, aren’t you?” she asked amid wrestling with her son.

“Maybe. Who knows?” Gojo shrugged as he checked his phone’s notifications. “Ah, it looks like Nanami is waiting for me. Bye wifey, don’t miss me too much. I’ll be back. Bye son who loves his mother more than his own father.”

He leisurely took his leave while his own family ignored him. Both mother and son were stuck in their world. They were lucky he loved them so much because the bond between the two was starting to make him a bit jealous.

Gojo stepped out to see his friend waiting for him. “Nanami~ How come you never come inside?”

The solemn man said, “It’s rude to drop in uninvited.”

Gojo just shrugged off his friend’s seriousness. Ever since he had informed his colleagues of his impromptu marriage and the birth of his child, it was like they didn’t know what to make of his sudden family. But then again, he could hardly blame them when he hadn’t planned for this either. Not in a long shot.

When he first came upon Y/N standing solemnly and smoking, she looked so lost. She was so worn and corpse-like despite being very much alive. It wasn’t her physical appearance that made her seemed dead, but rather the look in her eyes. As if she already gave up before even trying. There was something about it that compelled him to talk to her. From there, Gojo teased and rankled until he forced a response out of her. But it wasn’t enough. He wanted to make her feel alive. And she felt so warm underneath his body.

It was then he realized that he wasn’t about to let her go. So, he broke his promise to her. She needed a child to live, so he gave her one.

Gojo remembered sneaking into her supply of birth control some placebos. Or after their many sessions, he took her while she was half asleep without protection. She was none the wiser about what happened the next day. No doubt if Y/N ever found out, she would leave him. But it was better. For her to be alive to hate him than to be dead and never feel again.

He chuckled ruefully. “I am a bastard.”

“We all know that. Are you just figuring it out?” Nanami bluntly questioned.

Gojo reached over to poke his friend’s cheek. “Takes one to know one. Right, Na-na-mi?”

Nanami smacked Gojo’s hand away. “Tell me what you need from me. I would like to get off on time today.”

“Take care of Yuuji for me. He needs training, but I can’t be here to guide him.”

“What about your family then?”

Gojo smirked slowly as he knows something Nanami doesn’t. “Don’t worry about that Y/N is stronger than you think.” And his kid, a curse breaker belonging to Y/N’s family and Gojo’s legacy. No wonder the old coot was furious.

Yeah, he was always a bastard, but he saved what he cared about, at least this time.

⊙⊙⊙⊙

Disclaimer: For any younger girls that might be reading this: Do NOT take this piece of fiction for reality. If any partner does what Gojo did, it is your right to immediately break up with your partner. This is gaslighting and manipulation which I included for pure entertainment purposes. Again DO NOT take this to heart.

[kayecorral]

Freight Car

Chapter One of the Brown Book Series

Rating: Mature

Warnings: Mentions of violence, PTSD (!), swearing

Word Count: 3.4k

Series Summary: Nine years ago, The Winter Soldier murdered your friend in front of you. Nine years later, Bucky Barnes shows up at your door with the hope of making amends.

⭑⭑⭑

⭑⭑

⭑

You wake up on the floor again.

In the crossfade between dreaming to waking, the hardwood is concrete against your cheek. The sweat in your hair is the slick of blood. You fade in and out, and awareness comes back slowly. A siren descends, moving closer and closer, then recedes into the quiet. You don’t know if you imagined it.

You do know that your alarm isn’t blaring. Your ringtone isn’t sounding. The birds chattering and chirping at your window are real. The steady knocking of your heart against your ribs is real. Maybe that’s enough.

You open your eyes. A sliver of light from the parted curtains cuts across the floor. Above it, dust dances in the still air. All is calm. If you had woken up in your bed, this would be a good morning.  

But you didn’t wake up in your bed. So, you peel yourself off the floor and half-walk, half-limp to the bathroom. As you cross the threshold and flick on the light, a face flashes before you. Before your mind can work to discern its features, you slam the door shut and flip the switch. You cry in the dark.

⭑⭑⭑

You call into work again.

You’re tempted to stay where you are—curled in on yourself under the covers—but Dr. Kaplan’s gentle voice prods from inside your skull.  “Trauma changes over time,” it says. “You have to face it as it comes. You’ll feel worse if you put off dealing with it.”

She picks up on the second ring. Judging by the sound of clinking silverware, she’s on her lunch break. You promise to keep this impromptu session short.

“I haven’t had a nightmare like that in a long time. That’s why it hit me so hard, I think.” You begin. Your eyes fill with tears. You don’t know why. The nightmare is so distant now — just bits of feeling. Your brain is scrubbing away the memory like a mounted defense.

You’re quiet for what feels like minutes, and Dr. Kaplan just waits. She doesn’t pose a question or make a suggestion: in other words, she doesn’t offer an out. She never does. At first, her silence and seemingly unending patience unnerved you. You would later understand the value of having the space to organize your thoughts before speaking them.  

“I thought I was doing better,” you eventually say. “But now, it’s like I’m back where I started.”

“You are not back where you started,” she says. “We haven’t talked about your night terrors in months when we used to talk about them every session. That’s incredible progress. You should be proud of how far you’ve come.”

You hold the phone away so she can’t hear the tears in your voice. “But what does it mean? ”

“Well,” she pauses. “Have you been thinking about Jean lately?”

“Kind of,” you start to say, then remember Dr. Kaplan’s rule about specifics. “I’ve probably thought about her… twice in the past week. Marie, she, uh, she sent me a Facebook request.”

“Did you accept it?” She asks, with just a hint of amusement.

“I haven’t. I don’t know if I should.”

“Why not?” Dr. Kaplan asks. She knows the answer, of course. You haven’t spoken to Marie since the funeral nearly a decade ago. You know she resents you. You saw it in the tightness of her smiles and the way her eyes turned to stone as you stood before Jean’s casket. You’re alive and her sister isn’t. You understand that. What you don’t understand is why she would reach out to you after so many years.

“I’m afraid of what she’ll say,” you admit.

“It wasn’t your fault.” Dr. Kaplan says. You shift on the couch. “She knows that. Maybe she’s been thinking about Jean, too.”

“Yeah,” you respond simply. Your head is light from dehydration, and you should probably take a nap at some point.

“I’d recommend you take easy today…”

“But?”

“But next week, I’d like to hear about your Facebook convo.”

You smile. The tears have dried on your face.

⭑⭑⭑

Snippets of dialogue filter through your thoughts. A woman is talking about a missing child, and a detective is asking the “who, what, where”s. It’s an episode you’ve already seen, but it makes for good background noise: the dramatic stings, the fast-talking, the screech of tires as the driver peels off. You don’t know why you gravitate towards crime shows. It might be a bit morbid, but until now, you’ve never thought to mention it to Dr. Kaplan.

You’re almost done with the cake batter. It’s looking a little watery, though. You really should have followed the recipe instead of improvising.

You reach for the flour bag on the counter, and just as you raise it to the mixing bowl, someone knocks at your door. You jolt and the bag slips from your hands. You narrowly dodge as it plummets to the ground. It lands with a  thump and now, your feet and pants and floor are covered in a film of white powder.

“Fuck,” you breathe.

There’s another knock, a bit louder this time.

“Give me — give me just a minute!” You call out, voice frayed.

You step over your mess and towards the door. You notice how slick your hand is on the doorknob, so you wipe your hands on your pants and try again. You forget your ritual of checking and re-checking the peephole. You unlock the door, already anxious at the idea of keeping anyone waiting.

When you finally swing the door open, a tall, dark-haired white guy is staring at the carpeted hallway floor. He’s not looking at you, but you feel exposed in your flimsy tank top and flour-splattered pajama pants.

Meanwhile, his look is carefully nondescript: a leather jacket, a dark shirt, and jeans. His hands are stuffed into his pockets and his shoulders are slightly hunched. He looks like someone who doesn’t  want to be seen, but here he is, standing at your door.

Maybe he’s just a neighbor on a reluctant mission to convince you to turn your volume down. Maybe he’s a dealer at the wrong address. Maybe he —

Your stomach drops. The shadows had been obscuring his face, but now that he’s tilting his chin up to look at you… the broadness of his forehead, the color of his hair, his height, all these things pull together. They pull tighter and tighter around your heart, and you realize that you’ve seen this man before. You’ve seen him a thousand times.

Your hand flies up to your neck. Fear hits like a punch to your gut. He looks normal — so normal that you could convince yourself that it’s not him. It’s not him.

But now, his eyes — a startling shade of blue— meet yours. Cold washes over you as every sensation in your body amplifies. You feel small and weak. Your vision starts trembling at the edges. You can’t move — not even to release your breath.

“I’m not here to hurt you,” he says. His voice sounds so different from the one in your memories. It’s not as coarse and low, it’s gentler and higher-pitched. “I just wanna talk.”  

“Talk.” The word escapes you, but you hadn’t meant to speak. Hearing your own voice makes this real.

He clears his throat. “My name is James Barnes, and I’m no longer The Winter Soldier.”

The Winter Soldier. You suppose it doesn’t matter now what that means. If these are your last moments, you’re not going to spend them deciphering code. Instead, you think of your life and all the things you’ve done and all that you haven’t done. In the span of moments, you try to make peace with your death.

“If you’re going to kill me...” you can’t keep your voice from shaking, “do it.”

His eyes widen. “I’m not here to kill you. I’m — ”

“Hydra wants to know what I know. Is that it?” Your mind reels with the new theory.

His eyebrows tick up. “Hydra doesn’t exist anymore,” he says with a measured tone. “Not really.”

You don’t know how to respond to that divulgence. You don’t even know if you can trust it.

“I’m here because you,” he adds your name — your real name, “are part of my efforts to make amends.”

Your thoughts catch on how he knows your name. It’s a small thing, really. He knows where you live, after all. 

“I know you’re confused, and I know you have questions.” He reaches up to scratch his neck. “And if you’re not, ah...” he glances from your face to your body, as if he were just now noticing your state of dress, “comfortable talking here, we can talk somewhere public. I guess what I’m asking is: can I buy you lunch or, uh, dinner? ”

You consider, seriously, that this man may be clinically insane. You have no other rational explanation for his showing up at your door on a Thursday afternoon, let alone his proposition. But you allow yourself to imagine it: you and him, sitting across a table with Jean’s ghost between and behind you. Your stomach turns at the thought.

“You murdered my friend,” you say slowly, “right in front of me.”

He nods. A pained look crosses his face, and that expression spurs your anger. It hadn’t occurred to you earlier that you should call the police. This man is a murderer, and he’s walking free. 

“You shouldn’t even be here — you should be in a prison somewhere!” You choke out as your throat tightens with impending tears.

“I didn’t have a choice. I didn’t want to kill her!” He says forcefully. “I didn’t want to kill anyone. I — ”

“But you did kill her!” You can’t hold them back anymore, and now, you’re crying in front of the man who killed Jean. Humiliation heats your cheeks.

“You did kill her,” you repeat quietly. You turn your watery gaze away.

“You’re right, I’m sorry.” He says.

In your peripheral, you watch him step closer. When you flinch, he bobs back.

You should step back, shut the door, and call the police. Not that a slab of wood could stop him if he wanted to get to you. You’ve seen his silver arm. You’ve felt the grip of its fingers at the base of your neck. But, maybe you could manage a dial ‘9-1-1’ before —

“Look, I’m not asking for your forgiveness,” he interrupts your line of thought and, against your will, you look at him again, “I know I don’t deserve it, but I do want to offer you answers. Maybe it can…” He waves his hand as he searches for what he thinks are the right words. “Maybe it can give you some closure. And then, you’ll never see me again.”

You consider the furrow of his eyebrows. Over the years, you’ve tried reconstructing his face from its missing half. Now that you have the full picture, it makes perfect sense: the upper edges of the mask aligned with the cut of his cheekbones, the thin bridge really did conform to his nose, and the wideness of his jaw was merely accentuated. But his features are such a striking contrast to the severity of that mask and that metal arm. He looks so much leaner than you remember. He looks like a man, not a machine.

“Stay here,” you say. “I’ll be out in a minute.”

He nods and his brow softens. You shut the door and press your forehead against it.

After a few beats, you rest your hand on the base of your neck and suck in a few deep breaths. It’s a calming technique Dr. Kaplan taught you. But without meaning to, you flex your fingers. Just as your heart was beginning to slow, you’re pulled into the memory of him raising you by the throat. You gasp for air.

That man is behind this door. That man is behind this door.

You race around the couch to snatch your phone off the coffee table. You unlock it with shaking hands and now, your thumb hovers over the number pad.

“Fuck,” you whisper as you press ‘9’.

It’s true. You do want answers. You want to know why he killed her. You want to know about Hydra and his role in it. You want to know why he left you alive.

So you’ll get your answers,  then call the cops.

You pull on some real pants and cover up with a sweatshirt. But at the door, you hesitate to step out again. If you’ve imagined that whole encounter, if it was some vivid manifestation of your survivor’s guilt, then you wouldn’t have to go.

You press your ear against the door, and, as if your doubts had broadcasted through the wood, he coughs. You sigh and grab the doorknob. Your hand isn’t sweaty this time.

At the sound of the hinges creaking, his gaze snaps to you. You meet his eyes without meaning to. There’s no recognizable emotion in them. The creases in his forehead and the furrow in his brow are gone. Now, his face gives nothing away.

“There’s a place about two blocks from here,” you say simply.

He nods and looks to you as if for direction. If he were anyone else, you would start heading for the elevator without further ado, but the thought of Jean’s killer trailing behind you makes your stomach flip.

“I’d prefer you walk ahead,” you utter. His eyebrows raise slightly, but he gives no other visible reaction.

“Alright,” he says.

He moves down the hallway, and you follow. Your eyes stay trained on his back. Aside from your occasional direction, it’s a silent walk.

⭑⭑⭑

Sully’s is a dive, but it’s always busy, and this evening is no exception. The people who frequent this place are the kind of people who get loud after a few drinks and don’t give two shits about you unless you’re bleeding out on the floor. That’s perfect. God forbid anyone overhears your questions about murder and secret organizations.

“You want anything?” He asks after you choose a corner booth and tuck in. His casual tone bothers you, but he keeps his distance, at the very least.

“No,” you deadpan.

He nods and starts for the bar. A few people graze him as he passes, and it’s so crowded that you’ve already lost sight of him.

You place your phone face-up on the sticky, varnished wood table. Absentmindedly, you nudge the pedal base with your foot. You try to hone in on any particular voice, but all you hear is a buzz of conversation. It’s a comfort. It means that you’re not alone and he can’t hurt you here.

“I know you didn’t ask for anything, but…” Fuck. Your knee knocks on the bottom of the table. His voice is so sudden at your side.

He places a water glass in front of you, and you stop yourself before you can say “thanks”. He drops into the chair in front of you, a beer bottle tucked between his gloved palms. Gloves. He’s wearing gloves. You hadn’t noticed until now.

There’s an awkward pause. He watches you intently. Your stomach is churning, but you steadily meet his gaze. You have so many questions. Some of the things he’s said don’t make sense. One thing, in particular, though, is nagging at you.

“Back there, you said you didn’t have a choice,” you say dubiously, “what did you mean?”

He takes a drag of beer and sets the bottle down carefully before he speaks. “They brainwashed me.” He replies bluntly. “Hydra, I mean.”

Brainwashing? It’s not entirely outside the realm of possibility. Aliens exist, as do superheroes and Norse gods and Mad Titans. What was once science-fiction is now very real and devastating.

He gives you a few beats to process, then continues. “For seventy years, I operated as The Winter Soldier.”

“Wait. Seventy years?”

“I just turned 106 in March,” he says with a sardonic smile.

“How is that possible?”

“I was on ice.” He sighs. “They only took me out when they needed me.”

“And Hydra… what happened to them?”

His jaw tightens. It’s the most reaction you’ve gotten so far. “They used to have this saying: cut off one head, two more take its place… Maybe they’ll come back, but right now, they’re gone.”

“So they aren’t after me,” you say softly, more to yourself than him.

“If Hydra wanted you out of the way, they wouldn’t’ve sent me.” He grimaces, even as his voice mocks a shrug.

You get it now: you’re not a threat, and you never were.

“But I was a loose end, wasn’t I? Why didn’t you kill me?”

He shakes his head and says, “I don’t know.”

He doesn’t elaborate further. Instead, he finishes off his bottle and shifts his gaze to the table.

After a minute or two, you consider moving on, but something about his expression, both vacant and pensive, implores you to wait. In the interim, you glance from the people knocking shoulders at the bar to the couple in front of you.

“It was that look on your face,” he says, and you find his gaze is fixed on you again. “It was rage. And grief. And that-that grief almost overtook everything else, but I saw it.” He leans towards you, his eyebrows knitting close. “That part of you that… that part of you that wanted me to kill you, too.”

He glances at his hand on the table and releases a shaky breath. “I understood that,” he says. “I know what it’s like.”

Like a clenched fist releasing, the tightness in your chest eases. You understand something else, now, too. This is meant to be an exchange. He wants answers as much as you do, no matter how much pain they carry.

“Do you wanna know what I saw? On your face?” You ask after a few beats. He hesitantly nods. “Nothing. There was nothing,” you say. “You didn’t even look human.  It was like you were an animal. And you were looking at me like I was prey.”

You look away. The intensity of his eyes threatens to pull you into that memory. “I’ve never been more terrified in my entire life.”

“I’m so sorry,” you hear him say.

“I’m not the one you should be apologizing to,” you say quietly, chancing a glance up.

His face twists into something like shame. If he were a different person, you might try to comfort him. But he’s not a different person. He’s a stranger wearing the face that’s haunted you for nine years.

“So why now?”

“Well, I was…” He mimics a snap with his right hand. “And after that, I… started going to therapy.”

He pulls a small, brown book from his jacket pocket. “My, uh, shrink told me to make a list of people I’ve wronged,” he says as he flips it open to a page in the middle and places it in front of you. “You’re one of the last.”

You find your name third-to-bottom. The ones above are crossed through. He glances from your face to your fingers as they trace his careful scrawl.

“You don’t let people look at this, do you?” You ask.

He half-smiles and shakes his head.

“So why are you letting me?”

“I, uh,” he flexes his hand. “I don’t know. I just… thought I owed it to you.”

You briefly consider asking about the other names, but he doesn’t owe you those. He owes you answers about the life he can’t return. Just as another question bubbles up your throat, a ringtone sounds. You glance at your phone’s black screen, then back to his furrowed brow. He reaches into his back pocket to fish out a flip phone. A  flip phone.  You haven’t seen one in years.

“Shit,” he mutters under his breath. He looks up from the screen.

“Sorry, I have to take this,” he says as he squeezes out of the booth. He disappears as quickly as before.

⭑⭑⭑

You finally take a sip of water. The sweat of the glass bleeds onto your fingertips, so you wipe your hand off on your pant leg before touching your phone. 6:15, it says, which means you've been sitting on this hard, plastic seat for over forty minutes. He's been gone for about ten of them.

Before you can seriously consider just leaving, his form comes into view.

"I've gotta go, but..." He says as he pulls the brown book out of his pocket again. When he opens it, he tears a small piece from the page corner, then scribbles something with a pen.

He places the piece of paper next to the perspiration ring on the table. Stealing one last glance at you, he turns and leaves for the third and final time.

On it is a phone number and a name:

Bucky

[jenomark]

PART 1: LUCAS, THE BOYFRIEND

➔Pairing: Lucas x Reader (Female) | Ten x Reader (Female) ➔Other Members/ Characters: -.- ➔Genre: Smut (+ angst, + fluff, + plot) ➔Warnings: vaginal penetration, passionless sex, exchanging money for sex, very light bdsm and mentions of pegging ➔Word count: 5,107

➔Summary: You don’t know what you do. You don’t even know who you are. Some would call you a whore. Some would refer to you as a sex worker. All of your clients would say you’re damn good at your job.

MASTERLIST

  It hadn’t rained in months. It felt strange to hear it coming down hard enough to drown out Lucas’ snoring. You laid in bed and listened a little while, wishing that it would lull you back to sleep somehow. But your eyes were wide open and they kept searching for the clock Lucas kept on his bedside table. 2:45 a.m. 3:14 a.m. 4:20 a.m. Time kept moving as you stayed still, eyes occasionally glancing up at the water marks on his ceiling, and hoping the rain wouldn’t drip through.

 “Lucas.” you whispered. 

  When he didn’t stir, you sat up in his bed and reached for your phone. He slept soundly on the nights when you had sex, which suited you just fine. You didn’t want him turning over in the night and asking you why you weren’t sleeping. 

  You unlocked your phone, your password far more complicated than it needed to be. You and Lucas once got into an argument when he asked you what you were hiding from him. You felt too exposed, for someone with something to hide. You felt like you no longer belonged to yourself, and he felt hurt that you didn’t want to share what secrets you kept.

  Unread text messages: 56   Unread emails: 134

  Your phone wallpaper was a photo of Lucas during Christmas of last year. He was smiling and holding up a gift you had bought him: an expensive watch nestled in black satin. You remembered the moment well. He opened the box and nearly dropped it to the floor when he realized it was the same model of the one he’d been lusting after for years. Every little boys dream was to own an expensive watch just like their father, and Lucas was no different.

“We can’t afford this.” Lucas had said.

  You, not we. You had wanted to say it, but his family was around the Christmas tree and all eyes were on you. It was true that Lucas could not afford the watch with his low-end salary, but you could. Of course, you had to play the part of the lowly office worker with a salary fit for someone shoved into a shoebox apartment.

“Don’t worry about it,” you had said to soothe him. “You’re worth every penny.”

  And Lucas was. You were with him because he was the first man in a while to make you feel alive. He used to be more daring before he got older, used to make you laugh so hard you’d nearly piss your pants. Like all things, the older things get, the harder it is to keep them in good condition. Your relationship with Lucas never failed on the surface, not really, but there were too many things brewing underneath. You were a lot like the watermarked ceiling: barely holding it together.

  You checked to make sure Lucas was sleeping before opening your inbox full to the brim with emails from men. The descriptions were all the same: I’m tall, handsome, and worth your time. The names all basic and no doubt aliases, were lined in a row for as far as you could scroll down. Every once in a while, you would entertain one of them and look at their email, expanding it so you could see their plea. Pick me, I’m a winner. 

  Tonight's lucky winner was a twenty-three year old artist. The picture attached was of a man smiling, his whole face lighting up at whomever was behind the camera. He looked barely legal, and definitely too cute for what he wrote in his description

WinWin, 23. I want to fuck you raw and parade you around town to all of my friends.

Not today, kiddo. 

  You closed the email and set your phone back in your lap. You wondered how much longer you could keep it up.

     You were dreaming of him, which you did often. He was sitting at his kitchen table, his tie undone and resting around his neck, and a newspaper spread out in front of him. You waltzed into the kitchen in a bouncy dress, announcing your presence with a slight clearing of your throat. The picture felt very old school, static-y lines and scalloped edges. Like a dream of the past, you were bordering in housewife territory, red lipstick turning grey in the black and white film. He looked up immediately to smile at you over his shoulder. The camera panned to reveal a table with food set on it, and two children sitting in chairs.

“Is it almost ready?” he asked

  All you wanted to do was go kiss your dream husband and wrap your arms around him. You wanted those kids to pull faces, like they were really disgusted their parents were still in love after all the years. But you couldn’t move. You looked down and your little kitten heels were stuck in quicksand that was dragging you under too fast. He couldn’t save you. He didn’t even care, just went back to his newspaper. It was all white noise.

  You woke with a jolt, shooting up so fast that Lucas came out of the bathroom. A toothbrush was hanging out of his mouth, and he wasn’t wearing clothes. 

“Bad dream?” he asked, toothpaste spitting in all directions. 

  You looked at his body, just trying to collect your thoughts. Lucas assumed you were checking him out. He started flexing his muscles to make you laugh, showing you all the parts of him he’d been working out lately. You smiled for his benefit and held your hand to your chest.

“Nightmares,” you said. Lucas went into the bathroom to rinse his mouth. When he came back out, he was heading towards his wardrobe.  “Are you leaving for work so soon?”

“Gym.”

“Again?” you asked. “You went last night. Isn’t it true that if you go to the gym too much you’ll leave a very disgruntled and lonely girlfriend behind?”

 When Lucas wasn’t working out, he was at work. During the day, he was the terribly intimidating Veterinarian assistant, his pink scrubs and puppy pin making all the Great Dane’s growl in his direction. From another direction, all the women who worked there practically swooned when he walked his muscled body through the door.  

You got out of bed and opened the blinds. “The rain stopped.” 

  The view was terrible, but he got what he paid for. You watched the little old lady from across the other apartment building hang her clothes on a line. When you turned back to talk to Lucas, he was silently masturbating.

 “Oh shit,” he breathed.

  You closed the blinds quickly before he practically tackled you, lifted you into the air and swung you around. 

You screamed like you were being murdered. “Lucas! Put me down.”

  He lifted up your pajama shorts and smacked your ass. His laugh was loud and boisterous, and you couldn’t help but laugh with him. He dropped you on the bed. His big cock was swinging between his legs before he took it back in his hands and continued stroking himself. You weren’t in the mood for sex, but the sight of him standing over you made it hard to resist. 

“I have to be at work.” you said, your eyes on his cock.

“That doesn’t sound very convincing.” he laughed.

  He took your ankle and pulled you to the edge of the bed, sliding you across the sheets like hot butter in a pan. You were taking off your shorts and panties while still denying him access.

“I do!” you said. “And I need you to drop me off at my apartment so I can get my things.”

 You didn’t need to tear your tank top off. Lucas pulled the spaghetti straps off on either side to reveal your breasts. His big paws were on you as he moved closer. Without wearing a condom, he pushed himself inside of you, both hands holding either breast while he thrusted.

 There was no talking as you fucked. Lucas took your leg and placed it on his shoulder. He kissed your calf softly. There were always tender moments like that, where it felt like it was only him and you that existed in the world. His eyes were big and brown and full of love whenever he looked at you.  You hoped that when he looked into your eyes, he didn’t just see his own reflection peering back at him.

  You felt something swell inside of you with a big wave, before quelling. Lately, you couldn’t seem to orgasm with him. There was a mental disconnect somewhere between him and you, but that didn’t stop you from pretending. You moaned and told him you were coming, even though you and him could feel yourself drying up.

  Lucas lifted your ass up and held your body as he moved, his pace too fast for you to enjoy. You just stopped moaning and stared at him, your mind completely blank. Whenever he came, the veins in his neck popped out. You were expecting him to come inside of you, but when he pulled out and came on your stomach, you let him. You held him as he collapsed on top of you, his big body making it harder for you to breathe.

  Dressed in his gym clothes, Lucas sat in the driver's seat. The drive over to your apartment was silent, mostly because Lucas still hated that you hadn’t moved in with him yet. The other reason was the awkwardness that existed after you both had sex. You laid on the bed for far too long with his semen pooling in your belly button. Not bothering to hand you a towel to clean up, he very quietly got dressed. 

  Lucas had never came on you before. He had always been the romantic look-me-in-the-eyes-as-I-fill-you-up type of guy. It’s not that you didn’t like it, just that it was so out of character you were wondering if something was wrong.

“Do you want me to come inside?” he asked.

  You snapped out of your thoughts, leaned over and kissed him on the cheek. “I think I can handle it on my own.”

  You got out of the car and walked up your steps without looking back at him. You went inside and closed the door behind you, leaning against the wood to regain your nerve.

  You didn’t like Lucas being anywhere near your apartment. He was insecure that yours looked a little better than his. Whenever he was there, he had a million questions about the things you owned. Why they were so expensive. Why it seemed like you had never lived there. You assured him it was because you spent the majority of time at his apartment, but there was always a bitter taste left in both of your mouths any time it was brought up. The other reason was that you weren’t sure what he would find if he looked hard enough.

 You ran up the stairs and unlocked your second door. You could never be too careful. Inside, you were met with a musty smell. You didn’t bother cleaning as you went, just tore through the place gathering what you needed. You stopped briefly to look at yourself in the mirror, at the way your pantsuit hugged your body. Business professional is what the saleswoman had said. It’s what all the men want. 

What do you know about what men want? You wanted to ask her.

  You moved on, click-clacking your way to your bedroom. Your bed was unmade, and there was trash strewn everywhere. You opened the door to your walk-in closet, grabbed a duffel bag and started shoving lingerie into it. You picked up a pair of handcuffs and threw them aside. Rifling through your things didn’t help you find what you were looking for. You cursed out loud and sat down in your closet, leaning your head against the wall. 

“Must be in the other apartment.” you whispered, trying to recall where it was.

 By the time you made it back to the car with Lucas, he had fallen asleep. You tapped the window and apologized for taking so long.

  Lucas pulled up in front of your office building. He hadn’t asked why you brought a duffel bag, because after his nap, his attitude was so damn chipper that he couldn’t stop smiling. He leaned over the console to kiss you.

“You know what?” he said. “I’ll walk you inside.”

There was a panic in your chest. “No, baby, it’s okay.”

  He didn’t hear you. He was halfway out of the car. Lucas opened your door and held out his hand for the duffel bag. Reluctantly, you placed it in his hand and got out of the car.

“So, what time do you work until?” you asked, your eyes on the bag he was holding.

“Late day,” he said, taking your hand with his other. “I won’t be home until after dinner. Save me some?”

“Of course.”

  Normally, Lucas would lead you, but it was your place of work, so you did the leading. You opened the door and walked inside, your heels tapping against the marble. The woman at the front desk and the security guard both nodded at you at the same time before looking back to what they were doing. You guided Lucas to the elevator.

“Are you done the same time as always?” he asked. “I can send someone to pick you up.”

“No, that’s okay.” 

  You stepped into the elevator. You weren’t the only people in there. Luckily the office building was so big that you didn’t need to know everyone. He held your hand the entire ride, giving it a little squeeze. And every time he did, you were forced to look at him and smile.

“This is me.” you said, stepping out. 

  A glass wall separated the hallway from your offices, gold lettering etched on all of the doors. Lucas had never made it this far up, so his eyes were taking in everything like a greedy child.

“This looks expensive,” he said. “No wonder they pay you so well. Maybe I should quit and get a job here.”

  You laughed. It was obligatory. You leaned on your tip-toes and kissed Lucas at the same time you ripped the duffel bag from his hands.

“Call you during break?” you asked.

Lucas smiled. “Yeah,I’d like that. I love you. Have a good day.”

 You could tell he didn’t want to leave. He was too curious about what was behind the glass wall. He could see people milling about, stacks of papers in their hands. There were cubicles and privacy offices, a break room that was too high-tech for a plain office building. 

“I love you, too,” you said. “If you just go down to the ground floor I’m sure someone can help you find your way out.”

  You waited until the elevator doors closed to walk through the glass ones, crossing the threshold like you were walking into a new world. As soon as your heels stepped down into the grey carpet, you walked a little looser, your hips swinging. You did feel professional. And as eyes were on you in every corner of the room, you were the one person who knew exactly what men wanted.

  The office. You didn’t belong. Everyone could smell it on you, that new car smell that always seemed to drive right onto their floor and disrupt everything. For many of them, you were something they couldn’t afford. Oh, how they’d love to test drive you, though. As soon as they got a tasty look at you, all cream interior and buttered seats, all eyes seemed to avoid meeting yours. You sashayed across the floor in peace, your eyes scanning cubicles and the people coming and going.

“Hey.” a familiar voice called.

  You ducked down beside a cubicle. A woman sat in a chair, her long legs bare and freshly waxed. She crossed them and swiveled her chair to face you. You picked up a paper from the floor and shoved it in your pockets. 

“You’re early.” she said.

“Needed time to change.” you shrugged.

  You put your hand on her shoulder to lift yourself up and kept walking. No one stopped to talk to you, and there was something lonely in that feeling you couldn’t put your finger on. You stopped before a door, one of the only non-glass ones in the whole place. Your manicured fingers against the shiny door knob made you pause. You caught your reflection for the second time that day, the distorted figure grimacing back at you.

  You would never open the paper so brazenly in front of other people, but it was the calm breath you needed before you opened the door. It was what would launch you, truly, from this office into the next part of your journey. You opened the paper and stared at each letter burning a hole in your retinas. 

             Sweetie, I miss you. Today’s advice is to never look behind you.

  You tucked the paper in your bra. Every inch of you wanted to look behind you, but instead, you opened the door to the dark closet and changed your clothes.

  You stepped out of the closet dressed in clothes one would find in the mens department. Sweatpants that could be worn playing basketball, a grey sports t-shirt with faded writing, and a black windbreaker. Your sneakers were white with little worn marks on the side, and your hair was thrown underneath a ball cap. If anyone thought you were crazy for entering as yourself and exiting as someone socially male passing, they didn’t bat an eye. 

  Passing by the cubicle, the woman whistled. “If I didn’t know you, I would have you bend me over this desk right here.”

You smirked. “Only if you pay me enough.”

  You threw the duffle over your shoulder and kept walking, all of the confidence in the world in the way you moved. People still looked at you, but it was in a new, illuminated light. You walked through the glass and made it to the elevator. 

“Excuse me.” you said, weaving your way past a man.

“No problem.” he said, eyeing you up as he stepped out. He stared at you until the doors closed.

  In the lobby, you waved hello to the woman at the desk and the security guard. Both were unbothered by your new attire. You swung open the front door and stepped into the sunlight where a black, unmarked car was waiting for you.

“Am I too early?” you asked the driver.

“Right on time, miss.”

 He opened the car door and you slid in, the leather feeling cool, even through your sweatpants. In a fancy car like that, you felt underdressed, but it was all in the job description. He shut the door and went around to the drivers side, any chatty banter he may have started falling short of his lips.

You took out your cell phone and unlocked it.

  Unread text messages: 72   Unread emails: 212

You looked at the very last message from Lucas sent right after he left:

             I love you more and more every day. See you when I get home.

  Trees. That was all you saw. Streets with trees lining them, parks with the healthiest limbs and most luscious green leaves. They stood proud and strong, only wavering with a slight wind. Occasionally, when you were lost in thought, they played against the glass of the car window, a kiss of a leaf here and there, as if to say, “Welcome, open your eyes.”

“We’re almost there,” the driver said. “He asked that I don’t escort you inside. I expect you know your way around.”

  You nodded, making eye contact with the driver in the rearview mirror. He was judging you, you could tell. He wasn’t new, by any means, but the lifestyle took some getting used to. When you first met the driver, you were scared of what he  thought of you, but now you didn’t spare a single thought for him at all.

 The car came to a stop in front of a three-story brick building, its red face powerwashed to pristine condition. There were flower boxes on every windowsill and forest green shutters. A wreath on the door felt welcoming, but only if you were someone who liked open invitations. In the neighborhood, that might have been plausible, but only you really knew what lay beyond the oak front door, its stained glass windows more expensive than Lucas’ monthly rent.

“Thank you.” you told the driver.

  You stepped out of the car, your sneakers crushing a twig. It was the only blemish on an otherwise clean street. You closed the door behind you and held your duffel bag in your hand. The driver waited a beat before driving off, his strict time schedule unable to be rearranged if you chickened out.

 But you would never chicken out. Before you was a place you had been to many times. Anyone who looked out of their window would recognize you, even if the flavor of you didn’t sit well under their tongue. As you ascended the stairs, no one bothered to push aside their curtain for a glimpse of the girl dressed in baggy clothes, every trace of her from this morning vanished completely.

 You walked right in.

  You were met with a smell that hit you instantly: cinnamon. Candles burned on a foyer table, the wick barely black. 

Just lit, you thought. You have to be around here somewhere.

  The home inside was cozy, deep blue accents and unexplainable modern art tucked into corners of the room. It was the home of someone with an eye for the unusual, but whose very facade made one feel more comfortable with themselves. You walked further inside, your fingers touching along the walls. When you were away, you missed the smells terribly.

“Where are you hiding?” you asked. “Little kitten.”

  You walked further inside, your shoes still perfectly on your feet. At his request, he wanted you to keep them on. You never asked why, but you expected that after you left, he got on his hands and knees and scrubbed his floor after your every footprint, in his bid to serve you. 

“Don’t you miss me?” you asked.

  There were so many doorways without doors. You weaved in and out of rooms, taking your sweet time to make sure he could hear you trampling through. You touched some things softly, and others, haphazardly. You didn’t wince as a part of a measuring cup family fell from its hook, clattering to the ground loud enough to make your teeth hurt.

“Tenny,” you said. “Come and play.”

  You wandered up the stairs, your manicured fingers tapping against the wooden railing. You let the duffel fall to the ground when you made it to the top, and rubbed your shoulders.

  If the downstairs was grandmother chic, the upstairs looked like the hallway of a sex club.The walls were deep sapphire and velvet, gold tassels dividing each door. You walked down the center, looking foolish and out of place. On your right, you went in through the first door to an empty bedroom. You looked around but could find nothing. 

“This is taking too long,” you said. “What if I just leave?”

  A sound tipped you off. Your head snapped in the direction you heard it coming from: the very last door on the left. You walked towards it, stopping before it. You rubbed the wood, massaging it in your palm. 

“My little kitten.” you cooed.

  You opened the door to find him in plain sight. His arms were above his head, his wrists strapped to a mechanism chained to the ceiling. He was naked and blindfolded, and there were headphones around his ears so he couldn’t hear anything. You stepped in but didn’t close the door behind you. You stood in front of him, watching as he mouthed the words to a song. When you pulled the headphones down his neck, he gave a little shake.

“You were right under my nose the whole time.” you said.

  You walked around him. His joints looked like they were straining too much. He could hardly keep himself up right. And yet, he began to smile as you made your way back to him.

“How long have you been waiting?” you asked.

“An hour.” he said, his voice hoarse.

  You took off his blindfold and was met with the most mischievous eyes. He looked you up and down, his cock twitching right as he got to the sneakers on his carpet. You had been in the room before, so all of the sex toys and contraptions lining the walls didn’t bother you. People liked to play, and in your line of work, you would do whatever they wanted for the right amount. 

 His name was Ten. He was your age, but there was something about him that felt older than your years. His eyes were that of an old soul, his body young and supple. You scraped your fingernails against his chest and watched him close his eyes and quiver.

“Should I leave you here for another?” you asked.

He shook his head. “I need you to hold me.”

  Ten was one of your favorites. It wasn’t so much about the sex but the companionship. Sure, there were things he did and wanted you to do to him that were a bit different, but your attachment to him was hard to explain. 

“Before I hold you,” you began. “I need to know I can’t disappoint you.”

He opened his eyes. “I don’t think you ever could.”

“You put too much faith in me.” you said. 

  You reached up to unhook him from the ceiling. He whimpered in pain as his arms fell. You massaged his shoulders and brought him against your bosom. Ten’s hair tickled your chin. You were scared to tell him that you forgot his blanket, that it was in your real apartment with the life you hid from Lucas. 

 You wrapped your arms around Ten and kissed the top of his head. You owed him honesty, so you opened your mouth and told him that you forgot the thing he wanted most from you. Tears welled in his eyes, and for a second, you thought about breaking the arrangement and asking if he wanted his money back, but Ten took your hand and started leading you out into the hallway.

“We can do the comfort blanket next week,” he said. “This week, we’ll do something else.”

  Briefly, he showed you the man he was when you weren’t there. He was straightened up and assertive, his eyes more disobedient. It was rare that you were privy to how he was when you weren’t there, but it was always refreshing that somewhere underneath it all, there was something you liked to think of as a friend.

  Ten brought you to a room with only a bed in the middle of it. An island of sadness is what you always thought of it. You remembered when you had found him there sprawled on his stomach, his puckered, wet asshole waiting for you to fuck it. You did as he asked, the money too good to turn him down.

  Ten waited for you to get on the bed by yourself. Before you did, you made sure no hair was peaking out of your ball cap before you stretched your body across the sheets. Ten climbed in and tucked himself into the side of your body. He moved down so that his cheek was pressed against your stomach.

“Tell me you love me,” he said. “And that you’ll never leave me.”

You let your fingers smooth his hair. “I love you, Kitten, and I’m never going to leave you.”

  You fell asleep on the car ride home, the sound of thunder waking you up just a stop away from Lucas’ apartment. You groaned because, for once, your sleep was dreamless. It was too good of a thing to wake up from.

“Drop me off at the corner,” you said. “I don’t want anyone to see me.”

  You had ditched the clothes at Ten’s place and changed back into your pantsuit, but you had hat head and felt like your body had been run over by a truck. You cuddled with Ten for six hours in the same position, your body aching more than his was when he was chained up. You cracked your neck and got ready to jump out of the car as soon as it stopped, just in case someone in the neighborhood was nosy enough to tell Lucas.

“Thank you.” you said for the second time that day.

“See you next week.”

“Yeah.” you sighed.

  You got out and walked the last block to his apartment. The duffel was in your hands, but it was empty. If Lucas asked, it was once full of office supplies the company let you borrow that you needed to return. He would buy into the lie. 

 You let yourself into the darkness, removed your shoes like you were a zombie, and thought about collapsing right on the floor. It wasn’t even that late, but there was something about being deceiving that sucked the life out of you. Deciding against it, you walked your way to the bedroom and flipped on the light. 

 After you usually left Ten’s, you felt too soft to the touch. Some nights, you cried the whole car ride, missing something you didn’t know what you were missing. Often, you would climb into Lucas’ arms and make the most passionate love to him. You just needed to be near him, to make sure it was him who would never leave you.

  Everything looked the same as you had left it, only Lucas’ gym clothes were on the floor and one of his drawers was half hanging open. You went over to it and stuffed his shirts down so it would close properly. Your fingers lingered on the soft fabric. You brought his shirt up to your nose and buried your face in it, inhaling deeply. When you went to put it back, your hand knocked into a small jewelry box.

Uh-oh.

 You took the box out and opened it. A diamond ring sat nestled in black velvet, the name of the jewelry shop printed in silver script on the lid. Feeling dizzy, you snapped the lid shut and shoved it back where it was.

[stillebesat]

Hello Darkness (My Old ... Friend?) -part 1

December Drabbles Day 22 Sanders Sides: Roman, Virgil  Blurb: Is it possible to search for something...for someone...when you don’t even remember that they’re missing?  Inspiration: What if Virgil ducked out and made sure no one remembered him? Fic Type: Mindscape!AU, Hurt/Comfort Overall Fic Warnings: Sword, Talk about Fighting Monsters, Injury mention, Trouble Sleeping, Memory Loss Taglist in Reblog. 

He shouldn’t be awake. Roman knew that. He shouldn’t be awake. He ran a hand through his already mussed hair, glancing at Patton’s and Logan’s darkened rooms as he passed by them. He quickly reached the end of the hallway and turned on his heel to head right back to the stairs to repeat the loop. 

Pacing. Because he couldn’t sit still. Pacing. Because his mind wouldn’t shut up. Pacing. And he didn’t know why.  

Thomas had gone to bed hours ago after a long day of difficult filming, drifting off so quickly that Roman hadn’t been needed to jumpstart a dream for him to fall asleep to. 

Truthfully, Roman hadn’t needed to stay up later than eleven to help Thomas fall asleep in forever. The last time they’d been up past midnight had been at last year’s New Year's Eve party, and even then, Thomas had struggled to stay awake. 

Tonight though, Roman had been unable to drift off. Cinderella’s hour had come and gone long ago, yet he continued to pace like a caged tiger up and down the hallway. Anxious. Though he couldn’t quite put his finger on why. Why couldn’t he fall asleep?! 

He knew it would be easier if he were actually laying down in bed with his eyes closed, but after an hour of tossing and turning, unable to find a comfortable spot, Roman had given up on that particular venture. 

He turned, once more passing Patton’s and Logan’s rooms, mind racing. Was it stress from earlier in the day? Filming had, after all, not gone quite to Logan’s scheduled plan. First, there had been a miscommunication on the time everyone had planned to meet up, then when they’d finally gotten together the weather had ended up far windier than expected making hearing everyone’s lines near impossible. And finally...they’d ended up having to make three emergency trips to the local electronics store when well...he was sure the first camera could be salvaged from the lake...maybe...probably not. At least the memory card had survived the unfortunate dunking unlike the second camera or the now broken tripod.  

None of that was new though. There were always setbacks in filming. Unforeseen problems that didn’t arise until they were on location ready to work on the next video. Logan had even planned the schedule to make room for those potential problems so they wouldn’t fall behind! 

Roman bared his teeth, glaring at the end of the hallway as he stalked towards it. They technically weren’t behind. Not yet. There was no reason to stress over today. Filming, once they’d switched to their backup location, adjusted their mics, and finally got started, had gone flawlessly. 

Roman shook his head. No. That wasn’t right. Flawlessly wasn’t the right word. 

He had felt it. It was expected as Creativity to realize that something was...lacking. 

How though? Everyone had been doing so well! They had the character beats down. Their pacing just right. The flow of the scene uninterrupted. Even with the change in location they’d barely needed to alter the script because everything sounded--- 

He paused at the top of the stairs, drawing in a slow breath as he stared down into the darkened living room below. 

Something had been missing. He knew. There was a part of the script that wasn’t flowing right no matter how many times they filmed the scene. A missing piece. 

He clicked his tongue, nodding to himself as he flicked his eyes to their original filming spots. The curtains, the TV, the side of the stairs, the stairs themse--Roman blinked shaking his head. No, Logan hadn’t stood on the stairs in ages. After the first couple of videos he’d moved to the side to give everyone better sight lines to each other. So why had he included the stairs? 

All these emotions and thoughts and complete turmoil? How could I not show up at this party?

Roman groaned, scrubbing at his eyes. “Unbelievable.”  He turned away. One night of staying up late and he was already losing his ability to think clearly. “I need sleep.” he mumbled as he stalked past his doorway once more. But how could he sleep if he couldn’t pinpoint the problem that was keeping him up?! Was it the script? It had to be something in the script. A line said by the wrong person. A stage direction that wasn’t quite right. But to Crofters if he knew just WHAT they were missing! 

Roman glanced at Patton’s door as he once again passed it. Maybe it wasn’t packing enough of an emotional punch? Were their lines falling flat? He frowned, racking his memory. 

Gah. Pat would know best. He could sense exactly what needed to be done to convey the right message to their viewers--he hadn’t said anything earlier though about it not feeling right...of course he usually spoke up more during the editing part. But it wasn’t like Roman could exactly go ask him right now if he felt that the script needed ‘more’ to it. 

No, not when it was the middle of the bloody night! The others shouldn’t lose their precious sleep because of him. 

He glared at the blank wall at the end of the hallway before turning to head back to the stairs. No, If Roman was ever going to find his own measure of sleep tonight, he needed to find the answer to this problem. NOW. 

A chill ran down his spine as a faint creaking reached his ears. He whirled, sword flashing into existence in his hands at the unexpected sound. “Who’s there?” He demanded in a loud whisper, searching the darkness at the end of the hallway.

Silence met him. 

Roman frowned. If it weren’t for the fact that Logan’s and Patton’s rooms had been nowhere near the noise...he would have thought one of the others had woken up.

Their doors remained firmly closed though. 

Tightening his grip on the sword he edged forward back to the end of the hallway. “Who’s there?” He demanded again, a little louder. He really didn’t need to deal with an intruder in the middle of the night along with his inability to sleep.

His vision fuzzed as he took another step. 

The bigger message is to just run away from your problems.

Roman hesitated, but shook his head, working to clear his sight. If it weren’t for the fact that he wasn’t in his room he’d think this a trick of the Dragon Witch. “Sometimes the best solution is to get out of a bad situation,” he muttered, pushing down the wave of deja vu that hit him. 

Had he said that before? 

“Whatever you’re doing.” Roman declared, lifting his chin, the creaking of old wood once again reaching his ears. “I’m not running!” Not from a sound. He was no coward. He gritted his teeth, moving forward despite his blurry vision, sword at the ready.

You tried. You failed. Just go to sleep.

If he could sleep he wouldn’t have been standing here in the first place. “I am not afraid of you.” He was the Prince! A Knight, thank you very much. He didn’t run from strange noises in the middle of the night. “Come out!” 

A Prince doesn’t yelp. 

And Roman definitely didn’t make such a noise when a door slammed into existence with a loud bang right in front of him as his vision suddenly cleared. He definitely didn’t jump backwards, slashing wildly at said door as it swung closed in front of him. No, no a Prince did not do that. Not even a sleep deprived one. 

Roman lowered his sword, still on guard, heart hammering away in his chest like the frantic beat of a humming bird’s wings. 

That was...well...he gave a grim smile, a flutter of anticipation curling in his stomach. That had been unexpected. It had been a long long time since anything had got his blood racing like that. Not since they’d finally filmed the final battle between him and the Manti-Core Chimera. One injured man against a multi-headed venomous beast. It had been the battle of the ages. 

Something he only realized now, now that this--this---door had appeared, that he’d dearly missed. The anticipation of danger. The thrill of facing the unknown. 

Was this--he stalked forward on silent feet to the blackened doorway that looked like it had been there for years despite it only appearing a bare minute earlier. Right when he needed--

Oh. 

Needed.  

“Is that what you are?” He mumbled, tilting his head as he studied the faded silver scrollwork around the edges, his fingers hovering over the faint lightning bolt design on the handle. “Some kind of Room of Requirement?”

To Be Continued. 

[wickedgamesoyaoya]

⇺ ⁂⁂⁂⁂⁂⁂⁂⁂⁂⁂⁂⁂⁂⁂⁂⁂⁂⁂⁂⁂⁂⁂⁂⁂ ⇻

↣ Masterpost

↣ inspired by @haik-choo’s post

↣ wc: 1.7k 

↣ warnings: some self inflicted pain (nothing major!), cheating mentions, serious heartbreak. 

↣  song recommendation:  tolerate it - taylor swift 

↣  preamble (as written by haik-choo):  akaashi keiji doesn’t get that not everyone can understand how someone feels with one look. he puts an extra sugar in his coffee and expects you to know that he wants to go out to a bakery, he clicks his red pens a few extra times and expects you to know that he needs refills – he says he has a lot of work tonight and expects you to make him midnight snacks. to him, that stuff is easy. why can’t you understand him? he does it for you – he shouldn’t have to say it out loud. you should already know what he’s thinking. if you don’t, maybe you don’t love him as much as he thought you did.

The complexity of love has never been accurately represented in the media. Films present reality through the lens of a fractured mirror to provide viewers a sense of emotion they cannot find elsewhere. Fairy tales are perhaps the worst form of media to exist. They are created to be consumed by young impressionable children who develop unrealistic expectations that are later thrust upon the unfortunate souls that become their partners. You were one of those children who bought the falsities sold to you. Love was something magical, the intertwining of two hearts.

You were sixteen when you fell in love for the first time. Enthralled by how one emotion could paint new colours in the horizons, you allowed yourself to fall… it was perfect, until you found yourself crying on the bathroom floor, wondering why the fairy tales lied to you.

You were seventeen when you first experienced heart break. Even now, you can remember the shame that drenched your soul when you learned that the one you loved, had slept with someone else. Each inch of your skin was tainted by your “prince charming.”

That night, your mother had to drag you out of the bath. The pads of your toes and fingers had shriveled up, while your arms and legs burned a bright crimson from the incessant scrubbing. Yet the tingling of your skin was merely a scratch in comparison to the laceration inside of your heart, and there was no band aid that you could apply there.

That was December 3rd 2014 – the date you abandoned your foolish ideals.

You met Akaashi Keiji exactly six months later.

If you were ever asked to describe the mystery that is Keiji, where would you begin? Were there truly any words that could accurately capture the very essence of his kind soul? Or the depth of this mesmerizing eyes? How would you possibly begin to explain how a single caress by his calloused fingertips had melted away the imaginary grime that had coated your skin? If anyone was prince charming, it was him.

But little did you know that sometimes he doubted whether you were his Cinderella. His happily ever after…

The first indication of his veiled concerns occurred in your last year of high school. With the departure of his third-year friends, Akaashi was titled captain of the boy’s volleyball team. While he enjoyed volleyball, he was never obsessed with the sport like his best friend. Volleyball was his hobby, nothing more and nothing less. He was more concerned with maintaining his high academic record than securing a ticket to nationals. Last year balancing the various fragments of his life was simple. But the absence of his friends weighed on him, each day the anxiety increased until he could barely sit without jitters swarming his limbs. As his girlfriend, you should have known the stress he was battling… Sure, he was pushing you away, but you should have known why.

Yet, when you attempted to thwart his efforts to establish distance, you were chastised for your lack of understanding.

“Y/n. I am busy. Please do not disturb me during practice.” Not the slightest bit of respect was allocated to you, despite your status as his girlfriend. And while his pointed response was undoubtedly directed towards to you, his attention was on the practice commencing inside of the gym. “Listen, I need to go back. If you want to talk, consider picking a more appropriate time in the future.” Rolling the towel within his grasp, he refused to acknowledge you beyond sharing these words.

“I’m sorry. It won’t happen again.” To even utter an apology stole the limited resolve you had to address the situation. How much did you have to degrade yourself to fix a relationship he evidently did not want?

But the following day at lunch period, a dozen roses were delivered to you with an apology note attached to the stems. It was only natural for you to grant him the forgiveness he sought. Dismissing his actions was simple once you rationalized it as a normal reaction to an abundance of pressure. Diamonds may be created under pressure, but he was no diamond, and neither were you.

The second indication of his concealed doubts did not emerge from a set of actions, nor did it include the exchange of harsh words. Rather, it was his silence that nurtured your insecurities and provided you confirmation that while he was your happily-ever-after, you may not be his.

To celebrate Keiji’s 19th birthday, his mother had offered to host a gathering at his childhood home. When the details of the party were conveyed to you, excitement had fluttered to life inside of your stomach. It was the perfect opportunity to develop your relationship with the woman who had raised your wonderful boyfriend. Yet, not even the purest of intentions would save you from the humiliation that awaited you that night.

At one point of the evening, Keiji had vanished for a considerable amount of time. Naturally, you searched the house for your boyfriend. When you peaked inside of the kitchen, you found him engaging in a conversation with his mother. You almost called out to him instinctively, except your vocal cords denied you access when you caught the end of their conversation.  

“Has she been tending to your needs yet? Or has she remained as useless as before?” The older woman clutched the stem of her wine glass, with a scoff clawing at her throat. It seemed that the liquor coating her tongue had turned the muscular organ into a knife.

Keiji stood with his back pressed against the kitchen island, listening without a reaction. The nonchalance emanating from his demeanour indicated that this was not the first occurrence. No, this had happened before, otherwise he would have had some form of a reaction. A flinch – a twitch – anything. But he stood still, emotionless, distant. The targeting comments were equivalent to a whisper in the wind – not deserving of a response, nor a stir.

“Keiji, you are aware that you are wasting your time and yet you stay with her?” The sigh falling from her stained lips was extended to emphasize her distress, and the gentle sound was enough to weaken your knees.

No longer able to support your own weight, you leaned against the wall, allowing your eyelids to flutter shut. Your fingers tangled with the fabric of your shirt as you waited for his response.

Say something – anything. Just tell her she’s wrong.

Yet the denial never came.  

The first two indications were shoved aside, dismissed with excuses that would serve as a band-aid on your decaying relationship. But then came the third.

The third indication of his doubt occurred on an average college night when you were in the process of selecting your outfit for the night. Bokuto had arranged an unofficial Fukurodani reunion for the boy’s volleyball team. As Keiji’s girlfriend, the invite was naturally extended to you. Usually your boyfriend would be in higher spirits knowing that he would soon be in the company of his high school friends. But tonight, a frown remained etched into his features, not wavering for even a single moment.

“Which one? I don’t want to be underdressed. But on the other hand, Kou is always dressed really weird. So, I don’t know.” Two outfits were presented towards the male, a scarlet cocktail dress and a navy pantsuit with a low cut.

“Does it matter, y/n?” The sharp remark was blown out with a heavy sigh. It was as though he could not muster the energy to care for your feelings. Or perhaps, he simply chose to display his inner conflict, with no concern of the consequences of his decision.

The noise was startling enough to strip you of the excitement that once animated your movements.

“I guess not, but is it wrong that I want to look good for my boyfriend?” The counter question was voiced barely above a whisper, with each word sounding fainter than the last.

“Maybe if you knew me well enough you wouldn’t have to ask.” His eyes did not meet yours, rather they stayed fixed on the writing utensil within his grasp. “It’s not that hard, y/n. You just don’t care enough to put in the effort.”

The verbal assaults implanted daggers into your chest, but the pain would only become worse – since he was not done just yet.

“If you refuse to love me with your entire heart, what is the point? Let me go.”

“Keiji!” Pain cut along the inside of your throat from the shriek erupting from your chest. Had you ever screamed his name in quite a harsh manner? Liquid blurred your vision, and with your air-filled organs wheezing in distress, your words were stated between staggered breaths.

“I am not a fucking mind reader.” The fog of desperation encompassing you was comprised of poison, one that soon threaded throughout your system. The properties of the poison enflamed your lungs, burning the organs and halting the flow of air. Instinctively your hands were sent to your skin, clawing at the flesh as if you could simply rip out the emotions suffocating you. “Just because I don’t love you the way you think I should, doesn’t mean I don’t.” Whether the words spilling from your lips were responsible for the bitter taste in your mouth, or the tears now gracefully parading down your cheeks was unknown. Either way, the release of the steaming liquid eased the burning sensation in your lungs.

“I’m done, Keiji. I’m done.” Slowly claiming your insides was a thin layer of ice. By now, you had run out of excuses for his behaviour. There were no longer any band-aids you could use to tend to the wounds. The question of whether your boyfriend considered you “the one” was answered.

Despite the ache weaving into your muscles, your feet dragged you to the front door. A piece of you desired to catch one final glimpse of him – as your heart knew this would be the final time you would see him. But afraid you would lose your resolve to leave, you pressed the car keys against your palm, and remained fixed on the exit.

Behind you, the brunette voiced a weak apology – you were unable to catch the exact words, as they were muffled by the fabric of his sleeves. But not even the sweetest words could remedy the situation. Since, now you had accepted the truth.

Love was never a fairy-tale, and Akaashi Keiji was not a prince. Love would never be what you wanted it to be, and it would always hurt.

Love would always hurt.

A/N: I ended up finishing this today because I got into a bad mood and so I needed to channel it into something lol 

Taglist: @sayakaaaaaa @sanitisegermsfree @haikyuufairy @newfriendjen @lvoejimin @moonlightaangel @gyozaaaaa @byun-nies @thevillagehiddenintheinternet @amberalisa @graykageyama @yourstarvic @chaichai-the-weeb @chibishae34 @haikyuusimp91 @volleybloop  @rajablast @idiot-juice-enthusiast @melonmayhere @cuddlesslut  @athenarosaline @memes-and-money @coconut-dreamz  @mismatched-loves @elianetsantana @tsumume @tsukkismamagucci @the-golden-jhope @camcam1617 @prettyforpapiiwa @swoonhui​ @neobakas​ @azumane-kun @elephantloser​ @dreamstormings​ @anejuuuuoy​   

~ message me to be removed from the general taglist + bolded means I can’t tag ya 

[wiypt-writes]

Riding High

Ch11: I’m Thankful for Chicken Nuggets

Chapter Summary: It’s Thanksgiving and Mary’s eating chicken nuggets.

Chapter Warnings: Bad Language words. SMUT (NSFW, no under 18s thanks!)

Chapter Pairings:  Frank Adler x OFC Fliss Gallagher

A/N: Yeah yeah I know it’s the wrong time of year but hell, we’re all on lock down so the days and months don’t actually exist anyway at the moment… The Boat Company used here IS an actual company in South Pas, but I got no idea who runs it so this is completely made up- roll with me here.

Disclaimer: This is a pure work of fiction and classified as 18+. Please respect this and do not read if you are underage. I do not own any characters in this series bar Fliss Gallagher and the other OCs. By reading beyond this point you understand and accept the terms of this disclaimer.

Riding High Masterlist // Main Masterlist

Chapter 10

 “Good morning, Handsom.” Fliss smiled as she held her phone between her shoulder and her ear as she continued to fork up the bedding in the stable.

“Morning sweetheart.” His soft voice hit her ear.

“Happy Thanksgiving!”

“Back at ya.” He chuckled softly “You at the yard?” “Yeah, been here a few hours now.”

“Do you need a hand with anything or…” “That’s really sweet but there’s not much left to do.” she replied, honestly “They’re all out for the day and are staying there until tomorrow morning so I’ve just a couple of stables and then some paper work to sort out before I pop back this evening to do a check.” “Ok so, once you’re done for the morning you’re free for a while?” “Yeah, why?”

“Mary had an idea.” “I did not!” Fliss heard the seven year old scoff  “It was your…” “Ok, WE had an idea,” Frank conceded and there was some scuffling and Fliss could imagine he was holding Mary at arm’s length as she made a grab for the phone, “that maybe you might wanna come join us for dinner if you have time.”

“You mean your Thanksgiving dinner of chicken nuggets?” Fliss grinned “How could I turn that down?”

“Cool, just head over when you’re done.” “I might need to head home and shower.” She looked down at herself. “I’m filthy and probably don’t smell great either to be honest.” “You can change here if you want.”

Fliss paused, she had a spare change of clothes in her car. Well, a pair of sweats and a different polo shirt. She normally kept them there just in case of a downpour.

“Erm, sure, if you don’t mind…” “No of course not.”

“Alright, then, I’ll see you in about two hours or so?” Fliss smiled.

“Great.” Frank replied “See you soon.” ******

Fliss didn’t bother knocking. She opened the door to the apartment and was immediately barrelled into by a flurry of blonde hair.

“Hey!” she chuckled, dropping her bag. “Wanna let me get inside first Stack?”

Mary stepped back and Fliss straightened up and smiled as Frank walked into the kitchen.

“Hey, Beautiful.” he smiled, dropping a kiss to her lips. Mary sidled off into the main room, a smirk on her face.

“I stink.” Fliss warned “I mucked out twelve stables today.”

“Yeah, you’ve smelt better!” Frank laughed as she snorted. “You know where the bathroom is. Fresh towels in there. You need anything out of this or…” He gestured to her bag, as he went to pick it up.

“It’s just my clothes so…”

“I’ll put it in my room.” He smiled, giving her another kiss. “I would offer to come scrub your back but…” he inclined his head to the main room and Fliss gave a snort.

“Calm down, Sailor” she teased “Plenty of time for that later.”

“Promises, promises.” He grinned, picking her bag up and heading through to his room. He dropped her bag onto his bed, glancing round. He’d attempted to tidy a little bit after the realisation she’d actually never been in his room before. After their night together the previous week they hadn’t managed another night alone, Fliss being a little ‘uncomfortable’ at being together like that when Mary was literally outside the door and to be honest, it wasn’t something Frank was particularly happy about either. It had never bothered him before, because Mary was never there when he brought a girl home but this was different. That said, he knew he was going to have to find somewhere bigger soon, Greg had warned him it would likely be a condition of him being awarded Guardianship. He’d be lying if he said it wasn’t concerning him a bit, living pay-check to pay-check didn’t leave him a huge housing budge but he’d work something out, he always did.

Pushing the worry from his mind, he closed the bedroom door and headed back into the room. Mary was sat on the rug looking at the instructions to the new lego kit he had bought her for Thanksgiving.

“Sussed it out yet Stack?” He asked and she gave him a withering look. He bit back the laugh that was bubbling in his throat and sat next to her, taking from her, trying to figure the instructions out to make the Storm Trooper helmet, Star Wars being her latest obsession.

“That’s upside down…” She rolled her eyes, taking it from him to turn it the right way up.

“My bad.” He shrugged, looking at it again. “Ok, so…this piece…and we need one of these…” Together they began to pull together the elements they needed for the first section and the next time Frank looked up was when Fliss walked into the living area, a little shyly, wrapped in a towel. Her long, auburn hair was piled up on top of her head and her shoulders were speckled with water. She smiled as she padded past to his bedroom, Mary not even looking up as Frank watched her with his eyes as she closed the door behind her, giving him another smile. There was something so simple, so domestic about the situation, Frank couldn’t help but feel a warmth in his chest.

Roberta was right, he definitely had it bad.

“When we gonna give Fliss her present?” Mary asked, looking up at Frank.

“After dinner.” He said “Which reminds me, best turn the oven on.”

“Would be a start.” Mary agreed.

Frank rolled his eyes and stood up, heading into the kitchen. Shoving the stuff in the oven, he returned and found Fliss was now sat with Mary who was showing her the instructions.

“I LOVE Star Wars.” Fliss grinned, “So does my Dad. He has a Cinema Room in the house upstairs and a poster from every single Star Wars film on the wall. I’ll show you later tonight.” “A Cinema Room?” Mary asked. “Like, with a huge screen?” “Yeah. It’s pretty cool. When I finally get round to buying a house I’m gonna build one too.” “Do you think I could watch something in there tonight?”

“Mary,” Frank started to warn her but Fliss smiled.

“Frank it’s okay.” she said. “And yeah, course you can. If you have a favourite DVD we can take that or you can pick. We have loads on the hard-drive and Sky.”

It wasn’t long before they were sat round the small kitchen table which had been pulled into the living room to allow them more room. Frank and Mary both showed Fliss their favourite thing to eat in the world- Chicken Nugget Sandwiches. After a sceptical look, Fliss leaned over to take a bite of Frank’s as he offered it and gave a small laugh announcing that it was actually pretty good. After a large slice of Chocolate cake each that had been made for them by Roberta, they collapsed onto the sofa, Mary once more on the rug, Fliss groaning about the “food baby” she was growing, rubbing her hand over her stomach.

“Hey Frank?” Mary looked at him. “Is it time now?”

It took Frank a moment and then he realised what Mary was talking about. “Oh, yeah, hang on…”

He hopped off the sofa and headed into his bedroom, pulling the small gift bag from his dresser. He walked back into the living room and sat back down, shyly handing it to her.

“You got me a gift?” Fliss’ eyes went wide.

“Yeah.” Frank shrugged.

“You really shouldn’t have…” Fliss looked at him. “I didn’t get you two anything…” “That’s not the point of giving a gift.”  Mary looked at her sternly. “You don’t give to receive, right Frank?”

“Right.” Frank nodded, leaning back on the sofa, looking at Fliss “And I wanted to…” he gestured between him and Mary where she was sat, Fred crawling into her lap, “…we wanted to, say thank you for everything over the last few months.” Fliss smiled at him and then Frank saw a childish excitement cross her face “Can I open it now?” He nodded, glad she was going to as he wanted to see her face when she did.

With delicate fingers she gently undid the ribbon that the woman at the store had wrapped it with and her mouth dropped open when she saw the white box which was emblazoned with the Pandora name and logo

“Frank,” she looked at him, before she opened the box and stared at the contents. She blinked before her hand gently covered her mouth as she saw the silver charm bracelet that was inside.

“I thought it was time you started a new one, for new memories.” He said gently as she reached into the box and took out the bracelet which held a single charm in the shape of a boat.

Fliss swallowed, and her eyes filled with tears. “I…” She took a deep breath and Frank frowned as he saw her struggling for composure.

“Hey,” he said, turning sideways on the sofa. His hand gently rubbed up her arm and she fell into him, pressing her face to his chest as he wrapped his arms round her.

“You made Fliss cry. On Thanksgiving.” Mary deadpanned, throwing a ping pong ball for Fred.

“Why don’t you go do that outside?” Frank asked. “Stay on the step.” Mary shrugged and stood up, doing as she was told.

“You ok?” He asked Fliss softly as his hands rubbed at her back. He placed a kiss to the top of her head and she nodded taking a deep breath.

“Sorry, that was…” she sat back, wiping her eyes. “Absolutely fucking ridiculous…”

“You do like it right?” he asked, suddenly feeling a little nervous.

“Baby, I love it.” She smiled at him, and he felt his chest swell not only at the fact she liked the gift, but that was the first time she’d used that particular pet name, and he kinda liked it. “I just, well, I can’t believe you remembered about my bracelets.”

He shrugged as she reached out to gently cup his cheek.

“Thank you.” she smiled softly, leaning over to kiss him. He happily leaned into the kiss, his tongue snaking into her mouth, sliding against hers as she met him movement for movement before there was a light cough and Frank groaned, resting his forehead against Fliss’ as he turned to look at Mary.

“What?”

“Need another ping pong ball. The last one flew under Roberta’s BBQ and I aint going under there…spiders and stuff.” She headed to the box at the back of the room, dug in and retrieved a net of ping pong balls, digging one out.

“Wanna go outside?” Frank asked and Fliss nodded. He stood up and held out his hand, pulling her up with him and they headed out after Mary.

A little while later, after a game of tag on the lawn which resulted in both the girls tackling Frank to the floor in a huge tickle fight, Fliss noting that he was ridiculously ticklish and filing it for future reference, they headed back inside, grabbed their things and after an almost tantrum from Mary who wanted to bring Fred and Frank refusing, they headed off in Fliss’ jeep for the yard to do the final checks for the evening. They were just about to head up to the field to make sure all the horses were settled and the waters were topped up when Bill walked onto the yard.

“Shouldn’t you be with mum getting stuff ready for the party?” Fliss frowned at her Dad, surprised to see him.

“Are you joking!” Bill scoffed “You know what she’s like.” He coughed and then put on a light, airey voice “Bill, those champagne flutes are grouped in threes, not fours. No, those plates don’t go there, they go there. What are you doing with that cheeseboard, the grapes go in the middle…”

Frank felt his eyebrow raise slightly as Fliss laughed. Champagne, cheeseboards? This was not the type of party he was used to, at all.

“Oh don’t worry.” Fliss clocked his face. “It descends into debauchery and chaos after about an hour, mum just likes to play the part of hostess with the mostess…”

“I like cheese.” Mary piped up.

“Good, we got plenty of it.” Bill said. “But, anyway, I dropped by for a reason. I picked something up earlier this afternoon that I think you might like.”

“Me?” Fliss frowned, but before she could say anything else Frank’s attention was taken by a man who was walking down the side of the barn. He slightly taller than Frank, quite stocky and had a shock of dark brown hair and looked ridiculously like Bill. Fliss gave a little shriek and ran towards the man, throwing herself into his arms as he laughed, twirling her round slightly before he dropped her to the floor.

“That’s her brother.” Mary supplied and Frank gave her a look.

“Yeah I kinda figured that.” He rolled his eyes. “How do you know anyway?”

“Saw a photo of him.” Mary shrugged.

Frank turned his attention back to the two siblings and Fliss was now looking between her father and her brother, confusion on her face. “What, I mean, how, why are you here?”

“In New York for a stag do on Saturday.” Steve replied “Thought I’d take the chance and pop down here for a day or so.”

“Does Mum know you’re here?” she asked.

“Yeah, she does now.” he laughed “There were a few tears when I rocked up.” “Frank made Fliss cry before.” Mary said, and all attention turned to Frank who hung his head and let out an audible groan.

“Seriously?” He looked at her as Fliss burst out laughing.

“Because I was happy.” She said, shaking her head “He bought me a new Pandora.” Frank didn’t miss the exchange of looks between father and son, both wearing identical expressions of surprise which morphed into soft smiles as Fliss moved and slid under Frank’s arm.

“Frankie, this is my brother Steve.” she smiled, as Steve stepped forward, holding his hand out. “Or Steeb, Steeby…whatever you want to call him.” “Nice to meet you.” Frank smiled as Steve shook his hand, his grip firm.

“Likewise.” Steve smiled “Heard a lot about you.” He then turned to his left and looked down “And you must be Mary.” “Yup,” She smiled, looking at him “Did you bring your kids?”

“Mary.” Frank warned gently as he looked at her, shaking his head.

“What?” She asked, “I was just asking a question. I wanted to meet them.” “No, not this time.” Steve smiled “Just a flying visit. But they’re coming over for Christmas so I’ve no doubt you’ll get to see them then.” He straightened up and smiled at Fliss. “Where’s that grumpy ginger Nag?” Fliss narrowed her eyes “Don’t you talk about Heidi like that. She’s in the top field.”

“I thought he was talking about V.”  Bill mumbled to Frank who gave a snort, and then looked at the man, the pair of them bursting into laughter. By the time they had composed themselves, Steve and Fliss were stood, watching the pair of them, hands on their hips in almost identical poses.

“They do this all the time.” Fliss shook her head. “Come on, I’ll take you to see H. I was on my way up to check them all anyway. You coming Stack?” she looked at Mary. Mary grinned and ran forward, linking her hand into Fliss’.

Frank miss the eyebrow raised on Steve’s face, before the man smiled softly, dropping an arm round Fliss’ shoulder, pressing a kiss to the side of her head.

*****

Fliss changed quickly when they were home into a pair of jeans, a strappy top and a pair of sandals before the three of them walked over to the house after another near argument about getting Mary to leave the bucket of lego she had brought with her in the annex, which Fliss cleverly managed to avoid with the mention of the Cinema Room.

The house was busy, not packed but busy, and there was no way Frank was going to remember everyone’s names. But he smiled and shook hands as Bill introduced him to people, and he was surprised to find he felt at ease. Most of the people were older than him and Fliss, bar her brother of course, and it was a different circle and class of people he would normally mix with but he certainly didn’t feel like any of them were looking down at him, a stark contrast to how he used to feel at his Mother’s parties.

Well, they weren’t really parties, more like a gathering which rich snobs used to brag to other rich snobs about how much money they had.

“And this is Mike, Martin and Keith.” Bill said, nodding to the final three men, one of whom was giving Fliss a hug.

“You look great!” She beamed at him “How much weight have you lost now?” “40lb.” the man called Keith nodded and Fliss grinned.

“That’s awesome.”

“All down to the golf.” He smiled, gesturing to Mike, Martin and Bill “These guys drag me up there regularly enough.” “Frank hates golf.” Mary said. “Says it ruins a good walk.”

There was a pause as Frank groaned, wanting the ground to open and swallow him. He glared at Mary who looked at him, frowning.

“What?” She asked as Bill suddenly began to roar with laughter, the other men joining in.

Frank shook his head and looked round. “It’s just not my thing…”he said, by means of an explanation. “I prefer playing basket ball or baseball.”

“Each to their own.” The man called Martin beamed. “To be honest when I was your age I hated it too. Was far more into drinking and women.” “Frank likes that too.” Mary said, and Frank then really did give her a look.

“Shut up.” He said, but of course she didn’t as the men continued to laugh.

“Although I’m glad he finally got together with Fliss, because she’s my favourite. Miss Stevenson would not have been a good choice.” Frank groaned again and he felt Fliss beginning to chuckle besides him.

“Miss Stevenson?” Bill asked.

“We don’t need to hear about that…” Frank said, his neck growing hot.

“She’s my teacher.” Mary nodded “She stayed at our house one night. I wasn’t supposed to be there but I saw her coming out of the bathroom wearing Frank’s sheets and…” “Ok, Mary, why don’t we go and see the Cinema Room.” Fliss hastily cut her off as the three men were now all howling with laughter.

“Oh, okay.” she shrugged, before she pondered something “Why was she in your sheets Frank, and not in a towel like Lissy was before?”

At that Bill arched an eyebrow and Fliss felt her cheeks grow warm “I had a shower, I’d mucked twelve stabled out.” There was a pause before she recovered and steered Mary out of the room.

Frank grimaced and looked back round as Bill patted him on the shoulder, wiping tears of mirth out of his eyes. “I bloody love that kid.”

“She’s yours if you want her.” Frank said. “I could gift-wrap her for you. Just say goodbye to your private life being private.”

Thankfully the Cinema Room kept Mary out of the way, especially when she had a stash of popcorn, sweets and soda to keep her occupied. For the next few hours Frank stuck mostly by Fliss’ side, talking to people, chatting to her brother a bit about his job and the business he had taken over from Bill, his kids, but Frank got the impression the man was being a little guarded with him. He was polite enough, and wasn’t being rude but he wasn’t overly warm either. But he supposed that was understandable. She was Fliss’ big brother after all.

Mary came down a few hours later and tugged on Fliss’ hand. Fliss went with her and Frank headed into the kitchen to grab himself another beer after being told by Verity to “stop asking and just go get”. He turned round, flipping the lid off, almost bumping into Bill.

“Sorry.” He apologised to the man who smiled at him as he held the fridge door open.

“There’s someone who just arrived that I want you to meet.” Bill said, gesturing for Frank to follow him. With a slight puzzled frown, he did as he was told and wandered through to the large lounge where a number of people were congregated. 

“Frank, this is Alan Maxwell.” Bill introduced a short, stocky white haired man who was wearing a pair of modern thin-rimmed glasses and a cream blazer over a dark polo necked shirt and dark jeans. Frank took him in, noting his outfit probably cost more than Frank’s entire wardrobe.

“Hi.” Frank smiled, shaking his hand “Frank Adler”

“The boat mechanic?” Alan asked.

“Yeah.” Frank looked at him then to Bill, frowning a little.

“Alan’s in the Repair and Retail business.” Bill offered and Frank gave a nod of understanding.

“I own MarineMax in St Pete’s” Alan smiled.

“Oh on Gulfport?” Frank looked at him and Alan nodded.

“You know it?”

“Yeah, you could say that.” Frank scratch at the back of his neck “I errr, I applied for a job once but I didn’t have the relevant experience so…” Alan looked at Frank for a moment, “How long you been a mechanic now?”

“Over six and a half years.”

“And you’re freelancing?” Frank nodded.

“Good success rate?”

“Over ninety-eight percent.” Frank said. “I mean, I only do one boat at a time because I’ve been juggling my hours around Mary for the last 7 years but…” he shrugged “I have regulars who come back so I must be doing something right.” “Could you get references?”

“Yeah.” Frank nodded “Pretty sure I could.”

“Hmmmm.” Alan looked at Bill who inclined his head towards Frank with a smile.

“I told you, I’ll vouch for him.” he shrugged “He’s sleeping with my daughter after all.”

“Jesus Bill.” Frank groaned as the two men laughed.

“It’s a compliment” Bill smiled “If I didn’t trust you I wouldn’t let you within three foot of her”

“Thanks, I think.” Frank looked at him taking a drink of his beer.

“Come see me next week.” Alan looked at Frank, pulling a card from his wallet and handing it over “I may have a position you’d be interested in.”

“I errr…” Frank was temporarily sideswiped by the suggestion “I…that would be…”

“I know it will be different to freelance but it’s a full time job, full package of benefits and a negotiable wage plus bonus scheme.” Alan said, “I’m not a huge outfit, but I pay my guys well.” Frank nodded, placing the card in his pocket “I’ll stop by.” “Just give me a call the day before and I’ll make sure I’m around.”

“I will.” Frank nodded. “Thank you.”

Frank made his excuses, realising he hadn’t seen Fliss for a while and headed off looking for her. He moved from room to room, realising there was no sign of her or Mary. He headed into the kitchen and then poked his head out of the large bi-folding doors which led onto the large raised decking area which spanned the length of the house.

“Hey.” Frank spotted Fliss’ brother leaning on the railing, lit cigarette in one hand, beer in the other. “You seen Lissy?”

“She was in the living room last time I saw her.” Steve said chuckling slightly, shaking his head.

Frank frowned at the man’s demeanour and Steve noticed, and smiled. “Sorry, just seems strange. Hearing someone else call her Liss or Lissy other than the family.”

“Yeah, well, I kinda picked it up from Bill and it stuck.” Frank smiled.

“Yeah she doesn’t suit Felicity.” Steve shook his head “Although that’s all he ever fucking called her. Apparently nicknames were deemed too common.” “Yeah well, he’s a dick.” Frank shrugged

“No arguments here.” Steve looked at Frank. Frank watched as the man studied him for a second, clearly thinking about something before he returned to leaning on the rail of the decking, looking down over the huge garden area as he took a final drag from the cigarette, before stubbing it out in the fire bucket to his right.

“Okay,” Frank stepped outside, “let’s have it.” “Have what?” Steve asked, looking at him.

“The big brother lecture. The one where you threaten to rip my head off if I hurt your sister.” Frank said as Steve gave a huff of a laugh.

“Well, rest assured I will.” Steve looked at Frank as he too leaned on the railings. “But Dad says you’re a good bloke so, that’ll do for me.” Frank nodded and took a pull of his beer. “I have no intention of hurting her, in anyway.” he said, his voice loaded with meaning and Steve sighed.

“I know.” he said gently “I just, well, I worry.” “Understandable.” Frank nodded, and it was. He got it, he really did.

“I hated that fucker.” Steve shook his head, “right from the start. Smarmy assed, stuck up Yank. Sorry, no offence.” Frank laughed “Non-taken.” he waved Steve’s apology away.

“I know she’s only actually my step-sister but well she was only two when I met her and…”

“Blood doesn’t make you family.” Frank nodded. “If you ever meet my mother you’ll realise that.” “Yeah, Fliss wasn’t very complementary of her.” Steve snorted.

“She called her a cold hearted bitch to her face.” Frank raised an eyebrow as Steve laughed.

“I shouldn’t be pleased at that.” Steve smiled. “But not long ago she wouldn’t have been brave enough to be that outgoing.” “Oh she certainly isn’t backwards in coming forwards.” Frank shook his head

“Something he managed to suck out of her.” Steve sighed.

“You know, I’d love to get that fucker alone in a room” Frank glowered. “Five minutes, that’s all I’d need.” “Get in line.” Steve shrugged, “Behind me and dad.” “Yeah, Fliss said something about there being a queue.”

“The day she said she was moving to Boston to be with him full time, it was the worst day of my life. And Mum and Dad’s” Steve took another drink. “But we knew if we tried to stop her it would give him the perfect excuse to turn her against us. So what could we do but support it?” He hung his head slightly and Frank’s brow furrowed at the man’s open display of vulnerability

“I wish we’d done more, you know, anything, but we didn’t know how bad things had got. Not that he was hurting her, not like that.” “None of it was your fault.” Frank looked at him. “Or your parent’s. Or Fliss’”

“No, I know that but it doesn’t stop any of us feeling guilty.” Steve sighed. “But, anyway, it’s in the past now. That is until he goes for parole, which he will.” Frank shrugged “We’ll greet that when it happens.”

“Yeah?” Steve looked at him. “You ready for all that? Because I guarantee what she’s told you, well it won’t even scratch the surface, Frank.”

“Are you asking me if I’m gonna bail when the going gets tough?”

“Suppose I am, yeah.” Steve looked at him.

Frank took a deep breath and exhaled through his nose, quelling the frustration that was brewing at the man’s questioning, reminding himself that he had a right to worry, a right to be concerned. He’d feel the same if it was Diane in this position.

“Look, Steve, I know she hasn’t told me everything. And I’m not gonna push her to either. It isn’t important to me to know every sordid little detail of what that cunt did to her. What is important is that she’s happy with me, and that she feels safe and knows that I’d never hurt her like that and I sure as hell won’t abandon her when the road gets a little bumpy. She was there for me through a very bad time recently and, well…” Frank shrugged, “even if we decide that what we have isn’t working I’d still be by her side.”

Steve’s face remained passive for a second before it split into a grin “I don’t think there’s any worry about that, Frank. From what I’ve seen this afternoon and this evening, Lissy’s besotted. In fact, I’ve never seen her like this before.” Frank felt his cheeks flush a little and he looked down “Yeah, well, the feeling’s mutual.”

Steve opened his mouth to say something else but they were interrupted.

“My ears burning?” Fliss asked, eyeing the two men up.

“I was just making sure his intentions are honourable.” Fliss rolled her eyes with a snort “his intentions are honourable? What are you, like ninety?”

Steve shrugged “No, but I’m three years older than you and still your big brother Titch.” “Whatever, Steeby.” She moved over to where Frank was stood and slid under his arm. “Quit with the 3rd degree or I’ll tell Mum you’ve been smoking.”

“You wouldn’t!” he said in mock horror as she raised an eyebrow. Steve turned to Frank and raised his eyebrow, jerking his head towards his sister “Sure you know what you’re letting yourself in for?”

Frank laughed “her bark is worse than her bite…owww!” he said, as she nipped his arm.

“Sure it is.” Steve winked as h pushed himself off the railing and headed inside.

“Was he being an ass hole?” Fliss watched him go before she turned to Frank and he chuckled, pulling her closer.

“No,not at all.” he said, dropping a kiss to her lips “Where’s Mary?”

“With Dad in the living room with the guys from the golf club.” she said, shrugging.

“No doubt revealing more of my dark secrets.” Frank groaned.

Fliss laughed “Nah, she’s got her lego. Bill and her will have some kind of building contest going on no doubt.”

“I told her to leave those in the annex.” Frank shook his head. “She did. I took her to get them.” Fliss shrugged

“Seriously?” Frank looked at her, rolling his eyes.

“What? She was bored and wanted something to do.”

“You’re a pain in my ass.” he said, his arms circling her and she grinned as he dropped a kiss to her lips.

“Hush, Sailor, you love it.” she smirked against his mouth.

“Yeah, yeah I do.” he muttered, pulling her closer for a deeper kiss.

******

It was about midnight when the party started filtering out. Mary was crashed out on one of the sofas so Frank suggested they call it a night and Fliss, feeling the effects of a fair amount of alcohol, agreed. They made their goodbyes and Frank easily scooped Mary up and the three of them made their way, a little slower than usual, to the annex.

Once they’d roused Mary and she’d changed for bed Frank tucked her in, in the bed in the spare room and she was flat out before he even closed the door. He headed into Fliss’ room and laughed as she was led on the bed with her legs over the edge, feet flat on the floor. She was wearing just her bra and jeans, and her arm was bent over her eyes.

“My jeans are too tight.” she said.

“What?” Frank laughed.

“I can’t be bothered to take them off.” She leant up on her elbows and ginned at him “Wanna help me out Sailor?”

“Happily.” he grinned, and moved towards her but she stopped him.

“Ah ah.” she pointed to his polo-shirt. “Off.” With an arch of his eyebrow he reached back and grabbed a fist full of his shirt, pulling it over his head. “Better?”

“Yup.” she nodded as he moved towards her, gently dropping down and undoing her jeans. With a tug he pulled them down over her thighs, his hands softly tracing up her skin as she sighed, before his lips met hers.

“You were a hit in there.” she smiled gently, her fingers tracing the muscles on his arms as he propped himself up over her.

“Yeah?” he asked, gently shifting so that she moved with him, laying further up the bed.

She nodded. “Charmed the pants off all the posh bastards you did, Adler.” “There’s only one person I’m interested in charming the pants off.” He quipped and she laughed, shaking her head.

“Smooth.” “Is it working?”

She glanced down. “Nope, they’re still on.”

“Guess I’ll have to use my hands then.” He said, and with a quick move down he slid them over her ankles and gently pressed his lips to her knee, trailing soft kisses up the inside of her leg, nipping at the inside of her thigh. Fliss gave a soft sigh as he moved, his short beard scratching at her skin as he moved, her hands fisting in the sheets. When he reached his target he gently placed a long lick up her entrance. Instinctively, one of her hands fisted in his hair before she hastily moved it and Frank paused, reaching up, and placing it back where it had been.

“I like it.” He peeked up at her, a cheeky look on his face before he dropped his head back down and Fliss’s head fell back against her pillow as she gave a shaky moan.

She couldn’t remember the last time a man had gone down on her. John had certainly never done it, making it clear from the start he found it disgusting, but still happy to shove his dick in her mouth when he wanted a blow. But Frank ate her out like a man starved, moving his mouth as he paid attention to how her body reacted and when he found her spot, she gave a cry, her back arching off the bed, and she felt him double his efforts, his lips and tongue teasing her, in a delectable way. Pleasure lanced through her entire body, the heat rising from her very toes and as she felt her orgasm rising her fingers tightened on his hair and he gave a low moan at her touch, which vibrated through his mouth right against her clit and that was it. Her hips bucked upwards as she came, hard, her knees tightened slightly around his head, her arm flying to her mouth to stifle her loud moan.

Working her through her release, Frank moved back, stripping off the remainder of his clothes before he crawled up her body again, kissing his way up from her naval to her chest. She arched her back and he reached around to unhook her bra before he set his attention to her breasts. Fuck, he could listen to the noises and whimpers she was making all day but after a week he was aching for her.

“You got any…” he started to ask softly and she nodded, her hand gesturing to her bedside table. He paused and pulled open the drawer, and had to smirk as he saw the new, full packet of condoms in there. Pulling one out he opened it, whilst Fliss gently gave his dick a stroke causing him to hiss slightly, his fingers fumbling on the foil and she grinned.

“Something distracting you, Sailor?” “You know damned well what’s distracting me.” His voice was almost a growl as her hand moved over his whilst he rolled the latex down.

Her giggle turned to a moan as he buried himself inside her, his entire body feeling coiled like a spring, and his thrusts began slow, and deep before soon she was begging for more and he picked up the pace, each movement rolling against her spot, causing her to breathlessly whisper his name as he buried his face into her neck, nipping and biting at that spot that drove her wild. At some point she moved, gently pushing on his shoulders, and he understood, rolling onto his back. She straddled him, pulling her long hair over one shoulder as she leaned down to draw him into a deep, sultry kiss before she sank down onto him, taking him in.

“Fuck, Lissy,” he said, his hands gently gripping her hips as she began to move, rolling her pelvis, “God you feel so good.” She preened at his praise, yup, she definitely had a praise kink, and her pace quickened as she leaned forward again to kiss him, a moan falling from her mouth as he raised his hips to meet hers, his fingers tightening on her hips. Frank looked up at her, her mouth slack, lips plump, freckles still visible in the soft light from the outside lights, breasts bouncing softly as she moved.

“So beautiful.” He whispered, sitting up and she cried out at the change of depth as he pulled her close, thrusting up into her.

“Frankie, I’m…” and with a low whine her head tipped back as her release washed over her for the second time that night, a slow, deep burn which left her slack in his arms, as she collapsed forward. After a few more desperate thrusts he was right behind her, clinging to her, his face buried into her shoulder, his own groans stifled in her skin.

They stayed like that for a little while, both recovering, hands softly dancing over skin before he leaned up to give her a soft kiss.

“Thank you.” She whispered and he pulled back, frowning a little.

“What for?”

“For making me feel good. For making me feel wanted.” She swallowed, tears filling her eyes and Frank let out a sigh, his arms curling round her, pulling her close, his own chest tightening at her words as he understood instantly that it was clearly something she wasn’t used to.

“You deserve it.” He spoke softly, , “Don’t ever let anyone tell you otherwise.”

She moved back, her hands cupping his cheeks as she gave him another deep kiss, her lips curling into a smile and Frank smiled back, before he kissed her again.  

***** Frank woke the next morning and, as he blinked, he realised he was alone. Sitting up he rubbed his eyes, and could hear soft voices from elsewhere in the annex. Grabbing his phone he looked down and with a start realised it was past ten.  Running a hand over his face, he climbed out of bed, grabbed his bag and retrieved a clean pair of boxers and a t-shirt before retrieving his jeans which were now folded and placed over the back of the chair by Fliss’ vanity unit. After sorting himself in the bathroom he made his way downstairs and found Fliss and Mary sat outside in the small yard, an array of breakfast items on the table. Fliss long hair was pulled into a messy pony tail and she was wearing an oversized shirt and a pair of denim jeans. Even like that she looked effortlessly gorgeous.

“Morning.” He greeted, stepping out onto the decking and Fliss smiled at him.

“Hey.” She smiled, accepting the kiss he dropped onto her cheek before he sat down next to her. “Sleep well.”

“Hmmm I was tired for some reason.” He quipped, causing her to grin.

“Fliss says I can go ride Monty today.” Mary looked at Frank. “Is that ok?”

“It’s not your week for a lesson.” Frank spoke.“And it’s Friday.”

“It’s ok.” Fliss smiled. “The riding school is shut. Joanne’s done the morning shift so we can just go up this afternoon. I need to work Cap and Bronson but she can ride if she wants.” “Please.” Mary looked at Frank who sighed.

“I’ve gotta nip to the boat yard.” he looked at her. “Got some guy who needs a motor looking at and I said I’d meet him today.” “I don’t wanna go to the boat yard.”  Mary pouted.

“It’s okay, she can come with me.” Fliss offered “I don’t mind, honestly.”

Frank hesitated, he didn’t want Fliss to think she was obliged to take Mary. He knew that the pair of them came as a package but still.

“You sure?” Frank asked. “Roberta would normally take her but she’s not back until tomorrow.”

“Yeah, its fine.” Fliss nodded “She can help me and Joanne.”

“Okay then, yeah, you can go.”

Mary grinned and turned her attention back to her book.

“You want breakfast?” Fliss asked, moving to stand.

“I’ll get it. You stay there.” Frank offered, but Mary suddenly jumped up.

“No it’s okay, we made you something special…” With that she shot into the kitchen.

“Special?” Frank looked at Fliss, and she grinned as his lips met hers.

“Yeah.” she nodded to Mary who emerged from the kitchen, giggling. Frank gave a snort of a laugh and shook his head as she thrust the box of Special K into his hands.

“Thanks…” he deadpanned, rolling his eyes.

**** Chapter 12

[boasamishipper]

Robisanya + "Are you trying to tell me something?" too please 💕

Dani was on edge. He'd been on edge since they'd visited Grace and Ben and Richie at the start of the month, through the first snowfall of the season and Christmas dinner at the Higgins' and their Boxing Day match and Coach Lasso and Ms. Welton's engagement party on New Year's Eve, but refused to elaborate whenever Sam asked. Sam was worried, but let Dani have his space; if it was serious, Dani would have told him, and even if it wasn't, Dani would tell him eventually. He just had to wait it out.

The hammer fell the first weekend of the New Year, which found them in the living room in their pajamas, eating Nando's out of the takeaway containers while Harry Potter and The Prisoner of Azkaban played on the television and their border collie, Padfoot, slept at their feet. Sam was so engrossed in the Hogsmeade scene that he didn't notice when Dani placed his half-empty container on the coffee table, but he definitely noticed when Dani kissed him, instantly and effectively diverting Sam's attention from the film.

After a while, he had to break away - if only to ask if Dani wanted to take things further. He was kissing Sam like he wanted to slow down time, like each kiss contained a thousand words that he didn't know how to say. “Are you trying to tell me something?” Sam teased, breathless, and then breathless twice over when Dani kissed him again.

“I just wanted a little courage to do what I am about to do.”

“Not in front of the dog, Dani Rojas. He is young and impressionable.”

“I would never, my love.” As if knowing he was being talked about, Padfoot snuffled in his sleep, his legs twitching. Sam smiled, and Dani bent down to stroke Padfoot’s back. His voice was strangely uneven when he spoke, which only increased Sam’s concern. “Will you close your eyes?”

“Dani, why - ”

“Sam. Please.”

Sam closed his eyes at once. He heard Dani get up off the couch, heard the creak of the floorboards beneath the rug, followed by a shaky breath and a heavy, almost interminable period of silence. He cleared his throat. “Can I open my eyes?”

The word was barely a croak. “Yes.”

When Sam did, Dani was kneeling in front of him, holding out a ring.

“Dani.” Sam could barely breathe, let alone speak around how hard his heart was pounding. There were tears in his eyes already. “God, Dani.”

Dani’s smile was watery. “Surprise.”

Sam pressed his fist to his mouth to hide how his lips were trembling. He had a hundred questions, each more pressing than the last - each one paling in importance to the answer he desperately wanted to give, as soon as Dani said what was on his mind.

“I know,” Dani said, before he cut himself off and he started again. “I know we said we would talk about this again when we both retired." Sam nodded, and Dani nodded as well. "But when Coach was buying a ring for Ms. Welton, and Coach Beard asked us to go with him for support…I saw this on one of the trays.” He lifted the ring between his thumb and index finger a little higher, so the gold of the wedding band glinted in the light. “And I could not think of anyone it suited better than you.” His voice was very thick. “The love of my life.”

Sam’s laugh came out like a sob. He managed to keep his voice steady long enough to say, “I think you are missing a question, Dani.”

“Give me a moment,” Dani protested, smiling even as a few tears trickled down his cheeks. He scrubbed his free hand down his face before running it through his hair, exhaling. “Sam.”

Sam’s smile was starting to hurt his face. “Go on.”

“Sam,” Dani said, but when their eyes met, they both burst into laughter. Dani moved closer and buried his face into Sam’s knees, and Sam leaned forward, pressing his forehead to Dani’s head. He sounded so petulant when he spoke that it made Sam dissolve into laughter again. “You are not making this easy for me.”

“When have I ever made anything easy for you?”

He felt rather than saw Dani’s nod. “Very true.”

“Hey.” Sam struggled to get himself back under control. He tapped Dani on the head, and when Dani drew back, he cupped Dani’s face with a trembling hand. “Ask me, Dani. Please.”

Dani nodded, and Sam watched as he moved backwards again, lifted the ring once more. “Samuel Adedayo Obisanya,” he said solemnly. “Light of my life, treasure of my heart. Bane of my existence.” He winked, and Sam bit the inside of his cheek to keep from smiling like a lovestruck teenager. “Will you marry me upon our retirement, mi vida?”

“Yes.”

Dani's smile nearly split his face in two, and Sam got off the couch and kissed him. Padfoot barked and wriggled his way between them, licking their faces, and a laughing Dani nearly fumbled the ring in his haste to scratch Padfoot behind the ears. “Let me,” he said, and Sam held out his left hand. Dani took it and slid the ring onto Sam's finger with enough careful precision to make Sam's heart soar, and for several seconds all they could do was smile stupidly at each other. “I was right. It suits you.”

“Yes,” Sam said, with another wet laugh. He took Dani's left hand in his own and kissed his knuckles, right where the matching ring would rest as soon as he got to the jewellery store. “I think so too.”

[bitchloveskcbaseball]

You Left My Heart on the Floor

Pairing: Bryce x MC

Warnings: A bit of language. Character Death. I don’t think I put anything that outright mentions the attack, but this is taking place when M/C is quarantined in the room during the aftermath.

A/N #1: Sooooo... This is a follow up to Bar Trouble that is set during the book 2 attack with an unfortunate alternate ending. And it is not a happy one. Also this isn’t heavily edited, so please excuse any mistakes.

A/N #2: Name for this comes from Carly Pearce's Every Little Thing

A/N #3: I didn’t want to forcibly subject anyone to this, so I’m not tagging anyone on this.

Bryce barely took the time required to scrub out of surgery before rushing off through the corridors. He never even really saw any of the staff he passed or heard any of the comments that were floating about as he ran past. The only thing he could focus on was getting to Casey before it was too late. He had to get there before it was too late.

He didn’t even remember flying over the flights of stairs that took him to the cordoned-off floor. Barely registered brushing past all of the various personnel that were trying to keep him from entering. His first cognizant thought after handing Kyra’s surgery over to Tanaka didn’t come until he was standing in front of the window, staring into a room that looked like it had come straight out of some psycho-horror film. The entire room was covered in plastic, an extra cot was set up but had yet to be touched, all while countless figures were milling about just outside of a decontamination chamber in hazmat suits. But, despite all the commotion, the only thing that Bryce saw was her. Her face was paler than he’d ever seen before, a marked contrast to the deep, dark circles under her eyes. Her lips were almost ashen and even from across the room, he could see the way her body was trembling. Her normally bright, green eyes were so dull they were almost completely devoid of color. Yet through it all, he could tell, without even hearing her words, that she was doing everything she could to make sure that Rafael was comfortable. Every single thing about the scene chiseled pieces of his heart away.

Then, suddenly, Casey was looking up directly into his eyes. For the first time in months. And it literally stole his breath away. But there was no relief for either of them. Her expression had quickly morphed into disbelief and Bryce was hit with the full force of everything that had happened between them.

“What are you doing here?” Even through the hostility in her tone, he could hear the weakness of her voice.

“You… I heard you were in trouble.”

“So?”

Bryce stumbled back with the force of the word as if he’s been physically struck. “I needed to see you. To check on you.”

“Shouldn’t you still be in surgery?”

“Inez called Tanaka and he took over for me. Kyra’s in the next best possible hands.”

Casey let out a harsh scoff. “Seriously, Bryce? I’ve asked you for only one goddamn thing in the past six fucking months. To get Kyra through this surgery. And you couldn’t even do that?”

“Casey – “

“Forget it. You’ve seen me. Now you can go. I’m sure your girlfriend is probably worried about you by now. You shouldn’t keep her waiting.”

Bryce sucked in a sharp breath. He wasn’t sure what he’d expected when he’d come running, but this sure wasn’t it. He’d be lying if he said he hadn’t noticed the way her eyes followed him whenever they were in the same room. The glares she’d shoot in his direction when Amber was with him.

He liked Amber well enough, but, as terrible as it sounds, he only kept her around to make Casey jealous. To help distract him until Casey finally figured out what the hell it was that she wanted. Until Casey figured out that she was meant to be with him. But here they were months later and nothing had changed.

Except everything had changed. Because she could very well be dying. And he’d wasted so much time trying to play head games with her. Trying to get back at her for how she’d made him feel when she’d pushed him away.

Now, he realized, as he saw the flash of emotions through her eyes, he had done too good of a job at convincing her that he had moved on. Casey was never going to believe anything that he had to say, anything he desperately needed to say. Not that he could blame her. Why would she believe that he still loved her when he’d done everything possible to make sure she’d seen him all wrapped up with Amber any chance he got?

Dropping his head to stare at his shoes, he muttered, “I, uh… I won’t be far. Just in case you, uh, you need something. Okay?”

“Whatever.”

Without looking up, he turned on his heel and found his way into one of the evacuated rooms down the hall. Settling himself into corner of the room that butted up against the hallway so that he wouldn’t be seen through the crack in the door, he sank down until his face was buried against his knees. He’d never felt so helpless in his entire life. The one person who meant anything to him in this entire world was stuck in a room with some mystery substance threatening to take her away for good. He wanted nothing more than to be there for her, supporting her in every way possible, but she didn’t want that from him.

He couldn’t stand to be any further away from her than he currently was, though, so he hid out in the room throughout the night. He gradually inched closer to the door, in order to pick up on the pieces of conversation taking place in the hallway. Knowing that Ramsey and the diagnostics team were on the case had helped to ease some of his fears. That was, until he heard them telling her what had been in the can. Until he heard the words he’d been dreading for hours. “There is no cure.”

His entire world stopped. He couldn’t drag air into his lungs. He couldn’t see the light shining through the door opening. He couldn’t even smell the thick odor of disinfectant that permeated the air.

I’m going to lose her. No. Stop that, Bryce. They are going to figure this out. The brightest medical minds in the world are working on her case. They will fix this.

Still, he couldn’t shake the iron grip of fear around his heart. It took far longer than it should have for him to push himself to his feet. Even longer to actually figure out how to move them towards her room. This time, he was painfully aware of all the gazes falling on him as he trekked towards his destination. He couldn’t miss the pitiful, knowing looks he was receiving.

When he was once again standing in front of her window, he realized that she was now all alone in the room and his heart squeezed even harder. She was wobbling precariously as she seemed to be attempting to pace across the room. It took every ounce of self-control he’d ever possessed to not run into the room and haul her into his arms.

“Casey?”

Her movements were incredibly disjointed as she swiveled around to face him and her face was knotted up in confusion.

“Bryce?”

“Yeah. It’s me.”

“What ar – “ a violent coughing fit overtook her and very nearly brought her to her knees.

“Hey. Why, uh, why don’t you go sit on the bed for a minute, Case?”

“Can’t. Have to keep moving. Can’t solve this if I fall asleep.”

“You don’t have to solve this at all. You’ve got the best team of doctors ever working on this. Your only job is to preserve your strength.”

“Don’t… don’t tell me what to do, Bryce.”

“I’m just – “

“Well don’t. I’ve been doing just – “ Casey blanched, stumbling over to a waste bin next to her cot just before the retching started.

Bryce’s fingers itched to hold her, to pull her hair back out of her way, to hold a cool washcloth to her face. Anything to bring her some semblance of comfort. Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted an extra hazmat suit, and a glimmer of hope bloomed within his chest.

“Hey, Case. There’s an extra suit out here. If you want, I can put it on and come keep you company.”

“No.” The strength behind the word was reassuring even as it cut straight to his heart.

“What?”

“You moved on. You have your … girlfriend and I’m sure she wouldn’t be pleased to find out you’d entered a contamination zone for your ex. And I … I don’t want you here. I’m just fine on my own.”

“But – “

“I said no. Now just… go home, Bryce. Just go home.”

Shocked and heartbroken, he stared at her back for several long moments before he finally was able to tear himself away from the window. He retreated back to his hiding place, unable to argue with her wishes but also unable to leave her completely. He needed to be near in case she needed something. In case she needed him.

What could have been an hour later or maybe five, he honestly didn’t know, Bryce was broken out of his contemplative misery by a commotion in the hall. He listened intently for any sort of hope or happiness amongst the chaos, but instead only heard words that had his blood running cold.

“She’s coding!”

He didn’t even remember moving, but suddenly found himself standing outside her window yet again. His face was pressed up to it as tightly as was possible, fingernails scratching at the glass. Please save her. Please don’t let her die. Whether it was a plea or a prayer, he honestly didn’t know, but he kept repeating it in his mind over and over as he watched the team of doctors trying to restore her heart rhythm as time ceased to exist.

Seemingly without warning, everyone stopped and a silence punctuated only by the harsh, flat tone of the heart monitor settled over the room.